#can he get to smoulder in some other series please???

[allthedamnlove]

omg i love that you can talk about drewfiona & rafesofia for hours lmao bc same! i hate how the riaras (yuck) on twitter shit on sofia sm and say her and rafe had nothing and that she was filler like pls don’t piss me off…they literally had more chemistry than anyone else. that proposal scene itself was greater than every romantic scene combined. and they’re both such GOOD actors. they just didn’t have a fleshed out plot line which we can blame the writers for, but if they had the screen time and the material they would literally be the most talked about thing in the whole show. meanwhile kiara’s character only knows one real facial expression and it’s the pissed off face she makes all the time #nooffense anyways idgaf, i hope sofia and rafe end up together and married and i hope we get drew and fiona press next season. i need to see those sweetie pies interacting moreee!

This is a biggg answer so ill put this down

first of all THANK YOU for the compliment. It is going to be a tough year waiting for obx and then RIARAS DRONING IN OUR EARS with a chainsaw talking about muh "enemies to lovers" trope while its clear that jj would probably come back alive, skin rafe and put him on the coffin rather than see kie and rafe. So any support for sofia is great

Oh both of them were amazing this season even tho they had like six scenes LIKE WHAT IS THIS, SOVIET RUSSIA can you please give me more I am starving here. But obviously since "sofia is a filler charcter' her own story and rafes and sof's relationship dont matter . i wish obx was shot in the 2000s then every season would have 23 eps and we would get such an amazing storyline. And you're so true, even with the minimal scenes their edits in insta and twt are going on fire. clearly some people who dont like fun are like "oh i dont like sofia" well I LOVE HER so move tf on and enjoy. People are clearly getting the agenda buttt some idiots are ruining it for us butt jiaras would literally hang jpates so i dont think fanservice will come in next season. They literally want rafe to be dead rather than with kie and they are pissed as hell abt jj so nope i hope to god that shit doesn't happen. I feel like next summer or autumn they may start shooting (idk tbh) so if we could just see on bts if fiona will be there, we will know for sure that sofia's story is not over.

I am honestly so sad for jiaras situation like they were so cute from s1 till s4 pt 1 like rudy leaving along with the entire drama kinda completely ruined jiara and its so sad cuz they have and HAD SO much potential like they COULD HAVE KISSED IN SO MANY SCENES. The scene when jj and sarah reunite with the rest of the gang should have also had a jj and kie reunion scene that would have ATE and also what the fuck was that ending, his own dad killing him that's so fucking tragic. That shit made ward and john sr the father of the series who both are ASSHOLES btw. Culimination of all that, madison and rudy just let go of professionalism and didn't provide the audience what they deserve. so that ended up kie looking like shes pissed off at jj; even when jj told his lifes been a lie she was...ok...like girl my bb sofia sounded more concerned when rafe called her in morocco. when compared to that with rafe literally proposing to sofia when rafes probably 23 and shes like probs 21 like OH HE WANTS HER BAD. jj didn't even properly kiss her LIKE THATS DIABOLICAL and they come for sofia being bland...like look in the mirror. Thats why psycho ship fans feel like they will get ri*ra like rafe actually was "amicable" key word "amicable" to her but again she had a knife on her back when he approached and rafe still kinda loathes her soooo.

I feel that they dont even watch the same series like jj and kie has been loving each other FOR YEARS loca and their delusional ass thinks that just because rafe threw some smouldering looks doesn't mean that kie is going to jump him and its very very disrespectful to kie that they want them together tbh.

Now....lets talk about it....I MEAN AGAIN THAT PROPOSAL SCENE CHILLSSSS. I hate that tiktok is a cesspool mostly filled with mentally weird people who are just liking riara edits when THERE IS LITERALLY A GODDAMN POWER COUPLE THAT YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN SLEEPING ON. I mean I loved all the ship chem this season; jarah blew me away and as usual we love cleopope in this fam but RAFE was actually making moves EXCEPT THAT FUCKASS SCENE like buying a property for her and marrying her LIKE THAT IS A FUTURE WIFE GUY. And AGAIN UGHH THE CHEMISTRY WAS CHEMISTRYING AND I HATE THAT I DIDNT GET ENOUGH SCENES. I would literally fall on my knees if I can get that enduro scene where rafe carries sofia BRIDAL STYLE like CALM DOWN. Buttt people say that its actually BTS which means DOUBLE DEATH LIKE HUH WHY DID THAT HAPPEN. Trust me, if only sofia was written by a woman instead of a m*n, we would have gotten so much more. Also a lot of self insert fics make sofia look like the bad guy NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT like obvio the yn is the heroine but like it just irks me that's all; that's just my personal opinion. And only very handful writers, not including the Brazilian Portuguese Rofia AUs (btw are amazing and you guys should totally check it out; i just google translate and read them.) there is not much fanfic or discourse abt them on ao3 or tumble again is kinda sad. I have mapped out a story for them butt i am kinda busy with my life rn even tho my brain and attention span is fried; so i cant be able to write it right now but i am for sure writing it cuz I'm sick and tired of the showrunners ruining the top tier potential that rafe and sofia have

I remember me and the approx 20 people in this app speculating abt whats going to happen in pt 2 after oct regarding rofia. I mean I thought the truth would come out and it will be messy so I THOUGHT I WAS READY to process it. BUT THEN BOOM RAFE PROPOSED

RAFE PROPOSED LIKE WHAT

I remember LITERALLY HOLLERING and screaming WOOOHOOO when he proposed. OH IT WAS EVERYTHING, some people say it was half baked like....whatever girl. the fact that man thought of marrying her itself is like HUH. I thought we'll get like a "i love you" confession BUT NEVER A FUCKING ENGAGEMENT SCENE. So Jpates your beatings will be less for that one reason.

And the way they kissed THREE TIMES BITCH I WAS UPPPP. Him close to crying like SOFIA YOU DID IT GIRL YOU DID IT. He clearly loves her like a lot and I hate that his INSECURE ASS would just break it up IN MOROCCO OVER A GUY WHOS CLEARLY A CON. AND THE WORST PART IS MY GIRL WAS SO HEARTBROKEN LIKE THAT SHOT OF HER JUST DROPPING THE PHONE. SOMEONE HOLD MY BABY SHE DOESNT DESERVE THIS. He straight up said "DONE" like mfer talk it out, acting LIKE HE JUST DIDNT CUT SOFIA OFF WHILE SHE WAS TRYING TO SAY THAT SHE MADE A MISTAKE (again warranted cuz rafe is an insecure ass and deserves that whooping, treating the love of your life like that DUSTY BEHAVIOUR).

Everyone says that drew has chemistry with everyone...i kinda disagree. I watched The Other Zoey and as much as i liked it the chemistry between Katherine and drew was not hitting at all. And the background score was not it at all, I was actually fast forwarding for all the romantic scenes with music cuz that was just tacky. And i feel like the final kiss was like...meh. I love the character Zach tho, he is so fuckng cute but I feel like the art direction and the overall aesthetic and the chemistry was not up to the mark. I was expecting more like"to all the boys i loved before" level cuteness but nope it was...ok ig. Compared to that, fiona and drew seem so intense on obx like the banter and the sexual tension is very palpable between sofia and rafe. even in scenes like the one second WHERE SOF PUTS HER HEAD ON RAFES SHOULDER like I felt that chemistry was chemistryfying.

I can talk about them for eons I am not even kidding. I love them smmm. THANK YOU FOR THE ASK

[penwieldingdreamer]

First Meetings

So, now that I have been stuck at home due to my mother's positive Covid test and watching The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings for 6 days straight, inspiration struck again, thank god 🙏😅 The new center of this -maybe- series will be Lee Pace. Of course this is only a fantasy and everything only came from my imagination but with a pinch of real events happening, still it's going to be in an alternative universe.

Thanks for being my beta @fortheloveoffanfic

Hope you guys will like it. Let me know what you thought and if you like to be tagged in upcoming drabbles I have palned and will hopefully be able to continue now again.

Summary: You work as part of the Mae-Up and Hair Crew on set of the Hobbit Trilogy, where you meet many interesting people, but one has gotten more of your attention than you would have thought.

Warnings: none, except for a very long drabble 😅

Words: 1722

You had been part of the crew ever since Peter Jackson had started working on the Hobbit trilogy in 2011 and met everyone that had been essential to the movies on and off screen. Apparently Fran had seen your work first hand when you were at a competition for make - up artists and she was impressed by the end results. You hadn't won any of the prizes but you were only one against one hundred others and yet she wanted you to be part of the second historic movie trilogy PJ did in his life.

The first people you had met were of course the dwarves and Martin who was Bilbo in the movie. They all were fun to be around, especially Dean and Aiden, as well as James Nesbitt who would always greet you with jokes or a song, giving you something to look forward to during those nearly endless days of filming.

And then, at the ending of shooting the first movie of the trilogy Philippa came up to you, a very tall man following behind her. You had just gotten done with James' make-up and wanted some fresh air, with all the fumes inside the trailer you sometimes thought you might get sick, so you sat outside, watching the pair walk over to you.

"Y/N," she said in greeting, a smile breaking out on her face. "May I introduce you to our newest cast members. Lee is going to be Elvenking Thranduil and he's in need of your service." Pippa, as you called her, had always had a way with people and she was next to Fran and Pete the only one of your bosses you could be yourself with and even call family away from your own. In your former jobs you had only been the one for the make-up, the one being ordered around and not even been able to give an opinion to change should something not look right on the person. But here, you were part of the crew and they would listen to you.

"It's nice to meet you." You said, holding out your hand for the actor to shake. With a smile in return he grabbed it and you had to concentrate not to let your reaction show on your face. Holy shit, his hands were huge compared to your smaller ones.

Only your boss's voice pulled you back to the task at hand. "So, Lee needs to get into his wig and ears and we'd like to try the crowns with the wardrobe department. Let's say meeting in an hour and a half over at costumes?"

"Oh, uh, sure." you mumbled, hastily disentangling your hand from his. "I'll send him right over when I'm done."

Pippa grinned at you. "Why don't you come over, too? We wouldn't want there to be a repeat of Elrond's circlet like the last time."

A soft sigh escaped your lips, nodding your head you stepped up onto the small stairs outside the trailer. "I'll bring him over then and make sure the wig will be in one piece once you guys are done."

"Great, I'll see you guys later!" she said, clapping her hands and walking off, leaving you with the giant in human form standing in front of you.

Once he made sure she was out of ear shot, Lee turned back to you, a smile plastered onto his face. "Do I want to know what happened to that wig?"

"I don't think you want to know, it was a mess and the guys making the wigs were so angry because the circlet Hugo was wearing in the fitting got caught on the strands and ripped it in half. They had to do it all over again."

Nodding his head, the actor entered the trailer behind her. You told him to take the empty chair next to Richard, who was getting ready for his scenes and he took the time to watch you flit around in your workplace. Everything was chaotic and still in order all the same. When you had come back to your place, the prosthetic ears and wig in hand, Lee grinned at you, his dark blue eyes shining with mirth. "Well, we wouldn't want another repeat for the King of Woodland Elves."

"At least you're already in character, then." Richard mumbled next to him with a laugh trying not to interrupt the woman doing his make-up for the day, listening to the words leaving his co-stars mouth.

Watching the actor, who was Thorin in the movie series, he laughed. "I just need to get my crown and wardrobe and I'll be good to go, everything else is already perfect."

Ruckus laughter floated through the trailer and you couldn't help but admire the shape of his face. Before you could stop yourself, you had already mumbled a 'yes, perfect' and Lee's eyes turned back to you. You felt the blush creeping over your face, swiftly grabbing a comb and a few clips to prepare his own hair for the wig cap you were going to be putting on under. All had seen the flush spread out on your skin and Martin who was getting up from his chair next to you send you wink. That was a great way to make a first impression on the day of meeting a new part of the movie series. You were scolding yourself inside, making sure to only talk to Lee when he was asking something, otherwise keeping your mouth shut.

"Okay let's see the green coat again with the silver overcoat. Y/N, be a dear and bring me that one please." Ann Maskrey, one of the costume designers asked you, while Pete and Pippa watched Lee getting dressed in the green coat. You walked over to the wardrobe and took the first silver coat. "No, not that one, the one with the deep orange silk on the inside." So you took the correct one on the second try and held it out for Lee to put on. He grinned down at you, pulling the coat over his shoulders and straightening himself. It would be easier if he wasn't such a giant, but he was a handsome giant.

"Right then, that looks good. Let's try it with the smaller branch crown."

You sighed, hoping there wasn't going to be another wig fiasco when you helped putting the crown on. Weta had done an amazing job designing all the pieces for the movies, for all movies they worked on, but sometimes these things were a bitch to work with. Your comb and pins at the ready, he sat down on the chair, pulling the knee-high boots on over the leggings he wore underneath.

"I'm going to be gentle but if I should hurt you with the pin please let me know." you told him, lightly pinning the crown to the wig so it wouldn't fall off.

Lee had closed his eyes, hiding the bright blue contacts he wore for his role. "I can take my fair bit of pain, but if it's intolerable, I'll let you know. So far I can't complain about these gentle hands."

By the time they had taken pictures and you had finally calmed down again so the flush that had started to spread over your face and neck at the close proximity to Lee was controlled again, Ann had asked you to take off one crown and exchange it for the larger branch crown with red leaves.

"I think this is going to be a lot more striking for King Thranduil then the other one."

So you repeated the process, gently combing the wig while Lee sat on the chair, chewing his gum and closing his eyes. He even held the hairpins in his hand because he saw you struggle to get them out of the confines of your little bag. When he moved it closer to you to work with your finger touched his and if you didn't know better there was a tiny spark from that brush of skin.

Finishing up, you grabbed the unused pins from his hand and told him you were done, giving the tall actor a light tap on his shoulder. Just as he walked over to the small area where they viewed him in his costumes, the door opened and Martin and James walked inside.

"Sorry, you guys but we had a small, unfortunate accident." the Irish actor apologized, showing the burst seams on his pants. "We were doing our stunts and well."

Martin grinned, walking over to you and throwing his arm around your shoulders. "We also wanted to see what all the fuss was about that haughty elf king."

Giggling, you looked over at Lee who grinned at his co-stars and repeated the walk he did before.

"Just so you know, if I were a female dwarf, I'd tap that elf ass." James whispered into your left ear, your once controlled blush intensifying again while the blond actor nodded his head enthusiastically.

"He's a perfect elf, you know. Broad shoulder, tall, elegant, striking eyes. The hair." Martin spoke so only you and the dwarf actor could hear.

"The long legs." James added, nodding his head over to the American actor who strutted along the area, having thrown off the overcoat.

"That smouldering look." the Brit continued before you held up your hands.

"Enough, you." You hissed so no one would know what you had been talking about, but you knew they were only trying to rile you up. Yes, Lee was attractive, hell, he was gorgeous and Pippa and Pete did an amazing job casting him, but you knew him for less than a day. He could be a total asshole when he didn't have people to impress for his first day on set. "You guys should get to Lucy or Sam so they can stitch up those holes."

"Well, I'm going to tell you this, one day you'll end up with a guy like that and you'll remember what I told you. You deserve the best in your life, luv." James told you proudly, pulling you closer into a one armed hug. He was brother and father to you in one person and you knew that his words were going to bite you in your ass.

They always did.

Taglist(I wasn't sure who to tag, also who might want to read it, so please let me know if you don't want to see mor of this in your notifications)

@fortheloveoffanfic @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @meetmeinthematinee @omg-imagine @fanficsrusz @eevee-of-rivia @fics-not-tragedies @omgkatinka @fuck-yeah-hope @wholelottatiffy @axshadows​ @a-really-bi-girl @madbaddic7ed @maggiemoo1892 @pinkzsugar @agniavateira @mary-ann84 and everyone who might want to read this.

[theotherhufflepuff]

Simon Snow Trilogy Tarot Cards...

Ok so, a little while ago I saw this frankly stunning artwork by @vkelleyart and I started thinking about the Major Arcana archetypes and how characters from my favourite book series could fit into them.

So I made this list. It took a lot of thought and I’m still not 100% sure on some of them but I have explained my thought process for each card.

I don’t know how much crossover there is in the Venn diagram of “Simon Snow fans” and “tarot readers” but I’d love to hear your opinions and/or alternative suggestions (be respectful though, obviously). I’ve left “visual prompts” for most of the cards explaining what they looked like in my imagination and if anyone wants to draw any of these (or their own alternative version!) please tag me; it would make my day! I can’t draw for toffee so I am 1000% never gonna try to illustrate any of them myself.

List under the cut because it is loooong.

Spoilers ahead for the whole series!

0 The Fool - Shepard - Shepard just follows magickal creatures around and says “yes” to everything... he is the pure embodiment of the Fool archetype to me; care-free, innocent... prepared for everything and yet totally clueless. Visual prompt: Shepard about to (attempt to) step into the fog as he follows a fairy into the forest.

1 The Magician - Penelope - “Penelope Bunce is a fierce magician, I don’t mind saying” Baz, at least once in each book. Penny never worries about not having the power or words available to do whatever she wants; she is comfortable in her power and it is always there, ready to be wielded however she sees fit. Visual prompt: Penny wearing her Stevie Nicks cape, standing by a chalkboard in the classic “Magician” pose, ring clearly held aloft.

2 The High Priestess - Dr Mitali Bunce - Dr Bunce is possibly a more formidable magician than her daughter. Highly intelligent, straightforward and, let’s be honest, judgemental. But she does have all the answers. Visual prompt: Dr Bunce carrying around her laptop, phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder.

3 The Empress - Lucy Salisbury - Lucy exudes the nurturing, Earth Mother vibes that are central to the Empress archetype. She saw the best in everyone and all she wanted was to love Davy and live with him in their cottage with her chickens and their child. Visual prompt: Lucy, barefoot and pregnant, feeding the chickens outside of their cottage.

4 The Emperor - Lamb - This is one of the ones I’m not totally sure about. I went through a few different ideas but ultimately settled on Lamb as the “Vampire King of Las Vegas”. He is an imposing figure, ruling his city with an iron fist; if you are in his favour, Vegas is your playground, but cross him and you will suffer the consequences. Visual prompt: Lamb sits on an antique chair in his opulent suite at the Katherine, the lights of night time Vegas visible through the window behind him.

5 The Hierophant - The Mage - Again, this one took some thought and I’m sure some people will disagree with this interpretation... I’m not completely sold on it myself. The Mage was all about reforming the old traditions of the World of Mages and he amassed a following by doing so. But he turned out to be somewhat of a false prophet; abusing his power to oppress those he deemed “the enemy”. Visual prompt: The Mage in his Robin Hood costume, sitting at his desk at the top of the Weeping Tower, surrounded by his piles of banned books.

6 The Lovers - Simon and Baz - Obviously. As stated at the top of this post, I love @vkelleyart’s version of this card, but there are a lot of scenes across the series that could be used to illustrate this archetype. I personally always love to see the original “and then he kisses me” scene.

7 The Chariot - Fiona Pitch - I struggled with this one a bit and I don’t really think that this is the ideal version. But the image of Fiona, rolling up to Blackfriars bridge in her vintage sports car to rescue Baz from the Numpties really stuck with me so that’s what I went with, for lack of a better idea.

8 Strength - Ebb - Ebb is often dismissed and underestimated by other magicians but she is wicked powerful. But more than that, the Strength card is about inner strength, self control and the wisdom to know when to fight, and when to rest. Ebb is highly intuitive about the people - and goats - around her and is always careful not to talk about her twin brother, only conceding that she knows of his presence once a year and never giving in to the temptation to talk directly to him. Ebb saw the war coming and knew that she could probably end it all by herself with the power she had; but she also knew that she didn’t want that and she had the strength to say no, to eschew the expectations the rest of the World of Mages placed upon her and live quietly, instead. Visual prompt: Ebb in the hills behind the school with the goats, she wears a flower crown that the Dryad made her.

9 The Hermit - Agatha - the Hermit eschews the outside world in order to take an inner journey of self discovery, knowing that this is the only way to find real answers and achieve real growth. Agatha, jaded by the World of Mages, took herself off to California, leaving her wand at home. She didn’t know what she wanted but she knew it wasn’t magic. Visual prompt: Agatha sits on the beach at twilight by a small campfire, Lucy the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel by her side.

10 The Wheel of Fortune - The Crucible - The Crucible’s decisions, like the Wheel’s, are unpredictable and inevitable. Once it’s happened, you’re stuck with the consequences - sometimes bad (being stuck with a toff vampire who hates you) and sometimes good (getting the best room in Mummers house).

11 Justice - Natasha Grimm-Pitch - Natasha needed justice to find peace; her whole story is about justice. She was swift to act when the vampires attacked Watford, dispatching them without hesitation. When she came through the veil to find Baz and ask him to bring her murderer to justice, she knew that would also provide some closure for him, too, both for her death, and for his. Visual prompt: Natasha Grimm-Pitch appearing from beyond the veil, looking for Baz and finding Simon.

12 The Hanged One - Nicodemus - The Hanged One is about feeling stuck, but also about finding peace where you are when there’s nothing you can do about it. Nicodemus chose to cross over for eternal life, but he was stricken from the book; his (considerable) magic effectively taken from him and his fangs removed. He was stuck in between - not a full vampire, not a magician; he exists on the fringes of both communities. He got himself there and then he had to figure out how to get by, carve out a place for himself in order to survive. Visual prompt: Nicodemus sits in the tree in the garden of his mother’s house in South London, waiting for Ebb to come and sit on the empty bench beneath him.

13 Death - [scene on the Great Lawn] - Ok, so.. this might need some explaining. My immediate thought for this card was that it should be the Humdrum but Death is all about clearing out the old junk in your life that doesn’t serve you in order to make space for the new. And the Humdrum isn’t making space for anything. So I was thinking about times that has happened in the story and I thought about how the death of the Mage made room for real progress and an end to the war with the old families. Visual prompt: Penny and Baz (literally) run into a fleeing Agatha on the Great Lawn; the Weeping Tower looms in the background, the Mage and Simon visible through the blown-out stained glass windows.

14 Temperance - Simon and the Humdrum - Temperance is, as you might expect, about balance and harmony. Simon used so much magic at once that he couldn’t control it and it tore holes in the magickal atmosphere. Simon had to fill the Simon-shaped hole to restore equalibrium and stop the magickal firmament from collapsing altogether. Visual prompt: Simon kneeling in the Weeping Tower, pouring his magic into the Humdrum as he fades away.

15 The Devil - Smith Smith-Richards - The Devil is about feeling trapped by temptations in your life, often because we’re afraid of what we would do with the freedom we’d have if we let them go. Which got me thinking about Smith-Richards (that name never gets any less ridiculous) and all the magicians who were taken in by the temptation of “fixing” their magic. But it was a false promise and those magicians who narrowly escaped taking Smith-Richards’ spell were all freed from the idea of their magic being “broken” in the first place. Visual prompt: Smith-Richards (looking like the guy who would be cast to play Simon in the Netflix series) standing on a stage in the packed-out White Chapel, rapt audience hanging on his every word.

16 The Tower - The Humdrum - Originally I wanted to use the Weeping Tower for this card because the imagery is on point but the meaning doesn’t match. The Tower is about absolute destruction, the crumbling of something you thought core to your being. The Humdrum steals magic and renders magicians homeless because of it. The Tower is about having to start again from the ground up - just as the Grimms did when all the magic was drained from Hampshire. Visual prompt: The Humdrum, wearing Simon’s face, stands in the grounds of Pitch Manor, laughing. (I have always thought of the holes looking like a burn in a piece of paper - sort of glowing and smouldering at the edges as it eats away the atmosphere. I know the holes can’t actually be seen - the Normals would freak out - but that is imagery I would use here)

17 The Star - Lady Ruth’s candles - The Star is about hope and healing after the devastation of the Tower. Lady Ruth’s candles were a symbol of hope that kept her going when she thought she had lost her children. They provided comfort and, at the end when it became clear the Lucy was gone, the healing of knowing that her child had finally found his way home to his family. Visual prompt: Lady Ruth’s candles in front of a window, a bright star can be seen through the window.

18 The Moon - Agatha and Simon - So, the Moon is all about examining blurred lines between illusion and reality - nothing looks totally clear in the moonlight. It reminded me of how Simon never really seemed to have a clear view of his feelings for Agatha and what their relationship was. When he properly examined his feelings, he found that he didn’t love Agatha and was going through the motions because he thought it was what other people expected of him. Agatha was doing the same. It also brought to mind Simon, going out of his mind worrying about Baz when he was missing - as well as basically every other thought Simon ever has about Baz before Christmas Eve 2015 - and somehow mistaking it for hating him?? Simon is not stupid but sometimes he’s real dumb. Visual prompt: Agatha and Simon meet on the ramparts, both looking for Baz, and break up.

19 The Sun - Simon - This card is all about innocence, optimism and joy. Nothing about this series personifies this more than Simon flying above Shepard’s truck in America, feeling free and hopeful about the future for the first time in over a year. Visual prompt: Shepard’s truck drives through the vast empty desert, the sun beating down. Simon flies above the truck, joy on his face.

20 Judgement - Niamh and Agatha - Ok, this one was hard to figure out and this is maybe not the right solution, but I was very stuck. Judgement is about self improvement through self reflection. As a small twist on that theme; Niamh and Agatha challenge each other’s view of themselves and their interactions with the world around them. Visual prompt: Agatha and Niamh, sweating to death in Niamh’s “shitty Ford Fiesta” (I’m very salty about that line; my Ford Fiesta is lovely and it has aircon). Niamh is frowning, obviously.

21 The World - Simon, Baz, Penny and Shepard - The World is about completeness, the ending of a story, fulfilment and belonging. At the end of AWTWB, Simon has finally found his biological family, he is starting to accept that his boyfriend and his found family love him for who he is, magic or no, and he can finally start to imagine a future for himself. Baz has learned new information about his vampirism, Penny has found new confidence and Shepard is finally fully accepted into the group. Visual prompt: Baz, Penny and Shepard sit on Simon’s sofa (possibly still pink from Baz’s spell, possibly he spelled it navy blue again) Simon sits on the floor. They’re all eating leftover sandwiches and cake from Lady Ruth’s.

[words-for-holland]

Quarantine Series: Secret Cuts & Kisses

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets hurt...again but this time she tries to keep it on the down low from Tom.

A/N: The Songs in Our Life Part 1 comes out tomorrow. If you want to be in a taglist for TSOL or Quarantine Series send an ask or message!

Check the Rest : Burnt Out | A New Look | Secret Cuts & Kisses | Breaking Friendships |The Birthday Week | Movie Night | Silence is Golden?|

Read TSOL -> (X)

There are three types of people in this world. People that are clumsy, people that are accident prone, and then there’s Y/N, who happens to be all of the above and more.

“Man, Im starving.” Y/N stated out loud as she made her way down the kitchen. She had just finished up an hour long meeting for work, when her stomach decided it was time for a break. Harry was also sitting down at the kitchen, reviewing the script he and Tom were working so hard on creating. He looked up to see Y/N grab an avocado, onions, tomatoes, and limes. It was then that he knew exactly what she was making, and could only ask the most appropiate question.

“Can you make me some guac too?” Harry asked with a sheepish smile.

Y/N laughed out loud as she went to grab more in order to make enough for the both of them. “Why did I have a feeling you were gonna ask that?”, she questioned herself, shaking her head.

“Hey, its not my fault! You make the best kind. Better than Sam’s and that says a lot.” Harry defended.

“Whatever you say Harry.” She smiled as she focused on cutting the onions and tomatoes. Y/N then opened up and deseeded the first avocado with no problem. Sadly, the same couldnt have been said for second one. She had cupped the avocado half firmly in her hand , positioning the knife to make sure it hit the seed when she whacked it. Unfortunately, Y/N didnt realize how slippery the fruit was, when she whacked it. The blade went thru a part of the seed but slipped on to her hand. She could feel and see the cut forming on the palm of her hand and side of her thumb.

Y/N and Harry’s eyes widened at the trauma. Dont freak out! Dont freak out! Dont freak out! Y/N repeated over and over again as she worked quickly to run her injured hand under cold water. “I’ll go get Tom!” Harry yelled, as he was about to run after his older brother for help.”Tom! To—”

Y/N used her non-injured hand to grab Harry and stop him from panicking and calling Tom. “Shhh! Its fine! Im gonna be fine! Tom does not need to know about this.” She whispered yelled to him.

“Y/N! You just butchered your hand like it was a scene from Scream! You have to tell him!” Harry tried to convince you, but he forgot what she was like in situations like this.

“C’mon Harry. Think about it for a second. You know how Tom gets when I get hurt. He gets moody and pissed, like a mama bear. Its two cuts theyll heal.” Y/N hated telling anyone if she was hurt or sick. Seeing her family and friends worry about her, hurt her more than when she gets injured herself. Her motto was that she can always fix it and pretend like it didnt happen at all. “Just please please please dont say anything to him. Look they dont even need stiches.” She showed Harry her injured hand which still continued to drip blood down slowly.

Harry hated keeping secrets, but Y/N always had a way of persuading people. “Fine.” He grumbled. “But if Tom finds out he’s going to lose it with the both of us, me especially.”

“Who’s gonna lose what now?” Tom asked coming in with the most impeccable timing. Y/N and Harry froze as she slowly tried to throw away all the bloody paper towels she used

“Nothing!” The two yelled out.

Tom was indeed confused looking at the both of them, something was up and he was going to get to the bottom of it. “Nothing? Are you two sure about that?” He saw Y/N leaning over the sink when he saw paper towels with a red hue on them. It a moment to click until he put two and two together. His eyes widen at the realization, and rushed towards the sink, seeing his assumptions were correct.

“Damn it Y/N, what the bloody hell did you do to yourself!” Tom yelled, worry written all over his face. He picked up her injured hand carefully as he inspected the wounds.

“Relax Tom, it was an accident. The cuts are not that deep.” She stated, rolling her eyes.

“Everything with you is an accident.” He muttered. “I cant believe both of you were about to hide this from me.” Tom pointed at Harry, who now shows signs of fear as he raised his hands up in defeat. “And you, I’ll deal with you later.”

“Listen man, she was the one asking me to not say anything and I told her it was a bad idea.” Harry defended himself as he quickly left the room.

“Come here, let’s see if we can bandage them up.” Tom grabbed Y/N’s non-injured hand as he led her to their shared bedroom. He quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom and started to clean up her wounds. “I hope you know Im still mad at you for keeping this away from me.” He said to her, eyes focusing on her cuts.

“Tom, Im sorry but this was what I was trying to avoid. Anytime I get hurt, you act like this. I just didnt want to see you upset or worry over nothing.” She winced as Tom rubbed her wounds with an alcohol pad.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “Of course Im gonna worry. It’s my job to worry about you. I want to be the person to take care of you when youre sick or injured, but I cant do that if you wont tell me. God, if anything happens to you...I —” Tom shook his head to get rid of the terrible thought.

“Hey” Y/N whispered. Tom looked up into her eyes, as she held his face with her uninjured hand. “Im okay. Im always going to be okay. No matter how many times I fall, bruise, bleed, whatever. You’re not the only tough guy around here.” She leaned in kiss his cheek, as Tom went back to fixing up her cuts.

“Does it hurt?” He asked rubbing small cricled on the back of her hand, after bandaging her hand.

Y/N shook her head. “Not really, just a little bit.” Tom picked up her hand, leaving a long soft and gently kiss on each band-aid covered cut.

“How about now?” He looked up, smiling.

“Better. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Of course thats what superhero boyfriends are for right?” Tom chuckled as he stood up to kiss the top of Y/N’s head. He was about to put the first aid kit away until she stopped him, pulling the back of his shirt.

“Actually...I think my face is hurting a bit. Can you help me, Spiderman?” She smirked.

“Oh? Is it now? What happend to being a tough girl that can take care of herself?” He challenges, kneeling back down to her.

“Well this happens to be something only a hero can fix.”

“Where on the face does it hurt, pretty girl?” Tom question as the two continued to lean towards each other.

“The forehead.” She stated. “Think it might need another kiss.”

Tom smiled as he placed a soft kiss to where she pointed. “Better?” He asked.

“Kinda. The nose is hurting a bit now.” She pointed to the tip of her nose, where Tom place another soft kiss. He didnt waste any other minute, and kissed her the place where he wanted to kiss her the most. Tom pressed his lips against Y/N’s as her hand instinctly wrapped around his neck. She returned the kiss with the same amount of passion, and they stayed in this moment for what seemed like forever, only breaking the kiss when they needed to breathe.

“I dont know Tom, with the way things are going...I might have to get hurt more often.” Y/N joked, as she tried to catch her breath.

“How about...you try to stay out of trouble and Ill give you an even better time than this?” Tom compromised, laughing as his hands slipped under her shirt and gently caressed her sides. He looked her up and down, showing off that smoulder that always made Y/N weak in the knees.

“Better put me in a human bubble then.”

[onlyhenrys]

She-Wolf - Chapter 11

She-Wolf

Summary:  She’s the only female witcher. He’s the most powerful witcher in the continent. What happens when the two cross paths?

Series Masterlist: here

Warning: Violence and mention of possession 

Thank you @iloveyouyen​ for being my amazing bestie/wife and for beta’ing this chapter <3 

Chapter 11 Geralt swallowed as he looked at the raven-haired woman in front of him. Time seemed to freeze and her pale skin glowed as she stalked closer towards them, her black and white dress flowing freely around her feet. The presence of the woman was both familiar and intimidating to the white-haired witcher. Memories from another life flashed in front of his eyes and he had to clear his throat before being able to face the fearless woman. The two of them had shared a lifetime worth of intimate moments and Geralt knew that he was one of the only people that had ever seen her vulnerable side. Being with Avyanna almost felt like he was betraying her, even when he knew that Yennefer didn’t see it that way. 

The featherlight touch of her fingers brushed over his skin and he closed his eyes at the sensation of her touch. 

‘’Hello, Geralt,’’ her voice was smooth and so familiar that his body leaned closer on instinct. She withdrew from him, leaving him cold and focused on Avyanna, who was shielded behind him. 

