#everyone is pretending is your stepmother used to be the woman everyone is trying to tell you is your actual mother except that isn’t true

[lexalovesbooks]

The ruin of kings is winning for most complicated family tree ever i have a headache

[phoenixyfriend]

The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between  Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

[lesbian-in-leather]

Okay so I'm fully aware that this film doesn't deserve the amount of thought that I'm putting into it but. The stepmother's song was heartbreaking like... I'm choosing to pretend my version of Vivian from my previous post is canon so the way the song was musically written as almost a villain song but not quite, combined with the way Idina acted it genuinely hurts and I've already rewatched it several times. And some of the lyrics in particular really stand out to me (so naturally I decide to dissect all of them)

I don't care, this is life

It's not fair, it's not right

Okay first of all we have the fact she she just believes this is how life has to be. She's a woman who has been completely destoryed, and she know it isn't right or fair but she genuinely thinks this is how it has to be, that this is the only was to live

All that hope and that pride

It's a waste, it's a lie

Anyone who thinks the concept of hope is a "waste" and a "lie" is clearly a victim of something like sorry this line hurts me

All you want is to breathe

Little girls should run free

But your corset's too tight

And your heels are too high

She clearly sees so much of herself in Ella and, I mean... look at this. These are the words of a woman who feels so trapped and has just given up and let herself be convinced that this is how the world has to be

The treasure you found? Bury it!

The only way out? Marry it!

That shadow of doubt? Carry it!

Carry it down to your grave, oh...

She feels like she has to hide anything that brings her joy, and that the only way to be safe is to marry. She doesn't even feel safe voicing her true feelings - and she isn't even wholly convinved by this system but she thinks that that means she's wrong. And that she has to carry that doubt to her grave, and just continue with the way things are done. And the really interesting thing is that, at this point in the song she leaves Ella's room. But she doesn't just walk out, no, she runs away with a face full of grief and regret for what she's forcing Ella into

The world doesn't need another dream girl

The world doesn't need another dream girl

She sings the first line alone, looking almost regretful. Like she's convincing herself that what she told Ella was right. And she repeats it into the mirror. She's tearing herself down, burying the doubt deep inside so she can save her daughters (all three of them, but especially Ella, the one who is the most like her) from the pain she felt

You're too dumb, you're too young

Full of heart, so naive

You're so blind, you're so green

You'll give up, just like me

After convincing herself that she's in the right she goes on with her tirade, berrating all of her daughters... by comparing them to herself

The wings are ornamental

They have no intention of letting you fly

First of all, this links back to the corset and the heels being a cage women are forced into, but also, she acknowledges that the temptation and illusion of freedom are right there. But women aren't allowed to try. Which is so obviously about how she was allowed to persue her dream by going to a music school, only to be torn down and insulted by her own husband for doing so. Her use of "they" shows that she isn't the one enforcing these rules - they are being imposed upon her just as much as the girls

Don't be sentimental

During this section, she's holding a butterfly. A green butterfly, so not Ella's magical godmother. Perhaps it would have been her own. But she waves it away after this line, getting rid of the oppurtunity for her life to be changed, because she's been given that chance before and it was a trap

Some legends are born in the wrong time

She knows she could have been great, but she also truely believes that women in this time aren't allowed to be. That neither she, nor Ella, nor any other woman can achieve anything but heartbreak and disappointment in the society that they live in, and that there's nothing to be done but wait. And it echoes so true for so many real women born throughout history and even into the modern day

This treasure you found? (Bury it)

The only way out? (Marry it)

That shadow of doubt? (Carry it)

Carry it down to your gravе

Her daughters join in, and she's clearly been teaching them this from a young age because, despite the sadness and almost fear they show, they don't fight her like Ella does. She truely believes she can never be great, and that she'll have to live with only the broken hope of who she could have been

(Bury it. Marry it. Carry it)

Proving further that this isn't a true villain song, other female character join in. The maids in the palace feel they must bury their individuality. The queen feels she had to marry the king and, in doing so, forfeited her right to an opinion. Gwen feels like she'll have to carry her ambitions to the grave, because she'll never be listened to or even taken seriously by the people with any power

Carry it down to your grave (Bury it)

Your grave (Marry it), your grave (Carry it)

(Bury it) bury it, (Marry it) marry it, (Carry it) carry it

More and more women join in, and Vivian just looks so sad. And the repitition of "grave" shows that she really thinks that this is her life, and that she'll die how she's lived - unfulfilled and ignored

(No, no, no, no ah!)

Bury it! (Bury it!)

Marry it! (Marry it!)

Carry it! (Carry it!)

Bury it! Bury it! Marry it! Marry it! Carry it! Carry it

Carry it down to your grave!

Your grave! Your grave!

This bit gives me chills every time because they all go absolutely feral. Every woman, even Vivian, is just kicking and tearing and screaming because it's so blindingly unfair and there's nothing they can do but they all have the same pent up rage, from the queen to the servants to the women in streets. And if reason won't work then they'll tear the whole goddamn world down. And internally that's what every woman there wants. But they all hold it in because, like Vivian, they've been punished and controlled and stepped on so many times that they've been convinced they're the problem, that everyone else is content with the system so why can't you be?

[Piano Instrumental]

And then finally. Finally Vivian is alone again. And her hair is dishevelled and she looks like she's trying not to cry and she plays the piano so beautifully and so loudly and so wildly that she's like an entirely different person. And then she almost does cry but she shakes her head and smiles a little and I have to applaud Idina's acting because it feels so real. There are no singers, and there's no other music. Just Vivian, and everything she could have been. All the parts of her she's been repressing, finally allowed to be seen for one honest and heartwrenching moment

And it reminds me so much of the final scene in the Ibsen play Hedda Gabler (which happens to be one of my favourites). Where the controlled character of Hedda just lets go and play the piano we've never seen her touch, and she plays wildly and loudly and it's so different to how we've ever seen her before. And her husband tells her to be quiet and she says she'll never make noise again - and then she commits suicide to ensure that she doesn't

The world doesn't need another dream girl

And then this. This line breaks my heart. Because she just sings to herself in the most broken voice, in a quiet, croaked whisper as if she's afraid someone might hear. And it shows how much she's hurting, how much she wishes the world could be different. This song was never directed at Ella. She only sung it to try and save her from the life that Vivian herself lived. Vivian is the dream girl, and that line is always, always directed internally. No one else ever sings it and it's never sung with anyone else on screen. It was always about her, and it was never a villain song

[lynasushi]

Recognition || angst

Vil and Neige’s backstory theory + ending of chapter 5 (twisted wonderland)

Tw : physical abuse, death, angst, mentions child physical abuse (by another child)

Spoiler chapter 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was over. Dreams, hopes, all of his efforts ; nothing was left except despair, anger and shame. 

He didn't even know if he still had a heart- it felt as if someone had cut off the ties between his heart and mind. 

Then, why did he feel it tearing apart ? Why did he feel the cold slowly eating his whole being ? 

His heart was still there...but for how much longer ?

Betrayed, and now alone...even if deep inside he knew that some of those who loathed him had valuable reasons ; they didn't know the truth. 

They didn't know how much he had suffered to become who he was . How painful it was to work endlessly and perfectly without getting the reward his heart begged for.

Recognition. 

Recognition as his own person, not as Neige's rival, nor as the second after Neige ; but as Vil Schoenheit, a successful model and actor, the one whose constant dedication was seen as an example to everyone. 

But..did they ever give him a chance ?...Why would they, when Neige's shadow has been suffocating him since his youngest age ?

Neige, the perfect angel naturally succeeding in everything he does, the hero of Twisted Wonderland- against Vil, the one who would never surpass the blinding light of the fresh snow, no matter how much effort he’d put in over the years ; the eternal villain whose fate was to live in the shadows for the rest of his existence. 

This feeling of constantly drowning and being pushed back, whenever he would be about to breathe and feel the rays of the sun on his skin. 

For years, he had been able to keep his head above water, but he knew that one single mistake would make him fall back into the deepest parts of the ocean. 

And so it happened. Today, on stage, when he could've instead felt the warmth of victory for the first time in his life, he was instead cast away into the abyss, far away from everything he fought for, everyone's eyes judging him as if he were the greatest disappointment, the worst failure that ever lived.

If only… if only they could see that the one that they'd always seen as an angel was in reality, the worst demon ever created. 

A perfect demon indeed- flawless from the outside, and rotten deep inside. Constantly pushing Vil to the edge and using against him an act that he had never forgiven himself for. 

The death of Neige's mother, Vil's stepmother. An accident that only these two had witnessed.

But it didn't matter anymore. 

Staying silent or revealing the truth ? He had lost anyway. He had lost since the beginning, since his mother had fallen ill and died, leaving him all alone with his father, who’d suddenly brought another woman in their life, accompanied by his eternal rival, Neige. 

And what followed definitely cost Vil's right of happiness and freedom. 

It was just an accident...but buying Neige's silence cost him a lot…

What was happening now- was this his punishment for what happened ?...Did he really deserve it ? 

...

"Vil-san, are you feeling alright ?" 

...his voice...it's shattering and reducing to dust the remaining of my heart….stop it….just stop it….

"What a monster ! Hitting the students like that during daily training ! Tch, I can't believe I admired him once ! Neige is such a sweetheart, not an ounce of wickedness in this boy !"

"Schoenheit is such a loser ! No wonder Neige has always been first !" 

…..stop it….

"Calm down everyone ! I'm sure that it's not what we believe ! Let's try to talk to the student we see on the video to get some answers !-"

…..stop talking,,Neige Leblanche….you're the one who posted this video….and Rook gave it to you...stop pretending….you planned this all along, right ?....

"-everyone calm down, I'll talk privately to Vil-san, try and find the boy from the video. We can do this together !"

I said….stop it…..you hypocrite...stop hiding what you did to me…

"Wooaa Neige-san is so kind-hearted !!"

"Yeah ! I'd never give another chance to a bastard like Schoenheit !"

...leave me alone...I can't do this anymore….

"Come Vil-san ! Let's talk in a quieter place..."

Neige took Vil's arm and his body seemed to move on its own, like the puppet he has always been to the other.

They entered the official building rented especially for VDC, but Vil couldn't even tell the hallways and rooms apart, his eyesight blurry and his head constantly ringing. 

He suddenly heard the sound of a doorknob clicking, and of a door opening then closing behind them. 

That's when Neige abruptly threw him on the floor, the ringing in his head becoming a deafening whistling. The pain ? He couldn't feel it anymore- he was now nothingness, a mere physical envelope that had to endure whatever life was throwing at him. 

He had suffered for so long that now, he just felt... empty. It was no use to try to scream and protest ; it was no use when one didn't believe that they deserved better. 

"Ha... all these years you thought that you could beat me, Villain ?" 

Neige's shoe harshly crushed his jaw- the pressure in his head was now unbearable,  his mind filling with a thick fog, cutting him off from everything else….his heart was slowly disconnecting ; incidentally, all will to fight back was escaping him. 

"You're a murderer, and weak, just like your mommy. No wonder your dad looked for someone better...and what did you do to her ?....

You killed her you bastard-"

Vil received a kick in his lower abdomen, and he felt a scream forcing its way through his throat :  a pain-filled cry that resonated, breaking the sepulchral silence of the room. 

This kick….just like all the other ones he received during his childhood, from Neige...that he then transmitted to Epel. 

Epel…he reminded him so much of Neige- a version of Neige that was still unsure of himself….and deep inside, he was a beautiful being ; unlike this fake angel.

That was... why he couldn't contain his anger when Epel was there, it felt like tasting the sweet and sour taste of his vengeance upon Neige- a vengeance that would never see the day.

"Your unique magic is to curse all those around you, because you yourself are one. I wish you could just throw a sleeping spell on yourself, just like you did to my mom.

Neither alive nor dead…..hahaha- actually…just like right now ~ ahahaha..." 

"....I-."

Neige removed his foot from Vil's face, a surprised expression appearing on his visage that could seem candid if it wasn't for his malevolent smirk. 

"What's wrong ? You wanna say something, Villain ?...admit that you're a murderer, perhaps ?"

Vil gulped, the words could hardly leave his burning throat ; but if there was a moment in which he had to use his remaining strength to blurt out itching words clawing at him, this was it.

".....an..accident…...is..was…..an..accident...I didn't-"

"Of course it was an accident- I know this already. I was there, remember ? But you also seem to forget-" 

Neige crouched down and violently turned Vil's face towards him, tightly gripping his hair as the former laughs, "- that no one will ever believe you- you are the Villain that everyone despises. Unlike me, you aren't that good of an actor !" 

Vil painfully hissed, his scalp scorching and his neck painfully twisting towards Neige, eyes full of disbelief and despair.

He definitely couldn't escape this. He was trapped, and it was only the beginning of this nightmare. No one, to help him or to save him.

"You lost Villain, trying to reach my level has always been a waste of your time. You'll now die in the mind of everyone, no one will ever remember you, and I, will be the most loved person in this world. Your father will be proud of me and only me, and he’ll call me his only son, because you are, after all, just an unworthy being ; unworthy to even consume the oxygen of this world. Be grateful for what you have now- it'll always be much more than what you deserve."

Neige dropped Vil's hair, letting the blond’s head crash onto the cold floor painfully, then headed towards the door- but before he stepped outside, he paused, and turned towards Vil slightly- or at least, he did from Vil's perspective, judging by how Neige's feet were now pointing in his direction- and let out a deep and...happy sigh. 

"Well ! Time to find the others now ! Wish me luck, Vil-san !" 

He left and closed the door, leaving Vil, all alone, lying on the floor. 

...finally, it was over. He could finally suffer on his own, savouring the silence unpolluted by the voice of that white demon. 

..Did anyone know that he was here ?

..Who would care anyway ? He surely was shown everywhere as the worst monster of Twisted Wonderland.

Neige made him feel even more worthless than the word itself. Rook and Epel….would they try to find him ? No, of course not..but if they did- would it be to help ? Or... to push him even farther into this endless darkness ? 

He then realized the inevitable : 

no one would ever miss him. 

Neige was right all along. 

The Queen had been defeated.

~~

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Never Find Another Like Me

Summary: Adrien and Marinette break up after two years of dating, both seeing each other as friends. This doesn’t stop some people (Lila) from saying that Marinette cheated on Adrien or that she was using him. All Marinette can reply when the class begins to pull away is that they’ll never find another like her, before she heads off for New York for the summer.

 She’s right.

Pairings: MC/Hades, past Adrinette, Marinette/Cerberus

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Breaking up with Adrien had been hard. It had been really hard. 

 They had started dating when they were sixteen and firmly sick of Lila and all the bullshit. They started dating and it was fun and light and… well, charming.

But that was it.

 Charming, like a fairy tale. But it wasn’t… it wasn’t romantic. Not really.

 It was all the romance of flowers and chocolates and candlelit dinners. Which she did enjoy but then she saw the others in their class

She saw Juleka light up when Rose got her a murder mystery book or saw how happy Nino was when Alya surprised him with tickets to some random indie movie she knew he liked.

 Hell- Kim was super attentive to his girlfriend and boyfriend and knew things about them most didn’t. She remembered being weirded out Kim had picked up a bird skull to give to Odine before learning she liked bones. 

 But her and Adrien? Flowers and chocolates and pastries and the technical movements of romance without actual romance. It was fun. It was light.

 But it wasn’t… it wasn’t romance. Not really romance, not the romance of people actually in love. 

 They broke up age eighteen, both smiling and hugging each other goodbye after they had finally fully spoken to each other.

 He knew she liked sewing and cooking and video games but when he thought romance he didn’t think of her interests. When she thought romance she didn’t think of his interests. And that was okay. 

 “We should have stuck to friends,” Adrien said, hugging her tightly.

 “Yeah, but hey- we’re smarter then we were before.” Marinette pulled away with a smile. She gave him a long look before chuckling. “I’m never going to find another like you.”

 “I’ll never find another like you.” Adrien shrugged. “It sucks but…” Marinette laughed and hugged him again.

 “But it’s the best for us.” 

 It still hurt. She had held onto her fantasies for years, dreaming of being with him, of dating him and having a life together. But the more time spent with him the more she realized that they were incompatible in many ways.

 He was a romantic who enjoyed the big displays and the grandness of romance. She enjoyed a day spent with her partner and having a quiet dinner together. She wanted kids, a family with a pet and to grow old together. He wanted to travel the world and meet new people. He didn’t want kids, to scared to be like his dad- and in a way wanted to piss off his father by never continuing the Agreste line- something he always said in a mocking tone. 

 In the end, their last few months of dating was more them pretending for the public so people- Lila mostly- would leave him alone. But now, Marinette was going to New York for the summer break. They were eighteen and Adrien was finally allowed to do what he wanted thanks to a clause in his trust fund that let him move out of his house and move into a small apartment. He was allowed to go after what he wanted. She was happy for him.

 They announced their break up to the class, and Marinette was not surprised when Lila began speaking in a ‘low voice’ about how odd it was that Marinette was suddenly breaking up with Adrien after getting her internship. 

 It split the class.

 Lila had been a thorn to Marinette ever since they were fifteen and she had not mellowed. Sure, she had stopped some of her lies when it became obvious that the class might actually know better- Lila learning Marinette designed for Jagged and that Rose knew Ali was a highlight for Marinette- but she was still an utter bitch. She also had gotten nasty in her pursuit of Adrien, and it took him going to the police and to social media to tell her off for her to back off.

 The class…  only Nathanael knew the truth- because he remembered she knew Jagged way before anyone else- Rose and Juleka only knowing because of Ali. The others followed Lila like dogs. It had hurt at first but… well,  Marinette didn’t mind it much now. She had come to the conclusion- after losing Fu, after her break down and her parents making her go to therapy- that she didn’t care anymore. She was going to love herself and move on. There was no one like her, she was a ten out of ten and she was done trying to protect people who wanted to paint her as jealous or mean.

 Alya had been the worst and Marinette had to really look at their friendship to realize that she and Alya had never had an equal friendship and that both had bigger priorities over each other. It wasn’t like one of them was more important in the friendship but neither had really told each other everything and both were a little focused on their own issues. 

 It didn’t help that Alya had the expectation that Marinette should always be willing to help her out, even when she was busy. Marinette had finally had enough when Alya tried to dump the twins on her again and she’d gone to Alya’s mother about it. Alya had been furious until she had been told off by almost everyone in the class for her actions in randomly dumping the twins on Marinette. Even Nino didn’t think it was cool. Marinette said she wouldn’t have minded covering a date or two but not as much as Alya dumped the twins on her.

 Alya had to face facts after that and the two sat down to finally lay their crumbling friendship to rest, both agreeing that in the end they hadn’t been good friends to each other with Alya ditching her for her blog or foisting the twins off her so much and the various Adrien plots while Marinette admitted her ditching Alya cause she was terrified of Akumas and her disinterest in the blog and Alyas reporting classes wasn’t that great either.

 They parted as ex-friends but remained friendly. Alya as well had toned down her ‘Marinette is jealous’ spiel. She still believed Lila but had given up trying to make Marinette like the girl. 

 She was among the few who didn’t seem to think Marinette would use Adrien, and it was the first time Marinette had seen her and Lila argue. It made Marinette send the Italian a smug smirk before she walked off.

 As for the others? Kim, Max, Ivan, Mylene, Sabrina and Nino? Well, she looked them all in the face and told them, loudly.

 “You think I’m that conniving? You think I’m like that. Fine, but we aren’t friends anymore. And let me tell you- you’re never going to find another like me. You’ll never have another friend like me. To bad, so sad. Goodbye.” she left with a wave and headed to the airport, Miraculous Box in her backpack.

 She was heading to New York- not with the asshole that was Audrey but to intern under someone Jagged knew. It was going to be fun and she couldn’t wait.

She would have to go back to Paris every once in a while to deal with Akumas but Hawkmoth had toned down his actions in recent years. He seemed less into the whole thing honestly. She remembered talking about it with her class and Alya had jokingly suggested he was getting laid.

 Maybe he was.

 -0-

  New York was amazing and Marinette loved her work. Her grandma had contacted the daughter of a friend of her’s- Melody Conners- and the woman had agreed to let Marinette stay with her. Melody was some sort of government person from what Marinette understood who baked for fun and thus Marinette enjoyed joining in when she could.

 She saw so many interesting things, ogled cute boys and girls and was just happy in general. Paris and even Lila were far from her mind. 

 More so when Melody asked if she minded if she had a dinner party at the apartment for her and her coworkers and boyfriend.

 “Hades, my boyfriend, is technically my boss but not? I’m not directly under him but he is higher up and has a lot of clout. We’re revealing we’re dating to a few people and his apartment building is being renovated for some reason.” 

 “That’s fine.” Said Marinette. “Whose all coming? Is it alright if I’m here?”

 “Yeah it’s alright and there’s me, May- you’ve met her- Alex Cyrpin who we all call Cyrpin, Suzan, Jeff, Cerberus, Persephone and- okay you’re gaze is weird.”

 “Your boyfriend is Hades and you know a Cerberus and Persephone.”

 “Hades parents were weird and his brother Zeus- yes I know- decided to name his daughter Persephone. She lives with her uncle though and no they’re not dating they both make faces when the Old Myths are brought up.” Melody put a lot of emphasis on the words old myths for some reason, making Marinette frown and plan to speak with the Kwami. “My brother Josh will be here to.” 

 Marinette has met May and Josh, and briefly saw Cyrpin one day when they had come to grab Melody for something neither spoke about so it’s not a big deal.

 Speaking with the Kwami that night, in hushed whispers, reveals a lot.

 Like the fact that the people she’s about to meet, Hades and Persephone are probably actual gods.

 “They aren’t like us. They reincarnate into new bodies when their old ones die. The Old Myths were real but it changed over time. Or they were misinterpreted.” Tikki explained. “I know Persephone went to live with Hades to avoid her father and stepmother not to marry him.”

 “Is Cerberus human?” Asked Marinette- honestly just curious. Tikki laughed.

 “He is. Now. He doesn’t remember being a dog. I don’t know what happened but most of the monsters started reincarnating as humans. They don’t remember their pasts like the gods but they’re around to.” Tikki told her. “Their powers became what they call Auras, taking various shapes.”

 “Huh. That’s good to know thanks.” It also made  Marinette think she could probably tell them about the Miraculous. She loved Paris but the more time she spent in New York the more she loved it. As well Paris was full of memories of Akumas and fighting for her life. New York wasn’t. She didn’t want to stay in a city that every time she turned around she remembered seeing Chat die or remembered being stabbed. She knew Chat felt the same and so did their fellow heroes. They couldn’t stay. 

