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jimlingss · 4 years ago

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Ducklings & Dimples 2

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 58% Fluff, 20% Adventure, 20% Action, 2% Angst, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: After your adventures with Yoongi, you head home to face your family and the duties you've run from. A year has passed since. But you never anticipated meeting him again with his fiancée.

The country of Pegan is one you’ve never had the opportunity to venture into. It was a place that you teetered on, scaling the border, poking your head into one or two of the small villages just to sell in before you were on your way. But you had heard lots about it in his letters. You just never thought you would be visiting it in such a way. Ten round towers form a protective barrier around the elegant castle and are connected by firm walls made of gray stone. Refined windows are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern. Beyond the gates are well kept gardens with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes that decorate the outside of the castle. The castle itself has clearly been around for at least a thousand years, but it doesn't seem like it will collapse any time soon. “Back straight. You’re slouching, Taehyung,” your mother barks to your youngest brother and sharply inhales when Jin purposely bumps into him with his broad shoulders, telltale signs he’s trying to instigate more bickering. “Stop that right now, young man. You’re supposed to set an example as the eldest.” “I wasn’t even doing anything!” Jin protests to no avail. Taehyung’s mouth curls as he jumps on the opportunity to berate his older brother, “You’re twenty six. You should act like it.” Seokjin’s mouth drops open. “How dare you bring my age into this.” “Can you guys please shut your mouths for one second?” Lia is exasperated and glares. “People are staring at us.” “Now, now, children.” Your dad clears his throat and brushes off his shoulders. “Let’s not give your mother a hard time and argue in front of the Duchess’ castle.” Your mother holds in her sigh temporarily and makes it to your sister, smoothing out her dress that’s been wrinkled from the carriage ride. “Hair in place, darling.” Then she makes it to the end of the line and looks at you. Your eyes meet hers and you anticipate nagging. Perhaps an insult of how strands of hair have fallen from your updo and around your eyes. Or how you should get rid of that frown off your face before she singes it off. But to your surprise, your mother merely smiles and swivels around. “Shall we enter?” She’s trying — you can see it and it’s an effort you appreciate. Your entire family climbs the marble steps leading up to the grand doors already open with folks filtering inside. It was the Duchess of Pegan’s birthday, a week long affair and evidently, a huge celebration. Much too extravagant for your own tastes, but it’s not like your opinion matters. “Kaela, Elden!” The man in the foyer comes over with a golden chalice and his wife trails after him. Immediately, your mother curtsies along with your sister and you dip down after a delayed second, momentarily forgetting the manners drilled into your brain. “Duke and Duchess Fesan. It’s a pleasure.” “Oh please, don’t be a stranger. It’s been too long!” The older man has silver, short hair that almost fully covers his thin, lived-in face. But his eyes are fond as if he has seen many good things in his lifetime. Fesan Winsor is a duke, brother to the king that runs Pegan. You only know such facts after the relentless history lessons with your overbearing tutor. He gives a light embrace to your mother and father, nods his head towards you and Lia, and shakes Seokjin’s hand. “Why, you’ve grown to be such a strapping, young man. Handsome, indeed. The last I’ve seen of you, you were but a wee boy.” “Thank you.” Jin practically beams over the praise and you and Taehyung roll your eyes. “Are you looking to get married any time soon?” His irises sparkle. “Do you have someone in mind, your grace?” The Duke barks out laughing at the witty quip and your mother audibly sighs. “Seokjin’s much too deep in finishing his studies to be considering marriage, unfortunately. And a bit too immature to handle the responsibilities of such a thing.” “Oh you never know about children,” Duchess Jacquelyn laughs boisterously. “They always grow up faster than we realize.” The Duchess is in a lavish dress that looks like it’s about to swallow her whole, flashy to the maximum and heavy diamonds are wrapped around her neck. It makes you wonder if it aches. Her golden hair is stark with a bit of gray, yet she is bright eyed and overly friendly as she squeezes the living daylights out of Lia and then you. It’s unusual how she has no respect for personal boundaries or what’s mannerly for a high-class lady that she is. There’s small talk made between your father and the Duke, but as the Duchess pulls away from you, her face lights up as if she recalls something. “Wait a moment! You are Y/N, correct?” “Uh, yes. I am, madam.” “Then you were the one who defeated that vicious dragon from the North with Yoongi, weren’t you?! Why your tale of bravery is infamous!” She grasps your hands with an excited smile. You swallow hard, not sure how you feel about being viewed as a hero when you’re not. But you don’t say anything for fear of having to explain. It’s not like you told your own family the true story. “Yes, what an amazing feat,” Duke Winsor marvels. “You must be very prideful to have such a hero in the family.” Your mother is visibly pleased while your dad plops a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N is indeed turning out to be the best sorcerer in our family.” “You would be too if you studied more,” Taehyung mutters to Lia and nudges her while she glares at him. “What about you, Mr. I’m-too-tired-to-practice-magic.” “Children,” your mother’s voice is full of scolding but a pleasant smile is placed on her features. It’s frightening and jarring how different her expression can be from what comes out of her mouth. “Oh, you must be so eager to see your old friend.” The Duchess turns over her shoulder. “Yoongi was here just a moment ago.” You nod stiffly, tight-lipped. “I’ll make sure to send my greetings to him later.” The middle-aged folks continue talking as you and the rest of your siblings stand there like stone statues that are decorating the castle. But as you look around the crowds, fearing the worst, you feel Jin poke you. “Was that the guy you were sending letters to every day?” he asks, referring to what Duchess Jacquelyn said. “Shut it.” Taehyung raises his brows with an amused smile, but no one speaks. It’s become a sensitive topic but always has been — you’ve never let any of them see your letters and you threw a big fuss on several occasions when Lia tried to sneak peaks. Now you regret it. Why did you spend so much time doing such petty, futile things. Eventually, you’re granted mercy when the Duke and Duchess continue welcoming new arrivals and everyone disperses for drinks. And unlike what they said, you’re not eager to see your old ‘friend’ at all. You’re trying to steer clear of him. “What are you doing standing here in the corner?” Your mother finds you reclusive with a flute of ale. It’s not the most sophisticated drink, but does enough to put you more at ease. Though, much to your dismay, she pries the glass out of your grip. “You should be socializing! Making connections. Like your brother!” She turns and you see Taehyung by the refreshment table with a younger girl who looks visibly uncomfortable. He barks out in deafening laughter, startling a few other guests and your mother sighs while you hold back a smile. “Maybe not quite like him.” “Is there something you want to say, mom?” It’s not like her to be so vague and to encourage you to talk to others. She’s always been apprehensive about you mingling, assuming you’re trying to scam them — which you usually are, so her caution isn’t unreasonable. “There’s a divine soul sorcerer,” she announces and instantly, you groan. “Of course there is.” “Don’t give me that look. You haven’t even spoken to him yet.” Unlike how you receive your magic from a legendary phoenix, divine soul sorcerers are blessed individuals who have a connection to divine beings. Whether they align with an ancient prophecy or their ancestor is an angel. They’re undoubtedly someone who could match the status of your family. You’re starting to suspect the reason your mother even came all the way over here was to get you to meet him. “Fine, I’ll talk to him,” you say, just to get her off your back. Your mother’s wrinkles crease when she smiles. “Good to hear. Now that’s one less issue off my plate— “ “I think Taehyung’s trying to impress that girl,” you interrupt, tilting your body over to the youngest who’s about to set the tablecloth on fire. Your mother practically swears underneath her breath and goes marching over without bidding you farewell. There’s a faint smile on your features and as a Halfling waiter passes, you grab a glass of manycherries wine. You release a long exhale, feeling your eyes bags deepen as exhaustion sets into you. Your eyes flicker to the fire roaring underneath the mantle. The rose and orange flames glow against your cheeks. Your fingers. And incidentally, it grows stronger. You feel the fire envelop you. The chatter of the room simmers down as you focus on the crackle and pop of the inferno. But unfortunately, it doesn’t last long. Not with the shrill voices close to you— “It’s a surprise, no? Even the Duke’s fiftieth birthday wasn’t as extravagant as this. All five houses are here and they even extended the invitations to families beyond Pegan.” “Well perhaps they had a good season or maybe one of the houses expanded their territory and we just haven’t heard about it yet. The Duke and Duchess looks after the entire territory and all the faction houses. It’s only natural they benefit from any changes, right?” “Don’t you two know?” “Know what?” “The reason this celebration is lavish….is because it’s practically an engagement party in disguise.” You exhale out of your nose, downing the glass of wine and when you finish, you see a familiar face in the midst. It’s a slender half-Elf with long blonde hair that’s half tied up and reaches to his ribs. Yorril. You remember his name after beating his ass with Yoongi in Bogsburrough a year ago. The memory causes the corner of your mouth to tug in a smirk. He sees you too and immediately turns away, walking off with his eyes wide. There are lots of people from different factions here, but you don’t know any of their names and don’t care to. Though out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a tall man in a white cape fluttering behind with his eyes focused right on you — undoubtedly the divine sorcerer your mother was referring to by his blinding aura — and you take Yorril’s inspiration and walk away as well. You drop your glass on a nearby table and zip into the dark hallway without looking back. You’re not sure where you’re going, merely winding down the corridors. But eventually your steps slow. Goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm. It feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s someone creeping. That there’s a presence behind you. But before you can turn around to discern what it is, a husky timbre makes you halt. “...alright?” At once your body seizes, freezing in its stop. Your blood runs warmer and your back meets the stone wall. There’s a sliver of light coming from the parted door inches away and you pull your orb out from the secret pocket you sewn into your dress. Gripping the object, you channel your magic and cast clairvoyance. The hearing sensor is placed behind the door. “Thank you, Yoongi.” It’s an unfamiliar soft-spoken voice. You hear his hum. “You’re welcome.” “I’m sorry. I know there’s a lot of people out there. I didn’t think my mother would invite so many people. It’s usually not like her to do this and—” “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind as much as you think I do.” “Really?” “I can’t say I enjoy it, but it’s not so bad every so often.” You swallow hard, feeling your heart clog your throat. Though before you can hear another thing, a hand plops down on your shoulder. And you nearly shriek in surprise. Out of all people, you turn to find dad wearing a mischievous smile that Taehyung and Seokjin inherited, and he nudges his chin to the door. “Your mother wouldn’t like you eavesdropping, you know. Come on, let’s go back.” You nod, following after him. The two of you return to the main room and step out into the terrace, away from the crowd. “There’s plenty of other men out there, Y/N.” “I know,” you mutter without looking at him, unable to help sulking. The older man smiles, having an inkling of why you’ve been so quiet. “It’s okay for you to be upset. Everything’s a process of trial and error. And it’s something that’ll come and go in due time.” You sigh lightly, trying to muster a smile that never really comes. “You want me to meet that divine soul sorcerer like mom, don’t you?” “Heavens no.” Your dad pats you on the back as you look out into the gardens. “I just want the best for my daughter.” You meet his eye and he grins. It’s moments like these that you’re glad you came home. “Elden!” The pair of you turn around as an older woman with cat-like eyes and a piercing stare steps out onto the terrace, her slender black dress sparkling like the stars. “My goodness, it’s been ages!” “Hyoyeon.” Your dad gives a laugh. “You haven’t aged a day!” They come to an embrace and she pulls away. “Oh, you’re too kind. Have you met my son yet?” Your worst nightmare emerges. Yoongi is dressed in a black tunic, pants, boots and a black velvet cape draped over his left side. He looks less like a knight on a quest and more like a prince. But one thing that hasn’t changed is his duckling-like hair. Strands of pale yellow that stand out. His eyes immediately center on you in surprise. As if he wasn’t expecting you here. And of course he wasn’t. You hated functions and celebrations like these, but once you heard the rumours, you couldn’t help but beg to come. Or maybe he’s giving you that expression because of how odd you look. You suppose he’s never seen you in anything other than braids and that peasant dress that you used to disguise yourself in. Now, your mother wouldn’t catch you dead in attire like that. But with him comes the Duke’s daughter, Fesan Klarinda, the Marquise of Pegan. She’s petite with spiral curls and dimples dotted in each side of her cheek. She’s the epitome of delicate. Instantly, the girl looks between you and Yoongi, realizing that your gazes are locked into one another’s. “Y/N.” He breathes it out and something swells inside your throat to hear him call your name. It’s hard to keep your face blank and impassive. Yoongi’s mother glances at him and then you. “You know each other?” “She was my partner during my adventure.” “She helped you defeat the dragon? Y/N from the great Phoenix family?” his mother gasps and nudges him. With her teeth gritted, she mutters, “Why didn’t you tell me that? Had I known….” Your dad’s laugh cuts through the suffocating tension. “Such a small world indeed. But I’m glad to finally meet the man who protected my daughter. Congratulations on your engagement, son.” “It’s nice to meet you,” Yoongi’s fiancée says with a demure smile and you give a curtsy without uttering a word. “Is your eldest son here, Hyoyeon?” “Oh, Hoseok unfortunately couldn’t make it to the occasion. He’s busy studying arcane magic in a monk temple in Baldur's Gate. So I only have my youngest with me today.” “Not at all! Education is of the utmost priority for the children.” While they speak, Klarinda clears her throat. “There must be a lot to catch up on since you and Yoongi are fairly close, I heard.” “Yes, he is a great friend to me, my lady.” Yoongi’s eye twitches, but you pay no mind. You don’t speak a single word to him and while it’s terribly awkward, you seize the opportunity to leave. “I find myself a bit parched. If you'll excuse me.” You get away as quickly as you can while grabbing fistfuls of your heavy dress, feeling more strands falling out of your updo. But being out of his presence doesn’t mean you’ve escaped. You feel the weight of Yoongi’s intent gaze on you all night, from across the room to the table. You’re barely able to survive dinner and the food’s not at all charred enough to your tastes. You’re beginning to regret coming here. Even when you knew you had to see it for yourself. “Excuse me. I believe you are Lady Y/N, right?” After dinner, the divine soul sorcerer finally corners you at a moment when your guard is down, having been too focused on Yoongi. The man has silver hair neatly coiffured, but the colour isn’t from age nor is it lackluster. It matches his cape and white attire. Undoubtedly, the sorcerer has an otherworldly appearance. He’s handsome and practically radiant to that of an angel’s. And he draws attention, causing girls to turn their heads and swoon for him. You can only imagine his power and it’s no wonder your mother has insisted that you meet him. But you are far from being impressed. “You are?” “Allow me to introduce myself! I am Jinha, a favoured soul sorcerer. Son of the magnificent Concordia House here in Pegan. My ancestor was the chosen one of the Goddess Mystra.” His palm opens and he glances at your hand. But you don’t entertain the idea of him kissing your knuckles, so he retracts his arm after an awkward moment. He clears his throat. “You look absolutely ravishing. The most beautiful person at this party aside from myself of course,” he quips. You deadpan, “Thanks.” “Are you enjoying the party?” Hardly. “I am.” “Have you tried any of the crab-stuffed lobster tail yet—?” “I much prefer the wine.” You grab a glass from the tray of a stubby butler passing by and you down half of it. When you lower the glass, you find that he’s still there, smirking like an idiot. While this relationship would be textbook perfect, you hate sorcerers. You are one, have three siblings that are, spent your childhood surrounded by them. So you know best how arrogant and entitled sorcerers can be. You bet he spends his free time looking in the mirror. Plus, there’s already enough magic in you for two people. “I happened to speak to your mother earlier, Lady Y/N.” “Did you?” “She said you’ve been traveling before. I have been traveling across the lands myself, so we have quite a bit in common.” “Yes,” you answer in a monotone and then your eyes light up as you spin around on your heel to him. “Actually, she might’ve not told you but I run a business.” “A business?” “I’m a business woman. It’s gotten a bit pushed to the side since I’ve gotten home, but maybe I should start it back up again.” “What kind of business is it?” Jinha stands straighter as if to show how capable he is. “I would love to help.” “Would you?” A feigned coy smile comes across your face and you lean in to graze his shoulder. “I have quite a bit of valuables collected and a lot of ancient potions I sell. All from my travels. You’re actually very fortunate since I have one with me. Would you like to buy one? I’ll be willing to give it to you at a reduced price of ten gold pieces.” Since the first time you’ve arrived, you feel energy return to you. But then much to your dismay, the damned sorcerer apologizes— “I don’t actually have any gold on me right now.” “How about your ring.” You point downward, never breaking eye contact. “This is once in a lifetime opportunity.” Either your skills are rusty or he’s denser than a rock because your persuasions don’t get through. “I would never dare to give you such a worthless ring, Lady Y/N! With so many shiny valuables practically overflowing out of the hundreds of rooms at my enormous manor, you deserve something much more precious. Perhaps we could arrange a time when you could come visit my massive estate.” You audible sigh, not even trying to hide it. For the next ten minutes, the sorcerer bores you with speech about himself, his family, how he personally knows the Duke, how he’s expanding his manor to have two more gardens and five more fountains, and how delicious the crab-stuffed lobster tail is. You barely manage to escape, simply excusing yourself to find your sister. But as you turn the corner, away from prying eyes and ears, you grip your orb in your pocket and channel your arcane magic. You cast disguise self and at once, you take the form of the stubby butler from earlier. A foot shorter, larger, and white tailcoat with black breeches. Your empty glass even turns into a tray and you strut down the corridor with your head held high. You’re going to leave. Out the front door. Never to return. Coming here was a mistake — and confronting Yoongi isn’t something you think you have in you. You’re better suited to having no real relationships, no commitment, no attachments. Merely traveling around and scamming others is what you do best. After all, things were easier back then when you had no direction. There was less emotional turmoil. Fewer obligations. Fewer consequences. But regrets are a little too late, so in the heat of the moment, you throw away your hard-earned compromise with your mother and decide to run. Yet, before you can even think of launching yourself out the open arched window, your eyes grow wide at the man at the end of the hall. Yellow strands of hair catch your attention first. Then it’s the sleepy eyes. The tender features. Immediately, you pull your gaze away from him and stare ahead. It’s not too hard to make yourself unsuspicious when you’re disguised as a butler and Yoongi seems to pay no mind to you either. He merely walks past and you breathe a sigh of relief. But then strong arms wrap around your waist and your back meets a firm chest. The spell breaks. He saw right through you. Right through your illusion. Yoongi’s soft exhale causes goosebumps to rise all over your arms. “Thank god, it’s you. I was worried that it was really the butler.” His timbre is huskier than you remember. You stumble out of his embrace and turn around. “I apologize, sir. I wasn’t trying to create any trouble. ” “Sir?” Yoongi’s brows furrow, deep enough that it looks like it hurts. Neither of you say anything for a long moment as he stares at you and you divert your vision, preferring to admire how smooth the white pillars of the castle look. Then, his hand suddenly reaches out to graze the loose strands of hair that have fallen from your updo. It’s a gentle gesture and he quietly comments, “Your hair’s gotten longer.” But you don’t react. “How have you been?” he asks faintly. “Fine.” You keep your reply curt and short. Distant. “Congratulations on your engagement, sir.” “Y/N.” He sounds annoyed. “Let me explain—” But when you finally meet his gaze, your eyes are painfully stinging and his voice tapers off. You curse underneath your breath, having tried so hard to keep yourself together. Yet the effort to prevent humiliation is being swept down the drain, so you grab fistfuls of your dress and march away. “Y/N!” Yoongi doesn’t chase after you. You snivel violently, doing all you can to not let tears shed. You fail to watch where you’re going and you run into your older sister. “Where have you…..are you okay?” Lia looks down at you, her eyes wide at your state. You merely shake your head and her lips pout as she pulls you in. She doesn’t need to ask. “It’s okay. There, there. No one’s going to hurt you.” She’s wrong. You’ve already been hurt. // Min Yoongi is a bastard. You’ve sorely underestimated his abilities. He manipulates emotions better than you can, but you’re more so angry at yourself for misinterpreting memories. For allowing your imagination to take its course. After all, it’s easier to transform your hurt into anger than reveling in sorrow. You’ve never been the type to be passive. The morning after the banquet, there are tournaments out on the East field. You’re seated at the rows near the Duke and Duchess with the rest of your family. Taehyung is watching intently while Seokjin prefers to wave to girls seated a few seats down much to your mother’s dismay. You’re sitting beside Lia who has her parasol to shield the sun away and is fanning herself to keep sweat from her face. She hasn’t teased you about last night, not when it looked serious enough. But she hasn’t pried either, even though you know eventually she will. Curiosity has always been a fault in your family — second to recklessness. You watch as two men below fight, one with a bow and the other with a mace. You don’t recognize them, merely knowing they’re from different factions. And that they seem to be taking their hatred out on each other. “Ooh.” Taehyung sharply inhales when the Elf with the mace slashes the Half-Elf holding the bow. “That looks like it hurts.” The Half-Elf surrenders and the Halfling referee calls an end to the match. “It’s so hot out,” Lia pants and wipes her forehead with a handkerchief. “Since when did you care about sweating or not?” you ask, lolling your head to the side. She clicks her tongue. “Tch. Don’t you know how many potential suitors are here? I have to look my best. You should too.” “Can I leave?” you ask your mother, tilting yourself to her. Seokjin whirls his head around. “I second that.” “Absolutely not,” she hisses and glances over her shoulder, making sure that the Duke and Duchess aren’t listening. “We are honoured guests and it would be very rude.” “At least wait until the intermission,” your father adds with a charming smile. With that said, you sit back and try to get comfortable. From below, the Halfling referee steps up to his podium and announces through a cone, “For our next match, on the right is Jinha, divine sorcerer from the House of Concordia. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” Your breath hitches in your throat. Immediately, Lia nudges you. “Who’s that?” Her eyes are pinpointed to the obnoxious man from last night who emerges while sweeping his hair back, his golden staff carried in his grasps. But you’re preoccupied with the other man. Someone with pastel yellow hair. Even from far away, it’s all too stark against his heavy armour. And you swear he’s looking right at you. Or maybe not. It could be for his fiancée who’s diagonal to where you are. That would make more sense. You damn yourself for being delusional again. “So that’s him?” Taehyung turns to you, asking, “The one you sent letters to?” “I never did such a thing,” you mutter. The Halfling shouts at the top of his lungs and the match begins. Yoongi grips his rapier in his hands and closes the distance. He hits twice, slamming down the blade onto Jinha with narrowed eyes and then surges forward for a critical hit. His accuracy and precision has become more refined since the last time you saw him fight. Yet, Jinha never bumbles or falls to his knees in spite of the brutality. He tightens his grip on his staff, jaw clamping down. He casts burning hands. His fingers spread and a thin sheet of flames shoots forth from his outstretched fingertips. It causes Yoongi to stumble back and the sorcerer turns his head, flashing a bright grin towards the rows, undoubtedly for you. But you aren’t fazed — not when you’re at the edge of your seat, gaze placed on Yoongi. Lia, on the other hand, is the one who’s impressed. Her jaw draws open, a soft gasp befalling her lips as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Across the field, your eyes lock into Yoongi’s. And then he’s moving again, blade slashing thrice. Jinha surrenders. “I should challenge you!” Taehyung suddenly breaks both you and Lia’s trance with his loud and startling voice, looking directly at Seokjin with a rectangular grin. “Do you want to fight?” “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” A wide smile spreads into your older brother’s face. “Do you think you could take me on?” Taehyung’s already rolling up his sleeves. “You’re just going to have to wait and s—” Your mother immediately pulls him down with the force of gravity itself. Her eyes pierce into your siblings. “Absolutely not! I won’t have any of my children fighting and hurting themselves!” The Halfling referee turns. “Does anyone want to challenge the victor of this mat—” You stand. “I do!” Your mother is absolutely mortified. Your father is taken aback. Taehyung is already smiling with a murmured ‘awesome’ while both Seokjin and Lia are visibly amused. There’s little your parents can do too when the Duchess starts clapping and hollering for you to enter the field and the Duke wishes you luck, citing that he’s excited to see the true capabilities of your household. “For our next match on the right is Y/N, phoenix sorcerer from the Kim Phoenix Household. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” From the distance, no one can hear the two of you. No one can discern the way Yoongi’s looking at you. How he’s deflated, sword drooping by his side, his form not at all ready. “I’m not going to fight you,” Yoongi declares with the furrow of his brows. You scoff. “Then you’re weak.” Gripping your spellcasting focus, your blazing red and orange swirling orb, you channel your magic and cast fireball. A bright streak flashes from your pointing finger towards him, blossoming with a low roar into an explosion of flames. But it misses when he nimbly dodges out of the range. The spectators cheer, on the edge of their seats. Yoongi, realizing that you’re not conceding, moves towards you. He grips his rapier and hits twice, bringing his blade down to slash. You sharply inhale, but keep your feet rooted into the ground and as he raises his arm for the third time, it slips. The weapon falls to the ground. “Pick it up,” you spit at him in Elvish, straightening out your spine again. Gasping, you cast Melf’s Minute Meteors and six tiny meteors manifest. They float in the air and orbit you until you send both of them towards him. It misses, exploding on the ground instead. Yoongi grabs his sword, but when he hits you, it’s weak. It barely skims you. Doesn’t even break through skin. And he drops his rapier again. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” This time, the shout isn’t coming from you but from Duchess Jacquelyn who’s crazed as she grips the banister and cackles maniacally. The Duke stares at her in discomfort at how wrapped up she is and Yoongi’s fiancée, Klarinda, shakes her head. “Mom.” You have no plans of surrendering. Even if you drop dead here. You cast fireball again and this time, the blossoming roar of the flames consumes Yoongi. You hear him cry out in agony and you send two meteors orbiting you his way. One misses, but the other one explodes on his chest. Yoongi’s teeth clenches. His knuckles turn white. But before he surges forward with his rapier, the smoke dissipates and he sees you. Tears in your eyes. The trembling of your bottom lip. The quivering of your entire frame. And no one hears when you softly curse him— “Bastard.” Yoongi drops his sword into the dirt. “I forfeit.” At once, Klarinda races down the rows, grabbing fistfuls of her dress. “Excuse me, pardon me!” She races down the field undignified, but to resume to her fiancé’s side. She searches his expression. “A-Are you alright, Yoongi? I can heal you.” She casts cure wounds and presses her palms to his pectorals over his armour. And after she does so, she looks between you and Yoongi. But by that time, you’ve long grabbed your own dress and marched off the field, leaving the two lovers behind. At the exact same moment, a ghostly presence fades from the open arched window on the fourth floor, their eyes having been pinpointed on your figure for the entirety of the match. // There’s someone watching you. You can tell with the way goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm, hairs on the back of your neck lifted, how there’s a sudden weight of someone’s stare on your shoulders. It feels like there’s someone creeping, a presence behind you. Your heel pivots. “Yoon—” But it isn’t him or any of your siblings. A translucent force tries to push itself into your body, causing your words to choke in your throat, your weakened knees to stumble back. Your lungs wither and your throat dries as the remaining air inside you wheezes out. But you resist. With all the strength left inside of you. You use your remaining energy to prevent the force from taking control, from entering and intruding. And in the next moment, it slips out and flounders in front of you. What would be a terrified shriek ends up as coughs as you gasp for air. “W-What in the holy fuck—” It’s a ghost. A chubby man in white sleeping silks, his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, but his form translucent and feet floating inches off the cobblestone hall. Your seething fire running through your blood flares. It seeps out and magically wreathes around you as your eyes glow as hot coals. You lift your finger to him, threatening to attack and he steps back. “Hold on there! Don’t be hasty!” the ghost spits in panic. “I sincerely apologize for my blunder!” “Who are you?! What were you trying to do to me?!” “My name is Leo and I just wanted to borrow your body for a bit! You see...I have some unfinished business.” There’s an extended silence. Then you lower your arm and the fire drawn back into you. Your stare is unwavering and Leo musters a smile on his thin lips, wrinkles around his eyes creasing. “In hindsight, I should have asked. I apologize for intruding.” You scoff, guard still up. “What’s your unfinished business?” “Ah, I would like to see the sunrise one last time.” The ghost turns to glance out the window. “Someone once tried to banish me away, so now I’m in a quite unstable form. I am only able to venture in this realm when it is day or night when time itself is stable. I disappear every time there is a sunset or sunrise.” Your brow lifts. “So you’ve been haunting this castle?” “Well, I can’t leave if I have unfinished business.” Leo smiles at you, eyes almost hopeful. “Whoever tried to banish you should’ve done it properly,” you deadpan. Getting rid of this ghost could be your birthday present to the Duchess. “I don’t know the banishment spell unfortunately. But my older brother does.” You start to march down the hall, but the ghost follows after you frantically. “Please don’t banish me! I beg of you! Please!” It’s an opportunity and you seize it. Your feet halt and you twist to him with a smirk growing. “Then what will you offer me?” “Offer you?” “As payment.” Your arms cross. “We can strike a fair deal. If you want to borrow my body, I’ll let you. But only if you can give me gold.” The ghost bursts out in hearty laughter that streams from his chest. “I don’t have anything to my name anymore, dear sorcerer. Certainly not gold. I’m dead!” Your face morphs into impassivity, lips drawn into a tight line. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Yet, he still follows relentlessly, floating to your left and to your side, eyes plastered onto your profile. “Oh, but can’t you offer me even half a day out of the kindness of thy own heart? Surely you must feel pity for a ghost like me that’s forced to wander this castle with no end. I will leave when my business is complete, that I can assure.” “Why don’t you go bother someone else?” “But you are special.” At that, your steps slow and he smiles again. “You know magic well and it reminds me of a certain someone.” “Who?” He hums and frowns. “I can’t seem to remember.” You scoff. After years of your business, of persuasion and deception, you can tell he’s not being entirely truthful. But before you can press on and coax the ghost’s true intentions out, there’s a noisy interruption. “Y/N!” Taehyung approaches with his mouth lopsided. “Who are you talking to?” You turn to your side, but the middle-aged ghost has vanished in thin air. “It was a ghost.” “What?” He looks at you as if you’ve gone crazy and maybe you have. “There aren’t ghosts here. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “I came to tell you that mom’s looking for you.” At your exaggerated sigh, Taehyung grins. “Trust me, it’s a lot worse than what you think.” He’s right. Your mother’s caught wind that a few youngsters are going boating and of course, she has to push her children into the private affair. You’re largely unamused, not a fan of being stuck in large bodies of water, even if it’s just a lake. “You have to go.” The moment she sharply enunciates the word, she pulls on the strings on your back laced bodice with all her might and you choke on air. “How else are you going to get married?” She doesn’t see you roll your eyes in the mirror. “My plan isn’t to get married.” “Well you never know what might happen. Keep an open mind.” Somehow, she thinks marriage will quell her troublesome daughters, especially you. But you can’t blame her for holding such an idea. At this point, she’s trying everything she can. “It’s time to be a little more ladylike after the whole tournament fiasco.” In the meanwhile, Lia is sitting in the corner, amused. She has a frilly, puffed up skirt of her own, a shade of light pink and on top of her head, a giant hat with flowers. She’s always been the prettier one. But as you turn to the mirror in your own blue summer dress your mother’s putting you in, you find that you aren’t half bad. Your mother knows you tend to get yourself dirty and that you don’t particularly enjoy being dressed up, so your attire is much less obnoxious and more subtle. It’s proof she’s thought about you. Eventually, your eyes drift off of your reflection to the flames dancing in the fireplace. You stare at the crimson light it gives, the way the subtle smoke that rises from it, curling towards the chimney. “There we are.” Your mother secures the last pins in your hair and smooths out your skirt. “Not too shabby, darling,” she says with a smile as if satisfied from her own work. You wonder what’s the point of trying. It’s not like anyone will be enamoured with you. The person who matters the most after all has already been taken. “You look absolutely beautiful this fine afternoon, Lady Y/N.” Your trance shatters and you look at the man blankly. “Jinha.” “Dare I say, you may be more lovely than you were last night!” He grins and you answer him in silence. You allow the noise of the surroundings to respond instead — the cawing of the birds, the sloshing of the water on the edge of the grass, your brothers laughing as the boats bump into the pier. The only mercy given to him is when Lia quite literally bumps into you and clears her throat loudly. “Ahem. Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” The sorcerer’s smile widens. “Excuse me, but you are?” “I am Lia, Y/N’s older sister. But I’m not that much older. Only by two years. I’m turning twenty four.” You’ve never seen Lia flounder so much. It’s amusing to behold. “Oh, I knew Y/N had a sister, but I would’ve thought you were the younger sister,” Jinha says smoothly and her expression lights up even further. He takes her hand, placing a kiss upon her knuckles and you’re glad she’s taken his attention. Heaven knows you aren’t interested. But as you’re about to walk away, your line of sight falls to a familiar girl with dimples. Klarinda, the Duke’s daughter, is wearing a brimmed hat and her expensive silk skirt flutters with her. If she’s here then where’s— Yoongi’s staring right at you. As if he’s a predator and you’re merely the prey. Immediately, you return to Lia being overly flirtatious with Jinha. It’s bearable for a few minutes until you join your brothers who are horsing around and threatening to push one another into the lake. But out of the corner of your eye, you watch Yoongi and look away when your eyes meet. You know he’s watching you too. You try your best to stay focused on your surroundings. The strangers around were from different families and factions, civil with each other when they’re on the Duke’s grounds. At most, they send glares to their enemies. So you allow the polite, peaceful chatter to engulf you before everyone slowly gets onto the boats to row out and enjoy the lake. “Finally!” Taehyung suddenly twists around, holding a rope in hand. “I got it untied!” Jin facepalms himself. “You idiot! You’re supposed to untie the rope after everyone’s gotten in!” “What?” “Not to worry!” Jinha announces with a grin and nimbly hops inside the boat before it drifts too far off the pier. He holds out his hand for Lia and she gladly takes it with a giggle, being guided in. You watch at a loss for words as the boat gets farther and farther. Still, the divine sorcerer boldly holds out his hand for you. “Lady Y/N!” You hesitate. The boat is already full with four people and you’re not sure if it’s worth jumping in and potentially getting pulled into the lake. But suddenly, before you can make a decision, your waist is pulled back by strong arms. “It’s okay. She can come with me. There’s one left.” “Yoongi!” your gasp is sharp and you look up at him. But he remains unfazed. Your siblings have their brows raised. But by then, they’ve already drifted off and Taehyung wordlessly rows away. You don’t have time to react or object — not when Yoongi’s grabbed your hand and you stumble after him. The last rowboat rocks back and forth violently and you drop into a seated position on the seat before you can fall in. It takes three seconds. The rope is untied and Yoongi rows away from the pier. You notice his fiancée meters away in her own boat, sitting closely with girls chatting and giggling together. Yet, she pays no mind to her friends. Instead, she stares at the two of you. “Shouldn’t you be with her?” Yoongi follows your line of sight and mumbles, “It’s fine.” You’re stuck with him. Yoongi rows where no one else does and you watch the water cascade back. The soft sloshing fills the background as it gets quiet and much too uncomfortable. Yoongi’s husky timbre breaks the tension. “How have you been?” “Well, I’ve just been trapped in my house ever since I’ve returned, but things are great.” Your voice drips of venomous sarcasm, but when you lift your eyes, his gaze locks into yours. The blonde man wears a somber expression, his irises darkening and you sigh, speaking at a quieter volume. “I actually worked out a deal with my parents. As long as I behave and don’t tarnish my family name, I can do as I please. There’s more freedom than before. But it’s a work in progress full of compromise. If I want to leave, I’ll have to write a plan so they know where I’m headed. I just haven’t decided what I want to do next.” Your muttering gets quiet and your face hardens. “Obviously, you’re doing well.” Yoongi stops rowing. He allows the boat to drift. “The engagement was set up by my mother.” “Oh please, Yoongi.” Your eyes roll and you cross your arms, ready for his excuses that you knew were coming. “It was arranged. For all I know, I haven’t proposed to anyone yet.” “That doesn’t change that fact that you’re an engaged man!” Your teeth grit. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to go off with her and have a bunch of kids and a big family together, so congratu-fucking-lations.” It’s unbearable. There’s nowhere you can run. He’s truly trapped you here to confront one another. “And when were you planning to tell me? All those letters and you didn’t mention it once!” Your eyes sting painfully as your vision floods, overwhelmed with emotion. You feel blindsighted. “I thought I wouldn’t have to tell you at all. I was going to take care of it. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” “You really think it’s easy to call off an engagement with the Duke’s daughter?!” you spit and he takes your onslaught of anger. The pain is visible on your visage. “If I didn’t come, were you going to tell me when you got to the altar? Or after you got back from the honeymoon? I...I feel like an idiot.” “I’m sorry.” Staggering exhales pull from your lungs after your tangent and silence fills the large distance between the pair of you. Yet, Yoongi’s gaze is too tender for you to bear. “My biggest regret is not kissing you that night,” he murmurs. “Or rather, not asking you to come with me.” “It’s too late.” “It isn’t.” “What are you going to do, Yoongi?” “I’m going to call it off.” “How?” “I’ll try.” His voice is low, eyes half-lidded. “Then what?” you spit in exasperation. “What reason would you have to call it off? It’s a great arrangement! A beneficial marri—” “I want to marry you.” The inside of your chest stutters. Your breath catches in your throat. Warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace. Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man, blunt but never honest with his feelings. That trait has bred so many uncertainties within you. But in this moment, you feel his sincerity. You can see it, how hard he’s tried to reach you, to tell you his intentions. It reminds you of that night in Rutherglen. The festival and fireworks, when you were so close to one another, when you would’ve gone anywhere with him. “You’re an idiot, Min Yoongi.” You stand. “I don’t feel like talking to idiots.” You pull your orb from your pocket and cast shape water. The waves rise and it splashes him. Yoongi’s yellow hair is soaked along with the entire side of his head. His visage washes over into impassivity, akin to a glare. But you don’t dwell, palms laying flat in the air as you manipulate the water and push the boat back to shore. The minute you get to the pier, you pull yourself up. “I learnt more spells other than fire magic since our fight with the Remorhaz,” you add, “if you even remember that.” You know it’s unfair, but you rush away before he can discern how in a few words, he’s given you hope. The very hope that you know can easily break your heart again. // It’s been less than two full days, but it feels like an eternity. You’re slouched over an open arched window, elbow propped on the stone with your chin rested in your hand. The valleys of Pegan are out in the distance behind the fogged clouds, countless adventures and creatures out there for you to discover and explore. But you find yourself rooted in your place, a sense of uneasiness and yearning preventing you from leaving. At sounds of quacking, your eyes drift from the scenery to the first floor. By the staircase is a white duck with an orange beak trotting along with a row of pale yellow, baby ducklings behind her. They follow their mother religiously, teetering from side to side, trying not to get too curious of the world around them and a smile graces your lips. “Are ducklings your favourite animal, sorcerer?” Your spine straightens in shock and the wandering ghost, Leo, grins at you. Your hand presses to your chest as you steady your breath. “Are you trying to scare me to death?!” “Of course not! That would be defeating the purpose. I can’t borrow your body if you’re dead like I am,” he chortles, arms behind his back as he floats from your right side to your left. “I wanted to merely apologize for this morning. I didn’t mean to be so invasive or startle you.” You glare at him, not yet accepting his apology. He continues nonetheless— “Also, I want you to help me.” You snort unattractively, having known he had other purposes in approaching you again. “Unless you agree to my deal, the answer is no.” “Please,” Leo pleads. “I can’t move on.” You push yourself off the wall and walk away. He follows after you, even after you quicken your steps. “Why can’t you possess someone else’s body and watch your stupid sunrise?” “That is not my greatest desire.” The ghost comes in front of you and you halt in fear of him entering your body. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful to you, dear sorcerer.” Your brow lifts, waiting patiently and Leo swallows hard. “I await another lost soul and I wish to depart this world together with them. I can’t move on without them.” Your frustration makes your voice shrill. “It’s not only you who has problems, alright? I can’t even fix mine! What makes me think I can fix yours?!” As your annoyance boils over, you start running. It’s useless to try to elude a ghost who can’t get tired, but you try anyway. “Sorcerer!” And without looking, you turn the corner and collide with another body. “Woah!” Jin steadies you before the two of you can topple over. “Why are you not looking at where you’re going?” Lia is with him and regards you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” You glance over your shoulder. The ghost never comes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter in a sigh. “Mom’s looking for you again.” “What is it this time?” The words come out in a tired exhale. Your older brother shrugs. “Might have to do with tonight’s dinner.” “Hey, Y/N.” Suddenly, Lia takes your hands. “Tell me honestly, do you like Jinha?” “No.” You warily eye her, not sure where she’s going with this. The corner of Jin’s mouth curls. “Why? You like him?” “Well, if she doesn’t like him, she should give him to me,” Lia mumbles, then quickly turns to you. “Of course, if you do, then by all means, our sisterhood is my top priority….” You pull your hand away from her. “I don’t like him, Lia. But he’s not mine to give away either. You can do whatever you want.” Your sister’s eyes twinkle with a kind of enthusiasm that makes you scoff with a smile. Jin’s mouth is quirked as well, but his curiosity has been piqued and he doesn’t hesitate to ask— “It’s because of him, isn’t it? He’s the reason you’re not interested. The youngest son of the Min faction. What was his name?” “Yoongi.” If possible, Lia’s features light up further and she steps forward, cornering you. “What happened on that boat ride, Y/N? It seemed like you were having a really intense talk.” “It was nothing,” you murmur. “He practically pulled you into the boat with him. I mean, did his fiancée mind?” In the midst of the interrogation, Jin shifts to you, eyes unwavering. “You started sending him letters the minute you got back, but now he’s engaged and he happens to pull you aside like that— What really happened on your adventure together?” Millpass, Bogsburrough, Rutherglen. The memories seep back into you. The fireworks and festival, the night at the roadside tavern, fighting together at the underground market. The way he rushed in front of you in the face of the white dragon, how the two of you sat on the hill and watched the sunset together. It’s overwhelming. “Who is he to you?” “I said nothing!” you lie and push past them, stomping in the other direction to get away from your overbearing siblings. “Hey!” Lia shouts after you. “Mom’s still calling you!” You ignore them, turning the corner then down the staircase lest the wandering ghost plagues you again or you run into Taehyung, your mother or father. For good measure, you depart outside without any direction but merely feeling the soft grass underneath your boots. You’re about to turn yourself invisible for a moment of peace or disguise yourself as a maid to escape, but with your unfortunate luck that’s been bestowed to you since you arrived, you run into dimples before you get the chance. A petite figure with spiral curls and an evening dress of modesty. Her brown eyes sparkle as your eyes lock with one another’s. With half a mind and all the etiquette training that had been slammed into you at childhood, you curtsy. “Hello.” “Good evening.” Klarinda smiles at you without a trace of malice. “What a coincidence meeting you here. I was about to head to my greenhouse.” “Yes.” You stiffly nod. “If you’ll excuse me…” But before you can march off, she twirls around. “Would you like to join me?” It’s an open space. The gardens seem to stretch on for miles, plant walls that border the perimeter. In the center of it all is a structure made of glass. The ceilings are high to let in sunlight and there are rows and benches of potted plants and flowers. “Some of these I grow simply because they’re beautiful. But a lot of these herbs have medicinal purposes.” “You’re a cleric, aren’t you, my lady?” “I am, like my mother. And you don’t have to address me by such formal titles. A friend of Yoongi’s is a friend of mine.” The girl smiles. “Klarinda is fine.” You nod and she quietly hums a song as she waters flowers. You follow after her until a particular plant catches your eye — verdant leafs, yellow petals and plump berries. “It’s a sunberry plant,” Klarinda says when she notices your curiosity. “Would you like to try one?” The Duke’s daughter happily plucks one off and holds it out in front of you. The second your teeth bites down, the sweetness explodes into your cheek. She giggles at your reaction. “Good, right? My dad likes to come in here and eat them when they’re in season, so they’re always gone.” “Good enough to sell. You should cast a protection or barrier spell on them.” “I should.” She grins, dimples dotted on both sides of her face. “But between you and me, I actually don't mind so much. It makes me happy that he enjoys something from my garden, even if he has to sneak in.” Most of your first impressions aren’t wrong. Within minutes of conversation, you can figure out if a customer is going to chase you down and try to fight you or might come back at a latter time to buy more. And you can tell her innocence isn’t a feigned facade. The Marquise is endearing enough that you like her for it. For a moment, you almost feel envious of Yoongi. But they’re undoubtedly a good match. A stoic, strong knight capable of shielding away a virtuous maiden who knows nothing of the world, but is kind and generous to a fault. It’s a portrait perfect couple. “This place is really beautiful.” You force yourself away from the thoughts that form a lump in your throat. “Thank you. It can get lonely though.” You hum, supposing a vast yet empty estate would do that to someone. “Don’t people from Pegan visit often?” “They do. They mostly arrive for business. I used to play with all kinds of children from the different factions, especially during holidays. But they can be……” “A bit much?” Klarinda laughs. “Yes! Some might say crazy or competitive, but much is a good word too.” You grin. “I’ve barely gotten to know how the factions work, but I can already tell. Some of them are so conceited.” Her eyes sparkle. “Like Jinha?” “Yes!” She giggles, her dimples creased deeper and her teeth shown in the light. Like this, she’s less of a proper and demure lady, niece to the king, and more like a girl you would’ve known on your travels. “He can be quite a gentleman, but he has an arrogant nature.” “My sister likes him, but I’m not sure why. Personally, I think she could do better. Then again, they wouldn't be bad together.” With the divine sorcerer’s willing-to-please nature and Lia’s incessant demands and high maintenance personality, it might work out better than intended. “I’m envious that you have so many siblings,” Klarinda says with a tender smile and you’re caught in surprise. You didn’t know it was possible she could be envious of you when you were envious of her in so many ways. “I’m an only child, so I’ve often wondered what it would’ve been like to have an older brother or younger sister. There’s nothing that beats family after all.” “You’re not missing out on much, trust me. Siblings can be quite annoying.” She laughs again. “Still, I think it would’ve been nice to belong to a bigger family.” A comfortable silence simmers as you follow after her and she moves to prune a plant. You break the quiet. “Actually, I was away from my family for quite a while. For a number of years.” “I thought you went adventuring for one year?” You shake your head. “They told everyone I went to go study arcane magic, but it isn’t true. I ran away and was gone for three.” Klarinda looks at you with a gentle expression, recognizing your solemnity. “What matters is that you’re here with them now.” You nod. “I don’t regret coming home. I’m glad I didn’t have to return when there was a funeral of my parents.” “Even if they’re overbearing?” she asks with a tiny smile. “Even if they’re overbearing,” you confirm. “You met Yoongi during your travels, right?” Immediately, you freeze, but she focuses on her plant, only stealing a simple glance at you. “He told me a lot about you from day one.” “Is that so?” “The engagement was a surprise to the both of us,” she murmurs, placing her shears down. “It happened less than a month ago. Suddenly my mother sat me down and told me about the arrangement. It was strange considering she had never spoken to me about it before and she’s never been one to make such an agreement. Anyway, a few minutes after I met Yoongi, he spoke about you. Rather fondly.” “Really?” You plaster on a polite smile. “Well, I’m flattered. He’s a great friend.” “Is he sincerely a friend to you?” Klarinda asks. Her gaze is piercing and you raise your guard. She’s going to threaten you — you know it. But you weren’t the one who made the decision and you don’t want any part of it. It doesn’t involve you. It never will. Having learnt from the best, your face becomes blank. “I am very happy that he’s finally engaged. He’s always been very popular, so settling down just seems right for him.” At once, the cleric grips her necklace. Against your will, she casts an enchantment spell and a fifteen foot radius sphere sweeps out from her. It keeps you inside. A zone of truth that prevents lies. “I’m sorry. But I need to know.” She looks at you solemnly. “Do you like Yoongi?” You cuss in Elvish underneath your breath. You can’t be deceptive, but you can still be evasive in your responses as long as it remains within the boundaries of the truth. “It’s not like I dislike him.” “Please be honest with me.” She searches your expression earnestly, pleading with you. Being with Yoongi has made you soft. You’re used to protecting your vulnerabilities until the end, but the truth spills from you as if it’s been dying to be said— “I’m in love with him.” The spell dissipates. Klarinda smiles. “Then I’ll call off the engagement.” “What?” “They can’t force me to do anything and I’d rather keep two great friends than having an unwilling husband for the rest of my life.” Her dimples crease. “I wouldn’t want that for him, myself or you.” “Wait! J-Just because I feel a certain way doesn’t mean he does or even that the engagement should be called off! This...this is something you should talk about with him, not me.” Her smile becomes sweeter. “Isn’t it obvious?” You blink at her. ��Yoongi loves you too. What’s more that needs to be said?” The girl is so certain as if the answer has never been clearer. She’s a hopeless romantic. Utterly so. Someone who believes that love prevails above all and suddenly, you want to give into that urge as well. But before either of you can move, there’s a rumble beneath your feet. The ground itself tilts. Klarinda catches herself on the bench and you find your own balance. The pair of you tear your eyes away from one another to the roaring noise. The castle is shaking in its foundation. She notices the smoke that’s rising in the air. “Is...that fire?” Your eyes widen and you rush over, instincts screaming. The girl trails behind you and you pull yourself inside. There’s fire eating at the walls and you take your orb out, focusing your magic to snuff out the flames. To the best of your abilities, you extinguish it. Klarinda stays with you, using her own magic to try to aid you. “Sorcerer!” In the midst of the pandemonium, a familiar voice and form comes from the walls. Leo, the ghost, floats to your side. “I need your help. You must come with me. Please!” Klarinda’s eyes widen. But you don’t notice. “Don’t you see what’s going on?! I can’t help you!” The ghost vanishes. There is smoke filling the halls, flooding the corridors and you cover your mouth with the sleeve of your dress, coughing into it. Members from different factions are rushing past with their own weapons and shields, swords gripped or magic at their fingertips. There’s shouting above the chaos, but you don’t know what’s going on. Not until you enter the main room and find your mother and Taehyung. “Mom!” There’s a dracolich in the center of the circular room, towering high enough to graze the dome ceiling. It’s a monster — once a dragon until it became undead. Now what’s left of it is bones instead of flesh and blood, open eye sockets and decayed wings. But instead of being buried underneath the ground or burnt to ash, it’s come back to life, roaring and whipping its tail to a group of terrified, screaming wizards. There are several death knights as well. Decayed bodies with rotting flesh and pinpoints of light in place of eyes. They’re undead warriors who have revived, having once been rangers and barbarians until they fell. And one of them lunges at Taehyung until your mother casts finger of death, causing it searing pain and making it drop to its knees. Three rays of fire shoot past her, firing onto the death knight. She turns her head. “Y/N!” “Where’s Jin and Lia?” “They went to go find your father. He’s with the Duke!” Another death knight comes running forward with an axe and Taehyung screams before splashing a bubble of acid on it. A beat later, your mother’s grasp on her wand tightens and she sends a frigid beam of blue-white light streak on the monster. A coldness sweeps through the room and you follow up with casting firebolt. The monster has slowed down, barely staggering and obviously wounded. Yet, it tries to swing and misses Taehyung by a long shot. “Not bad,” you comment. “Hey, I’ve improved a lot since the last time you saw me fight!” A rectangular grin is plastered on Taehyung’s face. But the conversation is cut short by the dragonlich’s tail. He jumps away before he’s attacked and joins the other side where a paladin is fighting another monster. “Go!” Your mother shouts. “It’s too dangerous!” “I’m not leaving!” You don’t know where these undead creatures came from, how they even came alive again, or who revived them. There’s no time to think and in the midst of the anarchy, you’re trapped. Sheer seconds as you realize you’re about to be struck, but you’re unable to do anything. You merely brace for the impact. But the monster drops dead in front of you. Yoongi pulls his rapier out in one smooth tug, the silver blade slicing through the air. You gasp for air and he immediately engulfs you in an embrace. The man with the light blonde strands of hair holds you tight as your breath steadies and you savour his warmth. There are no words spoken, nothing that needs to be said that can’t be translated through his desperate yet affectionate gesture. “Sorcerer.” The moment can’t last long when you’re interrupted by the ghost. It floats to you and Yoongi is on guard, lifting the tip of his weapon. But you place a hand on his arm and he eases. “Listen to me.” You’re calm enough to finally pay attention, to hopefully be given answers. And answers are what he offers you. “There is a lich where the old castle resides. You must find the phylactery and destroy it before things become worse.” “A lich?!” Liches are among the worst creatures of humanity — undead spellcasters of great power. They’re creatures who traded in their souls for a chance to exist forever. There are untold treachery and blasphemies they’ve done just to become what they are. But they’re given immortality unless someone destroys their phylactery, an object that stores their life essences. Before you can ask any more questions, the ghost dissipates in thin air. Klarinda, who noticed the transparent form, runs to you. She grabs your hands and searches your expression. “What did the ghost say?!” “T-There’s a lich in the old castle!” “I know where that is!” The Dragonlich roars deafeningly as a warlock casts hold monster and it becomes paralyzed. At the same time, Yoongi pierces a death knight that was barreling towards you. You turn to your mother who gives a glance and she doesn’t even take a moment of hesitation. “Go!” She trusts your decisions — her gaze tells you that. Klarinda nods and Yoongi takes your hand. The two of you follow after her as she twists through the halls. “How did you come in contact with that ghost, Y/N?” “I don’t know. He was the one who approached me after the tournament and he’s been bothering me since yesterday.” Klarinda turns down the hall. “Do you know who that ghost is?” “He told me his name is Leo.” “He’s King Lionel,” she says and your brows raise. Yoongi doesn’t appear surprised either. He wears a solemn expression, having recognized him as well. “There was a section of his life in my history textbook of Pegan. This place used to be his castle.” You’re baffled, completely rendered speechless. She continues, “There was a rebellion a thousand years ago. This whole place burnt down, but it was rebuilt during my grandfather’s generation.” “Were there ever mentions of a lich? Or someone who traded their soul?” Yoongi shakes his head. “No.” “He never had a wife. But there were rumours that he had a mistress. A wizard from far away lands.” Your eyes meet Klarinda’s. “His kingdom was taken down before they could get married.” “But why now?” You’re running out of breath as she climbs a staircase. “If this...mistress traded in her soul a thousand years ago, why is she trying to revive dragons and knights now?” “It isn’t just now,” Klarinda murmurs, her brows drawn into a tight furrow and jaw clenched. “Members of the royal family in Pegan have gone missing for generations. They’ve always swept it under the carpet and kept it a secret, but I think I’m about to find out the reason.” The three of you turn another corner, but come to a grinding halt when you see a flailing lady. “Mother!” Duchess Jacquelyn is in the middle of the corridor, wearing a bountiful and extravagant gown while her arms are full of jewelry boxes, dangling strings of pearls and diamonds. One string slips from the pile and rolls on the cobblestone to your friend’s feet. “D-Darling! What a surprise! What’s going on? The noise has been startling me!” Klarinda steps forward. “What are you doing?” “T-This?! Nothing! I was just re-organizing! Yes. Reorganizing.” “That’s grandmother’s ring.” She points, eyes narrowed in. “You’ve never brought it out since her funeral.” “Well...sometimes change is needed, sweetheart.” They stare at one another while you exchange looks with Yoongi. There is a pregnant silence, tangible tension that’s suffocating. Then you notice how Duchess Jacquelyn slips her hand to her side and something glistens in your eyes, blinding your vision. Your mouth draws open. “You’re not my mother!” — “Watch out!” The dagger strikes her. Klarinda cries as the back of her right hand is sliced. Yet she grabs the opportunity and grips her necklace, her spellcasting object. The girl’s left hand comes out and she holds her mother’s double by the wrist, casting inflict wound. The creature screams horrifically in sheer agony. “What did you do to her?! Where is she?!” You grip your orb, casting scorching ray. One beam of fire hits it and it screeches. A moment later, Yoongi lifts his rapier and strikes it twice, causing the monster to stumble onto its back. Its weapon clacks out of reach. Klarinda grabs the dagger and holds the creature to the floor. She presses the blade to its throat. All traces of her kindness and mercy have dissipated in the face of her rage. “Where is she?!” “O-Okay! Okay! I surrender!” It puts up its hands and shifts. The form of the creature is no longer the beautiful, middle-aged Duchess but a tall, elven gray-skinned humanoid. Its face is formless and eyes are pale and bulging. Its voice croaks, “I’m a doppelganger! I didn’t have a choice! The lich made me do it!” “My mother!” Klarinda shrieks and you lower yourself, squeezing her shoulder and she eases. Tears have filled her eyes, but when she glances at you, she’s able to compose herself. “She’s dead. Her soul’s been consumed.” Klarinda breaks down into sobs. You wrap an arm around her and she lets up on the doppelganger, but Yoongi makes sure to keep his foot down on its shoulder. “We have to get it.” She wipes at her tears, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “We have to kill that lich, Y/N!” “We will,” you promise her. “We will.” Seconds later, you see Jinha come forward and he rushes over trying to get a grasp of the situation. “Can you take care of this?” you ask and he easily agrees. “O-Of course, lady Y/N.” He binds up the doppelganger and Klarinda casts cure wounds on herself, healing her gash. She takes your hand afterwards and you hold it. Yet, even as her frame shakes, there’s determination in her steps. A type of anger that has solidified her resolve and given her courage. “This is the passageway.” She pushes open a small stone door to reveal a crawl space after Yoongi helped push a bookshelf to the side in the corner of the library. “I found it as a kid, but I never went in too far. The servants found me and they tried to cover it up.” The three of you crawl through before it opens up and Yoongi helps you down onto the landing. There is consuming darkness until Klarinda casts light onto the dagger she has and you ignite a flame to dance into your hand. The empty void is collected with cobwebs, spiders and eyes of bats staring back at you, quietly observing your forms. Each of your steps echo and a cloud of dust emerges. You move slowly, scared that the steps of the staircase winding downwards will collapse under your weight. But you’re able to look around, at the crumbling paintings, the fragmented pillar pieces, the stone walls with scorched markings, and the ancient statues long lost and eaten by time itself. Never would you have guessed that the basement of the castle held all of this. That they had rebuilt themselves on top of what was once the castle of the entire kingdom of Pegan. You can imagine what this would’ve been like a thousand years ago. Children running with servants scolding them, advisors walking by King Lionel’s side, his lover waiting for him. Then you envision the screams, the devouring fire. You can see the charred marks along the banister. You can almost hear it, but you quickly shake it off before you can become frightened. “Destroying the phylactery is the only way we can get rid of the lich without it coming back, but how will we know where it is or what it is?” It could be any object in any room. You turn with the flickering fire in your palm, looking all around you. It’s endless. “If that monster is down here, there has to be a reason,” Yoongi offers, standing by your side. “It could’ve moved anywhere but it might be protecting its phylactery.” “I know where it is.” There’s a low voice and a familiar ghost descends in front of you with a saddened smile. “Your highness.” Klarinda bows her head. But you remain still, even after knowing his identity. King Lionel looks at you with his brows knitted together. “I am sorry for deceiving you, dear sorcerer. Or rather, holding the truth from you. I feared you would have denied my request had I been forthright about it. In hindsight, I could’ve prevented the devastation that has wrecked this place. Had I only known….” “Do you know where the lich is? Or where the phylactery is?” “It is in the last place where I perished.” The King smiles. “In our chambers.” He turns, floating away and Klarinda follows. You and Yoongi trail behind her and when you feel the back of his hand grazing against yours, you grasp it. Yoongi looks at you and you release your held sigh. “Why is it that we always find ourselves in adventures like these?” “You mean these life or death scenarios?” The corner of his mouth curls and he squeezes your hand. “We always manage. But you should’ve told me that you were talking to a ghost.” “I don’t think we were on speaking terms until recently, duckling.” Yoongi grins at the nostalgic nickname, the one you used to start each letter, and your own smile is tinged with sadness. You don’t know if either of you will live. If the pair of you have it in you to be an actual hero and defeat the greatest monster. And as these doubts fill you, so do the regrets that you harbour for not hearing him out, for not trusting in him. With such little time, you wonder if this is it. If this will be your last opportunity. Your steps slow. “Yoongi. I—” “How dare you enter my lair?!” There’s a snarling voice resounding above and instantly, the ghost of King Lionel vanishes. Klarinda turns behind her and looks at you and Yoongi. The hall has ended with a crumbling stone door in front of her. “Leave!” The voice shrieks deafeningly into multiple layers. “Leave!” You nod at her and she pushes the door open. The dust billows out, sweeping in front of your forms. The fire in your hand smothers and the strong gust of wind pulls through your hair. You can’t open your eyes, so you shield yourself away. Yoongi feels his grasp on you loosen. Your touch fades away from him. He shouts after you until his throat is raw, but it’s to no avail. He scrambles blindly until he’s able to open his eyes and finds himself in an empty void of darkness. “I know your greatest fear.” There’s a whisper in his ear and he jolts, turning around while drawing his rapier. But there’s nothing there, not even a shapeless figure. “Min Yoongi. I have read your thoughts.” “I have read your mind,” a second voice crackles to his left. The right snicker. “Your greatest fear is betrayal of your loved one.” “Whether that would be no longer sharing your affections.” “Or choosing another person to be with.” “Get out of my head,” he commands from deep within his stomach, his impassivity ruined by the furrow of his brows. But Yoongi feels a cold breath on the nape of his neck. “A lick of poison from her would destroy you for good.” Fire. You see it in front of you as you’re collapsed on the floor. The orange and rose glow are illuminated on your face. You’re sitting so close it seems to lick at your cheeks. Yet you’re brought into a lull as you listen to the crackle and pop, as you allow the smoke to fill your senses. You’re brought in a trance as you watch the fire burn a house down, a quaint home with a picket white fence and large windows with pink curtains. “Your greatest strength is your greatest fear.” There’s a murmur in your ear. It’s unrecognizable. “I know,” you mumble. “You are afraid of one day no longer being able to control the flames that seethes to be unleashed.” “But repress it no longer, dear,” the left voice seductively whispers, hissing softly. “Worry no longer.” “Your magic is incredible and oozes from you.” — “Give into it.” — “Allow it freedom.” “What….about...Yoongi?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from the fire into the darkness. You stand back on your feet, finding balance again. “No.” There’s a sharp inhale to your right. “Leave him.” You scoff automatically, the idea so utterly ridiculous that it’s unfathomable. “I’m not going to do that. I finally found someone that doesn’t find me annoying….” “You could be powerful.” The more it talks, the more you’re coming to your senses. “I already am powerful!” You twist around, dispelling away the hallucination of the burning house with the flicker of your hand. “And I already know how to control my powers! You think I’m some kind of amateur sorcerer?! It doesn’t control me. I control it!” Again, you ignite a fire in your hand and narrow your eyes. In the distance, you catch strands of pale yellow. And you run after him. The voices scream for you to stop, but you fight against the magic that threatens to pull you back. The moment you smother out the flame, you leap at Yoongi. Your arms are thrown around him in an embrace and immediately, his hands wrap around you. Yoongi stumbles back with an infectious smile expanding into his cheeks. The spell dissipates and you find yourself back in the underground remains of the ancient castle. “Don’t let go of my hand again, brat.” “I’m sorry,” you mumble against his neck. Suddenly, there’s a piercing scream that ricochets through the air — one belonging to only Klarinda. You pull away from Yoongi, eyes locked into one another and he sets you down. Your fingers interlace and you follow the sound, turning down the hall once more and entering through the large double-doors to the decaying chambers. A frame of a bed sits in the wide expanse of the room, grayed cloth ripped and drifting over the canopy. Ash and soot sits in a layer on the floorboards, the wardrobe and vanity along the back wall destroyed. There’s a large painting on the wall, but the faces of the couple have been torn and scratched by bleeding fingernails. Your eyes sweep the room within seconds before landing on Klarinda who’s been blighted. She’s fallen over and you come to cover her with your body as you look upon the lich. It’s angular and skeletal with withering flesh stretched tightly across visible bones, dressed in regal finery, reddened drapes that once was vibrant. Yoongi’s knuckles turn white at his grip and he runs towards the creature. He misses, but hits on his second try, slashing it across. He surges forward, yet it does little to the lich that still stands. “Foolish children,” she hisses and grips the blade of Yoongi’s rapier, rendering him immobile. “You aren’t heroes. Your recklessness will bring forth your death. I will not spare you from the choices you have made.” You cast immolation and flames wreathe the lich. She lets go of Yoongi’s weapon and the light of your magic is so bright that you’re forced to look away. At the same time, Klarinda cures her wounds and slowly comes to her feet again. “Do you really think you could defeat me?!” The lich’s snarling voice booms across the room. Pinpoints of crimson light burn in the empty sockets of where her eyes were before they rotted away. She glides forward as if floating on water and a sphere of poisonous gas billows to all corners of the room. “Yoongi!” You cover your mouth with your hand and the yellow-green fog obscures your view. You hear the clanking of metal where he hits the lich and you feel your vision blurring from the poison. But as you narrow your eyes, you’re able to make out the faint shadow of the lich’s form. And a thin green ray springs from your pointing finger in the spell disintegrate, allowing you to hear it’s deafening shriek. You give permission for your phoenix magic to unleash and you’re magically twined in swirling fire, eyes glowing as hot coals. Your flesh sheds bright light into the fog. Behind you, Klarinda murmurs words of restoration and you feel yourself being healed from the poison. The lich is toying with you. You know it. The moment you stepped into here, it could’ve immediately killed any of you with a single word, but instead, it chose to manifest those hallucinations and slowly suffocate the three of you in this poison. The lich glides towards you, but is stopped by Yoongi. Before you can pull him out of the way, she lifts her finger, and he drops to his knees. He screams from the sheer agony that courses up his body. “Yoongi!” The lich casts detect thoughts on him, probing his brain, tearing apart bits and pieces of it. It hums and muses, “How selfless yet foolish. Even in this much pain, you are still thinking about how much you love her.” Yoongi grits his teeth, bumbling upwards to his feet and strikes the monster thrice. The force is enough that she staggers back and tense silence fills the air. You steal the opportunity and come forward next to Yoongi. Your palms press towards the monster to cast fireball, but the roar of the flames never comes. The lich has counterspelled it. Klarinda cries and runs forward with her dagger. “You killed my mother!” “And her soul was delicious to consume,” she snarls and grabs her blade, tossing it aside as if it were a toy. “Yours will be too!” Klarinda sobs as something catches the corner eye. But there’s no chance — not when the lich takes your spell of choice and magic blooms out of her thin fingertips. Fire blossoms from her flesh, thundering out in the force of her rage. You immediately turn to hug Yoongi, arms embracing his body to protect him. But when his hands reach to the back of your neck and he presses your face to his shoulder, you’re not sure who’s protecting who. Yet, the fire never reaches you. Even when it rumbles through the room and the ruins of the ancient castle. Even when the walls begin to crack further and fragments of the ceiling dust down. Even when scorching flames has filled every corner of the space. You raise your head, finding that the ghost of King Lionel is facing the lich. One of his last fragments of magic has been channeled into an aura of life spell, shielding the three of you away. “Enough, Karlis,” he calls out to her softly. “You have done enough harm.” “I thought I banished you!” she snarls out, crouched over as the pinpoints of red lights of her eyes glare at him. “I won’t leave without you.” “Why?!” The voice is jarring to your ears. “The girl you knew is long gone!” Neither of them notice Klarinda who staggers upwards towards the vanity in the corner, struggling to grab her dagger along the way. “Even so, I won’t leave her behind again. I won’t leave you behind. So come with me, Karlis. Leave your anger behind and come with me.” His arm outstretched but the monster cackles horrifically. “Foolish, man! I will not stop until I have destroyed the bloodline that ruined us.” “No one ruined us. It was I who ruled poorly, and you who chose to give up your soul and walk down this path by your lonesome in the wake of your grief. Karlis.” “Never!” she screeches and a gust of wind pushes him away. Then the lich screeches in torment. Klarinda digs the dagger’s blade into the heart shaped necklace on the vanity — the phylactery that holds the life force of the lich. She plunges the weapon several times until her arm strains, until the dagger’s curved against the vanity’s surface, until it slips from her trembling hand and she tosses it aside in the midst of tears. The lich’s bones collide against the floor. Her screams are audible around the room and the red clothing flutters in the air as it drops. You look away with Yoongi, but King Lionel gazes at her until the last moment. Gone. After centuries of terrorizing Pegan’s royal family, just like that. // The sunbeams pierce the sky in pastel shades, painting the clouds in watercolour hues. It breaks away the darkness of the night and the stars of the horizon. Klarinda is silent as she looks onward from the open arched window with her arms behind her back. But you know it’s not her. She’s been possessed by King Lionel, having granted his wish and allowed him to borrow her body. “My last duties as a King have been complete,” he murmurs in her voice. “My business is finished now that I know she hasn’t been left behind.” He turns to you and Yoongi with a dimpled smile. “Thank you. Sorcerer. Knight. Without your help, I wouldn’t have been able to free her from her own treachery.” “It’s not like you gave us much of a choice,” you mumble half-heartedly and he chuckles. “I guess I didn’t. I’m also sorry I’m not able to give you gold or any semblance of a reward when you have bestowed to me such a great favour.” “Having our lives is enough,” Yoongi says, bowing his head and you scoff lightly. The ghosts’ eyes twinkle as he looks at him and then to you. “You really do remind me of her,” he says. “But more strong-willed and self-assured. Something she had greatly missed and led her to her demise.” A sigh releases from him. “The world is blessed to have such great heroes.” The pair of you exchange expressions. “I’m not so sure about that….” You still don’t feel like heroes — he was the one who protected you and Klarinda was the one who destroyed the phylactery. Both you and Yoongi barely did anything other than waltz in there without a plan. In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea but there wasn’t really enough time to figure out battle tactics. Or at least that’s the excuse you’re going to hang onto. The ghost gives an all-knowing smile and turns to the horizon. “My time is here. Thank you for your help, heroes.” Within three seconds, he dissipated from her. Klarinda stumbles and is steadied by Yoongi. She smiles, thanking him before gazing at the pair of you. Two dimples are marked in each corner of her cheeks.