‘’I heard you needed my help?’’ Her voice remained the same and yet her features darkened as she came face to face with the she-wolf. 

Avyanna straightened and lifted her head, amber eyes locking with violet ones. “Not if you’re being so smug about it.” 

Yennefer’s features softened and a smirk pulled at her lips as she shook her head, sharing her lilac and gooseberry scent with everyone that was close enough. “Always the feisty one,” she muttered, before pulling the female Witcher in her embrace. 

The redhead relaxed into the other female’s arms and placed her hands against her shoulders, holding her close. She was never close to the older mage, mainly because she couldn’t stand the sight of Geralt and Yennefer together, but also because the raven-haired woman secretly intimidated her. 

Yennefer released her grip and took a step back, looking over her shoulder to the rest of the company, her eyes lingering on the element bender. 

“Mmmh, interesting,” she mumbled, stepping closer to the silver-haired woman, “I can feel the power running through your veins.” 

“And I can feel yours,” Nesrin raised her chin, not afraid to face the woman in front of her, “the elements told me about you. Yennefer of Vengerberg, the most powerful sorceress of the continent, you have so much potential,” she sighed, “and yet you waste it pining over someone that doesn’t belong with you.”

Faolàn jumped in between the two of them as Yennefer stepped forward to lash out, her hands already lit up with unused magic. “Woah, calm down,” he pulled Nesrin behind him, shielding her with his large body. The earth started to shake as Nesrin braced herself, ready to face off with the mage in front of her. 

‘’What’s going on here?’’ thundered a heavy voice, successfully breaking the two women apart. The earth settled down and Faolán sighed in relief before pulling the petite woman against his side, secretly hiding her from the woman with the burning violet eyes. 

Avyanna broke free from the group and jumped into the older man’s arms, her face pressed in the crook of his neck. ‘’Vesemir, I missed you.’’ 

A chuckle vibrated through his body as he pressed her close against his body before settling her back on her feet, taking in the rest of the company. ‘’I see we’re all getting along?’’ 

The mage pressed her lips together and stared away in the distance, while the element bender giggled, not at all fazed by the incident. ‘’I can’t promise that.’’ 

The old witcher shook his head and turned away, mumbling something about the attitude of the young ones, before leading the way up to the old castle. Avyanna looked up as he felt a presence next to her. ‘’I see the two of you finally decided to stop pretending to not like each other?’’ 

She grinned as Eskel pointed to Geralt, who was keeping his eye on them, an unreadable expression on his face. ‘’Yeah, I guess we did.’’ 

A soft hand touched her shoulder as the witcher smiled, his eyes softened when they met hers. ‘’I’m happy for you,’’ he faced Geralt, who had crept closer, ‘’for both of you.’’ 

She squeezed his hand and watched as he joined Faolàn and Nesrin, who immediately jumped into a conversation with the quiet witcher. An arm around her waist pulled her attention back to the White Wolf and a smile took over.

“Are you okay?” He softly mumbled, his concern for her clear in his amber eyes. 

She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss on his rough cheek, trying to take some of the concern away. “I’m good,” she sighed, “I just really hope Yen is able to find out what’s wrong with me. I hate being a danger to all of you.” 

He looked like he wanted to reassure her, but she captured his lips with hers, preventing him from speaking words that she knew held no truth into them. “Don’t,” she warned him, as she pulled back, “I know what kind of risk I am, no need to pretend I’m not.” 

He kept quiet for the rest of the walk, his features sharp as he took in his surroundings, overwhelmed with memories. This was the place where he taught Ciri how to fight, where he fell in love for the first time, where he learned what it was like to truly be in pain, where his heart got broken…

Dark clouds covered the sky and the wind started to pick up, pulling Geralt from his train of thoughts. The horses became restless as they picked up the trace of magic that was lingering in the air, their hooves scraping the cold ground in nerves. Geralt shuddered at the sudden cold that crept up his skin and gazed down at Avyanna. ‘’Are you alright?’’ 

The She-Wolf had her eyes closed, a thin layer of sweat covering her face as she seemed to strain herself, almost like she was trying to fight something. 

When she opened her eyes, Geralt bit back a curse. A leaf green had replaced the smouldering amber, but the look in her eyes was different. She seemed terrified as her body started to tremble, her fists clenching and unclenching. ‘’Geralt - ‘’ 

He reached out with his hands, slowly approaching the terrified witcher, aware of the others who had stopped to watch. ‘’It’s alright, Avy. Grab my hand, I will help you through it.’’ 

She took a step forward, one of her hands raised when a deep shudder ran through her body and a tear escaped. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ she whispered and Geralt knew the instant she was gone. Her body stopped shaking as she straightened and her cold eyes locked with his amber ones. 

Dread filled his stomach as a smirk crept up her bloodless lips, cocking her head to the side. ‘’Hello, Geralt.’’ 

Thunder sounded from a distance and a flash of lightning cleaved through the sky, hitting the ground near Faolán, making him jump back, dragging Nesrin with him. A chuckle rang through the air and Geralt watched in horror as Avyanna summoned a ball of lightning between her hands, holding it like a toy. 

‘’So,’’ she smiled, ‘’who’s next?’’ 

Red strands of hair plastered against her head as it started pouring, making it almost impossible for Geralt to see her. Even more magic filled the air as both Yennefer and Nesrin readied themselves, both a faint light in the heavy storm. 

Chaos broke loose as Avyanna released more lightning, hitting both Eskel and Faolán. The wolves flew backwards and an angry cry broke the heavy silence as Nesrin flew through the air, her silver hair like a halo around her head. Geralt dashed forward and threw his body in front of Avyanna, protecting her from the furious element bender. 

‘’Nesrin, please,’’ he begged her, his hands stretched in front of him, ‘’ don’t hurt her. Avyanna is still inside.’’ 

The redhead chuckled from behind him. ‘’Are you sure of that, White Wolf?’’ 

His boots slipped in the mud as he turned to face her, his movements, so quick that he had her pinned against the wall before she could blink. A look of surprise crossed her face before she relaxed against his grip as a lazy smile started to spread. ‘’Hello, there.’’ 

His hand wrapped itself around her throat, holding her tightly against the cold wall. ‘’Let her go,’’ he growled between clenched teeth, ‘’you’ve had your fun, now back off.’’ 

She managed to free her hand and reached up, brushing the wet strands of hair away from his face. ‘’The fun has just begun, why would I leave the festivities early?’’ 

Her gaze shifted to Nesrin, who dragged Faolán on her lap, her pleads for him to wake up desperate, painful. ‘’She really loves him, doesn’t she?’’ Nesrin cradled his face in her hands and pressed her forehead against his, whispering softly. ‘’A love like that almost warms my heart.’’ 

Her gaze fell back on the witcher in front of her, who was studying her, his tight grip still around her throat. ‘’Would you sacrifice yourself for her?’’ 

‘’Yes,’’ he said, without hesitation, ‘’I would sacrifice everything for her.’’ He leaned closer, his amber eyes burning with desperation. ‘’I know you’re in there, Avy.’’ One hand released her throat and stroke her cheek, ‘’Fight, Avyanna, fight. I can’t even imagine how hard it must be, but we’re going to help you. Just come back to us,’’ his voice dropped to a whisper, ‘’come back to me, please.’’ A tremor ran through her body as he pleaded. 

‘’I love you,’’ he pressed his forehead against hers, slowly releasing her throat. ‘’I love you so, so much, Avy, you have no idea.’’  

He waited for her to burst out in laughter, to mock him. But when she stayed quiet he lifted his head and amber eyes stared back at him, the edges silver with tears. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck before her body collapsed and Geralt rushed forward to scoop her up in his arms. 

He felt her eyes burn a hole through his back and turned around, facing the raven-haired witch. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, her eyebrow raised in question. ‘’I guess this is why you need my help?’’ She pointed at the chaos around her. Eskel had managed to recover and was standing close to Vesemir, while Nesrin was still on the ground with Faolán, his unconscious body limp as she held onto his hand, silent tears on her cheeks. 

‘’Can you help her?’’ he whispered, the words heavy in his mouth. 

Yennefer released a deep breath before answering truthfully, ‘’ do you want the good or the bad news?’’ 

‘’Honestly?’’ he shrugged, sudden tiredness threatening to drag him down, ‘’I just want the truth.’’ 

A muscle clenched in her jaw before she averted her violet eyes. ‘’You may want to sit down then.’’ 

[monaownsmyass]

Girl Friends

Requested fic by anon. (If you have any fic ideas or requests you'd like me to write, you can leave me an ask!)

Book: Open Heart 2, (after) Chapter 15

Pairing: Jackie Varma x f!MC (Casey Valentine)

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 3,145

A/N: Jackie has something special planned for MC. Okay ngl, I STRUGGLED with this one. Idk why but I did so I’m sorry if it’s not the best but dw, there’ll be more hopefully better Jackie x MC fics in the future! Also @playchoices make MC and their LI official challenge.

Tag list: @ineedskyecrandall @kamilahsayeet2063 @avalawrencefl @lovekamilahsayeed @thequeenkamilahsayeed @heygmicheelle @djtjsmith14 @jjlover01 @soft-for-drake @dopeyouth @alexroyard @satrinadia @toalltheboysididntlove @mypegasifly @samanthadalton @playallthechoices @queensayeed (lmk if anyone would like to be included or removed in my next fics and if you only want to be tagged for certain pairings.)

"Do you know what's up with Jackie?" I asked Sienna and Elijah while we had brunch together at the dining table. Aurora and Jackie were at work but we were off today. "She's been a little jumpy lately."

They looked at each other then back at me.

"I mean I know she had that whole thing with Panacea Labs but I don't know... this feels... different," I explained further. "She won't even tell me what's wrong!"

Elijah let out a cough while Sienna just ate her cereal quietly, suddenly very interested in the little loops floating in milk.

I squinted at them. "You both know something."

Elijah looked away, not wanting to face me but Sienna's head shot up and her eyes widened.

"What? Of course not!" she exclaimed defensively. "Why would we? Right, Elijah?"

She chuckled nervously and I heard her murmur, 'oh god' under her breath. Elijah glared at Sienna and whispered to her 'shhh!'.

"I'm right here!" I threw my arms up in disbelief. "If you guys know something, you better spill! And don't even try lying to me."

"Okay, yeah we know something," Elijah admitted and Sienna gazed at him worriedly. "But we can't tell you, I'm sorry."

"Why not?" I questioned, feeling myself get annoyed. "I'm worried for her, I've never seen Jackie so on edge and it's stressing me out!"

"She's planning to take you out tonight!" Sienna blurted then immediately covered her mouth with her hands.

"Sienna!" Elijah shouted.

"What?" Sienna screamed back. "She was gonna find out eventually! Jackie's gonna call her anytime now!"

And just like magic, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Casey," I heard Jackie say nonchalantly. "What's up?"

"Just having brunch with Sienna and Elijah." I shot them a glare and saw them shrink a little in their seats. "Did you need anything?"

"Uh, yeah, actually," she replied awkwardly. "How do you feel about dinner?"

"I have strong feelings about it," I joked. "I don't have it every day but it is pretty important."

I heard her scoff on the other side and I could almost see her eye roll and smile. "I meant with me, doofus."

"Dr. Jackie Varma," I said dramatically. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"God, I'm regretting it already."

She wasn't.

"That wasn't an answer," I teased.

"Hypothetically, if I were to ask you to put on something nice and get ready by 7 for me to fetch you to take you out for dinner, would you?" she avoided the question and I couldn't help the grin forming on my face.

"Hypothetically, of course!"

"So I'll see you at 7?"

"I thought you said it was hypothetical?" I messed with her.

"Oh my god," she groaned. "You're such a dork, I'll see you later."

I laughed at her frustration. "Alright, alright, bye, have a good day at work."

We hung up and I turned to find Sienna and Elijah looking at me cautiously.

"That's what's been bothering her?"

"Uh, yeah," Elijah sputtered out. "Yup, that's it."

"But I don't get why she's been jumpy, we've been out for dinner together before," I stated, confused.

The only response I got was Elijah shrugging while Sienna covered her mouth.

I narrowed my eyes at them. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"No! Of course not!" Sienna squealed in a voice that was higher than usual.

Obviously, I didn't believe them but I decided to let them off the hook.

"Fine, I'll figure it out myself. But at least just tell me Jackie is alright. Tell me nothing bad happened."

"Nothing like that!" Sienna said immediately.

"She's fine, don't worry about it." That was Elijah.

"Okay. Okay, that's all I need to know."

They were visibly relieved that I dropped the subject but I couldn't help but wonder, what the hell was going on?

~*~*~

It was just before 7p.m. and I was touching up my make up. I leaned back and looked at myself in the mirror to make sure I was presentable.

I was wearing a black body-con mini dress with a plunging neckline that was covered in sequins, making it glitter. My makeup was done to perfection and so was my hair.

I turned to admire my reflection and you know what? Screw presentable.

I looked amazing!

I heard the doorbell ring and I grabbed my purse, rushing out to answer it.

I saw Elijah and Sienna sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV. I remembered him saying something to Sienna about showing her this action series he's been into during brunch but my mind was still too busy on Jackie to be focusing.

"Oh my gosh!" Sienna shouted when she saw me. "You look great!"

"You planning to make Jackie pass out?" Elijah joked.

"Thanks, guys," I laughed and grinned, moving to answer the door.

I opened it and there she stood, the woman I came to care for, who's always had my back and been there for me through thick and thin. The woman I adored and was the most important person to me in the world, staring at me as if she's be struck by lightning.

And I was sure I was looking at her the same way.

She was wearing a dazzling dark blue halter neck dress that ended mid-thighs, showing off her body. The collar was covered in rhinestones and she wore a bracelet to match.

Her hair was in her usual chignon style while her makeup highlighted her already strikingly beautiful features.

Jackie looked gorgeous!

"Damn," she whispered. Her wide eyes started to smoulder and her slightly agape mouth turned into a grin. She bit her lip.

She sauntered up to me and slid her hands to my waist, eyes running up and down my figure and finally landing on my chest. I shivered under her touch and gaze.

"You cleaned up good."

"Are you talking to me or my boobs?" I laughed and she dragged her eyes up to mine, offering me a mischievous smile.

Her hand grabbed onto the back of my neck and she pulled me into a kiss. Our lips met in passionate haste. Her other hand roamed my back as mine rested against her hips. I felt the familiar butterflies start to flutter in the pit of my stomach when she kissed me.

We pulled away when we heard Sienna shout, "Not again! Please!"

We burst out laughing against each other's lips and decided to stop traumatising the poor girl.

"Hey, Sienna, Elijah," Jackie greeted them, peering into our apartment.

They greeted her back and before we could walk away to head to her car, Sienna shouted, "Have fun! Good luck!"

Jackie shut the door in a hurry and placed a hand on the small of my back, leading me away from our apartment.

"Good luck?" I looked at Jackie questioningly. "What for?"

Jackie shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows with that girl."

My brows creased skeptically but once again, brush it off. Maybe she was right.

When we made it to her car, she stopped me.

"Wait, I got something for you." She opened the back door of her car and pulled out a bouquet of sunflowers. She presented them to me, avoiding eye contact and said, "Here."

"Aww, Jackie! This is so sweet!" My heart melted at the sight.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome," she murmured.

I accepted them and stepped closer to her. "Aw, you're embarrassed too!"

"I'm not!" she huffed and I giggled, placing a hand on her cheek to direct her gaze to meet mine.

Her skin burned under my touch. Yup, she was definitely blushing.

"You're so cute," I said and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Not exactly my brand," she said with a sly grin. "But I'll take it."

She opened the passenger's seat door for me and I ushered me in, me still holding the bouquet.

She closed the door behind me and got into the driver's side. She started the engine and pulled out of the car park.

Throughout the entire car ride, Jackie was jittery. I noticed her fingers drumming against the steering wheel which I've come to learn meant that she was nervous even if her face was stoic.

"You okay?" I asked her worriedly.

"Oh, yeah," she said mindlessly and turned the corner.

"If you say so," I said quietly and the rest of the ride was silent until we reached our destination.

Jackie parked a few blocks away so we had to walk to the restaurant. Once again, she opened the door for me and this time, offered me her arm hesitantly.

To say I was shocked was an understatement. It was definitely a pleasant surprise but this was way out of Jackie's character, I wasn't even sure if this was the same woman.

Wordlessly, I looped my arm around hers as we made our way to dinner, trying to neutralise my surprised expression.

We stopped in front of a grand restaurant which definitely looked like a meal here cost more than our rent.

"Jackie!" I turned to her. "We're having dinner here?"

"Yeah, is it too much?" she asked hurriedly. "If it is, we can just go somewhere simpler."

"No! No, it's just that, can we afford this?"

Jackie's face fell into relief. "Oh, don't worry about it, I've been saving up for a while now." She bit her lip and she lead me into the building. "Also the parents of one of my patients owns the place and they said they'd give me a discount but that's not important," she said jokingly with a smile.

I let out a laugh as Jackie checked our reservations with the maître d'. A waiter lead us to our table and we took our seats.

We opened the menus and after a while, Jackie said, "Okay, I have no idea what any of these are."

"Me neither," I giggled, trying to make out some of the words. "I think this one is... duck?"

"How sure are you?"

"Not at all."

We laughed and Jackie spoke.

"Alright, alright, why don't I randomly pick something for you, just tell me when to stop."

She ran her finger up and down the menu.

"Stop!" Jackie stopped her finger and squinted at the menu item her finger landed on. "What is it?"

"As if I know," she replied laughing. "You'll find out later."

I did the same for her and after we ordered when the waiter returned, I asked, "So was this outfit what you were sneaking out in that garment bag this morning?"

"You saw that?" She gave me a surprised look.

"'Cuz I definitely couldn't see it behind your back when you came into my room this morning to kiss me goodbye," I grinned as I watched her soul leave her body.

"You were awake?!"

I nodded, trying to hold back my laughter. "I always am when you do."

"Oh god," she groaned and hid her face behind her hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it so I can tease you and revel in your embarrassment. Which so happens to be now!" I stated proudly.

"That's it, I'm never giving you a forehead kiss ever again." She crossed her arms and slumped in her seat.

"Aw, come on," I reached out to take her hand in mine. "Pleaseeeee?"

She rolled her eyes but fought the grin appearing on her lips. "I'll think about it."

Just then, our food was placed in front of us and we just stared at our respective orders for a good minute.

"What is this?" Jackie asked.

"I wish I knew."

We looked at each other's plates and burst out laughing.

"After you," I said.

"No way, we're doing this together!" She smirked at me. "Unless the great Dr. Valentine is scared of a little..." she trailed off, trying to figure out what was served in front of us. "Whatever that is."

I grinned. "Of course you'd make a competition out of this."

"Hey, less talking, more eating."

We both cut out a small chunk of our food and lifted it to mouths.

"Okay," she said. "Three, two, one..."

Jackie and I bite into the forkful and braced ourselves for the worst. But it wasn't the worst... nor was it the best either?

"I can't tell if I like it or not.. or what this even is," I admitted.

"Me neither."

We looked at each other and started laughing again.

"Let's just stick to sushi next time."

"Agreed," I said, still giggling.

We talked as we ate but I could still sense that Jackie was tense.

"Am I missing something?"

"Hm?"

"The sudden dinner date, the flowers, the opening doors for me," I explained. "Don't get me wrong, I love it, and it's really sweet of you... but you, well, normally you don't do stuff like this. Is there a special occasion today? Did I forget something?"

She glanced at me then back at her food.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you," she said quietly.

I grinned at her, "Well, I definitely won't complain about that, so thank you, but is that it?"

Jackie started playing with her food, obviously trying to avoid the question.

"What's wrong?" I took her hand in mine from across the table. She let me intertwine our fingers together and I squeezed.

"Nothing, nothing, just a little tired from work."

"Jackie..."

She looked me in the eyes and her gaze softened from seeing my worried expression.

"Can we get out of here?" she asked.

"Are you done eating?"

"We can grab a hotdog or something if you want," she grinned and stood up. "Not like you were actually enjoying it, right?"

I chuckled and let Jackie guide me out of the restaurant.

When we got out, she turned to the opposite direction from where she parked her car.

"Er, where are you going?"

"To go get you a hotdog," she motioned me to follow her. "There's a stand nearby. Also, I need to talk with you."

Uhhh, that didn't sound good.

"Talk to me?" I puzzled, worried. "About what?"

"Nothing bad, don't worry, I'll explain after I get you some food."

She bought me a hot dog but didn't get one for herself.

"You don't want one?"

"Nah," she shook her head. "And I, uh, I'm not gonna lie, a little too nervous to think about food right now."

"Why...?"

She took a deep breath as we strolled down the empty street. "Promise me you won't say anything until I'm done? I just... I have to get it all out."

"Is that why you got me a hotdog?" I tried to lighten the mood even though I could feel my heart sink to my stomach. "To shut me up while you talk?"

She snorted. "Even if I did, would you complain?"

"About getting free food? Never."

"Exactly," she let out a soft laugh.

I glanced at her and I knew she was trying to gather her thoughts. I let her, finishing my hot dog in the meantime. Finally, after a few minutes, she spoke up.

"Okay," she began. "I think it's pretty obvious, I'm not one for romance. I'm not the most romantic and I'm no good at it. But it didn't matter, because I thought it was a waste of time, that relationships were a waste of time. I was used to hookups and one-night-stands. And when I first saw you, I thought it would be the same." She paused for a moment and glanced at me. "Except it wasn't."

My heartbeat picked up at her confession and my eyes never left her face even though she wasn't looking at me. A million emotions raced in me.

"I told you during our intern year that I was avoiding you because you were a distraction. Which was true, but I was also avoiding you because I couldn't remember the last time I felt this way about someone. Or if I ever have. I don't do the whole relationship thing, hell, the last was probably in high school. And I thought I'd never get into another one again... but then you came along. I pushed you away but you were still there for me."

She stopped walking and I followed. She looked me in the eyes, gaze never wavering and I stared back into hers. You didn't have to, but you did and suddenly, I could picture me doing all of this... with you. The romance, the commitment, everything. I've never cared about anyone more than I do you. You're the most important thing in my life, Casey. And I don't want to lose you."

She inhaled deeply and slowly let it out, steeling herself to say the next words. "So what I'm asking is... what I'm trying to say... ugh!" she slid her hand over her face and blurted out, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

She composed herself and cautiously took both my hands in hers, adding on softly, “And can I be yours?”

I looked at her, stunned. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jackie let go of hands rubbed the back of her neck. “Unless, you don’t want to,” she quickly said. “The forget I even asked-“

I cut her off by pulling her into me by the waist, smashing my lips against hers. Hers arms instinctively made their way around my neck to bring me closer. I could feel her racing heart drumming against my own as our lips moved in sync, passion crashing between us.

I broke off the kiss, feeling breathless, arms still around each other. "Yes!"

Jackie laughed blissfully into the night, "Yeah, I think you made it pretty clear."

“That’s why you’ve been skittish all week?”

Jackie scoffed. “I have not been skittish.”

���You so have been!” I argued. “That explains the flowers and everything!”

“That’s Bryce’s idea,” she muttered. “Blame the Scalpel Jockey for most of it.”

“More like thank him,” I laughed. “I can definitely see Bryce written all over this evening.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe I went to him for advice,” she smiled. “I must have been pretty desperate.”

I giggled. “And I’m guessing Bryce told Sienna and Elijah?”

“And Raf and Kyra. And Sienna told Aurora,” she went on. “They were more excited than me.”

“’Cuz you were peeing your pants?” I teased.

She rolled her eyes but let out a small grin. “I plead the fifth.”

“Whatever you say, girlfriend.”

Jackie beamed and pulled me back into her. “Shut up,” she whispered against my lips as she kissed me.

And so there we stood, under the streetlight with no one else in sight, trapped in each other’s arms as our lips locked in an embrace, with me finally getting to call this amazing woman my girlfriend.

(More fics!)

[sansugar]

An ultimate secret

Pairing: Wooyoung x Female Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough sex..?, fingering, maybe something else I’m forgetting

--Finally sharing one of my first writings. This is potentially a 3 part series, let me know if you want to read more. Hope you enjoy!--

The train pulled to a halt and your suitcase knocked against your knees, startling you out of an upright doze where your head had been falling forward and jerking back for 45 minutes. A voice over announced the next station and you realised you were already in Seoul. After signing up for a 3 month, intensive course right in the middle of the city, you were excited to be given a second chance at your getting dream job, especially since the end of high school hadn’t worked out because you had been terribly sick. Luckily for you, your brother Seonghwa lived in a dorm just twenty minutes from your new school. With your small savings pot from years of working late nights at the convenience store and not having to pay rent, you would be able to focus all of your time on your studies. Or so you thought.

Exiting the confined tunnels of the station you emerged onto the street, squinting over the blurred, buzzing crowd. Though you recognised the faint smell of tobacco and deep fried chicken, and the clopping of heels across the pavement, you had to take a moment to get your bearings. As you hesitated in the middle of the path, a man leaning casually against a tree caught your eye. He reminded you of a cardboard cut out, slender with hard features, dark hair hanging across one eye. His navy blazer hung open, revealing a band t-shirt underneath, jeans and a belt buckle that caught the sun. You barely recognised your own brother.

“Seonghwa?!”

His face softened with a genuine smile as he strode towards you, arms out. He smelt expensive, like a brand name you’d seen on a billboard, but his enveloping hug was the same as it always had been, like he could wrap his arms around you twice.

“Was your train delayed? I thought maybe I’d missed you.”

“No I don’t think so” you replied, distracted by the of rainbow of advertisements flapping in the street above every shop.

You let him pull your backpack off your shoulders and take the handle of your suitcase before leading you out of the crowds.

“Are you hungry?”

You hadn’t realised until that moment that you had been starving.

“Yes please let’s get something good” you whined, pulling on his arm.

He chuckled, taking you down a maze of side streets to a tiny, hidden restaurant.

The food was delicious and you couldn’t stop yourself from ordering way more than you could eat, especially because you knew Seonghwa would pay. You talked with him more than you had in years. He told you all about his experiences as part of a rookie idol group and you told him all about life back home with your parents. You were lucky that he had just finished album promotions and had some time off to spend with you between training sessions.

When you arrived at the dorms you were quickly introduced to the other members of ATEEZ in a whirl of handshakes and tentative hugs before Seonghwa ushered you to his room to get you unpacked. It had all gone so fast that your mind began to replay Yunho’s warm touch, Mingi’s toothy grin, Wooyoungs constant chatter and San’s smouldering stare. Somewhere in the pit of your stomach you felt excited. How were you going to get any studying done with that around you 24/7?

You placed your suitcase on the bed and began to rummage around in your disorganised mess of clothes when you heard a knock at the doorframe. It was Hongjoong.

“Y/N. Do you mind if I quickly grab something? I left my charger in here” He pointed past you to the bedside table.

“Not at all, go for it”

He knelt down to pull his charger plug out of the wall when it clicked in your head that this was his room.

“Did Seonghwa kick you out of your room? Am I stealing your bed?”

Hongjoong chuckled and shook his head.

���It’s yours for the next three months. I’m happy to bunk with Yunho and Yeosang. A girl needs her privacy. Well, you will be in here with Seonghwa but…you’ll be comfortable”

He smiled at you as he swung his hands around his sides, unsure what to do with them.

“Hongjoong, haven’t you got somewhere to be?” Seonghwa said, appearing at your side.

He gave him a look that you couldn’t quite see and Hongjoong slipped out of the room without a word.

Seonghwa pulled a handful of clothes from your suitcase and began to fold them carefully. You crawled up onto the bed and sat with your back against the wall. The room was small and mostly bare but cosy. Seonghwa’s immaculately made bed was opposite yours and you were reminded of when you had shared a room with him when you were younger. You closed your eyes, feeling content in your new home. But that relaxation was short lived.

“Have you studied today?” Seonghwa asked, brow furrowed as he tried to match your socks.

“No? Classes haven’t started yet”

“But surely you have some work to do? To get a head start?”

“I guess…”

“Y/N. I hope you’re taking this seriously. You’re not always going to have a second chance”

You scowled at your brother, starting to remember why you had celebrated when he decided to become an idol and moved out in the first place.

A few weeks later, classes had started and you had settled into life at the dorm. Like you, the boys were in and out constantly but once a week you all had dinner together, and soon enough you were just a regular member of the team. You played mobile games with Wooyoung, watched dramas with Mingi and had regular arm wrestles with Jongho who was sometimes kind enough to let you win. Yunho would ask you about what you were learning while San tried to teach you to do pull ups and Yeosang would send you song recommendations every other day. Seonghwa had been overbearing and wary at first of the boys stealing too much of your attention but over time he relaxed, appreciative that there were 7 other people looking out for you.

It was a Sunday evening and you were sitting on your bed after a few hours of actual studying to watch a movie on your laptop, the room shadowed as the sun set behind the other buildings. You were snuggled in your blanket, completely engrossed when Seonghwa thumped into the room, flicked on the blinding light and yanked your headphones off your head.

“Hey!”

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you studying?” He scolded.

“I have been studying! Get off my back.”

This had been such a regular argument over the past few weeks, you felt like your responses were scripted. But today, he seemed to have had enough.

“You seem to think you can just get through life with a pretty face and no work Y/N but it doesn’t work that way. I won’t let you laze around here and waste our parents money on a course you don’t even seem to care about”

“What are you talking about? I already studied today. I’ve done all my homework”

Seonghwa grabbed your laptop out of your lap and closed it forcefully.

“This look likes you’re working really hard. Really practising well” he chided.

You glared at him.

“Look Seonghwa, I don’t know what your problem is…”

“My problem? I’m just trying to look out for you. You sit around here all day, wasting time on your phone, watching TV. This isn’t a holiday Y/N. Anyone would think you don’t even want to be successful and employed. If you’re not careful, you’re going to fail this course just like you failed high-school.”

You threw your blanket off your knees, stood up and shoved him. A painful lump rose in your throat, which you held in place, determined not to let him see you cry.

“I had pneumonia you asshole. You were there. How dare you stand there all high and mighty when you did absolutely fuck all with your high-school degree. I’m so sick of you pretending like you’re better than me when all you do is prance around in tight pants on stage.”

His face was like stone as he stood motionless in front of you.

“I know the real you Park Seonghwa and I can see straight through this facade you put up for your fans. You and your fake superiority can get fucked”

You stormed out and slammed the front door behind you with one goal in your mind. You had to get away from him. The lump in your throat became suffocating and tears peeked at the corners of your eyes. Your face felt hot but the hairs on your arms prickled and in that moment you wished you had had enough sense to grab your phone or a jacket on the way out. You walked aimlessly down the road, staring up at the dusty sky, willing your tears to suck back in so the passersby with their dogs would stop looking at you. You replayed his words in your head and saw his constant disapproving face, wondering what had happened to that soft and kind brother that had taken you for lunch those weeks ago. Your brother had always been a bit criticising, but never this cruel. You felt the sudden urge to hurt him, the need to see his face in shock, for once unable to predict you. But how? He had always been the stronger one, the smarter one, always two steps ahead.

You found yourself outside the dance practise building the boys often visited after hours. The lights were still on so you let yourself in, shivering and rubbing your arms. You wandered down the hallway, looking in each of the little square windows when you noticed a familiar brunette in a practise room by himself, music blaring. You slipped past the door and sat on the couch to watch Wooyoung dance, still oblivious to your presence. You had never seen him like this before; wearing a tank top and grey sweatpants, leg muscles straining against the fabric. You watched wide eyed as the bass of the music surged through your chest, playing your heart like a drum, captivated by his lunges that shook the floorboards, the intricate patterns he drew with his body and facial expressions that made you feel all kinds of things in your lower half. He almost jumped out of his skin when he noticed you.

“Fuck Y/N!” He said, running to pause the music on his phone. “You scared me half to death”

“I’m sorry. I just saw you dancing and I…” you trailed off, acutely aware of how flustered and tearful you must still look, trying to hide your face with your hair.

The smile on his face fell as he approached you.

“What happened? Are you ok?” He dipped his head to look into your eyes, softly touching your shoulders, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Was it Seonghwa again? I swear to god if he’s been on at you again I’ll…” he paused and reconsidered. “I mean I probably won’t do anything…but I will if you want me to”

“I really don’t want to talk about it”

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. He smelt like sweat and deodorant which you inhaled deeply, leaning into his embrace.

“Do you want to get some food?” He asked, stroking your hair.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“What do you want to do?”

A momentary idea popped into your head. “Could you teach me to dance?”

Wooyoung pulled away far enough to look at your face, a hint of concern and uncertainty in his eyes.

“To dance?”

“It would take my mind off things…teach me the part you were practising”

He laughed nervously but when he saw you were serious, he nodded. You followed him to the middle of the dance floor and he stood just in front of you, legs in a wide stance.

“Okay, so first you go like this…”

Wooyoung showed you sequence and then broke it down into steps. You were shaky at first, but with his help you started to get it, dancing the choreography almost to speed once he turned the music on. You quickly forgot the fight, laughing whenever you got it wrong and Wooyoung playfully yelled at you for not listening to him.

“You’re not low enough. Squat lower! Yes like that. Now thrust your hips. More. Make it bigger. You’re still not doing it right!”

Wooyoung ran over to pause the music and you sighed loudly.

“The hip thrusts are embarrassing” you whined, fanning your hot skin with your hands.

“They are not. Confidence is sexy. You are sexy. Now come on, your form isn’t right”

You caught your breath as he came behind you and ran his fingertips lightly down your sides before settling them on your hips. You felt your body stiffen and skin prickle in anticipation, desperate for him to either slide his hands lower or to put a metre of distance between you.

He did neither, instead putting pressure on the juncture of your thighs to make you squat lower and lean slightly right, his chest flush against your back, sweaty shirt pressing against you. You could feel his hair tickling your neck as his hands slid down your arms to grab your hands and raise them above your head. It took everything you had to stop your thighs from shaking, body completely new to such a low squat position. You didn’t dare move as he analysed you in the mirror, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Just like that” he said dryly as his hands came back to rest on your waist, dark eyes fixed on yours, unconsciously licking his bottom lip

You looked away, at anything other than his intense stare. Were you reading this right? Or did all dancers guide each other with such alluring invasion of personal space? His body shifted and you felt the light press of his bulge against your ass, shattering any notions that this was a normal dance lesson. His breath fanned your shoulder and you thought you should move away, pull his hands off of you, tell him off, anything to remove yourself from the precipice of turning your relationship into something else.

