#group them all together so that my mother in law knows that's the no touch area lol

[ysmtttty]

Again

Chapter 6 Read on AO3 or below || Chapter 5 || Chapter 7 Lawyer AU where Eris and Nesta used to be rivals before she got married and decided to leave the field. But now she is divorced and determined to return to the legal field, even if it means working with Eris, not against him.

“You’re insane,” Gwyn and Emerie yelled simultaneously at her during their group call.

Nesta only rolled her eyes in response and glanced back at the mirror. The dress fit her perfectly—she knew it—but seeing herself in a designer gown that many girls would kill for? No, thank you. Nesta Archeron didn’t wear designer dresses to gala dinners. When was the last time she even attended gala evening?

“Nesta Archeron, you will wear that dress!” Emerie declared in a mock-threatening tone. Nesta considered threatening to end the call, but knowing Emerie, she’d probably show up at her house and force her to wear the dress to tomorrow’s dinner.

“We spent hours finding a dress, and now you’ve got something crafted by a goddess herself—you can’t just refuse to wear it,” Gwyn chimed in as the voice of reason.

Despite the slight discomfort of wearing such an expensive garment, Nesta knew Gwyn was right. She had no choice but to wear the dress. And this wasn’t just any choice; it was a divine gift considering how perfectly it fit her.

The fabric, soft to the touch, clung to her body and accentuated all the right curves. The silver embroidery on the black fabric resembled elegant flames, perfectly completing the look.

“I’ll bring you my heels,” Gwyn declared. “They’ll match perfectly with that dress!”

Her voice was filled with admiration and excitement. She could’ve been bouncing with joy if not for the exhaustion from the hours of unsuccessful shopping earlier. Emerie, too, was staring at the phone screen, admiring the dress. Nesta only pretended not to enjoy all the fuss.

The truth? She was just as awed by Aurora’s work. If they ever met in person, Nesta would likely die on the spot from how incredible the woman was. While she hadn’t been a fan of Eris in the past—and was still ready to kill him over this whole dress situation—Aurora Vanserra was someone Nesta admired deeply.

At her law school graduation, Nesta hadn’t seen either of her parents. But Aurora had been there and insisted they go out to dinner together. Eris had protested—or at least it seemed that way, though she couldn’t remember for sure.

It had been an unexpected turn at the time. Despite knowing her mother wouldn’t show up—believing Nesta’s intellect and ambition scared off any “proper match”—Nesta had hoped her mother would set aside her principles to attend.

She hadn’t. Her mother spent that day on a cruise with the wealthy elite, probably letting them flirt with her while forgetting she had a husband and children. Whatever. Nesta wasn’t going to let that woman disappoint her more than she already had.

As for her father… Nesta never believed he loved her, or at least considered her worthy of his time. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he skipped her graduation just to build a massive Lego ship.

Her sisters were in other cities, both playing at independence from their parents. Elain was stubbornly proving she wasn’t just “a pretty airhead,” as their mother believed, nor a sheltered child, as everyone else thought. Elain’s rebellion was impressive—even Nesta admitted that—but it meant she couldn’t afford a plane ticket. Nesta didn’t even ask her to come. Feyre, meanwhile, was in college, meeting new people and going on a hike with her friends.

So Nesta had planned to spend her graduation alone, perhaps with an expensive bottle of wine someone had secretly gifted her for her birthday that year. But there she was, chatting with Eris’s mother, while Eris’s younger brother Lucien teased him, calling him a nerd before running off to avoid retribution. During their conversation, Aurora had called her wonderful several times, though Nesta was sure Aurora had reason to think poorly of her based on what Eris could’ve told her.

Then Aurora asked where her parents were so she could finally meet them. Nesta tried to brush it off, but Aurora pressed, and she had to admit no one had come.

“That’s horrible!” Aurora exclaimed, throwing up her hands and shaking her head. “Unacceptable, sweetheart,” she added gently, placing a hand on Nesta’s shoulder.

Aurora glanced briefly at her sons, who were still horsing around nearby. Lucien was getting a well-deserved scolding from Eris, who only laughed at his younger brother’s helplessness. Aurora shook her head, muttering, “Boys.”

“You’re coming with us,” she declared.

Nesta blinked, startled, and looked at her in surprise.

“Yes, yes, don’t look so shocked,” Aurora laughed softly. “We’re going to dinner at Oleana—a table for four. You’re more than welcome to join us, dear.”

Her smile was so warm that Nesta felt a stinging in her eyes. She blinked quickly, unwilling to let Aurora notice.

“I… If you’re sure it won’t…” she began hesitantly.

“No, no, no, don’t even think that,” Aurora insisted, shaking her head. “I absolutely insist. I need to know what my son has been up to during law school, and I need a reliable source. Eris is too secretive,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Nesta laughed, glancing at Eris, who abruptly turned away as if avoiding her gaze.

And she agreed. Not that there was much choice—between Aurora’s kind company and a lonely, depressive semi-drunken dinner at her apartment, the decision was clear.

That evening, Nesta had a wonderful time, bonding with Aurora to Eris’s dismay. He spent the entire evening staring at her, to the point that even little Lucien commented on it. Nesta assumed he didn’t like sharing the evening with both her and his mother—or how many embarrassing childhood stories Aurora managed to recall and share. But she laughed so much that night that Eris’s grumpiness faded into the background.

Back in the present, Emerie’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Nesta, if I don’t see a picture of you in that dress, wearing Gwyn’s heels and your best jewelry, in the group chat tomorrow, I will come and make you wear it myself!”

“Very convincing,” Nesta muttered, shaking her head.

“I’ll bring the shoes tomorrow. Don’t even think about saying no!” Gwyn added cheerfully. “Oops, I’ve got morning service. Gotta go—goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” both Emerie and Nesta replied, exchanging farewells before ending the call.

In the quiet of her bedroom, Nesta set down her phone and looked back at the full-length mirror in front of her. She looked… different. This wasn’t Nesta Archeron, the failed divorcée who couldn’t manage her children and lost seven years of her career over a man who ultimately didn’t care about her.

No, this was someone else. Elegant, composed, with the same icy stare, now softened by her appearance.

The reflection stared back at her, embodying who she could have been.

Nesta sighed, knowing regrets wouldn’t help. Reaching for the dress’s zipper, she unfastened it and let the fabric slide off her body. She hung it carefully in the closet before getting into bed.

The next day, Gwyn brought the heels, and Feyre arrived later, offering to take the girls to her place. Initially, Nesta hesitated. She wasn’t a fan of the idea of her daughters staying in the same house as Rhysand—not that he’d harm them; she knew that. But they hated each other, and Nesta preferred to keep him as far from her family as possible. Even though she failed that task already with Feyre.

However, Feyre assured her that Rhysand was out of town for a business meeting, and Nesta immediately agreed to entrust the children to her sister.

Feyre arrived in the afternoon and insisted on helping her with makeup—a skill Feyre excelled at. Nesta trusted her completely when it came to getting ready. Dressed in the gown, Nesta looked at herself in the mirror again. She still didn’t feel entirely like herself in it. But there was no time to linger on those thoughts. She walked into the living room, where Astrid sat in her usual spot on the couch, reading a princess book, and Feyre was laying out makeup on the coffee table.

Looking up and seeing her, Feyre widened her eyes, her mouth dropping open. “Damn, sis, if I’d known lawyers made this much money…”

Nesta laughed, sitting on the edge of the couch next to Astrid.

Astrid, engrossed in her book, looked up and gasped before smiling so brightly it made Nesta’s chest tighten.

“Mom, you’re so beautiful!” she exclaimed with genuine childish wonder, erasing any doubts Nesta had about the dress.

“Your mom is very beautiful,” Feyre agreed.

***

Eris arrived in a limousine. He would have liked to say it was solely to emphasize his status upon arriving at the event, but part of him knew it was fueled by a selfish, secretive desire. Nevertheless, he stood leaning against the limousine, waiting for Nesta, who was due to appear any moment now.

He impatiently glanced at his wristwatch, waiting for her to emerge from her building. And when she did… his breath hitched. Nesta wasn’t just beautiful; she was so breathtakingly exquisite that, for a moment, Eris forgot how to breathe. The streetlights caught the shimmer of her dress, highlighting every elegant curve and deliberate step she took toward him. She looked like something out of a dream, and for the first time in years, Eris felt entirely out of his depth.

Nesta paused, her hands smoothing the sides of her dress. She caught his gaze, and something flickered in her eyes—something uncertain, almost vulnerable. Eris straightened instinctively, pulling himself together, and pushed off the limousine. His casual pose vanished as though he had been caught off guard, which, in truth, he had. The sharp wit he prided himself on was nowhere to be found as he simply stood there, dumbfounded, while she closed the distance between them.

"You clean up well," she said when she reached him, her tone casual, though her cheeks had the faintest hint of color.

Eris chuckled. "I was about to say the same thing. Though I think ‘well’ might be the understatement of the century."

For a moment, Eris felt like a schoolboy who had invited the most popular girl to prom—a foreign sensation, considering he hadn’t been nervous even on his own prom night. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Nesta. For a second, he regretted ever deciding to send her that dress—it was a straight path to self-destruction because there was no chance he could stop thinking about her tonight. Or, well, ever.

“Are you just going to stand there gawking?” Nesta asked, her voice as sharp as the heels clicking against the pavement, though her lips curled slightly into a smile. She had clearly recovered from the initial awkwardness Eris had noticed. Well, good. Nesta always struck him as someone who knew her worth.

Eris managed to recover, his signature smirk slipping into place like a well-worn mask. “Can you blame me?” he said, holding out a hand to her. “I didn’t realize I was escorting a goddess tonight.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in them. “If you keep talking like that, I might start charging you for the privilege.”

He laughed softly, stepping forward to open the car door with a mock flourish. “I’d pay whatever the cost, love.”

The nickname slipped from his lips, but Nesta didn’t correct him. She shook her head and gracefully slipped into the car. Eris followed her inside, signaling the driver that they were ready to leave.

Did the ride get any easier? Absolutely not. Eris kept stealing glances at her whenever he could, hoping she wouldn’t notice. It had truly been a monumental mistake to think sending her the dress was a good idea. Eris had always known Nesta was stunning. But in this dress? He might as well open the car door and tumble out if he wanted to retain his sanity for the rest of the evening.

“I don’t think I’ve had the chance to thank you for the dress,” Nesta said, smiling as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Though I must emphasize how against this happening again I am,” she added sternly.

Of course. Eris was surprised he hadn’t received any angry texts yesterday for daring to send her the dress. Nevertheless, he managed a grin now.

“No promises,” he said. Nesta shook her head, clearly unwilling to argue with him right now. Perhaps later.

For a while, they traveled in silence, with Nesta responding to messages on her phone. Judging by the speed of her typing and the way her nails clicked against the screen, Eris assumed she was probably giving clear orders on how to take care of her little monsters.

“How’s Astrid doing?” he asked.

Nesta looked up at him, putting her phone away. “Better. She’s already trying to convince me she can walk just fine.”

Eris chuckled warmly. “Boundless energy.”

“You have no idea,” Nesta said with a small smile.

They struck up another conversation as they drove to the building hosting the charity dinner. When they arrived, the driver pulled up to the entrance, where Nesta and Eris stepped out before he drove off to park. Inside, they were immediately greeted by Kallias and his wife, Viviane.

“Eris, Nesta, I’m grateful you could find the time to come,” Kallias said, smiling as he introduced Nesta to Viviane.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Nesta said with a polite smile.

“Likewise,” Viviane replied warmly.

Eris barely had the chance to say hello before Viviane took Nesta’s arm and led her away, enthusiastically complimenting her dress and how beautifully her earrings matched. Kallias glanced after his wife and smiled with such fondness that it caught Eris off guard. Though they were friends, he rarely saw this side of Kallias.

A waitress passed by, and both Kallias and Eris took glasses of champagne from her tray. The guests were only just beginning to arrive, allowing them a moment of calm conversation before the mingling and obligatory smiles began—a routine Eris was used to but had no desire to engage in tonight.

“I’ll be honest,” Kallias said, watching his wife introduce Nesta to her friends, gesturing animatedly and chatting nonstop, “it’s a bit terrifying if they hit it off.”

“And why’s that?” Eris asked, smirking as he too glanced in their direction, his eyes inevitably drawn to Nesta, who looked so at ease conversing with Viviane and her friends.

Kallias shrugged. “Too powerful a duo. They’d terrorize both of us.”

Eris nearly choked on his champagne. “Why ‘us’?”

He turned to Kallias, who raised an eyebrow, his expression saying, Are you serious right now? Eris narrowed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room—namely, how painfully obvious his feelings for a certain lady in this building were.

“You’re not dating?” Kallias asked, his tone entirely sincere, devoid of any teasing.

Which, Eris thought, made it worse. If Kallias had been mocking him, he could have told him to go to hell. But this? This genuine bewilderment was infinitely harder to dismiss.

“No,” Eris replied in a neutral tone, fighting the urge to look at Nesta again. But she was like a magnet, and his gaze found her in the crowd almost involuntarily. “No,” he repeated unnecessarily, “we’re not dating.”

Kallias seemed genuinely puzzled but didn’t press further, for which Eris was endlessly grateful.

Instead, Kallias shifted the conversation to how he had allocated funds from the factory. The case had been messy, and the company in question had paid the requested damages quickly to avoid prolonged scrutiny and scandal.

As more guests arrived, Kallias excused himself to greet other investors, while Eris wandered through the crowd, greeting familiar faces. It was amusing how some recognized him as a lawyer, while others knew him as the Vanserra heir. Either way, everyone was eager to engage with him, and Eris found no reason not to reciprocate with politeness.

Every so often, during a businessman's self-congratulatory story about a charitable donation or a lucrative deal, Eris’s eyes searched for Nesta, inevitably finding her beside Viviane. The two had clearly hit it off. Good for her, Eris thought, envious that Nesta didn’t have to endure the mind-numbing conversations he was stuck in.

So he praised a businessman whose daughter had recently gotten into Yale, or another who had made a deal worth several hundred million dollars. Eris said something about his own firm, too, weakly keeping up the conversation. And then his gaze fell on the most unpleasant person he had simply prayed not to meet today.

Of course, his prayers went unanswered because she spotted him too, wrinkling her nose as though detecting a bad smell. Fantastic.

The blonde demoness headed toward him, and Eris considered pretending he hadn’t seen her and making a swift exit—if not for Kallias, who appeared beside him and nodded in greeting. Traitor.

“Mor,” Kallias greeted her as she approached, leaving no room for avoidance.

“Kallias,” Morrigan replied, her smile predatory as she reached out, likely intending to hug him. Kallias sidestepped, extending his hand for a shake instead. Eris chuckled quietly, watching the exchange. Morrigan had a notorious habit of throwing herself at other people’s husbands.

Her gaze shifted to Eris, filled with barely concealed hostility. He couldn’t care less.

“Eris,” she hissed his name like a snake—more a viper, really. Kallias immediately sensed the tension and seemed ready to intervene, but Eris only offered a lazy smirk.

“Morrigan, always a pleasure,” he lied easily, the hint of mockery in his tone unmistakable. Judging by the way Morrigan narrowed her eyes, she caught it. “Are you here with someone?”

He hadn’t followed her life since the moment he convinced his father to break off the engagement after some public scandal involving Morrigan. Eris only knew that the “breakup” had worsened her social standing and life in general. On the other hand, neither of them had wanted to marry each other, and at the time, he truly believed he was doing them both a favor. Morrigan, of course, hadn’t appreciated his so-called help.

They crossed paths at numerous events afterward, but every time, Eris preferred to avoid her whenever possible.

Yet Morrigan always glared at him as if he’d insulted her instead of merely inquiring about her company. Honestly, Eris was just trying to locate the unlucky soul who had chosen her and find a way to convince him to leave early with his date. But apparently, tonight she came without any influential company to flaunt to other gold diggers like herself.

"My partner couldn’t make it tonight," she said in a deceptively friendly tone. "What about you?"

Eris only shrugged, not intending to tell her anything. Of all things, she didn’t need to know about Nesta. Eris wasn’t going to talk about her to someone he wasn’t on good terms with, and besides, if Morrigan wanted, she’d find out during Kallias’s speech later, where he’d undoubtedly mention both him and Nesta.

"How’s your father doing?" she asked, purely to be a venomous snake.

A few years ago, Eris might have lost his temper. Perhaps he would’ve said something rude, letting her provoke him. But now, all he felt was the urge to laugh at such a lazy attempt to offend him.

Still, if Morrigan wanted to play the game of dragging family members into the conversation, he could certainly join. The odds were evenly matched anyway.

"How’s yours?" he countered with a small smirk. "I heard he and your cousin are still at odds. Odd, don’t you think, considering their joint factory project?"

Eris would’ve liked to see her lose her composure, but Morrigan’s lips merely curled into a poisonous, mockingly sweet smile. Typical.

"I don’t mix family affairs with business," she shrugged. "And you’d be wise to do the same—maybe then your conflicts with Vanserra Enterprises would resolve."

Low blow, and she knew it. Smug and unbearably proud of herself. But Eris only shrugged, refreshing his champagne from a passing waiter, whom Morrigan followed with her gaze.

"Maybe if you followed your own advice, then your conflicting interests with your cousin wouldn’t affect you so much," he mirrored her smile. "For instance, your charity foundation opposing those lands sold for factory wouldn’t have had to shut down."

Kallias, who Eris had completely forgotten was standing nearby, cleared his throat, sensing the escalating tension. He announced he’d check on Viviane. At the mention of her name, Morrigan’s demeanor shifted, as if she’d heard a key word, her face transforming in an instant.

She, too, began scanning for Viviane, and when she found her, she and Kallias headed to another part of the room. Eris rolled his eyes as soon as she disappeared from sight.