The chaos has come and gone. The moment the lich’s life source was destroyed, the monsters no longer swarmed and spawned on the grounds. The place is no longer haunted either. It’s finally what it looks like — simply, a castle. You came here to find the truth and to confront Yoongi — you never expected to encounter a ghost and a lich. It’s a wonder how it’s possible trouble can find you in so many ways no matter where you go. “Aren’t you cold?” A husky voice pipes up behind you and you’re brought out of your trance. Pale yellow hair joins your side, reminding you of ducklings. It’s still dawn, but you’re at the bottom steps of the garden's gazebo instead of seeking refuge on a soft bed. It was the only way you could get some peace and quiet from your siblings. “I’m never cold.” You turn to him, a fire flickering in your palm. Yoongi tenderly smiles. “How did speaking to Duke Fesan go?” “He’s bedridden, but he’ll make it. He wasn't too badly injured. But he’s grieving with his daughter.” You nod. “And your mother and father?” “They’re fine. A little shocked, but they’re using the opportunity to boast about me. A lot.” A laugh bubbles out of you. “Well, it’s not like they have no reason to. You’re amazing, Yoongi,” you breathe it out with a second thought, as if it were factual and you don’t notice his gaze on you. “How about your own family?” “They’re fine. My sister’s well enough to flirt with Jinha and my brothers are bickering loud enough to give my mom a headache,” you say and he hums. “But we’re leaving in a few hours. They already called the carriage for the afternoon.” “You’re heading back home?” You nod wordlessly. The tension is suffocating. You decide to break it, turning to him while masking a smile. “How was breaking the...other news to the Duke?” “Easier than one would expect. Klarinda asked to call off the wedding and the Duke said it was the doppelganger’s arrangement anyway. It was trying to amass as much wealth for itself as it could.” “That’s good.” “It is.” “Get that sorted and out of the way.” You steal a glance at Yoongi pathetically to find he has an impassive expression and is blankly looking onward. After a moment, he yawns tiredly and then his eyes flicker to you. Instantly, you divert your vision elsewhere, not noticing his smile. “You know,” he says, “the Duke thought it would be unfair to me. Even though it’s going to be called off, everyone already knows about the arrangement. It might be an opportunity for gossip to be made towards the Min faction.” “And what did you say?” “I said that I already had someone else in mind from the start.” Your eyes meet. Pools of deep brown locked into yours. Strands of his blonde hair nearly pricking into his lashes. And it’s an intimate moment as your voice quiets. “Did you really mean what you said on that boat ride. About regretting not asking me to come with you?” The man exhales, “Every day.” “A wedding with me would be awful,” you murmur, barely coherent. You feel how warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace, and for once, it’s not because of the magical fire inside your blood. “My mom would have to have a whole show and if you thought having three siblings was a lot, wait until you meet my cousins and extended family. They multiplied like damn rabbits.” Yoongi tries to put on a stoic face but fails. His grin is all too gummy. “I don’t mind. You haven’t met my brother yet, but he’s just as overbearing. And if anything, my mother would be ecstatic. She loves noble titles, so she’d hit it off with your mother.” “I still want that great big house.” “I would like one too.” “If you haven’t noticed, I really like my food burnt to a crisp like a fiend.” “I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “I always liked my meat especially cooked anyways.” “I’m a con artis—” “No matter what you say, I won’t change my mind, Y/N.” Yoongi’s brow cocks, challenging you straight on, albeit more gingerly than you’ve ever witnessed. “Your persuasions won’t work.” “Yoongi…” “You still owe me that refund.” What? He grins mischievously and you roll your eyes, having no idea why he’s bringing this up and ruining the moment. “Are you serious?” “Very. You scammed me over a year ago and I expect a full repayment. Also, I happen to collect interest. It’s a hefty, hefty interest fee.” “Okay.” You play along. “What do I owe you now?” You’re not sure what to expect. You’re never sure when it comes to him considering he’s so hard to read. But your breath hitches as he lowers himself to one knee and looks up at you with his tender features relaxed into the softest expression. He pulls something out of his pocket. “Nothing. It’ll be me who will owe you, if you would so graciously choose to spend your life with me—” You throw your arms around Yoongi. The both of you collapse onto the soft bed of grass and you giggle infectiously, pulling yourself up from him. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I really thought that for the rest of your life, you were just going to send me letters.” Yoongi grins a gummy smile. His arms wrap around your body and he reaches up to finally capture your lips on his. The two of you kiss each other, making up for the moments where you should’ve done it sooner. It’s sweet, but less than innocent with how eager it is. You only manage to pull away when out of the corner of your eye, you catch curtains shifting from upstairs. “Nosy, aren’t they,” Yoongi laughs. At the left window, your family is crowding around. Taehyung and Lia are shoving each other to get a look, Seokjin has his palms pressed against the glass, your father is grinning while your mother is absolutely astounded. At the right, both of Yoongi’s parents are peeking out owlishly. You see different members of the faction watching in both horror and confusion, having not yet heard of the news that the engagement is broken and assuming that they’re catching him in the midst of a scandal. But more importantly, you see Klarinda smiling infectiously at the top of the tower with her dad coming to look too. “Exciting, isn’t it?” Yoongi teases, “With so many guests watching.” “Is it so hard to get some damn privacy? This is why I prefer being on the move,” you whine and cast invisibility on the both of you. Yoongi laughs, closing the distance to kiss you again.