But your hips took a mind of their own and you felt yourself gently grind back against him, drawing an involuntary groan from deep in his throat. You craned your neck to look at him over your shoulder, frozen in the painful squat your mind paid no more attention to. Time stood still as his gaze flicked to your parted lips and you slightly inclined your head in a permissive nod. Before you realised you had moved, he had flipped you around and pressed you hard up against the mirror, licking into your mouth and hands roaming over every inch of your clothed chest. His hips bucked against yours and you reached down to the outside of his sweatpants to palm him, drawing a another long groan from him against your lips.

“Please don’t stop” he panted, planting breathy kisses along your jaw to your collarbone, pausing to inhale your scent and pulling down your t-shirt collar to grant him further access to your skin.

“Can I…” he started to ask, but his hands were way ahead of him, travelling up your shirt, kneading your breasts through the fabric of your bra, forehead pressed into the crux of your neck.

You fingers played on the edge of his pants as you briefly questioned yourself again before diving down to take hold of his hot length, earning a simultaneous groan from both of you. You held tightly but didn’t move, causing him to shamelessly buck up into your hand, his touch abandoning your chest in search of your core, which at this point was embarrassingly wet.

You knew there would be no going back the moment his hand slid down the front of your panties. His middle finger swiped up your slit, flooding warmth into you and you instinctively clenched your walls to feel some friction.

“Holy shit” he breathed, mostly to himself as he inched two fingers deep inside you to curl against your spot, causing you to shudder helplessly beneath him. You were insatiable, weeks of pent up curiosity, fantasises and late night masturbation in the shower caused by living in a house of 7 gorgeous men. It was wrong, it was forbidden and you were intent on riding it straight to hell.

“Please fuck me Wooyoung” you whimpered to the ceiling, shaking at the intensity of which he fingered you, tongue pressing into your neck, drinking you in.

He growled into your skin and captured your lips again with both hands holding your face, the fingers which he had just had inside of you rubbing your own juices on your cheek. You suppressed a laugh at his eagerness and pulled his sweatpants down to his thighs as he pulled your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra and burying his head between your breasts, sucking and grabbing at your flesh.

“Fuck I want you so bad” he said, muffled into your nipple, pulling it between his teeth.

In the space of a breath, he hoisted your leg onto his hip, bunched your skirt up around your waist, pulled your panties to the side and entered you in one swift motion that had you both gasping out.

Time stopped again as he bottomed out, pausing with his forehead pushed against yours, inhaling deeply, fingers digging into your thigh. Your walls were screaming with the sudden stretch and you suppressed a painful sound when he tentatively pulled all the way out and pressed back in. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep yourself upright and balanced on your one standing leg. He tested a few more erratic thrusts and the pain began to mix with pleasure and an overwhelming desire to be pounded into the mirror but Wooyoung paused his movements.

“I don’t know if I can control myself” he mumbled with shuddering breaths, hair hanging in his eyes.

“Then don’t”

He snaked his arm around the small of your back and jerked your hips closer to his, your head leaning on back the mirror like a rag doll in his hold. He drew his cock back again and you felt every ridge of him before he thrust up into you, setting a bruising pace that made you gasp for air.

“Fuck, I’ve imagined this so many times” he kissed below your ear, bouncing your body with every thrust and your hands fell back flat onto the mirror to hold on for dear life. “You walking around the dorm in your cute sundresses like you don’t know what you do to me.”

Pleasure started to rise from your core to your stomach and you wrapped your leg tighter around his hips, chasing the promise of your release. You leaned back in to capture his lips in a kiss, deeper than you had all night. He held you in that kiss until the pleasure became too much and you had to pull away, sucking in a desperate breath.

“God you’re so fucking perfect. Tell me-ugh…tell me how good it feels”

You moan as the pressure builds, pleasure sparking in multiple directions, but the pain of your wobbly standing leg starts to pull you away. As if reading your mind, Wooyoung pulls out and turns you to face the mirror, spreading your legs with his feet and pulling your hips back onto his cock. You cry out as he reaches deep inside you, igniting a fire as your walls clamp down on him and your hand automatically drops to rub your clit.

“I’m not going to last” he says, inhaling your hair. “Are you close?”

You moan again as if that is a response and rub your clit faster, knowing your release was within reach, just over that figurative hill, if he could just…

“There, a-ah fuck Y/N, I’m there. God-fucking-yesyesyes”

Wooyoung stands on his toes, boosting the angle of his cock to rub directly on your back wall and pound erratically into your spot. Like the crack of a whip, you inhale suddenly, almost choking on air as he hurtles you towards your orgasm, cock twitching as he cums deep inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop” you pleaded, reaching back to hold the back of his thighs in case he dared to pull away from you or reduce his blinding pace.

Your torso was almost completely horizontal now, back arching, thrusting yourself back onto his cock, his cum dripping down your thighs. Your release hit you like a series of waves breaking, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream as your walls convulsed erratically, spreading a wet warmth throughout your core. Wooyoung continued to pound you, fingers coming down to press on your own, rubbing harder into your clit.

Riding you down from heaven, stars and colours swirling behind your eyes, Wooyoung began to slow. Your knees gave way and you threw your hands out in front of you to stop yourself hitting the wooden floor too hard. Wooyoung wrapped his arms around your stomach and dropped to his knees with you in an attempt to keep his softening cock buried inside of you. His chest heaved against your back but you were both quiet, letting the sound of the squeaky fan and creaks of the building fill the silence.

“Fuck, Y/N I should have asked if I could come in you”

“It’s fine, I’m on the pill”

“Even so” he mumbled, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades and slowly removing himself from you.

You remained awkwardly on your hands and knees, panting at the floor as your senses returned and the reality of what you had done clicked from blurry to sharp in your mind. Wooyoung handed you a towel and you wiped the cum from your thighs, gazing in disbelief up at your smudged handprints on the mirror. Wooyoung was speaking, possibly to you, but you couldn’t focus on his words, caught in a state of ecstasy that wasn’t just post orgasm bliss. As you both got dressed, he tried to catch your gaze, but you barely noticed him, focused on the incredible feeling rising in your chest.

“Hey-where are you going?”

You were halfway out the door when you turned to look at him and forced a smile.

“I have to go back”

You left Wooyoung dumbfounded behind you, revelling in the complete elation of having just done something that would make Seonghwa burst a blood vessel if he knew. You emerged into the night air again, cold wind soothing your red, sweaty face. You felt bulletproof, like there was nothing more Seonghwa could hold over you. Not when you had such an ultimate secret over him.

You heard low voices when you reached the dorm and opened the door to find Hongjoong and Seonghwa sitting at the table, several empty bottles of Soju between them. Something about the way your brother looked at you, eyes glazed over and swaying slightly, told you that the drinking had been one sided.

“There you…I was so…worry” Seonghwa mumbled, standing up to give you a hug though he ended up almost pushing you over and Hongjoong had to step in and hold him up.

“It’s ok, I’m fine” you said, patting him on the back and mouthing a thank you to Hongjoong, who shrugged a smile. You looked up at your brothers’ flushed and puffy face and in this moment you pitied him, a pang of guilt stabbing you somewhere in the gut.

“I wish I…I shouldn’t have-“ he started but you cut him off.

“Let’s get you to bed”

It was a short but slow stumble from the kitchen to your shared room.

“I’m such a screw up” Seonghwa whined, head lolling backwards before you and Hongjoong dropped him on his bed.

“Go to sleep now” you said, smiling to yourself at your brothers complete inability to hold his liquor.

“You’re my sister and I…always…” he trailed off, squeezing your hand, eyes fluttering shut. Hongjoong turned off the light, leaving you sitting on top of Seonghwas quilt in the dark room, listening to his breathing as he started to drift off. You bit your bottom lip, wondering if maybe you had gone too far with Wooyoung tonight.

But your guilt was fleeting as the next morning, a hungover and humiliated Seonghwa berated you over breakfast for leaving the house without your phone.

“What the hell is wrong with you Y/N? What if something had happened to you? It just baffles me how you can be so damn stupid sometimes”

You sat at the table, staring ahead and calmly eating your cereal as he brought up more reasons and memories where you had been what he considered irresponsible. But you didn’t take the bait this time. You felt above that now, addicted to the power of what Seonghwa didn’t know, of how Wooyoung had melted at your touch, and how mere centimetres from your brothers disapproving face, you plotted your next pursuit.

[jincherie]

mystery gang; unsolved | PT. 1

☾ — pairing: taehyung x reader ☾ — genre: demon au, supernatural/paranormal au, buzzfeed unsolved au/inspired, smut (oncoming), f2l ☾ — words: 8.1k ☾ — rating: adult! this one is sfw, but future part/s will be nsfw ☾ — warnings: demons and haunted houses, supernatural & paranormal themes! some slight dark themes too. ☾ — notes: part one of 2! or maybe three. depends how the next parts go. I’m finishing this over the next few days-- it was meant to be done completely by now, but a combination of life and my usual “accidentally giving the story too much meat” antics have resulted in this! I wanted to stay at least a little true to my word, so here’s the first part! 

ever since you met taehyung in one of your first year classes at university, you seemed to click and you hadn’t parted from each other’s side since. you’ve been his friend for a few years now, and your mutual interest in the supernatural and taehyung’s propensity for finding the spotlight wherever he goes led to the two of you starting up your very own supernatural investigation vlog series. friends isnt the only thing you want to be, and one night close to hallow’s eve when the two of you get a little in over your heads in a way you never have been before, you find out that maybe it’s not only you that feels that way.

— posted; 01.11.2019 // masterlist | next⇥

MYSTERY GANG; UNSOLVED — PART ONE

Every creature, past or present, had one true weakness. This weakness was cut from the same cloth of creation as them, complimentary in every sense of the word and a match so perfect and natural it shook even the most corrupt of creatures to their very core. The universe moved to reunite a creature with their weakness only every so often, and when it did there was no question, no refusing it.

Centuries he’d lived, walking the planes of the mortal realm, the underworld, and the space between. He was young, for a demon, and had spent most of his youth chasing pleasures of the flesh and wreaking havoc in the mortal world. He’d had a riot doing so, too, until the fateful day the universe shifted and he met you. A weakness, his weakness. He was thousands of years too young to ever have considered the possibility of such a rare occurrence happening for him, and as such wholly unprepared for what the future held for him. Try as he might he was unable to resist the strings puppeteering him so, and it was with great reluctance that he resigned himself to the remainder of his time spent guarding, protecting, shielding this weakness.

He never imagined he’d end up enjoying it so much.

– x – x – x – 

“Can you pass me the lens, Tae? I need to clean it before we pack it all up ready to go.”

Instead of the heavy weight of the camera lens you were expecting, it is a ticklish sensation against the palm of your outstretched hand that greets you. Unimpressed, you look over to see Taehyung tickling your palm with his fingertips, a large grin tugging his lips. When you shift, preparing to smack him, he ceases his movements with a loud laugh. The requested camera lens is quickly placed into your palm to appease you before you get too violent.

“Thank you,” you emphasise, shooting him a sarcastic grin despite the fact you admittedly found his antics a little funny.

“You love it when I tease you,” he scoots closer, huffing and blowing silvery strands out of his eyes so he can nail you with a smouldering look without hindrance. His next words escape on a low breath that has shivers running down your spine that you do your best to hide and ignore. “Admit it.”

“Hmm, don’t think so,” you offer a rebuttal, shooting him a sly look before returning your attention to the lens and cloth in your hold. “But keep trying, maybe one day it will work.”

Taehyung snorts, leaning back on his hands with his legs crossed before him as he lets out another loud laugh at your response. You can feel his eyes on you still, and do your best to ignore it despite how it makes heat crawl and trickle like lava down the column of your spine, dripping slowly into your gut. Year three, month two of pretending the male you befriended so quickly and easily in your first year of university doesn’t have such a powerful, swaying effect on you, and it isn’t getting any easier. His stare alone has the little hairs along your skin raising to attention, body constantly on high alert. If only, if only you had the same effect on him—then perhaps there wouldn’t be such power imbalance in that regard. 

As mentioned, you’d met Taehyung around halfway through your first year of university, when the first semester ticked over into the second and you were dealt a whole bunch of new classes, new people, and new seatmates. The second you saw him enter the large lecture theatre your next class was to be held in, you registered that he was far too attractive and therefore painfully out of your league, and made a note to avoid him at all costs to save yourself any future embarrassment. Like any respectable individual who was actively attempting to avoid someone, you shrunk into your seat and focused on scribbling nonsense onto the back cover of your notebook, allowing your hair to fall from its style and shield your face somewhat for maximum sleuth as the walking Adonis began to climb the steps of the aisle. 

Your efforts were for null, however, as you’d caught his attention the second he stepped foot into the room. A scent so divine it bordered on sinful brushed his senses upon entry, and he was suddenly aware of one distinct heartbeat amongst the eighty-odd others in the room. His gaze was drawn to a seat in the far middle of the theatre, besides the windows and pushing the title of a back row. There, it was you. The source of the intoxicating scent, the owner of the heart beginning to race in what he pinned to be a mixture of excitement and anxiety, and the most captivating human he’d ever laid eyes on. He made a beeline straight for you.

Of course, you would never be privy to any of that. You just knew that one second you were scribbling aimlessly, waiting for him to pass, and the next you were jerking your head up at the sound of chairs nearby squeaking as people pulled out of the way and—oh god he didn’t go past he was walking straight for you. While you aren’t proud of the flustered, discombobulated manner in which you’d handled the situation and introduced yourself, you are proud to say that after that initial interaction you were quick to develop a resistance, a filter of sorts. You aren’t immune to his wiles and charms, his odd flirtatious remark and heavy-lidded gaze, oh no, no, no. You aren’t immune, but you’ve gotten better at handling it, hiding it. And for that, you’re pretty proud of yourself. Kim Taehyung is a hard man to resist.

You were pleased to find, upon engaging in that initial conversation, that Taehyung wasn’t just a pretty face—he had many interests and hobbies, most if not all of which aligned with your own. The most notable of these, was an interest in the paranormal. When you’d first mentioned it casually, feeling gingerly for how your keen interest would be received before opening yourself up about it, you’d been surprised at the more than eager response you’d received. His eyes had lit up, and something curled and gleamed behind them but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what—a sense like he was smiling to himself registered in your mind but you dismissed it quickly. The more extroverted of the two of you, he’d had no problem diving deep into the topic and dragging you with him. 

You can’t really remember any of the finer details of how exactly you’d gotten from point A to point B, but by the end of the semester you were closer friends than you’d ever anticipated and recording the first episode of many to come of your very own paranormal investigation vlog series. 

Admittedly, investigating paranormal hot spots and haunted places is something you’ve always thought about and an idea you’ve always toyed with, ever since you were younger, but you’ve always been too much of a… well, too much of a pussy. Something about Taehyung, though, had you changing your mind and agreeing to go through with it. You don’t want to be sappy and say that you feel safer around him, or any of that garbage… except you kind of do. Perhaps it’s less that you feel safer, because some of the locations you’ve been have definitely made you feel anything but—perhaps it’s more so that you feel even if things go haywire, Taehyung is capable of protecting you.

That sounds even sappier than what you were trying to avoid, damn it.

All of that aside, the two of you managed to establish yourselves pretty early on as a strong paranormal investigation team on a few different streaming sites—aptly and humourously called Mystery Gang; Unsolved, after a night spent drinking where you lost a bet to Taehyung and he got naming rights. Despite the odd name, over the years you’ve been doing this, you’ve managed to build up quite an impressive fanbase. A part of you likes to think it’s because you’re so damn funny, but really you know that it’s because Taehyung is drop-dead gorgeous and there’s a solid ratio of about eighty-twenty of females to males that watch your vlogs—and you know Taehyung has all the females and about half the males in the bag as well. Not good odds for you for finding a partner in either gender, really. It’s fine. You’re content with the odd comment directed to you among thousands. You’re fine. Really.

It’d be a bit hypocritical of you to be upset about the sheer amount of individuals attracted to Taehyung since you, too, happen to be sitting quite decisively in his bag as well. Sue you. 

“Are you gonna clean the camera or sit there staring into space for a while longer? I know we’re kind of freelance, but we still have a window we gotta grab, you know. The witching hour isn’t at ten in the morning.”

Jerked from your reminiscing, you immediately slide Taehyung the stink-eye. He’s awfully rude for someone so attractive, you can’t help but note and grumble internally.

“How about you clean the cameras? Ever since we’ve arrived you’ve been sitting around doing nothing!”

There’s not an ounce of bite in your tone, and you feel like even if there was it would have rolled right off Taehyung’s shoulders as he shrugs, grinning lazily. His pose on the hotel bed has shifted, now his long form is draped indolently across the surface, elbow propped on the mattress and hand cupping his cheek. His long lashes brush his cheeks as he blinks slowly at you. 

“I don’t need to stress-clean, I know we have this in the bag,” he says, lips curling as he speaks in his usual low drawl. “You were so nervous the second we got here that I thought if I tried touching anything you’d simply burst into smoke or something.”

The male’s reference to your odd cleaning habits irks you, but only slightly and only because it’s true. The rest of what he said is true, too. As much as you’d like to complain, cleaning your equipment meticulously and probably more than needed has been doing wonders for your nerves. You always tend to have a healthy, respectful dose of fear with every location you visit, but for some reason your nerves seem to be off the charts, tonight. 

Perhaps it’s because you’re visiting a church. You always hate it when the haunted location is a church. Something about somewhere meant to be so holy becoming so desecrated that evil spirits haunt it… you don’t like it. 

You sit for a moment, feeling your face contort as you assess the nauseous feeling beginning to churn in your stomach. Instead of answering his previous comment, you allow your thoughts to spill from your lips, somewhat distractedly. “I don’t… have a good feeling about tonight.”

Your words must be somewhat unexpected, as silence follows for a few moments after they enter the air. You regain control of your gaze where it had been centred on nothing, directing it towards the male on the bed. Taehyung’s eyes are on you, and you swear you catch something akin to a flicker of concern flitting across his features, before the tension leaves his face and he slaps on a silly grin. 

"If ghosts and ghouls were real, y/n, you'd almost be begging them to haunt you," he quips, brows quirking in a sly manner. "Them's invitin' words, darlin'."

You're not sure what weird-ass accent he just pulled out of his rectum, but you're definitely sure your body shouldn't have reacted as shamefully into it as it just did. You throw a glare his way to mask the way you just shivered, at a damn pet name of all things, and turn back to cleaning your lens. He laughs, and you resign yourself for the millionth time to the fact that you'll probably never stop being so affected by him. 

"Oh yeah? Well it really sounds like you're inviting a smack right now, mister. Don't make me break out the sandal."

At that, Taehyung bursts into loud laughter, flopping back onto the bed to let out his howling cackles unhindered. You can only sit and shake your head as you continue to rub your equipment clean, fighting a smile but allowing the fondness of the moment to sink in and cover the weight in your stomach. 

Taehyung isn't worried, so you probably shouldn't be either. 

X    x    x    x 

"You're a monster."

Your gaze is petulantly pointed out the window, but you can feel Taehyung fighting a smile from the driver's seat. It's almost silent in the cabin, aside from the low hum of the car beneath you and the smooth sound of slow r'n'b thrumming from the speakers. You do like that about Taehyung's choice in cars; he always managed to find some with excellent speakers for the bass-y songs the two of you enjoy listening to.

"You said you didn't want them!" Taehyung protests, a slight whine to his voice. Oh, he thinks he can get out of trouble by acting cutesy? The absolute nerve.

“No! I didn’t!” You’re affronted, unable to help the way you turn in your seat to pin him with an incredulous glare. “I said I was going to give them a break while I had some of my thickshake! I didn’t say you could have them!”

“You left your fries alone for more than a minute, what was I supposed to do? Let them go cold?”

“It wasn’t an invitation! Honestly, how could you… after all we’ve been through?”

Taehyung makes a choking noise, and you presume it’s because he’s trying not to laugh. You haven’t broken character yet—despite the fact you’re genuinely a little miffed that he finished off your fries while your back was turned earlier—so if he does before you, then he loses. The two of you are far too competitive for this to be anything but normal in your friendship. 

"I can't help it," Taehyung says at last, apparently having managed to squash his laughter for a while longer. "They looked so good sitting there, so tempting... I was only going to take one, but you know I can't help myself when I see something I want."

As your eyes train on the scenery beyond the window as it blurs past, you snort, unable to help but quip playfully, "Glutton."

Taehyung finally lets a laugh loose, the sound rich and low, an almost indecipherable smile curling his lips at the corners. "Not the only sin I'm guilty of, but definitely the big hitter."

You roll your eyes, deciding you don't need to add anything more to that since it's definitely true. Sometimes you find it a little odd, how the two of you managed to become friends when you're both so different in subtle but significant ways. It isn't unusual to be unable to reach Taehyung some weekends, which you'd found out through a mutual friend (Yoongi, his roommate and an absolute tattletale whose loyalty is easily bought with wine and lamb skewers) was due to the fact he either didn't come home or brought someone else home. That knife had hurt when it entered your back, but you weren't, and still aren't, in any position to actually be upset about it. Taehyung's often extracurricular activities are probably one of the biggest differences between the two of you; not because you've never gone out or done things, no, but you've never been one to be comfortable with a stranger in your bed every other night. You're not so much into flings and one night stands, as Taehyung seems to be. 

Another difference is probably the fact that despite the fact you're a definite ambivert and not one to shy from social situations, you've never actually met anyone as blatantly extroverted as Taehyung. His aura and presence are truly something else; all he has to do is step into a room for all attention to be drawn immediately to him, and for it to stick for the entirety of the time he's there. His confidence is unshakeable, and you think that probably has a lot to do with it. It's as though he has this sense of assurance in himself that no matter what a situation could throw at him, no matter which way it could turn and end up, he can get through it and come out right on top. It's impressive, you admire him for it, but also in a way... it's a little bit unnerving. Slightly intimidating. You can't put your finger on it, but sometimes it feels like there's something more to that confidence, something you're not quite aware of but lingers just under the surface of what he shows you. 

He's a bit of an enigma, your Taehyung. You've known him for what feels like so long, and you know enough about him to fill about three encyclopedias, but at the same time... it feels like there's so much you don't know, an ocean behind each page you file away in your mind. It's like the difference between possessing a painting or a photograph of the sea, and actually standing on the shore with your feet in the sand, basking in the beauty of it in person. 

Now that you think about it, the ocean is probably the best metaphor you could've chosen for describing Taehyung. 

"You still nervous?"

Taehyung's inquiry, somewhat softly spoken but unmissable with how primed you are to hear him, is what pulls you from your light reverie. Blinking and interrupting your gaze where it was staring into the darkness beyond the window, you turn to the male and allow yourself a moment to analyse his features. 

Taehyung is one tough cookie to read, you have to admit. He's expressive, sure, but sometimes you feel he has a bit more to offer in terms of what he's thinking and feeling at the moment. You've yet to crack that code but you'll get it one day, you know it. 

Currently, his eyes are directed forward (as they should be-- he's been threatened many times with a smack whenever he lets his eyes stray even an millimetre while driving), but what you can observe of his side profile is a somewhat neutral expression. You're used to looking a little closer though, and when you do you find the barest creases of concern at the corner of his eye, brows drawn together just slightly. Aw, he's actually a little concerned for you. How sweet. 

"Well, yeah," you answer after a moment, forcing your eyes away from his face and averting them back out the window as you lift a hand to rub the back of your neck. "But I mean, when aren't I? I don't think we'd have a show if both of us were skeptics."

The male hums, shaking his head to dislodge a silvery lock of hair that has fallen across his forehead. "That's true. I guess then we'd really be relying on my face for viewers, huh?"

Somewhat outraged, you let out an angry noise and hit his arm— just the reaction he was looking for. He snickers, still distracted as he watches the road and takes in the signs as he passes them. Sooner than you expect, he's flicking on the indicator and taking a left, down a road that is more dirt than tarmac and feels like it's leading nowhere good. The nerves that had left you momentarily, courtesy of the good mood eating put you in, return now in full force— twisting and writhing and tightening in the pit of your stomach. You take in a deep breath, the exhale a little shaky. Taehyung's eyes flick to you for the barest moment before they return to the front. 

Trees line each side of the road, the twenty-plus minute drive having taken you a slight ways out of town. Beyond the trees at the edge of the road, you know there are miles and miles of fields; the odd house is scattered around, of course, but you know that the locals are far too wary of this little area to want anything to do with it, despite the acreage on offer. 

The road twists and winds just barely, before Taehyung pulls the car into a partially obscured driveway on the right and you gulp, feeling more nervous than ever. The headlights drill holes of illumination into the pitch black, casting across blurred greenery and bushes for a moment before finally falling upon something lighter and firmer. Stone basks in the ray of the headlights, and gleaming glass windows just barely beyond the light's edge. 

"We're here," Taehyung announces in a singsong manner, seeming entirely too happy about your arrival at what you consider to be one of the most cursed destinations you've included in your travels. The car rolls to a stop, Taehyung's large hand pulling the handbrake up and deciding your fate. You feel the weight in your stomach sink further. 

Well, no time like the present. If you're gonna die in here, you may as well go on and get it over with. 

x x x

The first ever haunted house that you explored with Taehyung, was probably the scariest.

Before becoming friends with him, and subsequently being roped into forming a paranormal investigation duo, you’d never stepped foot in a haunted or otherwise allegedly supernaturally afflicted building. Of course, you’d read your fair share of online accounts and retellings, and watched more investigative programs than is probably healthy, but even you are capable of telling what has been dramatically exaggerated and digitally edited. Before that first house, you’d sort of teetered on the edge of scepticism and being a believer. You were open to the idea, but weren’t cemented in your beliefs. That first house pushed you decisively from the middle and into one of those sides.

Your biggest regret is that you didn’t have the proper equipment to record what you witnessed that night. Since you were just starting out, all you really had was a crummy recording device and a handheld camera, in addition to your phones. Kind of humiliating, in hindsight. How on Earth had people taken you seriously back then?

Everything had gone fine, up until the point where the two of you decided it would be a neat idea to spend a few minutes alone in the most ‘haunted’ room of the house. Before then you were having fun, but you weren’t exactly convinced anything paranormal inhabited the place. In the middle, you remained. Taehyung had been somewhat distracted as you went, but not so much that he didn’t manage to slip in the odd witty quip. Sometimes, you’d turned and caught him staring into space for a few moments longer than expected, before he was once more moving on. You’d figured he was just deep in his thoughts. 

As you’d ventured through the house, there were a few little things you both observed, but they were also easily dismissible things; items falling as you moved past them, creaking sounds, windows and curtains moving, shadows out of the corner of your eye. Nothing solid and material, and some to be expected when you were moving about an old, creaky abandoned building with no light save for some battery-powered torches and the flashlights on your phones. 

Nothing that would hold up as evidence—at least, nothing until you entered that room alone. 

The basement, said to have been where the most activity was and where some not-so-nice things went down while the house was still occupied, was the final stop of your little investigative tour. You’d originally planned to go in there together, but a small argument about jelly beans led to the proposal of going in there one at a time, and spending a few minutes in there alone in an attempt to get some interaction from any spirits that might be there. 

From the very second you set foot on the first step, you’d known intrinsically that the experience you were about to have wasn’t going to be a good one. Your skin had crawled even then; it was as though you’d stepped into a freezer instead of a basement, immediately chilled to the bone with the air weighing so heavy against your body that each step was an effortful struggle. You’d been nervous before going down, yes, but this… it was different. Before you could have even turned to act on your second thoughts, the basement door had closed behind you with a final, resounding thud.

“Go down to the bottom! Your five minutes starts now.”

You’d felt disproportionately scared as you reluctantly continued your trek to the bottom, as you’d originally intended. It was colder at the foot of the stairs, if possible, and the small torch in your hand had started to flicker. It smelt rotten, too, and the further into the room you went the stronger the smell. For the first time since entering the house, you felt unsettled, for reasons almost indiscernible.  

Some of them became clear to you as soon as the beam of your torch illuminated over the walls. 

Deep scratches in the cement and brick, sigils and symbols drawn across the expanse of the wall. Something akin to black sludge was smudged intermittently across places, dripping from cracks and oozing from gaps in the ceiling. There was a disrupted circle on the floor, dark maroon flakes and drops of wax scattered and highlighting more smudged symbols and lines. A copper bowl lay turned over and discarded, its apparent contents scattered across the floor; bones, dried leaves and flowers, rocks, a tooth. You hadn’t even realised how your breath had begun to speed up, chest tightening. Of course, you’d tried to calm yourself and rationalise— someone just did this for a prank, they planted these things to feed the stories. 

But then you’d felt a gust of hot air against the back of your neck, so stark in contrast to the chill of the room. Alarmed, you’d jerked, and your torchlight had moved with the flinch of your arm. It whipped over shapes veiled objects in the room, angles creating deep shadows that seemed to have no end, and you’d managed to look up just in time to catch sight of something as it was illuminated in the corner; a long shape, a silhouette, present in the light just long enough for you to see the gleam of two eyes staring right at you—

The torchlight flickered off in tandem with the sensation of your heart dropping through your stomach; something hot and sharp dragged across your sternum, and driven by nothing but fear and instinct you threw yourself back—or had you been thrown? A voice, disembodied in the pitch black, had grated the outskirts of your ears, warped and distorted and registering in your senses in such a way that even now, you can’t be sure whether you’d really heard it or not. 

“A human girl walking right into my den… And you smell so good too. Won’t you stay, girl? I hunger.”

You don’t recall screaming, but as you would be informed later, apparently you did. You’d stumbled backwards, crashing into a number of items and feeling something grip your arm. It burned, and of course you’d jerked away once more. 

Whether it was the ruckus or your own sounds that concerned your companion, the basement door had quickly been thrown open and Taehyung had bolted down the stairs. Disoriented, you weren’t even aware of where you’d stumbled in the room once your torch had gone out, but when you’d looked up to see Taehyung darting over to you, the room now illuminated, you’d been several metres from where you’d first stopped. 

As Taehyung would tell you later, you were shaking as you sat there, partially curled into a ball on the floor. Your torchlight had been all the way on the other side of the room, and your phone a few feet away. He says that when he asked you what had happened, you’d only babbled incoherently, somehow simultaneously telling him off and yet clinging to him in distress. 

Your memory of events after that scare is a little hazy, but you do recall that he’d surveyed your form, freezing as his eyes fell upon your arm. When you’d looked down, you’d caught blood trickling down from three irregular lesions across your bicep, the entire flesh of your upper arm red and inflamed and sore, yet in the cold of the room somehow still numb. Despite the horrified look on Taehyung’s face, and the way he’d fussed over your wound from that point onward, he was quick to dismiss it. 

“You must have cut it on something when you were tripping about,” he’d said later, once you were out of the house with all your things packed away, back in the safety of the hotel room. His touch had been nothing short of tender as he cleaned and dressed the cuts that just would not stop oozing blood. Perhaps that night, is when you’d really first begun developing feelings for Taehyung. That hadn’t stopped you being secretly frustrated at his words, though. “There were a lot of sharp things down there, I’m not surprised you managed to cut yourself on one of them.”

Even as, days later, the red welts on your arm developed into bruises—long and thin, like imprints of spindly fingers that had wrapped around your arm— and the cuts didn’t heal quite as they should, Taehyung stuck with that story. He insisted on being the one to take care of the wound and still insisted you’d just bumped into something lying about down there in the basement. Once, you’d gone to tell him exactly what you’d seen and heard, but thought better of it. You’d just be annoyed when his sceptical ass tried to dismiss and rationalise it. It didn’t help that the recording you had of the experience had somehow corrupted on your phone. 

Oddly enough, ever since that first house you’ve never gotten as scared, or witnessed anything quite like it. It kind of makes you wonder—did you hallucinate it? Was your brain just overactive and scared, and making you see and hear things that weren’t there? You think about it a lot, an especially every time you venture into a new location. Like now, as you’re in the entry of the church and preparing to film the introduction segment of your little vlog. 

“Lot on your mind, babygirl?”

Flinching and feeling your cheeks heat as they usually do whenever Taehyung hits you playfully with that particular pet name, you break from your thoughts to send him a glare. 

“Only the usual amount,” you answer, a hand coming to unconsciously rub your arm where those cuts had first appeared. They’d never quite healed as expected, didn’t scar as things usually do on your skin. Normally you heal pretty seamlessly, but those scratches had healed in three pink lines, not raised but stark on your skin. Sometimes you think you feel them ache and sting, but it’s just a phantom pain. More often than not, they’re just a bit itchy. 

“Camera is ready to go, are you?” Taehyung inquires, holding up the hand-held and leaning around it to flash you a cheeky smile. He has a torch attached to his headband, and combined with the light of the torch attached to the strap over your chest and the torches attached to each camera, the entrance of the building where you stand is somewhat illuminated. It is, admittedly, in a poor state. Cement and brick are in various states of disrepair, the odd piece crumbling whenever you move past. You’re actually more worried about a part of the ceiling falling on you tonight than anything paranormal. Although, you suppose you’d developed a bit of a stronger resistance over the years. These days, as Taehyung says, your bravado is through the roof.

You hold your thumb up for him, waiting for his subsequent nod and the blinking of the light above the camera lens that tells you it’s on and running. As soon as you get the signal, you slip a smile onto your face.

“Hello and welcome to another episode of Mystery Gang; Unsolved,” you launch right into the introduction, the name of your little duo coming easier every time you say it. At this point, there’s almost no resistance at all; you’re barely embarrassed by it these days. “Today we’re here in a small town on the East Coast, and we’re investigating the abandoned and allegedly ‘haunted’ grounds of FigTree Church.”

Taehyung has a small smile on his lips as he watches you talk, something you catch as you glance down at your phone for the notes you have prepared. Awfully cheeky he is, as always. 

