#besides there are countless people who could explain it in better detail and with more context than i could anyway

[astrumark]

── GIVE ME THAT LITTLE BIT OF SATISFACTION ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond needs your assistance after a battle, in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: blood, curse words, smut with plot, use of coconut oil as lube, hand-job, p in v, tits sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie, a hint of sub aemond? oops? :3

WC: 5.3K

NOTES: obviously this is my take on what happened after rook's rest. the show's approach next year will definitely be different. but it's fun working with the book's events and its lack of minor details (you can fill it in however you wish!).

Your eyes flutter open with a jump, a firm hand gripping your shoulder. You didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, or what hour it was, but certainly wasn't the time for your shift yet. It takes a few seconds for your cloudy vision to focus on where you were, now noticing the older servant in front of you, and you look at her dazedly.

"The prince has just arrived, and requests your presence," Annabel explains.

Aemond. Immediate relief washes over you as your face softens. "Very well."

You leave the servants' quarters as fast as you can after fixing your appearance, and as you walk through the halls, you notice the castle is way too agitated. Tension and seriousness ripple in the air, and you start to feel uneasy as well, mind fumbling with numberless possibilities.

It's one of the gold cloaks that finally speaks a little louder, talking fervently about the victory of the greens at the battle of Rook's Rest. It had been quite a few days since their army had marched, and news was often shared about their progression. Usually, you tend to avoid it, since most of it makes you feel sick in your stomach.

Besides the armored man, there is no more commemoration or sense of victory. Not on this side of the castle, at least. Lords were probably planning on throwing banquets, but people like you are too aware of the damages of the war, and how at the end of the day the smallfolk suffer the most. Countless common people would die in the name of greedy royalty that know no limits to their ambition, families ruined beyond repair, a ravaging hunger was plaguing the poorest, and the coffers would soon be emptied, money being spent on battles other than improving the realm and making life easier. It's obvious how no good could ever come regardless of the result of the war.

You find Annabel again, shouting order after order, the middle-aged woman was the one in charge of the servants for a good while now and was a reliable source of information.

"What happened?" You approach her.

"A lot happened, child." Her tone is somber.

"Did someone die?" What a foolish question. Not just someone, but hundreds.

"The queen who never was and her dragon."

You grimace, reminiscing about the princess back when she was visiting the Red Keep. Although such casualties are expected during the war, it is still difficult to grasp that the imposing woman is dead. It's fearful how one's life could be ripped from them so suddenly. A paralyzing concern floods you. Aemond being back does not mean he is unharmed.

"Has the prince been hurt?" Your voice falters, your heart pounding with fear.

Annabel's gaze flickers to your face, and you could see her disapproval, almost making you wish to recoil. But she would never say a thing about your unusual closeness with the prince, being unlike her to intrude in personal affairs. You are aware she doesn't like Aemond or any of the royals, but then again very few did. You have grown to understand it was not only because of his eye, or lack thereof, but because he simply did not inspire sympathy. Aemond is stoic, defensive, and difficult to relate to. You were only one of the very few lucky enough to know better.

"The prince is fine," Annabel says and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "However, it is said the king is in critical condition, it is not known if he will recover, and his dragon is unable to fly, one of his wings was damaged during the fight."

You gasp, in your slumber you have forgotten about the man, not being concerned about him in the slightest. Anyhow, you feel your mind almost melting as you process the shocking news and the aftermath of it. If the king were to perish, that means Aemond would be regent until his nephew is of ideal age. Seven. "Poor Sunfyre."

Annabel tries to scold you, but the amusement behind her blue eyes is hard to conceal. "You are pitying the dragon, not the king?"

"Well, people have the free will of choice, and are aware of the consequences their actions might have… a dragon can only obey their rider's command, isn't it right?"

"We cannot say. These magical creatures are beyond our comprehension."

You ponder. "That is true."

After the quick conversation, you make your way to one of the huge kitchens, assuming the prince would probably fancy a bath. Warming up buckets of water, you carry them to Maegor's Holdfast with the help of three other servants.

A strong smell of blood and smoke fills your nose as you enter his quarters, and your eyes widen. The expensive rug is stained and marked by large boots, and even more astounding is the prince's appearance.

Aemond is lounging on a chair close to his study table. His face and hair are covered by blood, ash, and dirt, and splatters of dried blood stains his black and gold armor. His braids are loose, and you can even notice some twigs tangled in his silver strands. However, the prince's hands are the most distressing, gloves discarded at some point and almost fully covered by the red liquid. With a frown, you deduce it must be from his brother's injury. He looks haunting, almighty, and ruthless. There's a scowl on his face, though his eyes seem perturbed.

You notice how the servants' hands seem to tremble slightly as they pour the water into the bathtub in the next room, their eyes never daring to look up while adding some essential oils and chamomile herbs to the water as well, however, you cannot share their fear. All you wish to do is reach out and comfort him. Leaving one of the buckets outside the bathroom, you can see from the corner of your eyes the one-eyed man dismissing the other servants with a wave of a hand, and they seem eager to oblige. You kneel in front of him.

"I am glad you are well," You squeeze his knees. "And tremendously sorry for your brother."

Aemond does not respond, and his gaze is piercing as he stares at you as if memorizing each detail of your face. You don't look away either, a comfortable but powerful silence pairing between the two of you. His fingers slowly graze your cheek, and you do not mind the blood, eyes closing with the delicate caress.

"Help me undress, will you?"

You nod, aware he was never one to talk in deep about his emotions and thoughts, to allow himself to be vulnerable. Nonetheless, you've been noticing this quietness getting worse ever since Storm's End, and although concerned, you would not push him. Especially because you weren't even aware of the extent of your relationship. That he has a certain tenderness for you is clear, but the amount of liberties you could take with the royal is not as much.

Carefully undoing his heavy armor, the pieces fall to the ground with a whump, and the clothes underneath are a lot easier to deal with. His defined body slowly comes into view, a few goosebumps arising on his bare skin with the sudden lack of materials. Aemond's nakedness is of no surprise to you, though you could never help but admire him. Grabbing a cloth you wet it in the bucket nearby and start to clean his face first, hoping to get rid of the thicker layers of dirt before starting the bath.

Your touch is light, afraid to harshly rub any scratches, big or small. "Are you hurt in any way?"

Aemond shakes his head. "None of the blood is mine," He says. "It's from the princess and my brother, and their dragons. I believe some from Lord Staunton and his garrison as well."

You shudder with discomfort and drift your attention to cleaning his hands, the cloth immediately being painted red, you discard it for another as you move to the other hand. You've always enjoyed tending to him.

His hair comes next, and you take off his eyepatch. Undoing the braids is quick, long accustomed to it, though his strands are now sticking and smelling terribly, like a pan that spent too much time on fire, simply nose scrunching and suffocating. Aemond moves his head side to side with a growl after you are done, the bones of his neck cracking.

The prince sighs pleasantly as he enters the tub, and you grab a bowl to wet his hair. The silver strands get soaped quickly as you massage his scalp with both hands, his good eye close, and the sapphire twinkles.

After washing it, you fetch another soap bar, one that the merchant guaranteed you was special, something about adding more oils while making it. There was no harm in trying, and you were surprised by how such a thing made his hair healthier, not as dry which means fewer cuts, and more tamed and lustrous. His strands instantly become more emollient as you run the soap along the length.

Aemond seems completely unbothered as you get to scrub his body, the fine hairs covering his arms and legs so light it's barely visible. It's, in fact, a moment of relaxation and customariness, a routine for both of you. But the water is already dirty and gray by now, and you cannot help but recall it's not only ashes and dirt but also the mixed blood of people and beasts alike. Some perished.

You do not notice the silver-haired staring at you until he speaks. "You do not seem very pleased."

You raise your eyebrows. "Is there something to be pleased about?"

"Is there not?" He squints his eye. "We have just won a battle."

"Congratulations."

"Your sincerity is appreciated." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You know you can speak freely with me." He studies your face.

You bite your lips, focusing on the task at hand and adding more soap to the scrubber. The prince would never understand your point, so you would rather avoid a useless discussion. Especially today.

Unfortunately, he doesn't give up, cocking his head. "What is restraining you from doing so? Are you disgusted? Would you prefer me to not have killed all those cunty traitors?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Would you prefer to have that whore sitting on the throne? Is that the reason for your unpleasantness? Do you believe she's more suitable than my brother? Than me?"

You look at him sternly, the scrubber falling to the water with a splash. His face is now a lot closer to yours, but he does not intimidate you, never did, and probably never will. But he hits a nerve, and your mouth moves even before you could notice you were speaking.

"I would prefer your family to resolve the succession issue in another way other than submitting the kingdom to a devastating war with horrendous consequences, for all of you certainly, as proved by your nephew's death and older brother's injury now, but mostly, innocent people that have nothing to do with your schemes." Your voice holds a cold rage. "That is my opinion if it's of any importance to you, but I highly doubt it."

Aemond scoffs, shaking his head and averting his eye for a minute. His finger rests on top of his mouth, and there's still blood underneath his nails. He inhales to control his annoyance. He looks like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind, closing his lips and opting for another choice of words.

"You would not understand it, as a commoner." He looks at you up and down, not with the usual desire, but with a hint of superiority now, clear in how the corner of his lips twitches upward dismissively.

You are quick to respond. "Nor would you, as a prince."

Deafening silence. You have a good point, the drastic difference in your backgrounds would never let you completely understand one another's views and priorities. Aemond sighs.

"You are lucky I am fond of you." A truce.

You chuckle. "And I do not dislike you entirely."

The prince smiles, tight-lipped, but it is lovely, showing off his beautiful dimples. The rest of the bath goes calmly as you resume the chore. You wrap his hair in a cotton towel, and his body in a linen one. You leave the prince to dry himself while you make your way to the bedchamber, gathering loose mud green trousers and some shea butter.

The one-eyed stands in his full glory as you spread the product all over his lean body. Back, arms, chest, and stomach, then his legs. When you get up from your kneeling position, his hand wraps around your neck swiftly, bringing your body forward and kissing you.

You return it immediately, deep and eager. However, it's also contemplative and cozy, almost lazy as you taste one another. Your hand rests on his forearm, the softness and warmth of his lips never failing to get you weak on the knees, and he smells great now, fresh. Your eyes seem unable to open as you get lost in the small kisses and teases.

"Do not resent me, beauty." He says as you part.

You smile against his mouth, you thought it was precious when he got like this, clingy in his way. It was only on these rare occasions that he let his pride and loftiness aside, and would do everything to prevent you from being upset with him. Seeking your comfort in such an intense manner it was flattering.

A verbal answer doesn't leave your lips, you just kiss him again, and it's enough. "Get dressed and sit down." You motion to the dressing table, throwing the trousers at him.

You comb his hair delicately, adding some sunflower oil to his scalp before braiding his damp hair, he prefers it this way, claiming it was the only way it wouldn't get tangled up in the morning. You start from his very root, sectioning small amounts of silver hair and crossing them over in between your fingers, slowly but surely creating a beautiful and tight pattern. It's not a fast process, but you delight in it and you suspect so does the man in front of you, almost purring as you work. Tying the end of it, you rub his shoulders affectionately, his skin always warm beneath your palms.

"I am sore," Aemond complains. "A massage would be great."

You grin, pecking his cheek from behind. "As you wish, my Prince."

He is truly very tense, and you cannot fathom how distressing all that he witnessed is. You suppose it was a life-changing experience, in the worst way possible. It was clear how his eye hardened considerably in a short time. You would have surely run to the hills in his place, but he doesn't. He breathes and keeps his composure, hiding away all his fright, pretending to be indifferent, that he accepts his duty and the price of it gladly. But nobody would, less they lacked emotions.

Aemond lays down on his stomach, folding his arms above his head. Grabbing a bottle of coconut oil from the table, you take off your shoes and raise your dress to your knees before crawling on the bed to sit on top of his butt.

His body jolts as you drip a generous amount of oil on his large back, his muscles flexing. His body is so magnificent you could easily imagine a greater force meticulously creating each detail of it. Aemond moans the moment your hands start to caress his lower back. Your first touches are gentle, tracing circles up and down with your fingertips, mapping where you can feel some knots. Your hands move from his sides, to his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck, pinching it slightly.

"Fuck," Aemond grunts, voice muffled by the mattress. "This feels nice."

You add more pressure, stroking his back up and down, and after a few minutes back to tracing firm circles, this time with the heel of your hand. The prince is unable to contain noises of pleasure. Laying one of your hands on top of the other, you start the process of pushing his spine, once again beginning down and going up. A few cracks are heard.

Then, you add gentle pressure with your thumbs on his knots, his grunts are now a little bit more uncomfortable, but it's necessary. After you are done, you softly knead his back up and down, and then start switching between circling and stroking.

Aemond's moans along with the feel of his skin start to alight a desire in you, your lower stomach tingling in a known and annoying manner, womanhood pulsating with each new sound. It doesn't help how your filthy encounters had been becoming less frequent, the prince growing too busy with the war, and often you would feel bothered and insatiable.

It's unconscious the way you start rubbing on him, trying to relieve the ache you feel, and you do not realize what you are doing until he grips your thigh, halting your tentative movements at once.

"Stop teasing." He warns.

You stammer, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not, I–"

Suddenly you are pinned down by the prince, your positions switched as you utter your confusion by the suddenness. You should've been used to his strength and fast reflexes by now. "Do you deem your behavior acceptable?"

You swallow, trying not to smile, and feign innocence. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes? You are unaware you were rubbing yourself on me like a bitch in heat?"

"I would never do that, my Prince."

"You would never…?" He chuckles, feeling amused.

"During my work? No." You shake your head in denial.

"So, if I touch your cunt right now, you would not be wet?" He cocks his head.

You bite your lips. "Not at all."

"Forgive me for not believing your words, but I shall need proof." Aemond's hand sneaks under your dress, fingers moving slowly from your shin to your thigh, his eye never leaving yours, daring.

You giggle when his finger parts your folds, rubbing the dampness between your legs. You buck your hips, in need of more friction.

"Liar." Aemond disregards with a click of his tongue, his pupil blown out as he circles your bud.

"Aemond." You gasp, eyes closing.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, I've been taking care of you so well..." You try to negotiate.

"But I deserve so much more attention, don't you agree?" He kisses and licks your collarbone, finger never faltering, teasing.

"More?" Your breath is labored, and your voice is weak. His hand leaves your heat.

"I have killed a whole other dragon. It is not frequently one can say it. Yes, I believe I am due special treatment." He faces you again.

"I see," You grin. "You want me to do all the work?" Your lips brush his. "Such an idle prince." You provoke.

"Watch your mouth," He warns, pecking you. "I am merely tired. It's been eventful."

"Conveniently for you, I am feeling generous today." Your hands trail his bare waist.

"You are?" He smirks, nose touching yours.

"Uh-huh, and very happy you are unscathed."

"Show me, then," Aemond kisses your jaw. "Just how grateful you are."

The kiss you share is lecherous, wet, and rushed. Aemond does not fight you as you flip your bodies over and climb onto his lap, an evident bulge in the thin trousers that contours all of his cock tantalizingly. Even the clothed friction makes you both shudder, and you gather all of your strength to not start instantly grinding on his shaft.

You pull his trousers down, and his manhood springs free. Big, thick, veiny. Dripping coconut oil on your hands, you rub them together. Aemond wets his lips in anticipation.

Your hand slides through his length with no difficulty with the help of the oil, and the smell of it is delicious. You start jerking him off, and the prince hums in satisfaction.

Aemond wasn't the most vocal in bed, you realized it soon into your affair, but with time you had discovered the exceptions, the things that would make him forget all about his inhibitions and scream in pleasure.

After stroking him for a while, you cup one of your hands, very slowly circling his tip with the palm of your oily hand, fingertips dragging up and down his length while you do so. Aemond breathes sharply, his stomach twitching.

"Seven hells, love." He mutters with a tight hold on the sheets due to his sensitivity. You smile.

You focus on your fingertips, running them up and down his shaft lightly. Aemond adored the delicacy of the movement, the gentle yet torturous pressure, promising and unforgiving, kind and cruel. Then you circle his head again, again, and again. Careful to not hurt him. Aemond grunts, his eyebrows pinching together and face completely flushed as he bites his lips harshly, trying to hold back his moans, but you know it won't last long.

"Stop, it 's too much." He whines, but the delighted sound that escapes his mouth tells you to do anything but, his body trembling.

"Aw," You coo mockingly. "We know you can take it, my Prince."

You add more oil to your hands, holding his length and rotating your wrist as your palm rubs over his tip and shaft over and over. He completely let go as he closes his eye, his grunts being replaced by enchanting high-pitched and broken moans. It's quite pathetic the sight of him, the mighty and fearsome prince so supple on your hands, forehead glistening with sweat and breath erratic. Anyone outside could hear him.

"My love, please." He begs in the middle of whimpers, all of his body hair stirred up.

"Please what, my dear?" You ask innocently.

Aemond squirms. "I need to come," He gasps. "Please, please, please."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

You change the movement, keeping it only on his sensitive head, your other hand squeezing his balls. His voice gets louder, face twisted in pleasure as a tear falls down his gorgeous face, violet iris shining bright. You can feel your cunt soaked and throbbing achingly with the view.

He comes in a silent scream, hips bucking as hot loads of his spend fall into your hand and his shaft. You spread some of it around his length, still jerking him off as you help him ride out of his peak, the prince's body spasming.

"That's it," You praise him. "Good boy."

Aemond's breath is heavy as you find his lips, and he struggles to follow your pace, but he tries anyway, messy and urging. "Now you are going to be even nicer and let me use your cock, won't you?" You whisper.

His eye is lidded as he stares at you and nods, and you cannot resist the urge to press two sticky fingers to his curved lips, Aemond opens his mouth with no resistance, licking your hand clean. He's so compliant, somehow still lost in the void between the extraordinary bliss and the present moment.

"Anything for you." He mutters.

You grin. "That is what I like to hear."

Even if not necessarily frequent, happening mostly when he was worn-out or glum, it was rather obvious how letting someone of your position have control over him in bed, one of the very few situations in which you could be so blunt and disrespectful to a high-born, aroused the prince more than he would ever admit, a time in which he could forget about his obligations and just be good to you.

It doesn't take long into your kissing until you can feel him growing hard again, hands eagerly grabbing the hem of your dark red dress and pulling it up around your waist.

"Stupid dress." He complains in between lustful kisses, struggling to get rid of the clothing.

You laugh and help him take it off, throwing your apron and the dress somewhere around his quarters. Aemond instantly latches onto your right breast once you are fully naked, tongue hot and wet twirling around your nipple, and making you shiver and mewl as he sucks it into his mouth as if he is starved, your hand pulling at his braided hair.

Too impatient and greedy, you push him back on the mattress, positioning his member on your wet and tight entrance before lowering yourself down on it. You both moan at the stretch. It is spellbinding the way he watches you on top of him, making you feel like the most desired person in existence, his hands on your hips tightly.

You feel so full and excited you could almost see stars, the position has always been one of your favorites, his cock being able to reach just the right spots in this way.

"Seven, you feel perfect inside me." You gasp, grinding back and forward, your lungs clenching with the sudden and powerful wave of pleasure, so strong it is maddening.

Aemond growls, his body jolting with the motion. "You are a fucking witch, woman."

"For knowing exactly how to deal with you? I might as well be." You grin viciously, your hands resting on his chest.

Your eyes close as you rock your hips slowly and sensually, strained moans already leaving your mouth, and your bud brushing over his pubic bone makes you tremble. It's doubtless the best sensation you have ever felt, his cock dragging against your walls marvelously.

"Fuck, you fit me so well," You say out of breath, fastening your grinding. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"

You lean over slightly, pressing yourself more to him as you begin to bounce on his cock restlessly, the sinful noises echoing in the chamber only increasing your pleasure.

Aemond whimpers, both by the change of the movement and your words. "Always good for you, my love." He repeats, choking out.

Aemond's hands come to grip your ass desperately, certainly to leave bruises later, but now it's nothing but motivating for you.

He suddenly sits you both up, mouth finding one of your breasts again, saliva coating it as he plays with your nipple with tongue and teeth with no care. The sensitivity makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Delightful yet torturous whimpers on your lips as you continue to ride him mercilessly.

Sweat covers almost all of your body, and you feel as if you were burning from the inside out, the prince not looking any different, his cheeks and nose terribly reddened. You don't even care about the slight throbbing of your legs getting tired, or for the man you were fucking anymore, simply focused on the building of that rapture that feels so close yet so far. Your hold on his shoulders is firm beyond pleasant, but you assume his mind is elsewhere, and not in how your nails are breaking his pale skin.

You needed this badly and you knew you wouldn't last long. The knot inside you tightens hazardously, and you furrow your eyebrows, your bouncing getting even more frenetic. However, as good as it feels, you are growing overwhelmed as you ache for a release that's taking too long to come, somewhat stuck in a sadic joy. You whine out of glee and anticipation, too fucking eager.

"Don't stop, love," Aemond says with a groan, letting go of your breast with a pop to give attention to the other, his sucking sloppy as you pull at his hair harshly. You moan.

Not even in a thousand years you would dare to. When the long-awaited white-hot pleasure slams your body, you feel like ascending to the seven heavens itself. It's astoundingly overpowering at first and then diminishes in ripples as your heart drums painfully inside your chest, cunt fluttering around his member.

Your breath is heavy as you slow down, shivering and a little weary. Aemond moans while watching you come on his cock, and fortunately, he seems disposed to help you as he lays down again, bringing your body flush against his. He seems very roused as he impales you with his cock from beneath, growling into your ears while his hands squeeze your ass possessively.

You whine due to overstimulation, his thrusts are relentless, and the squelching sounds more prominent with how much you soaked his cock not too long ago. You are unsure if you want him to finish already or just keep using your cunt as he wishes regardless of your comfort, and the sheer thought of it inflames you.

It's surprising how fast it comes back, that burning and expectation in your lower stomach, apparently even stronger now. All that was not him and his cock in your womanhood is long forgotten. Blood rushes hot in your veins, high-pitched mewls and low grunts blending.

"By the Seven, Aemond." You hide your face in the crook of his neck, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

"Can you give me another one?" Aemond pounds into you harder, the smell of the shea butter and coconut oil from earlier consuming you. "I want to give you another one, beauty. I want to make you feel exceptionally good, yes?"

You try to respond to him but you just babble, teeth biting into the conjecture of his neck and shoulder, painting it red and purple, too dumbfounded to think or to measure your strength. But it seems your bites only incite the silver-haired more, his shoves faster and his groans broken.

One of his hands circles your waist securely to lock you in place, no falter in his thrusts. The wave of elation that suddenly crashes down over you is potent, numbing all your senses for a few seconds, but you are certain you must be screaming as you squirm. Your legs shake tremendously and your eyelids feel heavier.

Your second peak and the clenching of your cunt send Aemond over the edge. He bucks his hips, stilling inside you as he comes with a prolonged and deep grunt, head tilted back and lips parted. You didn't know what good action guaranteed you the privilege to see such a beautiful thing. Getting off him as he tries to regain his breath, a good amount of his warm seed drips in between your thighs, walls spinning as you feel quite faint.

Your back hits the fluffy mattress, your heart pounding in your ears and black dots cover your vision, which is slightly blurry. Shutting your eyes, you could not say how much time has passed as you recompose yourself and wait for your skin to cool down, but when you do, you are shocked to see the prince already soundly asleep next to you, mouth hung open as exhaustion had finally caught up to him after the latest events and your passionate indulgence.

Chuckling, you roll to your side as you watch him, his expression for once serene and breath even. You trace your finger gently across his straight eyebrow while appreciating the details of his face. The concern comes back to torment you as you wonder what the future has reserved for him, but you try to brush it off. You could only pray for his safety.

You recall the first time you saw him sleeping, it was quite unnerving, only the sapphire shining brightly while his good eye rested, but now the gemstone staring back at you was not only usual but comforting, a unique and enchanting charm in your opinion.

After getting up, you grab a cloth to clean the two of you, and although with a drowsy complaint from him, you manage to tuck the one-eyed in warm sheets. You put on your servant robes again and organize the mess you could deal with at the moment, gathering his armor as quietly as you can to be cleaned later. Pecking his pinkish lips slowly, you exit his quarters, feeling completely satisfied.

TAGS: @godrakin @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

[fluffywolverine]

there's been a lot of talking about percy knowing too much about mythology, which results in scenes feeling underwhelming and lacking in tension. i've read people explaining that it's all thanks to sally who told his son all these stories in order to prepare him, and this is normal that he knows everything.

but it doesn't quite work like that.

i'm a mythology nerd since i learned how to read, and let me tell you, it's a lot to remember. i've read countless of books on myths, and i'm sometimes still surprised with a plot line, or a god, or a hero that i haven't heard of before. besides with that many names, it's easy to forget some of them, if you don't revise regularly.

i have 2 possible explainations to why percy knew about procrustes specifically, who is a niche character:

1) sally made sure that percy remembered anything connected to poseidon, just in case he needs some of that knowledge in the future,

2) it was annabeth or grover who figured it out and shared with the rest. and this isn't me saying percy is the dumb one, and annabeth or grover the smart one - what i mean is if more people have an extense knowledge on one topic, there is a bigger chance that they will remember lesser known details.

having said all that, i still believe the show lacks emotional buildup and payoff, and the writers could have done a better job in creating anticipation. they could give percy knowledge AND make scenes more appealing at the same time in a way, and i expect them to do better in (hopefully) next seasons

[thenexusofsouls]

Mantis thought Nuada was genuine, despite the nonsense he spoke. He didn’t hide the darkness in him, and there was something reassuring about it. In a weird way, she was more comfortable like that. Everyone saw the light in her, but very few knew the magnitude of her darkness, exacerbated by the experience of being inside the mind of Thanos. She felt empathy for Nuada. Her empathy didn’t stop at people she didn’t like.

When she passively gleaned his thoughts about where his people lived, her expression changed. Sadness was written on her face, and her antennae became droopy. Maybe he spoke nonsense, but he was distraught. Her hands fumbled with the flowers as he gave her his undivided attention. “What? It’s true. The galaxy’s big. It would be arrogant of me to say I have to offer this and this so take it. No. To be an empath is to understand. To adapt. To know that the likes of someone may be the dislikes of another and so on.” Mantis felt a cold, heavy sensation on her chest when Nuada suggested the good things she had to offer. Empathy. Empathy? Her powers, of course. But besides that? She was not someone who believed or didn’t believe things depending on whether they were things she wanted to hear or not. “Prince, you are insightful, but… you don’t know me.”

There was no small amount of irony in Nuada’s words about responsibility, considering the things he wanted to do, but it didn’t surprise her. Ego, Thanos, Nuada… They all had things in common, such as being self-obsessed enough to think that their vision of how things should be was the right one, that only they could remake, rebuild and rewrite things to fit what they deemed acceptable because only they knew better; everyone else was wrong. And despite this self-centered view, they hardly were self-aware. How could anyone make it all about themselves yet not see the fault, the flaw, the folly in their own logic? At least Ego was objectively above ethical discussion; he was a god, blessed - cursed? - with eternal life and power. He could play god because he was one. But Thanos? Nuada? Countless like them who wanted to pretend they were gods when they weren’t? What could possibly explain their behavior?

Mantis chewed on the petals of a flower as she listened to Nuada’s explanation of how the bark children knew the place. She swallowed hard when he said looks could be deceiving. “Very,” she agreed quietly - her mind recalling every detail on Ego’s planet: the palace with high ceilings and big gardens, where she would pretend to be an explorer as a child. The sky, orange and golden, announcing that the night was coming. The lakes full of flowers. It was a hell disguised as a paradise, idyllic, utopian. No one could possibly imagine what Ego was hiding in his caverns. And yet, despite the constant fear, Mantis did not complain. It was hard to think one could complain when one grew up in the most beautiful place in the galaxy.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when the bark children patted her leg. “Oh, hello.” She smiled, lowering herself down on one knee, holding the bouquet of flowers on her lap. They were adorable. Her head tilted to the side as they gave her something. As she saw the flower brooch, she gasped, her eyes welling up with warm tears, and she placed a hand over her mouth before letting it rest over her chest. “For me?” The item was delicately taken into her hands. It was lovely, and its turquoise color even matched some of the strands in her hair. Despite struggling to accept kind gestures, Mantis always tried her best to do so while interacting with children. “It’s so pretty! I like it very much. Thank you, sweet friends. Here,” she gave them the rest of the flowers she bought, before placing her palm on the ground, her antennae starting to glow. Soon, small buttercups grew in a circle around the bark children.

__________

“Is it arrogance to say that your opinions and intentions matter? I don’t think so,” Nuada suggested. “Because the universe is large and we are each just specks of dust within it does not mean we are not significant in our own ways. I think you do not attribute enough value to yourself, and if you do not value yourself, then how can you value others? There is a fine line between humility and simply not valuing yourself enough.” It was not a challenge to her ideas so much as it was just recreational psychological discourse. Nuada enjoyed such things immensely, but there were precious few around who could hold a conversation with him, at least to his standards and level of interest. Mantis, however, could.

At her insistence that he did not know her, he nodded respectfully. “You are right, I do not, just as you do not know me. Forgive me if I insulted you. I was merely enjoying our conversation. There are not many here who would dare argue with me, or challenge my way of thinking... and I find that a shame. But you are not afraid to do so. I was merely engaging you because of that.” He sipped his tea. “The mind is a muscle too, in a way. If it is not used, it forgets. I can train my body alone, but aside from reading books my mind will atrophy without proper conversation. As sweet as the children are, they speak only of food, fancy, and folly,” he said, but nevertheless he smiled at them affectionately. “And Mr. Wink is... somewhat primitive in his thoughts as well. Or he simply does not care for conversation, I have yet to discern which it is.”

He was very curious about Mantis. In all his years, he’d never met anyone who looked or acted as she did, and that intrigued him. Beyond that, Nuada wondered where it was she came from, what it looked like, and she lived. He might have pressed her more, but he had noticed that she seemed to be a very private being, not wanting to share too much about herself. For now, he was content just to have the company and the conversation, for however long it would last. Nuada actually found himself hoping it would be a long time before her friend was located, just so that he might spend more time with her.

