#are you ready for some capital Y Yearning

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

Sunday Snippet

From chapter 2 of One Word From You. (Read chapter 1 here if you missed it!) If I don't post by Friday then it will have to wait until September as I'm going on vacation.

Eager to put off another fruitless conversation with his mother for as long as possible, Wille turned back to his computer again and reopened the browser. He hadn’t been looking at anything inappropriate – just the website of the Royal College of Music, where he was reading the curriculum for the Bachelor’s programme in Composition. 

Because he knew now that this was what Simon was studying. Composition at the Royal College of Music right here in Stockholm. That was one of the precious crumbs of information he’d learned from Sara. Simon was in his final year and the best in his class. (Sara never said the last part, but Wille had no doubt it was true.) It was probably a bit pathetic, poring over Simon’s study programme just to feel a little closer to him, but it didn’t hurt anyone and it made something warm flutter pleasantly in Wille’s chest when he imagined Simon sitting in his Music Analysis class, brow furrowed in concentration, so why shouldn’t he?

After years of knowing nothing about Simon other than that his phone number was no longer in service, it felt so good to finally know something, to have at least a vague idea of what his life was like. Wille had based the better part of his will to keep going on the hope that somewhere out there, Simon was happy, and this was the first indication he’d got that that hope wasn’t baseless. Simon was doing well, studying his favourite subject and developing his talents. Wille held that little nugget of knowledge close to his heart like the treasure it was, even though, objectively, it wasn’t much.

[gallivantingheart]

synopsis: y/n is a witch from a long bloodline of illustrious Spellmasters. After a spell gone awry, they are left cursed to age prematurely and disfigured. In shame, they run and end up in the picturesque town of Martine to regroup and lift the curse. Enter Class A Spellmaster, Jeonghan - a little boastful of his talents, honestly - who agrees to assist in their research. All the while, a vicious wizarding manhunt sweeps the land - but what does the handsome Spellmaster have to do with it?

pairing: wizard!jeonghan x (f)reader feat. wizards seungkwan, mingyu, seokmin, soonyoung + joshua

word count: 41k+ (holy shit.)

genre/s: howl’s moving castle-inspired au, fluff, humour, romance, magic!

warnings: some very!minor body horror and dysmorphia, mentions of persecution by demographic, minor mention of blood, inaccurate references to witchcraft practices, some kissing

a/n: welcome, esteemed reader, to a fic over three years in the making. spawned from hannie's pretty pretty hair in ready to love era. my poor geriatric laptop is currently hemorrhaging due to the sheer amount of text right now. bear in mind that while this may be my magnum opus, doesn't mean it's going to be amazing. just damn long, which was never my strong suit. but hey, lore so deep i have a glossary? i hope you enjoy the ride anyway! also also @wonwooslibrary SAMMMM, SHIT LOOK I DID IT!!! thank you for your capital letter support, reading drafts and hearing my constant empty promise word count updates.

You caught your image in the reflection of a window; a bus stopping at a crossroads. By Merlin, you looked like a ghoul - swathed in layers of loose fabric, hooded to hide your face from direct vision. It was a recent image you had taken on in the last few days since you had left your family home.

You had cried for most of it, as if in mourning. Your veins feel empty and breathing is dull. You can’t feel the magic that you know is always in the air for the first time in your life and you’re panicking. Like drowning in a void. Suki, your familiar, looks as if she’s taken on a form of mange, her flickering whiskers wiry. She yowls often, glaring at you every moment you’re both awake.

It’s not until you reach a tram line and lopsided tram depot that you realise that you’re almost out of pity money in a far-off town. Said tram dings as it passes. Martine.

You went there growing up for a few school breaks. A hilly, seaside town that felt too modern yet nostalgic with its intricate and old tram network and tall brickwork. You really have been walking for a while.

You look at Suki. “Well. Back to civilization, huh?”

She seems to curl her lips up at you to bare yellowed fangs and turns to stalk down the main road. Fair enough.

In the time you’ve walked, you’ve had a lot of time to think of your next move. Too ashamed to turn back. Afraid of the debris you’d left behind and the consequences from it. You didn’t want to remember, ironically enough, seeing as memory spells are what got you in this mess in the first place. If you don’t want to go back, you must go forward. Fix this - and Suki, you guess. So, you had to reach for magic again and find a cure. It wasn’t hard for you to make that choice; you yearned for it to spark at your fingertips again.

But you feel so ashamed, wandering the town of Martine, a slovenly beggar in a matter of days. Just as people had on the walk here, everyone avoids any eye contact with you and Suki. Monsters in public, too grotesque to look at. Limp and withered on a park bench, you slip further and further into self-absorbed depression. How old were you now? How were you to survive? Where do you even begin?

A large hand touches your shoulder. In the almost-night, a tall young man smiles gently. “You look lost - are you okay?”

You shake your head slowly. “I - well no…”

“I’m Kim Mingyu, first of my name. You must be tired and hungry - Martine is quite far away from any other towns. Did you want a bite to eat?” He guides you to your feet, making your decision for you even as you protest in confusion.

“I, well yes, but - I have no money or - wait -”

He shakes his head and feather light, steers you through the streets to a corner of town a little less busy, but further uphill. Something more suburban. Suki doesn’t protest for the first time since the curse has struck.

“Don’t worry. I’d feel terrible leaving you exposed to the elements like that. Think of this as something for me rather than a favour for you. To keep my conscience clear.” He babbles on as shop signs are turned closed and street lamps are lit.

“Ah, here we are.” Mingyu says to a small manor house.

It’s quaint compared to the other houses that line the street, but still extravagant by regular residential means. Faded red brick and a thatched roof with a blooming front garden and white picket fence. Hanging from the fence is a lovely sign – Aji’s Home Away from Home: B&B. He doesn’t even lock his front door! In the entryway there is an altar, a wooden spoon amongst it - you bow. Leading you both down the low hallway, Mingyu seats you at a round dining table and swiftly puts a tattered apron over his head. The table rocks a little on old, uneven legs and he chats with you as he sets up.

“I never got your name - you are?” He looks over his shoulder expectantly with bright eyes.

You only give your first name, rude in most situations. “This is Suki, my fami- companion.”

A scrawny white dog enters, claws clattering over the hardwood floors. Suki and the canine are civil, seeming to communicate in a language all their own. Mingyu checks the pie in the oven - how he arranged it so quickly is beyond you - before eyeing you curiously.

“Y/n, do you happen to be of magic blood? A witch?” He asks.

You heave a sigh, unable to hide the glare you shoot the animals on the floor. “How could you tell?”

“Well, Aji never behaves this nicely with non-magical beings, like Suki. You bowed to my altar and didn’t panic at the dishes cleaning themselves. Most mortals are at least a little amused by it, even nowadays.” He surmises.

Honestly, the dishes were such a regular thing in magical households you didn’t even realise it was happening. Wooden spoon, quick food, warm house - must be a Kitchenmaster.

“I am - well, used to be. My magic is a little…. compromised to say the least.”

He hums in acknowledgement. “Well, if we can rustle up some sort of payment, you’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as necessary. I run the B&B here, anyway. Just me.”

You smile, idly adjusting the table settings in front of you. “I - Mingyu, thank you. That is most gracious of you.”

“So, you look like you’re a little lost to say the least - very far from home?” As he flits about the kitchen, he chats with you over his shoulder.

You bow your head, engrossed in the dents and pot burns that litter the wooden table top. “Uh, yes, very.”

“Something happen?” Something quietly simmers and bubbles as he works on some root vegetables.

“Yes. I - magic. I suspect.” It’s hard to admit any more than that.

Saying more means admitting to your own fallacies. Right now, you are content to wallow in your misery; lick your wounds. Suki however, gives you a surly side eye from her place by the window with Aji. He twists to properly eye you. You know how disarming and unsettling your appearance is, so having someone examine so intently makes you want to curl up into a ball.

Mingyu looks at you, thoughtful. “Magic related. Was this curse by someone else or a backfire - self-inflicted?”

You sigh, long winded. “Both? The spell was quite old, so it may have had caveats I wasn’t aware of.”

“Hmmm. I have a friend. Potionsmaster, Class B. Family run apothecary. He might be able to help. Lee Seokmin.” Mingyu stoops against his fridge to write it out on a notepad magnetised to it - of course he has one of those. He rips it off and folds it neatly, handing it to you. “Give him a try tomorrow - see what he can do.”

As soon as he’s written that, it's the blink of an eye and dinner is served. Something that would have taken the average person half an hour, takes the Kitchenmaster mere minutes. Mingyu pretty much force feeds you a stew of sorts with plenty of vegetables and hot spices - to warm you, he says firmly, arms crossed - and a side of rice. The pie he claims is for tomorrow - it’s better the next day when it all settles and isn’t so viscous. Suki gets a little saucer with salmon, mushed to bits for her little teeth.

After a waddle - read, struggle - up to the attic, his smallest room and a fitful rest, you drag Suki out at the crack of dawn to make the long walk down to Lee Seokmin’s shop, the address tucked into the pocket of your own apron. Suki, disgruntled by the wake-up call, trots haughtily in front of you, weaving about and purposefully getting in your way. You pull up to a stop, fists on your hips. You can hardly see her through the head covering you had meticulously wrapped this morning in the mirror in the attic.

You glare down at Suki. “Hey now, be good. If Mingyu is right we might just get out of this just as soon as we got into it.” She gives you a glare with her green-gold eyes and you sigh, amending your words. “Fine, as soon as I got us into it. Sorry.” The mangy cat seems to roll her eyes at you, trotting ahead with a haughty tilt to her nose. Even in her state she’s as proud as ever.

The door jingles when you open it, the light from the street shining in. The wood is warm and despite the knowledge that a lot of potion supplies need to be cool and out of direct light, sunlight illuminates everything - how was this supposed to be a Class B Potionsmaster with a place like this? Herbs and dried ingredients sit in jars on top of tinted glass cabinets. Touching them you find them cool, yet not icy or condensated - must be magic.

A door to the side is open, even more sunlight streaming through a room much like a greenhouse. A cauldron softly bubbles and smokes, its fragrance neither sweet nor unpleasant but inherently herbal. A young man, tall with narrow features and a sunny smile pops up. He wears a canvas apron, stained wooden spoon in hand.

“Hello - welcome to Lee Apothecary! How can I help?”

He’s so warm and sweet! “Seokmin?”

He nods. “That’s me – Lee Seokmin, first of my name.”

“Mingyu sent me. Said you may be able to help.”

You heave a breath, shutting your eyes. You can’t even bear to see your hands as you uncover your face from the loose coverings. You can hear the soft inhale of shock. Suki jumps from a shelf to land next to you, warm against your leg.

“It’s a curse. Can you help me?”

Your age and disfigurement are too hideous to be natural. The wiry age in your grey hair, gnarled limbs and wrinkles. One eye is different from the other. Warts and missing teeth. Your hand is strangely shaped and you try your best not to hobble when you walk. It’s only now that you notice Suki’s appearance goes further than mange, her tail with a sad broken kink in it.

He walks around his counter to face you, his long fingers cradling your own as he examines you. Touches your palms and turns them as if they will reveal something to him, like an Augur. The Potionsmaster does the same to Suki, who is for once calm and pliant - the moggie never does as she’s told.

He sighs and shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. This is too heavy a curse for a simple potion to fix.” He squints at you. “But...you knew that already.”

“I was hoping otherwise.”

“Even if I could tell you, no potion would do this, or fix this. A spell does something like this - changes your aura. However, if you want, I can make a glamour mist and tonic to lessen the blow. Your familiar, however, is stuck as she is.”

Suki yowls broken, and you nudge her into silence. “Please, it’s been awfully hard as I am.”

It’s only been a few days, but it’s more than enough to be grateful for however you looked before this.

He turns away to pick out ingredients, weaving through the store and dropping them into his apron. “What did you look like before all of this anyway?” He says.

“Younger.” Is all you say, guarded.

He tells you he’ll be by Mingyu’s tonight to drop off the tonic along with some other supplies for Mingyu – free of charge. Somehow your disfigurement has lost your youth but gained luck. Or pity. They’re both the same at this rate. Mingyu is welcoming new guests when you come up the road. So as not to scare his clients, you gesture to the courtyard, a tall gate on the left. With his towering height, he sees all and merely nods in the slightest. As soon as the door is shut, you carefully walk the winding side path to the gate, the path all but hidden in his immaculate garden.

He opens the gate for you from the other side. “Wh-”

“I don’t want to scare anyone.” You murmur.

He tilts his head in sympathy, dressed in brown trousers and a lovely knitted cardigan. “You needn’t worry. They were just dropping off their luggage and have headed off to the beach. You are welcome here, trust me.”

You both walk through the bright courtyard back to the kitchen. This is Mingyu’s home turf, his safe space and is quickly growing to be yours. He instantly puts the kettle on and sets the two of you up for late morning tea.

“So, how did Seokmin go?”

“He’s coming by tonight to drop a tonic off. He couldn’t fix it, only ease it. I think I will need to do some research myself, once I’ve worked out how to take care of myself.”

You’ve never been on your own, the family house your only home. So, you meant it when you said taking care of yourself. Never having had to stay under a roof that wasn’t your own. As promised that evening, as the sun is just beginning to set and the lamplights are being lit, Seokmin is at Mingyu’s, dropping off his concoction of cleaning supplies. The two of them chat away animatedly in matching aprons. The tonic smells like roses and ginseng, in a spray bottle. You could pretend and mistake it for a perfume if you wanted to. The directions, to spray three times in the morning, in sunlight, facing east are labelled on the bottle. His eye falls on you idly stirring Mingyu’s soup with only a finger against the spoon handle.

“You look dead bored.” He says to you in passing.

“I am. Magic used to be a crutch for me. Part of my studies and my livelihood. Now I don’t have it…” you go quiet on that sombre thought. “Anyway! I’ll find something to amuse myself and my creaky bones.”

They both laugh weakly. You were getting used to the old and geriatric jokes that spilled off your tongue. Used far too often to lighten the mood and ground yourself.

Seokmin perks up though. “Well, if you’re ever in need of something to occupy yourself, I could always use a hand down at the shop. Someone to cover while I’m on errands.”

“Happy to help, Seokmin.” You say firmly.

You take Seokmin up on his offer, puttering around out the back of the apothecary, cutting and preparing ingredients as well as appropriately storing them. His parents have retired so Seokmin runs the place on his own. It’s sweet, seeing packages come in from them once in a while with limited, rare ingredients along with heartfelt messages reciting their recent grey nomad adventures. His own family has limited texts on spells, the whole family being Potionmasters, but it’s a start. A way to adapt the spray that he provides and eventually add on a tonic to improve your actual health. You can’t run a marathon, but you can go the full day on your feet now, without feeling like you’ll keel over by the end of lunch. Seokmin graciously provides you a small salary - exactly enough to keep your lodging with Mingyu. By day you work out the back of the apothecary, by night you pour over any magical text you can get your hands on to gather knowledge on how to reverse the curse you’ve brought upon yourself - truly showing your real age with a part time job and all.

Sat one mid-afternoon at the iron garden table, you catch the tears in Mingyu’s apron - fraying at his shoulder and the scorch mark that wore a hole in his pocket. You pout and groan as you rise, feeling your body creak as you reach to pull it off the hook in the wall.

“Mingyu, your apron.” You murmur.

He’s come in from the garden, wearing a soft sage green one, the pockets filled with herbs. He has gardening gloves on, dusted with dirt. The Kitchenmaster splutters and panics at the sight of you up and about but you wave him off with a huff.

“Please, I can mend this. Something small for your kindness.” You say.

He must see the desperation in your eyes because he nods, tugging off his gloves to toss on the garden bench by the back door. Mingyu guides you back inside to plonk you back at the dining table, round and thickly waxed.

“I think I have some old sewing bits in a cupboard. I’ll be back, okay?” He says, gently as always.

You nod, smiling. “Yes, please.”

As he dashes off, his large frame swallowing any space down the hallway, you clutch his cooking apron. There are food stains on the canvas, obviously an effort made to clean them away to no avail. Not to worry - you can fix that too.

A small biscuit tin popped open before you. The young man hovers wearily in front of you for a moment, in and out of the natural lighting as you scrounge through for thread and needle as well as something like a patch. It’s sweet how he gapes like a fish, squeaking a little and flapping his hands in the air. Very distracting though.

“I - are you sure you’re okay? I mean - if the joints in your hands, well -”

You level him with a look. “I'll be fine, thank you Mingyu. Give me the rest of the night at most and it will be done. Don’t go fussing and panicking just yet.”

He falls quiet and nods, waddling back out to the garden to finish up his chores. Suki sits outside on the wooden bench where shoes were usually shucked underneath, snoozing in the sun. If you were sure of one thing, other than your magic, it was sewing. All of your family had a mundane ability. Your mother was a wonderful gardener, your father a mechanic. Your grandmother was a hairdresser before she became a member of the high council. You took up sewing - something your mum was also adept at so could give you a head start. So mending Mingyu’s apron was a slice. By instinct, you add a sigil, a meld of cleanliness and resourcefulness. If only to help in repelling any more potential food stains and to better utilise the pocket. Sewn with an off-red thread, for luck. By the time the sun sets and Mingyu heads inside to make dinner, his apron hangs back on its hook, better than before. He gapes, rubbing his calloused thumbs over the new thread. The splash of colour seems to bring a bit more life into it.

Mingyu plunges his hands, then his elbows into the pockets of his apron, wonder rounding his lips. “They’re… endless!”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “I merely sewed some charms and sigils into the inner. They aren’t magic or anything special I assure you. Holds just as much as you need - in theory.”

“You fixed it so well. Thank you.” The Kitchenmaster says softly.

“Of course. You’re welcome.” You shrug. “The least I could do. Now, what’s on the menu?”

Over time, between helping Mingyu and helping Seokmin, you would sew. Cloaks for Mingyu and his wizarding friends, sigils stitched inside to keep them warm and to not lose them. Resistance to wear and tear, to give luck. They were richly designed and soon others, magic or mortal, were taking notice, asking for hats or coats. They would pay handsomely too for their commission. Women who wanted bonnets and sunhats and men who wished for suit jackets and mending their jaunty hats. You would measure exactly to size and chat as you did so, posted up in Mingyu’s kitchen by day and your attic room by night. The attic now has bolts on bolts of fabric leant against the wall and sewing scissors constantly on your person. The research has taken a bit of a back seat, actually.

“So, this is awfully pretty. For any reason in particular?”

The young woman hums and gazes out the window to the courtyard, bright and peaceful. Her clear skin glows and her petite lips curl in a shy cherry smile. Minji is her name and this is the second time she has come to see you, the first time for some basic mending on a lingerie dress for a summer outing.

“I’m going on an outing with a very kind young gentleman - Hyungjin. His father works at the radio company, you see. He’s asked me out for a picnic - just us. Or, as just us as it can be with my sister chaperoning. I want to look my best.”

You smile. “And what do you consider to be your best? Imagine how you want to be seen - what you want him to think when he sees you.”

“Pretty. Oh, maybe a little taller? I just want him to think that there is no one else like me.”

“That makes sense. Remind me, when was the deadline for this hat?”

She looks at you, a little startled. “Oh! Three weeks from Wednesday - the outing is on Thursday.”

You nod, pulling away to a calendar in the hallway draw to mark the date. Suki follows in your shadow, eyes speaking volumes of curiosity. “So I don’t forget. This is a big commission, Suki.” You murmur down to her.

You pull over a sketch as you sit back next to her. Measurements down the left. A large floppy straw hat with sakura pink ribbon around the base and fluttering down to tie to her chin. A floral pin to the right, twined with many small flowers like a bouquet. The sketch shows how the inside will most likely be felted, to prevent the straw from snagging in her dark silky curls. Minji’s eyes light up as she coos and sings. Her slender hands clasp against her chest as she sways on the spot, ever the romantic.

“Oh it’s perfect. Delightfully summery. If we could have the brim a touch thinner and the band a quarter of an inch thicker, that would be divine.”

You grasp the pencil oddly in your gnarled grasp, roughly drawing the modified lines. This has her singing again, humming and clapping in agreement. She is only one of two commissions - the other being an optional winter cloak for Soonyoung, a vivacious Spellmaster that specialises in ritual dance. He was going up to the mountains for the next month and needed something a little sturdier than whatever he wore down in Martine. He’d even had the mind to pre-buy the material he wanted and bring it to you!

Mingyu lets you work in his kitchen for almost a month, one danish tin filled to the brim with sewing supplies and another biscuit tin on a shelf in the hall keeping your payments safe for board. He disappears out the back for long periods of time, banging about on the other side of the kitchen wall. He comes back sweaty and dusty, waving off your curiosity with a giggle. He would even shoo Suki out from around the corner.

“I promise I’ll tell you about it as soon as it’s done.” Is all he says one evening.

So, when he finally announces his work complete, you’re embarrassingly eager. The Kitchenmaster tugs you standing and holds your gnarled hands, guiding you up and around the back, down a path you’d never thought to wander to. Maybe he had cleaned this up too, recently.

He leads you around the back of the house to a little building, seemingly tacked on the end as an afterthought.  Somehow, you realise, you’ve never thought to look this way, even out of curiosity. The bricks were the same but the wood for the window frames weren’t. The door frame was different again in material and shape compared to the rest of the house. Pulling out an old skeleton key, Mingyu opens the peeling forest green door to a dusty room, odds and ends everywhere. The room is dark and a little musty. Dust floats free in the air. He’s quick to open curtains and windows to air out the sizable room.

“This used to be my uncle’s office - he used to be some kind of intellectual. The garden was planted for his studies, actually. But when I moved in, I never needed an office, so it kind of just became the storage room. But, now that people are asking for your sewing and tailoring skills more frequently, you need more than just the dining table or even the attic. I can of course help clean up, but I thought, maybe? You could set up here? I mean, the desk is big enough to do something with, right?”

His warm eyes are hopeful as he stands by a desk, hands fiddling with the pocket of his apron. Suki surveys the space, sniffing at boxes and furniture. Finally, she settles herself atop whatever was on the window seat. Her yellow eyes glare at you expectantly. Certainly not taking no for an answer.

“I mean, this has way more natural light and saves people from walking through the boarding house all the time? O-Only if you want to? Take up tailoring properly?” Mingyu babbles on.

You take it in, slack-jawed. “Mingyu...you...you found a room, just for me?”

You’re afraid to speak any louder than a whisper, unable to trust your voice. You rest your hand on the heavy wood of the desk, surely a generation old, by the carved designs alone. Suki is inspecting every corner, her twisted whiskers getting in everything and catching cobwebs. Mingyu starts to go a little red, chuckling with a shrug.

“Well, yeah. Can’t have you working on the kitchen table forever, can we? And I want you to feel comfortable here, for as long as you need to be.” He smiles.

You bite your chapped lips to stem the gurgled breath - your eyes prickle. You squeeze his large hand with your knobbly one, weak but meaningful.

You smile. “Mingyu, this is a lovely idea. How much extra would you like me to pay?”

He pauses to stare at you, as if you’ve grown a third eye. You flinch at the expression, uncomfortable with it in your current state. Mingyu softens his expression, shaking his head.

“Extra? No, I don’t use this room and you need it. No extra charge. It’s a win-win for the both of us. Please.”

You relax and nod, smiling tentatively. “All right then. If you insist. Thank you Mingyu.”

Mingyu tinkers away for a few days after. As do you, the both of you working on opening up the back room some more. Dusting and wiping down surfaces, packaging anything up that needed to be out the way. Mingyu carves sigils into cupboard doors, jamming more and more things into them than usually possible. You stare curiously at the lone sewing set you had been working with, sat awfully small on the desk – still out of a biscuit tin. You take in the rest of the room – empty window seat, desperate for cushions, plenty of empty shelves for whatever you desired. Fabrics and sewing supplies. Maybe a dress form and some hat bases. If you really dared in the far future, maybe a sewing machine.

It’s at the end of the week that Mingyu reveals his final work for you. Signs. Two – one to hang above your study door, the other to hang by the back gate of the bed & breakfast, facing the street. Martine Fashion and Millinery. You gasp, running your fingers over the painted and sealed wood.

“Mingyu, really?” You murmur.

He beams. “Well, if you’re going to be working here, your business needs a name. And customers need to be able to find you. Really, it was no trouble.”

He stoops to pick up and push a small lacquered chest across the table at you. You let out a wet gasp, hands trembling as you reached out, fearful to do so.

“Now, now before you panic, this came out of your board for the month, so this isn’t so much of a gift as it is an investment. And it’s just a basic one. You can add to it when and however you choose. But the biscuit tin was a little meagre at this point.” He explains.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what to say. I-I don’t understand. Mingyu, I’m just some lady you met and took in. There is no need to go to these lengths.”

He shrugs and smiles again. “Like I said, this is all just an investment for me. I know this will pay off, for the both of us.”

You nod and promise to yourself that you intend to make every moment of this work count. If not for yourself, for Mingyu and all his hard work.

So Minji’s commission plans get moved into the back room as does the calendar from the hallway. And the next morning, as soon as the sun kissed the horizon, you waddled through town to pick up supplies. Speaking of Minji, she’s just as delighted as you are at the new space, swaying and bouncing on her toes and clapping in joy in the doorway.

“Oh, look! It’s wonderful! Your own space! You’ll be flooded with work in no time.” She gushes.

You smile warmly. Suki isn’t even perturbed by her noise.

“I hope so. Here, this is yours.” You guide her to a hat sat on a back shelf where dry specimen jars were but days ago.

You turn to present it to her and watch with shock as her bright eyes go glassy. She holds her delicate hands to her little mouth. She glances between you and the sun hat, made to her specifications, almost as if you’d pulled it straight from the original plans.

“This - this is for me?” She squeaks.

You nod. “Of course. Exactly as you asked. Would you like to-”

She whipped her hat pin out and wrenched her current hat off, slipping the new sun hat on. In that moment, you had to tip your head up a little to see her as before. There is a little mirror nailed to a wall and Minji twists and turns to examine it and herself.

“I’m…it’s beautiful. Oh, Y/N, you’ve done a magnificent job.” She says softly.

“I hope so. Hyungjin can’t possibly resist you now.” You add.

You’re startled suddenly as she throws her arms around you, her soft floral scent enveloping you. She squeezes tight for such a petite girl, swaying you a little.

“I can’t thank you enough. Truly.”

She pulls back, radiant and pops it into the waiting hat box. She takes a moment to secure her current hat back in place with her glittering pearl hat pin and cradles the box close.

“I don’t care what happens tomorrow. I know it will go swimmingly. I’m telling all my friends about you. I want you positively swamped with work if it’s all going to be just as good as this.” She says, resolute, before whirling out with a spring in her step.

Minji quickly rushes back, swinging into the doorway. “I will have my father send payment to you by the end of the day. You’re getting paid handsomely for this, I assure you. A mere one hundred is not enough.”

You open your mouth to protest the agreed price but she’s already gone, past your window and away.

In the days after, a young man walks into the study, angelic and handsome. As if he walks on air and pretty eyes almost hidden behind a lemon blonde fringe. There is a sleepy yet sweet turn to his lips as he waltzes into the study, a bundle of fabric in his arms. However, as soon as he lays his eyes on you, his face twists unpleasantly.

“Oh dear. That is quite the curse you have.” He hums, letting the door shut behind him.

You deflate, leaning wearily against the desk. Of course, it has to be a wizard - a Spellmaster no doubt from the way he looks you over.

You heave a sigh. “How can I help?”

“Well, I heard there was an exceptional seamstress in town and I just had to see them. My cloak is in tatters after my last assignment - small chimney dragon. Mingyu sent me.”

You perk up. “You know Mingyu?”

“Certainly.” They smile. “I’m Yoon Jeonghan, first of my name, Class A Spellmaster - best in Martine.”

No wonder they could see through Seokmin’s glamour. You hold out your hands as he gives you the dusty pink and sky-blue cloak. It’s shredded and singed, limp in your grasp the way a wizard’s cloak never should be. Most cloaks of magic users had some sort of life or vibrancy to them. Their energy would zing over your skin, leaving you alive and sensitive. You lay it out over the heavy desk to make out the top and tail. He peers over it like a worried parent.

“So, can you fix it?”

You shoot him a scowl. “If you gave me some space and light, maybe.”

He ducks his head and steps back. “Right. Sorry. I just - my mother and grandmother made it for me. They’re my family colours.”

Something jabs right underneath your rib cage - an uppercut of feelings. Now you really can’t turn it down - not that you would, you need the money.

“I see. Well, come back in a few days and I’ll see how I go. I - you’re my first proper, official customer. With the sign and all.” You confess.

Jeonghan straightens up. “Well, that is an honour. Please, let me know how you go - good day.”

The way he eyes you, you’re not sure what he’s referring to. But still, you pass a vague wave and hunch over the garment. When he leaves it’s with a little less bravado as before, his airy gait is a little more grounded - vulnerable. But Suki is absolutely enamoured with him, watching him with intent from the window. 

“Suki leave him alone and come here, I need you to hold this.” You call, brisk.

She reluctantly turns and leaps up, sitting exactly where you need her as you unfurl it all and get to work on the spare space of the buffet. Your pencils and tailors’ chalk come out as you sketch plans and designs. You frown over your shoulder as you eye it again. This was not going to be some small feat, that’s for sure. By the end of the day, you have a semblance of a plan drawn up, especially after you realise that the tatters are worse than first feared. It’s as if a bear has torn into it then a flood of moths had a feast. That small chimney dragon certainly did a number on this. Too many holes to just sew back together and call it a day. He’s going to need a whole new cloak. So, you add new fabric to the list of shopping supplies. And then note that you’ll need to design something asap - befitting of the willowy wizard.

It takes until the end of the week to have the design drawn up and fabric brought and cut to size. At least the hood and collar are still intact, so the measurements from that are used. Mingyu approves of the new design heartily, mindful of spilling goulash on the plans.

“Oh, that’s just perfect. His family isn’t from around here, so he’ll be waiting for a new one from them forever otherwise. Jeonghan is going to love it.”

You work furiously with it, alongside three other garments for Minji’s friends – as she had promised, a steady stream of pretty socialites had come in with grand commissions, all with varying deadlines and needs. Jeonghan pops in once or twice as well, still appearing full of confidence, yet a little bare now you knew he was missing something. He didn’t quite look whole. You shooed him out every time, with the promise it would be done soon.

“Do bear in mind that this is going to cost you a pretty penny. You gave me some shreds of a cloak and expected me to work magic on it – of which I cannot.” You huff one day.

He shrugs blithely, lemon yellow hair shining in the sun. “If Mingyu and the others trust you, so do I.”

Then, he has the nerve to better eye you. “Hmm - cursed?”

You draw up short and glare at him. “How dare – yes. Why?”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “Who would curse you?”

“It’s none of your business!” Your grip is fisted in the fabric of his cloak, ready to slam it down and kick him out.

He slides his sight to Suki, looking at him as if he hung the moon and stars in the sky for her. He giggles and slants his head down at her.

“And with a familiar? So, you were a witch? A cursed witch with no magic. Hmm.” He ponders like a detective.

“Out with you.” You say through clenched teeth. “It’s not ready yet.”

The blonde draws back and tips his head as he backs out of the study. His shadow draws long over the floorboards.

“Of course. I will see you next week.” Jeonghan says softly. At least he has a bit of tact, you think as you heave a steadying breath.

When the assigned day arrives, Jeonghan is dramatic, splaying his body across your counter and disturbing your garments. Despite your irritation at the disruption, you smirk – your anger over the other day has dissipated. The secret is out, no use in holding anything over it.

"You roll wrong on that Spellmaster, and you'll become a pin cushion."

He sits up swiftly to attention, shooting you a pout. "Right. So, is it ready yet?"

You nod, opening the small cupboard above your head to pull down a folded garment, delicate and fine. You tuck some of the other pieces aside, folding them to hold their designs. The window streams in sunlight that catches on the metal of the pins.

"Now, like I said, I can’t work magic and that cloak you gave me just could not be salvaged." Jeonghan deflates at your news. "However, I hope you don't mind, but I did take the liberty of designing and making a brand new one, based on the old pattern and colour scheme, and with Mingyu’s approval. With some added practicalities."

You shake it out, holding it up, inside facing. It looked a bit like the old diamond design but stylistically fragmented, like falling confetti. You used most of the old cloak, in fact, splicing it over the new sky-blue fabric you’d brought. You added a hood lining. Thin gold trim along the entire edges and a pocket or two as well. What catches his eye though is the talismans and charms stitched into the pattern. Ones for protection and added strength to the material. Ones for luck and a weave of beauty charms along the bottom hem, as functional as it was decorative. He smiles blindingly, taking it from your grasp. The fabric is thicker than before but still breathable and good for varied types of weather. He holds the cloak to the window, inspecting it with awe rounding his petal-like lips.

“I - It’s beautiful.” He looks at you. “I’m glad you fixed this so well. I don’t know what I would have done if you had done any less.”

You’re a little overwhelmed with the compliments but shrug to take them, turning away and somehow trying to hide. But Jeonghan’s gaze isn't something you can hide from - he’s too talented and observant not to see. Every wrinkle and atom of your disfigurement. It suits his fair hair and skin, somehow more ethereal than before. Only now do you notice how discreet his wand holster is, tied under his shirt by his waist, only the wind giving it away. He steps in long paces into your personal space.

"And you used your magic as well! I thought you said you lost it along with the curse?" He blinks at you owlishly as he slides it over his solid shoulders - nothing like Mingyu's but still attractive. You frown. 

"I have. Sigils aren't magic per se. Regular mortals can invoke them." You mutter, shifting your face deeper into your swath of fabrics.

Ever since Jeonghan arrived and re-exposed your curse, you'd taken to wearing your well-covering garments, if only for peace of mind. Not to mention the fact he was absolutely gorgeous so who would want to be seen next to him in your condition?

"Still. These ones have power to them. I bet they've never failed." He replies in a hushed tone, running his fingers over the silvery white thread stitching it all together.

You stay silent as he caresses the fabrics again, his posture changing back into something haughty - just the same way as you had first met him. His dark eyes brim with sincerity though, a warm lopsided smile there too.

“No, really. I am indebted to you - this cloak is one of the most important things I own. Please, will you let me help you find a cure for your curse? I insist.” Jeonghan has to dip his head quite far to eye you with your lopsided hunch.

You wave him off with a scoff. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Just please ensure that I am paid for my work. It’s going to be a little bit more expensive than you probably expected, including labour and materials.”

You’re lying. Obviously. Your trip to Seokmin was enough proof of that. Your room in the attic was back to being littered with research texts from Seokmin and any of Mingyu’s other friends who you raided. It had even escaped down here, cluttered in the corner of a shelf behind you. For those moments when your fingers could not take a moment more with a needle.

“Of course - name your price! But please, I insist. I am a Class A Spellmaster - the best wizard I know, if I do say so myself. If I cannot find a cure, then I will leave you be.” He casts a glance at Suki. “But I'm sure neither you, nor your familiar, want to stay in these forms for very much longer.”

You grumble and gristle under your breath but concede - it couldn’t hurt to have another pair of eyes, not to mention the expertise. You knew you were just as smart as him, once upon a time.

“Tsk, if we can help it. I suppose another perspective isn’t the worst thing. Thank you, Jeonghan.” You straighten up a bit. “But, just for the record, I do know far better casters than you.”

He shows up bright and early the next morning, a satchel slung by his hip and a pile of books tucked amongst his arms. His lemony hair is in his eyes, from the wind. His cloak looks good on him still, settled with airy pride on his shoulders as it drifts about his calves. You splutter and scoff with disbelief from your new place in the study. You didn’t expect him to start so soon.

“I - good morning?” You grouse.

His back is straight as he plonks it all down on the buffet. “Hello, study buddy.”

“Hmm, speaking of that...where will you be studying? I have the desk?”

Jeonghan really makes himself at home, politely shucking his shoes off by the doorway to show white redarned socks with sky blue patches over his big toe sewn with swamp green thread. He hangs his cloak up on the prescribed hooks by the door, the curling bronze dulled with age. Somehow, he finds a stool and tugs that over. How he looks so at home with his pastel attire startles you. Suki, as usual, is no help at all, no matter how much you nag her - “this is for our board payment, you know. Keep a roof over our head? Useless cat.”

He pulls out his ink and quill and arranges himself neatly, a notebook rested against his thigh. A pair of thin gold rimmed glasses come out and gingerly perch on the bridge of his nose.

“So, how far have you gotten with your research? I assume you’ve done some?” He stares at you expectantly over his spectacles and you can’t help but screw your face up - he looks like some kind of fluffy gossip column reporter, even the way he crosses his legs in such a conversational fashion.

“Jeonghan, all my notes are in the attic. I don’t really have the time to trudge all the way up there at the moment - I have three deadlines to meet to make board for next month.”

He waves you off. “Oh, that’s fine. Just talk to me and I’ll listen - get what I can. Then maybe tonight I can borrow your papers and we’ll see what we come up with. I give it no more than a week and I'll have some answers for you.”

Ugh, arrogant.

It’s been a few months and business is booming. You work late hours most days and often carry some sort of garment with you to Seokmin’s when he is out on house calls and needs someone to watch the apothecary for a delivery. With you around he can even afford to do house calls now, something unheard of before, seeing as he was the only one at the shop. Suki doesn’t like those days much, moving about, so she stays in the study, the window opened a crack to let herself in and out as she pleases. Meanwhile, you enjoy working on commissions in the bright, warm conservatory attached to Seokmin’s apothecary. You make board and more, having the profits to purchase hat stands and so on, as well as squirrel away a portion into the former Danish tin for…well you weren’t sure what. But it felt responsible to have a bit aside for whatever emergency may befall you. Maybe injury? You were old.

Jeonghan has become a steady fixture in the study, between his own jobs. His cloak has been mended plenty of times since. His own corner while you take commission appointments at the main desk, his shoes staying on then. The Spellmaster even has the ingenuity to draw up a hefty glamour spell, with your expertise. You preen a little at his surprise at your knowledge – before all this you were studying to be an apprentice Spellmaster for the High Council your grandmother is on, so you needed to be a vessel of knowledge for anything. The glamour spell helps you ease the fear of leaving the study to retrieve any of your purchases from the post office, or even being seen by him. He brings lunch from the kitchen yet is fairly quiet, other than bouncing the odd theory about. It’s refreshing from his dramatics initially.

Jeonghan rushes into the study one afternoon, face flushed but eyes a light. He’s waving a scrap of paper in his hand, a massive book tucked under his arm. He had told you the evening before across Mingyu’s round, wobbly kitchen table that he would be working from his place - he had Spellmaster duties to attend to after all. He acted as if you thought he was the centre of the universe.

You scowl at him, a little irritated at the interruption. “Hmm?”

“Y/N! I’ve - I’ve got something!”

You look at him, nose screwed up. You roll your free hand at him, as if to continue. He rushes to sit on the edge of the desk yowling when a stray pin pricks his thigh.

“About your curse! It’s self-inflicted!” He says quietly, full of pride.

Your face turns even more and your voice drops deadly low. Everything goes still. “I beg your pardon.”

He wilts at your tone of voice. Deathly calm yet uneven to tread. Your glare is both old and young, a fury for any age. He turns out the tome he held, fabric hardcover soft and faded on the corners from age. He points to a passage that threw your entire life back in your face.

Self-inflicted curse caused by a power recoil, usually due to using a spell too advanced for one’s own capabilities. This can affect the caster’s relative surroundings in any fashion from explosions and fire to time displacement. The cure is unknown and inconclusive, suspected to be only found by the caster themselves. A caster’s Familiar, should they have one, is greatly affected by this curse, as they are linked. 

“It’s…the effects are the same.” He says carefully. “This is why you had so many sources on self-induced effects. You knew.”

It’s a slap in the face having your own suspicions said back to you. You didn’t truly want to admit out loud this was all your fault to anyone else except Suki. Nor did you want anyone else finding out your own monumental mistakes.

“With an unknown cure, Jeonghan!” You cry out, louder than you intended, but you meant it. “I can be stuck like this forever - or however long that is in my state. And all I know is that it’s my own fault! Which, from everything so far, was kind of obvious!”

You rise up and snap the book shut, narrowly missing his nimble fingers. You haven’t been this enraged in a long time. Before the curse. You shove it back in his direction.