 If she spoke to the gods maybe they would ignore her a little or at least keep an eye on her but not bug her. It was an idea anyway.

-0-

 The dinner party started out nicely. The apartment was filled with people and Marinette had to put away the cot she used to sleep but it was really nice to meet so many people. And apparently, Cyrpin knew her boss- she was their sister apparently- and enjoyed talking fashion enough that Marinette had fun. 

 But the real fun was with Cerberus. He was handsome and had been so confused, standing in the middle of the room and obviously out of his depth. Marinette had smiled and gone up to him to see if we wanted to talk about anything. Perhaps video games.

 He did but he was also very enthusiastic about her designing when he recognized her name as designing for Jagged Stone. He was a fan apparently and the two quickly began talking about music and video games.

 Marinette even found herself agreeing to go frisbee golfing the next day with him after a while after they discussed sports. Marinette had found that while fencing was a bust she loved parkour and frisbee golf- Luka and his sister played- and she was eager to have fun and play again.

 “So, do you actually know anyone here?” She asked him, later and when she stole a glass of wine. Though no one actually cares. Jeff- a coworker on the floor of Melody’s - is British and had some truly spectacular rants about how stupid Americans are about drinking. He’d given two already. One when he saw her picking up a glass and another when another person named Mandy egged him on. Everyone else didn’t care and Melody said she was eighteen and could do what she wanted as long as she did it under her roof and not in public.

 “I know Hades and Melody. Cyprin a little bit I know their mom more then them.” Cerberus answered. “I’m off duty and Hades likes to have us around when he can.” But he looked happier speaking with her and she really liked speaking with him. They have enough in common it’s fun and enough not in common it’s interesting.

 Marinette was about to open her mouth and chat again when the Akuma alarm on her phone went off. She sighed, loudly and pulled it out. “... oh wow.”

 “What’s going on?” Cerberus asked but Marinette was to busy checking out the new Akuma. Lila again but… huh. Looked like she had been finally fully exposed by someone. 

 Marinette looked up to see most of the room looking at her and she made her choice with a quick thought. After all, if there were gods in the room…

 “Tikki, can you come out?” The Kwami did and she looked amused as she did so.

 “Really?” Marinette shrugged and went to her bag to pull out the box and get the glasses, putting them on as the entire room stared.

 “Sorry, have to go save Paris!” She left with a wave and a quick transformation before making a portal and skipping off.

 Beating the Akuma was easy. Lila was a common foe and wrecking her wasn’t a big deal. Dealing with Chat as well wasn’t a pain. He seemed thoughtful and quiet. He did ask if they could talk later and she agreed. They would talk in two days. She wondered why he would ask her to chat with him.

 Going back to the party, Melody was waiting with a first aid kit that Marinette was thankful for because while the cure took away the big things it didn’t always get the smaller stuff on her and she had some cuts. She got herself patched up and chatted with Hades who was more than willing to add her name to their registry of individuals with magic. He was also delighted to speak in some language with Tikki, Persephone joining in, and the other Kwami coming out of the box to join in.

 “You sure you can go frisbee golfing tomorrow?” asked Cerberus and she laughed.

 “Yeah, I’m sure.” It would be fun.

-0-

 Back in Paris, everything had fallen apart. Marinette was gone for the summer and none of them had really realized what it meant. More so when she broke their friendship.

 But they slowly began feeling it.

 The bakery didn’t give them discounts anymore which shocked them. They had been getting discounts? 

 They had known the bakery was pretty well known but not to the extent they learned. It was an incredibly expensive and high-end bakery and they had never known. Why would they? They bought food for the same price as other bakeries.

 But learning the truth, and looking it up, they were shocked. 

 And then came more. Marinette had always been a sounding board for them. She could point out flaws in their viewpoints and offer different ideas. She could figure out how to actually make their ideas work too.

 The first time Max tried to text her an idea, she sent back a reminder she wasn’t his friend and blocked him. He never finished it.

 The time Nino texted her, asking about where to get cheap clothing for a movie he was directing for fun, he was told his number was blocked.

 They felt lost, adrift. But they tried to keep going. At least until they saw the amazing video Kitty Selection did, full of cool clothes and effects, a special mention given to Marinette who helped them out. And then they were lost again.

 Alya was the one it all clicked for. It was when Lila fake sobbed Marinette had sent her nasty messages. Alya was the one to stare at her and ask to see them. Lila said she had deleted them had Alya shaking her head.

 “You know, the more I think about it, the more I see you always blaming Marinette for everything,” Alya told her. And Lila had sobbed and said Marinette was a bully who had tripped her the day before. The class had been angry until Alya said, dryly and colder than ice. “She’s in New York you fucking moron.”

 That shut up the entire group, Lila going pale. Alya walked away without a second thought.

 That was the beginning of the end for Lila. They all looked back and ripped apart each lie she had ever told. She was done, ruined. 

 And when Ladybug came to deal with her, Alya finally got confirmation of something.

 “I don’t know her other than the pest who lies every five seconds.” 

 Lila was done.

 And so was the class. They had broken their friendship with one of the most amazing people they had ever met. They had destroyed their friendship with her and now they had nothing. They didn’t have an amazing friend. They instead had only memories.

 They were never going to find another like her.

-0-

Marinette smiled as she and Cerberus walked around the park, ice cream in hand and Cerberus pretending his brothers weren’t following them. It wasn’t working. 

 “You’re adorable,” she told him and he laughed.

 “You too.” she giggled and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’ll miss you when you’re in Paris.”

 “I have the Horse Miraculous.” she pointed out. “And I am totally coming here for school. And staying afterwards. Cyprin’s sister knows about me and will totally look the other way when I run over to save Paris, and her employees are mostly monsters or demigods.”

 “True.” Cerberus hugged her sideways. “...Uhh Marinette I… ummm…”

 Marinette lifted an eyebrow and waited. Cerberus opened his mouth then closed it. He shifted on his feet and looked down.

 “Umm… I know you and Chat aren’t together. I mean, you told me about the conversation you two had and stuff…” 

 Ah yes. That one. After she had gone back to Paris for her chat with Chat, she had told Melody everything but only told Cerberus that she had talked with Chat about not getting together.

 In reality, it had been emotional talk filled with yelling and them both unloading their feelings. Chat demanding to really know if she felt nothing, and herself just ripping into him for not listening.

 It had been exhausting but it left them feeling better when they finally got it all out there. They both agreed they cared for one another deeply. More than family or friends. You couldn’t fight magic together and not feel that.

 But it wasn’t… romantic. Not on her end and she was done with him not getting it. He had backed off in the last few years but she had assumed he was dating and wouldn’t do that to his partner. But now he simply needed to know. Would they have a chance?

 “No,” she had told him. “I care for you so deeply, but… Chat you ruined any chance of romantic feelings by not listening when I told you I was in love with someone else. When you threatened to give up the ring when I couldn’t tell you a secret that was not mine to tell. When you agreed to let Alya post that kiss on the Ladyblog without thinking of my feelings. Chat- you are my dearest friend. My best friend. But I’m just not into you.”

 It had been raw and hurtful but they ended their conversation knowing where they stood. Friends- closer than most and probably really leaning into platonic partner territory- but just friends. 

 They still worked well together but it was awkward and probably would be for a while. Like her and Adrien honestly. Sure, they’d been more like buddies then dating but it had been awkward before she left. 

 “I uhhh, welll…” her mind was pulled back to the present and she chuckled as Cerberus tried to stutter out what he wanted.

 “If you’re trying to ask me out, the answer’s yes.” She told him. She heard cheers and Cerberus turned to glare at his brothers while Marinette just laughed before turning his face to her to kiss him.

 She would never find anyone like Adrien. And that was okay.

 Because she found someone in Cerberus. 

 And she would never find another like him, so she was going for it.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 I don’t hate Adrien but I really wanted Marinette to be upfront and blunt with Chat that he had ruined any chance of her liking him at all. Because he had.

 Look, I know some go oh it’s not harassment but it is. As soon as someone says no and you keep going, that’s harassment. Marinette has said no, that she likes someone else but Chat just won’t knock it off. It’s not okay, it’s not cool and I totally think that Marinette would just full on stop seeing him as an option if he keeps going. Because as a kid, he doesn’t know better. It’s taught by media, by society that a man chasing after a woman should ignore her firm nos. That she doesn’t mean it. So I can make allowances for his actions to a point. 

 But I also know that as someone who has seen people being harassed in real life, that once the line is crossed it can never be taken back. Marinette stopped seeing him as an option when he wouldn’t stop. She still considered him a friend because the two years he didn’t press were some of the best of her life, spending time with him. And the time she spent with him when he wasn’t hitting on her was amazing. 

 But romantic? No, that ship sailed.

But I didn’t want to bash him? I admit this started out really salty, but talking with @anastasian-dreamer I changed it so it was less salty towards him. 

 Also this was mostly me getting a random idea and playing with it. Hope you guys liked it even if most of you probably haven’t played Astoria.

[k-writer1998]

Who Said Love Was Easy (3/12)

      There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 2.1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Summer lectures, design deadlines and no focus because of that brat. It’s been three years, they shouldn’t have this effect on me anymore… Even if I tell myself that, that woman has such a strong oppressive energy. I always feel like I’m suffocating. Ugh just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Needing a change of pace I decided to walk to the pub to wait for Changbin. The bustle of the city was a comforting white noise to drown out my thoughts since I really needed to just… not think for a bit. That is, until I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand. With this new sense of anxiety I finally noticed the black car, not so subtly, following me. Luckily the street the pub was on was too narrow for cars and it was entering my line of sight. I checked my phone reflection as a man got out and of course it would be him. Picking up my pace to get away did nothing as he still caught me and forced me to turn around, keeping a hold on my wrist.

“Why are you running away from me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because some random car was following me, a girl who is alone, for over five minutes?” I reply sarcastically.

“I’ve been calling you but you weren’t answering.”

“Call? I probably blocked your number. Look, I’m not interested in pretending to rekindle some broken bond.”

“Y/n… don’t be like this you know I-”

“Don’t pull the remorseful brother act, Youngho-oppa. If you really cared you would have looked for me after I left,” I spat.

      Unlike his sister Younghee who openly showed her indifference, not hearing from him was worse than being thrown out. Youngho was the only one in the entire family that showed me a smidge of kindness, let alone acknowledging my presence when no one else did. It wasn’t until a year after being kicked out did I learn I was nothing more than a stray puppy he played with cause he was bored.

“Don’t be like this y/n. Mom hasn’t been in the right state of mind since dad died. She didn’t mean to hurt you and she’s trying to make it up to you,” he coaxed, pulling me in to stop the wandering ears from hearing.

“That’s a load of shit and you know it. That woman never liked me the minute I was brought in and she made sure everyone but dad knew that. Will she give back the shares to dad’s company that are rightfully mine?”

      His eyebrow twitched and I caught the crack in his facade. Every single one of them are selfish creatures and they will never betray their true nature, a fact I learned the hard way and will not underestimate again.

“Y/n things are sensitive now as is, you can’t just ask for something like that. Why would you want something like those? Aren’t you studying design?”

“Wow, someone did their research. If design doesn’t work I should at least have the shares to give me some support. It was a decent portion wasn’t it?” I pushed.

“Stop acting like a child there are bigger things going on so just cooperate. The faster you do the less we have to see each other. Do you think I have time to chase you around like this?”

      And his true color shows. By now his hold on my arm had turned into a vice grip and it hurt like hell but I couldn’t show weakness now, they don’t get to win after everything.

“Ha… I can’t believe I waited six months to hear from you like you actually cared. Sometimes you really are worse than your mother.”

      My head snapped to the side in an instant and it was numb for a moment before the stinging settled in. I knew something of this caliber would happen… for his own reasons he hated his mother. Who knew it would tick him off that much? Before either of us could come back from the shock, a hand broke the hold on my wrist and my line of sight was covered by someone’s back. The mystery person shielded me from my brother and I immediately recognized the ring on their pinky. Should I be glad or panicked that Jeongin’s here?

“Sorry I’m late, is this person bothering you?”

“Oh? Is this your boyfriend?” Youngho smirked, eyeing him up and down.

“No.” I roll my eyes, trying my best to mask my unease. Jeongin doesn’t need to be dragged into my family drama. I tug at his hand lightly and he turned to look back at me, “Come on, we’re late meeting the others. This conversation is over anyways.”

      Once in front of the pub, Jeongin turned to examine my face. Seeing such concern in his eyes I couldn’t stop the surge of emotion that came over me as tears started to fall.

“Are you okay?! You must’ve been scared…” he panicked and I shook my head.

“Thank you,” I sniffed.

“You still got hit… I can’t believe-”

“It’s whatever.” This was not the first time someone from that family raised their hand to me, I expected nothing less… and I did purposefully push his buttons. “I deserved it. I provoked him.”

      In an instant my gaze that was trained on the ground was forced to meet his piercing eyes by the gentle force of his hand nudging my chin. He had leaned in so that we were eye level and my brain nearly short circuited at his close proximity. Well that’s one way to stop tears.

“It doesn’t matter if you provoked him, that shouldn’t have happened y/n. No one deserves that, do you understand?”

      It surprised me how serious he was about this. I don’t know if it was the butterflies from how close he was or the unsettling feeling of being… perceived, but I couldn’t think. Instead I numbly nodded, my eyes never leaving his as if under a spell. The corner of his lips quirked up at my response before he ushered me into the pub and sat me in my usual seat. He tossed a bag to Chan, that I hadn’t noticed he had, before disappearing to the back. Jeongin re-emerged with some ice and placed it on my face causing me to wince a bit. Taking it from his hands, he reached for my arm but I instinctively pulled away.

“Is your arm okay?”

“It’s fine. Probably slightly bruised at most but nothing serious.”

      He eyed me suspiciously but before he could say anything Jaehyung barged over, worry written all over his face.

“Y/n! What happened?!”

“It’s nothing,” I smiled. He immediately whirled on Jeongin and gave him a pointed look.

“I caught some guy bothering her when I was out buying Chan-hyung some Advil and he… slapped her,” he responded guiltily. 

      I don’t know if I should admire or be annoyed by his honesty. I tiredly rubbed my forehead, already feeling the anger rolling off of Jaehyung. 

“Don’t feel guilty Jeongin,” I smiled before turning to Jaehyung. “Thanks for getting mad for me but it’s not worth it Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Was it your fam-”

“Yes,” I cut him off, but that was more than enough for Jeongin to put the pieces together. Not wanting to hear anything from either of them I add, “I’m fine, really. Plus Changbin is coming so don’t worry okay?”

“Not worry? You usually end up home drunk and always make bad decisions with him.”

“Ninety-six percent of the time it’s me, bad decisions help relieve stress you know,” I smile like a child trying not to get in trouble.

      Jaehyung ruffled my hair with a resigned sigh before telling me not to come home too drunk and went off. Jeongin kept me company but I had to ignore his eyes that were filled with questions I didn’t want to answer. Luckily Changbin came soon after but his eyes zeroed in on my cheek and was ready to square up with Jeongin before I intervened.

"Nope. I'll explain later, let's go." I gave him no time to argue as I waved Jeongin goodbye and sped to the door.

      Knowing that I’ve come from a deprived childhood, Changbin’s lenient with me and my impulses. That being said, tonight is a total bust. Instead of somewhere fun, we’re at some restaurant because as Changbin puts it, he needs to “gage my recklessness” since I “act up more” when my family is involved.

“I ordered some food… and alcohol since I promised to take you out to have fun but before that, what the hell happened? Who hit you? Wh-”

“Are you going to keep going or do you actually want me to answer the questions?”

“Obviously answer them you smart ass. ”

“Long story short it was Youngho and the guy from the pub basically saved me more or less.”

      His eyes softened at the mention of my brother. The first six months I was kicked out I stayed with Changbin until Hyorin, my mom's best friend who had been acting like an actual guardian for me since my dad died, helped me find an affordable place. He’s the one who saw the emotional toll it took when the one person I believed to be on my side threw me away. 

“I would’ve thought he would be too busy with company stuff to come out, especially since he is under a microscope right now with the chairman’s health issues and all.”

“That’s why wicked stepmother and her children are on my tail. They’re trying to exploit our relationship, tied by nothing more than my father’s blood, to try to win grandma over cause she is fond of me and has a big share.” I ran an annoyed hand through my hair before whining, “so can we go clubbing?”

“Yeah… no. I’ll be having to pry off some guy from trying to take you home because you’re wasted.”

“No. That only happened like… four? times…”

“Four times too many. But drink your fill here and let Mr. Neighbor know that you’re staying at mine. If I bring you home drop dead drunk again I think he would actually kill me.”

“You’re probably right,” I laugh before shooting a quick text to Jaehyung. Once I put my phone down, the waitress came in with our order and I pointed at Changbin, “no talking about the unholy trinity or I’m leaving to go be unsupervised.”

“Yes, yes. I spoil you too much,” he sighs before adding, “how is the chairman anyways?”

“Grandpa still wants to believe I don’t exist and last I heard from grandma was that his heart isn’t in good health. It’s hard to treat when they’re trying to hide it from the company. Everyone knows he’s sick but not how bad,” I respond flatly.

“... Okay one question and I’ll stop. Who are the other runner ups other than… you know who?”

      I downed my second shot in annoyance. Changbin and Jaehyung could be good friends if they let it happen, they’re both so nosy… I could care less about company drama though so I tell him. Not like I’ll get in trouble.

“I- Are you asking me to leave?”

“Oh come on, if they’re this desperate that means there are other strong candidates right?”

“Fine.” I glare, shoving some food in my mouth before answering, “They’re looking into my cousin Wooin and a long-term director Jihyo. They have high performance with successful big projects under their belt in addition to having the favor of various important people.”

“Okay, so what’s this about finding Loverboy? It’s been what? A year with no contact?”

“Of course I do. That was the first time I formed a fat crush on a guy I just met,” I roll my eyes. “It’s the guy you wanted to beat up, Jeongin. It’s been a few months but he’s been working at Jaehyung’s pub.”

      I don’t know if it was the alcohol doing its job but I started to get sentimental as I thought back to our first meeting. That night was during a relatively low point in my life and I was losing touch with the world around me, but he was the first thing I found interest in after a long time. As if my brain wanted to torture me, the image of his face mere inches from mine popped back into my mind.

“Did something already happen?! Your face is red!”

“Shut up. He still has a girl he likes so no.”

“Still?” Changbin whistles in surprise, “That’s what I call devotion. Does he remember you?”

“Nope. To make matters… interesting, she works there too and has a crush on Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Wait that cute new waitress? On that old man? And I thought you had problems,” he laughs.

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 15: Phil & Zoe’s Cinderella Story

Once Upon a Workout

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, ci-ti-zens, and welcome back to Radio Lock-In. I know last time it was Radio Phil, but since Zoe’s contributing via ROFFLEnet from the kennel where she's riding out the zombie horde, this felt a bit more apt. Also less likely to end in my having to fend off an attack by a pack of trained murder cats. Not that that's something I worry about late at night or anything. [laughs]

Anyway, it's time to start your warm-ups. Running on the spot, bit of stretching, whatever floats your boat. Oh, um, and uh, grab a yoga mat or um, large towel. You're going to be needing them. Because today, Radio Lock-In has a special treat: your very own Phil and Zoe-style fairy tale, with music breaks, ministry workouts, and a few minor updates to one of Ye Olde classic tales.

Uh, why fairy tales, you may ask? Well, obviously Zoe's a fan, what with all the talking cartoon animals in the Disney versions. But um, I just find them comforting. Have done since I was a kid. They're simple. Good wins, evil is vanquished, love is eternal, and magic is real. Well, I don't know about you, but all that sounds really good right now.

So without further ado, drum roll please! [taps hands rapidly on knees and makes a cymbal crash sound with his mouth] Cinderella! Or as Zoe calls it, the one with the posh outfits and the horse mice and in need of a rewrite from someone who has a better sense of women's shoe sizes.

But before we get to that, we'll start our story the way Cinderella starts hers: cleaning while wishing she was at a ball. Grab the nearest household item you can find and dance away while I play an appropriately jaunty tune. Ready? Dance!

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wonderful! Now to catch you up, as our tale opens, everyone's looking forward to a lavish royal ball in the kingdom of... whatever it's called. But Cinderella can't go. Instead of dancing, her stepmother forces her to constantly tidy up.

I'll be honest, this sounds a lot like what I did as an excuse to get out of school discos. Well, at least until I learned a few slick dance moves from Daniel “Snake Leg” Simons. And uh, no, Zoe, I will not be showing you the patented Simons kick and slither. Luckily, Cinderella has her own snake legs: a fairy godmother who will whisk her away to the ball with some special fairy dust magic.

We'll be helping the fairy godmother out by distributing magic dust of our own with a few uppercuts! Get into a magic stance. Boxing stance, really, but we're in a story here. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, your knees slightly bent, fists up as if you're holding tight to a handful of fairy dust. Now you're ready for your magic uppercut. Rotate your body towards the arm in front and punch upwards with your back fist. Magic! Now rotate back to your starting position and you're ready for your next uppercut of magic.

I'd say it'll take about one minute to get Cinderella ready for the ball, so get to uppercutting. Start now. 15 seconds in. The dirty rags have transformed into a dress. Halfway there. The old pumpkin has become a magic carriage. Switch legs so that your other one is in front and keep the magic coming. Only 15 seconds left to go. The mice are horses now! All she needs are magic shoes! Let's turn those everyday shoes into glass slippers.

All done! Time to admire your handiwork. Feel free to keep doing magic uppercuts during this song or just twirl around as you do your own imaginary transformation.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Now fully transformed, Cinderella heads to the ball, which I'd call a glamorous spectacle of light and gold and at least four different types of hors-doeuvres, but Zoe considers to be probably pretty boring, what with all the ball gowns and lack of a proper DJ.

Yeah, I'm fairly sure our Zoe always spent a lot of her youth in roller discos and is probably holding our imaginary ball to unreasonably high standards. But in honor of her anti-ball sentiments, we'll do some wall sits, just like the bored ball-goers.

For this, you'll need a wall that you can stand in front of. Stand with your back to the wall and lean back until your back is pressed against it, but you're still standing upright. Adjust your feet so that they’re shoulder-width apart and about a step in front of the wall, then slide your back down the wall until your thighs and calves make 90 degree angles with your back, head, and backside still against the wall.