[Epilogue] “What if this is a trap.” “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.” There’s a house in the middle of the peaceful suburbs, placed in the middle of the street in a row of other homes. Built with bricks covered in render and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly asymmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the structure has two floors. More importantly, they swear they see the curtains shift on the left side. The two young adventurers step up on the wooden porch, facing the oak double doors. “Do we just….knock?” “I guess.” His fist raps against the surface while she braces herself for an attack. The door swings open. She hitches her breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens. Instead, they see you. In a simple, brown dress and your hair braided in an updo with loose strands framing your full features. Your eyes glisten, giving a smile and the door widens. “Good afternoon! You children look so tired! Come in, come in!” The pair of them exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes their breath — cozy maple and fresh flowers at the entrance way, mementos on a shelf near the open staircase with a magical pull to them. It’s clear that the owners of this house have made it their own. They can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury. “My name is Y/N,” you announce, with a light twinkle in your irises. “And I am a servant girl to the lord and lady of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?” “I-I am Park Jimin. It’s said that there’s a great and powerful sorcerer who lives here and a dark knight who’s been to Shadowfell.” “They’ve defeated dragons and liches before,” the girl beside him adds, brows furrowed as she regards you with a healthy amount of suspicion. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m afraid they’re not here at the moment. They went out to do some bidding, so you might have to wait a few hours until they return,” you inform and the two of them look at one another. “Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for them?” “We have received a prophecy and were sent by Mirla Nistar.” Jimin steps forward. “When lightning strikes twice, a man of darkness shall usher forth a country's doom and the end of wealth. We have reason to suspect that this man is the demon lord, Abraxas, who is trying to rise from Shadowfell.” You hum. “Alright. I’ll let them know as soon as they get back. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!” But suddenly, the dimpled boy feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and his partner turns to him. “Jimin?” He looks off at you and she follows his line of sight. Before she can ask you what you just did, you slip something out of your pocket. In one split second— “Potion?” You hold up the stoppered bottle with the milky liquid sloshing inside. “You have a headache, don’t you? I know it when I see it! Must be from your long travels! Nothing like a rejuvenating potion to feel better.” “I..I’m alright.” Jimin lowers his hand. “Nonsense. You don’t want to miss this chance!” you emphasize. “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime. You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions!” “How much?” the skeptical girl slowly asks and you know you have it in the bag. “Ten gold pieces.” Your eyes glimmer. She digs into her satchel. But then— “What’s with the ruckus?” A rounded face and sleepy features lug down the stairs. He runs a hand through his baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead, having just woken up from a long nap. “Who are these people?” “They’re adventurers trying to defeat some demon punk—” “Demon lord,” the boy tries to correct. “—who’s apparently coming back to wreak havoc and steal children.” “Close enough,” he sighs. Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgment, his expression impassive. Then his eyes dart at them and the potion in your hand. He points. “Are you trying to sell them that?” The corner of your mouth curls. “Maybe.” “Poor folks,” he exhales, utterly ruining your business transaction and not remorseful at all for it. “You’re going to get us into trouble one day.” You scoff. “When haven’t I gotten us into trouble. It’s not new news now.” Your husband grins and comes to sling an arm around your shoulder. He kisses you shamelessly in front of the two strangers, yet it’s a soft and tender gesture. It makes you smile against him. Suddenly, the door shuts behind them and the surrounding warm candlelight ignites. It billows a dim luminescence into the warm home that you’ve both made your own, glowing against the numerous mementos on the shelf that display the many years of your travels and journeys. Yoongi hugs you to his side and you quirk your head onto his shoulder with a sly smile. The adventurers finally come to recognize who the people in front of them are. And the pair of you turn to them. “What was it that you needed again?”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #bts adventure #yoongi as the stoic knight #and OC as the angry phoenix sorcerer lol #FINALLY AN END TO THE SERIES :D #hope you guys enjoy it #this is gonna be one of those ones that you're gonna need to read the original before the sequel lol #i think it's a hard one to understand without reading the one before

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hunnybadgerv · 4 years ago

Note

For your fandom ask: H, N, S, and Z?

From the Fandom Meme

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., tv shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.) Most of my fandom source texts are video games. Not sure why, but I don’t get quite as invested in films or TV shows the way I do with video games. And sometimes it happens with books, but only really rarely. I’m not sure why. I mean with books and shows, sometimes I’ve thought about writing things, but I usually don’t end up going through with it. I think because at that point I’m messing with only someone else’s characters and it is hard for me to get invested fully into work that is only the creation of another.

With video games, I get to participate in the world in a manner of speaking. There is an interactivity and engagement inherent to video games that creates a different focus and a buy-in that is not present in other sources, at least for me. I get to create a character and fit them into this world and watch them move through it--and sure they fall along a certain line according to the developers’ plans, but I do get to have a hand in it. It’s the reason I’m a sucker for RPG games.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice) I’ll be honest, I’m not really sure what I’d say for any of my fandoms. But I do kind of sit at the edge of my fandoms, all of them. I’m not in the middle of anything in any of them, and I’m perfectly content there because I’m moderate participant at best.

1. I’d really like to see the Saints Row fandom revive itself. It used to be quite a lively and welcoming location. It seems that most of those that remain are the gatekeepers.

2. I’d like to see more respect and inclusion for Faith Seed. There is a group of people in that fandom that like to treat her like she is not part of the family. Despite this tendency in some corners of the Far Cry 5 fandom, most of the people I’m surrounded by also hold that Faith is a valid member of the family who should be included in discussions and representations of the Seed siblings.

3. This question would be so very much easier if I was a more active participant in my fandoms. Overall, I wish more of us, in all my fandoms, were still active on tumblr. A lot of people migrated away. Perhaps if I were more active in other places, I would still be able to reach out to them. Though I know many of them are on Discord, it’s just not a medium that works for my mind. Plus, I’ve kind of been cut off from things so long that I still struggle with maintaining connections with people. It’s something I’m particularly bad at.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go (prompts optional but encouraged) Okay, so this is more difficult than I anticipated.

I’m both fearing and excited about the Legendary version of Mass Effect releasing in May. I really am looking forward to the graphical update and the game play cleanup. Though I really don’t know that I want to see them adjust the Mako controls, I loved that sketchy thing and the fact that if you tried hard enough you could climb over anything. I loved the Mako in all it’s flaws and fabulousness.

I’m also kind of concerned about the possibility of them altering the story or the characters in some way.

There is a tendency nowadays for fan opinions to be able to alter plans, story, and characters in media. And I really don’t want them to change the franchise in order to meet some loud corner of the fandom. I loved the game as it was, flaws and all. I really fear that they might institute some odd change to suit some rabid corner of the internet that will unravel the fabric of something I’ve loved for so long.

Though in the same vein, I’d love to see some changes here and there. Perhaps the ability to romance Ashley as fShepard, or Kaidan in the ME 1 timeline as mShep. I don’t know. But then again. If I rally for those sorts of changes, then I open myself up to the other potential changes.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged) Hmm. I really enjoy the templar’s lore in Dragon Age, but I wanted to see where else I might be able to take it. I thought, what if there was some magic in templars that allowed them to wield lyrium effectively. And I started doing some reading with old chivalric knights and ideas about knighthood and chivalry in histroy and literature and I wanted to bring that kind of sense into the templars lore, perhaps even a forgotten or overlooked bit of lore for them. And I started playing around with the idea of Templars containing or controlling their own magical ability that is only enhanced by the lyrium. And this kind of happened.

I put it under a cut because it is incredibly long.

Malcolm found his daughter sitting in the grass at the back fence. She had been crying and he was disturbed by the idea that his wife's concern may have been more warranted than he'd given it credit for. He sat next to her and leaned against the fence. "Tell me," he said trying to keep his voice even.

"I don't even know," she said weakly.

Malcolm slid his arm around her shoulders. "Did… did he?" He could barely say it let alone think it.

She shook her head. "No, Father," Aderyn said surprised that he could think that. "I really don't know how to explain it." She wasn't sure how to talk about this with her father. But he was the only person who might be able to help her. She explained some things, though not others. She left out the details about how Cullen had ended up shirtless. "I saw a glow, it was strange. There was no warmth either, which is why I can't figure out how I burned him. I can always feel the glow of fire," she said as she stared at the grass running the event through her head.

"It was a burn?"

"Well, not really. That's what it looked like. And Cullen said something," she said looking up at her father hopefully. "That there was nothing discernable."

"You should have brought him with you."

"What did I do to him?" she asked, clearly concerned. "And how can I control something when I don't know what it is?"

"Did he return to the Chantry?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know." He looked at her for a moment. "I was scared. No, appalled. I hid. I …"

"I'm sorry I can't assuage your fears. I'll see him as soon as I can. See if there is anything I can do," Malcolm said, hoping to reassure her some. He stood and offered her his hand.

"Aderyn!" They both turned to see him running up the path. He hopped over the fence and stopped when he saw her father's face. "Malcolm, pardon me."

"No need." Malcolm ushered them both inside and quickly into his small study. If what his daughter said was true he had to be objective, at least until he found out what had happened. He could be an upset father after he knew what had happened. Aderyn started to leave, but Malcolm told her he would need her assistance.

"Show me," Malcolm said as his fingers moved across the spines of books on a shelf. When he turned and saw the mark he dropped the books he'd pulled off the shelf. He glanced at the templar then looked at his daughter for a long moment. He clinched his jaw and gathered the books he dropped. The mage set the books on the table and touched the distinctive mark in the center of the young man's chest. "Did it burn?"

Cullen shook his head. "I didn't feel anything." He looked over at the unnerved woman in the corner. "Aderyn saw a glow. I can't tell anything about it, it's like there's no trace of magic to it."

Within the hour Malcolm was more concerned about what had occurred than that his daughter had been in a position to leave such a mark on the young man. He could find nothing in his research. The three of them had sat there for several hours as Malcolm searched through his books with the help of his daughter. When her father left the room in search of a rare volume he kept in a chest in his bedroom, Aderyn handed Cullen his shirt back and he stood and slipped it on again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered standing behind her. She leaned back against his chest and he set his hand on her hip.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she replied replacing her father's books on the shelves.

"It doesn't matter." "How can you say that?" she asked glancing up at him over her shoulder. She shelved another volume. "You can't hide what I've done."

"Actually, I can. Quite easily I must add. I'm not one for running around shirtless."

Aderyn would beg to differ, she'd seen the sight several times, but she couldn't make light of the situation she was in. She was too scared for him, for herself, but most of all, for her family. She turned around and leaned against the bookcase. "How can you not be concerned?"

He set his hands on the bookcase on either side of her shoulders and gazed down into her eyes. "You are more than concerned enough for both of us." She glared at him a moment. "I'll tell you a secret." He leaned toward her. "I don't think it's the result of magic."

"What then?" Her look changed dramatically.

"I think it's something else. More potent than magic." He leaned toward her, but she ducked under his arm as the door opened.

"Smart boy." Malcolm closed the door behind himself, completely this time. "It's not something that can be performed by a mage." He looked at his daughter who seemed most surprised by the news; she sat down slowly. "As odd as this statement is. It's templar magic." Cullen laughed, but it was cut short by the look on Malcolm's face and a glance at the seal on the cover of the book. "It's a promise. Sealed by a touch."

Cullen looked at him curiously. Malcolm touched the book then looked back to the templar. "If this is correct, Aderyn give me your hand." She reached out to her father and he turned her right hand over to look at it. He nodded and loosed her hand. Aderyn touched her palm then looked up at Cullen, it was completely smooth. She showed the discovery to the templar. He ran his fingertips across her palm.

"I've never heard of anything like this," Cullen said marvelling at the complete lack of any texture on her palm.

"It is rare," Malcolm said. "I didn't think it could be the cause, truthfully I always thought it was little more than another part of templar legend, part of the myth." Both of them looked over at him carefully. He sat down and closed the book. "An old friend claimed he was marked by his wife in such a way, ... on their wedding night," he added carefully. "It's determined by overwhelming trust and connection to another."

#Fandom Meme #ljandersen

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elexica · 4 years ago

Text

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 21 }}

Christmas tree shopping, ornament making, and decorating reveal some unresolved feelings...

The rest of the chapter after the break:

The door slammed open, clattering against the wall harshly. Kaiba blinked in the bright light from the hallway, headache blooming at his forehead.

“Atticus wants you to come shopping for a Christmas tree.” Joey announced, slamming a thermos of coffee and a small bottle of Tylenol on the side table. The clattering noise was calibrated to exacerbate Kaiba’s hangover, and from the way his eyes squeezed shut, it worked. “You left some stuff, I stuck it in the guest room closet, so help yourself.”

Joey tried to lower his voice as deeply as possible, make it sound as truly menacing as he could, but the follow up sentence, “Waffles are ready,” just didn’t sound very scary.

For his part, Kaiba just rubbed at his eyes.

When Kaiba rolled into the kitchen forty-five minutes later, he looked completely put together. The picture of a man who could compartmentalize absolutely everything that had ever happened to him.

As he wandered toward the plate of waffles, Joey could feel the ghost of years past. Of Seto wandering over, pecking a kiss to his cheek on his way to the coffee machine.

Instead he watched his ex-husband greet the kids and collect the plate set out for him at the counter. Just the waffle and a bit of butter—no syrup, nothing sweet. Kaiba sliced into the waffle surgically, and swallowed a small bite of it. From the look on his face, he was too hungover and sick to really eat.

“Tell your Oto-san to eat his breakfast,” Joey said, pouring a glass of orange juice on the corner of the counter.

Kaiba sent Joey a death glare as Atticus announced that he had just the song. As Atticus launched into the highly repetitive “Breakfast Song”—an independent composition—Kaiba winced as if he had taken a thousand life points of damage in a shadow game.

The thermos of coffee stayed in Kaiba’s hand as he wove through the driveway. One of his cars had been left at the house—a black Mercedes that he had no real attachment to. Kaiba must have tracked down the spare key from the hooks on the wall of the garage. Kaiba was looking back towards the garage, as if he had a say in the matter.

Joey honked the horn of the minivan, startling his ex-husband and drawing another full body flinch from the man.

“I’m not movin’ Alexis’ car seat! Get in.” Joey shouted out the window. Kaiba revived his glare, only to lose it to a frustrated wince as Joey slammed on the horn again.

Kaiba froze, coffee “I swear,” Kaiba said, his voice menacing. “She’s six, she doesn’t need a car seat.”

“Look, it’s a height thing now. Ya can’t fire me, Kaiba, so unless ya got other plans, get in the car.” He punctuated this demand with another ear-scorching honk.

Grasping at the last threads of his dignity, Kaiba straightened his back, schooled his face with as much focus as he could bear, and strode over to the minivan door.

Kaiba flung it open with a theatrical flair that would be more appropriate on a blimp than a minivan.

Joey opened his mouth to deliver an admittedly tepid comment—he was thinking “look who decided to join us”—but he was silenced by the kids cheering when Kaiba sat down in the car.

“Oto-san, can we listen to the Chipmunks Christmas?!” Atticus pleaded from the backseat.

Joey didn’t bother holding back laughter and Kaiba clenched his jaw and nodded.

. . .

The adventure at the Christmas Tree farm started relatively smooth and uneventful. Atticus and Alexis were good kids, even if Atticus could be a little loud and demanded a lot of attention, and Alexis was a bit shy.

For his part, Kaiba did an excellent job of standing and observing the process. With stoicism, he posed at the back of the family and watched as Joey picked a tree, earned the approval of the kids, and tried to chop it down with the farm-provided axe on his own.

Tree chopping was harder than anticipated, and Joey’s struggles were equal parts frustrating and humiliating.

Kaiba couldn’t hold back a snicker, about 15 minutes into Joey’s battle with the tree. But that was his miscalculation: the perfect opening for Joey to shoot back, “You think yer so strong, pretty boy? Give it a go.” And Joey all but tossed the axe in his ex’s direction. Joey could have used a better, safer and more careful form when he handed his ex-husband the axe, but he was trying to catch his breath, and the haughty bastard had goaded him with that laugh. Kaiba caught it easily anyway.

“Step back,” Seto announced, as if he was about to perform a magic trick. The rest of the family formed a slightly more distant semi-circle.

Kaiba posed, axe high behind his back. He made brief eye-contact with Joey before hefting a massive swing. The arc was long and graceful, and bit into the tree-bark savagely. It took Joey’s four-inch indent and turned it into eight-inches, fully three-quarters of the way through the tree.

Kaiba smiled, pleased with his work.

“Alright,” Joey offered after a few seconds. “Now, you pull it out.” Joey resisted making any further innuendoes in front of the kids.

Kaiba nodded and reached for the axe. It didn’t budge. He adjusted his feet in the snow to gain more purchase—to no avail. He lodged one foot against the tree, and still the leverage was insufficient. It was as if the tree had accepted the axe as a new branch, and wouldn’t let go.

Kaiba pulled out his phone and started tapping.

“You lookin’ up how to get an axe out of a tree?” Joey challenged.

“No.”

“Oh my god are you trying to buy a better axe? And have it air dropped or something?”

Kaiba’s clever, snarky glance up from his phone told Joey exactly everything he didn’t need to know. “Would the children have any interest in owning a Christmas tree farm?”

“No!” Joey jumped over, moving to try and steal back Kaiba’s phone before he could pull whatever insane business move required to buy out the family-owned farm.

Kaiba had been a capable “keep-away” player for decades, and hadn’t seemed to allow his skills to get rusty in the intervening period.

Joey still had some signature moves—and certainly could have brought the taller man to his knees if he had a yo-yo on him.

As it stood, the side tackle that Joey settled on was perfectly effective. They rolled in the snow a bit, Kaiba able to twirl and pass the phone between his hands deftly and Joey ready to brute force the situation. He had no qualms with getting snow in his ex-husband’s hair or up his nose.

What was surprising was when Kaiba stopped fighting. He had been pinned down pretty well, back digging into snow, wrists held by Joey’s determined fingers as if handcuffed over his head, flakes stuck to his eyelashes and drenching his scarf. Joey had one knee jamming Kaiba’s thighs into the ground.

Joey paused with those hands in his vice grip, feeling Kaiba’s muscles relax under his hands. The palms were facing him, and they were empty. The only metal that Joey could see was the one thing he had longed to forget—Kaiba was still wearing his wedding ring.

“Is that?” Joey asked softly.

Kaiba had been baring a smug smile at Joey, confident in his plan to abscond with the phone—even in the compromised position. That smile vanished at Joey’s question.

“I didn’t want to field any questions as to whether we were… I wanted it to be clear that we’re both their dads.” Kaiba should have blushed, but he didn’t. Instead he looked wild and scared, like he had been caught in a terrible lie.

Joey drew a slow breath, processing the information as the ice melted on Kaiba’s face.

“Oto-san! I got the phone!” Atticus cheered, waving the slim black device in the air, instantly breaking the tension.

“Excellent execution,” Kaiba said, moving one powerful thigh to dislodge Joey’s entire hold. He went tumbling back into the snow, and Kaiba stood up and straightened himself. He held out his hand expectantly, and Atticus handed him the phone.

“How attached are you to this specific tree?” Kaiba asked Alexis, with the same intensity he would levy a question at a board meeting.

With the same seriousness that Kaiba had summoned, Alexis responded ,“I have no attachment to this tree.”

“Atticus?”

The boy shrugged. Kaiba nodded. “Then we will acquire another tree by alternative means.” Kaiba tapped at the screen a few times. “Any objections?”

This question was directed at Joey who also shrugged. Joey eyed the axe, buried deep in the trunk of the tree. It was not promising.

“What’s next on the holiday itinerary?” Kaiba asked, as if he was going to complete the Christmas activity list with the same ruthless efficiency he took to the business world.

“Decorating ornaments.”

. . .

It’s not just that it was fun to watch Kaiba struggle with things—though Joey thought it usually was—but his ex-husband, eyes narrowed in concentration, brows strung in frustration, long fingers dripping golden glitter glue…

Joey could have laughed the entire time.

Atticus had nicely decorated a music note. He had diligently written the year and his name and his age on the thin piece of wood, and then doodled colorful lines around it. Alexis had decorated a ballet slipper with surprisingly delicate shading and the same information.

Joey was relatively pleased with his own decoration: a nicely colored-in icon of the Time Wizard, with the same information. He had hesitated to put his age, but it was tradition, and Alexis would surely bust him for breaking the rules.

But Kaiba had to be ambitious. Usually his abilities could keep up with his formidable plans. But this year’s image of the Thousand Dragon had not gone according to plan. He had foolishly done the Blue Eyes White Dragon for the first year, and burned through it’s permutations by the time they finalized the divorce.

The underlying coloring wasn’t terrible—and the silhouette of a dragon was distinct enough that he couldn’t quite make it unrecognizable. But the glitter glue gambit hadn’t paid off. Instead of an extra level of pizazz, the glue had chemically interacted with the ink of the pens underneath.

Like a craft drawer Icarus that had flown too close to the sun, the careful coloring underneath melted into an absolute mess, blurring the relevant information, as well as the face of the dragon. The whole work turned into a muddled, blotchy, glittering thing. Yellows and marigolds combining to look more like a splotchy watercolor, but it lacked intention or grace.

Joey’s smile was wide and his jaw was clenched from the effort of not laughing at Kaiba’s very sad ornament. “You can go back to the craft store and get a new blank one,” Joey managed to eek out, with only minimal giggles spilling into his speech.

“It’s…” Kaiba pushed at the glue with a sticky fingertip, as if he could reset the colors by sheer force of will. “I will… write the information the back.” Kaiba flipped the ugly ornament directly on the disposable plastic table cover, glitter glue oozing out. He wrote his name in Japanese characters, and the date.

“It doesn’t look like a dragon, Oto-san,” Atticus protested. “You have to try again!”

Kaiba nodded, and affixed two googly eyes to the head.

Joey completely lost it at the plain wooden outline of a dragon, wings stretched, blank except for the name, date, and age on it’s belly, glitter glue leaking from under it, as if wounded, and two plastic google eyes quivering as the table shook with his laughter.

Joey thought he spotted a soft smile on Kaiba’s face, but by the time he caught his breath again, it was gone.

. . .

Joey tried to push down the warmth in his chest that swelled when he saw Kaiba wrapped around the tree, diligently stringing holiday lights. True to his word, he had an assistant from Kaiba Corp. USA’s New York branch sent out on an emergency hunt for the perfect tree. Without much thought, by the time the family had made it home from the Upstate adventure and trip to the craft store, a tree was already staged in their house—perfectly conical and even. As flawless as plastic, but full of that distinct pine scent.

Putting lights on the tree had been an intuitively “Kaiba” sort of activity. He was taller, more electrically inclined, and better suited to the less nostalgic Christmas elements. Although Joey had handled the task just fine, Kaiba’s persnickety nature did contribute to him spreading the lights evenly and nicely. It was sort of frustrating for Joey to see the lights look so smooth and flawlessly distributed. Especially when two years ago they had looked so uneven.

The off-year, when Kaiba had the kids for the winter holiday, Joey hadn’t bothered with any of his own decorations. He had just visited his sister’s place, skyped with the kids, and moped. He’d fallen asleep watching “Elf” alone on the couch. It ranked high on his list of worst Christmases ever.

Joey wondered a little, while Seto fought with the fragrant pine-needle branches, whether this would top the list of worst holidays. Somehow, already, it didn’t feel like a bad holiday at all.

Joey held out a warm mug to Seto, once his task was finished. It was one of the older ones, white with that navy-blue KC logo imprinted, but faded over the years.

Kaiba raised his hand to reject the offering. “I’m avoiding processed sugars. Last night was an exception, not the rule.”

Joey rolled his eyes. “Trust me, if you’re going to sit through any of tonight’s concert, you’ll appreciate the… heh… innovation.”

With a skeptical look at the hot chocolate and half-melted marshmallows, Kaiba reluctantly accepted the mug. He took a slow sip, before his eyebrows raised, recognizing the heroic volume of Baileys that had been surreptitiously mixed in. Kaiba nodded in approval. “I stand corrected.”

Indeed, the adulterated cocoa was fully drained over the course of Atticus’s hour long performance of every Christmas song he knew, plus a few piano remixes of various children’s show theme songs, and an original composition which was actually just smashing on the keys and smiling.

Kaiba remained steadfastly bound to the couch while Joey and Alexis actually placed all of the ornaments, whispering about what should go where. A few times, Joey looked over, just to see if Kaiba had left. Instead, he stayed, eyes darkened by some unknowable emotion. When the concert was over, and Joey and Alexis’s task was finally complete, the three stepped back to turn off the overhead lights and bask in the eclectic glory of the tree.

Only then had Kaiba vanished.

. . .

Joey wandered into Kaiba’s study. After the last night’s stunt, he expected to see the decanter open on the coffee table.

Instead, Kaiba was illuminated by his laptop, the rhythm of his typing on the keyboard sounding just a little like music. “What do you want?” Kaiba asked, not looking up from his computer.

“I—” Joey shrugged, flopping down on the chair opposite Kaiba. “I want to talk, I guess.”

“About what?” Kaiba asked, though it didn’t quite come out like a question. There was not a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Us.” Joey looked over at Kaiba. “You’re wearing the ring, Kaiba.” Kaiba looked down at his own hand, as if he had forgotten that he’d put it on and failed to take it off.

“Yeah. And we were outside: there’s no blizzard anymore, Kaiba. It blew over last night. I’m no meteorologist, but you’re definitely cleared to fly.” Joey placed his hands on his hips, pleased with his own argument.

“The ring was unrelated,” Kaiba said, emotionless, glued to the computer screen. Joey rolled his eyes. “And the children have expressed that they’d like me to stay for the holiday. If you will not allow me to, that is a different matter.”

“Of course you can stay, but we need to talk about us. What’s going on here, Kaiba?”

“You’ve made it clear, enough times, that you don’t want me, not in the way that I want you,” Kaiba added, typing speed not diminished in the slightest. “None of that has changed, like you said. And so I don’t know why you are bothering me, now.”

Jou shifted slightly in his chair, his stomach tuning over. Sitting next to Kaiba hadn’t given him this sort of anxiety for so long, maybe ever. He was used to hot anger, coursing through his veins, pooling in his fists. This uneasy détente felt simultaneously unsustainable and like the exact tar pit they’d been drowning in for the last three years.

“I don’t know that I meant that. I mean, yeah, in the moment, I meant it. But,” Joey leaned back, trying to reposition himself so that he might be more comfortable. There didn’t seem to be any decent way to sit in his own damn chair. “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all. A little. Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Kaiba’s typing speed finally slowed, acquiescing to the intensity of the conversation. Frankly, as Kaiba drew one hand to seal the lid of his laptop, Joey was willing to call that a change. He hadn’t even had to literally ask Kaiba to stop working. “Jounouchi. Tell me what you want to hear.”

“Fine.” Joey straightened his shoulders. “I want to know what happened when you went back to Domino.”

There was a long pause.

“I stayed on Mokuba’s couch for three months.” Kaiba crossed his arms defensively.

Joey burst out with warm laughter. Kaiba didn’t blush, but he raised an eyebrow, as if to signal his ex-husband was not being the image of social grace. Maybe he’d forgotten to whom he was married.

“And how’d he like that?” Joey said as his breathing steadied.

“He liked it fine. He has always appreciated my cooking. His fiancé did not.”

And like that, Joey was lost in another cacophony of giggles. “Why didn’t you go back to the manor?”

Kaiba looked away, suddenly fascinated by the crystal decanter that had returned to the end table. “It was… uncomfortable, after all this time. After Mokuba’s partner made her opinion clear—”

“God, I can only imagine what the arguments were like,” Joey smiled again, bright as sunshine.

“It was not pleasant. Obviously, my brother and I are still very close, but there were certain problems that arose—”

Joey leaned back in the chair, and balanced his feet on the coffee table. To the untrained observer, it could have been mistaken for casual. But all of the muscles of his legs were tense, the tendons that collided with the table strung like the strong of a bow. “I bet I can guess: you show up at 2 am, you make whatever noise you’re gonna make with no regard for anyone sleeping, you sleep in all day after a couple of all-nighters unpredictably—”

“Yes,” Kaiba said, his voice somewhat soured. “Everything that you hate about me, unsurprisingly was also loathsome to Yui.”

“That’s not… Kaiba its not things I hate about you,” Joey shifted again in the chair, picking at his nailbeds. He looked as if he had been called into the principal’s office again after a fight. “It’s shit that you do, that you choose to do, that’s disrespectful to the people around you. I’m glad to hear that Yui didn’t take it.”

“After a time, you didn’t either, right?” Kaiba responded, the sadness seeping in a little. From the longing glance he shot at the whiskey, the allure of the crystal decanter was strong; the urge to not deal with his ex-husband in this mood, fully sober, was perhaps stronger.

But there was something about Joey’s words that seemed to put up a forcefield around the bottle. “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all. A little. Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Joey rolled his eyes, pressing fast-forward on the tired argument. “That wasn’t all of it, and we both know that you know better. But just tell me what else happened.”

Kaiba’s sour expression and defensive posture continued. “After that, I got an apartment near the office. I only used the manor in the Summer, when the children came to visit.” Kaiba eyed that bottle once more. “It was disconcerting to be there alone. I thought… that this is what he must have… felt like.”

As if saying his name would have brought him into their life, awakened some other dormant form of him trapped between this world and the Hell he so surely belonged in.

They sat there, soaking in the ghosts of the past a little longer. Joey wasn’t going to say anything to break the silence—he knew from experience that with enough stubbornness, Seto would eventually be forced to say something to change the subject or actually talk about his feelings.

After just a couple of minutes, Joey was proven right.

“Are you really happy working at the daycare?” Kaiba asked.

“How did you—” It was only natural that Kaiba would have Joey at a loss again.

“Yugi is a game developer, you know that he collaborates with Kaiba Corp. We talk… sometimes,” Kaiba said, feigning nonchalance. It was not persuasive. Kaiba’s intensity for everything was too strong. Joey was quite certain he’d never had a casual interest in his entire life.

“Yeah. Things are good,” Joey answered the original question.

Kaiba nodded at the input and reopened the laptop. The glare illuminated the wire framed lenses, hiding any expression within his eyes. “I’m getting back to work.”

Joey considered putting up a fight. But it had been a long enough day. In a move reminiscent of his ex, he rose from his seat wordlessly and went his own way.

#Kaiba Seto #seto kaiba #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #violetshipping #puppyshipping #yugioh #fanfiction #crossposted on ao3

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

THE UNEXPECTED TASK

James still had a brilliantly happy smile in place as he began. This tournament was far from over, but the longer the break in between task times the better in his opinion, as all he really wanted to be hearing was his son having a normal and fun-filled life at school. Now he'd finally discovered where the kitchens were, it was a great omen to other things looking up.

A sharp voice was calling for Potter and Weasley to pay attention!

"Now what are you up to?" Lily giggled. Some teacher telling them off sounded like a field day compared to whatever else had been going on.

Harry had a smile on his face, not entirely sure as he could hear McGonagall saying that with clarity several times.

McGonagall's voice had snapped back to where Harry and Ron were in the back of the class, making both boys jump.

"Don't need to have that described," Sirius' grin was still widening, "that's one of the most common things to happen around us."

"How you lot always managed to stay on her bad side and still manage to have the best grades in that class I'll never know," Lily rolled her eyes fondly.

Their lesson was over for the day, and the two had been amusing themselves with a pair of fake wands from Fred and George, Ron fighting with a parrot, Harry a haddock.

"Never had the pleasure of doing that though," Remus snickered.

"Parrot versus fish," James smirked, "I think Ron was winning."

"We didn't know what they'd change into until after," Harry chuckled.

"Don't knock Harry's skill to improvise," Sirius wagged his finger at James.

McGonagall was addressing the rest of the class now, saying she could move on now that they were acting their age.

"Hurtful," Sirius spluttered with his hand to his heart.

"As if you haven't heard far worse," Lily shook her head at the lot of them, who seemed to find this far too funny.

Harry's haddock chose that moment to let its head fall to the floor: Ron's bird had just severed it the moment they'd been called out.

"Called it!" James whooped, throwing his hands in the air in victory, then holding his hand out expectantly to Sirius, who quickly smacked it away and reminded, "we didn't place money down, would you shove it."

McGonagall began telling them all about the approaching Yule Ball,

"Oh shit!" Remus yelped with quite a look crossing his face.

"Do I even want to know what that is?" Harry groaned as he watched those around him go from wide-eyed shock, to genuine laughter.

"It explains why you were assigned dress robes," Lily got out around twitching lips.

"I forgot about that," James said honestly, his eyes swimming with all the anticipation of fun this could be.

"So, no then," Harry grumbled when he realized no one was going to answer.

which was a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament and a chance for them all to interact with their foreign guests. This ball,

"You mean she meant like, a dancing ball," Harry groaned when understanding came to him.

"That's right, pup," Sirius nodded along in pure joy for what he was already hoping to hear. So far any mention of Harry around girls had been a hoot. This promised to be just as much fun judging by his already red-tinged face.

"Well, I don't want to go," Harry insisted at once. "I've never been to anything like this, why would I start now?"

"It's traditional of the champions," Lily pointed out, a slight agitation at that fact making this slightly less fun, but not completely. "You're going to have to make an appearance."

Harry slammed back against his seat, his face buried in his hands in mutinous protest of this, which only caused another round of laughter.

would be open to fourth years and above, though younger students could be invited. Lavender and Parvati began giggling, much to Harry's displeasure as McGonagall said nothing to them.