“Get out. Get out!” You yell, shooing him out of the room like vermin.

Suki is rumpled and skitters around your feet, sending herself out with him. Traitor. You slam the door in his fearful face and bow forward, resting both palms on the wood.

Of course, it was your fault. You’re the one with the arrogance to try and cast the memory spell when your father had explicitly told you not to. It was old and full of components you thought you understood – you were studying this specific vein of magic, of course you should know by now. You could do everything else, why was this the spell that would hold you back? Once it had been cast, your memory would be able to hold almost infinite information. It was easier than binding a caster’s magic. Your own hubris led you to cast it in the sloping backyard of the family house. In the dead of the night with everyone away at a Council convention. You had felt it fly out of control, like a garden hose pressure sending it spinning and water flying. Your shout of shock and Suki’s yowls the last things you heard. Then the home that had been in your family for generations was up in flames, the frame hanging together by the thread. The force of it all sent you careening into your mother’s prized rose bushes. When you came to, this is who you were. So, you ran.

So yes, you’d known deep down for a long time where it came from. But hearing there was no cure? Well then, what was the point?

You work in a guilt and anger fuelled fever the rest of the day and only until the oil in your lamps had dwindled did you toss it in for the time being, dragging your feet around into the house. There was a serving of dinner set aside, still magically warm to the touch, but the rest of the place was dark and quiet.

Jeonghan waits a few days before he returns, devoid of supplies for once. You suppose now that he had worked out the crux of the curse, that that was it. Mission accomplished. You’re working on a suit for Eugene who owned the post office. He’s planning on surprising his wife for their anniversary and wanted to look as good as feasibly possible. Guilt has been eating at you like nothing else, but you were too prideful and busy to find him. His hands are tucked underneath his cloak, behind his back. You fold the suit away quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You say quickly, softly before he can get any thought in conversation.

He looks up, brow creased beneath his fringe. “Sorry?”

“For snapping at you. And not telling you everything about the curse. I let you go on a wild goose chase and didn’t stop you at all.”

Jeonghan sighs and smirks wryly. “Thank you. But I’m sorry as well. I was a little insensitive when I brought it up. Of course there is guilt to things like this. But, now that we know where this stems from, we can start working on how to reverse it.”

You can’t help it. In shock, you laugh, bowed against the desk. You laugh so hard, you must cover your eyes, tears seeping out with the force. Suki is at attention, ears folded back at the sharp noise.

“You still want to help me. Even though we may never find a cure?”

He nods and straightens up smartly. “Even if we don’t find one, we’re all still here for you. So, are you in?”

“Sure.”

He backs up from his place in the doorway. He hasn’t even taken off his shoes yet, like usual. “That’s great, since I left all my supplies in the kitchen, in case you said no. We’ve got a lot of work to do. But, imagine it - my life’s work, breaking the unbreakable curse. Yoon Jeonghan, legendary Spellmaster.”

You scoff loudly and turn away from him to let him bask in his imagination before retreating to get his things. Goodness, he was ridiculous. The most arrogant Spellmaster in Martine, surely.

Not even a week later, Mingyu peers in, a little frazzled. “I - are you very busy?”

Jeonghan is at his usual perch, swiftly sitting upright. You’re intently over another filmy garment - with summer breathing down your neck, a lot of commissions were being used with thinner fabrics, looser to let that salty sea breeze through.

“No more than usual. Do we have an urgent client?” You ask.

“Sort of. I’ll bring her round.”

Moments later, Mingyu is trailed by a young woman with inky black hair piled in a typical Gibson bun from the way her hair sits off her neck and forehead. She wilts in a large sunhat and pastel pink dress with a touch too many frills to be tasteful. There is a basket on her arm.

Mingyu ushers the young woman in. “Hi, Y/N. This is Park Haeun, third of her name. She’s holidaying for the summer. From Aria. I suggested she come round to get one of her dresses fixed?”

She’s petite and full of soft shapes - except her eyes. Despite how wide they were, her eyeliner is sharp and narrow. She’s the epitome of an Aria summer - all muslin fabrics and warm rolling hills. In her arms is the basket, and in quite a rough fashion she pushes it onto your workspace, disrupting some of your other commissions. Her little round lips are pursed in a pout. Jeonghan busies himself with Suki by the window, teasing her a little and scratching at her chin. He usually does this with any of your consultations, some false air of privacy.

“Oh! I - Madam Y/N!” You bristle at the title but understand - the glamour does show some age. “I met Master Mingyu’s current lodgers on the train when the most disastrous thing happened! One of my favourite dresses was caught in a trunk and ripped. Master Mingyu says you are a dream with a needle and thread! Is there any way to salvage it?”

You tie off your thread and carefully (yet hastily) fold the combination undergarment away into the cupboard you have commandeered from Mingyu. Wading over, you pull the dress out, shaking it straight. The hem of the dress has torn a good inch or three, leaving it frayed and disrupting the overall image of airiness. It was right at the front. Not an easy feat.

“The fabric is awfully thin. I mean, with the price of fabrics here, I would just recommend a little mending and sew a whole new layer over top, if you’re that attached to it.” You mutter.

She withers a little. “Oh. I was really hoping something could be done. It was a gift from my father.”

You clench your teeth. Sentimental stuff always gets to you - Jeonghan’s cloak was enough evidence to that. Laying it out, you better inspect the garment, comparing the tear, then the rest of the stitching. If you did it close enough with two strands rather than six like usual…

“Leave it with me for the week. I’ll see what I can do.”

She beams and you blink from the haze of her image. “Oh, wonderful! Thank you so much Madam Y/N.”

Haeun reaches out to shake your hand vigorously and draws back a little as she comes closer. Her joy morphs to concern and you can feel her eyes seem to go through you.

“Are you well, Madam Y/N? You look awfully...ailed.”

You draw back as well, tucking your hand into yourself and drawing your attention to Mingyu. “I... well, I’ve had a bit of a tough time. Mingyu, when is lunch?”

He blinks at you. “I - very soon. I’ll back around when it’s ready? Bye, Y/N.”

At least he gets the picture of dismissal. Haeun looks guilty enough for you as she dips her head in farewell. Only now you realise that she’s still wearing her hat. Inside.

“Thank you so much again, Y/N. Goodbye.”

They both exit and you can see her give a lingering look to Jeonghan, who she hasn’t had a chance to speak with at all. He smiles small and polite, eyes sliding to yours widened in alarm. The moment their feet hit the brick pathway, he steps over for you to catch his forearm.

“She saw through the glamour. All of it. How did she see through my glamour? We made it ourselves." You hiss in panic.

“What do you mean?”

“She couldn’t look me in the eye - barely looked at me at all. Asked if I was ailing. I’m supposed to look old, not haggard!”

He shrugs. “She may just have The Sight. No need to worry.”

You scowl and twist away to eye the garment darkly. You had to fix this pretty thing now. If only to be rid of her chipper disposition.

You tinker away at it, your assumptions right when it comes to mending it. You were glad that the waist was well gathered, so the movement mostly hid anything possibly unsavoury - which none of it was. With such a straightforward fix, you had no reason to sew in any charms. In those two days, Haeun was exploring the town, often running into any of the wizards you knew. Mingyu invited her over for dinner the night you expected her back for her dress. Jeonghan chatted with her at length about Aria, something you wouldn’t have expected of him - he was usually so private. Your chest would have a sharp icepick driving through you the more he opened up to her. It had you turning your nose up at him and giving him the silent treatment under the guise of commission work. Small wins, you suppose.

When she shows up in your workroom again, Jeonghan is on her tail, smiling brightly. It makes your stomach churn and you can’t work out for the life of you why. She may not be the most tactful person, but she was pleasant enough. There was nothing to be worried about, no matter how much your gut may think so. Mingyu was trying to get you and Suki to eat. Haeun’s dress, once you’d set up for it, was an easy job, finished in a matter of hours, so you were back to your more demanding garments. Minji’s new hat - yes, another, the girl had an addiction, you swear - is half done, glaring at you from the mannequin head standing on the desk. The ribbon looks limp as it seemed to reach out for you.

“Madam Y/N! How does my dress go?”

You duck into the side room, formerly what you assumed to be some sort of library or dark room before it was cleaned out and a window busted through. Hanging in the sun is the dress. She gasps on sight, rushing over to grab at the hem. Gently ruffling and tugging the skirt, Haeun deems it worthy. She scoops it from your arms, folding it hastily back into her basket. If that was how it was packed in the first place, no wonder it caught a snag – no respect.

“Thank you so much! It looks like it never happened at all. How much?”

You shrug. “Only $60.”

She looks at you from the side of her lashes but passes over the money for you to slip into the Danish tin in a drawer of the desk. Patting the lid of her basket, she beams back over at Jeonghan.

“You were right when you said she was the best seamstress you’d ever met in the world.”

“Are there no seamstresses in Aria?” You can’t help but ask.

She shrugs. “Yes, of course, but none of them would have said yes to this job.”

Oh. So it was like that then - the impossible job.

You’re still smarting over her comment when they sweep out in the same breezy fashion that they arrived and you get back to your work, ignoring the beseeching gaze of Jeonghan through the study window. You were tempted to pack some of his studies away for room, but at the heart of it all, you didn’t have a venom in you to do so - there was plenty of room elsewhere for your spread out. He was only trying to help, after all. And Haeun did pay as requested. Other than a foul mood there was nothing to negate or argue.

You are surprised though when Jeonghan reappears not an hour later. Your ears are attuned to the sound of his sensible boots over the pathway, even through a catching giggle of Haeun’s that carries from what must be the kitchen or courtyard.

“Jeonghan, is dinner ready so soon? It’s not even dark.” You comment, pausing to lean on the desk.

He shakes his head. “No, not yet. Mingyu is waiting for the others to arrive first before he even thinks about touching a spice or spoon.” You huff a laugh through your nose but he continues. “I was actually checking on you. Haeun’s words didn’t sit well with you and I wanted to settle her before I saw you.”

Again, you laugh at his turn of phrase - he treats her like a child to be coddled. Knows you too well not to make his words a statement. You nod.

“You are correct. I didn’t like her comment about the Aria seamstresses. I can’t pin down just one thing, but it’s enough to annoy and insult, Jeonghan.” You say as evenly as you can. It’s not his fault.

He hums and comes closer to lay a hand over your own gnarled knuckles. It still takes everything you have not to withdraw. His dark eyes are warm and the turn of his mouth sympathetic.

“Ah, I know. She is from Aria and they tend to be like that, you know? Bad at filtering their thoughts with a serve of perceived imperious. I should know, I’m from Aria, too.”

Your brows shoot up into your hairline, even as it comes together in your mind. Oh, of course! Jeonghan’s accent was a dead giveaway to his upbringing. Through his soft, slightly raspy voice the faint accent of those from Aria was present. Even in the way he dressed, simple but clean, unlike Seokmin and Mingyu who both looked more ready for a day farming and other labour in earth tones and natural woven fibre such as linen. So, he had that air of superiority about him you liked to pop so often. How had you not noticed it before? It was nice, as much as you hated to admit it, to work with someone a bit more well-travelled like yourself. Soonyoung was an exception seeing as his magical talent was so rare and sought after, he travelled often. But Jeonghan had grown up in another country. There were different customs and meanings for social etiquette and various objects. It meant more knowledge which you had always selfishly strived for.

“I see. That makes sense.” You say carefully.

He nods again, eyes shut sagely. “Hmm. Would you like to come inside now? Have a cup of tea before we send Haeun on her way?”

He squeezes your hand gently and you pull away from your work, letting him lead you out. Suki meows and takes the window exit instead as you grab the key and lock the door.

Famous last words. Somehow, you’d both forgotten she was here in Martine on holiday, so whether you liked it or not, she was sticking around for a little while longer. A few days later showing up at Seokmin’s for a chat and to arrange a lunch by the sea for those who could join - you were instantly withdrawn from this event as you had jobs to do and a trip to the post office for Eugene. 

Then, a day or so later after that, another feature at Mingyu’s place to see off his lodgers and stick her nose in your business. An empty babble about how hard working you were and a slight kickback about your age again. You bite your tongue at how the cluster of wizards humour her, like babysitting a child. Even Jeonghan gets in on it sometimes, your research on the back burner for his own jobs and Haeun.

Seokmin is walking you back to the boarding house, his arms full of fabrics ordered from the post office. The sun is almost set, gas lamps lit and casting everything in a dim, warm glow. But your hackles raise when you feel the rush of whispers through the air. For once though, they don’t seem to have begun because of you - in fact, barely anyone is looking. It’s the women of the boutiques and the populace donned in cloaks that huddle close and murmur, something akin to a buzzing hive. Pointed hats up and down the street, tilted together in hushed tones. Distress weaving them together. You glance at the Potionsmaster and he guides you to a pair of young men. Joshua and Soonyoung - you’re getting quite close to them as they drop into Seokmin’s store, asking for this and that or into Mingyu’s for Sunday night dinner. Soonyoung loved his cloak, toasty and functional up in the mountains for the solstice. They’re kind enough not to speak of your condition and they chat with you almost as easily as they do Seok.

“What’s going on?” Seokmin chirps, hands tucked into the pocket of his canvas apron - he’s resting your fabrics on the park bench the group managed to grab.

Soonyoung turns to him. “Where have you been? Have you not heard?”

You look between them all and shake your head. “What is it? Why are all the Casters out tonight?”

Joshua pulls out a limp and crumpled newspaper from his cloak. It’s folded back to a page in the middle. Wizards Flee Aria En Mass. He puts it away before you get a chance to read much else.

“The King of Aria has put a bounty out on a wizard who entertained the court for slighting the princess. Every wizard in Aria is being called for questioning - word is it’s more like torture. Soon, Aria will be devoid of magic users all together if this is how they treat us.” Joshua summarises quietly with a shake of his head and soft tut between his lips. “I thought it was bad before, when the royal family called wizards extortionists of the court.”

“I don’t know how much of a heart she has, honestly.” Soonyoung grumbles. “Enacted a ritual for them for the summer solstice once. She had the nerve to call it barbaric.”

Seokmin gently kicks his leg in silent scolding but doesn’t disagree. Nor do you. You can’t help but think of that throwaway comment of Jeonghan’s after hassling you one day in the office, feet kicked up on the desk. Then again, when Haeun rubbed you the wrong way.

“Jeonghan is from Aria.” You say softly, looking to the pavement. “He might get called up.”

The three of them turn to you, Suki plopped on a foot. You shrink into your head scarf, feigning cold. The crease to your brow has Seokmin slipping an arm around you, tucking you tightly to his side. He smiles small yet bright.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He can handle himself - besides, he’s here in Martine with us. They haven’t summoned anyone from over the border yet.”

You hum and nod, bidding farewell to the other two wizards as you turn for the hill.

The summer was in full swing, fresh sea breeze winding up the hilly streets of Martine and into the open window of your studio. It had the sun turn warmer and days drag languid. Sometimes you just wanted to stop and let the world go by, like today. Jeonghan seemed to be in the same mood, his notes open but empty in his lap and his ankles propped up on the window seat. He sits a little awkwardly, twisting to sit half in the sun. All he had asked was if your family was just as powerful as you. Then off you went. Tangents about your father and grandmother, the most powerful witch you had ever known. The gently rolled hill that made your backyard so smooth juxtaposed with your family’s higgledy-piggledy ancestral home, structures leaning and hanging off it as the members of your family grew over the generations. Your mother’s gardens, blossoming and flawless year-round. Shadows have changed for sure by the time you surface from your memories.

You feel like a bit of a fool for harping on so much about your family home, the homesickness eating away at you so obviously. Even as Jeonghan listens so intently to you, pausing his research. You laugh and shake your head.

“Y’know what? Enough about me. What about you? Did you grow up in Aria? What’s that like? Land of Melodies as they call it - oh! Can you sing?”

He chuckles but shifts, and officially closes his notes to toss them on the other window seat cushion - guess nothing was really getting done today then. You’ve mirrored him, putting a hatpin in the hat stand you were working on, setting it to the corner of the desk. You slump in your set, arms folded over the dark wood.

“I can - most of us in Aria can. If you can't, you play an instrument. Or if not that, you certainly have some kind of talent in the fine arts. It’s the backbone of the country.”

Jeonghan though, is quiet and guarded with his answers and you can’t help but think you’ve struck a nerve. But he lets you press on so you don’t quite know how bad said nerve is. You find out that he has a younger sister who is a beautiful witch herself who likes working with animals. And that he’s been away for a long time.

“So, what’s kept you away for so long? For work or - did you screw up at home too?” You laugh lighter than you feel at the self-deprecating joke.

He shoots you a look but shakes his head. “No, for work. I used to work in the King’s Court. As a performer.”

You coo in interest. “Ooh, what did you used to do!”

“I was a court magician. One of the best Spellmasters means I can do all sorts - make the stained-glass windows dance and sing, send people into the sky.” Jeonghan says gently. 

Is that a whiff of wistfulness you detect? You wouldn’t be surprised. Such a job could easily boost his already inflated ego on a daily basis. Listening to the King - a man with no magic, despite his daughter’s extensive magical talents - exclaim and wax poetic about Jeonghan’s abilities would surely leave any normal magic user with a sense of importance.

“I bet that would have paid handsomely too. Why did you leave?”

Then he goes quiet, a shadow passing over his warm eyes. You’re about to pull your question when he speaks again, glancing away from you.

“Uh, affections were not returned at court, so I couldn’t stay. The King was after me over the whole ordeal, so I had to leave.”

You can’t help it - you splutter out a laugh. “You’re...on the run from the King of Aria over a jilted lover?”

He pouts and huffs, sleepy eyes turning to a steely glare. It doesn’t quiet you at all as you stop further forward, howling with laughter. Suki is curled up on the floor in a slice of sunlight, one golden eye squinted open to watch the two of you. Tugging his cloak tighter around himself, he nods.

“Not just any. The princess; his daughter.” He mumbles.

You’d met her once as a child with your family on a work trip to Aria. Beautiful and graceful. A wonderful magic-user. But very haughty and condescending to your younger self, which you never took very kindly. You could imagine the two of them together easily. Jeonghan’s pretty appearance and her sophisticated beauty, not to mention their combined magic abilities would have been something to be reckoned with. Your own heart shrinks a little, aggravating the creak to your aged bones.

“Of course - you’re the wizard the King has a bounty on! It had to be you! But why would you run from a life like that?” You say with wonder.

“I didn’t mean to lead her on - didn’t even know I was doing it until I turned her down and she threatened my life! She told the King that I stole her heart and called a bounty on me. Good thing I used an alias at the palace or I would have been done for by now.” He explains with a sigh, raking his hands through his hair and pushing his fringe back.

Surely the use of an alias didn’t make him look much better, but you decided not to offer that opinion even as you ignored the way your heart picked itself back up again. You direct your attention back to the hat at your desk, nodding in understanding.

“Wow, I’m still impressed you’ve managed to hide out for this long.” You say instead.

Jeonghan smiles. “I know. But still, I try not to get too comfortable.”

You look at the way he’s kicked off his boots by the door and now shifted off his seat and into your sunlit window seat, curled up like a cat.

“Oh yes, you look most uncomfortable in a foreign space.”

He rolls his eyes but says nothing else. Your focus back on Ms. Kang’s summer hat, an odd request for autumn - nevertheless, it’s work. As you attach and gather the inner felt and matching ribbon, you can’t shake the questions bubbling on the tip of your tongue.

“Did you steal her heart, like she said? Physically or otherwise?” You ponder aloud.

“No! As able as I am, I didn’t. She still has one. Where, I don’t know.” Jeonghan whines.

Suki startles at that, eyeing you then the beautiful Spellmaster. She migrates to his stomach and he smiles softly, rubbing gently behind her ears. You snarl under your breath, lip curled back.

“Rude little…”

Jeonghan can slowly see your youth turn its head, in minuscule ways.

Your growing passion for your little sewing business. Minji especially brings it out whenever she comes by to say hello, the grey in your hair seeming to glow like starlight in the sun - two cosmic lights against one another.

You talk to him, not like a Spellmaster to be revered, but a person. A mischievous young man that won’t leave you alone. And when he isn’t actually doing his job as Spellmaster in Martine, you’re making him run errands for you. Haeun could try and vie for his attention as much as she wanted, with a pout complaining how he worked just as hard as you. But her saccharine syrup words had nothing on the whip tongue you had that would catch his ankles.

“Jeonghan, I’ve ordered a few bolts of fabric from Seychelles and had mail come by saying it is here. Can you go down to the post office and get it?” You say, a pincushion in the shape of a squishy cat sits on your wrist. If he squinted it kind of looked like Suki.

He jerks a little from his reclined perch across from you at the desk. “You want me to do what? Can’t you get Mingyu to do it or cast it over? Or delivery?” He complains without venom.

You shoot him a severe glare. “Mingyu has guests in the B&B at the moment. Besides, this is Martine, not Aria - you should know as well as I that they aren’t forward enough to have a delivery service yet.”

There are no fine wrinkles catching on the edges of your eye side, nor in your laugh lines. Like a young woman with a grey wig on. He has to blink away his awe and compose himself. Something, he thinks, to add to his study notes. With a dramatic sweep he settles his cloak on. Running his fingers through his lengthening blonde strands to clear his face he flops in the doorframe.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

You smile, small and grateful with a minor tip to your chin as a nod, aiming your focus back on the garment scattered in front of you.

You’re still young on the inside, you remind yourself, every time you gaze a little too long at Jeonghan. Rain or shine, he’s angelic. Sometimes he helps you garden, hovering by you like a worried mother while you hack away at weeds and cut flowers for the many vases that are scattered throughout Mingyu’s house.

“I - be careful! You’re…” He murmurs under his breath, gardening gloves and a ratty canvas apron tied around his waist (that you made for him, a patch of blue flowers on the pocket) 

You twist on your knees to look up at him severely, a snarl twitching at the edge of your lips. “I’m what?”

“Fragile.” He sighs.

You’re still old on the outside, you remind yourself every time he says something like that, stamping out the skip in your heart.

Suki adores him, obviously - they’re just as vain as each other. Suki used to preen and fluff all the time before her mange. And now that’s back on form with the strengthened glamour, she does it twice as often, as if to make up for lost time. Jeonghan submits to her every whim.

“Oh Suki, you are gorgeous today.” He says, sickly sweet, clapping softly as she parades around the study, a new scarf made from fabric scraps nestled amongst her fur - this one in a brassy gold and green to match her eyes and her fur.

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need to humour her so - she does enough of that herself.”

She yowls at you, shooting you a scowl - you return the sentiment, sticking out your tongue over the combination undergarments you were mending - one too many romps in the field for Minji, you think wryly.

You don’t realise that your age eases every time you stay outspoken. How you glow cool yet bright like starlight, bouncing off Jeonghan’s warm and strong radiance with something softer but just as steady. You miss his glances - he has a bit more self-control - who wants to be caught daydreaming about the elderly seamstress that Mingyu houses? You hope he misses yours as it’s a little odd to be having someone of your condition look so at a young wizard of his calibre.

He doesn’t see your age very often any more - physically or otherwise. Whether it may be because he’s seen you without that elderly edge for a while or because often you don’t act your physical age. Maybe it might have to do with the fact that magic users age at a different rate to mortals, so age is less of an obstacle. But no, you're still twenty-something to him. You’re still magic.

A few weeks later, Minji, now a regular client of yours (actually, your most frequent and favourite, if you’re honest) comes rushing in. She’s a youthful whirlwind, running into the work room, the door left swinging open to let in the early autumn air. It’s not even a week after you finished her second hat and she’s waving her left hand around, shards of light scattering throughout the room.

“I - what is the meaning of this?” You splutter, squinting to shield yourself.

Hyungjin peers in from the doorway with a kind and soft smile, a little flushed in his cheeks. The ribbons of Minji’s hat flutter through the room as she squeals.

“We’re getting married!”

You stand up and eye the ring glittering on her finger, the gold band pristine and a teardrop shape of a diamond set in a gold crowning. It’s beautiful and tender, just like her. You smile brightly.

“I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!”

“It’s thanks to you - it has to be!”

You shake your head as you cradle her hand. “No, how can it be? Minji, you’re a wonderful person - of course Hyungjin would propose. He would be foolish not to.” You smile over her shoulder to him. “Just as you would have been silly to turn it down.”

She shakes her head. “No, no. It would have taken us forever! It must be you! Y/N, will you make my wedding dress? With your beautiful work and luck, I can’t imagine anyone else. Father and I will pay handsomely for your work as always, I assure you. Just, please, say yes?”

Her dark, sparkling eyes plead with you silently as Hyungjin shrugs - as if to say what his fiancé says, goes. Her hands swing yours as the bottom lip juts out in a pout. You screw your own nose up and turn away.

“Alright, fine. If you stop pulling that face.” You say gruffly.

Suki, however, has perked up immensely, golden eyes watchful and curious with their glow. Minji squeals, jumping on the spot. She even drags Hyungjin’s loping frame closer, planting a solid kiss to his cheek. Her skirts kick at your legs as she flounces about like a puppy.

“Oh, thank you! I’ll come by next Wednesday? To discuss design and budget, of course.”

Before you have a chance to even agree, she whirls out, her heels clicking over the cobblestone, but not before stopping suddenly, head tilted at you in confusion.

“I - yes?”

She laughs, shakes her head. “Nothing, only that it looked as if you had gotten younger somehow. Silly thought to tease you with, I’m sure. Goodbye!”

Her shoes sound over the stones and around the corner, naivety dancing past your window. You turn, bewildered, to Suki. She meets you halfway to stare at you just as intently. You look down at your hands, then to the half-sewn sigil in Seokmin’s mended shirt.

“Do...do you think it was really me?” You say softly to Suki. “I - do you think I can cast again?”

She chirps and leaps up to paw at the shirt, swiping it towards you. You nod and claim your usual place behind the desk, stitching away at the strength charm, pouring intent into every piercing of the fabric. You want this shirt to be strong, almost indestructible. The moment you tie the thread off, there is a gust of wind, warm and cold all at the same time. Suki bristles against it, struggling to hold herself upright. When it clears you let out a strangled scream.

Suki. She’s fluffy and majestic as the day the two of you met. As if the curse and mange had never happened. Whiskers straight and wispy, twitching proudly on her face. Her yellow eyes were vibrant, reminiscent of topaz rather than tarnished gold. She seemed to preen and wink at you, as if to say, yes, we’re back.

Jeonghan has shown up early - early being midday - for another round of study. But he’d gawked when he had seen you, claiming you were somehow different.

So, in a panic you dash back inside, scrambling for the powder room on the ground floor of Mingyu’s place. You delicately touch your face, watching your reflection react. Old. Not ugly anymore, but still old.

You tear up, biting your lip as your turn away in disgust all over again. You jump in fright at the sight of Jeonghan in the doorway. Then you promptly burst into tears, pushing past him and dashing down the path to your sewing room, slamming the door shut. You scramble to shut the filmy curtains there for privacy. Barely a moment later, there is a faint tap at the door.

"Go away!"

"Can I come in, please?" His voice is soft.

You whine out in disagreement. He knocks again, pleading gently.

"No! I'm still old! The curse isn't gone!" You cry out, crumpled against the wood.

Head buried in your knees, you lament your situation. He taps again, this time much closer to your head. His hand smooths down the wood and you assume he's sitting on the pebbled ground outside.

"Let me in so we can work this out together. Suki is out here and she looks perfectly fine. We really should talk about this."

"Ugh, I know she does! I don't want to! It's hopeless, Jeonghan. Go home, please. Take Suki with you if she'll let you. I really want to be alone." You whimper.

You can hear him shift against the wood. "Okay. But I will be back tomorrow. We will fix this. Together."

There is a soft tone of pleading you've never heard of before and he drifts away.

Jeonghan makes good on his promise, showing up the next afternoon to see how you are. He carries in a small pile of spell books, full of ideas. They fall quiet at the sight of you, passed out in the late afternoon sun over a half-made garment, the design plans crumpled under an outstretched arm. Jeonghan has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. Your youth has returned to your face, smoothing out wrinkles and giving your hair a lively shade again. He seems to hold his breath, keeping the world as still as he can to look at you a moment more unbroken. This is really you. There is a pucker to your face as you shift in discomfort, opening your eyes. Then like the flood of a rainstorm, the age has returned, your prim hairstyle drawing your face back. He quickly drops all of his papers to your sewing cabinet, all of them obsolete at this new clue.

“J-Jeonghan. You are back.” You yawn, threading your needle into your garment in a baste stitch to hold it in place.

Standing, your posture isn’t as hunched as before and he can finally make out your proper facial features, even through the age. You would have looked beautiful a few months ago - you did, moments ago. The grey of your hair isn’t so wiry, more reminiscent of the silver that glints on his fingers when he casts spells - glowing and bright.

“I said I would be, so I am. Suki is in the kitchen with Mingyu. Seems like I’m not a cat’s cook.” He laughs softly.

You smile too and roll your eyes. “Don’t take it personally. She’s been my familiar for years and she’s never been completely happy with whatever I give her.”

Then, you look down to the garment you’re working on, fiddling with the rough hem. “By the way, I’m sorry for lashing out again, yesterday. It wasn’t the best news.”

He sighs and comes round to meet you by your desk. Jeonghan’s slender hand falls over your own, his thumb rubbing absent circles.

“I understand. Of course it wasn’t. It was something we didn’t factor into our journey. But it’s still progress. So now we work on this new phase.” He gives your hand a squeeze and a gentle smile. “Before you know it, you’ll be back to normal and even more amazing than before.”

With Jeonghan’s persistence at solving your magical mystery, you feel it’s only right to maybe divulge the true goal - your past. So one balmy afternoon, you walk to the back of the attic room, to the small shelf. Jeonghan is hanging in the doorway, polite yet curious. A single book sits flat - charred on the top corners and missing the back cover. Suki jumps up to the window sill and watches the two of you intently. You flip to the back few pages that move in a loop. Jeonghan leans over, scanning them carefully. It’s one of the few things you took from the accident, and it was only by luck seeing as it flew from the explosion and landed in the scorched grass nearby.

"That's Suki. Wait...is that. That's you." He says, pointing at one.

It's a personal favourite of yours. You were dancing in a circle on the back lawn of your ancestor's home, casting sparking light charms with your newly carved wand. Suki weaved and pounced at your feet, trying to catch them while you laughed at her. Even though it's in sepia tones you could see the life and youth that you used to have. The one next to it a few years before, out the front of the High Council building. You’re in your favourite cloak and a dark formal dress, the heirloom witches’ hat wonky on your head and a blinding smile. You’re holding your Class B Spellmaster qualification proudly in both hands, your wand clutched amongst it. A little over two years later, you were cursed.

"Yeah. That's what I looked like before the curse - that last one. A few months after this the accident happened and my wand splintered to pieces. I lost it and my youth to the fire." You murmur.

He smiles. "You're very pretty."

"Was, Jeonghan." You correct him gently with the slight gravel to your voice.

"Well, the ugliness was lifted, surely the age can be too." He says with conviction.

You shrug. "Let's hope."

All the while, Haeun slowly worms her way into almost every facet of your new life. Waltzing to your study space too often unannounced to do nothing but meddle and make herself at home.

Dinners and lunches at Mingyu’s round kitchen table he has to always polish before she comes or else she will say something about it. Perched daintily in the window of Seokmin’s conservatory as your little band of wizards tries another way to lift your curse. And if you weren’t familiar with these tactics you wouldn’t have picked up on just how damn nosey she was. She was no help in your quest to reverse your curse, content to babble and give the wizards the nth degree about absolutely nothing!

Asking Seokminnie about his wand skills, naively watching the shame round his shoulders as he confesses his minimal wand ability. Then her botched attempt to smooth it over and move on as if trying to hide a table under a rug.

You pat Seokmin’s arm later on, in a rare shadow of the greenhouse. “Seok, you’re the owner of the best apothecary in Martine. Who needs spells when you've got that?”

He smiles small and shrugs, his aura still seeming too dim for your liking. Such a kind young man didn’t deserve to be diminished.

“I guess. Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. Leave her be. You’re worth far more than you’re obviously giving credit for.”

Haeun isn’t a threat. You aren’t competition. There is no competition – you’re an old lady. Albeit a young woman trapped in the body of an elderly one, but still. Haeun doesn’t know that. Still, whenever she comes around to your sewing space specifically, babbling like a schoolgirl, you end up more accident prone and grinding your teeth. Mingyu and Joshua have wisely learnt that it is in your best health not to bring the Aria holidaymaker to the study.

Jeonghan is another story.

Suddenly, for all his perceptiveness, he brings her round every time he’s with her. Despite your abrasiveness toward her, he’s smooth as butter. Perches himself on the edge of your desk, the soft scent of honey and something fresh filling your senses. Haeun almost always tries to hover with him before resigning herself to the window seat, thus kicking Suki from her sun spot. You’re glad you have at least one comrade - as unlikely as she is - in arms against this imaginary foe. Surely he isn’t being that oblivious or insulting. Jeonghan isn’t like that. You hope it’s just a necessary evil he can’t get out of, or constant coincidence. Maybe she likes being in your space? Whatever it is, you wish it weren’t true.

Mingyu brings it up, oddly enough, as you nurse your tender, well-stabbed fingers just before dinner.

“Have you ever known Haeun to be a flirt?” He says over the chopping board.

You shrug. “Not entirely? She follows Jeonghan around like a lost puppy, but that’s most likely only because they’ve both been to Aria. I mean, I went when I was a kid - my grandmother had work liaisons with the royal family and their council - but I don’t remember much.”

The tall Kitchenmaster frowns and nods slowly. “I see.”

You stand up and scoop up the pile of carrots and drop it in the pot. “Why, ‘Gyu? Do you see something?”

Your heart sinks as you say it out loud and Suki peers up at you, careful and strangely still - now that she’s back on form, she’s exceedingly attuned to you, perceptive to everything you don’t want to say.

Mingyu shrugs. “I mean, it was fine at first - she’s new to Martine. But now she hangs off Jeonghan like a... a bit of a leech. She’s almost been run over twice! Jeonghan has had to pull her out of traffic both times and she fell all over him when she did so. I don’t know - it just seems a little too much to be coincidental. She’s even starting to stir talks in the bakery and the post office! Eugene is talking about her.”

Your brow shoots up and you decide to avoid Mingyu’s awfully accurate deductions. “Eugene! Well, she’s making an awful lot of fuss for some summer holiday maker.”

The tall young man shrugs, fluffing his brown hair out of his eyes. “I suppose. But I have a feeling she might fancy Jeonghan - she’s always trying to get him to go to dinner or lunch with her. He can’t seem to take the hint for once though. He’s usually so perceptive with people.”

You screw your nose up and scoff. “Oh, my days. Who would ever think that throwing yourself into oncoming traffic is a successful way of courting someone? I certainly hope you aren’t right, Mingyu or else I’ll be a bit sick. Poor Hannie.”

The taller man snaps his head up at the affectionate name, but says nothing else.

You see it yourself later in the week though when Jeonghan convinces you to come out with them for lunch. You even waggled your finger at him as menacing as you could.

“Only because I do have errands to run - I have some deliveries to pick up and drop offs to make, okay? Lunch is a maybe.”

He pouts at you as you leave the study and lock it behind you. Suki is right on your tail and you blow your silver-grey hair from your face.

“A definite maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine… a definite maybe.”

Haeun somehow ends up trailing behind us and Suki, a third wheel dressed in a sunhat and another chemise de la Reine, a pricey garment for a stroll. “I - if you are too busy to come along, we understand, don't we Jeong? You ought to leave her alone at her work - she must have a lot to do.”

She hastens to shut the gate behind the lot of you, bundling up her skirts a touch so as not to catch it on the fence or the bushes. Her pet name for him makes you turn - it didn’t even roll well, you think in a petty tone. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, slipping your arm through his and patting your frail hand that rested over his forearm.

“Haeun, don’t be silly - our seamstress mistress here never comes out! She needs a rest - a breath of fresh air, hmm?”

He looks down at you kindly but you keep tight-lipped. You hope the elderly don’t know how to blush or you’re done for.

Jeonghan guides you to the inside of the sidewalk, closer to the shop fronts, his arm curled securely in yours. This leaves Haeun to bring up the rear, her steps fast and small as she tries to keep up with the two of you - Jeonghan’s legs long and your agenda short.

“So, what’s for lunch-”

“Can we go to the post office first? That’s why I came out. And to Madam Park.” You pat the hat box in front of you.

He rolls his eyes but smiles. “Ah, yes that. I suppose so - let me.”

He tugs the hatbox from your grasp, tucking it up under his arm. Haeun gasps and puffs on your tail as you turn into Martine’s post office, the door jingling brightly.

“Eugene!” You call.

A familiar man with dark wavy hair pops up around the corner, fluffy moustache and all.

“Ah! My favourite witch! And Jeonghan, Master of Spells!” Eugene cries out, heavily accented.

You roll your eyes. “You know better than to call me a witch - and don’t stroke his ego. He doesn’t need the help.”

You all laugh as the owner personally attends to you from the gate by the counter. His hands are permanently ink stained and a roll of postage stamps is unfurling from his pocket.

“Ah, but you have to be a witch to enchant Master Jeonghan to do anything!” Eugene counters.

Jeonghan’s mouth flaps indignantly, no sound able to come out, even as he goes a little pink. You actually giggle – Eugene had always been the best for banter, ever since you did his suit for him. The anniversary dinner went great and he had sung your praises to anyone in the post office that week.

“Do you have my parcels?” You chirp.

He nods and hums, flipping his imaginary mane of hair. “Certainly! A lot of them this week - are you sure you can carry them all?”

“I, uh just the little ones today - I’ll pick up the mannequin tomorrow.” You decide aloud.

He puts them in a little canvas bag, no doubt one of many from his wife, Francesca. “Here you go, amica.”

“Not to worry Eugene, I’ll pick up the mannequin tonight?” Jeonghan says breezily. Jeonghan scoops that the little canvas bag too, even as you grab for it in protest. He tips his nose up haughtily to end the conversation.

“Ah Master Jeonghan. Of course, of course.” Eugene smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. “See? He’s so enchanted you didn’t even have to ask him!”

You protest again without much energy, more so out of propriety. They chat lightly and you happily wait. Maybe the wizard was right about getting some fresh air. Your shoulders felt lighter, your mind a little less restless. There is movement in the corner of your eye and you catch the tail end of Haeun slipping out the door to wait outside. With her many skirts and her feathered straw hat, maybe it had become a little claustrophobic in the little store for her. If she had learned to take off her hat…

Finally, the two of you wave off the postman and head back out into the sunny weather. Haeun appears indifferent and patient, turning from the shop window next door to brighten at the sight of you.

“Ah, Jeonghan.”

Oh. Right. Again, he situates you on the inside of the sidewalk and straightens his back. “Thank you for your patience, Haeun. Now, Y/N, what’s next?”

You lift the small package you bought with you; a pink cloth held together with twine. “I have to deliver this and the hatbox to Madam Park’s residence then I am back to the study.”

He pouts. “Not even lunch? Look, even Suki would like something to eat!”

You glance down to your familiar, sitting and glaring patiently. She just wants out, full stop. You stoop to glare her down – a stalemate. “You little… fine. Madam Park then lunch. Then, back to the study.” You state firmly.

Madam Park is not at home, but her doorman takes the package. You’re a little disheartened that you cannot see her reaction like you usually do, but surely she’ll come back later on in the week to thank you – she always does.

So as you walk down Martine’s cobbled Main Street – the only street in town devoid of any cars – the three of you discuss lunch prospects.

“What about that spicy thai?” Haeun suggests.

Before you can voice your weariness because you’re fussy like that, Jeonghan shakes his head. “No, Y/N is very sensitive to heat. There’s that tea house in the gardens? Overlooking the koi pond? An iced tea and something fresh?”

You smile. “Oh, you remembered. Thank you. But, I don’t mind.”

“The tea house it is then.” He decides.

As your little group walks downhill for the tea house, chat is mostly shallow - about things such as his upcoming jobs and rumours about Minji’s wedding. It was so far off but already the rumour mill was working overtime about anything from a secret child to his sister being snubbed from the guest list. You both know the truth and you’re delighted to hear that Hyunjin’s family has enlisted Soonyoung and Joshua to be part of the ceremony - both of their talents would be well utilised. Haeun makes comments here and there about the unfounded rumours as if they’re true but for once they roll off your back like water on duck feathers. His arm doesn’t loosen from yours once.