We're gonna stay like that for 60 seconds, if we can, starting now. 15 seconds in. Why Zolinda, so lovely to see you here this evening. Halfway done. I know, such a boring ball. I'm too tired to even eat these delicious cheese canapes. Just 15 seconds to go. At least the prince is looking well. Maybe he'll meet his bride tonight, who decides to turn to a parliamentary system of rule! And done.

Stand back up and shake out those legs. A mysterious stranger has just entered the ballroom. Spoiler, it's Cinderella. All right, Cinderellas, I'll play an entrance song and you can do your best glass slippered red carpet walk, or another round of wall sits if you'd like. I'm gonna have some of those imaginary canapes. They imaginary sound imaginary delicious.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And we're back. Just in time. Cinderella is now in the middle of an exciting tango with the prince, who wants to know more about her. Uh, naturally, per Zoe, they take the opportunity to have an in-depth conversation about ruling a kingdom in a way that allows for the voice of the people to be heard, gender equality, and whether avocado is a fruit, all while dipping and sashaying.

But uh, just as Cinderella is coming up with the excellent idea to test avocados’ fruitiness by putting it on toast, the clock begins to strike midnight. [a bell chimes twice] Once it hits 12 AM, all of that fairy magic will disappear, so Cinderella has to make a run for it.

That means it's time for high knees. Run in place, bringing your knees up with each step as if you're running back to your carriage before the clock strikes midnight. Let's go, starting now. 15 seconds in. You've made it out the front door of the palace, expertly dodging the guards. Halfway there. Uh, you're at the top of the longest flight of stairs ever. Head to the bottom. Only 15 seconds left to go. You've made it down the stairs, leaving a glass slipper behind in the process. That's okay, your carriage is just ahead. Made it! Now it's time to head home and pretend you've been cleaning all night. Practice looking casual yet hard-working during this next song.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We're almost to the end of our tale. It's the next day and no one suspects that Cinderella was the previous evening's it girl, the talk of the town, the belle of the, well, ball. The prince, who Zoe notes foolishly left his glasses off while dancing and therefore couldn't see the face of the woman he fell for, is searching for her by trying to fit the glass slipper on everyone he sees. Uh, according to Zoe, that is only the fifth worst way to pick a potential mate, but she says she will not reveal one through four except to say that one of them involves lime jelly and exactly 16 eels.

And with that somewhat discomforting thought, let's help our prince out with some knee folds. They're just like lifting your foot for a shoe fitting. More or less, anyway. Start by lying down on your back. Grab your yoga mat or towel to put underneath you so you've got something comfortable to lie on. Now bring your knees up so that they’re bent and the soles of your feet are flat on the floor and your toes are pointing straight forward. Your arms should be by your sides, your shoulders relaxed and chest open. [sighs] Relaxing right?

Now as you inhale, use your abdominal muscles to lift your right leg off the floor while keeping your hips against the ground. Keep your knees bent and lift your leg until your thigh is at a 90 degrees angle from your body and your lower leg is parallel with the floor. They call this table position because, well, it looks like your lower legs are the top of a table. Now exhale as you lower your leg back down to the floor. Now do the same with your left leg, and continue alternating for the next minute.

Go! These aren't meant to be fast kicks. Keep the movement slow and controlled. Imagine someone trying endless shoes on your feet. 15 seconds in, but all the feet that the glass slipper has been tried on are too wide! Keep going. Halfway through, and now the feet are too narrow! 15 seconds of feet left to try. You're almost there. Done. That's it, that's the one. You've found Cinderella! And now you deserve a break. Shoe fitting and storytelling are both hard work. I'll put on a nice cooldown song so you can stretch out your muscles from all that fairy taling.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And that's the story of a very active Cinderella. Fun! I almost forgot we were exercising. And Zoe says it went off more or less without a hitch, even if I did leave off a detailed epilogue about Cinderella teaming up with the fairy godmother to create a magical haute couture fashion line. Uh, she says half the fun of fairy tales is that they're so simple that you get to add your own spin to it, make the story your own. Works for me, as long as we still get to throw in a happily ever after. I miss those.

Anyway, let us know on ROFFLEnet if you like fairy tales as much as we do and we'll put our heads together to come up with another. Maybe... Rapunzel. [laughs] I definitely feel like I can relate to someone who spends half her life trapped in a tower and is rapidly growing a very distressing amount of hair. Whatever we do pick and however we remix it, I have to say, there's still something comforting about retelling a classic. These stories have lasted hundreds of years, through war and disease and love and zombies, and if they can keep going, so can we.

~

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [16]

Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 16.5 OR Chapter 17

➜ Words: 4.6k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

She stops when you pass, calling for your name. The polished woman sends a reserved smile when you turn around to meet her eye, and she finishes her conversation with the girl following her before she’s dismissed, off to run an errand or maybe send a message.    Taehyung’s stepmother asks how you are, catching up when she’s been so preoccupied lately with duties of The First Lady. “Good, good. I’m glad you’re doing well. How about Taehyung? How is he?”    “He’s doing well,” you say, despite knowing full well it’s already in the report that she’s read. “Keeping up with classes, completing his art portfolio. He’s been thinking of joining a club which would help him network and make connections to others too.”   The woman nods, the corner of her lipstick stained mouth curling. “He’s a troublemaker, but a sensitive soul — though I have a feeling you already know that.” Her irises twinkle, perceptive in a way that is almost intrusive. “I’m thankful he has someone close to him that he trusts. You don’t have to worry, by the way, if you’d like to get...closer to him.”   You don’t understand what she’s trying to imply, and she merely smiles at your confused expression before glancing down at her dainty watch adorning her wrist. “Well, I must get going. I have a meeting to attend, but if there’s ever any time you need my help, I’m a phone call away.”   “Thank you.” Your head bows and she makes a noise of acknowledgment, another farewell, and the First Lady saunters down the corridor.   You muse how difficult it is to figure her out — for a long time you already knew that she’s more than Taehyung makes her out to be. His personal and petty vendetta against the woman who remarried his father is childish at best and blinding at its worst, robbing him of an opportunity to have a close relationship with her. But even after so long and interacting with the woman, you, yourself, can’t seem to understand her actions, intentions, personality traits.   But you’re not too hung up about it, having an inkling that she’s far from being any sort of bad person. She seems to make Taehyung’s dad happy and that’s all that really matters.   You continue through the house, trying to make it towards the front entrance, but it’s not long before you’re stopped again.   “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”   A rush of air leaves your nose and you eye him. “Looks like you’re free.”   Jungkook grins boyishly. “I managed to grab myself a break. Even the best need rest.”   “Huh, really? I guess I need to go rest then.”   His smile only expands, hands burying in his suit pants pockets and he stops right in front of you with all the time in the world. “Seriously though, how have you been?”   “Fine. Same old. Nothing really changes. You?”   “Same,” he hums, doe eyes twinkling with judgment. “We should grab a drink though. Looks like you need it.”   You scoff, a smile tugging up your face. “I do not.”   “Trust me, anyone and everyone who watches Mr. Kim Taehyung needs a drink. Even you, lion tamer.” Jungkook grins and the cute mole dotting near his bottom lip becomes more prominent. “And don’t go rubbing it in our faces that he’s not that bad. You know Hoseok’s pissed, right? He face-planted and almost broke his nose once when he was trying to chase after him. Doesn’t sit well when the noobie does better than those who have been around here for years.”   You shrug. “I can’t help being good at my job.”   “Nah, he’s just freaking biased as all hell….” The bodyguard’s eyes narrow and he nods, smile becoming more sly. “Though I gotta admit I’m surprised that you’ve grown to actually like him.”   “Why? I’m apathetic towards things, you know that.”   “No, I mean you actually like him.”   There’s a pause. “What?”   Jungkook sighs. “Never mind, dense girl. Now I’m beginning to understand why he always calls you ‘dumbo’ all the time. Cute nickname though.”   Your brow lifts and you scoff. “Don’t call me that.”   Your peer gives you a wolfish grin. “Offended? You’re not when he says it.”   “Hey!” Suddenly the pair of you are interrupted by a figure standing at the end of the hallway. It’s a dapper, dark and handsome man who’s striding towards you. Your eyes widen, but his are pinpointed on the man beside you. “Are you slacking, Jeon?”   All traces of the playful man disappear and Jungkook answers timidly, “No.”   Seokjin smiles at you. “Hey, chickpea. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He turns and like a switch, his expression becomes grim. “This guy, on the other hand, I thought I told you to go to your post ten minutes ago.”   You hitch a thumb over. “He just told me he’s resting.”   The boy is appalled at how quickly you betrayed him, his jaw dropping, but standing in front of his senior, he tries to play it off. “Psh, resting? No. I meant I was arresting. I got a report that there’s a suspicious man on the grounds. Was looking for him.”   “Really?” Seokjin crosses his arms, staring him down. It’s too amusing to watch and you’re sure your old classmate doesn’t enjoy the smile on your face at the moment. “Because I didn’t hear anything about that.”   There’s an awkward laugh. Jungkook tries to slip away, but Jin shakes his head, not letting him when his hand comes down onto the younger’s shoulder, gripping and squeezing tightly to keep him in place. “C’mon, we’re needed in the East hall.”   Before dragging him off, Jin bids you farewell and promises to catch up later. Jungkook, on the other hand, moves his thumb slowly across his throat with eyes narrowed into slits, threatening you for throwing him under the bus. You wave goodbye to him, enjoying his despair too much.   You make your way towards the entrance again, crossing through the maze of hallways and rooms, ducking your head when there’s people of prestige making small talk and brushing past, evading when tour groups weave through the corridors. But before you can make it to your destination, you’re stopped by a familiar voice.    “Hey, dumbo! Over here!”   Turning in your spot, Kim Taehyung’s running up to you at full speed, throwing his arms open to engulf you in a suffocating hug. You’re shoved into his chest, voice muffled through his cotton shirt. It’s unprofessional — not that it matters anymore — but you’re still in the Blue House with hundreds of eyes probably looking at you.    Though rather than getting in trouble, you have a feeling it’s solidifying your position as Taehyung’s bodyguard. No one can handle this position better than you can. No one is liked more by Taehyung himself.    “What are you doing here?” You finally pry him off, looking over to acknowledge Jimin who joins with an apologetic smile. “I was about to go to you.”   “Yeah, I know. I wanted to get rid of him early,” Taehyung says and motions his chin towards the shorter male. “His shift is over. So I decided to come to you first.”   “I still have ten minutes left before the hour’s over,” his bodyguard chirps with a good-natured smile, but it falls when the college student cranes his neck, tight-lipped and eye twitching. “N-never mind.”   Much to Taehyung’s dismay, you invite him, “You should join us, Jimin.”   The boy smiles, eyes crinkling, and worries soothed by your reassurance. “Okay.”    “How was class?” you ask as he leads the way. You don’t know where Taehyung’s going, but it’s certain that he’s not staying at the Blue House longer than he needs to.   “It was boring. I almost bashed my head on the desk when the prof started talking about government systems in the eighteen hundreds. I couldn’t care less.” He groans in exhaustion, hand dragging over his face, bored just talking about it. You hum, syncing your footsteps with his and failing to notice how Jimin naturally falls behind.   “Your stepmother asked about you.”   “About what?” His brow lifts in skepticism, less curious and more alarmed.   You shrug. “Just how you were doing.”    “What did you say?”   “What she already knows. A little about your schooling, that you’re doing pretty okay.”   “Pretty okay? I’m doing fantastic!” Taehyung exclaims in feigned exasperation, mischief leaking into his tone. “I have no idea why she’s trying to pry though. Woman can’t keep her nose out of people’s business.”   “She’s nice—”   “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Taehyung waves his hand lifelessly, ending the subject. “Anyways, I was thinking about something recently and I have a plan.”   “A plan?” You eye him. It was never good when he made a plan. Taehyung doesn’t make plans.   The man grins, mouth drawing into a rectangular shape, enthusiasm and eagerness suddenly summoned to make his brown irises twinkle. “Yep. Let’s go on a date.”   “No.”   You answered instinctively, like a withdrawal reflex. And he pretends he doesn’t hear the outright rejection. “I want to make the hypothetical a reality. You said yourself that you’d have to be in the moment to see if you’d date me, right? So let’s make the moment happen.”   “Absolutely not.”   “Umm...you guys?” Jimin raises a finger in the air, trying to remind the two of you of his presence.   “Why not?” Taehyung inquires genuinely, gaze seeking the same amount of sincerity. He’s not joking like you wish he was.    “I’m on duty.”   “Then we can wait when you’re off.”   “Um...my shift’s over, guys,” Jimin pipes up, squeaking like a mouse.   “It’s still unprofessional, Taehyung.” You stop dead in your tracks and he halts on his own feet. The both of you come face to face with one another. “I can’t date the people I work for.”   “You don’t work for me.”   “Didn’t you say that I did?” you calmly reason, reminding him of his own words. “You said I worked for you and no one else.”   Taehyung’s mouth fills with cotton, rendered speechless.    In the meanwhile, Jimin steps forward. “C-Can I go now?”   No one hears him. Not when the air is this emotionally charged and you’re holding your bated breath while Taehyung never strays from his intense eye-contact. “It’s unethical.”   “Is that it? Is that the only reason you have for me?”   “Taehyung.” Your voice is full of warning, but you don’t know what you’re threatening him with. Maybe it’s simply to stop him from talking before he keeps going and makes you question yourself.    You’re afraid of how you might waver.   “If you don’t like me like that, if you’re truly not curious about what it would be like and you don’t even want to give it a try, then tell me, right now. Tell me so I don’t have to keep putting my hope into us.”   Taehyung is serious, expression solemn. You don’t know where it’s coming from.   “There is no us.”   “Really? I highly doubt that,” he says it with so much confidence. You’re baffled, not knowing what he means, and staring straight at him. Taehyung shrugs and walks off. “I won’t force you into anything though.”   You watch how he strolls nonchalantly, hands digging into his pockets.   A sigh spills from your throat and you turn around. “Jimin, you can go now. I’ll take it from here.”   “O-oh, okay.” He’s a deer in headlights, flushing from Taehyung’s declaration of affections even though you should be the one with heated cheeks and widened eyes. “Will you be okay?”   “I’ll be fine.” You smile to reassure him, and you’re not wrong.   When aren’t you fine?   You catch up with Taehyung who’s speed walking down the street. He doesn’t seem to be angry or upset in the least bit, merely sulking as usual. “Where are you going?”   “Does it matter?” He scoffs. “You have to follow me anywhere I go anyways.”   It stays quiet for an extended moment.    It’s difficult to wrap your mind around it. You’ve only been asked out once before, back in the academy, to which you politely turned down, not wanting to lose focus on why you had come there. Your entire life has been spent in concentration, disciplined, never straying off from goals or indulging in frivolous things, like dates or social events.    But maybe you should’ve seen it coming. When you consider it, it’s not out of nowhere.    You and Taehyung have shared at least two meals a day together for the past two months. You’ve shared a bed with him, let him hug you close, let him draw you in such an intimate manner.   Taehyung’s stopped being just a friend a long time ago — and deep down you know it too.   “The movie theater?” you question when he finally stops.   “Problem?” He looks up at the screen with the titles flashing by. “I’ve been wanting to watch something for a while now.” With a deep inhale, he smiles and approaches the booth. “Two tickets to When Spring Meets Autumn, please.”   The lady behind the glass takes his cash and slides two tickets over. “The auditorium is to your left, number twenty one.”   “Thanks.” Taehyung stops at the concession.    You step beside him, puzzled to no end. “A romcom?”   “Why?” He smiles, and it’s small and coy. “I like romance movies too, y’know. They’re sweet.”   The vendor interrupts the conversation. “Next, please.”   “Yes, can I get an extra large popcorn, please?”   “Is that all?”   “Should we get drinks?” Taehyung looks over at you and you’re speechless, unable to respond when you don’t know what he’s doing. After a beat, he smiles at your silence and looks back at the vendor. “We’ll probably just take a medium-sized drink. Coke with no ice.”   “What are you doing, Taehyung?” you ask while he leads you into the dark theater.   “I’m enjoying a movie...with you.” Taehyung tells you to hold the drink and you feel his hand press on your shoulder, guiding you to the center row.   “Wait. It’s dangerous,” you whisper and before he can protest no one’s going to attack him, you insist, “Let’s sit on the edge.”   For the first time, Taehyung obliges your will. While you still can’t see well in this amount of darkness and your hearing is distorted with the surrounding speakers, everyone who wants to get to Taehyung has to go through you first. It puts your mind at a little more ease. But you still turn around to look at other people, swiveling in all directions, assessing the premise and every entrance, exit.    Suddenly, there’s warmth on your arm.   Taehyung's leaned the bag of freshly popped popcorn over to you.    “Want some?”   “Sure.”    You dip your hands in, grabbing only two. It’s buttery on your tongue, the taste addicting. You realize just how long it’s been since you’ve watched a movie in an actual theater — free time is better spent brushing your skills at the dojo, practicing on the shooting-range, working out, or resting for the next day.    The commercials play, loud, and he reclines his seat back. Taehyung glances at you before he’s moving over, whispering in your ear. His hot breath skims against your skin, oddly causing your chest to stutter. “Relax. We’ll be fine. I promise you no one’s going to try to get me in the middle of the movie theater, okay?”   “You can’t promise something like that.”   “No,” he whispers back with a smile. “But I can promise you’ll have a better time if you’re not constantly worried. I know it’s your job, but it’s also called pacing, dumbo. You’ll wear yourself down if you’re always on high alert.”   He has a point. One that you never really considered before. So you release a shaky breath held in your throat and look towards the screen.   Taehyung smiles at you, glad that you can relax even if it’ll only last for a short while.    The two of you lean back and when the movie begins, the lights dim even more, sound increasing in volume, screen expanding. Your hand reaches over, accidentally knocking into Taehyung’s as he’s also reaching in the bag for popcorn. And he lingers there, never once withdrawing, allowing the back of your hands to press against each other. You look over and the blonde pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on until three seconds pass and he finally grabs a handful, moving away. You scoff lightly, mouth pulling with a smile he doesn’t see.   The movie is absolutely terrible.   The prettiest actress gets killed off within the first ten minutes by a car accident and the rest of it is terribly dull and predictable. It doesn’t help that once your hand meets the bottom of the popcorn bag, there’s nothing else to preoccupy your time with.   But halfway through the film, goosebumps suddenly raise all over the back of your neck. You’re made hyperaware, feeling Taehyung draping his arm over the back of your chair. From the close proximity, you hear him clear his throat. Every movement he makes, your eyes and ears pick up on it, overly conscious of his presence in a way that almost makes you feel…..nervous.    And you don’t feel nervous often.   You end up leaning in towards the man, shuffling closer. When you turn your head to stare, he notices your gaze and shifts himself. Both of your eyes set on each other, connected. The profile of his visage is illuminated by the luminescence of the film, his features softened and glowing in the white lights.   You come closer, lips parting.   Taehyung stares and swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.   You can see his lashes, the tiny freckles and moles dotting his face in spontaneous areas, details that you never noticed from afar. You see him clearly. “Taehyung.”   “Hmm?”   “Did you wear deodorant?”   His expression falls. He moves away. His arm drops off your chair. “Course I did!”   “Shush!” The person in front of him turns around with a glare and he’s left muttering a halfhearted apology. Your facade cracks with a smile while Taehyung sips on his drink, sulking.    For the rest of the time, he keeps his hands to himself and voluntary, you lean closer to him — just because warmth seems to radiate off of him.   “What did you think?”   “Movie was mediocre.” you say and Taehyung agrees. “Where are we going now?”   His pace quickens as if it’ll be enough for you to just follow along and be unable to put up a fight. “I’m hungry, aren’t you?”   “Well, I’m oka—”   “I got a reservation at a pretty nice place. It’s at eight, so we’re right on time.”   It’s a walk down the street, a mere block away, obviously planned so that it was easy without escape. Taehyung even opens the door for you, ushering you in like a gentleman. And once you enter, you’re put at a standstill.   He doesn’t eat at a place like this. Kim Taehyung craves fast food and greasy snacks, burgers and fries, ice-cream and carbonated drinks. But here are candlelit dinners, meager portions of steak, orders of not just simple meals, but appetizers and desserts.    You’re frozen until Taehyung guides you forward after he says his name and the waitress shows him to the table. A personal waiter introduces himself, showing the menus and pouring iced water by a whole fucking fancy pitcher and an arm behind his back, practiced after months of work.   You’ve been to places like this before, just standing at the back with your eyes pinned forward, on alert without moving like a statue while the important people chatted and ate together. Never did you consider that you’d one day sit at the table as well.   “This is a date, Taehyung.”   “What? “ He doesn’t even look at you, browsing the menu. “Who says?”   “A movie? A dinner?”   “We watch TV and eat together all the time.” He languidly shrugs.   “Yeah, but not like this. Not at a place like this.”   The man puts the menu down and folds his hands in his lap, eyes flickering up to you with a smile less than innocent. “I said I would treat you to something, remember? So take it as that.”   “Taehyung….”   “Do you want this to be a date?” he questions, becoming increasingly upset with the distant way you look up at him. This is not how he envisioned it to be. “You already said no. I get it. So stop insisting this is a date then. Just eat and we’ll go home. Think of it as me paying back the favour.”   It’s silent, awkward even.   There’s chatter all around you, warm conversations surrounding the space between the decorative walls. But between you and Taehyung, it’s gone cold, and you can’t understand. You cannot fathom how you’ve gotten here in the first place. It’s too difficult to comprehend alone.   “Why did you even ask me that earlier? Why did you ask me on a date?”   “Because if it wasn’t obvious enough, I like you, dumbo. A lot,” Taehyung emphasizes and ducks his head across the table where no one can eavesdrop. “I have since you appeared in front of me and saved me during the whole hostage shit.”   “You’re confused,” you tell him. “You’re confusing gratitude with other feelings—”   “I’m not.” His pitch raises into frustration and his hand crumples into a fist. “Stop taking my feelings so lightly, Y/N. I’m not a child. I’m not kidding either. I’m being serious. I like you.”   No one around knows what’s happening. You’re in your own bubble shared with Taehyung, an intimate confession spilled while surrounded by strangers. “I get that you might not feel the same,” he says, “But stop treating my feelings as a joke.”    The waiter steps up, unknowingly interrupting, but allowing you a moment to break away and think. “Hi, are you ready to order?”   “S-sure.”   Taehyung makes his order and you say you’ll have the exact same. It’s awkward as he takes the menus, suffocating silence that maybe the waiter feigns ignorance to. He flashes a charming smile, promising it’ll be out in about ten minutes and he fills your glasses of water again, excruciatingly slow.   You and Taehyung watch the water flow, the ice clinking against the glass….   Finally after five full minutes, the waiter leaves. Taehyung’s left staring at the flower centerpiece and you’re turning the fork over the table, fiddling with the hem of the white cloth napkin.    “I’ve….never dated anyone before.”   “I know.”   “I don’t know what it means to be in a romantic relationship.”   “To be honest, me neither.”   “You told me I was emotionally stunted. I can’t offer what you’re looking for.”   “The only thing I’m looking for is you.”   You swallow hard. “What if it doesn’t work?”    Your gaze meets his and he holds it, unyielding. The two of you are no longer children or just childhood friends, a bodyguard and college boy. You’re adults, two human beings with statuses that don’t matter.   “Then you’d still be my best friend.”   Taehyung takes a deep breath. “I meant it. That night, when I told you no one could take your place ever. That I wanted you. Badly. I meant every word that I said.”   Someday, he’ll no longer be the President’s son. Someday, you’ll no longer have a professional obligation to hold up to anymore. Someday, Taehyung’s greatest wish would come true and he’ll return to a life of normalcy or something that at least resembles it. That same someday, you’ll just be two adults who grew up together — just like now, but it’ll stay that way even after leaving this place.   “Would you ever date me?” — “You kind of have to be in the moment to know.”   You remember what you told him. It still holds true now.   “Someday,” you answer him earnestly. “Someday, when it’s all over, I’ll go on a date with you and then we’ll see what becomes of it.”   “Someday,” Taehyung murmurs after you, mimicking you as it sinks in. “What does that mean?”   A week from now? A month? A year? Ten years?   “When I’m not your bodyguard anymore.” You turn to him again. “When I’m not working under my dad. When you’ve graduated and you’re doing what you want and I’m not holding you back. When I’m more confident in being able to express myself and communicate properly….”   “Someday….” Taehyung repeats it to himself. It takes three seconds — three seconds and a smile comes across his face. “I hope you can keep that promise, dumbo. I can wait a lifetime if I have to.”   //   The pair of you eat dinner together, bantering and chattering. It’s not awkward or difficult like earlier with the weight of his declaration lingering above your heads and an answer caught in your throat, jumbling the rest of your words. Time moves quickly, and he pays like he said he would, opening the door when you leave together — careful and kind in his actions like his hopes still depend on it.   Outside, he holds your hand and you let him without protest.   The promise has been ingrained between the both of you.   “Where are we going now?”   “Back to my place,” he says. “Date’s over, dumbo. You’re just dropping me off my doorstep now.”   “So it was a date, huh? Finally admitting it?”   “Oops.” Taehyung grins. “How’d I do?”   You shrug. “Not bad, I guess. I think I’d have to go on dates with other guys to be able to compare though.”   A laugh squeezes out from him. “Hey! You better keep that someday free. I’m gonna hold you accountable. Even if you’re married with a kid in this ‘someday’, I’m still gonna show up at your door. Just letting you know that. I won’t give up — took you nine years to come back. I can wait another nine if I have to.”   “If you don’t want to, you don’t—”   “I want to,” he interrupts with a sweet smile, and you wonder how he can be so bold, so sure of himself.    It goes quiet and both your steps slow. His hand squeezes yours. The mosaic of lights coming from shops and street lamps casts on his softened features, making him glow. And you don’t think about it. Instincts charge the air. You allow emotions to choose the course of your actions — not logic, not muscle memory, or obligated duty.   You lift yourself and his hand lets go of yours, lifting to cup your cheek. Taehyung’s half-lidded eyes watch your expression and your own lids shut tight. You lean in for a kiss, a gentle press of your mouths against one another.   It’s terrible — noses knocking against each other, you missing his mouth and getting the corner instead, holding your breath for too long and running out of air.   You end up pulling away, gasping with your face hot, murmuring apologies. “S-sorry.”   “Don’t be, dumbo.” Taehyung smiles and this time, he’s the one who leans in. He inhales and kisses you with his mouth slightly parted. It’s plush, timid, but still full of eagerness, and your senses are filled with the scent of lavender, baby lotion, something you didn’t notice in the wake of nervousness.   It lasts ten seconds before it breaks apart. “There. That’s how you do it.”   Kim Taehyung reaches down to hold your hand, grinning to himself. He swings his arm back and forth, excited with a bounce in his step. You’re the one following him now. “Man, this someday’s gonna be great.”   You laugh and he savours the sound.