The bark children were absolutely delighted by Mantis’ reaction to their gift. She was happy and she liked them, and that made their little days like nobody’s business. They smiled brightly as she looked over the brooch, nodding in confirmation that, yes, it was a gift for her. They had done a good thing, something nice for a nice person, and that made their innocent little hearts happy. As they chattered about the flowers she gave them, Mantis grew more all around them. Their tiny, beady eyes went as wide as they could. “Oooooooo!” they said in unison as they inspected the new flowers growing right out of the floor. Then they looked up at her in joyous wonder, clapping their tiny hands in praise. What a neat trick that was, and what lovely flowers!

Nuada’s head canted as he observed this. “Phytokinesis...” he said. “The ability to manipulate the bodies and energies of plants, and to call forth plant life at will,” he said, in case she knew of the ability, but not the word. “My people were once capable of such things. Not myself. My magic only enhances weaponry and my own body, I cannot influence plants. But there were some among us who could, centuries ago. The ability has been lost, because those capable of it are lost,” he said with restrained sadness. “It is beautiful to see it again.” It was nostalgic, almost. He could sense the energy from here and he loved it. “You are a most interesting person, Mantis.”

The children, for their part, had begun inspecting and sniffing the buttercups, chattering about how cute they were. Maybe they could make flower crowns with them!

[joonessence]

The moon // pjm

⤷part of the In the cards series

pairing: jimin x fem oc

summary: It’s never-ending, what Jimin feels for you is constant and boundless. But you don’t know, you’ve never known, and Jimin thinks that’s okay. Until you find out and think that it’s not.

rating: M (18+)

tags: friends to lovers au, smut in the forms of tit play, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, kinda sub jimin but not for long, very slight possessive jimin (squint to see it), unprotected sex, very slight praise kink, creampie, cum eating, i hate doing the tags y’all i think this is it

wc: 4k

notes: this is part of my tarot cards series so the banner below is the spread for this specific fic, kinda lets you know what to expect

Jimin can’t help but to watch you from across the room. His eyes follow your movements as you lightly shove Jungkook, teasing him about something Jimin isn’t following, deciding that his attention was better spent looking at you. This isn’t the first time Jimin has lost himself in observing you, in fact, it happens more often than he’d care to admit. At first, Jimin tried to control it, quickly averting his eyes when he realized he was staring just a little too hard. But soon, Jimin found it impossible to look away from you.

See, when Jimin first met you all those years ago, he realized quickly that he’d have trouble getting you off his mind. The way you made his heart beat too fast and his palms get all sweaty were sure signs that he had it bad for you. He figured it would go away soon because it was just a small crush, nothing to worry about. But for Jimin, it never did seem to go away. When he was with you, he just wanted to be closer to you, ensuring he always had the chair beside you to get a front row seat to your radiant smile. When he was away from you, all he did was think about you and your pretty laugh.

Yeah, Jimin’s got it really bad for you.

He thought about confessing to you countless times. Confessing that he ached to be beside you always, that no matter what he did he just couldn’t seem to get you out of his head. God, he wanted to tell you so bad. And he’d get close to it too, pulling you aside, saying he needed to tell you something important. Only, when the time came for him to speak, nothing would come out and he’d find himself scrambling to make something up on the spot.

Although he wishes you knew how he felt about you, Jimin thinks it’s okay that you don’t know. He’s happy to be in your life regardless. Even if he doesn’t get to be the one who takes you out and takes you home and takes your clothes off. God, Jimin wants to take your clothes off.

“Isn’t that right, Jimin?” Your voice directed towards him pulls Jimin out of his thoughts that are quickly turning obscene. “I mean, you know Jungkook pretty well. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You’re looking at him with your eyes wide, waiting for him to agree with you. You’re wearing such a simple outfit but Jimin thinks you look so pretty like this, loose dark green t-shirt half tucked into your jeans and your baby hairs framing your face. Jimin flushes at your prolonged attention on him.

“S-sorry, I wasn’t really listening,” Jimin stammers, partly because he was still unsure of what you were asking him and partly because you just make him nervous.

Jimin’s heart pounds in his chest when you narrow your eyes at him like you’re suspicious of his answer. Just as you open your mouth, Jungkook interrupts, taking your attention off of Jimin. He sighs out a shaky breath. That was a close one, Jimin can’t let you catch him staring like that again.

You and Jungkook continue your playful bickering about God knows what. Jimin doesn’t care enough to start listening, probably wouldn’t even be able to hear the two of you over the sound of his own heart beating so loudly. Sighing, he gets up and steps out onto the balcony for some much needed air.

Hearing his distressed sigh, you and Jungkook’s eyes follow Jimin as he walks away, running his hand through his hair as he goes. You turn to Jungkook with a confused face, silently asking if he knew what was wrong.

“Ah, I don’t know, just ignore him,” Jungkook says, not looking you in the eye.

Jungkook’s a terrible, horrible liar, always has been; you see right through it.

“What is it, Jungkook? Is he upset with me?” You question.

Jungkook scoffs, only making you more confused. You motion for him to continue.

“Jimin likes you,” Jungkook says as if it’s common knowledge and then pauses. “A lot.”

You think your heart stops for a second, before you come to your senses and punch Jungkook in the arm for joking around when you’re not.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jungkook pouts and rubs his arm trying to alleviate the pain.

“Jungkook, seriously. Stop kidding. What’s wrong with him these days?”

“I just told you! He likes you!”

Jimin likes you? Since when? There’s no way, you of all people wouldn’t have figured that out if it was true. But, the thought of it makes your cheeks burn. You always saw Jimin like an angel, something beautiful that you could never be with. It was why you never said anything, figured you’d spare yourself the heartache because nothing but embarrassment would come out of it anyway.

Just then, Jimin walks back in, immediately turning into his and Jungkook’s shared kitchen. You stare at Jungkook with your eyes wide, hoping he might explain more of the details.

“You know what’s wrong now,” Jungkook leans closer to you so Jimin doesn’t hear and whisper-yells. “He’s like head over heels for you, he doesn’t shut up about you!”

“He’s never said anything to me! How can I know for sure?” You whisper-yell back.

“Oh, trust me, you should hear him when he—” Jungkook shuts up when Jimin walks around the corner, headed down the hallway to his room. Jungkook gives you a ‘say something!!’ look and for some reason you listen to him.

“Jimin!” You call out after him, still trying to figure out what to say next.

He turns to you, “Yeah? What’s up?”

Your brain races to find something to say, but comes up short.

“Uh—,” You start, just to fill the space.

“She wanted to know if you’d come over tonight! Right?” Jungkook fills in and turns to you, nodding his head slightly so that you’d get the hint.

“R-right!” You nod your head rapidly.

“She asked me too but I have plans tonight. But you should go!” Jungkook sounds just as nervous as you feel. Terrible, horrible liar.

Jimin looks at you, slightly unsure at the way you and Jungkook are acting but then you send him this smile. This smile, that makes Jimin remember all that is good and pure in this world and he’s sold on your offer.

“Sure, when should I come over?”

“Umm, around 5?” You say, then remember the mess that is your one bedroom apartment. “Actually, how’s 6?”

“6 is good, I’ll see you then,” Jimin smiles at you sweetly before turning to make his way to his room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Jimin’s coming over. He likes you and he’s coming over. Once you hear the door to Jimin’s bedroom click shut, you turn to Jungkook frantically.

“What should I do?” You ask, panic evident in your voice.

“What do you mean ‘what should you do?’” Jungkook obviously doesn’t understand your current dilemma.

You groan at his obliviousness, “I mean, how should I act? Now that I know he likes me?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts, turning to face you fully. “You like him back don’t you?”

Your cheeks burn and you nod slowly. You’ve never told anyone about your feelings for Jimin, out of fear that he’d find out.

“Okay, good. Your next step is obvious. Seduce him.”

You choke on nothing at his suggestion, you want to punch him in the face for even saying that. “Jungkook, are you crazy? How would I even know what to do?” Your hands come up to your temples, rubbing to try and soothe the imminent headache coming your way.

“Jimin is so desperate for you, do anything,” Jungkook reassures you. “Just make a move on him, I’m tired of hearing him in the shower every night.”

Your eyes widen, “Wait wha—”

“I’m not explaining, now go clean your place before Jimin sees how messy you really are,” Jungkook stands, straightening his shirt. “And good luck! Don’t bring Jimin back till well past 11:30, okay?”

“I hate you,” You groan, standing up too to grab your things before saying goodbye and calling out “I’ll see you later!” to Jimin.

Hearing the front door shut, Jimin scrambles into Jungkook’s room where he finds him laying down.

“Oh my god, what now?” Jungkook opens one eye to look at Jimin.

“I can’t go, I won’t be able to control myself,” The words fall out of Jimin’s mouth so quickly Jungkook struggles to catch them.

“Relax. It’s gonna be fine,” Jungkook sits up, motioning for Jimin to sit down beside him.

“How can you be so sure?” Jimin’s voice wavers, he’s so nervous.

“Just trust me, hyung,” Jungkook rubs Jimin’s shoulder, comforting him as much as he could.

“Okay,” The crease in Jimin’s brow has eased a bit. “I guess I’ll go get ready.”

Jimin spends his time picking out his outfit and hating it, then picking out a different one and hating that one too. He messes with his hair, trying to figure out what would look best. Jimin can’t seem to decide on anything. All the while, he’s trying to figure out what he should talk to you about, if he should show up with a gift, maybe flowers? Jimin pops into Jungkook’s room every so often, asking him every question that comes to mind and Jungkook tells him over and over again that he’s overthinking it. Jimin knows he’s probably right; he just can’t calm down when it comes to you.

Being good friends with him and his friends, Jimin saw you quite frequently. He loved seeing you, hearing you laugh at stupid jokes that were being said. And as much as he loved seeing you, most of the time, Jimin tried not to be alone with you. You get Jimin all flustered, make his hands get clammy, he can barely get out complete sentences when it’s just you and him.

Jimin sends you an “i’m here” text when he parks his car and you come down to meet him. He sucks in a breath when he sees you wearing a light yellow dress that hits your mid-thigh.

“Hi, Jimin,” You rock back on your heels, waiting for him to answer.

“H-hey, thanks for inviting me.” Is Jimin still breathing, it doesn’t feel like he’s still breathing.

You wave your hand at his thanks, “Come on.”

You grab his arm and lead him to the elevator, pushing the button to the fourth floor. Jimin’s still unsure if he’s breathing or not, but he has to say it.

“You look nice.” Your smile at his compliment practically blinds Jimin. “P-pretty.”

Your cheeks flame. Yeah, you dressed hoping he would like it but that didn’t mean you were expecting to hear him say it.

“T-thanks,” You bite your cheek and look down, praying Jimin doesn’t see just how red you’ve become.

The rest of the ride up is silent, save for Jimin tapping his fingers on the railing, trying to ease his nerves. You don’t have to lead Jimin to your apartment, he knows which one it is, having visited with Jungkook plenty of times. You fumble with your keys, hands shaking slightly at the idea of you and Jimin being alone.

“I got us some snacks,” You say as you open the door and direct him to the small coffee table that has bags of chocolate and candies and chips piled up.

“That’s… a lot of snacks,” Jimin turns to you and laughs softly.

“I wasn’t sure what to get, okay?” You mumble and turn to close the door (and to hide your, once again, flushed cheeks).

Jimin’s made his way to your living room, sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa. Taking a deep breath, you sit beside him reaching for the tv remote and handing it to Jimin.

Jimin doesn’t even remember what movie he picked. He keeps his eyes glued to the tv even though doesn’t like the movie because it’s better than losing himself in the way your crossed legs look in that dress. Doesn’t even want to think about how smooth your thighs would feel under his palms. Jimin is a weak, weak man, especially when it comes to you.

45 minutes into the movie Jimin picked you’re so uninterested in the movie you could die. You look over to Jimin, his eyes are unwavering from the tv, his hand stuck in the air with a chip in it, too busy to bring it up to his mouth. Even in his focused state he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, lips puckered in confusion and his brows furrowed. You want to roll your eyes at him for not taking the perfect opportunity to say something to you. Leave it to yourself to make anything happen.

You slowly slide your hand across the short distance to his knee. You place it there lightly, feeling Jimin tense slightly underneath. His attention is now on your small hand, you can hear him gulp.

“Jimin,” you purr from beside him, squeezing his knee making him jolt. “Jungkook told me something today.”

Jimin gulps again, heart creating earthquakes inside his body. “W-what did he say?”

You turn your body towards him, sitting on your knees and sliding your hand just an inch higher. Jimin can’t make eye contact with you.

“Well, he told me something about you,”

Jimin’s breathing is shallow now, chest moving up and down quickly. You’re looking down at him with this look that makes him feel like he’s going to explode and Jimin thinks he probably will soon. Then you throw a leg over his lap, making yourself comfortable on his thighs and Jimin knows he’s going to combust.

“O-oh? W-what would that be?” He tries, really tries to sound cool, unaffected by your practically bare legs around him but fails.

Your clothed core against Jimin’s thigh provides instant relief to the pressure that had built up. You slide your hands up his toned chest, slinging your arms around his neck. Jimin flushes at your sudden closeness. He tries so hard not to ogle the way your tits squish together but the neckline of your dress is so low and Jimin can’t help it.

“Oh, come on, Jimin! I know you like me, know you wanna fuck me,” You say exasperatedly. “Jungkook told me!”

“He told you that?” Jimin looks horrified at Jungkook’s breach of trust.

“Well don’t you?” You cock your head to the side, baffled as to why he hasn’t pushed the skirt of your dress up to your waist by now.

Jimin carefully brings his hands to rest on your hips, still wary of the situation. Under his touch, your body feels like it’s on fire. You can feel your panties sticking to your soaking pussy. You move up Jimin’s thighs, your chest almost touching his.

“Don’t you, Jimin?” You repeat your question softly. “Just say it; I know you do.”

“F-fine. I like you,” Jimin blushes fiercely, mumbling under his breath. “Wanna fuck you. Can’t believe he told you.”

Your heart does twirls at Jimin’s confession. You duck your head down, trying to catch his eyes but he looks away.

“Jimin,” His name comes out so softly. “I like you too, you know.”

Jimin’s head shoots up, his eyes are wide and starting to water a bit. He’s wanted to hear you say those words for so long that maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. He couldn’t have heard you correctly, could he?

“R-really?” He asks so quietly, as if he says it any louder you might change your mind.

“Really,” You confirm, brushing your thumb against his soft cheek.

“Oh,” Jimin looks flustered now. “I didn’t know.”

“And now that you do?” You’re so close to begging him to just do something.

With his heart leaping, Jimin inches his face closer to yours. Jimin’s longed to know how your lips would feel for so long, they always look just so soft. He wants to know if they’re as soft as they look. His eyes flicker down to them, just in time to catch your tongue poking out to wet them. The sight makes Jimin surge forward, planting his lips on yours.

Jimin’s lips feel just like you imagined, plush and velvety against yours. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, tilting your head to the side. You want to savor your first kiss with him, really you do, but it seems your hips have a mind of their own when they move against the growing tent in Jimin’s pants. You can’t contain the whine that tumbles out of your mouth, much like Jimin can’t control the groan he lets out.

“Jimin,” It comes out muffled against his lips.

Jimin doesn’t dare to take his lips off yours, only letting out a low “hm?” in response.

It takes all your strength to pull away from him, but you're desperate to feel him touch you.

“Do you wanna take my dress off?” You ask, already pushing a strap down.

Jimin’s hand doesn’t move fast enough to push down the other strap making the dress fall slightly. He groans at the sight of the tops of your breast being exposed. His hands pull down the neckline of your dress, nipples pebbling as they are exposed to the cold air. His hands come up to cup them softly, just pressing the pads of his fingers into the flesh.

“Jimin,” You whine. “Do something.”

Leaning forward, Jimin licks a circle around your nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and index finger. The cry you let out is lewd and it’s music to Jimin’s ears. His tongue rubs over your nipple before he latches on it, sucking roughly. Your fingers tangle in the strands of Jimin’s hair, pushing him as close to you as possible.

“God, I love your tits,” Jimin confesses before moving to the other nipple.

You let out a pathetic moan, pushing your crotch down on Jimin’s, craving any kind of relief. Jimin moans around your nipple, sending vibrations throughout your body. He removes his mouth from you, leaning back and kneading your breasts with both hands. You flush under his intense gaze, hips still rocking back and forth.

“Can I taste you?” The  obscenity of what he says and the politeness of Jimin’s voice don’t match up sending shivers down your spine.

“Y-yeah, please.”

You let Jimin guide you to the floor, placing a pillow under your head and another under your hips. He pulls the dress down your legs, setting it to the side with care. You giggle at that, it’s so Jimin, and he sends you a small smile. Between your legs, Jimin runs his palms up and down your thigh (they’re just as soft as he thought they would be). Leaning down, he kisses up your thigh to the band of your panties, placing soft kisses there too. Your body buzzes under Jimin’s lips.

“Gonna take this off,” Jimin murmurs against your skin.

He rolls them your legs, placing them aside, using the same care he did with the dress. You’d giggle again but the way Jimin’s taking in the sight of your dripping pussy clenching around nothing makes the giggle get caught in your throat.

“So pretty,” Jimin sounds in awe as he traces the puffy lips of your cunt.

His praise makes your face flush. His fingers trace lightly around you before he pushes forward and leaves a wet kiss on your fluttering clit.

“J-Jimin,” You gasp at the feeling of his tongue, taking short quick flicks against you.

He travels down to your clenching hole, licking a thick stripe all the way up to your clit, sucking harshly.

You sob loudly, closing your legs around Jimin’s head. His arms wrap around your thighs to keep them open.

“You taste so good,” Jimin divulges before continuing his attack on your clit.

His fingers probe lightly against your drenched core, dipping them in lightly before taking them out again. You push your hips down on his face, greedy for more of him. You can feel him smirk against you at your urgency. He pushes two fingers in slowly, waiting until you’ve gotten used to the stretch before pulling them out and shoving them back in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, calling out Jimin’s name.

“So wet for me, all for me,” Jimin says it like he can’t believe it.

His fingers scissor inside you, curling when he hears you moan loudly, his tongue still assaulting your clit. He can feel you tightening around him, your walls fluttering.

“Jimin,” You call out warningly. “I-I’m so close.”

“That’s good, baby,” He says proudly, speeding up the pace of his fingers.

“N-no, wanna cum around you,” It comes out of your mouth brokenly.

Jimin groans against your clit, sending another wail out of your mouth. You whine when he pulls his fingers out even though it was your doing. Jimin quickly rids himself of his jeans, the tightness of them was starting to get painful. He situates himself between your legs again, grabbing his cock and pumping it a few times before rubbing the tip against your folds.

“Jimin,” You plead, impatient to feel Jimin stretch you. “Please.”

Jimin pushes in slowly, letting out a whine when he can feel you stretch around him. You cling to his shoulders, making crescent marks with your fingernails.

“Y-you feel fucking amazing,” Jimin pants. “Holy shit.”

You moan loudly as Jimin starts driving his cock further inside you. Jimin’s lips find your neck, leaving wet kisses down the base.

“Feels so good, Jimin.”

Your hands tangle in his hair again, pulling at the roots causing Jimin to moan.

“Been waiting forever to fucking do this,” Jimin says between thrusts. “Don’t ever wanna fucking stop.”

“T-then don’t.”

Jimin’s rhythm speeds up, thrusting in and out of you roughly. With one hand beside your head steadying him, he reaches his other hand down to your clit, rubbing in circles with two fingers. The obscene squelching sound of your pussy and you and Jimin’s moan bounce off the walls.

“J-Jimin, I’m close, so f-fucking close,” You sob loudly, tears welling in your eyes.

“Kiss,” You reach out for Jimin, trying to pull him down to you. “Kiss me, please.”

Jimin obliges happily, smashing his swollen lips on yours. Your pussy clenches around him before your release gushes out. You see stars as your legs shake around him.

“Good girl, my good girl,” Jimin praises, still thrusting inside you, chasing his own release.

As you come down from your orgasm, Jimin’s trusts become sporadic, signalling to you that he’s close too.

“Cum inside, please.”

Jimin looks at you like he’s never heard something more pleasing. You watch his face crumple in bliss as he releases inside you, covering your walls in white.

Chest heaving, Jimin slumps forward, careful not to put all his weight on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You’re both sweaty and it might have felt gross to Jimin if this was someone else, but this was you and Jimin has loved you for so long.

When he catches his breath, he moves down your body to look at you. Jimin never wants to forget the way your pussy looks when his cum is dripping out of it. You whine at the sensitivity when he swipes his tongue against you, collecting your mixed arousal. He leans back up to kiss you, letting you taste him and yourself on his tongue. And that might have felt gross to you if this was someone else, but this was Jimin and you have loved for so long.

Jimin pulls away with a satisfied smile, laying down beside you.

“So, what did Jungkook tell you?”

You turn to him with a smirk on your face, “Told me you think about me in the shower.”

Jimin’s face turns redder than you’ve ever seen it.

“I’m gonna kill him, seriously.”

“Really?” You tease, tracing your finger on Jimin’s chest. “I think we should thank him.”

“You’re right,” Jimin concedes. “I’m gonna thank him and then kill him.”

[luffles424]

Lucidity (9)

☼ Pairing: BTS x reader (this chap is Namjoon x reader)

☼ Genre: vampire!BTS, succubus!reader, smut, fluff, angst

☼ Count: 6.3K

☼ Warnings: 18+, teasing, biting, minorish blood play (it’s a vampire fic so like, there’s some feeding), some dom/sub themes, unprotected, light choking, creampie, referenced kidnapping, captivity, implied attacks, minor character death (nothing in detail)

☼ Summary: You’ve spent years jumping from country to country, starting countless new lives. Crafting new lives is as easy as breathing for you, lies flowing easily and people are charmed with a simple bat of your eyes. When you meet a witch who offers the idea of opening a supernatural club, using your powers combined with hers to ensure safety to those who enter, you decide to join her in an adventure that is entirely new to you. But your new life in Seoul is drastically changed when you’re forced to face something you’ve spent centuries hiding from. But just because you might be running for your life again doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun along the way, right?

☼ a/n: Surprise~~ The truth is finally here! Hope you enjoy and that it was worth the wait! While the truth is out, there’s still a long way for everyone to go! And be sure to heed the warnings! This chapter is pretty heavy. My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

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You groan, stretching out on the silky bedding. The room is warm, summer light casting rays across the room where someone left the window cracked to keep you cool. You pause and listen for a moment, but there’s no sound of movement around the house signifying anyone else is home. Namjoon and Jaeho must have gone to the village for a while. 

You kick your leg out from beneath the sheet that covers you, hoping to cool yourself just slightly from the heat that settles over you. You sort of wish one of them was home right now, just for some company. You all had been working so much lately that you hadn’t seen much of them other than occasional meals. You can’t even remember the last time the three of you fell into bed together at night and woke up together. You’ve all been so busy lately. 

Sighing, you stretch out again and breath in deep to catch their scents. At least you have a small piece of them. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to repay Jaeho for all that he’s done for you. You’ll spend the rest of your life repaying him for the chance he took on you. You had been forcibly turned and abandoned with no knowledge of what you suddenly were. Your memories of the specific encounter have always been hazy. You just remember coming to and having the sudden, insatiable craving for sex. 

Jaeho took you in months after you were turned, when you were aimlessly roaming and feeding. There had been no rhyme or reason to what you did, you simply functioned off instinct, moving around through a confused, lustful haze. You don’t even know if you had killed anyone. At the time, you simply didn’t care. The changes had muddled your mind so much that you lost yourself for a while. Jaeho had found you in an alley about to drain someone completely. 

He taught you control, and in all honestly probably kept you from getting yourself killed too. You weren’t exactly subtle in your feeding, you at least knew that much. Sometimes, when you traveled with him later, you’d hear rumors from years ago. Of a woman or attacks or strange instances that sound eerily like you and your actions. It really would’ve only been a matter of time before someone caught wind, connected them, and hunted you down. He had done the same for Namjoon, you found out later. He’d been turned, either on accident or maliciously, and abandoned. Namjoon had held out for weeks, hunger slowly growing as he struggled against his new instincts to hurt those around him. Jaeho found him on the edge of going feral and helped him.

When they’d found you, they brought you back to the modest place the two had been staying at and you all had talked. He explained what they were, how he’d been around for a few centuries, the few years Namjoon had now been with him. He extended the same offer to you, to stay and learn control with others who knew the struggle of a never ending thirst. He knew some about your kind, enough to teach you about yourself and how to handle your new powers. It had been the first time you’d heard what you were, succubus. 

You would’ve assumed that once your powers were well and truly under control that the three of you would go your separate ways. Or at least that Jaeho would send you on your way, confident that you wouldn’t leave a trail of bodies behind you anymore. That maybe Jaeho only saw you as someone to help out before letting you go to feel better about himself. But a couple decades later and you’re still all together, closer than ever. The relationship developed slowly over the years. All three of you danced a little awkwardly around each other. Products of a time where monogamy was most well known and the concept of three people together and happy seemed so foreign to you all. 

One balmy night in Paris, when you’d come back from work, you found the two of them sprawled in just their underwear. All the windows were thrown open and a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains, casting shifting patterns of moonlight across their skin. And it struck you like a bolt of lightning in that moment, heart warmed by the sight that welcomed home. The sight that you were always so excited to come home to. A sight that you realized that you wanted to come home to forever.

“I love you.”

You had blurted it out. You don’t know if you had startled yourself more with the sudden admission or them. They both stared at you with wide eyes before exchanging a quick glance. Jaeho had tentatively, and nervously, something you had never seen from him before, asked who you were talking to. You would have thought it would’ve been hard to answer. Which one did you mean. But it was the easiest thing in the world to say as you looked from Jaeho to Namjoon and said ‘both.’

Their faces had remained nerve-wrackingly blank for long moments. Before Jaeho broke out into a wide relieved smile. 

“Oh thank god. I thought I would have to be the one to bring it up first.”

Namjoon’s shock and confusion lasted a little longer. First directed at you then towards Jaeho’s admission. Even without Namjoon’s answer, you felt giddy and excited. Both of you turned expectantly towards Namjoon, who seemed to flounder under the sudden attention. 

Jaeho was quick to intercede. “It’s okay if you need time or don’t feel the same, Joonie.”

Namjoon blinked a few times before quickly shaking his head. “No, I- I’m just surprised. I promise. This is… amazing.”

His soft confession was enough to finally propel you forward, tugging him up and into a feverish kiss. One that Jaeho interrupted to steal a searing kiss of his own before planting the same on Namjoon. After, the three of you had fallen into bed together and haven’t separated since, with exception of occasional trips. But those never last long for any of you. You always end up missing the others too much to stay away for long. And for all the fun there is in the world, there’s nothing better than being in their arms. 

Maybe you should suggest a small vacation soon, you’re fairly certain there’s some anniversary coming up. And your small little plot of farmland will survive a few days without the three of you around. Long enough for a quick trip somewhere. You wish you could go back to Paris. But that would take too long to travel. It’d have to be somewhere a little closer. 

The rustling of grass filters in through the window, signaling someone’s approach. You think about getting up to greet them, but decide that you’d rather try to get them to join you in bed. You’ve missed them too much to let the opportunity to get to be close with them for a little while go. The door is opened and closed and you can hear them shuffling around beyond the partition. The movements are too soft to pick out who it is, but after a moment, Namjoon’s warm scent spreads through the house.

“Joonie…” you croon. 

There’s a pause and then a chuckle and the footsteps come closer. “Is there a particular reason you are still in bed and naked, love?”

You reach a hand out towards him. “In the hope that one of my beautiful men will decide to join me again. I miss you both.”

A smile tugs at his lips, cheeks dimpling. He tugs his hair free of it’s tie, silky strands falling to his shoulders as he gives them a quick ruffle. You know you’ve already won with that action, even if he’ll pretend to think about it. He’s not going to leave until you’re happy and satisfied. “Is that so?” 

The ties of his belt are undone and he lets his top fall open. Your eyes trace over the newly revealed skin, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His skin is more tan than you last remember, leaving him practically glowing golden in the sunlight.

“Have you been working outside without a shirt lately?” you murmur. 

He hums, shrugging the shirt from his shoulders and letting it pool on the ground at his feet. “There is a lot of work to do around here.”

“Are you saying I don’t do any work around here?”

He chuckles. “I think you do the most work, love.”

He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, tugging them down his legs and leaving him bare before you. You hungrily drink him in. Now that he’s able to stay out in the sunlight longer, his skin is finally starting to return to the golden of when you met, losing some of the paleness that came from his new sensitivity to sunlight. The years spent tending the fields around your little home has left him built, so much so that you're positive that even without the vampire strength that he’d be able to lift you easily. The idea makes you squirm.

Beckoning him once more, you slide the thin sheet from your body, shameless in your nudity before him. His gaze flickers across the expanse of your form before taking a step closer and stretching out beside you. Propping his head up on a hand, he uses his free hand to trace idle patterns along the soft skin of your stomach. His cool touch leaves goosebumps in their wake. 

“Well, love, now that you have me back in bed, what are your grand plans?”

Shifting onto your side, you press yourself closer until you’re pressed against him, finger tips ghosting up his arm. “I’m certain we can think of something to occupy ourselves with, Joonie.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm enough that you want to do nothing more than bask in it forever. His hand cups your cheek gently and you lean into the touch a moment before turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his palm. “You’re insatiable,” he murmurs, trying to sound like he’s reprimanding but his tone oozes nothing but fondness. 

Humming, you thread your fingers through his hair. “You don’t seem to particularly mind, though.”

“Brat,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips to yours. 

You smirk into the kiss though it’s short lived as Namjoon’s hand slides off your cheek to grip the back of your neck possessively, guiding you into a deeper kiss. Moaning when he nips your lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth, you feel your pussy clench at the sting and let your hands drift from his chest down to his half hard cock where it presses to your thigh. You wrap your hand around the already hefty girth even when he’s only half hard and you get a grunt in response. Giving him a few slow pumps, you revel in the feeling of him firming up in your grip, the physical proof of the effect you have on him. Decades later and you still love the feel of them hardening with just a few strokes. 

You could do that with anyone, but there’s something special about Namjoon and Jaeho. The bond you all share makes moments like these so much more than just sex or feeding. There’s a delight in the fact that time has left them just as in love with you as you still are with them. Love so deeply rooted that you don’t think it could ever be removed. 

Namjoon’s lips reverently trail along your jaw. “You’re in your head. All that work to get me here and you’re just going to imagine something else?” His tone is lighthearted and teasing as he ends his question with a nip to your neck. 