“Now, you might be thinking—that’s quite an odd name for a church, right? Doesn’t it have an official name, something a little bit more proper? Well, no, actually.” You shift, taking a few steps to your left and bringing your arm up to gesture to the rest of the church. It’s pitch black, and you ignore the way the hairs on your arm begin to stand. “This church, nestled in the corner of FigTree Pocket and hidden away from the rest of the world, was never given a name. And when we investigated further, we found that there was never actually any record of this church in any registry or archive for this region.”

“For our research, we had to turn to the townsfolk and some ledgers hidden deep in the town library to unearth just what this church is and what happened that earned it the reputation as one of the most haunted locations on the East Coast.” You pause briefly, glancing to your notes. “As it turns out, the reason there are no records of this church and no name ever given to it, is because this church… was technically never meant to exist.”

Taehyung makes a surprised face, and you sense a question oncoming. “Allegedly, this church, built in the late 1800s, was formed in secret by a small faction that split from the branch residing in the nearby capitol. There is no consensus as to whether the original branch is Catholic or Christian, or something else, and a lot of the lore surrounding it is more hearsay than actual recorded facts. What is known for sure, though, is that this church was formed and built in secret, operating under forged papers and fostering a religion that didn’t quite fit any preconceived ideologies that were around at the time.”

“So this was, like, an extremist sort of situation? They didn’t quite agree with the workings of their original church so they went and made their own?” Taehyung speaks as soon as you leave him a gap, looking at you with intrigued eyes and a shit-eating grin from behind the camera. “Exactly what kind of things did they get up to in here that they needed the place to stay a secret?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you say, referring to your notes for a brief moment before continuing. “Apparently, according to stories passed down through generations in this town and some accounts in the town history books, some pretty dark shit went down in here.”

Taehyung tilted his head, sweeping the camera over the rest of the room before centring it back on you with a shrug. “I could see it. What kind of sins are we speaking here?”

“Well, some stories are more believable than others,” you offer. “The less popular ones say that this was less of a church and more of a cannibalistic cult. Others—”

“Cannibalistic cult?!” Taehyung sputters, lowering the camera slightly so he can meet your eyes over the top of it. “Are you for real—?!”

“Yup,” you affirm, fighting a smile. “The next best one after that says that this wasn’t a real church, but a cover for a satanic cult that operated in the night time hours. Apparently they performed their rituals either in the basement, the attic, or a secret room behind the altar.”

Taehyung chortles at that, the denim jacket he has on over a dark hoodie making a loud scuffle as he slaps a hand to his stomach in his laughter. You’re glad he’s amused by what you’re saying, as usual. “This is great. I wonder whether we’ll find skulls or pentagrams.”

“I don’t know which is worse,” you admit, rolling your eyes when he laughs again. “Anyway, those are just outliers. The consensus on the history of this place is a bit of a different tale, actually. Still kind of dramatic, though.”

Taehyung hums to urge you on, gaze flicking to the side for a moment at a particularly loud chirp of a cricket. You shift where you stand, retreating closer to the wall—you don’t like the feeling of having your back to the expanse of darkness. 

“From what I was able to gather, most people say this operated as a normal church for a few years. They held mass, you know, did the usual church things. The common thread that everyone mentioned, though, is kind of in line with what you said earlier. In a sense, the principles of this church were kind of extremist, and very misogynistic, moreso than you usually see from the old days. The women that were part of this church were apparently treated no better than property, in-home slaves expected to sit and be pretty, cook, clean and bear children.”

Taehyung winces, apparently noticing the unimpressed tone to your voice. “So if the ghost of one of the pastors is here, you’re gonna beat him up?”

“Maybe so,” you utter, shooting him a sly smile. “But don’t you wanna know what the big happening was? What really gave this place a name—well, I guess it didn’t give it a name, but it did give it a reputation.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, silvery strands of hair flicking from the motion of his head. “Of course, why else do you think I do these little investigations.”

“For the ghouls?” you suggest, grinning in anticipation for the face you know he’s going to make in response. He doesn’t fail to deliver, and you let out a laugh before continuing your initial spiel. 

“Like I was saying, for a while this operated like a normal church. There were pastors and priests, and proceedings as normal. But before long, their operations were brought to a screeching halt.” A glance to your notes, then a somewhat nervous glance over your shoulder. “In what would unknowingly be its final year, the church was to hold a wedding. Meena Law, the daughter of two dedicated churchgoers, was to be wed on November 1st, 1899— to a man her parents chose, who was twice her age and, according to accounts of the time, quite an unsavoury character, but someone of a high standing within the church.”

“Oh yuck,” Taehyung utters, almost making you break character and smile.

“Unlike her parents, Meena wasn’t content and complicit with the rules and principles of the church. She was against the wedding from the beginning and fought it with everything she could. It was no use, however, and by the time the eve of her wedding arrived, she was desperate.”

Your thumb scrolls across your notes, and you take a breath. You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think the air feels a little colder suddenly; you have to fight a shiver from rolling down your spine. “Here is where the stories diverge a little. One account says that what happened in this chapel was nothing but a tragic accident. As she walked up the aisle in her wedding dress and arrived at the altar to stand beside her would-be husband, the heavily embellished wrought-iron chandelier came loose above them and fell, crushing the two of them and the minister officiating the marriage—who happened to be head of the church at the time, Lui Fonset.”

“The chandelier is actually still over there on the floor, glass shards and rusty metal and all,” you supply, pointing your flashlight in the direction of the altar. You don’t like the way it gleams beneath the torchlight. 

“Wait, they never cleaned it up?” Taehyung joined you in shining his torch in that direction. He let out a soft noise of interest. “They just decided that’s it? They’re gonna leave it there?”

You snort. “Actually, this incident seemed to be the beginning of the end for them. Understandably, the tragedy of three deaths within their church, their head included, was quite a blow. It took a while before they gathered themselves and attempted to fix the place up.”

Taehyung shoots you a curious if somewhat confused look. “But they didn’t…?”

You shine your torch in his face to be annoying, and he levels you with a glare. The harshness of the light makes the dark brown of his irises gleam reddish-brown. You ignore the way your neck tenses as a result. 

“They didn’t,” you confirmed, “But it wasn’t for lack of trying. This church sat in disrepair for a short while, vacated and momentarily abandoned, but the remaining churchgoers returned to fix it up. No one ever managed to, though, because ever since that fatal incident, it would seem that any activities within the church walls would be met with the most unfortunate, awful luck.”

“To paraphrase an account from one of the townspeople, it was like the building had obtained a life of its own and was hellbent on fighting back against anyone that stepped on the grounds. Windows shattered right as people walked beneath them, pews fell and chunks of statues weakened at just the right times. Some people also reported hearing things, seeing things, feeling things that made them feel so uncomfortable they left and refused to return to the site.”

“Is it the ghosts of Meena and the two that died with her?” Taehyung queries, going for a quick pan of the room beyond the little entrance nook. Rotting pews lined the large space, some reduced to splinters and others weak and sagging. None were in neat order and a few of them were sprinkled with glass and stone and dust—oh, the dust.

“That’s what some say.” You shrug. “But there is another version of the events that happened here. It’s a little more interesting but since we are here tonight, I think I like it a little less.”

Your companion was curious now. “What is it?”

“The night before her wedding, Meena was desperate. So desperate, in fact, that she would have done absolutely anything to stop the marriage—and some say that, in her darkest hours that night, she was driven to do the unspeakable.” You pause, because you know that Taehyung is about to take the piss out of what you’re about to say. “Some say, that on Hallows Eve, the night before she was to be wed, Meena performed a ritual to summon a demon, and then made a deal with him to ensure that the wedding wouldn’t go through.”

Your eyes flick to Taehyung’s face but surprisingly, he doesn’t seem like he’s about to make fun of you. Instead, he seems deep in thought, staring blankly for a moment as he’s consumed by whatever is on his mind. Odd. Usually he’s well on his way to making fun of you by now. He knows you’re especially scared of demons. 

“Of course, as is usually the case in stories like these, it seems that Meena wasn’t aware of the little loophole she provided,” you say, preparing to continue before Taehyung speaks suddenly and cuts you off.

“She left it too open,” Taehyung says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “I mean, the wedding was stopped, but at what price? Amateur.”

“Don’t insult the ghosts,” you say, more of an automated, habitual utterance than anything at this point. “And yeah, that’s how the story goes. The unfortunate nature of her death and the despair of her last moments allegedly caused her to linger, whatever soul she had left attached to this place. It’s said that the spirits of the priest and the groom are here too—different sort of entities, apparently. People report a range of weird occurrences in this building, some antagonistic and some merely… supernatural. But they’re not the only presence rumoured to be here that gives this place such a foreboding reputation.”

Taehyung’s head tilts, before his eyes light up in realisation. “Oh, the demon? But how would he be here? Aren’t they meant to be unable to enter holy places such as this?”

For some reason, you swear you detect the slightest bit of humour in Taehyung’s tone. You raise your brows at him, but answer his question anyway. “Yeah, that’s usually the case, I guess. There are a few theories as to why a demon could enter here. First, some people propose that it’s because this was never a legitimate church. Which… I think makes a bit of sense. The second theory that floats around is that when she summoned the demon, she actually did it within the church walls. I mean, I’d think that wouldn’t work, but hey, maybe it did.”

Taehyung purses his lips in thought. “Hmm, I think it could work. Maybe it’s a big boss demon.”

You roll your eyes, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket. “If that’s the case, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t need to be thinking about high level demons lingering in the halls as I walk through a haunted church, thank you very much.”

Taehyung lets out a laugh, passing you your own camera. You turn to the one currently in his hold, offering a smile that you can feel has somewhat of a nervous tinge this time around.

“Alright, lets go catch some ghosts!” you cheer, feeling like you’re painting a target on your own back, as you usually do. Taehyung nods, smiling to himself as he cuts the camera for a break before you both begin recording and venturing through the church.

“I hate this,” you murmur into the sudden silence, rubbing your arms as a wash of cold air touches your skin. “Why do we always have to film at night? Late at night? In the dark and cold?”

Taehyung snorts, stepping over and slinging an arm over your shoulder somewhat distractedly as he fiddles with settings on his camera, hand rubbing your arm. The action brings out a wave of butterflies in your stomach that you don’t even bother to quell.

“Everyone knows ghouls only come out at night,” he chuckles, flicking wavy strands out of his face. “Demons too.”

You groaned, already feeling much worse than earlier about the night ahead of you. This wasn’t going to be fun in the least for you. Before you’d entered the church, the crickets in the forestry outside had been loud, almost as though they were screaming at you to leave, attempting to ward you away (maybe you’re reading a little too much into it). In here, though, you can barely hear them. Only softly, subtly; whispers of the living world outside slipping in through the broken glass and crumbling stone. In contrast, it’s very still in here—and very cold. Probably from the stone and brick. You slip your arm around Taehyung’s waist for warmth, grinning at the way he jumps and looks to you in surprise.

“Bold of you,” Taehyung wags his eyebrows. “How am I supposed to seduce the ghosts if they think I’m taken?”

“Dirty ghostfucker,” you utter, instantly annoyed enough that you don’t feel like using him for body heat anymore. You pinch his side and withdraw, turning your camera on and moving towards the large room beyond the entrance. Taehyung laughs when you stumble over a piece of rotten wood. Great.

If you don’t end up dying in here tonight, then you just might end up killing Taehyung instead.

Taehyung fires up his cameras once more, his torchlights aiding in illuminating your path as he follows behind you. Right, on with the tour you go.

a/n: pls let me know what u think and pls heart or rb if u read and liked it!!! it helps me know how many people have interacted and enjoyed it!! 

masterlist | next⇥

[wordynerdygurl]

Skin Deep ~ Part 2

Author’s Note:  Hi everyone!  Since it’s a long weekend here in the states, I was able to get Part 2 of my series up and out to you early!  If you haven’t read Skin Deep ~ Part 1, you should, as this picks up exactly where we left off! Here’s the link: Skin Deep ~ Part 1 Thank you to everyone who’s embraced this new story!  And, a special thanks to @sammy-jo1977​ for being a partner in crime!

I’d also like to give a shout out to @vodka-and-some-sass​, love ya lady!

Pairing:  Steve x Female Reader, Loki X Female Reader, Natasha and Nick Fury make appearances Summary:  Loki left Earth over two years ago, promising to come back.  Your best friend Natasha encourages you to look for a new love in the arms of Steve Rogers.  But is everything as it seems? Warnings:  This chapter has SMUT, fingering, oral sex, angst

“I thought we could go for a ride?  Are you up for that doll?”  

Stepping up to his motorcycle parked casually on the curb, “Um… I have never ridden one of these before.”    Steve clasped your hand in his, brushing his lips across your knuckles, “I promise to keep you safe.” Be bold, you thought.  Take a new step.  This was the start of something, you could feel it, and this moment seemed like a test you wanted to pass.

“Oh, hell.  Ok.”  Smiling at your bravery, Steve adjusted the second helmet he carried, making sure you and your brain were securely fastened.

Snuggled behind him, Steve’s deep voice rumbled through his chest, “Here.”  Taking your arms around his waist, pressing into him tighter than was probably needed, but your spike of fear made it feel necessary.  His laugh spread over you but Steve offered no objections to your concerned clinging.  Truthfully, he loved the feeling. “Ready?”  Nodding, mouth dry, you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting to feel the rough take off of his bike.  “Hey… use your words, Ok?  Are you ready?” Something about his commanding tone made you release a ragged breath, “Yes… yes.  I’m ready.” Below you, the motor roared to life, vibrations rattling your teeth.  Steve put one hand on the throttle as the other reached around to pat your leg, “Hold onto me, doll.  I’ll go easy, ok?” “Yes!”  Almost shouting over the engine, and your helmet, you wanted to make sure he heard you. And then you were moving.  As you leaned into the leather covered back before you, a relaxing energy overtook you.  What was so scary about this?  Steve had you, steady and secure, and as you left the start and stop lights of the city behind, he felt you melt into the bike more and more. Along a winding strip of back road, silent and scenic, you unlocked your grip to point out a pair of grazing horses.  Bobbing his head, Steve was relieved that you were enjoying the ride, comfortable enough to let go just a little.  It gave rise to a budding bubble of hope from the bottom of his heart. Mesmerizing was the best way to describe this journey, you decided somewhere between the front door of the compound and the highway’s on-ramp.  Watching the landscape slide by as you felt the wind on your legs, Steve’s radiant warmth enveloping you, and the soothing hum of the motorbike at your feet took your breath away.  Registering Steve shifting gears, slowing down just a touch, a small field came into view. Setting into a spectacular array of oranges and pinks, the sun was sinking slowly, casting the meadow in shifting shafts of light.  Pulling onto the soft shoulder of the road, Steve rolled the bike to a stop at a white fence, kickstand down and engine off before dismounting.  “Come on, let's stretch our legs a bit… whatta ya say?” “Sure!”  You started shifting forward, ready to swing a leg over the seat, when Steve settled his firm hands on your hips.  Then you were in his arms, casually lifted off your swinging feet, spinning like a princess in some animated fairy tale. “Steve!  Put me down!”  There’s no real heat in your words.  It’s just important that he knows you’re not some simpering, simple minded maiden in need of rescue.  However, it does fill you with delight, the way you’re weightless in Steve’s grip.  “Of course, doll.”  But he takes a beat to squeeze you to him, just a second to feel your soft body cradled to his, before letting your legs drop.  What you didn’t count on was being goofy footed after the long ride.  Almost the second Steve let you go, your toe caught on a stone, and with your muscles turned to jelly, you couldn’t stop the downward tug of gravity.  “Whoa!  Easy!”, one of those sinewy forearms caught you, spinning you into Steve’s embrace with all the grace of a newborn fawn.  You’re aware of how your breasts are pushing against his brawny chest, elbows bent so that your hands are digging into his strapping shoulders, a shocked gasp fanning into Captain America’s ruggedly handsome face.  His hand is exactly where it should be, curled chastly around your middle but the scorching heat of him makes it feel sensual.  Snugged into his hips, the pose was romantic, and you lifted your chin, ready to accept another soul stealing kiss from Steve. If only you weren’t still wearing your helmet. Fogging the face plate, you saw Steve smile widely, unhooking the strap and gently removing your plastic and foam head piece.  You’d let him, not moving an inch, still stuck on Steve’s sturdy figure.  Never one to cling, you found that you didn’t want to let go of the mighty man in front of you. Keeping one arm around you, Steve steered you away from the street, stopping to open up the saddlebag on his bike.  Swinging a bundle from his free hand, Steve led you further into the field before you, “Come on, kiddo.” Hidden in the almost unending sea of knee high grass is a footpath and Steve holds your hand loosely as you follow behind.  Before long, trees line the path, fanning out in both directions.  “An apple orchard!  How did you know about this place, Steve?” Bowing his head, a touch shy, “Oh… Um… it’s mine.” “Shut up!” “Seriously.”  Releasing your fingers, Steve walks to the nearest tree and plucks off a firm, round, red apple.  You watch him wipe it along his shirt before the satisfying crunch of his hearty bite meets your ears.  Holding it out to you, a modern day Adam, tempting Eve, “Wanna try, doll?” Smirking, you lower your head, not your eyes to the fruit in Steve’s palm.  Eating out of his hand, you take a small nibble of the delicious globe, tasting sunshine and sweetness in the hay scented dusk.  Groaning lowly, Steve resists the urge to take you right there, in the dust and dirt of his north field. “Doll…”  There’s a warning edge there, but you happily ignore it, instead taking another small bite and moaning a little yourself. It’s fun pushing Steve’s buttons.  Flirting had always been easy for you but the last time you’d used that particular muscle was almost twenty four months ago.  You were pleased, realizing that it was like riding a bicycle. Licking his palm now, the juice from his apple pooling, you heard Steve’s breath catch.  He didn’t want you to stop and he certainly didn’t want to spook you.  So the super soldier stood stock still, waiting to see what you’d do next, hopeful and hungry. His wrists were so strong.  Kissing over the braided tendons there you felt his serum enhanced pulse rush as your mouth moved over his arm.  “You have very strong hands.” “Uh huh.”  Having lost the ability to think straight the second your tongue traced over his open hand, Steve can only grunt out sounds, careful not to push you too hard. “And you grow beautiful apples.  Is this your retirement plan, then?  Farm life?”   You’re teasing him.  He knows it, but the sound of your voice is sultry and stirring, it takes him a minute to answer.  Swallowing hard, “Pies.  I want to sell pies.” With a flirty smirk you bite into your bottom lip, “So, Captain America’s All American Apple Pie Emporium, is that it?  If you figure how to stick a flag into the crust it’ll be the most patriotic thing since… well, since you came along.” “I know you’re laughing at me… but-” pushing you against the trunk of an obliging tree, “-you won’t be laughing for long.” Steves says it, smiling, but something inside of you sizzles at his words.  Breathless, you taunt, “Why, Captain America?  A bit… aggressive, wouldn’t you say?” Towering over you, Steve pressed his forehead to yours, “No doll, I’m just finally going after what I want.” Without waiting for your reply his pink pout parts your lips, tongue licking into the sugar coated cavern of your mouth, taking his fill of your tart tongue.  Shutting your eyes, you let your body rule your actions, relishing Steve’s hungry touch.  Eager to return the favor. There’s just so much of him that needs attention.  A wide thigh, parting your own, lifts you onto your toes.  One of your arms sneaks around his narrow waist, toying with his wide leather belt, earning a purr of pleasure from the super soldier. Sliding to your throat, Steve’s kisses turn needy, rushed.  Greedy, gasping, grabbing, he was everywhere.  Singing sighs escaped you as Steve squeezed the swell of your hip, his mighty paw sliding under the hem of your skirt, roughly gripping your thigh. “God, I missed kissing.”  Panting against the curve of his ear, you pulled Steve closer, his nose nuzzled into your neck. “Doll, I want to do more than kiss you.” flexing his pelvis into your own, the heavy heat of his yearning obvious through all the layers between you.  Trailing his fingers under your denim jacket, over your cotton tee, Steve stroked across your breast as his lips crashed into yours once more. Rolling his hips, Steve showed you exactly what was on his mind.  Pinned by his well muscled body, all you could do was act naturally, whimpering with want at the friction Steve’s smouldering form gave off.  Wrapping your leg high on his was your idea and boy, did it feel incredible. Humping into his thrusts, mind reeling, you rode out the reignited flames of forgotten passion.  Steve’s mouth was more insistent, more ferocious, as it claimed yours over and over.  Sliding from your thigh to the firm roundness of your bottom, shifting his grip, Steve’s hand lifted you higher. “Can I touch you, doll?  Will you let me?  I want to feel you so bad, baby.”  Broken, Steve’s voice was raw and rugged, ravenous for you. Flushing at his flagrant, frenzied urging, you threw your head back giving Steve a wild nod.  Latching onto your exposed collar bone, feeling the sharp sting of his straight teeth followed by the slick soothing of his tongue, Steve tagged you as his.  Mewling out his name, the feeling of his fingers against your damp panties made you shiver. Circling his neck, holding on tight, you preened at the press of Steve’s hand cupping your core so completely.  “Steve… please…” coming out of you in panted puffs, begging for something, anything, to crest the rising tide inside of you.  “That’s it doll.”  Slipping one finger into your clenching channel, “Beg me.  Ask me to touch you.  I need to hear you.  Hear that you want me, baby.” “Oh, yes… Steve… Don’t… don’t stop.  I want it.  I want it so bad!”  Slicking your slit, Steve added a second finger, his hips matching the rhythm of his probing digits.  “You are so sexy, doll.  Do you know that?” His fingers spread, working to widen your velvet walls, stretching you.  The heel of his hand ground against your swollen nub, ratcheting up your racing heartbeat, rolling you closer to release.  Curling his fingers, scraping against the spongy, sensitive spot of your satin tunnel, Steve felt you shake around him.  You were so close now, the pulsing power of your climax closing in on you, “Hmmm... Steve… Steve…” Pouring out of you in a never ending stream of sighs, Steve smirked against your skin, “Are you going to cum for me, doll?  I want you to.  I want you to show me how beautiful you look when you let go.” And you did.  Instead of a tidal wave, your orgasm was peaceful, a rippling pool.  A pouring pitcher.  A cool stream on a hot day. Your first time since Loki took you by surprise. Hearing the singing crickets in the meadow, the distant roar of a car on the road, your own release added to the music of the night.  Like summer rain, you melted into the sensation of satisfaction, even if it didn't come from hours of teasing or endless tasting.  

No, tonight's pleasure was pillow soft, downy and dewy. Complete and honest.  No frills, third base in the backseat sexual fulfillment.  And you liked it!  How could you not love the primal relief of release from so gifted a guy?  Steve was classic, vanilla, consistent and constant.  He got the job done. The only problem?  He wasn’t Loki.  Head back, breathing deeply after your indulgence, you shut your eyes.  Vanilla was a great flavor.  Perfect for apple pie.  But when you've had Dark Chocolate Cookie Dough Swirl, how could basic vanilla compete?

Pushing those thoughts out of your mind, slowly taking in the orchard as night's shadows lengthened, you felt Steve setting you to rights.  He looked impossibly proud, as if your orgasm proved something beyond biology, but you didn't mind it.  At least now you knew enjoying someone other than Loki was possible.

Realizing that this moment would be the beginning of your new relationship with Steve made your head spin.  It was startling but you had promised Natasha you would try.  Try to get out of your head, try to put the past where it belonged, try not to think about the torn way your heart pulled.

Live in this moment.  Breath in this moment.  Enjoy this moment. Kissing you kindly, adoringly, Steve slowly lowered you to standing.  Scarlet cheeked with hair in your face, he hadn’t thought you could look more perfect, yet here you were staring up at him with your huge shining eyes.  Brushing a stray lock away, grinning, “Hey doll…” “Hey yourself, Cap.” “I hope…”  What did he hope?  That you were happy?  Satisfied?  As madly in love with him and he was with you? Stopping him, pressing yourself into his chest, you kissed him lightly.  “I know.”  Cupping his smooth cheeks, rubbing your nose to his, “Why don’t you show me around?” “Yea?” Slipping your hand into his, comfortable and cozy with him for the first time, “Yes.” ---- Natasha didn't see you again until Monday morning and even that was a drive by visit.  Steve scooped you up for lunch, texted you all day and offered to take you to dinner.  She should have been upset about being ditched, but honestly, this was exactly what Nat wanted for you both. Over time dance class was forgotten as donuts were no longer on your radar.  Instead you started baking pies, fresh apple pies, bringing them into the office for everyone to share.  It seemed like your new found happiness was manifesting itself in flour and sugar.  

Weekends at the orchard, playing house with Steve, then staying in the compound during the week.  When the group got together, it was a blast, because you seemed at ease again.  More like your old self.  

Natasha was especially pleased to see the color creep back into your life, slowly and surely.Granted, your hair wasn't pink yet, but your cheeks were.  Between that and the dopey smile Steve sported all day, she felt vindicated.  Yet, in the back of her mind was the threat of Loki's imminent return.

“Cat got your tongue, agent?”  Nick Fury wasn’t great at being ignored for a daydream. “No, sir.” “Am I boring you?” Answering him with a curt nod, “No.” “Then what do you suggest?”  Throwing the file labeled Loki onto the table, the trickster God's profile on the transparent screen at his back, Fury glowered at the agents in front of him. “I suggest that we monitor the situation.  Engage Thor, if needed, and finish the holding cell, just in case Loki doesn't return to Earth as friendly as when he left.” Stiffly, Steve swiveled in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest.  "I agree with Agent Romanoff.  Plan for the problem we want to avoid."

"And how is our backup plan, Captain?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Steve met Fury's eye with his even stare.  "Fine."

"Any word from Loki?"

"Not that I've heard."  Looking at the illuminated image of your previous partner made Steve anxious but his voice betrayed nothing.

"And you would hear, correct?", Nick's hands found his hips, mild irritation radiating off of him.

Glaring openly at the director now, Steve questioned, "What are you implying?"

"I just want to make sure we cover our bases.  She's one of those bases."

Smoothing over the tension, Natasha interceded quietly,  "Steve has been… on top of the situation for three months now.  And I would've been told if Loki made contact.  It's just how she is.  This wouldn't be a kept secret."

"Fine.  For now.  Natasha, you know what to do.  Play this one close, people.  We might be over preparing, but I won't have another 2012 on my hands."

"Yes sir."  

Steve rose quickly, turning to Nick Fury, "Sir."

Leaving the conference room that served as Nick's office, Natasha released a held breath, "How is it going, really?"

"Which part?  The part where I'm lying to the woman I love, or the part where I'm using her?"

"Steve."

"Natasha?"

"You heard Fury… it's probably overkill."

"That won't matter if she finds out."  

He wasn't wrong, Nat had to give Steve that,"Are you still planning on asking her?  This weekend?"

"I don't know anymore.  She-" Jamming his finger into the elevator call button, taking his frustration out on the plastic circle, "-she deserves better."

"This will all be over soon, Steve.  When Loki finds out she's yours, that he has no chance, he'll walk away."

"I wish I had your confidence."

Stopping short, furrowing her brow, "What makes you say that?"

Stepping into the lift, Steve faced Natasha full on, "Loki... he is no quitter.  I know I wouldn't leave her, not without a fight, not if I didn't have to."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Yea.  See you tomorrow night?"

Natasha patted Steve's shoulder as the car stopped on her floor, "Assuming this goes to plan… Of course, you will!  I can't miss my best friend's engagement, can I?"

---

When Loki had said goodbye to you, it was with the expectation of a speedy return, victorious negotiations and no bloodshed.  He was coming back to you, years later, battle tested, talked out, but triumphant.  Oh, how he had missed you.

Thoughts of you raced through his mind.  His base need to bury himself in your sunshine, your warmth, was Loki's sole focus now.  Too long he had denied the ache in his heart at being away from you.  You were, at this moment, the only thing Loki wanted.  Which is why the welcome home from Agent Romanoff was a let down, a bruise to his ego, a blocking of his desire.

Surely you knew he was home.  Hadn’t Loki communicated with Fury regularly?  Reported, as asked, on all the goings on off world to ensure that danger never knocked on Earth’s door.  Returned, eager to reunite, ready to reconnect with you and you alone, Loki was confused by your absence.  You had promised to wait, after all.

“Agent Romanoff.  It is truly lovely to see you, but I can’t help noticing that my pet isn't here yet.”  

Shoving her hands into the pockets of the black leather she wore, “She won't be coming.”

That brought Loki up short.  Not coming?  That couldn’t possibly be accurate.  “Excuse me?”

“She's not coming.  She's uh… she's moved on.”  Raising her chin, defiant, Natasha locked eyes with the demi-God.

Flashing Nat that spreading smirk, “Moved on?  Impossible.”

“Oh it’s possible.  More than possible.  You’re too late, Loki.  She picked someone else.  Got engaged and everything.”  

Anger, red and raw, flashed through him at the thought. Risking a step closer to the mere mortal in front of him, Loki roared, “To who?  Who dares claim what is mine?”

Sighing at the dramatics, “Calm down, Loki.  If you don't, this could go south, real fast.”  Pulling the small, glowing device from her pocket, Natasha pressed a button.  Behind Loki, from the floor, a set of electric charged rails emerged, sending beams of light to the ceiling.  A cage made of light and energy.  

Laughing mirthlessly, “Is this the plan then?  Keep me from my pet, push my proverbial buttons, and provoke me to anger.  Then with enough justification you can lock me up?  Lovely.  And I had so hoped that we were passed all this.”

Without looking, Loki snapped his fingers, cutting the current and effectively disabling SHIELD’s light show.  Bristling now, feral and fierce, advancing towards Natasha again, “Loki…”

“Agent Romanoff, I have one question for you.  Where is she?”

Standing her ground, unwavering, Natasha started, “I'm not-” 

Bellowing out his unchecked rage, “WHERE IS SHE?!” Flinching, that was the most she would give Loki’s outburst, “I’m not at liberty to tell you, Loki.”  

Natasha had already triggered the alert system.  Nick Fury and his team would be en route, ready to mitigate Loki’s threat, Steve would be briefed.  She didn’t have anything to worry about as long as she could keep Loki and his furious figure here, away from you. Reaching for her sidearm, Natasha felt the most alarming sensation, an ice cream headache that radiated through her whole body.  “It’s an effective restraint, courtesy of the Frost Giants and, I’m a fan, to be honest.” “Loki, this won’t work.  SHIELD already knows you’re here, they’re going to catch you.” “Probably.”  Leaning close to her ear, dropping his voice, Loki changed tactics, “Just tell me where to find her.  If I have to do it myself I will.  But it will take longer and be… messier.” “Don’t threaten me, Loki.  I’ve danced with you before, or have you forgotten?” “My previous time on Earth will look like a vacation if any harm has come to my pet.  This is my vow to you… to Fury.  To anyone who might keep me from what’s been promised.” Striding towards the door, Loki turned his back on Natasha, “She’s not yours, Loki.  You don’t own her!” Looking at her over his armoured shoulder, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “She’s in love with Steve!  And it’s real, Loki.  She’s so happy… He gives her everything!  More than what you could give her.” Loki stopped then.  Watching his spine stiffen, Natasha saw him turn, his eyes narrowed into slits.  Tilting his dark head, a half smile on his lips, “Thank you, Agent.”

---

Spending hours setting up the homestead, just so, had been worth it.  Looking around the yard, you smiled, pleased with the finished results.  Lights twinkling brightly, the old picnic table covered in a simple cloth, bowls filled with flowers from your garden.  It was a farmland fairy tale and you were itching to show it off only a few hours from now.

You had taken Friday off.  Cleaning, shopping up a storm, prepping food for the crew took time and Pepper had been so good about giving you leave.  It was no secret that she and Tony were both rooting for you guys. Steve had opted to work, telling you that the gang would be arriving around six or so Saturday night, they'd be hungry, and ready to have a good time.  There was a lot to do, there always was, but you wanted this night to be a special one.  After all it was your first time hosting everyone at the orchard, kind of a big deal cementing you and Steve as a stable, functional couple.

Staying in the city until Saturday, you weren't expecting your boyfriend to show up much before your guests, and frankly, sometimes it was easier to get through your "to do" list without him hovering.  He had a tendency to crowd you, linger over your shoulder, follow you with his big blue eyes.  At times you felt like Steve was monitoring you, watching out for something, cautiously testing your bond.

Setting bottles of beer and rose’ into the ice filled buckets, you were startled when that reliable honeyed voice called out, "Honey?  I'm home."

"Steve?  You're early.  Like, really early.  Everything ok?"

Stepping onto the sun dappled stone walkway, blonde hair brilliant, Steve's smile was wolfish and wide.  He was almost hopping, making his way towards you, his gaze never leaving your own.  At close range now, Steve dragged you to him tightly, nibbling on your neck until you squirmed free, giggling.

"Steve!  What's gotten into you?"  Normally so formal, proper, guarded, this wasn't like the man you'd lived with for months now.

"Couldn't keep away.  Didn't want to, really.  Damn, but you do look good."

Hands framing your face pulled your mouth to his.  Swiping his tongue over your teeth, testing the taste of you, Steve's lips demanded more.  Bumping into the edge of your fancy set table, you couldn't outmaneuver the man in front of you, and he knew it.  Bending you back, Steve's arm supporting your weight, your fingers carded through those golden curls.  Hearing his breath hitch made your stomach flutter.  This kiss was getting to him too.

Whispering in your ear, husky and hot, "I missed you, pet.  So, so much."

Resting your forehead to his, head bowed, "I guess so!"

Steve pulled you to standing, taking your hand in his, marching toward the house.  "Where are we going?  I have so much to…"

"Leave it.  Just, come with me, pet.  Please?"

Once you crossed over the threshold to your kitchen he was on you again, fingers fiddling with your belt, ripping your work shirt free.  Scalding, Steve slid his rough hands over your rib cage, cupping your breasts through the basic cotton bra you'd thrown on to start your day.  "Oh, god!  Steve!!"

"You like that, don't you?"

"Yes!  God!"  Dropping your near shout to a humble hum, "Don't stop… please?"