[forthegothicheroine]

The Orkney Family Gathering

(Also on AO3)

Christmases were hard enough for Gawain ordinarily, given that they had been known to involve giant green men hefting axes and being seduced by husband-and-wife teams under the orders of his Aunt Morgan.  Bringing home his new wife made the situation even more complicated, but he couldn’t very well refuse to have a big party introducing her to his family.  As far as his family was concerned, it would look like he was trying to hide his new bride from them, and as far as Ragnelle was concerned, it would look- correctly- like he was trying to hide them from her.

Which was why he gathered his brothers together beforehand for a little talk.

“Agravain.  If you so much as look like you might be thinking of possibly trying to be alone with Ragnelle, I’m going to poison your dinner.  Gaheris, I don’t care who mother’s brought home with her this time, you’re going to be civil to them.  Gareth, now is not the time to engage in long reminiscences about all the battles Lancelot has won, I don’t want her running off with him.  Mordred…” Gawain trailed off.  “Mordred, just try to be quiet.”

“I know how to behave around a woman!” Agravain protested.

“The last time you said that, it was immediately before you were cursed by a maiden you attempted to kidnap.  I’m begging you, everyone, can’t we just pretend to be normal?  For one night?”

“I suppose mother is also getting this talk?” Mordred asked in a petulant tone of voice.

“No, because mother is capable of not talking about her illicit night with King Arthur and how you’re the product of that union, which you seem incapable of doing.  If there’s one thing I don’t need Ragnelle to hear, it’s a loud proclamation that you’re the true heir to the throne because your parents committed unknowing incest.  Why is this so hard for everyone to understand?”

Gareth stepped forward and put his hand on Gawain’s shoulder.

“Gawain, I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, that Ragnelle’s stepmother cursed her to be a hag and her brother tried to murder the king.  I don’t think she’s going to be in any position to judge us.”

Gawain groaned.  He really hated Christmas.

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [11/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro. Jason and Isabel Ardila

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

As expected, Jason doesn’t sleep that night.

His eyes remain trained on the ceiling of the guestroom while his subconscious drags him along a tilt-a-whirl of anxious and circular thoughts. He can barely process what they are with how fast they manifest and vanish again to be replaced with new ones. And before he’s really aware of it, the sun is streaming through the window that he forgot to pull the shades over, and he hears movement outside the room.

Figuring he might as well get up, he heaves himself out of bed and ambles down the stairs, skirting the piles of baby supplies he somehow forgot about while drowning in his night of circular thinking.

Tim is standing in his kitchen doing up his tie, nodding and humming with a frown on his face. Jason’s about to ask until he notices the hands-free earpiece in one ear. That could be either for work or to cover the Bat-issue comm; he probably has the latter plugged in permanently the same way Bruce does.

Tim notices him, and his mouth quirks upward in a not-quite smile of greeting.

“I’ll be in shortly, Lucius,” he says distantly. “We can discuss it before the meeting.” He taps the earpiece, hanging up, and then addresses Jason. “Good morning. You look like shit.”

“It’s the ‘I-didn't-sleep’ chic, which you should recognize since you invented it.”

“You’re just jealous you can’t make it look as good as I can,” Tim quips, and maybe if Jason were well-rested, he’d have a better retort for that. Instead, he narrows his eyes to study the younger man.

Tim Drake is polished and put-together, the epitome of perfect Wayne heir. Damian might throw around the words ‘blood son’ at every opportunity, and Dickie might be the first and favorite son, but Tim’s the one actually carrying on the Wayne legacy. From what Jason’s heard, he does it better than Bruce ever did.

Goddamn workaholic. And that suit probably costs more than rent for one of my legal apartments.

“I’m heading out,” Tim announces needlessly, taking a sip of what must be coffee from a travel mug. “I’ll try to get home before four o’clock, but it really depends on how much work Lucius decides to pile on while I’m still in town.”

“Because it sure as hell won’t get done if B is the only one around,” Jason agrees, earning a sharp grin in reply.

“Exactly.”

And there’s the cocky little bastard Jason’s been waiting to re-emerge after a day of being hidden by the scarily competent functioning adult façade.

“Feel free to stick around here and play the game system or raid the fridge or whatever. It’s up to you. The security system’s biometric, but I can give you an override code—” Noticing Jason’s disgusted and somewhat insulted look, he huffs, “Or not. Whatever. You’ll figure it out.”

He leaves without saying anything else, and suddenly Jason is well and truly alone for the first time since waking up on the anniversary of his death with his only thought being to get black-out drunk.

Funny how much twenty-four hours can change.

Except it’s really not.

Jason doesn’t want to spend another day thinking over all of his problems and the infinite possibilities of how the situation can become even more screwed up or confusing, so he busies himself with breaking into Tim’s hideout.

That occupies him for a little while, figuring out the security codes to the false wall and then to the locks on his computer system. He spends the morning wandering around, getting to know the frankly sweet set-up of the place, testing out the training room and looking under the hood of the cars in the garage.

Wonder if Timbers would help me outfit my bunker.

He’s been squatting in an old subbasement beneath GCPD headquarters for a few weeks now; the place was cut off from the main building during the Cataclysm a few years back and for whatever reason, everyone seems to believe it was caved in beyond repair.

Jason’s cleaned the place out and set up his own operation, but it doesn’t have the tech or necessities of an actual Cave. Which, frankly, isn’t fair, since everyone else has their own Batman-free getaway to hide in when the old man gets in one of his moods. Hell, even the new kid has a place beneath the Fox center.

As soon as the thought enters his mind, Jason scowls.

What the hell am I thinking?

None of this is even going to matter for a while anyway, now that he’s about to be benched. Might as well say goodbye to the state-of-the-art vigilante tech now and spare himself the disappointment.

He leaves the Nest (was Drake born without the ability to be original or something?) and returns to the living area, examining the place with a more critical eye this time around.

He still ignores looking at the pile of baby supplies.

Jason’s first impression the day before was of a barely lived in space, meant to show any would-be-intruders how a normal local celebrity might live. He learns he was only half-right when he spies smaller, more personal touches in the décor as he wanders through the house. There are photographs arranged along most of the walls, which on first glance he assumed were the kind you picked up at Ikea to make a place look classy, but he realizes as he studies the black-and-white images that they are shots of various locations in Gotham.

Locations a normal person can’t actually get to.

Which means Tim must have taken them himself; it’s just innocuous enough that a regular visitor would only admire the clarity of the shot. To someone like Jason, it’s impressive for completely different reasons; not least of all the danger inherent in achieving just that right angle. Two pictures he knows could only have been taken by hanging one-handed off a Gotham Trade Centre gargoyle.

The whole thing says more about Tim’s personality than any human detritus or strewn personal belongings could.

Though he does have those, too.

The shelf beside the television has a copy of what might be every video game known to man, across three different platforms. The study is filled with vintage board games and robot figurines and piles of tech magazines. Everything is scary neat—the professional, unnatural Stepford kind of neat that speaks of someone paid to clean it—with the exception of Tim’s bedroom. Jason pokes his head in there for like a second before shuddering and walking away from it.

How has Alfred not murdered you yet, kid?

Back downstairs, he studies the faux mantle above the electric fireplace where he sees artfully placed personal pictures of other recognizable personages. Tim with his Kryptonian and speedster friends, then him along with his generation of Titans. There’s one of him as a child with two people Jason assumes are his parents at a high society event of some sort, as well as a wedding photo of him much older; the man beside him is the same, but the woman in the veil is different. Stepmother, probably.

Jason pauses to smirk at the one of Tim and Dick on a beach somewhere, both ridiculously sunburned; it’s in the same folding frame as one with them both sitting beside Bruce on a beach chair. The older man is asleep, or at least pretending very well, and they’ve used sunscreen to write ‘I hate this place’ on his chest. Alfred obviously took that one.

The family butler is in the next image, standing beside the entry stairway of the manor with a thoughtful expression on his face. It’s so clearly staged to seem as distinguished as possible.

Guess Alf never did get over his dislike of having candid pictures of him taken.

Moving on, there’s a four-strip photo of Tim and Blondie stuck in the frame of a larger one with all three Batgirls past and present in what he supposes is Barbie’s apartment, with them trying to show Cass how to make a duck face. Beside it, one of Tim and the Thomas kid arguing over what looks to be a disemboweled computer; judging by the thumb shape in the corner it was taken sneakily and probably by Dick. Hell, there’s even one of the demon brat there, conked out on a couch in Bruce’s study with a black and white cat curled up on his chest.

Family’s all here, he thinks with a grim sort of humor. All except yours truly.

He’s not sure if he would have expected different, given his and Tim’s relationship. They might partner on occasion, and he works better with Tim than any of the other Bats he sometimes teams up with, but it’s not like they’re actually close. He doesn’t go out of his way to spend time with him outside of the mask, and then there’s a chasm of tense history between them.

He’d actually be surprised if—

Something catches his eye as he turns away from the fireplace, if only because next to all the gleaming frames its’ ordinariness makes it stick out. There’s a faded paper propped up against the wall behind a decorative clock, and when Jason reaches to pick it up and examine it, he finds himself staring down at his own grinning face.

Sort of.

It’s him from years ago.

The Jason Todd before Bruce stopped trusting him; before finding out his entire life had been a lie and before the Joker destroyed him. And it’s not so much a picture as a clipping from a newspaper.

Little Jason grins up at the photographer, missing his right canine and the same side of his face slightly puffy. Jason vaguely remembers the fight with Two-Face the night before, faster than he recalls sitting for this photo. He’s wearing a school uniform, can now recall the harried little man asking if he was sure he didn’t want to wait for picture retakes so they could get a picture when his face wasn’t bruised (“Bruce tried to teach me to ride a horse. They need to make those things closer to the ground!”) and him refusing because he earned these colors, thanks very much—

Jason can’t figure out how this photo ended up in a newspaper, though; the only pictures of him still extant in public are the ones they drag up on television every few years when Bruce does some bit of charity for orphans. Reminders of the poor dead orphan.

But this one—no, now he remembers.

This was the photo the press used during the custody case when Bruce was publicly battling Natalia Knight for guardianship of Jason. It’s not a copy, printed off the internet or digitally finished as a photograph. There’s yellowing around the edges and the paper quality is thin and grainy the way an actual newspaper is when it ages.

But why the hell does Tim have this?

He’s been back from the dead for years now, and with the Bat propensity for stalking and surveillance footage, if Tim wanted a photo of him, he could certainly have gotten all manner of material. Why this one? And why include it here at all, if it’s hidden away behind the others like a dirty secret?

The whole thing is vastly unsettling, and as he remembers Tim’s words from yesterday—

“We’re too complicated to be family. But we are Robins. And in a lot of ways, I think that’s stronger than us being part of the Family.”

—his chest starts to experience that vicelike pressure he’s been having on and off since learning about Isabel and the baby.

He’s struck by the very pressing need to get out of here.

Fleeing the apartment for the hidden Nest once more, Jason finds the exit protocols and manual overrides for Tim’s system, then borrows one of the bikes in the garage area. Tim did say he was free to do ‘whatever’ and though Jason doubts that includes absconding with his wheels, he doesn’t entirely care. He doesn’t even bother looking for the tracking beacons he knows are hidden on them.

He’s not running away, he’s just…clearing his head.

Or clearing it as well as anyone can while navigating the construction and traffic-infested roads of Gotham.

An open highway would be the most ideal way for him to lose himself and avoid his complicated feelings, but he supposes that option has its own dangers. Like just driving straight to California and pretending the past day has been nothing but a bad dream.

Instead, the constant roadblocks and detours Jason’s forced to take through the corners of the city jog his brain back into thinking. Back into reasoning and solving problems and improvising like he usually does.

First of all, he needs to stop letting Tim do everything for him.

Jason is capable—has survived on his own his whole life; it’s time to get his shit together. And to do that, he has to find someone who can take care of the baby.

His daughter.

He needs to get used to saying it, whether he stays in her life or not.

Jason isn’t entirely sure what he’s looking for in terms of the plans Tim suggested to him the night before. There’s merit to all the ideas, but he’s stuck between getting her out of Gotham or finding someone here who knew Isabel.

Or at least someone who knew she was expecting a kid. Any kind of connection to her mother would be better than nothing.

In theory.

Jason’s pretty sure that it’s a rare kid—himself included—who would have been better off without knowing anything about their birth mother. But Isabel is not Sheila, and the situation isn’t anything like that one.

He’s not even sure where to start looking for potential guardians.

Though Isabel’s friend Safiya said she would be looking into it, it’s once again putting Jason in the position of letting others deal with the consequences of his own actions. If only he knew more about what frame of mind Isabel was in before all this started…

Jason didn’t live with the world’s greatest detective for three years of his life without learning how to build a profile on someone. And the best starting point for that is where she spent most of her time.

He pulls over in the parking lot of a Bat Burger to unlock the fancy computer hidden within the bike’s dash (obviously one of Tim’s own design) and linking to the Bat-network’s backdoor to Gotham General’s patient records. Then it’s a simple search to bring up Isabel’s personal information, including her latest address.

Turns out she moved a lot closer to Gotham General than she was before; as he revs the motor and takes off again, Jason wonders if that was pre-emptive.

Isabel’s place is on the edge of Midtown, where the business district turns residential. The condominium itself seems well taken care of, especially in contrast to the fixer-uppers Jason’s used to in his own neighborhood, but in Gotham, that means next to nothing.

Though clearly Isabel’s been doing well if she’s able to afford a place here.

He’s not entirely sure what the average flight attendant’s salary is, but maybe she was just good with money.

Her apartment is on the highest floor of the apartment building, reachable by the fire escape. He scowls a bit at the idea that just anyone could get in here if they so choose, and if she thinks that’s a good enough deterrent than—

Jason has to stop and shake his head and remind himself that Isabel is gone. She’ll never have to worry about break-ins again.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he jimmy’s open the window and slips through.

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

________________________________________________________________

Next Chapter

[heyyyharry]

Cousin

(from the Couple in Flat 102 Series)

…in which Harry’s least favorite cousin pays him a visit, and Y/N thinks he’s a bad influence on Harry.

wattpad link

.

"So, you're telling me he'd had this ring since graduation?!"

"Yes!"

"Get out!"

Layla and Y/N squealed at the same time, ignoring the judging stares from their boyfriends who have been watching them from the kitchen door this whole time. Y/N had been going on and on about finally being engaged for nearly an hour now, which made Harry feel very smug while Niall, on the other hand, was weirdly on edge.

"You've got to tell your girl to stop telling my girl about the 'romantic' stuff you do," said Niall as he furrowed his brows, eyes still on Layla. "When we get home she's gonna give me so much shit for this."

"Mate, you gotta—" Harry began.

But Layla jumped right into his mouth as she shouted at her boyfriend, "hey babe! Harry met Y/N's parents in person to ask for her hand, isn't it cute?"

"Yes, very cute!" Niall shouted back, punching the air enthusiastically then with that fake smile he whispered a quiet 'fuck you' to his friend who was trying his best not to laugh.

Luckily for Niall, his girlfriend was the one who changed the subject afterwards. "So what happened to the catsitter after you caught her stealing your ring?"

"I got rid of her," Y/N calmly answered before raising her voice intentionally. "Someone had to!"

When hearing that, Niall couldn't help but snicker and as a result received a slight slap on the cheek from Harry. Neither of the girls bothered to ask or pay attention to them though, Layla was too busy looking around for the little cat instead.

"Did that bitch steal Treasure too?" She screwed up her face, and Y/N quickly shook her head no.

"Ben and Nam took her to the park already."

"Wait, Ben and your super cool, super gay doorman know each other?"

"Apparently. Yeah." Y/N shrugged. "I think something's going on between those two. Neither would tell me about it though."

"Trust me. They can't hide it forever." Layla released a laugh then looked down at the watch on her wrist. And as soon as she saw what time it was, the girl threw herself out of the sofa immediately. "Shit, we're having lunch with my dad's family in half an hour! Niall, let's go!"

"Do we have to?" Niall groaned, dragging his feet to the front door, like a little boy whose mother had just told him to say goodbye to his friend because playtime was over.

"Yes we do, Niall!" Layla tapped a finger on her watch, urging her boyfriend to pick up his pace.

"But you hate your dad's family!"

"Yeah but...not my dad." She widened her eyes at her boyfriend. "Hurry up! That little whore Esther would have a lot to say about us being late."

"Oh, is Esther your stepsister?"

"Her stepmother..." Niall answered Y/N's question with a sigh. "She's not much older than us so...same thing."

Y/N and Harry just exchanged glances without any further comment on their friend's family drama. They knew Layla all too well and she would never shut up once she started ranting about the people she loathed.

Niall walked out first, and before Layla followed, she stopped at the door to say one last thing, "oh Niall told me Mason's coming over today. Good luck, H!"

Y/N chuckled in confusion as she switched her eyes from her best friend to her boyfriend. "Who's Mason?"

"He's Harold's journalist cousin who recently just got back from Barcelona. He's very hot."

"HEY!" Niall shouted from the hallway, causing Layla to frantically change her opinion.

"I mean he's hot if you don't count Niall!" She said loudly for Niall to hear before running off to catch up with him as the lift arrived.

With the friends were now gone, Harry watched Y/N close the door with a funny look on her face, and so he knew they were about to have a conversation about Mason, the name he tried to avoid in every family gathering.

"You've never told me you had a cousin named Mason."

"Because I like to pretend I didn't have a cousin named Mason!" Harry flopped down on the sofa, blowing up his cheek like a frustrated little boy. So his fiancé took a seat right beside him staring at him intensely with a cheeky smirk on her face, which got him curious.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow, making the girl giggle.

"I'm waiting for the backstory about you and this guy."

"Psst, you don't wanna hear it. It's silly."

"Is it? Because you seem more stressed about him visiting us than the first time you saw me naked."

That sentence left a wide smile on Harry's face as he took no time to drag her by the hips onto his lap.