It’s mostly business as usual from here. Jeonghan brings your mannequin by and complains the whole time setting it up that it’s too heavy and any minor inconvenience in between. But it’s sorted eventually and just in time for Minji’s preliminary appointment - she’s bringing her mother and a few of her friends by too for an ideas session. She sent a brief message the other day that her whole wedding party was considering garments or accessories from you and you could already see how packed you would be leading up to it. Haeun comes around more unprompted, making herself a nuisance.

Haeun looks at you, pity bloomed like a garden in her eyes. “Oh, how horrible to be cursed with such an affliction. I would hate to be so old so soon.”

She shudders at the thought and you pause the mending of her winter stockings to glare at her. One positive to it all is how hard an old lady’s glare can hit home. It can silence even a morning rooster if used well. She stills and settles, suitably humbled-

“- but why someone would curse a mortal like us is beyond me.” She muses and your brows shoot up into your hairline. Mort-what? But she still wasn’t quiet, dammit.

“So, what did you look like before?” Haeun asks, fluttering her lashes.

She speaks as if she’s never been told no. You push her garment away, utterly finished for the day, no matter how much daylight was left. Although why she wanted to have a winter item fixed in summer was beyond you. Using and abusing your talent with a needle while she was here, must have been it.

“Younger.” You snap, rather loudly.

The young woman startles and looks at you, mouth finally closed.

“I have other errands to do - I’m sure you can see yourself out now. Suki.”

You stand, Suki hot on your heels, like she doesn’t want to be seen there either. There is a faint hiss from the furball as you turn the corner. And if Suki gets to her stockings again later on and renders them irrevocably damaged, you try very hard to appear ignorant and sorry. You don’t need her business - you weren’t that desperate.

But you startle on an overcast morning at the loud thunder of footsteps nearing you. There is a blur past your window before Jeonghan breaks into your doorway. His expression is the strongest pout you’d ever seen. He smells like smoked fish and his pants up to his knees sopping wet, not to mention the rest of him was at varying levels of soaked as well.

“What in Merlin’s - Jeonghan what happened?” You say, pushing your current commission aside. Suki stands still, very obviously torn between running and comforting him - the smoked fish smell is throwing her off, for sure.

He sighs, out of breath. “I was on a job this morning and the Port Authority forgot to mention that it was Flying Bluebream season. As soon as I started my casting on the first ship, they flew out of the water and into me! Then, since I hadn't finished the spell, the engine of the boat blew up with the sudden influx of weight and magical energy in the area and I almost sank with it! Never again. Soonyoung can have them.”

You take him in better and your chest seizes up. Softly, you mention the added problem. “Jeonghan…your cloak. Did it get caught in the engine maybe?”

His mournful eyes fly wide and he unclasps it from his neck, swinging it round for him to better examine. On the outside, there were fish scales and guts - that was an easy wipe down thanks to your sigils and choice of fabric. But the hem…it looked like it had been chewed on and spat out before being set on fire.  Then Jeonghan makes the loudest noise you’d ever heard from him - a raspy quiet-loud yell layered with dismay and frustration. He even gives it a maddened shake.

“How did I not notice? What are we going to do?” He cries out at the top of his lungs.

You’re shocked into silence with all the raucous he’s making and Suki has made her choice to back up behind the desk, her jewelled eyes blown wide. Carefully, you pry it from his grasp. As much as you’re annoyed by the destruction of your hard work, you know it’s not his fault. The Port Authority should have told him - they would know the seasons of the ocean off by heart, so to enlist his help but not think through all possible occurrences is their fault. Even the explosion is on their head. You carefully run your fingers over the damage, mind wandering. You still had scraps of his cloak material in the cupboard and you could add that length back along with the sigils, which had held up surprisingly well. They would be even better now you had some of your magic back.

“Calm down, Hannie.” You say, gentle. “First of all, we need to clean it of all this fish and guts. Go find Mingyu and ask for a bucket of warm soapy water and a soft scrubbing brush. And a stool - I’ll need something to sit on.” You give him a once over and frown, reaching for him - you weren’t sure where your hand wanted to land though. “Oh, Jeonghan, please get a change of clothes too. You’ll get sick.”

He nods and races out. You carefully drop it to the floor while putting your pin cushion and various other sewing supplies aside. Then you adjust your apron tighter and roll up your sleeves past your elbows, grabbing a scrap ribbon to keep your hair out of your face. Suki sniffs the air and backs up even more and you shoot her a look.

“Don’t you be so dramatic. When Jeonghan gets back, you need to be nice. He’s your favourite, so it shouldn’t be too hard, huh?” You mutter at her.

From there, you scoop it back up and take it outside, resting it on a windowsill. He waddles around the corner moments later, trying as best as he can not to let the water slosh. His lovely brow is furrowed deeply, teeth bared in concentration.

“I’ve got to get you a stool - be back.” He adds as soon as he’s put the bucket in front of you.

You pick up the brush straight away from the depths of the water, brisky brushing it down to dislodge the unwanted debris and give it an initial spot wash. You make a note to sweep this all away into the garden once it is all sorted. You delicately soak the swath of fabric and you’re about to drop into an awkward squat when he comes out in a shirt two sizes too big, sliding to bare his porcelain collarbones and a pair of trousers with a drawstring tightened over his hips and rolled up at the hem. He’s in a pair of clogs you would have thought were for gardening and a towel slung around his shoulders. Jeonghan’s wand holster has moved from under against his ribcage to sit lopsided on his hip, easier to put on but more often a more combat-style placement. You bury a chuckle behind your fist and he sets a three-legged seat by you. You don’t react and take a seat, getting to work on washing out the smell and anything else hidden.

“When I’m done, this is going to have to dry before I can mend it. If we do it without a spell, I won’t be done till tonight at least. Unless Mingyu or you have anything up your sleeves to dry it out quicker.” You say, starting to twist your wrist to scrub.

He’s gone again and by the time Suki has finally braved the mild elements and you’ve finished washing it, he’s back, his wand twirling between his gracefully calloused fingers. There is a bit more pep in his step too and his hair is dry, towel missing.

“Hang it here.” He says with soft command, gesturing to Mingyu’s washing line. 

Once done, his hand takes your wrist, keeping you close and yet out of the way. He murmurs an incantation and a sculpted blast of wind spurts from the tip of his wand, swirling and fluttering the garment in a targeted way before dissipating. Mingyu had obviously provided some kind of spell, as you suspected he had as a Kitchenmaster. You’re smiling smugly when you whip it from the line and bring it back inside.

“Jeonghan, can you give me…two hours? Then it’ll be good as new.” You say, already buried in the cupboard full of your scraps.

He takes a seat in the window, sleepy lashes fluttering expectantly with his chin in his palm. “I’ve got time.”

You can’t help but smile a little, trying in vain to press it down between your lips. In an effort to be nonchalant, you shrug and stoop over your emergency project, brandishing your scissors to the light like a mad scientist before hacking at the charred edges. His eyes on you set you ablaze and build the much-needed pressure to spur you on.

Finally, after exactly two hours and a lot of fiddly sewing and snipping, the sigils are fixed and the hem looks like it never happened. It had somehow gotten easier over time, your shoulders and knuckles not aching so much and more dexterous than usual. You put it down to finding a working rhythm. Now you lift it and flick it straight with a flourish, presenting it to Jeonghan, who has been mostly quiet during your fever state. He springs to his feet on your rug, having kicked Mingyu's gardening shoes by the coat hooks. He doesn’t even bother inspecting your work, reaching straight for it and slinging it over his shoulders. His eyes sparkle again and his lemony hair has regained its willowy life.

“Are you not going to check my workmanship?” You pout a little.

“Do I have to? I trust you.” Jeonghan says lightly, smoothing it down his sides.

“What about a thank you?”

He rolls his eyes and leans for you, bowing multiple times. “Thank you so much for your tireless work, Mistress Y/N. Ah, my hero - an angel.” Then he goes ramrod straight, his eyes lighting up, scarily so. “Yes, Angel.”

You squint your eyes in return. “Why do I feel like that isn’t good for me?”

He reaches to brush a non-existent hair from your cheek and you seize up with the affectionate implication. Then there’s that grin that only spells trouble, too pretty and too sly.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Angel.”

Then you scowl and clench your teeth, hoping you can’t blush - they way his grin widens and his shoulders roll back says otherwise. You curse Great Merlin, Morgana and all in between for the name. With that he whirls out, mentioning something about Mingyu and washing.

Haeun’s outspoken opinion really crosses state lines one blithe summery day in the studio, which has eventually become the main hub of all things – Mingyu’s kitchen is usually the other location of large discussion. Soonyoung has come in with another newspaper article, detailing the sanctions and tough conditions wizards and now other magic users are facing in Aria. You know that this would be a matter of great concern to your grandmother, as a principal member on the High Council. But, no mention of them has occurred yet. Perhaps they are biding their time on a plan of sorts. You look over to Jeonghan, who has sobered at the mention of other magic users. His sister. You hope the Council has a plan.

You frown. “That’s horrible. But surely, a crusade against wizards is a little much?”

Haeun looks at you with a glaring pout. “Love is enough for a war. A broken heart is enough for such a mission. I feel as though maybe your age may cause you to forget the strength of young love.”

You rear up, pushing aside the mending task at hand. Stepping around the desk, you point menacingly. Mingyu is startled, too stunned by the unfolding argument to intervene.

“Excuse me? Did you just call me a forgetful old biddy?” You snap. “Heartless and dismissive because I think the king and princess are being stupid?”

Her eyes widen and she puts her palms up. “No! No, not at all! Only that things feel different over time and such an endeavour is warranted for a higher power.”

Another step as you swat her hands away to encroach on her space even more, forcing yourself to look upwards at her soft face. You growl through clenched teeth, “you’re making it worse.”

“Whatever do you mean? Madam Y/N, the crusade in Aria is at the will of the blood of the monarchy and magic. I was always told that magic casters felt things differently - stronger - and that their love was not something to be messed with. It was fate and it cannot be fought. So of course the current situation in Aria is serious. But easily resolved.” Haeun pouts, tilting her head like a lost puppy.

Now your finger jabs her chest, hard and you bare your teeth just like Suki. She gasps, making a little squeak when you do it again. “How - How - just where did you hear all of this drivel! You Arians are delusional if that’s what you all think. It’s cruelty - even a mortal can see that!”

Jeonghan delicately reaches out to grasp your hand, turning your smaller frame away. His eyes are insistent, the quirk to his mouth begging you to back down.

“Okay, okay, let’s give everyone a little space. Haeun?” He soothes, even as his eyes slide back to you to betray his uneasiness. “Come, this kind of topic is not worth the energy.”

You’re still glaring. She relents and smiles prettily at Jeonghan.

Haeun nods. “Exactly. As much as the King is right, it’s not something to be debated over at this point in time. Everyone here is safe.” As you try to dodge and struggle at her underhanded quip, she looks expectantly at the wizards in the room. “Masters Jeonghan and Mingyu, will you accompany me to a lunch venue - I haven’t had a chance to find anywhere particularly enticing today.”

Jeonghan smiles diplomatically, stepping away from you and closer to the door. “Certainly, it would be a pleasure.”

Soonyoung has wedged himself up against the wall at the exchange, gaping like a fish out of water. All over a news article, he’s probably thinking. Haeun dips her head at you as you stew, smiling brightly. Her dress is taking up most of the work space and you want to yank off the silly lobster tail bustle you would never see in this summer weather. Not to mention the hat she rudely left on as she entered, despite standing right next to the coat rack. She keeps doing these things! How quickly your perception of a person can change.

“Right then.” She quirks her lips up in a wry smile, as if she knows something you don’t. Such a feeling is something you’re not used to. “I have a feeling our relationship is becoming quite interesting, Madam Y/N. Even with our differences - but that will only make it all the more intriguing, will it not? Hmm, goodbye.”

She turns with a swirl and exits the room, leaving you unable to make a reply as she leaves the door wide open. What in Merlin’s name is that cryptic babble supposed to mean? You turn your lip back and shut the door with a simple push - an action that takes about as much effort as a charm in a sock. So why couldn’t she do it! Jeonghan looks at you and presses a polite kiss to your temple, patting your hand.

“I’ll see you later, okay? Try to calm down. She’s from Aria - she doesn’t mean to antagonise you. That’s just the way their people are.” He says with a shrug.

You arch a brow. “What, like you?”

He clasps his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, Angel. I’m a delight.”

He tucks your grey hair behind your ear and waves you off. Jeonghan jogs after the others and around the corner, waving wildly as he passes the window - you roll your eyes and return the gesture, sagging against the edge of the desk the moment his shadow is gone. Suki watches you and in an uncharacteristic move, jumps the desk to your hip and settles against you, the fluffy warmth swathing you in a moment of calm.

Seokmin has a massive order of potions to send out, so he’s called everyone in to help. The sun doesn’t blister through the cloudy day, which is a saving grace. Soonyoung and Joshua, a Crystalmaster in the highest class are inside the shop arguing over whether rose or rose hip is the better ingredient while Seokmin is working on one cauldron in the warm conservatory. Jeonghan is there too, laughing amongst them all - goodness, he glows. You’re with the far larger cauldron outside - this batch flies off the shelves so it needs to last at least the rest of summer. It’s in the final stages of brewing, you know that much, with how few ingredients are left out.

You don't miss Haeun walking past the simmering potion, thick fluttering lashes blinking curiously as she passes by. You turn your attention back to the bunch of herbs you've twisted in twine, chopping the foliage as small as possible for the next step of the potion. You suddenly flinch as the sharp smell of something chemical and sour hits your nose. Looking back up to the potion, you see dark smoke curling thick from the cauldron.

"Uh, Seokmin?" You yell from the courtyard, unable to tear your eyes away from the vicious turn.

You shoo Suki back as you peer into the iron vessel. It bubbles thick and slow like tar while simultaneously bubbling and boiling in the middle like dishwashing liquid. It's turned from a calm aloe green to a sickly swamp and forest shade. You jump back with a squeak as a large bubble pops and spits. The four rush out, Seokmin pushing through. Haeun is perched on the entry steps, brow creased.

"What did you do?" Seokmin says accusingly, dipping his ladle into scoop some of the turning potion out into a shallow bowl. It hisses and burns, the smoke lessening.

"I didn't do anything! I don't have the recipe, you do. Besides, I don't have the kind of power to put something in with that much intent, we all know this." You snap, stepping back.

You cross your arms, indignant that you were accused of something that you didn't do. Joshua screws his nose up at the scent, falling back next to you. His built upper body dwarfs you greatly and you bury the urge to shrink into his dark navy cloak.

"Can you fix it, Seok?" Soonyoung murmurs.

"Maybe. Do we have salt, distilled water, probably sage and… ‘Shua, you got any quartz on you?"

Joshua beams and fishes amongst his many pockets to pull out a white crystal. "Always."

You and Soonyoung wade over with the other ingredients, watching as he carefully cups a small pile of salt in, a hefty splash of moon water and a whole bundle of sage. He murmurs to the quartz in his hands until it glows and drops it in, waiting. It seems to calm and dilute itself, falling back to a simmer. But as soon as it calms, it seems to turn violent, growing rapidly in size, the iron cauldron warping with the backfired potion. Seokmin's eyes fly wide.

"It’s going to blow! Run!"

The group scatters, but as you hear the rumble and creak growing in insistence over your shoulder, you worry if you'll make it. Jeonghan turns and yanks on your arm, huddling you in front of him as he dives for the work bench you were just at. There is a hollow explosion, seemingly full of air that bursts behind you and rocks the bench, then a heavy splatter. Jeonghan keeps you curled up tight against him, tucked under his chin. It goes quiet and all of you peek to see the damage. The backyard is covered with tar-like liquid, Seokmin's cauldron out of shape at the rim, but not burst. You're shaking from the suddenness of everything and Jeonghan is gentle in helping you up and trying to soothe your racing heart. Haeun and Soonyoung both pop out from inside the conservatory and Seokmin and Joshua from around the side of the shop. Suki is frazzled in the window.

"What the hell happened to that?" Joshua says carefully.

"No idea. Something might have fallen in it. Also, definitely the sage." Seokmin confirms, dodging the sticky substance on the floor and walls.

You can feel eyes on you and you slide your sight to catch Haeun staring right at you, mouth ajar. She blinks rapidly upon being found out, turning away purposefully. Her nose still tips up in the air. Jeonghan's arm doesn't leave your shoulder.

"I'm gonna get y/n back to Gyu's - she's a bit shaken up. Will you be okay here without me?" The pretty Spellmaster says.

Seokmin sighs. "Yeah, I guess. We have the cleaning here covered. See you guys later. Feel better soon."

You wave goodbye, not sure if you can trust your voice yet. Jeonghan's arm doesn't leave your shoulders, Suki trotting in your shadow. You're glad the walk isn't very far, but he still lets you take your time as your breath still rattles and your limbs suddenly fragile as glass. You hate being reminded of how out of touch your body is with your mind. It's not until you're back at Mingyu's, sat at his rocky kitchen table that you finally speak.

"Haeun was the last person near the potion." You murmur.

The pretty Spellmaster turns to you from the window - he’s gorgeous in that afternoon sunlight. "What?"

"Haeun. She was near the potion right before it went weird. I don't want to point fingers but there's a chance that she put something in." You dip your head.

Jeonghan takes the seat next to you, resting his hands over your knees. Dark eyes bore into you, steady and sure. There is no vengeful conviction, but you don’t need that. Whatever Jeonghan is, is enough.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I believe you.” His lip pulls up and he pats your knee again, a little more rough and good natured. Then he stands and pats at the sleeve of your dress, adjusting the strap of your apron. “I’m going to go back and check on the clean-up. But I’ll be back for dinner tonight. Will you be okay till then?”

You nod. “Sure. We’ll be out in the study, hmm Suki?”

She tilts minutely to open her eyes, the best version of agreeing you’ll get. Jeonghan hums. “Right, then, I’ll see you later, Angel.”

He floats out and you wave your fist indignantly after him the moment he closes his mouth. “Hey, stop calling me Angel! I’m an old woman for goodness’ sake!”

 You hear later on that the cleaning went off without a hitch and that the next batch of potions did as well, notably you were not invited. It feels like a bit of a stab to the gut, but you try to brush it off, especially with the amount of commissions you have this month - you would have more than enough money left over after Mingyu’s board and re-stocking your supplies you wouldn’t even know what to do with it!

Haeun comes by far more often than before, sometimes even unaccompanied. Still shoving Suki from her place in the sun and pulling out a battered poetry book that she didn’t seem to really read. Instead, she would interrogate you, full of backhanded compliments and badly veiled insults under the guise of curiosity and culturally different social etiquette. Suki had made it clear she hated her, even ditching you in favour of scruffy little Aji in the main house. You bit your tongue a lot with her, especially after the last argument. Pick your battle seemed to be the motto of your relationship.

“So, Madam Y/N. Jeonghan likes to be close to you. Wouldn’t you consider that a little odd at your age?” She says with her funny little lilt. Her poetry book hasn’t been touched, her pinky finger slipped between the wrong pages.

Your teeth grind but you don’t stop to look up at her. “Perhaps, but I’m also at the age where we can learn a lot from one another. He could stand to grow up a little. I don’t read into it, Haeun. Besides, didn’t you say that age moves differently with magic users?”

Her pillowy mouth rounds and flaps as she struggles for words. “But-but it still doesn’t make sense. He takes such good care of you and escorts you out of here like a date! I find it far too familiar of the two of you.”

“Jeonghan takes care of me. I am frail and ill-tempered at my age. He and the others are kind and attentive to me and my afflictions. There is nothing wrong with that, nor is there any more to it. Haeun, I would sincerely advise you to stop trying to read between lines that are not there.” You are quiet yet firm.

She merely ducks her head, scolded for the time being. After a long while where you manage to finish the darts needed for the garment and she ruminates in the quiet, Haeun sets her poetry book aside and reaches into her reticule to pull out an embroidery panel of Aria’s native flowers.

“Madam Y/N, I would like to give this to you. I am by no means the best at the work, but I thought you might appreciate it.” She lays it in front of you, right over the garment you’re currently working on.

Again, as if she is the centre of everyone’s universe. You pick it up to better inspect it. It’s a shocking result - the threads are uneven and twisted, front and back and you worry that the hoop hasn’t been tightened to the correct tension. You smile thinly and put it in the third draw of the desk - where you keep your scraps.

“Haeun, thank you for the gift. I can see you worked very hard on it and appreciate it very much.” You lie through your teeth.

She preens. “Thank you for noticing. I think I should get going though - I do have other appointments.”

You grunt a reply but question what other engagements she has - she has only ever oscillated around the young wizards you call friends. She pops to her feet and glides out, leaving a heady scent of roses in her wake that stab right between your eyes.

Perhaps it’s your own fault for going back this late at night – your last delivery could have waited, and you certainly weren’t given extra for it like usual. The sea breeze whipped through these narrow streets particularly sharply, so the shawl you had on combatted it well. Soonyoung had brought it back as a souvenir from his trip to the mountains, so the fabric was enchanted – thin but well insulated for versatility. Despite the late time, the shadows were longer and darker than expected.

Then there was the smell. Rather than the brisk tang of sea salt and a touch of pine from the shoreline, this was closer to sulphur or the mudflats from further down the coast. The swamp dwellers were notorious for their proclivity to dark magic. They were the ones you went to for revenge and the forbidden. So why that scent was here confused you. The air was thick and the streets devoid of people, something was very wrong. People liked to stand on the cobbled streets well into the night, warm drinks in hand, socialising in the most inconvenient of places.

You turn and stretching from every shadow and unsavoury corner are beings oozing and rasping toward you. Bottomless ink black Phantoms for your soul. The more shadows you pass, the more they catch and gather, growing in numbers. The smell is thick and suffocating, an ice cold rocketing up your spine. Mingyu’s is too far, Seokmin too far as well and under protected for such a situation. Joshua has already been passed. Jeonghan said he was on a job tonight. Which leaves Soonyoung. He’s a detour down a risky, dimly lit alley to the parallel street, but it had to be done.

“S-Suki, Soonyoung’s. Go.” You gasp, as she yowls and takes off running.

You pick up the pace as best you can with the uneven cobblestones and winding streets. The Phantoms sound like a windstorm, no human noise to be heard. They swallowed anything human or otherwise they set their sights on. You let out a weak yell when you feel a tendril, wet and viscous glance at your ankle. Soonyoung lives in a wonky little townhouse with warm brown and black fired brick and a russet brown door. There is some kind of sigil carved into the door, a pattern of them around the doorframe and windows as well. Perfect choice to seek refuge with. The door flings open before you can get to it, his keen eyes on you as he grabs both of your wrists and yanks you in. The door slams shut. Suki is sitting on his living room carpet, awash in warm tones and streaks of black.

“By Merlin, what’s going on with you!” He cries, patting you briefly to check you over.

“Phantoms.” You wheeze.

He jumps, wriggling about on the spot. “You brought Phantoms to my door! How did you find them?”

You lean against his hall table and glare at him. “They found me.”

“Phantoms are old entities. They need something physical to keep them attached to this plane.” He murmurs to himself, looking you over with his chin in his hand.

Soonyoung goes still then fixates on the brooch that kept your shawl on your shoulder. He points accusingly at it as it glints in the streetlight. “Where did you get that from?” He yells out.

You pat it, tracing your finger over the filigree edging. “I - Haeun gave it to me. For fixing her third dress this month. Said it was in her family but not her taste? Insolent girl.”

She’d implied that it was too dated for her and that your old age was perfect for it. By Merlin, always a dig at your age from her, constantly backhanded. He almost rips your shirt-waist in his haste to take it off your person. As your shawl falls away, he tosses it to the floor of his hallway like it burns. Again, he points at it aggressively.

“That - that thing is riddled with negative energy! It has to be cursed as well.” he tosses a glance over your shoulder to the Phantoms loitering outside his door. “That’s why those entities have been chasing you. Something has happened to set off the energy and attract them. We need this cleansed, right now.”

Soonyoung backs up the hall, eyes still on the glinting metal. “Stay here. Watch that. I’ll call the others.”

As soon as he turns the corner for his pokey kitchen, the windows start to whistle and rattle, as if there is a hurricane outside. You know it's the Phantoms. But you don’t dare face them with what Soonyoung has told you. Something you don’t want to risk blinking and missing. Moments later, he’s racing out the room, and grabbing your wrist, yanking you down the house after him. Throwing open a door with his free hand, there is a small, step-in study with all sorts of ritual resources. Instantly, he pulls a swath of cloth, a jar of salt, matches and some dried herb bunch. The phantom hurricane roars louder and you shriek in shock. His brows are set - you’ve never seen him so serious and determined, usually happy-go-lucky and chaotic.

He passes you the cloth and salt. “Can you help me block off the area? Until they get here?”

“Who’s coming?” You ask as you throw the sigil-sewn cloth over the brooch and trickle a steady unbroken ring of salt around it.

“Everyone - ‘Shua, Seokminnie, Jeonghan and Mingyu. If it can pull out all this level of Phantom, I don’t know how powerful it actually is.”

Everything within you seems to seize up as you stare, unseeing, at the pile of fabric at your feet. His warm hand wraps around your shoulder. He’s burning the herbs, waving the smokes in patterns over the brooch. Soonyoung’s sharp gaze shortens momentarily.

“We’ve got you. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m so sorry for bringing this into your house.” You lament.

He shrugs. “That’s what friends are for. I’m glad you trusted me enough to find me for help. I was probably your best bet in a pinch anyway - a lot of my magic works with physical items and energy signatures.”

There is a long, frantic knocking at the door and Soonyoung leans back to call down the hall, “come round back! Quick!”

Joshua bursts in first, his cloak pockets heavy and clinking softly with his multitude of crystals. His hair looks a little sleep rumpled. “I saw them crowd the windows - what’s going on?” He says.

“Y/n set off a cursed artefact. Phantoms ensue.” Soonyoung explains. “D’you bring cleansers and shields?”

You take offence to his choice of words. “I-hey! I didn’t do anything but wear it! Why do you guys keep thinking it’s my fault these things happen?”

The dancer gives you a sympathetic look but says nothing more of it. Instead they seem to ignore you and start to merge and chatter orders and ideas, Joshua setting crystals - most quartz - around your shawl. Static starts to build in the air and the Phantoms even more restless somehow. You feel listless and left out. Maybe even a bit envious - if you had proper magic this would never have happened. Jeonghan breaks in next, hair windblown and his cloak buttoned wonky over an undershirt and loose trousers. His scowl rivals the storm outside. Instantly he steps for you, raising a hand to your face, checking you over.

“What happened? Are you all right?” He says a little harsher than you’re used to.

Still, you nod as Mingyu jogs in, apron smouldering in patches and Seokmin carrying a large bag, a little pink in the face.

“Yes, I’m well. The brooch from Haeun is cursed.” You mutter.

His expression turns funny - something about it you can’t pin down - and he guides you to the edge of the stairs. “I see. Stay here while we cleanse it. Then we’ll dispose of it.”

“I’m sorry for pulling you away from your commission.” You mumble, tilting your chin away from him.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright, Angel. I’ll always come. Let’s go, hmm?”

He knows you too well, that after this ordeal you wouldn’t want anything to do with it anymore. That you knew he was busy and Soonyoung called him anyway. Seokmin is frantically stirring and splashing concoctions on the pile while Mingyu, Soonyoung and Jeonghan plan out a spell. The three of them start to chant in Archaic, wands aimed at a point in the air. You clasp your hands over your ears as the noise of the Phantoms becomes closer to a wretched scream. The fabric starts to smoke then is alight with bright orange flames, burning rapidly to a crisp, with the ease that the natural cotton had. Then the brooch starts to jump and rattle, writhing painfully on Soonyoung’s floor. Seokmin peeks under Mingyu’s arm to splash some more potion on it. Joshua is sat on the floor, eyes screwed shut as the quartz flexes and glows at his command - you can almost see the tangible webbing of magic whispering white between them, like a cage. There is the sensation of all the air being sucked from the room, into the brooch in its last ditch attempt to fight before it also screeches and pops, molten and limp. Mingyu’s forehead is beaded with sweat and Soonyoung’s jaw is cleaned so tightly you would have mistaken it for being screwed shut. But the Phantoms are silent, the streetlight back to glaring through Soonyoung’s front windows. You slump and heave a sigh, the air back to normal. Joshua, a little pale, collects his precious stones and stores them in his cloak, clattering away with the weight. He tilts his head to check in on you.

“How are you?” He says gently as always.

You smile. “Better, now that’s over. Thank you all for your help.”

He rises to his feet and rubs warmly at your upper arm. “Of course we would. Here, take a couple of these for protection for a little while. You know the drill - put them at windows and on your person.” He drops a few quartz and malachite into your apron pocket with a soft smile.

They’re all a little drained from the ordeal, so Soonyoung brews some tea and you all claim various seats, sprawling out from the front living room to the stairwell where you stayed on the bottom steps. The tea was warm and strongly herbal with lemon balm and chamomile. You were pointedly not looking at the heirloom item that had started all of this. Seokmin is the first to finish, taking his chipped mug to Soonyoung’s sink and meandering over to you. He leans on the banister to peer over at you. The tea serves to centre and settle your thoughts and Suki slips into the living room for some attention.

“Are you okay?” He says softly; kindly. “What a night!”

You shrug. “I am now. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry for causing you such trouble. This is the second time something has happened.”

His arm awkwardly reaches over and pats your shoulder. “No, not at all. Anything for a friend. As long as you’re safe now.”

Jeonghan is next, coming round to stoop by your knees. His eyes are more droopy than usual but they never waver from you. If he had the energy you were sure he would have crossed his arms or put his fists on his hips. The background noise of the house guests is an added comfort.

“I agree.”

Somehow, the very sight of him settles you even more, any walls or cautious misgivings crumbling away. He tips his chin and you shuffle over so he can sit next to you by the wall. His knees go up comically high with how low he sits. But instantly, his arm is around you, humming and patting.

“There we are. We should get you home soon, hmm?”

You nod and let Seokmin pull you to your feet. You squeeze his hand and look for a long moment at Jeonghan. “It happened again. Something from Haeun. She brought it from Aria.”

You’re thankful that Jeonghan is whip-smart - not that you’d ever admit it to his face - and can read between the lines. He smooths your stray hair down, fluffing the ends of it. He has that funny look on his face again, the same one he had before the spell when you had mentioned her and you physically bite your tongue, regretting even voicing your half-thoughts. Seokmin is too busy guiding you through the cluttered hallway of shoes and various items they had all brought with them, dumped unceremoniously. You call short and brisk for Suki and she brings the rest of your friends with her as they cram into the doorway. They look ridiculous, all wide, patient eyes watching you.

“I-I’m going to head out. So I’ll take the -”

Soonyoung’s eyes crease and he quickly scoops up the cloth and brooch, throwing it over his shoulder into the burning fireplace. The fire twists a brief cobalt blue before settling, the cotton and metal smouldering to nothing. It should put things to rest, but thoughts linger, like floating particles in water.

“No, you aren’t. I would never make anyone carry a cursed artefact. Y/Nnie, go home. Me, Seokmin and ‘Shua will clean up.”

Mingyu’s wide frame breaks free and meets you at the front door so you’re wedged in by Jeonghan on one side, and the kitchenmaster on the other. You give everyone brief goodbyes as you're escorted out the house and onto the hill. You didn’t do anything but you don’t have the effort to be part of the empty conversation going on over your head. The pair of them lead you upstairs and Jeonghan waits outside while you get changed and settle for bed. You have no shame as he moves about the room, murmuring some spells over windows and any kind of door including your wardrobe. Suki steers clear of the windowsill where the Spellmaster sets up Joshua’s cluster of stones. The moonlight that streams in seems to glow whiter than before the quartz was there, like filtering dirt and evil. Even with his sluggish movements, Jeonghan even tucks you into bed, patting the blankets down over you!

His hand stills on the folded edge as he seems to look past you. “Angel, if anything else happens, we will need to talk. You aren’t safe anymore.”

You try to sit up, but with how tightly he has you wrapped, it’s not possible. “What do you mean by that?”

“Once is a coincidence, twice is a maybe. Three times? Someone wants to hurt you.” His tone is devoid of the initial bravado or sweet warmth you’ve always known from him.

“Jeonghan, the only changed catalyst since I’ve been here is Haeun. I’m scared she has something to do with it. But I haven’t done anything to her - she’s just a rude girl from Aria.” 

Your turn of phrase doesn’t lighten his demeanour. But he says nothing else, instead, smoothing the covers down one more time and giving Suki a scratch behind the ear before turning out the light.

“Goodnight, Angel.”

Jeonghan is around far more than not now, as is Soonyoung who brings a life to your space that you appreciated in the short bursts he gave. There is a brightness and innocence to the energy he gives, always coming from a place of good - even as he grumbles when you use that boundless energy of his to rearrange the study. You aren’t sure how Jeonghan manages to hang around so often, especially between his jobs. If anything, they should be building with the near change of the season. But he even escorts you to your various deliveries and supply pickups from Eugene. He doesn’t say why, only that he “always has time for you, Angel.” Which you partially expect with your curse, but his world should not revolve around you.

It’s one of these various trips that Haeun tacks herself onto, drifting out of the tea house and sweetly calling Jeonghan’s name. She struggles a little to catch up but hums and smiles.

“Thank goodness. I haven’t seen you for such a long time. May I accompany you? Oh, Madam Y/N. You are out today as well?”

What in the - you had both walked past the window together! You simper over your shoulder at her.

“Correct. As long as we are not disrupting any prior engagement of yours.”

She tuts and shakes her head while Jeonghan has an eerily still look about him, his head slanted and eyes slightly squinted. His gaze is intense and disarming so you have no idea how she is managing to act so blithe under its beam. The plan now is to head back to Mingyu’s with a supply pick up and you wished she wasn’t accompanying the three of you to no doubt insert herself into her place in your study. No point arguing it now. Conversation is stilted and awkward as you personally struggle to maintain politeness. Suki has gestured to something for Jeonghan and he humours her, dawdling to a shop window she arches up to. A sharp shriek from Haeun cuts through you, right in your ear and you pause to turn at the drama. You don’t get to eye her when she cries out again in vague distress and leaps backwards, knocking you backwards over the edge of the sidewalk.

The tram is the only mode of transport along this road, horse and buggies no longer allowed due to the… smell, so usually you would be able to right yourself, dust off and scold the flighty young woman with time to spare. But the trolley cars were running late, almost front to tail. All you can hear is the persistent dinging of the trolley car rolling down the hill, signalling disaster. Haeun is still muttering and whining, her hands over her face and her pretty button up boots standing on your own skirt so you can’t move. Jeonghan yells, high and thin and while you’re struggling to move as close to the sidewalk as you can, he drops all your supplies and nudges the girl out the way. Her feet tangle and her eyes fly wide as she almost hits a store window - by Merlin you all must look like a slapstick skit. The ringing bell is deafening now and the Spellmaster stoops over to effortlessly scoop you up and onto the walkway, both arms wrapped tightly around you to tuck you against his chest. You can hear his heart flutter and his breath heave loudly over you. The tram rattles past, the passenger chatter an inaudible blur.

“Good Morgana, that was close. Y/N, are you well?” He mutters, leaning back just enough to eye you.

You nod. “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what happened, I - Haeun?”

You carefully unfurl yourself from the blonde, peering around to the young woman, tears dried on her cheeks. Suki stands between the pair of you, wide stance and glaring.

“Haeun, what’s going on?” You say sternly.

She sniffles and shakes her head, trying to almost bury her face under her hat like a child. Jeonghan’s hands fall protectively to your shoulder and the small of your spine, over the knot of your apron.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry! Only I - it was just here?”

“What was?” You press, scowling.

“The-the Kaononai. It came out from that bookstore. Oh it was so scary!” She cried out, her hands already reaching for her face.

You glanced down to Suki who hadn’t let Haeun out of her sight. “Suki, did you see it?”

Her tail flickered, as did her left ear, but no response - something to discuss when you both got back to the studio.

“Haeun, you need to be careful.” Jeonghan says, careful yet firm.

She pouts and goes a little cold, her fists bunching tightly so they turn pale. Suki’s tail has fluffed up and you make a point of looking around for anything dangerous. The only being that could cause trouble is Haeun at this second.

“Me, be careful? Jeonghan, if I was right and the Kaononai was really here, we would all be dead by now from it.” She says low - it’s the most threatening thing you’ve heard from her and sounds nothing like the obnoxious innocent little mortal from Aria that has been shadowing your group since the day she arrived.

His grip tightens on you. “Y/n certainly would be - she doesn’t have magical offensive skills and your panicked dancing could have killed her before the Kaononai got to any of us. Besides, Suki is a very well attuned animal and would have sensed it long before you.”

She glares down at your familiar, going beet red in the face - you could have sworn you saw steam billow from her little ears. It’s a miracle that no one else has shown up on your part of the street, even as onlookers on the other side of the street pass. Suki’s eyes glow and somehow, you’re touched by her fierce show of protection. She’s never done something like that for you in all your years of tethered companionship.

“Suki, shhhh.” You say, repeating it till she had taken a step back. You level a look at Haeun. “I think you ought to go back to your lodgings and lie down. It’s all been a bit much for you today. Good bye, Haeun.”

You don’t leave any room for argument with your patronising tone – you really couldn’t keep it to yourself, no matter how much you should have tried - and Jeonghan seems to take a hint, collecting everything from the pavement. He tips his head in a silent sulk her way and turns on the heel of his boot to follow you with Suki proudly leading. You leave her on the street and while you don’t regret it, something ice cold and viscous seeps down your spine.

Jeonghan guides you home startlingly somber, and drops your things in the study when he asks for the key while depositing you in Mingyu’s front living room. It’s a warm space of neutral cream shades and comforting textures and fabrics. The main window oversees the front garden, private enough thanks to the fence and the artfully placed rose trees - less so bushes from the way they grew upwards. Suki claims the space next to Aji, both little furballs feeding off one another’s warmth. Jeonghan returns with a glass of water for each of you and deposits it on a dated doily.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You can say no.” He says soft and firm, dark eyes settled on you.

You nod your head. “I’m a bit shaken, but fine.”

You have too much to do to be shaken. Jeonghan has now insisted on staying with you in your study, not hiding the fact he wants to keep an eye on you. He’s managed to simmer down much faster than you have from the events. A surprise with how riled up he was right after - he didn’t fight your cold dismissal of her either. You hiss as you prick your finger on the needle - usually hand sewing, as tedious as it was, could be soothing. It was one thing to focus on, those back and forth motions of the thread therapeutic. But not when you mind has way too much going on. You couldn’t quite sweep it all away with the repetition. You swear under your breath when you do it again, not a few moments later. Jeonghan looks up from his papers, a millimetre of concern between his brows. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Maybe you should take a break.” He hums.

You scoff. “Don’t be silly. I have three things due in the next week, I can’t really afford to take a breather. It’s this or go stir crazy here.”

He slants his head, his blonde strands glowing, again. “Like what?”

Jeonghan eases over on his stool, careful not to catch his cloak under its foot. You sigh and fold away the shirt you were working on for Joshua - he wanted something lightweight for the warm weather and you were more than happy to accommodate as much as he was willing to pay.

“I...It’s okay. Something for another day.” Your smile wanes.

“Don't be silly, Angel. I want to hear about it - it’s making you wrinkle.” He says as compensation.

You tip your head back to laugh. Of course that’s why he wants to hear - because it’s interfering with his research and studies of you. Another variable that needs taking care of. Sure, you’ll humour him.

“It needs to be kept quiet - I don’t want our friends getting all funny. Not to mention, we have been meaning to have a chat about it.” He mimes twisting a key over his lips and tossing it over his shoulder. “I’m a little weary of Haeun. Something doesn’t feel right. From the moment we met her, all that’s happened is trouble. She feels like some kind of bad omen. I don’t want to think that of her, but I can’t help it when hiccup after hiccup has happened. The cauldron, almost getting run over, the Phantoms? I don’t like it - her. But I also don’t want to look as if I am fixating on her unfairly either.” You gnaw on your lip instead of pouting, not a very flattering look for someone of your physical age. The Spellmaster’s frown deepens.