Once she was far enough away, breathing felt easier. Not because her inflated ego somehow sucked all the air out of the room—though that would’ve been amusing—but because of the overwhelming perfume she was wearing that evening. Eris almost grimaced but instead finished his champagne and turned his attention to a former client of his, who began recounting her engagement to some influential businessman whose name was supposed to impress Eris.

A few minutes passed, and his gaze returned to the only person who continued to hold his attention. However, he immediately frowned when he didn’t see Nesta with Viviane, with whom she’d spent the evening. He assumed she’d just stepped away briefly, but after ten minutes and still no sign of her, Eris began circling the room, trying to find her.

Pushing through the crowd and brushing off attempts at polite small talk, Eris scanned the perimeter of the room twice before finally spotting Nesta. She was at the bar, talking to some guy, laughing and smiling at him.

Good news: he’d found her, and Nesta hadn’t been abducted. Bad news? He’d found her in the company of this… guy. The guy seemed to be from an influential family, with a face suspiciously familiar to Eris, though he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. It was unlikely they’d worked together since Eris remembered all his clients, and it was doubtful they moved in the same circles. With all due respect, the kid looked ridiculously young, and Eris couldn’t understand how, of all people, Nesta had ended up in his company.

Eris couldn’t deny that Nesta would attract attention from men tonight. Hell, he was one of those who couldn’t take his eyes off her, so it wasn’t surprising others noticed her beauty and wanted to talk to her, flirt, maybe take it further…

He mentally stopped himself because his own train of thought was riling him up, his fists clenching with growing anger. First, at himself for not making any effort to speak to Nesta over the past two hours, and then at this kid for his audacity.

Audacity… that’s when it clicked. Eris, being a reasonable man, initially intended to walk away, swallowing his pride and not interfering with Nesta’s conversation. She was free to choose her company for the evening, and if she chose this peacock, so be it. But now that he remembered where he’d seen this guy, Eris wasn’t about to stand idly by.

He approached from behind Nesta, glaring at the guy. The latter recognized him and faltered mid-tirade about… sports cars? Seriously? Eris was more astonished that Nesta was consciously listening to this nonsense. From what he knew, rich, cocky kids weren’t her type. And he knew this from personal experience.

As soon as the boy stammered, Nesta turned, noticing Eris and glaring at him in irritation. "Eris."

Her tone made it clear she didn’t appreciate his interference, but he’d survive. "Nesta," he greeted her with a smile, extending his hand. "Care to dance?"

***

Viviane seemed cheerful. Even genuine. Nesta had feared that tonight she’d have to recall all the lessons from her detestable mother on how to be a proper socialite because this event could count as part of her job—networking and all. But instead, she was simply enjoying the evening.

Kallias’s wife, a stunning woman with ash-blonde hair, introduced her to her friends, and from there, they simply talked and talked. Viviane carried most of the conversation, chatting about her husband, their orphanage, thanking Nesta multiple times for her and Eris's help, and ending with a discussion about children.

By then, they had found common ground, and Nesta relaxed completely. All her initial concerns proved unfounded, and she even met a few people to whom she recommended Eris's firm. So she checked off her mental work-related achievement too.

Everything was going smoothly. The champagne was excellent, the company pleasant and lively, and the event was deemed a success. She occasionally spotted Eris, who was engrossed in conversation with businessmen like himself. Nothing surprising there, she told herself. Why would she have expected him to spend the whole evening by her side?

And yet, for some reason, she had hoped for it. But Eris didn’t glance her way even once, and Nesta convinced herself that whatever had been between them had never meant anything serious. Why would it? Eris had likely flirted out of boredom, and as for the dress, he could afford a thousand of them without even accounting for the fact that it was from his mother’s brand.

He’d probably find some girl and, if he felt like it, go home with her. Nesta wasn’t even going to watch it happen.

“Are you okay?” Viviane asked, noticing her sour expression.

Nesta smiled. “I’m fine.”

She was anything but fine. Because as soon as she said it, she spotted a painfully familiar figure beside Eris. The universe must have hated Nesta; there was no other explanation. Morrigan was there, chatting with Eris. Judging by their smiles, their conversation was friendly.

Viviane followed her gaze. “Oh, I didn’t know Mor was coming,” she said warmly. “I must introduce you two—I’m sure you’d get along wonderfully.”

Nesta didn’t tell Viviane that Morrigan had been sleeping with her husband for God knows how many months, if not years. Instead, she pressed her lips together, watching closely as Morrigan interacted with Eris, apparently exchanging pleasantries or something of the sort.

Of course, why wouldn’t he talk to Morrigan? She was beautiful, stereotypically sweet, like a Barbie doll come to life, always adept with words, charming everyone. And their families were likely on a similar level of influence, based on what Nesta had heard. Surely, Eris and Morrigan had known each other for years.

Why not? Men loved Morrigan, as life had demonstrated to Nesta in the most vivid way possible. Perhaps that was why Cassian had been clinging to her all week—because Morrigan had already moved on to someone else, and he had bored her. She probably didn’t care about the ruined marriage she had been one of the causes of.

A sharp pang of bitterness welled up inside Nesta. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that Morrigan could be the one Eris went home with. It was an irrational thought, but it stuck. For the first time in a long while, Nesta had thought that something could be hers. Something that Morrigan couldn’t take, or Cassian’s family couldn’t ruin. Something completely personal and untouched by them.

After a few minutes, Viviane waved to Morrigan. Nesta couldn’t be angry about that specifically—they’d clearly been friends for years. But as Morrigan approached, Nesta knew she couldn’t handle this meeting. Anyone but her.

Unfortunately, she didn’t manage to leave as quickly as she’d hoped. Morrigan noticed her, and Nesta wasn’t going to flee as if on fire—not when Morrigan might notice. She wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

“Mor!” Vivian exclaimed as Morrigan reached out to hug her.

“Vivi,” Morrigan replied with a smile, while Nesta wished the ground to open up and swallow her at that moment.

Morrigan’s gaze fell on her. Nesta didn’t look away, meeting her eyes coldly and, for a moment, wishing she had some magical power to obliterate the wretched woman standing before her. But alas, she didn’t have such abilities and wasn’t a superhero from the cartoons Astrid loved to watch.

“Nesta,” Morrigan said, comically widening her eyes in surprise.

“You know each other?” Vivian asked, glancing between them.

Nesta shrugged. “I knew her boyfriend,” was all she said, watching Morrigan’s face redden noticeably.

“Boyfriend? Are you dating someone?” Viviane frowned. “I thought we discussed you wouldn’t—”

“It’s someone else!” Morrigan interrupted sharply. Both Nesta and Viviane gave her a long, questioning look, surprised by her reaction. “I mean... um... Nesta, it’s nice to see you.”

Nice to see her, indeed. Nesta wished there weren’t so many important people at this event so she could slap Morrigan across the face—the slap she should have delivered when she found Morrigan’s earrings in her bedroom. Months had passed; she had thought and truly believed she had come to terms with Cassian’s betrayal. But Morrigan’s actions still made her grit her teeth in anger. And if she didn’t shut up soon, Nesta might let that anger surface in the worst way possible.

She didn’t respond to Morrigan’s pleasantries, remaining silent. Viviane noticed the tension between them and turned her attention to Kallias, who had just approached them after being delayed by a potential investor.

“That’s a beautiful dress,” Morrigan said sweetly. “Good thing we’re not the same size, or I might be tempted to steal it.”

Nesta told herself it was just Morrigan’s way of joking, playing the charming and playful role she always embodied. After years with Cassian’s family, Nesta was used to such behavior. Yet the comment still made something inside her tighten, almost shattering the remnants of her self-control.

“Fortunately for you, I don’t return the sentiment,” Nesta replied, giving Morrigan a cold stare.

Viviane returned to the conversation, deliberately ignoring the tension between them. “This is Aurora Vanserra’s dress, isn’t it? I followed her new collection but didn’t manage to buy anything,” she said, throwing a reproachful look at her husband as if he were to blame for her misfortune.

“Aurora Vanserra’s?” Morrigan asked, looking at the dress again as if seeing it in a new light.

“Yes,” Viviane nodded. “Isn’t it such a sweet gesture on his part?”

“Whose?” Morrigan asked, overly curious.

Nesta didn’t care to elaborate further. But as Morrigan moved closer to her, Nesta instinctively stepped back sharply—just in time to avoid Morrigan “accidentally” spilling her drink.

“What the hell?” Nesta hissed under her breath.

Morrigan looked up at her, wide-eyed, caught red-handed, though neither Viviane nor Kallias likely suspected anything sinister in her clumsiness.

“Sorry,” Morrigan said in an apologetic tone that made Nesta want to slap her with twice the force. “Oh my God, I’m so clumsy. I almost ruined your dress.”

“It didn’t stain, did it?” Vivian asked, carefully inspecting the black fabric. Nesta was slightly surprised, expecting her to rush to Morrigan, asking if she was okay. “Let’s double-check in the restroom,” she suggested.

They didn’t head toward the restroom, and Nesta knew it. They simply moved far enough away to be out of sight. Viviane sighed heavily.

“Forgive her,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with her today. She has her moments, but I genuinely thought Morrigan had outgrown this behavior long ago.”

Nesta didn’t tell Viviane that Morrigan, in fact, had never stopped acting that way. Instead, she waved off Viviane’s apologies, not wanting her to feel guilty in this situation when the root of the problem was one utterly vile blonde.

As they stood reassuring each other that everything was fine, a young man approached them. Nesta wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t come almost face-to-face with them. Just another young man in an expensive suit, one of a hundred or two others just like him, only older.

To be honest, Nesta had almost jokingly asked where his parents were. But the guy beat her to it, flashing a charmingly boyish smile.

“Hi,” he drawled. “I’ve been wanting to come over all evening, but I was too nervous. Can I buy you a drink?”

Viviane discreetly gave her two big thumbs up before tactfully vanishing into the crowd. Nesta would’ve told her to stay, but… Eris was nowhere to be seen, Morrigan was getting on her nerves and practically begging to be killed, and in front of her was an objectively attractive, if slightly too polished, guy offering to share a drink. She didn’t bother correcting him by reminding him the food and drinks were already paid for, figuring he must’ve been standing there working up his nerve. So to hell with it—she wasn’t about to refuse the opportunity to relax since she’d come here anyway.

About three minutes in, Nesta realized that, well, you needed to choose your company wisely. The guy, Alan Breyer—who, for some reason, insisted that Nesta know his last name as if it were already a core part of his personality and blazing like a red flag—first regaled her with tales of his mansion in suburban London, then about his apartment on the Upper East Side, and then moved on to cars.

The upsides? He had good taste in cocktails and occasionally—very rarely—shared amusing stories, like how his group of rich kids once ended up stranded on a yacht out of fuel in the middle of the sea. Nesta knew immediately how absurdly fake the story was but allowed Alan to believe he’d charmed her. At the very least, she found it entertaining to watch him.

Then she felt someone’s presence behind her and turned, spotting Eris burning a hole through the poor boy. Oh, hell no. Eris had left of his own volition and hadn’t approached her even once, so Nesta wasn’t about to let him ruin her evening of entertaining herself.

“Eris,” she said, frowning and hoping her glare was as intimidating as she intended.

Instead of being embarrassed, Eris simply gave a lazy smile—the same kind of smile he gave Morrigan, whispered a nasty voice in her head, and Nesta nearly rolled her eyes.

“Nesta,” Eris said softly, extending a hand to her. “Care to dance?”

“I’m busy,” she replied curtly and coldly, as she always did to protect herself.

Not wanting to waste her time on him and his stupid games, Nesta reached for her cocktail. But Eris took her glass before she could protest and promptly scared Alan off, seating himself in the boy’s spot at the bar.

“What the hell was that?” Nesta demanded.

“Remind me to deal with this on Monday,” Eris said nonchalantly, turning to the bartender. “Pour this out and don’t let that boy order drinks for any of his ‘dates’ again.”

"Eris," Nesta said again, her voice sharp.

"Nesta," he replied with a smile, extending his hand once more. "Dance with me."

She shouldn’t have agreed. But Eris took her hand and easily pulled her to her feet, and she followed him. Nesta knew she didn’t have many reasons to be angry with him specifically. They weren’t here as a couple, after all, and it was her problem that her expectations weren’t met, especially since those expectations were foolish to begin with.

"Sorry," Eris murmured in her ear, leaning closer as one of his hands rested on her waist, leading them in the dance. "I admit, I don’t fully understand why you’re upset with me, but I’m sorry."

Nesta hated how hard it was to stay mad at him now when he was… like this. It had been ten times easier back in university when he acted like an arrogant bastard, only interested in scoring higher on tests than she did.

"It’s fine," Nesta said, waving it off as she allowed him to spin her, only to return to his arms. "But you scared off my pleasant company."

"I wouldn’t call that company pleasant," Eris grimaced, his hands tightening slightly on her arm and waist. "Breyer’s been accused several times of harassment and spiking drinks. Not that it was ever proved but rumor has it."

Oh. That explained a lot.

"And yes, I trust your judgment," Eris interrupted before she could respond. "But with guys like him, I wouldn’t take the risk."

Nesta huffed, looking away and clenching her teeth. Eris only drew her closer, disguising the movement as part of the dance.

"Talk to me," he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the music. Nesta looked up and met his gaze—warm, tender amber eyes.

"There’s nothing to talk about," she said stubbornly. She didn’t want to voice her thoughts here at all. Nesta knew all her emotions were the result of overthinking. She didn’t need anyone else confirming that. She was doing just fine on her own.

"Why don’t I believe you?" Eris asked with a soft smirk, his tone taking on its usual playful edge. "We definitely have something to talk about—like why you’re in such a bad mood when, half an hour ago, I saw you laughing with Viviane."

Nesta froze. The fact that Eris had actually been looking her way, noticing her mood shifts and even the timing, caught her off guard. His gaze might have just happened to fall on her; it didn’t necessarily mean he’d been seeking her out.

"If I misread something, I’d like the chance to fix it," Eris added, still in that soft tone. "Please?"

The music slowed, the melody shifting to something softer and more deliberate. Couples around them swayed in tandem, and Nesta felt herself being drawn closer despite every instinct screaming at her to resist. His hold on her was steady, grounding in a way that annoyed her more than she cared to admit.

"This is stupid," Nesta sighed, feeling herself start to give in.

"I doubt it will shake my confidence in your intelligence," Eris shrugged.

Nesta sighed again, deciding it couldn’t get any worse. "Fine. Listen. I thought you’d be by my side tonight. That we’d spend the evening together. But all I saw was you talking to everyone but me. And yes, I know how that sounds. And frankly, it’s frustrating."

She noticed his eyes widen slightly in surprise before it shifted into a familiar smirk. As it turned out, she thought, things could get worse. If he opened his mouth and—

"Were you jealous?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly fighting the urge to smile. Nesta wished she could incinerate him on the spot.

"No," she snapped. "Shut up."

Eris twirled her again, pulling her back against his chest. He leaned down near her ear, and though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel his damn smirk. Nesta glanced back at him, her lips parting to deliver a sharp retort, but she stopped when she saw his expression. There was no mockery in his eyes, no arrogance. Just… warmth.

"I’m sorry if I made you feel ignored tonight," Eris said softly, his hand tightening slightly on her waist. "That wasn’t my intention."

Her breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her irritation like a knife. Nesta only frowned, unsure how she was supposed to feel about the apology. Because honestly? His proximity and his voice only made her want to kiss him again. Him and his stupid smirk.

They spun again, and she turned a full 180 degrees, facing him once more.

"You could’ve just said something. Then I’d have spent the entire evening with you," Eris said. "I’d have been yours for the night."

"I hate it when you do that," Nesta muttered, trying to keep her face cold, though they both knew she wouldn’t succeed.

"When I’m honest?" Eris smirked.

"When you do or say something I’d never expect from you," she corrected. "Like now. You’re not usually one for apologies."

"I’m not usually wrong," he countered with a small grin, though his eyes stayed serious. "But I’ll make it up to you. Starting now."

"And how do you plan to do that?" she asked, arching a brow, though she cursed herself for sounding more curious than dismissive.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead spinning her again. The motion was seamless and fluid as if they’d practiced this a hundred times. When she landed back in his arms, his hand slid slightly lower on her waist, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smile.

"Well, for starters, I’ll keep you here on the dance floor as long as you’ll let me," he said. "And after that… I suppose I’ll have to get creative."

Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, but she kept her expression neutral. "We’ll see if you’re still standing by the end of the night."

Eris chuckled, the sound warm and low. "Challenge accepted."

And he did it. They danced through several more songs, spinning elegantly and effortlessly, so much so that Nesta found herself remembering how she had forgotten Eris was such a good dancer. Long ago, they had both participated in a project Feyre had roped Nesta into joining. Since it involved partner dances and everyone else turned out to be complete amateurs, Nesta had risked asking Eris. She did not know about his dancing skills, but he was the only remaining option.

Nesta wasn’t surprised when he refused, saying that unlike her, he would prefer to spend that time preparing for exams. Yet, later that evening, a message arrived in her inbox from little Lucien, who casually mentioned that his brother had professionally trained in dance throughout middle and high school and might agree if persuaded.

Convincing Eris Vanserra herself? Not even at gunpoint. Instead, she bribed his younger brother to handle it for her. Did it work? Oh, it most certainly did. To this day, Nesta hadn’t figured out exactly how Lucien managed it — considering his only means of contact with Eris was through messaging and phone calls — but he did. Within days, Eris told her that, as it turned out, he had an open window in his schedule — so self-important that Nesta couldn’t help but mock him with a sarcastic tone right to his face — and agreed.

During Feyre’s rehearsals, Nesta had sworn she’d kill him. One minute he didn’t like a particular step; the next, he complained she was moving too sharply—despite her being just as experienced as him and quite confident she knew more. His endless commentary and general bitchiness kept them late into the evenings until everything finally met his impossible standards.