"That's not true," he mumbled, nose brushing against hers while his hands founf comfort resting on the exposed skin of her lower back. "I can never be as stressed as the first time we made love."

The tips of his fingers were dancing dangerously close to her jeans button now. Y/N quickly swatted them away, before he successfully lured her into another one of their midday sexy sessions as an excuse se to get away from this conversation.

"You can't have me until you tell me about Mason."

Because Harry knew there was no way he could win this argument, he slightly pulled his face away and began with a long exhalation. "There's nothing much to tell besides the fact that he's a narcissistic asshole, who's like...really cool and good at basically everything. Everyone in my family loves him, in fact, every single person I know loves him."

Y/N chuckled, eyebrows furrowed as she heard him. "Then how come he's an asshole?"

"He's only an asshole to me! He was always bullying me when we were kids, he pushed me to the ground, stole my toys! But in front of our parents he was a fucking angel. He nearly drowned me once at the lake and somehow had everyone believe it was my fault!" Harry rolled his eyes as he continued, "back when we were still in high school, there was this girl Stephanie, and she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen! Not now though! Now you're number one!"

Y/N scoffed as she patted his cheek slightly. "Nice try, but go on."

"So I told him I wanted to ask Stephanie to the Prom because he was her friend and he'd already got a girlfriend back then."

"Lemme guess. He asked her to the Prom, didn't he?"

"He did!" Harry's bitter tone nearly had Y/N dying of laughter. "He broke up with his girlfriend and asked Steph to the Prom without telling me first just so she could reject me. I was very humiliated!"

Y/N bit back a smile, the pouty look on his face was undeniably cute. Competitive Harry always made her want to tear off all his clothes before begging him to do things to her, but she knew she couldn't do that now, not when he was still so upset about his seemingly evil cousin/childhood enemy.

"Well, if you two hate each other so much then why's he coming to visit us?"

"Mum's told all of my relatives that I got engaged, so Mason probably came back to prove that he's doing better than I am."

"Or..." Y/N stressed out the word as she traced her fingertip across his collarbone, making him swallow hard "...he heard about our engagement and wanted to congratulate us in person. You two are adults now, something has to change."

"You always believe in people." Harry grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. "That's one of the reasons why I love you. But I know Mason, baby, he's a dick, and I don't want you to meet him."

"But I do! I'm curious to see for myself how bad he can be!" She giggled, holding his face. "Besides, you're always the best. No other man can beat my man."

"You're biased because you're my fiancé."

Y/N couldn't help it anymore, she just had to kiss him now. With their mouths attached, she pinned him down on the sofa with her on top, then mumbled against his heavenly soft lips, "I'm not biased, you're simply, objectively, the best."

.

.

.

From Harry's and Layla's descriptions of the man, Y/N imagined Mason to be as sexy as today's Zac Efron. And she was sure not disappointed, because he was doubtlessly an attractive man!

Mason'd been living away from home for so long that you could barely make out the English accent in his voice, that took away the probably only thing that these two men had in common in Y/N's opinion. While Harry was cool, calm and collected most of the time, Mason seemed to have too much energy to spare. When he first saw Y/N, he pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek even though they'd never met before. Such overwhelming friendliness caught the girl by surprise though the hug didn't last for more than two seconds because her overprotective boyfriend broke them apart soon after.

"Okay, that's enough," Harry announced, pulling her back to his side while staring hostilely at his least favorite cousin, probably, person, in the world. Y/N swore she'd never seen him glare at anyone else that way.

"Harold!"

"Not even my name, but whatever."

"You're still as funny as I remember!"

Mason slightly punched the younger man's shoulder while giving him the biggest smile, yet Harry had the same straight face. It didn't take a genius to notice how much Harry hated his cousin. So Y/N assumed Mason knew, yet overlooked it to act all amiable towards Harry, which didn't make him such a bad person like Harry said he was.

"Why are we standing here?" Y/N broke the awkward silence between them three. "Let's go inside!"

"Wait, my fiancé should be here in a sec."

"Fiancé?" Harry snorted, thinking it was another lame joke, but Mason didn't seem like he was joking at all.

"Oh, there she is!"

The lift door opened, turning Harry's and Y/N's attention to the woman who had just stepped out.

"Fuck," Harry cursed when she removed her sunglasses. And without waiting for Y/N to ask, Mason gave her the answer right away by calling out his lover's name.

"Stephanie!"

Wait, Stephanie?! Y/N dropped her jaw. The-most-beautiful-girl-Harry-had-ever-seen Stephanie?! Harry's-high-school-dream-girl Stephanie?

"Remember Harold, darling?" Mason put a hand on the girl's back, pointing the other to his cousin. Stephanie, blonde-haired, long-legged, flawless-skinned Stephanie, put on a beam and goes in to hug Harry, who was still too in shock to even lift his arms and return the gesture.

"Wow, it's been years! How are you, Harry?" She asked after pulling away.

And Harry had to clear his throat to regain his composure. "I'm...okay. This is my fiancé, Y/N."

"H-Hi..." Y/N cracked a smile when the attention was switched to her. All of her self-esteem had vanished to make room for this woman's presence there.

"She is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Y/N whispered to Harry after the other couple had entered their flat.

With a cheeky smile, he squeezed her hand and told her, "that's not true, you see your reflection everyday."

She snorted and rolled her eyes in reaction to his unnecessary remark, but to say she was tired of these lame flirting attempts would be a massive lie.

"I'd give that pickup line a 8/10, 7 plus one because you're cute."

"Yussss, new record!" Harry made her laugh by punching the air. Afterwards she felt much less stressed out and intimidated by the goddess in her living room, and could happily join Stephanie and Mason on the sofa.

The conversation began pretty casual. Mason mostly bragged about his perfect life in Barcelona and his new sport car, it was actually not so bad, it was tolerable. But that was until the relationship topic was brought up.

"So how did you two meet?" Mason asked, reaching out with the intention to touch Y/N's knee, but Harry was quick to put his hand there first so his cousin had no choice but to back away subtly. The funny thing here was how unbothered Stephanie was. Harry assumed she was probably too used to her fiancé being handsy with everyone to bat an eye, or she herself had never had a problem with that, which made sense if they were really engaged. Yeah, 'really', because Harry refused to believe their engagement at around the same time as his was just a coincidence.

"We were flatmates in uni," Y/N answered with a smile while Harry was smiling proudly at her.

"That's so cute!" Replied Stephanie as she turned to Mason. "Mason and I actually dated in high school! We broke up a few months after graduation but destiny brought us back together on a sunny afternoon on a beach in Bali. He asked me to marry him a week later."

"Wow...A week?" Harry laughed humorlessly as he pretended to look shocked. "Was it the same week that you heard about my engagement, Mason?"

"Baby..." Y/N tapped slightly on his leg to remind him to be polite.

Mason would be a fool not to recognize the sarcasm in Harry's question, but he was anything but a fool. He beamed at his younger cousin and gave him a shrug.

"I can't remember but if it was, lovely coincidence, huh?"

"Lovely." Harry nodded. He had to fake smiling so much his jaw began to hurt now.

"So Y/N, love, what do you do for a living?" Mason asked Y/N. And Harry wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off his face.

"I work for a PR firm."

"Aww I'm sure you're good at that job, you're such a sweet girl."

Harry widened his eyes at the way his cousin emphasized the word 'sweet' in reference to his girl. In fact, Harry surely had something to say about it, but fortunately, Y/N stole his opportunity to speak as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Harry told me you were a journalist, right?"

"Yeah, that was also how I met Steph again." He turned to kiss his fiancé on the spot between her neck and shoulder, in a sensual way that made Harry and Y/N feel very uncomfortable. "I came to Bali on a business trip and Stephanie just happened to be shooting her new modeling campaign there."

"Wow, you're a model?" Y/N asked. But she could already see that coming.

"Yes! I would just hook Harry up with some of my friends but too bad he's engaged!"

"What?"

"Y/N, sweetie, I'm joking!" Stephanie burst into laughter and Y/N had to stop herself from pointing out how rude her joke was. Instead she just pretended to laugh along.

The awkwardness surrounding the two couples was getting hard to bear so Mason did them a favor (not really) by proposing an idea. "Harold, maybe we should go for a drink tonight and let the ladies spend some time together?"

Stephanie was more than thrilled with the suggestion; Harry and Y/N, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.

"I don't know I've got work to do..."

"Come on, Y/N! It'll be fun! I haven't had a girl friend in so long!" Stephanie pouted, holding the other girl's hand with both of hers and brought them to her chest. "I only hang out with models and most of them are boring and shallow! You, on the other hand, is the loveliest average person I've ever met!" Average?! "I like you so much already! Please don't say no!"

Of course Y/N didn't want to hang out with Stephanie. However, she saw this as a good opportunity for Harry to mend his relationship with Mason. Those two needed to talk it all out and the only way for them to do that was to leave them alone with each other.

"Oh...Okay...if you insist," Y/N blurt, only to receive a 'what are you doing?' stare from Harry.

"Try to have fun, baby. I'll make it up to you, I promise," Y/N whispered apologetically to him before standing up with Stephanie.

"Lock the door on the way out! Love you!"

"Love you too! Be safe!" Harry shouted after his fiancé as he watched her getting dragged out of the door, given only enough time to take only her bag.

"Your girl is cute," Mason commented once the ladies had already left, making Harry wish there had been a mute button to shut his cousin up for the rest of the night, sadly you couldn't do that to real life people. Harry could only try to tolerate, saving all the frustration to rant about to his girl once he got home.

Mason stood up, stretching out his limbs as the corners of his lips turned up. "So, Harold, just like old time huh?"

"Just like old time," Harry mumbled lifelessly as he rose from his seat as well. Oh how he wished Y/N could be by his side right now.

.

.

.

From her past experiences, it was safe to say Y/N was awful at detecting bad people. She'd got a good heart, she'd been told that so many times. But what was the point of believing in the good nature of people if some refused to discover the goodness in themselves? That, however, didn't stop her from doing what she did best, creating second chances.

She believed whatever had happened between Harry and Mason in the past should've stayed in the past and they could work things out after tonight. And Stephanie, she could be rude and shallow at times but Layla used to be like that too and now they were best friends. So, anything could happen. People could change. And to be fair, hanging out with Stephanie wasn't exactly an awful experience. She actually gave great fashion advice and she was straightforward, which was good. They hadn't found anything in common yet, but the night was still young. Maybe at the end of today, they would be close enough to actually go on double dates (okay, that was a far reach but it didn't hurt to be positive, right?).

"Are you having fun, Y/N?" Stephanie asked then she turned to scold the lady who was filing her nails for accidentally hurting her. Y/N had no idea why they were getting their nails done at 9PM but Stephanie said this was on her schedule and she couldn't cheat on her daily beauty routine by skipping it.

The younger girl working on Y/N's nails asked her if she liked pastel blue or pastel pink, and Y/N just waved her hand and told her to pick whichever she preferred before turning back to Stephanie.

"I am, thanks for asking, look Stephanie—"

"Call me Steph."

"Okay...Steph. Do you know much about Harry's and Mason's feud?"

"What are you talking about?" Stephanie chuckled. "Mason loves Harry."

What do you know, sister? You agreed to marry him after seeing him again for one week.

"I don't think so," said Y/N. "Harry told me Mason tried to drown him once."

"That was an accident! Everyone knew that! Harry fell into the lake and if it hadn't been for Mason who jumped in to save him, he could've died!"

Y/N rolled her eyes and decided she shouldn't argue with someone who didn't know what she was talking about.

"So Y/N..." Stephanie trailed off, smiling widely. "Have you started planning the wedding yet?"

"Uh no, it's still too soon for us."

"Oh honey it's never too soon! Men can just change their minds! Are you sure you want to wait?"

Stephanie's idea about marriage was a bit absurd to Y/N. She wouldn't say it though, instead she laughed wryly. "I'm sure. I know H and he's not the type to ask someone to marry him if he's gonna change his mind a week later."

"Well, whatever you say, but Mason and I are getting married at the end of this month and you two are so invited!" Stephanie threw her hands in the air enthusiastically and nearly kicked the lady who was painting her toe nails in the face. Y/N had to apologize for her, even though the model didn't seem to care that she'd almost accidentally assaulted someone.

"That's...fast," Y/N replied, not knowing what else to say. "Do you have like...a wedding theme?"

"I haven't come up with one yet, have you already got one in mind?"

"Ever since I was a little girl I've wanted an Alice in Wonderland theme for my wedding," Y/N happily told her new acquaintance (because using the word friend at this point would be a bit too much), who seemed pretty interested in the idea. "It'd be so cute, I haven't told Harry yet though, but that's definitely my number one option."

"Lovely!" Stephanie giggled, nodding her head. "You know, you're such a perfect match for Harry. I actually thought he would end up with Olivia."

"Olivia?"

"His childhood best friend," said Stephanie.

Of course Y/N remembered Olivia who'd tried to steal her boyfriend once! She just didn't expect her name would be brought up in this conversation. What does Olivia have to do with this?

"I suppose you already know Harry asked me to the Prom and I said no."

Yeah I do, thought Y/N. You went with Mason instead!

"My friend told me Harry wanted to ask me and I thought I might say yes when he did, because Harry was such a hottie! But then Mason told me Harry only wanted to ask me out to make Olivia jealous."

"But Olivia moved away a long time before senior year."

"I know, Mason said they were in love and still keeping in touch."

Y/N knew it was just a lie so Stephanie would go to Prom with him, she was just surprised this girl didn't know it yet. Did she even know this person she was marrying in a month?

"If it weren't for Olivia, I would've ended up going to Prom with Harry!" Stephanie giggled while shaking her head. "I mean, can you imagine what would happen if we'd gone to Prom together? Maybe Harry would be my future husband, not Mason! How crazy is that? Although...we'd make lovely babies, Harry and I."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Y/N quickly interrupted the girl. She didn't blame Stephanie, who apparently never thought twice before she started speaking. However, now that she mentioned it, Y/N couldn't help but wonder what her fiancé would feel if he knew he could've ended up with his high school crush instead, who was now a freaking model! Would it make the idea of marrying her less...enticing?

.

.

.

Mason gulped down another pine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as Harry watched him in awe.

"Ten seconds." The older man slammed his hand down on the table and gave his cousin a smug look. "Unlike you I don't suddenly forget how to drink after getting engaged."

Harry scoffed but decided to let that one go.

"What's with the sudden engagement anyway?" He chuckled and put down his beer. "I get that you need to prove to everyone that you're better than me but dragging Steph into this? That's low."

"Hey!" Mason drunkenly pointed a finger to Harry's face while glaring at him with hooded eyes. "Not everything is about you. I love Steph. Just because you can't have her, doesn't mean you can say whatever the fuck you want."

"It was years ago!" Harry huffed. "You can have Stephanie. I'm happy with Y/N, and I love her."

"She's turned you into a boring little boy huh?" Mason reached out to touch Harry's face, but Harry pushed his fingers away immediately. He furrowed his eyebrows and finished his beer, trying to be the responsible adult here although he was not very much more sober than his cousin.

"I chose to grow up, this has nothing to do with her, and don't talk  my girl that way, asshole."

"Okay, let's not talk about her, let's talk about you and how lame you've become." Mason cracked up and Harry just ordered another pine without giving him his attention, which triggered the older guy to continue speaking. "How about we play the little game we used to play huh? Remember that?"

"No, no, no." Harry shook his head, smiling tipsily. "I'm engaged, I'm not gonna ask for some random girl's number."

"You don't have to call them afterwards! Just to see you and me who gets more numbers at the end of the night."

"I'm engaged," he repeated, looking slightly annoyed now. "I'm pretty sure that's also considered cheating on your partner..."

"It's not." Mason snorted, patting his cousin a few times on the back. "Jeez, I'm engaged too you know. Cheating means you're fantasizing about someone else or fucking someone else, this is different. We go to a random girl, ask for her number, then move on to the next. I swear most of the people here are drunk and by the end of the night they won't even remember our face."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"You gotta have some fun, Harold! Y/N fell for you when you were this wild thing and if you keep turning into a boring old man, sooner or later she'll be bored of you and run off with some cooler guy." Mason put a hand on Harry's shoulder and added in, "I bet not a single woman in this bar would want to fuck you now because you're such a pussy it shows."

If there hadn't been alcohol in his system, he wouldn't have let those words get to him and said no without a second thought. Sober Harry was much smarter and made better decisions. But Harry was a bit far from sober now, and even though he regretted it soon after he nodded his head, Harry still agreed to take part in his cousin's little game.

.

.

.

"I did a bad thing tonight."

Y/N was taken aback by her fiancé unexpected confession as soon as he entered their flat, drunk, then pulled her into a bear hug.

"It's okay, I knew you were out drinking with Mason." She chuckled and attempted to withdraw herself from his embrace, but he grabbed onto her hips to keep her from leaving his side.

"It's not that." He pouts, bringing one hand to cup her face. "I..."

"You what?" She quietly laughed though she found nothing funny about his strange behaviors. "H, you're making me worried, just tell me what you did."

"I asked some girls at the bar for their phone numbers."

"You did what?!" She almost shouted at him and pushed him away to take a step back, as an instinct, Harry rushed forward to take hold of her hands.

"I can explain."

She nodded rapidly, eyebrows furrowed at him. "Oh, you'd better explain before I kill you!"

And he knew it was not just an empty threat, she would kill him if he failed to give her a proper explanation.

"It was a game that Mason and I used to play at high school parties. Whoever got more phone numbers at the end of the party won."

"And what did you get for winning, Harry?!"

"Just the feeling of winning I guess..."

"Unbelievable!" She raised her voice all of a sudden, making Harry jump. "I'm wearing your ring on my finger and you went out flirting—"

"Not actually flirting but—"

"Don't jump into my mouth!"

"Sorry, go on." He instantly stared down at his feet and heard her take a deep breath before letting it all out and continuing because she wasn't done with him just yet.

"You did that just to prove what? That you're better than your cousin? No, Harry Edward Styles, that doesn't make you better than him, in fact you're much more like him than you think! Can't you see what he's doing? He came here to screw up your life and it's actually working because you're letting him!"

"I couldn't let him win! He's already got the most beautiful girl in school as his fiancé." Wrong move, Harry. Wrong move! Code red!

"And you're stuck with me, is that what you're saying?"

"N-No! Absolutely not!"

"You're upset because he ended up with a model and you're getting married to an average girl like me."

"I never said that!"

"You meant that!"

Harry thought he'd better shut up before he unintentionally said something worse and had her throw his proposal ring to his face or something. He knew his Y/N would never do something like that, but it was the worst scenario he could think of so far.

"I'm going to bed now," she spoke after a moment of silence. She didn't ask him to go pack his bags and get lost, which was good, yet she seemed so disappointed in him, which was...not good.

"Turn off the lights, okay?"

"Okay..." He nodded then watched her head back to their room in silence. He wasn't fucked, but he knew he would be if he didn't do something about it. First, he needed to get sobered up though.

So Harry decided to take a shower meanwhile giving his love time to be alone and calm down before they had 'the talk', you know, the one couples had after both parties had calmed down from an argument so they could come to an agreement how they wanted the fight to end. He hated that talk, not really, because it either ended with great sex or him sleeping on the sofa. Considering how she'd stopped yelling at him before she walked away, this time...definitely the sofa.

When Harry returned to the bedroom, Y/N immediately sat up on the bed. He swallowed and scratched the back of his head timidly as he spoke up, "don't worry, I'm just gonna grab my pillow."

"Why?"

"To sleep on the sofa. Don't tell me I don't deserve a pillow too."

The frown on his face made her chuckle. Y/N gently patted down on his side of the bed as she told him to get in with her. She wouldn't need to say it twice. Harry almost ran to her and in just a split second he was already snuggling in her arms.

She let him rest his head on her chest while stroking his hair like she usually did, which he loved. And so they lied there for a while, Harry staring at Y/N, who was staring at the ceiling. She was thinking of something, and he was too exhausted try and read her mind.

"You're not mad anymore?" He asked quietly.

"Can't stay mad at you. Trust me I've tried." Her answer put a beam upon his face. "I'm sorry I yelled at you though."

"I deserved that, I was an idiot."

"I agree with that."

"Hey!" He scoffs, making her laugh.

"What you did was stupid, but you were honest with me and I appreciate that." Y/N kissed his forehead, feeling him shifting to get comfortable as one of his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I don't know what happened love," he started. "I turned back into that same immature high school boy when I was with Mason. I guess he made me feel so insecure about myself that I just had to prove him wrong, even by winning a stupid game."

"What's there to be insecure about?"

Harry gave Y/N this look as if she'd just asked him if one plus one was two, because to him the answer was pretty obvious.

"He was always my grandparents' favorite. He was good at school, he was popular, he hung out with cool people. Now he's still doing better than me, he's rich and good-looking and—"

"Stop it!" Y/N laughed slightly as she cut him off. "Why do you have to see this as a competition? You're better than that. I know that he came here with his fiancé to rub it in our faces, but you allowed him to get to you." Harry puckered up his eyebrows, biting his lip as he listened to her. "I think he's secretly jealous of you because you don't even have to try hard and put other people down to get such a great life. Your life is actually better than his if you think about it. I mean, you have good friends, a cat, a family, a job that you love, and me. Those are the ones that matter, not people like Mason."

"You're right." He breathed, looking up at her.

She didn't intend to tell him this, but she thought she had to because he'd been honest with her. "Stephanie told me she wanted to go to the Prom with you, not him."

"I know."

Her eyes grew wide when she heard those two words. "You do?"

"Yeah, he told me how he made up the whole Olivia thing. What a dick. But why do you think it'd matter?" Harry released a laugh as he propped his head up on his elbow, gazing down at her.

"Never mind, it's silly." She shyly smiled and covered her face with her hands, but he removed them both so they could look at one another as they spoke.

"No, tell me. I want to know."

"Okay so I was afraid you'd feel disappointed after knowing Stephanie's engaged to Mason when that could be you if you'd gone to Prom with her."

"Awww, love..."

Y/N's face turned red as she started giggling. "I told you it was silly! Just forget it!"

"It is silly, Y/N. She's just some girl I fancied in high school, who cares if she's a model now and engaged to that asshole. I'm already engaged to the woman I love, I don't care about her."

Seeing the smile on his girl's face made Harry realize how right she was to say his life was better than Mason's. Mason either asked Steph to marry him because he couldn't tell lust from love or he just wanted to prove he was always one step ahead of Harry; whatever the reason was, Harry knows those two weren't in love and knew nothing about each other. He, on the contrary, was marrying the love of his life, his best friend, the kindest and sweetest person he'd ever known. So yes, this might not be a competition, but Harry thought he'd already won.