“There exists nothing I’d rather imagine than to be here with you. And oh,” you grin, looking pointedly to where you’re pressed together, “will you look at that. I’m right here with you.”

“I know someone who would perhaps have an objection to that.”

Leaning in, you steal a quick kiss. “It’s what he gets for leaving the bed.”

Namjoon chases your lips when you go to pull away. “Someone should do some real work around here.” 

He continues pressing forward once your lips reconnect, forcing you onto your back and he shifts to pin you to the bed with his hips, hard cock pressing delightfully against you. Grinding your hips up into his, you let your legs wrap around his waist to keep him close. His cock slides through your wet folds, creating the perfect rub of friction to your clit that makes your toes curl. 

“Joonie…” you whine as his lips trail down to your neck. 

“I don’t know if you’ve earned anything yet, love,” he coos, fangs grazing across your skin, a shock of adrenaline racing through you at the teasing promise of being bitten.

They’ve fed from you countless times, but time does nothing to lessen the excitement that comes from the promise of the pleasure that will course through your veins as they feed from you. The first time either of them had fed from you, Jaeho had you sat on Namjoon’s cock. And you had cum almost the second Jaeho’s fangs pierced the skin of your neck. The euphoria that flooded your body had been almost overwhelming and when you had come back to yourself, Namjoon had been squirming beneath you, whining to Jaeho about how tightly your pussy can clamped around him while Jaeho had fed. Jaeho had merely laughed before lifting you easily and helping you ride Namjoon until he came as well. Not that it took long after the way your pussy had been convulsing around him. Now you’ve grown a little addicted to the feeling of being fed from by them, especially when all three of you are together. 

Thrusting lazily against you, Namjoon pulls you back to the present, giving you only just enough pressure to your clit to leave you aching for more, squirming as much as you can with your hips pinned down by his. His teeth nip at your skin, the sting sending a jolt through your body, dragging a whine from your throat. 

“Please…”

Namjoon makes a thoughtful noise, though he seems far more preoccupied with your neck to truly be thinking about your pleas. You wonder when he last fed. It’s been a while since he’s fed from you, so you know that he must have gone out to feed from a human. But with the way all your schedules have been lately, you don’t know exactly when that was. The way he’s interested in your neck though says that it’s maybe been a while since he’s fed. Or, you think with a small thrill, maybe he has just missed feeding from you.  

You know you could easily overpower him. While in normal circumstances his strength far outweighs yours, this is your domain. And the lust slowly clouding the room means that it would be nothing to flip you both and simply take what you want. Something that he most certainly knows after being with you for so long. 

But there’s something to the surrender, the implicit trust you put in him. In each other. Namjoon lifts his head and his eyes shine with happiness. Ducking down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips. Then he presses a second kiss, far more urgent and needy. It consumes you as he grinds against you, thick cock rubbing perfectly against your aching clit.

You whine against his lips, drawing a deep chuckle from him. “Tell me what you want, love,” he murmurs.

You nip at his bottom lip with a small grin. “Just you.”

Fingers digging into your hips, he adjusts you slightly so his cock just presses against your entrance. “Who would’ve thought that the sex demon would be so soft, hm?”

Before you can retort, he pulls you in, cock sinking deliciously into you. You moan as he presses in fully to the hilt, letting you sit there full of him until you start squirming, wanting him to move.

He chuckles again. “So needy, love.”

His hips draw away, until just the tip remains before he thrusts back in. The force jostles you up the bed, pulling a gasp from you and he sets a slow, almost lazy rhythm. You sink into the feeling, reveling in the drag of his cock against your walls. There’s a level of care and calculation to his movements and anticipation builds in you as you wait for his next move, pleasure slowly building in your belly. His fangs drag teasingly against the thin skin of your pulse point and your pulse races at the promise of a bite. 

Teeth digging in gently, nowhere near hard enough to pierce your skin, you whine, trying to push up into the easy pressure against your throat. Namjoon’s hand finds your throat, fingers fitting right under your jaw and forcing your head back and fully exposing your throat to him. The hint of danger sends a thrill through your body and your pussy clenches around his cock. 

His tongue traces the path of your racing pulse until his lips bump his fingers. “So, so needy. And yet, you won’t just ask for what you want.” He tuts, plush lips pressing to your jaw above his fingers. “Tell me what you want or you won’t get it.”

You huff and his hand tightens marginally around your throat, cutting your theatrics off immediately. “Want you to feed. Haven’t had it in so long…”

His smile presses to your neck. “Only you would miss having a vampire drink from you, love.”

A breathy laugh leaves you. “Cause I know how good it feels. It’s so good.”

He hums, tongue laving over your pulse for a moment before his fangs are sinking into your flesh. There’s a split second of pain, twin points of burning that is washed away by euphoria as the venom sinks into your veins. Your limbs tingle and every place that his hands touch feels electric. Drinking deeply, his hips stutter to a stop, leaving you impaled on his cock as he feeds. 

In your distracted state, you don’t notice his fingers moving until they find your clit, circling the bundle with practiced ease. Pleasure burns through you, bright and hot as his fingers move and your hips move in an attempt to get more sensation, to get him to fuck you hard and fast and add even more pleasure for the greedy, hungry pit of lust growing within you. 

He pulls away slightly, dark eyes staring at the bite before he’s diving back down to lick up the blood that oozes from the wounds. His hips twitch and you know that’s he’s just barely holding onto his restraint. You sink your fingers into his soft hair, tugging the long strands and pulling a growl from deep in his chest. 

“Fuck me. Joonie, please…”

Everything freezes for a moment and then Namjoon jerks into motion, thrusts picking up pace rapidly, almost frenzied as his lips find yours for a messy, uncoordinated kiss. He fucks you hard and fast, desperate in a way you both need. You’ve missed them both so much. 

Pleasure builds quickly in your belly and you let it crest with a sigh. Shuddering, your pussy clenches around his cock as you cum, venom heighting all sensation to the point that you feel high. Namjoon’s hips stutter slightly from the sudden clench. A handful of thrusts later, just as you start to tip into oversensitivity, he cums with a groan, leaving you sated and full.

His forehead rests against your shoulder for a moment before he pulls out and flops down beside you, pulling you close to cuddle. 

“Love you…” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin.

Letting your fingers comb through his hair, you hum with happiness. There’s nowhere you’d rather be. “Love you too.”

Namjoon can hear the pacing before he even enters the house. Opening the door reveals the same thing he’s come home to for the past three days, Jaeho pacing around the small common space, completely lost in thought. He wonders if Jaeho even attended to his chores today, or if he’s been here since this morning when Namjoon left. He had at least managed to get Jaeho to sleep a little, if a little fitfully. Being wrapped up in Namjoon’s arms had seemed to help at least a little bit. 

“Jae,” he calls softly.

There’s no response initially, Jaeho looking up a handful of seconds after Namjoon has said his name, like there’s a delay in processing what’s happening around him. Worry creases his face and Namjoon steps forward to wrap his arms around the other. 

“She’ll be back. You know she always comes back,” he murmurs soothingly. He’s said it more times than he can count in the last three days. Namjoon doesn’t want to think about how he’s saying it as much to reassure Jaeho as he is to reassure himself.

The conversation the two of you had before he returned to work two weeks ago plays on a never ending loop. Wondering if there’s some hidden meaning or clue that he missed. He’d asked what your plans were for the rest of the day and you detailed that you were hungry and that there had been a werewolf that had been coming into the tea house and seemed interested. So you were going to flirt a little and see where it led. 

 Namjoon had never imagined that he would be here. Laying in bed, idly tracing patterns on his partners skin as she detailed her plans to go sleep with someone else. He would expect jealousy, or maybe even anger. And the jealousy had certainly been there in the beginning. But Jaeho and you had never ending patience with him. Helped him talk through his emotions and get to where he is now. Because he knows there’s nothing to be jealous of. That while you flit off every so often to sleep with some people and feed, that at the end of the day, you’ll always end up back here with them. Because it’s them that you love and they’re home. 

There’s nothing in Namjoon’s recollection of the conversation that reveals any hidden meaning or agenda. You had talked as if you’d be back within a day at most, like you were just heading out for a quick bite to eat and then you’d be back. 

Namjoon tries to bury the worry that bubbles up that maybe he missed something or that something’s happened. Jaeho is worrying more than enough for both of them right now and at least one of them needs to remain strong and level-headed. 

Chewing his lip for a moment, Jaeho thinks his words over carefully. “I know that. But she never disappears without telling us for more than a couple of days. It’s already been almost two weeks. She would’ve told us if she was going for a while.”

Humming, Namjoon gives him another squeeze. That was another thing he was trying to not think about. Had you told him that you’d be away for a while and he just didn’t remember and now Jaeho was worrying for nothing? But if he told Jaeho that you had said that when you didn’t and you really were in trouble? Namjoon doesn’t know if he’d be able to live with that. “You know how werewolves are. She probably just got caught up and forgot. She hasn’t been with one in a while. They’re a lot and she can feed from them a lot. Probably just drinking her fill.”

Jaeho sighs, sagging slightly in Namjoon’s arms. The words seem to sooth him, at least for the moment and that’s the best that Namjoon can ask for right now. “I guess… I just don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Namjoon presses a kiss to his head. “Don’t worry. She loves us both. She’ll be back before we know it.” Pulling away, Namjoon gives him a reassuring smile, gently tugging him back towards the bed. “In the meantime, I know just how to help you relax.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been here. Time has blurred into a long stretch of aching hunger, made more acute with every attempt you make to escape. None have been successful. You don’t even really know where you are. The last thing you fully remember is spending time with the werewolf you met at the tea house. You’d spent a couple of days with him, days full of fun and left you full and sated. You had been planning to go back to Jaeho and Namjoon the next morning. But someone clearly had other plans. 

Waking up in a dark, cold gray cellar had certainly been a surprise after falling asleep in bed warmed by a werewolf. As had the ache in your head and blood matted in your hair, though the blood certainly explained the headache. More surprising than just being in the cellar was finally taking notice of the bars separating you from a large portion of the cellar and confining you to one little corner. There’s nothing in the little cell with you. With no windows, there’s no way to tell how long you’ve been down here either or even what time it currently is. The cellar is sparsely filled too, a few boxes scattered around, but it seems abandoned. You’d tried yelling yourself hoarse the first few days after awakening, but either no one was around or the stone the cellar was built from kept your shouts from reaching anyone. 

Which has led to your current predicament. You know at least a few weeks have passed. The slowly growing hunger is proof enough of that. The growing hunger has also meant that you’ve slowly begun to lose yourself. You’ve been having moments where you’ve blacked out, where you know you’ve been conscious but you don’t recall a thing that happened. One time you came to, to find your hands slick with blood and the sting of cuts on your fingertips. After taking a moment to get your bearings again, you found blood on the bars where you assume you had tried to break your way out even if you don’t remember those actions. 

The length of time they last seems to be growing longer and you don’t know whether it comforts you to know that it will be over soon or feel guilt wrenching heartache that your last moments are here, alone and that Namjoon and Jaeho will never know what happened. 

As your periods of lucidity begin to lessen and you find yourself spending those brief moments as yourself thinking of Jaeho and Namjoon. You miss them so much. Want their comforting scents here with you, to fall asleep in their arms on soft bedding instead of being alone on a cold, stone floor. 

You wonder if they’re worried or looking for you. They knew you’d gone to meet someone, assuming Namjoon told Jaeho about your plans. Would they think something happened to you? Or would they just assume you had left for a while, even if you hadn’t told them that you planned to leave for a while. It’s something that you haven’t done since the beginning of your relationship. Back when you all were still figuring out how the three of you worked and you were a little more easily spooked by what you felt. And even back then, you never disappeared for long, always drawn back to them no matter what. 

It’s during one of these periods of consciousness that something changes. A door opens and you see a sliver of light, that given however long you’ve been in the dark, is nearly blinding for a moment, forcing your eyes to squeeze closed. Then someone descends the stairs, a lantern in one hand, casting a warm glow about the cellar that is still almost too bright considering the dark you've sat in until now. The scent hits you a moment after her appearance. Werewolf. 

Your stomach clenches painfully, hunger gnawing at you with the tease of possible food before you. You find yourself getting to your feet and approaching the bars without much thought, so fast that you stumble but you’re too focused to pay it any mind. In fact, you’re so focused that the bars startle you slightly when you bump into them.

The woman laughs cruelly when she sees that. “Forgot the bars again, whore?”

Again? Has she been down here before? Your mind reels, scraping together every brief memory from recently to see if you can recount someone coming down here. Your mind comes to only darkness. You suppose that it is possible that she came down before given the moments you’ve been losing. But that just becomes even more disconcerting because she’s been coming down here while you starve? While you’ve been struggling to get free? Fingers curling around the bars, you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, throat rough from disuse. 

Clearing your throat, you try again. “Who…”

The woman scoffs and you have no idea if it’s because you’ve had this conversation before or if she just seemingly dislikes you that you addressing her directly is disgusting to her. “Are we really doing this whole thing again? How you seduce anyone when you’re this stupid, is beyond me.” The lantern is set on the ground as the woman takes a seat on a small stool set before the bars. “My name is Talia. I don’t think I need to tell you that I’m a werewolf.”

“Why…”

She laughs again. “Because you slept with my mate.”

Mate? You’ve only slept with one werewolf recently. And he was certainly unmated. No marks and no mating scent. Mated werewolves carried a certain scent, a slight undertone of their mates scent that is with them always. Is that who she means? You’d discussed other current partners while you were together and he hadn’t mentioned a mate. He mentioned a guy, a werewolf from another pack that he was interested in. Was debating whether he should court him or not. You had given him some advice and he seemed genuinely happy to receive it, glowing when you asked about the other werewolf and he began to gush about how they met. 

“What are you talking about?” you croak. Everything is confusing and that combined with your hunger is making your head throb, making it even harder to focus on the harsh words she spits at you.

Tutting, she shakes her head, like she’s chiding a child. “You spent all that time with him and you’ve forgotten him?”

“I… I don’t understand… I’ve only slept with one werewolf. And he wasn’t mated.”

“You know nothing of mates.” There’s a wildness in her eyes that has you shrinking away from the bars. With it comes the dawning realization that she is the reason you’re locked up down here. 

Tears gather in your eyes, frustration, anger, and grief almost so overwhelming that it feels like you’re choking. “Why are you doing this? Please, let me go.”

“That’s most certainly not going to happen. Not yet anyway. I have plans for you. You ruin my life, I ruin yours,” she cackles.

And then she’s picking up the lantern and leaving as you shout behind her. For her to stop, to let you go, for anyone to help you. The silence sets in as the cellar door is slammed shut behind, disturbed only by your broken sobs. 

“I’m going to find her.”

Namjoon looks up from the paper he’s going over, brow furrowed at Jaeho. “What?”

“It’s been a month, Joonie. I’m worried. I’m going to find her.” He adjusts a bag slung over his shoulder, face determined.

Namjoon starts to stand. “I’ll come with.”

Jaeho shakes his head. “No, someone should stay here. In case she comes back. Someone should be here for her. I’ll check in with you every couple of days.”

Namjoon nods reluctantly, moving closer to him. “Be safe,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Three days later, Namjoon catches wind of a werewolf pack that’s going to take care of a feral vampire that’s attacking a nearby village. There’s only one other vampire in the area. Namjoon’s stomach sinks and he goes to the village without a second thought.

You blink, consciousness coming back to you slowly. You notice several things that don’t immediately fully process with you. First, you’re outside. It’s night, but the buildings around you are ablaze, casting everything in bright light. Second, you are, bizarrely, no longer starving, instead a hollow fullness settles in your bones. Almost more off putting than the hunger. Third, and this one takes the longest to register because it seems so unreal, Talia stands before you. And with a growing sense of dread as you fully take in the scene, holds a struggling Jaeho by the throat. 

You take a step closer and can see her grip tighten so you stop, going so far as to take a step back in the hopes that she loosens her grip on him. Jaeho thrashes and when you call out his name, all you get in response is a hiss. Is he… feral?

Flashes of memories hit you, things that make your stomach turn. It all seems like a nightmare. You have a vague awareness of completely losing yourself, Jaeho finding you. Or was he led to you? Of you… feeding from him as he fought to subdue you. When you look at your arms, you see scratches and bruises that confirm your memories to be true, that you attacked him. That you did this to him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you force the memories away before focusing on Talia again.

“Let him go.” Your voice breaks.

She gives you a cruel, condescending smile. “I don’t think so. There’s a feral vampire causing havoc, as the resident pack, we have to take care of it.”

Tears spill down your cheek as you shake your head. You have to fix this. It isn’t his fault. He just needs to feed a little and he’ll be fine. If she just gives him to you, then you can fix this. You both can go back to Namjoon and everything will be okay. “No no no. Please. Don’t do this. Give him to me. I can make him better. Please, this is just an accident.”

Humming thoughtfully for a moment, she makes eye contact with a grin. “No.”

Then she rips Jaeho’s throat out. You scream, dropping to your knees as he gurgles for a moment before slowly sinking to the ground. All you can focus on is the blood slowly seeping into the ground. You feel cold even with the heat of the blaze surrounding you. Talia drops the mess in her hand and glances behind her. 

Burying your face in your hands, you sob, feeling the loss of Jaeho tear through your chest as viscerally as a dagger. You ache. How are you going to tell Namjoon? There’s no way to explain this. Jaeho should’ve let you go after he taught you control. Maybe he shouldn’t even have bothered to stop you that night he found you. He should’ve just left you to hunters. 

This is all your fault.

You hear voices murmuring, one calm and collected and the other frantic, and when you finally manage to drag your gaze up what feels like an eternity later, you see Namjoon standing over Jaeho’s body, face twisted with anguish. Talia’s nowhere to be seen. He drops to his knees, hands hovering like if he doesn’t touch then it’s not real. Staggering to your feet, you cross the short distance, stopping just short of them when Namjoon’s head jerks up to meet you with a hard look. It’s enough to break your heart all over again.

“How could you do this?”

His words are ice and you have no idea how to respond. You have no answer. How could you, you haven’t even been conscious. Your lust clouded your judgement and now you’ve hurt the people you loved the most. “J-joonie-”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore. How could you do this? After everything he’s done for you?” His voice raises in pitch as tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “He did everything for you. For us. How could you?”

The silence after his shouting is deafening. It would almost be easier if he kept yelling. At least then you wouldn’t have to hear the way your thoughts swirl with ‘it’s your fault he’s dead.’ 

What are you supposed to say to him anyway? There’s no apology in the world that could ever bring Jaeho back. Namjoon’s right. Jaeho did everything for you. And now he’s dead.

“I’m sorry…” The words feel like ash on your tongue. Wholly inadequate but you have to say something. You and Namjoon can still continue on. You can bring Jaeho’s memory with you. You don’t all have to lose everything. 

Namjoon laughs bitterly. “You’re sorry?” He sounds incredulous and shakes his head. “Just leave. I can’t…” His breath stutters and his gaze drops to the ground. “Please just go. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

You want to argue. Bring up the idea that you don’t have to lose each other too. That Jaeho wouldn’t want you to separate just because he’s gone. But you have a feeling that he won’t be receptive to that. And as much as it pains you to leave them both. You don’t want to cause Namjoon more hurt than you already have. The kindest thing you can do now is simply honor his request. 

So you leave. Vowing to yourself that you’ll never let someone close again. You don’t think your heart could handle more loss. You bring nothing but pain to others.

[nafeary]

Napoleon, Theo, Dazai, and Jean reacting to College Student!MC Stressed by Deadlines

Requested by @hqissodelicate:

hey toni boo, sara/delicateikemenmemes here ❤ i've been Going Through It with school 😔 so i was thinking of how my boos napoleon, theo, dazai & jean would react to MC who's a (stressed, exhausted) student who got yeeted to the mansion in the midst of a bunch of deadlines? thank you boo & i hope you're drinking your water 💙😤

✧✎ A/N: I’m sorry it took me this long to finish... but this was super fun to write and it helped me get back into writing after such a long break due to school bs. I’m not too satisfied with Dazai’a and the haphazard scenario/headcanons mush, but I still quite like this I think. Thank you for the request dear! Take care and drink water, everyone!

Warnings: Stress and mild mentions of anxiety, and like one mention of sexual intercourse

Napoleon Bonaparte

“You’re just a chore, after all.”

You whirled around. “Don’t act like your job is going to be that hard,” you could only scoff in annoyance, “I’m going to be inside my room all day, anyway.”

At first, Napoleon was slightly confused by your statement. Wouldn’t you want to explore this new world at all? But according to code, he’d just smirk and go (sleep) do smth

And true to your statement, you did stay inside your room for the most part

It’s not like your quadrillion essays would write themselves

It’s not like your college would just excuse your tardiness

It’s not like—

“Nunuche, you sure you don’t need a break from... whatever you’re doing?”

Napoleon was quite suddenly standing besides you, trying to read the mess that you’ve created.

“And who gave you permission to enter?”

“Me, obviously. I did have the impression that you were in danger, judging from the amount of curses I perceived.”

You could have died from embarrassment. Of course he had to hear your yells of frustration, stemming from the fact that your laptop was out of order, that you had no idea how to use ink properly, and—

“Have you realised that you regularly zone out?”

“I suppose? But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to finish...” you trailed off, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

However, at his inquisitive gaze, you decided to explain that these were essays that could very well decide how you’d pass university, and, upon further inquiry, elaborated how a modern student’s life looked like

He never interrupted you unnecessarily, only to ask questions when a concept was too modern for him to comprehend

Your cursed assignments certainly made your life in the past harder to enjoy, but it also brought you and the emperor closer than ever

Unable to access the internet—or visit the college library—you had no proper sources for you references (considering that Comte’s library had no modern content, naturally)

You also didn’t want to bother Sebastian, especially since him and Comte had shown so much understanding for your peril that they practically forbid you from helping him out around the mansion

Their reasoning didn’t make you feel less bad though

Hence, you only had one option left that could complete your last essay

Which oh-so conveniently encompasses the Napoleonic Wars, something you truly did not want to burden him with

“Napoleon? Remember those essays that I have to finish for my university courses?”

“Of course.”

You were twiddling your thumbs, contemplating whether your grades are worth revisiting unpleasant memories, aka the taboo of the mansion

Abruptly, he grabbed your cheeks with just enough force to turn you away from looking at your feet, but not enough to inflict pain. “If there is anything I can help you with, I’d never shy away from it.”

Begrudgingly, you inquired him about his reign with as little focus on the gruesome details as possible your professor be damned

And holy shit, he’s amazing at writing? And Not just cringey love letters? Panty Sniffer Napoleon brrrrr

As you grew closer, he’s spoil you with vitamin-rich snacks (going as far as asking Arthur and Sebastian for medical advice)

He enjoys carving cute shapes out of fruits and eggs because he knows that their and his adorable presence will prompt the perfect amount of distraction to allow a small moment of rest

Says that it’s his duty as your guard and boyfriend to take care of your overworking habits

Expect frequent complaints from your beau, ranging from “how could they assign so many essays? Aren’t students just humans, too?” to “‘Reasons Why Edison Is Better Than Newton’? Do they even know what they’re talking about? Tch!”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You gleefully indulged in his charades for the first few days. They were a welcome distraction from your college work, after all

But the procrastination was accompanied by guilt, your anxiety building up every second you spent helping Sebastian with the chores, and gallivanting around town with Theo

A week passed before your sense of responsibility finally kicked in. So when Sebas came to wake you up just as the sun peaked past the horizon, you were already scribbling away on some sheets you’d found in your drawers

“Ah, good morning, Sebastian-san.”

“Good morning... what are you writing, if I may ask?”

“Just some essays for my college courses...” you said, glancing dejectedly at your notes.

Now that you didn’t have access to the internet, and your laptop’s battery was all used up, it made your work all the more tedious, but you had to set your teeth and do this.

“Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

He had wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. And when he saw you leaving the house with Theo later in the afternoon, he could only shake his head.

You felt like you owed the art dealer, especially since you blurted out his secret the literal next moment, so you committed to helping him while also keeping up with your work

Although, him calling you dog wasn’t nice either—even though, according to Sebas’ explanation, Hondje wasn’t exactly the equivalent to mutt

That cycle continued for days. Helping out around the mansion, getting pulled around by Theo, and writing your essays deep into the night

Not to mention all the worries that pressured your shoulders further and further into the ground

You were missing so many group project deadlines, disappointing people that relied on you... it was safe to say that sleep did not come easy, if barely

Just before you arrived at your room after a late night art exhibit did your body decide to fail you, tripping over nothing multiple times.

It prompted Theo to call you out before you could even think of rushing past the door, steadying you with a hand more gentle than you had ever experienced it to be.

“Sebas informed me that you’ve been working yourself to death.”

You silently cursed the butler. “I haven’t—“

“Give me your laptop.”

Perplexion ran across your mien, wondering how he could possibly have remembered such a modern detail from your countless rambles. “It’s batt— it doesn’t work right now, so it’s not like it would stop me from working.”

Arguing with the devil was a mistake.

He snaked his arms around you, holding the door handle in place with one hand while the other still kept you upright. “I don’t care whether you work or not, I’m not your mother. And regardless of its abilities, hand it over, knabbletje.”

What other choice did you have but to comply?

He ordered—yes, ordered—you to go to bed right that instant

If you hesistanly ask him to do the same (we all know what a hard worker he is), he’ll just press a guileless kiss to your forehand, telling you not to worry about him

The next morning, you were already worrying for your baby���s safety within the sadist’s hands when the devil invited himself into your room

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Morning to you, too, Hondje.” He sent you an overly handsome smirk, handing you the laptop tucked underneath his arms. “You won’t be able to use that spider web Sebas told me about, but writing should work.”

You stared at Theo in disbelief, all the while internally laughing at him misinterpreting the World Wide Web. Deciding to trust in him, you clicked the power button. And sure enough, it sprang to life. “What... how in the world did you...”

Leo overheard you and Sebas talking about solar energy sometime… hush, just run with it

He fell into the seat next to you, propping his chin upon his fist. “I didn’t do anything. Just asked Sebas whether there was a way for you to use this. Leonardo took notice and tinkered around with it. Don’t ask—ah!”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me, Theo.”

Would you have lifted your face, then you’d have caught a glimpse of the vermillion shading his cheeks. “I didn’t do it to help you. I simply can’t risk having you become a liability at work. That’s all.”

Anyway, tsundere tendencies aside, you know what another big factor of dating Theo is?

King if you’re not allergic, understandably, if so, he’ll change his clothes before even thinking of visiting you

On days that you decide to be especially stubborn, he pulls you outside, all the whilst whistling for the jolly golden retriever

And as soon as he comes running, your mind goes brrrrr cute dog

Although, he’ll try his best not to distract you from work. He knows from personal experience that it’s a much bigger annoyance than help

Thus, he’ll certainly use his connections and amiable rip Shakes relationships with the residents to help you out with the research process

Also, with his superior memory, he knows what generally makes you happy and relaxed, so he’ll be his usual observant self to decipher just what would help you perfectly relax/finish your work

Hardworking boi, please love him

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is the type of person that doesn’t mind upsetting people and risking someone’s disdain if it supports that person in the long run

And he’s able to read people like books, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he knows you’re overwhelmed before you even realize it

You’ve been going to sleep too late and waking up too early? He’ll gently force you (if you’re 100% against it, he won’t do it ofc) to sleep beside him, making sure that you won’t rise with the sun for once

You’ve been exposing your wrist to heavy sprain? He’ll teach you some handy-dandy 5 Min Crafts techniques that are guaranteed to send your hands on a vacation

You've been suffering from writer’s block? Time to go on a lovely stroll through nature with your boo

Your shoulders and neck are hurting beyond sanity? He swears by hot springs, so the thermae is his go-to for when you need to relive some muscle kinks

He never fails to procure the perfect amount of bubbles and temperature. And depending on how comfortable you are with it, he’ll offer to wash your hair.

And since dude got Disney princess hands, you most probably fall asleep, but our man is there to hold you above the water

His bare thighs are an added bonus, sending your mind into spirals faaaar away from college work

After you’re done bathing, he’ll ask you whether you’d like him to braid your hair (if it’s long enough), and his Disney princess hands will not disappoint

In the beginning, it was incredibly vexing to have a security cam in the form of a handsome man always on the qui vive

But at some point, you started embracing Dazai’s overwhelmingly passive—you knew exactly what he was doing whenever he’d do something random—protectiveness

Especially since it didn’t only help you complete your work; on the contrary, you were always excited to spend time with the Japanese writer

But that didn’t curb your confusion at the whole debacle. Why was he this focused on your well-being?

So, you decided to confront him

“Dazai?” Once again, you were relaxing in his arms, his fingers threading through your hair lulling you into a dreamlike state.

He ticked his head to the side, pulling your entwined hands closer towards his heart. The sun streamed into the run at just the right angle, yet the golden light was not as bright as his vivid citrine orbs.

You sighed, unable to look at his stupid handsome face for too long. ”Why is it that you insist on taking care of me?”

“Someone has to, Toshiko-san.”

You’d have blurted out your feelings if it wasn’t for the sudden embrace you found yourself in. As guileless as it appeared, you knew he was trying to stop you from acting on your thoughts.

Deciding that you didn’t want to pressure him further (after all, you knew that he had a hellish first life), you accepted the unclarity of his feelings—even though his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand.

It was that day that you decided to repay him for all he’s done for you

And you wouldn’t let him yeet himself through a window in an attempt to evade the love sent his way this time

Even if it took decades, you wanted him to feel just as safe and loved as you did in his company

You were glad to have such a caring man by your side who helps you with managing you self care

You could only hope that he’d allow himself to be treated the same way

Please just take our love, boo. We love you

Jean d’Arc

Well fuck, how could he possibly help someone who’s stressed when he himself is a 24/7 McDonalds that only sells Chicken McStress?

Anywho, I feel like he’d be the complete opposite of Dazai when confronted with a stressed MC

He’d care just as much, of course, but he thinks that it would be better to give her space, since he himself understands the desire for solitude well

So yeah, I can see him not going out of his way to check up on you if you weren’t super duper close friends/lovers IF it wasn’t for his friend Napoleon

After all, it was him who gave your boyfriend a lil talk, convincing him that, perhaps even if someone needs space, they probably still need someone to look after them

Living with Jean is basically Ted Talks everyday

Anyway, he embarked on his journey to hopefully help you and and to relieve some stress that was wearing you down (according to the statement of several residents)

And, finding himself halting abruptly, our pessimistic little bean realised that he’s got zero idea what did help you attain bliss

So he opted for the next best option—things he knew that made his friends relax

Plan A

Hearing a few oddly reluctant raps on your door, you went to open it. As soon as you did, the beautiful man who’d captured your heart entered your vision, your eyes finding his amethyst ones immediately.