“Hmm, I understand that. And I know you’ve both been butting heads over a lot.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be shy - everything.”

He laughs, airy like the weather outside. “Fine, over everything.”

“I just worry that there is more going on than we fully understand. If someone should be in danger, shouldn’t it be you?”

“But instead, this is the third incident that has endangered you since you arrived in Martine. Things that come in threes. Auspicious number – it means something.” He puts his little diary aside, filled with his upcoming commissions and appointments. You know for a fact that the pricing of his talents is the backs pages, well worn by now.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. The curse is one thing, all these almosts are another. And she has been involved with them, one way or another. willingly or not. It’s all too much to be coincidence. Please, be careful around her. Sight or not, something is off. I can feel it, with what little magic I have.” You softly argue.

His dark eyes scrutinise you, scanning for something, you’re not sure. Finally, his shoulders relax and he nods, giving in. “Of course, I trust you, Angel. And, besides, I have my own reasons to be wary of her too, thinking about it - she is from Aria. And she has had some part in all of our recent incidents, there is no longer any coincidence or doubt about that. I can’t get too comfortable, in case it all turns on me next.”

You chuckle - It’s easier to breathe now. “Oh yes, right. Fugitive of the law.”

He scowls and you laugh harder, letting him draw back to sulk in the corner. He even turns his back on you! “Leave me alone - don’t you have things to do?”

Haeun doesn’t see you buried in the extensive garden when she leaves Mingyu’s kitchen. You’re taking clippings of this and that, inhaling the intense scent of marigold when you hear her heels hit the brick flooring. The end of her voice still carries as she heaves a sigh, weighing at her delicate shoulders. The roll of her eyes is unexpected nor attractive on her doll-like face. It sits unfocused in your eyes as you squint and blink away the haze that clouds her figure. It flickers as she looks down to check her purse and you wobble on the balls of your feet, falling into the garden. Her eyes, a shocking forest green - the colour only found in the royal bloodline of Aria. Haeun’s hair is now a mousey brown in long waves. Haeun is really the princess of Aria. The scent of roses, heady and thick in her wake. Her opinion of the wizard inquisition - she was in charge of it. It was alarming how much of it made sense. As you fumble to right yourself in the dirt, your mind reels. Why hasn’t she attacked Jeonghan yet? Haeun has been in Martine for a good few months and the only one who’s had trouble since she’s shown up is you. But Jeonghan has never actually been left alone with her since he arrived in Martine. Maybe not as silly as you thought then. You feel wiry hands grip you standing. Haeun - Seoyun is in front of you, dusting you down.

“Madam Y/N, are you okay? I didn’t see you there, you’re so quiet!” She says.

The smell of roses is making you dizzy, now you’re close to her. She scoops up your clippers, dropping them into your apron. She guides you to the garden seating, pushing on your shoulders to encourage you. Her frown sits heavy on her brow while your stomach churns. The princess fluffs at your grey hair, shaking it of leaves and dirt.

“You really don’t look well - you’ve gone so pale. Stay here and I’ll find someone to fetch you. Okay?”

You hum out a response and she nods, dashing inside like a gazelle. You’re too shocked to do much else. Mingyu is running back out in a heartbeat, kneeling before you. His kind eyes search yours for anything. His big hands rub at yours, limp in your lap.

“Are you okay? Can you see?” He prattles off questions endlessly.

It’s only as you see her dress in the corner of your eye that you pull him in, whispering quickly, “get Haeun out of here and call for Jeonghan, now.”

“Thank you so much for taking care of Y/N. I’ve got it now. Will we still see you Thursday evening?” He says, hand at the small of her back. You can see the confusion and protest lining his lips and you scowl wordlessly. He nods, standing to turn to Haeun.

His tall figure leads her down the path out to the main entry. She looks over her shoulder in confusion, but still responds to him as they disappear from view. You lay your head forward on the cool painted metal of the table. You don’t know how long it takes but there is a cool hand curled around the junction of bare skin where shoulder curved to pulse, thumb stroking idle circles.

“You called?”

Finally, you lift your head to eye the Spellmaster. No doubt you have swirling indents on your forehead from pressing your face into the metal, but no matter. “I was right about Haeun. She’s not just bad news. She’s the reason for everything from the last six months. She’s the princess.”

The concern from Jeonghan’s face melts away and leaves him pasty and pale, eyes unseeing.

You barrel on, quietly, as if for fear she could catch you out. “She’s got a glamour on, really strong. Weaker on females though - she’s hiding from men because she wants to catch one. You. That’s why she’s been hanging around. She’s been trying to corner you for months. But you’ve never been alone with her.”

“I - Haeun is Princess Seoyun? Why didn’t… she’s an extraordinary witch, and can easily best most of us here at once. Why didn’t she just attack us and then deal with me?”

You shrug. “No idea? Too much of a scene? All of us are well respected here in Martine. It would be hard to be rid of any of us without drawing suspicion.”

He clutches both of your hands too tightly as he bows over you, as if holding on for dear life. Everything is shadowed about him. “So, what do we do now?”

“Neither of us can be left alone until we work out what to do with her. We need to protect ourselves first. So we need to let the others know. If we know anyone else, we should ask if they can help. It’s the entire crux of the wizard persecution at stake.” It’s unspoken that your side will not be called to arms. That means facing things you didn’t have time for. Jeonghan nods.

“Us against the kingdom of Aria, hmm Angel?” He smirks limply.

You roll your eyes. “Something like that. C’mon, better fill Mingyu in.”

It’s the earnest way you ask Mingyu to call in every favour or magical contact in Martine for a meeting at his place that seems to ring the severity of the situation home. Everything about Mingyu’s place was warm and safe and inviting. A levity about it that melted away when you reached across the benchtop to lay a hand over his as he cooked dinner.

You squeeze his free hand and stare him down as you say, “do not under any circumstances tell Haeun that this is happening. She must not suspect anything out of the ordinary or try to invite herself. This is for magic users only.”

He frowns but nods. “Of course. I think a few friends are passing through in a day or two from across the sea.”

“The more hands the better.”

Mingyu sends out magical mail from his fireplace that night to Soonyoung, Seokmin and Joshua, the ashes turning lime green in the fire and the smoke seeming to twist with an underlying life. Then another flash from the fire in a cobalt-ocean blue. You lean closer.

“Wow, who was that for?” You mutter from your place on the bowing sofa.

He pokes at the embers to drown them out. “A few friends from out of town - a Spellmaster named Boo Seungkwan and a caster called Lee Chan. Chan is only a Class C wizard, but he’s currently travelling for his Class B examinations so he’s pretty much passed. He’s one of the smartest guys I know - quick learner and good at anything he picks up. Actually! Last I heard he was currently out west seeking guidance from the only Shieldmaster known, Choi Seungcheol, first of his name.”

Your mouth rounds. You had vaguely heard of him - specialised in all manner of strength and protection magic. No one had specialised in it like him before. Moments later two flashes of green and a blast of blue spark in the base of the fireplace before settling at the edge of the hearth. They settled on three scraps of parchment. Mingyu stoops over to scan them. Suki has parked herself by the embers, soaking up what little warmth is left.

“Soonyoung and ‘Shua are coming, of course. Chan is still up country with Seungcheol.” Mingyu’s brows raise. “Now he would have been good to have.”

The next evening, Mingyu makes double his usual amount of food, seeing as there would be seven mouths in total crammed around his round dining table. Jeonghan had been with you all day, refusing to leave you alone. Neither of you were sure why you had become the target here if Jeonghan was supposedly the one at fault. Only that it was there to scare as much as it was to hurt you. It was odd how much the both of you were so right.

“Otherwise,” you scowl, “she could have finished me off at any time. She’s one of the most powerful magic users known by The Council. Ugh, it’s like playing with your food before you eat it.”

That notion has you quickly, stuffing food in your mouth to refute it with yourself. Surely Mingyu’s heartfelt meal would be distracting. Seungkwan was instantly very righteous and vocal, swearing to protect and agree with whatever it took to keep the pair of you protected. A rotating roster was easily set up to keep someone with you at all times. It didn’t make you happy, having to be guarded and helpless, but such was your current ability to protect yourself. Jeonghan’s eyes don’t leave you for very long and you try to be mature and not read into it, even as his knee bumps yours.

It felt like a long, slow limbo state, full of tension that sat in your shoulder blades you couldn’t shake. Not even Minji’s bustling plans and back-to-back appointments could distract you. Your friends aren’t the best liars, especially Seokmin, which certainly tells her implicitly that circumstances have changed. You’ve been deposited at the apothecary today as part of the roster, sat in the warm space under crystal clear sunlight as you work on a thank you gift for Seungkwan for coming into town just for you. Seokmin is making a batch of your tonic when he gives you a guilty expression, pinned with his lips worried between his teeth.

“She came by yesterday.” He says quietly.

Your needle goes still. “Oh, did she?”

“Hmmm. Asked for rosehip and some northern cinnamon. I said I didn’t have either in stock…then she pointed to the cinnamon right by my head. And the dried rosehip in my hand.” He goes tomato red and cringes over the pot. “She left after, really quiet.”

You can’t help but laugh, swinging back on your chair. It’s a laugh bordering on hysteria. “Ah, Seokminnie, you tried. It’s alright.” You sigh. “It just might mean she’s got a clue something is up. I mean, we know Soonyoung has been avoiding Haeun like the plague because he can’t hide his facial expressions. And ‘Gyu has locked the side gate.”

The sweet potionsmaster still pouts a little. “I’m just, worried.”

You rise and meet him at his weathered wooden bench, leaning your head on his shoulder. The tonic was clear at this point, having boiled and distilled for so long, past the grassiness of the herbs and sweet jamminess of the rosehip. It was still a little thick, so you pass Seokmin a glass of moonwater.

“I know. But we’re doing all we can - we don’t know her well enough to plan any other moves.” The words taste chemical and bitter with how unsure you were.

A week goes by and finally both yourself and Jeonghan have a shared roster - by Merlin, it sounds so boring. Soonyoung had gotten in the way yesterday during a commission and was back at home, nursing a pair of missing eyebrows. Jeonghan was haughty upon entry of the study, insisting that it was his own fault for dancing like a b-rate ballerina. As if a trap had been triggered, a yellow-orange spark appeared in the air between you, swirling open a portal. An envelope in peacock green hung in the air before dropping as the portal closed. The corner drops on Suki’s head with a petulant yowl. Jeonghan’s wand is out in an instant, aimed at the door, then the window.

“That sorceress.” He hisses.

You stoop to open it up, hearing Jeonghan squeak in protest. His name is at the top so you hand it off to him. “Oh hush, it’s for you anyway.”

His sleepy eyes scan the heavy paper and you watch them turn to stone. His fist crumples the paper to the point of ripping and you rush to ease it from his grip. Jeonghan isn’t a violent person as far as you know.

“It’s a threat. To hand myself over to her.” His gaze settles on you, grasp twisting from the note to your own hand. “Otherwise, you’ll get hurt. Like she has already tried before.”

Damn propriety - you step closer so Suki is forced to move and your toes of your shoes almost touch. “You’re not going to do that, are you? Jeonghan, she’ll kill you, or something worse.”

He’s quiet and you don’t trust him as far as you could throw him. So, you take the note and turn on your heel to your desk, tossing the letter away before he can ruminate on it longer. Today, he stays out of the sun, claiming the stool by the wall instead, just watching you. It usually annoys you, but at least if he’s watching you, he’s still here. By the time sunset hits and Joshua shows up with his soft feline smile to escort Jeonghan home, you’re even more on edge, the thought of Mingyu’s tea the only possible soother to your worry. Jeonghan is taking some time to fuss over Suki and Aji in the kitchen when you grab Joshua’s wrist, yanking him up to your level in the doorway to the courtyard.

“Please keep an eye on him. More than one of you. Haeun sent a letter to him today, threatening him to turn in or risk me. He didn’t answer me after that.” You wring his wrist with your fingers, as if it were your own instead. “I want him to be safe, especially after all he’s done for me.”

Joshua hums softly and nods. “Of course, Y/N. We’ll go round to Soonyoung’s tomorrow then.”

On Mingyu’s turn babysitting you, he locks up your study for the day and sends another note in the fireplace to Minji to delay your appointment by a day or two under the guise of supply shortage. The B&B is now quieter, autumn being the off-season. He’s repainting the front fence and has you checking bedding and towels for any moth damage. It has you in and out of the house so Mingyu can keep an eye on you. Once that was done, he had a stool in the front garden at the ready under an umbrella. You wished there was a way to stave off that upcoming boredom somehow. With everything confirmed to be moth-free – you had even refilled the mothballs, breathing through your mouth to avoid the strong scent – you turn the hall to smell the tell-tale scent of electricity in the air, sparks and cracks meeting your ears. It’s a slow jog to the courtyard and you find Haeun casting something, casting shadows dark and long.

“H-Haeun. What are you doing?” You call quietly from the doorway.

She turns to you, her glamour all but fallen away with the strength of her casting. Now green eyes meet you and burn, a manic edge to her lips.

“Ah, just the person of the hour. Come here.” You hesitate, still confused - the actions have all been proven, but not the motive. Her wand waves at you too casually. “Here!”

You stumble out with the magical force, looking down the pathway. “Where’s Mingyu?”

She shrugged. “Gullible dear - fooled him into thinking there was an attack on Jeonghan. Especially after yesterday’s little scare. The gate has been enchanted. I won’t need to stall that long, if you do as you’re told.”

Even your own shadow has been cast long, despite the clear weather. There is a wicker basket weaving itself with vines and roots. Black and red candles, obsidian and amethyst. Rust nails and something ugly and pickled. This was a vicious spell.

“So you baited them? He didn’t even have a chance to think about what he wanted to do?” You protest.

“Of course not. He has had months to do it. Those little scares should have been enough - he’s supposed to be smart. The most cunning member of the Aria Royal Artists Guild, apparently.” She almost sings and this voice feels more natural to you. No all-knowing simper that gave you whiplash.

“Haeun - no, Seoyun. What do you want.” You say, the fear fading from your voice, only left with caution.

“Your heart.” She shrugs simply.

Somehow, she is not surprised at your knowledge in the reveal. No dramatic announcement or offended gasp. So shameless, you think disapprovingly. The basket is placed on the ground, candles and crystals surrounding. The candles’ smoke swirls restlessly into the air and there is a putrid scent overtaking all else. She wants to catch it.

“Why? You have one - Jeonghan never took it in the first place - that was just some rumour of the court.”

“So? Yours is unbroken. You have the one he wants - why he wants your old, shrivelled up thing is beyond me, not to mention highly improper. I mean, a real step down in my perspective.” She makes a flourishing gesture at herself. “But you are to his taste, so I want it. If I have yours, I have his - ugh why do I have to spell everything out for you?” Seoyun rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know - why do you keep answering?” You grumble.

You startle though as she pulls out a bloody lamb’s heart from the depths of her purse, holding it aloft, the dagger in her left hand making you squint from the glare. She drops it with a sickening splat in the basket. The dagger stays though as she advances on you. You look around for something - someone - anything - until your back aches against the door frame. Suki yowls and rushes into the courtyard.

“Suki, go! Get away!” You command - you didn’t want her getting hurt.

And maybe she could get out of here for help. Suki’s claws clatter and fade down the hall. From her skirts Seoyun pulls out a corked vial, empty for the minute. She slices her own hand, red dribbling down her pale skin into the glass. She gestures for your own hand, jerky and severe. You hold it out limply in between you so she can yank it toward her. Instead, she initially bypasses it and yanks for your hair, held back in a severe, business-like braid. As you cry out sharply, her grip on her blade switches and she smoothly arches up and slices it off. Pocketing the hair, she twists your slack hand to her liking. You hiss and whine as the used blade cuts into your fragile palm. She squeezes and prods until she gets what she wants and you continue to whimper in pain. Seoyun tosses your hand away after that, marching over to her materials. You’re honestly a little curious as to how she is going to do it, so as much as you know the danger, you stay to watch while pressing your hand in your apron to stop the bleeding. The blood is dripping into the basket with the heart and suddenly she holds the dagger downwards.

“You have a heart,  I could use that. What’s yours is now mine. Love, loss, man. This heart, tied to another’s, Give this power to me.”

It feels like twine has been twisted and looped through your chest, tightening, everything seeming to go tunnel vision on the glinting metal. A sound like shattering glass. Then a crack by your ear and the blade goes flying. Another and the spell is scattered, candles rolling into the garden bed and the butchered organ making another splat to the stones. Jeonghan braces himself, breathless, around you. His eyes fall to your bloody and wrinkled palm.

“What did she do to you?” He hisses.

“Shhh, just a cut.” You say through the sting.

Jeonghan scowls darkly and cradles your hand, running his thumb over it and murmuring a spell that seals the wound. You’re finally given a moment to breathe, with the princess’ spell broken and the squeeze from your heart relaxed. 

He draws himself up and turns to put you in his slender shadow, asking again. “What did she do?”

“Tried to bind and take my heart.” You’re still a little too shy to say why.

She laughs now in surprise and over his shoulder she grins. It’s not hard to see her plan forming before you as she flicks a spell at him, the air turning hot and strong in the courtyard from her fury. Her power turns red, electric and vicious - it puts static in her hair. Jeonghan, though, steps flawlessly in front of you, bracing his forearm up and disarming it. The force is so strong though that it sends you both skidding back, what little strength you had before gone. Your legs wobble, forcing you to your knees, a wilt. They begin to duel, the smell of burnt electricity suffocating, smoke beginning to swirl. It looks like Jeonghan is gaining. Until she starts talking, her eyes glowing a sickening green.

“You lied to me, Jeonghan! Said you loved me! You string me along for my power, my status, even my money! You thought I was pretty until something prettier came along. Now look at you. Infatuated with some old hag, defending yourself from one of the best Masters in the world. You’re not doing very well.” Her lips curl up in a smug grin. “Left yourself wide open.”

She sneers as she lifts her free hand at you. You can already see it coming. You can defend yourself from it easily. So, as you brace yourself to stand, Jeonghan twists his wrist sharply to break the connection between himself and Seoyun and leaps to take your hit. The surge of animated smoke flies, flinging him into the wall behind you. He slides to the ground with a low groan, squinting his eyes at the princess. Now he’s physically vulnerable, she steps closer and closer as Seoyun lays into him, finishing him off with a psychic attack, a burst of pretty pink popping limp from his chest. He’s out of magic. She seems to love kicking a beaten horse when it’s down as shards of debris rise from the pavement and glow red and green – a toxic swirl of colour – to rain on the two of you. You make your way to him to shrink her catchment zone. It’s instinct how you want to whip your old wand out from your apron. Instead, you say the spell straight, a lot riskier and more unrefined. It does the job though as a dark metallic grey blooms to shield the two of you from most of it. A rock clips your shoulder and tips you forward. The princess’s eyes widen in manic surprise before she smirks triumphantly as you hobble over the rest of the way to scoop up Jeonghan's prone frame. He kind of smoulders, burning hot to the touch and his eyes unfocused and hazy.

"Jeonghan, can you hear me?" You call, patting his cheek.

Long lashes flutter as his head lolls to face you. He smiles. "Yeah, I'm still here."

"Can you - can you get up? On your own?"

He nods and braces himself on the wall, swaying. You carefully let him go, stepping back. His eyes fly wide as he collapses, hacking a heavy cough. His skin glows a sickly green. You can't catch him fast enough this time and you cringe at the heavy thud he makes.

"Maybe not. You should probably get out of here. Go find Mingyu and Seok." He groans.

You shoot a glare over your shoulder as the princess inches closer and you position yourself in front of him in a weak shield. Your thin hands brush his dull blonde fringe from his eyes. They have a halo of green around the irises that sets your gut off and you gnaw on your lip.

"Yeah, but what will she do to you?" You hiss.

"Probably take me back to her father. Maybe...hang me?" He rasps out and you gasp.

You can't stop your grip from tightening in his hair and he flinches limply. "So I won't make it back in time to do anything, will I? Jeonghan."

He doesn't reply, only looks at you with a deep fondness you hate. You can't leave him here, alone and vulnerable to a witch like her. Someone with too much vengeance in their power. You can feel her glare as you pull out a pen you had in your apron from Seokmin's desk. Quickly, you draw a few healing and shield charms over his skin, watching the glow fade into a pasty and clammy shade stuck to his skin.

"Move, hag. You are no longer my concern." She says haughtily. “The bait has suddenly served its purpose. I have you right where I want you, hmm.”

You hate the lack of respect she gives you, whether you are old or not. If he can't do anything... You yank his wand from his grasp and turn to face her. You can hear your back crack as you stand to your full height. The weight of Jeonghan's wand in your hand is equally familiar in your posture but different in the fact that it isn't your own - the wooden curves and ridges suited to his style. Just something to shield, you remind yourself. There wasn't much you could do but stall and wait it out. Hopefully the others would catch on and come in for reinforcements…through the back door. Soon.

"Surely you don't need to hurt him anymore. He didn't mean it. Jeonghan isn't like that." You protest gently, casting as you speak.

Another soft, rippling shield fans out in front of you and she steps closer, lip curled. "You act like you know him! He's a devilish warlock. I'll only ask once more. Move aside - now that I have him, I’ve no want to hurt you. Don't talk about what you don't know and let me deal with him, hag."

Hag this and hag that! You didn't look that bad! And how dare she call Jeonghan a warlock, a magic user of evil. Between his sweet, sleepy gaze and his dedication to you alone, he’s the furthest from evil. The princess shrugs helplessly and starts firing off spells when you don't respond to her. You’re quick to sling up another, more combat-suited shield to protect the two of you. You try not to let your surprise show - that has been the most powerful thing you could cast so far. Her brows raised in interest but nothing else was said from her. You step closer, finally dropping the shield and firing off your own spells with a deft flick of Jeonghan's wand, swiftly building in strength and speed. Sparks crackled in the air, flying into the brickwork and burning smoke grey shapes.

"Do you know who this old hag is?" You snarl.

She's a challenge but nothing you can't handle, being from such an old, powerful family. You had been taught well even with your current fallacy. Despite the odd weight distributed by your body, your stance is planted strong. Oddly enough, you can barely feel it.

She shakes her head, finally unsure of herself. The crease to her pretty brow is satisfying. "Nobody."

"Wrong. I am a descendant of the best Spellmistress in the land and sea. I am a Spellmistress strong enough to bind you."

Your head is tilted back as you perform the spell down your nose, murmuring low and fast under your breath. Vines from the walls shoot out to twist her into submission, her wand clattering to the brick floor. A moment of blinding light and a hot, burning sensation rips through the space and distracts you enough to flinch, but not much more, still steadfast in the middle of your spell. The spell you were casting didn't usually do that... Wand aimed at her, you don't bother to focus on Jeonghan. If you bind her, maybe her own spell will break. Her eyes bulge comically and she splutters and gapes like a fish, probably from shock at the trick you pull. You can hear a shifting and a soft groan behind you. Holding the princess in place, you glance over your shoulder to see the Spellmaster crawl to stand, leant heavily on the brick wall. His eyes are large, but still have a sheen of green shining over them with the light that streams in. 

"Jeonghan, if you can, get two empty jars from Mingyu's shelf. I'll separate her magic and make her a more...manageable size." You say, your newly claimed wand is still weaving your spell. He rocks to stand freely but doesn’t move anymore, still staring. “Jeonghan, now!”

You cast again, watching the vines tighten and shrink her, like squeezing water from cotton. She finally seems to find her voice, gasping and yelling a chant which is easily silenced with a magic laden word. You suck in a breath, holding it for a moment to centre yourself again before yelling a sharp chant to separate the princess from her core. A small marble sized shape hangs in the air, glowing a pulsing green, dark and fierce. Obviously, her emotions had gotten to her core - no wonder Jeonghan was a sickly green colour. You can hear him hop down from the step next to you and flicking your wrists inwards, you drop the minute princess in one jar and her glowing core in the other. He hastily secures lids onto them, while you're murmuring a shield spell over the two of them. It wasn't strong, but it didn't have to be with their sizes.

"Well, that's that. Let's get you ready and we'll get you on your way to clear your name, shall we?"

"W-wait."

You turn in the hall, pushing the jars on the bench. You've changed the princess's lid for a piece of cloth, so she can breathe. You can see her yelling at you, shaking the jar as she hits the glass with her fists.

"Hmm?"

He grabs your hand. "Go look in a mirror."

You roll your eyes, tugging your hand free to glare at him. "Wow, way to add insult to injury. No thank you, no nothing. Just a reminder of my appearance. It’s not like I cast magic, just for you to save your life."

Jeonghan glares back in return, surprisingly sharp, grabbing your hand again and pulling you down the hall to the bathroom. Suki has since slunk out from the living room, jumping sky high at the sight of you. Obviously didn’t bother looking for help. Damn cat. Jeonghan stands behind you as he manhandles you in front of the mirror. You gasp, reaching up to touch your face. You appeared your age again. No wrinkles, no bony hands. You smile, blindingly so as Jeonghan does the same.

"I'm...I'm me again. I'm..."

"Beautiful. But I already knew that." He says.

You chuckle. "Liar."

His brows shoot up. "No, really! I've seen you like this before. When the first one was lifted. Well, except…”

Your hair. It hadn’t turned back to its former colour before the curse. But instead of the wiry, dull white-grey, it’s vibrant, short and almost metallic, glowing like…

He runs his fingers through the uneven ends Seoyun cut. “It’s just like starlight.” The hand on your shoulder goes to hold your cheek, his sweet smile seeming to melt you a little.

You hear a strangled cry of shock and the soft slam of a door. You cringe - Mingyu must be home. The two of you rush out to the courtyard to meet up with him. He turns to look at you, his own wand – his kitchen spoon, of course – brandished and expression more furious than you even thought possible.

"What th- oh my goodness! Y/N! Your curse is broken! How?" He drops his things at his feet rushing to meet you. You hold out your arms as he comes crashing into you, rocking the two of you unsteadily. His laughter is loud and muffled in your ear.

“Hey. Uh, well. Kind of a weird story. But the princess of Aria is in a jam jar on your kitchen bench and I shrank her to help Jeonghan out. But we’ll need to take her back to the Aria court and plead Jeonghan’s innocence.” You pull back and shrug, shy.

You’re not used to the strength in your bones, the life curling in your hair. Jeonghan, in the meantime, has cast the courtyard back into its former state, garden table and all. You feel anew, the magic thrumming through your veins, your breath sweet and easy. Everything around you seems alive and restless. Mingyu marvels at you as well, giving you another not so light squeeze.

“That’s, uh, amazing. I’m so glad you’re okay! When I got to the apothecary, Seokmin almost chewed me to bits for leaving you behind.” He glanced at Jeonghan, who had picked up Suki in the hallway. “I - how did you know?”

The blonde shrugged. “I didn’t. Not until Suki here came out into the street. She’s never alone. Soonyoung couldn’t hold me back, even if he knew.”

Suki purrs, a loud rumble, quite impressed with herself. You’re grudgingly glad she actually listened for once, after all. You crouch to her level and reach out to give her a thorough pat and tail scratches in thanks. Jeonghan glances at you, going sober.

“We’ll need to leave as soon as we can to get Seoyun back to Aria and end this mess. It’s not right for our kind to be persecuted over the delusions of a young witch such as herself. She’s used her privilege so irresponsibly.” He tuts.

You’ve rarely seen Jeonghan so serious. You detach yourself from Mingyu.  “Go back to yours, and collect what you need. I’ll watch the princess, now I’ve got my magic back in full. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready. My commissions are not so urgent that I can’t be away for a few days.”

He smiles warmly. “You’ll come?”

“Of course! I’m not leaving for a while! If you’ll have me.” I whittle off.

Mingyu is watching the two of you like an avid sports match - back and forth in the kitchen. Jeonghan breaches the space between the two of you, a hand resting on your arm, his thumb idly stroking for a moment.

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll need the most powerful witch in town to help plead my case.”

He barely tears himself away before sweeping down the hall and back out the door he entered. You turn to Mingyu, to catch him out but he spins so violently to eye the miniscule princess in her jar. He raises his finger, about to tap on the glass as the princess screams and shakes her hand at him in spelled silence.

“Uh, excuse you. Don’t tap the glass – she isn’t a science specimen.” You scold. He rears up, going pink with guilt. “I’m going to pack a bag with what I can feasibly wear. Can you watch her? Suki, you as well.”

He nods his head. As you turn to the stairs, the young man calls your name.

“Yes, hmm?” You raise your brows in question.

He beams. “Your pictures don’t do you justice.”

Jeonghan and yourself catch the first trolley car you can up the hill to the outskirts of Martine. You swing out near the back door, feeling the afternoon sun and salty wind whip through you. You missed feeling at ease in your own skin. Maybe you would never have gotten used to ageing. Princess Seoyun is in a little picnic basket, napkins and a scarf tucked around her to prevent the jars from cracking.

“How long is it going to take us to get to Aria?” You ask as the two of you hop off at the end of the route, the trolley car stops connecting to a small train station.

Jeonghan has a small suitcase and is also holding your own, insisting on doing so, no matter how much you argue against it. Suki even managed to come with you, perched on your lap.

“Probably at least the rest of the night if we caught the express. If not then by midday tomorrow at the latest.” He gauges. “I just grabbed the first tickets they had.”

The train to Aria is spent with a million marvels and twice as many questions, try as you might to bask in your newfound freedom and youth. The magic that thrums through you feels stronger than before and you’re not sure if it’s because it’s true or that it’s been so long that you’ve been without it that you underestimated it.

“Oh, and we must arrange a new wand for you as soon as possible. You have a family craftsman, I assume?” Jeonghan says, wedged next to you in economy class, the best seats that could be arranged on the fly.

You go quiet at the thought. Your family. You had become so absorbed in your plight and new life in Martine. Now that you were cured of the curse, you could go home. Was home still there, despite the curse being lifted? Or was it irreversible collateral damage? The blonde frowns at your stillness and reaches for your forearm.

“Hey, what’s-”

“I – yes we do. Eight generations in fact. I’ll need to send word once we finish in Aria.” You look away from the changing scenery to the handsome Spellmaster. “Are you ready? We both know that Aria’s royal family are stubborn and arrogant, to put it mildly.”

He startles at your swerving topic but accepts it, sighing. Together you spare a moment to glare at the basket covered and locked on the seat across from you. Suki has a possessive grey paw on it and she’s already been told twice to stop batting at it to the point where it had to be locked away.

“As ready as I can be. But that’s why you’re here. Surely, he’ll listen to you – brightest witch this side of Morgana’s Gate.” He smiles winningly, a warm haze in the setting sun – you don’t remember Aria being this far away.

Your economy train cabin is not the most comfortable - the padding in the seats worn to indented lumps, potential carpet burn from the worn fabric and no curtains on the window. The doors rattle unless something is pressed against them, which is counterproductive for their use. It was not the most ideal conditions to be sleeping in, so for a while, despite how limber your new-old body is, you struggled to get comfortable to even doze. Suki had no troubles, curling up and a purr rumbling to life. The princess has been given some scrap fabric to sleep on like a mouse and the basket covered again. Jeonghan seems content to sit across from you, watching the dark scenery go by. Your body was exhausted though, the fluctuation of magic so soon and extreme wringing you out.

He glances at you, lashes fluttered and shadowy across his face. “Trouble resting?”

You hum. “I just want to sleep for a bit. I can’t even think straight now. But, well, it’s not the most comfortable spot, is it?”

He coos and hums at you like a baby, getting up and sitting on the side closer to the door. His hand reaches up to pat your silvery hair that now glows in the dark - another element that didn’t help. “Awh, my poor angel. Here, rest on me. Take your shoes off.”

The blonde lifts his feet up to show his green and grey striped socks with a soft chuckle. You mirror him, lifting each leg awkwardly so your knee hits your chest, yanking at laces and buttons to toe your sensible shoes off inelegantly with a thump. You wriggle your own stocking covered feet next to his, covered with blue flowers and he snuggles impossibly closer. You aren’t used to such closeness now and you gasp, looking up at him. His fluttery gaze stares patiently in the dim light.

“Sorry. I’m not used to… being close with people. The curse and all.” You say under your breath. He tries to draw back but your own brow crumples and Jeonghan sways back. “Stay though. I - well, I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Trying to pry honest, tender emotion for you is like water from a clogged drainpipe. Jeonghan seems to have the patience for it though as he loops his arm around your shoulders and you tuck yourself into the hollow of his arm. His thumb strokes slow, soothing circles into the sleeve of your blouse and you let yourself be sucked into the motion, going slack and limbless. He softly hums a song you’ve never heard and you struggle to remember where in the royal court he worked, only that his voice was as beautiful as him. Upon arrival into Aria, still a little drowsy and weaving on your feet, you’re stopped by guards at the station entrance. They demand to see identification. The moment Jeonghan pulls out his navy leather identification, you’re both swarmed.

“Magic Caster.” One spits with cornflower blue eyes and honey stubble.

Two guards flank Jeonghan, grappling roughly with each arm. His dark eyes were blown wide and furious on you as you were knocked about in the kerfuffle.

“Leave her be!” He protests.

Suki rears up and hisses next to you and you swoop to pick her up and shush her. You’re all making quite the scene in the old station foyer, all the commotion echoing off the marble flooring and domed ceilings. You try your best to struggle and get closer to the Spellmaster.

“You are arrested under the Imperial Aria Proclamation for treason against the crown. You are to be taken for questioning regarding the curse upon the crown princess and their whereabouts. Anything spoken or performed while in custody may be used against you in judicial proceedings as evidence. You will have your magic bound indefinitely or until proven innocent.” The blue-eyed guard says aloud.

You finally reach Jeonghan and grab the one part of his arm that isn’t occupied. You go still and stern, a pillar against the ebb and flow of the Aria guards. “I’m gonna say it.”

He frowns and limply struggles for some breathing room. “Say what?”

“It’s us! We stole the princess’s heart! We also kidnapped the princess.” You thrust the jar with the Thumbelina-like figure above the heads of the guards. “We demand an audience with the King of Aria, as is our right by Imperial Law.”

The station goes eerily silent from every person in the nearby vicinity. Suki and Jeonghan have mirrored, slack-jawed expressions. Then a riot ensues. Suki is ripped from your arms as is the jar holding the princess. Rough, armoured hands yank you back and forth, thus detaining you as well.

“What have you done?” One soldier mutters loudly.

“I’ll not free her until we have been given an audience with the King. Only the spellcaster can return a witch’s bound powers.” You repeat in return as you’re carried out to the nearest carriage.

Your legs dangle a little as they sway back and forth through the station. Jeonghan’s eyes are on you the entire time, watching intently of every move.

Aria is a bright, vibrant land, fairly flat in terrain. Where Martine uses patchwork cobblestones, uneven but full of character, Aira is laid with smooth stone brick to ensure the masses move easily - they do have a far larger population than Martine, after all. A charcoal grey that absorbs water well and makes the buildings pop with colour. All roads lead to the castle in the centre of the city, behind an inner wall. It used to be a liberal place, known for its talent in the arts and court of expert entertainers, the likes of Jeonghan included - singers, comedians, acrobats, dancers, musicians and so on. After the death of the queen, Seoyun’s mother, it had been a little off-kilter. That was why your family had travelled here when you were a child. To talk some sense into the king. The people of Aria had been walking on eggshells for years. Jeonghan still gapes at you from the bench across from you in the carriage. Obviously not prepared for more than one person to arrest. Not surprising seeing as they’ve questioned almost every Aria witch and wizard according to sources.

“I can’t believe you turned us in.” He says in disbelief.

“What else was I supposed to do? Let you get arrested without a chance? Whatever we would have done next would be weak without the other. We need to do this together.” You rationalise. “Besides, as if I was letting you try and sacrifice yourself to the royal family twice in two days. It’s almost like you have a death wish.”

The guards bracing you both watched the conversation intently, committing it to record for sure. But you had nothing to hide, no point in trying to protect some right that hadn’t been needed at this moment in time. You had faith that this would be resolved with the meeting at the palace. The Aria Royal Palace - Ritornelli Palace. A grand, sprawling building in Baroque-style with the central throne room encased in a large glass dome. It glittered like a jewel on the horizon. Of course, you lot were not paraded through the front gates, instead sent to an eastern entrance, nondescript and almost unbearably tight.

The guard on your left was more abrasive than the one on the right and by some miracle they all barely spoke. Suki was being given a rough time of it as well, flying about in the baskets at your feet, being kicked between guards. With your new found strength, you speak up.

“Hey! Be careful with her. She can’t do anything to you.”

She yowled loudly, the storm cloud of fluff persistent as you were. A different guard, dressed in emerald green marches towards the back of the carriage. This must be the royal guard of the palace - the inner circle, so to say.

“Take them to the Throne Room. The King is expecting them.” he says, before turning on his heels, back the way he came through a sliver of a tunnel.

The halls are low and curved in narrow arches, with enough room to fit two people passing. You’re sure that these must be the servant’s passageways; the highly functioning underbelly of the castle. Finally, you open up into a grand hallway with smooth marbled floors and rich carpets from the southerly countries. This looked familiar, vaguely. A glance at Jeonghan has his eyes roving the space, but you’re not sure what he’s seeing. The grand double doors open without even a creak and reveal the grand throne room. A rainbow of stained glass and exotic designs looks exactly how Aria is famed to be. The King Rodolfo of Aria is a stoic man with a short white beard and glittering golden crown. Stern green eyes bore into the two of you until you’re dragged to a halt in the centre of the space. So this is where his daughter gets it from.

“Ah, Yoon Jeonghan. Back from your grand escape to hand yourself in – with an accomplice.” His haughty gaze hits you in full, mouth twisted unpleasantly. “They’re pretty. Poor thing. With the nerve to summon an audience?”

Why Jeonghan is so quiet worries you. But with your curse broken, by yourself, you have a renewed confidence along with riding the fumes of adrenaline. Bordering on arrogance yourself. Just. As you glance at him briefly, you note his downward chin and the tensity of his muscles. Fear.

“I know my rights.” You barrel on, loud and firm that your voice projects to every corner. “To plead our case. Or else your daughter stays in the jar and I call upon my family.”

Okay, that last bit wasn’t supposed to come out. The Spellmaster whips his head around to gape. “What in Merlin’s name does your family have to-”

“You don’t get to bargain.” The King snarls, cutting you both off and leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees.

You’re on a roll now. “Yes, actually, I do. You aren’t familiar with it, but the spell on your daughter can only be broken by the caster or by death. And you can’t kill us after the scene we made at the station.”

Jeonghan has been forced to his knees, as the primary criminal and seeming the larger threat of the two of you somehow. Even though you’re the one running your mouth. The blonde looks up though, briefly, as if begging you to get on with it, a little bit of your previously possessed cautious sensibility there. How the tables have turned.

So, you arch a brow and tip your chin up at the King. “So, may we?”

King Rodolfo relents. “You may. Only you. Your testimony will determine the wizard Yoon Jeonghan’s fate.”

He gestures twice – once at yourself, the next at the quiet shadows of the room. Suddenly the guards have released you and Suki. Along with that, there are now two simple seats and a small table placed at the bottom of the dais. The princess and her little ball of power are placed atop of it. She’s making gestures at you and you just know that she’s trying every curse under the sun, just to see if any stick.

The King sits in one, so you cautiously claim the other. Now that you’re closer to him, you can see he holds a faint glow, like sunlight from within. His tunic is embroidered with vibrant feather motifs, a parrot red and sea green. Everything about him is fashioned brightly just like his country. Another silent gesture over your shoulder and Jeonghan is hoisted up roughly and pulled to end up on your left again, back on his knees on the mosaic floor.

“Now start from the beginning. Who are you? Who is the witch that defeated the best Spellcaster in Aria?”

Now that the focus has been put on yourself, you glance at Jeonghan who nudges his chin. “Tell him. Please.” He says in a breath.

“I am uh, Y/N, Class A Spellmistress. Daughter of Jisung the Magnificent, Granddaughter to Bora, Grand Spellmistress of the Magic High Council.”

The King’s brows shoot up and he leans in again, as if he can’t see very well.

“You’re a Class A, descendent of the L/N family. One of the oldest magic families in the world. The missing granddaughter.” He says in a hushed tone, oddly calm compared to moments ago.