"Agreed, you two were even being silent about it," Sirius nodded along for Harry's benefit.

Harry still wouldn't look up. One moment of agreement wasn't going to make up for the laughter he could still hear in everyone's voice.

McGonagall was still addressing that dress robes were to be worn, and this would be happening Christmas Day, and the time frame of it. She hesitated for a moment before continuing, saying that this was a chance for them to ah, let their hair down-

Lavender began giggling harder than ever, but at least this time Harry got the joke. Their head of house always wore her hair in such a tight bun, it was hard to imagine her doing anything of the sort.

"I don't know," James' grin kept getting wider until he was sure it would get stuck that way, and he cared nothing. "I've seen her get pretty fast and loose when it came to her Quidditch. I like to think she'd relax a bit around other things as well."

"Remember that time we had our beds soaring through the corridors?" Remus reminded with an old smile. "She actually sat there and debated with us for an hour about the technicalities of the no students out of bed rule, and didn't even punish us when she made us go back."

"One of the most memorable loopholes you've found," Sirius hadn't kept a straight face this whole chapter and knew he wasn't going to any time soon.

McGonagall was still going sharply, saying this did not mean that they were going to be acting like idiots! Her Gryffindors were still to be expected to hold Hogwarts standards, and she would be seriously displeased to hear otherwise.

"As far as she knows I'm still on the run," Sirius said with the most wide eyed of innocence, "so I don't see how she's going to get me to be displeased about much of anything."

"Why do a joke that's not funny," Remus groaned with far more indulgence than he'd meant to, but they were all in too good a mood to really be annoyed this time.

"Because it's funny and you know it," Sirius insisted with a knowing smirk, especially because Harry still laughed every single time.

They were dismissed from class then, but Harry was called back for a private word.

"Oh boy," James rolled his eyes, always having a bad feeling now when Harry was singled out.

Harry thought this had to do with his decapitated fish,

"Please, I'll bet Neville's made more disturbances," Lily scoffed, that really wasn't that bad.

"Besides, she would have had Ron stay as well," James agreed; at least their old head of house wasn't biased.

went back up to face her. She began by informing Harry that he and his partner-

but Harry cut off in surprise what partner?

Cue another round of unnecessary insane giggling on everyone but Harry's part, who was seriously considering strangling the lot of them.

McGonagall watched him for a moment like she thought he was being funny,

"That's the best part," Remus at least tried to muffle his chuckles while he spoke, "he's not got a clue."

before continuing his dance partner and he would be opening for the Yule Ball along with the rest of the champions.

Harry spluttered in surprise he didn't dance, and McGonagall returned oh yes he did.

Sirius had his fist stuffed in his mouth in attempts to muffle himself so that James wouldn't stop, leaving whatever he wanted to say null and void.

That's why she was speaking to him now, to inform him he'd be a part of the opening dance as part of the tradition.

Harry's mind offered up the image of himself in coat tails and a top hat, dancing with a woman in one of Petunia's frilly dresses.

"You and your vivid imagination," Lily told him fondly, though he really wasn't that far off.

He flat out stated he was not dancing.

McGonagall told him right back that yes he was, as a Hogwarts champion it was as much his obligation as the Tournament. Harry still tried to protest, but McGonagall wasn't hearing it.

"No sympathy on her part whatsoever," James shook his head in pity for his poor boy.

"What would you have her do," Remus tried to demand, though his quivering voice already gave away how the end of this was coming, "give the Gryffindors dance lessons?"

Sirius genuinely lost it and laughed mercilessly at the thought, but James was not going to let the joke go that easily, his eyes suddenly lighting in a whole new mischievous light. "It's not like it's a bad idea. Can you imagine Sprout and Flitwick, each house would have their own-"

He couldn't get much farther when his wife collapsed into giggles as well; she was trying to clamp her hand over her mouth so hard that she looked like she was trying to smother herself. James had an indulgent smile in place as he began to ask her what was so funny, but then he did a quick head count and realized who he'd left out intentionally on principle, but then he too lost any sensibility.

It took no time at all for Harry and Remus to realize, and join in. Sirius was left doubled over and wheezing by the time everyone tried to calm back down, complaining without a drop of ire, "I can't breathe."

"Well, good," Lily told him primly, her own shoulders still shaking slightly, "maybe now we can go five minutes without hearing your stupid commentary."

"You love my stupid commentary," Sirius shot back at once, then his face twitched with the force of his own stupid comment as he realized what he said.

James had to work furiously for a few moments until his voice came out in any sort of intelligible before he could continue.

Last week Harry would have rather been given the task to find a dance partner than face the Hungarian Horntail.

"And I fully agree with you," Sirius nodded along, some sense coming back to him. "Girls really aren't that hard once you get the hang of them."

"You would know," Lily sniffed, "you went through enough of them."

"Never someone unwilling to tame," Sirius' smirk kept widening, and James decided to keep going before a familiar round could appear.

Now that he'd done the latter, he decided he'd rather have another go at the dragon.

Sirius gave a forceful shiver in full disagreement, but the others at least gave another slight bit of laughter for Harry.

News of the Ball had clearly gotten around, as Harry had never seen so many people staying over Christmas break like he always did. As far as he could tell, everyone fourth year and up would be attending, and they were all speaking about the coming event. To Harry's amazement, he suddenly realized for the first time how many girls his school suddenly housed.

Harry groaned as yet again all four of them had to stop themselves for a moment from laughing again. How was this chapter worse than the Horntail!

Girls giggling as they passed in the corridor, shrieking with laughter if a boy tried to stop in front of them,

"Oh, that's pleasant," Remus groaned, some pity for Harry starting to replace the amusement. "They aren't making it easy at all."

"It doesn't help that the boys make it as awkward as possible," Lily shrugged. "It should be as simple as asking."

"You did not just say that with a straight face," James accused her. "You're lucky I'm the persistent one."

"You were an arse before I said yes to you," Lily reminded lovingly, "and even if the girl does turn them down, it's not the end of the world."

"You're simplifying it too much," James pouted back at her. "What if the bloke you wanted to go with said no to you, don't admit you wouldn't be crushed and not even want to go with anyone else on principle."

"Come on, guys," Sirius butted in with a longing look at the book, "I want to hear about Harry dealing with this."

"No, no," Harry quickly yelped and tried to push the book back away from his dad, "I'm enjoying this, let them keep going."

James had been successfully derailed, though, as he did keep going despite Harry's continued protest.

and all of them comparing notes on what they were going to wear.

Harry demanded of Ron as they passed a dozen of them why they had to move in packs?

Remus opened, but quickly closed his mouth. He'd been wanting to make a crack about the last time a girl had gone to the bathroom on her own, she'd been attacked by a troll, but he thought before he spoke and knew that one was in poor taste.

Sirius did no such thing as he blurted, "the last girl you met who'd gone off on her own ended up killed by a basilisk, do you really blame them."

Harry scowled lightly at him, honestly debating giving him a smack as now didn't feel like a time to bring that up, but James was ignoring them both.

Demanding how he was supposed to get one on their own?

Ron suggested lassoing one.

"Well, he's not wrong," Sirius said saintly, though honestly they all started giggling again.

Then Ron asked who Harry had in mind?

Harry's thoughts at once went to Cho,

"Saw that coming," Remus agreed as he met Harry's baleful look with a smirk, but Harry wasn't denying it.

but she was very popular and Harry knew he'd never do it.

Ron guessed anyways, and tried to brighten his mood by pointing out Harry was one of the champions, girls would be lining up to come dance with him.

"Say yes to the first brave soul who tries, problem solved," Remus quickly agreed.

"He should at least have a try at Cho first," James quickly pointed out, having much more faith Harry would find some hidden nerve.

Sirius disagreed and was more on Remus' side with this one, Harry most definitely had not picked up his father's confidence in this matter, nor had he been getting turned down at every step like James had at this point in his school life. Sirius enjoyed making jokes, but he was well aware Harry really had no idea what was going on in this aspect, and maybe it would be best to go simple.

Ron had been nothing but helpful advice since the return of their friendship,

Remus rolled his eyes in genuine agitation at that, he knew all too well when someone felt guilty they'd try to be overtly kind, and it usually managed to tick him off all the more.

but to Harry's surprise Ron turned out to be right this time.

The very next day a third year Hufflepuff Harry had never spoken to in his life came up and asked him to go with her.

"Aww," Lily couldn't help but coo at once.

Harry looked like a stunned fish, his mouth flopping uselessly as even now he had no idea what kind of response he would have given her. The expression caused some more snickering from the boys, but at least it was slightly subdued this time.

Harry was so shocked he said no before he'd even stopped to consider the matter.

"Ooh," Lily groaned in pure pity for that little thing, having to fight down the impulse to whack her son upside the head as she snapped, "please tell me you at least apologized and were polite about it."

Harry still looked like he was being smothered with embarrassment and didn't answer.

The girl walked off looking hurt, and Harry had to endure his roommates mocking him through the whole of History of Magic because of the incident.

"I'm having so many flashbacks," Sirius beamed, thinking of a few times this had happened to James and he'd been just as thrown that any girl would have anything to do with him except Lily.

It didn't stop there: two more girls asked him, a second year

"I'm impressed so many younger than you are asking," Lily's grin kept widening. "Normally they're the most shy." Then she turned flashing eyes and demanded, "Were you at least more polite to them?"

Harry still had his eyes deadly focused on the fact that Hickory was creeping back into the room for the first time in ages and fixing to pounce on the back of the couch where Sirius was, and trying to ignore anything and everything else.

and a fifth year who looked tough enough to knock him stupid if he said no.

"Well, how could you say no to-" Sirius began, but then let out a high pitched, "yikes," in shock as the fluffy, brown feline landed right behind him, making him nearly jump off the couch.

Harry laughed hardest of all, reaching over and scooping up the cat to be placed on his lap and scratching him affectionately behind the ears in gratitude for his excellent timing.

Sirius was running his hand through his hair with a grumpy scowl as he sat back down, muttering about conspiracy theories.

James had long since stopped bothering trying to read without the laughter ebbing into his every word, now somehow made worse.

Ron tried to defend her as they departed that she was rather pretty, but Harry pointed out how much taller she was than him, he'd look stupid trying to dance with her.

"Can't deny that's a fair point," Remus sympathized. "You are going to be a star attraction."

"It shouldn't have made that much of a difference." Lily rolled her eyes at these boys. "He's going to be gawked at regardless. Least the taller girl would get a bit more attention."

"If Harry had actually liked her I would agree," James shrugged, "but he hasn't known the name of a single one of these girls, so it would be kind of awkward if he said yes, then asked after the fact."

What Hermione had once said about Krum came creeping to mind, about how they only liked him because he was famous. Harry doubted that any of those girls would have asked him if the same weren't true.

"Now that's most certainly true." James rolled his eyes. "Harry's double famous right now. Every girl's going to want to give the next scoop to Skeeter they're the next Hermione."

"Gee, thanks," Harry grumbled, though he couldn't deny how right his dad probably was.

Then he wondered if this would bother him if Cho asked him.

"Now that's a really fair question," Lily frowned in pity.

"Even if it does start that way," Sirius offered as he tried to find a good spin for this, "they'd get to talking, and could find out they really like each other."

Harry was frowning, wondering if it would still bother him that's how it had gotten started, when Remus offered, "If it's such a bother asking a girl, why don't you just ask Hermione to go with you, as a friend?"

Harry blinked a couple times in shock, before shrugging and saying, "never occurred to me. I hope I do think of that."

Besides these facts though, life at school had mostly gone back to normal. People had stopped being so outwardly rude about his champion status, and Harry suspected this had to do with Cedric in gratitude for Harry's tip off about the dragons.

"Well, he should," James sniffed in agreement as he hoped Harry was right. "It's at least a start."

"Well, it's not like he started it in the first place." Lily rolled her eyes at him. "So leave him be and be thankful."

There were much fewer Support Cedric badges, and though Malfoy still quoted Skeeter's article, it got fewer laughs every time.

"About bleeding time," Sirius rolled his eyes, these students needed to find better sources of entertainment than Harry.

Also, nothing about Hagrid had appeared in the Prophet since his meeting with the reporter.

"Oh good." Remus looked honestly relieved. "I really was worried he'd go getting himself into trouble."

"Like we needed any more this year," James agreed.

They were asking him about it the following class of his, and Hagrid admitted she'd spent the whole time with no interest in magical creatures.

Sirius mock gasped and pretended to fan his face in shock as he drawled, "really? I never would have guessed such a thing!"

"I raise your dramatics, and add disbelief," Remus shook his head indulgently.

Today he'd decided against more skrewt work, and instead they were chopping up more food for them.

"More good news," Lily smirked.

Hagrid instead explained that Rita had spent the whole interview asking Hagrid questions about what kind of trouble Harry got into.

"Guess the heartthrob story's starting to wear out." James rolled his eyes. "Starting to look for a new angle."

"Then she's interviewing the wrong teachers." Harry rolled his eyes as well.

Harry admitted that made since, she couldn't keep up the tragic hero story forever, it would get boring.

Ron agreed she was trying to turn Harry into a madman instead, and Hagrid looked shocked as he pointed out that Harry wasn't.

"Is he really sure, though?" Sirius raised an accusing brow at Harry. "Because he's gotten into some pretty barmy stuff against school rules."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said, batting his eyes innocently.

Harry said that she should have found Snape instead, quoting him from back when his name had come out of the Goblet about how many school lines he crossed since his arrival.

"There's where my mind was," Remus grumbled even if he did agree.

Hagrid looked surprised Snape had said such a thing, then pointed out that even if Harry had to bend a rule or two, he was still alright for it.

"I like to think so," Lily warmly smiled.

Harry thanked him, before Ron changed the subject, asking if Hagrid was coming to this Yule Ball. Hagrid agreed he might poke around.

"Is Hagrid going to be bringing a date?" Sirius demanded at once with an interested brow.

"If the dragons didn't scare Maxime away, then I doubt a dance will," James chuckled.

Hagrid asked who Harry was taking, and when Harry said no one yet, Hagrid let the subject drop.

Harry was full blown smiling in relief after his chat with Hagrid. There was a reason he was hands down his favorite person at Hogwarts outside of his friends, no matter his choice of pets.

The last week of term before break was coming with boisterous spirits, and loads of rumors. One going around was that Dumbledore had ordered eight hundred barrels of mead from the Three Broomsticks.

"Half the students there can't drink," Remus snorted, "so I don't think I'd buy that."

An actual fact that had been confirmed was a band appearance of the Weird Sisters.

"Guess it's too much to ask that The Three Toads are still around," James mumbled absently.

Harry had no idea who they were, never having grown up around a Wizarding Wireless Network, but from what he heard they were good.

"Great, now I feel old," Lily rolled her eyes.

Some of the teachers allowed for their restlessness, like Flitwick,

"He always was one of my favorite professors," Sirius beamed.

"Probably because he told us off the least," James agreed.

"And indulged us the most," Remus snickered.

who'd let them spend the last class playing games, and speaking to Harry about his wonderful Summoning Charm during the first task.

"I'm sure he's been bragging to everyone it was his diligent teaching that got him that far," Lily giggled.

Other teachers were not so generous,

"Not surprised," James sighed, thinking Snape would more likely drown them all than allow a game to be played.

such as Binns,

"I always forget about him," Sirius said in surprise.

who somehow managed to make blood thirsty goblin wars sound as boring as one of Percy's reports.

"It's a gift he utilizes too well," Remus grumbled.

Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too,

"Yes, but at least they're the kind of teachers you decently respect for doing it," James sighed.

and Snape, who would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry.

"Now there's a nightmarish thought," Sirius yelped as all five of them shivered in horror.

He'd spent his time warning them all that their test before end of break would be over their antidotes.

"Please have Colin pull you out of class again," Remus groaned with no real hope.

"I'll even take another horrid comment about the press," Harry agreed.

Ron spent that night in the common room complaining about how evil he was, testing them right before break.

Hermione pointed out he wasn't exactly trying to help himself though, watching him play a pack of Exploding Snap,

"Got to disagree with her there," James' grin was right back. "That's an excellent use of your time, lots of hard work and skill involved."

which was much like a deck of Muggle cards, except they tended to randomly explode.

"Wait, Muggle cards really don't?" Sirius yelped in surprise.

"I know, it seems so boring in comparison," Lily rolled her eyes, though both purebloods missed the sarcasm in light of this news.

Harry was busy reading one of his Quidditch books for the tenth time,

"See, he's studying the important things," Remus snickered.

and ignoring her as well, but Hermione got his attention by pointing out he should be doing something more useful with his time, working on that egg.

Some of their amusement started to ebb out at Hermione bringing that back up, wishing she could have waited just a little bit longer to do so. They were honestly trying to forget for at least a moment that wasn't a problem of Harry's.

Harry protested he had until the end of February to work on that! Truthfully he hadn't so much as glanced at it since he'd first opened it.

Lily opened, then closed her mouth, wanting to caution her son against waiting until the last minute as it had gotten pretty bad during the first task, and he had much more time to prepare for this one, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She wanted to avoid this as much as everyone else.

Hermione insisted it would take weeks for him to figure it out, and he'd look like an idiot if he was the only one who didn't.

"Can't honestly say I'd care, though," Sirius groused. "Honestly, I'd refuse to figure it out on principle. They can't force me to do a task. I'd just stand there getting the lowest points possible."

"You're much too proud to be pulling a stunt like that," Lily reminded.

"Though I do think he'd be stubborn enough," Remus disagreed.

Chuckling lightly at all of them, James decided to keep going before this turned into a full on debate.

Ron cut her off before she could keep going, saying Harry deserved a break. He placed the final card down onto his castle, just as the whole thing blew, taking a few eyebrow hairs along.

"Congratulations, Ron, that's the grand prize," James laughed outright.

A new voice congratulated Ron that was an excellent look to go with his dress robes.

"I don't think Ron will appreciate that reminder, though," Remus snickered.

"I'm not the one who said it," Harry defended, smiling himself.

It was the twins,

"Always around for a good laugh," Sirius brightened all the more.

who took seats around them. George asked his brother if they could borrow Pig.

"Why wouldn't they just use a school owl?" Lily asked in surprise.

"Why do they need him at all?" James countered before going back to the book without being told.

Ron said he was already out, then asked why they wanted him?

Fred shot back with full sarcasm so George could ask the owl to the dance.

"Well darn," Remus snapped his fingers with only a mild pout. "Make sure you respond soon Sirius, don't want to stand in the way of that romance."

"I'd never dream such a thing," Sirius agreed tragically before they both cracked up laughing again.

George adding on in duh-like tones, because they needed to send a letter.

Ron asked who they were writing to.

"You know, I almost forgot about that," James shook his head for a moment as he recalled the last time the twins' problem this year had been mentioned before Harry's Goblet mess had started.

"Well, it clearly hasn't been fixed yet," Remus cocked his head to the side in surprise.

"But unless they explain-" Lily sighed;

"Which I doubt," Sirius snorted.

"- we don't have anything new to figure out." She finished.

Fred pulled his wand casually enough as he threatened his kid brother to stop putting his nose in their business, or he'd burn that off next.

"Ah, sibling love," Sirius snickered.

Then he asked about dates for the lot of them?

Ron said he hadn't asked anyone yet, and Fred prompted he'd better get a move on or all the good ones would be gone.

Lily couldn't help but crinkle her nose at Fred's phrasing, she didn't care if he wasn't that shallow, it still wasn't polite to say. Was no one going to acknowledge Hermione at the table?

Ron demanded who he was going with, and Fred said without a trace of embarrassment Angelina.

Ron was shocked he'd already asked her, and Fred agreed that was a good point.

"Well, he's a cocky little one," Remus' brows shot up to his hairline.

"Wait, it gets better," James hushed him.

Then he called across the common room for her.

"Oh, this is the best," Sirius crowed with pleasure.

"Putting her on the spot has been known to work if you have the gall," James agreed with an obvious look at Lily.

"Though it's not foolproof if the woman's got brains," Lily sniffed, unable to mask a smile at all of James' wild attempts. Asking her out in front of the common room had only been one of many.

Angelina, who'd been sitting with Alicia, looked up in surprise as she called back. Fred asked outright if she wanted to go to the ball with him, which she casually agreed to before turning back to her friend.

"Well, that was unmemorable," Sirius snickered.

"You two put on much more of a show," Remus agreed with shaking shoulders.

Harry normally would have loved to ask for more details of his parents' courting, but he was still too open-mouthed with shock at such a display from his Quidditch mates. He'd never have the nerve to do something like this.

Fred turned back to the younger two like this was nothing.

"Hopefully you and Ron do take his example though," Lily told Harry fondly. "It's really not that bad if you just swallow and do it."

"Think I'd still rather have that dragon back," Harry muttered.

Then Fred pointed out they could just use a school owl, and he and his twin departed.

Ron did agree with them though, they should be asking now so they didn't get stuck with trolls.

"How is it possible he managed to phrase that worse than Fred did?" Lily groaned, already wanting to smack Ron again.

"That boy has no filter between mouth and brain," Remus agreed with a shrug.

Hermione spluttered in outrage, while Ron gave the example of Eloise Midgen.

Sirius cast his mind around, thinking hadn't that name come up once before?

Hermione instantly defended that she was a really nice girl, and her acne wasn't that bad.

Ron pointed off her nose was off-center.

"Oh yeah," James eyes brightened with understanding. "Wasn't she that girl who tried to curse her acne off?"

"And got her nose instead," Sirius agreed in understanding.

"Apparently it didn't come back quite right," Remus raised a curious brow.

Lily had to fight down the impulse to whack all three of them. She didn't find this the least bit funny.

Hermione was getting bristly with him now as she clarified that he'd go with the best looking girl who would take him, even if she was horrible?

Ron agreed that summed it up.

Lily screwed her eyes up tight as she snarled, "oh, please tell me he's kidding."

"He's being a prat to his friend." Sirius shrugged her off. "That's nothing unusual."

"What else are friends for?" James agreed, trying to laugh it off.

None of the boys were taking Ron seriously; they all knew he was just trying to rankle up Hermione for fun. Ron had never before really showed that he was shallow when it came to looks. Then again, he'd never displayed much interest in looks at all before this year, so maybe he was going to turn into a picky suitor.

Hermione stormed off without another word.

Hogwarts was turning itself into a new castle for the holidays, the staff clearly pulling out all the stops to impress their visitors. Every hall was decked, every banister festooned, and the statues had been enchanted to sing carols as you walked past.

"I hope those foreigners are enjoying the treat," James grinned; that sounded like so much fun to him.

"I always love the castle when they do it up like that," Sirius agreed cheerfully, considering his place had hardly ever been decked out at all it was always a pleasure to see.

It was quite something to hear 'O Come, All Ye Faithful' when you walked past an empty helmet, though several of them had to be manned by Filch, for Peeves was known for slipping into a few and replacing some of the lyrics with his own, more crude versions.

Causing all five of them to burst out with laughter again, even Lily. Ron had given her enough reason lately to be angry, no need to cling to it when this was a funny enough distraction.

All this passing time though, and Harry still hadn't asked out Cho. He really was getting nervous, as he'd look more stupid than Ron would showing up without a dance partner.

"I suppose a waltz with yourself wouldn't be too much fun," Remus pointed out.

"I don't know, could start a new trend in protest of having to invite anyone," Sirius smirked.

Harry grumbled something under his breath about this whole ordeal.

He glumly offered to try Moaning Myrtle soon,

Joyful laughter erupted all around for that beautiful mental image, even Harry couldn't stop some chuckling at his own mind's expense for that one.

referring to the ghost who haunted the girls' toilets on the second floor.

"Lovely conversation starter," James' head bobbed in agreement.

Ron began addressing Harry on the Friday before the event that they just had to knuckle down and get it done, speaking as if they were fixing to storm some impregnable fortress.

"And boys say girls are dramatic," Lily smiled indulgently.

"I thought it was a perfect example," Remus rolled his eyes.

They would come back to their common room tonight with dates!

Harry agreed, but every time he spotted Cho that day, she was constantly surrounded by her friends.

Harry's face was slowly getting redder with mortification of what he was trying to build himself up to do. Even if by some miracle she said yes, the experience of building up and asking didn't feel worth it at this point.

He paid no attention in his final class, and therefore left out a very important ingredient in his potion, a bezoar, which left him with a zero. He didn't care,

"I wouldn't either," James snorted; he couldn't give a cow patty about any class of Snape's, no matter how important the subject.

to busy working himself up for what he was about to do. As they were dismissed, he promised he'd meet them at dinner, and dashed off to find Cho. He'd just have to ask her for a private word is all,

"Well, if you want to do it that way, sure," Sirius nodded along in agreement.

"I don't want to know what you would have done," Harry told him honestly.

but he found her much sooner than expected, so he hardly got the words out if he could have an alone moment.

Giggling should be made illegal,

Which only made Lily begin giggling, but at least she tried to suppress it.

was Harry's first thought as the friends around her started up at once, but Cho didn't as she politely agreed and followed Harry out of range.

"That's either a good thing, and she's suppressing hope of what you're fixing to ask," Remus said with honest optimism.

"Or she has no idea what's fixing to be sprung on her," James told with pity.

"Ah, the start to a beautiful back and forth between Prongs and Evans," Sirius grinned.

Harry quickly pieced together that the first time James had tried to ask Lily out, he may have actually tried this same method. He looked curiously to his dad, who understood what Harry was silently asking and nodded without too much embarrassment, "yeah, sometime after Easter in our third year, I don't know, something changed. I saw her talking to this Ravenclaw who was a year above us on his Quidditch team, and something just sparked. I already didn't like him because we'd be playing him for the Cup soon, and I later realized, I was jealous," he threw her a winning smile, "so I walked over and asked for a word. She followed without one bit of enthusiasm-"

"He and Snape had already been at each other for nearly three years now," Lily butted in with an eye roll, "so I was honestly thinking he'd finally turn that kind of attention my way, not the opposite."

"Well, I asked what she was doing." He switched voices for a moment like he was trying, and failing, to imitate his wife, "it's none of your business." Though quickly switched back to normal, "well, from then on I wanted to make it my business, and well, it didn't end pretty," James finished with an old grin, "that time. At least the final results you're aware of."

"I'd been telling him he had a thing for her for years before that," Sirius said wisely. "He'd never let us pull a prank on her while she was Snape's friend even before that, though he never had a problem pulling on other girls. He wouldn't admit it until he came barreling up to our common room that day and started babbling at top speed what had just happened."

"Never seen a bloke more excited to be turned down," Remus jumped in with unrestrained laughter. "Said it was his new project to get her to say yes to him."

"Bloody four years later, and I finally cracked," Lily finished with a giggle.

Harry was laughing so hard by the end, he'd almost forgotten what was going on in his own story by the time everyone had finally settled back down from a new laughing fit and James kept going.

Harry turned to face her, though at first all he got out was an 'err.' He couldn't ask her! He had to say something though, she was watching him!

"Be a little odd if you darted off now without saying something," Sirius agreed.

He still hadn't found his tongue when he managed to stutter out 'wanagoballwime?'

"Articulation clearly wasn't passed along," Remus cackled.

Harry was working furiously with his face to try and keep a scowl there at all of their picking, but it wasn't quite masking the embarrassment of the situation.

Cho asked him to repeat that in English, and Harry took a deep breath before repeating with the words separated this time, then mentally demanded of his face why he had to go red now!

"Because you don't get to control functions like that," Lily shook her head sadly.

Cho went red too in surprise, then began apologizing like she truly meant it,

"That's not a good start," James winced, already bracing himself as he got the rest out.

that she was going with someone else.

"Ouch," all four of them winced at Harry's expense, it wasn't quite as funny now that he'd actually been turned down.

Harry's embarrassment at once dropped into mortification, great now he'd really gone and made a fool of himself.

All Harry could think to say to that was, 'oh.'

Awkward silence hung between them until Cho apologized again and tried to leave,

James had tried to get through that sad little interaction as quickly as possible: it wasn't nearly as much fun picking on his son after the fact, especially because James could commiserate so well on how that could feel. For all the bravado he'd always shown that he knew Lily would one day say yes to him, there had been a few times that he'd never shown to anyone where his confidence would get spotty, especially before the time she and Snape had stopped being friends.

but Harry came back to himself and shouted after her to stop before he could cut his tongue out.

"Oh boy, this might not end well," Remus winced, only imagining what else Harry could shoot off to make this worse.

Then he asked who she was going with?

"Why would you ask that?" Sirius winced. "Either you know him and you're going to hate him, or you don't know him and you're still going to hate him."

"Better than wondering for the next few days," Harry grumbled.

She returned it was Cedric Diggory.

"He what!" James yelped in protest.

"That swatty little, good for nothing-" Sirius scowled in outrage.

"Guess you are wishing you'd let the dragon eat him now," Remus sniffed on Harry's behalf.

Harry still looked marginally more embarrassed than outraged, for now, so James decided to keep going before that could wear off, then he'd let his son have it out.

Harry could only absently acknowledge this as she finally left, turning back to his common room now with remorse. He'd really been starting to like Cedric, prepared to overlook the time he'd beaten him in Quidditch and was generally more handsome and popular and the school's favorite champion.

"All forgivable enough if he's the decent kind," James huffed.

"But this was just cold!" Sirius scowled.

Now he knew that Cedric was in fact a useless pretty boy who didn't have enough brains to fill an eggcup.

Lily couldn't help a surprised snort of laughter, that had to be one of the snarkiest things Harry had ever thought about a fellow student and it all had to do with a girl. Personally she couldn't blame her son for thinking anything he wanted to about Cedric at this point. Yes it was his own fault for not asking first, but, really, what mother could blame her son for this happening?

He found Gryffindor tower to be mostly empty with everyone still down at dinner, but Ron was sitting in a kind of petrified trance with Ginny trying to comfortingly pat his arm.

Harry's high levels of agitation at Cedric and all colors of mortification at the thought of Cho actually dipped away for the briefest moment, his mind derailed and wondering who Ginny was going to go with. Why would he wonder that though? Ron's little sister had never crossed his mind any more than Hermione.

Harry asked what his problem was, and Ron looked up at him in a sort of blind horror.

Sirius let out a surprised snort of laughter, very much hoping this stayed plenty distracting from Harry's problem.

Demanding of himself why he'd done it!

"Well, this sounds like fun," James mumbled, not quite over his own shock at Harry's problem, but there wasn't anything they could really do for him now anyways. It did make him glance at the ring on his son's finger in genuine curiosity again. Did this problem with Cho work out, and she was on the other end of that?

Ginny explained for him he'd tried to ask out Fleur Delacour.

Causing five collective snorts of laughter, that had been distracting!

"Wow, Ron really went for the high one," Sirius admitted, actually raising his hands like he was going to applaud.

"Though if we've heard anything about her, she was asked out the first day," Lily rolled her eyes.

"So did she say yes?" Remus quickly asked James, trying to wave him on.

She looked like she was trying not to laugh even as she kept patting Ron's arm.

"She's being much kinder than the twins would," Lily smirked.

Ron sort of came back to himself as he demanded of no one why he'd done it! He'd just seen her standing in the Entrance Hall, talking to Cedric and waving her hair around, and it had all just sort of come over him!

"That poor thing," Lily bemoaned, at least some pity replacing her agitation at his earlier comments.

"What a time for him to grow a set," Sirius snickered.

Ron's face fell into his hands in shame then, so the next part was barely understandable as he explained he'd more like shouted it at her as he asked her out, and she'd just looked at him like he was a slug before he darted off.

Harry explained for him that Fleur was a veela, and he'd probably just been caught at a time she'd had her charm on for Diggory.

"Guess it slipped your mind to tell him that before now," James winced, though that still didn't completely erase his smile. Sure, he felt bad for Ron, but this certainly made Harry's downfall seem better by comparison.

"Wouldn't have done him much good even with the knowledge," Sirius shrugged. "Ron's always had a soft spot for her."

Harry told that Fleur had been wasting her efforts though, Diggory was going with Cho.

Ron and Ginny looked at him in surprise, and Harry admitted his own turn down.

Ginny stopped smiling.

"Actually, now that I think about it, can't believe Ginny wasn't one to ask you along with all those other girls in the first place," Remus raised a surprised brow.

"Nah, she's far too shy," James rolled his eyes, "I think this is the first time she's actually spoken in front of Harry period, and she's not even blushing."

Harry felt an odd echo inside of him, like he actually was wishing Ginny had asked him, but all Harry could picture was saying yes to her as much as he would have to Hermione, just as a friend. Still, he did hope at least he'd try, at least he knew Ginny over those other random girls.

Ron grumbled about how mad this school was going, though he did change subjects to the fact that he'd heard Neville had tried to ask out Hermione.

"Aw," Lily chirped. "I can see that, she has helped him out quite a few times."

"Now lets see what Hermione said," Sirius raised a curious brow, as he'd never picked up on any feelings between the two. Then again, maybe Hermione might have just said yes to be polite.

She'd told him no though, that she was going with someone else. Then Ron snorted in disbelief as he stated he couldn't picture that.

"Ouch," James winced for Hermione, "was that really necessary?"

"It's a wonder Hermione hasn't knocked him upside his head," Lily agreed waspishly, that wasn't just playful teasing anymore.

"I think Ron's just at that stage where he hasn't gotten past seeing Hermione as a friend," Remus shrugged, "so he can't picture anyone dating her."

"Let's just be grateful Hermione wasn't around for this," Sirius shook his head, "otherwise Ron wouldn't be going to this at all, he'd be dead."

She'd clearly just said that to say no to Neville, because who'd want to go with him?

Harry couldn't help a surprised bit of laughter, which he quickly regretted.

"Now that's not funny!" Lily flared up at once.

"Ron's just pissed at his own blown up mess and shooting his mouth off," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I doubt he means it."

"Well, I'm getting sick of Ron's mouth," Lily snapped.

Ginny tried to tell off the laughing boys just as Hermione came in, and Ginny quickly explained for her that they hadn't been down at dinner because they'd both been turned down by the girls of their choice.

That shut them up.

"I'm glad Ginny put them in their place," Lily muttered with mutiny, as all the boys around her still seemed to be treating this far too much like a joke. It really wasn't right to be making fun of all these kids like this.

Hermione didn't seem to have much pity for them as she turned on Ron and asked how Eloise was looking now.

Ron didn't seem to hear her, as he was suddenly looking at Hermione in a whole new way as he declared that she was a girl!

Lily buried her face in her hands in preparation for the bloodbath that comment would earn Ron, missing all of the boys' looks of fear that Ron had just said the stupidest thing ever.

Hermione replied back with pure acid that he was just so observant!

Ron ignored the tone and stated that she could go with him then- but she cut him off and stated that she wasn't because she was going with someone else.

"Not that I doubted when she said that to Neville," Sirius raised a surprised brow, "but who is she going with?"

"Search me," Harry grumbled, still wishing he'd thought of the friend idea earlier.

Ron tried to laugh that off, saying she'd just said that to get rid of Neville.

"Okay, Ron, that's not funny anymore," James groaned, shaking his head desperately like he was there trying to convince him to shut up.

"It wasn't funny to begin with," Lily snapped at him, making him decide very quickly to move on.

Hermione's temper was really flaring as she snarled that just because it had taken him three years to notice, didn't mean others hadn't spotted that she was a girl!

Ron watched her for a moment, before smiling and stating alright, he admitted she was a girl, would she come now?

"I think this poor thing's stuck in oblivion," Remus groaned, "and someone needs to pull him back fast."

"Too late, he's a dead man," Sirius sighed.

Hermione snapped that she was going with someone else, before storming off.

Ron watched her go with disbelief, saying that she was lying.

Harry was thinking back to that interaction with some odd feelings now. At the time he'd been just as stunned as Ron with the way Hermione was acting, but now looking back he felt like he was missing something.

Ginny promised she wasn't, but refused to tell who it was.

Ron groaned but changed the subject, saying Ginny could go with Harry and he'd-

but Ginny cut him off by saying that Neville had asked her after Hermione had said no, and she'd said yes.

All thoughts of any other girls flipped away and Harry sat up a little straighter, suddenly wanting to take a page out of Ron's book and make a crack about Neville as well. This was ridiculous, why was Ginny going with anyone?