Nesta remembered how Feyre, after much struggle, completed her project, capturing their dance and that of others she somehow convinced to join. Despite Eris’s apparent mission to inconvenience everyone, he had sacrificed personal time and put his all into it. Nesta, without a word, had coffee and a cinnamon roll delivered to him through his friends the following Monday.

But this? This felt completely different. No surprise, considering how much both of them had changed since then. Nesta had always, even during Feyre’s project, seen dance as an obligation—something forced upon her or persistently requested.

Here? Eris was ready to leave the dance floor the moment she said the word. Yet, against her own expectations, Nesta wasn’t in a hurry to leave. Instead, she let the ease of their movements take over. They moved as one, perfectly in sync and so effortlessly harmonious that her old dance instructor would have died from shock and envy. Nesta reminded herself that she wasn’t that spiteful. Then again, maybe she was.

"You’ve got the look of someone about to kill," Eris chuckled. "I’m sincerely hoping it’s not me since I planned on surviving the night."

Nesta blinked, glancing at him. "I don’t have any look. But keep talking, and we’ll see."

Eris mimed locking his mouth shut and grinned. After a while, they both agreed it was enough. Nesta went to get water, with Eris trailing close behind, refusing to leave her side.

At the bar, Nesta scanned the room, trying to spot Mor so she’d know which parts of the hall to avoid. Meanwhile, Eris watched her drink water as though it were the evening's most fascinating event.

"It’s rude to stare," she said with a playful snort, though without malice. She lazily shifted her gaze to him, narrowing her eyes slightly when she noticed what looked like the tips of his ears turning red—just like they had a few days ago at her apartment.

"Not the rudest thing I’ve done tonight," he replied with a shrug. "I did dare to ignore the most beautiful and enchanting lady at this event."

Nesta rolled her eyes, smirking. "Flattery won’t help you."

"I see a smile on your lips, which means it already has."

Shaking her head, she laughed softly. Not long after, Kallias took the stage with a microphone, starting a speech about his shelter and the challenges they had faced that year. Viviane stood beside her husband, smiling warmly at the guests and lending him moral support, while Nesta stood near Eris.

During his speech, Kallias specifically thanked them both, stating that without their help, the shelter would likely have been on the verge of closing, leaving hundreds of children without access to proper care.

As the discussion shifted to the shelter’s future plans, Nesta and Eris stepped aside to a quieter area. Eris joked about how Kallias had sent him seven drafts of the speech the day before, asking for feedback as though Eris were an orator rather than a lawyer. Nesta laughed, adding that Viviane told her her husband had been practicing his "serious face" in the mirror two hours before the gala.

While they laughed and chatted, disaster struck. A disaster with blonde hair, a dark red dress, and a penchant for ruining Nesta’s life and inciting murderous urges.

Morrigan. Of course, it was Morrigan.

"Nesta," Morrigan greeted her with the same overly sweet smile she reserved for when someone from the family or friends was nearby. Nesta never noticed that friendliness when they were alone. "You’ve been gone for a while, and I haven’t had the chance to apologize."

Eris raised an intrigued eyebrow, watching their exchange. Nesta gave him a quick glance before turning back to the demoness.

"For what exactly?" Nesta asked coldly, already out of patience for whatever tricks or games Morrigan had planned. "For nearly ruining my dress or for stealing my husband?"

Silence. Nesta didn’t even pretend to feel sorry. She hadn’t spoken to Morrigan in the aftermath of Cassian’s betrayal. Maybe she should have. Maybe she should have punched Morrigan — and her ex-husband — one last time before leaving. The confused, shocked look on Morrigan’s face would definitely have been worth it.

“I…” Morrigan started, already preparing to defend herself when Viviane ran up to them.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” Viviane said quickly, flashing a kind smile at both Nesta and Eris. “Come with me, I need you.”

Viviane promptly led her away, winking discreetly with a knowing smile before dragging Mor along to some other corner of the event.

Nesta felt like she needed more air, and Eris kept trailing her like a dog. They stepped into an empty corridor, the thick doors shutting out the evening’s noise.

“Cassian cheated on you?” Eris asked, his tone laced with disbelief and even a hint of anger.

Nesta merely shrugged, the familiar ache resurfacing at the mention of what had happened. Yet, the phantom pain in her chest was duller than before. “Yes. We divorced right after I found out.”

Eris was silent for a moment; his jaw clenched tightly, his expression one of barely contained indignation. “I never thought he could sink even lower, but…”

“But here we are,” she finished with a dry laugh. “It’s fine. At least now that he and Mor are together, I’m free. No more torturing myself with constant suspicions.” She paused, watching his reaction. “Not that they’ll be particularly happy, knowing she’s already scouting for someone else at this event. Honestly, they deserve each other.”

Eris nodded in agreement and let out a derisive snort. “They really do,” he muttered, glaring at the closed door as if he could burn a hole through it to wherever Mor had disappeared. For a moment, Nesta doubted her earlier assumptions about his relationship with Mor.

“Wonder who her next victim will be,” he mused aloud.

“Isn’t it you?” Nesta teased.

“What?” Eris frowned, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion, making her question her observations even more.

“Weren’t you two flirting earlier?” she clarified. “About an hour ago or so.”

Eris stared at her like she’d lost her mind. He blinked several times, fixing her with a long, incredulous look that made Nesta feel uncomfortably awkward.

She braced for a sharp denial, a practiced lie, something Cassian might have said. But instead, Eris laughed. The bastard laughed—a low, rich sound that grated on her nerves and made her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t wrong. You really were jealous,” he finally said, grinning at her in a way that made her wish she could wipe that smug expression off his face.

“It was an observation,” she insisted stubbornly, crossing her arms.

“Of course,” Eris replied, his smirk widening infuriatingly. Did he have to be so annoyingly attractive while irritating her? “Hate to disappoint you, Miss Observation, but Morrigan would be the last person in that room to interest me. What you saw was a conversation between two people who ruined each other’s reputations years ago. That’s all—an annulled arranged marriage and years of mutual disdain.”

Nesta felt profoundly foolish. She wished the ground would swallow her whole, this time even more. She’d actually worried about their interactions tonight. Over what? Fake friendliness and a lack of genuine emotion?

Worst of all, she’d let herself spiral so much that she’d almost let some teenager flirt with her and ply her with drinks.

“I hate you,” she muttered, burying her face against Eris’s shoulder. He only chuckled, his hand settling lightly on her back and rubbing soothing circles.

“No, you don’t,” he said cheerfully. “But let’s talk about the fact that you…”

“Did I mention I hate you?” Nesta grumbled, earning more laughter from him.

“Hmm, I think you did,” Eris said with mock seriousness. Then he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. He smiled at her—warmly, sincerely—in a way that made her want to throttle him.

Throttle him for daring to look so soft, so genuine, that it felt like seeing him for the first time. Something shone in his amber eyes—something bright, unguarded, and so real it seemed almost impossible.

Before she could overthink it, Nesta reached up, her fingers lightly gripping the lapels of his jacket. His gaze flickered down to the motion, and when their eyes met again, there was no teasing left—just raw, unspoken emotion that tightened her chest.

“Eris,” she began, but he shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing her cheek in a tender gesture that stole the words from her lips.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he said, his voice rougher now, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned closer.

She said nothing. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Instead, Nesta gazed at him with the same softness she rarely let anyone see.

Eris tilted her chin up with a gentle hand again, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was both tentative and searing. It was a slow burn, a culmination of tension that had simmered for far too long.

Eris’s hand slid up to cradle the back of her neck, his touch firm yet careful, as if he were afraid she might pull away. But Nesta didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers curled into collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as her resolve melted into the heat of the moment. He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to the small of her back, anchoring her against him as the rest of the world blurred into nothingness.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Eris rested his forehead against hers, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“That’s highly inappropriate in a public place.”

Nesta groaned, smacking his chest lightly, but she didn’t pull away. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re incredible,” he countered, his thumb brushing along the curve of her jaw.

Nesta wanted to believe that, after his words, she could simply push him away and step back, returning to the evening. But instead, she couldn’t take her eyes off him—off that unfairly, devastatingly beautiful face. She leaned in and kissed him again, while Eris only pulled her closer. Nesta thought she might like to stay in this moment. To turn off her mind, her thoughts, and not think about the consequences. To simply be here, to feel, to exist.

“If you keep going like this, I won’t be able to keep up the gentlemanly act much longer,” Eris whispered between kisses. “Please, have mercy.”

Nesta only smiled, biting his lower lip, making Eris let out a quiet growl. “I think this is a socially acceptable time to leave,” she whispered in response.

That was all it took for Eris to grab her hand and lead her toward the exit. A few minutes later, they were seated in the back of a limousine. The air inside felt charged, thick with unspoken tension as the door shut behind them. The quiet hum of the car’s engine was the only sound for a moment, save for their uneven breaths. Eris still held Nesta’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles as if grounding himself.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he said softly, the crooked smile she was growing dangerously fond of tugging at his lips again.

Nesta arched a brow, tilting her head slightly as she leaned back against the plush seat. “Am I?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing edge despite the heat simmering in her chest.

Eris turned toward her, his amber eyes molten as they locked onto hers. “You have no idea,” he murmured, his tone low and thick with something that made her pulse skip.

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips finding hers again with a hunger that matched the charged energy between them. This kiss was different—deeper, more insistent as if he was pouring every ounce of restraint he’d held back all evening into her.

Nesta responded without hesitation, her hands sliding up his chest to curl around the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. Eris groaned against her lips, his hand sliding to the small of her back, guiding her effortlessly until she was half-straddling him.

“This is a terrible idea,” she murmured against his lips, though her actions betrayed her words as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

“The worst,” he agreed, his voice rough as his lips moved to the curve of her neck.

Nesta’s breath hitched, her fingers threading through his hair as his teeth grazed her skin lightly, sending sparks through her veins. “You don’t seem very concerned about that,” she managed to say, though her voice sounded far less steady than she intended.

Eris chuckled, the sound low and warm against her neck. “That’s because I’m not,” he admitted, his hand sliding down to her thigh, his touch deliberate and slow.

His other hand moved up her back, finding the zipper of her dress and unzipping it. Nesta turned, noticing how slowly the partition between the driver and the back of the car was rising. She suddenly realized exactly where and what they were about to do and, more importantly, that someone knew about it.

Eris, noticing the blush on her cheeks, only laughed. “I’m going to have to tip him extra for gas so he can make a few extra laps. And for this inconvenience.”

“This is all your fault,” she said, poking his chest, which only made him laugh more—along with her.

Eris merely shrugged at the accusations, sliding one strap of her dress down, then the other, tugging at the soft fabric and letting it slide off her chest. One of his hands remained on her thigh, tracing mindless patterns in a teasing manner, while his other hand moved to her breast, cupping it through the fabric of her bra.

Nesta only kissed him harder, her hands remained in his hair, tugging on it more when Eris undid her bra and brushed his fingers against her hardened nipples. Pulling away he started leaving open mouth kisses down her chest, his hand moving down to her other breast. She arched her back against him, and his free hand fell firmly upon her hips.

It was tortuously slow, touch by touch, kiss by kiss. Nesta moaned quietly, squirming slightly on his lap in impatience while he stubbornly refused to touch her when she wanted him the most. But when she opened her mouth to voice her indignation, Eris moved sharply, changing their position.

She found herself sitting on the soft seat of the car again while he settled between her legs, kneeling on the black carpet of the limo floor. His hands shamelessly lifted the skirt of her dress, exposing more of her skin and underwear.

“One smart comment and you’ll be thrown out of this car,” she hissed, sensing he had something to say. Nesta felt like she was seriously going to have a heart attack right then and there if this bastard started teasing her again.

Eris laughed against her inner thigh. “I plan on using my mouth differently,” he muttered as his hands deftly pulled her underwear down.

He leaned in, licking up her center, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue. Nesta let out a soft moan, arching her back as she felt his hands settle on her hips, keeping her in place as he licked her from the entrance to her clit.

One of his fingers slipped inside her, and Nesta gasped, her hand tugging on his hair hard enough to make him wince. He only continued his ministrations with doubled force while he added the second finger, feeling her clench around it. Nesta whined softly, tightening her grip with each stroke of his tongue.

She felt like she was one single exposed wire in someone else's hands. Eris continued to pleasure her, moving his fingers in a fast rhythm, murmuring compliments in between. After a few more minutes, Nesta found her release. Eris lapped on her, licking every single drop and letting her come down from her high.

She looked down, breathing heavily, only to see Eris grinning contentedly. His lips glistened with her juices, his hair disheveled from her grasp, the fucking glimpse in his eyes. He looked so damn hot.

The car stopped shortly after, and in the meantime, Eris helped her fix her dress.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked softly.

“Is that a question?” Nesta smirked, confused as to why he was even asking.

Eris shrugged, his expression masked by another sly smile. “I’m giving you a choice. Just in case you feel like running away.”

“I don’t like being in debt,” Nesta murmured, her hands briefly sliding to the waist of his pants before pulling back in a teasing gesture.

“You’re a very, very dangerous woman, Nesta Archeron,” Eris said, his voice low near her lips. “I’m going to lose my head.”

“I’ll mourn the loss,” she replied smoothly.

When they stepped out of the limousine, Nesta avoided glancing at the driver, while Eris rested his hand on her lower back, guiding her inside his apartment building. The night was still young.

[writtenonreceipts]

Based on the prompt received here and the song “too close” by jp cooper.

AO3 Link

This’ll probably be my last update for a while, jsyk

Warnings: mild angst, but it has a happy ending (spoiler). 3.8k words.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

eyes like stars, she brings me home

Autumn came to Velaris with its usual grace.  The mountains were turning from the vibrant green of summer to the burnished gold and warm brown of the changing season.  Usually by the third week of September you could drive up through the mountains and see the leaves change before your eyes.  Combined with the way the sun always seemed to shine day in and day out, the drive up to Ramiel was one of Rhys’ favorites.

At least…it had been.

For the last nine years he and his friends had made a point of driving up the canyon with plenty of coffee, cocoa, and spiced donuts between them.  The tradition started right after Rhys had gotten his license and he wanted to celebrate.  So he and Cassian and Azriel piled into his ratty old Corolla (father wouldn’t give him any money for a car as he hadn’t earned it) and they drove the canyon with a mountain of donuts and drinks between them.  And then Mor joined.  And Amren.  And then there was Feyre.

Feyre Archeron with her waves of dark blonde hair, infectious smile, and the wit to shut even Cassian up on occasion.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with her at seventeen, really.  She was always meant to be his friend.  The one he could turn to on the worst of days.  The only one who knew about the nightmares that came after his mother died.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with Feyre Archeron.  But some things couldn’t be helped.

Over the course of nine years, Rhys played his part perfectly.  He never teased Feyre too far, never touched where he shouldn’t, never let on how deep his feelings ran.  It wouldn’t be fair to Feyre or the rest of their friends to disrupt what they’d grown accustomed to.  To break up the friend group or make things awkward or—

So Rhys kept his feelings to himself.  And Azriel, because Az always stuffed his nose where it didn’t belong.  And Az tended to know things he had no business knowing.

When Feyre first started dating Isaac Hale, Rhys thought that was good.  It would help him get used to the idea that she really wasn’t his to have anyways.  And then Hale broke her heart and Rhys was the one to pick up the pieces.

“He was never good enough for you,” Rhys told her one night.  

They were in their sophomore year of college—Rhys in business and Feyre art history—and remained unseparated.  Mor chose to go to a school further south that specialized in psychology, Amren was always busy with law, Cassian starting his gym, and Az dropped out to do trade in mechanics.  It was just he and Feyre who saw each other consistently.  Strange, Rhys would come to think about, strange that somehow it turned to just the two of them.

Feyre let out a long sigh as she leaned back into his couch and looked at him sideways. “You have to say that.”

“It’s true,” Rhys said.  He nudged her with his shoulder.

They often found themselves here.  Together at his place finishing homework or cramming for exams.  Or on nights like tonight, just trying to tread water in preparation for the next week.

“He was an ass,” Rhys continued, “and you’re better off without him.”

Rhys could list off all the things that were wrong with Isaac if he wanted.  He’d curated the list long ago and had consistently added to it over the last five months of the miserable relationship.

Instead of replying, Feyre only leaned her head on his shoulder and tucked her legs beneath her.  Some reality show was playing on the old tv Rhys had rescued from a dumpster last week.  Neither were paying much attention to it though.  And that was fine.

Rhys much preferred the quiet, leisurely moments like this with Feyre.  Where they could just simply be and he could almost convince himself that something would change between them.  He was getting too close to that line of thinking, though.  He knew he couldn’t risk his friendship with Feyre.  Nor would he do anything that would potentially screw it up.  She was too important to him.

So they stayed like that until the night grew late and Rhys had already made the vow that he would never be the one to hurt Feyre.

…

Nine years.

He’d been in love with his best friend for nine years and he knew he was an utter idiot.  Who let themselves be in love with someone for nine years and never do anything about it? Rhysand.  And he was an idiot for it.

He’d tried dating other women and had been in a few somewhat serious relationships.  Serious for him at least.  The three-month mark was that magical moment where everything went to hell in a handbasket and the relationship would end and he’d be right back where he started.  Still in love with the same girl.

He was twenty-eight years old and nothing had changed.

Until Feyre started dating Tamlin Doyle. 

And Rhys had a sickening knowledge that this would be different.  That this relationship was the one that would truly break him.  Because Feyre was happy.  He saw it whenever he saw the two of them together.  Saw it when Feyre’s face lit up whenever Tamlin texted or called.  She’d even started hanging out at his place more and more. It soon got to the point where Rhys was lucky to see Feyre once or twice a week.

He tried to use it as his own chance to distance himself from Feyre.  To let it be the perfect excuse to move on, to find someone knew and let Feyre have her own life. 

And it would have worked, if Autumn hadn’t swept through the city again and a certain hadn’t taken the warmth of summer in one fell swoop. 