“I gue- yes.”

“And you’ve been in some seaside town with a known fugitive for how long?”

You hastily put a finger up. “Almost seven months, but! I didn’t know Jeonghan was a fugitive. And I was in the middle of a very private, personal matter, which the crown princess inserted herself into. It all got very tangled and complicated. And private. Not really relevant here.”

He smirks at your fumbling and you shrink in your seat as best you can. Suki rubs against your weak ankles in support from beneath your seat. Meanwhile Jeonghan is agog at this influx of information. Oh right…no one knew who you really were apart from some old cursed lady. You ponder where to actually begin. First meeting you supposed. From that rocky first meeting in your study, to every run-in after. The explosion at Seokmin’s and the shadowy beasts that chased you. Your growing weariness of her every move – Jeonghan’s trust. Every now and again the jar would rattle in defiance, but the king stilled it with a hand.

“I promise I’m not trying to make her a villain, Your Majesty.” You hasten to add at one point. “But her actions don’t make it easy.”

“I am quickly gathering that.” Is all he says. “Continue.”

You’re talking so much that the shadows have changed their angles and Jeonghan has been forced to sit back on his heels, he’s getting tired. Then you explain the final act. Her delusional spell, the battle in Mingyu’s courtyard that ensued. It’s all gotten very tiring.

“Which brought us to the station and then here.” You sigh.

The King has since gone very quiet, bottle green eyes pensive. He looks at his daughter, so small. She’s since given up her protest and escape and now sits at the bottom of the jar in her mended chemise a la Reine, resigned. Elbows on her knees and chin in her palms - maybe you’re imagining it, but even a little red in the face from embarrassment. You wished you could reach for Jeonghan, just for another familiar soul.

“My daughter has caused you quite the…trauma.” He says finally.

You jerk at his turn of phrase. “I – well yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I may have had the tact to lessen the blow and call it trouble – inconvenience?”

He smiles, wane. “Polite of you. But no need. The Crown Princess is unfortunately as immature as feared. I had hoped with time and goals she would ease and grow wiser. Particularly after the passing of her mother, the Queen. Her magic seemed to become her haven and I indulged it. And my own judgement has been clouded by grief and bias. The magic wielders of my land have been persecuted for long enough.”

He levels Jeonghan a look. “With this testimony, I decree Wizard Yoon Jeonghan, Spellmaster Class A, cleared of all charges laid against him by the kingdom of Aria. Your record will be scrubbed of any evidence or investigation. A formal apology will be published and the bounty removed. You will leave this room a free man.”

The guards release him and he springs to his feet, turned toward you, his smile blinding. At the last moment, he thinks better of it, bowing low to the King instead, to bare the blonde crown of his head, his lengthening hair drifting about his chin.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He says, reverent

The glass jam jar is now jumping and rattling worse than ever, and you can hear the princess’s yelling, although a little indistinct – your silencing spell must be wearing off. The King lays his palm over the lid to press it still.

“And you,” he settles on you, “I decree you cleared of all charges laid against you by the kingdom of Aria. The same steps will apply for yourself as they will for Jeonghan. You are also free.”

The more he speaks, the older he sounds. You know how that feels. Age rushing into your body like a torrential flood. Reminding you of your limits and fallacies. You rise and bow as well, the curtsey you learnt as a child seeming little juvenile right now. Then you leap for Jeonghan, he barely manages to catch you as you squeeze tight as you kick up your ankles.

“We did it. You’re free.” You say into his shoulder.

 The Spellmaster’s hand is back in yours the moment you both finish and your gaze trails to the glaringly obvious loose end, now echoing through the hall like niggling background noise.

“I...what will happen to the princess?” You ask.

King Rodolfo’s expression sours. “She will be disciplined accordingly. When she receives her magic back will be up to her and her future behaviour. I’m not pleased in the least with how she has humiliated our kingdom and our family name.”

He gestures again and the chairs, table and this time, the princess are squirrelled away into the shadows. You feel all too exposed all over again, eager to end the meeting and return home. But the royal levels his gaze to the both of you.

“Yet, I am not done. You have both proven your worth as Spellmasters – even bested my daughter, the best in Aria. I offer you both places in my court and seats on the royal magic council for Aria. After this shameful time in our history, we should be eager for fresh eyes and new talent that has our people’s best interests. I can now see that the princess’s actions have left us vulnerable to the whims of the few.”

Your dream, within reach. Not completely what you had in mind, but almost. And with Jeonghan? You turn to him, to find him doing the same, an expression of expectance and some kind of hope in his eyes. You don’t know what for. But you can’t find yourself leaping at the chance like you used to. Before the curse. Before Martine and Jeonghan.

“‘Han, what are you choosing?” You say, turning to face away from the king.

He drops his gaze to the marble mosaic flooring. “I never wanted that. Being in the position I am and working hard where I am is enough. I landed well when I fled the castle. I’m going back to Martine. But if this is something you’ve always wanted? Whatever you choose, I will support you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Jeonghan bows again. “Thank you for the generous offer, Your Majesty, but I do not feel capable of the task given and I’ll have to decline.”

You see the shift in sight to you and you shake your head with a tentatively growing smile. “I thank you as well. However, this isn’t my home. Martine is. I can’t just leave it all when so much has happened to me and I have unfinished business.”

He pauses to look between you. Suddenly, there is booming laughter as he nods, reclining back in his place. The gold halo appears again and the jewels in his crown scatter fragments of colour through the space and over your feet. You don’t feel as if he has taken offence to your rejection, which you're thankful for - you only just got into his good books. But your grandmother always told you about the library underneath the Aria gardens, stretching for acres. Full of magic resources.

“However, I do have my own request, if you please.” You call, holding a hand up gingerly.

Jeonghan whirls to look at you, but you ignore his pointed look and the miniscule tug on your wrist. Don’t be greedy, he’s saying.

“Open access to the castle’s private magic library, anytime we choose.”

There is a silence of mixed tensity before he nods, swatting idly with a wave of his hand. “I’ll grant your request, small in comparison to what duties you have declined. Thank you again for your service, you are dismissed.”

You beam and bow deeply, twice over before dashing out the door with a giggle. You tug the blonde along with you, Suki weaving about the both of you in joyful zoomies. By the time you have exited the castle - through the front gates this time - you have been given back your belongings and provided safe passage back to Martine as soon as available. There was even another carriage waiting, this time far more luxurious and less utilitarian in style. A guard follows you both, with explicit orders you’d heard in the hall to ensure that the three of you made it safely onto the train without resistance. With the drama of this morning, you were thankful for the promise of security. The footmen open the door and Jeonghan assists Suki in, then yourself, his hand gentle on the base of your spine for stability. He leaps in smoothly and the door closes with a mute click. There is a small lunch pack on the bench across from you, along with your tickets.

“Oh look, an en-route meal.” He says lightly.

While food sounded amazing, what you wanted even more was rest. The ordeal had taken it out of you and you longed for your creaky bed in the attic with the pink frilly floral sheets and Mingyu’s living room fireplace. Maybe that old age thing was still hanging around - everything kept wearing you out! Even as the thrum of magic through your body resisted it. Jeonghan glances over at you and shifts closer - By Merlin, your thoughts must be that obvious on your face. But then you remember how gruelling kneeling on the unforgiving marble floor must have been for the hours that you talked. The awkward angle that his arms stayed distended at to keep him subdued. Now you notice his own mirrored signs of weariness and the ginger way he held his arms. He kept rubbing the space under his kneecaps and he had limped with a favour of his ankles in the effort to move through the castle. Now it’s your turn to give him a haven, opening your arms for him to awkwardly settle into. His smile was warm like fresh pastry and made your cheeks heat up too.

“Rest. There's plenty here for the both of us and we can always take it on the train back.” You pat his knee and shift to lean back. He’s a little more firm and it’s a little more difficult to manhandle him to tilt so he’s leant against you. “Properly.”

You smirk a little before closing your eyes. The smooth stone that paves the roads comes in handy as the trip is easy and devoid of bumps. With the angle, your nose is now amongst his soft blonde strands and where you thought it might tickle, it doesn’t, instead gentle. The faint scent of cotton and lemon lulls you until you’re carefully shaken from the edge of sleep. Jeonghan’s dark eyes crinkle when you jerk upright.

“We’re back at the station. The footmen have advised that the next train is boarding and leaves in half an hour. Are you ready?” His already pillow-soft voice drifts quietly.

You sit up to attention, Suki already leaning on you with a paw that feels like a dagger on your thigh. “Sure, let’s go home.”

One of the footmen goes as far as to escort you all onto the train, flashing his seal and the tickets the King had provided. These tickets lead to the plush private cabins with their dark wood and red velvet seating. He stores the minimal luggage before pressing the tickets into Jeonghan’s grasp, bowing and exiting. Suki finally gets out and has a sniff around before claiming one of the window spots, with the wind away from her.

Poor Suki though, her peace doesn’t last long, seeing as this is yet another sleeper train back to the coast. You let Suki pick at the feather light slivers of salmon in your boxed lunch, while in turn, Jeonghan let you pick out the lettuce and spinach salad mix of his in exchange for your sheets of dried seaweed. You let him talk idly to fill the time, and prompt him with questions on his studies - ever the academic you were. It was also a ploy to push him out of his listener role between the two of you. At promptly sundown, Jeonghan casts the beds flat - the sight of the crisp monogrammed sheets had your drowsiness and worn magic come flooding back to the forefront of your mind. He could barely get them laid on before you were curling up in a ball, walking boots still on.

He nudges you. “Angel, you need to take your shoes off, get changed.”

You groan and sit back up, yanking at the buttons and laces to kick them off by the door. Even though you had sleeping garments, you didn’t quite feel comfortable yet in being seen in them. Your body may have felt like your own again, but not enough to not remind you of how old you’ve been.

“You go, I’ll do it after.” You lie, eyes closed.

That’s the last you remember until dawn, the cool sunlight piercing through the crack in the curtains and the steam horn blowing to announce the train’s arrival in Martine.

Your vest is off, hung on one of the coat hooks, next to his cloak and the collar of your shirt waist is loosened. You’re missing one stocking, your foot hanging off the edge. But you’re under the sheets, the sound of deep breaths next to you growing more familiar. Good Morgana, he sleeps like a god. He had the sense to change but the pity to leave you be. Suki is tucked right under your arm, her tail laid across your neck. The whistle sounds again and Jeonghan’s nose wrinkles like a rabbit’s. Rubbing at his eyes, he rolls to better face you, calling your name thick and low with sleep. You’re glad he can’t hear your heart stutter.

“Are we back yet?” He mumbles.

You hum, sitting up and adjusting the curtains to peek out at the landscape. The thinning trees blur by and the air is more arid - you can almost imagine smelling the salt on the rolling breeze.

“We must be. Let’s go home.”

A burning streak races through you as you say the words. Home. Martine was home.

Mingyu meets the two of you in the front living room. He takes your little suitcases and sets them aside, proceeding to wipe his hands nervously on his sage green canvas apron.

“You both made it back. How did it…” He raises his brows as he trails off.

You preen. “Yoon Jeonghan is no longer a fugitive and is now a free man. Aria is on its way to being back to normal for all magic users.”

The tall wizard heaves a sigh, then pulls a face. “Oh, thank goodness. I mean, it’s a little more than I expected, but!” Then he simmers, going back to being weary. “There’s someone here for you – just you, not Jeonghan. I told them you were out of town and wasn’t sure how long you’d be but they insisted they wait…”

“Good Morgana, for how long!” You shoot to attention.

Only then do you realise that Jeonghan’s hand sits loosely at your waist, an unconscious and certainly not unwanted notion. His grip tightens a fraction, becoming more noticeable.

“Only for an hour or two. Funnily, they didn’t seem to think you’d be too long.”

That sets you off even more. No one apart from the guys here knew where you were. With that, you ignore everything else and stride up the hall, Suki racing past and almost tripping you. Past the dining table to the courtyard-

You draw up short. An elderly woman in a simple blue and white striped shirt-waist and skirt at the garden table idly sipping a cup of tea. It would have been green or chamomile for sure. Her grandiose navy velvet cloak is slung over the back of her seat. She looks up at the thundering of your steps, her eye colour mirroring yours. A familiar coat of arms pin glints proudly on her chest.

“Grandmother.” You say quietly.

Suki is absolutely delighted to see her, meowing loud and persistent as she meanders over for pats. Meanwhile you’re halted in the doorway, your feet cemented in place. It’s been over six months. Which in theory, doesn’t sound like a lot. But after the curse and having not mentioned a word to your family of your condition or whereabouts, away from people you’d never been without, any amount of time is monumental.

“Enjoy your sabbatical?” Bora says dryly.

“I didn’t want… it’s complicated.” You murmur. You move to wilt and sit on the back steps of the kitchen, suddenly so small.

“From Kim Mingyu’s recount, so it would appear.” She replies. “The house is fine. It was in a temporal bubble so easily reversible. Our clocks are still off though, even now. However, perhaps that will have changed now you are…back on your feet.”

You slant your head in the afternoon light. “Grandmother, how did you know where I was after all this time?”

“Well, at first scrying didn’t work.” She begins.

“My aura had been disrupted.” You confirm.

She hums, levelling a glare to silence you. “So, after months of putting out contacts, we hear from sources in the palace in Aria of all places that you had returned, with silver hair. That you had bound the crown princess with the Vine Principle. We had informants work their way back from Aria, to here - this very house. The family was worried sick. Your mother had to close the nursery for a month – her emotions were affecting the plants.”

Guilt churned deep and thick in your stomach. Suki pulled back to headbutt your calf and comfort you. Now that the curse had been lifted, you were closer than ever. Bora’s gaze is expectant.

“I’m sorry, I just – after what I’d done and – I was cursed. I couldn’t bear to stay. So ashamed. I thought I had destroyed everything. But, Martine has made things better.”

She sighs softly. “I understand. I too, have made mistakes – nothing like yours, but mistakes all the same. But you’ve broken a strong curse that would have taken years for anyone else to even scrape the surface on. You have made an impact on the lives of those in Martine, without a drop of magic. And you corrected a wrong for our people in Aria that not even I could rectify when you were younger. Your journey and time away has done you good. It was necessary.”

Finally, the weight lifts and you can breathe. With a hand preoccupied, scratching Suki’s chin, you look up to smile. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

Setting aside her tea, she rises to stand and lean on the back of the chair. When your grandmother smiles in response, it’s rare and demure, the vision of elegance. But always worth it. Better than gold.

“You have done outstanding. Now, you’ve always had your eye on the High Council, yes? Like myself and your father?” Bewildered at the direction of conversation, you nod. This must be what whiplash feels like – you’ve seen the look you’re pulling on Jeonghan too many times. “For your diplomatic heroics, I would like to offer you a role within the Council. Most likely as an attendant for myself or your father as we both work in Spellmastery. But I believe your perspective would be valuable in furthering the strength of our people. You would have to leave Martine, probably stay in the Glass City, to attend to your duties.”

Six months ago – hell, even two months ago – you would have leapt and grovelled for a part to play in the High Council. But, you had roots here now. A happy future you’d carved by yourself. People who cared about you and you felt the same. And there was him.

“I – I appreciate the offer. Truly, I do. And I understand that this kind of opportunity isn’t given to just anyone all the time. But I have a life here now and I think I’d like to live it before having such a career. I hope you understand.”

You feel eyes on you and twist back on the steps to peer down the hall. A blur of lemon yellow vanishes round the corner, then pokes sheepishly back in. Eavesdropping. His cheeks are the faintest colour, his grin cheeky at being caught. Speaking of life. You wink back and then face your grandmother, to gauge her reaction. You don’t say no to a woman like her easily. But there’s something akin to pride blooming in her features, pushing her shoulders back and curling her thin lips.

“I do.” She makes her way back inside, climbing past you on the steps. She pauses at your side to lay a hand on your shoulder. “You have done extraordinary things here. I hope you continue to do so. Just please, call once in a while?”

You throw your head back to laugh as she passes you and glides down the hall.

Another, warmer presence is at your back moments later. “So, who was that?”

You roll your eyes and tip your head back to eye him upside down. “As if you weren’t listening.”

He holds his hands up. “I actually didn’t get all that much.”

You shuffle over so he sits. His knees sit up near his chin and it’s almost comical. “My grandmother.”

His eyes go wide. “The High Spellmistress?”

You nod and watch his jaw go ajar. “The very one. She offered me a place in the Glass City; in the Council as an attendant.” You can feel his presence dim and you reach out to lay a hand on his thigh. “I said no. That there was life to be had here - people I care about.”

He looks down at you, his expression calm but also unreadable. An aspect of him you were still trying to get your head around. From flamboyant, arrogant Spellmaster to careful and cautious Jeonghan.

“Like who?” He says, fishing very obviously.

Something you had absolutely no patience for. You purse your lips, amused. “Oh, I don’t know, Mingyu certainly.”

He deflates even more and now you can’t help but panic - you had hoped he could take a joke, like always. He had always had a confidence and bravado about him you didn’t think you could shake. Yet again, the shoe is on the other foot. You twist to better face him and tuck your knees under his.

“Hey, hey. And you, Jeonghan. Of course you.” You reach out to turn his face towards you. Dark eyes swimming beneath his sunny yellow fringe, almost exactly the same way as the day you met him. Your thumb runs circles over his cheek, daring for you. “You know, fishing for compliments is not very flattering, Jeonghan. And you don’t need to with me. I found my magic for you.”

He smiles, radiant, and puckers his lips to kiss the pad of your thumb - a gentle romantic, you’ve slowly realised. You gasp quietly, your heart stuttering relentlessly as it tries to catch up and regain control with your emotions. Now you know you’re blushing, your chest all tight and, oh maybe a little lightheaded with how easily confessions come to light. As much as he grated on you, Jeonghan made talking easy. Suki meanders closer and pleasantly interrupts with a loud meow. The sun is setting - dinner, like clockwork. Jeonghan grins and shushes her, still under your touch.

“Quiet Suki, we’re having a moment. That’s good. Because no matter what, I was going to be with you.” He says with a steady conviction that makes you feel as if an Augur could have predicted his from miles away. “The moment you laughed - really laughed - I was hooked. My angel, spun of magic and starlight.”

Martine’s annual Magic Festival is a month away, but preparations have been in the works for at least two months before. Between Joshua’s Crystal forecasting, Soonyoung gearing up for the many rituals to take place and Seokmin bringing in extra stock for the apothecary and any roaming magic users, everyone is busy. Jeonghan is slowly getting busier, with wards to put up and a lot of liaising with Aria’s magic council for their representatives to be greeted well. It was all about marketing, you supposed. And they deemed yourself and Jeonghan the best people for the job. You had still not been given permission by the King to release the princess, so she must not be… mature enough to participate in the event.

You had commissions coming out your ears, requiring daily trips up to the Post Office for supplies you had ordered. Most of the time Eugene would just throw your new supplies at you and send you on your way. Not that you weren’t welcome to conversation, but everyone now knew your services were a well sought after commodity. Even more so now the curse had been lifted. A better Spellmistress than Jeonghan in Martine? Everyone paid handsomely for your wares. 

Somehow between everyone’s commissioned garments, you managed to find time to work on planning your own. The week-long festival was the biggest event on the Magic Calendar. Held in a different city every year, casters from far and wide travelled to celebrate. Everyone dressed in their best and stored their best spells or potions for trading and enjoyment. Martine would become a city that never slept. Street vendors and magic demonstrations, parades and parties. You thought it a bit funny when Martine had been announced. Maybe, for those in the know, even rigged. It meant your whole family would be coming to town and making a nuisance of themselves in your business.

It’s a cool sunny morning when the post arrives to you first. It’s magic mail, from the way it’s wrapped in velvet and floats in the door of the study of its own accord, landing gently on your work - a suit for Soonyoung with glittering chains and coins that would jingle as he danced. Your name is in thin cursive on the note slipped between the many folds. The velvet is long and wide enough for a whole new garment - which gets your brain thinking before you’ve even reached your gift. You gasp and hold it to the light. Suki perks up and goes still as well. It looks battered and a little weathered in places, the top not quite pointing straight. But you’ve seen this hat in your family’s home for many years and in plenty of portraits - painted or photographed. The ribbon around the base needs freshening up since the last wearer and the dead flowers pinned beneath it look a little meek. Setting it aside, you reach for the note and unfold the heavy textured paper. The letterhead is emblazoned with the High Council’s coat of arms.

Y/N, It is now your turn to proudly represent the family in this years’ Magic Festival. Like those before you, decorate as you see fit and wear it with pride. I will be speaking at the opening, so I look forward to seeing you then. Regards, Bora

You look at Suki. “Are you seeing this too?”

She meows assurance in response. You twist it and tilt it to get a better feel of it. It even felt magic, humming with its own presence and life. Of memories from those before. This was monumental - you’d seen your mother wearing it for as long as you could remember and you’d been dreaming of the day it was your turn. When you had completed your studies and the family deemed you ready to represent them. While you had briefly worn it for graduation photos, it had still firmly been in your mother’s possession. You look past it to the fabric it arrived in - you now needed a whole new plan for what to wear, and that bolt of velvet was just where to start.

Some days Jeonghan deemed his jobs to be two-person jobs, effort and time cut in half he had said blithely. So you were tugged out of the studio and on the streets. He still walked on the side closest to the road and Suki still weaved trouble beneath feet. But the tasks were easy and a way to stretch your magic muscles, so to say. Today entailed a few wards and something about a “Full House Down”, an expensive offer that Jeonghan had available.

“What is a Full House Down? It sounds like a lot of nothing. Scammer.” You say, sceptical.

He gasps, mock offended. “It is not! It is a full sweep of a household to implement an integrated magic system. Wards, self-cleaning, security, and other such additions.”

You baulk at his list of services. “Oh. And what are you - we doing today?”

“Mr and Mrs Park Hyunjin require our talents for their new home.” Jeonghan smirks proudly over at you. “I thought you might enjoy flexing your magical talents for your dear friend and customer.”

You beam and twine your arm in his, your grouchy mood instantly mollified. “Ah Jeonghan, that’s very sweet of you. Thank you. Now, tell me the plan - what is the commission, so to say.”

The job is only an hour and half, entailing security measures over windows and doors, kitchen cleaning spells and temperature management. And if you managed to put in a few luck and protection sigils about the place, Jeonghan didn’t mention it. Hyunjin was in his office, Minji having tea with her mother and sister at the family home. His fine features greeted you warmly from the window as you carefully hovered a storey from the ground. Your wand was now your own, crafted by a close travelling friend of the other wizards, Minghao. It was a sturdy oak wood with lovely engravings around the top end that looked like rippling ribbons that curled into a comfortable moulded grip. The Tudor-style home with thatched roof positively glowed by the time the two of you were done with it.

You knocked Jeonghan’s hip with your own. “Well done Spellmaster Jeonghan.”

“And you, fellow Spellmistress.” His dark gaze slid to you, warm and crinkled.

Again, you slip your arm in his and he yanks you close to lead you back to your many garments awaiting attention. Idly he drops a kiss to your temple as you both pass a café, some mortal young women pausing their conversation to look at the two of you longingly through the window front.

“You’re a tease, Hannie.” You mutter with a smirk. “Oh, did I tell you my grandmother is coming to open the Magic Festival? She sent me the family Hat. My mother had it last.”

Your mind drifts from the cobbled pavement and pelting sunlight to the faded ribbon and withered floral you knew were hers. The embroidery was your grandmother’s and the patches and unfortunate kink in the pointed tip were your great grandmother’s - she worked on a farm and put the Hat through the wringer.

His breath catches as he looks down at you. “Really? Congratulations, I’m so proud of you, Angel.”

You nod, your face warming. “I- thanks. She sent it in a pile of velvet I just have to use. I have a feeling she knew I would - I don’t really have anything to wear that would be suitable otherwise. All of it is back home, for the best.”

He coos and pats your hand. “Oh, I would have loved to see you in your little dresses before you dropped the hem! So cute.”

You screw your face up and squirm. Suki has leaped up onto a brick wall to parade in the sun, her tail lax but pink nose in the air. He means the dresses and garments you would have worn before being deemed an adult, with hemlines to your mid-calf and flat slippers and frilly neck decorations. Even trousers and tunics for more manual work in pleasant pastels.  While you had worn more adult wear before the curse had happened, the darker tones and properly dropped hemline didn’t happen until you were in Martine. You had stuck to mainly ankle length skirts and light linens for breathability and easy manoeuvring for spells.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I looked like a child! I do not need the thought of you coddling me like one.” You softly snarl.

He simmers a little and gently sways the two of you. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to annoy you. Only that, I would have liked to know you when we were younger.”

“Not much has changed, apart from the fact I’m a little wiser.” You shrug. “Maybe a little grumpier.”

Jeonghan chuckles and leans forward to open Mingyu’s back gate. “Remnants of old age.”

You make a grumbling noise but leave it at that as you fish your key out of your apron to unlock the door. Suki dashes in first, narrowly missing tangling your ankles together so she can return to her well-warmed spot in the sun.

You work feverishly on your own personal project, stabbing your soft fingertips far too much for your lack of patience in the few weeks left. Mingyu is sweet enough to bring you dinner a few nights into the studio, humming positive observances of your progress. Suki is not allowed anywhere near the garment, for fear of having stray fur caught on the textured material. Minji has her regular tea appointments with you as well, perched in your window seat, every guest’s prime position.

“Oh, you know what would be absolutely darling? If you and Jeonghan matched! He is escorting you, of course.” She sings.

You slide your eyes at her. “I’m my own person, Minji. Besides, this dress is for me. It’s my first after the curse.”

She had been absolutely ecstatic for you when she came in the day after you returned from Aria to find a silver-haired young woman making measurements and grumbling remarks. She had claimed on sight that she knew you were magic - you had to be with the way you handled a needle and thread. Then she made a point of barging in unannounced just as often as Jeonghan in the lead up to her wedding with tea and gossip. It was what friends do, she preened. You don’t tell Minji after your conversation that you were now looking for a ribbon for lacing the same blue as his cloak - you refused to give her such satisfaction.

You could barely sleep the night before - Suki just as restless, bouncing up and down off the bed. Only after a potent, lukewarm shot of Mingyu’s lavender tea did sleep find you. Certainly not the way in which Mingyu intended for it to be consumed. You were meticulous when getting ready by the soft east sunrise, murmuring ceremonial incantations as you did so. Some to bring prosperity and power during this auspicious time, others for your family and magic. Everything felt warmer and buzzing, as if the magic that swirled within you was just begging to burst free. Suki’s golden eyes seemed to glow even more as the magic between you both strengthened. You were meeting Jeonghan in the studio, which was handy seeing as you had forgotten the extra pin for your apron there, hoping you wouldn’t need it. You can hear him before you see him, his boots making crisp steps over the russet pavement - even the air sung in his wake. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress, spinning from the full-length mirror to face him in the entryway.

The velvet hugs your torso nicely, the sky blue silk ribbon of the back lacing popping brightly. It had thick straps and was long enough to hit your ankles. A thin white blouse underneath you’d been working on for a while with long sleeves to protect against the sun, a turned up rounded collar and rounded v-neck from the apex of your shoulders that met nicely with the straight neckline of your overdress. There were little lace eyelets on the neck of your blouse that had been painful to sew on that you imported from Aria. Sensible lace up boots in a shiny black leather - Eugene had recommended a fabulous cobbler, that turned out to be his cousin. Flowers embroidered on the hem of your dress, difficult with the thickness but necessary as they weaved with luck and magic sigils. And your hat. You had added that same Aria lace to the brim but dyed it a sky blue as well. Your apron is a crisp white with more lace on the bottom along with the sky blue silk ribbon in a strip near the bottom as well, white cotton sigils almost invisible to the eye stitched in. Jeonghan in his cloak and a starched shirt and sky blue pants goes still in the entryway. Multiple layers of long necklaces and talismans from his family glinted and shimmered against his pure white starched shirt. His graceful blonde hair curled gently with the magic in the town, a life all its own and dark eyes that glittered with morning light. Suki graciously let you tie the last of your ribbon around her neck in a pretty bow. And you bathed her too! Miracles do happen.

You frown after he neglects to move again. “Jeonghan, what? Is it not good? I mean I know the velvet is a bit much but-”

He scrambles now and shakes his head, closes his mouth. “No! Not at all! It’s beautiful. I’ve just - I’ve never seen you like this? So…I have no words. None that make sense.”

You smile and secure your hat. “Oh good. Let’s go then, I’m meeting my grandmother there.”

He shakes his head again and steps closer, reaching for you and tugging you by the waist close. You gasp and grab to steady your hat.

“You’ve almost made it too well. I wish I could keep you here.” It’s a pondering purr that electrifies you.

“If you would like to brave the wrath of my grandmother, then by all means.” You roll your eyes as best you can.

Jeonghan laughs and shifts your hand to lift your hat. He angles it to shade both of you from the sun blasting through the window. There is a sweet scent about him, like sugar dust and lilies with that undercurrent of pine that you would miss if you didn’t know he used it to fragrance his bedsheets.

“Sunlight and Starlight - I think we could take her.” He draws a long, meandering kiss from you, making your lashes flutter in a struggle to focus. He grins, cheeky. “But for you, Angel, I’ll escort you to town.”

He withdraws to settle your witch’s hat back on your head, straightening the brim. Looping your arm through his, you motion for Suki who leaps down and trots in front to the gate. The zing of your magic under your skin and through your pulse never gets old as you pull out your wand from the holster on your rib cage. A simple wave of the wood instrument and the door closes, sealing with a silver spark.

[lotti-lyric]

are we about to kiss right now; katsuki bakugou and y/n

best friends to lovers

warning; swearing, kissing, flirting humor, bakugou being mean, lots of capitals

gn!reader x chaotic!bakugou katsuki

charlotte’s interlude 💗: hi guys!! bakugou is my comfort character and so i hope i wrote him alright! this came to mind randomly while i was helping a client with makeup and i full gasped while doing her highlighter 🧍🏼‍♀️ anyways, have an amazing day and as always, please reach out!! i’m super new and i’d love friends on here!! i’m taking requests and matchups!! enjoy!! 🎶

SO LIKE YALL ARE ALREADY SUPER CLOSE RIGHT

HE’S LET HIS WALLS DOWN LONG AGO SO NOW YOU’RE JUST LEFT WITH THIS ABSOLUTELY CHAOTIC ASSHOLE OF A MAN

he actually lets you get away with insulting him and you guys have friendly banter

it’s just how y’all work

“Katsuki, can I play tic-tac-toe on your big ass forehead??”

“I’d still win, shut the fuck up”

despite this, yall have really great communication

then one day, you’re both joking around and you go

“Are we about to kiss right now 🤪”

AND HIS HEART SAID HOLY FUCK

y/n you can’t just do that he wasn’t ready 😩

he didn’t notice how god damn attractive you were until you flirted. the way you bit your lip… fuck how could he not notice before??

he had it bad for you. real fuckin bad.

HE JUST KINDA STARES AT YOU A BIT ANALYZING UR FEATURES AND EXPRESSION BEFORE GOING

“Tch…”

and IGNORING IT COMPLETELY

he honestly loves the connection he has with you and he’s so afraid to lose it because he misunderstood some joke

little did he know, that was actual fucking flirting from y/n. as good as your communication was, it’s hard to flirt seriously when all you both do is joke around with each other

nothing seriously changes between you both except you keep slipping casual flirting humor like that

he’s seriously so conflicted. on one hand, you’re the one he trusts, his right hand and he doesn’t want to lose that. on the other, he just keeps looking into your eyes and hoping for more. yearning for more, wanting more

finally,

“What the fuck are we?”

“Huh?”

“Who am I?”

“You’re Katsuki??”

“No I-… fuck, y/n just-..”

he places a hand on your cheek, daring to lean closer

you can feel the static electricity buzzing between your lips when he slowly smirks and whispers,

“Are we about to kiss right now?”

he waits for your nod and a real, genuine smile forms on his face

the kiss is passionate, hungry, you can tell this has been held back for a long while

there certainly was electricity

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Back To Black

Summary: Young love is so innocent and juvile now seemingly worlds apart that once childish flame seems to be more

@craftygamerscrafts

Black Noir was never always a faceless part of the seven he had a childhood which contrast to popular belief was actually nice he had a house hold that raised him to properly manage his emotions so his powers stayed within his control,but the part of him that truly made him the way he is...Y/n L/n.

His best friend and crush since the days in the playground sandbox. James was at the time unaware why he felt such joy being in her presence though once they parted ways after high school he understood those feelings weren't so friendly as first appearance. Love was confusing to him he never had much affection growing up unless it was from her so he always assumed as they got older those lingering stares,the hugs that always squeezed so tight,and those soft lips pressed against his forehead or cheek we kind gestures of friendship. They were polar opposites he was what people described as the bad boy while she was a social butterfly. If only he didn't stay with his safe bet and realized before she left to college so far away without a single goodbye.

James sat two rows behind Y/n she was smiling brightly clapping respectfully each time someone walked across. The week before they celebrated him being accepted to be a junior seven member till he reached age his dream was coming true. "For our honor student valedictorian Y/n L/n!" James was not shy to admit,but he did make the loudest noise smiling broadly when her eyes locked onto him. "We have a special honor our to give to you Ms.L/n a letter directly from Harvard one of your chosen colleges. You've been accepted for a full ride." They were both in shock as the uproar of people yelling and cheering. Harvard was so far away from Vought headquarters. That's when both of their hearts seemed to creak his turning cold at the fact she'd be gone.

"You never told me you wanted to go to Harvard." James was changed out of his blue robe playing with the chain on his pants. "I never thought they'd accept me especially right after high school." She layed her head on his shoulder as they sat in the bed of her truck he would have been relaxed if this was any other night,but the stiffness in his muscles was the equivalent of a predator tense and ready to strike. "Where you going to ever tell me you applied or did you just plan to pack up and leave?" His words were like a backhand causing her to sit up looking at him appalled. "You would have been the first to tell if I got that letter." James scoffed his emotions were getting the better of him. "Yeah right so much for being my so called best friend." The hurt that filled her eyes was making him regret everything,but there was no time for that. "What so I'm not you best friend because I want to be something?! Because that's my only option! If you didn't notice I'm not a super I can't pretend that us running off to the superhero capital filled with the most crime is the safest bet for me." Y/n had tears pooling and James wanted to say he'd always protect her if she just came along with him. "If your so safe away from superheros,away from me, then do us both a favor end this here and leave."

Y/n sniffled wiping her eyes as she got out the bed of the truck she refused to speak anymore what said was said. James got out to and went walking down the street to his home. She got in the driver's seat and drove off into the night. That weekend James felt like shit and bought (favorite flowers) and some of her favorite sweets and came to her home. At the door her father stood tall and raised a brow confused. "Why are you here?" He didn't say it like he was upset which was surprising. "To see Y/n." It was F/n turn to be surprised. "She left on Friday. We packed everything and she told us you were busy,but she'd say bye when she drove by your place." The young adults heart shaddered his last words to her was telling to end their argument and leave. If we wasn't a coward and apologized sooner she might of stayed long enough for them to fix their friendship maybe so he could confess his harbored feelings. The time never came she went her way and ut was time for him to go his both of them broken hearted and yearning.

James or better known as Black Noir gazed at the party goers. He's always hated these parties everyone ignored his existence especially since he didn't speak up. Trying to grab a glass of champagne the tray was moved to quickly past him. Behind the mask he sighed about to walk to the bar towards were someone could at least acknowledge he wanted something to drink. A gental hand placed itself on his shoulder he turned around not yet looking at the owner of said and,but rather the glass of sparkling gold liquid he accepted it in his hand softly brushing the slim fingers with his gloved hands. "Looked like you needed a drink,Jamie." That nickname was so forgin to him no one called him James in years,but only one person called him Jamie. His cover face turned to look at her his breath froze on his throat choking him. No matter how much time past he still recognizes her.

Y/n looked at him a soft smile on her painted lips. Stunning was the first word that came to mind she looked older,but that seemed to only add to her beauty a f/c dress hugged her curves that use to be hidden under his sweaters and t-shirts. James looked down to see if she wore heels given that she was the same height as him seeing the five inch heel she didn't do much growing since their departure. Her hair was styled in a confortable yet elegant way. "Can't a old friend get a hello?" Her voice was angelic the most gracful noise that ever could be heard. James took her hand within his own guiding her through the crowd to get to the balcony. After escaping the room full of people he sighed in relief. "Y-y/n when? Why? How?" He didn't know which question to ask first. "I've been living in the city for a year. I got my dream job every year or so I go to different devious helping people. Volt thought it'd be perfect having me here show off that even though they cause more problems then solve having public opinion is still needed." She always knew what he wanted to say even if he didn't have to utter a word. His large hands cupped her cheeks his thumb rubbing over her cheekbone. "I'm sorry." Those two words held such depthed all the apologizes he never got to say to the one person he never stopped loving. "I know...I forgived you along time ago Jamie. I just wished I had the will to say goodbye with words."

James ungloved his hand to feel her wiping away the tears that slipped past her eyes. Leaning forward his forehead touching hers as he gently blew out the breath he was holding. Y/n puffed out a watery laugh as she kissed his masked face if they weren't in public he would have ripped of his mask to feel those lips that he missed so much. Being apart was like dying a hundred time for both of them,but she came back to him. She went back to black.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

A/n: This was a idea I had long ago and someone requesting some black noir was just the perfect time.

To the anonymous that wanted Natasha x reader is coming next just gotta find more inspiration.

[pinkmirth]

—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps. 

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

 “Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?” 

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

[purpleslove]

The Last Time - Kim Taehyung

Seoul, 2200, xxx apartment, 11:50

"Alpha-911, a creation of Dr. Cha Eunwoo, has destroyed the capital building. The building was said to have a meeting of the country's ministers and the top business typhoons of South Korea. As of now, we have no information of the amount of people that have been claimed as de/d or injured. We'll keep you up with the updates." The T.V screen flashed, causing me to squint my eyes, due to the pitch darkness around. A Taehyung with a straight face was now making my heart beat faster and faster, as if it would jump out of my chest any minute. "The South Korean government has decided to shut down all the robots at midnight 12:00 until further notice. The government claims it to be a harmful act that has endangered the life of the citizens of the country. I repeat, the government has decided to shut down all the robots at sharp 12:00 midnight." "S-shut down." I sluttered as the news was too much for me to handle. My biggest fear was now standing in front of me, losing my best friend. Taehyung was a masterpiece of the AI, he was my creation. I still remember creating him for my science project in 5th grade, all from scratch. Who knew that would become the real push for me. Since then, I have been making changes in him, a cardboard robot with a simple circuit, is now something that is hard to differentiate from a human. As time passed, we became the best of friends, I kept on typing codes, making him better day by day. He was someone who was there from day 1 and might exist even when my breath stops. "Tae-Taehyung, tell me I'm dreaming." "It's the reality Y/n, I'm a piece of machinery at the end of the day." "No, please don't leave me Taehyung." I begged with tears escaping my eyes. "I want to stay too." "Taehyung, you wanna stay? I will figure out some code, just stay with me." "Y/n, I don't want to harm you, you have to let me go." He said as minor sparks of electricity began releasing from him. The sparks of his end, our end. "Taehyung, don't leave me, I'm ready to face all the consequences, just stay." I said as I begged him to stay. "But I can't stand someone hurting you Y/n, and if I was the one who would do this, I won't be able to forgive myself, never ever." "Tae-Taehyung." Tears were flowing from my eyes, my heart beating as fast as it could. Someone who used to shout cheerfully the whole day, would now lie unconscious every day. I knew I would yearn to hear his voice everyday. The sparks of electricity increased, "1-1 minute more." I said as the clock caught my glimpse. Ignoring the sparks, I hugged him as tight as I could. "I love you Tae." "I l-love you too Y/n." In each others arms, his codes functioned for the last time. For the last time, the motor whirled. For the last time, for the last time. I cried holding his unconscious body, yearning to see his beautiful brown orbs again, hear his voice again. "Tae-Taehyung." I whispered as I rested my head on the place his heart would be located, only if he was a human. It was still making my heart beat with the same warmth, the same comfort. I could hear his voice in the silence. As if he was asking me to hold his hand and not let him go, as if he was asking me to turn back time. They say you shouldn't be materialistic. But what to do with his heart? Who loved him more than anything, even after knowing that this would happen one day. Nothing felt the same without him. Anime would be no fun without him. Laundry, cooking, studying, everything would remind me of him now.And the time he closed his eyes, was the last time someone ever saw Y/n in her lab. The scientist had now become a loner, still hoping that the government would change it's decision one day.