"Aww, look who's going all big brother," Sirius snickered as he watched Harry's reaction.

"Relax, Neville's a sweet kid, what are you and Ron getting worked up over?" James snorted.

Harry deflated at once, the feeling already washing away as he shrugged and mumbled something inarticulate.

Lily was watching her husband with a surprised look though, thinking back and wondering if Ron even realized what he was getting worked up over. Maybe all of his little comments just then about Neville hadn't been just plain mean. Her mind flickered back to second year, about how he'd swallowed his greatest fear and went looking for spiders after glancing at her empty seat. Ron had always had some vivid reactions when it came to Hermione.

Then she left as well, looking fairly miserable.

"Bet she is kicking herself, though," Remus winced, "could have gone with her little crush, but thankfully she's decent enough not to just dump Neville like that."

"This ball sucks," Harry grumbled.

Harry and Ron sat in stunned silence for a moment, but then Harry spotted Lavender and Parvati coming in, and he decided it was time for drastic measures.

"I would definitely classify Trelawney's clones as drastic," James nodded in agreement.

Lily shot him a poisonous look, still wishing these kids weren't being treated like a joke, but at least that hadn't been the worst thing he could have said.

Harry darted after them, asking Parvati if she'd go to the ball with him? She at first giggled,

"Still don't get why that's funny," Harry grumbled mutinously, still wishing he could just duck out of this thing all together.

but she did agree. Harry turned to Lavender and asked if she'd go with Ron?

"You're the best kind of friend, though," Sirius full blown laughed at that one, knowing he'd have done the same thing for one of his friends.

Harry felt something twitch inside of him, something about Ron and Lavender that he should be thinking about, but it was gone as quick as it had come.

Lavender said she was going with Seamus.

Harry asked if they knew of anyone who'd go with Ron, low enough his friend wouldn't hear.

"Yeah, cause that doesn't sound bad," Remus winced in pity.

"He deserves it, the way he's been acting," Lily sniffed.

Parvati asked about Hermione, and she looked astounded when Harry said she'd already told about going with someone else.

"Okay, this has gone past insulting for the poor thing," Lily snapped.

"What are you yelling at us for?" James quickly surrendered. "We stopped laughing."

Lily rolled her eyes, wishing they'd get the point that mocking these kids shouldn't have been laughed at at all.

Then Parvati offered to ask her twin Padma, and Harry thanked her and to let him know the answer.

He went back to Ron, feeling this ball was much more trouble than it was worth, and hoping Padma Patil's nose was dead center.

"I don't think Ron should get to go with anyone," Lily grumbled. "He deserves it for his bleeding attitude."

"Well, we should find out next," Sirius shrugged as he took the book.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #GoF #The life that never lived #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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svnflowery · 5 years ago

Text

a reason to stay - p.js

pairing: jisung x reader (feat. Jeno, Jaemin, Taeil)

word count: 5k

genre: prince!au, fencer!au, fluff with a tiny dash of angst

warnings: none

a/n: it’s 4am and i really just want to post this - not revised sorry if you find some nonsense

The soft breeze cools your body temperature down, making you sigh in content. You kick the little pebbles in the street road, bored out of your mind, wondering why on earth did your mother force you to go out in this hot, almost hell-like summer weather. You heard her voice and looked up, somewhat hopeful of her letting you go run free to play with the butterflies that live in the palace’s garden. But to your disappointment, she was chatting with an old woman that sold fabrics. Whenever you saw her, she always exclaimed about how much you had grown up from last time even though you didn’t remember her at all.

You let out a deep sigh full of boredom. Fiddling with your shawl, you tugged at your mom’s skirts to get her attention, but your attempts were fully ignored. With a huff you shrugged your little shoulders and walked away, looking for something to entertain you.

You found a small market stall after about five minutes and your eyes glowed with interest at the intricate-looking toys displayed.

“You like them?” asked the owner, an old man with a mysterious aura, smiling at you.

You nodded and looked at him intently before jumping in realization, “you don’t have teeth! Like me!” You smiled widely, tugging at your lips to show the old man, who was now laughing, your missing, small tooth.

“Yes, you are right, little lady. Very observant,” he praised you, patting your head.

You made your way around the small stall, observing each toy with your big, curious eyes carefully. They were animal-like dolls, with hand-stitched patterns and shiny buttons as eyes. You were about to ask the old man about them when you heard your name being called, realizing it was your mother. You waved quickly at the man before fleeing again, trying to hide from your mother by taking random turns in between the city streets.

When you stopped hearing her voice you stopped running, out of breath and sweat forming on your forehead. You sighed, relieved, before exploring the market stalls again.

A smell quickly caught your attention and you obediently followed it, discovering a small bakery. The bread smell flooded your nostrils and made your mouth water. The shop was cozy, with a stone oven incrusted on the wall and a little counter displaying all types of buns, bagels, and pancakes. You must have been making heart eyes at the food, because a boy, about ten years older than you, giggled at the sight and asked you if you wanted to take one. “I don’t have money,” you pouted. Looking at him with sad eyes. He thought for a moment before looking behind him to verify his master wasn’t looking when he quickly handed you a small, slightly wonky bun. You gasped in delight and thanked him excitedly, alerting his master with the loud and sudden sound. She turned around and looked at the scene before hitting the boy’s arm.

“Taeil! For the nth time, you can’t go around giving food for free!”, the young boy, as you now knew as Taeil, rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “Sorry, Grandma, she just looked hungry and...” The old woman sighed in desperation shaking her head. You anticipated her scolding and quickly thanked the man before getting out of the shop, munching happily on your little bun.

The streets had gotten a little busier now, with people rushing around buying groceries, some nobles just strolling around or even a few knights guarding the busy city.

You noticed a painter in the middle of the avenue and went running towards it to check out the pictures closely when you got bumped furiously to the side, halting your run and making you fall in a more secluded street.

You stood up rubbing your head, looking around to see the source of your fall when you noticed a few kids not older than two or three years, had surrounded you.

“Give us your clothes!” screamed one, snatching your shawl away. You noticed he had dirt all over his clothes, which were ragged and old. Opening your eyes in realization, you remembered that day your mother had told you about the poor kids who assaulted people like you in hopes to get some valuable items. Your mother seemed to be disgusted by them, but you pitied them.

“If you wanted my clothes you could have asked nicely!” you scolded them, making them stop their actions and look at you like you had just grown a third eye. “It’s for food, right?” you asked while taking off your small shoes and handing them to the confused kids. “I have a lot more at home, you can take them!” you smiled, “Just be nicer, you hurt my head, you know.” You murmured, rubbing it to emphasize your point.

The boys didn’t say a word and instead took a run for it, not even thanking you. You sighed and patted the dust off your skirt, thinking about the big scolding that was coming when your mother noticed your lack of shoes.

“That was very honorable of you, you know,” said a voice from behind you. You quickly looked up, and when you noticed who it was you bowed clumsily. “Prince Jaemin!”

Jaemin giggled and patted your shoulder, “no need to bow! Jeno’s friends are my friends.”

You raised your brows, surprised at the new information. “I didn’t know Jeno hanged out with royalty, wow.” you murmured, making the prince giggle again. “He practices fencing with my little brother, but since we are the same age we ended up being friends!” he told you, patting your shoulder again as if you were friends, smiling kindly at you. You then understood why he was so loved, he irradiated warmth and kindness.

“I’ll have to talk with Jeno, then, seeing as he doesn’t tell me these things,” you thought out loud, murmuring the last part as to not appear rude.

Jaemin smiled at you again, about to say something else when you heard a boy’s voice getting near.

“Jaemin! Jaemin! Jeno told me that...” he stopped in his tracks, looking at you. You looked at him, too, curious. “Who’s this?”

“Ah, this is Jeno’s friend! She’s your age, I think.” he turned to look at you, “This is my little brother, Jisung! The one who practices with Jeno.”

You almost choked in your spit, bowing again. “Prince Jisung!” Jaemin laughed again, finding your mannerisms endearing. Jisung flushed and bowed too, flustered because he found you pretty. “N-no need to bow! Jeno’s friends are my friends, too!” he told you, waving his hands to make you stop bowing. His words made you laugh, recognizing them as the same thing Jaemin had told you just minutes ago.

“I-” the sudden, familiar call of your name cut your words and you cursed under your breath, ready to run again when a hand snatched your arm, making you turn to look at your very angry-looking mother. “Y/n! I swear, you’re going to be the death of me!” she scolded, not even realizing the Princes were with you and dragged you away, her raised voice talking about how reckless you are and how worried she was.

You shot a sad smile to the confused boys, waving your hand before turning the corner of the street and disappearing, hoping you’ll see them again.

You watched your best friend, Jeno, practice fencing with Jisung. It has been two years since your encounter with the Princes, and a lot had happened since then.

After getting scolded to no end for running off and giving away your shoes, you had gone out to meet Jeno and ask him about his royal friendships.

“So,” you began, looking at him inquisitively. He avoided your gaze, playing with the hem of his sleeves. “you’re friends with Prince Jaemin AND Prince Jisung and I discover that information NOW, and not even from yourself but the Princes themselves?!” you exclaim, pouting unconsciously with a frown. Jeno laughed at your little outburst and finally looked at you with guilty eyes. “In my defense, I’ll say I thought you had figured that out since I practice with Jisung, but I guess you are a little slow.” He teased, laughing when you hit his shoulder. “Not funny! That’s so cool, Jeno!”

You smiled at the thought, shaking your head. From then on, he had brought you with him at his fencing practices; so you had naturally gotten closer with Jisung, too. It had been hard at first because of the awkwardness and the fact that you found yourself incapable of dropping formalities until a few months after, but you were inseparable now, always running through the city together on some new adventure. You giggled, remembering that one time he saw a mouse for the first time.

“Aaagh! What in the world is that!” screamed Jisung behind you, making you turn to the funniest sight: Jisung, on top of a random supply box, shaking as if he had seen a dragon… because of a tiny mouse that was running around. You immediately had fallen into a fit of laughter, almost falling on your butt. “You’re-” you started, unable to form a complete sentence from all the laughter, doubling over with tears in your eyes. “You’re scared of a mouse?”

Needless to say, Jisung didn’t hear the end of it for weeks, being made fun of by not only you but Jeno too when you had told him the day after. What you didn’t tell him, though, is that you found it endearing how he had never seen a little mouse before, making him appear even more adorable in your mind. You teased him frequently, telling him he looked like one, but he always became grumpy at that, a rosy tint spreading his cheeks.

The clashing sound of metal with metal woke you up from your little haze, looking at the scene before you. Jisung held his sword towards Jeno’s chest, who was raising his hand in surrender, now unarmed with his swords a few feet away. “I win!” exclaimed the younger boy, jumping with glee. Jeno pointed to his sword, “hey! Careful with that!”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” Jisung apologized, putting it away before resuming his little jumps. And skipping towards you. “Y/n! Did you see? I won! I won Jeno for the first time!” he exclaimed with excitement, taking your hands and twirling with you. You blushed at the contact, congratulating him shyly. Jeno looked from afar, watching the interaction with a knowing smile.

iii

Three years had passed now, time passing in the blink of an eye. Your 15th birthday had passed recently, and you were now practicing fencing with Jeno.

You had taken an interest not long after Jisung’s first victory, mostly because you wanted to spend more time with him, so you had asked Jeno to help you train to surprise Jisung one day. You had gotten the chance to spar with him in last year’s annual tournament, and after a long, difficult match, you had ended up winning, much to your surprise. You still don’t know how you did it, to be honest. Jeno told you that your dance training might be the reason, but you doubted it. You finally got to impress Jisung, though.

The problem is that you had gotten so nervous that you had run off before you could take off your mask, making you the mysterious fencer to everyone and eventually gaining that as your name.

Everyone had forgotten you in a matter of weeks; everyone but Jisung. He had fallen in love with the way you moved, telling everyone how magical you looked and how special you must be. You blushed every time he talked about you like that, and Jeno had to suppress a laugh. He almost spilled your secret one day, but luckily Jisung was too busy talking about your fencing persona to notice.

A sudden bump in your chest made you wake up from your memory-reliving moment and you looked at the sword pointed at you, blinking.

Jeno smirked, looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Thinking about a certain prince again?” he teased, lowering his sword. You huffed, looking away with warmth quickly spreading through your cheeks, “shut up, Jeno.”

The sudden rustling of leaves indicating someone was coming made you both jolt, Jeno signaling you to hide just in case it was Jisung. You quickly did so, throwing yourself behind the nearest tree, heart thumping in your throat.

“Jeno!” greeted the last voice you wanted to hear at that moment. You cursed under your breath.

“Jisung, what are you doing here? We don’t have practice today” answered your friend, alert eyes making sure you were well hidden.

“I wanted to talk to you, Jeno… it’s- it’s about the tournament.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you think they will show up? I didn’t get to know who was behind the mask last year and now that the tournament is nearing, I can’t get them out of my mind. What if they don’t show up? I have so much to ask them...” he sighed, looking at the ground. He truly looked deflated, sad with the thought of never seeing that mysterious fencer again. Jeno frowned at the sight and patted the younger boy’s back, a gesture of reassurance. “Hey, don’t think like that, Sung. I’m sure you’ll get to see them again, the person is a fencer, after all. Why would they miss a match?”

Jisung, a little more convinced now, straightened his back and nodded, pensively. “I want to win them, Jeno! We have to train harder, please!”

Jeno smiled, looking fondly at him. His passion for fencing was admirable, and Jeno was proud of him.

You grinned in your hiding spot, your heart beating a little faster.

You were packing your fencing suit neatly, humming a little tune you had heard someone sing on the street while you were visiting Taeil’s bakery. The weather was starting to get hot, indicating the nearing arrival of the summer season, and with it, the annual fencing tournament. Your chest was bubbling with excitement and anticipation, but also nervousness. You planned to win Jisung again and thus telling him your identity. You were a bit scared, goosebumps appearing in your arms whenever you imagined the outcome. In your heart, you truly wished for him to take it well, but your mind was clouded with what-ifs; what if he’s angry because you kept it from him, what if he doesn’t accept your passion, what if he’s so disappointed he doesn’t want to talk with you ever again.

Your fantasy got interrupted by the calls of your mom.

“Honey, did you hear me? Are you okay?” she rushed to you, cupping your cheeks and looking at you intently, searching for fever symptoms. You gently took her hands from your face and smiled, murmuring an apology. “I was just thinking, mom. What did you say?”

She sighed, relieved, but still looking at you. “The dance competition, honey. The date got announced! It’s at the start of the summer season. And you are the main act! Isn’t that fantastic? You’ve practiced so much!” She continued rambling about it, but you stopped listening.

The start of the summer season? But that’s the same day as the tournament…

The night breeze was chilly, making you wrap your shawl around you. After your mother broke the news, you had stayed in the little lake near the palace, thinking. You eventually cried, too.

This was the first time you had to choose.

All your life had revolved around dancing. Ever since you can remember, you had been training resiliently. Your main goal had always been being the main act, that being your motivation every time you fell or couldn’t get a routine right. You breathed dancing, the freedom it provided ran through your veins. It was your entire being.

But fencing… fencing had opened doors for you, had made you experience a feeling you had never felt before. The rush of fighting, the beauty of moving the sword with elegance and strength, all of it had slowly captivated your heart. And there was also the emotions that had urged you to enter the fencing world. The emotions of a boy you deeply cared about.

You felt troubled inside. It felt as if your entire being had split into two and had started fighting in your interior, with you in the center of the tornado of turns and metal clashing.

“It’s cold for a summer night, isn’t it?” a voice startled you.

A certain boy sat next to you, his knees brushing yours. “Jisung… What are you doing here?” you asked, avoiding his face. He had appeared just when you were, precisely, thinking about him, making you blush.

“This is my palace, so I think I should be the one asking that.” He teased, cheekily. You smiled, softly elbowing him.

“You know I always come here when I… have too many thoughts. I’m just conflicted.” you sighed, looking ahead at nothing in particular.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked, softly. The way he furrowed his brows and softly put your hair behind your ear told you he was worried.

“It’s, um… I have a friend who… uh…” you stumbled with your words, trying to cover up your problem. “She… she has to decide between two things that are very important to her, and she’s confused about it because she wants to make the right choice, but I feel like whatever I choose, won’t be correct.” You told him sincerely. “She! I mean she, not me.” you quickly corrected yourself.

Jisung looked at you with knowing eyes but didn’t comment on it. He softly took your hand in his and locked his eyes with yours, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck.

“You know, I feel you. I mean, your friend. Not long ago, I had a talk with my father. I felt confused and lost because I had to choose between fencing and my prince's duties. I obviously chose fencing because not only it’s something I’ve always done, it’s also what my heart told me to do. I had to listen to my heart. And for a while, it felt wrong – especially watching Jaemin being the perfect prince because he had chosen prince duties over anything else. But that’s it, y/n; there’s no wrong or right choice. You just choose what’s right to you, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

He let go of your hand to wipe the tears that were escaping your eyes without your permission. You quickly circled his neck with your arms, burying your face into his embrace, sobbing. You didn’t say anything, but both of you knew your fight had ceased with the realization that came thanks to Jisung’s words.

“Are you out of your mind!? How dare you disobey your mother like that!? What have I done to you to disappoint me like that!? You are a disgrace to this family!”

You were sitting in your living room, with your mother yelling at you and your father looking at you with disappointed eyes. You still had your fencing suit on, after running away from the tournament before taking off your mask – again.

You had chosen fencing.

You had ditched the dance performance and attended the tournament. You successfully won Jisung again, but as soon as you saw your mother you had run away, leaving as the mysterious fencer yet again.

You felt content with your decision because that’s what felt right for you – but your mother’s words were making you feel a shame you’ve never experienced before.

“This is the last straw! You won’t be fencing anymore!”

You perked up at that and quickly rose your head to look at your mother, alarmed. “What!?”

“You are a dancer, y/n, not a fencer! A dancer, you hear me!? I’ve let you run off and practice fencing with your friends but it seems you have forgotten your real focus. You’ve humiliated the family’s name with your absence today, and I won’t let that happen again. And if I see you with your fencer friends again, I’ll make sure that’s the last time you go out with them.” She threatened, voice quivering with anger. “I hope you learn from your mistakes, y/n.”

After the probably worst moment of your life, you had distanced yourself from Jeno and Jisung. You feared that your mom would make you stop seeing them completely f she saw you with them again, so you had limited your meetings by a lot, now barely seeing them once a month.

It pained you. It’s as if a blanket of spines had wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing it tightly, making it bleed with longing for your friends. You missed Jeno, the way his happiness shone through his eyes every time he smiled and how he patiently trained with you. You missed talking with him on the way from the bakery, always stealing a bite of his bun. You missed his rare but comforting hugs whenever you told him about a hard day of practice. You missed your best friend, and his absence left you with the cold sensation of loneliness spreading through your body.

But your heart desperately missed Jisung. You missed his laugh, the way his eyes crinkle whenever he smiles, the mole under his lips, his soft touch which contrasts the rough skin of his hands, his soft pout whenever he concentrates, his soft smile whenever you talk about dancing, his passion whenever he practiced his fencing routine. You missed your long talks by the lake, holding hands whenever you strolled through the city, his curious eyes whenever you showed him something new, his hugs, his warmth, the comfort of his presence. You deeply wished you could stop this nonsense and run back to him, but the thought of never seeing him again kept you from breaking the distance.

vii

A couple of years had passed. Not much had changed – you still missed your friends, and you had missed every tournament ever since your mom scolded you. Tonight, you were attending the special ceremony. It was the last tournament the prince – Jisung – was going to attend, the reasons being unknown though rumors said he was heartbroken after the disappearance of the mysterious fencer he oh so deeply admired. These rumors made you sad, guilty making you assist the ceremony with no clear objective in mind. If you were being honest with yourself, you just missed Jisung and took this as an opportunity to talk to him again, as your mother approved of you going to the ball.

You had flowy, soft fabric dancing around you, moving gracefully with each step you took. Stunning and gorgeous, you entered the palace, your heart beating so hard you felt as if it would take off and fly out of your chest at any moment.

A lot of eyes were on you, interested as you had become a popular dancer in the last years. You avoided them, though, only looking for a certain pair of brown ones.

A hand in your shoulder startled you, and before you realized, the eyes you had been looking for were just in front of you, accompanied by your favorite smile. “Jisung,” you breathed, quickly hugging him, “I missed you. Oh, gods, I’ve missed you so much.” You whispered. As his arms circled your waist, you felt the blanket of spines slowly lift off your heart.

He smiled gently, kissing your temple. “Me too, I thought you got tired of me. Glad to see you missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”

“I would never get tired of you.”

“Your distance says otherwise.”

“Jisung, I already told you, it’s-”

“Yeah, it’s complicated. I get it. It doesn’t stop me from wishing you were with me every day and not once in a year.”

You sighed, looking down. You couldn’t tell him the reason for your distance like you had told Jeno since Jisung still didn’t know about your fencing past, and you knew it was bothering him even though you had tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault.

“Dance with me.”

Time flew with Jisung, as always. You had danced in silence, as you seemed to communicate everything you needed to with your eyes. You were lost in his when he suddenly spoke.

“I’m giving up fencing.”

You almost tripped. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It brings me sadness.”

“What? You love fencing!”

“But… I loved it because you were there. You always watched me practice, and your support encouraged me to continue forward.”

“You know I support you.”

“It’s not the same, you’re away now.”

You sighed, “Jisung-”

“No, don’t start again. It’s my decision. Fencing is meaningless without you two.”

You paused. “Two?”

He looked away, bashful. “It’s stupid, but… do you remember that mysterious fencer? They haven’t been showing up. I always looked forward to our next match, but now that they have stopped coming, I’ve lost the motivation to come, too. It feels as if they have given up… and thinking about me makes me sad.” He looked at you again, frowning. “I used to love fencing because it made me stop thinking, it was liberating. But now, every frustration that’s bothering me involves fencing. I think I should stay away from it, for a while.”

You furrowed your brows at that, lightly shaking his shoulders. “Are you out of your mind? Are you seriously thinking of abandoning fencing? Jisung, it’s your passion!”

He shrugged, looking down. Just before he was able to answer, a loud voice interrupted the moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The annual fencing tournament is about to start! Kindly head to the gardens, where the competition will take place!”

Jisung looked at you with pleading eyes. “I have to go. Please, cheer for me.”

viii

You only wanted to attend the ball and go. You really, really just planned on doing that. But after talking with Jisung, and seeing the look in his eyes, you felt the weight of guilt slowly driving you towards the preparation room to change to a suit.

It felt strange after years of not touching any fencing equipment, and you had become very, very rusty. After the first fights, your arm was already tired, and you felt unbelievably hot under the suit.

For some reason, you had managed to fight your way to the final round. If it was luck or just bad contestants you didn’t really know, but you were much sloppier now and with Jisung in front of you, your hands hard started to shake. It had been so long…

Jisung, at first, didn’t believe it. Your movements were definitely a big tell that you were his so admired mysterious fencer, but he had noted your technique had become a bit brute. Now that he had you in front of him, he felt as if he lived again, moving vigorously and fighting with all his might.

With your lack of training and his sudden power, the fight ended in the blink of an eye, with audible gasps from the public.

Sword was pointing at chest, only this time, Jisung was the one holding the sword, and you the one at the end of it.

A loud horn marked the end of the tournament, with the same loud voice announcing Jisung as the winner. The public burst in cheers, chanting the prince’s name in pride and glory, and the boy took off his mask with a proud grin.

“Don’t you dare run away again.” He said before you could make a dash for the exit. He quickly grabbed your arms, keeping you in place. “This has been eating me for years, and I thought I’d never fight with you again. Who are you?” He whispered, looking at the mask intently.

You sighed, knowing you were trapped. Your palms were sweating like crazy, your heart going a thousand miles per minute, making it difficult to breathe. The moment you had fantasized about for many years had come, and you were experiencing too many emotions in the spare of a second. Scared, nervous, relieved.

You quickly took it off, meeting your favorite eyes who were looking back at you in shock. The crowd gasped, and you were met with deafening silence, only interrupted by occasional low whispers.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

He smiled.

“You know, I always had thought, deep inside me, that it could be you. You always held the sword correctly even though you pretended to lose...” He giggled. You smiled, relieved because he was accepting of it all. You pushed his shoulder softly, “Don’t act all-knowing now, you never knew.”

“Maybe.” he cupped your face gently, looking you with courageous eyes and red cheeks. “But it makes sense now. I felt drawn to the mysterious fencer… because it was you. It’s always been you.” he started, his voice lowering to a murmur now, “the one who has never left my mind...” he paused, his gaze lowering to your lips. “...nor my heart.”

You gulped, confused and flustered. What does that mean? What is he doing? Is he confessing? Why is he looking at my lips like that? We are in front of the whole city, he won’t-

A soft sensation stopped your frenetic thinking, making you close your eyes and hold Jisung’s hands on your face. He was gentle, yet passionate; as if trying to tell you all his hidden feelings. His touch was warm, almost hot, and your mind was him. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

You broke the kiss after what felt like an eternity and a second at the same time, smiling at him.

“So,” you whispered, not wanting to break the magical atmosphere around you both. “Are you still leaving fencing?”

He smiled at you, eyes shining with glee. “No,” he pecked your lips, “I’ve found my reason to stay.”

912 notes · View notes

taesthetes · 5 years ago

Text

cloud ten.

you’re my first and last.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader | jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, fluff type: soulmate au word count: 11,929 words warnings: none playlist: death by a thousand cuts (taylor swift) ⋆ you were good to me (jeremy zucker & chelsea cutter) ⋆ salvation (gabrielle aplin) ⋆ time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ two (sleeping at last) ⋆ my first and last (nct dream) author’s note: sike you thought this blog was dead? i’m here to drop my biyearly update. shout out to t swift’s lover album for giving me motivation to finish this and thank you @nochanchu for listening to all my rambles ily mel ♡

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE FOUR.

At only four years old, life was simple. Your favorite question comprised of three words: “What’s for dinner?”, and your biggest worry was being able to claim your favorite heels and purse that were both much too big for you during dress-up time at preschool. And the so-called disease labelled “cooties” that girls your age screamed every time they saw you and Jungkook playing together at the swings was something you did not care about. Jungkook liked superheroes, and so did you, and that was all that mattered in terms of forming friendships for you.

At only four years old, a girl in class informed you that girls and boys who were friends meant they were boyfriend and girlfriend. You didn’t know what that meant. So she asked you if you loved Jungkook, and you didn’t know what that meant either. She said that it meant that you wanted to kiss him the way Cinderella and Prince Charming kissed. You and Jungkook were curious, and that was how your first kiss happened inside the large, multicolored, plastic rocket that stood in the corner of the playground area. Jungkook’s lips were red and slightly chapped, and you did not like the kiss very much, so you guessed that meant you did not love Jungkook.

At only four years old, you didn’t quite understand what love was yet, but all you knew was that your stomach did funny flip flops whenever you were in the presence of a certain six year old who lived next door named Kim Taehyung. You liked the way his eyes always sparkled like the pretty stars in the sky and how he always saved his grape flavored fruit snacks for you because he knew they were your favorite. His lips looked pink and soft, and maybe, just maybe, you might be okay with kissing him the way Cinderella and Prince Charming kissed.

At only four years old, you learn about the soulmate system.

It was an ordinary afternoon when the newfound concept of soulmates is introduced to you. You and Jungkook had walked home together with Taehyung from school and are now sitting on the couch, munching on fruit snacks and juice in front of the television set. But the show playing on the screen is long forgotten, and you are wide eyed, soaking up every single word that came out of Taehyung's mouth. Said boy speaks in hushed whispers as if he is revealing top secret information, but punctuates every sentence with wild hand gestures.

"You see the cool gold tattoos that our parents all have? That's 'cause they're soulmates!"

"They're all soulmates together?" Jungkook scrunches his nose as he frowns in confusion, and you tilt your head in agreement, mouth still preoccupied with the straw puncturing your apple juice box.

"No, silly! Your mommy and daddy are soulmates to each other," Taehyung points at Jungkook before continuing, "And _______'s parents are soulmates to each other."

"How do you know that?" you pipe up, looking at the older boy with your interest piqued.

"They all have gold tattoos. I heard some big kids talking about how they only turn gold when you meet your soulmate." Tae explains importantly, "And you get your tattoo when you're older!"

“How much older?”

“Eighteen!”

You scrunch up your nose in disgust. “That’s old.”

"What happens if you don't like your soulmate?" Jungkook asks, staring at Taehyung with anticipation, his fruit snacks now abandoned on the cushion next to him.

"Why wouldn't you like your soulmate?" you interrupt, perplexed as you squeezed the now empty juice box in your hands, before Taehyung could answer. "You and your soulmate are perfect together."

"Well, who do you want to be your soulmate?" Jungkook points his stare at you now, and your cheeks turn rosy as you avoided his gaze.

"Um..." You peek over at Taehyung, who gives you a toothy grin, and your face becomes an even darker shade of crimson as your stomach begins to fill with butterflies again. "... Taetae?"

Jungkook's impossibly large doe eyes widen even more at your answer in surprise, and Taehyung beams happily, his eyes rivaling the crescent moon. The butterflies multiply in your tummy as he plops down on couch next to you and grabs your hand innocently.

"I want you to be my soulmate, too!"

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE FIVE.

As kids, your attention span was smaller than a goldfish, and the topic of soulmates did not come up again until the following year. Taehyung burst through the front door of your home and skids his way into kitchen. Being older than you and Jungkook, his school day would last longer than yours now, a fact he often complained about. Jungkook suggested Taehyung move down to your and his grade, but Taehyung’s mother said no and the boy sulked for the rest of the day.

You and Jungkook are quietly settled at the table, drawing pictures of your respective families that are needed for class tomorrow. Your teacher announced that the following day would be Parents’ Day in which one or both of your parents will come in. You will show them around your classroom and give them your drawing as a present. And most importantly, there will be cake and juice.

Taehyung peers down at your drawing with slight interest before plopping himself down in one of the empty chairs and grabbing a chocolate chip cookie from the center of the table for himself.

“Today, I got to see my teacher’s tattoo change,” he announces loudly, munching on his snack.

Your curiosity piqued, you look up at Taehyung, all thoughts of finishing your drawing flying out the window. Jungkook carefully finishes the family member he is working on before capping his marker and placing it down, his eyes inquisitively trailed on Taehyung now.

“What was it like?” you ask eagerly, bouncing in your seat as Jungkook stares at Taehyung, impatiently waiting for his answer as well.

“Well,” Taehyung starts, his voice hushed as if he is divulging an important secret. And in a way, he is. “Miss Kang was helping me add numbers together and then the new fourth grade teacher, Mister Jung walked into the classroom on accident. I think he got lost, but when Miss Kang saw him, her tattoo started getting all shiny! She showed it to us before and it was a boring black, but I saw it start to shine! It was like glitter!”

“What happened next?” you ask, eyes round in anticipation, as Taehyung slowly takes another large bite of his cookie.

“I touched her tattoo and told her it was glowing! And we stared at it until it turned all gold!” Taehyung says enthusiastically, crumbs spraying everywhere. “And Mister Jung’s tattoo was gold, too, and he asked Miss Kang out for… oh, what’s that drink grown-ups always have? The one that your mom says makes you short?”

“Coffee!” you supply, and Taehyung nods at you fervently, “Yeah, that one!”

“Coffee is gross,” Jungkook quietly says, scrunching his nose. “He should get her milk.”

“Yeah,” you agree, frowning a little now. “Or apple juice. I hope my soulmate likes apple juice.”

“I like apple juice!” Taehyung exclaims, grinning at you, a smudge of crumbs and melted chocolate on his cheek. You smile back at him happily. Jungkook observes the two of you quietly, eyes flitting back and forth between you and Taehyung.

Apple juice is good. But he still likes milk better.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SIX.

In a make-believe world fueled by your mind and Jungkook’s, you become superheroes, race car drivers, astronauts, dragons and knights—because you refuse to sit in the treehouse like some prissy princess. It’s much more fun to pretend to be a dragon and chase Jungkook the knight with your fire breathing skills, conjured up with bits of orange and yellow construction paper and a sprinkle of imagination.

You are in the midst of another game of pretend when Taehyung stops by, waving around one of those twenty-four pack of markers that every kid on the block envies. “_______! Kookie! Want to try out the new markers I got?”

Game now forgotten, you and Jungkook hurriedly stumble over to Taehyung, following him back to his house where he haphazardly spread the markers across the kitchen table. The three of you settle down with sheets of paper and markers of your favorite colors, happily scribbling across the blank canvases. Engrossed in your art, none of you hear the front door open, and Taehyung’s older brother and his friend entered into the kitchen.

“Jinnie! Was basketball fun? Are you on the team?” Taehyung bounces in his seat, his attention focused fully on his brother. Seokjin grins as he opens the refrigerator door for some milk. Yoongi stands next to him quietly, but a proud smile adorns his face.

“Yeah, I made it onto Yoongi’s team! We have a game in two weeks, and coach said I can play shooting guard!” Seokjin exclaims, beaming, and an identical smile is found on Taehyung’s face. “Maybe mom can take _______ and Kookie, too, if they want to watch?”

“Yes! I wanna watch the game, too!” You nod fervently, and Jungkook echoes your agreement.

“Let’s make a banner for their team!” Taehyung suggests, and the three of you busy yourselves with making a brightly multicolored sign that might even put actual rainbows to shame.

Yoongi quietly observes how Taehyung carefully passes markers between him and you as Jungkook silently and slowly works on his corner of the banner. Seokjin and Yoongi slip away from the kitchen wordlessly, leaving you three alone.

“You think they’re soulmates?” Yoongi asks, nudging his friend as they make their way up to Seokjin’s room.

“Who? Tae and _______? Or _______ and Kookie?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Either one.”

“Maybe. Who knows?”

“If they are, it’s gonna suck for one of them.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SEVEN.

“This is Jiminnie! He’s in my class, and he just moved here.”

Taehyung introduces you and Jungkook to his new friend, a chubby cheeked boy with nicely combed black hair. Jungkook hides behind you, peeking out and carefully scrutinizing the newcomer. Jimin shyly waves at the two of you, and you do the same cheerfully.

“We’re gonna go ride our bikes to the park. See you later!” Taehyung pulls Jimin away with him, leaving you and Jungkook standing in your front yard. You stare at them riding off wistfully. Their bikes don’t have training wheels anymore. Maybe you can ask your mom to take those off later. You are a big girl now, too, right? Maybe Taehyung will let you play with him and Jimin if you can ride your bike without training wheels, too.

“I’m gonna take the training wheels off my bike,” you announce, and Jungkook frowns, furrowing his eyebrows.

“That’s dangerous! You can’t do that.”

“But Tae doesn’t have training wheels,” you points out before Jungkook tugs at your sleeve.

“Because he’s a big kid and he and Jimin are playing big kid games. Let’s play Mario Kart. We don’t have to take turns because Tae isn’t here.”

You follow after him to his house, sulking. “Does this mean he’s not gonna play with us anymore?”

Jungkook scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know. But we’ll have fun! C’mon, let’s play before you have to go home for dinner.”

“Okay…” You trail behind him, looking over your shoulder once more in the direction of the park.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE EIGHT.

You stand at the base of the tallest tree in your neighborhood, craning your neck to see the highest branches above your head, as Lisa and Rosé huddle together nearby. Lisa had climbed up a few of the branches earlier before quickly clambering down. Yugyeom and Jaehyun are already sitting on some of the branches, calling for Jungkook to climb up with them.

“C’mon, Jungkook! Race you to the top! Winner gets a whole carton of chocolate ice cream!” says Jaehyun. In a flash, Jungkook nimbly makes his way up the tree, rapidly reaching the other two boys.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you too want the ice cream, but the thought of climbing up all those branches makes you shudder. Your stomach wins over your mind however, and you start the ascent mere seconds later.

“Be careful, _______!” Rosé cries out, but you rise even higher than the three boys, who watch you in awe. Finally, you are perched precariously on the top branch, grinning down widely, as the other two girls now cheer for you.

“_______ gets the ice cream.” Jungkook shrugs, sliding down from his seat and beginning his descent. Jaehyun and Yugyeom mumble in agreement as they start to get down as well. The smile on your face that might as well be the spitting image of the Cheshire cat’s now dims when you see how far you really are from the ground. Hastily, you wrap your arms around the trunk of the tree, clutching on for dear life.