You two stayed like that for a moments, only breaking eye contact when he sighed and simultaneously thrusted a mug into your hand, already in the process striding back to his own room.

“Uhm… Jean? I’m a bit busy right now, but would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you find it inappropriate for a man to enter your room, mademoiselle?”

“Jean,” you giggled at his archaic mindset, gently rubbing your thumb between his brows to even out the crease. “We’ve had sex before, you know. Of course you ca—“

Wrong thing to say. He stormed past you, vermillion cheeks practically leaving a trail.

Chuckling to yourself, you turned to the mug’s contents. “Hm? Hot chocolate?”

Plan B:

“If this doesn’t harbor your discomfort…” Your boyfriend reluctantly stood in your room’s corner, standing straighter than a rod.

Frankly, your essays have kept you entirely too busy, and you longed for the warmth of the French man’s feather-like embrace.

“On the contrary, I enjoy your presence.” And you went right back to scribbling away.

Jean frowned. “Haven’t you been writing stories since this morning?”

“They’re not stories… and, yeah? I believe so.”

Stepping towards your seated form, he extended his hand; you grabbed it without thinking twice. “Is everything alrig—whoa!”

With the ease of a seasoned soldier, he picked you up before haphazardly tugging you into bed with bewilderment maring your features. “You should sleep.”

“—what?”

He stared at you blankly, as if expecting you to fall into the land of dreams right that instant.

“Did something prompt,” you slipped your arms out from underneath the duvets, gesturing wildly, “this?”

It was hard to be upset with Jean, his clueless but genuine persona the reason why you fell for him, yet you couldn’t disguise the irritation coursing through your veins—you had work to return to, after all.

“I think you need to rest, mademoiselle.”

Your blinking made him avert his eyes, explaining quietly, “I am uncertain what supports your release of tension, so I thought that perhaps sleeping could help since it certainly does show affect with Napoleon.”

“Ah, and you made me hot chocolate since that’s what calms Mozart.”

After internally simping for his soft and wholesome dumbass energy, you pulled him to bed beside you, claiming that it would help you relax (but only after telling him that it was okay for him to ask for your preferences)

And falling asleep to the heartbeat underneath his broad chest is definitely a 5-star-resort vacation

He’d eventually ask his relationship advisor Napoleon whether it is okay to have you help them out with his reading/writing lessons (you

You, alongside Napoleon, steadily agreed, despite knowing that it was a ploy to keep you away from overworking

Please also love this boy, thanks

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge Pt. 2

Feyre’s part of The Damnation Series. Part 1 is here.

I am proud of myself for finishing this shit, because it’s long as fuck. Whoops.

~Feyre~

Honestly, I should’ve known.

I should’ve known that somehow, with whatever endless resources he has, he would find me. 

That’s all I can think as I find my way into the Impressionists exhibit and find Rhysand Azara, real estate agent to the stars, leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of coffee and looking at Dancers in Blue with narrowed eyes. 

It’s been five days since our date, and like the cliché I am, I’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. I’ve checked my phone countless times, and I even decided to stalk him and Googled his name. 

When--just like he’d said--nothing came up, I googled Dancers in Pink. He said he had it, but it had been sold a few years ago in an auction to “Amren Valenta.”

Unless Rhysand had a stage name, that was definitely not him. 

I dug some more, but after three hours all I discovered was that he owned Azara Industries, which owned a lot of buildings downtown. Oh, and he never let himself be photographed. 

Which was upsetting, because it means I had nothing to stare at whilst stalking him. 

Pathetic. I am so pathetic.

But anyway, I should’ve known he’d come here. He’d said he’d call, but he didn’t have my number. Plus, I’d told him I come here pretty much every day, so really, what did I expect?

I still laugh as I spot him though, somehow surprised, and ask, “Here to flirt with more art students?”

“Just one,” he answers, running his eyes over me as I draw closer. 

Gods, this man is seductive. He’s just looking at me, but I feel his gaze like a touch, dragging over my entire body with slow, intentional grazes. 

My breath hitches, and his eyes twinkle, like he’s well aware to the dirty place my mind has wondered. I can tell he’s holding in some likely-male comment, but he refrains from embarrassing me and he holds out another cup of coffee. 

I take it, grateful for the caffeine boost, and find it somehow made exactly the way I like it. Maybe I’m not the only one stalking. 

Although his methods have to be better than mine if he already knows about the definitely unhealthy amount of sugar I put in my coffee. 

“How many times have you been here this week?” I ask, curious to see his level of devotion. 

“Three. Not a very convenient way of communicating with someone, I admit. I was about to send a smoke signal.” He watches me sip the coffee, watches my tongue dart over my lip. “Plans tonight?”

I fight a sigh and decide to be a student worthy of my scholarship for once. “I told myself I’d work on my senior project.”

His lips twitch at my dejected tone. “What is it?”

A ginormous pain in my ass. “Bad,” I say simply. 

He shakes his head, sipping his coffee and eyeing me over the rim of the cup. “Details.”

For someone who offers no information, he loves demanding it from me. Instead of fight it, I groan and give in to the patriarchy. “It’s just bad! It’s supposed to be a mix of different styles and mediums, but it’s going so poorly I might just start over. Or drop out and become a starving artist a year ahead of schedule.”

Rhysand smiles at my phrasing. “I would never let you starve. And what do you mean, mixing styles and mediums?”

“For someone who frequents museums and has millions of dollars in art, you don’t know much about it, do you?”

“I have people for that.”

“Amren Valenta?” I ask without thinking, exposing myself as a stalker. 

He pauses, cup halfway to his smirking mouth, and raises a brow. “Clever, creepy little woman,” he teases. “But yes. Amren is my curator, and we use her name because I don’t want media attention. As I’m sure you know.”

Busted and blushing to high hell, I roll my eyes and become a junior detective. “Isn’t it illegal to buy something with someone else’s name? What if the IRS comes after you?”

Rhysand looks at a loss for words at that. If I weren’t serious, it would make me laugh how shocked he looks. “I guess,” he says after a moment, “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

I roll my eyes again, because we both know he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like the IRS actually enforces rules for the one percent, anyway.

“Now tell me about your project.”

Rolling my eyes at how bossy he is, I tell him, “I wanted to combine photography and painting. And I wanted it to be kind of abstract, but also realistic enough.”

“Ambitious.”

I sigh, not able to repress it this time. “Stupid, is what it is. I don’t even know where to start. I have no motivation, let alone inspiration, to work on it.”

A contemplative look crosses his face. “I know where you could find inspiration.”

I raise an eyebrow and gesture around us, because in case he’s missed it, we’re in a museum. Inspiration abounds. But he scoffs and whispers, “This is child’s play compared to a certain someone’s private collection.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, playing along and pretending I don’t know the someone he’s talking about.

He nods, looking around as if making sure there are no spies in the completely empty room listening we’re standing in. “He has Degas, Monet, Dali, you name it. And he’s generous enough to let you come over tonight.”

Pursing my lips, I scan his face, trying to see if he’s serious. I mean... I am dying to see his collection. But, “Is this just a ploy to get me naked?”

He puts a hand on his chest, offense written across his face. “You think I’d try to seduce you while you study?”

“Yes.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckles, then says, “If you need to get naked to look at art, I certainly won’t complain. But no, Feyre darling, this isn’t a ploy.”

I pause, half stuck on the whole darling thing and half contemplating what to do. 

Ploy or not, I know that if I go to his apartment or house or mansion or castle, I’ll probably sleep with him. He’s too attractive, and my resolve just isn’t that great where’s he’s concerned. 

Plus, I know it’s insane, but art just... Never mind.

I tell myself nothing’s going to happen and that I’m going because of the art--both lies--as I say, “Okay.”

He extends a hand, and I slide mine into it, almost sighing at how perfect we fit together. Would that be the case everywhere? 

Feyre.

I avoid looking at him as he leads me from the room and outside, where a very beefy guy holds open the door to a black sedan. “Seriously?” I ask Rhysand as he ushers me in the back, then climbs in beside me.

“I usually drive myself,” he says in defense, smiling when I roll my eyes.

The city blurs around us as Beefcakes drives, and I’m about to ask where the hell he lives when the car pulls to a stop and the door opens. Climbing out, I look up at the black, shiny penthouse tower, and say, “Of course you live here.”

It’s expensive and in the city and has a million floors, and I bet he lives at the very tippy top.

He gives me a strange look but pulls me in the lobby, then into an elevator. We shoot up flight after flight till we reach the penthouse, confirming my suspicions. 

For what feels like the millionth time, I ask myself why the hell Rhysand’s taken an interest in me. I mean, a year of therapy got me to admit I’m decent looking and all, but I’m... I’m a college student. He’s older and richer and has his life together. Why does he want me?

I don’t have long to contemplate life’s great mysteries because the elevator doors slide open, revealing his apartment, and I become too busy trying to mask my surprise.

I thought the place would be... I don’t know, like him. Sleek. Modern. Luxurious. 

And it is, at least that last part. Everything is obviously expensive. But there’s also a homey quality created by a fireplace, plush couches, decorative rugs, tapestries.

It’s burgundy and black and cream, and so unexpected I smile.

I step in and walk automatically toward the huge windows, taking in the view and realizing we’re at the dead center of the city. In all directions, Chicago’s spread out, lights and traffic and Lake Michigan surrounding us.

Even though the place is beyond wonderful, there’s one thing missing. 

I turn to Rhysand and raise a brow. “No art?”

“One floor down.”

I have to press my lips together to keep the questions in. One floor down, as in it takes up the whole floor. As in he has a private museum. As in I’m so fucking excited I can hardly walk. 

But he seems to be baiting me, seeing how long I’ll last before demanding to be taken down there, so I casually walk around his apartment, taking in all the little details. “It’s more... lived in than I would’ve thought.”

He nods, knowing what I mean even though it was a poor way of explaining it. “I have a few places around the city, but this is the one I prefer.” Nodding to the kitchen, he asks, “Hungry?”

“You cook?” The thought of him covered in flour seems absurd, but we all have our hobbies.

He smiles like I’ve said something funny. “No, but I have takeout menus in there.”

“Hopeless,” I tease, going to the kitchen and opening the fridge like I’m the one who lives here. “I’ll find something.”

I end up finding beer, wine, cheese, and various fruits and vegetables.

Not a lot, but enough to make a charcuterie board, which just so happens to be my specialty. I search for a few minutes before finding a wooden cutting board, then start to assemble whatever snacks I can find.

Cherries and grapes, two types of cheeses, carrots, and crackers fill most of the board, and I fill in gaps with blackberries and chocolate chips I’m surprised he has. 

Once it’s completed and visually appealing enough, I slide it over to where he’s seated on a barstool and bow dramatically. “I’m a master cheese plate maker.”

“I see that. Wine?”

Nodding, I reach in the fridge and grab the first bottle I see. Setting it in front of him, I move to the cabinet and get two glasses and an opener.

Rhysand takes the opener and eyes the bottle, lips twitching as he smoothly uncorks it.

“What?” I ask, unable to figure out what’s funny. Was it weird to make a board or something? Surely even rich guys like cheese and crackers, right?

He pours two glasses, shaking his head and silently refusing to let me in on the joke.

Eyes narrowed, I sit next to him and suspiciously take a small sip from my glass. He watches me, probably expecting me to say something about it, so I offer, “It’s good.”

He bites his lip but can’t keep the laugh in at that, so I finally demand, “What?”

“It’s an $800 bottle of wine, Feyre.”

I almost spit it all over him, which would indeed be a shame, because there’s probably $50 in my mouth. Managing to swallow it down, I sputter, “You... you should’ve said something!”

He’s still laughing, but he stops to take a huge swallow and shrug. “I say we drink the whole bottle.”

I put my head in my hands, blushing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t care less.” He pries my hands away. “Seriously. I just wanted to tease you.”

Now that, I believe. But I still ask, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” He smiles, taking another sip. “I keep the really expensive stuff at the townhouse, anyway.”

I roll my eyes and drink some more, somehow trying to taste it better or something now that I know it’s liquid gold. Shifting to put my foot on the stool, I lean across him to grab the platter.

His gaze glides over me slowly, and there’s surprise in his eyes, like he can’t believe I’m sitting in front of him so casually. 

It’s probably weird to be so... open around a stranger, but he’s not exactly normal, so I don’t feel any pressure to be, either.

Regardless, it’s a little hard to breathe with him looking at me like that, so to break the tension, I grab a cherry, pull the stem off, and hold it an inch in front of his face. 

“Ready?”

His eyes cross and he pushes my hand away so he can actually see what I’m holding. “Ready,” he confirms.”

I stick the stem in my mouth, using a trick I spent three hours teaching myself on a rainy afternoon to tie it in a knot, then pull it out with a victorious grin.

“Very impressive,” he notes, but before I can gloat about my supreme cherry-knotting abilities, he steals the stem and sticks it in his own mouth.

My eyes are wide, but I don’t have time to ask what the hell he’s doing before he pulls it out. 

Unknotted.

“Impressive,” I repeat, actually meaning it. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m good with my tongue,” he says immediately, obviously having been lying in wait for the question, and I huff a laugh.

If I called my sisters and told them what I’m going right now, they’d probably try to have me committed. I’m sitting in a billionaire’s penthouse apartment, drinking expensive wine and watching him untie cherry stems with his tongue. 

“How was your week?” I ask to get us back in semi-normal territory, grabbing a cracker off the plate.

He answers vaguely and asks me about mine, and just like that, we fall into easy conversation.

It’s honestly strange to me that after one date, we can talk like this. With my ex, it took weeks before I was really comfortable around him, and yet I feel completely at home with Rhysand.

He tells he’s from the south side of Chicago and asks about my hometown, and I it feels natural. It’s just... easy.

“By the way, you can just call me Rhys,” he tells me as we finish off the platter. “Using my full name reminds me of when I got in trouble in grade school.”

I drain my wine glass, a slight buzz in my veins, and ask, “So I only call you Rhysand when I’m about to spank you?”

He howls with laughter, then surprises me by asking, “What’s your middle name?”

“Adalene. Why?”

“Just trying to figure out what I’ll call you when we get around to spanking.” I blush as he continues, “Feyre Adalene should do.”

He puts the empty wine bottle in the trash and runs a finger over my red cheek. I bat it away, embarrassed, but he just laughs and asks, “Ready to go downstairs?”

For some reason, I get a little nervous, but I put on my big girl pants and nod, taking his hand when he offers it.

Then we’re back in the elevator, coasting down a floor, and just before the doors open, he says, “Close your eyes.”

Anticipation makes it difficult to follow the request but I manage, and he guides me out of the elevator and turns me slightly. “Open.”

I open my eyes and come face to face with something I never thought I’d see. 

“You... you have a...” I whisper, not quite able to get the word out.  

“Meule.”

One of eight left in private collectors hands, Monet’s Meules--or Grainstacks--are some of the most recognizable, renown works of art in the world. The last was sold four years ago for over $80 million.

Amren Valenta is a very, very rich woman, according to her art collection. 

I’m standing inches from it now, mildly unsure of how that happened, looking at the sunset colors bleed into the shadows of the grain, taking in the easy lines and brushwork.

Turning to look at him, I see he’s leaned against the wall next to the painting, head tilted as if I’m the most interesting thing in the room.

“I can’t believe I’m here right now,” I say honestly, my voice airy and light.

He just smiles and motions to my right. “The collection goes in a loop.”

I nod, and after a few more minutes staring at the Monet, I start to walk.

Or more like mosey. 

If he’s irritated with how long I’m taking, he doesn’t mention it. He follows me as I stare after pieces of art I never dreamed of being close to. Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Klimt, Pollock, Munch.

And then, at the edge of my peripheral, I see it.

Dancers in Pink hangs besides a smaller Degas, but it’s all I can look at. The dancer’s skirts are so bright in person, the tulle layers seeming to come off the canvas. The gold in the background is vibrant and metallic, in sharp contrast with the dark wall it hangs on.

Gods, it’s beautiful.

I know there are more famous paintings in here, but I’ve spent three years going to look at Dancers in Blue, never imagining I’d see one a similar work. 

Tears slide down my face and a laugh bubbles out of me, the two reactions complete opposites but both somehow feeling right.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and I feel Rhysand’s chin settle on my shoulder as he hugs me from behind. “You know,” he whispers, seeming to not want to disrupt my moment with loud noises, “I never understood how important this is to people.”

“Oh, Rhysand. It’s... wonderful.”

It’s an inadequate way to say what I want to say, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment. I lean into him, and we stand like that, me staring at the painting, him at me, for a long while. 

When I start to get tired, I turn in his embrace, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and kiss him softly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I somehow finish the loop, and by the time we’re in the elevator again, I’m so emotionally spent I can’t hardly breathe.

“Inspired?” he questions, linking our hands and pulling me closer to his side.

I nod, but inspired doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m grateful and overwhelmed and so happy I could burst.

A professor once told me that art is a gift that lasts forever and never stops giving, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Over a hundred years after Dancers in Pink was completed, it still brings people to tears.

It’s a powerful and beautiful and eternal way to send a message, and it makes me feel like a small piece of the puzzle, but at the same time, so important and alive.

We glide smoothly back up to his apartment, but neither of us move once the doors ding open. 

Because technically, there’s no longer a reason for me to be here. 

I’ve seen the art, drank his expensive wine. I should get my bag and go. 

I should... but I don’t want to. 

Rhysand’s perfectly quiet and still beside me, patiently waiting for me to make up my mind. 

The angel on my shoulder tells me how sweet and considerate he’s being. The devil tells me to reward this behavior with a few sinful ideas. 

Running a hand through my hair, I debate my options. Be smart and leave, or stay and try and fight the urge to throw myself at him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” I mutter, dramatically taking a step forward like I’m going into war.

He laughs as he follows me off the elevator, strolling back to the kitchen. “More wine?”

I nod, because at this point, I’m already a lost cause. He opens a new bottle and pours me some. “How much was this one?”

“Ten dollars,” he lies, fighting a smile. “On sale at Walmart.”

“I’m surprised you even know what Walmart is,” I laugh, taking my seat back at the bar. 

“You forget I’m from the south side. All this,” he motions around us, as he takes the seat next to me. “Used to be nothing more than a dream.”

“How’d you do it?” I ask, genuinely curious. Most people with his kind of wealth were born into it and given every advantage possible. “What’d you do?”

He looks down at the floor, but there’s a sudden set of his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders. “Whatever I had to.”

I don’t point out he’s given me yet another non-answer. Instead I say simply, “I find working for something makes you value it more, anyway.”

His eyes find me again, and there’s something I can’t read in his gaze. “Yes, it does. And it makes you do whatever it takes to keep it.”

I swallow and nod slowly, trying to figure out what exactly he means.

He takes a deep breath, then drinks the wine in his glass in a single swallow. There’s a story there, and it’s easy to see it burdens him, but it’s his to tell in his own time. 

Just to get that strain out of his gaze, I switch topics completely. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how you untied that damn cherry stem.”

Rhysand smiles, a full one that showcases all his pretty little teeth, and leans in, the intent clear in his eyes. 

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he whispers.

I press my lips to his and open them immediately--for the lesson, of course--and his tongue meets mine in a slow glide. 

Where our first kiss was all heat and drifting hands, this one’s slow and sensual and like ice cream melting on a summer day. 

His mouth fits mine perfectly, and his hands seem to be made to hold me, sliding up my thighs to settle on my hips. The hair at his nape is soft against my fingers, and I lean on the stool to get closer and wrap my arms around his neck.

I suck on his tongue, and he makes a low sound, then his hands are tightening and lifting, and I’m being settled on his lap.

Both of us on one stool isn’t ideal, but I wrap my legs around his waist and hope we don’t go crashing over. 

Gravity comes into play and I start sliding, so he turns the stool and traps between him and the counter. The granite digs into my spin, but I can’t be bothered to care, because the new position gives his hands freedom to roam again, and he slides them over my thighs, across my ass, up my sides. 

His thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, and they become heavy and aching against his chest.

His mouth slowly drags down to my neck, and I sigh as he finds that one spot that drives me crazy. His nips the skin, tongue smoothing the small hurt, and his name slips out of me in a quiet moan. 

Everything seems to change at once.

Cursing creatively, he sweeps me into his arms and stands, then walks us into his living room and plops onto a plush couch. 

My ADHD kicks in and I’m momentarily distracted by how soft the leather is, but then his tongue runs across the seam of my lip and I snap back into focus.

My hips are churning against him, desperate for some friction, and I kiss him without restraint, abandoning our slow, peaceful rhythm from earlier. I hadn’t realized I’d been working on the buttons of his shirt, but then a band of tan skin is exposed, and I dip my head to press my lips against it. 

He tugs my hair to bring my mouth back to his, and I practically attack him, biting his lip and pulling his hair and generally acting like a depraved cavewoman.

He doesn’t complain, though. His hands drag my hips closer, then slip under the hem of my sweater. 

The scrape of his callouses on my sides snaps me back to the shocking reality where I’m--yet again--making out with a man I hardly know, and I gasp, then curse, then practically jump backwards off his lap. 

Standing in front of him, I put a hand over my mouth like that’ll stop me from using it and look him over. 

He’s all sprawling legs and swollen lips and beautiful eyes, and I force my eyes to the ceiling. “You look like a hot, virginal dork I just deflowered in the back of my minivan,” I tell him. 

“I feel a bit like that,” he laughs, running a thumb over his bruised lips almost in shock. “Although it’s always nice to be desired.”

I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so distracted by him looking so thoroughly messy. 

But I know that despite what just happened, I can’t do this with him yet. 

I mean, I definitely could, and it definitely would be enjoyed by all parties involved, but I would regret it. 

Rhysand isn’t someone I can just sleep with and forget. I’ve known him a week, and I already feel a strange sort of bond with him. 

If we slept together, then never spoke again, it would hurt me more than I’d care to admit. 

“I think I should leave.”

He nods like he was expecting this, but asks, “Why?”

Putting my hands on my hips, I repeat what I said earlier. “Working for something makes you value it more, remember?”

He smiles and stands, taking a minute to straighten the clothes I’d pawed out of place.

“It also makes you do whatever it takes to keep it,” he reminds me, a shiver sweeping over me at the words. “Come on; I’ll walk you out.”

We go to the elevator and stay on opposite ends the entire ride down. I’m a little proud, because I most certainly thought about crossing over to his half. 

Stepping outside, Rhysand motions for Beefcakes to open the door. “He’ll drive you home.”

“Thank you,” I say, starting towards the car. 

I take two whole steps before he’s somehow in front of me, blocking the path. “Two more things.”

He kisses me, gently but firmly, then pulls back and slips a piece of paper in my hand. “It’s your turn to send smoke signals.”

I look down at the paper and see a number written in a slashing scrawl, intelligently putting together that it’s his phone number. I look back up to respond, but he’s already back at the entrance to the building. 

Rhysand looks over his shoulder, winks, and disappears inside. 

I get in the SUV and tell Beefcakes my address, and off we go. I study the piece of paper the entire way there, mind reeling with everything that happened today. 

The easy conversation, the art, the kiss. 

Is this how it feels to be swept off your feet?

And how long, exactly, do I have to wait before calling him?

________________________________________________

This took me so long to edit holy FUCK. Part 3

@perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @tillyrubes10​ @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou�� @awesomelena555​ @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​ @elorcan-trash​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​

[marwritesgood]

Trying | O. Diaz

Pairing: Oscar x Martinez!Reader

Timeframe: Mid Season One

Summary: Oscar realises how badly he messed up and tries to fix things between him and Y/n.

masterlist - PART ONE

A/N: I changed the timeline of the show a bit and some of the details a bit. Just one more part after this one!

I had spent the following days ignoring Oscar’s countless calls and text messages. I found it convenient he only knew how to contact me when he wanted talk to me. Especially when, for the first week he was back, he didn’t say a word to me apart from our interaction when I dropped Cesar off.

I was enjoying having space from him, as hurt as I still was. However, I found myself having to see him again when Cesar asked me to drop off the last of his things. Normally I would have made him come and pick it up himself, but ever since Oscar got back he had been keeping a close eye on Cesar.

“Y/n,” Oscar huffed when he opened the door to me.

I looked away and clutched the box of Cesar’s things closer to my chest. I could tell he hadn’t slept for a while. His eyes were sunken and his beard had grown out to the point where it was unruly. Nonetheless, I told him I didn’t want to anything to do with him, and so I was gonna stick by that.

“I’m so glad you’re here-”

“I’m not here for you, pendejo,” I muttered harshly at him with a straight face. I then shoved past him and walked into his house. It was messier than normal. Placing the box on the coffee table, I turned back to Oscar who was sheepishly quiet. “Cesar asked me to drop off the rest of his things.”

Oscar coughed uncomfortably as I opened the box and pulled out sheets of paper; Cesar’s medical certificates from the past four years. When I looked back at him, he held the back of his neck, confusion washing over his expression.

“I didn’t realise he stayed with you the whole time I was gone.”

“Hmph-” I scoffed. For a man as smart and as calculating as Oscar was, he could be really clueless at time. I shook my head and sighed in annoyance. “You trusted me with him, remember?... Unlike you, I actually have a sense of loyalty.”

“Y/n-”

“Why else did you think I dropped him off when you got here?” I asked incredulously. It was comical at this point. How little attention he paid to the things I did for him. Taking Cesar in was only one of many. “’Cause it sure as hell wasn’t that hyna you slept with last week.”

I didn’t mean to be so snide but I had a lot of pent up anger. 

“Y/n-”

Before he could mumble another empty apology, I handed him the papers in my hand before explaining to him what they were. From the confused look he had when skimming through it, I could tell he needed the explanation.

“Those are Cesar’s medical certificates from the past few years,” I began, before fishing through his box for the epipen I got him. Once retrieving it, I handed it to Oscar who still looked confused. “That’s his epipen. He’s never had to use one himself, but he knows how to... just in case. We found out last year that he’s allergic to shellfish.”

He flipped onto the next few pages, nodding silently as I explained what was written. 

“Him and Ruby broke their arms that month,” I explained when I noticed the date written on the page he was reading. I suppressed the smile threatening to appear on my lips when I remembered the ridiculous situation they were in that led to their injuries. “It should be fully healed, but just in case he injures that arm again it might be important.”

“Uhm-” Oscar shook his head, dumbfounded, before turning to me, expression still ridden with confusion. “How did you-”

“The doctor I take Ruby to is a family friend,” I interrupted. “I started taking Cesar there too when he was staying with us... If he ever needs to see one, just let me know and I can take him.”

Oscar nodded sheepishly, before putting his hand down. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before turning to me again; his expression apologetic.

“...Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I shot back in an even tone. My love and adoration for Cesar was not going to be a leeway for him to try and charm his way back into my life. “Cesar’s always been my family. This is just what you do for the people you care about... Maybe you should try it some time.”

“Y/n-”

I rolled my eyes and turned towards the corridor. The last time I walked down that hall was when Oscar was leading me into his bedroom. I missed the way he was that night, but I was sick of waiting around for that version of him to appear.

“Cesar,” I called out. Within a minute, Cesar’s bedroom door shot open and he made his way over to me, a grateful smile apparent on his face. Granted, it had been a while since I last saw him. After greeting me with a hug, I opened up the flaps of the cardboard box so he could see what was inside. “I brought the rest of your stuff... If you need anything else just call me okay?”

“Thank you, Y/n,” he praised, before lifting the box up to eventually take back to his room. I smiled and wrapped my arm around his shoulder, pulling him in for a side-hug.

I contemplated hanging around for a bit longer, but I knew it was best to leave as soo as Cesar got his box of belongings. The longer I stayed the more I risked having to talk to Oscar for longer and I knew better than to let that happen.

As angry as I was at him, I still cared too much. Sticking around would not only risk another conversation, it would risk me forgiving too easily like I always used to do. I didn’t want that anymore.

***

A few days or so later, Ruby had asked me to make some food for him and his friends. Normally I would have pried him on what was going on before agreeing to do so, but I was grateful to have something to keep me busy.

I tried so hard not to think about Oscar, but it wasn’t exactly easy forgetting someone I spent most of my whole life with. He sure made it look easy. 

“Olivia,” I called out to my pseudo-cousin and handed her the bowl of nachos I had made. She took it from me and awaited my instructions on where to put it. “Place this on the table please?”

After she did so I turned back to the rest of the food I had made. I had tried so hard to distract myself, I ended up making enough food to last the rest of the week. 

Nonetheless, I knew it would be put to good use. Not only because of how many people lived in my house, but also because of how many people walked in and out of it like it was an alleyway.

Ruby and Jamal were on the couch rambling on about taking precautions for future litigations, whilst Monse and Jasmine were just walking out of Olivia’s room. The two of them came and helped put the rest of the food out, which prompted Jasmine to fill the uncomfortable silence with uncomfortable commentary in her own infamously unique way.

“Y/n, I heard how you kicked Spooky to the curb-”

“Jasmine,” Monse scolded. 

Ever since the kids heard about my falling out with Oscar they made it a point not to bring him up in front of me. I appreciated them for doing so, but I also didn’t mind hearing him be brought up by Jasmine, because I knew she would have something snide to say about the way he acted. I could always count on her for that.

“What? I just wanna say good for you,” Jasmine said, smiling at me as she draped her arm around my shoulder. “Ain’t no Santos gonna come up in here and treat our girl like shit- Y/n knows her worth.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, because I knew Jasmine was being sincere and I really appreciated her backing me up in such a vocal and vivacious manner. 

“Thank you, Jasmine,” I smiled, before placing the bowl of ceviche on the table so I could give her a hug. 

Jamal and Ruby stood up from the couch, eyes widening when they saw all the food laid out on the table. Ruby picked up his phone to check his messages, before turning back to the rest of us.

“Cesar’s almost here.”

After a moment, police sirens sounded throughout our block. Normally we wouldn’t think much of it since this was a typical thing for Freeridge, but when we could hear helicopters, we knew something serious was happening. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. 

Ruby went to open it and I kept a close eye on who was there. When he pulled it open, I saw Oscar and Cesar standing at the door, each with a bowl in their hands.

“One of the homies got shot,” Oscar explained before walking in with Cesar.

I cursed under my breath, knowing this meant we all had to stay inside until the cops said it was okay to leave. This meant that Oscar would have stick around for an indefinite amount of time. 