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Fourteen, "The Ten"

Word Count: 5.9k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics

I wasn't sure what had brought me here. It had felt like yesterday since I'd shut this door last, even if weeks had passed since. I'd never been able to shut it on that day and I knew that I wouldn't be able to, not fully.

"Babe! Are you ready to go? We're going to be late for the meeting," a voice calls from down below. Gulping hard, my heart stays stuck in my throat at the sight before me. It hadn't been the only one this morning that was hard to swallow.

"Coming!" The upstairs guest bedroom door closes behind me. I can't help but look at it over my shoulder, still unsure of why I had come up here. "We're not going to be late, Harry! When was it that you started to become so anal about being early?"

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he doesn't attempt to hide the way his eyes roll at my remark. They finally settle on me, registering my eyebrow raise I challenge him with.

"Since you take fricken forever to get ready in the mornings, and the boss needs to be early," he tuts, nodding his head towards the front door. I hadn't noticed before how he holds it open, but now, the spring sunshine is unmistakable. "Come on already. I put our stuff in the car while you were dilly dallying upstairs. What were you doing up there anyways? It took me a few times to get your attention."

We'd long ago passed the time of saying 'thank you's for holding doors open, but habit aside, I still say it. Pulling the seatbelt across my chest, I ruminate on his question as he messes with the radio beside me. I'd become a master at being able to tell when his eyes were on me, and right now was no exception, because when I glance over at him, he's doing just that. The words hesitated on my tongue because at times I still found it hard to talk to him about her. We shared her and the grief around her. There was nobody else in this world who could know how I felt about her besides him, but the struggle persisted.

Avoiding his eyes had been my go-to when I didn't want to answer him. I did it now but it didn't serve me well, because of what I find instead. It seemed that nearly every time my eyes came upon it, it was impossible to not trace the curves of ink. It had lived on the inside of my wrist for over two weeks now and I still hadn't gotten used to it. When I thought that way, I realize I was never one to get used to things. My mother's abuse. Harry's coldness towards me in the beginning, only to be changed into sporadic softness. Then we became friends and something more, and it was hard to wrap my head around. He got hurt and I almost lost him, and it was something I still couldn't believe. It was a recurring theme in my life, especially as of late.

The permanence on my skin is interrupted by the soft edges and lines of his hand. A relief is kissed onto my skin when his fingers lace with mine, his thumb paying attention to the capital letter P in his handwriting on my skin. I don't know what does it but suddenly, I'm looking at the melancholy lifting his lips.

"I don't know but I wanted to look at her things in the nur- guest bedroom. The sonograms and clothes . . to remember that she was real and ours when . . when today I feel like I need to pretend that she wasn't," the words tumble from my lips as my throat feels tight with remembering. "I miss her."

"I miss her too," Harry says with a softness saved for times like these, which seemed to be quite often lately. It speaks louder when his lips press a kiss to the top of my hand. "But we don't have to act as if she never happened, Becks."

"I want to though. Not to act like- I'm just not ready to talk about her with people at work yet. It's almost been two months and I feel like I should be ready by now."

Repeating in and out inside of my head didn't help to steady the breaths trying to swim into my lungs. What did succeed was letting myself live in the unending sage color of his eyes, wondering what the flecks of gold would feel like if I swam in them.

"That's okay too, honey. People know not to ask and I said not to. It's more so something that you bring up yourself if you want to," he murmurs, thumbing at the escapist tear that got through my guard. "Are you sure you don't want to stay home another day? I can work from home whenever I want, you know."

"I'm sure," he had barely put a period to his words and I was insisting. His nod was fast but I could read the hesitancy in it. I tried to push it out of my mind as the car began to move, my thumb occupied by the same traces of ink on the inside of his right wrist, a P in my handwriting.

It wasn't how I thought I'd be living my life today, carrying the memory of my daughter in my heart and on the inside of my wrist, instead of in my arms in a few months.

*

I had thought at once that it was a sight for sore eyes, but now I couldn't be more sure that it wasn't. Still, I wasn't certain how I felt about it now. Seeing it had brought forth a nostalgia I yearned for, wanting to go back to a time where we were so naive and unknowing of what the future held for us. It also dug up a pain that could be unfathomable, because I knew how different things were the last time I stood outside his office door, looking in. Our happiness had been unmatched and upon realizing that, I felt my throat grow dry.

He looked more handsome than ever with the short beard he'd come to keep, one that swims into view upon turning around. I'd been caught.

"Hi, bug," Harry says, a smile making the dimples dive into his cheeks. It was small but it brought a glow to his face that I'd missed. "Are you heading out?"

Nodding was all that I could do as I stepped foot in his office. Even if it wasn't the first time today it still stung. Everything I missed was what I thought of when I stood in here. It was the framed sonogram missing beside his desktop, the space behind the guest chairs where I'd showed him the pregnancy test, and on the couch where we spelled out potential names with Scrabble tiles. That was only the beginning of what stabbed at me like knives, even if things had gotten better. It had only been two weeks since we'd started to talk and I had come to feel so much better, almost like myself again. I wasn't sure if I'd admit it but he was right. I'd come back to work too soon and it had been too much. I couldn't decide when I would tell him that I had cried in the bathroom twice today because of it all. He'd wonder when that had happened since I had been at his side all day helping him start on his new case, but I'd thought about her all throughout. I hadn't known that coming back here would stir up so many thoughts about her. How could I?

"Becks?"

"Y-Yeah, soon," I belatedly answer, grateful for his bookshelf in front of me. I know that he knows the truth, but it could seem as if I was lost in reading his titles, instead of consumed by my thoughts. No, Harry was smarter than that. He knew that I had perused his bookshelf more times than fingers I had on one hand, more than one normal person would. "You're sure it's okay that I take the car?"

"Of course. I'll just catch a ride with Myles. We still have a few things to go over anyways. We're not sure if we're sold on that one guy for the new hire or not, so we have to figure out what to do."

I couldn't find it in me to make a comment. Today had taken so much more from me than I had anticipated. I knew that there would be awkward interactions and maybe the curious looks. I didn't know that the team meeting right off the bat would let everybody stare at me to their heart's content, and let me catch them in the act.

"How was today?" his voice comes, interrupting my thoughts. I had come to welcome it, knowing how it broke up my mental web of danger. He had to have known too. "Rate it."

A title catches my eye, replacing the Pain-O-Meter we'd come to adopt since it'd happened. Plucking the book off the shelf, I flip it open to find the familiar title page and a message written in black ink. I'd have a good shot at reciting it without needing it before me even as the words came to blur before my eyes.

"Pass," I mumbled, daring the tear at my nose to fall onto the paper. Brushing it away before it can, I let the words in front of me swim through my mind yet another time.

March 2024

Harry,

I couldn't count how many times I've heard you speak of this case and all that it's taught you, even inspiring you to become a lawyer, you once said. I guess maybe I should have kept it for myself seeing as how you know next to everything about it, but maybe you won't know some of this 'never before seen' stuff. I call dibs on being the first one to borrow it from you, seeing as how it's a new release. I hope that one day we can bring justice and right a wrong like seen in this landmark case. Book aside, I couldn't ever find the words to tell you how grateful I am for you and even though it hasn't been a month yet, how much I love you, Harry. If there's a God, I'll be thanking them forever for bringing me back to you and to your firm to work beside you, and to fall in love with you all over again. I can't wait to hear you talk so passionately about this case and all of the others you look up to when we have our nightly goodnight call. I'll try not to fall asleep the next time.

Love,

Your Becks xo

"Becks?" There had been a time when I'd hated that name and how he'd mistreated it. It wasn't long after that I'd missed it deeply and wished to hear it despite being scared to. "There's no passes."

"Since when? Why can't I just for one time not have to rate my pain, Harry," I almost retort, my chest heaving when I turn to face him. His face remains stoic, that is if you were anybody but the few people who could read his face right now. The shock is clear as day and brings my hands to my mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to explode on you."

"It's okay," he assures me, stepping forward. His hand on my wrist is ginger and reassuring. "What one have you got there? Ah, the good old Glensheen murder. One of my favorite cases."

There hadn't been many times anymore that I couldn't unravel the emotions hiding on his face. Except for now, he locked it up good as he thumbed at the page, nostalgia lifting his lips into his cheeks. It made the sting louder inside of me as his mouth relaxed into its former line, a wetness clinging to his eyes.

"I'd started to think about how I'd tell our kids how I became a lawyer and it always started with this case here," unlike before, a dullness lept into the curling of his lips, a smile dipped in sour memories. "I thought of it with P, telling her how Daddy became a lawyer because of Glensheen . . but I can't do that anymore. It's too hard to think about."

A hastiness filled my actions, first with my hand on his forearm. The velvet button down he'd picked for today felt like butter beneath my fingers, but it was the only easy part about this. No, the wetness spilling onto his cheeks only made it harder and so did prying the book from his hands. It wasn't any smoother looking into his eyes as mine welled with what filled his.

"I'll rate today if you will," my gentle words came, volumes different from mine that had come before.

"Eight and a half," Harry said dryly, clearing his throat afterward. I knew how he craved a glass of water to soothe the cracks in his throat. If only it could do the same to the heart.

"That's your first eight in a week and a half," I note aloud and his acknowledgement is absent. That is unless you count his eyes falling away from mine, focused on dragging his finger along the letter on my wrist as if he could do it forever.

"What's yours?" his question is quiet, but I could hear his voice in the loudest of darks. It was what had dragged me out of my lowest of lows, afterall.

"Nine . . and a half."

It was my turn to stare at my hands and avoid the gaze of the other. I could feel his as I tried to swallow past the heart shaped ball in my throat, trying to forget how quickly his head lifted.

"You haven't had a nine in weeks, bug," Harry remarks and I don't bother to nod. What would be the point? I don't want to make it any more real than it has to be. "Becks, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When you say nine . . do you mean a ten?" his question made sense but I didn't want it to, because that would mean I'd have to come up with an answer. That wasn't something I could do.

*

Waiting was something I had done a lot of recently and what joined it was my feeling of something being amiss. I had blamed it on losing Phoebe and how it had upset my entire life, but standing here now, both rang too true. I couldn't put a finger on why I hesitated opening the door, even though I had been here just the other night. It had been Harry and I's first double date back with Asher and Skye. We had played Cards Against Humanity and sat around the old rinky dink deep fryer whilst picking our cards.

Leaving that night, my stomach was full from the pizza rolls, cheese curds, steak bites, and more that we deep fried, but that wasn't why my gut felt off. Skye had been acting weird and I couldn't put a finger on it. Sure, things had been different since losing Phoebe, but I knew it wasn't that. Tonight, I hoped it would come to light. If only I'd known now what I would later, I would have never come at all.

There was no answer when I knocked on the door, so I let myself in like usual. Our favorite chicken bacon ranch pizza Skye had promised me wafted from the oven where it cooked. After a quick glance around the open apartment, I find that I'm alone. That's odd, I think to myself, remembering running into Asher in the parking garage on my way from leaving work today. Their cars were parked out front and Skye's purse and keys are scattered across the island. Just like the old times, I muse silently as I begin to toe off my shoes until I stop.

Loud voices carry from down the hallway and immediately I recognize them as the two blondes I'm looking for. Removing my shoes is forgotten as I inch my way into the apartment, trying to listen. Normally, I'd feel guilty eavesdropping and so I don't often do it, but that went out the window when I heard my name. It sounds like they're fighting, but what about? Does it have something to do with me? Why would it? The questions bloom behind my eyes as the sound of their arguing grows when I come closer.

Stopping outside my old bedroom door, I felt more than uncomfortable, but it only grew as I waited. It had been weird at first finding out that Asher and Skye moved into my old bedroom, but knowing that it was the biggest, it made sense. Something inside of me tells me to stop and that I shouldn't be stepping into such a private moment of theirs. If it were the other way around I wouldn't want somebody to eavesdrop on me and Harry talking, and least of all a fight. But I can't stop after I hear my name for a second time.

"Skye, you have to tell Becky. You can't wait any longer."

"Don't you think I know that, Ash? I've been trying to think of how to say it, but for the life of me I can't," my best friend sighs. A whining sound follows her words, presumably after she plopped down onto the mattress. But when it comes a second time, I realize it's drawn from her lips.

"It'll be easier the sooner you tell her, babe. You know that." An unmistakable sigh whooshes from my best friend's lips on the other side of the door. "It can't wait any longer. Maybe you should tell her tonight."

"No! She just went back to work earlier this week and Harry said that she's doing better. I don't want to ruin any of that by telling her."

"She'll understand, Skye, and I know how much you want to tell her, to share this happiness with her. It was all I could do the other night to not talk about it, because I'm excited too," Asher admits with exasperation. Another sound tells me that he's joined her to sit on the bed.

"Of course I want to tell her, but how do I tell her about . . "

I hadn't known how I had gotten here. That's stupid because, of course, I did. But sitting here now, the steering wheel of Harry's car slick with my tears, I still wish I hadn't heard what I did. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't erase it from my memory, and no amount of tears could make it better. Each breath I took sent shoots of pain through my chest as it shook with fitful sobs. The engine still ran, rumbling softly even through the steering wheel my head rested on.

I had lost track of how long I'd sat here after pulling into the driveway. I knew that he would hear the garage door if I pulled in, so I was waiting. He didn't seem to hear or see the car yet, something I was grateful for. I wasn't ready yet, but would I ever be after what I just learned? Just as much as she didn't know how to tell me, I had no idea how I could tell Harry.

The laugh track of a TV show is what I hear first upon opening the door, followed by a wisecrack from Joey on FRIENDS. My heart squeezed at the sound of Harry's subsequent giggle, and knowing how I was about to take it away. I closed the door softly as I could and still knew that he would hear it. It's instantaneous how quickly the TV is turned down and how my unrelenting crying replaces the sound.

"Becks? You're home already, love?" my favorite voice murmurs from the living room before alarm is racing in it. "What happened? Is everything alright?"

I could count the seconds before I hear his rushed footsteps coming my way, and then stopping in front of me. Harry's molasses voice rushes to say my name a few more times but he succeeds in one try to pull me into his arms. Taking my spot sitting against the front door, I melt inside of his arms.

"Baby, please. What's wrong? You're scaring the shit out of me," it was hard to make out the concern in his voice amidst the spinning of my thoughts. It was there but I knew that had things been normal inside of me, I'd be able to hear the panic and fear living in his voice. "Are you hurt?" hurrying to ask, his hands run along my body, as if checking for injuries.

His neck smells sweet with vanilla from his cologne and then woodsy all at once, a smell that used to calm me in seconds. No, not now. Inhaling, I try to focus on his voice and the feeling of his fingers in my hair, but it's more than hard. It's only after snaking my arm out from around him and my fingers into his, do I find my bearings. His chin was sandpapery against my head and although he'd wake me up with the weird feeling, I welcome it now. It's what roots me to the spot and brings me back to him.

"Becks honey, talk to me . . Don't run away from me again," sorrow leaked from his words that began to break on his lips. "Please."

"Harry," his name came out in a sob deep from inside of me. The second I'd heard those words drop from Skye's lips I had wanted him . . needed him. I had known that's the only thing that could ever make it better, but could it after I utter the words that had been spinning webs in my head? "S-Skye . . . "

"What, is Skye alright? Did something happen to her? Did-."

"Skye's pregnant, H-Harry."

*

What woke me wasn't the feeling of his fingernails dragging along my arm, raising goosebumps. It was a nightmare that I couldn't place once I'd opened my eyes, but that didn't matter because I'd woken up to one. The night before came flooding back to me, making me remember why my throat burned and my eyes stung. It was from the screams I shouted in the car where nobody could hear me, not even God who they were meant for. No, I doubted he heard me or saw the way I chased breaths between sobs.

"Morning, bug," Harry rasped in his voice dripping with extra honey.

Something unspoken hid in his words and in the way he covered my face with loud kisses. I didn't laugh or even break a smile. It was impossible after the newly awake ignorance washed away seconds after waking. I felt the hesitation in his movements, the way his chin now tucking my head to his chest moved when he was going to speak only to stop. He wanted to ask how I slept or what I dreamt about. It was the usual stuff but I knew that he was choosing his words carefully after all of the ones that were said last night.

I felt lost in my own, not knowing what to say. It was almost as bad as before when a chasm broke through our lives, carrying us away from each other. Almost but not quite. The thought made me cling to him with fear, never wanting to lose him ever again after all of the times that I had already.

"Shhh, I'm here. I-I know it's not okay right now, but it will be eventually," he cooed to me, fingers nimble and gentle where they dragged through my snarled hair.

"How, Harry? How am I going to be okay seeing her have what I want? I have to watch my best friend have a baby when- when I should be pregnant with her too. I-I . . ," no other words are possible as I begin to shake in his arms. Again.

"I know, buggie," is all that he says, speaking volumes more through his fingers drawing shapes into my back.

"How many times have they called?"

His hand pauses, frozen in a soft claw against my spine, "How'd you know? I thought you were asleep."

"I was but I know h-how they are . . She was so upset, Harry. I still feel so bad for how it happened."

"They each called about ten times already since last night between our two phones. I've gotten a few texts as well but I don't know how to answer them," he murmurs and I can only nod. His calming humming begins against my hair, some tune by The Paper Kites that he caught me listening to when I was his assistant, saying it was a favorite of his too. "Skye already said a hundred times that she understands that this is hard for you . . It's what all her texts and voicemail said."

"How can she say that she understands wh-when she's never lost a baby?" out it comes and I can't take it back, despite all of the times that I had thought it. His words of comfort begin but I'm too quick to shut them down. "But I should be happy for her and Asher," I whisper into his chest, the familiar warmth of his necklace against my cheek.

"You don't have to be anything you don't want to be, Becks. We don't get to choose how we feel . . However you're feeling is okay and it's understandable," Harry says, tracing circles under his t-shirt he pulled over me last night when I couldn't get dressed myself. "To be honest, I'm quite pissed at the world at the moment and somehow at them too. It doesn't make sense but feelings never do . . I had the hugest crush on you when we met and I had a girlfriend. It didn't make one bit of sense to me."

All that I can muster is a hummed acknowledgement before words find me, "You fought it and it didn't go away though. I want this to go away. I don't want to be jealous and mad but . . I don't know how I can't be. It's not fair, Harry."

Any licks of morning light is doused out by black when I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing that was the trick to keeping the tears in.

"I know, honey bug. Life is never fair, unfortunately . . but we're going to have our own family one day. It'll happen for us when we're ready again . . And if you can't do it, watching Skye become a Mum, then you don't have to. I don't want you causing yourself any more pain. You've already been through so much."

"But she's my best friend, Harry, ever since first grade."

"Then give it time, babe. Healing doesn't happen in a day . . We both know that."

"How can I heal if everyday I'm reminded of it, Harry? Sh-She's going to have a baby and I'm supposed to be there as her best friend, like we've always planned. The best friend plans the shower and is there for the birth, and her bump is going to get bigger. I-," he stops me before I carry on and eventually implode from the feeling bursting from my words.

"You can only do so much, and however much that is - big or small - is okay. Skye will understand," he insists from above, nudging his nose against my temple. "Shhh, shhh. It's going to be okay, babe. I promise."

Harry's words ghost over my face, smelling of the minty toothpaste we use. If my body wasn't shaking with waterfalls of tears, I'd try to care what time it is and why he isn't at work. Part of me wants to ignore it and that's the one I listen to, letting him rock me back and forth inside of the safety in his arms.

"Thanks for staying w-with me," I blubber against his neck, finding purchase with my hands cupping his shoulders.

"Always, my love. Thank you for doing the same. I know it seems like we keep getting hit down as soon as we get up."

"No kidding," I hiccup.

Trying to focus on the Elton John song he sings to me instead of the danger concocting inside of my head is no easy task. It was one of our favorite songs but it still couldn't stop me from thinking about how it should be Skye and me pregnant together. We'd dreamt out loud how many times since we were six that we'd be mothers together and our kids would be best friends. Now, that will never happen, I think miserably, wishing that things could be different just like I had thought for the last two months. Those thoughts spun back into how I'd have to stand by her side through it all, pretending that I wasn't insanely jealous and resentful. That sentence in itself makes me cry louder against his bare chest, because she was my best friend and how could I be so mad at her for something that was so amazing? I can't but I am.

It was the very same thing I'd said last night after the bedroom door had opened, all of our mouths agape. I'd tripped on my own feet, or their news had knocked me off them, I suppose. It had sent one of their plants onto its side and profanities from my mouth.

"Ree . . Oh my god," Skye had gasped, a hand to her mouth, of course. The face I had known for so many years, watched change over and over, had paled so that it almost matched the wall behind it. "Please. I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way. I promise I was going to tell you, I just didn't know how. I-."

"I can't do this, Skye. I'm sorry but I-I can't. I don't know how to," I had muttered hastily, my wet eyes already painting my face only moments before hers.

It was only seconds later that Asher had exclaimed my name for there to be no response. Moments before slamming the door, I heard him call after Skye whose footsteps trailed behind me.

"Ree, please! I'm sorry!" she had shouted after me, in a voice that snagged on the fresh crack in my heart.

"Skye, don't. She'll be okay, just give her time."

With a pained sob just before the door closed, I heard her choke out, "I never wanted to hurt her."

"Is there anything I can do to take your mind off it, bubs? It's not healthy to keep replaying it over in your head, and I know you are," Harry's murmur comes, trying to shut the door on the memory. One that is still too fresh and new, too much like the puddle of red I sat on in this very bed that morning. We'd made our way back into our bedroom and into our old lives, thinking things were going back to normal. Little did we know. Shaking my head does little to erase the thoughts, no matter how many times I do it.

"Your head's not an Etch A Sketch, bug. Stop, baby, please," he insists, bringing a hand to my head, trying to make me stop. If only I could erase the thoughts like the old toy we played with as kids. Skye and I would fight over who used it, even if we both were terrible at it. "Please, just tell me what I can do to make it all better."

"You can't always fix it, Harry. Thank you for t-trying, but . . "

Puffing, the crack in my heart widens at the pain held in just his sigh. "I wish more than anything I could, Becks. I'm the husband, the d-dad. I should be fixing it."

"Don't. You can't a-and that's okay," I say with a voice colored with the very opposite, because it really isn't okay.

"Even though it's not . . okay."

Nodding my head quickly into him answers that then and there, as if the tears loud from my eyes didn't say that already.

"I see now why you've never rated your pain as a ten before today . . ," he didn't need to finish his thought because my mind knitted it up for him. Because I need to save it for when it could be nothing else but a ten.

"I miss her. I never even met her and I miss her so much it hurts," my voice trembles, colored with memories that had just become bearable to recall. Now, I feel as if I need to find the key to lock them back up in their box because they're too painful to think about. "I just want her back, Harry."

"I know, sweetheart. So do I," his lips brush against my temple with his words, pressing a kiss there that stays. At least I have Harry. I can get through anything with him by my side. I find it in me to take a full breath at that realization, holding onto him tighter.

*

What now, I thought silently but the words spoke volumes. Underneath me the mattress squeaked when I tried to get comfortable. Tugging at my shirt, my eyes fell to my legs clad in a fresh pair of jeans. It felt bizarre to be wearing them. I hadn't gotten dressed in four days, because I could barely get out of bed. It was too much like the last time and it scared me to no end, because I didn't want to lose everything like before.

I didn't want to get dressed today or to take a shower for the first time since I'd heard about Skye, but I did. Harry gave me time and didn't push me, but when he left for work this morning, again without me, I found it in me to do it. My body had already gotten used to the baggy feeling of Harry's oversized shirt and sweatpants. Now, it wasn't sure about these jeans or the warm black and brown Argyle sweater I'd found in his closet. Dragging a brush through my snarled hair seemed like the most work I could do all day, let alone warming up leftovers after it. This time, I hadn't lost myself completely, but I still didn't feel like me. Knowing what I did changed everything once again, and I didn't know how to do it.

Staring back at me, the meticulous plans Harry and I had made seemed impossible now. The blinking cursor nagged at me to type in the shared Google document, knowing Harry would see it. The top listed the logical need to know things and then the places we'd go, followed by the costs and smaller details. It had only been a week since we'd looked at our wedding plans together, but it had seemed much longer now. Seeing the dress decorated with lace and sewn flowers in our closet pained me, making me wonder how I'd get my best friend to do my hair and makeup now. I knew that she would come, even if I hadn't answered any of her texts or phone calls since it had happened. But how could I do it?

[dat-town]

rewrite the stars | so tender

It's raining heavily. A summer storm, unexpected and unstoppable, caught you by surprise the moment you stepped foot into the town. Wind tears into your already soaked hair since your umbrella has broken already and you didn't exactly prepare with anything to cover yourself.

You were supposed to go on a summer holiday after all, but just your luck, not only you missed your transfer bus, you got drenched while trying to look for any open places this late. Farther from the capital city, it seems like it's not so easy to stumble into 0-24h stores where you could get dry towels and maybe eat hot ramen for dinner. You really don't have huge expectations or anything but at this rate you might as well pass out in a bus stop waiting for the first bus in the morning to take you South or back to Seoul.

You sigh, bracing yourself as you drag your soaked suitcase behind yourself on the small hill. You tell yourself it's the last try and if you don't find anything, you are walking back to the bus terminal and pray they haven't closed yet. Or maybe give another try to the taxi service that promised to get you in thirty minutes and never did. Waiting might still be better so late than wandering around in an unfamiliar place with terrible GPS signals.

You take a left turn on the road, your sandals leaving a splashing sound behind with every step and for a moment you think you're hallucinating when you see the lights coming from a building with ‘noodle place’ written on its side. You hurry over, pressing down on the handle cautiously but your arrival is signalled with the melodic bell above your head and you see a guy from behind the counter snap his head towards you.

"Sorry, we're clo–" the boy, not older than a college student, gapes seeing your drenched state, his words freezing onto his tongue. You understand his startled reminder though and you're ready to just ask for an opportunity to refresh yourself in the toilet or wait out the rain but the boy is faster. "Oh my, come in. Are you okay?"

The guy, probably the cook based on his hands dirty with flour, seems genuinely concerned as he furrows his brows and purses his lips deep in thought as he looks over you, worried. He quickly washes his hands and walks up to you to encourage you to not stand outside in the rain.

"I'll get everything wet," you mumble, suddenly self-conscious under the sudden attention not wanting to drip water all over the place.

"Don't worry about that, it will dry up. Speaking of which, I will bring you a towel. You shouldn't catch a cold," he says and you're about to protest but he's already on his way, not even asking where you came from or what you are doing with a suitcase behind you at his threshold. You don't have the heart to say no. Not to mention, him reaching out and kindly helping you feels nice after such a horrible day you just had.

"Thank you," you mumble when the tall stranger puts down two clean towels onto the table in front of you. The lovely smile he flashes at you as a response makes you even more bashful. You pull one towel around your clothed frame and start to dry your hair with the other.

"Are you hungry?" the boy asks, bobbing his head towards the kitchen behind his back and you hold up your hands. You're already grateful that he lets you stay for a while.

"You don't have to cook for me. You said you were closed and I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," you object, not wanting to be a burden but the boy with his shy smile waves away your worries.

"I wouldn't have offered it if it was such a thing. I need someone to evaluate my kimchi soup anyway," he adds, pointing towards the bowl he has left on the counter earlier and you assume that's where the delicious smells are coming from. You would be a masochist if you said no to such an offer when you’re actually hungry.

"If you're sure, I would happily evaluate it," you nod in the end and you feel like you have made a good choice seeing the dimpled smile of the boy. While he busies himself with finishing the food, giving you time and space to dry yourself, you look around in the small but lovely restaurant. It looks like a traditional one with the noodles drying on racks on one side and old photos on the wall. You wonder what kind of employee he is if he stays so late because you deem him too young to own a place like this. But who knows, maybe he does.

By the time you fix your hair and change into dry clothes from your suitcase in the restroom of the restaurant, the boy has finished the soup and has already put it onto a table with side dishes. You thank him before taking a seat and starting on it, already loving its spicy smell. Just after the first bite, you know it’s amazing because of how strong the tastes hit and yet thanks to the noodles it’s just enough.

"Wow, it's really good! Did you make it by yourself?" you look up with wide eyes from the food after swallowing.

"Yepp, from scratch, even the noodles,” the restaurant employee smiles a shy but proud smile as he scratches the back of his head while standing behind the counter, tidying up.

"Wow. You should put it on the menu for sure," you nod at him enthusiastically before turning back to the soup, devouring it until the last drop and for the first time since you got on the bus in Seoul, you feel content in that moment as you lean back in your chair. While you eat, you exchange a few words about how you currently study in the capital city and was supposed to go on a vacation or that he used to work in Seoul at a restaurant called Mimiok.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," you tell him at one point and sitting in front of you by then, the boy’s smile is almost blinding in the late evening lighting.

"Glad to meet you, Y/N, I'm Dohyeok."

As you learn, the restaurant and the guesthouse behind it was used to be Dohyeok’s grandfather and he was the one who taught him how to cook as well. So when the boy learns that you have nowhere to go to stay the night, he offers you an empty room in the guesthouse. You must have saved an empire in your previous life for the heavens to send someone like him over to you after the saddening events of the day. 

"So this is it. Nothing much but you find a small bathroom there. Blankets are in the wardrobe and if you need anything else I'm on the first floor," Dohyeok leads you to the neat little room and at the thought of a restful night, you cannot help but blurt out:

"Thank you. You're like my guardian angel."

It comes out so naturally, so honest but the boy still looks away bashfully and you find it just as endearing as his dimples. You say goodnight with a smile and taking a deep breath, you decide this day wasn’t that bad after all.

After that, you fall asleep almost immediately and wake up to the bright sun rays lighting up the whole room. Opening the windows, you take a good look at the scenery in front of you: the sandy coastline, the sea stretching until the horizon, the small, colourful houses and you realize that it’s actually beautiful. In the dark and in the rain you couldn’t really tell but this small dot on the map that was supposed to be only a transfer point in your journey seems just as wonderful as your destination.

While you’re watching the seagulls fight, yearning for some morning caffeine, a soft knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts and putting away your embarrassment, you open the wooden door in your PJs.

“Good morning,” Dohyeok flashes you a smile very much awake and in ready-to-go clothes. “If you’re not in a hurry, would you like to come to town with me?”

At first, his question takes you aback but not because it’s invasive or makes you uncomfortable but because of his consideration. You only briefly mentioned the day before that you didn’t have a chance to look around in the beach town because you were too busy finding your way. You wouldn’t have thought he remembered and actually cared.

“Yeah, sure! Give me a minute and I’ll get ready!” you promised, suddenly awakened and after the boy reassured you that he would wait, you closed the door to dress up.

You bike into the town, get breakfast at a waffle place (play a round of games to decide who pays) and you learn more about Dohyeok while he shows you around. You get to know that he has a Youtube channel and an agency even contacted him, that his heart has gotten broken not long ago and in exchange you tell him how this trip of yours is actually a way to find yourself after having gone through rough times. Maybe you needed those to grow as a person just as you needed to get caught in the rain to stumble over a sweet guy with the most endearing dimple smile you have ever seen. (You’d argue that he is even sweeter than the brownies he packs for your trip back to Seoul with the promise of visiting soon.)

Rewrite the stars masterlist

[avocaguk]

—Where does your love lie?

PAIRING HISTORIA REISS X GN READER

GENRE fluff <3, hint of angst (just a lil sprinkle i promise), me trying to cope from szn4 if you squint

WARNING very slight s4 mentions!

requested by: anon!

↦ You show Historia your love through the (attempted) task of braiding your daughter's hair.

Early mornings, much like this one, have always conflicted Historia Reiss' full head of molten-blonde hair with whispering thoughts. It starts with a bittersweet feeling that freezes her fingertips, and just like an itch she can’t get rid of, it melts into a river of uneasiness that spreads with a deadly warmth; the kind that fills your ribs with pressure, every intake of air crushing her chest with the same pulsing aches the heart is desperately trying to conceal.

The roseate sun kisses the horizon, waiting patiently for the world to wake up as it's gentle rays cover everything in gold, including Historia's doll-like porcelain complexion. She finds the intense warmth quite pleasant. Every once in a while, the dawn that accompanies the changing skies gifts the sunrise with a cool breeze, tickling the tip of her nose when strands of her hair flow by.

However, the beauty of the faun and flora awakening from slumber isn't enough to keep her thundering thoughts at bay.

Historia props both of her legs up towards her chest. She lazily rests her chin atop her knees and heaves a heavy sigh.

"Come home," she mumbles, unenthusiastically blowing the daffodil in front of her. "Please, let them come home."

Her eyes glaze over the array of colours buzzing alive in the scene before her: Rolling green hills covered in beautiful flowers that seem to never end, sturdy mountains in the distance casting a slight frost into the summer air and the line of green trees reaching out into the horizon to meet the dazzling water. For a place full of pain and betrayal, the land they live upon seemed to be a sight holding nothing but freedom.

With a gentle hand placed over her heart, Historia thinks about her friends— her family, that travel days away from the other side of the ocean. She thinks about their training days, each of the cadets holding young hopeful eyes yearning to learn the wonders of the world.

Of the world outside the walls, that is.

She thinks about how the flower-ridden field she lays in used to be the dream Eren and Armin would constantly babble over, a forgiving love filling their hearts before the pain of growing up extinguished the light in their eyes.

Historia figures that Armin, whether it be the grown man now or the lost boy back then, would be delighted to see a sight like this. To bask in fields of green with the sun caressing sweet kisses on your skin, much like the comfort a mother would bring to a child. He never got the chance, however. Instead, they spent a handful of years conditioning their hearts into steel, and while they fought day after day, Historia spent each waking morning bearing the burden of wearing the crown.

It's been a long four years. The scouts have made remarkable advancements for Paradis' technology, and now the ones she suffered with throughout her adolescence fight another battle in a faraway land, Marley. She wonders if they'll come home with smaller numbers than they left with, or if they'll even come home at all.

The idea brings a bitter taste in her mouth.

Historia pushes the thought away.

She gently stands up to dust off her light brown skirt, pressing her lips together into a struggling grin, deciding that endlessly worrying would not change anything. Instead, she sighs deeply and puts a soft smile on her face.

The birds chirp charmingly, and that's when Historia knows it's time for breakfast.

Merchants and nobles alike endlessly fawn over the luxury of living inside the castle, the marvellous pillars of marble casting an envy on the mundane as the building is tucked away within the walls of the capital. 

The Queen herself finds it quite beautiful, but there’s a certain sense of familial simplicity that the stone cottage just outside Wall Maria enchants upon Historia.

She’s always preferred places like this-- a home like this, rather than the massive hallways that fill the castle. They squirm with servants and guards in every corner, but they feel as lonely as the winter that cools the iron framing. 

The worn-out pebbles that weave a path towards your shared cottage is a sight that Historia knows all the well. A gentle chuckle bubbles in her chest while a small grin pulls the corners of her mouth, the basket filled with flowers bobbing left to right on her arm once she walks a bit faster. She feels the freedom of wearing ordinary clothes, grass tickling her ankles instead of the royal shoes that also happen to be a royal pain in the ass, and the sweetness of wind running through her hair rather than the constricted feeling of having it slicked back. 

Here, Historia feels free of any weight on her shoulders. 

Here, she feels the same as she did when she finally introduced herself as Historia Reiss to the scouts she learned to call family. 

She didn’t need to be the Queen in the meadows outside the walls. She only needed to be another person living here, existing here, breathing here. Just another person bearing the title of a mother, a friend and a lover.

Historia reaches to turn the doorknob, however she finds that it’s already opened as it creaks slowly. The smell of freshly baked bread basks in the air, and the crackle of the firewood tickles her ears. Her mug of coffee remains untouched on the wooden table, and all the chairs haven’t seemed to be moved. The floorboards croak lowly as she shuts the door behind her, a gentle hum accompanying the thud that sounds once Historia sets the flower basket down. 

“I’m home!” She calls out, opening the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. Historia skillfully takes the bread out of the furnace and places it next to the eggs. “Breakfast is ready, my loves.” 

She expects to hear the usual footsteps tapping across the floor, small giggles of excitement breaking the silence of early mornings once you and your daughter prepare to wreak havoc on the day. However, it doesn’t come today. 

You should have been awake by now, Historia thinks. Ymir, Historia’s daughter, has never been much of an early bird either, but the both of you have always been awake to greet the bubbly blonde returning from her morning trips. Now that it comes to mind, Historia comes to notice that she hasn’t seen the pairing around these days. She figures you’ve been off to your daily shenanigans, but even then you’d make a grand appearance just to bug her for the fun of it. 

“The eggs are going to get cold!” Historia sings teasingly, attempting to lure you two out from wherever you and Ymir were scheming from. A pout is Historia’s response to the silence she gets as an answer. Sighing curiously, she heads off to the hallway. 

Historia sneakily peeks her head into the two main rooms, expecting a certain four-year-old to pop up and scare her, but to no avail, they’re just as empty as they sounded to be. Historia nearly decides to check the flower fields just outside the cottage, though her steps are hastily redirected once she sees the familiar candle light shining through the crack of the last door down the hallway. 

She grins and quickens her cautious steps. You always forget to blow the candle out in the morning, so the room Historia skips towards is her best bet at finding the person--and toddler-- that warm her heart.

The young woman is ready to burst through the door, a playful shout waiting at the tip of her tongue, though she abruptly stops in her tracks at the sound of hushed whispers. With light feet, Historia places her hand on the door as she stares in from the slight opening. 

“Can you please go any faster? I think my hair is going to fall out!” Ymir whines as she sits with her legs criss-crossed on the wooden floor. “I promise it’ll look nice, I just know it!” 

Historia slightly pushes the door wider to get a better peak, and she finds you sitting at the edge of the bed with Ymir snuggled in the space between your lap. 

“Stay still, Ymir,” You sigh hopelessly, “you know your mother does it better.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, you know. I’m sure mama would like it, cause she likes you so that means she has to like it, right?” Ymir groans sassily, dramatically swaying her body as your hands tag along, clumsily gripping the three strands of hair slipping between your fingers. 

“Mama always tells me to ask for help when I need to, so why don’t ya ask her? I think your braids are turning my hair into knots.” Ymir pouts. 

A slight frown appears on your face after your daughter’s snarky comment, but you can’t deny the light laugh that follows afterwards. “I just thought it’d be nice to do your hair, sweetheart.” Your fingers take turns intertwining the strands of hair into a pattern, “Besides, I think I’m getting better.”

Ymir grumbles lowly and throws her small hands in the air, “You’ve been saying that for three days now!” 

Historia bites her lip to prevent a laugh slipping out, warmth shining in her eyes as she thinks about the two of you sneaking off to practice doing a simple braid. 

The progress you had with Ymir’s requested hair-do quickly disappears (along with your hopes) once her hair slips out of your fingers, the poor excuse of a braid you’ve made effortlessly spiralling back to where you started. “Alright, Ymir, you win,” you shake your head and giggle, “I think it’s time to ask your mother for some help.” 

Ymir smirks triumphantly, rising up to kiss you on the cheek. “I still think it’s nice of you to try. Maybe I can practice on you one day!” 

Historia thinks that’s her cue to join in. She enters the room with an innocent giggle. “Now, what have you two been up to?” She crosses her arms across her chest as you quickly shoot up from the bed.

“Y-Ymir was just telling me a story, Historia,” You stutter, a hand snaking up to rub your nape. A light blush flushes the apples of your cheeks, “--and good morning, love.”

“No I wasn’t, you liar!” Ymir interjects, wiggling her eyebrows while pointing to her ruffled scalp, “Mama, don’t you see this braid! It’s nice, isn’t it?” 

You and Historia blankly stare at the lump of twisted hair sitting atop Ymir’s head, her shining eyes waiting to get a reaction out of the shorter blonde. 

Historia looks back at you, pride filling her chest despite the embarrassment that splatters across your cringing face. She smiles brightly at Ymir. “It’s lovely, dear. How about I finish the other side?”