“C’mon, _______, let’s go get ice cream,” says Yugyeom as all five of your friends waited at the bottom, looking up at you.

“I can’t! I don’t think I can get down.” Your bottom lip quivers slightly, but you keep the tears at bay.

“Should we get an adult?” Lisa pipes up.

“No! We’re gonna get in trouble for climbing.” Others chime in agreement, and you almost regret climbing up here, but the prospect of getting ice cream still shines in your mind. You tighten your grip around the tree, clinging to it.

“What’re you doing?” A familiar voice is heard, and soon, Taehyung stands under the tree with Jimin in tow.

“_______’s stuck!” exclaims Lisa as the others point up to where you sat, trembling. Taehyung and Jimin both look up at the same time, eyes widening when they see your tiny figure at the top. You try to give them a brave smile and a wave, but you quickly put your arm around the trunk again. In a flash, Taehyung clambers up to where you were.

“I’m gonna climb down first, but you follow after me, okay? I’ll show you where to put your foot to get down,” he instructs you, and you nod. He stretches down, finding his footing, and settles on a lower branch. You try to mimic him, foot dangling down, and you tremble slightly.

“Almost there!” he cheers, and you find the right footing before carefully moving down and sitting next to him. He beams at you, and you smile back at him, relieved. The two of you follow the same pattern until you finally reach the ground to your utmost relief.

The two of you split the ice cream.

After all, he reached the top, too.

And you don’t mind, of course.

It’s Tae after all.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE NINE.

You and Jungkook are sprawled outside on your front porch, a pile of board games stacked haphazardly next to you. The game of “Sorry!” spread out in front of you barely piques your interest as you keep glancing out towards the yard. Jungkook grows tired of reminding you to roll the dice every time it was your turn, huffing loudly in annoyance.

“What are you looking at?”

You whip your head back towards the game, automatically reaching for the dice. “Nothing.”

He scoffs, “It’s my turn. Pay attention, dummy.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Then why didn’t you go already, dummy?”

“It’s no fun when you’re not paying attention,” he complains before throwing the dice and eyeing the large red construction paper next to you. “Stop looking for Tae.”

Your face immediately feels warm before you screech out, “I’m not!”

“Hi, _______!” Taehyung’s voice rings out and you quickly turn to see him standing at the edge of the front lawn. Hurriedly, you scramble up and pick up the crimson paper beside you. Rushing down the front steps, you skid to a stop in front of the surprised boy and thrust the valentine into his hand.

“This is for you!” you manage to stammer out, digging the toe of your shoe into the dirt anxiously, as you clasp your hands together behind your back. He grins widely, eyes forming miniature moon crescents and sparkling as they always do like the stars in the night sky. He gazes at the brightly decorated card with delight, and perhaps, your little heart speeds up a tiny bit.

“Thank you!” He digs around his pocket before pulling out a purple wrapped lollipop. “I got this for you, too. It’s grape flavored!”

Nine-year-old you nearly swoons, and that was the moment when you knew you wanted Taehyung to be your valentine every year after that.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TEN.

“Hey.”

Jungkook pokes your shoulder harshly. Both your parents had finally agreed to let you both have a sleepover in his treehouse, so the two of you lay side by side in sleeping bags, surrounded by an abundance of snacks and several stuffed animals.

You roll over to face him, poking him back with just as much force. “What?”

“Do you…” he hesitates before continuing, “Do you believe in love?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, hugging your pillow to your chest.

“But… you know Jin and his girlfriend?” he asks, and you hum in acknowledgment. “What happens if they find out they’re not soulmates? But they love each other?”

You stop fiddling with the zipper on your sleeping bag. “Well… if they love each other, then why wouldn’t they stay together?”

“But they’re not soulmates.”

“Does it matter? They’re in love.”

Jungkook sits up, wide eyed. “Wouldn’t you love your soulmate? When you meet them, you fall in love.”

“But do you stop loving your girlfriend then if she’s not your soulmate?”

“Well… a soulmate bond is stronger than that,” he says confidently.

“Huh,” you mull over his words before a sly grin spreads across your face. “Does this have to do with the new girl in our class? Is little Kookie in love? Does he want her to be his soulmate?”

“Shut up!” His face turns red before he throws his pillow at you. Laughing, you toss it back at him, hitting him square in the chest. He falls back onto his sleeping bag, glaring at you.

“I feel bad for whoever’s gonna be your soulmate.”

“Right back at you, Kook.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE ELEVEN.

At age of eleven, you experience your first heartbreak. It’s funny how a boy can break your heart when he never knew he held it to begin with. You didn’t even realize that’s what heartbreak is until that moment. All you knew is that you didn’t want to see him holding her hand anymore.

“Hey, _______! Jungkook!”

You and Jungkook stop in your tracks and turned to see Taehyung waving excitedly at the two of you. Your eyes immediately drop to where his hand is being tightly interlocked with a very pretty girl’s. When he halts in front of you, you can feel Jungkook nudging your arm subtly.

“H-hey, Tae,” you manage to mumble out.

“I just wanted you to meet my girlfriend!” he says proudly, and the girl smiles at you shyly, introducing herself. The two of them continue speaking to you and Jungkook, but you can’t for the life of you pay attention. She is simply too pretty, too nice, too perfect, and you want to throw up.

“I-I need to go—stomachache.” You dash up the block and up the walkway to your house, fumbling with the keys before letting yourself in. Jungkook is startled, only staring at your retreating figure, before turning to face the surprised couple. “I’m gonna go check on her. Nice to meet you.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Taehyung says, concerned, and Jungkook almost found himself glaring at the older boy. “Yeah, me too.”

Jungkook quickly departs, letting himself into your house. He makes a beeline to your room where you are curled up in the center of your bed. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly stands in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh, I can beat him for you?”

You let out a strangled laugh, sitting upright. “No, it’s okay. Just… pretty dumb of me to have a stupid crush on him all this time, huh? What was I thinking?”

Jungkook shuffles over and sits on the edge of your bed. “You’re not dumb. Taehyung’s the dumb one. And if you ever tell anyone I said this, I will eat all of your Hot Cheetos stash, but… he doesn’t deserve you anyway. My best friend deserves someone who isn’t dumb.”

You smile gratefully at him. “Thanks, Kook.”

“Anytime.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWELVE.

“So you… broke up with him?”

“Yeah.”

You sit cross legged on your bed, idly twirling your pen in hand, as you continue to work on your science homework. Jungkook stares at you, mouth agape and math worksheets abandoned. You and Minghao agreed the two of you were better off as friends, and that was that.

“But why?”

“I just…” you shrug, tossing the pen onto the comforter and leaning back onto the palm of your hands. “I didn’t like him that way. I thought I did, but when I was with him, I don’t know, it felt like hanging out with a friend. What about you and Eunbi?”

“Oh. We broke up a week ago,” he mutters, fiddling with the edge of the sweater sleeve.

“What? I thought you liked her! You liked her since last year!”

“She didn’t feel like my soulmate.”

“Soulmate?” you repeat incredulously. “We literally just got our first boyfriend and girlfriends, and you’re already thinking of soulmates?”

“Well, you broke up with your first boyfriend, too,” he fires back.

“Yeah, because I didn’t like him that way,” you explain slowly, “But you just broke up with her because you didn’t think she was your soulmate? How can you even tell who your soulmate is?”

“I’ll know!” he exclaims defensively before smirking and leaning forward, “Just like how you know Taehyung is your soulmate.”

Your face flushes, and you scowl at him. “He is not my soulmate.”

“But you want him to be,” he teases you, and you throw a discarded crumpled paper at him. He easily dodges you much to your disdain. “Well, you didn’t deny it.”

Your voice is quiet when you finally answer him.

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE THIRTEEN.

At the age of thirteen, you discover red tattoos. No one had told you anything about them before, and you didn’t even know they existed until Yoongi showed up at Jin and Taehyung’s house with one. While Jin was ecstatic about the discovery of his own tattoo and his girlfriend’s turning a pretty shade of matching gold a few months earlier, the same could not be said for his friend.

When Jin quickly pushes Yoongi past everyone with prying eyes and up to his room, you hear faint mumblings from the smaller teenager about not wanting to go home just yet. Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook had begun to shout happy birthday, which quickly dies down when the two older boys brush past them, ignoring the drooping birthday banner entirely. You are the only one to see the new glaring tattoo on Yoongi’s wrist. You recognize the name as belonging to a very kind upperclassman who had graduated from your middle school a couple years ago. But what you don’t understand was the color of the tattoo.

It is crimson.

When you go home that day, you ask your parents during dinner why a tattoo would be scarlet. Your parents exchange indiscernible looks before your mom quietly answers your question.

“Your tattoo turns red when you meet your soulmate... but their soulmate isn’t you.”

At only thirteen years old, you learn that the soulmate system isn’t fair.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE FOURTEEN.

After encouraging Jungkook to try out for football and finding out he made the team, you no longer had a walking buddy to go home with. When Taehyung found out about this, he had taken it upon himself to designate himself as your new walking buddy. And every day, without fail, he greeted you at your locker, and the two of you started the journey back home.

You were halfway to your houses when Taehyung halted in his tracks, dropping his backpack on the ground and unzipping it before rummaging through its contents. You patiently wait for him a few steps ahead, gazing at the pretty flowers blooming alongside the road.

You hear him close his backpack and make his way towards you once more. “Hey, can you hold this for me real quick?”

You outstretch your hand, paying no mind to whatever it is, when he nimbly slides his fingers through yours and squeezes your hand gently. His hand is large and warm, enveloping yours completely in a way that makes you feel safe instantly. Eyes widening, you stare down at your intertwined hands, mouth agape.

“I—we’re holding hands,” you manage to stammer out, and he smiles at you, albeit nervously.

“Is that okay? Sorry, I should have asked first and—”

“No, it’s okay, I like yo—I mean, I like it.”

There’s an ear splitting grin across his face now as his eyes sparkle like the stars. “Were you about to say you like me?”

“W-well, I—”

Stammering, you start to back away, but Taehyung tugs you towards him. Your face can rival a tomato at this point, but all you can focus on is how close his face is to yours. You can count nearly every single one of his long dark lashes framing his pretty eyes, and you so badly want to kiss the little mole on the tip of his nose. He gently places a kiss to your cheek, and your heart nearly implodes.

“I like you, too.”

You don’t think it’s possible to feel any happier than you did that day.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE FIFTEEN.

Jungkook lounges around on your bed as you pace back and forth in front of him in your heels. Taehyung is taking you to junior prom, and you had spent months, searching for the perfect dress, and even had Jisoo and Joy come and do your makeup and hair.

“Calm down. You look fine.” Jungkook says, looking up from his phone.

“What if I trip and fall down the stairs? What if I spill food? Oh god, what if I step on his foot during the dance?”

“_______, listen to me.” Jungkook stands up in front of you. “I’m one hundred percent sure that if you trip and fall, Taehyung will help you up. If you drop your food, he’d get you a new plate. If you step on his foot, he’ll still love you.”

“We, uh, we’ve never really said the L-word yet,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“_______, he’s whipped,” your best friend deadpans. “Trust me, he’s in love with you.”

When Taehyung knocks on the door to pick you up, your father sets him with a steely look before letting him in. He waits anxiously for you with your corsage in his hands. And when you descend down the steps, he is absolutely enamored. He nearly drops the flowers and stumbles over his words as he tells you that you look beautiful. He shakily slides the corsage onto your wrist, and your mother refuses to let the two of you go without taking a dozen or so pictures.

He drives the two of you to the dance, hand clutching yours the entire time. The two of you loudly sing along to every love song on the radio, and he presses your hand to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss, at every red light.

When the two of you are at the dance, he pulls you closer for every slow song. At some point, you pass by Jimin, and he winks at you before whisking off his date. The paper decorations and crinkling stars spin around gently overhead as the blue lights are dimmed, and Taehyung softly sings along to the ballad to you. You rest your head on his shoulder, swaying along to his voice.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, and you raise your head to look up at him. His hair is ruffled, and there’s the softest expression on his face as his eyes shine. He leans down and captures your mouth against his. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, a hazy smile playing on his lips.

“I love you.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SIXTEEN.

Taehyung knocks on your window at 11:55 p.m. and you carefully open it, scared of waking up your parents. He crawls in before pulling you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into the cozy sweater he is wearing.

“Five more minutes until your birthday,” you murmur, and he squeezes you to his chest even tighter. You can hear his heart thudding so quickly, and you imagine yours is the same.

“I wish time would stop. I want it so badly to be your name,” he whispers, and your heart almost stops. “If it’s not yours…”

He can’t bring himself finish the sentence, and you tilt your face towards him to kiss him gently. When you pull away, he laughs softly, leaning down and giving you one more kiss.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to ever stop loving you even if it’s not your name, sunshine. Your laughter, your smile, your very being, I don’t know if I can live without you.”

When midnight comes, you and Taehyung stare at the black ink now permanently found on his wrist: your name in pretty cursive. He embraces you, laughing breathlessly, as he can’t tear his eyes away from the new marks on his skin. He tenderly traces his finger across your cheek before cupping your chin and leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. His eyes hold all the stars in them as he stares into yours with the loveliest gaze.

“It’s you. It’s always been you. You’re my first and last.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE SEVENTEEN.

It is the day before Jungkook’s birthday, and you know he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. He texts you nonstop the moment he wakes up, asking you if you think the new pretty transfer student could be his soulmate or maybe the girl who sits three seats behind him in AP Physics. Or perhaps, his soulmate lives on a different continent and in that case, how is he supposed to meet her then? You reassure him about all his worries, and he continues to message you about the various scenarios he’s conjured up in his mind about how they will meet and how he’ll ask her out.

Your phone buzzes nonstop up until midnight.

And then it’s radio silence.

He leaves your text message unanswered when you ask him who she is. You are left wondering the entire night. Perhaps, it’s someone he doesn’t like. Maybe she already has a soulmate. What if he didn’t get a tattoo?

He continues to evade you at school and everywhere else. His friends prove to be no help, and when his mother can only offer you an apologetic smile when you visit his house for the nth time this month, you finally give up.

Losing your best friend hurts more than you can ever imagine.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE EIGHTEEN.

Today is the day.

Today was not just any Friday or your regular school day. It was The Day. You had woken up earlier than usual, giddier than usual, as you went through your morning routine and set off for school. Classes felt as if they went in slow motion; you were more preoccupied with watching the hands of the clock tick tock around and around in circles until it reached 3 p.m. Your friends all gave you shouts of encouragement, and you waved at them before rushing home.

You tried to concentrate on your homework and managed to do the bare minimum needed. Dinner was a rushed affair, and your parents exchanged knowing looks.

After all, today was the last day without a tattoo.

When midnight appears, you will finally have the name of your soulmate written upon your skin.

You are pacing back and forth in your room, impatiently waiting for the last few hours to trickle by, when the doorbell is heard throughout the house. You hear your father opening the door before the sound of footsteps are pattering up the stairs.

“How have you been, sunshine?”

Eyes widening and heart nearly stopping in your chest, you immediately turn your attention to the figure leaning against the doorway. Taehyung widely smiles back at you, and you immediately rush into his embrace, burying your face in the space between his neck and shoulder.

“I’ve missed you!” you manage to mumble out despite pressing your face into his shirt, inhaling as you are hit with the familiar faint scent of strawberries, pine, and home. His laugh vibrates through his chest, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you, too. I tried to take the earliest train after my last class to come here, but I’m a little late, sorry. But I made it! Oh, and here! I got you these.”

He presents to you a lovely bouquet of sunflowers, lavenders, and baby’s breath. “The flower shop lady helped me pick them out, and I even learned the meanings of each one.”

“They’re gorgeous,” you breathe out, carefully taking them into your hands. “Thank you so much, Tae.”

He grins sheepishly. “Anything for you.”

When the two of you finish getting a vase and arranging the flowers to stand on your desk, you and Taehyung are curled up together on your bed. You lean your head on his shoulder, still admiring the flowers.

“What do they each mean?”

“The sunflowers are for loyalty and happiness,” he starts, taking your hand into his gently. “The lavenders are for devotion.” He then intertwines his fingers and yours tightly. “And the little white flowers are for long lasting love.” He carefully tugs your hand up, placing a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

He flips your hand over to reveal the blank canvas on your wrist. Carefully, he traces his name on the empty expanse of your wrist with a soft smile making its way across his lips. “Are you excited?”

“Yes.” You reach out to grab his other hand and lovingly trace the familiar letters etched on his wrist. “I still can’t believe you have my name.”

You line your arm up next to his. “And in a few moments, I’ll finally have yours.”

He nuzzles his nose in your hair before you lean up and place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. He laughs, giddy at the mere thought, before excitedly giving you a proper kiss.

A fleeting feeling of warmth spreads across your wrist, and the two of you finally part, dizzily smiling at each other, before gazing at your new tattoo. Suddenly, it feels like someone has dumped an entire bucket of ice water on you. Your blood runs cold, your heart stops, and the mismatched colors start to blur as the tears begin to cluster.

Rather than matching gold on your wrists, the taunting colors of ebony and crimson glare back at you.Your name, now in red, is branded harshly on Taehyung’s skin.

And there, permanently stamped on your own wrist, are unapologetically bolded letters in black.

Jeon Jungkook.

You blink away the tears, staring at the name in horror. Immediately, you begin scrubbing away at your wrist, shades of red blooming on your skin, as you try to scratch the name off. Taehyung covers your wrist with his hand, grabbing your hands with his other.

“Please stop,” he says softly, “you’re hurting yourself.”

“No! I don’t—I don’t understand!” Your voice cracks before it rises in volume. “This isn’t right! This is a mistake! This is wrong! They gave me the wrong name!”

The sound of rushing footsteps is unheard over your cries, but your parents soon crowd into the room. “W-what’s going on?”

Hysterical, you wave your wrist wildly in their direction before clawing at the black script in despair. “This is the wrong name! This isn’t Tae’s name! Why isn’t it Tae’s name?”

You collapse on your bed, tears pouring freely down your cheeks, as your parents finally see the tattoos of red and black adorning his and your wrists. Taehyung gently gathers you in his arms, and your hands desperately clutch onto the front of his shirt as you bury your face into his chest. Numb, you can barely register the feeling of wetness on the crown of your head as he embraces you tightly and cries with you.

At the age of eighteen, you experience heartbreak for a second time.

At only eighteen years old, you learn that the soulmate system is cruel.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Your birthday is not a celebration, but rather, a farewell.

Saturday is dreary with gray clouds hanging overhead. Stray pieces of newspaper are scattered by the wind, flapping around aimlessly. Save for a few other people far from earshot, you and Taehyung are alone on the train platform in the early morning.

“Sunshine...” he begins before swallowing hard. “_______, I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

You freeze, staring at the train tracks in front of you. They run parallel, stretching on for miles, never touching.

“_______?”

“You don’t mean that,” you say at last, voice barely above a whisper.

“We don’t belong together,” he says quietly. He reaches out for your hand before stopping himself, retracting his hand slowly. “You don’t belong with me.”

You grab his hand and hold on tightly. “Stop saying that. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“_______... I’m not your soulmate.” His voice breaks, and he finally turns to you, cupping your chin gently with his hand. His gaze is soft, but resolute. “Your soulmate isn’t me. I can’t make you as happy as your soulmate can. You were made for me, but I wasn’t made for you.”

“Tae...”

He leans down, and his lips touch yours tenderly, before he pulls away. His eyes still glimmer like all the stars. Stars always shine the brightest before they extinguish. He smiles wistfully, caressing your cheek softly, before hugging you tightly. “Thank you for making me so happy. Even if it’s not with me, I want you to find happiness, too. I want you to have the love you deserve.

Thank you for loving me. You’re my first and last.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Taehyung doesn’t return any of your calls. You simply receive radio silence from him from there on out. And you tried reaching him on nearly every single mode of social media possible. His parents offered no help either, merely polite answers and avoidance of mentioning their son. Jin is sympathetic, but you hit a wall with him as well.

Your friends had said nothing since two Sundays ago during your birthday party. They had made no mention of your new ink after they noticed it covered by several large bracelets and hair ties. The only acknowledgment from them were well wishes of happy birthday and thoughtfully chosen presents. They comfort you, exchanging words of condolence and sharing tubs of your favorite ice cream, when you finally told them about the red tattoo, but left out the name of your soulmate.

At school, you remain quiet, barely participating in conversations. Rosé looks at you worriedly as you push back and forth the vegetables on your lunch tray absentmindedly.

“_______, are you feeling okay?” She gently pries, and you smile tiredly at her.

“I’m fine, really, I—” you cut yourself off, spotting a familiar figure disappearing out the cafeteria door. “Hold on.”

You jump out of your seat, leaving your friends bewildered, as you rush towards the same entrance, pushing your way out into the hallway.

“Jungkook!”

Your voice rings out, bouncing against the walls, and the boy stops temporarily before speeding up. You run down the hallway now, hand reaching out until your fingers wrap around his arm. He finally turns to look at you for the first time in months, and when his eyes meet yours, the tingling feeling of warmth begins to make its way across your wrist.

You rapidly shove up the sleeve of your sweater, now staring at the glowing, glittering letters of gold stretched across your skin. You only faintly register the gasp from Jungkook when he recognizes his own name before he exposes his own wrist, your name emblazoned in the identical color.

“You... you’re my soulmate,” he whispers, gazing at the shimmering names, almost entrances. He reaches out to touch his name, but you jerk your arm away, covering it up with your sweater once more.

“This isn’t—this isn’t right,” you start to back away and turn away. “It’s supposed to be red.”

“Red? You wanted a red tattoo?” Jungkook grabs your hand and stares at you incredulously.

“God, Jungkook, you ruined everything!” You yank away your hand and start to storm off down the hallway, but Jungkook refuses to let you get the last word, calling out from behind you.

“Are you kidding me? I ruined everything? I didn’t choose to be your soulmate!”

You whirl around on your heel, fiercely looking him in the eye. “No, Jungkook. Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you tell me you had my name instead of avoiding me like the plague? What the hell is wrong with you? You refused to talk to me at all and now you just expect me to accept this?”

“Because I thought my tattoo would be red!” he explodes, “Because I’ve been waiting for my soulmate my whole life, and then I saw it was you. I thought you and Tae are soulmates, so mine would be red. Why would you want a red tattoo?”

“Because this is a mistake!” you burst out. “It’s supposed to be Tae! I thought if this turned red, that meant the whole thing would be a mistake, that it’d be okay that Tae’s tattoo is red because both of ours would be the same color!”

“The universe doesn’t make mistakes!”

“Then what is this?” You bare your wrist at him, the sparkling letters making him wince. “We’re not even in love!”

“A lot of soulmates didn’t know each other and weren’t in love when they got their tattoos!”

“Well, we’ve known each other forever! We didn’t fall in love!”

He falls silent, and the two of you just stand there. And for the first time in a long time, you really take a look at him. He looks scared and small, shoulders hunched. You know this isn’t fair for either one of you. You know how long he’s waited for his soulmate. You can’t imagine what he went through alone when he received his tattoo.

Finally, you turn and leave.

He doesn’t stop you.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You avoid Jungkook after that. It becomes an unspoken rule between the two of you to stay clear of one another. Your last message to Taehyung about your changed tattoo two months ago was left unanswered. As much as it pains you to sound like any other angst filled teenager, your friends and parents don’t understand you. They don’t understand why you refuse to acknowledge your soulmate. High school relationships aren’t meant to last, your mother says, your soulmate is the one made for you. You wonder if she would be relaying the same sentiments about short-lived juvenile relationships if your tattoo spelled out Taehyung’s name.

“How is he?” you ask, lingering near the CD racks and trailing your fingers across the spines of them. Yoongi remains a few steps ahead of you, sorting through the box of discs in his hand to place the correct one on the shelves. After graduating college, he had taken on a second job at the music store downtown in exchange for working in the backroom music studio at night for free.

“He’s… better. His latest art piece is nominated for an art show.”

“Oh, that’s amazing!” You reach over to pick up a few CDs from the box and arrange them on the shelves. “I’m really happy for him—”

“_______.”

“—and if he gets into the art show, maybe I can go and see it!”

“_______.” You stop short as Yoongi calls out to you a second time. “What?”

“This isn’t good for you.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” You reach out to grab another CD to shelf, but Yoongi drops the carton on the floor. “Listen to me, _______. You need to move on. This isn’t what Taehyung would want.”

You drop your hands to your side, shoulders sagging. “How would you know that?”

“Because I have a red tattoo, too.”

His quiet confession shakes you to the core. While you had caught a glimpse of it five years ago, he had never mentioned anything about his tattoo to anyone after that day. Everybody else had merely assumed he will meet his soulmate sometime in the future, and you sometimes wonder if what you remembered was a figment of your imagination. But he lays out the bare truth right here and there.

“You—I—what?”

“We were school friends. She never knew I had her name though. She had her tattoo first. I saw her fall in love with her soulmate. I saw her tattoo turn gold when he came to school with her name the day after his birthday. I saw when her name turned gold for him. I wondered why mine turned red instead.” He stops suddenly before glancing over at you. “Do you know what’s the most fucked up part about a red tattoo? You get to feel your soulmate’s most intense emotions.”

Your mouth feels dry, and you want to reach out towards him but for some reason, you can’t.

“I felt it when she cried over her father’s death. I felt it when she found out she got accepted into med school.” He swallows hard. “I felt it when he proposed to her, and she said yes.”

“Yoongi…”

“But you know what?” he continues, eyes turning fierce as he finally fixates on you. “Feeling her become happy… that was my peace. My soulmate was the happiest she’s ever been when she’s with him.”

You are silent, and Yoongi reaches down to pick up the discarded box. He resumes stacking various CDs and records on the walls and shelves.

“That’s how I know.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You had sat down on the bleachers, gazing out across the football field in front of you. Practice had still gone on for another fifteen minutes, but you knew Jungkook spotted you the moment you stepped near the grass. When he walks off the field, you are waiting for him by the entrance.

“What is it?” He is guarded, and you don’t blame him.

“I just…” You start, but trail off, and his eyes soften. He notices the defeated look in your eyes, but your eyes don’t waver when you stare into his, asking gently, “Do you really think we can really fall in love?”

He falters, his hand coming up to wrap around his wrist and gently touching the golden script. He looks down and traces the letters of your name.

“Of course. We’re soulmates.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When you announce to your parents that you and Jungkook have begun dating, you can’t help but loathe the way your mother’s eyes light up and how easily your father accepts him into the family. Your friends chatter on excitedly about prom and how the two of you will easily win King and Queen. Jungkook is the star quarterback after all, and your high school is a living cliché, so you don’t doubt that he would get the crown. Everyone accepts you and him together as a pair.

All because of a tattoo.

As you take down the pictures of you and Taehyung and the small mementos in your room—all the things that documented your relationship and remind you of him—you can’t bring yourself to throw them away. So you tuck them into a shoebox and push it into the corner of the tallest shelf in your closet.

However, the vase of dried sunflowers, lavenders, and baby’s breath remains on your desk.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

How do you dress when you’re going out on a date with your best friend? Well, former best friend, but still. Rummaging through your dresser drawers and closet, you try on various outfits before finally opting for a pair of jean shorts and your favorite shirt for a bit of luck. You put on a pair of comfortable shoes before slipping out the door and sitting on the front porch steps, waiting for Jungkook. Your friends have all sent their well wishes and good luck’s to you in the group chat, and you reply to them in the meantime.

“Hey, _______.” Jungkook awkwardly stands in front of you, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. “I was thinking we could go to the arcade?”

“Alright.” You give him a half smile as you stand up, and the two of you begin the walk alongside each other to your destination. You walk in silence, but you feel comfortable, a slight hazy feeling coming into play. There’s something that draws you to him that wasn’t there before, and it slightly unnerves you with how at ease you are just within mere minutes of your date.

Jungkook must have felt the same way because a few seconds later, his hand gently brushes against yours once or twice, before he bravely slips his hand into yours. And they fit perfectly together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

As if your hand was meant to be held by his.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

A month into your newfound relationship, you find new flowers on your desk.

When you finally reach home after finishing your afterschool club activities, you find Jungkook sitting on your bed, waiting for you like old times. He smiles proudly, greeting you happily, and you are slightly confused until you notice the fresh flowers. Blooming daffodils, daisies, peonies, and roses burst forth in bright colors.

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise if I replaced your flowers… they were all dried and… _______, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

To your surprise, you belatedly realize there are tears slipping down your cheeks, and before you can wipe them away, he stands in front of you, tending brushing them away. The way his fingers gently graze on the apples of your cheeks leave a trail of sparks on your skin, and you can’t bring yourself to push him away. His face is inches from you, and you know he finally registers this fact when his eyes flicker down to your lips, and he swallows nervously. Hesitantly, he slowly leans in, and his lips meld against yours perfectly.

It’s your first kiss with him, and it’s perfect.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE NINETEEN.

Jungkook makes it onto the football team at the university you both decide to attend, and you go to every single home game, sitting in the bleachers alongside your friends and wearing his jersey number. When his team scores the winning touchdown and the game is over, he runs over to you, clambering up the bleachers to meet you, adrenaline still rushing through his veins, as he pulls you in for a kiss with a breathless “I love you” slipped in between.

“My lucky charm,” he affectionately calls you as the two of you celebrate together with the team and their significant others at a nearby diner.

“Kook, it’s all you,” you say, giggling before stealing several fries from his plate. Grabbing an onion ring from your dish in retaliation, he shakes his head. “Nah, it’s because you’re there cheering me on.”

“And you’re here.” He taps his wrist where your name still glimmers like the very first day. “You’re with me on the field, too. My lucky charm.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWENTY.

It’s winter break, and with your parents gone for the weekend, Jungkook sleeps soundly next to you. You stare at your phone, watching as the clock ticks down each second from 11:59 p.m. until it hits midnight. Your thumb hovers over ‘send’ button as the simple text message of three words stares back at you.

Happy Birthday, Taehyung.

Jungkook rolls over, wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you closer to him. He nuzzles his face in your hair before drowsily murmuring, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Kook. Go to sleep,” you whisper, and he curls himself around you even more, nodding off. You take one last look at the message before deleting it and setting your phone on the nightstand next to you.

That night, your dreams are visited by a boy with stars in his eyes and sunflowers tucked in his hair.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWENTY-ONE.

The two of you sit across from each other in the café, partaking in another one of your join study sessions. You help him with math, and he helps you with science. It’s a great trade off, save for the fact that Jungkook tries his utmost best to distract you from your work at all times.

“Hey, _______. Give me your hand.”

“Why, so you can give me your hand to hold?” You say absentmindedly as you flip to another page of the chemistry textbook in front of you. Jungkook chuckles, reaching out and taking your hand himself. “No, but if you wanted me to hold your hand, you could’ve just asked.”

“No, I—” You stop yourself as nostalgia from a past familiar memory hits you like a tidal wave. A similar conversation with a different boy replays itself in your mind, and that familiar pang in your heart resurfaces. “Never mind, what is it?”

Jungkook gazes at you with an unreadable expression before brightening up and sliding on a folded paper ring onto your right ring finger. He raises his own hand and wriggles his fingers around to show you a matching one. “Look, I made us couple items. Custom, one of a kind soulmate items!”

You hide a smile. “Is that what you’ve been doing instead of studying?”

“I’m trying to be cute here, and you ruined it,” he whines, frowning, and you laugh before reaching out and squeezing his hand, familiar tingles spreading down from your fingertips, your heart speeding up just a fraction. You feel so, so happy—the happiest you have ever been.

“Thank you, Kook.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

AGE TWENTY-TWO.

The opened envelope produces a creamy white invitation that announces the matrimonial union between Jin and his girlfriend. You stare at it, the RSVP portion laying out in front of you, pen held loosely in your hand. Your mother insisted that you go, while slipping in a thinly veiled hint about how you can learn from it when the time comes for you to plan a perhaps near future wedding.

“Jin’s getting married? We’re going, right?” Jungkook comes up behind you, and you nearly jump out of your skin, the pen clattering onto the counter. Chuckling, he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. You curse the butterflies that still erupt in your stomach every time.

“Y-yeah, I guess we are.” You watch as Jungkook picks up the pen and checks all the boxes before tucking it back into the return envelope. “C’mon, let’s go send this out. Lisa’s been giving me the stink eye ever since I came into your apartment.”

“She’s still mad at you for eating that last slice of cake she was saving last week.”

“I said I was sorry!”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You knew he would be there, but nothing could have prepared you for seeing him again for the first time in so long.

Taehyung stands as best man for his brother, looking as beautiful as ever. It’s been four years, yet he looks the same as he used to, perhaps a little softer around the edges. Your eyes are focused on him throughout the entire ceremony, absorbing in his presence. His hands are clasped in front of him, and you wonder if they are still as soft and warm as they were on the very first day he held your hand. His lips are pulled into a genuine smile, one that you haven’t seen in ages and very dearly miss, as he laughs at the amusing parts of his brother’s written vows. His eyes gleam brighter than ever, like all the stars are captured within them, and your heart aches as you wish, just once, he would glance over in your direction.

When the ceremony is over, Jungkook takes your hand as you walk over to the reception. The two of you drop off your gift before making your way over to the artfully decorated tables, searching for your name cards. As you weave around the tables scanning the place cards, you bump into someone, teetering slightly in your heels, and they quickly grab your arm, steadying you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You laugh a little sheepishly before looking up. Familiar eyes—ones teeming with all the stars and unspoken words—gaze back at you, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe as the air is knocked out of your lungs. Suddenly, you feel like you are fourteen again, a silly teenage schoolgirl stuck on a crush. You are suddenly hyperaware of how his hand gently grasps your elbow still, and how much you miss his warmth when he lets you go.

“It’s okay, sunshine.” His quiet baritone voice is heard before he gives you a soft smile and walks off.

Jungkook squeezes your hand, and startled, you look over at him, still dazed. He purses his lips slightly before saying, “I think our table is over there.”

“Okay.” You follow after him, and the rest of the night passes by quietly.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

We need to talk.

After complete silence from his end for the past few days, the simple text message from your boyfriend filled you with dread, and when you walked through the door of his apartment, the tension was already palpable. You sit down at the kitchen table with an untouched mug of green tea with a teaspoon of honey prepared beforehand for you. He is leaning against the counter, a similar mug placed next to him.

“You’re still in love with him.”

His voice cracks the silence, and you wince as the accusation hangs in the air.

“We barely spoke to each other.”

“God, _______, you didn’t even need to! Literally everyone in the room could tell.” He paces around back and forth. “It was obvious that he still loves you. It was obvious that you still love him!”

You stay silent, angry and sad tears beginning to mingle, and you harshly blink them away. He looks at you, frustrated, as his hand wraps around the mug in front of him tightly. “It took us months, years to get our relationship to where it is now, and he undoes it all in seconds! I don’t understand it! I don’t even know if you love me.”

His voice wavers near the end, and your heart wrenches. You start to speak up, but he shakes his head, forlorn, as he asks quietly, “If the situation was reverse… if I was the one with the red tattoo, would you fight for me, too?”

Your heart clenches in your chest, and you turn away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I see.”

“Kook,” you plead with him softly, “It’s not like that…”

“Then enlighten me please. What’s it really like?”

“You just—you want me to stay with you because of the tattoo, and then, you expect me to stay with you if you didn’t have the tattoo? I don’t understand what you want!” You stand up from the table, the chair making the most horrific screech across the tiled surface.

“I want you to choose me!” Jungkook bursts out, roughly wiping away a stray angry tear. “We both had your name on our wrists, mine was the gold one, yet you still chose him! You always chose him. Even now, you choose him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” he laughs bitterly, “I’m your soulmate after all. Even if you don’t want me to be, I am. I know you better than anyone else.”

Silence falls like a heavy weight, and neither of you makes a move. The two of you sit there on opposite ends of the table like opposing sides of a chessboard, until you finally crack.

“Jungkook, do you even love me?”

“Of course I love you!” Jungkook raises his voice, frustratingly carding his hand through his hair before his voice softens, “I love you.”

“But why?” you whisper, “Why would you love me?”