"Okay let's put this all behind us and move on, alright?" Y/N declares. "No more talks about Mason or Stephanie. Just focus on our thing from now on."

"Agreed." Harry gladly nods and is more than relieved to finally leave the feud with his cousin in the past.

Y/N, nevertheless, doesn't know that she will be the one to go against her own words, not until a week later, when she receives a wedding invitation from Mason and Stephanie.

"That bitch!!!"

"Y/N, language! Treasure can hear you!" Harry covers the cat's tiny ears as he watches his girl fall down by his side on the sofa.

"Here! See it for yourself!" She handed him the wedding invitation which had been sent in a fancy-looking white envelope. The entire thing had been hand-written, using sparkly gold ink. If they could be this extra for just their wedding invitations, Y/N couldn't imagine how their wedding was gonna be.

"An Alice in Wonderland themed wedding?" Harry chuckled as he read quickly through the lines. "Clever!"

"Of course it's clever!" Y/N cried out. "It's my idea! She stole it!"

"Aww baby you've never told me you wanted a—"

"It doesn't matter anymore, she stole my dream wedding theme!"

"Y/N," Harry calmly spoke while stroking the kitty on his lap. "Remember what you said, no more competition."

"But—"

"Baby, there are plenty of other literature classics for you to choose from, let it go, don't let this get to you," he said, picking up their cat's two paws to wave at her, that made her go soft again. "I'll help you come up with a better theme, yeah? We'll have a much cooler wedding and those people won't even be invited. Besides, we both know one of them is gonna file a divorce after a few weeks into their marriage, a month's top, I bet it's gonna be Stephanie."

The crinkles between Y/N's brows slowly eased as Harry's encouraging words had calmed her down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before exhaling to retrieve her composure.

"Okay, you're right..." Y/N raised a forefinger. "I'm gonna let this go. But I'm not going to their wedding, because if I see her again I will fuck her up and it certainly won't be pretty!"

Then she soon noticed the strange look on his face.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing." Harry's dimples digged holes in his cheeks as he brought his lips down to lay a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I just love you a lot, s'all."

And as simply as that, he got to see her smiling again.

[alittletournesol]

Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} 32/33

Chapter 32 : In your arms [M]

“The Princess won’t go to sleep if it’s not you who put her to bed, your Grace.”

Kibum stood at his quarters’ door, alone as his husband was having a talk with his mother and the General at the moment, and his expression lit up with pride. He was just about to lie comfortably in his bed, welcoming the blankets that had just been changed to fit autumn’s cool nights, but the coming of his former nanny had made all his tiredness vanish with these few words. The relationship he was developing with his daughter since they had come back to Jinju was making his days and nights warmer, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“She’s already rebelling, isn’t she ?” He giggled, remembering how the woman would often cursing his sister and him as children when they wouldn’t want to go to bed either. “It’s like you will never really get rid of us, in a way.”

“You were still more obedient than your sister when it came to bedtime.” The nanny smiled. “I will wait for you in her chamber, if that’s alright ?”

“Tell her I’m coming, and please don’t use it as a threat like I’m going to scold her when I arrive.”

“Remembering my old tactics, I see…”

With a knowing look, the Prince closed his door and went to withdrew one of his dressing gowns from the wardrobe. He was already wearing his night shirt but if he had to walk in the corridors by night, he might as well prevent himself from catching a cold. Once he tied the silk, emerald green belt around his waist, and adjusted his long hair in his back, he put his slippers on and took the oil lamp from his bedside table. Making sure the glass globe was fixed, he left his room and made his way to the little girl’s own bedroom.

The corridors were quiet, almost all employees had joined their apartments by now. Only remained the few butlers who would turn all lights out once everyone would have gone to bed. In no time, Kibum was knocking at a wooden door and entering, smiling when he saw the smile on Sooyun’s lips. She was standing in her crib, grabbing hold of the bars to keep her balance, and her pouty face lit up when she noticed the man coming her way.

“You can go to bed, nanny.” The Prince gently dismissed the old woman, who pinched the baby’s cheek before bowing and leaving. “And what do you think you’re doing, little one ?”

Putting the lamp aside, he approached the crib and instantly lifted his daughter, placing a kiss on her cheek. Despite her enjoyment of having him around, it was noticeable how tired she was, her sleepy eyes looking smaller than usual. With a few caring words, Kibum held her against his chest, keeping her warm in his arms as he started walking in the room. Setting a slow pace, he took his time rocking her to sleep while caressing her dark hair. It was getting long for her age, black strands growing faster than one would have thought… but she was beautiful like this, especially when her grandmother would braid her.

With her small arms attached to her father’s neck, and her head resting on his shoulder, Sooyun was slowly letting herself dive into a well deserved sleep. Though, her eyes opened a bit when she noticed the door slightly opening, light piercing through the frame. Kibum turned around to see who was coming to them, also to protect the princess’ eyes and allow her to fall asleep despite everything. 

“Can we come in ?” Jonghyun’s blond head was peeking out and his eyes shined with goodwill. “I’m with Jinki.”

“Sure, she’s about to sleep.” The Prince whispered, intimating the proper tone to use if they were to join him.

The teacher nodded and slipped inside, immediately followed by his partner. The General had removed the metallic parts of his outfit to make his steps quieter, and this simple but considerate gesture moved the raven haired man. Both newcomers approached him, casting a look at the baby and smiling ; they were fond of Sooyun, particularly when she was so calm — her babbling could last very long during the day, and as cute as it was, it quickly trying their patience. 

“Is the meeting over ?” Kibum asked, still rocking his daughter but his hand caressing her back now.

“It is, and it was surprising, to say the least.” Jinki replied, his cheeks still tinted with pink. “I wasn’t expecting to hear such news.”

“Your father and the Queen had been obvious for some months, though… I was certain your perspicacity had made you notice them a while ago.”

“When it comes to the matters of the heart…” Jonghyun started, holding back a laughter, “he’s rather oblivious.” 

“Don’t make me curse in front of the princess.”

The General’s sulky expression made the two other men quietly giggle, his uneasiness tangible in the room. For sure, he couldn’t have expected this late meeting with his father, the King and his mother, to be about a love confession… and he was still feeling dumbfounded, deep inside. It had all been on Minho’s initiative, the latter having enough of these lovebirds trying to hide their mutual feelings for the sake of who knew what. 

But the parents’ worries were understandable ; they were both widowed for years now, yet they struggled to see their blooming relationship as appropriate. It wasn’t only about their late husband and wife, but about their respective children : although the latter were grown adults, they still feared their reaction and thus, had hid everything for a bit more than three years. However, admitting to everything had been such a relief, especially in front of their sons who — despite Jinki’s shock — fully supported them.

“Jinju’s rules forbid a widowed ruler to remarry.” The General explained. “I didn’t even know about it but Minho did, and he proposed them to leave the palace for a while. To take time for themselves, and to travel to Pugye.”

“Pugye ?” Kibum asked. “Why this kingdom in particular ?”

“It’s the only one that allows remarriage in itself, so… I guess they will make it official and come back as husband and wife.”

“Does it mean anything in terms of status, once they’ll return ?”

“The Queen Mother will lose her power as a member of the royal family, and as potential regent.” Jonghyun recited. “If anything should happen to the King before Sooyun is old enough to succeed him, you would take the throne, but if you were to disappear as well… the Royal Council would handle the regency.”

“And that is when the Queen tried to refuse, right ?”

“Your perspicacity will always impress me, your Grace.” Jinki quietly laughed. “It startled everyone, however, Minho assured that he’s planning a massive change for the Royal Council. So it was better accepted.”

“I understand that we will soon have a newly wed couple in the palace ?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“I will make sure to congratulate them before they leave then. And, well… congratulations to you, my dear General.”

“Me ? Why so ?”

“You just earned a Queen as your stepmother, and a King as your stepbrother.”

“Oh fuck.”

Jonghyun nudged his partner so hard the latter realized his words and covered his mouth with his hands, blushing to the point even his ears turned red. He bowed several times to apologize, making the Prince softly laugh before he showed his daughter ; she had fallen asleep. 

*****************

Minho was alone in his quarters, his wet head above the small tub he had just used to wash his face. He had just come back from his small meeting, only to find the room empty though his husband’s clothes were resting on the bench at the foot of their bed. Where would have the latter gone, wearing only his night shirt, at that hour ? But that wasn’t the main thought running in the King’s mind at the moment. No, he was trying to cool his own body’s temperature with the fresh water.

It had been really hard to focus on all of this evening’s matters, to pretend he was fully listening to whoever was talking to him, when the only image he had been having in mind for hours… was the silhouette of the Prince, standing above him and threatening his chin with a sword. He had never felt so turned on by a scene that had merely last a few seconds, and now that he was alone in a private place… he could embrace this feeling.

But Kibum wasn’t there yet.

It only tried his patience, and Minho had already proven many times that he was no patient man. On the opposite, waiting for the door to open on the man he loved was only adding fuel to the fire his body had become. He was standing there, all his clothes scattered on the floor and his hair untied, the strands around his face wet as drops of water were still running down his cheeks and chin.

Would he come soon ?

The King splashed his face once again, relishing the short, cold sensation on his skin. He felt embarrassed by himself, as he realized he was aroused though he was all alone in the room. Straightening up, he turned around to grab a towel and wiped the water, rubbing his hair as well. He was almost tempted to open the window, perhaps the fresh air of the night would cool his body more than just water. He contemplated the idea long enough…

The door suddenly opened and his ears twitched when he recognized the humming voice. It even felt like he could smell his husband’s scent now, and that was when he wondered if he wasn’t going a bit too crazy about it. He turned over once more, finally seeing the Prince who was offering him his back at the moment, closing the door and making sure not to make too much noise. But when the latter eventually moved, their eyes met.

“My godfathers !” Kibum cursed as he got startled, curiously not expecting the other man to be there and staring at him. “You scared me, I thought you were still…”

It was at this instant he realized what he had in front of him. Though he hadn’t any time to react, because his husband had already crossed the room to reach him and captured his face between his big, warm hands.

“Minho, what—”

He got shut up by fleshy lips strongly pressing against his, drawing him into a feverish kiss he hadn’t quite expected — or maybe he had, from the moment he had seen his naked lover staring at him. He still gasped and let a whiny noise escape his mouth when his back collided with the door as a result of the strength Minho grabbed him with. But the latter didn’t pay attention to it, as he opened the other man’s lips with his tongue, one of his hand leaving his cheek to circle the thin waist. 

Kibum found himself pressed against the wooden panel, trapped by the King’s strong, naked body against him. His senses went numb as he returned the kiss, tongues meeting and messily intertwining as if it was their last kiss — he didn’t understand what had suddenly gone into the other man, though he wasn’t complaining. Before he could even adjust himself to the kiss, his mouth was freed and hungry lips went to his neck, the touch making him weak in the knees.

He was at Minho’s mercy, the latter pushing his dressing gown open and uncovering his shoulders. The Prince shivered and tried removing it all, but his wrists were caught and pinned above his head by a strong hand. His lips got claimed once more, as he felt a second hand grabbing his thigh and stroking it under his shirt. That felt delicious. He couldn’t say anything, for his husband didn’t allow him any form of time to even pronounce a word. 

The hand on his thigh went up, and Kibum gasped in the kiss when it grazed his crotch, his hips jolting forwards as the most instinctive reaction to this touch. The King broke their kiss at the same time he closed his fingers on the other man’s arousal, the Prince opening his eyes and diving into the depths of Minho’s dark irises. Their faces were flushed, their lips wet and swollen from the passionate kisses, but they stared into each other’s eyes as the older man was being stroked against the door, unable to move, stuck in the most pleasant trap.

Kibum had known many feelings when it came to sex, but it was the first time he felt so powerless yet holding Minho in the palm of his hand at the same time. His instincts were telling him to take control, but he had that strange, new sensation that craved the opposite ; the King had rarely showed himself so eager, so aroused before… and his elder wanted to see where he could bring them both. 

As a sigh escaped his lips and he bit his lower one, heat growing in his lower abdomen by seconds passing, the Prince noticed a quick glint in his lover’s eyes. The second after, the latter had disappeared from before his face, letting go of his wrists and falling down to his knees. His night shirt was raised by two impatient hands, uncovering the skin of his thighs until his chest. But the fabric was light and kept falling, Kibum repressed a laughter as he made one of his arms slip out of his gown to hold his shirt on his torso himself.

The picture that followed would have had its place in these ancient, secret and so forbidden books whose pages were painted with many forms of erotic sceneries.

His back still pressed against the closed door of the royal quarters, the older man had his emerald green dressing gown half dangling from his body, for only his left forearm was still covered at the moment. His nightshirt wasn’t covering much skin anymore, but he gripped the fabric and messily made it pass above his head to get rid of it, the whole thing now hanging from his still clothed arm. Only his long, dark hair could now metaphorically serve as clothes, black cascades falling on his skin and sticking there with his forming sweat.

He was beautiful without being asked, but his husband for sure added life to the erotism of this royal painting. In all his naked glory, tanned skin gleaming with sweat from this arousal he had kept to himself for too long, his knees were growing red from the friction with the carpet. But he couldn’t care less, as the only thing that mattered at the moment was his Prince’s pleasure ; he only lived to please him that night, and he shall fulfill this duty with the deserved passion. 

Everything had gone so fast to Kibum that he hadn’t quite realized when Minho had taken him in his mouth, his swollen lips around him sending him in cloud nine. His legs threatened to abandon him, but his husband’s hand was firmly gripping his thigh and maintained him on spot. It was like the latter was making sure he would have nothing to care about except for what he would feel… and feel, that, he was.

Slightly arching his back, the Prince let a soft moan escape his throat and this sound alone served as the most sensual pleasure for the King. The younger man soon felt slender fingers approach his face, grazing his cheeks and pushing a few strands of dark brown hair behind his ear. This gentle gesture contrasted so much with his own abrupt actions that a shiver shook his whole body and he looked up. His darkened eyes met with his husband’s sweet irises, the latter’s stare conveying such a warmth that Minho’s heart missed a beat.

The thin hand went from his ear to his cheek, until a gracious finger lifted his chin to make him come back to his senses, getting back on his feet. The King obeyed the gesture and pressed a hand against the wood to keep his balance, his strong body overhanging the thiner one and their skin grazing each other as their chests rose with each synchronized breath they took. 

Kibum slowly freed his arm from its last piece of clothing, both the gown and shirt falling on the floor and leaving him as naked as Minho. His waist was circled by the latter’s arm and brought closer, and the older man couldn’t help but laugh ; such impatience, tonight. With a torturous slowness, he raised his hand to his husband’s cheek and caressed it, while the other one wandered on his back.

“You’re different, tonight.” The Prince whispered, his eyes searching for any kind of explanation on the King’s features. “Is there anything you want to tell me ?”

“Is my body not telling enough of what I want ?” The other man said, a smile on his lips as he turned his head to kiss the palm near his face.

“You surely know how to talk with your body, and this will never not seduce me… but this time, I want to hear you.”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all evening long… do you think I’m able to talk right now, when all I want is you to take me to bed ?”

“Now that’s interesting, my King… tell me more.”

Saying this, Kibum pressed his palm against Minho’s chest, softly pushing him backwards while staying as close to him as possible. The younger man let him do, his steps soon finding the bed and his body falling on the mattress as he pulled his husband with him. Both of them quietly laughed, and the Prince held himself on his stretched arms to overhang the King, their eyes never leaving each other. There clearly was something new in those dark irises that looked up towards him, as if he was the only one in the world.

“You beat me, earlier.” Minho eventually said, his hoarse voice coming more like a whisper than he would have wanted it to. “You were impressive.”

“A very good teacher made me the swordsman I am.” Kibum replied. “Did it please you, you who can’t tolerate to lose ?”

“More than you can imagine… I would let you win a thousand times more if it meant to see you look at me like that again, looking so beautiful and strong.”

“What have I done with you, Minho…”

“Everything. Almost… everything.”

“Almost ?”

“Y-Yes… there is something you’ve never done with me and… I can’t think of anything else tonight. Do you… do you get me ?”

“Who wouldn’t, love… tonight ? Are you sure ?”

“With you, I’m always sure.”

With a tender smile, the Prince lowered himself to press their lips together, erasing all the roughness from earlier. The King closed his arms around the warm body above him, hugging his lover close while he returned a soft kiss, this softness conveying everything he could think about. As strange as it was, his arousal was still the same as a few minutes before, but his body now expressed it with less strength, less haste. 

That was Kibum’s power on him, a single word, a single touch could soothe him, pacifying his ardent emotions. As to appease the burning fire of his body, his elder left his lips to press gentle, slow kisses on his face, going from his forehead to his cheeks, drawing a line along his jaw until he had his own face buried in his neck. Minho let him do, willing to feel. The lips attached to his skin were deliciously wet, but it was their softness that felt the best ; he couldn’t get tired of them, since the very first time they had kissed him.

Before he could even think, his own lips were captured again into a kiss he couldn’t describe with words. He lacked words at that exact moment, as he was being kissed at the same time long fingers were caressing his thigh. 

“Are you okay ?” The Prince eventually asked, breaking their kiss and looking at him in the eyes while he placed a hand on his neck. “It’s beating fast in there…”

“I’m fine, promise.” The King smiled, stealing a kiss from his husband. “I’m not scared. Were you ?”

“The first time ? A bit, but it’s all about trust. Do you trust me ?”

“I always trust you.”

“Then, promise me to stop me if there is anything I do that disturbs you. Anything.”

“I promise you.”

“Alright…” Kibum kissed him gently, for some long seconds, until he withdrew again. “It will be better if you… if you’re showing me your back, for now.”

“Like this ?”

Without thinking much, Minho slid on the mattress to have more space for his long legs, and lied on his stomach. He didn’t know what to do with his arms and the situation made his lover laugh a bit, before the latter approached and placed the pillow under his head. The younger man immediately hugged it, just like he often did when sleeping, and he waited. He didn’t really know what he was waiting for, because everything was always going smoothly when it was him preparing his husband. The habit, perhaps ?

Would he do well ? What if he wasn’t feeling at ease and ruined everything ? What if he couldn’t do it ? What it—

“You’re tensing up…” His husband’s soothing voice came to his ears, making the King realise that he was kneeling above him, his face just near his. “You’re worried.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” Minho confessed, his voice coming out as a shy whisper. 

“You won’t, clear your head of that worry. Even if we were to stop everything, you will never disappoint me, alright ? We’re not doing anything you don’t want to, I promise you.”

“I trust you.”

With a smile, Kibum gently moved the thick brown hair away from the younger man’s nape and lowered himself to press his lips against the warm skin. His hands were on Minho’s sides, caressing here and there in order to appease his tensed muscles. The King understood what his husband was doing and he closed his eyes, relishing the sensations and clearing his mind to only focus on them. There was no other sound in the room than the kisses and caresses on his skin, and he found himself relaxing from them alone.

He was extremely sensible when it came to sounds, and he knew the Prince had found out since the day he had fallen asleep in bright day, with his head on the other man’s lap, while the latter was softly turning the pages of his book. He felt the warmth of lips slowly going down his nape to pursue their treasure hunt on his shoulder blade. As he could imagine the path Kibum’s mouth was drawing on his back, he remembered his scar, that scar he never really talked about but secretly found ugly.

He reminisced the bathes together, the moments of afterglow when his husband would let his fingers wander around the old wound, tracing its edges… Minho had felt ashamed at first, since it was a constant reminder of how stupid he had been for disobeying his father, and how he had put his childhood friend in trouble. But more than that, it was like a stain that broke the harmony of his skin, of his shape, this long line… nothing like the pretty scar on Kibum’s eyebrow. 

He didn’t have many complexes but this ugly scar certainly was the worst one… but when lips fell on the top of the pink, in relief flesh, he opened his eyes. 

“My silly warrior…” The Prince whispered, his voice colored with amusement. “I love this one, who could guess it was caused by a clumsy sword… when it’s so beautiful and looks like the stem of the highest flowers in our garden…”

As if proving his words, the older man covered the scar with kisses, letting his lips trace it as if it was the softest thing in the world. The King found himself smiling, while his heartbeat grew a bit stronger when pondering this innocent statement. So it wasn’t repulsive ? It was beautiful enough for his husband to cover it with kisses the way he does on every part of his body ?

“Your back might be my favourite part of your body…”

Kibum’s muttered words, added to even more kisses and caresses, managed to erase all Minho’s ugly thoughts about himself, and he sighed with relief and comfort at the same time. Lips kept going down his back, and he shivered when they lingered over its hollow, the sensation overwhelming him. He didn’t even tense up again when he felt a hand caressing his butt, for it felt like following on from everything before. On the opposite, his shivers intensified and he let a soft sigh out, his toes curling on the mattress with a rather pleasant apprehension. 

“Will you kneel a bit for me…?” The Prince asked while his hands gently stroked the back of the other man’s thighs to encourage him. 

“Like this…?” The King asked in return as he bent his legs to have his hips raised. “More…?”

“No, it’s perfect like this. Remember your promise ?”

Minho nodded but the smile on his lips showed everything but fear or worry. His flushed cheeks made his husband giggle ; he himself knew how this position could be a bit embarrassing, even after many times. The King waited for a few seconds, wondering what his elder was doing until he heard the familiar unscrewing of the small oil jar. He could have asked himself many things at that exact moment : will it hurt ? Will he jerk away at the last moment ? 

But the only wonder he had when hearing slender fingers gather a knob of oil was… will it be very cold ?

He hadn’t time to reflect on this question, because he felt a hand closing around his shaft and gasped with surprise. He didn’t turn his head, but he felt Kibum’s warmth enough to guess he was kneeling beside him, gently stroking him with one hand while the other one was resting on his buttock. After a few seconds of just touching him between his thighs, drawing muffled sighs out of his mouth, Minho couldn’t repress another gasp when he felt a texture he knew very well, sliding between his buttocks.

It felt so weird, but he was glad he had got it wrong earlier ; it wasn’t cold at all, for the Prince had warmed the mixture with his fingers before approaching him. He was now slowly massaging his rim, coating it and making sure the strange sensation was balanced with the pleasure his stroking would make his husband feel. He knew exactly what to do, and this only made the King’s trust in him grow stronger. 