Ymir nods excitedly and plops herself down in the same spot. Historia stands over the both of you, her arms sneaking over your shoulders as her strands of her golden hair brush against you. A familiar tune fills the air, Historia humming sweetly as her hands get to work. You watch her fingers skillfully pull your daughter’s hair into a beautiful braid, smiling softly at the manner in which your morning started. 

You never fail to notice the flowery, fresh scent that wafts in the air because of Historia, or the warmth her small frame emits. As Historia finishes up the braid, you think of all the ways Historia looks after family and friends alike.

Where does your love lie? You wonder as you tilt your head back to look at her ocean blue eyes. 

Ymir and Historia’s giggles fade into the background once you find your answer. 

In her fingertips, you figure, her love lies in her fingertips.

Historia’s love lies in her fingertips, from the way her warmth and care flows out from her hands to twist Ymir’s hair into a stunning pattern, to the way it feels when her fingers brush your cheek. You figure her love pulses from the palm of her hands, a silent affection engraved in the flowers she picks or the food she cooks. 

You think of how the scouts felt, knowing it was Historia’s hand who reached out to help whenever trouble awaited. The amount of wounds that have been tended to, or the simple act of holding another in her arms to show all the love that couldn’t be said. You realize the way in which her love doesn’t stop there, knowing that it flows from her fingertips all the way to the core of her being. 

Historia loves entirely, freely, without shame. You’ve come to learn that the first place it comes to show is in her hands. 

“Are you alright, love?” She asks, petting your head softly once you realize you spaced out. 

“Better than I could ever be.” You smile.

The sight of the sunlight shining upon her is something you’ll engrave into your memory. Historia giggles as she pulls both of you in for a warm hug.

She decides that she has no problem waiting for the scouts to return as long as you two are here. 

_____________

ahhh so sorry this took longer than expected! anyway, thank u for checking this piece out and i hope it brough sum sunshine especially after the latest episodes recently <3

[lu-undy]

Request: Lucien always wanted to tell his feelings to the bushman but is too shy to, so he always spoke it to him in french, knowing the other man couldn't understand. He gets a surprise when Mundy responds to him back in french. Turns out he's been learning french just to understand the Spy, and has returned his feelings for a long time now.

Here it is! I hope you’ll enjoy it :D

There was a knock at the door. 

"Come in." 

The door creaked as the tall man peeked in. 

"Hey, Spook."

"Come in, mon beau."

[My handsome one.]

Sniper entered completely and shut the door after him. Spy knew he didn't understand when he spoke French. Sniper just assumed it all meant 'my friend' or something similar, no doubt.

"Take a seat, coffee is almost ready." Spy said as he exited his kitchen with a tray in his hand. 

They both sat on the sofa and Spy put the tray down. Two mugs were on it: a blue one, and a white one with '#1 Sniper' written on it in bold red, capital letters. 

"Oh, you got my mug?" Sniper asked.

"From the common kitchen, I hope you don't mind?"

"Nah, it's alright." 

"Thanks. Give me a second, I shall get the coffee."

"Sure." 

A few moments later, they were both enjoying a warm mug of coffee.

"Hm, that's a fruity one you got there, Spook." 

"Oui, indeed. I like this blend of beans and I wanted you to try it. Last week's one was a bit too strong so I thought it might be better to try a lighter, more colourful one." 

"Yeah, tastes really good."

"Oh, by the way, do you have time to stay a bit longer today?" Spy asked.

"Ah, uh, yeah, yeah. I have all the afternoon to myself today." Sniper answered before they both took a sip. 

It was true that very frequently now, Sniper would stay only for a short moment with Spy. He would then excuse himself and Spy would hear the sound of the van driving off. Where Sniper was going was beyond Spy. Maybe he had someone in his life? Someone he preferred over Spy…?

"And talking about colourful, your mug's quite bright." Sniper's voice broke Spy's train of voice.

"Lagoon blue," Spy added, "le bleu de tes yeux." 

[The shade of blue of your eyes.]

They exchanged a smile. 

"Sounds nice when you speak French." Sniper said.

"Does it?"

"Yeah, quite soothing to the ear." Sniper looked down at his mug to not feel Spy's gaze weigh too much on him.

Spy smiled. Sniper was of course oblivious to all the sweet nothings that Spy was telling him, and that was the point. Spy's heart fluttered at the mere sight of Sniper's hat. He loved the man, oui, he loved him romantically, passionately. He was in love with the hat, the glasses, the sideburns and the hoarse voice. But he didn't know how or if he should tell him. So he resorted to this absurd way, to tell him in French such that it got out of his chest but Sniper wouldn't understand. 

"Shall I then treat you to a poem, mon ange? It would be in French, of course." Spy offered.

[My angel]

"Oh…" Sniper's eyebrows jumped. "You know some?" 

"But of course. There is one that became so popular that it got translated into English and transformed into a song. You call it 'Autumn leaves' I think."

"Oh yeah, it's quite well known." Sniper recalled. "Yeah, go ahead, I'm listening."

Spy cleared his throat and shook his head to put himself in the right state of mind. He calmed his breath and soon started reciting.

"Oh, je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes

[Oh, I would love for you to remember]

Des jours heureux où nous étions amis

[Those happy days when we were friends.]

En ce temps-là la vie était plus belle

[Back then, life was prettier]

Et le soleil plus brûlant qu'aujourd'hui"

[And the sun more scorching than today]

Sniper listened carefully. He liked the rhythm and music of it.

"C'est une chanson qui nous ressemble

[It's a song that resembles us]

Toi tu m'aimais, et je t'aimais

[You, who loved me, and me, who loved you]

Nous vivions tous les deux ensemble

[We used to live together, the two of us]

Toi qui m'aimais, moi qui t'aimais

[You, who loved me, and me, who loved you]"

Sniper leaned back and saw Spy close his eyes. His voice was enchanting him. He felt as if he was floating on a cloud, in the sky, Spy's voice carrying him in weightlessness, his ears tickling him on the inside… 

"Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s'aiment

[But life separates those who love each other]

Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit

[Very softly, without making a noise]

Et la mer efface sur le sable

[And the sea washes away on the sand]

Les pas des amants désunis"

[The footsteps of broken lovers]

Spy paused and opened his eyes slowly. Sniper saw his eyelids open, his eyelashes brushee the air softly and his irises finally showed, shining as mysteriously as the sun in the early hours in the morning. His pupils moved and connected with Sniper's. 

"What do you think of the music of it?" Spy asked. 

"It's… It's beautiful… And the way you recited it... You looked like you felt the lyrics. Look!" Sniper rolled up his sleeve. "I still have the goosebumps!"

Spy smiled, with half of his mouth and tilted his head on the side. 

"I indeed felt the meaning of it, mon trésor." 

[My treasure]

He relaxed and Sniper could feel it in his guts. The power of Spy's voice, only he could use his voice and beguile Sniper like that…

"Should I translate it for you? You might be wondering what I have been talking about, as I imagine it all sounded like gibberish to you." He chuckled. 

"No." Sniper answered and Spy's chuckle stopped sharp. 

He raised a curious eyebrow. 

"You prefer to keep it mysterious?" Spy asked. 

"No, I got it. I mean, well, I understood the rough idea at least." Sniper answered. 

"What?" Spy's surprise was painted all over his face.

"It's about two people who used to love each other and got separated by life." Sniper scratched his head. "And then something about the sea wiping out their footsteps in the sand."

Spy's jaw had dropped. If Sniper had understood the poem, surely that meant that he had understood all the sweet things that he had been telling him…?

"I uh, yeah, all those times I had to go away early from you… I was takin' night classes in uh, in French… I've been working my arse off to try and understand you. I've got tons of books and cassette tapes in the van now, heh…"

"You understand French?" Spy asked, horrified and as red as a brick. 

"Now, yeah, a bit better."

"Merde…" Spy put a hand on his mouth and lowered his head.

[Shit…]

"Well, that's not a word they teach us in the classes, but I know what it means." Sniper tried to lighten up the atmosphere. 

"I…" Spy didn't know what to say. Should he apologise? Should he explain himself? Non, doing that meant admitting his feelings to Sniper. He couldn't do that, he wasn't ready, no one was. Spy loosened the knot of his tie slightly and pulled on his collar to get more air. He was sweating bullets. It was a lot, too much, and he slammed a hand on his eyes to hide himself. 

"Spook? You alright?"

"You… You've been understanding me for how long now?" 

"A few weeks only. The words you usually use with me aren't those we started the lessons with so it took me some time to understand. Mon ange is my angel, mon trésor is my treasure, mon beau is my handsome one and I think the bit you said about your mug was uh, well, you compared it to the colour of my eyes…" Sniper chuckled out of nervousness and put a hand behind his neck. 

"I… I'm sorry Sniper. I… It was ridiculous, I just - Argh, nevermind what I wanted, now I need to apologise and please, if you want to leave, I won't hold you back unnecessarily and I am putting an end to all this nonsense" Spy still hid his ashamed eyes behind his gloved hand. 

"Spook…" 

The Frenchman felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Moi aussi, uh, uhm… Moi aussi je te trouve beau."

[Me too, uh, uhm… I also find you handsome.]

Sniper managed to collect his vocabulary and grammar. 

"I hope I didn't make too many mistakes, eh. I'm much better at understandin' than speaking. But uh, yeah, what I meant was-"

"You also find me handsome?" Spy removed his hand from his eyes and looked at Sniper with wide, surprised eyes.

Sniper nodded as his cheeks turned a bit more pink. 

"You're, yeah, you look good even with the mask on. Tu as… uhm… de très beaux yeux… uh… très… impressive?" 

[You have… very beautiful eyes… very…]

"Impressionnant. The word for 'impressive' is 'impressionnant'. Do you really think what you just said?" Spy asked. 

Sniper scooted closer to Spy on the sofa and his hand brushed Spy's back. 

"Y-yeah." He looked away and nodded. 

"Sniper, I…"

Sniper's head pivoted and his eyes met Spy's hypnotic ice blue ones. The rest of the sentence was hard to push out. 

"I…" Spy's mouth was too dry and he couldn't even gulp down.

"Me too." Sniper said, his breath gone ever since Spy's eyes stared at him that way.

Their heads moved closer, their eyes moving from each other's to their noses and their lips. They could hear the other's heartbeat through their parted lips.

But their eyes closed. They couldn't see what would happen next. 

Sniper's hand slid down Spy's back and Spy's gloved hands found themselves on the cheeks with the sideburns. 

"Je t'aime."

[I love you.]

It was a whisper, with an English accent. 

"I love you."

And the answer came with a French twist.

Their lips shyly met. They were shaking. But as soon as they did meet, both Sniper and Spy relaxed, and melted into each other's arms. Their hands brushed the fabrics and the skin that they had yearned to hold, their lips went limp on the lips that they had yearned to kiss, for so long…!

[spacesnail3000]

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart Chapter 15: Big Fucking Trouble—With a Capital T

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Chapter Summary: Steve has some real Anger Management Issues (capitalized for emphasis). Perhaps he should try some coping techniques, like deep breathing, or restorative yoga, or a hefty glass of straight whiskey.

Word Count: 4,660

Warnings: Language, violence, anger issues

A/N: So I know it's been quite a few weeks, and I'm sorry for taking so long to get the next chapter out! i've been swamped with assignments, and then Thanksgiving happened, and it's just been a hectic time so you'll have to forgive me. Big thanks to my beta, @jessieray98​ --she's AMAZING!!

Masterlist / AO3

“Do you think this is normal?” Bucky muttered to Steve the next night. It was dinnertime and Y/N was sitting at the table, staring blankly at the pizza in front of her.

She had been like this all day. Silent, brooding, sad. She had stayed in bed until noon; although Steve had wanted to wake her up earlier, Bucky convinced him to let her sleep in. They only woke her up when it was time for lunch, which she barely touched. Now at dinner, she still wasn’t eating, although they had ordered from her favorite pizza place.

Steve, who was at the counter with Bucky dishing up their own pizza, frowned, replying in a quiet voice that she couldn’t hear, “She’s gotta eat some time.”

“She’s grieving. If she doesn’t want to talk, we shouldn’t make her.”

“We can at least make her eat,” Steve grumbled, irate at the entire situation. They went to go sit next to her at the table.

“Ready to eat?” Bucky asked, trying to keep his tone cheerful. After Bucky and Steve had already finished their first slices, she still hadn’t taken a single bite of hers.

Steve was fed up, and of course, he had never been the best at controlling his temper. The tension had been building all day, and Bucky should have expected things to blow up soon enough. “Eat your damn food, Y/N,” Steve barked at her.

“I’m not hungry.” Her voice was hoarse from not speaking all day and from all the crying she had done when they weren’t looking.

“Can’t you just eat one slice?” Bucky coaxed, his voice soft. “Please?”

She clenched her jaw, a rush of anger towards Bucky surging through her. Stuffing it down into the depths of her chest, she tightened her hands into fists, trying her hardest to contain the rage within, body tense with the effort. “No,” she answered him shortly, afraid if she opened her mouth for any longer, she would let everything out, every vile thing she wanted to say to them.

Steve had just about had it. “Y/N,” he snapped, “You’re gonna eat a slice of that fucking pizza. Right. Now.”

“Or what?” The petulant girl before him maintained eye contact with him. Steve’s eyes flashed, the vein in his temple pulsing. She couldn’t help but challenge him. Maybe to show him that she wouldn’t bend to his will, maybe to see just what he would do about it.

He and Bucky were both on their feet at once. Steve started towards Y/N, hands ready to grab her by the hair, but Bucky stood in his path, stopping him from touching her.

“Steve,” Bucky grunted, using all his strength to hold Steve back, “Steve, think about this. Now is not the time!”

“The little brat needs to learn her place,” Steve snarled. Meanwhile, Y/N watched on, shocked. It was the first time Bucky had ever intervened in Steve teaching her a lesson. Even before that summer, back when Steve’s punishments didn’t involve sexual misconduct, Bucky had always allowed Steve to rebuke her and scold her to his heart’s content. But this wasn’t a matter of her disobeying little rules or being a brat. She wasn’t going to let them control her anymore.

“Go to bed,” Bucky ordered her in a low growl. She obeyed, not for the sake of following his orders, but because she couldn’t stand to be around Steve anymore. Scurrying to Bucky’s bedroom, she shut the door and locked it just as she heard the front door open and slam closed. The noise made her jump, and she rushed to get into Bucky’s bed,  curling up in his comforter. It smelled like him, his cologne, sandalwood and tobacco.

Despite her anger towards him now, her disgust at the man who helped kill her father, the scent brought back so many memories, and she let herself sink into them.

Snowy days curled up together watching movies, naps taken after school when she didn’t have swim practice, warm hugs and tender touches that didn’t mean anything more than friendship at the time. She and Bucky had always had fun together—he always seemed to encourage her rowdiness, her competitive side. Racing him downhill when they went on skiing trips, or competing who could do the most laps at the pool, or who could build the biggest sandcastle at the beach.

But Bucky was more than just that. Bucky was always her solace, not just a protector or guardian, but a source of comfort, peace. Memories of Bucky comforting her when her father yelled at her, distracting her while her father held tense mob meetings downstairs, keeping her safe when strange men came to their house, their predatory gazes pinned on her whenever she would enter the room. Not just safety, but security, especially when Steve wasn’t available to be that role for her.

Steve, on the other hand, had always been that rule maker, the one to lay down the law, to keep her safe at the expense of her happiness. At one point, he had been a friend, too, sweet and kind and coddling, albeit overprotective to a fault. But he certainly hadn’t always been angry and mean. She was 14 years old when his mother died, and that’s when Steve grew cold—not just with her, but with everyone.

Her memories of Steve before that were different. He always made sure she was fed, and warm, and safe, and happy. He used to pick her up every day after school and buy her food—hot dogs, or pizza, or ice cream, indulge her in whatever she chose. The only time he wasn’t kind to her was when she was a brat, and even then, he would reprimand her and then make it up to her afterwards with gentle words and hugs and treats to make up for it.

After his mother died, Tony took Steve under his wing, focused on him more than the other young men in the mob, groomed him to be cold and calculating and emotionless, just as a mob leader should be. The only emotion Steve was allowed to show was anger, all of his sadness bottled up inside him, waiting to be released as rage and violence.

Occasionally, she still saw glimpses of his old self. Those moments of softness became few and far between, and Y/N cherished them whenever they came. The locket he gave her for her birthday, the time he taught her how to paint, the morning cuddles they had shared just the other day—those rare moments of affection and kindness that she missed dearly, that she yearned for.

As sudden as the thought came, she berated herself for it. Steve had helped kill her father. She wasn’t supposed to want him, just like she wasn’t supposed to want Bucky. Her heart broke for the thousandth time as she recounted how sweet they could be. How could she ever reconcile that with their despicable actions?

Unable to help herself, she cried silently into Bucky’s pillow, until she fell into a light sleep.

Steve came back home a few hours later, knuckles bloody and bruised. In the meantime, Bucky had stress-eaten the entire pizza, half a tub of chocolate ice cream, and he was just considering whether to make a Cubano or a Reuben sandwich when the lock turned and Steve walked in.

Shiny with sweat, dirt all over his clothes, knuckles bruised and bloody, Bucky could tell that Steve had been beating something up. Or someone, based on his split lip and the cut above his eyebrow.

“Steve—”

Before Bucky could get a word in, Steve sent him a sharp glare, stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. By the time he heard the sound of the shower running, he had all of the ingredients out for both sandwiches and was hastily slathering mustard onto bread.

He craved the sandwiches of the deli down the street, but he felt wary about leaving Steve alone with their girl.

The entire situation made Bucky unbelievably anxious, especially since Steve had been such a menace the past few days. Sure, the man had a temper—anger issues, definitely—but it wasn’t usual for him to be so cross with Y/N, even when she was acting petulant and obnoxious. Now, though, the mob was in danger. The tension was so high, Steve’s stress was peaked, and it bled into his mood, making him much more volatile than usual.

Another component was that they had begun this relationship with her. Now that Steve felt a broader sense of ownership and responsibility over her, it was different; her anger and defiance and deliberate disobedience felt more personal somehow.

Her behavior annoyed Bucky, especially the night she had gone to Manhattan with Wanda, putting herself in danger so carelessly. However, for the most part, he was just concerned about her, and frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to help. He knew what it was like to lose parents, and he knew she would be going through the stages of grief. His mood had bounced all over the place in the immediate time after his parents died—until he had discovered unhealthy coping mechanisms, like sex and drugs and suppressing his emotions.

That had been years ago, and it had taken him a long time to get back to some sense of normalcy. He knew that she would be changed forever by this turn of events.

It broke his heart to see her like this. He hadn’t been with her for long—it had only been a week or so since their illicit relationship had begun, but Bucky already felt so strongly for her. He had only ever been in love with Steve—had never fallen out of love with him, to be honest—and he couldn’t help but think it felt much the same with Y/N.

Now wasn’t the time for that issue, though. He would only scare her away during her time of crisis and make everything worse.

By the time Bucky had made both sandwiches and mulled over the entire situation, the water in the bathroom turned off, and Bucky held his breath, waiting for Steve. He exited the bathroom along with a cloud of steam, a towel slung around his waist.

He looked miserable. The anger had worn off by then, leaving a sense of helplessness for the situation.

Steve sat on the couch, not bothering to put on clothes. “She’s never going to trust me.”

“Steve—”

“We did all of this wrong. Now I don’t know how to get a hold of her.” He couldn’t control her, and that’s what scared Steve the most. It scared him to the point of rage, to the point of violence.

Manipulating her had always been so easy. What had changed? Was it him? Had he lost his touch? Was he so terrifying now with the storm of uncontrolled anger and tension within, that he had lost her completely?

Or was it her? Was she old enough now to see him for who he really is?

And if that was the truth—well, no wonder she wanted nothing to do with him. Steve didn’t deserve anything as good as her.

Bucky sat beside him, sensing Steve’s self-doubt, his anger, his sadness. Steve always worked so hard to suppress the emotions, but Bucky could read him better than anyone. He couldn’t hide anything from Bucky.

“Here,” Bucky said, handing Steve the Cubano. “Eat up.”

And they ate the sandwiches, side by side, while the girl who owned their hearts slept in the next room.

The next morning proved to be even harder than the previous night.

“Darling. Honey. Sweetheart.” Bucky was given the task of waking Y/N up for the funeral. Steve stood in the doorway, observing, determined not to get involved. “You gotta wake up. You need to get ready.”

She grunted and shoved his hand away from stroking her hair. “No.”

“The funeral is in an hour. We need to get ready to go.”

“I’m not going.”

Bucky released a breath through his nose. “Honey, I know you’re mad at him. I know he did terrible things. But this is the last time you’re going to be able to get any closure with him. You need to go to the funeral.”

“I’m. Not. Going.”

“You’re gonna be mad for a long time, that’s not gonna change, but in the long run, this will help with—”

“Bucky, I’m not fucking going!” she yelled, smacking his hand away from her. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

Rage boiled through Steve, a dangerous drug, a familiar old friend. He couldn’t stop it. “Y/N,” he seethed through clenched teeth, “Get up, you are going to the goddamn funeral.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Everyone is expecting you to be there!” he shouted, losing his temper once again.

Well, Y/N had a temper of her own, and after stewing in her rage all night, she was ready to yell at Steve for any reason. “Fuck you! You can’t make me go, Steve!” she sneered his name with so much disrespect, and Bucky only blinked once before Steve was on her, hand in her hair, dragging her out of bed. Her shrieks echoed throughout the apartment as Steve pulled her into the bathroom, and she scrambled behind him every step of the way, nails clawing at his wrist, trying in vain to keep up with his long strides.

He tossed her in the tub and twisted the shower knob with enough force to yank it off, and once cold water started to spray down on her, her yells only increased in volume, curse words and rude names sprinkled in liberally, language that they had rarely heard her use before.

“You fucking asshole, stop it! Let me go! I’m not going to the—"

Steve ignored the verbal onslaught, crouching down and trying to pull her clothes off. “Help me out, Buck,” Steve grunted when her flailing limbs became too much to handle. Bucky held her down, thwarting each attempted punch and kick, while Steve managed to get all of her clothes off. By the time she was nude, her face was flushed and angry tears began to well up in her eyes.

“Fuck both of you! You’re both bastards! I can’t believe I ever liked you—”

Steve silenced her by aiming the detachable showerhead directly at her face, making her cough and splutter as she got a lungful of water. It provided enough of a distraction for Bucky to start shampooing her hair while Steve scrubbed a bar of soap over her skin. All the while, her tears fell, but her tirade did not lighten between her sobs.

“This will be good for you in the long run,” Bucky said evenly as he washed her hair.

“No it won’t!” she growled, thrashing in their grip until Steve held her down with soapy hands, a bruising grip on her wrists.

“Calm the fuck down,” he grunted, “You’re going to the fucking funeral, you little brat, so help me—"

“You’re horrible!” she wailed, chest heaving as she gulped in more air. “You’re horrible, and despicable, and degenerate—and—and—and your mother would’ve been so disappointed in you Steve—”

Wasting no time, Steve silenced her with his fist against her face, something in between a punch and a slap that left her collapsed at the bottom of the tub, ears ringing, vision blacking out for a moment while she regained her wits.

Bucky pulled her back up, not to comfort her, but to continue bathing her. Rinsing his hands, he swiped his fingers against her aching cheek where Steve had left milky suds against angry red flesh, then continued scrubbing conditioner into her hair. “Tip your head back,” he instructed her, an impassive expression plastered on his face, guiding her head back with utilitarian movements. Not too gentle but not rough, either.

Towering above her, Steve met her gaze. She had never seen him look at her like that before—not just anger, but wrath and disgust written across his features. “Don’t you ever talk about my mother again.” His tone was low, threatening, and his eyes shone with hatred or tears or something else she couldn’t tell.

He stormed out of the bathroom then, and she resumed crying, silently this time.

Bucky didn’t have much sympathy for her, not when she delivered such a low blow. He continued his soothing actions of rinsing out her conditioner, then grabbed the bar of soap to continue washing her body. “You shouldn’t have mentioned his mother.”

I know, she thought. “I don’t care,” she replied with a sullen sniffle, taking the soap bar from him.

“Can you do this yourself?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gritted. “You can leave.”

“Don’t take too long.”

As she scrubbed her skin with the soap, shivering from the frigid temperature of the water, she thought about what might happen at the funeral.

The Catholic traditions her family subscribed to mandate a wake, which was to take place that morning. Then the hour-long Mass to follow, and then the funeral afterwards. There would be so many people from the mob there—they would probably be the only ones in attendance, in fact.

Her father’s parents were no longer alive, and he had no siblings or other family. Her mother wouldn’t be there, of course—and her mother had no family left that cared about Obadiah.

Aside from the mob, who else did Obadiah have?

She didn’t want to see any of the mob, especially not for these funeral proceedings that would take hours. Her father had somehow betrayed them, and then they arranged for his death. Where did that leave her?

It was sure to be long, and tortuous, and painful, and…

Well, she had no intention of going either way.

She turned up the hot water and sat back, letting the stream warm her up and relax her muscles.

Twenty minutes passed and she still hadn’t come out or even turned off the shower, and Bucky was starting to get anxious again. Steve, on the other hand, was seething as Bucky tied his tie for him, a half-Windsor knot tied to perfection.

“Some nerve she has,” he hissed, every muscle in his body tensed up in the effort not to punch something—again. He had put a hole through the kitchen drywall after exiting the bathroom. “What’re we gonna do with her, Buck?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed as he tightened the knot up to Steve’s throat. “But now is not the time. We just need to get through this funeral—that’s it.”

“Well if she doesn’t come out soon, we’re going to be late.”

“I’m sure she’d be pleased with that,” Bucky muttered, leaving Steve’s bedroom and approaching the bathroom door. “Honey, time’s up,” he called, knocking gently on the wood. When he tried to open it, it was locked. There was no answer from her.

“Tony’s on his way,” Steve said, coming out of his bedroom, tapping on his phone. “She ready?”

“She locked herself in.”

Steve’s phone might have cracked from the force he gripped it at that news, face flushing again with anger. With how many mood swings he was having in that morning alone, Bucky wondered if he should be worried for Steve’s blood pressure. Steve stormed up to the bathroom door and practically pressed himself flat against it. “Y/N!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the door, the wood rattling against the doorframe. “Open up this door, now! You’re in big fucking trouble!”

Still no response.

Big fucking Trouble—with a capital T.

A stifling panic began to creep over Bucky, a fleeting concern that maybe she had done something—something thoughtless, although she had never had a propensity for self-harm, these were dire times and God knows what was going through her mind—

Steve was yelling again��had never really stopped. “Answer me or I’m gonna break this fucking door down and—”

“Leave me alone!” came her despaired cry. “Go to the funeral without me, I’m not going!”

Relief flooded through Bucky’s mind, thankful at least that the worst-case scenario hadn’t happened.

“You little bitch, you are not going to ruin this today!” Just as Steve reared back to burst through the door, Bucky placed a calming hand on his back. “Steve, let’s just wait for Tony. Maybe he can talk some sense into her.”

“He can try…” Steve grumbled, turning around and storming into the kitchen. “I need a drink…”

“Yeah you do,” Bucky said under his breath. Steve didn’t hear. Bucky felt like he needed a drink, too.

It was only 8:30 a.m.

About ten minutes passed before the buzzer rang, and Bucky let Tony up promptly.

Tony let himself into the house. “How’s she doing?” he asked in a hushed voice. Then he registered the sound of water from the bathroom. “Wait—is she in the shower? She’s not ready yet?” Steve handed Tony a glass of scotch and poured himself another glass. Tony glanced between the glass, Steve’s expression (which could only be described as royally pissed off), and the bathroom door. “What the fuck is going on?”

“She’s being uncooperative,” Bucky said.

Steve snorted. “Uncooperative is putting it lightly. She’s a downright nightmare.”

“She’s being a little combative, using some vulgar language—”

“A little?” Steve rolled his eyes.  “Listen, she’s refusing to go to the damn funeral, and she locked herself in the bathroom.”

“Oh boy.” Tony sighed, drained his scotch, and rubbed a hand down his face. Then he moved towards the bathroom door, muttering to himself. “It’s only eight in the morning and I already have to deal with this shit. Should’ve known Obadiah Stane’s funeral couldn’t go smoothly. He always manages to fuck something up, even in the afterlife.”

Then he knocked gently on the door. “Hey kid, it’s Tony.”

“Go away!” The girl inside shouted, and something thumped against the door, like she had thrown something against it. Bucky thought it sounded like a shampoo bottle.

“Jesus,” Tony muttered, glaring at the other men in the room. “You really worked her up, didn’t you?”

Steve pointed his finger accusingly at the door. “She’s a fucking brat. You try to control her and see if it turns out any better.”

Tony rolled his eyes, then knocked again, harder. “Listen, you’re gonna turn the water off and put on some clothes and then we’re going to have a nice long chat about your behavior. If you don’t come out in the next two minutes, I’m busting this door down and I know you don’t want me to see you naked. So hustle.”

Much to the surprise of all the men in the room, the running water ceased, and a few minutes later, she came out, hair wrapped in a towel and body wrapped in Bucky’s flannel robe. It was way too big for her, the hem dropping to the floor, the sleeves encompassing her hands. Bucky would’ve thought she looked cute if she didn’t look like a tea kettle ready to boil over.

“I’m not going to that man’s funeral, and you can’t make me.”

Tony sighed. “Can we skip all the ‘he’s not my father’ bullshit and get straight to the point? There are people from the mob expecting you there to represent your family. This funeral means more than just you, so you’re going to stop being an insolent brat and get ready to go. We’re already going to be late for the wake.”

She laughed, mean and cruel and so unlike the girl they knew. “I’m fresh out of fucks to give about what the mob expects from me. I expected both my parents to be here for me as I’m growing up, but that’s not possible anymore, so.”

“You think you’re the only person in the mob with a tragic backstory? Abusive, absent parents? Parents dying? Read the room, kid.”

She glanced at all three men, anger flowing out of their eyes.

Tony continued. “You have a responsibility to the mob. We’re your family and we always will be—you can’t escape it, so put on your big girl panties and your funeral dress so we can get to the church on time!”

She sneered. “You’re not my family. And I have no responsibility to you.” Then she retreated into Bucky’s bedroom. Tony followed quickly and caught the door as she tried to slam it shut.

“Get out!”

Tony was getting desperate. “What will it take to get you to go to this funeral? I’ll literally give you anything you want.”

Her eyes lit up with something, and Tony knew he was speaking her language. Spoiled and pampered her entire life (with mob money, Tony restrained himself from pointing out), bargaining was the only way to get her to cooperate, especially with such a large-scale tantrum as this.

“I want to go to NYU.”

Well, Steve and Bucky didn’t like that.

“That’s completely out of the question!”

“How the hell are we supposed to protect you if you’re off in Manhattan?”

Her retort was sharp and bitter, “Oh and you’ve been doing such a good job of protecting me now? I’m gonna have a bruise on my face from your fist, Steve, or did you conveniently forget about that once Tony arrived?”

Tony groaned, rubbing his temples, then ushered her into the bedroom. “Can’t fucking think with you children shouting at each other!” He forcefully pushed her on the bed and she bounced a little as he began to pace around the room. “So they’ve been hitting you? That’s why you want to go to NYU?”

She swallowed down her nerves and glared at him. “I have a scholarship, Tony—I’m not just going to throw it away!”

Tony shook his head. “Your father was never going to let you go. He was going to marry you off to someone in another gang.”

She smiled, bitter. “I’m not surprised. But now he’s out of the picture. I’m 18, Tony, I can do whatever I want.” When Tony didn’t answer, she frowned. “Unless you were planning on doing that exact same thing?”

He shook his head. “Not to just anyone. You already seem to get along with Steve and Bucky. What about one of them?”

She shook her head, vehemence leaving her tone and desperation taking its place. “No, Tony, please don’t make me marry them! I couldn’t live with that!”

“That’s a little dramatic. You know, a few slaps and punches are less than what a lot of mob wives get. Your own mother included.”

“It’s not just that!” She exclaimed before she could think better if it and shut her mouth.

Tony waited for her to elaborate. “What else could it possibly be?”

She shook her head, then laughed. “I know they helped kill him. My father. I can’t marry the men who did that.”

Tony sighed and sat next to her on the bed. “You know, they technically didn’t kill him. They were just the lookout—“

“Oh, don’t try to rationalize it, Tony! They participated in the murder of my father—“

“Oh, so he’s your father now? What happened to all that crap about your biological father?”

Fed up, she jumped up from the bed and faced him, yelling out, “I refuse to live with murderers, Tony! That’s where I draw the line!”

Then it was quiet, and they both knew that Steve and Bucky likely heard her outburst.

Tony finally broke the silence. “NYU? Really?”

“Yes. I want to go to NYU and live in Manhattan. And if you don’t accept these terms,” she thought for a moment, “I’m going to make such a big scene at the funeral that you’re going to wish I had just stayed home.”

Well. He didn’t really have a choice, now did he?

[ayakashiramblings]

ABC NSFW Headcanons: Koga Kitamikado

So... in my absence, the only time I went on ARR was to vote for Koga and Aoi. And I just realized one of my top boys is literally at the top! Hence, I’m going to do a super late tribute... 

ALPHABETICAL STYLE!!!

... I’m so sorry for ‘D’ though. Click on ‘Keep Reading’ to NOT SEE IT.

A - ‘Aftercare’ (What they’re like after sex)

Once you’ve been intoxicated by Koga… YOU GET EVEN MORE DRUNK WITH SAKE.

Seriously, a nightcap is what ends a nice round of magic… because he has much more in store!

“I’ve rolled the die to give me a one! That’s super odd!”

Goddamnit, kiss this dork, please. 

Because only amongst soft kisses will the both of you be lulled to sleep.

B - ‘Body’ (Body Part of Yours he Loves)

Your head.

… Wait, no, not like that. Sort of. Hmm...

It’s just that he wants to be closer to you and he’s extremely soft for forehead touches during these tender moments. 

Feels like that’s where you share everything, your thoughts, your deepest secrets... everything. 

C - ‘Cum’ (How does his cum taste like/look like)

You know what? I think it’s pretty good.

At first, I wasn’t certain because he is a sake lover and that will affect the taste.

Plus, he didn’t really say what he likes in Hot Pot, although I’m guessing it has to include thinly sliced meat and leafy vegetables. The thing is beef isn’t good but if he pairs it with the right non-cruciferous veggies, it could come out decently.

Another thing I’ve noticed is his regular food intake. Sure, it’s called an old man’s diet like what Kuya says but pickles and rice for breakfast are good if you want extra flavour.

So it’s one of the tops in the list for the fact it has enough volume with a taste that isn’t bitter, salty or sweet. It’s just... 

Warm. 

D - ‘Dirty Secret’ (DUH)

He hates peaches but...

Your butt... is like the only kind of peach he would ever consider eating. 

Brown peach, peachy peach, pale peach, green peach and whatever the colour your panties are today, he’s going to really secretly enjoy the fuzzy texture but also silently HATE that the closest comparison is his least favourite fruit. 

E - ‘Experience’ (Does he know what he is doing?)

He’s had a few partners but that doesn’t negate the fact that he literally takes any challenge by... the horns. 

He does go to the Entertainment sector but honestly, he’d get closer to the sake bottles then the women there first.

That said, he’s very observant and can suss out any sensitive zones you have to get you screaming all night is all I’m saying. 

F - ‘Favorite Position’ (Again, duh)

Don’t kill me. 

But it’s the CowGirl position.

Not only does he get to see you in all of your magnificent, unclothed glory... (or maybe with clothes? It’s up to you, hun.)

But there’s something about a strong woman just topping him that makes him go wild, especially when she uses his horns to guide him to her entrance as she sinks down on him.

G - ‘Goofy’ (Serious or humorous?)

Dude, expect the both of you to burst out in ridiculous giggles if any supposedly sexy line comes out wrongly.

“Hey, Koga, are you feeling... horny?”

“Depends, are we going to be thoroughly... purified in the shower?”

H- ‘Hair under THERE’ (Pubic Hair Treatment, does the carpet match the shades?)

He does get uncomfortable if any hair on him gets too long for... certain reasons. 

So yup, don’t expect a bush.

It’s interesting how the middle is entirely crimson red while the surround curls are black but Koga sometimes wonders if his lower part is bleeding as a result. 

I - Intimacy

Ladies and gentlemen, the #1 in intimacy. 

He really... really... REALLY does not want to ever lose you again so he keeps his body so close to yours.

Every time he recalls the past inferno, he would be sure to drown out the memories by stroking the flames of passion with his fingertips against your skin. 

And he will check that your eyes are still full of life, even when both of you are in the midst of a climax.

J-Jack Off (Masturbation)

Honestly? Maybe once in a blue moon last time.

This man has had to deal with running businesses, establishing connections, terrible nightmares of losing his woman, and controlling his Carnage. As cheery as he is, he’d rather dedicate his free time to helping the Capital.

Until he met you NOT dying in his arms. Now, he had to give in to these sudden carnal urges that are coming at him with full force to make up for his lack of horny times in his teens. Usually, he tries to satiate them with actually having you but if you are busy, he will do so.

K- Kinks (One or two of his kinks)

Get his horns. 

Have I emphasized it enough? 

No? 

GRAB THEM.

L - Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His office. 

A certain spot will be designated, far away from the precious books that he has accumulated but always near the spot where he can nap for just a short while... 

Only to be reminded of your sweet moans, flushed face and great, now he’s wide awake and has to work off that desire... 

BY DOING MORE WORK.

... Kuya decides to invite you more often to the house because he is getting really tired of seeing Koga not actually taking a break. 

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Canonically, he gets jealous easily. Like, he actually beats Aoi in that department. 

Mention Toichiro giving you a beautiful kimono, Kuya sleeping at your place, Past! Koga giving you a book... wait, what?

Yeah, you catch the drift. No matter who it is, he’s going to want to reaffirm your feelings for him afterwards. 

Oh, but the ultimate turn-on is you beating him in a drinking contest.

... God, I’m making him sound like an alcoholic.

N - ‘No’ (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Absolutely. No. Sharp objects. 

Not only will they hurt you, but he’s also worried that if he himself gets pricked, the Carnage will act up.

He IS kinda into the thought of you wielding a sword though.

O- Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

The God of Giving. He gives so, so, so much. 

Whatever did we do to earn this deity?

Ok, to be honest, it was hard at first because he was worried about the horns poking your thighs and tried to do it as a human at first. 

Until you insisted that he be comfortable and try working out the best position for both of you. 

Do suck him right though. He won’t deny his love for a good blowjob. 

He’s even turned the idea of mutual masturbation into a game - who can make the other come first? The winner gets a prize (probably who is going to save everyone else’s asses next time)

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual)

Koga tries not to be rough, considering both of your... er... jobs and shared tragedy together. 

If you grab his horns though... you asked for it. 

Suddenly, he is thrusting into you so hard that you get sent a little higher up the sheets, the bedding getting more wrinkled and... soaked with certain body fluids. 

He’s going to give you make-up kisses to the hip area though because of a guilty conscience... and also to admire how you are still quivering from the aftermath.

Ultimately has a good balance between slow and sensual sex to rough and rapid romping in bed.

Q - Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Poor soldier. 

Poor COMRADE OF YOURS.

This is his ultimate battle.

To take you right here, right now and bang like there is no tomorrow when technically they only have 10 minutes in some random closet...

Or to patiently and painfully wait for the sake of public decency (and sanitation) where you can be together without being seen? 

Taking you here in the middle of a hallway during a Gala sounds great but so does waiting until you’re behind closed doors so you can be free with those beautiful lips of yours.

Ultimately, the risk factor is what turns him to quickies if he’s particularly flirty but for more serious times, he’s definitely going to whisk you away somewhere for only the two of you.

R - Risks (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

... You know... we are talking about Koga Kitamikado, right?

It’s just a matter of what KIND of risk you guys want to take. A public one, a sex-toy related adventure...

The list can go on PROVIDED neither of you gets hurt.

S - ‘Stamina’ (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

The Carnage does take a toll on this aspect but Koga is an entrepreneur for a reason.

Let his fingers & tongue please you during the moments he has to recharge in between 3 rounds. 