“Why?” he repeats incredulously. “Because you’re my soulmate.”

“But, Kook, that’s the thing,” you say softly as you finally look him in the eye. “You love me because I’m your soulmate.

But would you have fallen in love with me if I wasn’t?”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Jungkook finds himself wandering the streets for several hours afterwards, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as he replays your words over and over in his mind. What did you mean by that? He loves you for you because well, you are his soulmate. The universe chose you for him and him for you. The word ‘soulmate’ and you are synonymous. Aren’t they?

When Jungkook looks around, he realizes that his feet had taken him to the front of a very familiar bar. Stepping inside, he is welcomed by Namjoon with a wave and shuffles over to take a seat in front of the dimpled bartender.

“How have you been?” his friend greets him, already pouring out the usual drink order.

“Confused,” he answers honestly. “Joon, what do you think about soulmates?”

Namjoon sets the drink down in front of him. “It’s an interesting system. We’re taught that there is someone out there who’s perfect for you, yet it’s never specified in what way. We all assume it is a romantic bond, but who’s to say it’s not platonic?”

“So you’re saying best friends can be soulmates?”

“Soulmates are about a connection between two people,” he explains, “A soulmate is someone who understands you on the deepest level. Your minds have this unexplainable connection strengthened by mutual respect, understanding, and love. It’s someone who can understand your mind and heart and accepts you for who you are. Whether that is platonic or romantic, I believe it can vary.”

“So then _______ and I were made for each other,” mumbles Jungkook, tracing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “The universe doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Tell me, Jungkook. What do you think of those with red tattoos?”

“Well, they’re mista—” he cuts himself short, jaw going slack.

“But the universe doesn’t make mistakes,” Namjoon hums as he wipes down the counter.

“They’re meant to be alone then.”

“Then why are they given a tattoo to begin with?”

He falls silent, staring at the amber liquid in front of him. Is it possible to have multiple soulmates? Only one name shows up on your wrist though. Not two. Just one. His.

“But it’s my name on her wrist.”

“Do you love her, Jungkook?”

“Of course I do,” he says, his hands curling into the small fists, “She’s my soulmate.”

“Does she love you?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because…” He unfurls his hands, small crescent shaped indents now littering his palms. You do love him. But not because of some soulmate tattoo. And he knows that—

“… Because she stayed. Because she loves me enough to stay.”

For all these years, he finally realizes, you did choose him. You chose to stay with him. You chose to be with him.

“But I know she loves him more,” he murmurs. “And I know he loves her, too. He’s been in love with her from the beginning. And that’s what I don’t understand. He had her, and he let her go.”

“Taehyung loves her enough to let her go,” Namjoon muses, tapping his fingers on the scratched wooden surface. He looks at Jungkook, gazing at him with such intensity that the boy, for some reason, cannot look away.

“Do you?”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When you return to your apartment after your last class the next day, Lisa greets you before gesturing towards the envelope on the counter.

“He left that for you.”

She disappears into her room soon after, and you gingerly pick it up. Opening the envelope, you tip the contents out and find a folded note resting in the palm of your hand. Unfolding the lined paper, you instantly recognize the messy scrawls of handwriting.

Thank you for loving me.

Taped to the bottom is a familiar, well-worn paper ring.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Tae!”

You bang on his door loudly. Several minutes pass, but you remain persistent, knocking on the door in rapid succession, until the sound of rushing feet is heard, and the door swings open. Taehyung stands before you, a look of shock quickly morphing into one of concern and confusion.

“What are you doing here? How do you know I’m here?”

“Yoongi finally told me.”

“Sunshine… you shouldn’t be here.” He looks tired, sad, as he retreats back into his apartment, beginning to close the door. “You should go back home. To Jungkook.”

“We broke up.”

His eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“Because I love you.”

The words tumble out of your mouth as you listen to your heart for the first time, rather than your mind, soulmate system be damned. Your heart pounds faster than ever in your chest, blood rushing through your veins, as you stare at the man in front of you.

Taehyung inhales sharply. “Sunshine, you belong with your soulmate, not me.”

“No. No, I don’t belong with someone because of some ink on my wrist. I belong with someone because I choose to be with them. Because I choose to want them. Because I choose to love them.”

You take a step forward, and Taehyung watches you with soft eyes as you gently touch his face, your bodies now millimeters away from each other. There are no sparks, no electricity igniting beneath your fingertips, but you feel a comforting warmth that curls around your heart and makes it bloom.

“I love you, Tae,” you repeat softly, “I’ve always loved you. You’re my first and last.”

So you close the distance and press your lips against his.

You choose the boy with the starry eyes.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

EPILOGUE.

Rays of morning sunlight peek through the gossamer curtains hanging on the windows, creating light patterns upon the duvet. With his arm draped around your waist and his other one resting beneath your head, you are held gently in your husband’s embrace. Still chasing the last remnants of sleep, you drowsily rub your eyes. Tilting your head upwards, the corners of your lips tip upwards into a soft smile at the sight that meets your eyes.

The light hits his face in all the right angles, shining the softest of glows that illuminates his sun kissed skin. It filters through his long, dark eyelashes, casting shadows onto his cheeks. Small puffs of breath escape between his lips with a quiet snore. His hair falls close to his eyes, and you carefully brush the strands away.

“Mama! Daddy!”

A bundle of energy launches herself at the two of you with a squeal. An audible oomph is heard from next to you as you let out a laugh, pulling into your arms the little girl whose eyes mirror her father’s and smile identical to the one on your face.

“Hello, my little munchkin.” She greets you back happily, rubbing her nose against yours in an Eskimo kiss before sloppily placing a kiss on your cheek. You return the gesture, a kiss gently pressed on both of her rosy cheeks, as she giggles before rolling over to her father.

He groans when one of her flying elbows land in his stomach, but he quickly scoops her up, pulling her into his chest. She wriggles out of his embrace in seconds, but her interest is immediately caught onto a tattoo inked upon her father's wrist that's identical to the one on your own skin, and you already know the next words on the tip of her tongue. It is her favorite question to ask every morning after all.

"What do the flowers mean?" she asks, admiring the art etched permanently upon forgotten, faded letters of red and gold. She clutches her father's hand in one hand and your hand in her other, comparing the two tattoos as seriously as any four-year-old can, and you answer her question softly, smiling over at him, as he gazes at you with the same star struck look in his eyes all those years ago.

"They're called lavenders. They stand for devotion."

But they also stand for so much more. And your daughter will learn this when she’s a little older, whether she chooses to follow the tattoo on her wrist or the one on her heart and whether they are one and the same for her.

“The lavenders stand for how much your daddy and I love each other.”

They stand for shared childhood memories that you hold close to your heart. They stand for late night arguments and loud disagreements that end with good night apologies. They stand for hands that do not perfectly fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but still hold onto each other as tightly as possible. They stand for lips that were not made for each other, but still find each other every morning and every night and all the times in between. They stand for the ups and downs you two had to work for to get to where you are now. They stand for your love for each other. Your first and last.

The journey to finding your love was not easy. It was not like the love story of soulmates. It was not simply a change of color to gold. You had to work for your love by learning to understand each other and enduring hardships together. Your love was not built upon the universe's red strings of fate, but instead, upon trust, loyalty, care, and ultimately, devotion. While your love may not be as intense and solid as a soulmate bond, it runs deeper, stronger, more genuine.

Love is not simply a feeling. Love is a choice. It is choosing to work through the difficulties and hardships instead of taking the easier path and walking away. It is choosing to stay. It is choosing each other yesterday, today, tomorrow, and for the rest of your lives.

It may not be as serendipitous and magnificent as walking on cloud nine hand in hand with the one who was named on your wrist, but you don’t care one bit. It doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t matter at all because he carved out a piece of heaven just for you.

Because Kim Taehyung takes you to cloud ten.

602 notes · View notes

wardenrainwall · 4 years ago

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Words: 2,921 (18,110 Total) Pairing: Blackwall/Inquisitor Cadash/Cullen Rating: Explicit Summary: smut. nothing but smut.

“You’re certain?” Renna asked, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looked at Commander Cullen, stretched out at the foot of her bed, naked as the day was long. This was new territory for them. It had only been a few days since Blackwall and Cullen had approached her and with hands on her hips, she’d shook her head angrily.

“I won’t choose,” she told them.

“We’re not asking you to.”

“Yes,” Cullen said. Then Blackwall swatted Renna’s rump, and it was more sound than sting.

But Renna watched the way Cullen’s already half-hard cock flexed against his belly. Already naked herself, she padded over to the bed and stepped between his thighs.

“Alright, hold your legs up for me.” Cullen obeyed, reaching down as he lifted his feet up onto the edge of the bed, and then hooked his hands behind his knees and drew his legs back and spread them wide. Bearing himself completely. Renna ran her hands along his legs, from ankle to knee, then brushed her hands over his before continuing down along his thighs until she reached the dark blonde curls at the apex of his thighs.

Moisture leaked from the head of his cock, and unable to resist, she leaned down and ran her tongue along the heavy vein to tease the slit. His groan brought a smile to her lips and she drew back, grabbed the bottle of oil, and with one hand drew his cock up, proud and hard and she felt her core tighten in anticipation. She knew how good it felt to have him inside of her.

Tugging the cork free with her teeth, she spat it off to the side, and then with a wicked little grin, she rubbed the bottle along the sensitive head. Cullen hissed, straining against his self imposed restraint. “Fuck, Ren-”

“Cold?” she asked with a smile, then lifted the bottle and poured a hefty amount down over his erection, and her hand. The muscles of his stomach tightened and his cock flexed in her hand as he cursed again. But then she stroked her fist up his length, the oil quickly warming beneath her touch.

Dripping more oil down his length, she watched it slip over his balls, down and soaking into the blanket beneath, oh well, she thought and started to set aside the bottle, but Blackwall took it, poured some into his own hand before wrapping it around his erection while he watched her every move. Shifting her free hand to curl around Cullen’s cock she slid her oil-covered hand lower and lower, cupping and gently fondling his balls before going lower still to the tight puckered hole.

Cullen pressed his head back against the bed, groaning and arching up as she teased and circled the ring of flesh with the tip of one finger, all the while her other hand slowly pumped his erection. Slick with so much oil, she easily breached his opening and was nearly to the second knuckle before he tensed. “I’ve got you,” she murmured. It had been several months since they had done this, but she knew his body nearly as well as she knew his own.

He was flushed, skin damp with perspiration, arching into her touch. Withdrawing her finger almost completely, she leaned down to flick her tongue over the head of his cock. “You’re so pretty,” she told him, the pink flush of his skin seeming to go a shade or two darker. “Beautiful like this.” Renna worked her finger inside, slipping deeper.

Cullen lifted his head enough to look at her, his gaze dark. “Such a good boy,” she continued, felt her own desire slicking her thighs as his cock throbbed in her hand. “Do you think you’re ready?” she gently scraped her thumbnail just below the head of his cock and Cullen let out a quiet hiss. “His cock his thicker than mine,” she murmured. “But the stretch feels so good,” she crooned.

“Yes,” Cullen groaned, his knuckles white as he gripped his thighs. “Fuck, yes, please.”

Withdrawing her hands, Renna glanced over at Blackwall, his gaze was fixed on the two of them, his erection rock hard as he stroked it slowly. With his free hand, he reached up, cupping Renna’s chin to angle her head up for a deep kiss that left her a little dazed. When they broke apart, Renna crawled up onto the bed beside Cullen. “Let go,” she brushed his hands from his legs and straddled his waist.

Taking Cullen’s hands in hers, Renna shifted back until she felt the slide of his cock against her folds. Knuckles brushed against the curve of her ass and she glanced over and heard Cullen’s sharp intake of breath before she realized Blackwall had curved his big hand around Cullen’s length, lining it up with her slit. “Slowly,” it was a soft order and one that Renna would gladly obey. Lacing her fingers with Cullen’s she rested their joined hands on her thighs and sat up straight and felt the thick mushroomed head press against her opening.

“Oh,” her breath left her in a soft sigh at that first initial stretch. And for a moment she forgot herself, her lust addled brain wanted nothing more than to drive down hard, grind against him and feel him pound into her for every bit of his strength. The hard slap against her ass had her gasping in surprise.

“I said, slow,” Blackwall reminded her and she realized she’d already impaled herself nearly halfway on Cullen’s cock.

“Oops,” she flashed him a grin and then turned her face to look at Cullen again. Sweat beaded on his brow and he gripped her hands tighter. She held herself still as Blackwall moved closer, the heat of his body against her back. Then Blackwall’s hands were on Cullen’s legs, positioning them just so.

Cullen stared up at her, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded and she knew the exact moment Blackwall began to push inside. His head punched back against the bed, and his cock seemed to swell inside her. “That’s it,” Blackwall’s voice was rough. Renna resumed her oh-so-slow descent and felt the shudder that ran through Cullen’s body. “You take my cock so well, Commander.”

Renna nearly whimpered. She knew how Cullen liked the praise, and the more foul-mouthed the better. Blackwall had apparently figured that out as well. Fully seated on Cullen’s cock, Renna was trembling and didn’t know how the other two were remaining so calm, she felt as if she were a coiled wire about to break.

She thought it might only take a few strokes of her clit to have her soaring and she was tempted to pry her hand free from Cullen’s to do just that. But then Blackwall’s hips snapped forward and both men let out shouts of pleasure. Then Blackwall began to move, measured strokes, and Renna began to rock her hips as well, to ride Cullen’s cock languorously.

Releasing Cullen’s hands, Renna braced herself against his chest and he held her gaze, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on her thighs as he lay beneath them. Leaning down lower until her breasts brushed against his chest she kissed him softly on the mouth. Tongues met, danced and she felt Blackwall’s thrusts gain speed. “Tell me,” she said, finally breaking the kiss to lick along his jaw to his ear. “How does his cock feel inside you? Better than mine?” Renna lightly scraped a fingernail over one of his nipples, felt it go taut so she did it to the other as well. “Tell me, Commander, I want to hear what it feels like to have his cock inside you.”

Cursing softly, Cullen arched, his breathing was ragged and she didn’t think he’d last long before he came. “Better?” he rasped, swallowed, and moaned when Blackwall gave a particularly sharp thrust of his hips that had his belly slapping against her rump. “Different. Fuck, good. So good.” His arms banded around her, holding her tight to him. “Hot and slick, his cock and your cunt-” Renna clenched around him and he groaned. “Maker, don’t stop.”

“Could you take us both?” Renna asked. “My cock alongside Blackwall’s buried deep inside you, stretching your pretty ass.”

The sound that escaped Cullen’s lips was one of almost desperation. Then his hand fisted in her hair and he yanked her mouth back to his and kissed her hard. “You could take us both,” he said when he broke the kiss, glancing past her, she saw something flit through Cullen’s gaze before he looked at her again. “Just think how well we’d fill your pussy. How hot and sticky you’d be after we came inside you.”

Renna whimpered and felt Blackwall’s thrust speed up, become a little rougher. Then Blackwall reached out and caught her arm, tugging her upright so that her back was against his chest, and it shifted the angle of Cullen’s cock inside her. Her thighs ached from the slow restrained movement, but she knew it was worth every second of it.

“Our beautiful Inquisitor told me about the war table, bending you over it and fucking you. How you begged for her cock.” Blackwall’s hand curved around Renna’s throat, a gentle pressure that while it wasn’t cutting off her breath made her feel dizzy all the same. “I want to hear it. Beg to feel her come around you, to spend yourself inside her. Be a good boy and beg for my cock. And if you do it prettily enough, you might get it all.”

Renna was lost to it all. She heard Cullen’s voice, caught snatches of words. Harder. Fuck me. Let me. Blackwall’s fingers were on her clit, his other hand still on her throat, Cullen’s hands found her breasts, and she felt each of Blackwall’s rough trusts as she ground down on Cullen’s cock. “Come for me, love,” Blackwall’s mouth was against her ear, but through her hazy vision, she knew that Cullen and Blackwall gazes were locked. “Come on the Commander’s cock for me, clamp down around him and milk him of every last drop of come.”

It was as if they’d perfectly coordinated it. Cullen’s hips bucked up, while he caught her nipples between his knuckles and squeezed just enough to send a sharp pleasure pain straight to her core, while Blackwall’s grip on her throat tightened, his beard scraped against her throat, and the fingers he had circling her clit found just the right spot that had her vision splintering and a keening cry escaped her lips.

“That’s it, that’s it, oh, fuck,” Blackwall’s voice was distant, even though it was right beside her ear. “Good girl, fuck, Cullen-” hard trusts, and Cullen was pulsing inside her, warm and wet.

“Yes, yes, Maker’s breath, don’t stop, don’t stop-” His fingers were gripping her thighs again, hips lifting as if he could somehow get deeper, fill her more, then Blackwall’s thrusts stuttered and faltered and he let out a curse and a low groan.

Renna’s breathing was ragged as she felt herself being leaned forward, her cheek against Cullen’s sweat-soaked chest. He let out a low groan and turned his face to press a kiss to her forehead. Blackwall moved away from the bed and she was too exhausted and pleasure drunk to call out to him. She heard water splashing, rustling of fabric and then she felt big hands easing her off Cullen’s chest.

Cullen let out a low hum and Renna forced her eyes open and watched Blackwall run the damp cloth he held up Cullen’s thighs and between, cleaning him up. She truly didn’t know how the man had the energy to still stand. Cullen’s hand was low against her belly, his knuckles absently rubbing the top of her curls. Blackwall glanced up from his ministrations and held her gaze as he, instead of using the cloth to clean Cullen’s cock, he lowered his head and took him into his mouth.

Renna’s lips parted and despite the orgasm that still was sending shockwaves through her body, she felt the heat spreading again. Cullen cursed, his hand shooting down to fist in Blackwall’s hair as he arched up into the other man’s mouth. His cock spent, but seemingly desperate for more.

Blackwall spent a few moments, sucking and licking before releasing him, then he turned his attention to Renna. “Up,” he said, nudging her further up the bed so that she lay with her head on the pillows. Cullen rolled out of the way, watching, curious. Big hands spread her thighs, making room from Blackwall’s broad shoulders as he settled on his belly, and licked her from bottom to clit. Heat flushed her cheeks as she thought about the fact that Cullen had just come inside her. But Blackwall didn’t seem at all deterred, if anything, he seemed determined to lap her utterly clean.

It was a slow build, Blackwall’s tongue and lips teasing her, stoking the fire of lust until she was panting and one hand tangled in his hair, the other in the blankets. Beyond the man between her thighs was Cullen, watching intently, his hand stroking his cock. Renna parted her lips, ready to beckon Cullen to her, eager to take him into her mouth, but Blackwall shifted on the bed. He drew up one leg at the knee and arched his hips.

Cullen’s gaze immediately went to the other man’s ass, then back up to Renna’s eyes. “Yes,” she breathed and cried out as Blackwall wrapped his lips around her clit and suckled. “Yes!”

Renna watched, not wanting to miss a single move, as Cullen slid from the bed and found the bottle of oil. He doused his cock, stroking it as it grew harder in his palm. Then he crawled up onto the bed. Oil slick hands cupped Blackwall’s bottom, spread his cheeks, and dipped between. She felt Blackwall’s moan against her cunt and rocked her hips against his mouth.

Cullen poured more oil down the seam of Blackwall’s ass and rubbed his knuckles around the puckered hole. His cock throbbed hard and ready again. He pressed the tip of his oil slick index finger against the ring of flesh and pressed forward. It was so tight and hot, that Cullen didn’t know how he’d manage to fit his cock inside or move once he was there. He also imagined he’d likely come just from the joining.

Renna was panting softly, one of her hands on her breast, the other in Blackwall’s hair as he fucked her with his tongue. Cullen imagined fucking Renna again, Blackwall an extension of his body. “No need to be gentle,” Blackwall tore his mouth away from Renna, glistening wet with come and saliva. “Put your cock inside me and fuck me like you mean it.”

Cullen faltered for a beat, then watched the other man bury his face against Renna’s cunt again, her back arched and she cried out, her fingers tightening in his. He wanted to join in, be a part of that pleasure. So he leaned forward, grabbed a pillow to shove beneath Blackwall’s hips keeping them at the angle he wanted before he pressed the tip of his erection to that tight ring.

He pushed forward, groaned at the slick tight sensation, he wanted to revel in it, savor each inch of his cock sliding forward, but Blackwall arched, pushing his hips back and Cullen found himself unable to help it as he thrust forward sharply, burying his cock to the hilt in Blackwall’s ass. The man beneath him let out a low primal sound, his arms curled around Renna’s thighs and Cullen gave into it. Pressing his hands into Blackwall’s waist, Cullen began to pound into him, just as he’d demanded.

The bed shook with the force of it. “Oh, fuck!” Renna’s back bowed. “Harder, fuck, Ancestors, please!” She watched him, lips parted. “Cullen! Blackwall!” She cried out, thighs shaking, but Blackwall only seemed to redouble his efforts until she was sobbing through another orgasm.

Cullen never wanted this moment to end. He leaned forward and though it limited his movements, his body stretched out along Blackwall’s back, he slid one hand up to the other man’s hair, fingers brushing against Renna’s. His other hand shoved down between the bed and Blackwall to curl around his length. Only a handful of thrusts later, and Cullen felt the tightening at the base of his spine as pleasure rushed through him with the force of a tidal wave.

Beneath him, Blackwall rocked his hips several more times, thrusting against the bed and Cullen’s hand before he felt the pulse and then the spill of come on his fingers.

Long moments passed before Cullen forced himself off the other man, Blackwall’s cheek rested against Renna’s spread thighs, his eyes closed. This time, Cullen got up, made quick work of cleaning himself up before dampening a cloth in the washbasin and returning to the bed to return the favor to Blackwall.

Task finished, the Inquisitor tugged them both up on the bed so that they lay on either side of her as she lay on her back, still breathing a little unsteadily. Cullen propped his head up on his hand, looking down at her, while he rested his other hand on her belly. Blackwall’s hand joined his, their fingers just brushing and Cullen looked over at him and thought that this might be the best decision he’d ever made.

#lemon #smut #dragon age #blackwall #cadash #cullen #blackwall x cadash x cullen #meraadwrites

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headfulloffantasies · 4 years ago

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The Two Padawans

Read on Ao3

There can only be two. One master and one apprentice.

That’s what Skywalker told them. No master trains two at once. The padawan bond is a sacred partnership. That is the Jedi way.

“The Jedi have fallen,” Rey said. She spoke before Finn had fully processed the truth of Skywalker’s words.

Skywalker didn’t want him.

Skywalker wanted Rey.

And why not? Her Force powers excelled far past his. Finn couldn’t lift objects, or stop bolts of blaster fire, or sense the presence of enemies before they appeared.

Skywalker scoffed and turned away. “One master. One apprentice,” he repeated.

“Both or none,” Rey countered.

Skywalker paused. He didn’t turn around when he spoke. “Don’t act with your emotions, Rey. A Jedi does what is best for the universe, not for themselves.”

“Both. Or none,” Rey scowled.

Skywalker twisted to pierce Finn with his blue gaze. “Well, boy? Will you defend your right to be trained?”

Finn’s throat closed. He couldn’t find the words. Did he want to be trained in the ways of the Force? Desperately. Did he think he had any right to demand to be trained? Absolutely not.

Rey stomped on his foot.

“Yessir,” Finn said reflexively. “I do what she does.”

Skywalker glanced between the two of them. He sighed. “Force help me.”

Skywalker beckoned for them to follow him. Finn and Rey scrambled over the rocks of Skywalker’s wet slimy island. They reached a collection of stone huts. Skywalker waved a hand. The door to the smallest hut opened.

“Home sweet home,” Skywalker smirked. “Training starts in the morning.” He headed into a different hut and closed the door.

Rey hopped down the path to their new home. Finn followed slowly.

Finn surveyed the small space. Two bunks set into the stone walls on opposite sides of the hut. No other furnishings adorned the space.

Rey crashed onto the bunk on the left. “We’re finally here,” she whispered at the ceiling. She rolled onto her side. “Finn, we’re going to be Jedi!” A grin lit up her face.

Finn smiled, but his stomach clenched. He had to face the elephant in the room. He was encroaching on Rey’s training. She was the one Skywalker wanted. He didn’t belong here.

Rey laid back and fell immediately asleep. Finn lay down, but sleep alluded him. Doubt bubbled up like water in a well. He’d second guessed this course of action since the second he’d agreed to go with Rey. The Resistance needed fighters. They needed every available body to hold back the First Order. How incredibly selfish of Finn to think he could walk away from the fight. Once upon a time, he’d thought the First Order too powerful to confront. Now, he knew the Resistance had a chance. An even greater chance with Rey’s powers. But Finn? Did he really believe he could become a Jedi?

Blackness shrouded the hut when Rey sat bolt upright. Finn startled.

“What’s going on?” He whispered.

Rey didn’t answer. She slid out of bed. Without looking at Finn, Rey walked out of the hut. Finn scrambled for his boots. He ran after Rey.

“Hey,” he caught up to her. “What is it?”

She didn’t pause in her trek.

“Rey?” Finn reached out. The hair on his arms stood straight up. He snatched his hand back. Finn wavered. Rey couldn’t hear him. He wasn’t even sure she was awake. She continued walking, climbing up the sharp incline of the island. Finn kept step with her. He continued softly calling her name, hoping to snap her out of her state.

Rey reached the peak of the island. She set her feet at the cliff edge. Finn’s heart stuttered. He stretched his hand out to yank her away from the sheer drop off. Rey threw her head back and screamed.

The air vaporized in Finn’s lungs. He grabbed Rey, pulling her against his body. She slumped, going limp in his arms.

Footsteps pounded the trail behind him. Finn turned. Skywalker raced up the slope. His beard and hair stood on end.

“What is this?” Skywalker demanded.

Finn shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Rey stirred in his arms. A light rain began to fall.

Skywalker said, “Let’s get her inside.”

Finn scooped Rey up. She weighed barely anything. Skywalker led Finn into his own hut. The hearth glowed with warm coals. The hut looked exactly like Finn and Rey’s except for the addition of the table and chair. Skywalker gestured for Finn to lay Rey down on his bunk. He did. Skywalker tossed a thick woolen blanket over Rey. Her eyelids flickered, but she didn’t wake.

Skywalker knelt at Rey’s side. He gripped her hand in both of his own. Finn fidgeted behind him.

“Is she okay?” Finn asked.

“Hush,” Skywalker closed his eyes. Finn felt a tug in his gut, like energy pulled towards the pair.

Rey opened her eyes. She sat up. Finn moved to block the door, thinking she would walk out again. Rey frowned at Finn.

“What happened?” She asked.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Finn snapped.

“What did you see?” Skywalker asked Rey.

She blinked. “Kylo Ren. He’s looking for us.” She lifted her gaze to Finn. “He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Does he know where here is?” Skywalker demanded.

“No,” Rey shook her head. “It frustrated him. He wants you, Master Skywalker.”

Skywalker huffed a cruel laugh. “He’ll have to try harder than Force visions.” He clapped Rey on the shoulder. “Today we learn how to shield our minds from intruders.”

“Today?” Finn looked to the window. Sunrise turned the grey clouds silver.

***

Finn hated Force training. He sat cross legged on a rock exposed to the wind and rain for over an hour. His legs fell asleep ages ago. With his eyes closed, Finn couldn’t tell when Skywalker would decide to lash out with the Force. Finn’s mind shield felt like a wet carboard box against a dragon. The shield wobbled. Skywalker struck.

The Jakku night blazed in his mind. Explosions and blaster bolts shot back and forth. Fire raced along Finn’s nerves. He yelped, his eyes snapping open.

“That’s not fair,” Finn gasped. Skywalker stood over him.

“Nothing is fair in life,” Skywalker growled. “Less so for a Jedi. Kylo Ren is already a master in the Force. You have to be strong.

Skywalker turned on Rey. She sat serenely; her hands folded on her crossed knees. With his shields shattered, Finn felt the surge of Force energy unleashed over Rey. She didn’t so much as flinch. Skywalker’s attempt to pierce her mind flowed over her like water over a pebble. Meanwhile, she sat safe inside her pebble, unconcerned with the tides of Skywalker’s offence.

“Good,” Skywalker nodded. “Keep yourself calm. Emotion clouds judgement.”

“Bull,” Finn snapped.

Skywalker whirled on him. “Ridding yourself of attachments is the first rule of the Jedi order,” he said.

“Emotions make us stronger,” Finn argued. “They connect us to people. Give us something to fight for.”

“Fighting, yes,” Skywalker countered. “Anger, fear, hatred, pride, greed, all of these are paths to the Dark Side. With your powers in the Force comes a responsibility to remain in the Light. You have to guard against temptation.”

Skywalker didn’t let Finn argue. He swept passed Finn, his cloak snapping in the wind. “Training is done for today,” Skywalker said.

Rey opened her eyes. She let out a breath like a sigh. “Isn’t this amazing?” She asked. “We’re learning to be Jedi.”

“Maybe you are,” Finn grumbled.

“Oh, come on,” Rey reached over and shoved his shoulder. “It’s only day one. You’ll get better.”

Finn didn’t say what he was thinking. That Skywalker ended the training as soon as Rey had mastered the technique. But Skywalker hadn’t bothered to finish teaching Finn.

Rey got stronger and stronger. Every day she mastered a new use of the Force. Meanwhile, Finn struggled at even the most basic concepts.

Skywalker taught Rey to lift pebbles off the ground without touching them. Then Rey lifted bigger rocks off the ground. The next day, she spun thirteen rocks around her head in a wobbling circle. Every few minutes, Skywalker tossed another rock into the swirling mass.

At the same time, Finn continued to struggle with his measly pebble. He stared hard at it, wishing, hoping, waiting. He stared so hard a sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Come on, come on,” Finn mumbled. “Just one little wiggle. Come on.”

“The Force doesn’t work that way,” Skywalker said.

“Then tell me,” Finn barked. “How exactly does the Force work? How is it supposed to feel?”

He expected Skywalker to walk away. Instead, the old Jedi folded his legs and sat in front of Finn. Skywalker extended a hand and touched the center of Finn’s chest.

“You should feel it here,” Skywalker said. “In your very core. You should be calm. Like the eye of a storm. Then,” Skywalker snapped his fingers. The pebble jumped to his hand. “The Force should react. It should flow like electricity.”

Finn nodded dumbly. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Calm. Finn made his heart settle. He measured the seconds between each heartbeat. Calm. Breath in. Out. Finn extended his mind. Opened his mental shields. The Force flooded in. It didn’t feel like electricity. It felt like water rushing into every crack, every pore of Finn’s being. He became a cup overflowing. He let some of that water rush out.

Finn knew the instant something went wrong. The pebble zoomed so fast it shot at his own face. Finn yelped. He cracked his eyes open. The pebble hovered directly in front of his face. Skywalker’s hand splayed right behind it, holding the rock in place. Finn realised if Skywalker hadn’t anticipated, the stone would have gone right through Finn’s eye. He swallowed hard.

“Control,” Skywalker admonished. “Is the most important discipline a Jedi can learn. That is why we start small.”

The rocks around Rey crashed to the ground. Finn looked up. Rey stretched her hands over her head. “Are we done today?” She asked.

“You are,” Skywalker said. “Go make dinner. We’re going to work a little longer.”

Finn tried to squash the disappointment rising in him. Now that Skywalker offered extra help, Finn couldn’t refuse.

Skywalker waited until Rey vanished down the path to the huts before he spoke.

“I sense great frustration in you,” Skywalker said. “Master it, or it will sour into resentment.”

Finn wanted to say that any resentment was Skywalker’s fault. If his teacher would only spare Finn half the dedication and praise he gave to Rey, then maybe Finn wouldn’t feel like a pot left to simmer on the stove. Maybe he wouldn’t feel like boiling over all the time.

“I don’t have time to coddle you,” Skywalker said as though he’d read Finn’s mind. “The fate of the galaxy lies with you and Rey. If you fail, the Jedi and the Light will die.”

Finn mulled it over.

Skywalker placed the pebble on the ground in front of Finn. “Try again.”

#star wars #rey #finn #luke skywalker #star wars sequel trilogy #the force awakens #jedi finn #jedi training #jedi skywalker #master skywalker #padawan training #padawan #fanifiction #fanfic #star wars fanfic #kylo ren #star wars finn #star wars rey #fix it fic

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newobsessioneveryweek · 5 years ago

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The Merlin AU Nobody Asked For Pilot: Part 1

Merlin - Hyrule

Gwen - Midna

Arthur – Twilight

Morgana - Zelda

Uther – Time

Gawain - Wild

Lancelot - Warrior

Percival - Sky

Blacksmith – Four

Mordred - Wind

Morgause - Cia

Gaius – Legend

Edwin (A Remedy To Cure All Ills S.1 Ep.6) – Ravio

In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young boy. His name: Link.

When a mysterious magic user stumbles into Hyrule he receives the shock of his life when he discovers the kingdom’s hostility towards magic of any kind. Together with prince Link he must work to keep the land safe from malicious sorcery whilst also keeping the prince from falling to the evil magic.

No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn. And so it will be for the young warlock arriving at the gates of Hyrule. A boy who will in time father the legend. His name – Link.

Link strolled into Castle Town, beaming from cheek to cheek with childlike wonder in his eyes as he made his way to Hyrule Castle Town. His mother had sent him on a journey to Hyrule from their small village. Though Link loved his home town of Ordon, his mother knew he couldn’t remain there, for fear of someone noticing his special abilities.

As Link neared the castle the unmistakable bellow of horns blasting over the bustling of the courtyard could be heard. Drums sounded their eerie call and it was at that moment Link noticed the gathering crowd of people around a platform that held a wooden block with a basket sitting just in front of it. Link’s stomach dropped.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all,” a voice called over the crowd, deep and authoritative. The young boy looked to a narrow balcony situated above the scene. A tall man with greying blonde hair and sharp blue eyes spoke firmly over the throng of witnesses. “This man, Osfala James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And pursuant to the laws of Hyrule, I, Link Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery there is but one sentence I can pass.”

Link waited in anticipation as the executioner’s axe was raised above the man’s neck before being swiftly brought down, separating head from body and causing Link to feel severely ill. Link shut his eyes and turned his head away from the scene, gagging. He excitement was ripped from him the second Osfala’s head hit the basket with a dull thud. The king, who upsettingly shared the youth’s name, spoke again. “When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people’s help magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the great dragon was captured and Hyrule freed form the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin!”

The people began cheering and the king turned to leave when all of a sudden the sound of a man wailing filled the square, catching everyone’s attention, even the king’s. “There is only one evil in this land and it is not magic, it is you! You killed my apprentice, you hateful tyrant!” The old man yelled, anger and sorrow lacing his weak voice. “I promise you, before these celebrations are over you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and… a son for a son!”

”Seize him!” The king ordered his men. The soldiers on the ground sprang into action, charging the elderly man. Seeing that he was outnumbered the man’s eyes grew wide and he ducked his head and began muttering non-Hylian. Link did not recognise the language, nor was he completely certain of the stability of the man’s mental state, then, out of nowhere, a fierce wind erupted from where the man had been standing and before Link could fully grasp what had happened the old man was gone.

Without so much as a second thought the crowd dispersed. A few murmurs, but nothing more than a second glance at the area the man had been standing. Surely this wasn’t a regular occurrence in a land deprived of magic, but Link decided, mostly for his sanity, he would forget about the incident.

He returned to his mission, asking the guard at the entrance to the castle where he could find the court physician. The guard curtly directed him to the room upstairs then continued his rigorous routine of doing nothing. Link idly went about his day, trotting up the stairs and stopping by an unelaborate wooden door. Without hesitation he opened the door and took a peek inside.

“Hello?” Link addressed the room, but when nobody answered he decided to take a look around. Beyond the door was a large cylindrical room filled with dried herbs, bottles and phials of odd smelling chemicals, and piles and piles of books reading about medicines, ailments, anatomy, as well as the odd book about plants and gardening. Curious.

A sudden movement above Link caught his eye and he realised his host was home. Link cleared his throat to grab his attention. The person looked close to his age – must be a prodigy – with blonde hair and blue eyes whom his mother had referred to as ‘Link’. Must be a popular name. The other Link turned his head to regard his visitor with a welcoming smile. He fellow took a step back and clumsily tumbled over the edge of the platform. Link panicked. Instinctually he used his magic to slow the flow of time and maneuvered the patients’ bed that was situated at the other end of the room underneath the falling man.