"I don't plan to.  Come on."  Practically running, Steve had you tripping over your feet to keep up as he rounded the stairs for the second floor.  He couldn't keep his hands off of you.  Losing your top completely at the door, it fell to the floor in a heap, soon to be joined by your bra.  Feeling his skin on yours made you shiver.  For the first time since you'd been together, Steve felt wild, free.  And if you were honest, you had missed the open wanting that Loki inspired, which, until now, Steve had been unable to express.  

"Why?  Why are you so… different today?"  Your sentence was broken up by Steve's never ending licking and biting over your chest.  Tonguing your taut nipples, tasting your torso, Steve savored your tantalizing form.  Tangling his hair in your fist, holding him too close to hear his muffled answer, "What?"

"I realized what a treasure I had.  Needed to show you, pet."  And with that said, Steve striped you of your jeans.  Grinning lewdly, eyebrow quirked, "No panties?"

Reaching for his tight body once more, your lips licking along his throat, "Didn't need 'em!"

"Naughty!"  Steve, punctuating his joyful admonishment with a firm slap on your round bottom, nudged you onto the bed.  Rolling you onto your back, Steve crawled between your spread legs, resting his broad chest over your own.

His arms, so impossibly thick, caged you in as a long, leisurely kiss danced over your mouth.  Tugging his shirt off, tousling his blonde locks in the process, you were amazed at Steve’s transformation.  No longer timid, testing, Steve put your hands on his belt, “Go on then.” At his order, you found his mouth again, fingers fumbling with the silver buckle at his waist.  Pushing his pants down to his hips, almost enough to free him, “Help?”, you asked cutely. “Of course, pet.”  Kneeling up, you watched as Steve shucked his trousers, throwing them to the floor before growling, “Where were we?” Patting the bed beside you, “Right here, babe!” Crawling now, Steve slithered between your parted thighs, “Here is better, I think.” Giggling again, you smiled, “Oh, you think so?” Pressing scorching smooches to the skin of your calf, coasting across your knobby knee, then licking along your thick quad, Steve tortured his way to your core. Your clawing hands scratched into the thick, golden hair of his head, trying to direct him to your need.  “Look at how wet you are, pet.  Is all this for me?  All of this for your Captain?” “Yes… Yes, Steve!” You felt his thick fingers part your lower lips, exposing your secret skin to the air, shivering at the intimacy of the act.  “Hmm… I’ve missed you, you know?” “It’s only been a day, Steve… but oh… Oh!”  Silencing you with a swipe of his talented tongue, Steve teased your bundled nerves in long, slow strokes.  Licking into your clenching channel, tasting your uniqueness, Steve sighed contentedly, lapping up all you could give him. When licking was no longer enough, Steve sucked on your tiny tense, pearl making you shout, “Shit!  Steve!  Oh, God!  I’m… I’m…” “Yes, pet, cum for me!”  Lightning fast, your pleasure peaked, ripping through your body.  Thighs quaking, you pulled against Steve’s scalp, bucking your hips against his ravishing mouth.  Soundless, lips parted in a silent scream, Steve lapped up your creamy release. Breathless, reaching for his stiff steel, “Please… I need it, Steve.” Damp from your discharge, Steve’s smile was savage, “I’m going to give it to you pet.  Get on your knees now. “ Biting your bottom lip, you raced to comply, happy that Steve was trying something new.  You’d asked him to switch positions, change things up, but routine was a comfort to your new beau.  Something had shaken him loose and you were grateful when you felt him hard and hot behind you. Skating his palms up your spine, tugging at your hair, Steve turned your head, “I won’t be gentle, pet.” Breathing ragged, “Good.  I’ve tried to tell you, I won’t break, Steve.” “Don’t I know it.”  Guiding his thick cock closer to your quivering center, his tip brushed against your outer folds, gathering your slick.  When his wide head pushed inward, you sucked in a breath, “Oh god…” With a husky laugh, “Your so tight, pet.  So tight.  This might hurt… but in the best possible way.” “Please…”  Whining openly now, over eager to feel the rigid length of Steve, you arched your back, hoping for more.  Answering your plea, Steve growled lowly, gripping your hips.  Pulling you back slowly, ensuring that every ridge and valley of his rod was imprinted on your slick channel, he forced you to savor the stretching burn of his size. Reaching around you, one arm circled your chest, lifting you off your elbows.  The other, skating over your pelvis, seeking and finding your throbbing nub with a vicious pinch that made you cry out.  Your back was plastered to his chest, Steve sucking on the soft skin behind your ear, claiming you. “I can’t hold back, pet.  I am going to fill you up.  Make you mine.”, each promise was punctuated with a vicious thrust, deeper than the last. Curling your hands over the powerful thighs banging against your own, “Yes!  Please, Steve!  Please!”  

The change in Steve was pushing you further and faster towards unraveling.  Every spot that sent you soaring was filled, flicked or fondled.  Even his words were electric, sending shock waves through you, shoving you closer to satisfaction.

"I'm cumming, Steve!  Holy… shit!"  Shuddering in his arms, you felt his driving thrusts stutter, heard his shivery sigh of your name.  Steve exploded into you, squeezing you tight enough to bruise, rocking his hips until he was completely spent.

Behind you, the sound of clapping hands made you jump, your head swinging towards the bedroom door.  Applause were swell, but who'd be brave enough to sneak up here?  Stealthy enough for spying?  

"That good, doll?"  You'd never heard him like this before.  Steely and cold, Steve was leaning into the door jamb wearing an unreadable look.  Pushing off the frame, he stalked toward the bed, eyes full of blue fury.

But Steve was also wrapped around you like a second skin, nosing the nape of your neck, his softening length still inside of you, "What the…?" 

"Loki."

"Loki?"  Squeaking, you swung your head between the two Steves.

"Captain." the Steve behind you wavered slightly, an evil glint in his eye.

"Captain?"  Your voice was high pitched and panic filled.  Your breathing got shorter, your face hot, your skin prickly.

"Doll?"  Grabbing the fleshy part of your arm, trying to remove you from the Steve behind you, Second Steve gave you a fierce tug.  Feet on the floor, you shrugged your arm free and spun to face the Steve who was still naked and hard in your bed.

"My pet."  And before your eyes the broad body of Steve Rogers that had so recently brought you to paradise, shimmered green, revealing the long, lean figure of Loki Odinson.

"Loki…?  Is it…?  Are you… really here?", barely whispering, barely controlling your rising panic.

"Surprise."  Harsh and hurt, Loki glared in your direction.  Flinching at the sting of his tone, your eyes filled with tears, your lower lip trembling.

Sighing, Steve worked to redirect you, "Doll.  Come on, let's get you out of here."

Shaking your head, "Steve?  I… I thought…"  Struggling to connect the dots, you weren't sure what to do, where to turn.

"I know, doll.  I forgive you.  You thought it was me…"

Tsking, Loki chimed up, "Believe what you want, Captain.  No one knows my pet's body better than me."

Taking a moment to look over your naked form, Steve saw the deepening plum bruises on your hips, the scarlet stains on your neck, the wetness on your thighs.  Suddenly disgusted, Steve threw something at you, "Cover up, for Pete's sake."

Slipping your thin robe over your shoulders, mindlessly tying the belt, you started to shake.  Again, perplexed, "Loki?"

"Pet.  It's been a while."

Nodding, you felt your knees wobble before they buckled completely.  Your vision fuzzed over like a disconnected television and your ears were filled with buzzing.  "Loki?", once again whispering his name before everything went black.

~ Part 3 Coming Soon! ~

My Rag Tag Crew:  @sammy-jo1977​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @wolfsmom1​ @thenatallie​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @mizfit2​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @jessiejunebug​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @iamverity​ @lokislittlecorner​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @jamielea81​ @lots-of-loki​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @brokenthelovely​ @just-random-obsessions​ @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @capcapcapsicle​

[lizzy-frizzle]

Haha, jk....unless?

Taken

“Listen, what will it take to convince you I’m worthy to take you out on a date?”

A small au ra raen looks sternly up at the xaela.

The xaela responds, “You are not of the dotharl tribe, you can never be worthy.”

Lizzy, frustrated and not to let fate stop her, takes a moment, and looks around the area.

“Ok, what if I help your tribe?” she spots numerous people immediately with pained expressions, surely they need some help, “After all, you lost some people after the naadam. If the imperials were to come back and attack your tribe, you’d be wiped out.”

Sadu takes a moment and considers her words, “You would help a tribe you don’t belong to?”

“Of course, I helped the mol, I did some light chores for the oronir and buduga. I’ll gladly help the dotharl!” Lizzy finished her sentences and beams at Sadu.

Sadu thinks about this, she can’t exactly turn down help, but at the same time she doesn’t want to offer what Lizzy wants.

“Let’s see how serious you are then.” she scowls, but Lizzy doesn’t let that deter her.

Lizzy spots a dotharli warrior she helped before, “Mauci! Hey, you wanted a teacher right? Let’s go learn to fight!”

The warrior looks startled, and stammers out, “O-oh, Y-yea! OK! Sure, can you kill some beasts for me to watch your technique?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lizzy, daggers already out, starts marching away from the khaa.

~Out in the steppe~

“Alright, you’re watching?”

Mauci shouts from a safe distance, “Yea! Go for it!”

Lizzy approaches several beasts, daggers drawn and ready to attack, the monsters take note of Lizzy’s presence and one dashes out. Lizzy jumps up, and thrusts a dagger down through the monsters skull, [Nice and easy, now the other one.]  The other one attacks in response, lashing out with a claw. Lizzy ducks under it, and slashes one of it’s legs with her left dagger. [The least you could do is give me a challenge though.] Then in the same motion jumps up again and uses the right dagger to create a handle on the creatures back. It flails it’s arms in an attempt to shake her off. [Oh, I can show off here, hold on.] Lizzy leaps off, and in the air, she uses a series of hand motions, [Raiton time!~] Suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes the creature, killing it instantly.

Lizzy lands with a flourish, dusting herself off, now slightly covered in blood.

“How was that?”

Mauci scratches his head, “Ah, your motions are certainly unfamiliar. Not to say they aren’t natural. I think I see the style though. Let’s return to the khaa, there’s a practice session later today. I’d like to test myself against the others.”

Lizzy looks over and sees smoke coming from the peaceful spring, “Is that accompanied with a bonfire?”

Mauci turns, and looks worried for a moment, “No, no it’s not.”

~Back at the Dotharl Khaa~

When Lizzy and Mauci return, the winds have picked up into a gale.

There’s numerous imperial soldiers fighting with various dotharli warriors. Lizzy wastes no time throwing daggers at the nearest imperial soldiers, dispatching them immediately. With speed Mauci can hardly believe, Lizzy seemingly teleports within range of 3 other soldiers and just as fast the group is engulfed in a fireball, he feels the intense heat from at least 20 yalms away. When the smoke clears, Lizzy is holding an imperial soldier by the collar. The scowl that reads on her is unmistakable through the crimson dripping down her face.

“Where is she.”

The soldier’s eyes are closed, the body is limp.

[Ugh, perhaps that was too much.]

Lizzy scans the area a bit, anything, a sign, a hope. Anything.

[She should be here, she wouldn’t have run away from the fighting. But where.]

A couple more troops fighting with dotharl are nearby, Lizzy runs over and takes them out, still looking for Sadu.

[Even if she was killed, I’d be able to see her.]

Panic starts to pool inside of Lizzy. Then, she spots them. The imperials with a group of hostages, Sadu one of them.

“No..” Lizzy wants to run after them, but there’s too many innocent tribe people in danger right now.

[I can always ask Thancred for help tracking the hostages, I have to save the people in immediate danger now.]

~Later that night~

“Thancred?”

“Yes? What, pray tell, would the warrior of light want with me at this hour?”

“They took Sadu and some other Dotharli people.”

“Work then. Who took them?”

“Garleans.”

“Ah, serious work then. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Please hurry.” Lizzy couldn’t hide the slight worry in her voice.

“Oh? Is that the Fearsome Warrior of Light AND Darkness with some fear in her voice?”

“Shut it. I still haven’t kneecapped you for making fun of Heliox.”

“Very well, I’ll be off.”

With that Thancred disappears into the night. Lizzy waits with baited breath.

~The Next Day~

Lizzy’s linkshell wakes her up

“Yo, what’s-” Lizzy yawns, “-up?”

“It’s like noon, why are you asleep?”

Lizzy shoots up in bed, “Thancred, where are they?”

“Oh I have your attention now?”

“Thancred.”

“Ok, ok, don’t tear my head off. They’re just being held in a nearby imperial prison, not a huge deal. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re worrying about them, it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone important there.”

“I’m going to go rescue them.”

“OH WAIT YOU-”

Lizzy hangs up on him. Lizzy gets out of the tent, and looks at the Khaa. The smouldering remains where the fires burned made her remember the battlefield at Ghimlyt Dark. The smell of imperial gunpowder, and the view of bloodsoaked sand.

[It’s ok. You can save her, and there weren’t any casualties on the dotharli end.]

Lizzy sighed, and shook her head free of the memories. She whistles for a yol and without a word she’s off.

~~

Lizzy was never one for a plan when her emotions played a large factor. Luckily, being the warrior of light means not many can actually cause enough trouble to halt her.

That being said. Not every prison can just be brute force’d into letting her have her way.

[Ok, maybe this should be a more stealth based mission]

Lizzy peers out across the layers of soldiers.

[Lasagna Soldiers]

Lizzy let out a small chuckle at her thought.

[So, get in, free Sadu and any other dotharl’s, get out, without being seen. Easy. Just like Oboro always tries to convince me. Stay hidden.]

Lizzy begins infiltration. Staying hidden while possible. Ducks down a hallway, dodges a patrol group.

[All in all, this is going better than most cases.]

Just then, she turned a corner, and two roaming soldiers nearly collided into her. She jumps out of reflex and somehow managed to avoid both of them.

Lizzy lets out an audible sigh.

“What? Hard day?” one says.

[Oops.]

The other responds, “Hm? No? Why’d you ask?”

The first guard turns around, and starts looking as if he could see Lizzy.

“I thought I heard a sigh. It wasn’t you?”

They draw their weapons.

[This isn’t great.]

Lizzy unsheathes her daggers.

[I tried, oboro, please don’t be mad.]

She breaks hidden, and lunges towards both guards.

[If I can just kill them both before they say anything, maybe it’ll be fine]

A flurry of daggers, and two thuds from the bodies hitting the floor.

[Nice, ok, back to]

An alarm starts blaring.

[Oh. Ok, well, running time now.]

Turns a corner, another one, a third corner.

[HOW MANY CORNERS ARE IN THIS PLACE.]

She turns another corner and slams into a door, knocking it open and nearly off its hinges. Lizzy spots the dark blue skin and black scales.

[Dotharli people?]

Lizzy bolts to the cell.

“Hey, is this everyone?” she asks.

Scanning quickly, her heart drops. Sadu isn’t here.

~~

She spits at the guard inches from her face.

He wipes the spit off his mask, and repeats the question.

“So, are there any secrets in the Steppe? Why was the Warrior of Light there?”

No response.

“Very well, we can continue doing this until your spirit gives up.”

The guard takes an imperial device, and touches it against her skin, sending electricity through her body, and burns across the skin where the metal touched.

“If you think I’m afraid to die, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

The guard takes the device off her.

“Clearly.”

He wipes it clean and puts it back on the trolley.

“Well, perhaps you care more about your fellow savages.”

Suddenly an alarm starts blaring.

“An intruder?”

Sadu’s heart races slightly.

[Could it be? Did that foolish woman follow us?]

The guard speaks into his radio, “Who’s the intruder?”

The other side isn’t heard, but Sadu could feel it. No one else could have found them.

“I see, well, stop her immediately.”

[Her, so it is her.]

“I don’t care if she’s the Warrior of Light, she bleeds like anyone else!” the guard turns his focus back to Sadu, “Well, I must have someone mighty important to merit a rescue from the dreaded Warrior of Light herself.”

Sadu remains quiet.

“You are proving to be very difficult. I don’t tolerate difficult people. If you are worth something I can still utilize you.” he pulled his gunsword out and aimed it right at Sadu, “But maybe you aren’t worth the trouble.”

An explosion shakes the facility. The guard looks towards the door, even through the mask Sadu can tell he’s worried.

Another explosion, this one on the opposite side.

“Is it more than just one intruder?” the guard says into his radio.

Sadu is unsure if he gets a response or not, but the guard points the gunsword at her again.

“Ok, I don’t have time for you anymore, pray to whatever god you believe in and be prepared to meet them.”

The door slams open, and is shortly followed by a lightning bolt aimed directly at the guard.

A shot rings out.

~~

“Ok, listen, I’m going to create a diversion, a big one. Can you take these bombs and plant them near the exit? Just throw em anywhere, hit the button, and run. You’ll have a minute or two to get away.”

Lizzy hands a pouch of bombs to one of the xaela she recognized from the Naadam, and gives the group directions out of the base.

“Trust me, they’ll be more focused on me, I promise.”

Lizzy bolts off down the corridor, leaving the handful of xaela to escape.

[Ok, time to find the most explosive room in the building. They keep bombs around here somewhere, right?]

Running as fast as her legs will carry her, she covers numerous hallways in a handful of moments. Hoping to catch some indication of something to make a big boom.

More hallways.

[I’m wasting time, surely there must be something I can use.]

Then she found it.

[Well, it’s not bombs…]

She walks into a room storing multiple energy tanks.

[I was never one for subtlety to be honest.]

Lizzy prepares her shadeshift.

An explosion goes off across the prison.

[That sounds like where I told the Dotharli people to go. Alright then.]

Lizzy takes a deep breath, and braces herself for impact.

[Chi. Ten.]

An explosion across the room erupts, engulfing the entire room in flames, followed by several consecutive explosions, and launching Lizzy backwards down the hall.

“Is it more than one intruder?” a muffled voice behind the door next to Lizzy rings out.

[Well, let’s see.]

Lizzy charges at the door with her shoulder.

[Ten-Chi.]

As the door opens, she spots an imperial soldier with their gun aimed at Sadu.

[Fuck no.]

The Raiton sails through the air, hitting the soldier square in the chest.

A shot rings out.

The lighting spun the guard, the gun was aimed at Lizzy.

She begins to feel a stabbing pain in her side.

[This is fine.]

Lizzy moves over to Sadu, “Good evening princess, care to be rescued?”

The blood starts to leak out of Lizzy, the red staining the otherwise blue outfit.

“I’m not a princess.” Sadu says, noticing the red, “You’re hit.”

Lizzy let’s out a fake chuckle, “Listen, even you have to admit that was a pretty good entrance.”

Sadu, growing irritated, “Untie me so we can get out of here, and get you some help.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, loss of blood. Hard to focus.”

Lizzy uses her daggers to effortlessly cut through the binds.

Sadu grabs Lizzy, and begins to half-carry her.

“How do we get out? Sadu asks.

“Ah, I didn’t think that far ahead to be honest. Should just go down a couple dozen halls, right?”

Sadu groans.

[Of course she didn’t think of a way out. How did this woman beat us at the Naadam.]

~~Dotharl Khaa~~

“So, Lizzy is going to be ok, right?” Sadu asks, impatiently.

Thancred looks at Lizzy laying in a cot in one of the xaela huts, “Yea, I’m sure she will, it’ll take more than a single garlean bullet to take her out.”

Sadu sighs with relief.

Catching herself, “It’d be a shame to lose such a fierce warrior so soon. After all.”

Thancred looks at her, trying to measure her feelings.

He opens his mouth, but decides to shut it, and walks away.

As he leaves, Sadu goes inside, and sits next to Lizzy’s cot.

After all, she shouldn’t be alone right now. That’s all.

“Oh, hi Sadu.”

She jumps, “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am,” Lizzy says defensively.

“What, no sarcastic remark?”

Lizzy waits a beat, “No, not this time.” she pauses. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 22

-Geralt was struggling. It was not something he liked to admit, but being so close to Adva and not being able to touch or talk to her was the most intense pain he had ever felt. He had taken her at her word and left his mate alone, giving her a wide berth, all the while staring longingly as she went about her business. Thankfully, she spent most of her time with Ciri, training or in the library. Geralt could barely contain it when Vesemir spent more than 5 minutes in her company, let alone Jaskier. The way the bard slide in next to her as she worked at the table or slung his arm around her shoulder had cost several clay mugs and three chair arms. The bard was doing it on purpose he was sure of that, even now Jaskier was strumming out some filthy ballad.

‘Here she saw little Smitty Jones, walking in the crowd "Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, come home with me tonight. Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, and sleep with me till light"’ the brunette cooed in an off-pitch warble.

The gentle giggle tinkled out into the air, and her eyes light up in a bright glare as she laughed. A surge of unbridled jealousy roared within him. She hadn’t some much as look at him like that since that night. That fatefully night. Throwing a glare across at the singing minstrel, Geralt slammed closed the book sending Triss and Vesemir into a series of splutters as a cloud of dust billowed into the air as well as sending the various scroll clattering across the table and scattered onto the floor before and storming out the room.

The Witcher flew out of the room into the main hallway. Unfortunately, the first thing he saw was a grand antique cabinet, the poor thing was wretched from the wall and sent screeching across the polished floor, a thick gash cracked down the main body of the wood. Grunting, Geralt pulled his hand down his face, a roar vibrated from his chest, echoing across the hall as his hand caught sight of the blue sweat that glistened in the weak sunlight that beams in through the stain glass window. The blue substance that Triss had been painting across his body no coated the majority of his body. It was another constant reminder that Adva had rejected him. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of blue. Despite only wearing the thinnest material he continued to drip with sweat, the sticky ooze had lost most of its potency, barely giving him an hour of relief. Soon he would have to leave, the last of his control was ebbing away. It took all his strength not to sweep in, throw Adva on the table and rip her dress off before burying himself in her thighs and sticking his teeth into her tender flesh. The hours he had spent imaging the bonding, it would happen in several stages, and all of them lead to Adva becoming a panting puddle underneath him, begging to be his. There was only one thing he wanted more than that, and that was her marking him, her longing for him to be hers. But no, at the current situation that would not be happening, and he would need to leave soon before he became feral and gods know what he would do if that happened.

‘My, My, such an angry Witcher! It seems your little mermaid has gone off you.’ Yennefer purred as she revealed herself from behind a stone pillar.

Turn round golden eyes trained on to the mage, a silent sigh running down his body. The dress was, compared to the other he had had to endure, was relatively tame. A velvet halter strap encircled her delicate neck and a tight correct displayed firm breast and a toned waist before the black velvet fell over her hip in a billowing skirt. At least she was wearing clothes this time.  For the last ten days, he had seen his former lover naked eight times, the last time sprawled in his new bedroom down by the lake. Since her last attempt to seduce him in the armoury, Geralt took sanctuary in the old lake hunt to rid himself of the mages unwanted advances – and not to tempt himself with any midnight strolls past Adva room.

‘Yennefer don’t.’ Ciri bite in rolling her eyes at the older woman.

‘He needs to know Ciri. She has barely said anything to him since we have arrived. I was just trying to get a rise you when I said she preferred Jaksier but seems I was right all along she does like that singing turd.’ The purple eyes mage pushed, resting her hand on his chest, nails scratching likely against his sensitive skin.

‘Fuck off Yennefer.’ Geralt sneered, flinching away towards the courtyard.

‘You have been ignoring me. I don’t get ignored Geralt; you know that.’ Yennefer snapped, trailing after him, an ugly sneer forming on her face as the Witcher dodge all of her grasps. ‘Geralt…please, we used to be good together.’

She knew she sound despite, but she was too far gone to care. It had been a long time since she felt rejected; her transformation made almost certain of it. She was after all sculpted by the best artist, so why was she being cast aside by Adva. She was no great beauty, passing pretty at the very most yet Geralt was in love with her, and no matter how she demined herself, he didn’t so much as falter. Hitching up her skirts, she trailed after him, grasping at his arm.

‘Geralt…Geralt please.’ Yennefer winced at her needy voice as forced herself in front of him.

Geralt growled down at the bronzed woman in from; the annoying mage had pushed herself in front of his path. Glaring at her, he felt a pang of guilt as she stared up at him desperately with big pleading eyes. He had understood her pain, but every time he felt the first blossoming of sympathy, he remembered Adva, bloodied and battered after being pushed through the floor and the barbed comments forced towards his timid mate.

‘We never were, you never cared enough; I just didn’t realise. Enough Yennefer. Enough. THIS stops now. GO!’ Geralt snarled lowly, before storming off down the path.

‘Great. It's your fault, you know.’ Ciri prodded ‘If you hadn’t manipulated and used him for your own selfish things, he wouldn’t have left and properly would never have stumbled across Adva in that backwater town.’ Ciri snapped.

‘Are you seriously blaming this on me.’ Yennefer yapped as she blinked away, angry tears.

‘Yes. You should be happy for them. Instead, you're making both their lives miserable.’

Ciri loved Yennefer; she would always be her mother, raising her from a scarred little princess into the strong Witcher she was now, soothed her through her trials, fought her corner when Geralt was being his gruff self and refusing to treat her like the adult she was becoming. However, now she felt like the parent of a petulant child, throwing a tantrum because someone had picked up a toy they were no longer bothered with.

‘Don’t I deserve happiness. I knew she would take everything from me, and I was right. First, she takes Geralt, then Triss and now you. The little bitch is up to something I can see it.’ Yennefer yelled.

‘She didn’t take us away. You pushed us. Adva would never take Geralt away; he would always be there for you, and so would she. That’s your problem; you can never see something good in someone. Someone Geralt who can worship without getting cast away. Adva is Geralt soulmate, someone who will love him in the way he needs, selflessly and unconditionally. Can you say you have ever done the same? Adva is a good person; you just have to look into her eyes and see that?’ Ciri pushed

Yennefer let out an unholy scratch as she conjured a bright yellow ball of fire and launched it into the air. Ciri watched silently as Yennefer blasted out a wave of energy knocking down two poor trees that stood innocent at the side before marching off into the forest.

‘Yen…’ Ciri started on after her, but something stopped her. Inhaling deeply, she caught the scent again; it was faint, so faint that it was almost hidden under all the others, almost. It was suspicious, not that the scent was faint or even that it mingled with the other to the point that is was almost undetectable but it what it smelt like. Like the sea, well like seaweed, that healthy smell of salty vegetation mixed with clean cotton. In passing, she might have brushed it off as Adva fragrance, but this was distinctly different; she had spent enough time with her mentors’ mate to know every note of her aroma. Narrowing her eyes, she gave one lingering look towards the path the raging mage had made through the wood before shaking her head and making her way off after the scent.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yennefer growled as she sent a ball of fire across the tops of the trees. The smell of burning foliage pulled at her nose as she eyed the smouldering treetops, now all scorched in a perfect line, blacked and charred. A grin of satisfaction stretched other her face as she squared her shoulders and launched the biggest ball of fire she could at the largest tree closet to her which coincidentally looked the most like Adva head.

‘Such a pretty for a beautiful creature like yourself to be cast aside for such an unworthy thing as the Adva girl.’ A lone voice purred behind her.

Whirling around Yennefer was met by a man with a vivid green eye of a suave nobleman. Violet eyes rolled over him, with deep mistrust. No one, NO ONE came up to the mountain, the forest was too thick, impenetrable, filled with all sort of monsters and danger. Merchants and bandits stumbled up from time to time but never this far and never wearing something that fine. The man was dressed in the finery of a king, a rich quilted jacket in a mix of leather and silk. It sat tight against his chest, showing a toned and crafted body from hours of torturous training. He was tall and lean, learning cockily against the tree staring intensely at her.

‘And why would you care?’ Yennefer reeled back, hand posed and ready as she observed the man.

He let her take him in, unmoving from his positions on the tree as he spoke softly ‘I am what you might call a concerned member of society. I dislike jumped up usurpers.’ The man smiled, pushing himself off the tree and slowly, ever so slowly making his way to stand in front of her ‘I am here to propose a plan..’

‘And what makes you think I will help you with your plan.’ Yennefer snorted, edging herself to the corner of the clearing.

Yennefer did not like it. Not at all, the man was too clean-cut, to pristine. And while Geralt was not in her favourite list right now, she still did not want Kaer Morhen besieged by some arseholes, that would put Ciri in danger since she would rather die than leave. Yet, he stood in front of her arm out. Palm facing her, if he was some assassin or enemy he was a very poor one, he had let her have the advantage the second he made a move Yennefer could send out a deadly blast or teleport him to some unknown fair corner of the world, and that made him interesting and worthy of her attention.

‘My plan permanently gets Adva out of the picture.’

‘And how do you think you would do that? She is protected by two highly skilled Witchers, the Lady of Space and Time, a powerful mage and singing idiot.’

‘With your help, of course. What do you think?’ The man smiled widely, and he inched towards her.

Being a court mage for many years had taught Yennefer to remain impassive, the slight glimmer of emotion would reveal you are true indention and immediately set off a chain reaction of those who opposed your idea or intention. To say there wasn’t a burning desire to rid herself of that kitchen maid was putting it lightly however even before she became a mage she had learnt that if a man offered you something that you truly desired that it was always too good to be true. She did not like him at all; he gave out a claggy feeling, the sort of person who clung to you link a leech and didn’t let go till she had drained you of what he needed.

‘I think… I would go warn them so we can all kick you well-polished arse together’ Yennefer hissed as a purple light bubbled up from her tanned palms and gave off a humming glow.

‘Don’t disappoint me. I have spent so long appreciating you. We are much alike; we know what we like, and when we want it and we have both been cast aside by that wretch. I will kill Adva one way or another, but this way…this way is easier, cleaner and this way you get what you want.’ The man whispered, softly taking her hand and kissing it.

Lowering her attack, she watched as he once again retreated back before answering ‘And what is it that you want?’

‘I have the discretion to breathe life into that barren void between your legs and all I require in return is your help in getting rid of a pest, a blight on the face of the earth. The death of a creature, a deformed halfling who should never have been granted life. In exchange, you will be given the Witcher and a baby. All you have to is isolated and distract the little thing.’ The man said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

‘If you can do what you say…., that is powerful magic. Why do you need my help? It’s not like she some skill warrior Mage.’ Yennefer quarried.

‘You underestimate her, you all do. You have no idea truly what she could be capable of, and if we continue to let her breath, she could find out. ‘The man purred, reaching out to touch her face in a soft caress. ‘I will make it look like an attack, and that you fiercely tried to save her, it will be clean a quick, just lure her to the edge of the forest on the northside.’

‘And how do you know that you’ll honour the agreement?’

Pushing himself back, the man pulled a small silver blade from his belt and drew it across his palm. The blood trickled down the pale silver skin, the droplet of blood where brighter than any ruby in almost look like poppy juice and it run down his hand and dripped drop by drop onto the forest floor but it had that smell of blood, of bitter copper mixed with the tangy scent of freshly forged iron.

‘I solemnly swear, that if you help me get rid of Adva, I will ensure your womb is restored to you, and the girls claim on Geralt will be void. I give this oath in honour, and if I divert from our deal, I shall be struck down.’

The man held out his bloodstain hand to hear the hum of the blood know gave out a near ear-deafening vibration as the blood thicken and turned sticky on his palm. Blood oaths where primitive magic but effective, if the oath promiser diverted from the agreement in any shape or form the magic would strike him down without mercy or thought. That is why people had stopped using it; they were too deadly, the magic took the promise very literally with often deadly consequences. Plus it left a hideous reminder to both parties in the shape of a bloodstained on the hand, a stain so deep it could never be removed, only when the oath was fulfilled was the stain washed away. A troubling thought cross Yennefer’s mind, several in fact but the most concerning thing was the deal, he made no mention of her making the same deal, to pledge herself to his cause. Instead, it was entirely on him; he asked no reassurance he was either very stupid, which she didn’t believe if he had slipped into Kaer Morhen without either of the Witchers noticing meaning he was at the very least he was intelligent enough to remain undetected. Which meant he was desperate, either running out of time or, willing to trust a stranger, to aid him in his quest for end Adva, believing her hatred for Adva would be enough to ensure loyalty.

Narrowing her eyes, she reached out her hand grimacing as she gelt the stick liquid seep into her hand. ‘How do you propose to lure her away?’

‘With this’ the man smirked and pulled out an emerald scroll.

I am so sorry! I had this chapter all planned out then my summer completely went up in flames, my lovely summer of reading and writing is now cancelled. Updates might be patchy for now as my school is trying to get ready for reopening in September and honestly no one knows what is happening and everyone is panicking. I am also trying to find somewhere to live as if and when we go back, I can’t risk taking the virus back to my family who is very vulnerable with not much luck. So as you can imagine, everything is a bit unstable, but please be sure that I am always thinking about my next chapter and nothing make me happier that people want to read my ramblings.

Thank you to everyone who said congratulation. It was so lovely.

The next chapter is planned just need to find time to write it. Stay safe!

@threepupsinapuddle @broco8 @introvertedmouse @luxyash @vikingsbifrost @pastelblogsposts @wastingmypotential @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png  @just-a-sad-donut @alicia-d-o @dreamerwithapen1 @evangeline73aster

[ushiwakaa]

𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a mangaka who draws from your own experiences to write your stories. your new editor disapproves this method.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: akaashi keiji x reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, hanahaki au

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: suicidal thoughts/ideation, blood, vomit, major character death

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2 k

𝐚/𝐧: this was written for the cheese cult’s hanahaki fic event !! djnfjdngjnjfnjnjngjn this took me so , so , so long to write because every version i wrote ended up hitting the same brick wall of unimaginable angst and believe it or not, this is probably the happiest version. i was supposed to post this two whole as days ago but hey , at least it happened

From over the cover of the fairytale he reads, the young boy boy peers at you with soft sage eyes — checking to see if you’re still awake. You are, but you’re careful to keep your eyes closed, face buried into the blanket. 

“The end,” the young boy finishes softly, closing his book.

He gingerly places the book to the side before sliding in next to you under the covers. You can feel his eyes on you for another moment before he takes a deep breath — there’s a secret, a confession, something on the tip of his tongue. 

You never hear it.

You wake up with a start, a cough half-way up your throat. You cough and cough and cough until the first bud breaks air, tickling the back of your throat. You reach your fingers into your mouth and pull. 