“I brought guacamole,” Cesar explained as he handed me the bowl he held. 

I smiled and accepted it graciously, before greeting him with a hug. Ever since he got jumped into los Santos and went from being affiliated to becoming a member, he didn’t hang around my house as often as before. 

“Thank you so much, Cesar,” I replied, making a point not to look Oscar in the eye who stood awkwardly beside Cesar, as if he was waiting for me to acknowledge him. When I moved past him to get the jug of lemonade I had made, he stood to face me from the opposite side of the kitchen bench.

“I-I brought ceviche-”

“I already made ceviche,” I fired back, before going back to the table and placing the jug of lemonade on the table. 

“We can just have more ceviche then.”

“Some of us are loyal to one ceviche,” I replied, knowing that at the point I wasn’t talking about ceviche. In all honesty, I was grateful he brought more because I missed his famous ceviche, but I would never admit that.

“Huh?” 

Oscar was not catching on, but from the quiet snickering in the back, I knew the kids had already picked up on what I was referring to. 

“Some of us don’t just eat one ceviche then throw it away so we can eat another... but of course you wouldn’t think the same.”

He didn’t have anything to say in response. 

“Why don’t we just start eating?” Ruby suggested. He seemed both concerned about me and eager to diffuse the tension. 

“She didn’t mean anything.” Oscar seemingly had other ideas and took an awfully long time to come up with a response. I narrowed my eyes at him warningly, but he continued. “Lo prometo, Y/n, it didn’t mean anything and if could take it back I would.”

“Well you can’t,” I retorted.

The kids moved to where the sofa was, not wanting to get in the middle of what was on its way to becoming a screaming match. 

“Tell me what you want,” Oscar said in a pleading yet aggressive tone. I scoffed and shook my head as tears began to brim in my eyes. “Just tell me how to fix this, and I’ll do it-”

“You can’t fix this,” I yelled, frustrated not only by how angry he was making me but by how simple he was making out the situation to seem.

“Don’t say that-”

“No, shut up,” I shouted, causing the kids’ eyes to widen in shock. Almost everyone on our block was terrified to so much as raise their voice or make eye contact with Oscar, but I wasn’t everyone else. “You’re the one who slept with another girl. I’m not gonna stand here and tell you how to fix something you did- figure it out for yourself.”

I couldn’t bear being around him for much longer, so I stormed off and locked myself in my room. I didn’t come out until I was certain that Oscar had left.

***

The following day was Halloween and my mom entrusted me with my twin siblings. Ruby and his friends had told me they were planning on heading out to Brentwood, so I told them I would drop them off and take the twins on a different route within the same neighbourhood.

“I’m gonna take the twins down there,” I explained to Ruby, before turning to the rest of the kids. “Be safe and be back here before ten.”

They all nodded before proceeding to go their separate ways. 

Ruby had devised a plan to maximise the amount of candy they would have by the end of the night and, knowing him, he would throw a fit if the others didn’t follow it accordingly.

Once I started heading down the pavement with my siblings clutching onto each of my hands, I felt my phone vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans. Letting go of Luis’ hand, I pulled out my phone to answer it, only to hear my mother asking me a million questions at once.

“Yes, ma,” I groaned, subconsciously letting go of Luisa’s hand as well to get a better grip of my phone. “Yes we’re fine... We’ll be home soon.”

“Are the twins okay?”

“Yes,” I droned, growing annoyed at how much my mom worried even though I had been looking after my younger siblings for most of their life. This changed, however, when I looked down and realised that not only had I let go of both their hands, but they were nowhere in sight. “I gotta go, Ma, I’ll see you at home.”

In hindsight, it wasn’t wise to keep the fact that I lost my twin siblings from our mother, but it was my first instinct. Somehow, I knew I would eventually find them in a neighbourhood I had rarely been to prior to that night.

“Luisa!... Luis!” I called out, but to no avail. Suddenly the thought of something bad happening to them began to sunk in and I began to panic.

I spent the following half hour calling their names as I ran along the streets of Brentwood. It wasn’t until I reached the end of a cul-de-sac that I saw a familiar car and realised that they were sitting on the bonnet.

Running down the street, I shoved my way past a crowd of people who looked like they were coming out from the house that the familiar vehicle was parked in front of. Once I got there, I realised the vehicle was in fact Oscar’s car, and that it was him standing by it while my twin siblings sat on his bonnet and appeared to be taking turns as playing games on his phone. 

Oscar looked up and saw me running, an expression of relief apparent on his face. Luisa, who had just finished having her turn on Oscar’s phone, also looked up and got off the bonnet so she could meet me half way.

“Gracias a dios,” I murmured under my breath as I held my baby sister close to chest. After I got to Luis, I placed Luisa back on the bonnet, before inspecting them both to see if they were injured in any way. “How many times have I told you not to run away from me.”

Luis handed Oscar his phone back before hugging me. The two of them mumbled an apology before getting back on the ground.

“You found them?” I asked, looking pointedly at Oscar, who nodded.

“I saw them sitting on the pavement on my way here,” he explained quietly.

“Thank you,” I whispered gratefully. He smiled before nodding again.

We hadn’t spoken since the day he came to my house. If he was still confused on what to do to make me not angry with him anymore, this was a pretty good start, but I wasn’t planning on telling him that. 

Somehow, I felt he knew.

When the kids came out from the house, I took Ruby, the twins and Monse in my car, while Oscar to the other three in his. We agreed to meet back my house so the kids could split the candy they had which ended up being a lot, because apparently Oscar had scared the shit out of a white boy.

“I can’t believe you lost the twins,” Ruby said in a whispery yet judgemental tone. In his defense, the last time he took care of the twins, I scolded him for making Luisa’s sandwich incorrectly. 

“Can we just agree not to tell mom?” 

Ruby nodded instantly.

Once we got home, the kids ran inside to split the candy up, and I carried my younger siblings, who had fallen asleep on the car ride, inside and onto their beds. Afterwards, I went back outside to Oscar, who stood leaned against his car door. He looked deep in thought until he saw me approaching him.

“Thanks,” I said, not looking at him directly. I could see him beginning to smile in the corner of my eye. “- for finding the twins and for driving out to Brentwood for the kids... Olivia told me what happened.”

He nodded, chuckling softly as he thought back to the kid he most likely scarred for like tonight. After a prolonged moment of silent, he looked up and faced me, watching me intently as I stared into my house- smiling as I watched the kids freak out over the tower of chocolate bars they had to themselves.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n,” he whispered. I turned back to face him and I nodded once. I was tired of being angry at him. Just as well he was finally starting to act like the Oscar I knew and loved.

“I know,” I replied softly. 

Oscar smiled gratefully. No snide remark. No sarcasm. No glaring. He seemed relieved that he was finally making some progress at fixing things between us. 

And then he went and fucked it up.

Before I could register what he was trying to do, Oscar began leaning towards me, his hands finding their way onto my waist much too quickly for comfort. Just as our lips were about to touch, I wormed my way out of his grasp and took a step back.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked. He looked confused. He had been doing a lot of that lately. When he didn’t respond, I felt my anger towards him returning. “Oscar, do you like me like that or do you not?”

He remained silent.

“Because you kissed me the night before you left, then you came back and slept with someone else.” It felt good explaining to him why I was upset in the first place, but also frustrating that it wasn’t already clear enough.

I was grateful he found my twin siblings. I was grateful he stood up for the kids. Neither one of those actions, however, made clear to me whether or not he still liked me the way I liked him and I was sick of waiting around for him to let me know. 

“I thought if I pushed you away, I’d be able to keep you safe.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion. Oscar being a Santos never proved to be an issue when we were friends, I couldn’t understand why all of a sudden I needed to be protected.

“I didn’t think I was gonna get locked up, Y/n,” he explained with a pained expression. This was the first time we really talked about what had happened to him. “-but shit happened, and I lost my freedom for 4 years. I don’t want shit to happen and for you to get hurt because your involved with me... I’d rather go back to prison than let that happen.”

I should have known. Behind every stupid mistake Oscar made there was always an honourable reason. A noble logic. I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel relieved and almost touched that his actions were motivated by his love for me. But something was still not sitting well with me.

“Wait, so what you were gonna do after you kissed me? Just go back to treating me like shit so you can protect me?”

“I- I don’t know,” he spluttered, shoving his hands in his pocket and scratching the back of his neck.

“Oscar, I appreciate that you’re just trying to look out for me,” I whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, knowing that I had more to say. Knowing things weren’t going back to normal just yet. “But you don’t get to just kiss me when you want and then ignore me when you want... I want more than that... I deserve more than that.”

Tears began to brim in my eyes as I felt a lump come to my throat. Oscar inhaled sharply, acknowledging the truth in what I was saying.

“So what’s it gonna be?” I asked, hoping with all my might that he wouldn’t pick the option that would hurt me the most. 

“I just wanna keep you safe, Y/n,” he answered, eyes knitting together as he spoke. I knew he meant what he said. I knew that he was speaking from his heart, but that just wasn’t enough. I needed more.

“That’s not a real answer,” I stated sadly.

I slowly turned around and walked back into the house, leaving Oscar out in the cold yet again.

NEXT PART

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH31

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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-----

Chapter 31: Star Death Reality Show (XIV)

He did it!

He actually did it!

After running out of this corridor and reaching a safe corner, Qi Leren's flying heart finally fell back to his chest. He collapsed on the ground from how much he had been drained of all his strength, left only with the strength to pant.

Qi Leren had loaded the save file three times in a row just now, that is, he had done it for the first time since the Witchcraft Sacrifice task. He clearly remembered that the last time he had loaded it like this, he couldn’t stand at all afterwards. Today, however, he had loaded the file three times in a row in this extremely challenging high intensity, but he had still been able to burst out of that corridor of death with explosive force… This was not only a breakthrough in physical fitness.

Qi Leren looked at his hand with a hint of thoughtfulness.

Was it because Maria had given him the blessing of the holy light? Since then, although Chen Baiqi let him know every day that his limit was far higher than he imagined, his training days were limited and he couldn't have advanced by leaps and bounds to this extent, even entering the state of "breaking the shell" as described by Chen Baiqi.

In the last few seconds after the file had been loaded when he had run out of the corridor, he definitely broke through the limits of the human body. This was true for speed, agility, willpower, and judgment. Even now that he was out of danger, this breakthrough after exceeding the limit still benefited him greatly.

Qi Leren looked deep into the corridor, and under the faint light he could clearly see the details that he should not have been able to see—peeling walls, broken corners, scattered folders... He hadn't had such good night vision before.

The weakness of his body brought a strong sense of insecurity. Without the peeping eye of the camera, Qi Leren took out a strength potion and drank it steadily, waiting quietly for his body to adjust. His physique was much better now than before. Even if he was trained hellishly one day, he could always continue to exercise without the soreness of exhausted muscles the next day, which made Chen Baiqi very pleased. She had praised him for being much better than she had been, having the ghost-like appearance of a dead dog every day—Qi Leren felt that she was also pretty harsh towards herself.

After his physical strength was restored, Qi Leren stood up and continued to move forward, taking every step carefully.

The scope of this underground facility was huge, so it wasn’t clear whether it was an air defense facility or an underground research institute. However, from what he could see, it was not a particularly high-tech type of place, but rather it had the Soviet architectural style of the Cold War period. The most incredible thing was that this underground facility had electricity! When Qi Leren walked in front of a closed door and pressed the switch, the iron door would still open. It seems that after entering it, there is no detection system like the laser corridor.

What the hell was this place? Qi Leren, filled with doubts, carefully continued to move forward. This underground space was so large that there were even elevators leading levels deeper underground. Because he couldn't read the alien words, Qi Leren could only guess a little from the symbols. There were danger warning signs everywhere. He feared that this wasn’t an air defense facility, but more likely an underground military base built to prevent nuclear war.

However, when this door was opened, the pictures that appeared in front of him made Qi Leren forget his many speculations and affirmed his original expectation.

This was an underground research institute!

This room was as big as two basketball courts and thick pipes ran along all of the walls, ceilings, and floors, so it was impossible to tell where the light source came from. And in the middle of the room, countless column-shaped growth chambers were like rows of pillars, spreading before his eyes to the end of the room. Each growth chamber was connected with a pipe. In the time when they were used, this pipe provided them with oxygen and nutrient solutions. However, after the underground fortress was abandoned, the nutrient solutions became turbid liquid, and the things in the growth chambers had already died.

It was a scene that could only be seen in science fiction movies. Qi Leren was thinking about this as he approached a growth chamber. There was a mass of something in the dirty liquid. Considering that it had been abandoned for many years, there was no doubt that the creature inside was dead, but it had not rotted away.

What was in the growth chamber? Qi Leren took out his flashlight and wanted to take a look at the contents, but just at the moment when he took out the flashlight from his item bar, he heard a click.

Maybe he wouldn't have realized what it was before, but now, even if he heard it in his dreams, he would jump out of bed and fight back—it was the sound of a handgun’s safety being taken off!

Qi Leren flashed behind the growth chamber without thinking and squatted down. He took out the gun that Chen Baiqi gave him and held it in his hand. However, after a short thought, he decided not to launch an attack rashly, but asked aloud: "He Yi?"

"...Qi Leren?" He Yi's voice, which was horribly hoarse, came from behind another growth chamber.

Sure enough, it was He Yi!

Qi Leren put his hand holding the gun behind his back and slowly came out from behind the growth chamber, but did not dare to stray too far from his bunker: "What happened to you and Mark? Afterwards, I sneaked into Annie's house and found the attic in her house. I also found the pipe embedded in the wall leading to the basement. Is that how you came down here?"

He Yi, who was hiding behind the growth chamber, was silent for a while before he came out slowly.

He doesn't seem to be in a good state; his lips are chapped, and there were red burst vessels in his eyes. Instead of relaxing his vigilance, he continued to point his gun at Qi Leren and snapped: "Take your right hand out."

Qi Leren slowly stretched out his right hand from behind his back, but what was in his hand—the gun—had been quietly replaced by his knife. He wasn’t sure whether the invisible camera beside He Yi had been shut off, so he couldn't take out the gun that would be difficult to explain the source of, and he didn't need to use it—dealing with a weak opponent who didn’t know how to hold a gun properly, he didn't need his own gun at all.

With a ting, Qi Leren threw the knife to the ground. He raised his hand and showed a sincere expression: "What happened? You don’t look very good..."

"Don't talk, come over to me and follow my instructions." He Yi gave him a cold look, and his eyes were full of doubt.

"Okay, I'll do it. Don't be nervous. I mean no harm." Qi Leren walked slowly to stand before He Yi and took the initiative to show him the back of his head.

He felt the tension at this time; what had made him so shocked and frightened? After seeing this underground research institute, Qi Leren could vaguely guess: He Yi already knew about the octopus, and he knew that the octopus had parasitized this group of contestants. But at this moment, he couldn't be sure whether Qi Leren, who had suddenly appeared before his eyes, had been parasitized.

But he obviously didn't intend to kill him, otherwise he could have already done so. Did he have some means to detect whether he was infected or not?

He Yi's gun pointed at Qi Leren's head and he continued hoarsely: "Walk forward, go through this door, take the left corridor..."

The two people walked in tandem through the corridors in this maze-like underground research institute. He Yi, who had come here a few days earlier, was more familiar with the route than Qi Leren. He guided Qi Leren all the way to the third floor underground, and then stopped in front of a thick iron door.

"Press the switch to open the door."

Qi Leren did it, the door opened, and the room inside came into view. This was a room like a medical bay with some items that looked like medical instruments.

Qi Leren, who suddenly realized what sort of equipment it was, glanced at He Yi. He stood in front of a monitor and commanded Qi Leren to stand at the wall opposite him.

He Yi, this guy, wanted to confirm whether he had been parasitized, as Qi Leren has suspected.

A blue curtain of light swept over Qi Leren, and He Yi kept staring at the monitor, finally relieved.

But even after seeing this, the calm and even slightly superior temperament of old still did not return to him. He still looked very anxious, even though he tried to restrain himself: "Thank God, you’re not parasitized. Sorry, I shouldn't have pointed a gun at you before. I can explain the ins and outs to you. We’re in danger right now!

"It hatched, it actually... hatched! That monster that almost destroyed all intelligent life in the whole universe is now hidden among us. It’s already bred and is still breeding! According to their habits, it should be that the 'Genocide Day' where they break out and eliminate us all will be the fifth day!"

Today, it was already the fourth day.

-----

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[theunreliablewriter]

Are You Jealous?

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, and killings, but not at all detailed. Other than that, mostly fluff.

(W/N) = Wolf’s Name

Request: okay, imagine you an kylo being in an established relationship and finally decide to take the next step and start sharing his quarters. the catch is that you have some sort of pet (you can pick what type), and kylo is so jealous of it. a lot of your attention goes to it, it crawling inbetween you when you're cuddling and so on. so kylo just automatically hate it, until it one day protects you from some intruders while kylo was away. btw, you're writing is amazing and i love you 🥺❤️

It had been over half a year, but it felt as though you had barley blinked and it passed.

No, it wasn’t always simple being the lover of the First Order’s Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. But for certain, it was always worth it.

You loved him more than anything. He loved you all the same. And never did either of you doubt it...at least, that’s what you initially thought.

Kylo and you had officially started your romantic partnership nearly seven months ago. A few weeks prior, you both wanted to take another step together by sharing his quarters.

He happily helped you pack and move everything, but somehow, it must have slipped his mind that it wasn’t just you moving in. This was shocking considering how often you gushed in adoration for your wolf hybrid. Kylo accepted the large animal straight away when the two of you met. After all, despite being the sweetest thing you had ever known, your wolf’s predator instincts still existed—something Kylo very much liked about him.

But ever since moving in together, you could cut the tension between the two as if your wolf was a long lost admirer trying to win you back.

“Y/N,” Kylo spoke sharply. “Did you hear what I said?”

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts of how you wished to be off of the ship to allow W/N time to roam on actual ground, not overly polished tile, and ceased brushing his pitch black fur. The frustration on Kylo’s face was obvious when you asked, “I’m sorry. What?”

He sighed. “I said I need your opinion on the attack plan I have created to take out the newly discovered Rebel base.”

“Alright. Can we go over it in bed? I’m quite tired.”

“Fine.”

You both changed into your night clothes before burying yourselves beneath the covers. Your head rested on a broad shoulder as you were shown a map covered in several red marks.

Kylo never failed to impress you with his ability to create near-foolproof strategies to give the First Order the edge it needed in this ongoing war. While most of it didn’t require any editing, you gave your input on a few details, such as where to place the third unit and what time they should be sent after the others. Kylo took each of your revisions and thought them over carefully while mindlessly playing with the side of your hair.

“You’re right, my heart,” Kylo said. “I’ll make the changes.”

He began to sit up—his impulse to work continuously kicking in. But all it took was a single protest to stop him.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. “There’s much more important things to attend to at the moment.”

The smile that spread across the man’s handsome face made the beating in your chest quicken. Too many people had shared how they had never witnessed the Supreme Leader smile. Several wondered if he was capable of it. For you, though, it was a common as breathing, but that did not at all mean you’d ever grow use to it. No, anything this strong, powerful man did would always have the ability to affect you in countless ways.

“And what does that include?”

You grinned at the sound of him nearly giggling as you rolled on top of him. It only intensified as you laced your hand with his and pinned it near his head. Your heart swelled at the sound.

You lowered your head until your lips met his, and slowly, the two of you kissed.

His free hand roamed its way up the back of your shirt, seeming to only want to feel the warmth of your skin.

A minute passed, and you were taking your time to turn this into something more. But then, the sound of claws running across the floor just before they landed on the bed with you ensured that would not be happening.

“W/N!” Kylo said angrily to the wolf.

Golden eyes stared back at him with a mouth opened to form what you always called a smile. One spread across your own when a pink tongue darted out to lick Kylo’s nose.

“Stop it! You know I hate that!”

“As much as I like to believe animals know what we’re saying, I don’t think he does,” you told him with a laugh.

“He does too know! That’s why he does it!”

“Only because he loves you.”

Kylo unhappily groaned when you moved off of him to take your pet into your arms. You chuckled at the several kisses he gave your cheek.

“Lay back down,” you said.

Immediately, W/N compiled, placing himself directly between you and Kylo. With a content sigh, he took it upon himself to share the pillows with the two of you.

“Are you serious?” your lover asked incredulously. “Does this have to happen every night, (Y/N)?! I took time out of a mission to get him a bed—a ridiculously expensive bed, I must add—but I’ve only seen him in it once!”

“He gets lonely.”

“But you and I had more time together when we lived apart! It’s not just while in bed; it’s all the time!”

“That isn’t true, Kylo. I just take care of him,” you explained.

“But you’re always with him!”

You lifted your head to look at him fully over the massive wolf’s. “Are you jealous?”

A muscle flickered in Kylo’s jaw, before he shook his head and turned his back to the two of you. “This is ridiculous.”

“How is it ridiculous? I love him.”

“You say that about me too, but that must not matter.”

“Oh come on. Now who’s being ridiculous? ” you reached for his arm just to have it fall.

Kylo abruptly rose to his feet and snatched the map off the floor loud enough to wake (W/N).

“Oh no. I woke him up,” Kylo mocked. “Maybe you should sing him to sleep.”

You listened to the sound of his heavy footsteps exit the bedroom, too in shock to say anything more.

The most feared being in the entire galaxy, and he was jealous of a pet.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Don’t you go far.”

It had been a few days since Kylo fully voiced his feelings of envy. You had tried to bring them up, but he insisted he was too busy to talk. At night, he would return after you had fallen asleep. It was as though he was avoiding you, but you tried to comfort yourself by saying he genuinely was busy with upcoming mission.

It commenced today and far in the distance, you could hear the battle rage on.

Sometimes, you would join if you felt it was necessary, but you much preferred strategizing over fighting. Today was expected to be easy, so you remained with the ship—and W/N of course.

He was now sniffing away at the several rocks, trees, and bushes. You loved watching him be free of the doors and walls. You yourself loved being outside of them as well.

While part of you was always tense while Kylo was in battle, you tried find peace in his unbelievable abilities, along with your beautiful surroundings.

You succeeded for the longest time, but then W/N went still. Ears stood fully erect atop his head as he sniffed the air. Second later, a growl began to sound from deep in his chest. It was one that would send most sprinting away without a second thought.

With each moment that passed, the warning to the unknown intensified until his sharp, lethal teeth were fully exposed.

Your hand instinctively reached for your blaster at the sound of a breaking branch.

And then they appeared.

It was a group of six Rebels—all armed. But thankfully, you were as well.

“Stay, W/N!” you commanded.

You were trained prior to meeting Kylo, and your skills had only bettered since. You didn’t think you’d need to put your beloved pet in harms way. And as you watched the final man fall, you believed you had been right.

But then something happened quicker than your brain could process. A weaponless man came running from the bushes and launched himself at you.

He was fast—fast enough to tackle you to the ground and attempt to reach for your throat—but W/N was faster.

The man screamed as the wolf’s powerful jaws latched onto his shoulder, ripping him off of you. Your attacker was dragged away, as though W/N knew what he was going to do was something you wouldn’t want to see.

Flailing limbs disappeared in the thick bushes, but the screams and growling continued. Then suddenly, it was silent.

“W/N?”

You breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of your wolf prancing towards you.

You lowered yourself to your knees and hugged him tightly, feeling him nuzzle his snout against your shoulder.

The embrace lasted only moments before he turned and looked exactly as he did before. After a few sniffs though, he sat down beside you with a tail beginning to wag.

Out of the trees appeared the Supreme Leader and a unit of Stormtroopers. All of them looked at each other.

“What?” you asked, standing to you feet.

“You did this?” Kylo asked, motioning towards the scattered bodies.

You only nodded.

The mask was the removed to show the prideful smile on your lover’s face.

“I’m not surprised.”

“It wasn’t just me,” you told him, and all gazes fell to W/N. “One appeared out of nowhere and attempted to kill me. It was him who saved me.”

A tail thumped against the ground as Kylo approached. Blood stained teeth were revealed when the wolf gave the Supreme Leader his best smile.

Your heart suddenly warmed at the sight of the expression being returned.

Speaking as though he was a proud father, Kylo praised him by saying, “I’m sure it was a horrible as it sounded. Good boy.”

You moved closer and placed your arms tightly around your lover, who leaned to firmly kiss your lips in greeting.

“Does that mean you’ll help me brush his teeth tonight?”

“You must be joking. Why would a wolf need his teeth brushed?”

“Because they’re dirty of course. I don’t want to risk the blood making him sick.”

With a sigh and a shaking head, but also a smile breaking its way thought, the Prince of Darkness surrendered to the both of you. “I’ll help you, and we’ll give him a bath to make sure all of it gets out of his fur. He deserves some pampering I suppose.”

| Masterlist |

[sugasugawarau]

Synopsis: You knew that Kageyama Tobio was not your soulmate - and that was why you could not help but succumb to the waves that lulled you away from the shores of fate + semi inspired by Eyes Blue like the Atlantic by sistaprod ft. Subvrbs. Also part of @yacoka‘s collab <3 (2.4k words)

Warnings/notes: Some angst near the end, soulmate red string au, gender neutral reader. No beta we die like Rex Lapis so if I ever feel like it this may be edited at some point asdahdhj idk LMAO

— Prologue

There are as many reasons to fall in love with Kageyama Tobio as there are fractals made by the ocean’s breath as the world inhales and exhales, flourishes and wilts, conquers and surrenders. It would not even be a hyperbole to say that in number, they remain unrivalled to the plethora of stars that stain the waves with their reflection and run deeper than the scars of lightyears that paint lines from Cassiopeia to Aquila.

After all, he is the darkest hue of navy blue.

Determination that moves in an orchestra of thundering waves, brandishing on its crest an admirable recklessness, heeding not for the need to call upon courage or confidence; polished instinct that endued one with the same awestruck feeling when facing the beautifully suffocating obscurity of their life in this world, a mixture of raw fear and the need to impart a piece of their soul in everything they do despite how fragile the skin shielding their heart is.

But the best part of loving Kageyama was that you were not - or will ever become - destined to be.

— Shoreline

Red.

It was a word that was always thrown about in conversations, the fuel to the catastrophes that were high school gossip chains, and the colour that held the mangled passion of the string of fate. Garishly predestined and easily tangled by unnecessary complications of jealousy and confusion, it is needless to say that you hated red with more passion than the love it emptily promises with a title as shallow as soulmates.

That was not to say you despised love. There was nothing wrong with love itself, a fact which you had decided firmly since the spry age of four years old. What was wrong was its combination with soulmates: a rigid formula, nothing like the walks with your grandmother on the bright summer roads littered with flowers as her calloused palm gently guided you, or the laughter you shared with your friends after a long run in the rain, hugging each other goodbye at the end of the day despite the muddy battle scars covering your arms and legs from falling countless times.

Your mind could have kept you engaged in your internal debate for longer if you were left to your own devices, but an awkward cough and the sound of a desk shifting towards your right brought you out of your reverie, bringing your drifting thoughts back to the classroom surrounding you.

Perhaps your look of confusion came off as hostile, for the dark-haired boy now sitting next to you looked at you with a slight glare that felt forced, an automatic effort to defend himself.

His tone of voice only confirmed your unconsciously off-putting expression as he gruffly stated, “Group project.” to explain his sudden presence.

“Oh. What’s the topic on?”

An awkward silence had ensued while you tried to calmly collect yourself by gathering a handful of pens from your pencil case after being caught in your heinous crime of not paying attention to your English teacher.

“You don’t know?” Came his reply, causing you to occupy yourself by finding extreme interest in a lime green highlighter you did not have any recollection of ever buying.

“Well, I clearly wasn’t paying attention.”

“You… weren’t?” The slight intonation in his tone was a stark contrast to your initial impression of him and caused you to look up at him, almost letting out an amused snort at his befuddled frown to which he furrowed his brows and shot a challenging “What?” in return. Realizing that he was genuine in believing that you were deep in thought over the lesson, a burst of laughter blossomed past your lips, attracting a few odd looks from your nearby peers and an abashed glare from him.

You paused to take a breath, a repetition of sorries stumbling their way out to appease the onslaught of nagging you thought would follow shortly. Instead, all the boy muttered was a simple, “You’re weird.”

“Sure, but that’s beside the point - were you paying any attention?”

“No.”

Seeing your face contorted to stop yet another bout of laughter to roam its way into the world as a result of his bluntness, he shot out of his seat and announced that he would go ask the teacher, unable to hide his puzzlement as he walked away. He would come to regret this decision when the teacher began to lecture him, earning more heads to turn his way as she scolded him before sending him off dismissively with a sticky note that you assumed had your now long-awaited topic.

Before you could thank him for enduring what could only be one of the worst things to experience as a high school student, he wordlessly handed the piece of paper to you and sat down.

“Kageyama, right? With this project, you’ll have me to thank for the A we’ll get,” you promised confidently, to which he responded with a halfhearted “Good luck.”

If he had been a close friend, you would have taken the small textbook on his desk and gently hit his head at his evident lack of belief in his capabilities, but settled for a clipped sigh instead. After all, you did not want to further contribute to the premature wrinkles Kageyama was making himself prone to with all of the brow-furrowing he did.

This is going to be one long month.

— Largo

Like how the ocean reluctantly caresses the sleeping shore as it wakes from its slumber during low tide, your lives slowly flowed together.

During the first week of your group project with him, he would greet you curtly, and on a few occasions, you would have short conversations about the outline of your book review.

And this singular week was enough to show that there was some (okay, maybe a lot) of backing behind the teacher’s warning about Kageyama’s dismal grade.

While you flipped through A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you would catch the all-too-familiar confusion on his face - it was written on his features so blatantly that it was almost comical, as if taken straight out of a shonen manga.

“You know if you’re stuck you can ask me for help.”

A slight scowl greeted you over the hedge of pages he had been burying himself in, followed by a biting, “Who said I need help?”

You could only roll your eyes in return.

“Please drop the prideful act. You've been glazing over the same page for about twenty minutes now."

After a few seconds of grumbling did he finally comply, and with your explanations, his bookmark was now comfortably sandwiched between the double-digit page numbers right as the bell rang. You hummed in satisfaction before returning your desk to your original spot, expecting him to rush out along with everyone else - so to turn around and see him still standing there was a bit of a surprise.