Rhys, a stickler for some traditions, didn’t think anything of it when he texted Feyre one Saturday morning to invite her on another drive up the canyon.  Because it was Feyre and this was what they did.  The drives, the talks, the time spent falling back into what they knew.

So when she texted him only a few moments after his message he was already planning on swinging through the coffee shop for their regular order.  It wasn’t until he actually read the words that he realized things weren’t going to be as they always had been.

Feyre: with tamlin today. Srry.

The words plain and simple with no way to misinterpret them.  Except all Rhys could do was stare at them.  She’d said the same thing last week and on Thursday when they’d all met up for drinks.  She was busy.  She had work.  Tamlin needed her.

Twenty minutes later when he picked Mor up to go with him instead, he tried telling his cousin about what happened.

“She always comes for the canyon runs,” Rhys said, pulling out onto the narrow two-lane highways that wove through the mountains.

From her seat, Mor sipped delicately on her coffee, snorting with disdain.

“Well, you don’t know Tamlin very well, do you?” Mor muttered.  Her mouth tilted into a frown as she glared out the front window.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rhys asked.

Mor only shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.  Just give her some space, yeah?  I’m meeting her for lunch next week, you don’t have to worry about her.”

“Mor,” he insisted.  He returned her glare as best he could while not careening the car over a cliff.

“Tamlin doesn’t share very well,” Mor said, she offered him a small smile, “you know Feyre, if she needs help, she always comes to you.”

Except Rhys didn’t like that response.  He didn’t like thinking about Feyre and Tamlin.  About whether or not Tamlin was good for her or if she really was happy.  Rhys didn’t like not knowing if things really were alright with Feyre.  And if she was, couldn’t she at least text him?

And maybe it wasn’t his business.  Maybe he really did need to give Feyre space.  Let her have a relationship outside of him.  Let her choose who she was—outside of him.

It made him sick; he couldn’t deny that.  Because what if…what if she found someone else, someone that…

These were the exact thoughts that he needed to shy away from.  That he needed to ignore.  Because Feyre, his Feyre, had a life to live and she never did anything she didn’t want to do. 

So Rhys kept driving.  He drove through the mountains and watched as the colors of summer faded from the bright greens and lush life into the amber of fall.  All the while his mind lingered on the what if’s of him and Feyre.

…

New Year’s Eve and he was spending it alone.

Rhys snorted to himself and shoved off the couch where ESPN was playing reels of the last big football game. It was nothing new, the channel had been on all night, the one thing that didn't show updates about the night of news. It made it easier to ignore reality.

He went to his kitchen, neat with its black cabinets and gray marble. Nothing stacked on the counters. Sterile as Feyre would say.

He winced.

Maybe that should be his resolution.  Not to think about her. Not to let her consumer him. To move on. Ten years was ten too many after all.

He poured himself a drink, ice clunking gently a he tossed a few cubes it. He downed half the whiskey before even shoving from the counter then poured himself another. 

It was the first New Years he hadn't bothered to do anything.  And he'd had plenty of opportunity.  Mor and her girlfriend were hosting a party together and Az was finally admitting to him and Gwyn being together.  Though Rhys wasn't surprised about that.  Cassian and Nesta were newly engaged and despite being homebodies every other damn day of the year they’d both tried dragging him out.

After the third rejection everyone had stopped bothering him.  Except Gwyn who kindly sent him an emoji of a cat in a party hat and an attached message: you had the right idea.  Why are we friends with these lunatics???

That at least made him smile.

Rhys shook his head and took another sip of his drink.  Already he could feel a gentle numbness spread through his body.  Not that he minded.  He’d rather get plastered in his own apartment then at a party where he knew he’d do something stupid.  Where Feyre was sure to be with Tamlin damned Doyle.  This was better.  This was the only solution to his feelings.  Stepping away.  Moving on.  And he wouldn’t try and draw a line between Feyre and their other friends.  Not when she didn’t even know a line needed to be drawn and for what.  That he was a bastard who didn’t even know how to act on his own feelings?

He stared at the television as another reel started of the Seahawks game.  They’d blown their lean, unsurprising, and the reel showed failed pass after failed pass.  At least he hadn’t made that bet with Varian over the game.  

His watch said eleven forty-five.  He should just go to bed, there was no reason to stay up til the tick of the year.  Maybe he should go to the airport and catch a random flight out.  New York or LA or…

A knock at the door pulled him from the thoughts of leaving.  He glanced again at his watch.  Forty-seven.  Who the hell?

More urgent this time, the knock wasn’t going anywhere.  

Cursing, Rhys trudged over to the door.  It was probably Cassian and he was going to have to have another talk about boundaries.  He should be allowed to skip out on New Years if he wanted to.

Rhys pulled the door open and froze, blinking at the sight before him.

There in a slim black dress that hugged each of her delightful curves was Feyre.  Her hair hung down her shoulders, the curls and waves framing her high cheekbones making her blue eyes stand out stark against her pale skin.  Her full lips were still stained with red lipstick, but the longer Rhys stared (he couldn’t help it) the more h realized something was off.  

“Feyre,” he said, more surprised than anything to see her there.  But concern soon took precedence as he noticed the way her mascara smudged and her eyes gleamed bright with unshed tears.  She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and not even a poorly thought of New Year’s resolution would keep him from noting it.

“Rhys.”

His name was a bare whisper on her lips but familiar nonetheless.  She’d always had this way of twisting the single syllable of his name, breathless and intent all at once.  But this particular inflection—the one with lingering pain and edging with embarrassment—made his heart seize and his senses ignite all at once.

Rhys didn’t reach out to her, instead stepping aside for her to enter the apartment.  She did, black heels clicking rhythmically on the hardwood floor.

“I thought you’d be at Mor’s,” she said, turning slowly to face him.  If she’d thought he’d been there, then where had she been all night?

Even in the heels she was still small, not even eye level with him.  He’d teased her for it before, especially when they used to spar together at Cassian’s gym.  But that had been ages ago, another lifetime entirely.  Back before Tamlin.

“But, I didn’t know where else to go,” she continued.  She wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the small framed picture of Rhys and his sister on the small entryway table. “But I knew you wouldn’t say no.”

It was the unmistakable hitch in her voice that did it for Rhys.  The way she bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself.  It wasn’t difficult to knew why she was here.  After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d showed up like this—scared and upset.  It made Rhys’ blood boil just to think about what Tamlin had done this time.

“Are you alright?” He asked first, because really that was the only thing that mattered to him.  That Feyre was safe, that she wasn’t hurt, that she was here.

She snorted indelicately; her revere broken.  She ran a hand through her hair, the strands tangling in her fingers.  A flush rose high on her cheeks and she muttered a curse.  

“Feyre, if he touched you—” Rhys began.  Even though he and Feyre had grown distant in the last few months, Rhys still knew exactly the kind of person Tamlin was and the subtle ways he’d manipulated Feyre in the course of their relationship.

“No,” she whispered, “he didn’t.”

But that haunted look didn’t leave her eyes.  Her lower lip trembled as she held back a wave of tears.  It took everything within him not to go to her.  And he wanted to.  He wanted to take her in his arms, feel her soft curves against him, smell the lingering pain on her skin and feel the little calluses on the tips of her fingers.  He wanted to—

He gripped his glass of whiskey harder, wondering if he should just set the glass down before he shattered it himself.  Though maybe it was a good thing he still held it, a reminder of how much he’d had to drink and that it would not be a good idea to drive to Tamlin’s apartment and have a conversation with him.  This wasn’t the first time Feyre had come to him teary eyes and visibly upset but Rhys would certainly try to make sure it was the last.

Feyre took a step towards him, her purse dangling precariously on one shoulder. “I broke up with Tamlin.”

The words hit him almost like a sucker punch.  Rhys could only stare at her as he disentangled the simple words from each other and repeated them over and over in his mind until the made sense.

“You—”

“Broke up,” she confirmed.  She tossed her purse aside where it thumped against the side of the couch and onto the floor. “He didn’t take it very well.”

Rhys’ jaw clenched.  Tamlin lived close enough he could walk—

“It was last week,” Feyre said, taking a few steps closer to Rhys. Her words started pouring out of her as if she couldn’t hold them in any longer. “After Christmas and the shitshow that was. But he kept trying to text me and talk to me and when I tried to give him back his key—he said something to me that I hadn’t realized and I had to talk to you but I didn’t know how.”

She was close enough now that Rhys could see the flecks of blue in her eyes that reminded him so much of the stars and that smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.  They were their own set of constellations that he’d memorized long ago.

“Feyre,” Rhys said, not following her words in the slightest.

Instead of answering, she reached out and plucked the glass of whiskey from his hands.  She leaned around him and placed it on the table beside the picture of his sister and Rhys caught the scent of jasmine that she enjoyed so much. 

When she met his eyes, the tears had vanished, replaced by a fierce determination.  It was the first real sign of the Feyre he knew that Rhys had seen in the last five minutes.

And then, before he could try and coax anymore information out of her, she kissed him.

The first brush of her lips was soft, hardly hesitant, but careful and sweet as she cupped his jaw with one hand.  Rhys, hardly a gentleman, recovered from shock and kissed her back.  He wasn’t gentle nor careful as he pulled Feyre against him, his hands going to her hips and digging into her skin.

He knew he should slow down; knew he should try and talk to her but that part of his mind had shut down completely.  All he could think about was that Feyre was in his arms kissing him.  Her words that she’d broken up with Tamlin was a near constant thrum in his mind.  That she’d needed to talk to him.  That—

Feyre broke away with a gasp.  Her eyes were blown wide, lips pink and full.  She stared at him with a mix of shock and desire, as though two different parts of her were warring with each other.  As though she couldn’t believe what she’d just done.

“Rhys,” she said.  And he knew she was going to try and apologize, was going to try and explain away the kiss, her actions.  But Rhys wouldn’t have it.

He raised one hand to her cheek, brushing away a tendril of her hair.  She was warm against him; warm and soft and real.  How many times had he thought about kissing her?  About holding her against him and feeling her heartbeat beneath his fingers.  How many times had he thought about moments just like this?

Rhys leaned in again, brushing his nose against her, listening as her breath hitched in her throat and one of her hands flexed at his hips.  He was doing this all wrong, moving too fast even as the world around them had slowed to a stop.  All he could focus on were the stars in Feyre’s eyes as she blinked up at him, as though she were the one startled by her own actions.

“What did you need to tell me, Feyre?” he asked, voice rougher than he intended.  It wasn’t as though he could help it.  Not when she had that look in her eyes and not when her body fit so perfectly against his.

He didn’t know what he was waiting for, didn’t know that if her next words would send everything tumbling into hundreds of thousands of pieces.  But he knew he needed to hear it whether or not it would break him.

He watched as she wet her lips, as she dropped her gaze and her lashes fluttered.

“I think I’m in love with you.”  Careful and slow she enunciated the words so there was no way they could be missed or slurred or misunderstood.  She met his gaze with her own and for the first time that night Rhys could see the apprehension, the worry, lingering there.

“You think?” he asked, one brow rising.

“I can take it back--” she began, but Rhys was already kissing her again.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled against her, the hand not cupped against her cheek moving to wrap around her, tugging her so impossibly close.  

He deepened the kiss, tasting her sweetness and the lingering alcohol on her breath from whatever party she’d been at.  She groaned against him and Rhys knew he would do anything and everything for her to make that sound again.  All it took was for his tongue to brush hers and her hands were in his hair tugging with near urgency.  

Rhys had been waiting for this moment for ten years.  Ten years to kiss Feyre, to touch her as though it were the last thing he’d ever do.  He’d already memorized so much about her but with the way his hands were dancing across her body and how his lips traced her jaw, her throat--there was so much more to learn about her.

Somehow, they stumbled to the couch without falling, leaving Feyre’s heels somewhere in the middle of the hall.  And somehow, they fell together, Rhys going first and Feyre straddling his hips, that dress of hers riding so far up her thighs that it left little, if anything, to the imagination.

“Are you sure?” Feyre asked even as her hands trailed along the hem of his shirt, her fingers finding the bare skin of his abdomen. “About any of this?”

Rhys leaned into her until their foreheads were pressed together and his hands were settled low against her waist, itching to dip lower to the bare stretch of skin waiting for him.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he said, pressed a slow lingering kiss to her lips. “I’ve been in love with you long enough.”

She chuckled wryly. “You love me?”

“From the first moment I saw you.”

Feyre stared at him; lips parted in surprise.  Her fingers remained against his skin leaving hot pricks where they pressed ever so lightly.  And then a slow smile danced across that beautiful mouth of hers.

“Prove it.”

So Rhys did.

The night faded into morning and the new year rose just the same as any other day aside from the two bodies that lay entwined together, right where they belonged.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

thanks for reading

[twice-inamillion]

Children Adventures 

Fluff (adventure)

Chapter 213

1650 Words 

(Children's adventures with Jisoo, Ari, Hina, and Daeun. They spend time with their grandparents and explore Hawaii.)

Grandparents: 

Jihyo’s Mom and Dad

Mina’s Mom and Dad

Chaeyoung’s Mom 

Sana’s Mom and Dad

It’s 9 a.m., and the babies have breakfast with their grandparents. The babies sit in their high chairs and eat cereal and apple sauce. 

All the grandfathers eat together across the living room and discuss on their own as the grandmas sit beside the children at the table and watch as they eat with their hands.

“Jisoo and Ari eat very well. They are going to be strong when they grow up” says Sana’s mom.

“Look at Hina over here; she’s trying to share some of her food with Daeun,” says Jihyo’s mom. 

“Thank you for sharing your apple sauce with Daeun. You’re such a big sister,” says Chaeyoung’s mom. Hina gets happy hearing that she’s a big sister and shows her gummy smile. 

“Haha, look at Hina. Just like her mom and that cute smile,” says Jihyo’s mom. 

While the children eat, the member’s moms talk about the wedding, mainly about your performance. “I still can’t believe that you actually had him give you a strip dance,” laughs Mina’s mom. 

“I didn’t know since Chae was embarrassed. I wanted to tease her a bit, but I guess I’m the one who got the long end of the stick.” 

“You mean…”

“When he placed me on the floor, I panicked since it was dark. I tried to grab him, but I ended up touching it by accident,” and covers her blushing face

The mothers laugh at her embarrassment and tease her, “Was it big?”

They quietly wait for her to answer with full interest until she finally speaks up, “It felt bigger than my hand,” showing her small hands. The women laugh, causing the babies to look up. 

Mina’s mom looks at Jihyo’s mom and says, “You have a hung son-in-law,” causing Jihyo’s mom to smile proudly. 

“Thank you. My daughter has told me about it, and I’m happy she’s getting her fill. Happy that resulted in my first grandchild, too,” looking at Jisoo eating her fill of apple sauce. 

“What was your reaction when she told you that she was pregnant?” asked Chaeyoung’s mom. Jihyo’s mom tries to remember when you and Jihyo got together and says, “Hmm… it’s a funny story, actually. When they started going out, they would hang out at the house. It was cute seeing Jihyo act girly since she has a strong personality. Haha… I still remember going to the girls’ school for an event, coming home a bit early, and hearing the two of them in Jihyo’s room with the door closed making noises. I placed my head by the door, could tell they were fooling around, and knocked on it. The face they made was to die for, haha. Later that day, I sat down with Jihyo and reminded her of her job as an idol and not to have dating rumors. I told her she could have him come over and, if they were both serious about their relationship, do it here, at the house, and not in a hotel. From then on, I would give them two space in the house while doing my errands. I would see the smile on their faces when I would come home. As you all know, they had Jisoo there much later.”

“How come you gave them the okay to have sex at our house?” asked Chae’s mom. 

“We knew it would happen sooner or later, so we thought it would be easier to control the situation and have them do it somewhere safe. Plus, her dad and I are not your typical parents; we still have sex, drink, and even tell Jihyo to drink with us.” 

Chae’s mom is surprised by her comment and looks around the group of moms and sees them nod in agreement. 

Mina’s mom is about to give her own input, but Ari interrupts their conversation by flicking some apple sauce to Jisoo's face, causing her to get upset and yell at Ari. 

After having breakfast, everyone gets ready and heads out to the aquarium. The children are in their strollers and enter the small aquarium. The first exhibit they see is a large fish tank where all the fish from the movie Finding Nemo can be seen. 

The Twins and Jisoo jump off their stroller and plant their faces on the glass as they try to see the fish resembling Dory and Nemo. “Look, Jisoo-chan, Ari-Chan, you can see Dory over there,” says Sana’s dad. The two run towards the other side of the glass and raise their arms to be picked up. 

“Up, up!” 

Jihyo’s dad and Sana’s dad pick them up to where Dory is swimming, and they tap the glass. On the other hand, Hina walks to her grandpa and pulls on his shorts. He looks down and sees Hina with her puppy dog eyes, pointing at the glass, “Ne…Nemo.” Her grandpa picks her up and walks to where the Nemo fish is swimming, “Look, Hina, it’s Nemo.” She looks at the fish, slowly pokes at the glass, and traces her, following the fish. When the fish swims away, she turns to her grandpa and kisses him on the cheek, thanking him. He smiles and laughs at the sudden kiss, causing Hina to show her gummy smile. 

After finishing the fish exhibit, they walk to an open area and take pictures of the children. Before moving to the shark exhibit, they stop by some benches and have a snack. Walking to the exhibit, they see a large tank of different shark species. Hina is the first to point at the shark and shout, “White!” 

Her grandpa strolls beside her and says, “Were you trying to say great white shark?” Hina nods, and he replies, “Close, but that’s a bull shark. Is a great white shark your favorite animal?” She nods and says, “White, white!” while holding her arms up. She picks her up and moves alongside the shark as it swims in the large tank. 

Ari and Jisoo, on the other hand, look at the sharks and make noises, imitating biting sounds. They start to play around the pathway, chasing each other until their grandmas get their attention and ask them to stop. They stop and are sternly warned to behave like Hina and Daeun, who are sleeping. 