“Is this fine ?” The older man asked as his fingers were still gently rubbing around the hole, the sensation changing a bit whenever he would come there. “I know, it might feel a bit weird…”

“Yeah, a bit…” Minho replied before he got startled by the sound he made without any warning, when a stroke combined to his entrance being aroused sent a sort of wave through his body. “G-Gods…”

“I’ll go inside, alright ? Slowly, just like you do with me. Remember your promise.”

No sooner said than done, Kibum withdrew his hands to grab more oil with one, the other one holding his lover’s buttock spread. With his thumb, he rubbed again around that sensitive area and when he heard a sigh coming from the pillow, he smiled and softly, gently, pressed a finger against the entrance. As expected for a first time, Minho had a natural reflex but he managed to relax as much as possible, allowing the phalanx to push deeper.

The pace was slow and though it felt rather weird, the King got surprised ; weird, but not unpleasant. Closing his eyes, he let sensations overpowering his emotions, listening to his body. He could clearly feel the oil massaging his insides, as his husband’s finger was moving until it wasn’t strange anymore. It even felt… not enough ? Yes, that’s what the knot in his lower abdomen was asking fore : more. 

As if reading his mind, Kibum pressed a second finger. Despite his gentleness, Minho had to shut his eyes open because it didn’t feel as weirdly good as the first one. But he didn’t complain, because he could finally feel what his husband felt, and his sensitive side found that wonderful. He had lost track of time, but he soon felt the burning sensation being replaced by what he had felt just a few seconds before ; it felt good.

“Don’t forget to breathe, love…” The Prince smiled, making the other man notice that he had indeed stopped breathing. “I’m going with a third, alright…?”

When the third finger pushed inside, the King gasped ; that one hurt more than the previous ones. But he remembered every other night, he remembered of the pain would quickly vanish from his lover’s face to make space for this expression he found heavenly beautiful. But he also knew this one took a bit longer to adjust to, and so, he grunted a bit. But his patience was rewarded, when his gritted teeth slowly relaxed, and a moan escaped his throat. 

The slicking sounds were rather strange to hear, but they were familiar in a pleasant way. The pain had disappeared, and the oil’s warmth was deliciously pleasurable. Kibum kept moving his fingers, allowing them deeper with each second passing until his husband was starting to pant under him. There, now he would feel good. But the Prince didn’t want to immediately replace this foreplay, so he kept going. 

He had something in mind, but it had been quite long since he had last done this so it took him a minute…

“O-Oh…!” He heard Minho choke in the pillow and smiled, as he pushed again. “F-For fuck’s sake…!”

Kibum found himself feeling deeply aroused by the noises his husband made, all thanks to him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Minho’s face ; flushed, covered with sweat already, with lips parted and his hand firmly holding the pillow. He was beautiful, there was no other word. His panting grew faster as the Prince was still pushing his fingers against a spot that definitely sent him on cloud nine. 

He couldn't open his eyes anymore, he felt like if he did, he would pass out. 

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to be hit in his stomach by this familiar sensation. That tight knot that seemed to travel lower and could only mean one thing. Before he could even realise and try preventing it, the King let out a hoarse moan and his body tensed, his hole puckering around his lover’s fingers despite him. Panting, he came on the mattress without being able to warn himself nor his husband, but it didn’t seem to bother the latter, who kept pressing inside, yet more gently.

With his hands clenched into fists near his face and his legs shaking, Minho breathed loudly, feeling his release and immediately wondering why it had to go wrong. After a few seconds, he felt Kibum’s fingers leaving him and he seemed to realise ; he was out of breath, but he didn’t understand. He kept his face pressed against the pillow, unable to look up… and that caused the Prince to caresse his lower back and frown.

“Minho ?” He called, his voice still so sweet as if he hadn’t just ruined everything. “Minho, what is it ?”

“I’m so sorry…” The younger man panted, unable to catch his breath for the moment as his orgasm was still shaking him from inside. “I fucked up…”

“What ?”

Kibum frowned even more and came closer, catching his husband’s arms and slowly turning him over. He couldn’t help but smile when he noticed how red the King’s face was, just before the latter hid it with his arms. With an incredible gentleness, the Prince put his hands on them and delicately forced them open to reveal Minho’s head. But the latter kept his eyes closed like he didn’t want to look at his lover.

“You didn’t fuck anything up, Minho.” The older man said, unable not to smile. “Come on, open those eyes of yours, you did nothing wrong.”

“But I came too soon…” The King eventually looked at his husband, and there was pure frustration dancing in them. “You didn’t even… you didn’t…”

“And what is so wrong about it ? You felt good and you came, that’s the goal of all of this.”

“But it was just…”

“Foreplay, yes, but it’s a whole new sensation to you so your body is receptive and really sensitive. It’s normal. Hey, don’t look away.”

Kibum cupped his lover’s face and made him look at him. For a second, he pressed their lips together and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs.

“It’s all right, love.” He smiled. “You just felt good, and there is nothing wrong with it, you didn’t come too soon, you came at the moment that felt right for you. It happens to everyone, especially for a first time. Did it feel good ?”

“It did, but…”

“No but needed then. Don’t feel sorry for me because you felt pleasure, never feel sorry for that, alright ? I’m pleased if you’re please, and… I did say it was foreplay, so if you still want to… we can resume…?”

“We can…?”

“You’re so adorable, of course we can. Do you still want to have me…?”

Unable to say a word, Minho vigorously nodded and his cheeks flushed again, making the Prince laugh and peck his lips. It quickly turned into a long, lascivious kiss that managed to bring the King back to his arousal and make him forget this unusual frustration. When they broke the kiss, the younger man was about to turn over but his husband stopped him, earning a questioning look.

Kibum just shook his head.

“I want to see you when we make love.”

The way his almond-shapes eyes seemed to sparkle when he pronounced his words made Minho feel loved beyond compare, and his heart missed a beat to resume with greater intensity. He held himself up on his elbows to watch his husband kneel back between his legs, generously coating himself with the oil before looking at him. The King immediately blushed, what made the other man laugh before he approached, pushing him back on the mattress.

With careful hands, he raised his strong thighs and pressed against their inside to push them, almost bending Minho in a half as he placed himself above him, their faces close and their eyes diving into each other. The younger man felt movements and brushes against his lower half, as his husband was blindly guiding himself forwards. When he felt something pressing against his entrance, he took a deep breath.

“Are you ready ?” Kibum asked, his care never reducing as placed a chaste kiss on the knee that was at his face’s level.

“Yeah…” His lover replied, nodding to support his words. “Yeah, take me…”

“Your wish is my command, my King…”

Saying this, the Prince leaned on even more to kiss his husband, the latter seeming to lift himself up from the pillow to meet him halfway. Minho’s breath got taken away when he felt his elder pushing inside of him ; as slowly as he was going and despite the long preparation, the pain was still quite perceptible and the younger man had to break their kiss to sharply inhale. 

It only took a few seconds for Kibum to be fully inside, but it felt way longer. When he realized, the King raised his eyebrows ; already ? he thought, and that made his lover giggle — his thoughts were way too noticeable on his features, his face couldn’t lie. To confirm what he was thinking, the Prince lowered himself and pressed their lips together once more, softly, as if careful not to break them. 

Minho smiled and returned the kiss, cupping his husband’s cheeks and keeping him close. He slightly gasped when he felt the other man move inside him, with care and gentleness, not rushing everything. It could take hours, he didn’t give a damn. It means the world to be in his King’s arms for a mere second. After a few seconds, his hips steady a slow pace to allow the younger man to adjust himself to this whole new feeling, and pleasure started painting his face with the warmest colours.

It took a minute or two for Minho to start panting, quietly asking for more, and Kibum fulfilled this request by gradually speeding his thrusts up. He was sighing himself, his voice sounding lower when he moaned and adding to his husband’s hearing pleasure. The latter let an expressive sound out when he felt the same astonishing sensation than earlier, a noise that combined a surprised gasp and a pleasured moan. The Prince captured his lips to breathe his moans and sighs, possessive for all these short, sharp sounds that let him know how good he was making his lover feel.

The King’s legs were trembling and his chest abruptly rose with each breath in, and he slid his hand between their bodies to grab his own arousal and amplify this delicious feeling. This time, he didn’t care if he came soon, because when he did, he was taken to seventh heaven and he knew he was bringing Kibum with him. The latter’s moans grew sharper in his ear and he held him close, his release staining their chests and already making feel so good…

But the best feeling came when he felt his husband reach his own orgasm. As strange as it felt, Minho was happy and didn’t let go of the other man, even when the Prince slowed his pace until his thighs were too painful to keep moving. The King kept his eyes closed, because he didn’t want to see the wooden ceiling ; no, he was pleased with what he saw behind his closed eyelids. Stars on a dark sky, nebulas forming because he had kept his eyes shut for too long… but at that moment, it was the best illustration of what he was feeling.

“I love you…” He heard Kibum breathe in his ear, and he relaxed his body to welcome him in his arms.

“I love you too.” The younger man replied with the same tone, hugging his husband tight. “I love you so much I could marry you again.”

“Silly…”

Minho smiled and buried his face in the other man’s neck. He wanted to stay like this forever, and he definitely wasn’t silly.

*****************

“He did what ?”

Jonghyun stood gaping for a moment before he realized his friend definitely wasn’t waiting for him. It was still early in the morning, perhaps too early considering he had fallen asleep only four hours before, but he didn’t think he was tired to the point of turning deaf. Though he could, since his beloved partner was snoring quite loudly lately, with his stuffed up nose… perhaps he should prepare some beverages for cold as soon as possible.

The blond man shook his head to snap out of it and ran after the Prince, who was heading back to his daughter’s room with clean laundry and towels in hands. On their way, they ran into the nanny and two house girls who let them know that the small tub was ready to be filled, though the water was still a bit hot. The presence of the old woman in the corridor instead of the baby’s bedroom didn’t seem to surprise Kibum… much to the teacher’s surprise.

“Thank you, I will take care of what is left.” The black haired man told the women. “You may go and make sure everything is getting prepared safely for her Majesty’s journey abroad.”

The employees agreed and bowed before they escaped quite fast, making Jonghyun aware that he definitely was in a better environment when alone at his home… not in this never-ending tumult of people running here and there to attend to their duties. It was rather impressive that a free spirit like his friend could remain completely calm and immune to panic in such a constant atmosphere. 

Speaking of him, the Prince had resumed his walking, almost leaving his friend behind once more. 

“By the Gods, will you stop !” The teacher eventually snapped. “Stop right there ! It’s barely seven in the morning, you can’t just drop a bomb and leave with no explanation.”

“You’re overreacting, hyung.” Kibum laughed but acknowledged the comment and stopped walking for a moment. “I can’t make it clearer, though !”

“Fine, but you’ll have to repeat it so I can assimilate that.”

His bright smile never left the raven haired man’s lips and his eyes were sparkling, making his friend’s heart beat with a good dose of happiness for at least a month. 

“Minho proposed to me again.” The Prince eventually repeated, his irises shining even more. “This morning, it was the first thing he said.”

“Details, details.” Jonghyun requested, growing impatient.

“Well, we woke up together as usual and we stayed quiet for a moment, to allow us some time to emerge. And when I wished him a good morning, he just asked me to marry him again.”

“What kind of night did you two spend for him to be like this right in the morning…”

“That has nothing to do with that ! I thought he was joking because… well he already said something like that yesterday but it was more an hypothetical thing, you see ? I laughed but he didn’t. He was just… looking at me, and he asked again. He said he was serious, that our wedding was no political arrangement anymore and that we should renew our vows for our first anniversary.”

“Have a real wedding, consensual and deprived of any bad feelings… That is utterly disgusting.”

“Liar.”

“Yeah, I’m so lying. This is wonderful, I presume you said yes ?”

“Of course I said yes ! But you’re the only one to know for the time being, so please don’t shout it from the rooftops.”

Smiling, the blond man pretended to zip his lips and throw the key away, but he couldn’t help hugging his friend to show his happiness. Kibum laughed and returned the embrace as much as he could, since his arms were busy, and he eventually dismissed the teacher to run to his daughter’s bedroom. He was awaited, and he had taken a bit too long already. When he arrived, his already large smile grew wider as he found Sooyun sitting on Minho’s shoulders, her tiny hands secured in her father’s large ones as he was spinning round and round.

Her laughter echoed in the room as the most pleasant sound ever, and the Prince left these two have fun together while he prepared the little girl’s bath. The water was indeed a bit hot, but the nanny had made sure to bring a bucket of cold water, to balance the temperature. Once it seemed perfect, the King stopped playing and approached the tub, removing Sooyun’s night clothes and slowly sitting her in the water.

Immediately, she started waving her arms and hitting the liquid, enjoying herself like for every single bath. Minho’s hand was placed behind her back to prevent her from falling backwards, while Kibum filled a little jug to wet their daughter’s hair. They couldn’t always be there for her bath or her meals, their respective duties often keeping them busy, but whenever they could take care of the little girl, they would dismiss absolutely everyone else and enjoy a moment with just the three of them.

“I told Jonghyun.” The older man eventually confessed. “I couldn’t hold myself back.”

“Should I be mad at you for this ?” The King smiled, looking at his husband. “I take it as a compliment. What did he say ?”

“Pretended to be disgusted by such a big amount of love, but he’s really glad. I thought it was for the best to keep the biggest announcement to ourselves for the time being.”

“So you agree with what I proposed ? You don’t say yes just because you love me, right ?”

“No, I promise you I’m not. The more I think about it, the more I enjoy the idea… I mean, we’ve been to every kingdom and met every ruler, they renewed their allegiance and we spent really nice moments with each of them. Or almost.”

“That was for Prince Siwon.”

“But he’ll be invited as well, it could be… entertaining.”

“So we’re doing it. We’re getting married once more and this time, we invite the Four Kingdom’s rulers.”

“Yes, we’re doing it.”

Both men smiled at each other and stopped talking, only exchanging with their eyes as they were both realizing what they had just decided. After all, they had defied all laws to keep their marriage, and nothing could force them to annul it now. It just didn’t seem official considering the first circumstances, and they wanted to renew their vows while meaning them. Kibum wanted to bow to his King without being forced to do so, and Minho wanted to drink from the same glass with his Prince, this time placing his lips where his would have drunk.

Unfortunately, their contemplation of their future wedding was savagely interrupted by water splashed straight to their face. Sooyun had enough of not getting any attention.

_____________

Epilogue

[i-choose-liam]

TRR Chapter Tie-Ins

A/N: Here’s the second chapter to my TRR Tie-in series, which I had previously titled The Crown and the Apron on my old account. But now that’s the name for my Liam x MC one shots on ao3. I would urge you to check out the previous chapter before reading this one, since it’s a series (though incomplete).

If you would like to be tagged for my future works, please let me know. And if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, don’t hesitate to tell me! I’m considering retiring the whole tag list thing altogether because I am really forgetful in general and then I get anxious, thinking I must have missed someone who asked to be tagged and now they are offended. Or worse – tagged someone who doesn’t want to read it. Yeah, things get really busy in this noggin.

Thanks in advance for reading!

Chapter 1: Once Upon A Time

Chapter 2: Welcome to Cordonia 

They welcomed him home. Everyone was in great spirits. His father made some jokes about bachelor-hood and freedom. His stepmother couldn’t stop talking about the upcoming Masquerade ball. 

"Your Highness?", Bastien cleared his throat, "Forgive me if I overstep but, you seem preoccupied. Are you all right?" 

Of course. His bodyguard would notice he wasn't himself, not his family. 

"You have every right to ask about my well-being, Bastien", Liam smiled, "I assure you, I am fine" 

Who in this godforsaken place would understand what storms raged in his heart? Who could he tell that while they discussed, laughed, formed plans about choosing his bride, he kept thinking about the girl he had left behind? 

The girl with starlight in her eyes, who had touched his face when she kissed him. The girl who wanted to know his soul, who made him feel alive and... breathing. 

Across the ocean, she was going on about her life, and he knew he would have to go on about his. 

'You can't fight fate', Liam reminded himself. 

"Is this him?"

Dani showed her sister the phone screen. 

It was a google image of Prince Liam of Cordonia. Riley stared at it in admiration, then regained her composure enough to roll eyes at her sister. 

"Of course it's him, Dani. Liam is not the kind of guy who lies" 

"Okay, lovestruck. Just checking", Dani typed in another name, "What's Maxwell's last name again?" 

"I really don't know. Go ask him" 

Dani walked to the bedroom door and poked her head out. Maxwell was sitting on the couch, looking at his surroundings. 

"Hey", Dani called to him, "What's your last name?" 

He was a bit startled at first, but replied, 

"Uh, Beaumont" 

"Okay" 

She stepped back in again and sat on the bed, next to Riley's luggage bag. 

"Help me", Riley sighed, "How many books?" 

Dani didn't look up from her phone.

"Zero, you nerd. You're going over there to seduce a Prince, not compete in a math olympiad" 

"What am I supposed to do there in my free time? I mean, I'm going to be studying Cordonian politics and history in depth, of course. I should also probably check out their library for books on the culture. Oh, I should take my laptop along to take notes. Maybe my Mac..." 

Dani growled and put her phone down. She stood up and grabbed her sister by the arms. 

"Riles... this is exactly why the school suspended you" 

"Put me on sabbatical", Riley corrected her. 

"Whatever. You were on the verge of a burn-out. Stop thinking so much! I know you can't just turn it off but try? You keep looking at this wonderful, fairytale opportunity as a research assignment. You're already sucking half the fun out of it", Dani begged her, "For once in your life, listen to your heart, not your brain" 

"Bu..." 

"Ssh" 

Dani pointed to her sister's chest, raising her eyebrows. 

"Listen. Can you hear that?" 

"Dani..." 

"Ssh! It's saying...", she tapped her sister's chest, "Li-am. Li-am. Li-am" 

"Get off me", Riley laughed and shoved her a little. 

Dani grinned and got back to her phone. She nodded, 

"Okay. Maxwell checks out too. But his insta has a picture of him pointing a sword at a champagne bottle. Huh" 

"I'll be fine", Riley put in five of her favourite books while Dani wasn't looking, "If anything turns out to be sketchy, I will just... karate-chop my way out of there. I memorised the number of the American embassy in the Cordonian capital. I have mace, my tazer..." 

"Jesus Christ" 

"...and my Wonder Woman pendant", Riley stopped to ask, "Do you think I'm making a mistake?" 

Dani had to rip her attention away from Maxwell's skinny dipping pictures. Her sister stood before her with that guarded look she knew too well. 

"No, of course not", Dani assured her. 

"What if Liam doesn't even remember me? Or what if he does? And we fall in love and get married and I have to become a princess? And then Queen?" 

"Hey, hey", Dani said, "One step at a time. Don't do this to yourself. Leap, Riley. This is an opportunity. You owe it to yourself after 23 years of relentless hard work. There's a super loaded guy outside who is going to buy you fancy dresses and shoes, just so you can impress a bunch of Europeans. Remember - you're doing this for Liam as well as for yourself. You deserve this, okay?" 

It scared Dani to see her sister tear up. Riley had always been the strongest of the two.

"I am not used to this”, Riley bit her lip, “I can't socialise with strangers and woo a Prince. This is your kind of stuff" 

"Well, I'm not the one Liam kissed on our doorstep, you know?", Dani grinned, wanting a reaction from Riley, "But if you want me to, I could pretend to be you and marry him. I could wear a low-cut blouse for when I see him, flash him the girls a little and..." 

"Shut up" 

Giggling, Dani watched her sister grumble and lock her bag. Riley stood up straight and took a deep breath. 

"This is it", she mumbled, "No backing out now. I told Maxwell I would come. I'm a woman of my word. Yes, I am" 

She checked her wristwatch, 

"All right. It's time. Please take care of the bills. If someone from my school calls, tell them I've gone to India for a "spiritual break". Or make it Bali. And please don't let Mr. Burns bully... where is Mr. Burns?" 

The twins emerged out of their room with the luggage, looking around for a particular someone. 

"Mr. Burns?", Riley called, "Smithers?" 

A happy yelp was the answer to Riley's voice. Their dog came bounding into the drawing room at the sound of her voice. He jumped on her, drooling all over her waist. 

"Who's my sweet, sweet boy?", Riley cooed and got on her knees to hug him, "You're my sweet boy. My good little Smithers" 

Maxwell approached them, 

"Aw! He's so friendly" 

"That's Smithers for ya", Dani said. 

Their attention was then drawn to the sound of a weak meow, coming from a sluggish grandpa cat. He ambled into the drawing room and deposited himself at Riley's feet. 

"And this is?", Maxwell asked. 

"Mr. Burns", Riley let go off Smithers to cuddle her cat, "He and Smithers have a toxic relationship. But no matter what we do, Smithers won't stop licking and loving Mr. Burns. Don't be a jerk while I'm gone, okay Mr. Burns? Be nice to Dani and Smithers. I love you so much! Muah!" 

Smithers began licking Mr. Burns' head affectionately. The old cat endured it with a sour face. 

"Okay. I have to go now. Bye", Riley kissed her pets again. 

She stood up and hugged her sister. 

"Take care of yourself. If you need me for anything - anything at all - just give me a call. I'll be back on the first flight" 

Dani smiled and wiped a tear. She tightened the hug, 

"Same" 

They let go and smiled awkwardly at each other. Riley picked up her bag and marched towards the door. Smithers woof'd and followed her. He stood looking up at her, wagging his tail. Behind, Mr. Burns slowly began to make his way to them. 

"Oh no, boy. Sorry. I'm going alone. I'll be back before you know it", Riley's voice broke, "I promise" 

Smithers and Mr. Burns stood looking at her with hope. Maxwell sniffed. 

"Come on, boys", Dani heaved Mr. Burns in her arms, and tugged on Smithers' collar, "She is going to be fine" 

Riley sure hoped so. 

Liam held his head with both hands. He had smiled at and indulged them as best as he could. The opening of the social season was upon him and here he sat, thinking about Riley. 

Why? Why should he think of her and make himself miserable? 

He tried his best to fight it. There wasn't anything special about Riley, was there? A working class American, brave and opinionated. It was kind of silly how she had blushed when she told him she wanted to find love. And her constant asking him whether he was enjoying himself had bordered on nagging. And that... that stupid dimple in her cheek when she smiled. 

Trivial! Ordinary! Unwanted! 

Liam released a hopeless sigh. 

He was lying to himself. He admired Riley’s courage, shared her opinions. That blush on her face had made his breath hitch. Her concern for his happiness had made him want to throw himself into her arms. And her dimple was adorable! He should have kissed it over and over again while he had the chance. 