Bitterly, you stare at the withering bouquet in your hands. 

The flowers are wet with your saliva — only a hint of blood coating the white of the petals. 

When you went to the doctor about it, she said you were lucky. She said that your flowers were so small, you could go your entire life with an unrequited love and they would leave your respiratory system alone. She also added, no doctor in their right mind would perform a removal surgery on a person who was more likely to die on the table, then by their illness. 

While cultivating roses would be painful, at least it would be a quick death.

Like every other day, you toss out the pathetic string of baby’s breath in the garbage bin as you head into the washroom to wash out your mouth. 

You get off of the train at a quarter to ten — thankfully on time for your meeting. 

Kaori gives a friendly smile when you enter her office. Even behind her desk, you can see her burgeoning belly. Despite pushing eight months into her pregnancy, she beams. In her smile, she wears the name brand brightness that they all share — the people with a requited love, that is. The lucky ones whose flowers weren’t fed with misery and tears.

You try your best not to resent her but your jealousy bleeds when you sit in the glossy, apple green chair.

“How are you?” Kaori asks, her gentle eyes watching you.

You give a vague shrug, a small smile. “Sad that this is it.”

She’s pleased by this answer, giving a laugh. It reminds you of blue bells rustling in the wind. “I’ll be back and ready to work on your next series before you know it.”

You give an empty chuckle.

There’s a knock at the door and you both look. A man stands in the doorway — staring at Kaori dryly. His plain neutrals are out of place in her bright office but her brightness doesn’t flicker as she waves him in. You play with the sleeve of your severely drab cotton blouse as you wonder if that’s how you look here. 

“Akaashi! Glad you could make it.” 

He gives a slight bow to Kaori first, then you. You stop fiddling with your sleeve and return the bow while seated. He takes a seat in the chair opposite to you (Kaori dubbed it the pineapple throne after its piss yellow hue). He’s too tall for it. It’s almost comical. You might write that in for one of your characters.

“(Y/N), this is Akaashi Keiji. Akaashi, this is (L/N) (Y/N).” She turns to you. “He will be taking over as your editor for the last volume while I’m on maternity leave.” 

You look over at him — “Akaashi… Keiji?” 

At an arm's length, you can see the gentle slope of his nose and the delicate curl of the eyelashes that frame the muted green of his eyes. There’s something that’s strangely familiar about him but you can’t put your finger on it. You know him. You don’t know how, but you do.

“I look forward to working with you.”

You smile, but at the back of your throat, you can feel a familiar itch beginning to grow.

Despite the connection your body draws to him, Akaashi doesn’t show any recognition in return. 

He taps his pen lightly on the paper. “What’s going on here? What’s your plan for this girl?”

You peer over the desk to look at the character on trial — the panel shows the short haired girl spewing forget-me-nots into the trash bin. Immediately, you frown. It’s annoying that he doesn’t know her name. She is literally one of three main characters.

“Konoka?” You settle back into your seat. “She’s going to die.”

He looks up at you. “I gathered that much, but why?”

If the robot says it, it really must not make sense but then again, you doubt he even understood the nuances of the series if he couldn’t even remember Konoka’s name. “Because she has Hanahaki Disease.”

“Okay, but —” if you hadn’t been growing annoyed by his flat tone, you might’ve swooned at the softness, “forget-me-nots are small. She couldn’t possibly die of Hanahaki.”

“That’s why she kills herself.”

He’s silent for a moment, calculating his next words. “...You realize that she’s one of your most beloved characters, right? Your readers don’t want to see her die like that.”

“This is the trajectory the story has been on since she and Tanaka met again.” Your tone is more charged than you intend, but you can’t help but defend Konoka’s decision fiercely. “She has to commit suicide. It’s the only way she can move on.”

“Yes, but Kanoka—”

Pointedly, you cut him off, “Thank you for your opinion but I refuse to compromise on that.” 

He purses his lips. “I sincerely ask you to reconsider.”

“I will not compromise my artistic integrity for your comfort.”

“Killing characters off isn’t profound. It isn’t always necessary.”

“In this case, it is.” Your cheeks burn red as you stand up for yourself — this fight is on a personal level. “I’m not killing her for shock value. I’m killing her because every night, Konoka dreams about Tanaka, and everyday, she wakes up and throws up flowers because she knows he doesn’t love her back. I’m killing her because there’s no one else for her. I’m killing her because the flowers won’t and that — that’s more painful.”

The silence in the aftermath of your rant is deafening. He says nothing to you for another moment, staring into the smoulder of your eyes with a calculating stare. It might be a mistake to appeal to the emotional aspect of it — after all, you sort of doubt he has any at this point — but, at the root of it, that’s what it is: an emotional problem.

“Fine,” he says. “You still have to redo this panel, though.”

Your mouth burns with a minty tang as you walk back into your room — drawn over by the buzzing sound of your ringer. Looking at the caller I.D., you have half a mind to throw it across the room and get back under the covers. 

But, with all the professionalism you can muster at nine in the morning, you say, “Hello?”

“Are you finished with the second draft?” Akaashi’s flat drawl reverbs through the speaker.

You resist the urge to sigh. “Yes.”

“Can you come by the office to drop it off?”

“Today?” You scratch absently at your collarbone. “Uh… I can swing by tomorrow, but if you really need it today — you can pick it up from my apartment?” 

There’s silence on the other line — likely weighing the pros and cons. In the weeks you’ve worked under him, you’ve noticed that he does nothing without proper evaluation. 

“Is three o’clock alright?”

You’re in the middle of vacuuming when a knock at the door interrupts you. While you’re expecting it, you’re not any less annoyed. You open the door with a tight smile, manuscript already in hand. Akaashi gives a monotone greeting in his monotone clothes with his monotone face. 

“Hello. May I use your washroom?” 

You give a sigh as you open the door wider. “The door on the left.”

He enters your apartment, neatly putting his shoes by the door. You toss the manuscript back on the counter. You meant to send him on his way, but, because he’s already here, you put on a kettle to boil. 

“I sincerely hope you reconsider your plans.”

You turn around at the comment, looking at your editor with a raised brow. “I’m still killing Konoka.”

He’s a different person when you look at him. For once, there’s something behind his eyes — a sharpness to his gaze. That feeling returns — the one that sees flowers tickling at your trachea.

Gravely, he repeats. “I sincerely hope you reconsider your plans.” 

He must’ve seen your garbage bin. You feel ready to throw something else up now.

“Tell me about them,” Akaashi says.

“About who?”

“Whoever it is you’re willing to die for.”

“I…” You feel faint as you rub at your clavicle. “I don’t think you want to hear this.”

“That’s why I asked, isn’t it?” 

So you do. 

You swallow your pride as you tell him about the little boy you once knew. You tell him about the summer you didn’t leave each other’s side and how one day, while you were camping, you woke up next to him and he was coughing petals and buds and thorns. When his parents took him to the hospital, he never came back and you didn’t get to ask any questions before they moved away. 

You tell him that you started dying that day. That the doctors told your parents that the surgery was too risky for your age. That when you came back a few years later, they told you that it was still too risky when the chances of your death were slim. Some days are better than most, you tell him, but because you never stop thinking about him, you’ll never get better. 

It’s the same story that you are writing. 

Akaashi looks at you for a solemn moment, watching you with incredible disbelief. He’s going to call you an over-dramatic idiot for wanting to die over a childhood crush. If it wasn’t your reality, you’d agree with him too. What a stupid reason to die.

But then, he coughs. When he moves his hands from his mouth, both your stomachs drop while you stare in horror at the soft petal, sopping wet with his blood. 

His eyes widen the same time yours do. Immediately, the phone is in your hand, calling an ambulance.

He thinks he’s dying.

This feeling now, and the feeling from back then... They’re one in the same.

That night, you fell asleep facing him. Your button nose and dark lashes were illuminated by the glow created by his flashlight. It wasn’t until he peered over the cover of the book, he realized that you were knocked out cold.

“You’re so pretty,” he wanted to say.

Instead, a coughing fit seized him, which woke you in turn. He’d been complaining about a dry throat recently, so you disappeared to get him a water from the coolers outside of the tent. 

When you came back, the sleeping bag was littered with bloodied petals. The chilled bottle hit the floor as you gave a blood-curdling scream.

This time, when Akaashi wakes up in the hospital, he’s already coughing. In rapid succession, four blood-soaked petals of varying sizes, the round bud they were plucked from, and two thorns spew from his mouth. He looks at you, startled, more emotion than you’ve ever seen him exhibit. 

Your eyes are red rimmed and swollen.

Gently, you pick up the debris littering his lap and toss it into the garbage beside you. The thorns fall through the maze of baby’s breath you had also coughed up and hit the bottom of the bin with a dull thud. 

"Keiji?” you sniffle, your voice soft. “How do you feel?”

“Not good,” he answers. Akaashi chuckles but you can see the blood dribble from his mouth. You wipe at his chapped lips with a tissue.

“The doctor said to call him when you woke up. Let me just —” You feel dizzy as you stand, maybe a touch overwhelmed. “I’m going to go get him.”

There’s a minuscule tug at your hand. When you look down at Akaashi, he’s watching you. His eyes are still a faint shade of green, but there’s a new shine behind them.

“Can I tell you something first?” You hesitate for a second. Then, you nod. “I hope you reconsider your decision.” In the chaos of the past few hours, you had forgotten the matter that brought you here. “I want Konoka to choose herself over Tanaka. Even if she coughs up flowers everyday... I want her to live.”

You take Akaashi’s hand — large, smooth, and cold — in yours. “I can do that.”

“I know that it hurts, but she needs to know that means she’s alive.” You squeeze lightly as his words resonate within you. “I haven’t felt pain in a decade. But, that means I haven’t felt anything. Right now?” He gives you a small smile. “I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.”

Gently letting go of him, you say, “I’ll get you the doctor.” 

You wince when he coughs again — loud and wet. A confession in this final hour won’t do anything. The withered flowers have to come out somehow. 

Still, “I love you,” you try. 

He smiles weakly back at you. “I love you too.”

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @mlkytobio @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji  @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma  @kawanisshi @milk-n-writings @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @kawaiikraykray @bubbleteaa @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei @pineapplekween @estherwritess @keiji-n @achoohq​ @badlywritten-hq​ @mochibeaa​ @oinkanna​ @chxrry-wxne​ @spudicide​ @airybby​ @asranomical​ @karmasuna​

[smoljamswrites]

all is fair in love & war | bts x reader | chapter 4

pairing: bts x female reader

genre: mafia!au, series fic, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut

warnings for this chapter: abuse, fat levels of angst (but then there’s a fluffy part that’s then killed by more angst), swearing, degradation, mentions of stalking, y/n cries? is this a potential trigger, idk? 

a/n: just an fyi, incase it isn’t clear, the italics in paragraphs are thoughts. Plus, I apologise if this chapter seems a little jumpy in terms of moving from scene to scene - but it’s just so I could get the story to progress quicker, so I can get into the real meat of it. Oh and I probably butchered the Korean street name system thingy so if you could excuse that, that’d be great. Thanks for reading and supporting this fic! I love you all!!

fic playlist is here x

Clutching at your hair, Sunny roughly drags you into the living room. To say she was livid would be an understatement. The anger darkened her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed, and jaw clenched as she brought you to a stop – right in front of Yunseo and some of the other members. She had phoned them when you begged her to not to tell anyone about the guy in the car, declaring you had a “contact within the outside world”. They had sent a car to pick you both up at that moment, and her hands haven’t left your hair since – gripping onto it so hard, making your eyes water.

Yunseo sits directly in the middle of the leather sofa, his crew of Syndicates placed strategically around the room. They’re expecting me to run…interesting. You’re pushed down onto the floor, your knees harshly colliding with the solid laminate.

Before you even lift your head to meet his eyes, Yunseo has already began to raise his voice. “Who was the guy, Y/N?!” his voice was filled with hatred, fires of fury smouldering his narrowed eyes. You look down onto the floor, shaking your head, not saying a word. Why the fuck would I tell them Jungkook’s name? They’re gonna have to try a lot harder than this, you muse.

A sinister chuckle escapes past Yunseo’s lips, and it makes your stomach churn. You know it isn’t long until they start getting violent, but that isn’t going to make you cave. Not yet. “Listen, we can do this the easy way – you tell me his name, how you know him and what was said between you two – or we can do this the hard way” at that Yunseo rises from his seat and the other members follow suit to loom over you.

You’re on your knees, head lifted to meet eyes with your intimidators. Your eyes wander to Juwon, and you find yourself surprised he isn’t playing with your hair or finding another way to place his grimy hands on you. A smirk toys on his lips, liking the way you look through your eyelashes at him, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Sick fucking bastard! Your blood is boiling; you are sick and tired of being treated like this. Like you’re just a possession to them. Adrenalin hits you, and it makes you feel alive. Your heart is beating so fast, you feel as if it going to fly straight out of your chest. Standing up, you notice for the second time this week you are feeling yourself getting brave.

“No. Why don’t you fucking listen to me? Fuck you! I hate all of you! Why didn’t you just kill me, huh? Kill me! Go on, I dare you!” the adrenalin is flowing through your blood, and it feels like you can’t control your limbs, which is why it is such a surprise to you as much as it is to your ‘superiors’ when you lay your hands on Juwon. Putting all the force you could muster; you use both hands to push at his figure. Due to Juwon not expecting this, he falls back, rage evident on his face as soon as he reaches the ground. Within the same millisecond, your body is dragged back by somebody else, arms restricted, and you don’t even wince when Yunseo’s fists come flying towards your face. You don’t know whether it’s the surge of adrenalin or if its because you’re used to the pain by now, but you just feel numb to his actions. Each punch, to both your face and body, sends signals to your brain that makes it feel like your internal organs should be bursting – but yet you don’t seem to feel a thing. It’s like you’re unconscious, but you can see everything that is happening. All you can feel is your heart beating loudly in your ears, and it’s almost deafening.  

“Who the fuck was it, you dirty fucking slut?!” Yunseo’s spit flies at your face, amazingly faster than the blows.

It is at this moment, that your body realises what is happening. Your mind snaps back into reality and every hit sends a painful jolt through your body. Your face is soaked from the tears, and you’re screaming, finding it hard to hear your own screams over their harsh words. You need this done with, and you need it done with now.

“F-fine I’ll tell you! Just don’t hit me again, please!” you whimper out. The member who was propping up your body lets go, leaving your limp form to fall to the ground. You can hear snickers coming from around the room. They really think they’ve won, huh? Cute.

“I-I met him at ‘Angels’ and to be honest I don’t really know him. But for the past few days, he seemed really obsessed with me. When I saw h-him outside the shop, it creeped me out, I didn’t expect him to be there, and I lost my cool, I guess.” You begin, trying to simultaneously catch your breath, “I went up to his car and literally asked him why he was following me. And when he wouldn’t answer me, I called him a creep and left. That was when I saw Sunny there.”

They all hold the same look on their face – like they want to believe you but they’re not quite sure yet. Your throat feels on fire from all the screaming and crying, but you find it in you to continue, wanting to finish your web of lies perfectly, “I didn’t want to tell you because I see the way you hurt people, and he seemed like an ordinary guy, just too caught up in his own horny feelings and I didn’t want you to hurt him because of that. I guess I felt scared for him.”

The Sin Syndicate members all look towards their leader, awaiting their new order, and you do the same, praying that they believe your story. Yunseo scratches at his stubble on his jaw, seemingly deciding on his next step. He addresses the members first, not bothering to look in your direction, “We’ll keep an eye out for him – Sunny you know what he looks like right? Perfect.” And then he spares a glance at you, “As for you, get to bed, I don’t want to see you right now.”

Your legs shake and your whole body feels extremely sore. Clutching at your own waist, as if you were stopping your intestines from falling out, you drag yourself to your room. You flop down onto your bed, head pounding. Yet all you can think about is Jungkook’s safety – what will happen if they find him? God I shouldn’t even care about him, he’s a fucking stalker! But yet you still reach into your drawer fifteen minutes later to retrieve your phone, deciding on warning Jungkook.

Fuck. Your phone shows you that you have already had missed calls and many text messages from him. You move your thumb to press the correct button to get onto the messaging app, then instantly press again to pull up the conversation between you and Jungkook.

Jungkook: please don’t be mad! I can explain, I promise. It’s just not something that I can explain quickly x [19:26]

Jungkook: ‘You have missed calls from ‘Jungkook’ at 19:29 and 19:41. This is a free call alert.’

Jungkook: please don’t ignore me Y/N, it’s important that I know that you’re okay x [19:59]

Jungkook: ‘You have missed 3 calls from ‘Jungkook’. This is a free call alert’.

Jungkook: Just hear me out Y/N x [20:04]

You feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach. You can tell Jungkook is worried about you and you hate that you made him concerned. But you still need to think about his actions, following you around is not okay. You have every right to feel mad. It’s because of him that you just got the beating of your lifetime!

You: I don’t understand how you’re eager to give me answers all of a sudden, when earlier you wouldn’t give them me!? What’s changed now? Finally worked out an excuse? [20:13]

He messages back relatively fast, which draws your mind back to feeling guilty for worrying him. Oh God! I still have to warn him!

Jungkook: I get that you’re mad but not replying for almost an hour after I last seen you isn’t funny! You had me so fucking worried! I literally thought the worst, okay! I thought something had happened to you. WTF?! As for the answers you want (and deserve) I will give them you, I promise. All you gotta do is meet with me because I need to explain things face to face, it’s easier. The situation is too complicated for me to rush the explanation or to type it out on text x [20:15]

Leaving isn’t a problem. It’s the making sure Jungkook remains safe and that he isn’t seen by any Sin Syndicate member that’s the issue.

You: I’d be happy to meet you so I could finally know wtf is going on, but I don’t know how I’m going to be able to. [20:16]

You know that you have to go; this could be your opportunity to explain to him that he needs to be careful – maybe you could explain to him the full situation…can you trust him with that?

You: Okay so I have an idea. But for it to work, you gotta be able to work with me or this could end terribly, trust me! (I’ll explain later!) Make sure you are by your phone all day tomorrow, if you can, and when I have the chance to meet you, I’ll message you to let you know. I don’t know what time it will be but it will definitely be tomorrow because I really need to tell you something too! [20:18]

Jungkook: deal. x [20:18]

Not wanting to be the cause of his fretting again, you ensure to message him one last time before turning your phone off and getting some well-deserved sleep.

You: Goodnight x [20:19]

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

You haven’t been able to concentrate all morning. You haven’t got a performance on main stage today, but you still had to show up for work, especially with what had happened the night before. So you’ve been preoccupying yourself with speaking to clients and helping the waiters and waitresses. There is no way you’ll be practicing today, let alone performing for everyone. Currently, you’re sat at the bar, swirling your tiny umbrella around in your glass.

Getting yourself out of bed this morning was a nightmare. As soon as you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, it had sent an aching pain right through your entire being. Your head felt too heavy to carry from the offset, and all you wanted to do was to lie back down again. But you knew you couldn’t. If you wanted everything to go smoothly you knew you had to start moving.

You feel almost criminal – your phone being hidden in the fluffy slipper sock that your wearing, planning to sneak out for a while. The girls haven’t spoken to you yet, but they don’t miss the opportunity to send malicious glares in your direction. Not that you want them to speak to you; you know they hate you and the feeling is mutual. Just then someone places their hand on your back, and you jump at the feeling.

“Hey hey, what’s wrong? You’re all jumpy…is everything okay?” a familiar voice begins to calm your worries, and the way his comforting tone spills past his lips with ease sends a foreign sensation to your core. You move to meet his eyes, and a concerned look adorns his face.

“I’m fine Jin. Just got a lot on at the moment, I guess.” You decide to play it safe, considering you blurted out probably more than you should have done, the last time. But still, his evident worry doesn’t fade.

Taking a seat next to you at the bar, he ghosts his hand over yours- almost like he was deciding whether he should take your hand in his, but then chose against it. “Is there anything that I can help with?” You snap your head in his direction. Oh my god, what a fucking genius!

Your emotions must have shown on your face, because his brows drew together like he was wondering what you could be thinking about.  

“Yes! Woah okay so,” you begin turning your body and bringing your hands together in excitement. Your voice instantly lowers as you speak again, “I need to meet a, well uhm-, a friend. But the problem is, I can’t leave. It’s super important that I meet with him today, so maybe, if you could help me that would be amazing! I’m thinking that you could wait half an hour or so, then request a private dance from me? And that way then they’ll think I’m preoccupied elsewhere, meaning that I could leave? What do you think?”

“Yeah sure, I’d be happy to help.”

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

Making yourself look busy with other clients for the next 30 minutes was harder than you had anticipated. You struggled to focus on the conversations you were having with them, as your mind kept flitting back to your previous chat with Seokjin.

God he’s a lifesaver! I seriously owe him one.

After what seemed like centuries, Yunseo calls your name. Making your way to him, you tried to look as sheepishly as possible, knowing it’d be best to make this stunt look believable. “Y-yes sir?” Nice! Make him think you’re scared after yesterday.

He doesn’t bother to speak for long, evidently pissed at your antics this week, “A gentleman has offered me a pretty large sum of money to book two back-to-back private dance slots with you. I’d be an idiot not to accept, so you’ll be in there for an hour. Keep him happy.” And with that he’s gone. You have to look at the floor to prevent anyone watching from seeing the smile forming on your lips.

Entering the same private dance room as last time, you quickly shut the door and squeal as you make your way over to where Jin is sitting.

“You are currently my favourite person ever! You’ve given me a whole hour! You’re the best seriously!” You know you look like an idiot because you just can’t stop smiling. You pull out your phone from the side of your sock and begin to text Jungkook.

You: Hey, I’m okay to leave now, but I must be back before half one x [12:33]

Bringing your attention back onto Jin, a sudden realisation hits you. “Shit! You’re gonna have to hide for an hour while I’m gone!” The smile is instantly wiped off your face, as you prepare yourself for an annoyed Seokjin. Yet, he doesn’t appear annoyed at all.

Shaking his head and continuing to smile, he stands up, “I know. Don’t worry! If you wanted, I could drive you to wherever you needed to go to meet your friend?” he goofily shakes his car keys and you giggle.

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

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, you are speechless. This dude must be earning the big bucks if this is his own fucking Chevrolet Corvette! The shutting of Jin’s door brings you back to reality, “So where are we going?”

Oh right, duh. Removing your phone from your sock once more, you turn on the screen to read Jungkook’s message and position it so Jin can see.

Jungkook: okie dokie, do you know where the café is on Myeongnyun-ro? It’s only a few minutes away from Angels x [12:35]

“ahh right then, lets go!”

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

Getting out the car and thanking Jin, you make your way towards the café door. Instantly you start fretting as Jungkook is nowhere to be seen. Sitting down at a booth, you begin to text him, but you’re interrupted by the door in front of you opening, making the little bell above it ding!

Jungkook walks through the door and you swear to God you stop breathing for a second. Your eyes trace his tall, well-built figure; from his chocolatey tousled hair down to his two-toned, bulky shoes. When his eyes meet yours, they instantly light up, and he moves his hand; gesturing for you to come over. As you get closer, the more nervous you feel. You notice the way he bites his bottom lip, and starts wringing his hands together, and that made you relax. He was just as nervous as you were. Reaching his figure, you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Your mind wanders to the night that you met, and a goofy smile overtakes your features.

“Hey, what drink would you like?” he says, nerves still evident in the way he spoke.

“You’re sounding like Mr. Persistent Bartender again” you giggle, proud of the way he visibly loosens up at the sound of your joke.

Jungkook lets out a chuckle, as he rolls his shoulders back, “Shut up, lemme buy you a drink” he whines. His voice cuts straight through your heart, sending warmth through your body. Yet you can’t let him give you another drink for free.

“No no it’s fine! I’m not thirsty. Don’t spend your money.” You reach to grab his arm, as he moves in direction of the employee standing at the till.

All your efforts go to waste when he shakes his head at you, dismissing your previous comment, “Hey, I’ll take a coffee and… she’ll have a hot chocolate.” You pull on his arm like a child and tell him you’re fine, but this only spurs him on further. A smirk sits on his lips as he continues, “and can the hot chocolate have whipped cream and marshmallows too please?” He looks down at your unimpressed face, and he coos ruffling your hair. God, you’re going to be the death of him!

“Would you like sprinkles too?” you hear the barista ask, but you’re too late to reject the sprinkles as Jungkook has already beaten you too it. And of course he says yes.

“That’ll be £7.85 please. And I must say, you guys are such a cute couple!” the barista gushes and you feel heat rise to your face. You peer over to Jungkook and see him giving her the money with the biggest smile on his face.

“Thanks! Keep the change.” Grabbing both of the drinks, Jungkook walks back to the booth, with you trailing behind him, embarrassed. You slide in the seat opposite him and he pushes the hot chocolate towards you. Sarcastically rolling your eyes, you move the cup towards your mouth to take a sip. It tasted so heavenly; you swear you could have orgasmed. Lifting your eyes from the cup to look at Jungkook, you see he’s already looking at you – and he’s looking at you expectantly.

“….what?”

“You first.” The two words sends you into a frenzy, reminding you of why you’re actually here. Fidgeting in your seat slightly, you remove eye contact as you think about how to tell him. Okay so you’re gonna have to never ever speak to me again because I don’t want you to die. So, it’s been nice knowing you! Thanks for the hot chocolate.

You cough, ensuring your voice still works before lowering your voice, “Okay so what I’m about to tell you is really serious. I’m not joking or lying or whatever. I really need you to believe me, okay? I’ve lied to you – I don’t live at a stupid dorm, and I don’t go to college. In fact, the only proper schooling I have ever had was only for 2 years and it stopped when I was like 5. And from then, ‘til the age of 11 I was home schooled, if you could even call it that.” You realise you’re rambling, and you quickly decide to get to the point, “I live with these people. They’re not really nice and they hurt people and sometimes they hurt me,” You don’t notice as you’re not looking at him, but Jungkook tenses at this admission. “they don’t let me have proper contact with anyone. And um- they saw you speaking to me yesterday. Well, Sunny did, and she told the others, and I’m so fucking sorry but they’re looking for you now. And well, I need you to delete my number, stop talking to me, and forget about me forever just so I know that you’ll be safe-“

Your little speech is cut off by a giggle, and your eyes dart up, finally, to meet his. Why the fuck does he find this funny? Does he think I’m joking? Furrowing your eyebrows together, your whispering voice harshens, “Guk, I’m being serious here! I can’t believe-“

His voice is considerably loud compared to your quietened tone, “Y/N calm down, I’m pretty sure I can handle Syndicate” Jungkook finds your state of confusion very amusing, as he rests his head on his hand and smiles right at you.

Before you can interrogate him on how he knows Sin Syndicate, he cuts you off, “My turn yeah?” he moves his hand to take a hold of yours, “I’ve been following you since you came to our club because I’ve been worried. We all have. And by we, I mean…Bangtan. I’m sure you’ve heard of us…” his eyes search yours and all he sees in return is pure panic. “Please hear me out! We don’t want to hurt you, I promise. Bangtan doesn’t hurt innocent people – we protect the innocent. All through my training, I was told the chilling story of the young girl, who had to be kidnapped due to a slip up in the Syndicate’s System, tortured not just by the grief of losing her family, but by the men who held her captive. When the new generation of Bangtan took over 7 years ago, we vowed to find that girl, and keep her safe. And here you are. You don’t need to worry about me, yeah? Syndicate doesn’t know our true identities, and it’s gonna stay that way, right?”

Your heart is thumping so loud, you’re certain he can hear it, “…oh yeah. I won’t tell anyone, I promise” your voice is barely a whisper. You feel so fucking numb, it feels like you’re dreaming.

“So, do you have any questions?”

Do you? “Um, I don’t know, my mind’s a little blank at the moment. This is a lot to take in. Um- do you kill people then?”

He lets out a breath, and gently moves his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, “not in the way Syndicate does. Syndicate will kill anything that breathes, just to make a point. We kill people that are like Sin Syndicate. Does this make sense?” he looks up from your hands to meet your gaze, and you quickly nod, “The best person to have explain to you all the technical stuff is our leader Namjoon.”

Now it’s your turn to divert your gaze again, as you ask a question you really don’t want the answer too, “ahh, so you all have roles then?”

“Yeah.” Gulp. ”I’m Bangtan’s assassin.”

You immediately tense. Assassin? Like the one in charge of killing people? Like the guy who murdered my family? No way. I can’t do this.

“Y/N-“

You flinch at the sound of his voice, standing up and instantly ripping your hand away from his. You feel sick to your stomach. “I gotta go, they’ll be wondering where I am” you say quickly, trying to blink back the tears that were starting to form. And just like that you exit the café and leave Jungkook behind, wondering what on earth he’s just done.

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

You enter through one of the fire exits at the back of the club and head straight for the toilets. Running into a cubicle, you quickly lock the door behind you and sit on the closed seat. The tears that you had held back were now escaping, causing sobs to rush past your lips. With your head in your hands, tears drip through your fingers, onto the tiles below. Your breathing hitched as you hear his confession again.

‘I’m Bangtan’s assassin.’

Thud! Thud! Thud! You’re interrupted by a banging on the stall door.

“Y/N is that you?” the voice called, and you recognise it to be Grace’s.

“..yeah..”

A breathy laugh sounds out into the room, “good! We thought you did a runner!”

You stay in the cubicle for a while longer – only coming out when you know Grace has left. Letting the door swing behind you, you head straight to the sink to wash your face.

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

Meanwhile, Jungkook is walking aimlessly around the city. Filled to the brim with rage and self-loath, he is wandering various streets, the only company he has is his thoughts.

Why the fuck did I tell her that I’m an assassin? I’ve fucked everything up. Now what’s she gonna do, huh? She could snitch on us all, which is unlikely but not impossible. Or she could cut contact with me. Either way, the guys are gonna be pissed. Oh god, what if she got caught heading back? What if they’re beating her right now? I swear to God if I find-

“OI!” someone yells from behind him, making him instantly turn to find out who’s shouting. Two guys and one girl stalk towards him – is that the Sunny girl?  They head straight towards him, but Jungkook’s never been one to back down from a fight.

“Yep, that’s him boys. Get him!” Sunny remains in her spot, about 3 metres away from Jungkook. She crosses her arms as she watches the drama unfold.

The two men lunge for Jungkook, but it’s him that gets the first punch. Hitting one of them, they stumble back, whilst the other slams Jungkook, head first, into some near by shutters. Punching the man in the gut, Jungkook gets his own back; but it’s not long until the duo gets the upper hand. Jungkook is left in a bad shape, as he slides down the shutters. The 3 Syndicates laugh menacingly as they leave – unaware of who they’ve just laid their hands on.

Pulling his phone out from his pocket, he quickly dials the number he was searching for.

“Hyung...?”

next chapter update: Wednesday 19th February 2020 9pm gmt

tagging: @dearlydreadful​ @honeydewseoks​ @whimsicalwoodlands​ @toddsgirl27​ @wendyiiwl​ @asifetch7​ @barbyisafangirl​ @miraculyfe​ @btsxdoll​ @laluzdirectioner​ @slutkoo​ @bubbletae7​ @h5naaa​ @smollmonajinsa​ @vivpurple7​ @purplelady85​ @vi-hoshi​ 

let me know if you wanna be tagged in future chapters!

Thank you so much for reading

all rights reserved © smoljamswrites | 09/02/2020 | reposting my work or modifying of any kind is strictly not allowed. Translations are also not allowed. 

[maandags]

the watchmaker (Finn Shelby x reader) {part one}

yknow the thing is. the thing is that if you’re writing about something u know jack shit about (in this case: mechanics and clock-making). and ur too lazy to do proper research bc fuck that. all u gotta do. is be confident as hell in the absolute horseshit you’re about to spout

-- -- --

Summary: After your uncle died, you decided to rid yourself of your troubling past and move to Small Heath, into the flat and workshop he left you. Soon after, though, Tommy and Finn Shelby crash into your life and bring back unwanted memories.

Genre: light (?) angst, fluff (ish)

Word count: 9.5K

Notes: CW: death mention - {part two} - masterlist - this first part is pretty tame but don’t be fooled!! the pain will come!!! (again. blame @panda-noosh)

-- -- --

Small Heath was always so dark, even when the sun sat high and proud in the sky.

You hated it. You hated it because you couldn't work properly without nice light, so you constantly had to have lamps on in your workshop and you had bills to pay, damn it, and the cost of light meant you had to cut on other expenses, like food that didn't taste like it had sat rotting in a barrel for six weeks straight, or a decent fucking drink.

You were never one for gloomy weather and rain, even though it was all you'd ever known. Your dad had once taken you on a small trip to the south of England, and you'd been lucky to catch some sunlight. You'd been giddy and happy and had spent all day playing on the beach. The next day it had rained, and you remembered how you'd looked out of the window, wistful and missing the sun.

Birmingham wasn't like that. It was always unforgivingly chilly and on the few days you did get sun there was a fierce wind sweeping the streets. In an attempt to make your workshop a little more welcoming–to make it feel a little more like home–you'd strung up a couple of wood windchimes, and they made a hollow ringing noise when the wind found it necessary to show up again.

Today was one more grey day. Though you hadn't expected anything different, it was still somewhat of a disappointment to wake up in a dark room illuminated only by the small oil lamp you kept on your nightstand. You turned the keys to your workshop with a jingle, lifting the rickety door slightly up so you could turn the handle and open it. Your workshop was only a few streets down from your flat. You were lucky to have inherited this place, small and cramped as it was: it was a roof over your head, and you didn't have to pay rent.

In your workshop, your tools sat in their boxes, and the ones too big to sit in boxes sat on their respective tables. Some even had a place on the floor. Grinders, hammers, the tiniest of screwdrivers and even welding equipment–you had it all, and as always when you entered your shop, you released a little sigh of contentment.

Because maybe you disliked Birmingham. Maybe you were counting the days until you had enough money to get the hell out of there. Maybe you spent as much time as possible working, working, working until you could barely stand on your feet because it was the one thing that didn't leave you completely hopeless–but when you walked into your workshop, all your troubles faded to the back of your mind and nothing existed but the grind of metal on metal and the satisfying click when the pieces finally fell into place.