They exit the shark exhibit and stop by the gift shop for a souvenir. Jisoo picks out the jellyfish, Ari, the penguin, Daeun gets Dory, Hina picks the great white shark, and the grandparents get souvenirs. 

They all head to the next stop, a family-friendly hotel with pools meant for small children. Some of the men go to reverse a tent while the others change into something more comfortable. 

The babies come out waddling to the tent with their one-pieces and hats while Daeun is carried. With everyone in the tent, they place a soft mat for Daeun and Hina to play in. 

Meanwhile, Jisoo and Ari point at the water, “play… play.” “Do you want to go in after asks Ari’s grandma. Ari and Jisoo nod their heads and grab their floaties. Jisoo’s and Ari’s grandpa put on their vest and took them into the shallow pool. With their donut floaty around them, they splash each other. 

Hina, with her cute outfit and shades, watches her sisters play in the water. She turns occasionally to watch Daeun play with her tofu plushy that Dahyun got her. 

Daeun, after playing with her toy, begins to cry out of hunger. Hina gets off her chair, walks to Daeun’s baby baby, and pulls out the bottle her grandma prepared for her. She walks to her grandma and says, “Da eat,” while rubbing her belly. 

“Are you saying that Daeun is hungry?” Hina nods and points at Daeun, who is crying. “Would you like to feed her?” Hina replies, “Me sister” and waits for Daeun to be placed in her stroller. 

Hina then shakes the bottle and gives it to her baby sister. Daeun immediately begins to suck on the bottle and looks at Hina, who is smiling at her. 

A few minutes later, Jisoo and Ari return from the pool. “Omg, you, too, have a small tan! Did Grandpa forget to reapply the sunscreen?” The both of them laugh as both their grandpas apologize to their wives. 

Sana’s mom then comments, “You took are going to look like Jihyo and Mina with their tans.” The rest of the parents laugh at the idea of the babies looking like their mothers. 

They spend several more hours at the pool and go in multiple times. Ari tries to get Hina inside the pool but doesn’t want to get wet and decides only to soak her legs. 

After a long day, they all return to the house with some local food on the way back. The grandparents place a short table in the middle of the large living room and begin to eat. 

“Kids, it’s time to eat!” yells Chaeyoung’s mom.

The twins and Jisoo, after getting home decide to run around with their new toys in the backyard and play monster. Hina, who got a great white shark, chases Jisoo, Ari, and the yard. The other two scream and laugh as they try to escape Hina. 

Then they hear it’s time for dinner, they run inside the house and ask to get picked up, “wash.” After washing their hands, they go to the living room and stuff their faces as the rest of the adults are still in the kitchen. “What are you girls doing?” They lift their faces covered in rice and sauce, causing the rest to laugh. Jisoo holds her hand, offers them some of her rice, and smiles. 

[twig-tea]

Ossan's Love Returns: I Love This Show

I have so many feelings about this finale; and they’re very different from my feelings about the Perfect Propose finale (both very good but in extremely different ways) so having experienced both today has been a real emotional journey! 

This episode left me feeing euphoric. I am not a huge crier, but Ossan’s Love always gets to me, and I cried four times during this finale. Then I rewatched and cried four times again. 

There is something about how this show does such a good job of capturing complicated and loving relationships of all kinds–romantic, platonic, familial, other–and making me believe that they will support one another through anything, even as they whack each other with frying pans and despair at their loved ones ever having two braincells function at the same time.

That exasperated, eyes wide open, no illusions about who you’re with kind of love has been in the series from the first season, but in this season it feels so lived in. The comfort that all of the characters have with one another, having all seen one another at their worst already, is palpable. And the way the original gang were so open to the new characters and their absurdities was so touching. 

There are so many things I love about this show. Haruta and Maki’s relationship makes me feel so proud of them, knowing how far they’ve come from Season 1, and everything they went through in that season and the film to get here. But even just taking the season as a stand-alone, there is so much growth this season. They go from a couple who have not been in the same city together for years to living together, and they have to learn to be in one another’s physical space. They have conversations with both sets of parents, they navigate whether or not to have a wedding, whether or not to have kids, and just how to show appreciation for one another in a long-term relationship. 

The way Maki said that Haruta was his happiness, and Haruta said that he was happiest just looking at the sky with Maki (because Maki is his happiness too) made me cry twice. Maki is so competent, but Haruta is kind; and it’s his consistent, active kindness that holds their wider found family group together. The way Maki had to learn to actively think about Haruta’s happiness in the same way was that Haruta does all the time, in the same way that Haruta had to learn to be competent in cooking and cleaning so that he could take some of the burden off Maki, this is the stuff that gets to me. 

The way this found family cares about one another, rallies around whenever one of them needs it, and shows up for one another consistently, also really gets to me. And this show knows exactly what it’s doing–there were some wonderful conversations this episode about what counts as ‘family’, and how sometimes the importance of someone in your life can’t be easily defined but that doesn’t make them any less important (that was another one of the times I cried). The final placard of the show read WE ARE FAMILY in sakura petals, and that’s what made me cry the fourth time (and is making me tear up now to think about). 

And I can’t think about this gang without thinking about how so many of the relationships in it are complicated, like I mentioned above. The way Maki and Kurosawa cannot be in a scene together without sniping, but Maki calls Kurosawa for help when he needs it and Kurosawa leaves Maki an extremely touching note acknowledging Maki’s importance in Haruta’s life. The way Maro and Haruta are friends but Haruta also chastizes Maro’s causal speech every time they talk. The way Chouko has found a detente with her mother-in-law by bonding over a boy band, and how Chizu relies on the Arais for childcare but feels ashamed that she has to. The way Takegawa wants a relationship so strongly but holds himself back from making a[nother] move on Maki so that Maki and Haruta can have a happy wedding day. The way Haruta can’t return Izumi’s feelings but he leaves room for him to feel them.The way Chouko and Izumi bond over having lost a long-held love. The way everyone thinks Kiku is super suspicious but they still eat his onigiri. The way Kurosawa gifts Kiku his fermentation pot in recognition of the both of them holding onto unrequited love. 

This show makes me so happy. I could keep explaining all the ways in which it brings me joy, but honestly, just go watch it. It’s on GagaOOLala right now, and @isaksbestpillow is working on improved subs for all episodes (the subs on Gaga are good enough to understand what's going on, but Siiiri's are better for understanding the nuances and jokes). You don’t need to have seen any of the previous content to enjoy this show. If you’ve ever lamented that BL isn’t funny; that BL doesn’t feature established relationships, that BL doesn’t have enough older characters; that JBL couples don’t kiss or show affection, then watch this show.

[deathbxnny]

OH! You got to that much quicker than the previous times!

(Not complaining though, because when you did get to the previous ones, what you gave more than made up for the wait!)

Okay, now there's some stuff to unpack here. I like the brief little flashback to the theatre show that "Mother" partook in with Clervie and Peruere back when they were kids (and one member of the group was still with them) and how it clearly ties into the topic of the fic.

I liked how the angsty aspect was less "in your face" this time around. Like don't get me wrong, I still enjoy those previous... what is it now, 5 or 6? - parts, but the more subtle weaving of into this part at the end, just hit differently in the absolutely best way possible!

The twist of Arle somehow swapping the cards to intentionally sabotage Lyney's act was unexpected, and I'm definitely curious about why she might've done that. Though it definitely plays into the conflict of how the kiddos should be brought up.

"And you'd find it noble if it wasn't starting to unnerve you lately."

This phrase caught my eye. It sounds like you're setting the stage for doubt to enter the act. It sounds like "Mother" is growing "disillusioned" with the workings of their relationship. I had this thought that part of what drew them to each other (besides their intimately shared history in the House of the Heart pre-Crucabena slaying... and let's face it guaranteed survivor's guilt to some extent) was the super romanticized idea of "We're broken, but we can be together". But as time has gone on, and their differences and problems only become more pronounced, she starts to maybe realize that maybe being "broken together" isn't as great as a part of her wanted to believe.

Slightly off topic, but I remember seeing a post where they touched on Arlecchino being too stuck in her ways, and that she knows she can't break the cycle of generational trauma. That's why she's raising Lyney to inherit the "throne" of the House, which I would say she's done... decent-ish job. I mean he's still got his head screwed on pretty straight and he's approximately around the same age as Peruerre was when she killed Crucabena, if not slightly older. Now that I think about it, in the context of this fic, Lyney actually shares some personality traits with "Mother". Which idk if that was intentional or not, but that's another interesting angle to consider.

Either way, fun story >:)

X Anon

-----♡

Hey X Anon!

I apologize for the late response, but I hope you're doing well, and I'm glad you liked the post!<3

When writing it, I was especially focusing on the shifting dynamic between Arlecchino and Mother's different parenting philosophies through the cards. The Queen of Hearts represents Mother whilst the King of Hearts is Arlecchino. And in her switching the cards out last minute, she indirectly demonstrates a grand show of power and dominance even over her own wife's decision making (For example, Mother picking out cards. It is a simple act that shouldn't mean anything but yet still garners disapproval from the Knave.).

In other words, Arlecchino's resentment is catching up to her, and so is the distrust the more Mother fights against her law and rule over the house and children. She believes that the title of "Mother" isn't right and therefore chooses the title "Father" for herself. And perhaps a part of her regrets ever letting you take on that role, especially when you begin to unknowingly rebel against her.

And yes, Lyney being similar to Mother IS intentionally set that way (Never been happier for someone recognizing even the smallest details of my work-), as it's supposed to show Mother's grander importance and influence over all her children. She is their safety from their Father's cold wrath. But Arlecchino can only see the threat that lies within you when you begin to even take away her legacy (Lyney) from her, hence the act of humiliation against the boy as punishment.

We have indeed cooked so hard, I can't wait to write whatever next you come up with! And thank you once again for all of your request, they are so exciting to write!<33

-----♡

[transthadymacdermot]

past 8, present 13, future 7.

For whichever character(s) you want to talk about the most

I will talk about Eoin O'Donnell my friend Eoin O'Donnell

What was their childhood/teenage bedroom like?

He didn't have a bedroom of his own as his family lived in a very small 1 room cabin but he did have a space by his bed where he would line up his rock collection and string back together animal skeletons he had found (which was both an enrichment activity and also useful for the family because he's actually quite skilled at it and can usually sell a reconstructed bird skeleton to some passing naturalist if in need of cash). God's most autistic soldier etc

What’s the worst (in their mind) way their current situation could end up?

Definitely that he dies in some really stupid way without accomplishing anything. Although he definitely understands the idea and appeal of martyrdom and would be fully willing to give his life for his cause, for most of the story he's trying to unite the various reformer + resistance groups under the United Irish banner while maintaining his independence and, for much of it, not making much headway, so his absolute worst nightmare is that he dies of [jane austen voice] a trifling cold and then his idiot (in his eyes) subordinates take over and ruin all of his hard work. At one point he gets diphtheria (long story) and makes himself sicker worrying it'll kill him and he'll have thrown his life away without accomplishing anything. So

Are their friends still a part of their life? Are there people they are no longer in touch with, or newly important people?

Yes and no. The nature of late eighteenth century Irish society means he's close with a great number of people, and while those people would probably look in on him if he had a sore head or something I don't know if he considers them friends per se. Probably his best friend is his neighbour Patrick Dolan, who he has a very shall we say implicitly homoerotic relationship with. He's also close with Seamy's mother Maire, his next door neighbour Jack Lohan, and even though they have an extremely difficult relationship which has involved trying to kill each other before he also counts his lieutenant in the Defenders, Blaise Maguire, among his best friends. His newest friend rn is London Corresponding Society delegate Anthony Franklin, who he gets to know when he stays in Franklin's house while hiding from the law in 8gog

Ask game

[grimm-rider]

Entry 24

On our way out of Edeya’s manor (it’s so funny to think she has a manor—I mean I knew it mentally, that her parents were major players and she’d been raised basically like a princess, but to actually see it’s another thing) Nestian stopped us. He told us there was a complication that had come up. I thought at first he was just going to reiterate the fact our families were in danger, that Elvanna had put a hit out on them. But he told us that his human mother was in danger. Apparently in the mirror dimension Nestian had met a summoned creature called an Eidolon that was his mother’s partner, and she had tried to get his assistance to save his mother. But he had refused, because he needed to save Edeya. Because he was afraid that Aenland wouldn’t make it to help try to assist us. Because he didn’t know where I was or what my status was—and even if I was okay I think he didn’t trust in me to get through a fight by myself. Which, given that quintessence golem the Mirror Edeya had become there at the end, honestly his instincts probably aren’t far from the mark. I wouldn’t have been able to affect that thing, it would have been up to Talsune and Roscoe if I’d been the only one there. And I would have had to deal with all of the swarm spirits on my own without Nestian’s handy Lightning Javelins. Which means if Aenland were there I’d have needed to rely on waiting for Nevra’s lightning breath to gather enough energy to be used again, and in the meantime we’d have been dealing with spirits throwing Harm at those who weren’t shielded from it by my power, and draining the lifeforce of those they touched. And if Aenland weren’t there we would simply have no possible way to destroy all of the spirits, unless I could lure them all together to hit them all with chain lightning at once.

Fortunately, that is not how it went. Nestian was there, and while he took a bit of a beating (I had to cast Restoration twice—once for him and once for Aenland, due to the spirits’ life draining effects), he was in one piece. Enough to be embarrassed and try to make an escape when Aenland and I implied that Edeya’s parents were his future in-laws.

As we talked, I mentioned casually that I thought that Elvanna was more afraid of us than she let on. The others agreed, but Nestian asked what made me say that. So I told them about my little venture into Abaddon to meet with Queenie. Edeya joked around, jabbing at me asking if I’d betrayed them. She obviously knew better. None of the others even insinuated that I would have considered it.

Funny. When did it get to that point? A few months ago I would have sacrificed Aenland to a talking tree for safe passage in a heartbeat—or for no reason at all, really. He was unbearable back then. I’m actually fond of that idiot now, even if he still grinds on my nerves sometimes, it’s in a less…volatile way. Nestian was just kind of a stick in the mud who I vaguely appreciated having a mindboggling protective streak. Now…I don’t know. Things are a bit complicated where Nestian is concerned, considering my master killed his father. But I respect the way Nestian always moves forward with what he believes and doesn’t let anything dissuade him once he’s set his mind to something if he believes it’s right and good. I might not care about all that moralistic stuff, but I can appreciate how much it takes a person to stick to their principles. I don’t have any, and it’s easier that way, but I know Nestian’s are important to him, even when they are utterly baffling to me. So I am…trying to respect them.

Edeya was the only one I liked from the start. My fellow Irriseni, a would-be Winter Witch who threw away centuries of tradition to walk her own path. It figures that I’d like her. It helps that before she took up her new semi-pacifist ideals, we tended to see eye-to-eye the most out of the group (now strangely it’s Aenland who tends to see things my way most often). Not that I told her everything. I do worship Norgorber—a few secrets are mine to keep.

Except for Greta. I’ll let her in on my secrets.

…

I miss Greta.

On our way to the rebels’ hideout, I cast Sending as we flew invisibly towards the clocktower. I asked Greta if she was okay and where she was. She replied immediately and confirmed she was okay. She didn’t confirm where she was, but instead apologized for fake dating someone whose name got cut out of the Sending as she ran out of words.

I’m glad she’s okay…I wish we weren’t running around so much right now. I’d like to try to find out where she is and meet up with her. Get her out of whatever situation she’s stuck in. Meet her ‘boyfriend’.

I’m not jealous, that’s ridiculous, Greta is free to do as she pleases. I’d be a damned hypocrite if I got possessive of Greta when I already introduced Cesseer into our relationship.

Aaaaand Edeya and I may have fake dated while Greta was away too, so we’re even anyways.

We arrived to the clocktower not long after that. We landed silently in the overlook where we’d once slain Logrivich—and where I’d made my favorite skeleton. We found the trapdoor leading down locked, and no one responded when Nestian tried knocking—because of course he did.

I think he just thinks it’s funny at this point.

No. Maybe if it were Aenland. Nestian just genuinely considers it the best course of action because he hasn’t died yet from all the times a door’s swung open and someone’s swung a weapon at him shortly afterwards.

I mean, I suppose if it works it works. But if he dies from it one of these days his girlfriend is reviving his ass, not me.

I used the Chime of Opening to unlock the trapdoor (it worked on the first try for once—good thing, I get a feeling it doesn’t have many uses left in it), and we piled down to the floor below. Where we’d once meet the captive singer Bella Belvorica.

Nestian began making a beeline for a bookshelf by the far wall. When Aenland dropped to the floor, he drew his bow and an arrow in one swift action, whispering something to his arrow as he drew it back, then released it. It shot past Nestian and straight through the bookshelf—which vanished as the illusion making it appear there was dispelled, as was an Explosive Rune behind it.

Behind there the bookshelf had been was an opening that appeared to have been created with Stoneshape, which led into a passage containing a spiral staircase leading down, deep down below the clocktower.

We followed the staircase to the bottom and came upon a large set of rooms that appeared to be made for a decent sized force.

But there was only one man there, who seemed particularly jumpy. However he seemed familiar with Aenland, and he accepted our explanation when we told him that Edeya’s parents were former Winter Witches and were harmless.

The rebel was awaiting the return of Solveig, who was still alive and their leader it would seem.

Unfortunately, a moment later another rebel came in with some scouts, and reported breathlessly that Solveig, Bella, and Donya has all been captured and were going to be executed imminently. Scout…the scout…directed us to where they were to conduct the execution, and we raced out.

We made it just in time. We split up to pincer strike the Winter Witches, with Talsune, Roscoe, Aenland, Nevra, and I swooping down from behind where the captives were tied. On the opposite side Nestian and Edeya would run in.

And we got some unexpected help. As the winter sorcerers who were acting as executioners readied their spells to end our allies’ lives, a woman with unusually colored skin stepped from a building and raised what looked like a gun but sleeker—almost like something you’d see on a Dominion ship, minus organic bits. When she fired it, an X was burned into the face of one of the sorcerers and then his head exploded.