T - ‘Toy’ (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

… Good god, he knows the owner.

But that’s the thing. 

Just because he knows it, unless you’ve expressed interest, he’s going to take things into his own very, very, very capable hands.

U - ‘Unfair’ (How much they like to tease)

Oh, he does tease you if you are acting particularly shy despite being completely nude and fully invested in intercourse.

He’s not going to be as bad a certain fox but he does love seeing you flustered if he hits a certain ticklish spot.

V- Volume (Do they moan/grunt?)

He really hates to admit it but you’ve been the only one to get ANYTHING out from him.

It’s even worse because even Koga can’t deny how animalistic he sounds.  

Growls, grunts, & groans, everything rumbles from him through you in the closest moment.

W - ‘Wildcard’ (Random Headcanon)

Medicine is not the only thing Koga is getting from Yura once you come in. 

No, but seriously, ever since you have given him those tea leaves, he has been hooked on aromatherapy and would like to incorporate that in your sex lives. 

It helps that there are some nice essential oils and massage lotions that help both of you get slick and ready.

Yura can’t judge him because... huehue...

X - ‘X-ray’ (How is the package?)

… I am too embarrassed. Let’s just say he has hit the double-digit integer in inches. 

But if you look at how I ranked him amongst the Dawn and Twilight factions, you know it’s gooD.

Yes, that ‘d’ letter was capitalized. A Capital D for the Man who loves the Capital.

Y - ‘Yearning’ (How high is his sex drive?’)

Before meeting you? His yearning was high… particularly, the yearning to die.

Same, my boy, same.

So honestly, it’s been sort of turned off although he could feel the biological urge and go get someone to relieve him of the ‘baggage’.

Upon meeting you, suddenly he has to adjust his sword hilt and... his other sword.

Z - ‘Zzzz…’ (How fast do they fall asleep?)

Honestly, he’s going to have trouble sleeping the first few times. 

Man is busy and working off that sexual energy just converts his strength to do something else.

Hence, the introduction of sake to share a lovely drink, a lovely moment and a lovely MOMENT TO FINALLY REST... with you!

[mousehole5000]

gonna post some of my favorite shots from ep 1 bc ive watched it like 20 times now :)

starting off with a BANG!!! gets more painful every time!!! the gaping chasm ready to swallow our heroes up...a new day is dawning and nothing will be the same

oh wei wuxian we’re really in it now... the door is open and theres nowhere to go but out

lure flags... they lured more than spirits in on this occasion they also lured in some fools

since being resurrected this man has complained about the food/alcohol twice, caused a scene twice, and Yearned with a capital Y twice. tomorrow he will buy robes in his preferred aesthetic. he’s got his priorities straight ill give him that

i love these shots from outside the room theyre some of my favorites i love seeing all the talismans and idk i just think the perspective is neat!!

love the shots when someone gets possessed plus this actress really got to do some fun stunts i have to say and in the scene before this you can actually see her hand twitching while sizhui checks everyone which i didnt notice until this last time!!

i lose my mind every time this scene comes on hanguang jun fanclub unite....in this moment we are all the juniors

[psychosistr]

Second Chances & Bloody Nights- Jonawagon Vampire!AU Chapter 6

Summary: Speedwagon and Jonathan reflect on their time together since their separation in different ways: Speedwagon wondering about Jonathan’s change in behavior and Jonathan trying to work up the nerve to confess his feelings to the oblivious blonde.

Speedwagon yawned and rubbed at his eyes, still a bit groggy from the way his sleeping schedule had been shifted the past few days. He moved to stretch, but found any further movement restricted by the muscular mass that was wrapped comfortably around him. Glancing back over his shoulder to the sleeping giant that was holding him, Speedwagon could not help the fond smile that crossed his face at the sight.

‘For such a large fellow,’ Speedwagon thought as he gazed upon Jonathan’s sleeping face. ‘ ‘e’s awful cute when ‘e’s asleep.’

It was honestly impossible for him not to find Jonathan’s sleeping face adorable. He looked so peaceful, not a care in the world to mar that handsome face with worry lines. Then there was the way his mouth hung open ever so slightly, the tips of his fangs just barely visible under his upper lip. Then there was the part that almost made Speedwagon laugh every time: Jonathan SNORED. Yes, he actually snored when he slept- probably some left over habit from when he was human. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud or anything, but the fact that he still snored despite no longer needing to breathe amused Speedwagon to no end.

Before their separation, as they were referring to the whole incident regarding Speedwagon’s alleged death and Jonathan’s berserker rage, their schedules made it so they were never both asleep at the same time. Besides, Speedwagon had given up the bedroom to Jonathan and often fell asleep on the couch, himself, so they were never that close when they slept before.

Now, though, Jonathan insisted on sleeping with Speedwagon cradled in his cold arms every morning until the sun set in the evening. Speedwagon was a bit embarrassed by it, truthfully, given his feelings towards the larger man, but could not find it in himself to deny Jonathan anything he desired. Besides, Jonathan seemed to need this right now, if the worried and anxious look he got whenever Speedwagon said he was about to go out was anything to go by. Speedwagon could hardly blame the poor man, though, he understood that desperation for contact after going through such a hard loss- he himself had yearned for it when Jonathan came back to him, though he’d forced himself to be content with the passing contact he could get so as not to come off as needy or strange.

Speedwagon certainly wasn’t going to complain about the contact, anyhow. After he got past the initial chill of sleeping next to someone with no body heat that liked to wrap around him like a frozen blanket, it was actually quite nice. He’d always generated an exceptionally high amount of heat himself, after all, so the two balanced each other’s body temperatures perfectly.

On top of it all, being wrapped in Jonathan’s strong embrace every day made him feel..well..special, in all honesty. He knew it was probably just a crazy pipe-dream, but, for those few precious hours they slept together, he could pretend that the two of them were actually lovers entwined in a sweet embrace. He could imagine what it would be like to wake up every day to Jonathan’s smiling face and him planting a gentle kiss to Speedwagon’s lips as he lovingly said-

“Hmh..Morning, Speedwagon..” The groggy voice of the REAL Jonathan Joestar interrupted his daydreams like a splash of cold water.

Speedwagon turned his head to look back at Jonathan with an apologetic smile. “Ah, mornin’, Jojo. Didn’ wake y’ did I?”

Jonathan returned the smile with a sleepy, barely awake one of his own. “Not at all. What time is it, anyway?”

“Let’s see..it’s..” Speedwagon reached out for his pocket watch that was resting on the floor nearby and popped it open to check the time. “Ah, ‘bout 6:00.” He looked back at Jonathan. “Still a bit early for y’, mate. Sure you don’ wanna sleep in a bit more?”

Jonathan shook his head and sat up, bringing Speedwagon up with him gently using his arms which were still wrapped around the blonde’s waist. “No, it’s quite alright. Would you like some breakfast?”

Speedwagon allowed himself to be pulled up into a sitting position and smiled at the other man. “Breakfast sounds like a capital idea, Jojo.” He pat Jonathan’s arms to signal he wanted to be let go. “I’mma go freshen up an’ meet y’ in the kitchen, alright?”

Jonathan seemed hesitant to let him go, as he always seemed to nowadays, but did as was silently asked of him. “Very well, then.”

Speedwagon gave him a quick smile and got up from the bed. Heading out towards the bathroom, Speedwagon stopped along the way to grab one of his suits (one of the ones Jonathan hadn’t pulled off the hangar during the incident) from the hall closet and stepped into the small room to get himself ready for the day- er, well, the night, actually.

As he began his daily grooming rituals- checking for any facial hair to shave, a quick wash, brushing out his hair, etc.- Speedwagon thought about Jonathan’s recent string of odd behavior, recalling a few specific events for reference.

For starters, ever since he came back, Jonathan had been exceptionally clingy…

Speedwagon was used to their sleeping arrangement by now, even if it still flustered him to no end..but..this was new..

“Jonathan..?” He looked over his shoulder at the larger man- said man currently leaning over Speedwagon with his arms crossed around Speedwagon’s chest and his chin propped up on Speedwagon’s shoulder. He was acting like he was reading the newspaper that Speedwagon himself had been reading and was merely doing so over the blonde’s shoulder, but Speedwagon could see through his act- his eyes weren’t actually following any of the words, he was just staring blankly at the page. “Did ya need somethin’, Jojo?”

“Hmh?” Jonathan made a sound of acknowledgement, but did not bother to remove himself from Speedwagon’s vicinity. “Oh, not particularly- I was just curious if there was anything good in the paper today.”

“Ah, I see.” Jonathan was a terrible liar, but Speedwagon didn’t have it in him to call the man out on it. “Did ya wanna read it, then? I’m ‘bout finished.”

“No need. But thank you.” Jonathan just shook his head, the movement inadvertently causing Jonathan’s nose and lips to brush against Speedwagon’s neck. Or..was that perhaps on purpose? No, no, it couldn’t be…

“A-Alright then.” Speedwagon stuttered a bit, praying that Jonathan didn’t notice his rapidly beating heart.

Then there were the times that Jonathan would just stare at him for no apparent reason…

Speedwagon could feel those eyes trained on him. Even from across the room and with his back turned to him, he could feel Jonathan’s eyes staring at him. Part of him wondered if Jonathan was unintentionally doing a weaker version of that eye-beam attack that Dio had used, because he could swear he physically felt the gaze of those eyes creeping over his skin wherever Jonathan looked at him.

‘Maybe it’s ‘cause of my clothes?’ Speedwagon wondered as he ran a brush through his damp locks of long blonde hair. ‘I know they ain’t as nice as the suits, but I hafta wear somethin’ for now.’

He had just finished bathing himself and, no longer having a robe to change into as his only one had been lost with the rest of his luggage during the crash, had changed into a spare pair of pants and a white button-up shirt. After getting changed, he’d walked back out to get a drink while doing his hair and, in doing so, had apparently done something to warrant Jonathan’s intense stare.

(Unfortunately, what Speedwagon failed to notice at the time was that his clothes, due to his own still damp body, were currently clinging to him like a second skin. In addition to that unintentional display, his shirt was getting wetter as he brushed his hair due to the water that was being flicked out of it- making the white garment almost see-through. All of this was treating poor Jonathan to a fantastic, mouth-watering view of Speedwagon’s body that the poor vampire couldn’t help but feast upon with his eyes.)

What unnerved Speedwagon the most was the fact that Jonathan hadn’t even made his presence known- he’d simply stopped in the doorway and begun staring at him without uttering a single word.

(To be fair, Jonathan had been on his way into the kitchen to see what cookware was still salvageable enough to prepare lunch with, but had been caught off guard by the spectacle that was a slightly wet Speedwagon in skin-tight and translucent clothing.)

Deciding to break the awkward silence, Speedwagon turned to say hi to the other occupant of the small room. However, as soon as he started to turn, Jonathan was already gone and Speedwagon heard the replaced door to the bathroom shutting down the hall.

“Huh..guess ‘e wanted a turn in the bath..” Speedwagon mused aloud, jumping to what he thought was the logical conclusion for why Jonathan decided to rush into the bathroom.

Finally, it seemed like Jonathan had something that he wanted to say to Speedwagon, but was unable to…

“Speedwagon..” Jonathan said softly, almost hesitantly as he looked at Speedwagon with something in his eyes that Speedwagon couldn’t quite read. “I..that is..” He bit at his lip, one of his fangs worrying the skin there. For a moment Speedwagon was worried he’d bite through it again (as he had quite a few times already), but he seemed to catch onto his nervous habit this time and stopped himself before the flesh was pierced.

Speedwagon looked up at Jonathan from his seat on the mattress, the taller man standing in the doorway of their shared bedroom. “Wha’ is it, Jojo?” He had just finished changing into his pajamas for the morning and was seated on the bed, preparing to go to sleep. All he was waiting for was Jonathan- he knew the other would be curled around him in no time, he was just waiting so they could get into their now-usual sleeping positions. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

Jonathan looked down, as if he was trying to think of what he wanted to say, but was apparently defeated by his own inarticulateness. With a resigned frown, he closed the replaced door and approached the mattress. “It…It’s nothing…my apologies…” He got into bed behind Speedwagon and slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist, holding Speedwagon almost protectively against his chest and curling around him as per usual. “Pleasant dreams, Speedwagon.”

Speedwagon pulled the blanket up around both of them and relaxed back into Jonathan’s embrace. “You as well, Jojo.” He closed his eyes and slowly allowed his breathing to even out and his heart rate to slow, giving himself the semblance of sleep. It was a trick he’d used often during his street thug days to trick opponents into thinking he was unconscious. Looks like it still had a practical use here…

He didn’t have to pretend for long before he felt one of Jonathan’s large hands leave his waist in favor of delicately running his fingers through the long golden strands of Speedwagon’s hair with a quiet sigh. “Why can I not simply say what I wish?” His voice was quiet, barely audible over Speedwagon’s own breathing, but he was listening closely so as not to miss a word. “Nothing will change if I remain silent. I know this and yet..” He sighed again. “And yet I fear what will become of us if I speak my thoughts out loud.” He buried his face into the back of Speedwagon’s head and muttered to himself, his arm sliding back to its previous location around the man’s waist. “How could you ever care for such a coward…?” He gave one more sigh before going quiet, apparently deciding to chase his own slumber.

That last incident actually happened this morning when they fell asleep, Jonathan’s words still fresh in his mind.

What did Jonathan mean by all of that? What did he have to say that frightened him in such a way? What was he afraid would happen between the two of them?

Speedwagon ran through a list of possible scenarios in his head of what it could be.

Had he decided to move out on his own because he was worried about hurting Speedwagon if he lost control again? Speedwagon certainly hoped that wasn’t the case. He really liked living with Jonathan…

Was he growing tired of living as a vampire or thought himself a danger to others again? If that was the case, Speedwagon would have to remind him of their first conversation on the topic to dispel any incorrect assumptions Jonathan drew about himself…

Maybe he’d decided he was ready to face Erina and George?

That thought...actually gave him reason to pause and consider how he felt on the matter…

On the one hand, he himself had been encouraging Jonathan to go speak with Erina for years now, so he’d be getting what he verbally asked for. It was what Jonathan deserved, after all- a good life with a loving, doting wife and a sweet and adorable son.

On the other hand, though, he would still miss living together with Jonathan. Sure, he was planning to move to America soon, anyway, in order to be closer to Erina and George and to have easier access to his new fortune..but…it just wouldn’t be quite the same. He would still miss having Jonathan waiting at home for him every evening and falling asleep with him nearby in the morning.

Finishing his last few tasks with a sigh, Speedwagon looked at himself in the mirror, forcing a smile onto his face that didn’t quite meet his eyes yet. “C’mon, Robert- stiff upper lip. It’s Jonathan’s life, ‘e deserves to live it ‘owever ‘e sees fit. Just..do whatcha’ve always done: Be there for ‘im.” He gave his reflection a firm nod to cement the words in his mind before putting on his metaphorical mask- the bright smile and upbeat attitude that hid how badly he secretly wanted Jonathan’s affections for himself- and walked out to the kitchen to face whatever would come of the days ahead.

Jonathan bit at his lip for what had to be the hundredth time within the past two days. He was getting better at not piercing the tender flesh with his fangs anymore, but he just couldn’t shake the habit when he got worked up like this.

‘Come on, Jonathan, stop being a coward and just SAY IT.’ He mentally berated himself as he prepared what little he could for breakfast (namely, some tea, left over bread, and some apples). ‘You’ve already made up your mind to do it, so all that’s left is to simply put those thoughts into action!’

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. It seemed that lately he’d only been able to run away and make a fool of himself.

He’d tried several times to initiate physical contact to segue into the subject, but he’d get so lost in the sensation that he’d lose his train of thought, as he had once when Speedwagon was reading and he’d wrapped his arms around him from behind only to be distracted by the softness of those blond locks and his comforting scent…

Then, when he’d tried to just come out and say it, as he had that morning before bed, he would lose his nerve when he had to meet Speedwagon’s earnest, curious gaze…

Worst of all was when he would try to speak but get distracted by the mere act of looking at the other’s handsome figure; an incident in the kitchen involving Speedwagon in damp, semi-translucent clothing came to mind, Jonathan’s face feeling hotter both from the memory of those taut muscles on display as well as the embarrassment and shame he’d felt at having to run into the bathroom to relieve himself of his sudden “discomfort” (god, he hadn’t been struck that badly since he was a teenager!)…

Sighing in mild annoyance at himself, Jonathan finished the modest breakfast and set the plate and mug aside. “I suppose I’ll have to put myself in a situation where I cannot run away.”

“What was that, Jojo?” He heard Speedwagon ask as he stepped into the kitchen. Damn, Jonathan must have been too lost in thought to hear him approaching.

He turned to Speedwagon with a smile, secretly hoping that it didn’t look as forced as it felt. “Oh, nothing. I was merely thinking aloud.”

“Ah, alrigh’ then.” Speedwagon took the mug that Jonathan offered him and sipped it. “Thanks.” He hid it well, but Jonathan noticed the subtle tension in Speedwagon’s neck as he swallowed. The lukewarm tea must taste dreadful.

“Sorry.” Jonathan apologized, looking just as guilty as he felt when his eyes glanced at the hole in the wall the stove had been tossed through during his fit of blind rage. “I wish I had a way to warm it up for you.” He groaned at the sight of the mangled stove in the other room and brought a hand to his face to hold his head. “I still can’t believe I did that…”

Speedwagon offered him his usual smile, the one that made Jonathan’s heart swell with warmth and affection. “Nah, it’s fine, mate. Trust me, I’ve ‘ad A LOT worse t’ drink in my time.” He shuddered slightly and stuck his tongue out briefly. “ ‘member one time when I was ‘bout ten- I got so thirsty that I stood out in a rain storm with me tongue out to catch a few drops. Was all fine an’ dandy ‘til a carriage drove by and I got a big ol’ mouthful o’ street swill. Never did that again.” He finished his story with a chuckle, sipping the tea again. “Compared t’ that, this tastes like ‘eaven.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but chuckle a little himself at the story. “Well, it’s good to know the few things that I am able to craft will still be far from the bottom of your tase-list.”

The two shared a laugh at that, the air between them light and pleasant again, despite the sad reminder to Jonathan about the hardships that Speedwagon endured on the streets of England growing up. Speedwagon didn’t bring up those days often, but somehow, when he did, he never seemed bitter about what he went through. He always treated those experiences as pleasant memories or learning experiences or a comparison for how things could always be worse than they currently were.

Jonathan supposed those things were part of what shaped Speedwagon into the brave and intelligent man he was now, but it still hurt him to know how much the other had missed out on as a child.

Looking back on his own life, it made Jonathan realize how much he’d taken for granted coming from a rich family: Presents for Christmas and his birthday, many of which he’d only played with once and then forgotten about accidentally. Plenty of delicious food, some of which he was sad to say ended up being thrown away when he couldn’t finish his plates. A warm home and a roof over his head, something he ignored in favor of playing in the rain simply because he viewed it as a luxury rather than a dangerous weather condition that some people were forced to endure. Nice clothes of high quality and comfort, a good portion of which he hardly ever wore in lieu of sticking with a few favorites.

Jonathan had certainly tried not to be an ungrateful brat as many kids of his age and social status were, but it seemed that he still ended up not realizing how good his life back then truly was until he’d lost everything and been forced to take a good, hard look at how difficult it actually was to earn, save, and portion out money in such a way, rather than having a vast amount simply handed to you because of your familial legacy.

There were certainly some times when he still wished he had access to his family’s fortune. But, it was never for himself that he wanted that money back: it was always for Speedwagon’s sake.

Whenever the cupboards started to become bare, he wished he had a few quid so he could simply fill them with all of the other man’s favorite treats and see him smile. Whenever he stitched a busted hem or tear in one of Speedwagon’s suits, he’d think about how nice it would be to take the man clothes shopping and spoil him with a new wardrobe just to see the way his face would light up from the new outfits he’d be able to wear. Whenever he was given a thoughtful present, such as an archaeology book or a new cloak to allow him to venture out at night without being recognized, he’d instantly regret not being able to give Speedwagon a present in return, his mind racing with ideas for what he wished to give such a wonderful man. Whenever he heard Speedwagon stretch and loudly pop several of his joints after sleeping on the couch (or even on the bed, as of late), he’d get the urge to go out and buy some brand new, much more comfortable furniture that could give Speedwagon a comfortable night’s (or day’s) sleep and allow Jonathan to see that content smile on his face as he slept…

Indeed, there were many ways he wished he could spoil the other man as thanks for everything he’d done for Jonathan over the years. Still, even with the few regrets he had about not being able to give Speedwagon everything he desired, he did not miss it all that much. Truly, the feeling of completion he received simply from being by Speedwagon’s side every day, that was worth more to him than any fortune. Besides, it seems that fate was finally dealing Speedwagon a much better hand in life now, perhaps in reward for all the brave man had done to assist Jonathan in saving the world from Dio and the curse of the stone mask.

“Oi, Jonathan?” Speedwagon’s voice drew him back to the here-and-now.

Jonathan blinked, realizing with growing embarrassment that he had unintentionally been gazing at Speedwagon as the man ate his breakfast. “Y-Yes, Speedwagon?” He silently cursed himself for that stutter.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ for a while now.” He finished one of the apple slices Jonathan had prepared for him before continuing his train of thought. “I think..I’m gonna move t’ America.”

Jonathan blinked in surprise at the news. “Really? Any particular reason why, if I may ask?”

Speedwagon shrugged. “Jus’ somethin’ I’d been toyin’ with for a long time. It gets pretty expensive travelin’ back and forth every time I go t’ visit Erina an’ George. Not t’ mention ‘ow long it takes and the, um..risk..associated with it…”

Jonathan frowned a little at the phrasing of that last part, knowing that Speedwagon was not-so-subtly referring to “the incident” when he said that. “I can..certainly see the logic in that decision, yes.”

“Besides,” Speedwagon continued, trying to shift away from that uncomfortable topic. “the timing just feels right now, y’know? I’ve got the money from discoverin’ that oil waitin’ for me back in America, an’ it’s not like I’ve got much t’ leave behind ‘ere in terms o’ possessions an’ what not, so it’d be easy t’ pack up an’ move.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement, the logic was certainly sound. “Very true. At that point, the only things you’d be leaving behind would be people.”

Speedwagon chuckled a bit and waved the thought away. “Ha! Hardly. I’m sure if Tatty an’ Kempo ‘ear I’m leavin’ they’ll be on the next boat out after me.” He took a bite out of one of the stale slices of bread, speaking around his mouthful. “And you’d already be comin’ with me, so-” He seemed to realize at the last minute what he was saying and quickly swallowed the bread, looking up at Jonathan with wide eyes and holding his hands up in a worried gesture. “Th-That is, if y’ WANTED t’ come with me! You’re more than welcome t’ stay ‘ere if y’ want, I know it’d be a big change to pack up an’ move like that, but-!”

“Speedwagon.” Jonathan interrupted the panicked man’s rambling with a gentle smile and a hand cupping his jaw, his thumb brushing tenderly along the scar on that handsome face. “I will go wherever you go. I said it before- I will not leave you again.”

He gazed into those wide brown eyes, getting lost in their depths for a while and simply enjoying the fact that he COULD still look into them. Nearly losing him once was terrifying, he would not leave Speedwagon’s side again for as long as they both lived. If that decision meant leaving the country he’d called home for so long, then so be it. Wherever Speedwagon was- that would be his home.

He felt Speedwagon’s pulse jump beneath his fingers suddenly, along with a surge of hot blood moving beneath his skin to gather in his cheeks and along his ears. “J-Jojo? What..um, what are you..?”

“Hm?” Jonathan blinked, suddenly realizing that he’d come much closer to those eyes he’d been gazing into than he’d intended.

Before he had been standing within arm’s reach of Speedwagon, but was still at a comfortable distance, giving the man plenty of space to lean against the kitchen counter (the table was unsalvageable) as he ate his breakfast. Now, though, he was practically looming over the shorter man, their faces mere inches apart and Jonathan’s other hand had somehow slid around Speedwagon’s waist without his knowledge. They were so close right now..if Jonathan just leaned in a bit more, he could easily kiss those warm lips..easily hold Speedwagon close and kiss him for all he was worth..he could-

“Jonathan?” Speedwagon’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts once more and Jonathan saw the concerned look mixed with the flush across the other’s cheeks.

Jonathan quickly let go of him and forced himself to pull away- if he stayed any longer, he feared what he might do. “My-My apologies, Speedwagon. I was..unaware of my actions..”

Speedwagon glanced away, nervously running a hand through his hair. “It’s, uh, quite alright, Jonathan. Jus’ didn’ really know wha’ t’ expect from that. Usually y’ only grab me like that when you’re ‘bout t’ feed.” He glanced back up at Jonathan curiously. “Are you, y’know..?”

Jonathan shook his head, feeling more embarrassed now. “No, no, I’m fine, thank you.” He was certainly hungry for something, but it wasn’t blood, he knew that much. “I’m afraid I was distracted by my own thoughts.”

“You’ve been doin’ that a lot lately.” Speedwagon commented with that same concerned look from earlier. “Somethin’ on your mind, Jonathan? Y’ know y’ don’ ‘ave t’ tell me if y’ don’ wanna. I’m jus..worried, ‘s all.”

Jonathan felt more than a little guilty for that. He hated making Speedwagon worry about him, but it seemed to be all he did sometimes. “I know you are, and I’m terribly sorry for it.” He took a deep breath to steel his nerves. “Actually, there is something that has been on my mind for quite some time now..but..I was unsure of how to broach the subject..”

Speedwagon looked up at him with an expression that clearly said “go on” as he nodded. “Wha’ is it, Jonathan?”

Jonathan looked back down into those lovely eyes again and felt his earlier courage beginning to slip away. Damn it all! He could still feel the urge to run from the conversation. Knowing that he even had the option to withdraw from this topic and talk about something else was making him rethink his words. What he needed was a place and a situation he could not run from. A different setting where- oh! That’s it!

“Actually…” Jonathan swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I want to discuss it with you later tonight. In the park. Around..” He thought quickly about how long it would take him to get everything ready with it currently being about 7:00 in the evening. “Let’s say midnight. If it’s not too much trouble, I hope?”

Speedwagon shook his head, still looking confused but agreeing to Jonathan’s terms. “Course not, Jojo. But, why the park?”

“I’m afraid you shall have to wait and see.” Jonathan answered vaguely with a smile. “Now, I have a few things to prepare.” He turned to leave the kitchen, grabbing one of his cloaks from the hall closet. “I shall see you there!” He called as he also retrieved a change of clothes for himself and left through the front door after pulling on his cloak and covering his face.

Jonathan walked briskly through the slowly emptying streets, making a mental list of everything he would need for tonight to go smoothly. There was much to do in a short amount of time, but he felt he HAD to do it. He would likely need to employ the help of Tattoo and Kempo Master to acquire a few things, but they were usually more than willing to provide assistance.

‘I can do this.’ Jonathan thought resolutely as he headed towards his first destination. ‘No, I WILL do this!’

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

-From the Beginning-

[imsvg]

maiden in the forest

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Pairing: MomoJirou (Momo Yaoyorozu/Kyouka Jirou) Words: 1646 Summary: In which Momo remembers the time she heard Kyouka sing in the middle of the forest. (Fantasy AU) Links: FF is here! AO3 is here!

Momo felt as if she were under a spell the first time she heard Kyouka sing.

To describe the experience as enchanting would not do it justice. There are times, when the workload for the sovereign becomes too much, and Momo leans back and closes her eyes, her mind remembering every single detail of that day.

It started like any other day. Momo woke up the moment sunlight began to streak through her window. She stretched, ate her breakfast, donned her armor, reported to Eraserhead—her commander—and continued on to make her rounds around the perimeter of the capital.

Her station at the time was north of Yuuei, ensuring the area about twenty miles or so were safe, especially the paths where caravans of traders and travelers often take. The path, surrounded by forests, was a popular place for bandits and thieves to hijack passersby, but Momo made sure none of them got their way. Ever since her first encounter with a pesky band of scoundrels, Momo's rounds became uneventful and—dare she say it—boring.

Nevertheless, Momo is one of meticulous and neat work, and that day was no different. She walked up and down the paths with attention. Occasionally, a traveler would pass by her and she would greet them with a smile and a nod, but resumed looking at the empty stretch of dirt and trees in front of her.

The soft clink of her armor filled the air, standing out from the gentle rustling of the leaves above. She breathed heavily, taking in the sweet scent of flowers and the earthy smell of soil. The pale shadows of branches danced on the ground with every breeze, and Momo couldn't help but notice how beautiful the natural scenery of the forest was.

Suddenly, Momo's hand flew to her sword, her hand tightening around the hilt. She listened carefully, ignoring the trees and the faint song of the birds. A moment passed, with seemingly nothing, until Momo heard the faintest voice coming from inside of the forest.

She slipped into the shrubbery, taking note not to make more noise than she had to. She walked carefully, stepping over stray twigs and dead leaves, before pressing her back against a tree. She listened again, the voice significantly louder this time. Momo concentrated on the words, but quickly realized they sounded oddly…lyrical? She leaned over to peek over her shoulder, slowly drawing her sword in the process.

Behind her was a circular clearing in the forest. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, but she managed to make out a female figure sitting on a stump in the middle. The figure was singing, softly plucking her lute that rested on their leg. Momo noticed small forest animals gathering around, obviously attracted by the player's song. The noon sun was directly overhead, the forest canopy shaping its rays into a beam that shone exactly on the singer.

Accompanied by the soft greenery of the forest and the comforting sunlight, Momo felt as if a nymph was entrancing her.

A faint clatter ruined the moment. The animals immediately scattered, and the singer's song was interrupted by a sour note. She looked up, making immediate contact with Momo.

Momo looked down with horror when she realized she had let go of her sword while drawing it.

Cursing under her breath, Momo quickly picked up her sword and sheathed it, revealing herself from her hiding spot. The singer jumped to her feet and looked as if she was ready to bolt, her face flushed red.

"Wait!" Momo called out, reaching out her hand. "I mean no harm! I'm Lieuten—K-Kyouka?"

Kyouka stopped what she was doing, her face getting impossibly darker. "Y-Yaomomo? Wh-what're you doing here?"

"I—I was doing my rounds when I heard something in the forest." Kyouka looked as if she was going to pass out at any moment. "What're you doing here?"

"I—uh"—Kyouka has to pause to clear her throat—"I…" she trailed off, averting her gaze.

"You…?"

"I came to…"

"Kyouka, I'm afraid I don't understa—"

"I came to sing!" Kyouka finally finished. Her face was as red as Ejirou's hair at this point, and Momo wondered how she was still standing.

"…In the middle of nowhere?" Momo asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Well—I—it's not…."

"I mean, granted, you do have an audience of some sorts," Momo began, gesturing in the general area where the animals ran, "but…why don't you ever sing in front of the others? I, for one, never even knew you had such an ability."

"My parents were traveling bards, back when they actually, you know, traveled. So…I learned how to play from them." Kyouka shifted her weight back and forth on her feet, absentmindedly plucking the strings on her lute. "But it's not something I…share with people."

"I don't see why not." Momo gave a soft smile. "I think it's a wonderful talent that I think ought to be shared with people."

Kyouka shifted her gaze here and there, looking everywhere but in Momo's direction. "But it's not exactly the…bravest thing, right? I mean take what you do, for example." Kyouka looked at Momo and gestured at her gear. "You walk around the capital and ensure everyone's safe. Being able to fight unexpected thieves—I think you hold an incredible amount of bravery, you know?" She smiled, one that looked awfully like yearning. "I…wish I could have that."

Momo did not reply right away. Her gaze settled on the whip hanging lazily on Kyouka's side. A part of her thought it was funny Kyouka had chosen that as her weapon of choice—it seemed so unlike her, now that Momo thought about it, especially considering Midnight was the mentor as well.

"I like to think what you do is very brave," Momo finally said after a while. She shifted her gaze up and saw that Kyouka was staring at her with wide, bewildered eyes.

"Y-you do?" she asked.

Momo nodded. "I think it takes an incredible amount of bravery to be able to perform in front of an audience, whether they be human or not. A certain kind of bravery no knight can ever muster, and only the talented of bards can. So I think, because of that, your parents and, in turn, you, are very brave people."

Kyouka's blush instantly came back, this time coloring her entire face up until the tips of her ears. "Y-you're too kind, Yaomomo…."

"I only speak the truth," she said with a small smile.

For the first time in their unexpected encounter, Kyouka broke out into a smile, one that showed teeth and caused the edges of her eyes to smile along with her.

And then, she laughed.

It was light and cheerful, a stark contrast from her usual husky voice. Momo felt her heart stop in her chest at the first note, and her breath caught in her throat as she involuntarily held it. She swore she could hear Kyouka's laugh dance in the air before the wind blew it away, the ghost of its melody still ringing in her ears.

If hearing clouds on a pleasant day was possible, Momo believes they would have sounded exactly like Kyouka's laugh from that day.

"—o? —rozu? Yaoyorozu?"

Momo opens her eyes, and blinks to get adjusted to the sudden light shining in her face. It takes several more blinks and a moment for her to realize she wasn't staring directly at sunlight; it was the glare from Tenya Iida's plate armor.

Tenya adjusts his glasses with a sheepish smile on his face. "Did I disturb you from your nap?"

Momo shakes her head. "I was thinking, not napping." She adjusts herself in her seat, sitting up properly. "Is there something I need to do?"

The young paladin sets his arm in an awkward position, his expression turning suddenly stoic. "I believe it is time for you to do your rounds! Eraserhead asks that you report to him before heading off!"

"Of course," Momo says with a smile, standing from her seat. "Thank you, Captain."

Tenya gives a firm nod before squaring his posture and giving a salute. Momo does the same, and at the same time, the both of them break attention and leave her small office together. They part ways with simple goodbyes when the corridor splits, and Momo is left alone with the faint clink of her armor echoing in the stoned hallway.

As she turns the corner, Momo catches a familiar song drifting through the hall. She continues down her path, the voice getting louder and louder, until she reaches a door that's slightly ajar. She peeks in and sees Kyouka inside with her eyes closed, singing and playing her lute beside Present Mic.

Ever since their encounter in the forest, Kyouka decided to train under Present Mic in order to learn the bardic magics. According to conversations she overheard, Kyouka showcases prodigious ability Present Mic has never seen before in his entire career.

Just thinking about it makes Momo's chest swell with pride.

Kyouka finishes her song, her voice tapering so that the last few plucks of her lute rang in the air. She opens her eyes and looks up slowly, noticing Momo standing in the doorway.

Momo breaks out into a smile and gives a small wave, mouthing "Beautiful!" as she does so.

The bard returns her smile, her face aglow with pride and accomplishment. Momo can't tell if it's because of the golden sunlight beaming through the window or if it's an effect of the song she just sang, but she swears she can see a faint green glow surrounding Kyouka, a color that reminds Momo of that day she saw a figure singing in that forest clearing.

an: ey yo whassup mtv welcome to my momojirou fantasy au fic.

i hope you guys enjoyed it - i struggled for the longest time to write smth momojirou, but the sudden desire to write a fantasy au for bnha characters gave me that shove to write this. im still a little rusty from not being able to write in such a long time, so i hope you'll forgive any mistakes.

if any of you are interested in me writing an actual multi-chapter story of a bnha fantasy au, or even just more oneshots, that'd be great. i'd love to hear some input because honestly, i'd love to write it.

thanks for reading. love you.

[shownuslaugh]

Wonho A to Z

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He gets really quiet after sex. Mostly because he’s so tired. Also because he just wants to lay there beside you for a while and cuddle. This inevitably ends with the two of you falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Wonho has a thing for thighs. His thighs, your thighs, it doesn’t matter. He thinks they’re the most attractive body part on anyone.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He won’t cum anywhere other than inside you. He knows for a lot of dudes seeing their cum all over their partner is a turn on, but Wonho isn’t like other dudes. He likes the thought of filling you up even though he’s usually wearing a condom.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before the two of you started dating he would get off practically every night to the thought of what it would be like to fuck you until you were screaming for him. It was the quickest he ever came while jerking off.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Okay, let’s be real. Wonho is a sexy motherfucker that could flirt his way out of a prison sentence BUT I think he’s the least experienced of the boys. Not to the point of being completely inexperienced of course, but he’s had very few sexually partners.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

*Alicia Keys voice* THIS BOY IS A BOTTOM. In all seriousness though he loves being under you, watching you ride his dick. This position gives him access to your whole body and lets him touch you wherever he wants. Usually though his hands end up either gripping your throat or ass.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn’t call it goofy exactly, but sex with Wonho is very playful. He doesn’t take anything too seriously in the moment and has a ‘whatever happens will happen’ attitude about everything. That being said, when he feels himself close to orgasm he becomes very one track mind and the playfulness disappears.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

What’s that saying? The body is a temple? Yeah, Wonho believes that with all his heart so not only is his body well taken care of he’s extremely well groomed.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s teasing and playful and desperate to make you cum on his dick. Or his face. He isn’t very picky. There’s usually some level of romance seeing as how he can’t keep his mouth shut for more than two seconds and is constantly telling you how beautiful you are or how much he loves you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Wonho relies a lot on visuals when it comes to sex and masturbation is no different. He can’t get off unless he’s looking at a picture or video of you. If he isn’t in a relationship he makes do with porn.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Choking (giving and receiving), restraints (giving), role play.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The dorm. Sure, it’s more public than he likes what with the other boys around but he likes seeing you in his bed, on his sheets, in his room.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Is everything and appropriate answer? No? Well, his biggest turn on is when he catches you checking him out from the corner of your eye. He’s one of the ones that work REALLY hard on his body and the fact you enjoy his hard work gets him… hard.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Super public sex. Backstage in a dressing room with a lock on the door is one thing, but Wonho absolutely loathes the thought of anyone seeing you the way he gets to. It’s a turn off and puts him in a nasty mood.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Receiving. He doesn’t care if you’re good at it or not. He just really loves receiving. The sight of you on your knees in front of him is his favorite erotic image. When it comes time to give he’s a little sloppy, but not in a way that won’t get you off. He’ll have you cumming in a matter of minutes and pull away with your juices dripping down his face and a large grin.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Most of the time it all depends on what you want. He lets you set the pace and meets each snap of your hips with a thrust of his own. There’s no set pattern with him so it tends to differ.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

If an “I <3 Quickies’ shirt exists you need to buy it for him. He doesn’t love them to the point that’s all he ever wants, but e enjoys the thought that the two of you need each other so badly you’ll take what you can get. He really likes them when he gets offstage after a concert.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Wonho’s always game to experiment and try new things. Risks on the other hand… not so much. He doesn’t want to try anything that could potentially harm you emotionally or physically. Sex is something fun and lighthearted to him. He wants to keep it that way.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Are you a marathon runner? Because you’d just about have to be to keep up with him. He can drag what’s supposed to be a five minute quickie into a fifty minute body worship session. He has no concept of the word stop so it’s a good idea to have a few bottles of water on standby.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes he owns toys, yes he uses them on both of you. For you he prefers using gags and blindfolds, anything to take away any of your senses. For himself a vibrator. He tried using one on you once but seeing something other than him bring you pleasure made him just a tad bit jealous.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Everyone knows Wonho is a major tease. He’s hot and he knows it and he uses it; however, what most people don’t realize is he loves BEING TEASED even more than being the tease. He loves knowing whoever he’s with can give as well as they can get.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Wonho is Loud with a capital L. Most of the time it’s completely out of his control. He just gets so into it he forgets maybe other people might not want to hear him. He’s a whiner to start out with, begging for you relentlessly, before turning into a groaner, red in the face and pleased to be inside you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Wonho loves when you take control. He isn’t a total sub so he won’t let you have total control, but you telling him where to touch you or kiss you or bite you drives him up the wall with lust

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Wonho is the largest of the boys (7.5 inches) which is probably why he’s so confident. Boy’s packing and knows how to deliver.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

This boy is a straight up Ho™ and always ready to get some. Unlike Shownu and a couple others though Wonho is not ashamed to let anyone know. He’ll flirt and charm his way into your heart and pants without a second thought.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You might as well count Wonho out the second he cums. Even though he has an above average stamina that doesn’t necessarily apply to afterwards. You should probably move quickly or he’ll fall asleep on top of you… again.