“Did you still need help with the last few lines?” You settled on asking, not really wanting to plague your break with work but offering nonetheless. Thankfully, he shot a look of disdain at the play as he stuffed it away haphazardly in his bag.

“No, I just wanted to,” he trailed off a bit, the tinge of red on his ears an out-of-character detail you decided not to comment on, “to say thanks, I guess.”

You smiled softly at the unexpected gesture of appreciation before giving him a teasing nudge which he stiffened slightly at.

“Well, I can’t have you bringing down my mark now can I?”

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Too bad, I have those words of gratitude stored nicely in my hippocampus already.”

From there, tutoring sessions with Kageyama became the norm, with you sometimes asking about his volleyball team after he had let slip that you were a better teacher than Tsukishima (something you would be sure to smugly share if you ever met the infamous middle blocker).

By the end of the month, all of the hard work - and a couple of all-nighters due to procrastination - brought forth an A as you had promised.

Even your relentless teasing, varying between “I told you so!” to “You owe me at least three meat buns now” which were all met with an annoyed “Shut up”was not enough to dim the smile he tried to hide.

— High tide

With the force of nature, the tide rose without warning; from goodnight texts to confessing to the first “I love you” uttered shyly between shameless souls, neither of you was sure where things began, but found comfort in such liberating chaos.

In times where he needed to be held, you were there, and the insecurities you would hide, he would turn beautiful. And today happened to be a day for both as you stared absentmindedly at his bedroom ceiling.

“Hey Tobio, what’s your take on soulmates?”

“We’ve been together for almost a year now, what do you think?” he put his phone down and turned towards you, “I could care less about soulmates or whatever else is worrying you enough to make your overthinking go into overdrive.”

“Rude, have some respect, it’s my profession after all,” you shoved him playfully as he snorted in reply, “It’s just... If your string ever appeared, wouldn't you rather-”

“Listen Y/n, did you know that I’m scared of dying but I’m even more terrified of the thought of living without you? I could never and don’t ever want to replace you. People can talk all they want, if I could find a love like ours without something as stupid as a piece of string then I don’t need a soulmate.”

“Really?”

With a flick to your forehead, he huffed in fake exasperation. “Really.”

“Huh, who knew you could be so romantic.”

“It's not romantic, I'm just being honest, idiot.”

“You sure could make do with some more lessons on manners and social tact. It's too bad you can't pick up on those as well as volleyball drills.”

Before he could retaliate, you enveloped him in a familiar embrace, burrowing your face into the large hoodie he donned.

It was effortless, his company.

— Ebbing away

But it wasn’t all romantic.

You fiddled with your phone as you waited for any sign that Kageyama had seen your messages, the pack of meat buns you had bought on a whim no longer letting off their fragrant steam. You knew he had an important match coming up against Seijoh, that he had to prove himself, that he lives hungrily and foolishly like no other. But his missing presence went beyond volleyball practice, keeping his distance from you even when he was right by your side.

Why am I stuck reminiscing about the past when we still have each other?

Why does every step I take towards him feel as if I’m only drawing myself farther away from him?

A carousel of rhetorical questions spun around your head as you stopped your slow pace towards Karasuno. You were not blind; you knew the rumours and dirty looks from your classmates were not something anyone could be immune to, that he tried his best to spend less time around you at school. The only conclusion you could reach was that he was ashamed: either of you, or the fact that he had begun to see his red string and could not bring himself to face you.

Ignoring the urge to let yourself cry, you glanced down at your phone once more, 8:30PM flashed across your eyes, followed by your empty notifications. There was no way he’d still be practicing at the school now and even if he was, you doubted he would be happy to see you. Maybe - no, definitely - it would be better to head home, and maybe stop by the convenience store you had bought the now misshapen meat buns from to get some tea and call it a night.

If only fate did not reciprocate your hatred towards it.

Stepping into the small store, the first person you are greeted with is none other than Kageyama Tobio. The whole situation was like a fever dream, and you would do anything to be able to let out a laugh and have him call you weird all over again. But all you could bring yourself to do was blearily stare at him.

He turned around quickly, as if not wanting to be caught before ushering you outside. “Y/n? Why are you here?” he hissed, a stiffness that he had recently adopted to his body language that you were now all too familiar with.

“What? Am I not allowed to go into any and all convenience stores I please?” You challenged, a part of you waiting for him to care enough to see how tired you were, to actually look you in the eyes for the first time in weeks.

He did not, opting to turn his head towards the door again.

“It’s not that, it’s just-”

“Just what? Tobio, what is up with you lately?” A pause ensued, broken by a small hiccup as your eyes dampened - God, how much more pathetic could you get than crying in front of some dingy convenience store - “Do you even love me anymore?”

How odd. You thought that by finally uttering the final question that had been dancing around your mind free to the world, you would feel better. That he would reassure you, as he always had.

Not that he would at last meet your gaze, grabbing your hand to look at the red string wrapped around your ring finger.

The taste of tears and Kageyama’s eyes as blue as the Atlantic all felt miles away from you as an orange-haired boy stepped out of the store, his mouth dropping into an o-shape when he saw that his string led to you, a disheveled mess arguing with his teammate.

“Kageyama…You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to face the reality of it all. Because I was afraid of losing you.”

“But I wouldn’t leave you-”

“I know you wouldn’t but you should!” Kageyama’s furrowed brows, once a quirk of his that you were fond of, now elicited a sick turmoil in your stomach, “You have to. Please.”

You wanted to yell at him, let the blood pour out of any and all raw words of anger and hurt.

Who was he to decide what was good for you, to throw you at some boy you never met before, to give up?

Then again, you could never say you would not have done the same for him if you knew he had found his soulmate despite the sweet words he had told you so long ago.

So you let yourself go. For his sake.

[my-shitty-unfinished-fics]

Isolation. Canon-Divergent. Tendershipping. Bakura doesn’t know what to do when he wakes up one day unable to get in contact with Ryou. He thinks his host is just having a lazy day, but when one day turns into a month. He’s not too sure and he just can’t get his mind to shut up, so he turns to the last person he ever thought he’d go to. The Pharaoh’s Host.

Words: 1,002

—

Isolation Canon-Divergent. Tendershipping.

Late nights were normal, his host never accepted the idea of sleep. Still, Bakura stared at the white ceiling one morning, usually, Ryou was the one who woke the body up, he couldn’t sense his host, after a few failed complaints he finally got up for daily maintenance of the body. Food, hygiene, brushes his hair, gets dress, picks up a few groceries. He chooses to take the day off school. That was Ryou’s area.

He’s just living day in and out, Ryou’s ‘friends’ visited him but he lied and played Host. Still, he’s sitting on the couch in the eerily silent apartment, head in his hands, ring dangling between his legs, his—were they his? he groaned shaking his head.

A month was a long time to be completely unable to contact his host.

The school was beginning to worry and their phone calls weren’t any more comforting, when Ryou’s father called about it he just watched the machine collect the message.

He had no clue what happened to Ryou, where he was, why he couldn’t contact him.

He feels like he’s missing a piece of himself.

Bakura fiddles with the ring, threatening to take it off countless times to see if it’d force his host back, he knew Ryou. He knew his host, he’d put it back on. Still, he can’t ever get himself to try. What if he took it off. What if Ryou was gone? and then what, no host, no body, nothing. Just a metal ring for eternity till he found another suitable host. He doubted anyone would be able to fill the role as well as Ryou had.

He saw his host as somewhat strong, he didn’t think. He refused to believe Ryou’s dead.

This body wasn’t his, so he’d just look after it until Ryou came back to him.

The apartment, the silence, the waiting, it wasn’t time for his master plan yet, he needed more of the items first and that ghost he failed at killing was hoarding two. Yuugi had rest of them, especially after Malik betrayed him and handed his item over to the runt as well.

It was quiet, too quiet.

It gave him too much time to think about his actions, his life. Right now he was just living day to day waiting for Ryou, working on his hosts RPG board for when it was time to hold his final showdown and finally get the justice he deserved. Working with Ryou’s white mage’s piece beside him, talking mindlessly to it now and again just to break the otherwise deafening silence.

But his work gets slower and slower, he sinks onto the table just staring at the pieces, his opponent's pieces, all the small odd details he’d gotten his host to include when he’d been working on it instead, Ryou always did have a better handle on this type of thing.

His mind races with memories, not all his but Ryou’s too, the confused moments where he blinked and his life was changed, the times he wandered trapped in darkness, the same darkness he was trying to escape himself, when he made his host kill a man and tear out his eye, when he sealed his friend's souls into the dolls that decorated the game rooms wall, when he sealed his host into a card. When he cut his arm. Stabbed his hand. The months of rehabilitation and exercises he still had to do to ensure Ryou didn’t lose function in his left hand and arm. When he sacrificed Ryou’s body to the shadows, he escaped into the puzzle but Ryou went to the shadows.

Bakura groans in regret, pulling on his black coat and leaving the apartment for the first time that week. He’s not in the fucking mood for an umbrella so he just ignores the pounding rain, walking through the dark streets, he knew the directions by heart.

Knocking on the door, nibbling his lip as he waited and waited, before bashing his fist against it.

Yuugi answers the door murmuring an apology for the wait as he rubbed his eye sleepily, but he freezes at the soaked teen in the shop's doorway, his burning red eyes looked exhausted, his body looked tense, all in all, he looked lost.

Yuugi instantly invited him in after he got over the shock of seeing the Ring’s spirit at his front door in the middle of the night, Bakura hates that one of the first things he notices as the boy tried to talk and ask concerned sounding questions and all he could think was the Pharaoh wasn’t with them.

Bakura always thought he knew what he was going, what he wanted to do, what was important.

He wanted revenge, he needed justice for his people—but-

Right now he just wanted his host back.

He wanted to protect Ryou. He didn’t want to hurt his host, he wanted him by his side. Like he had been since the day they met.

He truly tried at the beginning, his host was scared to lose others. So he ensured they’d never leave, then Ryou rejected the dolls. He rejected his gift, what was he supposed to do. Sure he never meant to hurt his host, but the line between harming and what was necessary to achieve his goal was sorta hard to see.

Still, no matter what he did, Ryou was always there, he was strong, determined and for some damn reason, he sort out the ring and put it on time and time again. He wasn’t sure Ryou really knew why, he just knew Ryou wanted him.

Bakura sits in silence with the small boy in the ‘staff’ room, Yuugi made them tea, but it sat wastefully on the table and he leant onto his legs, hands holding one another and staring at the floor rather than the boy who let him inside, making a puddle by his own feet despite the towel sitting over his shoulders still.

—

I give up XP

It’s basically just a summary, but I dunno how to write something like this (I mostly do stupid Au’s), so I’m just gonna put it here.

If anyone wants to write it properly feel free to give it ago and tag me. Dunno if anyone will even see this, cause this is the first post to this account, but still! hope you enjoy and what not. It’s pretty well explained in the top description anyway. 

[boxofbadaddiction]

Gotta Get Me Some

Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Umbridge Detention, Swearing, Implied Pot Smoking, Heavy Duty Make-Out Sesh.

Note: This is my first ever fanfic. I'm aware I'm pretty rubbish and OMG! WHY IS IT SO LONG??? But I'm sure I'll get better in time.

Inspired by Nickelbacks "Gotta Get Me Some" which is linked to the title.

The arrival of Winter, typically, meant the castle of Hogwarts were filled with the shivering and cheerful voices of students and staff anxiously awaiting the beginning of the Holiday festivities. However, with Delores Jane Umbridge set rampant upon the school there was little room for joy in the lives of any of the Hogwarts occupants.

"The bloody bitch is a menace!" Came the familiar drawling voice of Ronald Weasley.

It was breakfast and the Great Hall was filled to the brim with complaints following the latest set of 'Educational Decrees' which saw the students, already slim, range of freedom lessened still.

"No loud music. No groups larger than 3. Gryffindor as good as dead in the Quidditch finals-"

"HEY!" Ginny had taken Ron's remark against her teams performance rather personally, still he carried on as if uninterrupted.

"What's there left for that pink, old, Toad to take away?" He questioned to the equally disgruntled group of teens hundled around their morning pumpkin juice.

"I know, it's just dreadful isn't it?" Answered Lee Jordan. "I can't wait to be shot of this place for the holidays! I mean..." he glanced sorrowfully over his shoulder toward the Ravenclaw table, a look which did not go unnoticed by the rest of the group, "there's just nothing left to be cheerful for" he stared glumly back to his breakfast where he poked and prodded a cold piece of sausage across his plate.

"Oh give it a rest, Lee." Snapped the impatient voice of Fred Weasley.

"Just because you've no longer got someone to snog under the mistletoe." Continued George.

Their attitude caused Lee to slouch somewhat ashamedly in his seat.

"Don't be so insensitive!" Defended Hermiome, noting the further drop in his mood. "What is the matter with you two!? Your best friend is upset, the least you could do is be supportive!

"You're right, Hermione. I'm sorry Lee." Said George.

"Yeah, our bad mate. Just a bit out of it this morning...had detention with Umbridge late last night." Fred straightened himself from leaning on his elbows as he cletched his left hand, lowering it below the table.

"What'd she have you carve this time?" Lee asked concernedly.

"The same," responded George, showing the fresh scar upon his hand which read 'I must obey the rules', "she's got it out for us honestly."

The group grimaced at the sight.

"Has she said anything to you, since it happened, Lee?" Spoke Ginny, eager for a change of topic.

"Nothing new. Just the same everytime I try to talk to her; 'I don't see this going anywhere. I need someone more serious. I have my future to think about.' As if I'm the reason she's flunking potions." He rolled his eyes.

The group couldn't stand to see their friend so upset. He'd been, understandably, moping for days since the sudden termination of his eighth month long relationship with a fellow Seventh Year, Ravenclaw.

"Forget about her, mate." Fred stated abruptly, "you'll find someone better in no time."

"Someone who doesn't try to change everything about you." Chimed George.

Fred had never much cared for Lee's partner of choice. Her feelings were mutual, toward not only the devil-may-care redhead, but also his equally chaotic twin. Following the boys words of encouragement a wave of compliments and support erupted from the mouths of everyone else currently involved in the conversation, which crashed upon Lee. Seemingly having the desired effect as his mood greatly improved over the remainder of their meal, until came time for everyone to depart for their various classes.

---

Several tiresome hours later found most of the group, minus the Twins and Lee, lounging comfortably about the Gryffindor common room. Everyone was quietly enjoying the time to themselves. Everyone that is except for Ron who, per usual, had countless complaints to share on the topic of the 'Hogwarts High Enquizitor'.

"Did you hear her today before Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"What happened?" Ginny asked, only partially interested in the conversation.

"She gave him a serve for standing too close to Hermione." Sniggered Harry who, quite frankly, found the whole situation rather amusing.

"Boys and Girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other!" Ron mocked in his best impression of Umbridge.

"What's she expect to walk around a corner and catch me snogging?"

"Well, not you snogging anyone" George had just entered through the portrait hole, followed closely by Fred and Lee.

"You've got about as much chance being caught with a girl as George and I do being caught doing homework" Fred teased as the room broke into laughter.

A scowl plastered itself across Rons face. Insulted, he tightly folded his arms across his chest and slumped back between the cushions of the armchair he'd perched himself on.

"Awe, come on now Ronniekins. Mind the attitude", Fred goaded while roughing Rons hair. This earned him a rather hard slap across the arm, as he attempted to bat away the unwanted contact.

"Yeah," George began resting on the arm of Rons seat, "it's not all that bad."

"What's got you three in such a good mood?" Hermione questioned noting the new found spring held in the boys step as they strutted about the room disturbing the previously content group of teens.

"Just had a good day is all" Lee smirked, eyes flicking toward the Twins.

"You've planned some ridiculous prank on Lee's ex haven't you?" Ginny groaned with a look of you'd-better-fucking-not etched across her freckled features.

"No, nothing like that." Lee assured her, clearing the resounding tension from the air with a wave of his hand.

"Well, what then? You all looked ropeable at breakfast this morning. Now it's like you've won 100 galleons." Piped Harry, intrigued by the boys sudden optimism.

"We just got some good news, that's all." commented George vaguely, as Fred and Lee chuckled.

"What good news?" asked Ron.

"None ya business." Chorused the Twins.

"Oh come on you three! Just tell us!" Ginny and Harry were on the edge of their seats while Ron continued to scowl and Hermione remained utterly indifferent, immersed in yet another book. Good news was scarce these days and if it was enough to get the Twins excited this news was obviously well worth their time and pestering.

"Alright, fine then." Lee propped himself up straightly in his chair, ignoring the sounds of protest from the Twins as he leant forward to whisper to the eager group of ears. "What's it matter, really?" He shrugged.

The group was now huddled closely together around a small coffee by the fire on their knees. Everyone's attention fixed directly on Lee as he spoke.

"There's a scheme in action throughout Hogwarts. Someone is planning an end of year party right under the nose of that great, Toad."

Hermiones face showed no interest. "Really. That's all, a party?" Everyone promptly began shushing her.

"When is it!?" Asked Ginny, excitedly.

"No idea" replied the three seventh years at once.

"Well then, where is it?" Harry attempted to carry on the conversation.

"No idea." Came the chorus again.

Harry, Ron and Ginny eyed each other confusedly. Unable to see how a party with no location or time could have got the boys so happy.

"Who's planning it?" Hermione broke the silence.

"No idea."

"I'm missing dinner for this?" Ginny huffed as she slouched back against the bottom of the couch.

Harry could not have been anymore confused at this point. "So tell me, how exactly has this lifted your spirits?"

"Because it's going to be the party!" Lee answered.

"There's this tradition you see..." said George.

"Every year the graduating class holds a secret party under the noses of the staff. Obviously this year will be the best because no prior year had Satan at the helm." Fred explained. "But it's more than that. This year has already gone further than any before."

"How so?" Sighed Ron.

"It's a complete secret to everyone." Said Lee.

"No one's going to know when" smiled George.

"And no ones going to know where, until the day of." Fred smirked reclining with his feet up on the couch, hands nestled comfortably at the back of his neck.

"But then how do you know about it?" Piped Hermione.

"The group involved in it's planning has begun spreading rumours to get the word out. Only those invited are being told." Nodded Lee.

Ron was smiling now "I'm so going - OW!" Fred had reached and slapped the back of Ron's head again.

"No can do Ronniekins." He stood.

"Strictly seventh years only." George and Lee followed suit as the boys headed toward the portrait hole.

"Why tell us then??" Complained Ginny.

"Because you asked!" Lee laughed.

"What a bloody waste of time." She shook her head heading for dinner.

"What do you reckon, Harry?" Nudged Ron. But Harry didn't get the chance to answer as Hermione sprang into a lecture.

"Does it matter? One, you can't go - it's seventh years only. Two, this whole thing is terribly thought out! You can't hold a party that no one knows any details for. Not to mention the fact there is no where in the castle that a party could take place without detection. Not enough people know of the Room Of Requirement for it to be used. Lastly, even if by some miracle this plan does go ahead can you just imagine the punishment those who attended will receive when Umbridge finds out? And she will find out! Besides, Ronald. As school prefects we could not allow for such an event to take place. It goes against at least 30 school rules. Ones not set by Delores mind you. It won't go ahead so there's no point discussing it any further." Hermione was short of breath when she finally finished.

Given her friends deadpan expressions her lecture, per usual, had little effect. Frustrated she collected her belongings and left for dinner also.

"Sucks the fun out of everything, doesn't she?" Whispered Ron, as they followed. Neither game to admit just how much they wanted an invite to the mystery party. Not around Hermione at least.

---

Two weeks had passed since news broke of the Party and school spirits had lifted substantially as a result. Amongst the seniors at least. Although, it may also have had something to do with the approaching Quidditch match, between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, set to take place shortly after classes concluded in the afternoon. Students hastened themselves in storing their possessions before hurrying off to the stadium.

Halfway toward the pitch the Twins were deep in conversation over new product ideas when the sudden call of their names caused them to turn. Lee had been attempting to gain their attention from some distance behind. He looked far too excited for someone so out of breath as he ran up to his awaiting friends.

"Nice of you to finally join us." George laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're so funny, whatever. Listen!" He pulled the boys aside of the walking track to avoid being over heard. "The party's happening tonight! That's why I was late, a Ravenclaw was talking to me and -"

"Which Ravenclaw?" Asked the Twins, excited about the news.

"Doesn't matter."

"Given that tone, I'd say it does." Fred raised his brow. But Lee remained quiet.

"Which Ravenclaw?" They demanded.

"Oh fine! Alright, my ex. We were snogging in Moanies bathroom when the bell rang and she told me. Are you happy?" Groans and eye rolls came from the redheads as they processed the information.

"You'd just gotten over her mate" said George as they began walking, now running late for the game.

"Hadn't spoken to, or about her in weeks!" Fred spoke.

"Yes. And snogging was my reward! Now, you're sort of missing the important information here!! The party is on for tonight! Word has it, there's a deal between the teams seekers to push today's match back as late as possible. So Umbitch has to extend tonights curfew. That will draw some of the suspicion away from students wandering the halls late. Since they begin play at five, and curfews at nine, we're hoping for a three and a half hour match at least."

"Where's it happening?" Asked George.

"Some room in the Dungeons. There's going to be a marker set up to let us know where to go."

"What's the marker?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

"Well that's handy" Fred sighed. "Still no idea who's planning this?"

"Nah, but when she told me, she did happen to mention it's a friend of hers."

"What about the time?"

"Now that, I do know something about. Everyone's been given an individual time to arrive. To avoid a build up of students roaming toward the Dungeons past curfew. Our time is 10:45."

As they reached the stadium entrance the boys opted for a change of subject, as they took their place within the commentary box.

A total of 3 hours and 52 minutes later saw Hufflepuff victorious.

---

Time seemed to move agonisingly slow from that point as the boys waited in their near empty common room, keen for the night ahead.

"It's happening tonight isn't it? That's why you're all down here dressed up!" Ron had been pestering the boys for the past 40 minutes at least having noticed them wearing what you'd consider their best jeans and shirts.

"Give it a rest Ron!" Ginny snapped. Evidently even those uninvited few who knew of the party had grown tired of Rons relentless begging. She huffed as she changed position on the common room sofa.

"Like you aren't itching for an invite." He hissed back.

"We aren't going to tell you so just stop being such a nagging little prat, and leave us alone!" Fred growled.

"You weren't invited and we're not taking you!" George glared at his younger brother, and spoke with such a tone of finality that Ron reluctantly admitted defeat. Sulking in a neighbouring armchair.

"It's time" interrupted Lee, standing from his seat. "If we leave now that should give us plenty of time should we run into any obstacles along the way."

Indeed, the thought of stumbling upon Filch, or his cat, a rogue professor or prefect patrolling the halls, perhaps even the big bitch herself put a certain extra degree of temptation over the excitement for the night. At least it did for the Twins. Lee was slightly more apprehensive as he was not quite as adept in late night adventures compared to his prankster best friends. Fred and George could sense Lee's nerves in his voice and assured him that it would be "no more than a walk in the park".

Making use of their extensive knowledge of hidden passages and corridors the Twins had memorised, the boys met few speed bumps along their way. Aside from one encounter with Peeves the Poltergeist, whom they convinced to keep their whereabouts a secret on the word they were off to Prank Umbridge. Peeves gave them no such grief as a result.

"Right." Whispered Fred as they entered the Dungeons. "What's this signal we're meant to wait for?"

"If I were to hazzard a guess Freddie, I'd have to say...that." George pointed.

As if summoned by their presence a neon green ball of light appeared before them, glowing brightly against the pitch black corridor.

"Shall we gents?" Lee gestured for the Weasleys to move forward.

As they approached the ball began to move slowly throughout the space. Gliding ominously down the long empty hall and turned right down a passage which they knew led to the potions classroom.

"I swear, if this is a joke and we're about to be dumped on Snapes doorstep I'm pushing you both over to make my escape." Fred joked.

After a few more minutes walking the Gryffindors had passed their potions class and, while holding their breaths, the office of one Severus Snape. The orb led them directly to an unused classroom at the very end of the hall.

"Here?" Asked George. "Last I saw of this room, it were no bigger than Hagrids hut and stacked high with crap!"

The green orb flowed seamlessly through the old wooden door, coaxing them to continue onward.

"Here goes nothing, I guess." Lee shrugged as he placed a tentative grip on the doors handle and swung it open.

Whatever they had been expecting it sure wasn't this. The room had obviously been cleaned and made subject to an expansion charm as the ceiling was considerably higher than they recalled. However, what stood before them was not the hustle and bustle of a raging party - but two glistening white sheers with a note attached.

"Please shut the door before parting the curtains." It read. Confused but obediently the boys ensured the door was closed securely before passing through the thin fabric.

Immediately the scene changed. Their ears were met with the deafening sound of alternative rock music and the laughter of what was surely the entire cohort of seventh years. Tables lined the walls with an assortment of food and drink, as well as allowing areas for seating. The atmosphere was warm and inviting and they couldn't help but smile as they admired the amount of effort which must have been placed into making this a reality. Casting their eyes toward the ceiling they noticed an array of multicoloured orbs - similar to the one which lead them to the room, glowing brightly above the centre of the floor which lit the party like 70s disco.

"You made it!" Called the voice of Angelina Johnson as she ran to embrace the new comers. She was clutching a drink firmly in her left hand and swaying considerably, indicating she had indeed been here for quite some time and that was in no way her first drink.

"You're clearly having a ball." Fred chuckled, near having to yell over the noise of the place.

"I've been here since 9.30. That was my time. GEORGE!" She startled him before pulling him down by the neck to speak into his ear, "that girl you fancy from Hufflepuff is here. She's been asking about you! By the drinks last I saw." She pointed.

"Well. I mustn't keep her waiting much longer, must I?" He winked at his brother signalling his departure. Angelina mumbled something about needing a new drink and followed as she drained her cups last drop.

Lee and Fred set off into the crowd to enjoy the night.

---

Two hours and too many firewhiskeys later found George shamelessly snogging and wrapped tight within the arms of said Hufflepuff, and Angelina presumably with her head buried deep within a toilet somewhere.

Lee and Fred were having the time of their lives, drinking and dancing the night away. That was until Lee found more issues for himself in the form of his ex dancing and kissing someone who wasn't him. All his hopes of rekindling their relationship were decimated. Fred noticed his sudden drop in emotion and promptly shifted his gaze to meet the object of Lee's loss of enthusiasm. Had he not been met with the most beautiful shade of [y/c] eyes he'd ever seen, he probably would have noticed Lee excuse himself from the floor.

Fred's heart began to race and it was like everyone in the room disappeared except for you. Mesmerised by the way you smiled and moved in time with the music he couldn't look away if he tried. He knew he recognised you from around school, you were in his grade after all, but surely you'd never been this breathtaking.

You were huddled close to Lee's ex, stealing her from the arms of the boy she'd wrapped herself around, smiling so bright the lights were dull in comparison. You clung to one another instead as you danced, bodies intertwined in a way that made Fred jealous. He could have watched you all night, and probably well would have had it not been from the sudden sharp blow of an elbow to his ribs.

George had appeared, lips swollen and hair dishevelled, with a drink for his brother.

"Interrupting an important thought am I?" He smirked handing his brother the beverage. "You know, Freddie. If you fancy someone talking to them usually accomplishes more than just staring at the poor girl." He laughed.

"Oh, suddenly so wise now that you've come up for air, are you?" Fred teased, sipping some of the purple concoction he was sure he shouldn't be drinking. "Who is she?" He turned back to look at you.

"Who?" George asked trying to peer over the mass of heads. But you'd vanished.

Fred's face sank. Chugging his drink and rushing through the tight group of bodies jumping and laughing together. As he reached the place where you'd been dancing he searched for you but even standing at his full height he was unable to catch so much as a glimpse of your [H/L + H/C] hair.

Disappointed he removed himself from the crowd, to the outskirts of the room, where he leaned against a table with his hands in his pockets. Desperate for a hint of your figure but nothing. Seconds turned to minutes as his heart began to race and he panicked slightly. Had you left? He began to fear the thought he'd never get to see you again tonight when suddenly...

"Hey" a drink appeared infront of his chest, "you look like you could use a drink." He turned to see you smiling sweetly at him. Shocked his lips parted slightly while he stared at you awestruck. He lost himself in your eyes. Merlin! They were so much better up close.

"It's okay" your words snapped him out of his daze, "it's just firewhiskey." You tilted your head a little, raising the cup further infront of him.

"Thanks." He hastily reached for the drink, fingertips brushing your own. He felt goosebumps rise up his body. How could a girl he's never spoken to before have such an effect on him? Smiling his eyes raked your body as he took a sip. Noting your tight leather jeans and lose black top that sat off your shoulders. The outfit reminded him of a muggle rockstar.

You stared deeply back into his eyes as they met yours again. Never breaking the stare as you downed you entire drink in a mouthful without even batting an eyelid. To say he was impressed was a vast understatement. Firewhiskey was by no means a weak drink. His eyes widened and he laughed watching you place your now empty cup the the table next to you, raising a curious eyebrow at his reaction.

"What?"

Fred turned his head back to face the crowd on the dancefloor, raising his cup to his lips once more. "Nothing", he said with a twitch of his lips and a small shake of his head. He drained his cup before looking back down to you, "I get the feeling you can really handle your alcohol."

"What can I say? I like the taste" he laughed at your comment. "So, which one are you?"

"Fred" he held his hand out to you, shaking it you never let your eyes leave each other for a second. "I must say, you have me at a loss. You know who I am, but what's your name, lovely?" He stepped closer to you and turned his body to face you fully.

"[Y/F/N + Y/L/N]"

"How is it I've never met a beautiful girl like you before?

"I'm pretty easy to miss, if you're not looking for me."

His eyes scanned your body again, running his tongue slowly over his bottom lip before pulling it gently between his teeth, as he did so. It was probably the hottest thing you'd ever seen. Making your knees weak. You'd always considered the Twins handsome, how could someone not? They were tall, confident, charming, smarter than you knew they'd care to admit, fiercely loyal, and it'd be a lie if you said you hadn't noticed how Quidditch sculpted their bodies over the years. They were like fucking Gods around Hogwarts.

"Well..." Fred spoke as you both admired each other. "I'm sure now, I'll never be able to stop myself looking for you." He smirked inching ever so closer.

It was your turn to bite your lip now. He was so close you could smell him, and fuck did he smell good. You felt your body warm as you took in his scent. The sensation reminded you of fresh Butterbeer on a brisk Winter's day. Completely intoxicating.