You hung up your coat and stretched, popping the joints in your neck and shoulders. The thing with being one's own boss is that one could decide themselves when to come in and when to leave, and when to be satisfied with the work done. It was nice to not have someone watch over your shoulder constantly, as had been the case in a few of your internships before you'd started working for your uncle.

Your uncle had been a strange man. Strange, but sweet. Quiet. He was more of a clock-maker than a mechanic, but he was a certain jack-of-all-trades when it came to that particular field of expertise. He was the one who'd taught you almost everything you knew about mechanics and clock-making, and he was the one who bought the workshop and flat in Small Heath years prior. He'd left them both to you when he died six months ago, and you'd moved in a few weeks after his death.

On your walls still hung some of your uncle's pieces. There was a big clock with a shiny ivory face, with a frame made out of beautiful purple wood and decorated with swirls, along with some other clocks all ticking in unison; there were also three copper wire sculptures, part of a series he hadn't been able to finish. They were animals; a bird of paradise from a picture he'd once showed you, a wolf mid-leap, and a cat sitting passively on your desk. You called it Henry–after your uncle–and you liked to think he watched over the shop whenever you were gone.

Henry (your uncle, not the copper cat) had loved the smaller mechanics. The intricate workings of watches an music boxes and typewriters. The smaller machinery. You had taken after him in that aspect, much preferring to tinker with smaller, more delicate components than fix cars or big engines or something like that, which usually required little actual engineering and a whole lot of whacking with a wrench and cursing.

But Birmingham wasn't one for appreciating the finer art of small mechanics. In fact, the majority of your customers in the few months you'd lived here had brought you either cars or guns. Sometimes, if you were really lucky, it was a locomotive that had stopped working like it should, and you'd had to become proficient in steam engineering in two days because no one had listened to you when you'd said you didn't think you were the right person for the job. That had been three weeks since your arrival, and you'd since learned to say no.

You sat down behind your desk, dropped your chin in your hands and stared at Henry, who sat placidly on his wood stand and stared back with shiny copper eyes. "What should I do today, eh?" you muttered, toying listlessly with a spring the width of your finger, making it dance on your desk. Business had been slow these past few days and you were running out of things to do.

Of course, that sort of thoughts are curses, and soon after you would regret thinking them, even though you didn't know that just yet.

The door opened, and you turned to greet the customer, plastering a fake smile on your face and repeating your rather extravagant greeting in your head, but once you recognised the man you froze, the smile falling as fast as it had appeared.

"Morning," said Tommy Shelby, casually casting a glance over the surface of your workshop. You followed him with your gaze as he slowly picked his way over to you, your fingers slipping into one of the pouches on your tool belt and gripping a screwdriver on reflex. You merely nodded a greeting in return.

Behind him entered another figure. Younger than him; tall, thin, a mop of brown hair cut in the ridiculous Peaky Blinder fashion. You were pretty sure it was Finn, the youngest of the four Shelby brothers, but you couldn't be exactly sure. You'd only seen him a few times, and from afar, at that. He didn't seem to be all that content to be here, like he wanted to do nothing more than leave, and you had to agree with him. Please go, you begged silently. Please let this be a mistake.

You couldn't afford to get yourself involved with the Peaky Blinders. Not now, not when you were this close to finally leaving their cursed den.

"What can I do for you, Mr Shelby?" You tried for a smile. Be respectful. Be polite. Try to get them out of your shop as fast as possible.

"This is a nice place," he started, ignoring your question, doing a full turn and raising an eyebrow at you. "Very nice indeed."

"Thank you, sir."

He picked up a fragile piece, bars and springs and pistons and gears hanging on by a thread and you visibly flinched at how roughly he handled it, but dared not open your mouth. He brought it up to his face, inspecting it, and you felt the need to mutter, "It's not finished," because it wasn't and you'd spent days on that single small piece and he could break it at any time if he wasn't careful.

"I don't doubt it," he said before throwing it down again. You cussed under your breath and gingerly picked it up after him, carefully turning it over to inspect any damage. Some gears had shifted from their places and you clenched your teeth as you set it down again and went to search for a pair of pliers and a small screwdriver.

If it had been anyone else, you would have thrown them out immediately. Hell, if it had been anyone else you would have screamed at them to stop touching your fucking stuff and to get the fuck out.

But it wasn't just anyone else.

It was Thomas fucking Shelby, and if Thomas Shelby shows up in your workshop unannounced something is about to go very wrong.

So you kept your head down and snatched up the needed tools, pulling a stool with you so you could fix the damage on the half-finished piece. You squinted, picked at the gears and bars and pursed your lips, waiting for Tommy to say why he was really here. Because there was something else. Tommy Shelby doesn't just stop by for a chat.

And you were right. He swiftly pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and you ground your teeth together. He's just doing it to get a rise out of you, you told yourself. That, and because he's so addicted to the damn things he can't go half an hour without lighting a new one. He'll be gone soon enough.

But he took the cigarette from his lips and said, tapping the ash of the smouldering end onto your floor, "I have a proposition."

That hardly surprised you. He was, after all, nothing more than a businessman.

And then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and took out a gold-coloured pocket watch, dangling it in front of you and ever so slightly pulling a corner of his mouth up into a knowing smile.

You thought you managed pretty well to keep a straight face. With the barest of looks at it, you said, "Does it need fixing?"

It didn't need fixing, and you knew that perfectly well.

Tommy sighed and dropped the watch onto your desk, and you startled slightly, cursing under your breath as the sudden movement again misplaced some of the parts you were trying so hard to piece back together. "Don't play dumb, Y/N."

Oh, so he knew your name. You kept quiet, picking at the last few parts before you were satisfied with the result and picked it up again to tuck it away somewhere it wouldn't get broken again. As you made your way through the various working desks you had stalled out a little haphazardly around your shop, you replied, "Sorry, Mr Shelby, but no."

A cautious silence. "And why not?"

You grabbed a rag and cleaned the dark grease off your hands. "I don't do that kind of work anymore. You'll have to find someone else."

"But you know as well as I do that there is no one else who provides the kind of services you do. It's quite unique."

You clenched your teeth. "In case you misunderstood the first time I said it–I don't do it anymore. Now, unless you have actual work for me, get the fuck out of my shop."

It was probably not a good idea to talk to Tommy Shelby in such a way, but at the moment you were shaken up and didn't give the slightest of shits. Just to give your fingers something to do, you plucked a piece of thin copper wire from your tool belt and started working it in the palm of your hand.

Tommy didn't move. Instead, he took a last puff from his cigarette and flicked the butt onto the ground, which irritated you beyond belief. "Tell me, Y/N. Why did you come here?"

The question took you aback and you blinked. "What?"

"To Birmingham. You must have known it's not quite the place for a kid like yourself to settle down and build a life." He threw a look outside, through the drab window, where a small, dirty boy ran across the street, alone, clenching what looked like a sheet of some kind in his little fist. "I've never seen you around before. So what are you doing here?"

You looked away with a frown. "My uncle left me this place. And–and a flat down the street. But don't worry," you added in a mutter, "I'll be gone from your precious Birmingham as soon as I can."

That got his attention. You could tell. And you also knew then you'd made a mistake, because he'd found something he could use as leverage: your ability to leave. Because to leave, you needed money. And money was something Thomas Shelby had plenty of.

"I'll make my offer again." Out of his pocket came a thick brown envelope and he chucked it onto the desk in front of you. You slowly reached out, keeping your gaze steady on his face, then flicking down to peek inside the envelope. In your head you counted as you flicked through the notes, and your heart started hammering inside your chest.

"Consider that a little extra. Take the job and I'll triple it."

That would bring the total to... "Six thousand pounds?"

Tommy inclined his head. "If you would be so generous as to do what I've asked."

That would mean you only had to do this one job, this one single job, before you could leave. Once this was done, you could just... go. Anywhere. Six thousand pounds. Your fingers mindlessly played with the lip of the envelope, and you noticed the gleam of satisfaction in Tommy's eye. He knew he had you. You took a breath, hollowing out your cheeks and breathing a long exhale.

"Fine," you finally said. "Fine. I'll do it."

Tommy smiled that calculating smile of his. "Ah, fantastic. Good." He pointed at the watch that still lay in a heap on your desk. "I'll just leave that here, then. Get it done in a week."

That was a reasonable deadline. A day or so to get everything you needed from the places you knew in London, then another five to actually assemble it... You should be able to get it done just fine. You'd had worse deadlines.

He nodded, then turned and started out of the shop.

You blinked, then said, "Hey. Wait a minute."

Irritated, he faced you again. "What?"

You folded your arms, the money envelope warm and tingly against the sensitive skin of your fingertips. "I have a few conditions."

Conditions. It hadn't even been half a year and you were already slipping back into the ruthless, dangerous business-like attitude that was the reason you moved out of your former town in the first place. You bit your tongue. It'll only be once. This is the last time. The words felt rather hollow in your mind.

Something flashed in Tommy's eyes. He wasn't used to someone as lowly as you daring to make demands. "Conditions?"

"Just a few."

After a brief second of internal debate he rolled his hand in a Go on gesture.

You took a breath. "You will finance the trips and the supplies that I'll need to get started."

"Of course."

"My name will stay out of this. Completely and absolutely. I am not involved in this project whatsoever."

His eyes shone. "Yes."

"And, lastly," you took another shaky breath, "when I'm done, and I leave this place, none of you will ever contact me in any way, shape, or form again. Ever. And I want that on a contract, in black and white. Signed by you and then by myself."

A beat of silence before he nodded and said, "Alright."

His complacency took you by surprise. You'd expected him to argue, or even plain deny some of your demands. The fact that he went along with them without any remarks had you on edge, because that was not like Tommy Shelby at all.

He popped another cigarette between his lips and lit it. "I'll send someone with the contract when it's ready. You'll get started right after."

Still somewhat suspicious by the ease with which he accepted your conditions, you nodded stiffly, then cast a rather significant look towards the door. Tommy laughed. "Well, Finn, I think it's time for us to go. I don't feel like we're very welcome here."

Finn. You startled. You'd forgotten he was here. He pushed himself off the doorframe he'd been leaning against, then, shooting you a look laced with suspicion and hostility, walked out before his brother. Tommy gave you a last nod, then followed.

You stood behind your desk for a while, mind only just beginning to process what you'd agreed to. Heaving a sigh, you dropped onto a stool, throwing your head back and rubbing your eyes. You glanced at Henry the Copper Cat who, thankfully, still sat on his wooden stand. You had asked for something to do–well, Henry sure had delivered, you thought wryly.

You fingered the envelope that you hadn't let go of since it had found its way into your hands. Two thousand pounds were inside it, and should you complete the job that sum would transform into six thousand.

For a moment, you toyed with the idea to just take the two thousand and leave. Two thousand was already enough to buy a small flat from, and you could just pack up and take the next train to London or something. Change your name and never look back.

But they'd find you. Tommy Shelby would find you, and he'd kill you, and it wouldn't matter how well you'd tried to hide, for he would find you, because he could find anyone. Anywhere. It just wasn't worth the risk.

The contract was to be delivered to you shortly. Until then, all you could really do was wait.

Only a second after Finn Shelby stepped through your door, you raised the visor of your helmet and set down the welding tools you were wielding.

He looked at you for a second, and you looked at him, returning the fierce stare he was giving you. Over his shoulder was slung the strap of a messengers bag. Your eyes narrowed and you took off your helmet with a flourish, plopping it onto your desk. "Out with it."

His face instantly went flat, and his voice came out strangely monotone. "Here is the contract you asked for." He reached in his bag as he walked towards you, and you folded your arms in front of you because you felt like you needed to look at least a little bit confident. At the moment, you felt like you were oozing about as much confidence as a mouse caught between two cats.

"Signed by Mr Thomas Shelby–" He tapped the little box on the paper that bore a small, pointy signature– "and to be signed by Y/N L/N right here." His finger moved to a second box and in the same breath he produced a pen with his other hand that he set down on the file. You pursed your lips, didn't question how he knew both your real first and last name. Last time you checked, you'd been using a fake last name every time someone asked you for it.

You only hesitated for a split second before scribbling down your signature. "All right. You can go now."

But he didn't. Instead he calmly collected the contract, slipping it into an envelope and tucking it in his bag, taking his sweet time. Then he looked at you and kept looking at you until you had to look away out of pure discomfort.

"I don't trust you, you know," he finally said.

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you," you replied breezily. "Now kindly get out of my workshop, I have some errands to run."

Still he didn't move. "Thomas told me about what you do."

You froze and clenched your jaw, hands stilling where they fiddled at the buttons on your welding apron. "What I used to do. It's not–I don't do it anymore."

At his raised eyebrows, you hissed, "I don't usually get paid six thousand pounds for a simple pocket watch bomb, Finn Shelby. If you think I'm going to let that opportunity slide, you're wrong."

He hummed, nodding, toying with his lower lip. "A pocket watch bomb. You don't hear that one often."

You shrugged stiffly. "Well, you know–it's not something everyone uses on the daily."

"Indeed it isn't." A beat of silence passed as you collected your gear and put everything in their respective storage boxes.

Then a question popped up in your mind and it fell past your lips before you could stop yourself. "How did you find me, anyway? I thought I'd been pretty thorough in my identity erasing business."

"Oh, you had, that's why it took us this long to be sure about who you were. You know, this place has been stood empty for almost two decades, and suddenly you show up, with all the paid contracts, and no one remembers even seeing you around... I mean, that's bound to arise some suspicion."

He was talking so carefully, selecting every word as if from a catalogue and piecing them together like beads on a necklace. It reminded you of the way Tommy talked. Their tones were so similar it was almost creepy.

But something about it was... off, somehow. He was thinking too much about it. Trying too hard to make it sound natural, and you guessed it could have sounded natural to anyone who wasn't listening as closely as you were. Why someone would try this hard to be like Tommy Shelby in any way, shape, or form was beyond you, but you guessed it was something like brotherly admiration or something. You didn't know. You didn't have siblings.

"Nothing happens in this wretched place without Tommy knowing about it, eh?" You were only half-joking, but the serious nod Finn gave you wiped the smile off your face as quickly as it had appeared.

"I guess so."

You breathed an exasperated sigh. "Well, like I said, I have some errands to run. And I don't think Tommy would be very happy if he knew you'd been keeping me from my work."

He perked up. "Ah, yes. About that–I'm coming with you."

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes. "Like Hell you are. I can do this just fine on my own."

"Tommy's orders."

"Of course they're Tommy's fucking orders," you mumbled under your breath, snatching your coat and your hat from their hangers. "Fine. But I'm stopping by my flat to get cleaned up and changed and you're not coming in."

You stretched out your cleaning-up as long as you physically could, even considering running an entire bath, but you felt like that would be taking it just a tad too far. Finn was only staying outside to humour you. He was a Shelby for God's sake; he could come and go wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased. Besides, you did have a train to catch.

You tugged on some gloves and a scarf and finally stepped out of your flat, a good forty-five minutes later. Finn looked rather unhappy at being left in the cold for so long. Tough luck. Bet he's never had to wait for anything in his life, you thought bitterly.

"Let's go," he grumbled. "Train leaves in twenty minutes."

You'd half expected him to keep peppering you with questions the entire ride, but he kept silent most of it, ignoring you and looking out the window, which was fine by you. The first question only came when the both of you had stepped out into the busy streets of London.

"When did you start doing this?"

"What, making bombs?" You scoffed at the slightly panicked look he cast around, like he expected to be jumped any moment. "Calm down. Nobody's heard us. Besides, even if they had, you could shout out that you're on your way to shoot the fucking King and no heads would turn."

"Ah. You didn't answer my question, though."

"Fine. If you're so keen on knowing, I started... five, six years ago? I can't really remember."

He looked at you, surprised. "But weren't you just a kid back then?"

You shrugged, kicking a pebble out of your way. "I mean, yeah."

That was all you were going to tell him.

The truth was that you did start making bombs when you were a kid. In fact, you made your first one when you were just thirteen; and back then you hadn't even known exactly what you were putting your effort into. Your uncle Henry had been seeing people, strange people you hadn't seen about the shop before, and you were curious as to what they were talking about. It would have been business, little twelve-year-old you supposed; they went into the back room to discuss, and you weren't allowed in the back room, so naturally you eavesdropped on them every at chance you got.

But as far as you knew, they talked about watches and clocks, and times and other such cryptic details whose meanings you couldn't figure out. When you curiously asked your uncle about it–because you were twelve and had little to no verbal filter–he'd patted you on the head and told you not to worry about it. You hadn't, because you were twelve and Henry had just started teaching you how to build clocks, and he said he'd let you run wild and design your own proper clock when you had the basics down and that was the most exciting thing to happen in ages.

And then, around a month after your thirteenth birthday, Henry had sat you down and explained that sometimes, when money was tight and one has people to look after, one made certain choices that one otherwise wouldn't make.

He'd explained who the men were–the ones you'd overheard him talking to–and what they wanted, and he'd told you that he was giving you a choice: to either go and live at Mrs Bunting's–whom he had talked to and who had agreed to take you in–and find a job at another mechanic's, start over; or to stay with him and lead a life filled with danger and uncertainties. I won't be able to protect you from this forever, he'd said.

You had not hesitated a single second.

You were to stay.

And people always had something to say about you. Always they had that look in their eye when you were out to run errands for Henry, for they had their own suspicions about what he did; when they once had been so kind and welcoming towards you they turned away and whispered behind their hands.

You had known the dangers when you accepted to stay. You had known exactly what you were getting yourself into. More than once, when a job was completed and the bomb was on its merry way, you questioned whether the choice you'd made was the right one. Always you came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. Because the choice had already been made, and there was no backing out now. And while you sometimes wondered about it, you found that you didn't really have any regrets. You just did what people wanted from you, no question asked.

Did that make you a bad person?

You shook your head, forcing your mind to refocus on the present. Your feet had carried you to the street you needed to be, and you briefly scanned the signs hanging out front of the shops before ducking into the one you were looking for.

The shop was lit by oil lamps casting a yellowish glow over the various items; spices and wood and candles and powders, exactly like you remembered. It seemed innocent enough, but you knew first-hand that you shouldn't always trust appearances.

The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow and puffed out a cloud of smoke, plucking a pipe from his lips. "Well I'll be damned. It's you. Didn't expect seein' you round 'ere again."

You nodded. "Jimmy."

"Yer usual, eh?"

"Please."

Jimmy grinned wide at you, barely paying any mind to Finn bar a subtle once-over, then shouted over his shoulder, "OI, HARRY! Y/N's order!"

From the back came a grunt. "Y/N? What's them doing here?"

"None of yer business, lad. Just do what's fuckin' asked of ye."

You threw Finn a look, fingering your sleeve cuff. A loose thread was hanging off it and you plucked at it, just to give your hands something to do. "Jim was my uncle's friend," you muttered out of the corner of your mouth, because you felt like you should justify his jovial behaviour. Then you caught yourself. You didn't have to justify shit. Especially not to Finn fucking Shelby.

After a few minutes of rummaging round the back, Harry appeared in the doorway and tossed you a burlap bag the size of a chicken. You caught it with a grin and winked at him, causing him to flush a bright pink. Poor old Harry had always had a soft spot for you, even though he was a couple of years younger. You tossed the owed money onto the counter and Jimmy sank lower in his chair, puckering at his pipe.

"So how've you been holdin' up, kid?"

You knew he was talking about uncle Henry, and you shrugged. "You know." As far as vague answers went, this was one of your better ones.

Jimmy nodded gravely, like he knew exactly what you were talking about. "Aye. Well, on you go. See you around, kiddo."

You threw him a wave over your shoulder as you exited the store.

"That was so weird," huffed Finn as soon as you were outside again. You gave him a side-eyed look. He scoffed. "Are all your friends like that?"

"I mean–Jim and Harry are pretty much my only friends, and I see them maybe once every two months. So yeah. All my friends are like that."

It was quiet for a moment and you kept a brisk pace towards your next destination, huddling your hands in your coat for warmth. Then Finn said, "But you had friends before, right. Back where you're from."

"Actually, not really. I was kind of... weird, as a kid. I mean, I built bombs in my free time, what'd you expect?" You forced out a laugh. You didn't like talking about this. It was a phase of your life you'd put behind you, and recounting it to Finn now was doing nothing but resurface bad memories. "My uncle was my best friend, but he died. In Small Heath nobody'll even look at me, but I think that's just how people interact with each other there, so I don't take it too personally." You thought that would be the end of it.

He kept quiet for a while, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. But then he said, "Didn't you ever get lonely?" and it was so unexpected that you almost stopped short in the middle of the street.

You only just managed to catch yourself. "Sometimes." And you left it at that.

The rest of the trip passed in relative silence, and at each of the two stops you made the store clerks recognised you, and a bit of slightly awkward conversation followed. Finn always stood behind you, looking only the slightest bit out of place, and though he attracted some questioning stares you always ignored them, or any inquiry pertaining to him. When someone asked who he was, you cut them off with the curt answer of "A friend." It couldn't be further from the truth, of course–Finn was anything but your friend–but it was easier than having to explain the whole ordeal.

When you had everything you needed, you stood out in the streets for a moment, just watching passersby and keeping a casual but firm hand on your burlap supplies bag. "Let's have tea," you said suddenly.

Finn cast you a look. "What?"

"Tea. You know, the drink with the leaves and the warm water and biscuits and shit."

"I fucking know what tea is."

"Fantastic. Let's have some, then."

"Now?"

"Why not? Our train doesn't leave for another hour and a half and I know a place not too far from here."

He only hesitated for a second before he said, "Alright."

You stirred your tea–needlessly, because you take your tea plain without neither sugar nor milk–and watched Finn spoon heapfuls of sugar into his cup. There was a moment of silence before you finally asked the question that had been eating at you since you had received this assignment. "Say, Finn."

"Hm?"

"Who's the bomb for, anyway?"

It was a reasonable question. Tommy Shelby wouldn't have had a bomb made just because he felt like it. He could have anyone killed by anyone–he'd hired assassins before, you'd heard–so why did he want a bomb to do the job now?

Finn shrugged way too casually for someone who's about to share the name of the man his brother wants dead. "Someone who pissed off the wrong people. He's got this fucking amazing security system around him, though, because apparently that's something he does often–piss important people off, I mean–and like you said before, a pocket-watch-bomb isn't something most people expect to get killed by."

You found it a solid answer, and left it at that.

But he was getting jittery, his knee bouncing restlessly under the table. He wasn't able to keep his hands still, fingers tapping the ear of his cup one second then running along the side of the table the next. His incessant fidgeting was making you nervous as well and you plunked down your cup.

"What's your problem?" you hissed, lightly kicking him under the table.

He looked up suddenly, eyes wide like he'd forgotten you were there. "Nothing."

"You're a shit liar, Finn Shelby."

"Fuck off." But there was a small grin tugging at the ends of his lips, and you felt oddly happy that you were the cause of it, which was stupid, because you'd only just met the guy.

"I'm serious. What's wrong?"

He shrugged again, curling his fingers around his cup, bringing it to his lips to take a tentative sip, then wincing against the heat of the drink. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"None of your fucking business."

You raised your brows. "Alright, mate. Calm down."

He looked away, still managing to look serious as everything with his stupid haircut that was now exposed for everyone to see since he took off his hat when he entered the tearoom, which was a gesture of politeness you hadn't expected from a Shelby boy.

You eyed the cap with equal apprehension and grudging admiration. It was symbolic of the Blinders, who got their name thanks to the razor-blades sewn into the fold of the caps. Not very obvious from a distance, but it only took one well-placed ray of light to hit the shiny metal to spot the blades, and paired with the natural Don't Fuck With Me-looks that most of the Shelby boys seemed to be born with (except for Finn–you were still finding it hard to be intimidated by his baby-faced, lanky figure) it made for quite threatening appearances.

But Finn was growing moody and quiet very quickly, and that was no fun to be around, so you kicked his shin one more time for good measure, knocked back your tea (unpleasant company isn't an excuse to let a perfectly good cup of tea go to waste) and stood. "Let's go. Train leaves in thirty minutes."

You were at the station early, but you'd already found out that when Finn got grumpy he wasn't great conversationalist, so you settled for looking at the trains rumble past and the passengers they carried. You'd always liked to people-watch. It was a way to pass the time, and it was fun to judge innocent passersby.

As soon as you got out of the train back in Small Heath, though, he seemed to regain some of his good humour, and as he walked you home he even cracked a few smiles. That was largely due to your constant joking around, trying to keep the atmosphere light. Still grinning, you walked up to your front door and stuck in the key.

"Thank you so very much for walking me to my door. Like a true gentleman."

Finn tipped his hat. "Now's when you would invite me in for a drink."

"What, like the cheap whore you take me to be? No, no, dear Shelby boy, you're sleeping alone tonight," you laughed.

With that, you shut the door behind you.

You climbed the stairs to your bedroom, deposited the burlap bag onto the floor and walked up to your window. Down below, Finn was just walking away. You spotted him on the far end of the street, and you tugged the curtain closed right as he rounded the corner.

It was only two days until you saw him again.

In fact, he let himself into your workshop, making more noise than was strictly necessary and causing you to start in your seat. You pushed up the working goggles that perched on the bridge of your nose. "The fuck're you doing here? I got five more days, Tommy said."

Finn scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, yeah. Tommy also said I should be keeping an eye on you."

For a few long, long seconds, you just stared at him. "So your brilliant idea was to do what? Babysit me while I do my job?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

You scoffed and flicked the goggles back onto your face. "Well, I hope you brought a book or something. One of those fancy crossword puzzles, or whatever it is they call them. I'm going to be busy."

"Can't read."

"Then it's going to be a long fucking day for you, mate."

Finn shrugged, approaching a stool, prepared to let himself drop on it.

"No," you said without looking up, prodding at a small part with a tiny screwdriver.

"What?"

"Not there. I need that."

"Then where am I allowed to sit?" He sounded irritated already, and an idea started to form in your head. Maybe if you pissed him off enough he would fuck off and let you work.

"The ground. But not there, there, or there," you said, pointing at a couple of completely random spots on the ground. That left a single small space in the right-hand corner, and you expected Finn to either flat-out refuse or just walk out the door, but he obediently plopped down and folded his legs beneath him. You looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment. So he was stubborn. Alright. You could be stubborn too.

Without a word you went back to your work.

He managed for exactly an hour and a half before he started to get jittery, getting up and pacing around the room.

"No, no, absolutely not," you said sharply when he reached out to touch Henry the copper cat.

His hand froze in mid-air. "I purposely chose the one thing that doesn't look fragile."

"Leave Henry alone."

"You named a cat statue Henry?"

You bristled, feeling your shoulders bunch around your ears. "He's named after my uncle."

"Oh." A silence. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong," you muttered distractedly, concentration mostly directed to the tiny gear you were preparing to drop into place with a pair of tweezers.

It was silent again for a moment, and you worked, but you were aware of Finn in your surroundings every second of every hour that passed. It made you more nervous, absent-minded, and you caught yourself on multiple occasions skipping a step in the building process or almost dropping a part, which never happened.

It was Finn. Not even him specifically, but his presence, the fact that there was someone looking over your shoulder as you built, was unsettling and made your mind deviate from the task at hand, which is not the best of things when one is constructing a bomb.

Whatever the case, you needed to get him out. Away, at least for a bit. So that you could actually make progress on this damn thing, otherwise you wouldn't even make the deadline Tommy had set for you.

Setting down your tools and popping the joints in your neck, you said, "I'm fucking starving."

Finn looked up, eyebrows raised.

You nodded encouragingly at him, picking up your screwdriver again and waving it around. "What are you waiting for? Get some food."

"I'm not your fucking chambermaid," he spluttered.

"Nah, I wish. But you're all I've got, sadly. Go on, make yourself useful while I build this here bomb." You pointed your screwdriver down at the mess of parts in front of you and grinned.

Finn narrowed his eyes, but apparently you had made a solid argument, because after a brief moment of evaluating he tore open the door and stomped outside. You blew out a breath, sitting back in your chair and taking a moment to stretch your legs and neck and shoulders and work your jaw, which had all been tense and cramped up.

Then you sat back down and continued working, this time with nothing but the blissful tick-tocking of the clock to keep you company.

About an hour later, Finn returned with a pack of sandwiches, and you perked up, only just realising that you really had been starving.

He handed you one, and you tore into it with gusto, letting your head fall back and breathing out a sigh of contentment. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his look of amusement and a questioning glint in his eyes. You swallowed, then said, "I don't always have time to eat proper lunch when I'm working."

Finn let his head fall to the side. "Y/N."

"... And I might not have eaten this morning, either.'

"Y/N."

"I'm eating now, aren't I? You sound like my fucking mum."

He pouted and took a bite out of his own sandwich, and for a moment you munched in silence.

Then you rolled your eyes. "Thank you for the sandwiches."

"Thank my aunt. She made them."

You felt your eyebrows shoot up again. "Polly fucking Gray made me sandwiches?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"No fucking way."

The look on your face must have been one of full-fledged bafflement, for he cast one look at your features and burst out laughing. The sound was contagious; intoxicating, even, and you found yourself joining him not soon after.

The days passed like that for the rest of the week. Finn would come to your workshop about ten minutes after you'd opened up, and he'd spend the morning walking around, even helping out sometimes when he could, sometimes interjecting with a question or a remark. You'd answer him, and somehow the chats would always end up with you taking the piss out of his hair or his clothes and him telling you to fuck off, but neither of you really put any bite into your words and would be able to suppress your grins in the end.

Then you'd order him to get you lunch, and he'd give a mocking bow and show up an hour later with freshly made sandwiches or boiled eggs and you'd sit at your desk, talking about anything and everything.

On the fifth day, when he came in, you pointed at him. "Oi. You're gonna be extra fucking quiet today. I don't have a lot left to do, but I gotta do it right. Wouldn't want to disappoint Tommy, eh?"

Finn saluted, then sank down in his corner and made himself small, curling up into a bal, which just looked comical given his tall frame and non-flexibility.

"I said extra-quiet, you shit. What are you doing?"

Finn looked up at you from under his lashes. "I'm melting into my surroundings."

"Right." You shook your head and tugged on your gloves before getting to work, and before long you were completely absorbed in your craft.

What was left to do was only the outside shell; the golden plaques modelled after the watch Tommy had left you, the clock-face and the tiny hands indicating the passage of time, the shiny button that would simultaneously act as a detonator. This was the more artistic part of the process, the part of the watch that everyone would see; and it was your job to make sure it looked pretty enough that someone would accept it as an impromptu gift but clean enough so that no one would suspect the true nature of the object.

You worked for hours, and at this point you had learned how to block out Finn's rummaging around in the back until it was nothing but white noise. When you looked up, he would meet your eyes briefly; you'd throw fleeting smiles at each other then you would bend over your work again.

The silence in the shop was soft and comforting. It was familiar, nothing but the sound of the wind howling outside and your own muttering to keep you company. Finn had faded to the background, as he always did.

There was a tap on your shoulder and you almost jumped, feeling your shoulders tense up for a moment until you realised that it was just Finn, and you forced your muscles to relax again. Upon closer inspection, you noticed the bag he carried, and a glance at the clock told you that it was far past lunchtime.

Finn cleared his throat. "You didn't tell me to get lunch, but I did it anyway. Because you need to eat."

You took a sandwich from him and sat back, rubbing your eyes. "Thanks. I'm almost done."

"Good."

"What, are you finally cracking under the pressure of loneliness?" you laughed, flicking a piece of ham at him.

He gave you a small smile in return. "I wasn't lonely."

That shut you up, and you ate the rest of your lunch in silence. For the first time, the air between the two of you was thick with tension and unspoken words. He had questions and he had things to say, but he kept his mouth shut and you didn't know why. He was a Shelby, wasn't he? Shelby boys weren't known for sparing people's feelings.

Maybe it was the the fact that this was probably the last lunch you'd share.

Though it stung to admit, you had grown used to his presence in your shop. You'd grown used to seeing him stroll in every morning, and having him walk you to your door when you would decide to call it a day.

You'd never been truly lonely before, but you were finally starting to understand what it could feel like.

"Let's get this thing done, eh?" you mumbled, brushing the last crumbs off your hands.

Finn nodded, flipping his cap back onto his hair.

"Your hair's still ugly. Hiding it with the cap won't do shit," you told him, just because.

Finn sighed, but his smile grew that little bit wider, and it was worth it.

And after another two hours, you were finally done. You blew out a breath and held up the watch by its chain, admiring your handiwork.

Finn looked over, expression growing excited once he realised you were finished. "Is it done?"

"I think it is," you mused.

He scrambled up and joined you. "It doesn't look like a bomb."

"That's the point, Finn dear."

You deposited the watch carefully into a wooden box filled with cotton after making sure that the detonator button was firmly fixated with a wooden separator. "I'll get this to Tommy right away."

For a moment, Finn just looked at you, nibbling on his lower lip. Then he said, "Come celebrate."

"What?"

"Tommy will want to celebrate. He's been going on and on about how badly he wants this guy dead, and he's never been able to slip past his defences. Now you're handing him the solution on a silver platter."

"In a wooden box, actually."

Finn ignored you. "Come celebrate with us. At the Garrison."

You looked away, saying nothing, and Finn nudged your arm with his elbow. "Come on. You deserve it."

"I'll look out of place," you protested, but even you could hear how weak the words sounded.

"Just... For once, don't go straight home, all right? Come have some fun."

Fun. The word sounded distant and far-away. You hadn't had some proper fun in ages. Of course, you loved building, you loved working, but it was different than a night out with friends, or just a moment of quiet and peace for yourself where you didn't have to worry about stuff exploding in your very hands.

Fun. A night out drinking, at a bar.

With Finn.

"I'll think about it," you said, quickly turning away and wrapping your scarf around your neck, just for an excuse not to look at him.

"I'll see you tonight," he called after you as you left the shop.

"Maybe," you replied over your shoulder, even though you'd already made your decision.

– – –

You walked into Shelby Company Limited without knocking, and immediately you were greeted by a sharp voice. "Oi. What's your business?"