It was spectacular.

That was our cue to swoop in. Aenland began firing, taking out one of the sorcerers immediately before they could get their wits about them. Talsune and I flew low over the heads of the captives and landed just in range for Talsune to run a blade through another sorcerer, and I crushed her bones in the same moment. I’d heard the woman with the gun mention that the sorcerers had put up fire protection and that was going to be an issue for her. So looked like it was going to be up to us to cut through them.

I didn’t have a problem with that. I was feeling bloodthirsty.

As Nestian darted onto the battlefield, bringing his axe down on the final sorcerer, the ground began shaking. A reverberating rumbling came, growing closer—enormous footfalls. Then an unbelievably large Rune Giant cressed the horizon, lumbering towards us. It was here to do Queen Elvanna’s bidding.

She had told me that she *was* Irrisen. Apparently the Rune Giants, at least, agree.

Unfortunately for the guardian of Irrisen, we had Aenland. And faced with the archer, the giant was slain with his usual brutal efficientness—just a hunter felling another beast.

While Nestian and Aenland were dealing with that, Talsune and I had lined up the remaining four Winter Witches and caught them in a deadly mix of flame breath and Mass Inflict. They were still standing, so I quickened a Boneshaker on the nearest for good measure. It was maybe a little petty—that particular spell caster had tried to polymorph me into a sheep a moment prior. And one of her buddies had tried the same on Talsune. But we’d both resisted—me with the help of the barrier of fate Vigliv had woven around us, and Talsune through sheer force.

Two of the Winter Witches stepped out of formation, one aiming what looked like another polymorph, but whoever he aimed at clearly resisted because none of us randomly became sheep or whatever. The other one caught Nestian, Nevra, and Aenland in a Cone of Cold. A moment later they, too, had arrows sticking from them.

Talsune slashed through the final Winter Witch, and when I saw she was still alive on the ground, just barely, I cast another Boneshaker to smother the last sparks of life in her.

Another life snuffed out.

I didn’t feel much better. I still missed Greta, and in the back of my mind I was thinking about needing to contact our families to warn them about Elvanna’s threats. It was hard to savor the deaths of a bunch of nobodies right that moment.

While we’d been dealing with the witches and giants and such, the prisoners had been escaping from their bonds. They were mostly all out once the battle was over. The woman was helping Donya with the last of his binds, and Solveig and Bella were already free.

The woman with the strange gun that could pop people’s heads introduced herself as Zernebeth. Now that I got a better look at her, not in battle, I also saw that one of her arms was like a construct’s arm, entirely made of metal. Either that or it was a very strange very flexible gauntlet that covered her entire arm. But seeing as she soon enough told us she had come to Irrisen from Numeria, I think it’s safe to say her arm is technological. One of the strange wonders hoarded by Numeria’s Technic League.

We quickly departed from the scene of the deaths of eight agents of the crown—after I used Decompose Corpse to make them all into much harder to identify skeletons (and perhaps giving a silent nod to the Pallid Princess, in making the bodies decay away). We reconvened back at the rebel base. Edeya’s parents had made themselves at home, having chosen a room for themselves from the ones available. Solveig told us she would have something she needed to go over with us, but she wanted to give us a little time to gather ourselves first.

So I took the moment to take stock of our new acquaintance—possibly ally. I asked her what her story was. After all, it’s not every day a blue one-armed lady pops up and starts shooting Winter Witches to save a bunch of rebels from execution. She must have a reason to be helping us.

Zernebeth was very open with us that she was a former captain of the Technic League, which she called a ‘vile organization’. We let her know we’d had some indirect dealings with them, as Queen Elvanna had been working with that raptor looking man at Artrosa. Zernebeth looked mildly disgusted with the idea of the person, identifying him as ‘Prosser’, and stating that explained where he had been. She confirmed that he was a terrible person. But, she also told us that the Technic League likely didn’t exist anymore as of two days ago.

Apparently the king of Numeria, one Kevoth-Kol, had been woken from his drug induced stupor and he’d done away with the Technic League who had been controlling things in his absence.

Now apparently an elite task force was being sent into a mountain at the capital of Numeria to deal with a different potentially world ending threat than the one we’re dealing with, with Elvanna. So if they fuck up, we could do everything right and save the world from being frozen over just to have whatever they’re fighting take control of the entire world. Apparently.

Not a very reassuring thought, but Zernebeth said not to worry about it. She seemed very confident in the abilities of the people handling it. So I suppose I’ll just have to trust they’re competent and won’t fuck this up for everyone.

I suppose they could say the same about us, but I’m confident in our ability to see this through, so I’m not worried on our end. I just don’t like the idea of leaving my potential life or death or freedom or whatever in the hands of utter strangers I don’t even know the capabilities of.

Zernebeth doesn’t seem worried though, and she seems like an intelligent woman—joining an ill-fated league of technofascists aside.

Zernebeth told us she would not be of much help to us at the moment—she was a powerful wizard, but she was currently sans her spellbook. If she could get that back she’d be a force to be reckoned with. For now she just had that blaster gun thing, which apparently had limited uses. I asked Aenland about the guns we’d collected for the rebels, thinking we could give one to her, but apparently he handed them off to Nadya before they separated, and we hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her since then.

In fact, all of our companions who weren’t our core ‘four riders’ were missing. Nadya, Greta, Jadrenka, Cesseer, Anastasia, and Dimitri were all missing without a word.

According to the two rebels Aenland had saved, those who were with them seemed to hear something and then gathered up all the guns they had brought and left for somewhere without an explanation. It sounds like they received a Sending. We’re theorizing it was from Jadrenka, because they were seen leaving with a black-haired half-elf woman—and with her skills Jadrenka could have easily switched out her Winter Witch disguise for a half-elf form to continue keeping a low profile.

Aenland suggested we Sending them. I told the others I could, but I had been planning on saving my uses of Sending today so we could all contact any family members Elvanna might be targeting to warn them. Nestian pointed out that our companions might be in more immediate danger. He said that if it came down to it, he would give up his uses of Sending.

Why does he always do that? Put others first and give up things? Doesn’t he ever get frustrated giving and giving and letting himself get hurt for others and never letting anyone else do the same for him? I don’t understand him. I just don’t.

I agreed, however, since clearly this is what everyone else wanted. We’d do it after we’d talked to Solveig.

Zernebeth seemed legitimately remorseful for the things she’d done in the past. Apparently, whoever was in this elite team had really made an impression on her. She told me that she first thing she was going to do when she got her spellbook back was make it up to Donya—she even had the diamond for it already.

The implication was clear. And that’s, I think, all the motivation any of us need to get her spellbook back. As if getting the help of a powerful wizard wouldn’t have been motivation enough.

That haunt we’d seen all those months ago, of the child who Nazhena had murdered…that all could be wiped away.

Zernebeth said she hoped even though redemption was dead, she could do this much. I told her she didn’t need gods to seek redemption. That’s a bunch of bullshit. If you want to be better, you do it. You don’t wait for a god to tell you it’s time, that’s lazy, that’s just making excuses.

Zernebeth seemed to like that.

As for me…I hope that bringing back that kid will smooth over the lingering sickness I feel every time I think about having worked with Nazhena—even if I only did it to get to Elvanna. I don’t know what all I did back then, how much I helped her when I pretended to be her friend, how much I got my hands dirty to keep the mask firmly in place. I know myself. I know if I had a role to play and I needed to not get caught under any circumstances then I would do whatever I had to in order to play the part—although I might have also done whatever I could to undermine her where possible when in her blind spots.

But since I’ll probably never get my memories back at this point, I’ll never know exactly what I did while rubbing elbows with the most vile people in Whitethrone. I could probably ask Baba Yaga…but I don’t know that hearing it would help any. It’s not productive.

I left Zernebeth to tinker with her gun thing. Aenland went off with Nevra somewhere, and Nestian told Edeya maybe she should go talk to her parents. She agreed, and grabbed Illivor to go catch up with the family she hadn’t seen in years. It’s hard to imagine what she must be feeling right now. I don’t know what I’d been feeling in her shoes.

Nestian and I were alone in the main meeting room. Nestian told me that he had something he needed to talk to me about. He explained there was something he’d left out from his story about meeting his mother’s Eidolon.

When he’d been returning back to reality from wherever he’d met this being, for a moment he saw many white tails.

We only know one person with multiple white tails. Especially someone connected to Nestian��s family in any way.

Nestian told me he’d originally come to the decision that he wasn’t going to kill Master Keisuke. Because I cared about him. He didn’t feel like revenge was worth hurting a friend by taking someone away from them.

But, he said very seriously, if Keisuke has his mother and she’s in danger, he will kill him. That’s different. That’s not revenge. He will do whatever he has to, to protect her. To save her.

I told Nestian I understand, and that he should do what he thinks is right—regardless of how I feel about it. He should go with what he feels he should do.

I’m never going to be happy about having to fight Master Keisuke. I’m never going to want it to come to that. But I understand…to an extent. I don’t understand Nestian foregoing revenge—that’s something I would personally never do. If someone killed a member of my family I would hunt them down and kill them, and if I were feeling particularly vindictive I’d kill their close family too—first, before I kill them, so they’d have to see it. And I don’t put nearly as much weight on family as Nestian does. That’s why Elvanna had better be ready for a storm if she actually touches my family, because she’s not going to break me that way, she’s just going to make me want to be more creative in the ways I kill her and perhaps ways to make her afterlife torment.

…I wonder if a wish that would affect Elvanna’s afterlife would count as a wish for my benefit…I could get very creative with ways to hurt her with a wish…

No I’m not wasting a wish on her.

Anyways…

I don’t understand him foregoing revenge. But I understand that he needs to save his mother. If someone I cared about were in danger, or harmed, I would tear whoever had caused that apart—and I expect no less from others.

Nestian seemed to accept my response. He asked me if I knew where Master Keisuke might be keeping his mother. The only place I could think of was the Nonagon—but if she was there then we had no way to get to her, its wards were far too powerful to try to brute force our way past from what I’d seen the one time I’d been there. I told him I knew of one place, but I didn’t know what the chances were he was holding her there, and if she was there I didn’t have any way to get there. I did tell him that if he wanted me to try speaking to Master Keisuke—maybe gather some information subtly—I can Send him without using any spells, so that option is always open. For the time being, he wanted to be more certain of things before he went that route.

That’s fine, although I will have to Sending Master Keisuke soon enough. He’d requested I reach out when I get back to Golarian. Once I’m not running around like crazy I intend to do so.

Solveig gathered us up shortly after Nestian and I spoke. She told us about the fact the rebels were fairly scattered at the moment—currently it was just the small handful they had here. The Iron Guard had been utterly decimated in the early days of the rebellion, and the other followers of the Everbloom had been scattered to the winds when the last base was compromised. Fortunately for them, Solveig had been granted a vision ahead of time by their patron deity and was able to evacuate and set up shop elsewhere for the handful she was able to track down again—but most of the rebels were scattered.

As for the Crone Queens, they had split Whitethrone amongst themselves and now most of them spent their time in fortified strongholds across the city. Only two could be found outside of strongholds: Vain Betyrina would flit from one social event to another—and kill anyone who dared comment on her desiccated visage—and Desperate Velikas controlled the Royal Library, which was surprisingly still accessible to the public.

The Royal Library was also where Zernebeth’s spellbook would be.

Solveig told us she would have a mission for us later tonight, but we’d have some time to rest before then. She had two powerful associates coming into town we needed to meet up with. A cleric of Cayden Cailean and a warpriest of Calistria. They would be arriving to a Winter Witch bar late this evening. And she expected a fight to break out—apparently trouble had a tendency to follow them.

I asked if a Winter Wolf would be out of place in this bar, and Solveig said they would not be—in fact the prince of the Winter Wolves and his entourage drank there sometimes. I filed that away for later. That would be perfect. I hadn’t planned on using the Rimepelt again without Greta’s go-ahead, but this was not the sort of situation to get caught up in thoughts like that. I was too recognizable without a disguise—and given my skin’s pallor it would take a lot of time and make up to make a passable disguise for me. But I was also the best at talking us into places (and talking us out of trouble). I could use the hat of disguise, but with Winter Witches anyone could have True Seeing on, or a dragon around, or a summon with True Seeing—relying on an illusion was a risk. The Rimepelt was a true transformation—looks, scent, and all from what Greta and Nestian have said. It would be a lot harder for someone to see through that disguise—especially since I know Winter Wolves intimately well at this point.

So we decided that I would go in with Nestian and Edeya, while Aenland, Nevra, Talsune, and Roscoe would wait for a signal on the roof across the street.

But that would come later in the evening.

As we split up to rest, I brought up the Sending spells again. I thought it would be a good idea to message the people who were in danger now. Nestian thought we should start with our missing companions. I agreed seeing as this seemed to be what everyone else wanted.

First I messaged Anastasia—my logic being she was a fairly clear-headed woman, on top of the fact that we desperately needed to know where the heir to the throne was. I asked her very basically where she was and what the plan was.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t taken into account one thing when choosing Anastasia as my target: she doesn’t know anything about magic. Not even the basics everyone in Golarian learns at a young age. Like the fact that a Sending is only 25 words long. (Unless you’re me or Master Keisuke and can bend those rules a little, but that’s a whole different story.)

I had to force me message through some resistance—the feeling of sending a message between planes. So that told us one thing: she was somewhere that wasn’t on this plane.

When Anastasia replied, she rambled on, and only got a little bit of actually relevant information to me. Namely that Baba Yaga had given her instructions to go to some sort of cache, and she didn’t know where she was exactly.

We figured based on what we knew, it was likely that Dimitri, Nadya, and Jadrenka were all with Anastasia. Which meant since I’d already checked in with Greta, only Cesseer was unaccounted for.

Aenland left, uninterested in hearing how Cesseer was doing, because he’s still being a total brat about monks. I messaged Cesseer and received a much more succinct answer from her. I could tell she was still on this plane. And she answered that the mirror had sent her to some sort of arena, possibly a jail of some kind. She was having to fight to survive. She was going to try to bust out when the opportunity presented itself. She was as okay as she could be.

So that’s…not optimal, but she’s in her environment, at least. She’ll be fine until we can find her, I don’t doubt that for a moment.

I conveyed this to Nestian, then asked him if he would like for me to message one of his family members. He told me that Aenland and I still needed to contact our families—he would go after us. I told him he doesn’t always have to sacrifice himself and put others first in every little thing. Nestian argued that his family could take care of themselves the best of ours—my family were just average people, innkeepers not fighters or magic users, not in any way prepared to defend themselves, and Aenland’s mother was in a fragile state. Nestian’s family were bears, and Peanut was apparently a powerful druid in his own right, so they were the best protected.

I wanted to argue. Not because he was wrong but because it bothers me that he keeps doing this. But I didn’t have an argument for that—he was right, loathe as I was to admit it. So instead I took a seat and cast Sending—channeled through the pocket watch for the final time I could this day, to steal away as many words as I could for this message.

To my mother.

I know myself. I wouldn’t have contacted my parents in the last year. The things I had gotten myself into weren’t for them—the life of a partially-undead double agent serving Baba Yaga was an entirely different world from the simple life of an innkeeper my parents were living. It would have been dangerous for them to even know about most of what I was doing. And how would I have explained it anyways?

So I knew as I cast the spell that this would be the first time my mother heard from me in over a year. With no idea I’d been through two deaths, a bout of amnesia, and made the deal to be one of Baba Yaga’s riders twice over in that time.

“I’m sorry I haven’t reached out. I’m fine, but you both need to take shelter. Ustalav was not far enough, Elvana has set her eyes on you.”

It was the best I could do with the words I had.

It only took a moment before I received a reply. I heard a voice I hadn’t heard since leaving for Irrisen, over a year ago. It only felt like a few months ago with my memory loss. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Calio, it is good to hear from you. We will take shelter in our way. We have enough money for a wand. Will Send if anything occurs.”

That was good. That was exactly what I needed to hear. A tension curling inside that I had barely registered lessened slightly. Slightly. They weren’t safe yet—merely informed. My parents—and my friends’ parents—would not be truly safe until Elvanna had been dethroned.

Nestian pointed me in the direction of Aenland—because of course Aenland had to go first—so I made my way up to the roof where Aenland and Nevra were talking. Nevra asked me about Cesseer, so I told her what I’d learned. Then I told Aenland that I’d finished contacting my mother, and asked him if he’d like to reach out to his.

Aenland gave a bitter laugh and said that even if she were no longer comatose, she wouldn’t want to hear from the runaway who got her husband and favorite daughter killed.

I had nothing to say to that. I don’t know his mother. I couldn’t deny his assumption about how she’d feel, for all I knew he was right. I suppose I could have pointed to the fact he left to get a weapon to end Treerazor’s life rather than ‘running away’, but what difference would those semantics make?

Nevra filled the silence by suggesting we reach out to a Huntmaster instead. So that at least someone was informed of the danger. Aenland reluctantly agreed, and gave me some long-winded elven name with FAR too many titles, which took the combined brain power of both me and Talsune to even try to remember. I’ve already forgotten it. Huntmaster Grell Sun-something-something-shadows-and-something-about-leaves. Anyways I remembered it well enough at the time to get the Sending through. I warned the Huntmaster that foreign assassins from Irrisen’s current regime were targeting Aenland’s family, and to be on the lookout.

I got a very rude reply. This man is fortunate he is all the way in Kyonin, or I would have taught him some manners. He said he doesn’t know who I am, and he doesn’t know why anyone would target Aenland’s family—said in a tone that very much implied he didn’t think highly of my friend. But he agreed to be on guard.

I don’t know if I believe that he will take the threat seriously, given his tone. But I told Aenland that the Huntmaster was informed and would be on guard—and left out how rudely he’d reacted to Aenland’s name.