This wouldn't do. He had responsibilities. He needed to think beyond his own interests at every point. Cordonia deserved a prince who put them first. And his future wife deserved a clean slate from his end. It wasn't her fault that her husband-to-be was hung up on a girl who could never be his. 

But he could dream of her, couldn't he? That wouldn’t hurt anyone. Only himself. And he was fine with it. Yeah. They couldn't rob him of his dreams.

Could they? 

"Hey, Dan. It's me. You're probably asleep but I just wanted to let you know I got here safe and sound", Riley spoke into the phone, "Maxwell is sweet. Found the asshole of the group though. It's that Drake guy. Anyway, I'm getting ready for the Masquerade ball. I had to pay for the dress myself. But Maxwell will probably reimburse me for it. He's my sponsor after all. Hah. Sponsor" 

Taking a deep breath, she sat down on a boutique chair. 

"You would love the dress. It's red and a little sheer in places. I feel like a femme fatale, hehe... I wonder if Liam will realise it's me in this fancy dress and mask. Yes, I'm wearing a mask" 

Maxwell beckoned to her from the boutique's door. Riley held up a finger to him, smiling. 

"I gotta go. Don't go out without having breakfast. And don't spend all your money on pizza. Cook. Kiss Smithers and Mr. Burns for me. Gosh, this still feels like a dream, sis. I wasn't even this nervous for my first moot court. Anyway... take care. I lov..." 

The voicemail cut her off before she could finish. Riley slipped the phone into her handbag. She rose, straightened her mask, and walked to Maxwell. 

She smiled at him and whispered to herself, 

"Showtime" 

Royal Readers: @thatspicegirlssong  @bowful @zaffrenotes @pixieferry @femmeshep @hopefulmoonobject @indescribablechoices @angelicfangirl @cordonianredruby @brightpinkpeppercorn  @princesaakl @romanticatheart-posts @cordoniaqueensworld  @cordoniantrash @blznbaby @museofbooks @smalltalk88 @stopforamoment @jyreusser85 @cordonianredruby @custaroonie @mynameiskaylabella  @lizzybeth1986

[killmongersbootycall]

Princess 👑

Description:

Jamilah is a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t know when to stop acting up. Her doting father who never knows when to stop her in her tracks is scared to realization when she nearly kills herself in a drunken episode. New body guards are needed on the double. Then walks in Erik Stevens. Read as their lives intertwine in ways that are good, and some that are not so great. Besides, Erik seems to be hiding something. What is it? Read to find out.

(Minor Spanking, Minor Fondling, Angst, Flirting.)

~~~

Chapter 4

1 2 3 4

You’re a more than a little disappointed when for the next few days, Erik straight up ignores you as best as he can. What really grinds your gears though is how he pretends he can’t see how pissed off you are, no matter how much you show it. You hate it. The feeling of not getting your way. You always got what you wanted, be it through your fathers money or through your charms. Hell, even threats worked in your favor. But Erik was immune to it all, and that was really frustrating. You wanted him to pay attention to you. Yeah, he’s your bodyguard and he kinda has no choice in that but you craved it in another way. You wanted him to want you like everyone else did. It was the first time in your life someone didn’t react to you as everyone else did and that was beyond annoying.

Your yellow acrylic nails tap rhythmically against the table in front of you. You pop your gum loudly, ignoring the way customers seated in the fancy restaurant you were in flinched, glancing at you occasionally, disgust in their eyes. You glare at a particular woman who whispers to her husband about you and she stiffens and turns quickly back to her meal. Unbeknownst to you, it’s Erik’s glare from behind you that spooks her. You uncross and cross your legs under the table, getting impatient. Your father and his ‘wife’ were supposed to be at the table with you, but they both had to mysteriously use the bathroom at the same time.

The two come back to the table giggling, your fathers usually pristine hair a mess and his ‘wife’s’ face flushed. You roll your eyes, irritation rising in you and slight embarrassment due to the fact that Erik was here to see all this.

“Jam, I hope we didn’t keep you waiting to long. The line was... absurd.” Your father says, a guilty smile slipping into his face.

You love your father, so to keep the peace, you smile back at him and nod. “It’s no problem, daddy.” You reply sweetly.

He smiles back in satisfaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek to which you beam at him. Your stepmother watches on with narrowed eyes.

“Ahem.” She clears her throat, bringing up a napkin to dab at her lips. You can’t help but roll your eyes and look at her.

Delores Manchester. At least, she used to be Manchester. You refused to acknowledge the fact that you both now shared the same last name. The woman was the devil in disguise. Your father had married her about two year ago and she would be another on his very, very long list of ex wives. Normally, you would never have bothered yourself in whatever new gold digger your father married, knowing they’d be around for a year at most, but Delores had lasted, and not only did that make you worry, but there was also something about her. She’d always sneak off to make phone calls, or disappear for days on end telling you father she had a business trip (obvious lie because what ex-model goes on business trips). Something about her was off, but in all honesty, you didn’t care enough to investigate. You just didn’t like the bitch, period.

“So, Jamilah honey-“

“Don’t call me honey.” You say interrupting her midsentence.

She falters and her eyes momentarily become cold but it’s just for a second, and then she’s beaming at you in that fake stepmother way stepmothers do when they’re trying to impress their husbands. Your father silently watches on, too pussy to say anything to his new wife.

“Ahem, Jamilah. How is everything with the business?” She asks, taking a sip of her wine.

You immediately get irritated. You had a side business running. A hair salon. The problem is that for some strange reason, it was like god didn’t wanna see you prosper, so there was always something wrong with the store. Mysterious fire. Robbery. Hell, y’all even had a lice outbreak once.

“It’s great. Business is booming.” You reply smugly.

A flash of amusement blooms in Delores’ eyes and you narrow yours at her for a second. It’s gone though. She nods with a plastic smile.

“That’s wonderful. About time really.” She says, a deeminging smirk on her face.

You feel your blood boil. “Excuse me?” You ask, finger digging into the table.

“I mean, some would say this idea of yours is the literal definition of insanity. All signs point to this... facility, of yours failing, and every time something heinous happens, you build it up from scrap again. I’m just worried as your mother, that’s all.” She states, all the while smiling and sipping.

You see red and you move to get up, but a hand on your shoulders sends you right back down to your seat and firmly holds you there. You turn around and see Erik looking at you with a cautious look, and you turn back around after taking a deep breath.

“Firstly, you’re not my mother. Second, don’t be worried about me and my business, we’re fine. Worry about how much longer your gonna keep your claws in my father cus from what I’ve seen over the years, your time is running out.” You reply, hate spewing into each word that comes from your mouth.

Your fathers hands slam the table. You jump and look at him. The whole restaurant has gone silent, and your father looks at you with anger in his eyes.

“That is enough. She’s asking because she cares Jamilah. Don’t you see that?” He asks, and it breaks your heart to see the pain in his eyes.

“But daddy, she-“

“I don’t wanna hear it, Jam.” He interrupts. You fall silent, and Erik’s hand on your shoulder softens, almost comforting you.

Tears well in your eyes and you get up from the chair, the sudden movement making Delores jump. You glare at her then at your dad before snatching up your purse and practically running out of there. You run to the main entrance and exit, then whip your phone out and call your limo driver. You wait for the limo not even noticing Erik behind you.

He clears his throat, not liking the awkward atmosphere. You turn around and see that its him, and a wave of anger comes over you. You dont mean to do it, but you immediatley take your anger out on him.

“What the hell makes you think you can touch me? What was that in there? You seem to forget that I’m the one who fucking pays you. I’m the one who lets you have food on your fucking table. Keep pissing me off and I will fire your ass faster than you can say ‘oops’.” You yell at him. At the end of your rant, your panting loudly.

Erik’s face is blank, and bored with the lack of reaction from him, you turn away from him with a huff. Behind you though, Erik silently seethes, and it takes the strength and patience of his ancestors not to each you the lesson you so deprately deserve. The limo pulls up and you step in, sitting far away from Erik. Erik enters and sits, still not speaking.

“Where to, Ma’am?” Your driver asks from the pane that seperates you from him. 

“Anubis. Step on it. I’m tryna get drunk tonight.” You reply with an eyeroll.

You hear a scoff next to you and turn your head just as Erik speaks.

“No you not. Straight home, Reggie. Thank you.” Erik says, then closes the pane.

You stare at him baffled. “Um, ex-fucking-scuse me? I said Anubis and I meant that shit.” You seethe, leaning forward to open the pane. 

Eriks hand stops you, yanking you back to your seat. You gasp when your butt makes impact with the chair and turn to look at Erik. 

“Sit down and shut up. You’re going home.” He says then looks away.

You’re reaction is instant. You hand collides with his cheek hard, a smacking sound resonating through the back seat. Your palm stings from the contact, so your sure Erik felt it. He doesn’t move for a second, just staring ahead, then his head turns towards you. His hand moves to the pane and opens it, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Reggie?” 

“Yes?”

“When I close this, this shit becomes sound proof, right?”

“Yes.”

“Aight, just checking.” The hand on the pane shuts it, then moves away.

In a sudden movement, Erik grabs you and you squeal as your sent sprawling over his lap. You bring your arms to brace yourself while asking what the hell he’s doing, but those arms are grabbed and yanked behind you, held securely against your back by one of Erik’s hands. You struggle and kick, but it’s useless.

“What the fuck? Let me up Erik!” You scream, feeling your face go hot from both the position your in and rage.

“Shut up.” He says, calm as can be.

You buck and fight, trying your hardest to get free from this man.

“You can’t talk to me like that you fucking bitch! Let me go right now! Erik, right no-“

Smack!

All thoughts in your head halt, as do the words leaving your mouth. It takes a second for you to register that the loud smack you heard and the stinging pain on your ass correlate. You look at the black leather car seat in shock.

“When I say something Jamilah, I mean that shit.” He grits, repharasing your words in a way that would usually leave you seething, but you’re in too much shock to react.

Seconds go by without you saying anything, but then common sense seeps back into you.

“Erik, let me up.” You say, and it borderline sounds like your begging because you didn’t mean for your voice to be that soft.

“No. Now shut up.” He repeats.

Your anger flares again and you put your head up to say something but another slap lands on your ass and all that leaves you is a gasp of pain.

You lay there silently for what seems like forever but is only a couple of seconds, and what brings you back to your senses again is the feeling of Erik pulling your skirt up.

“No wait!” You squeal, kicking your legs in an attempt to go free again.

He ignores you and pulls it up anyway, leaving your black lace panty covered ass on display. You whimper and struggle again, but it’s futile, so you give up, slumping against him.

Your breath hitches when his fingers are suddenly against your clit, your panties the only thing blocking him. You want to yell at him and ask him what he’s doing, but what leaves your mouth is a keen of need instead. His fingers don’t move much, just pressing slightly over and over again, and he’s so quiet, you don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.

Erik watches as your thighs spread open more, as if inviting him. That, and the sound of his name slipping from your lips in an airy, hungry tone snap him back to reality. His hand moves and your skirt is pulled back down.

Your hands are realeased and your pushed back up. Your eyes try to meet his, but he’s doing everything to avoid yours. You stare at him for a moment, your hands fidgeting, and as you open your mouth to comment on what just happened, Reggie’s voice fills the back.

“We’ve arrived, Madam.” He says.

You glance out the window and see people walking in and out of the building you reside in. This is usually a normal sight, but what makes a frown of confusion and curiosity slip onto both yours and Erik’s face is the fact that some of these people are obvious law enforcement while others have the word ‘coroner’ in large yellow print on the back of their navy jackets.

Your door opens and you startle, then you notice Erik had exited and was opening up your door for you. Your eyes meet his. His deep brown pools capture you in their gaze and for a moment, you’re distracted by the havoc moving in and out of the building you live in. You distinctly see his lips move and your snapped back to reality.

“What?” You ask stupidly.

Erik holds back a smile and repeats himself. “I said come out the car Jamilah.”

You nod and step out unto the side walk, then turn towards your building where a line of freaking yellow tape is being drawn. Your eyes widen and you walk towards the doors, only to be stopped by a cop.

“Um, sorry, but you’re gonna have to take your... business, elsewhere Hon.” He says, his eyes on your cleavage the whole time.

You feel your blood boil at the assumption that your a prostitute. What made it all the more upsetting is that you weren’t even dressed like a working girl normally would. This was an expensive ass dress that met the top of your knees. The assumption was based clearly off the color of your skin and that made you wanna rip this pigs head off. You open your mouth to speak but your stopped when Erik takes a step next to you.

“She lives here.” He plainly explains, his eyes trained on the cop with a glare that would freeze hell.

The cop barely holds back his scoff, but his eye roll makes it clear that he doubts your residence. You stare at the cop, arms crossing ass you prepare to tear him a new one, but your interrupted.

“Madam! What is happening here? Officer, let her in right this instant!” Timothy, the manger of said establishment berates, ushering the cop away from the entrance in order to let you in.

The officers shock couldn’t be more apparent, and an ugly hue of pink rises to his face, further reddening his already flushed tone. Erik visibly holds back his words, his jaw working away as he grits his teeth in rage. His hand finds its way to the dip of your back as he turns to walk in but you stop. You turn to the officer who stares at you in distaste and you pull out a card from your purse. You hand it to him and with a sneer, you tell him to expect a call from that number. You turn and walk away heading for the front desk with Erik in tow, and behind you, you miss the blood drain from the officers face as he reads the number of the city’s mayor.

The desk worker smiles and immediately attends to you, walking back to bring you your mail. Meanwhile, you watch the chaos around you. At the bar, not so far from where you and Erik are standing, different people do different tasks, dusting for prints, bagging what appears to be eveidence of some sort, talking animatedly. You listen in on a conversation a waiter is giving to what seems to be a detective.

“- and he just starts convulsing. First, I thought he was having a fit or something, but then the foaming at the mouth turns red and soon he’s just choking on his own blood. Everyone that had run to help him panics thinking it was ebola or some shit like that. Fucking scared the hell out of me, that’s for sure. I ran to the kitchen like my ass was on fire.” He explains animatedly.

“And did you notice anything unusual?” The detective asks, jotting notes.

“Nah. Like I said, ass on fire.” He finishes with a shrug.

“Here’s your mail ma’am.”

You turn back to the desk clerk and collect your mail, sifting through it as you turn away from her. You walk towards the elevators and for a while on your way up, you forget that Erik is even there. That is of course until you get to your room.

You look up when you hear a throat clear. You glance at him and register that he’s been there the whole time. Then of course, flashes of what happened in the car come flooding your mind and if you were pigmented challenged, you’d be a bright red color.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.” He says.

“Um yeah.” You reply, and you mentally curse yourself for being so dry.

The silence following is slightly awkward. You break it.

“What was that in the car?” You ask, suddenly brave.

Erik balks, not expecting the question, but he quickly answers.

“Honestly, you pissed me off.” He says, nonchalant in a way that aggravates you.

“So that makes you think it’s okay to put your hands on me?” You hiss, frown forming on your face.

He scoffs and crosses his arms. He takes a step towards you and the effect is instant. You stiffen and basically break your neck to maintain eye contact. Erik gazed down at you with a look so intense, you can’t help the shuddered sigh that leaves you. His dimples come out to dazzle, a little smirk forming on his lips.

“Baby, if I was putting hands on you, you’d know.” He speaks deeply, and though there’s no reason for you to take this in a filthy way, that’s all that you hear and it’s sets you on fire.

You stutter as you attempt to answer but he takes a step back, still smirking. He presses in the button for the lobby.

“Goodnight Jamilah.”

Just as you were about to speak, the elevator door closes in your face, and you left in the silence of your apartment.

“Huh.”

[tfcrp]

THIS IS YOUR GAME

Name: Basil Walcott Age: Nineteen Class Year: Freshman Position: Backliner, #26 Hometown: London, England

THIS IS YOUR MOMENT

TW: abuse, car crash

Basil Walcott was separated from his mother almost the moment he was born, the product of a summer fling that never would have happened if Anthony Walcott knew how to keep his scandalous acts out of the paper. His father was the heir to a multimillion-dollar technology company, and prior to Basil’s birth he was sent away to England to stay with a family business acquaintance, keep a low profile, and learn how to run a business. His father spent all of eleven months and twenty-four days in England before taking his son back to the United States, seeing his son as an opportunity to get back into the good graces of his parents. But he did it without Basil’s mother: Anthony threw a chunk of money at her to keep her quiet, because the last thing his family needed was another scandal—especially another one he’d caused.

Basil grew up with the lie his father told him: that his mother had abandoned him, that she hadn’t wanted to be a mother—and with no real reason to distrust his father, Basil believed him. But from the moment that Basil was brought into the Walcott family’s large estate, there was tension: Basil was a child out of wedlock, how could Anthony have been so stupid. Still, it was an opportunity to prove that the eldest Walcott son had grown up, and so the press was told one thing about the new member of the family: Anthony had finally settled down and he had decided to adopt a child. Basil mostly grew up unaware of all the hostility between his father and grandmother, thinking his grandmother was just a cold woman and that his cruel cousins just didn’t understand him. It didn’t help, however, that Anthony seemed to turn a blind eye every time an incident happened with his son; Basil eventually stopped trying to explain why he came back from his uncle’s house with bruises and scrapes, and accepted that his family was complicated. At least, he thought, they wanted him.

He was roughly eight years old when his father finally stopped pretending not to pay attention to the harsh remarks that his mother always seemed to spit around Basil and the terrible treatment he got from everyone in the family. The fight that broke out between Anthony and his mother was the worst in the history of their fights, and it resulted in Anthony finally deciding to pack their bags and move them to New York City, far away from the Walcott’s Silicon Valley estate. It’ll be a fresh start for us, kid, Anthony claimed and, once again, Basil believed him.

Just three months after moving, his father met someone new: the single daughter of a senator, who was spoiled, rich, and looking for attention. Basil watched as his father fell for her, and at first he was excited that he was finally getting a mother that wanted him and that his father was happy. She had children of her own from a previous failed marriage, and suddenly Basil wasn’t the only thing his father paid attention to. Which would have been fine, except his new step-siblings were worse than his cousins and his new stepmother was worse than his grandmother. Basil did his best to ignore the snide remarks and cruel treatment from his stepmother and step-siblings, but it grew to be too much, and going home felt like walking into a warzone where he was the target, the enemy, the villain. And, once again, his father wasn’t doing anything to stop it.

Basil was desperate for his father’s attention again, for him to look up from that dazed, in-love look that made him ignore everything around him, including his own son. And so Basil acted out. He did little things at first: disrespecting his teachers, getting into fights with his classmates, and stealing school supplies from other children. Basil had decided that any attention from his father was good attention, no matter if his father was showering him with gifts or disciplining him for getting into trouble. He was eleven when he got kicked out of school for the first time, and by the time he turned thirteen he’d been through three different schools. After the last one, Anthony decided he’d had enough of Basil’s behavior. If he couldn’t straighten his son out, then he knew who could: and so a few weeks later Basil packed his bags for a Californian Catholic boarding school, the same one his father had attended when he was Basil’s age.

Basil wasn’t entirely happy about it: he wanted attention from his father, for him to see that he was hurt—he didn’t want to be sent off and forgotten about, tossed aside the moment he became a problem. In hindsight, maybe he should have expected it. Time and time again, Anthony had failed him and left him alone. He arrived at the doors of his new school hurt, angry, and ready to do something to prove to his worth to his father—or at least make him look at him again. He let the rumors about him spread throughout the school because he didn’t care what other people thought about him. If it was just him against the world, then it was just him against the world—he’d hide behind a cold and cruel façade, because maybe the world always meant for him to be a kid with sharp edges.

It was during Basil’s sophomore year that one of his teachers convinced him to try playing a sport to get some of his aggression out. Basil chose Exy, making the team as a backliner, and quickly fell in love with the sport. There was something about the fierceness of Exy that he instantly connected to.and, as the years went on, Basil became better and better at the sport. He focused everything on Exy, because as long as he was playing there was something right with the world. He wanted to make it, wanted to be recruited to a top-level team, and the prospects weren��t disappointing: the Binghamton Bearcats, the Ohio State Buckeyes. But Basil had his eyes set on one team in particular: Basil wanted the best of the best—because maybe if the Edgar Allan Ravens wanted him, then he’d finally be worth something to his father.

It was an accident that drove whatever prospects he may have had away. An accident beginning with a headline—Anthony Walcott Named as New CEO of Walcott Technologies—and phone call—maybe if you want someone who gives a shit, Basil, you should go find your mother—and, finally, an out-of-control drunken rage that ended in him accidently driving his car through the first floor of his father’s new company.

SEIZE IT WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT

You’re lucky I’m not pressing charges was all Anthony told Basil. From the look on his father’s face, Basil knew that he’d finally gotten his father’s attention—and there was no love in the man’s eyes. It was finally clear to Basil that maybe his father never had loved him and, the second he graduated high school, he was told he wasn’t welcome in the Walcott household anymore. Eighteen years old with nowhere to go, Basil was too proud to ask for help, so he did what any kid his age would do and ignored the problem. Exy was a dream he only chased when he slept because it wasn’t like he could change people’s opinions of him. He knew what they thought: a spoiled little rich kid that didn’t get his way—and maybe that was true, but why was his father made out to be Saint Anthony? After graduation, he crashed on his friend’s couches, leaving when they got too annoyed with him or their parents finally found out. Which is why it took almost three months for David Wymack to track him down. At first Basil scoffed at the idea of playing with the Foxes—surely he was better than that. But he missed Exy, and the only time his life ever seemed to be on track was when he was playing, and so he signed.

Basil might be new to the team, but that doesn’t mean he’s kept his mouth shut. For too long, he let people walk all over him and he isn’t about to let the Foxes do the same. Basil knows that with his father in the news more and more with the success of his company, he’s being watched like a hawk for more potential screw ups, and he knows it won’t matter to the tabloids that his father has disowned him and is pretending that Basil doesn’t exist. But Basil doesn’t care what they think about him. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him. Maybe he used to be soft, but he’s not anymore. He doesn’t care about anything, except for Exy and winning. Off the court, his teammates are just people that attend Palmetto State University and Basil tries his best not to associate himself with them. But on court, they’re his teammates, the only thing keeping him truly being alone. And maybe he doesn’t want them to be his family, but damned if he’ll let himself be the reason the Foxes lose again.

BASIL WALCOTT is portrayed by AUBREY JOSEPH and is CLOSED