"I think it's time for a refill" you said grabbing your wand to summon a bottle of Whiskey from the table down from you. You filled both cups before turning back to face him.

"If I didn't know any better" he took the drink from the table, "I'd say you were trying to get me drunk." He drank slowly from the cup.

"Just trying to see if you can keep up with me." You said with an innocent expression, "anyway. It's good for you." You drank.

"It's good for you now, but it won't be easy tomorrow."

"I'm a big girl. Reckon I can handle it."

He laughed, looking back over the room briefly. He caught a glimpse of George with a girl who Fred was sure wasn't his same kissing partner from earlier, dancing up against him. He raised an impressed brow to his brother, which earned himself a shrug and nod in your direction. Fred knew exactly what he meant by that. He was telling him to get a move on, not that he needed any goading.

His attention back on you, he watched as you drank more of your whiskey. All he wanted to do right now was push you against the nearest wall and have at you. However, he figured that may be a tad forward of him so he decided not to mention the fact.

"So tell me, [Y/N], what house are you?"

"Take a guess." You teased.

He titled his head, taking his time to look you over. Starting at your eyes and travelling slowly down to your lips, to your neck and they paused for a moment longer as they reached your exposed collarbone. Mind drifting to imagine how soft the skin would feel under his lips as he left hickies across it. He examined your whole body in what he felt could have been hours. Really though it was just enough for you to refill your drink, having finished it again moments ago.

"Well, you're clearly not Gryffindor." He began. "Otherwise, I'd absolutely have spoken to you before now."

"Clearly" you mocked.

"Certainly not Hufflepuff."

"And what makes you say that?" You asked curiously.

"Because Hufflepuff is the most innocent house in the school. And I can tell you are anything but."

"Oh you can tell can you?" Raising your eyebrows in surprise at his comment.

"Absolutely" he nodded.

"What gave me away?" You pouted, feigning dejection.

"Well, Darling, if it weren't for that devishly wicked smile you wear so well, that's been driving me crazy all night." You averted your gaze, smiling, trying to hide the blush that threatened to form on your cheeks. Slowly casting your eyes back up to meet his that'd never left you. "Then I'd say it's in the way you drink Fire Whiskey like it's pumpkin juice. Or from the red in the whites of your eyes which, naturally, is from..." he took a step into you and leant his head down to your neck. His nose grazed your skin and you could feel his breath on you as he inhaled your scent deeply. He lifted his lips to your ear where he whispered "-that's hardly the smell of tobacco now is it?" Turning his head enough to stare into your eyes, smiling proud and somewhat cheekily.

"Quite perceptive, aren't you?" You whispered back to him. He shrugged stepping back to sip his drink. "You know I saw you watching me earlier. Dancing."

"Couldn't take my eyes off you, love. I've never seen somebody move that way." He was grinning at you, far too content for your liking.

"Well." You finished your drink and set aside the cup, "what do you say you replace my previous partner?" You grabbed his right hand and began making your way to the dance floor which, although still bustling with life didn't house nearly as many sweaty bodies as before. You flashed him that same devilish grin you now knew he loved so much.

Chugging his drink and casting aside the cup he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, nestling his chin in your neck "lead the way."

Never letting his hand leave your grip you brought him to the middle of the floor where you pulled him into you slowly. Once you were flush against one another you began to move. Shamelessly enjoying the touch of each other's body. He spun you, and you were swaying and grinding against him when he pulled you back. You stayed like that till you were both sweating and panting quite heavily. Unable to contain the smiles that graced your faces.

You couldn't take it anymore, the look in his eyes and the grip on your waist was sending you crazy, reaching a hand up and around his neck you pulled his face dangerously close to yours "want to get out of here?"

His grip on you tightened as he responded "absolutely" and with that dragged you toward the exist.

George caught Fred's attention momentarily, he had a curious expression on his face. He simply smiled and winked back at his Twin. George laughed sending up a mock, celebratory fist pump.

Slightly impatient, you pulled Fred by the front of his shirt out past the curtains. You had no idea how loud the party had been until you were faced with the eery silence of the empty Dungeon corridors. The muffling charm placed on the sheers working perfectly.

"Come with me, I know a place" Fred said taking your hand.

Quietly manoeuvring through the castle halls, he pulled you into a hidden passage behind a tapestry, through to an empty classroom away from prying eyes. With a quick glance through the crack of the door to ensure you weren't spotted Fred was surprised, and satisfied to say the least, when he turned from closing the door to be immediately met with your lips on his.

You pushed him back against the wall. The kiss was passionate and so full of need you wondered how either of you lasted this long. His hand cupped your face as he deepened the kiss. Your hands on his chest began to snake their way over his body, one resting on the back of his neck to tug on his soft hair, the other wrapping around to his lower back where you pulled yourself against him. Causing him to groan at the sensation.

Soft moans and light gasps for air were the only sounds to penertrate the nights silence. Both of you were desperate for one anothers touch. An intense need to have you built within Fred like a fire. Mirroring your movements from earlier he grabbed a fist full of your hair as his other hand clung to the small of your back.

He spun around so it was you pressed against the wall. Hunching his body so he could lean fully into you, your tongue traced his bottom lip and he responded.

He tasted like Whiskey and Chocolate. You, undoubtedly, like Whiskey and Smoke. He ran his hands down below your ass and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. You giggled slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck to support yourself.

He walked blindly over to the centre of the room, lips never leaving yours as he placed you on top of the nearest desk. He pulled himself tight between your legs, arms now firm on your lower back.

Pulling away from your lips he moved to place love bites and kisses along any bare skin he could reach. From your neck, to behind your ear, to your shoulder, he wanted all of you. Lightly tracing his mouth along your soft skin he ducked his head down further to your collarbone to make true his earlier fantasy. Leaving countless hickies across the bone. Chest heaving against him as you threw your head back in pleasure, running a hand through his hair once more.

Gently moaning his name, he hummed in response sending vibrations through your skin. You could have stayed like that forever.

Unfortunately for you however, you found yourself interrupted by the sudden opening of the classroom door.

Snape.

"Ugh, Fuck." You groaned in frustration, letting go of the redhaired boy who was practically lying on top of you. Fred parted from you and turned to face the door.

"Mr Weasley. Miss [Y/L/N]. Detention. Two weeks. Hope this late night rendezvous was well worth the 50 points you've just cost Gryffindor, Weasley. And [L/N]...20 from you."

"Ahhh..." Fred spoke as realisation began to dawn on him "so you're a Slytherin." He laughed to himself. "It seems so obvious now."

"Return to your houses immediately." Snape growled as you hopped down off the desk top and walked past him trying to contain your giddy smile.

"Was worth the punishment" Fred leant to whisper in your ear as you both walked. "Best night I've had in a while."

"Glad you liked my party then" you looked up at him. He froze. Watching as you kept walking and turned through a hidden passage.

"Yours!?" He asked astonished jogging to catch up with you.

You nodded. "mine."

"God. You've got everything I want, all rolled into one."

You reached your parting point. Looking up to see the clock on the wall you hadn't realised how late it was till now. Although, it's not like you were worried about the time while you were busy wrapped up in Fred.

"I take it you won't miss me passing by in the halls from now on." You joked.

"Not a chance, love."

You reached up to place one final kiss to his lips. Just as passionate as the ones before, only far softer and slower. He felt like he was melting. His whole body went warm and all he could think in this moment was; did he really have to leave you? Why couldn't you be a Gryffindor?

"What do you say about meeting me here tomorrow night?" You asked, breaking the kiss and resting your forehead against his.

"Not even Snape, could stop me." He grinned, making you smile as you began to walk off. "What time?"

"How's 10:45?" You threw your hand up in a lame wave.

He continued to watch you walk away with a wide smile on his face, "it's a date." He called after you, finally walking towards his house.

---

When he arrived at the common room he hadn't expected to be greeted by the smiling, smug face of George. He stood with folded arms across his chest.

"So. Tell me...How was your night?"

[mintvender]

UTOPIA [ 2 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAU!

Warning: None

Word Count: 3.6k

A/n: Can anyone do me a favour, either through your account or anon and tell me how the story is progressing? I understand that it’s still early but I want to know if I’m going too fast and whatnot. Will greatly appreciate it,thx.

Masterlist

Just by glancing at the person’s posture, you could already tell who it was. Your ability to know them naturally accumulated after years knowing them. It all became much easier as the person continues to grow under your watchful guidance.

“ Come in,” you announced, walking back to the table, “ there’s no need to whisper.”

As if waiting for your permission, the doors immediately were pushed open followed by quick stepping sounds.

The steps hurriedly took its way to your spot before stopping behind you, waiting to see your next actions.

You, on the other hand, didn’t feel the need to greet them and instead settled your attention on the various treats displayed on the table. Pretending that there was no presence behind you, you extended your right hand to one of the treats and peacefully munched on them.

You almost groan at the heavenly taste that quickly covers all your senses. It has seemed that you have been neglecting your hunger too much that a simple treat could bring you such satisfaction.

You were about to continue to further enter that mindset when a high-pitched whine from behind suddenly snapped you back to reality. You then realized that you may have forgotten about a certain someone.

Turning around, you find yourself faced with a tall yet lean figure who was pouting at your mistreatment. Only offering him a smile as an apology, you ushered him to come to the table.

The individual, thankfully, obeyed you and placed himself beside you before letting out another whine.

“ Y/N-iee, we haven’t talked to each other for so long. You even neglected all my invitations and when I came to visit you, you even ignored me?” he asked, while clinging onto your left arm.

Knowing how touchy he could be, you could only let him do what he wanted.

“ You know I was busy, Taehyung.”

The pout that was on his face became much more prominent the moment he heard his full name coming out of your mouth.

“ Nooo, don’t call me by that name! You know that I don’t like it, “ Taehyung leaned on to your arm, “ It makes me feel like we’re strangers.”

Finally deciding that you have teased him enough, you brought him into your embrace and hugged him. Feeling Taehyung naturally melting into you, you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“ Alright, alright, I won’t tease you anymore,” you said, “ How have you been with the training?”

At the mention of his combat training, he stopped snuggling into you but still stayed in your embrace, deciding that not speaking would be the best option to get away with having to answer it.

Understanding what he meant, you could only let out a sigh.

“ Have you been missing the training, Tae?”

“...”

Again, he refused to answer and make eye contact with you.

“ If you don’t tell me then someone else will be doing that,” you said, “ Jungkook!”

Immediately after hearing your command, Jungkook entered the room, and waited for your next orders.

“ You have the responsibility of watching over Taehyung whenever General Kim is away. Tell me, how is Taehyung with his combat training?”

Jungkook looked at you before setting his gaze at the cowered figure still in your embrace. He wondered if he should take which side. His friend’s or yours?

Taahyung and Jungkook have quite a miraculous relationship. Unlike the others, Jungkook immediately bonded with the elder. If people didn’t know their status, anyone could have mistaken them as biological brothers from how close they seemed when together.

Obviously seeing how indecisive Jungkook seems to be, you knew that both of them were hiding something from you.

“ Jungkook, I don’t care how close you are to Taehyung. I was the one who made you my bodyguard, not him,” you reminded him, “ You work under me and obey me, understand?”

Both males flinched at your warning, knowing that there aren’t many things that you have distaste more than disloyalty.

Jungkook, who was the main target of your warning could only sent Taehyung a sorrowful glance as an apology.

“ Y-yes your majesty, I will make sure to not repeat my mistake again,” Jungkook said, “ Regarding the Royal Consort’s combat training, he… have made very little improvements.”

Somewhat expecting this result, you felt a wave of disappointment hit you. Looks like he still doesn’t understand what’s best for him.

“ I will hold your word accountable, Jungkook. Now, leave us be.”

Jungkook bowed down to the both of you before rushing out of the room, seemingly allergic to the atmosphere that was slowly intensifying.

“ … Care to explain to me what you were doing at that time?”

Knowing that he would not answer your question, you brought your right index and thumb finger under his chin before tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

Unfortunately for Taehyung, he could not break himself out of your hold and had to suffer from facing the abundant amount of guilt that he has created for the both of you.

“ … I’m sorry, I really tried but I kept slipping out of order. I didn’t want to disappoint you so I…” Taehyung trailed off.

“ So you think that me finding out by another person would be better?”

Taehyung did his best to shake his head, denying your claims.

“ I didn’t think that Jungkook would rat me out like this.”

“ You should have expected that, little mastermind. He works under me after all.”

You then released his head before gently patting it.

“ I understand that physical combat isn’t your best domain but you still need to understand the basics.”

“ But I understand the basics, Y/N.”

“ Are you sure?” You calmly asked.

Taehyung who was about to nod his head decided that it would be best to think again when he heard your overly calm tone.

“ I’ll… give it a try.”

Shaking your head, not knowing how to deal with such a sarcastic comment, you pinched his pouty cheeks and smile.

“ You little minx! How many times have you promised me and broken it? You, yourself know all too well that you won’t keep it!”

Slapping your hand to let go of his cheeks, he continues to let out pitiful whimpers.

“ Ouch! I’m sorry, Y/N! Won’t do it again. Ouch! Ouch!”

Releasing his soft cheeks, you gently rubbed them to soothe the pain while laughing out loud.

“ Alright, alright. If you do show up on most of the days, I’ll even accompany you whenever I’m free.”

Taehyung, who was previously sulking and pouting, immediately changed his demeanour when he heard your comment. His face practically lighting up when he heard that you will be joining him.

“ Really?”

“ Of course,” you assured him, “ You know that I will never break my promise.”

He nodded before once again tackling you into a tight hug, now satisfied that he gets to spend more time with.

And with that, your little personal conversation came to an end.

Once he finally let go of you, standing up, you make your way towards the desk and bring back a pile of paper. Seeing what you were doing, Taehyung immediately moved all the plates somewhere else to make room for the pile.

Placing the pile in the centre, you skillfully separates them into all the topics.

“ Today’s audience, I’ve been informed by General Kwong that the Grimores are attacking our eastern border,” you informed him, “ However, this was done by adolescents that have yet to fully mature.”

Looking over the papers, Taehyung asked, “ Then how did they managed to break into the warehouse and destroy all the crops there? Children who have no experience can’t possibly do that.”

You nodded in agreement, “ I agree. Even though it is a possibility but the chance of it is too unlikely for that to be the main reason.”

“Their actions were also quite bold. It doesn’t seem too irrational at all.”

“ You mean that it’s all planned out?”

“ Yes, it’s very possible. All their actions were thorough and seemed experienced. I have a feeling that someone is secretly guiding them in the dark.”

You looked into Taehyung’s stern eyes, seeing how serious he is, this might really be possible.

Taehyung, besides being known as your Royal Consort, is also infamous for his sharp and observant mind. Combine that with all the training that he has done, anyone would have to put his words into heavy consideration.

With you knowing him for years, you have almost absolute trust in his intuition and mind. After all, what would people think of you if Taehyung’s mentor didn’t trust him? People would most likely think that you are using your status and clinging onto his title to benefit your own intentions. You definitely did now want that type of influence.

“ What should we do now then?”

As if expecting this question, he simply answered, “ We’ll just have to wait.”

Sighing, you nodded. Even though you have faced these types of scenarios countless times, this silent obstacle was always the worst. Through time, you have somewhat managed to cope with the raw feeling that constantly gnaws at your insides to take actions, and instead follow the detailed plan that you have spent countless hours working on.

“ Mhm, I will send some people to go and watch for any suspicious people there.”

Taehyung nodded, satisfied with your plan, “ How is the alliance with the Ecenyths?”

“ It’s… proceeding as planned but slower than what we need it to be.”

“ Do the Ecenyths still think that we are unworthy.”

“ Might be so. They are known for their prideful selves after all. Even if they desperately need this alliance, they would never be willing to ask for it.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the thought.

The Ecenyths occupied the entire south of the continent. As a result, they have the largest land for agriculture which offers them many alliances with the neighbouring countries and beyond that. Even the Grimores, who take up most of the land that links the mainland and the sea have to give them some face in order to receive a stable supply of crops.

If the Grimores were considered to be arrogant, the Ecenyths would be somewhat too prideful for their own good. This was a result of the many countries that backs them and victories they have won throughout history.

Despite this, Taehyung still found himself despising them courtesy to a certain merchant from said nation.

“ What were they thinking sending such a chatty and loud merchant? Are they seriously toying with us?”

You, unable to keep your laughter to yourself burst out laughing. You somewhat always knew that Taehyung didn’t favour the funny merchant, but you didn’t think that it would be to this extent of him downright degrading him.

“ You think so?” You teased, “ I don’t think he’s that much of a nuisance.”

Taehyung glared at you, “ Hmph! Of course you wouldn’t. He basically becomes overly sweet and flirty whenever you’re around. How wouldn’t you like him if he was like that?”

You raised your eyebrows, amused by Taehyung’s sudden outburst.

“ Are you jealous, my little consort?”

“ Hmph.”

What’s the special occasion today, I wonder.

“ Let’s get back on track with our previous conversation.”

Taehyung reluctantly nodded, still mad at the thought of the merchant.

“ The drought season is slowly approaching. I can feel the humidity rising during the day,” you said, shivering when remembering how sweaty you were underneath the dozen layers of your hanbok.

Sighing, Taehyung turned towards you before composing himself and joined the conversation.

“ Yes, it is expected to be extremely dry this year.”

“ We need to take precautions to minimize the damage that it will bring to our economy. With water becoming a rarity during this time, everyone will be on edge with the prices of products increasing.”

“ People in the Amber section would suffer the most.”

People of the Amber section, is a commonly used term to describe commoners. They are people, who are not of nobility and most likely work jobs of intense labour. The next rank is the people of the Malachite section. They are people who consist mostly of merchants and owners that are somewhat wealthier than the steel section. On top of them is the Topaz section, people of nobility who mostly work as officials. Finally the rank that tops all the rest is the diamond section, royalty for short.

“ With the increased price of products, they would not be able to pay for it with the amount they earn.”

“ Yes, even though we have already established a minimum wage for every worker, it is still extremely hard to track that. Only established shops would abide by such rules. And even with that, they would not be able to afford the products.”

“ What do you suggest then?”

Looking over the papers, Taehyung immersed himself into his own world, trying to come up with the best plan.

“ We need to come up with a plan that ensures the Amber section could survive this season.”

“ Elaborate.”

“ Providing families of the Amber section with necessary materials will need to be done.”

You nodded, taking his suggestion into consideration.

With this plan, however, there are several setbacks that you should be able to work around to minimize how much money will have to be deducted during this time. Knowing that many ministers will disagree if this has a big budget, you need to come up with a persuasive plan in order to win the majority.

You and Taehyung continued to work together on the possible plan through the night, only stopping when realizing that the sun was about to rise.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Waking up to a blinding light entering your eyes, you were quick to try and swing your arm over them and shield them away from the light. Unlike other times, you were unable to lift your arm, feeling a weighted object was crushing your arm. As a result, you could only continuously blink them until they have adjusted to the light.

Finally realizing that something or rather someone was lying on your arm, you look over to meet with a familiar face snuggling into your arm.

Smiling to yourself, you turned to your side to admire his ethereal face.

Taehyung has always been a beauty, but you found yourself adoring his visuals the most during the early mornings such as this one. Contrary to him complaining about how puffy his face is in the morning, you were the complete opposite. Wanting nothing but to smother his face with reassurance whenever he’s insecure about them.

Right now, you couldn’t help but bring your free hand to caress his lips, admiring how soft they really are. Slowly, you extend your hand to other places, continually surprising yourself at how soft his skin was.

Unlike you, who have been trained at combat since young, and whose hands were littered with callouses. Taehyung on the other hand, possesses clear and porcelain-like skin. As a result, you were somewhat envious of that.

You snapped back into reality when you felt the body next to you stirred around, arms coming up to your neck to only interconnect behind them, snuggling closer into you.

Chuckling at his cute action, you let your arm rest on his back and pulled him closer.

“ Tae, it’s time to wake up now. You get to train today.”

Feeling him pout against your neck, you gently rub your hand down his back.

“ Nooo, it’s comfortable here,” he whined out.

“ You can’t, Tae. We have a busy day ahead.”

Despite your protest, Taehyung continued to whine, trapping you into his hold.

Even though the thought of staying in bed for hours was an appealing idea to you, you knew better than that. If Taehyung was not being obedient then you will use another method to force him to wake up.

“ Taehyung, get up.”

Immediately after hearing his name, Taehyung sat up and look down at your still lying figure, pouting at you.

“ Why do you always use this method?”

Sitting up, you offered him a pat on the head before making your way to the edge before standing up.

“ You were being stubborn, Tae. I could only use such methods,” you said while stretching your body, “ Apologies, my little consort.”

Begrudgingly leaving your bed, he sleepily walked towards the table, sitting on one of the chairs and waited for food to be served.

“ How did we arrive at your bedroom last night?”

“ I carried you to bed, Tae.”

Looking over at you, he smiled, praising you.

“ Aigoo, my Y/N is so strong. How could I live without you.”

You, who was still stretching, froze at his comment before awkwardly walking towards the table, sitting in front of him.

Seeing how you were hesitant about his comment, he suspiciously asked, “ But you will stay with me right?”

Knowing you couldn’t escape his questioning if you didn’t reply to this, you could only agree.

“ Yes, Tae. I will stay with you.”

“ Forever?”

Offering him a small smile, you nodded.

Being the observant person he is, Taehyung obviously does not quite believe you but decided to let you go.

Like on cue, maids began to scurry into the room, bringing various dishes made the both of you forget the previous conversation. Soon enough, you both started to eat while peacefully talking to each other.

Amidst the feast, Taehyung whined about having to go through his training in the early morning which was answered by you ignoring him. Deciding that it would be amusing to surprise him later.

After finishing your meal, Taehyung took his time getting dressed by the maids.

“ You certainly took your time.”

“ Of course, I’m the royal consort after all.”

“ Stop procrastinating.”

“ I’m not procrastinating!”

“ Then let’s go.”

Taehyung, who was getting ready to work looked at you, confused.

Seeing how puzzled he looks, you hold out your hand, silently offering it to him. It might not be as grand as you have imagined but at least you still get a laugh out of it.

“ What are you achieving just by standing there? Let’s go, we’re about to be late for practice.”

Finally understanding your intentions, he rushed towards you and grabbed your hand. Holding it between the two of you, Taehyung pulled you towards the exit.

“ Tae, why hurry?” You teased.

Taehyung who was pulling you only pouted as a response but immediately blush when the maids behind the both of you giggled at his cute antiques.

“ What are you laughing at?” He growled out, immediately shutting everyone’s laughter which resulted in all of them awkwardly avoiding his gaze.

Knowing that he wouldn’t actually punish your people makes the scenario much more amusing to you. After all, you and Taehyung have known them for years.

After that, the entire crew walked to the training ground in complete silence and continued to do so until General Kim arrived at the scene.

As soon as General Kim entered the training ground, he flinched seeing your presence.

Desperately rubbing his chest to calm his heart, he asked, “ Your majesty? What have brought you here?”

Offering him a small smile, you answered, “ I’m here to watch over the little minx to make sure that he is focusing.”

General Kim chuckled hearing your response. You always managed to surprise him with your duality. You could be making jokes one moment before becoming terrifyingly in the next. The transition being so smooth that if people were not there before would think that you have been acting like this for hours.

“ Lucky for you, Royal Consort. We’ll be running laps today,” General Kim announced.

Taehyung, who was originally standing beside you bolted in the opposite direction after hearing what they were going to do today. Unexpectedly, you caught up to him long before he even managed to move ten meters, and was dragged back to where he previously was.

“ Look at him being so excited for today’s activity,” you teased.

Pretending to be impressed, General Kim said, “ Now that’s a first.”

“ Haha, you really want to kill me today.”

Taehyung looked at you then at General Kim, before repeating that motion a few more times, somewhat regretting pulling you here with him.

“ Let’s move to the fields now.”

The both of you then followed General Kim to a grass field not far from the training ground.

After that, you quickly settled onto the ground and began to warm up your muscles.

When you guys were finished with the warm up, you both walked towards one end of the field and waited for future instructions.

“ This section is specifically for testing your stamina so go at a speed that you know that you will be able to last the longest.”

You and Taehyung nodded, and started running.

To not let Taehyung be alone, you followed his pace, knowing that it would be much slower than you.

Seeing how you were at his speed, Taehyung insisted that you should speed up.

“ Don’t worry about me, go at your own pace.”

“ Don’t talk, it will exhaust you more. Let me do the talking,” you shushed.

Knowing what you meant, Taehyung didn’t talk for the entire time, secretly appreciating your kind gesture.

After what seems to be like half an quarter of an hour, Taehyung was on the ground panting heavily while you were breathing a little harder than normal.

Knowing how hard he tried, you ruffled his sweaty head, praising him for his effort.

“ Good job, Tae.”

“ Why. is. this. so. important?” He groaned out.

“ Because you need it in order to do physical missions,” you answered simply.

“ I have done countless physical missions but never needed ‘stamina’,” he whined out, still out of breath.

Opening your mouth, you were about to protest when you heard a person yelling out your name. Confused, you turn around only to be met with a pale orange patch blurring your vision. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, seemingly getting crushed by the weight on top of you.

What’s with people wanting to squish me today?

Copyright © 2021 MintVender

All rights reserved.

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Weight of a Memory 

Series: Genshin Impact

Relationship: Pre-canon Venti and Zhongli, mostly platonic,,

Rating: T 

Summary:

Barbatos did not care about anyone and anything, once. Not the world around him, not the people of the city who now considered him their patron god when he had only been there by chance, to deliver a gift that would now never be received. He had been nothing but a sliver of breeze, and he had not the ability to care.  

The one who taught him otherwise was gone.  

He was gone, and no matter how hard he tried—no matter what he did in his stead, in his name, he would not return.

Note:

Contains spoilers for Venti’s backstory

Read on AO3

________

Barbatos spent his first week of godhood in grief.  

He lived as a cruel joke of the fates, granted the title of god yet powerless in the face of his own loss.  

He’d lost him. His precious friend. The one who should’ve been hailed the hero instead of him. The one who should’ve lived to experience what he’d fought so hard for. And the one he, Barbatos, came to adore with all his life.  

He’s gone but Barbatos couldn’t let it sink in. Refused to let it sink in. Even when he had been the one to carry his lifeless, fragile body back to his people, requesting he’d be given a hero’s farewell. The grandest of all, filled with the songs and cheer he loved. Send his dear friend off, lain on a bed of his favourite cecilias.

Ask anyone in Old Mondstadt and they would tell you about how Barbatos would’ve then disappeared, presumably to meditate while he mulled over how he would like to lead the nation. He’d flown to the peaks of the highest mountain, found a cave there, and surrounded the area with a violent gale to bar anyone from finding him.  

In truth, Barbatos had hidden there, curled up. And slept.

He’d slept, in a dreamless slumber away from the fear of the newfound power surging through his being, away from the countless prayers that constantly bombarded his ears, and away from the emptiness the death of a beloved friend had left behind. He’d slept, and slept.

And then he’d awoken in a body not of his own.  

Heavy, it was heavy at first. His limbs too long, his proportions all unfamiliar. He sat up, stared at his arms and legs in bewilderment. Slender fingers, even calloused on the tips of his right hand, as though he’d spent many years playing an instrument. He felt all over his face, pinching warm, supple skin. Human-like. No, no , it hit him like a sudden storm. Barbatos scrambled to his feet and ran out, an unfamiliar pulse racing in his ears. No, this can’t be happening.  

He stumbled to the base of the mountain, his bare feet bruised raw and bleeding in his haste. It had not occurred to him that he could still fly, even in this form. He fell to his knees at the edge of the lake, leaned over the serene waters, trembling.  

And staring back at him, as he’d feared, was the face of a friend.  

No, it was all wrong. His eyes had been powder blue, not green. They once had so much determination, so much fire and passion. They were never so colourless. He had a smile that feared nothing, one that could make even someone like Barbatos feel invincible. He had always stood proud and true. He wasn’t...this. Whatever this atrocity that was reflected on the water surface, was. 

Imposter, the words danced in his head. Round and round and round, taunting, taunting. Imposter, imposter.  

Barbatos raked fistfuls of dirt, hurled them at the water with a scream that tore out of his throat. He held his head, prayed to wake up, wake up, turn back.  

That was the first time the Anemo Archon learnt how it must have felt like to drown.  

xXx

At the end of the day, a nameless bard was a nameless bard, and even with the grandeur of the festival that was held in his honour, he was still merely one of the many who had fallen in a long battle for freedom.  

“Blessed by Barbatos” was the name the people had decided on when they added him to the list carved onto the monument they erected as a memorial for all who had lost their lives to the war. Barbatos traced his fingertips across the letters, unable to decide if he wanted to laugh or cry at the irony. If he had truly been able to bless anyone, the winds would have made sure the arrows did not fly true, and his dearest friend would still be here.  

“Who’s there?”  

A voice cut through the air, far too loud in the midnight silence. Barbatos, startled, had turned around on instinct, forgetting that his robes did not hide how he bore a dead lad’s appearance.  

The man wore the plain clothes of a commoner, eyes wide at the sight that greeted him. “You—you’re that boy!”

Barbatos had fled with the wind then, but it was already too late. Rumours began spreading immediately after, spinning tales of the boy actually being the new Lord of Wind himself, and that the procession in his honour had been all but a test from him. Fellow bards who claimed to have known him in life insisted they always thought he was strange, different in ways difficult to explain. There had not been anything solid to hold on to, yet the people had readily embraced the narratives that suited their fancy.  

It terrified Barbatos at first, being absolutely unprepared to face the string of events that unfolded with such overwhelming succession. What would happen if he’d shown up to disprove something the people believed so vehemently? Would it be for the better, or would they reject him on the basis that he was only being jovial with his subjects? Would it, ultimately, taint this image of a precious friend that he’d somehow donned and failed to strip?  

Barbatos refused to risk that. It's fine if he himself were to be hated and deemed a liar, but not him, never him. Besides, doing this would keep his memory alive, wouldn’t it? Monuments would be built in his likeness, portraits of worship painted to be passed down generations to come. Even Barbatos would never have the chance to forget.  

He'd decided then, to play along with this elaborate lie. The rumours were all true, it had all been his first trial as the new Archon to the people of Mondstadt. He acted the way he believed he would’ve behaved, the way he would’ve presented to the crowd, all smiles and charisma. Made choices he would’ve wanted. Sang his songs, recited his poems and strummed the lyre with his melodies.  