Aenland apologized for being such a downer. So I told him that he carries his sadness better than most people.

Hell, if he hadn’t said what he did, I wouldn’t have realized just how much all of this weighed on him. He always seems so above it all, so chipper and quick to bounce from one thing to another. It’s easy to forget that his father and sister were killed by Treerazor’s minions, and his mother left comatose. He doesn’t stew in it—at least not openly. If it were me, I’d be consumed by it. I’d throw everything I was into destroying Treerazor and getting sweet vengeance. I don’t think I’d be able to swallow down my anger in the way he somehow masks his sadness behind such a jovial persona.

I don’t know if I said the right thing. He seemed…confused, maybe? I don’t know. Edeya, or even Nestian, would have been better suited for this conversation than me. I don’t know how to comfort people, it’s like speaking a foreign language I never learned and I can’t cast tongues to cheat my way through it. I’ll make observations or point out facts, and sometimes I can think of an observation that might help deescalate someone’s emotions like I did for that lovely gentleman who was going to shoot himself in front of my friends. But comforting someone, trying to just make them feel better, whispering empty promises that everything will be alright and things will get better and ‘you’re going to be okay’, as if you can know that…that isn’t me. I prefer to act and to fix things than to talk about feelings.

As far as Aenland goes, fixing things could either be seeing his mother alive and well—which isn’t a guarantee. Or killing Treerazor and getting his much-deserved revenge. That second one, at least, I can help with. If he doesn’t just run off to do it with his mushroom girlfriend without any help from the rest of us, that is.

Anyways, once I was done Sending the Huntmaster, I returned to Nestian. I told him I had sent every single person we needed to Send except for anyone Nestian wanted to contact. I had two uses of the spell left, just for him.

First Nestian contacted Peanut. He asked for his mother’s and her Eidolon’s names, and let them know she was in danger. Peanut replied that Nestian’s mother’s name was Hilda and the Eidolon was Jiji. There were apparently quite the pair.

Then Peanut told us that he was going to be in town in two days—and that he was finishing this.

Those last words had a biting air of finality to them, and I felt like they were partially aimed at me. Or perhaps, more accurately, at Master Keisuke.

I told Nestian exactly what Peanut told me, not leaving anything out. Then I suggested since he knew his mother’s name now, he could use the final Sending to try to reach out to her.

After some hesitation—some worry she wouldn’t know who he was—he agreed.

He sent a message informing her that it was a message from her son via a friend, and asking where she was and if she was unharmed.

The Sending was received—I am positive it was received. But something kept the receiver from responding. I passed this information on to Nestian. She was alive, I could tell that much, but something was blocking her off from me.

That was enough for him for now.

We parted ways to rest until our evening mission.

That night we made our way to the Winter Witch’s bar. We ran into a patrol, but nothing we couldn’t handle—just some shapechanging golem in the shape of one of the Crone Queens, a couple of ice elementals, and some sorcerers. We got the drop on them and dispatched them without breaking a sweat.

As we neared the bar, I activated the Rimepelt and returned to the Winter Wolf form I’d used last time we’d been in White Throne. I wished it was Greta on my arm instead of Edeya—not that Edeya isn’t a lovely woman, she is incredibly attractive as well. But Greta would have loved kicking up some trouble in a Winter Witch bar.

At Nestian’s suggestion, Edeya and I were pretending to be together, while Nestian—in human guise—played the role of our bodyguard. Edeya joked about me seducing her away from Nestian, but quickly dropped it, saying she was sorry but Nestian was more her type.

I would hope so, seeing as Nestian is literally her boyfriend.

Not that I’d say no if the idea of having a third were ever floated, but neither of them strike me as the sorts who are into that sort of thing.

Anyways, we walked right up to the bouncer like we belonged there. He stopped us, noting that he’d never seen us around before. I told him that I was just in from Red Tooth. Edeya added that she was showing me the sights. Nestian remained silent—the picture of a strong and stoic bodyguard.

The bouncer gave us a once over, then stepped aside. He let me know that some of the patrons were a bit jumpy about Winter Wolves being in their wolf form in the bar, so it would be best if I stayed in human form. Although the venue was a popular place for the prince of the Winter Wolves and his entourage to make an appearance, so Winter Wolves were hardly a rare or unexpected sight there. As we walked past, he asked if we were here for the VIP event. I didn’t dare ask about it and risk blowing our cover, so I simply smiled and said of course.

Our little trio made a bee-line for the bar. I subtly scanned the room as we walked. There were a number of Winter Witches here, as well as an unexpectedly high number of Ice Devils which appeared to be for protection and intimidation purposes. By a back wall there was a curtain that seemed to lead back to some sort of VIP area, and two blonde brutes were standing guard.

In the middle of the bar was a man who seemed to be having an animated conversation with some admirers, a mug of alcohol in one hand and a small glass of wine on the table. I pegged the Caleanite immediately. He looked like a fun guy to have a chat with.

In a dark private corner of the room an elven woman was sitting with a man at her arm. She looked closed off and uninviting.

I knew who I was going to talk to first.

When we got to the bar Edeya ordered herself some wine, and me spiced wine, with a wink saying she knew it was my favorite. She’d taken note of Greta’s preferences, it seemed. I don’t know if ALL Winter Wolves favor spiced wine, necessarily. But I will say I’ve certainly gotten a taste for it, drinking with Greta, so Edeya wasn’t entirely wrong either way.

I took my glass when it was brought to me, and then made my way to the Caileanite’s table, taking a seat across from the man without waiting for an invitation. The man greeted me jovially, introducing himself as Joseph Molot, and I greeted him in kind, noting that he seemed to be the life of the party. We had a little back and forth—it may have dipped into a hint of flirting, it’s a bar these things happen—but it was purely for show, to keep suspicions low—as I reached out to his mind and telepathically told him that I knew he was here for the resistance. His grin grew at that, as he responded by saying his ‘little flower’ was reaching out.

He sent his admirers away, telling them to go ahead and get another drink at the bar. I asked him what brought him here, exactly? He told me that he knew that the big man himself was going to be here, so this is where he was going to be. He asked, what about me? Did I ‘ride’ here? I gave a sharp grin at how much he knew—or had surmised—and confirmed his guess.

Then Joseph decided he was going to stir up the hornet’s nest a bit. Make things a little more interesting before we left. He got up onto the stage, where some band or another was playing, and clinked his glass to get the room’s attention as he made a toast. He toasted to this fine city, thank goodness the riots had been quelled so soon so they could keep the downtrodden populace beneath them. And to Queen Elvanna—may she choke on her own blood.

I couldn’t help but grin at the immediate effect that single curse had on the room. Everyone froze. The Winter Witches rose from their seats, hands going to their wands. The two blonde brutes began cracking their knuckles. The Ice Devils didn’t seem to react—but I suspected they were buzzing with anticipation as well. I stood, drinking down the last of my wine and then dropping the glass to the floor as Joseph asked if it was something he said.

No one knew I was on his side yet. I could work this to my advantage.

A moment later the woman from the corner of the bar stormed up onto the stage. The woman began telling him off about the things he’d said—saying she couldn’t believe he’d say such things and get everyone all riled up…without her. In the blink of an eye there was a whip in her hand, glowing with some sort of greenish light.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nestian and Edeya approaching me. Nestian was motioning for me to use the Stone of Farspeech. So I did, telling Aenland up on the roof that shit had just gone down. Although I’m sure Talsune was already well aware and on his way to swoop in and join me for this brawl.

Someone charged the stage and all hell broke loose.

And as it did, the curtains to the VIP suite opened.

And out stepped Vain Betyrina—one of the remaining ten Crone Queens, asking who had dared crash her party.

[ongolecharles]

DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS (DSR) 📚 Group, Mon Sept 09th, 2024 ... Monday of The Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time, Year B

First Reading

--------------

1 COR 5:1-8

Brothers and sisters:

It is widely reported that there is immorality among you,

and immorality of a kind not found even among pagans–

a man living with his father’s wife.

And you are inflated with pride.

Should you not rather have been sorrowful?

The one who did this deed should be expelled from your midst.

I, for my part, although absent in body but present in spirit,

have already, as if present,

pronounced judgment on the one who has committed this deed,

in the name of our Lord Jesus:

when you have gathered together and I am with you in spirit

with the power of the Lord Jesus,

you are to deliver this man to Satan

for the destruction of his flesh,

so that his spirit may be saved on the day of the Lord.

Your boasting is not appropriate.

Do you not know that a little yeast leavens all the dough?

Clear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of dough,

inasmuch as you are unleavened.

For our Paschal Lamb, Christ, has been sacrificed.

Therefore, let us celebrate the feast,

not with the old yeast, the yeast of malice and wickedness,

but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.

Responsorial Psalm

------------------

PS 5:5-6, 7, 12

R. Lead me in your justice, Lord.

For you, O God, delight not in wickedness;

no evil man remains with you;

the arrogant may not stand in your sight.

You hate all evildoers.

R. Lead me in your justice, Lord.

You destroy all who speak falsehood;

The bloodthirsty and the deceitful

the LORD abhors.

R. Lead me in your justice, Lord.

But let all who take refuge in you

be glad and exult forever.

Protect them, that you may be the joy

of those who love your name.

R. Lead me in your justice, Lord.

Alleluia

---‐------

Jn 10:27

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord;

I know them, and they follow me.

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

---------

Lk 6:6-11

On a certain sabbath Jesus went into the synagogue and taught,

and there was a man there whose right hand was withered.

The scribes and the Pharisees watched him closely

to see if he would cure on the sabbath

so that they might discover a reason to accuse him.

But he realized their intentions

and said to the man with the withered hand,

"Come up and stand before us."

And he rose and stood there.

Then Jesus said to them,

"I ask you, is it lawful to do good on the sabbath

rather than to do evil,

to save life rather than to destroy it?"

Looking around at them all, he then said to him,

"Stretch out your hand."

He did so and his hand was restored.

But they became enraged

and discussed together what they might do to Jesus.

*

FOCUS AND LITURGY OF THE WORD (Words of the Holy Father)

In the Gospels, many pages tell of Jesus’ encounters with the sick and of his commitment to healing them. He presents himself publicly as one who fights against illness and who has come to heal mankind of every evil: evils of the spirit and evils of the body. (…) Jesus never held back from their care. He never passed by, never turned his face away. When a father or mother, or even just friends brought a sick person for him to touch and heal, he never let time be an issue; healing came before the law, even one as sacred as resting on the Sabbath (cf. Mk 3:1-6). The doctors of the law reproached Jesus because he healed on the Sabbath, he did good on the Sabbath. But the love of Jesus was in giving health, doing good: this always takes priority! (…) The Church invites constant prayer for her own loved ones stricken with suffering. There must never be a lack of prayer for the sick. But rather, we must pray more, both personally and as a community. (General audience, 10 June 2015)

*

SAINT OF THE DAY

Saint Peter Claver

(June 26, 1581 – September 8, 1654)

Saint Peter Claver’s Story

A native of Spain, young Jesuit Peter Claver left his homeland forever in 1610 to be a missionary in the colonies of the New World. He sailed into Cartagena, a rich port city washed by the Caribbean. He was ordained there in 1615.

By this time the slave trade had been established in the Americas for nearly 100 years, and Cartagena was a chief center for it. Ten thousand slaves poured into the port each year after crossing the Atlantic from West Africa under conditions so foul and inhuman that an estimated one-third of the passengers died in transit. Although the practice of slave-trading was condemned by Pope Paul III and later labeled “supreme villainy” by Pope Pius IX, it continued to flourish.

Peter Claver’s predecessor, Jesuit Father Alfonso de Sandoval, had devoted himself to the service of the slaves for 40 years before Claver arrived to continue his work, declaring himself “the slave of the Negroes forever.”

As soon as a slave ship entered the port, Peter Claver moved into its infested hold to minister to the ill-treated and exhausted passengers. After the slaves were herded out of the ship like chained animals and shut up in nearby yards to be gazed at by the crowds, Claver plunged in among them with medicines, food, bread, brandy, lemons, and tobacco. With the help of interpreters he gave basic instructions and assured his brothers and sisters of their human dignity and God’s love. During the 40 years of his ministry, Claver instructed and baptized an estimated 300,000 slaves.

Fr. Claver’s apostolate extended beyond his care for slaves. He became a moral force, indeed, the apostle of Cartagena. He preached in the city square, gave missions to sailors and traders as well as country missions, during which he avoided, when possible, the hospitality of the planters and owners and lodged in the slave quarters instead.

After four years of sickness, which forced the saint to remain inactive and largely neglected, Claver died on September 8, 1654. The city magistrates, who had previously frowned at his solicitude for the black outcasts, ordered that he should be buried at public expense and with great pomp.

Peter Claver was canonized in 1888, and Pope Leo XIII declared him the worldwide patron of missionary work among black slaves.

Reflection

------‐-----

The Holy Spirit’s might and power are manifested in the striking decisions and bold actions of Peter Claver. A decision to leave one’s homeland never to return reveals a gigantic act of will difficult for us to imagine. Peter’s determination to serve forever the most abused, rejected, and lowly of all people is stunningly heroic. When we measure our lives against such a man’s, we become aware of our own barely used potential and of our need to open ourselves more to the jolting power of Jesus’ Spirit.

Saint Peter Claver is the Patron Saint of:

African Diaspora

African Missions

Colombia

Interracial Justice

*

【Build your Faith in Christ Jesus on #dailyscripturereadingsgroup 📚: +256 751 540 524 .. Whatsapp】

[sampark25]

Understanding the Realities Faced by Rural Women in India

In Varanasi, we have been working with women’s savings and credit for the last 5 years now. In 2023, we started some in-depth work into their livelihoods. Though the Sampark team knows, who does what for their living in the village, to have a systematic and organized understanding, we did a survey of women’s livelihoods, to the question of would you like to learn something new and start an enterprise by yourselves, 90% of them answered YES! 

We kicked off our livelihood discussion with an enterprise training for a selected few, who had some experience running small shops or running a tailoring business. 2 days of very interesting discussions of how you select a business which you could successfully run, what talents do you have, what would you like to learn etc. We had a trainer to conduct the sessions, which allowed me to observe the women’s expressions, internal discussions etc. I noticed one woman listening intensely, not nodding, not blinking, just staring at the whiteboard. I decided to speak to her during a tea break to see if the discussions were going above her head and there she started talking and spoke non-stop for 20 minutes about her journey – starting from how she was an active member of groups for over 10 years, brought women together to fight against alcoholism in the village, did group businesses, did small businesses whenever the opportunity knocked. But nothing really took off and she got back to where she started all the time. 

There were 4 women, who were extremely convinced about doing a group business and just to think out loud we discussed the challenges that could arise and for every question, they had an answer. They had thought it all out! There were literate women who wanted to think something out of the box, ready to try something new, other than the regular business. They amazed us with their ideas and thoughts. We had a great 2-day session, women went home, and we started getting on with our regular work.

A week later when we touched base with them to understand how things have progressed, 2 had gone to their maike (mother’s house), 2 said– “no didi I don’t want to do anything”, 2 said– give me something at home and I will do it” and other said, “It’s ok I will just continue with what I am doing” 

Are we to blame them, are we to say how unmotivated they are? All they want is an easy life and just get everything at home. We at the organizational level offered so much to them– training & skill, and all they can say is “No, not possible”. How easy!

All I want to say is while this can come as a natural thought to every urban working woman, just take a step back. Imagine you wake up, clean the place, wash vessels, and clothes (no domestic help here), make food, feed your 5 children, husband, and in-laws (mind you, no Swiggy in case you are tired to cook), take care of your cattle, feed them, go to the field manage it for the day, walk a minimum of 10 kilometres (no uber here you see!) for anything which you want to do for yourself – sell produce, learn a skill or attend an office meeting. Over and above this you have to negotiate and bargain with your family every time you have to leave the house. I think the words that will come out of my mouth are also “Leave me didi. I am just fine doing what I do, all I need is a few minutes to sit and relax!”

So, the one thing I strongly realized is that it’s not a lack of ideas or motivation, but rather a lack of support systems, and guidance. It does take a village to make a woman do something for herself, be it an urban city or a rural village. Women are already strong, it’s about changing the way the world works around them so that she is not held back and are allowed to fly!

Continue Reading!

[iricasdiaries]

This is an example of phenotype as well you may know africa has a very diverse cultural history and certain peoples features are based of off their environmental factors. These are the Khoisan people of southern Africa as one can see their nostrils are set wider than that of people who stay in a colder climates. This is a result of the sandy, hot and dusty climate that these people reside in they have to take in more air and filter it with their thicker nose hairs.

Blood diamonds are a prime example of colonialism due to the fact that foreign countries from the western world are often competing to get these diamonds for an unreasonably cheap process. In the process of attaining these diamonds children are abused and used for their labor, people are killed, product is stolen, wars are starts etc.

As a result of the Jim Crow and segregation laws that were put in place many African Americans who were newly freed decided to go back to Africa. My family as shown above were one of those groups of people. Being from Little Rock Arkansas they had faced extreme racism and brutality. They were tired of the racism and internalized white supremacy of America so they decided to go to Liberia.

Before the African Americans came to Liberia there were already indigenous peoples of the land. After America decided amongst her self that they would ship blacks to the country, there was no interest whatsoever in the natives. The nativism that was displayed during this time period introduced a new conflict between the inhabitants and the new comers. As a result the inhabitants began to strongly dislike the new migrators..

This song is not exactly racist but it is an example of the individual racism and ignorance that the western world has towards Africa. This song Is supposed to symbolize the unity and togetherness and how we are all brothers and sisters and how we should all stick together. This may be true but all in the same sense it’s a pity song produced by millionaires who live luxury lives in order to give “africa” the love it deserves after years of desperation. Yes it was an uplifting tune but at what cost? The video showed “thirsty kids” “hungry mothers” “battered shoes”

micro aggressions- The impact of colonialism has left a detrimental impact on the entirety of the black diaspora. We now face the current situation of comparing ourselves to euro-centralized beauty standards. Not only do we look nothing like white people but we also have very few things in common with them. A prime example of this is African hair, because of the negative perspective that the world has on Africa we are considers all things dirty and bad. Often times people hate the way our hair looks and they’ll say it, touch it because it looks foreign or propel the motive that our hair can’t grow and is not “good hair.”