CRASH!

His landing might not be the only thing broken.

“Ow!” The other Link yelped when his back hit the mattress. “Mother of Hylia!” Link stalked further into the room to check if the guy was okay. He had managed to get up with no problems (thank goodness) and quickly turned on Link. “What did you just do?” he asked, firmly. Link spluttered, not knowing how to respond. He didn’t want to meet the same fate as Osfala. “Tell me!” the other Link ordered.

“I-I have no idea what happened.”

“If anyone has seen that-”

“No no no, that had nothing to do with me.”

“I know what it was, I just want to know where you learnt how to do it.”

“Nowhere,” Link argued desperately. This guys was relentless.

“How is it you know magic?”

“I-I don’t! I swear.”

“Where did you study,” the other Link asked curiously, unconvinced of Link’s statement. When Link didn’t answer he demanded he tell him. “Answer me!”

“I’ve never studied magic, or- or been taught.”

“Are you lying to me boy,” the man said, inching closer so their noses were nearly touching.

“What do you want me to say?” Link whined.

“The truth!”

“I was born like this!”

“That’s impossible.” A pause. The other Link looked away for a second then turned back with a strange expression. “…Who are you?” he asked dumbly.

Link smiled, humor meeting his soft brown eyes. He scratched in his bag and produced an envelope. “I have this letter-“ Link said, holding out the folded slip of paper.

The other man squinted, his brow creasing as he looked at the letter. “I don’t have my glasses.”

Link quired an eyebrow but just decided to introduce himself instead of helping the other guy look for his glasses. “I’m Link.”

The other Link tilted his head curiously before realisation replaced his confusion. “Hunith’s son?”

“Yes”

“But you’re not meant to be here till Wednesday.”

Link’s face went expressionless as he delivered the news to the other Link. “It-it is Wednesday.”

“…Ah.” The two Links just stared at each other for a moment before the other Link spoke again. “Well, you better put your bag in there-“ he said, pointing to a private room across from the front door.

Link nodded and walked over to what was now his very own room before the other Link stopped him.

“Oh, and Link, I should say thank you, you know, for saving me.” The two shared a smile before Link left the room to pack his things away.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #The Merlin AU Nobody Asked For #Part 1

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poorreputation · 5 years ago

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Undertaker: The Last Ride

When I say I've been waiting years for this, I'm serious. Ever since Undertaker's loss at Wrestlemania 30, and shortly after that the news he would be on the Stone Cold Podcast, I've been eagerly anticipating seeing Mark Calaway speak as himself. Many fans have been hesitant to watch Calaway out of character, worried it would ruin the mystique of the Undertaker, but I've felt for years that the work put into these characters behind the scenes is just as fascinating as the fiction.

I watched episode one soon after it aired, and want to do a rewatch/reaction post before episode two drops tonight. Join me, if you wish.

If you've not seen the episode, a little content warning: there is blood, gore in a surgical setting (very, very graphic, but only there for a couple seconds at a time), needles, and implied injuries, including details of Mark's concussion at WM30.

CHAPTER 1: THE GREATEST FEAR

The series, all five episodes, takes place between 2017 and 2020. Chapter 1 covers Wrestlemania 33, and his match with Roman Reigns, which was intended to be his last.

This is the first time Mark Calaway's really opened up about his work, and himself in general. There's other instances of him being interviewed, even mixing fact and kayfabe, but never on a platform like this, certainly not with WWE.

Mark: You know they call me Santa Clause, now, right? Because I only come out once a year.

Jimmy Hart, being the sweetest: That's all you need to. You look great.

These backstage segments of Calaway with his coworkers are honestly some of the best parts of the episode. A transcript can only do so much justice.

Roman Reigns, upcoming opponent of the Undertaker, signs in at the lobby desk right next to Mark, being a smartass. Screw your camera guy, indeed.

Mark meditates on the struggles of working only once a year, and throughout the episode, chronicles the moments and injuries that make an already challenging schedule nearly impossible. Chasing the dragon that is the perfect match has lead him to a stalemate with himself and his character: if the Undertaker can go out in a match fitting of him at Wrestlemania, Mark Calaway will be happy.

Gah, baby 'Taker at his Survivor Series debut always gets me. No one could've called the run that boy was about to go on. I see other people call this portion of the episode the mythologizing of the character, building him up to be this big deal, and it's so funny to me because I wouldn't be watching if I didn't already think that of him. Like, y'all are just preaching to the choir, at this point. That, and so much that's been said here has been consistent with what Mark's peers have told about him in the past, it just feels like catching people up rather than building an image from scratch.

Say what you will about Vince McMahon (and there's a lot to be said), but there's something special about his comments on Mark Calaway. You rarely get to hear the guy talk candidly as it is, so when he does, you know it's important.

Calaway describing the weight, the prestige of Wrestlemania... and then the sneer he makes after that statement. I ain't a journalist, so I'll freely speculate: 'Mania's for the best of the best, and he just doesn't see himself as deserving to be there, not right now, at least.

Other wrestlers, from Orton to Edge to Batista, talk about what an honor, and mark of trust, it is to work with Undertaker, period. To work with him at Wrestlemania? You've arrived. The implication of what this would, or should, have meant for Roman is clear. It's a wonder if this image that his coworkers built up of him affected Mark's own expectations of himself. I mean, it's more or less spelled out in the episode, and it is the pro wrestling way to go out on your back, losing to someone who can use the rub, but, just throwing it out there, 'Taker had more pressure on him than most. That legacy, 'Mania, and the worry of managing to physically move during a match? It's overwhelming.

For those confused about why working once or twice a year would be so much more difficult than working hundreds of shows in that same time span, Steve Austin sums it up best: the road keeps you calloused and bruised. Ring rust from inactivity, due to being away or rehabbing an injury, gets you both mentally and physically. Knowing Mark's doing this process every year in his 50′s is insane.

During this, Steve plainly states that to go through that, and the many surgeries as Michelle McCool, Mark's wife, mentioned, it makes him a tough son of a bitch. It's an interesting note, considering we start this episode with Mark referring to that toughness as a thing of the past. His perception of himself, and what his peers see, is another fascinating aspect of the documentary.

Calaway talks about how nerve-racking the final workout before 'Mania is. The worry you'll hurt something while trying to train. Later, when other wrestlers talk about how calm, cool and collected 'Taker always seems... it's like they've built him up to be superhuman; Invulnerable to the same things and fears that plague all athletes. They talk about the physical decline, of course, that’s inevitable. But the mental side of things is where the biggest differences are.

Hoo boy, WrestleMania 30, the cause of my first major bout with depression. After that match between Undertaker and Brock Lesnar, not only was I crying and distressed, but there was then the news of Mark Calaway's hospitalization that was the numbing cherry on top. I remember registering how much more important the man's health was, but it was like I couldn't get any more upset.

After that, I'd read up on so many rumors, that the only new bit of information here in the documentary is about when Mark's being rushed to the ER; how Vince infamously left the arena before 'Mania was over just to make sure Mark was okay, and, in new info, Brock was in the car with him. I cannot stress enough how humanizing that is to hear, especially considering how closely guarded Brock is about his persona, and how the man and the character are often so blended together. Time heals all wounds, but I really appreciated hearing that.

So, the injury for the uninformed: during the match with Brock, 'Taker got concussed. No one knows when it happened, much less Mark, who can't remember anything from after 3:30 PM that afternoon. To say I, and many others, were convinced this was it, he'd retire, would be an understatement. Many people felt he should retire, I did too, at one point. But, I could also tell Calaway wouldn't want to leave on such a note, because frankly, the match sucked. That's what happens when one person gets knocked the fuck out, and the other guy's gotta improvise. The fact 'Taker's going on muscle memory while he's out is nothing short of a miracle.

With WM30 in the books, 'Taker was at a low point, his confidence shot and a lot riding on his match with Bray Wyatt at WrestleMania 31 (or Play Button, if you prefer). Bray himself recalling how nervous he was, but how chill Undertaker appeared, in comparison.

Triple H's pep talk with 'Taker backstage is another gem, and I just love their friendship. I love the raw vulnerability this series is providing, both when it comes to 'Taker, and everyone else around him. I hope it's a constant through the rest of the docuseries.

WM31 was an ego boost, and leads into the superior Brock-Undertaker program in 2015. It's not highlighted as much, but it's fire, and I think allowed Calaway to redeem himself a bit, in his eyes. Not too much, since he didn't retire, but it made fans really start to come back 'round.

Now, I liked WM32 because I got to see it in person, and it was the first time I'd ever seen Undertaker live, so I'm a biased bitch. Anyone signing up to work Hell in a Cell is a ballsy move, and considering how old both 'Taker and Shane McMahon were going into that is no small feat. I liked it, it was a spectacle, and I was sports entertained. There is the implication, between showing clips of WM32 and 'Taker's appearance at the 2017 Royal Rumble, that Calaway wasn't satisfied with how the former turned out. It becomes fully fleshed out he's talking about entering the RR, and feeling intense regret, but that he was also disappointed with the former. Again, if he were happy with it, he'd have retired, but that's again the difference between what the fans see and what the wrestler sees. I, and I imagine roughly 100,000 others, had the time of our lives; Mark Calaway was, and still is, chasing perfection.

With RR 2017, Mark freely admits that he had no business being there. It sounds truly like his thought process in the moment, and not just the regret of how WM33 went down, and that the build for that match began when he and Roman went toe-to-toe at the Rumble.

Back to WM33 weekend. 'Taker's finished up the final workout, and is talking about his place on the upcoming card:

Mark: Regardless of my injuries, regardless of my age, regardless of everything that has happened, if I'm on the card, there's some young guy that's making a lot of the shows through the year, you know, that may not be on that card. So, it's my duty to make sure that it's worth putting me on the card. No one would probably say it to my face if I stunk it up, (but) I would know, and that's one of my biggest fears, and um, is becoming a parody of myself.

This is someone who's also been reading the rumor mill, the comments, general fan reaction. It's neat he's so receptive to fan interaction, and makes me wonder if he's actually been doing this for years, but it's also sad to watch him only see the negative sides. The Undertaker, as a character, wouldn't have worked for so long without innovation, so being open-minded is important. And, I'm all for Mark Calaway doing what he wants with his life, but, for him, will anything, any match, ever be good enough?

It's the night of the Hall of Fame 2017 and we see Mark and Michelle backstage greeting people. We get a shot of Mark saying hi to the likes of the late Bruno Sammartino, inductees Sean Waltman and Kurt Angle, and I just love how dolled up Michelle looks, whereas Mark's just in jeans, a dress shirt and a cap. I love their dynamic, so so much. Also, Mark and Kurt's friendship, that's adorable. One of the good things to happen when I found out about kayfabe was thinking how these characters who normally hate each other on screen, were really besties backstage. It's a thought that still tickles me to this day, and watching that in the episode on several occasions is a joy to behold.

Kurt's talking about 'Taker's role as locker room leader, and Mark mentions how it wasn't ever something he actively pursued, it just happened. Being locker room leader just seems to be yet another thing added to the legend of the Undertaker. Makes a bit more sense why Mark's peers put him on a pedestal.

Wrestlers are talking about how, very early on, Undertaker set the benchmark, the gold standard, of work every night. John Bradshaw Layfield goes on to say, "(Mark) was the yardstick. And if you did well, then pretty much you were in, if not, then you were out, because you knew if you didn't do well, it wasn't the Undertaker's fault." That explains why it hurts so much for 'Taker to not be at his best. I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out, but it's fascinating to see all of these elements come together. It's also interesting to hear JBL build up 'Taker as the greatest of all time, and then plainly say he's never seen Mark in worse shape than he was heading into WM33.

On a lighter note, it's real funny to hear Mark and Roman talk about the latter's new twins (from 2017) considering he's got another set of twins on the way, now. Just in general, Roman going on about how much he loves talking to Mark about work, but mostly family and to hear the stories Mark's got to tell, you can see how much this match means to him. The prestige of working with 'Taker at any point, let alone 'Mania, he knows this is the highlight of his career. I can't help but respect Roman for that, and couldn't help but feel that way going into WM33. It's a stark difference from how I felt about Brock post-WM30, and I honestly thought I was prepared to watch Undertaker take his rumored loss at this show.

It's the night before 'Mania, and they're doing entrance rehearsals. The stage setup for this show was so cool, guys, it took inspiration from the theme parks that are littered throughout Orlando, and was a beauty to see live, especially when it got dark. And 'Taker's entrance, even in practice, is a spectacle.

Cuts to the day of WrestleMania 33. General nerves are felt, and the start of a very long day begins.

Mark: People say, "All you gotta do is go out there and chokeslam somebody, make your entrance, and everybody's gonna be happy." No. I'm not gonna be happy. Like when I say, and this isn't stupid man pride, or cliche stuff. I'm either gonna go out in a match that's befitting the Undertaker at WrestleMania, or I'm going out on my shield, one way or another.

And there we have it, the subject of this docuseries.

Roman talking about the weight of potentially being the last person to work with the Undertaker, it just makes you feel bad for him things didn't work out quite the way they planned. But, it's as JBL summed up before, no matter the outcome or if it's really 'Taker's last match, this is the biggest night of Roman Reigns' career. I know episode 2 will focus on the aftermath of WM33, and Mark's reaction, and what gets him to come back to wrestling, but I hope they get Roman's take as well. Is he as disappointed as 'Taker? Does he blame himself? Or, did he actually like what they did, flaws and all?

Content warning: they show the botched top rope dive from WM25, the one where 'Taker goes head-first into the mat. It's during the segment where Mark explains how he comes from the era of 'if you can move, you can make it to the ring'. He's okay, and we know he's okay, but it doesn't make it hurt any less to watch. They also mention the time he was severely sick and still worked a match with Big Show, and how he caught on fire in 2010 on the way to the Elimination Chamber match. Like, they actually show him engulfed in flames, then narrate how he went on to work the match. I love you, Undertaker, but JFC.

And now we're at the medical portion of the episode. Warning for needles.

Actual showtime for the match, and even now, 'Taker's entrance gives me chills. That feeling of happiness is indescribable, and is that precious something that never fails to make me smile.

So, everything else in the match is framed as great, brutal, well-done, and then that damn botched tombstone reversal comes up, and it's honestly the hardest thing to watch in the entire episode. I swear, it's the only bad thing in my eyes, and seems to be enough to make 'Taker dissatisfied. Again, I'm biased, with others saying his whole mood was off during the match, and that affected the overall performance, so what do I know? But, I will say this, ending 'Mania on such a grim note will always be a strange choice to me. I get it, if not the main event, where else would you put the Undertaker’s retirement match? Still, it completely changed my perception of the whole night, from riding high to finding myself depressed, once again. And maybe that’s exactly what all those wrestlers, namely Vince McMahon, were talking about. Instead of this being Shawn Michaels going out on a high note, it’s far more dour.

Mark: We'll see what tomorrow brings.

And with that look, and the fact he's had a match as recently as March/April of this year, he won't be gone for long.

Preview for the next episode contains intense surgical imagery. Just a heads up.

Post-episode thoughts:

I learned very little new information, but that's not the the hook of this series for me. Undertaker's the first character I ever truly loved, long before the likes of Supernatural came into my life. An interesting dynamic is potentially seeing both the Undertaker retire, and Supernatural come to a close, in the same year. I don't find myself mourning either, because I've already been through that. Now, I just want to indulge in behind-the-scenes tales, and watch two of the most influential stories in my life come to a close.

I greatly look forward to Chapter 2 of The Last Ride, and the rest of the episodes to come.

#WWE #Undertaker #Undertaker: The Last Ride #Mark Calaway #documentaries #docuseries #pro wrestling #or if you prefer #sports entertainment #graphic imagery #violence #notes #long post

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lostinfantasies38 · 5 years ago

Text

Sun Touched Ch 4 Revelations

Alistair/Sirra Brosca

Rating: Explicit for language, violence, and eventual smut

Lights. Flickering in the dark. Torches – thousands of them. The light gradually fanned out to illuminate the surrounding area. Darkspawn. The Deep Roads crawled with them, the air filled with the sounds of their hisses and growls. Strangely, the sounds weren’t angry. They were excited, full of anticipation, and the feeling thrummed through her blood, too. What could possibly have them tittering so?

A roar filled the space, echoing through passages lost to the dwarves ages ago. Darkspawn all along the Deep raised their arms and cheered. The ground shook as it landed on the precipice above them and bellowed again. The horde waved their torches and banged their swords against their shields rhythmically. Sirra couldn’t make out the words, but when the Archdemon leveled its gaze to her, the dark, deep chuckle danced through her mind like a gentle caress.

Everything behind her faded away and she realized she was standing in front of it. All she could see was the strange beauty of the Archdemon. Drawing back its lips in what might have been a smile, its hot breath stirred her long hair with every heavy puff through its nostrils. Sirra wanted to reach out and touch it: to see if the scales were as slick and smooth as the polished amethyst she once lifted off a mark for Beraht. Would they feel cool under her fingers like those stones or would they be warm?

It angled its head - a large dark eye, the same size as she, stared directly at her. Her reflection stared back against the ebony backdrop. Mahogany hair falling in a sheet down her back, brands well suited to highlight her cheekbones, skin pale enough to catch any nobleman’s attention, while her Carta jewelry glittered in the dark.

"Come home, Stone-daughter. Join us. We are your family.” A warm rumble filled her mind. The dragon’s lips hadn’t moved, but there was nothing else that could have spoken.

Family. Sirra always wanted a true family. One without a mother who was more in love with drink than her daughters, throwing them callously to the Carta, allowing Rica to sell her body and her fertility. Giving her to Beraht, so he could shape her into a dangerous weapon to manipulate and control because he owned both sisters. If she screwed up, it would be pretty Rica who suffered.

But she still had one, didn’t she? Beraht was dead and Rica was free – she was still alive in Orzammar. She couldn’t give in. Besides, she had a new family now with the Grey Wardens.

Remembering who she was broke the illusion and shifted her image in the Archdemon’s eye. Sirra’s true reflection froze her blood. Gaunt, gray skin crisscrossed with black tendrils under the surface, brown eyes milky, lank hair hanging in wisps barely concealing the missing chunks exposing her scalp. This is what she would become if she gave in and joined their tainted family.

“No.”

A single word, a powerful word, barely whispered yet carrying a millennia of dwarven conviction. The Archdemon roared in anger, tossing her over the precipice they were perched on. She fell without a sound, wearing a contented smile knowing oblivion awaited her on the ground.

Sirra jerked awake, almost leaping off her pallet by the fireside, sucking in a desperate lungful of air. Hanging her head between her knees, she tried to calm her racing heart, and blink away the images branded in her retinas.

“Bad dreams?” Sirra startled with a small cry of shock. Alistair looked abashed on the opposite side of the fire. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I heard you thrashing around and thought you might want to talk about it.”

Holding up a hand, Sirra scrambled for her water skin from her nearby pack, taking a deep pull from the clean water before she could reply. “Those are dreams, huh?” Alistair gave her an odd look and she explained. “Dwarves don’t dream. At least, non-Grey Warden dwarves. Apparently, those who join the ranks do,” Sirra stately dryly.

“Well, damn. I’m sorry. I had no idea. Here you are and you’re first experience with dreams are nightmares from the Archdemon.” Alistair grimaced and rubbed his hands nervously across his thighs.

“Please tell me these won’t happen a lot. I can’t take the Archdemon asking me to join its family every time I go to sleep,” she implored.

He cocked his head curiously. “Is that what you dreamed?” She nodded and his eyes widened. “Creepy. Mine are usually full of the world burning and the Archdemon trying to eat me.”

Sirra laughed. “I prefer yours, honestly.”

Nodding in agreement, Alistair replied with a small smile. “To answer your question: you can block the dreams out, but it takes a little bit of time. Although, I have heard that it’s harder for those who join during a Blight.” He winced and Sirra dropped her head in defeat.

“Why am I not surprised? Any other surprises I don’t know about,” Sirra murmured unhappily.

Alistair rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as a slow smirk bloomed on his face. “Hmmm, let me think, let me think. Duncan said something about your appetite increasing, but I haven’t noticed anything like that with you.”

“Hey!” Sirra tossed a stick at him while he chortled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She crossed her arms, tilting her chin haughtily, but her lips quirked at his teasing.

“Are you sure? Because the way you wolfed down your food the other night. I don’t know…seemed a little unladylike to me.” He smirked mischievously and warmth flooded through her that could not be attributed to the proximity of the fire.

“Don’t make me come over there and punch you!” Sirra mockingly shook her fist and he raised his hands in surrender.

“No, don’t hit me! I bruise easily,” Alistair whined.

They sat in the pre-dawn gloom in silence a little longer, enjoying the companionship and the knowledge that no matter how hard the road ahead of them was likely to be, they wouldn’t have to walk it alone. The past week as they traversed the wilds together only brought them closer. Some of it was due to their shared suspicion of Morrigan and the rest simply because they were scared and needed a friend. Of all the things she never expected when she left Orzammar, becoming friends with a giant human was at the top of the list.

“No other Grey Warden secrets, I should know then?” Sirra intended the comment to be teasing, but Alistair’s sudden inability to make eye contact sent goosebumps along her fire warmed flesh. Clenching her jaw, Sirra glared daggers at the man across from her until he met her gaze with a heavy sigh.

“Wardens…don’t live long. The taint – it’s a death sentence. Eventually it catches up to us and once a Warden starts to hear the song of the Archdemon in their mind, they go to the Deep Roads to die fighting. It’s tradition,” Alistair mumbled.

It was Sirra’s turn to avoid his concerned glance. “How long do most Wardens have after joining?”

Alistair coughed. “Thirty years – give or take.”

Sirra inhaled sharply and processed the information. Honestly, she couldn’t say that she was surprised. They did drink darkspawn blood for their Joining and Duncan hadn’t lied. He told them doing so would change them. She was able to sense darkspawn in her mind – how could that not be killing her slowly? Did she like it? Fuck, no. Did she understand the necessity of it? As a dwarf who grew up on stories of darkspawn and witnessed their cruelty with her own eyes – fuck, yes. If recruits were aware of the price to be paid beforehand, there wouldn’t be any Grey Wardens and darkspawn would be left unchecked.

She was former Carta, used to doing what needed to be done, no questions asked. The chances of her living another thirty years weren’t high in Orzammar, either. Starvation and disease lurked around the corner. Any job working for Beraht could have killed her; hell, the last one nearly did. Yet, without being conscripted, Sirra would never have considered leaving for the surface.

Alistair cleared his throat and whispered, “When Duncan told me I was angry. But he told me that it isn’t how you die, but how you live that matters.”

Gazing at him fully, she inclined her head in acknowledgement of their Warden-Commander’s wisdom, murmuring softly, “I get it. I do. I’m just –“

“Disappointed?”

Sirra observed him from the corner of her eye, noting the small frown he wore and how he was shredding a clump of green stuff...what was it called again? She closed her eyes and heard Duncan’s baritone give her the word – grass. Reopening them, she found Alistair’s hazel orbs studying her. They both blushed, but Sirra held his gaze for a few more heartbeats before lowering hers. He cleared his throat again and she hid her smile behind her hand.

“We…we should pull up camp now that you’re up, right?” Alistair hopped up in the cresting glow of dawn, rolling up his bedroll and attaching it to his pack with trembling fingers. Sirra sighed and followed his lead, then she grabbed the cooking pot and meandered to the nearby stream to fill it. Once back in camp she discovered Morrigan was also awake and dousing her separate fire as she set the water to boil.

Sirra set about making a bowl of porridge from their rations, thankful they were close to a settlement, as their supplies were running low. Alistair attempted to help, but she smacked his hand away. He chuckled choosing to plop on the ground instead, fiddling with the stick she tossed at him earlier.

He was banned from cooking after his ‘stew’ a few nights ago left the women vomiting his vile concoction throughout the night. Morrigan later determined their illness was caused by the mushrooms Alistair added to the pot that evening. He still felt guilty Sirra knew, but that wasn’t enough reason for her to take a chance on his help in making their meals again. Besides, porridge was similar enough to the grits that most dusters ate on a daily basis; she could make this stuff in her sleep. She just wished they could get something, anything, to add some flavor to the mush.

Morrigan stared at her bowl dispassionately when Sirra doled out breakfast. “Warden, we should get some cooking supplies – herbs and such. Nothing fancy, but even some butter would help.” Alistair hummed in agreement as he happily devoured his morning meal and Sirra almost wished she could eat slop with such zeal.

“Butter? What’s that?” The humans stared at her – jaws completely unhinged. Sirra snorted and then burst out laughing, turning their shock into humor and minor irritation on the witch’s part. “Dwarves get their butter and milk from brontos, but only the higher castes like nobles and warriors can actually get their hands on it. So, while I may know what it is, I can say I’ve never tasted it.” Sirra waved her spoon with a flourish.

Alistair stared at her in horror. “That’s a crime, you know. We have to fix this immediately! Butter is now our first priority when we reach Lothering.” Morrigan snorted at him, but she appraised Sirra with interest.

“You may be a fool, Alistair…but you are right. We must fetch butter for the Warden.” Morrigan refused to look at either of them, pointedly ignoring Alistair’s broad grin.

“Yeah, just for Sirra. Not for you, at all. Nope.”

“Oh, shut up, you idiot and eat your porridge before I dump it over your head!” Morrigan snatched her bowl and moved some distance away to eat as Alistair laughed uproariously.

Jerking his thumb at the mage he winked to Sirra. “That’s more like it.” She rolled her eyes, refusing to encourage his teasing with a verbal response and tried to hide her smirk, but he noticed and smiled even wider.

Breakfast finished saw Alistair banished to wash the dishes by Morrigan. Sirra dug in her pack while he was gone to brush out the tangles and clods of dirt from her hair. Rica gifted her the comb as a parting gift – a beautiful bauble of surfacer ivory, carved with dwarven motifs and inlaid with three golden citrines. Sirra knew it had been a gift from one of Rica’s potential patrons that didn’t pan out. With practiced motions borne from careful study and repetition, Sirra twisted her thick tresses into a chignon and pinned it firmly in place. The witch observed her with a ghost of a smile.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that,” Sirra asked around a mouth full of leftover pins.

“I’m just surprised that a casteless dwarf knows how to fashion such an elegant hairstyle, ‘tis all. You fight like you used to be Carta, yet I see little body jewelry denoting your affiliation.” Morrigan flicked her nose in reference to Sirra’s golden ring. “Were you perhaps a noble hunter instead? Afraid that your fellow Warden will be displeased with your former lifestyle, hmm?”

Narrowing her eyes, she shoved her items in her pack without answering. Morrigan shrugged with affected boredom. “Suit yourself, Warden. You may keep your secrets. Just remember that we must return to Orzammar at some point and all will come to light anyway.”

“Why do you even care? What does my past matter to you? I left it behind and now I’m just an exiled surface dwarf. Before I came topside, I was a good-for-nothing duster scraping by in Dust Town with the other casteless, stealing food and pickpocketing nobles when I was younger.” Morrigan only lifted her lips in a condescending smirk. Sirra snarled, leaping to her feet, wound tight for a fight after days of nothing to unleash her pent-up frustration on.

“I did what I had to – to survive! My sister is the noble hunter; she taught me how to do my hair like this. We practiced hair and makeup, proper greetings, curtsies, dancing, everything that Beraht’s paid lessons taught her so she can land a noble and get knocked up. She sold what was between her legs so I wouldn’t have to, but by the Stone, I had to do the boss’s bidding to keep him from punishing Rica because she hadn’t found a patron yet!”

Sirra paced back and forth, working out her anger as she raised her voice as loud as her raspy cords would allow. “Rica – with hair the color of fire and curves that men pawed as she passed. She is the pretty one. I was expendable, but I surprised everyone by being good at my job. It was my money, the money I earned in the Carta, that kept us from starving! I blackmailed, I threatened, I killed men just because Beraht – the holder of our leash – told me to!” Pounding her fist against her leathers for emphasis, Sirra squared her shoulders, glaring balefully at the witch.

“I’m nothing but Carta trash; no matter how much I try to tell myself differently up here. But I learned a thing or two from Rica, even if I never had an opportunity to use them, because I was worthless then and I’m worthless now!”

A strangled noise came from behind her. Sirra closed her eyes, the fight leeched in an instant from her stout frame. Opening them again, she hissed at Morrigan, “You are such a bitch.” The witch smiled wickedly and sauntered off to leave the Wardens to talk. Sirra didn’t turn around to face him; she couldn’t stand the look of disgust that would be plastered across his face.

“How much did you hear?” Her gravelly voice barely carried in the early morning stillness, but Alistair wasn’t wearing his plate yet and he snuck closer on quiet feet, catching her words.

“All of it.”

Silence descended and Sirra nodded sadly, afraid now that her secret was out, he would feel sullied in her presence. She tried to move away and create more space between them, but he stopped her with a light touch of his fingers on her wrist. So, light they felt like air, except for the heat that radiated from them, practically scalding her skin. She sucked in a breath and held it anxiously.

“You’re not worthless,” Alistair whispered. The breath she’d been holding passed her lips with a tiny mewl of surprise. Still unable to look at one other, Alistair kept his hand on her wrist and she resisted the urge to scoot further away.

Sirra murmured, “You don’t know me, Alistair. You can’t say that.”

“I can,” he insisted firmly, his fingers pressing just a bit harder on her flesh. “It doesn’t matter who you were. When you join the Grey Wardens, all that matters is who you are. I may not know who you used to be in Orzammar, but I have a pretty good idea who you are in the sun.”

Tears pricked her eyes and her throat constricted oddly. They didn’t speak for a few heartbeats as she controlled her emotions. Surely Alistair could feel her trembling, but he didn’t move a muscle which both pleased and disappointed her. Pleased because if he hugged her, she was afraid of embarrassing herself further by breaking down, but disappointed he didn’t even try because it felt like rejection.

“We should go. We’re losing daylight,” she mumbled.

Sirra turned to leave, but his hand encircled her wrist and pulled her back. She stared at the ground still too ashamed to meet his gaze. Alistair didn’t say anything as he slowly kneeled on the ground, almost eye to eye with her at this height, and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Sirra buried her face in his rough spun tunic with a shuddering breath.

“Is this okay,” Alistair whispered in her ear. Sirra nodded vigorously, twisting her hands in the front of his shirt, anchoring herself in the face of such kindness and understanding. She didn’t know how he could give it so freely. So easily. To her – it was the most precious gift ever given and she cherished it. Eventually he would have to let go, aware she that would feel hollow when he did.

“I-I’m sorry,” she rasped, desperately trying to rein in her tears. “I don’t know what to say. No one, except my sister, has ever been nice to me…but this is…I don’t know.”

“I get it. I do,” he breathed and she noted the thickness in his voice as he repeated her words. “I-I just want to say…that I am here for you. You can talk to me about anything. And I mean that. Don’t…shut yourself off from me, please.”

Sirra nodded again, not trusting herself to speak until she forced down the lump in her throat. “Same goes for you, Alistair.” It was his turn to nod against her shoulder. Untangling her hands from his tunic, she pulled out of the embrace and he reluctantly followed suit. “We should go. I’m sure that Morrigan was trying to drive a wedge between us. Now that her plan has been foiled, she may kill us instead.”

The warrior snorted. “I’d like to see her try. She’s going to have work a lot harder to break us.”

Sirra laughed lightly, finally meeting his eyes. There was no rejection or disgust in them or on any plane of his face. His signature smile was in place with openness and warmth gracing his features. Her body relaxed at last with a smile. He put a hand on the ground to push himself to a standing position again, but she cupped his cheek instantly stilling his movements. Slowly, she pulled Alistair’s head close, resting their foreheads together. Sliding her hand to the nape of his neck, she pressed three fingers gently against his skin in a quiet salute, whispering into their shared oxygen.

“Thank you, salroka.”

Alistair’s wide eyes bored into hers, his breathing slightly irregular, as he mimicked the salute on her own neck. His mouth dried as she shivered involuntarily at the action and the intensity of their gaze. “You’re welcome,” he rasped. He swallowed hard and then asked shyly, “What does ‘salroka’ mean?”

Sirra smiled. “Directly translated, it means ‘one at my side.’ It’s a casteless’ way of saying ‘friend.’”

He grinned broadly. “Salroka.”

Slowly, the duo separated, careful to keep their hands from touching anywhere else as they dropped them. When Alistair made to stand, Sirra didn’t stop him a second time. He quickly repacked the cookware in his larger pack, a faint flush decorating his cheeks. With deft fingers, he fastened his splintmail over his cloth breeches and tunic before sliding his weapons in place. Sirra had the fire doused by the time he was ready and without a word she waved at Morrigan to signal they were leaving.

Alistair took up the front following the path that Morrigan kept them on since leaving Flemeth’s. The witch sidled up to the dwarven woman with a haughty sniff. “T’would seem your talk was…enlightening?”

Sirra couldn’t resist smirking. “I wanted to throttle you at first, but now I think I should thank you.”

Morrigan jerked her head in surprise. “Truly? Well, that was obviously a grave error in judgement on my part then,” she muttered. Sighing in exasperation the woman stomped off ahead of Alistair who chuckled at the witch’s ire.

He shortened his stride and waited for Sirra to catch up smiling down at her. She returned it with her own raspy chuckle. “She is just so fun to irritate, isn’t she?”

Alistair laughed outright at that. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

“I can still hear you!”

Alistair and Sirra shared a quick glance before dissolving into peals of laughter as they walked through the outskirts of the wilds.

*~*

Alistair couldn’t get the vision of Sirra’s face out of his mind on the journey to Lothering. She had no idea how pretty she was or how entranced he became staring into her eyes. Orbs so dark they bordered on black with her pupils blown wide. He’d been so close to closing the gap between them and brushing his mouth against her slightly parted lips; the urge to capture her full mouth only furthered by the intimacy of the strange dwarven gesture.

He wondered curiously what it would be like to kiss her. Were her lips as soft as they looked? Would the nose ring get in the way? He’d never met a woman with piercings besides their earlobes and hers fascinated him. Maker’s breath, he was glad his hand had been touching her neck though, to prevent his twitchy thumb from going rogue and grazing her tattoo again.

Brand. Ugh! Alistair sneered to himself at the very idea of calling her markings such a thing. It sounded so…dispassionate and callous. He hated that she thought of herself that way – that her own people could think that of an entire class of their own kin like that. Sirra was more than that and anyone who talked to her for five minutes would be able to see it.

Alistair didn’t care about her past. Frankly, when he thought about it, it wasn’t shocking that she was former Carta. Most surface dwarves were either Carta members or former players. He may not understand her culture entirely, but he wasn’t so naïve to pretend that those less fortunate in the world didn’t have to do unsavory things to survive. He heard stories of the alienages, even in the monastery and especially since joining the Wardens – they surely didn’t paint a complete picture of elven life, either. Alistair realized now, that though his childhood had been less than idyllic, it had been better than most poor, unwanted children.

Most telling about who Sirra was as a person, revealed itself as he fought beside her, which was strangely intimate, actually. They kept tabs on each other when they were on the field watching each other’s backs to boost strengths and assist in weak areas so they became a single unit. They lived and breathed for the other during a fight – to do any less invited death. But she didn’t have to. Alistair grew up fighting and training alongside many warriors, templars and Wardens both, of varying skill. Few would willingly risk their necks for a fellow on the field. Yet, Sirra often did and she didn’t have a warrior’s strength or a shield to protect her. But she was tenacious, scrappy, and tough – never backing down from a fight or intimidated by a foe. Alistair would happily take Sirra at his side any day.

No, Sirra was so much more than a pretty casteless exile. More than a ‘brand.’ Alistair didn’t have a word for what she was, but he was aware that the idea of losing her left him feeling lost. Not because it would leave him alone in the world – he was used to that. No, losing her would take something from him: her light, her laughter, her.

Alistair glanced at Morrigan and Sirra while they discussed the village ahead and her wry smile suffused him with warmth.

It was simple. If he lost her, he would lose everything worth saving.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970717/chapters/52890505#workskin

#Alistair x Sirra #alistair therin #dragon age #dragon age origins #original oc #original wip #dragon age fanfic #ao3 writer

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