You turned and smiled at the tall woman who'd spoken. "I'm here to see Tommy Shelby."

She scowled. "Mr Shelby's busy right now."

You smiled, jutting your chin up, the box in your bag seeming to grow warmer. "I think he'll make an exception for me."

She rolled her eyes, asked for your name. You gave it to her and watched as she strode over to Tommy's office. She appeared a moment later and informed you that Mr Shelby would see you now. You nodded your thanks and slipped past her into the office.

Tommy took his time setting his pen down, adjusting his glasses, taking a moment to shift the papers on his desk exactly half a millimeter, and lighting a cigarette before nodding at you to take a seat. You brushed a strand of hair out of your face and did so, nervously shuffling your feet on the ground. It wasn't that you were scared of Tommy Shelby–you were the one with the bomb, after all–but his perpetual threatening calmness always set you on edge. The very act of being around him had you anticipating an attack on your person, which was stupid.

You fumbled in your bag and took out the box, placing it on the desk in front of Tommy with your tongue between our lips and a look of utmost concentration on your face, as if any sudden movement could detonate the bomb inside. It couldn't–you wouldn't even have made it to the office if it could–but it never hurt to be careful, and you had to admit you were a little nervous.

Tommy blew out a puff of smoke and slid the box across the surface of the desk, slowly lifting the lid. He appeared satisfied with what he saw, and carefully replaced the cover after a minute of observation.

"So, that's it, then?"

You blinked. "Um. Yes?" You didn't quite know what he meant, so the word came ou sounding more like a question.

Tommy pushed out his cigarette in the ashtray, where it sent thin tendrils of smoke curling up into the air, and leant forward, his fingers entwined. "The watch. The bomb. There it is, in its little box. That is it."

"Yes."

He nodded. "Explain to me how it works."

For a second you just stared at him, not quite sure if he was messing with you or not. In a hesitant voice, you started to explain, sometimes stumbling on the words. "Well. The watch is just the cover, really, designed to conceal the explosives inside. The crown is the detonator." You gestured to the crown of your own watch, twisting it with unsure fingers. "It's not activated yet. There's a safety block that has to be removed before you can move the crown in any way."

You paused, and Tommy rolled his hand. You coughed awkwardly. You never had to explain how the damn things worked; you only built them. It had been Henry's job to share the finer details of the bomb, how it worked, what to do and not to do. You weren't very skilled at putting your work into words, because you never really had to think about it as you built; it was almost an automatism by now, and now that an outsider with little to no knowledge of the craft asked you to explain it, your brain blanked.

Yet you continued on, struggling to form concepts into concrete thoughts, and into words. "The seconds hand is set on the twelve, and will remain so as the user sets the time; once the crown is pushed, the seconds will start ticking. A minute will go by before detonation; one full revolution of the hand."

Tommy nodded again, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. Minutes passed, and he still didn't speak, and you were starting to panic slightly. Then you told yourself to grow the fuck up, and that nothing bad's gonna happen, and that he probably just needed to process the mess of information you'd just spouted at him.

"So we have one minute before detonation once the crown's pushed," he mused finally.

"One minute."

You could almost see the gears in his head turn, the forming of a plan that had been non-existent just a few moments prior. Then he sat back in his chair, and all the tension in the room dissipated at once. He pulled open a drawer on his right, and out came a familiar-looking envelope. He held it out to you. "The agreed upon compensation. The extra charges for the train to London and the supplies are all accounted for."

You took the envelope, peeking inside (because you felt you had to–not because you mistrusted Tommy Shelby. For all his threatening and crime-doing, he was a man of his word if nothing else) before stuffing it in your bag.

There were still questions burning at the back of your throat, begging to be asked. Like whom exactly the bomb was destined for. Whose life was it going to end. Finn hadn't given you a name, after all. And why he had chosen you of all people; this weapon of all weapons. But you didn't think he would answer any of them, and it was none of your business what was going on inside his head anyway.

"Thank you, Y/N. You did well."

You nodded and mumbled your thanks, pushing the rebellious strand of hair away from your face. Then something else popped up in your mind, and you gave a breathy laugh.

"At least you can tell Finn to stop pestering me all day when I should be working," you said half-jokingly.

Tommy gazed at you, face blank as a fresh canvas. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You laughed again, but it sounded like nervous chitter to your ears. "Well. You know. He told me you'd said to keep an eye on me. Or something. He took the job seriously, I'll give him that."

At that, Tommy shook his head slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He plucked his pen from its stand, and popped the cap on the end. "Tonight's celebratory drinks at the Garrison, as I'm sure Finn has told you. I want you to be there."

That still rubbed you the wrong way. "What are we celebrating?" you found the nerve to ask.

After a small pause, Tommy puckered his lips and said, "The erasure of one more shitstain from the face of this Earth," which you found rather dramatic, but also gave you the feeling that this was an important fellow, if his death warranted celebratory drinks. The thought made you uneasy. What if you knew this man? What if you read about his death–his murder–in the papers tomorrow, and you recognised the name, and you would have to live forever with the burden of knowing you made it possible?

You had been making bombs for six years, but this was the first time that the consequences were so tangible. It had never felt... real before, somehow. Maybe it was because you'd never actually seen the people who you built the bombs for. Maybe it was because you were, for the first time, alone in it, when you had been able to share your feelings with uncle Henry before.

Then Tommy added, "And the crucial part you took in it," and that made you feel even worse.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Existence - Part 1

Summary: After his death, Sungjin had no idea why he was bound to the manor house but meeting Pearl gave him a reason to exist.

Pairing: Park Sungjin x OC, featuring reader & Day6

World: Spiritual Connection

Genre: ghost au / slow burn / romance / angst

Warnings: death

A/N: Welcome to Existence, a spinoff from Spiritual Connection. When I wrote the Brian/Day6 series, Sungjin’s moment with Y/N was actually unplanned from the original outline but it’s one of my favourite parts in the story. A lot of you also agreed and wanted to explore more of what got him to that point. So did I, and so here we are!

Since Pearl was established as a character in the series, I’ve chosen to write her instead of making her a reader insert. This story is also covering from the late 1800s to present time, so there was a lot to fit in, hence why it’s broken into two parts.

Word count: 3886

Index: 1 | 2 | Spiritual Connection

He never thought existing would be so difficult. After all, Sungjin had lived in this world for twenty-five years before he had died.

And in those twenty-five years, he had learned a lot about survival. The Industrial Revolution had made advances to those living after its time, and most noblemen were now focused on living a life of pleasure, parties and prestige.

Not that he had been destined to such a lifestyle.

He was by no means stricken by poverty, working the vast fields and gardens around a large estate was no easy task. Getting recognised for the sculpting he could do of the land meant he had no worries of where his next meal came from. And the Duke who owned the land he groomed meticulously had even gone as far as to build him and his team their own home. It held a grand neo-gothic facade on the outside, showing wealth and power to all those who saw it. On the inside, well, it was merely functional.

And that had been all Sungjin had ever wished for.

As he stared around the house he now sat within, he wondered why he had cherished this place like no either. Its walls enclosed on him and his misery a little bit more by the day. It made no sense to him, to any of them. The four others who had died along with him in the great fire of the main house were all that remained. Where was everyone else? He had woken to find chaos, smoke and ruin all around. His master was gone and left a widow and three children behind. The majority of the fire he had been attempting to put out was now smouldering ash on the ground.

All that was left was the godforsaken tower home, and no power, prestige or pleasure would come from being stuck in it. 

It took what seemed like decades before someone searched for more than cobwebs in their home. In reality, it had only been two years and the land that once was owned by the Duke of the county now had been sold, gifted and divided between many. The portion that was on the hillside closest to the sea had been sold to a small family, so Brian had heard when he was outside working in the gardens out of habit. Sungjin couldn’t face the outside world since passing into the afterlife; not that being indoors did much for him either. But he was fascinated by the changes that started to occur to his little home. The family had big ideas to build on several extensions that would make his functional little tower home into a grand manor by the sea.

And through this process, the walls extended out around him.

“Look, they’re adding on another wing!” Wonpil enthused, the sound of construction pounding from dawn to dusk.

It was rather impressive when they were done, the two bedroom turret tower now a vast, seven bedroom home with multiple day rooms, a study, large kitchen, dining and amenities that would ease the lives of those who would inhabit it. Even his friends were thrilled with the extension of their home, spreading throughout the building and no longer stuck in the same spot. Sungjin had chosen a ground level bedroom to spend his days within. It held a great view of the sea and sky from facing the cliffside and brought him some peace in this confusing overstay on Earth.

The puzzle of why he and his friends remained stuck on this land, as protectors of their home, still eluded him. Acceptance had arrived, as did the new residents.

They were loud people.

From parties to arguments, all this family could do was shrill from the top of their lungs. It had felt promising to have his home grander than ever. Now, he hoped for the simplicity to come back.

It was incredibly frustrating to simply exist in a place that was no longer his.

Still, nothing he or his friends came up with worked.

“I once read we should see a light come forth.”

“Candlelight?” Dowoon asked, pointing to what was illuminating the drawing room they were in. Jae smacked his friend around the head and groaned.

“No, an actual light. Maybe a tunnel and we get to walk through it.”

“Where does it lead to?” Wonpil wondered and Brian shrugged.

“Perhaps it’s towards paradise.”

“Jae, the book you were reading was the Bible and the light would lead us to salvation,” Sungjin announced, sighing heavily.

“Are we the damned then?”

“We only did our best to help our master until the explosion,” Wonpil mentioned with a pout and everyone fell silent.

And then Jae stood up, shaking his head before fetching his guitar from the corner of the room. His tune was troubled, much like their hearts were.

This sombre mood travelled into the new century where the manor house saw several owners come and go. The loud family came into money and moved to bigger prospects. The next fell into ruin and the house went into possession of the bank.

Sungjin watched grandeur enter and leave in an endless cycle until new money arrived in the late 1930s. A family with three children, though only giggles filled the home this time. He was enamoured by the way the light seemed to shine brighter in the manor house. It transformed, carrying a spirit from the past and meshing with the new with every pass of Ring around the Rosie played in the grand entrance.

It was a year later when everything changed.

“Won’t you play with me?” the youngest asked, doors opening and closing as she searched for her siblings.

“Jacob, Ruby, where are you?!” she called out desperately, opening the door to the downstairs bedroom that was now a guest room. She stepped inside, climbing up onto the large bed with a huff, cursing under her breath about being left behind yet again.

Sungjin lifted his focus from the book he was reading and chuckled at her disposition, deciding the youngest child of the family was definitely the most spirited.

“Who are you?” she suddenly wondered aloud and Sungjin looked up again to see who she was talking to. Staring right at him, he blinked, closing the book slowly and then pointed to himself. “Yes, you. I have never seen you before.”

“You can see me?” he tentatively questioned and with all innocence, she bounced her head up and down. Sungjin was amazed. “Really, you can see me?”

“Can you not see yourself?” she replied with a giggle, pointing to the mirror across from him. He smiled sadly and shrugged. Hesitance now gone, the little girl approached Sungjin and sat down across from him. “Do you have a name? Mine is Pearl. I’m the youngest lady of this house.”

Sungjin grinned. “The youngest lady?”

“Of course, don’t you see how much I’m growing? Why, I will be eight this summer!”

“Eight is a mighty fine age to be,” he told her and she grinned, giggling once again. “And my name is Sungjin.”

“Sungjin,” Pearl repeated, smiling as she liked how it rolled off her tongue. “Sungjin, do you know of a game to play?”

“A game?”

Pearl nodded again, leaning forward in earnest. What games did children enjoy these days? He was so out of touch with the world by now. Only one came to mind. “Hide and seek.”

“Will you play it with me? My brother says I’m too annoying to mind and my sister is learning a new skill. They say it will give her marrying prospects. Yuck! Imagine marrying because you can sew well.”

Sungjin chuckled at her open disdain. “Sewing will be a handy skill to have.”

“Can you sew?”

“Some.”

“Then I need not worry about it all. Shall we play now? Oh please, I wish to have fun again now that everyone else is boring and growing up.”

She reached out for his hand then, startling Sungjin at her ability to touch him as if he were among the living.

It was then that he found a purpose for his existence. Although he didn’t need to, he took in a deep breath, renewed by Pearl’s discovery.

And his own.

For years, Pearl enjoyed running around the house calling out to her friends. She would beg Brian for one more game and Sungjin to help her hide. She would always give herself away by giggling, perhaps too excited to have the turn to find her friends instead.

It worried the adults within the home.

“Pearl, you need to go out today.”

“But why mama, Sungjin and I-”

“My dear, I have no idea who your friend is that you talk of but it’s time for you to meet others to play with. Bring home friends from school, won’t you?”

“None of them want to play hide and seek though. They say at age twelve we shouldn’t run amuck as I do.”

“Perhaps they’re right,” her mother agreed, straightening out the collar to Pearl’s coat she had fastened her into.

The young girl glanced up at the five men watching on, Wonpil gesturing with his hands to go out and play. It took a little more convincing, but eventually, Pearl left with her mother to run errands.

“Well, it’s a good thing, right? I mean, how many places can we hide in now? She knows of them all,” Jae surmised, scratching the back of his head.

“I like when she giggles, it’s so easy to find her.”

“Or when she catches us as if it’s the greatest achievement of her life,” Brian added on to Dowoon’s statement, and Sungjin smiled fondly, eyes travelling to the front door.

“She needs to discover the world out there though, playing with us every day won’t be something Pearl can continue doing for much longer.”

He had been right. Pearl managed to make new friends, though it perplexed her whenever they came over to the house. “She said I was fibbing! Me, a liar?! I would never do such a thing!”

“Well, it’s not as if you can show your friend evidence, Pearl.”

“Sungjin, my reputation is on the line here. If Harriet goes back to school and proclaims I see spirits to everyone, will anyone sit with me at lunchtime? What will I do if I get picked last in class for teamed events? This is rubbish!”

“You sound awfully a lot like Jae these days,” he mused, turning back to his book.

“And you remind me of a bear. Are you hibernating? Where is your energy? I thought we would play today!”

“Don’t you have sewing to learn for the next hour?”

“I sew well enough, thank you.”

“Piano then.”

“Surely we can go a day without hearing me fumble through classical music that my short fingers have no part in playing.”

Sungjin grinned at her stubbornness. “Cooking?”

“We have Mary for that, and she’s as fit as a fiddle. Any more excuses? How about poetry? I had a session yesterday with Brian. Gardening? You showed me how to prune a rose bush last week. What else would a young lady of my status need? Ah yes, exercise. Now come!”

“Fussy little thing!”

“I will hold you accountable if you continue to sour my mood, Sungjin!”

They played all afternoon long and heard the scolding Pearl received for acting like a child over dinner. Throwing herself through the guest bedroom door, she came in and dashed right over to where he sat on the floor, diving into his arms.

“I don’t want to grow up. I don’t wish to let go of all of this. They tell me I am going mad, that I made you all up. Maybe I am mad! But to me you’re real.”

“We once were,” he reminded softly, stroking Pearl’s hair. “But now, maybe they are right. I don’t want you to miss out on any opportunities for a good life, Pearl.”

“And I won’t if I remain your friend, will I?”

“You might.”

“I won’t,” she concluded, though an air of uncertainty followed. “Hopefully, I won’t.”

The next morning, Pearl had a new resolve. She ignored Wonpil’s morning greeting. She side-stepped around Dowoon who came to hug her. As she dressed and readied herself for school, Pearl was cold, as if something had come into her body overnight and removed her remaining childlike spirit.

Pearl was the very image of a young lady ascending into puberty over the next three months.

No longer did she learn poetry with Brian at all, and focused on improving her piano skills. Her cross stitch was excellent and cooking ability grew greatly. With all the years of playing, she had somewhat neglected the normal growth around her. And so in those three months, she worked herself day in and out to prove something of herself that Sungjin couldn’t quite figure out.

It made her burn out completely.

Jumping when the door opened in the middle of the night, Sungjin looked up from the bed he laid upon, seeing what appeared to be a ghost in the doorway. Blinking, he realised it was Pearl, her eyes searching slowly around the room. When they connected with his, she started to move, running the distance from the door to the bed, diving into his embrace.

“I can’t do it!” she wailed, echoing around the room. “I don’t want to forget you! How can I? When you are all that brings me joy!”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, running his hand over her back gently. “Calm down, you can be who you want to be.”

“You mean that?” she asked as she pulled back and Sungjin nodded, wiping away the tear-stains on her cheeks. She grinned then, diving back into hug him again tightly. “Promise me you won’t ever leave me.”

“I’m bound to this house, where would I go?”

“You know what I mean, promise me. I can’t live another day without you, Sungjin. Without you all. Please, please don’t let me go.”

Staring at her as she shifted back in his arms again, Sungjin searched her face. If only Pearl knew just how much she has changed everything. Because of her, he no longer just existed. He would do anything she asked of him in a heartbeat. Nodding firmly, he watched as her anxiety eased. “Of course, I won’t leave you. I promise.”

The next morning, there was a lot more bustle on the ground floor bedroom of the estate.

Sungjin rubbed the back of his head as he watched his sanctuary transform. From guest room to feminine touches, Pearl dictated all that happened in here. The only thing that remained was the large bed that he had laid upon every night since Pearl’s family had moved in.

And now, he had a roommate.

“Care to tell me why my space is now yours?” he asked as Pearl returned after dinner, smiling happily before diving onto the bed. His simple blankets were gone and replaced by Pearl’s lush covers. He had to admit they would feel comfortable had he been truly able to feel them.

Since dying, some of his senses had faded over time. Others had intensified. Whilst taste and touch had dulled, his experience of his emotions overwhelmed him.

And right now he was feeling a lot of contempt.

Pearl waved him off excitedly. “This is our space.”

“Ours? Pearl, you’re thirteen. I’m a grown man. I will not share this room with you. It’s unacceptable.”

“You promised!” she whined and stopped his rash movement towards the exit. Watching out of the corner of his eye as she scrambled towards the edge of the bed, Sungjin sighed at her desperation. Turning to face her, Pearl clasped her hands to her chest. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.”

“And you decided last night that meant you would suffocate me?”

“How is this suffocating? We never have any problems spending all day together. When I’m not in school, we often spend from when I rise to when I close my eyes doing just that. How is this any different?”

He wanted to say many things. It wasn’t that she was wrong; he had no problem with spending his time with Pearl, or any of his friends. His years of forced solitude were long over. However, there was no denying that Pearl was growing up. She would need her space to deal with tasks that were far from his comprehension. He had once had an older sister, and whilst they had been close, he had not been privy to her personal experiences through the changes of adolescence. Sure, Pearl had a lot of growing up to do, and right now she wasn’t actively in the throes of it. But this had been his space for as long as the room had existed. He was disgruntled that he would have to give it up for her privacy when the time came.

Pearl’s face contorted and soon she was giggling loudly, rolling about the bed. “Are you… are you shy of a woman’s body?!”

“I wouldn’t be going around calling yourself a woman just yet, Pearl,” he muttered, spinning away from her again. Before he could leave, she had dashed across the room and hugged him from behind. His insides surged and he felt confused as to why he was so delighted by the embrace. “You should be more practical.”

“Sungjin, I’m not going to change my mind even when I’m old and grey.”

“About?”

Swinging around his waist so she was now in front of him, Pearl smiled up at him. “Ever since I met you, I’ve always thought you were the man of my dreams.”

“I am nothing of the sort, for one, I’m dead. And you met me when you were seven. How would a child be sure of anything that young?”

“I’m certain I’ll never meet someone as wonderful as you are in my time,” she stated and Sungjin began to feel faint from all the concern whizzing around inside of him. Shaking his head, he pushed her off.

“I am like a brother; see me no further than that.”

“Wait until I change into a fine woman, then you’ll have problems maintaining that stance,” Pearl told him with a huff, stomping back to her bed.

His bed.

Sungjin groaned, rubbing at his face before retreating to the new armchair in the corner.

“Are you not coming to bed?”

“It’s either this chair or I leave the room,” he announced darkly and Pearl nodded from within her bedding.

“Very well then, I’ll endeavour to make your space more comfortable for you over the next week.”

And that she had. Pearl spent the winter break sewing a quilted blanket that now rest on the chair for him to use at night. She ensured a small table was placed beside it for him to put his glasses and book upon each night, and had even placed a photo frame of herself there.

Over the next four years, she changed out the photo regularly. Because, as she had once stated, Pearl did grow into a fine woman.

Swirling around in her navy polka dot dress, Pearl laughed with delight. “Your face right now.”

“I said nothing.”

“You didn’t have to,” she mused, walking to his side. Glancing up at him with eyes alive, Pearl’s smile grew. “You think I look divine, don’t you?”

“It suits you,” he commented dryly, darting his eyes away unsuccessfully. At age seventeen, Pearl was dynamic. And incredibly aware that he often had to swallow back sinful thoughts that had grown over time. He disliked that he had fallen trap to her charms, and yet, looking back over the past ten years, he wondered if there was ever a point where he hadn’t been captivated by her.

“Merely suits me?” she wondered with another laugh, reaching out for one of his hands and tugging on it. He didn’t budge and she grumbled. “Surely, you have more to say than that.”

“It will turn heads at the dance tonight. There, is that satisfactory?” he offered and Pearl pursed her plump crimson lips together, offended he still hadn’t spoken the words that she could see within his warm eyes.

That she was beautiful. The most attractive woman he had ever seen in all of his years, dead or alive.

Her hand was still holding his and she stepped closer, looking up at him, now recovered from her annoyance. “I wish you could be my escort.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

“I know you would dance with me,” she continued and Sungjin chuckled.

“As will many others.”

“Won’t you dance with me?” she murmured, slipping a hand to his waist. He shook his head and pulled away, her touch now burning him down to the soul.

“Go dance with the eligible men and tell me about it in the morning. Goodnight, Pearl.”

He ignored her until she left with an outlandish whine, and whilst he waited at the window for her return all night long, by the time she had made it up the front of the house stairs and into her room, he had feigned slumber within his chair.

“Sungjin, I know you to be awake. You told me yourself, ghosts do not need to sleep, eat or drink.”

He shifted in his chair, angling himself away from her.

Hearing enclosing footsteps, he soon felt her weight across his lap, hands reaching for his face. Sungjin looked at her within the moonlight, enamoured by the young woman before him. Pearl had let down her hair, loose waves framing her face. With the guidance of the natural lighting, he was able to take in everything upon her face.

She was staring at him with a look within her eyes that spoke a thousand words.

He couldn’t avoid her now, even if he wanted to.

“Won’t you dance with me?”

“Aren’t you tired from doing so?” he murmured back and she shook her head, waves of blonde crashing against her face as she did so. He reached out for her cheek and Pearl instantly nuzzled his hand.

There was no return now.

“One dance,” he agreed, helping her stand before joining her at the space by the large window. With the moon guiding their steps, they danced for what felt like forever. Bodies soon drifting together, flush with one another’s clothing.

“I love you, Sungjin,” she whispered as she gazed at him and smiled. Before he could respond, she stretched up and placed those crimson kissable lips he had marvelled over earlier in the evening upon his.

Taste and touch returned, and colour truly morphed around him. As he kissed her back, slow and exploring, Sungjin believed his heart jolted. Somehow the dormant way it laid within his chest now jerked, attempting to beat once more. It was the closest he would get to feeling alive again.

“I love you too,” he told her when his lips separated from her, adoring the dishevelment he had caused. Pearl grinned, pulling him back towards her bed.

“I just want to sleep in your arms tonight, can you grant me that?”

Sungjin nodded, his surprise over her brazen move now easing. “I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

_________________

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[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Fanbook Interview w/ Director Yamamura Takuya

Someone from this post requested that I translate an interview,  so I decided to do the first one with the director.

Please tell us how you felt when you were chosen as the director for “Tsurune”.

I was surprised when I was told that I would be Tsurune’s director. However, since kyudo is also a new genre for me, I thought that I would try by all means. I read the original novel, and kyudo terminology was explained in great detail, so I began by understanding all of that, but I was confronted by the difficulty of kyudo. “I don’t understand it at all…” I thought. (laughs)

Were there any parts that you studied yourself?

I studied a lot. I went to the library to search for old reference books, but the more I learned, the more I realized what a profound sport it was. Afterwards, I went online to try looking up real-life high school kyudo and other things like that, and got to know the students’ everyday language and the details of their practices. As a result, there were even more confusing parts instead. The differences between the kyudo schools and the practice methods are different depending on the high school…(laughs). I heard from the author of the original novels, Ayano Kotoko-sensei, that a single school was referenced in the novels, so I matched to that. When I read the novel, I learned that kyudo had two sides to it, “martial art” and “sport,” so I puzzled over how to show it to make that easy to understand.

I especially felt the impression that the depiction of kyudo was very carefully done.

That is largely due to speaking with members of the staff who have done kyudo. I would go to ask them to the point of annoyance for every single episode. Even so, when it was checking time, there would be mistakes. The most common one was the right hand drawn gripping the arrow at the draw. The arrow is only placed on the hand, but since not all the staff members had a deep understanding, misunderstandings like that happened no matter what. In order for I myself to understand it, I looked at the high-ranking archers who were filmed for interviews and the shooting of those who do kyudo for high school extracurricular activities. For extracurricular activities, there were also people who shot in jerseys, and it was very helpful to see the movement of their feet, which is different from those who wear hakama.

It seemed that actually conducting interviews was useful.

I saw a lot of things that couldn’t be answered by or seen in books. Among the stories I heard from the interviewees, there was the story of someone who actually had target panic. Like Minato, they couldn’t get better at all and wondered if they should quit kyudo. However, they continued on with encouragement from their friends and recovered. There is an infinite variety of target panic conditions, but there are kids who made adjustments to be able to hit the target even while they had it. Also, there are also those who miss in individual competitions, but in group competitions, their hitting rates mysteriously went up, perhaps because they were shooting with teammates. Any story that couldn’t be understood unless there was a way to see it in reality was precious.

On top of animating kyudo, what other things were you careful about?

I felt it when I was reading the novel, but it takes a considerable amount of time for a complete amateur to hear the technical terms of kyudo and understand it within themselves. That’s why, as a work of animation, we’ve decided to show it all in pictures rather than explaining with words. It was the interviews that were helpful to me at that time, and I, an amateur, depicted what I saw for myself during those interviews as they were, so I think it is easy to understand even if one is new to kyudo.

As the director, what did you focus on for animating the original novel?

As expected, that will be the master-disciple relationship between Minato and Masa-san. Minato recovered from his target panic by meeting Masa-san, and Masa-san was saved by meeting Minato. I took great care with that especially. I just did not want to overdo it. The reason is that I don’t think it was related to why they won the last group competition. And so, with Minato and Masa-san’s relationship as the focal point, we carefully extracted the relationship between Minato and Seiya, as well as the ones between Minato and Ryouhei, Nanao, and Kaito, from the original work, and unified them into one series.

Were there any parts that were hard to put in the script?

The spiritual part of kyudo is important, but if we describe too much of it, then we won’t be able to convey the appeal of the sport of kyudo itself. That was difficult, and the script meetings were rough going. In terms of results, the series composer, Yokote-san, skillfully representing the spiritual parts that are tied to kyudo through the words of Tommy-sensei and Masa-san.

Please tell us what you paid attention to during the process of creating the characters.

Simplicity and persuasion are important in creating characters. Kyudo is said to be a gentle sport, and there are no enemies. You face yourself, think by yourself, and shoot your bow. I wanted to depict this gentle world. We took care to convey it from pictures. However, we precisely and firmly decided on the aspects that needed to be decided. I discussed with the staff many times about precisely differentiating the depiction of “stillness” and “movement.” Also, the silhouettes of the characters were very important. Minato and the others had just ascended to high school from middle school, so their bodies are slender and dainty. That’s why they were designed to have some immaturity left in them, even though they have the height and other things.

Was there anything you were specifically conscious about?

For this time, I was very careful about the expressions. I especially fussed over Masa-san’s expressions, since he becomes a completely different person just by widening his pupils a little bit. Also, I was careful about his slightly mellow and graceful expressions and the shape of his jaw, since it becomes no good if they were even slightly off. Also, I asked that the characters as a whole have strong, purposeful eyes, but actually, the size of the highlights in Minato’s eyes change little by little when watching from the first episode. The transformation from the Minato who lost sight of himself to the Minato who became OK and held confidence in himself was expressed even in there.

How about the five boys of the Kazemai High School Kyudo Club? First, please tell us about Minato. It was hard to depict Minato. I thought very deeply about what I wanted to do with him. For that reason, after considering him suffering from target panic and tasting failure and thus becoming obstinate and making that point the main focal point, as well as taking into account the atmosphere of the novel, I decided to make him a character who could convey his feelings properly by himself. By strengthening the impression of him being a high school boy, I could settle myself down with a thump.

How about Seiya?

I had the impression that he is a boy at risk. I understood why when I considered the reason in the novel, and my chest tightened a lot when I was reading it. The anime is different from the novel, as it went in the direction of rescuing his identity. In Episode 10, I wanted Seiya to recover himself with the words “Because you were there for me, Seiya” from Minato. I wanted him to do kyudo with the feeling that he was fine as he was. However, perhaps Seiya would be saved in the true sense of the part of the original sin further in the future.

How about Ryouhei?

I envisioned a character who overflowed with the energy to draw everyone to him. In the second half, there are many occasions where characters like Seiya and Nanao stood out, but Ryouhei’s cheerfulness, that was shown in various places, helps me as a director and helps the story.

How about Nanao?

I really admired him, thinking, “You’re amazing, Nanao.” He is quite mature. If Seiya is a child covered in the skin of an adult, then Nanao is an adult wearing the skin of a “shallow and flighty boy.” The presence of him who strikes at the heart of a matter is indispensable for a work.

How about Kaito?

Looking at the work from Minato’s perspective, Kaito might seem like he is playing an unpopular, obstinate role. However, from Kaito’s point of view, he doesn’t know Minato’s circumstances, and he is actually the kind of fluffy and delicate guy who quickly changes the things he says. If Minato in the first episode had said at the information session that “I want to do kyudo even if I have target panic!”, I think he’d probably say, “You’re pretty passionate…do it.” (laughs). Actually, at the information session, he was unable to just watch Minato being in a bind, and helped him for himself by lending him an arrow.

Minato’s childhood friend, Shuu, also left a strong impression.

For Shuu, Minato is his “bow friend.” In Episode 13’s flashback, he was measuring the distance between him and Minato when he first met him, but when Minato told him, “I just wanted to see your face before I go home,” he acknowledged him as his friend. The scene of Shuu’s back at that time is the image of a light named Minato shining into Shuu’s narrow and confined world.

Seiya and Shuu’s relationship is also interesting.

It might be easy to misunderstand, but Shuu does not actually dislike Seiya. He acknowledges Seiya’s skill as an archer. That’s because Seiya was chosen as a regular right after he started at Kirisaki Middle School. His ability can be said to be a cut above the rest. However, Shuu felt it was regrettable that Seiya’s natural ability was smouldering due to his attachment to Minato. That’s why his “You don’t love kyudo” line that he said bluntly in Episode 8 seemed like a harsh scene, but was actually Shuu sincerely conveying his thoughts in his own way. But because there weren’t enough words, it was interpreted in that kind of way. That’s just how important kyudo is to Shuu.

The music is very memorable. What sort of orders did you give the composer, Fuuki Harumi?

I requested that the music would give the image of “leaves dancing in the wind,” based on the novel. And so, the main theme was completed. The motif used there was also reflected in the other pieces. However, when that main theme was applied, one might realize the development of the competitions, so we carefully ordered it separately depending on the scene.  For example, for the match against Kirisaki in episode 13, we drew the storyboards for only that scene and gave it to Fuuki-san beforehand. And so when I listened to the finished music, I thought, “This is incredible…” From there on, the storyboards were finely adjusted according to the music.

Did you have any difficulties on the direction side?

I had trouble with depicting the kyudo scenes. All of them end up having the same image composition. It’s a sport that fundamentally doesn’t move from the spot, and only half the face can be seen from the back. I thought that if that’s the case, then I would show it from the front, but they all ended up becoming similar images… Therefore, for the kyudo scenes, I tried to show the differences with composition tricks that could only be done with animation. I think that episode 13 could not be drawn unless you went to conduct real-life research and interviews.

Please tell us your favorite scenes.

Of course all of them are my favorite, but if I have to be specific, it would be Minato and Masa-san’s scenes in the early parts, the scene when Shuu first appears, and when Kaito says he wants to make his bow turn. Also, perhaps Seiya. Seiya in episode 9 is so painful to see that I couldn’t stand to watch anymore…

The female members make an impression.

At first, I was thinking about how to incorporate the female members into the work, and then I decided to put them in the roles of the level-headed and mature girls, in contrast to the still immature boys. However, there was no point in just them being there, so in inserting the depiction of the girls deepening their bonds with the boys little by little, that leads to episode 12. So, it was in episode 12 that they were completed as the Kazemai High School Kyudo Club in a true sense. This is a digression, but during the scene where Ryouhei drags Minato and Seiya to the kyudojo in episode 1, you can see the three girls in the passageway behind them. That is Seo introducing Shiragiku to Hanazawa.

Please tell us your thoughts after production is finished.

Since I’m also a first-time director, it was very difficult. However, I felt that I had properly depicted the story of Minato’s rebirth, so I have no regrets. On top of it being my first time directing a series, there were a lot of things I didn’t know, but this was the only thing I was determined to do. That is “penetrating the hearts of the audience.” All of the works that have remained in my heart so far had cut me to my heart. That’s why I think about how to penetrate the hearts of the audience everyday, and I think Tsurune is the crystallization of that.

That really is, “Struggle, youth!”

Yes. I remember using those words when I had a meeting with Fuuki Harumi-san. Before I knew it, that had become the slogan (laughs). I’ll be happy if that is also conveyed to everyone who watched the show.

Lastly, please give a message to the fans who watched Tsurune.

I just want to say how thankful I am. You are trying to get to know the work known as Tsurune that you even got this book, so I think you truly loved it. Thank you all so much for loving Tsurune!