Barbatos thus began to live as him, and the memory of him was to live on through Barbatos.  

xXx

Oddly enough, he found strength in his impersonation.

It gave him a purpose, wanting to bring glory to a friend who deserved it infinitely more than himself. Barbatos set out to tame the violent blizzards that surrounded the land, learnt to harness his powers to open paths to the world for the people of Mondstadt. He granted them the freedom they’d fought for. The freedom he wished he too, could’ve been here to experience in person.  

He declared he would not reign over Mondstadt as the other Archons do with their own territories, opting to leave the fates of humans wholly in their own hands. It had felt right; they had been the ones who’d fought the hardest to dethrone Decarabian, not he, and it was clear that control was the last thing the people wanted. These were humans who could carve their own futures, who did not require the words of a god nor a king to lead them forward.  

It was what he would’ve believed, too.

And it wasn’t like Barbatos was equipped to handle such responsibilities in the first place, for he’d been nothing more than a tiny elemental spirit merely a century old, his first real contact with humans beginning with his fateful meeting with the child who loved to sing and dreamt of flight. He harboured no particular affection for humans, except for one.  

How he wished he could show him flight now; what wouldn’t he give for a chance to soar with him to the ends of the earth and back.  

It was the knight with flaming red hair who’d volunteered to serve as his temporary advisor, teaching him about the systems humans adhered to in order to keep their societies functional. Barbatos trusted her; she had held his friend very dear herself, having fought side by side in the front lines of the war they helped wage. She was one with few words, never speaking more than she needed, never even questioning why Barbatos had chosen this appearance. Many a time he’d spotted her looking at him with regret, and many a time he had been at loss as to what to say.

What could he have said, really?  

Barbatos’ efforts to open the world for the exploration of Mondstadtians eventually led to plans in securing safe routes for trade; the knight was certain it was something the nation would require once it fully regained its footing after the years of strife. For that, good connections with neighbouring countries should best be formed.  

Closest to Mondstadt was a land by the name of Liyue, one under the jurisdiction of the Geo Archon, Morax. Barbatos knew close to nothing about him, and even the Ragnvindr knight could only tell him the barest minimum from what books had taught her. Morax had been around for thousands of years, he was one of the founders of the prosperous nation of Liyue, and he was also a god of war and contracts. That was all, but Barbatos knew that no matter what, that would have to do.  

Liyue was Mondstadt’s best bet for first diplomatic relations after Decarabian’s long reign of isolation.  

xXx

Barbatos left for Liyue alone, soon after sending off a message in the wind notifying his impending visit and receiving a response detailing the location where they would meet.  

He had not quite expected to see so many awaiting his arrival, though.  

Barbatos surveyed the group as he floated to the ground, noticing how none of them were mortal. Divine beasts observed his descent with solemn gazes, still as predators awaiting their chance to strike. They were old, Barbatos could tell from the aura enshrouding them, a cloak of energy he’d only recently been able to see himself after becoming an Archon.  

But amongst them was one older than the rest, and far more powerful.  

Morax took a form loosely resembling a young adult male human, the illusion of actually being one immediately broken by the horns branching out of his head. His eyes glowed amber in the night, his long, deep brown hair reaching his waist and almost blending with the material of his billowing robes. He stood with his hands behind his back, watching in silence.  

Barbatos thought he could’ve stood on the tension in the air even without the power of Anemo.  

He took a deep breath, mustering all his chipper as he landed on the grass and spread his arms. “Greetings, dear neighbours! It is I, Barbatos of Mondstadt!”

There was a poignant silence following his introduction, as though no one was quite certain how to react to him. Barbatos put two and two together, and growing nervous, ventured, “Am I in trouble?”

Morax was first to respond, upon cutting off one of his retainers’ retort with a subtle wave of his hand. “It certainly seemed that way in your message to us, my friend. Is everything alright?”

Ah, perhaps he could’ve been more specific when he’d requested for an audience with him. His message had been drafted under the strict supervision of the flame-haired knight, who had been sorely insistent on making it sound serious and official, for international diplomatic discussions were serious and official affairs indeed. But seeing that it had come across not quite the way they’d intended, it appeared they both still required some improvement in the communications department.  

“Yes, yes, everyone’s doing quite well where I come from,” Barbatos attempted a sheepish laugh, quietly grasping for a more solid way to dispel the awkwardness that’d already formed between them all. “Many thanks for the concern, Lord Morax, though I must apologize for the misunderstanding.”

“Think nothing of it, what matters is that all is well.” He spotted the way Morax visibly relaxed at his assurance and felt the guilt slowly setting in. His cryptic message truly must have worried him.  

“Actually, I’m here to have a chat over some drinks,” he tried picking things up from there, reaching for the satchel hidden beneath his robes and producing it with flourish. He's then immediately hit by the realization that it might not be quite enough for everyone present. “Oh, uhm, I didn’t expect to be greeted by so many of you...one is humbled...”

Morax must've sensed his growing dismay, offering, “Perhaps you would not mind my lone company, Lord Barbatos?”  

Barbatos thought this must be how it felt to receive a god’s grace. He readily agreed—though still careful to tone down the enthusiasm he showed, lest he offended the other immortals present. It was not a trouble he was prepared to go through at the moment. He stood back as Morax dismissed his retainers with a curt command before beckoning him to come along, saying he knew a good place to enjoy drinks.

Barbatos was led to a rather secluded spot atop a hill, but it was easy to see why Morax favoured it. It overlooked his beloved city, all bright lights and festivity even at this time of the night, with the sea stretching out from the harbour and beyond towards the horizon. The breeze at this altitude was refreshing, strong yet not too obstructive. And most of all, it was quiet, though perhaps also just a little lonesome.

Morax set the bottles of wine—which, he’d insisted on carrying all the way here himself despite Barbatos’ protests, adamant that it was simply Liyue tradition as a host to guests—on the stone table, and urged him to take a seat.  

Mondstadt prided itself for its wine, and it was only fitting that the finest of them would be brought as an offering to another god. What Barbatos had not been aware of, however, was that Mondstadt’s best brews were often on the strong side, and the flame-haired knight had, in hopes of rendering Morax slightly more agreeable so the Wind God might not have quite as much of a difficult time as she feared, slipped him two bottles of possibly what was, at the time, Mondstadt’s first ever knock-out wine.  

Barbatos had never drank before. He did not require the same sustenance humans did, and being an elemental spirit of air, anything he consumed would only have passed right through. Even so, he’d witnessed how wine could work almost like a spell, how once a person drank enough their troubles would seem to disappear. Some would laugh when they could not, some would cry, some would rant and some would fall into a peaceful sleep. He’d seen people bonding over drinks as much as they’d fought over them. He found it fearsome as much as he found it fascinating. The idea of losing oneself to alcoholic influences unnerved him, but surely there was also merit in the intoxication, otherwise why would humans so often willingly subject themselves to the experience over and over?  

Barbatos’ current vessel could hold human food, that much he knew. He had, in fact, developed quite a liking to the taste of apples, many a time offered to him by the people of Mondstadt who saw him whenever he visited the city, as the fruits were another of their prized produce.  

But Barbatos did not know how susceptible he was to the lulls of alcohol in his current form, nor did he know how to drink for the very first time.  

Morax, understandably, had not the slightest inkling that these were all part of their current circumstances. He simply produced a pair of marble goblets from his sleeves, and in his endless hospitality, poured Barbatos a full glass.

And so began their chat over wine, under the shine of moonlight.  

Morax asked about Mondstadt, having not visited there himself for a long time both due to commitments and also the violent climate plaguing the nation that was a hassle even to him. Barbatos told him what he knew, what he’d vehemently rehearsed before he made his journey here.  

Morax asked about Decarabian, and Barbatos told him of the nature of his reign and the efforts of the humans who had sought to usurp him and succeeded.  

Morax offered to share about Liyue and Barbatos was happy to listen, finding peace in his deep, stable voice. He drank from his glass as Morax recounted a tale that had to do with a lone island just a little way from Liyue’s pier, explaining how it actually used to be a mountain, a domain of a god long lost to time. Morax spoke, slowly and steadily, and Barbatos listened. And he drank.

He drank as he’d often seen humans do within the many rowdy taverns of Mondstadt. In large gulps, whole glasses at a time.  

Barbatos soon felt like he was floating, but it could’ve been just him losing a grip on his powers again.  

“Morax,” he began once Morax paused to sip his own drink, all honorifics forgotten to the sweet, sweet daze of fermented grape. He'd already lost track of what he’d been talking about. He sounded somewhat funny, too. He wanted to laugh. “How does it feel like to be a god for so long?”  

Morax did not seem particularly bothered by his demeanour, or at least he did not show it even if he was.  

“I’ve never thought about it,” he admitted, and with a solemnness that Barbatos thought was also rather amusing, he added, “I do not quite remember how it felt like not to be one.”

“Tell me, then, Morax,” Barbatos continued, leaning forward to rest his arm on the table, and then his head on his arm because he felt heavy now. Heavy and tired and his head was starting to spin a little. Like when he used to get caught in passing whirlwinds, he thought with a giggle. How he’d always hated it. “Why are gods not all-powerful, as the humans believe us to be?”

“Because if we were, then there would be no order.” Morax’s reply came almost too easily. As though it was simply a fact, a fact perhaps he knew too well himself. He went on to explain something about the importance of balance and that as gods in their world they had an unspoken duty to maintain it and how all of them are intricately intertwined with one another in that regard and a string of many other things that Barbatos could not find the urge to care about.  

He did not care about order. He did not care about anyone and anything, once. Not the world around him, not the people of the city who now considered him their patron god when he had only been there by chance, to deliver a gift that would now never be received. Barbatos had been nothing but a sliver of breeze, and he had not the ability to care.  

The one who taught him otherwise was gone.  

He was gone, and no matter how hard he tried—no matter what he did in his stead, in his name, he would not return.

Barbatos was tired. The weight clung to his being, though now mostly centred at the base of his stomach. Suffocating. He wanted to throw up. His body was too warm. The world suddenly felt too endless, infinite, and he was alone.  

He was gone, and not even the divine powers of a god could bring him back.

Was it the Gnosis that made him feel this much, this deeply, he wondered? A god’s heart, it was also called. If Barbatos ripped it from his chest, would it hurt a little less? If he threw it to the ground and crushed it under his feet, would he be free of this emptiness that haunted him?  

In his drunken state, Barbatos had failed to noticed two major things. One, he had reverted back to his original form at some point, to the little elf who had once been capable of being carried along even by the gentlest wind, hence why the world suddenly felt much too vast around him.  

And two, his vision had swum not because of the wine, not because the alcohol was slowly driving his senses haywire.

Barbatos had wept, but he did not know that he did.  

xXx

He woke up in a room that was definitely not the mountain cave he’d come to grow fond of.  

Not that it mattered because the first thing Barbatos registered was a massive headache he thought would split his skull in two. He groaned as he sank further into the sheets that surrounded him, half wondering if he’d somehow fallen on his head the previous night or if he’d done something to incite the Lord of Geo’s anger that’d ended with him getting beaten up. Barbatos could not remember, and the more he tried to think, the more it hurt.  

He must’ve fallen asleep again at some point, waking once more but this time to the faint scent of herbs. The pain had subsided to little more than a dull ache, and he reached for his temples only to find his arms shorter than he’d unconsciously grown used to.  

Barbatos sat up and did not know what was happening.  

Morax lounged on a padded chair across the room, glancing up from his book when he noticed his movement. “Oh, you’re awake.”

Barbatos could only stare, stupefied. What was the Geo Archon himself doing here?

“Try the tea if you’re still feeling terrible,” Morax gestured to the cup of steaming liquid on the bedstand, where the scent of herbs originated. “It works well for hangovers.”

Hangovers...?  

Oh. Oh, gods of Teyvat.  

“Lord Morax—I, I’m so sorry, I—” Barbatos scrambled to even get the words out, mortified that he’d acted so undignified in front of someone he’d barely just been acquainted with. While they were supposed to be sitting down for a diplomatic chat!!! He genuinely could not recall what had transpired the night before. He could only hope that whatever he'd said and done, it hadn’t been anything he’d regret.  

Still, the fact that he’d returned to this form raised enough of a cause for concern.  

“Do not worry, Barbatos,” Morax assured, calm as he stood up to approach him. “It’s safe here. Just rest for now.”

“No, I must’ve already troubled you enough, I should go,” Barbatos insisted, trying his hardest to untangle himself from the sheets but somehow only making it worse in his haste. He, in all seriousness, considered summoning a blast of wind to loosen everything in one go, but he fortunately succeeded in freeing himself before he could decide.  

And just as he’s about to quickly excuse himself and never show up in front of Morax again for the foreseeable future—he found the cup of steaming tea thrusted at his face.  

“Drink. It’ll calm you down,” Morax said, voice levelled and face composed despite his rather aggressive approach. Barbatos was now quite sure he’d done something to offend him while he was drunk.

“T-Thank you but I can’t hold anything in this form,” he explained, but soon realizing that maybe it’d be better if he would just entertain him and drink the tea? He had probably displeased him enough, the least he can do is not make it any worse by rejecting his current offers (demands??).  

Barbatos focused and tried to visualise the appearance he’d always taken ever since he became the Anemo Archon. He channelled his power and tried — and in what must be another joke of irony the fates casted upon him, he discovered he could not turn back.

Barbatos, dumbfounded by the turn of events and quite positively terrified of bearing the brunt of Morax’s wrath, once again did not know what to do.  

“Lord Morax, please forgive me.” He tugged at the edges of his hood, pulling it lower over his face so at least he wouldn’t have to see any blows coming. ‘Whatever I said and did yesterday, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—”

“You’ll be able to drink this,” Morax persisted the moment he trailed off, still oddly fixated about the tea. “You’re an Archon now. Drink it while it’s still warm.”

Barbatos saw no other choice but to do as he said. He reached to hold the delicate cup with both hands, and once Morax let go, he carefully brought it to his mouth, and took a careful sip.

He could taste it, as subtle as it was, which was a good sign. Barbatos gave himself some seconds to see if his body retained the drink, and almost cried with relief when he confirmed that it did. He then drank a whole mouthful, feeling a wave of calm slowly wash over him as the herbs worked their magic. His body untensed, his pulse regained a slower, steadier rhythm. Even the last traces of his headache began to fade.  

With his mind slightly clearer now, Barbatos was starting to suspect that it was all a miserable misunderstanding.

“He must have been very dear to you.”

Barbatos glanced at Morax over the rim of the cup, not quite comprehending the sudden comment at first. Morax’s gaze was attentive, but Barbatos thought there was a slightest unexpected gentleness to it as well.

“You were mumbling about someone yesterday,” he explained after a lapse of silence between them. “Someone...who’s no longer here.”

“Ah.” Barbatos could hear himself scream on the inside. How could he have told all that to a person he’d literally just met!!! “So that’s what I said.”

Morax was once more silent for a beat, staring as though he had something to say but wasn’t quite sure if he should say it. Barbatos wondered if he would buy an excuse about his stomach hurting and thus him needing to attend to some private business. He wondered if he could just disappear from the face of the earth for the next century or two.

“A late friend once told me,” he flinched when Morax finally spoke again, “that humans have gods, while gods only have each other.”

“I’m not sure I follow...?” Barbatos blurted and immediately regretted it. Morax broke into a small frown, as though trying to sort something out himself.  

“You can stay here—until you feel well enough to go back,” he tried, again with something quite out of the blue. Barbatos blinked as he struggled to process whatever was happening. Was he... trying to comfort him? Had he been trying to comfort him all along?  

“Morax, really, I don’t think I should impose on you any more than I have,” Barbatos found the courage to say, feeling a little more stable now from the tea and the realization that Morax was more awkward than he thought he’d be. Then again, it was a rather unusual situation—caused by Barbatos himself, no less.

“You can leave whenever you’re ready,” Morax maintained, before glancing toward the window as though to gauge the light outside. “But I’m afraid I must excuse myself now, as I’ve matters to attend to in a bit.”

“Morax, wait!” Barbatos managed to call after him just as he made to leave. Morax turned to face him, eyebrows slightly raised but not looking particularly startled. Barbatos knew the least he could do is thank him, after everything. So he did.  

Morax listened, and then to Barbatos’ surprise, he smiled.  

“Let me know when you’d like to visit again,” he said, a genuine invitation Barbatos did not expect. “Take care in the meantime, Barbatos.”  

And with that, he was gone.  

xXx

Barbatos did leave eventually, but he did not return to Mondstadt.

He was trapped in his current form, for reasons he once again could not comprehend. It's almost laughable when he thought back about how desperately he’d once wanted to return to this, so he wouldn’t taint the memory of his dear friend by living as his impersonation. Now he’d finally succeeded, yet there was an unease he could not seem to shake off.  

Barbatos was riddled with a sense of dissociation, having taken his appearance throughout the entire time he’d spent as the God of Wind. In this form, he was not Barbatos the Anemo Archon, but rather simply another elemental of air, the most insignificant sliver of breeze.  

Barbatos also could not return to Mondstadt , because how was he supposed to face the flame-haired knight after all that ? She would be absolutely livid if she knew he’d essentially done nothing but gotten intoxicated and passed out while he was in Liyue. A message about his temporary absence would have to do for now.  

Then again, Barbatos hadn’t the full intention to go and make any negotiations to begin with. When the time comes, the people of Mondstadt would no doubt find their own way there, and they would form their own agreements and contracts—they did not need his interference. No, Barbatos had gone mostly as a sort of insurance, to see if Liyue would be welcoming to his people, and to see if the Geo Archon was someone they should be involved with.  

Barbatos thought Morax was rather a strange one. He had half expected him to be brutish, loud and overbearing, considering he also bore the title of a war god. Morax had instead not only been an amiable host, but also surprisingly polite and soft spoken. He carried a sort of calm around his being, unruffled in the face of most usual circumstances. If Morax was a god who had stained entire lands with blood, it did not show.  

Barbatos found himself mulling over Morax’s words as he drifted through the endless fields between Liyue and Mondstadt. The humans have gods, while gods only have each other. Humans relied on gods, and gods only had each other to rely on. It sounded like a very generalized statement at first; Barbatos certainly didn’t think it was all that true. Barbatos himself had only gotten this far owing to the guidance of the people of Mondstadt. Surely all affairs within a domain could not be settled by gods alone; the humans they rule over would never allow it for long.

But Barbatos supposed it made sense too, in a way. Time flowed differently for those who were immortal and those who were not. A hundred years was nothing to them, but to humans that was their entire lifespan. Barbatos had not really noticed, but even his knight friend looked different from when they first met, now that he thought about it. Her features rougher, her stature taller and more solid, her flame-red hair losing just a little of its vibrancy. Barbatos had not been counting the sunrises and sunsets, but it had in fact been at least a decade since he was made a god.  

Time was passing and it was a frightening realization to come to. Soon the people he knew would come to pass themselves, and he would truly be nothing but another figment of history. Barbatos would have to bear the memory of him alone, for who else could remember him if not he, who would outlive mortals many times over? Yet in this desperation to never forget, Barbatos found that certain aspects of him were already starting to grow fuzzy in his mind.  

Barbatos had taken his appearance for the past ten or so years, but he had never been able to replicate his voice. His voice; rich, lulling and infinitely wonderful. If the lush fields and full blooms of spring could sing, they would envy what he had. This, Barbatos knew for a fact. But he was already forgetting how exactly it had sounded. He remembered even the sweet lullabies he used to sing to him, even the playful tunes and verses he’d compose on the spot when things grew tense within their ragtag group of four—but when Barbatos sang them now, he could only hear his own voice overlapping his.  

Then in appearance at the very least, he thought, he mustn’t forget. Barbatos made his umpteenth attempt to transform, to adopt his likeness as he’d once done unconsciously. He was already regaining some control of his powers, he can do this. He squeezed his eyes close, took a deep, shaky breath. Concentrate. He can do this. He must do this.  

What surfaced was the image of him with arrows piercing his chest, his tunic stained red with blood—and nothing changed in the end.

Gods only had each other.  

Barbatos summoned the wind, and sought the only other god he knew.  

…  

Morax was true to his word, arranging for his visit soon after he received his message.  

This time, however, Barbatos was to meet him in Celestia, as he was in the middle of something he could not step away from there. Barbatos had insisted it wasn’t anything urgent and that it wasn’t a matter Morax should deliberately trouble himself over if he had other things to attend to, and Morax had in turn assured that it was alright and that he should be almost done by the time Barbatos visited.  

Barbatos had already regretted asking at that point, but he also did not wish to disrespect Morax’s generosity. So he waited until dawn broke on the day they were set to meet, and feeling the Gnosis thrum within his chest, he made his way to the island of the gods.

The heavy gates of Celestia parted easily for him, revealing a world within that was too vast to seem like something that could’ve fitted on the floating piece of land visible from below. Barbatos entered a world where the divine made their exclusive residence, each owning an area they claimed as their domain. Teyvat, although hailed the Seven as the most powerful for their influence over the seven main elements, was not short on minor deities. Celestia could probably have spanned across the sky over the entire region and more.  

Barbatos attracted some looks almost immediately from the group that was mulling about by the entrance; after all, he seemed far from godly in his current form. He tried to ignore them, instead digging into his pocket for the pebble Morax had sent to guide him to his residence in the heavenly realm. It briefly glowed yellow once brought into the open, and then as though by some sort of magnetic pull, it shot eastward without a warning, and Barbatos had no choice but to give chase.

Morax’s residence in Celestia was humble compared to the extravagance of some Barbatos managed to spot in passing. It resembled a shrine of sorts; a set of stone steps leading towards a wooden gateway that served as its entrance, the privacy of the garden inside protected by bamboo partitions built in place of walls. Barbatos drifted in and towards the modest abode beyond the garden, feeling the air shift just before he heard Morax speak.  

“You’re here, Barbatos.”

Barbatos did not see him anywhere, but he sensed that he was within the house made of intricately carved stone, harnessing his power for...something. “I am, but perhaps I should really return another day...?”  

“It is fine, I should be done in a few minutes,” Morax assured, and Barbatos abruptly noticed how his voice sounded slightly deeper, with a reverberation to it that gave it a resemblance to a growl. He thought of Morax’s horns, and made a guess. “Please, do come in.”

Barbatos must admit that his curiosity got the better of him this time. He pushed at the door, and slipped through the opening.

Morax was a dragon, though not one whose appearance Barbatos was familiar with. The dragons that sometimes soared through Mondstadt’s skies were often winged, had powerful legs that would let them roam the land on foot if they wished. Morax was scaled as they were, had a skull structure that was similar though perhaps slightly more angular. But the similarities ended there. His body was more serpentine, slender and longer but wingless, and he had claws instead of legs.  

Morax was curled up over a circular enchantment on the floor, surrounded entirely by a barrier of golden light. He regarded Barbatos as he flew closer, and even when he spoke his jaw did not move.  

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get you some tea once I finish up here.”

“No, no, please don’t trouble yourself.” Barbatos could hardly get the words out, awed by the sight of a god who actually resembled a god. Composed, regal and mythic. He averted his gaze, fiddling with the hood of his cloak. “I’m sorry this is so sudden, Morax. I-It really isn’t anything important but I just don’t know what else I can do and—”

“It must be something important if it is bothering you enough to come see me,” Morax pointed out, and Barbatos could only swallow thickly, words stuck in his throat. “Speak, Barbatos. If you think it is something I can help you with, then I will see what I can do.”

“I—” Barbatos worked to push his hesitation down. He’d already come this far. “Please teach me how to change forms.”

Morax did not respond immediately, as though silently contemplating his reply. Barbatos tensed, because Morax knew. He knew, though perhaps not enough, still he knew about him. He could probably make a guess, Barbatos hadn’t exactly been vague about it in front of him courtesy of the cursed alcohol. He braced himself for the questions, the judgement—but even so, he decided, he would not leave until he found a way to turn back.  

“To take on another appearance,” Morax began, the wall of light around him shimmering before disappearing altogether, “one must first have a strong sense of self. You can say it’s our body’s way of self-preservation, so that we’ll always have a default form to return to if anything goes wrong during the transformation process.”

Barbatos watched him demonstrate, a glow of light enveloping his body as his proportions shifted, condensed—and he re-emerged in the form of the young man he took when Barbatos first met him.  

“If you’re struggling to transform, it could mean that you’re wavering, Barbatos,” Morax continued, stepping out of his enchantment. “Why are you so desperate to change?”

“Because if I don’t,” Barbatos took a breath, forced the rest of the sentence out, “I’m afraid I might one day forget.”

Because if I forgot, there would be no one else to remember him for who he really was, in time.

Morax studied him, silent as he walked over and, with a flutter of his robes, sat down on the floor to be eye level with him.  

“There are more ways to remember someone than simply by appearance,” he stated, as if Barbatos did not know.  

He'd tried everything he could’ve thought of. He’d emulated his personality, his habits and quirks, even his preferences. He'd committed each and every one of his songs to memory, practiced endlessly on the lyre so he could play the way he did, so his art would still live even when he did not.  

Barbatos wasn’t sure why he’d taken Morax’s simple words so much to heart. It was a statement of a fact, one he knew very well—otherwise why would he have tried so damned hard for so long?  

He knew, deep down, that despite all that, despite everything he’d done, it hadn’t been enough.  

“Barbatos.” Morax’s voice was soft when he called to him, hardly even a whisper. Barbatos found it difficult to breathe, the weight he’d been carrying on his being suddenly crushing down on him. He could not find the courage to look at him, but Morax waited, and waited until he finally did.  

There was a gentle smile upon his lips when Barbatos met his gaze, a comfort that strangely brought only pain. “Won’t you tell me a little about him?”

Barbatos was not prepared for this, was not prepared to talk. “I...I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s alright, even the first thing that comes to mind would do,” Morax assured, showing no signs of retreating even when confronted with Barbatos’ hesitation. “Tell me a little about him, so I may remember him with you.”

It’s only then that it dawned him, that Barbatos had in fact, rarely ever shared about who he was as a person. He’d sung his songs, praised his deeds—but there were the more personal aspects of him which Barbatos had held extremely close to his heart, in some sort of unspoken pact with the knight where they would be the only ones to shelter those pieces of him. Barbatos had never disclosed how he would sometimes perform on the streets for days on end, skimming on food and saving his coins, just so he could afford the smallest bundle of cecilias from the florist in the market.  

Or how he would hum a certain melody whenever he combed his hair out and braided them again.  

Or how, despite his normally demure temperament, he could have a temper that would frighten even Barbatos when wronged, but would fade just as suddenly as it’d flared.

They surfaced, one by one, after the many years Barbatos had kept them tucked away in a place he thought was safe. He recounted them now, each recollection so precious—yet so, very, heavy. He had subconsciously avoided this all along, for he knew the weight of the memories would easily break his newfound heart.  

He missed him. It was a truth that he’d constantly refused to face. He was gone, yet still, he yearned terribly to see him once more.

Morax listened in silence, attentive even when Barbatos’ breath hitched and his voice trembled. He listened even when the words began tumbling out on their own volition, words of self-loathing and regret and of the indescribable exhaustion of a lonely god.  

Barbatos spoke, and Morax only listened in silence.  

xXx

Barbatos stayed with Morax for a few days more, not quite able to find the right timing to leave—but also because he’d eased into the safety of the Geo Archon’s company.

They exchanged many stories during their time together, Morax encouraging him to share his by offering an abundance of his own. He told him of a time long before Liyue, an age where dragons and elementals were the majority who roamed the world. He told him of wastelands now reclaimed by greenery, of deserts now reclaimed by the seas. He spoke of tales that would’ve been lost completely to the passage of time, had they not been ingrained into his memory. 

And Morax had a very good memory indeed.  

Barbatos had no such high tales to share; he had yet to live enough to experience the world to that extent. He was, however, instead reminded of simpler days of his own in contrast to Morax’s snippets of old history. The days spent within a fortress of storms, of human games and archery practice, of picking pockets and street performances.  

Barbatos remembered being called a different name then. Venti. He had called him Venti.  

How could it have ever slipped his mind.  

Morax proposed the idea the day before Barbatos finally decided he should be leaving. What if they arranged for all Seven to gather regularly? They could share some drinks and simply have a chat, as Barbatos had done the first time he’d visited Liyue. Morax wouldn’t mind being the regular host, but if the other Archons were willing, it would be nice if they could each have their turn. Maybe through this, they would be able to improve international relations within Teyvat, a collective step in rebuilding the continent after the destruction following the Archon War. Maybe through this, they would be able to usher in a new age of peace.  

Maybe through this, they could all be friends.  

It’s unexpected, hearing the concept of “friends” proposed from Morax’s own mouth. He certainly seemed more of the type who would only take acquaintances, keeping his contacts at an arm’s length so he could assess their worth and utilize them as he saw fit. It was rather naive too, Barbatos couldn’t help but think, to believe all seven of them had such an easy chance of getting along when they no doubt had personalities as different as the sky and earth.  

Still, he supposed it was a little endearing; for all his stoic, pokerfaced glory, Morax also had this sentimental side to him.  

Barbatos himself saw no reason not to try; he had taken his own leap once too and that worked out for the better. He reasoned that Morax would probably need him around as well, to diffuse some tough situations that might stem from the sheer difficulty of reading him at times. He'll bring the wine, he’d volunteered, promising that he’ll have learnt to be a better drunk by the time they gather. They would each have their share of alcohol, and in true Mondstadtian fashion, perhaps they would end each night with just a little more mutual understanding and better bonds.

Morax seemed to like the sound of it.  

And with that, along with an insistent invitation for Morax to be the one who bothers him next, Barbatos descended back upon the earth.

There was a field he was rather familiar with on his way back to Mondstadt; it's a place he frequented to practice playing the lyre in solitude. It was currently a time when dandelions are in full bloom, a carpet of yellow flowers swaying with the breeze, their scent pleasant and nostalgic. Barbatos even spotted a group of slimes hopping around not far off, tiny animals darting out from the cover of tall grass and into the nearby forest.  

He halted in his flight, and decided that the lecture from the flame-haired knight could wait a little longer.  

He drifted to his usual spot by the edge of the field, under a large tree older than even himself. He settled on the ground, took a deep breath as he spent a moment to gaze at the sight before him.  

Thousands of dandelion seeds floated in the air, dancing to the whims of the wind in the fading light of the sun.  

Warmth flowed through his body as he thought of him, and how he would still insist that cecilias were more beautiful than this.

Barbatos smiled as he plucked a new string of notes on his lyre, and for the first time, sang a song of his own.