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 25: Sea of Dunes

Group chat between Arthur, Hosea, Sadie, Molly, Mary-Beth, Lenny, and Javier

AM: So I know we did one shots to help pass the time during the worst of the pandemic and had fun with it, and you all said you wanted to run an actual campaign.

LS: As long as it still fits with my classes, yeah.  Law school loves to try to kill you.

MG: So call it a brain break, Lenny.  You need them!

AM: You know how picky Hosea gets and says he won’t run a game unless it meets his standards.  

HM: The likes of “Hoard of the Bunny Revenant” was funny for a one-shot.  And what’s wrong with having standards?  Things go haywire if the plan’s terrible to begin with.  

SA: Oh God, is this going to turn into “Back in my day when DnD wasn’t cool…I have seen things you children can’t imagine”

JE: Careful, Sadie.  Your character might die in the first session.

HM: The horror is called 4th edition, and yes.

MO: I don’t know…

MG: Come on, Molly.  You never had time before for anything because of DUUUUUTCH.  

LS: What kind of guy calls himself Dutch anyway?  Was he even Dutch?

AM: He was Dutch.  Or at least, his last name was.  His ancestors were here for a while, since his great-whatever died at Gettysburg.  

SA: Which he always liked to remind us about.  

LS: But that’s like you calling yourself ‘Welsh’, Arthur.  

JE: Have to say it now that you kicked him to the curb, Molly.  He wore a *fedora* and called you ‘m’lady’.  That should have been a sign. 

MO: Ugh, if you’re all just going to make fun of me, you can bloody well find your own cleric this time!

MG: She’s right.  We’ve all made some terrible decisions in dating.

AM: So if anyone brings up Mary right now, I swear I’m leaving you a bag of flaming horse crap.  We broke up before we got married, all right?  I was twenty-one.  We haven’t gotten back together and we won’t.  Sue me.

HM: Children, children.  So about that.  I found a campaign.  It’s called “Sea of Dunes”.

LS: And it involves…spice and giant worms?

MG: I don’t know about you, but I’m excited for pumpkin spice season.

MO: Absolutely.  Fall is the best.

HM: It’s a 5e fantasy Western, set around the turn of the century.  There’s a ragtag gang of travelers, and the overarching story is about the march of progress and the rise of the new gods of technology and super-wealth.  But it’s a really open concept.  Depending on how you want to take it, I could write content for you to be a band of thieves in a world that clearly doesn’t want you.  Or for you to be bounty hunters trying to protect the innocent.  Or revolutionaries against the rise of the gods of so-called progress.

JE: Sounds cool.  Lots of possibilities.

HM: There really are.  I could do a lot with it.

LS: You sonuvabitch, I’m in

JE: Is Rick and Morty still cool?

LS: Is your mother still cool?

JE: (a string of emojis, including angry faces, table flip, knives, and a middle finger)

HM: SO AS I WAS SAYING

AM: Everyone shut up and listen to Hosea.  Can’t take you people anywhere.  Even online.

HM: I’ll run it.  But I want to challenge you all.  You can’t play your usual character type from our one-shots.  Arthur, you can’t be a barbarian, because I know you can do more than just hit things.  Molly, no cleric or bard.  Lenny, no wizard–in fact, no sorcerer or warlock either, because those are pure casters too.  Sadie, no ranger, but druid is OK, since yours died so unfortunately.  Javier, no fighter.  Mary-Beth is the only one of you with any character imagination, apparently, so she gets to play whatever she wants.

MG: Yay!

HM: Get in touch with me privately to discuss character concepts, and I want you to think about what kind of gang you want to be and discuss that here.  Let’s plan on trying to be ready to get the gang’s wagons rolling in two weeks.

[my-life-literally]

Sometimes I think it is easier to remember him as a healthy, good-hearted, hard-working man who just got so hurt. And the reason why we are not together is because of his work schedule. Not because he could do things like pull over in the middle of the highway and leave me in the car to go for a walk because I was upset that he defended/protected his racist brother in law just moments before at a lunch where I met his mother her husband for the first time. Or yell at me in the car, “so when do I get the benefit of the doubt? Are you even ok with this?” Pointing to his arm. 

I looked at his mother’s and sister’s Facebook post, and they’re all on vacation together. I am happy for him. He has this family that is together. But I can’t help but think of my own fractured family. My estranged sister. How everyone hates my mother. How my mother has done decades of work to earn that dislike. And I wonder...what keeps families together? Even my sister found a family. To do things with. To go to births, birthday’s and holiday things with. To go camping with and that love her. She can just reinvent herself, and they love her so much. 

I am glad to see him with his family. I hope he feels happy and loved. I even saw him in a picture of him and his smiling, racist brother-in-law. They had their arms around each other. I guess with some white people, racism isn’t a deal breaker. And neither is family. I get it. I am not even mad. I am just relieved and sad. Relieved because they’re not my people. And sad because, I feel like I am no fun. I am too quiet about the right things, and not quiet enough about the wrong things. 

Last year he asked me to go with them. I absolutely couldn’t because as a selling-point he told me that his family is protected because the Mexican government and local cartels had struck an understanding not to disturb white tourists in that area, so not to worry because “white people are safe.” What is it like to enjoy that type of privilege? To know that you can walk alone at night, and have an idea that more powerful groups than you, will protect you. To feel so safe in the world. A holiday to enjoy his white privilege. And to be so aware of it. I remember I said, “well, I’m not white....so...” And he said, “aww don’t worry.” 

Sometimes it’s easier to think of myself as being the wrong type of girl for him and myself as a “no-fun,” “boring” person, than to remember that one time at the mall, he mentioned how his Uncle and his Uncle’s girlfriend were telling him how when they went to Mexico, they were touched that the people in the town began going door-to-door and singing Christmas songs, and people would come out of their houses and the town would end up in the church for Midnight Mass. And his Uncle said, “Even though they don’t have wealth, they have culture. Isn’t that great?” And I rolled my eyes and was like this is such a classic western view of poverty in tropical places. And we talked a bit how there is culture here, etc. And we agreed that culture here is “crappy” but the truth is, I think culture here is complex - good and bad, but he said, “even when white people take your side, you’re still not happy. My Uncle said culture here sucks. And that they are better over there.” And that totally wasn’t my point. To him, I am just no fun, and I can see that if I kept thinking then I would be seen as too much, and always negative. -Which I think a lot of white people think. But we just see reality, and layers. When they just get to be white, and smile upon the world, and the world smiles back. And if they don’t then they’re “weirdos,” or “difficult.” I don’t get how he thinks these governments and cartels are controlled by whiteness, and that the biggest threat to him is me?

Sometimes it’s easier to just remember him well. As a good and happy man. Who didn’t yell at me because when he told me he wanted to get a gun to prepare for conscription and nuclear fall-out, I asked him where that was all coming from, and he told me that I “didn’t understand the rules of engagement.” 

He is really handsome. And sometimes it’s easier to smile and think, wow I can’t believe a guy that good-looking liked me. He doesn’t know my personal history of dorkiness. He just looks so happy and harmless and strong, just like I remember. 

Sometimes it’s just easier to not remember all the sexist things he said. That felt like he was lying to me. And that I think he really hated me. How can he hate women so much, and like his mom so much? And hate his mom so much? It’s easier to remember his story about how him and his four buddies stopped a sexual assault in an alley one night, and why couldn’t women appreciate their allies more?

Sometimes it’s easier to think of him and a confident guy who was in a terrible predicament with a toxic, alcoholic ex and was helplessly trapped in a separation and was just doing his best to pick up the pieces of his heart. Sometimes it’s easier to think, paperwork really is “just paperwork.” 

Sometimes it is easier to just think that I was the ungrateful one. I am too political. I am too dissatisfied. I am too strict. I am too demanding. Than to think that this handsome, smiling, hard-working guy has a single flaw.

I remember I was much stronger when I was younger. I would cut guys off the minute I saw some bullshit. I think S really changed me. That was the first guy whose logic and behaviour I couldn’t comprehend, and spent the longest time trying to understand. But lately I feel like all the realizations about love in my family have just undercut me. I think something is wrong with me. I know what good treatment is (I think), but I also feel like I will give a guy a chance to be kind to me.

I had a thought, that he doesn’t have me, and he doesn’t have his ex-wife either. And she was beautiful and I bet she was fun. I wonder if he misses her when he goes there. Sometimes it is easier to think that he misses her, misses their good times together. Maybe everything he said about her was true. Maybe he misses the healthy version of her, the way I miss the healthy version of him.

Anyway. Even though my heart started pounding, and I heard blood behind my ears when I saw those pictures, I was happy for him. I am so happy he is with his happy, laughing family. They’re not strict, they think strippers are funny, they don’t mind if there is a racist in the family. They’re relaxed and fun and hilarious and loving. And he looked happy. And between my heart and sternum, I felt relief. And that made me smile.

I think I keep looking at things because I want to brace myself for something. Or make sure I can handle something. Or know that it doesn’t effect me. It effects me less than it did months ago....so that’s good. I guess I am just curious about this life I could have participated in. He just really hurt my feelings. I hurt is feelings too. And I am sorry for my part. There are some situations where I wished I said things differently. I wish I broke up with him sooner. I wish I trusted myself more. 

One day I will look and only feel relief. No sadness. One day I will look and not feel anything. No missing. No confusion. Nothing. One day I will not want to look and not look at all. 

[babytaes]

the originals (you belong)

summary: The Mikaelsons family stumbles across a plot to assassinate the Prince. Despite Klaus’ judgement, you are determined to take on that challenge with the help of some magic. You demonstrate to them and to yourself that you BELONG!

paring: jake x female reader

genre: angst, slight fluff, slight smut/suggestive

word count: 7k

warnings: suggestive scene

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

a/n: i’m not a big fan of this work, i don’t know what it is but i feel like it could be better. I didn’t do my routine thorough read so forgive me for any mistakes. thank you for waiting for this member. enjoy and much love from babytaes. :)

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

"This is not allowed, Your Majesty. This is not something I believe we should be doing, "You began to walk out of Jake's regal room, shaking your head.

Hearing footsteps behind you, a hand touches your shoulder as he turns you around, shutting the door behind you as he gently pushes you up against the wall.

"Don't pretend you haven't been keeping an eye on me for the past few weeks. I'm sure you want it as much as I do, y/n.”

Licking your lips, you slap his hands off of you and make your way to his massive bed as you fall back.

"It's not like I don't want to do it. It's just your royalty, and I'm not the Mikaelson type."

Jake snickers as he approaches you and raises you up by your hands, bringing you face to face with him. He touches your cheek in his palm and caresses it as he moves closer to your face.

"Well, we're notorious for occasionally breaching the rules. Why don't you give it a shot?" As you yanked his hand away from you and dashed to the door, you snapped back to reality.

Your heart ached as you turned back to see a befuddled Jake, and you cried out to him before closing the door.

“Jake, please stop. You and I both know I'll never be good enough for your family"

It wasn't the finest decision to leave him standing there, but it was necessary for your protection. You wouldn't want to jeopardize the next person in line.

Even if something might have worked with him, the risk was too high.

Everyone should be cautious when they're among the Milkasons, including the youngest.

It wasn't all bad being with the Mikaelsons. They were like a second family to you, despite the fact that you had only met them millennium before. It was strange to find them on that fateful day.

You never know when the all-powerful Originals will appear on your doorstep and request to look after their brother.

It seemed strange. Right?

"Calm down, brother; we'll find a place." We wouldn't be in this situation if you quit yelling and spreading mayhem all over the place."

Klaus ignores his brother and knocks on a cottage door, rolling his eyes at him.

"Oh, Elijah, just shut up; you're just trying to prove me wrong."

Elijah straightens himself as he hears light footsteps approaching the door and approaches the madam who opens it.

"Hello-, your mother bowed down to them and swiftly looked down."

Elijah takes a step in front of his sibling, who is rambling to your mother. Nothing is audible to you. Even so, you see a boy from behind the corner. He appears to be your age and is hidden behind the towering man.

As he moves from behind the man and toward the back, you snicker and watch him through the windows as he approaches the back door.

As you walk through it, you come face to face with the curious boy.

"Hello, my name is Jake; how about you?" He extends his hand, and you eagerly examine it.

"My name is y/n."  Do you want to join me in my game? "I don't have anyone to play with." As you drag him to your makeshift playhouse, you grasp his hand in yours and shake it hard.

You and he hit it off right away when you were outside. You didn't have many friends, so having someone to play house with was very entertaining at your young age

"Hey, come back," He said as he snatched your toy vehicle, making you and him giggle. "Give it back," you insist  

The two men and your mother were standing by the rear door, staring at you two. 

"I believe he will be a perfect fit. Don't worry, I'll do my best." Before summoning Jake over, Klaus and Elijah thanked your mother one again.

They said their goodbyes and walked away, and your memories were about to start.

---

You and Jake have been inseparable since then; it's always been you two against the world. Despite the fact that you and he come from two different worlds, you manage to make it work on occasion.

You stood far away from the commotion, watching the royal family squabble over royal matters. Jake had just been summoned, and you took a step back, not wanting to cause any disruption.

Despite the fact that they could clearly hear and see you, you continued to stand there.

"Brother, we wouldn't be in this stupid situation if it weren't for your inconvenient behavior once more."

Life is always tumultuous when you basically grow up with a group of originals. I don't think there has ever been a moment when someone wasn't screamed at, killed, or cursed.

It's always something with them.

Jake looks at you, rolling his eyes and making a variety of facial expressions. He loved his life except for this part.

His family 

Your mother took him in and practically raised him when you were younger. You never understood why his family always left him behind. It seems like just because his family was on the run at the time they couldn't or didn't have time to look after him.

As a result, when he reached adulthood, he was able to take his rightful place in the kingdom, and because your family took on that responsibility, you were granted permission to remain in the kingdom.

I mean, the enormous rooms and countless bathrooms never get old, noo. Even though everything appeared to be all in good humor, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Feeling as if you've never belonged there 

You were a vampire with most of their powers, but you lacked the "royal," and no matter how hard you tried, you could never fit into their mold.

You take one last look at the family, shake your head, and then walk away. You still have a lot of work ahead of you.

You arrive at your mother's room slowly and open it to see her folding laundry. As you approached her and sat down on her, her demeanor brightened.

"You do know you're pretty heavy, sweetie?"

"Mmh," you mutter under your breath as you roll away from her and to the ground. To pass the time, you take a shirt and begin folding it.

"Mom?"

As she continued to fold, she hummed a quiet yes.

"What made you decide to take on such a difficult duty as raising Prince Jake?" She let go of the blouse in her hand as she came to a halt and stared at you. She sighs as she takes a seat next to you and tells you about that fateful day.

Your mother was inside talking to the royal family as you played in the backyard with your new friend.

She dropped her head and gazed up at Elijah and Klaus, saying, "It is such an honor to have you both in my company."

Making their way over to the table, they all sat down and discussed ways of how you could best protect him.

"We don't know when or for how long we'll be on the run, but we're prepared to pay any charge if that time comes."

As Klaus' voice boomed over the table, she shook her head at them, her hand trembling.

"We have to get out of here; I sense them." Elijah gave his troubled brother a stern look and motioned him to leave. He was in a hurry and dashed out of the house.

Elijah reached into his back pocket and placed a bag of coins on the table. He swiftly thanked you after scouting the front entrance.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but forgive our ill-timed intrusion. I'll make arrangements for payments to come from the castle every week. I'd like to thank you in advance for everything you've done for us."

Elijah nodded before sprinting into the woods in pursuit of his brother. She smiles as you take it all in and grab the bag of coins from the table.

"This is for you, love, Rest in peace, my dear."

As she make her way to the back, she calls over the two rowdy children and embrace them in a hug. As she looked at them both, they both smiled. You watched as she squatted down and spoke, holding them in her hands.

"So those two lovely gentlemen who just came by were members of the royal family, as you may know y/n, and they have entrusted us to watch and maintain track of this handsome little boy," Jake squirmed around as his face reddened as you pinched his cheek.

"For the time being, we'll do our best to make this the best time for him." Before embracing Jake in an embrace, your daughter cast a glance at him. As you gazed at the scene in front of you, a warm flush spread across your chest as you imagined the days you three would spend together..

"So it was difficult at the time, and due to your father's death and financial difficulties, it was only a matter of time before we were thrown out on the street. So, aside from the age-old law of not disobeying the royal family, it was now or never."

Your smile crept across your face as you shook your head up and down. Your mother was your role model, the woman who always wore a grin on her face and never let the world bring her down. She was daring, loving, and brave, and she did it all despite the fact that she had recently become a single mother. Moms have a lot of strength.

"Ahh, I see. Dad would be incredibly proud of you and all of your efforts."

She grinned as she threw her shirt in your direction.

"Ahh- stop"

*Knock Knock*

As you and your mother stood up to tell them to come in, a guard approached you both and communicated a message.

"You are required in the Prince chambers, Ms. Y/n." You bowed down and pecked your mum on the cheek before taking your place behind the guard.

---

You thanked the guard as you entered inside the familiar area after arriving at the enormous set of bronzed yet golden doors. When you peek inside, you notice him lying on the floor; as you carefully approached his side, you smiled and hovered over him.

"You asked for me, right? I'm going to leave if this isn't something significant." Jake gently rises, his head resting on his gigantic bed.

"It's nothing major, but I do have a request," he says. As you faced him, your eyes widened. As he turned to face you, he exuded a princely radiance. He leaned forward and lingered near your lips, his gaze fixed on you.

You leapt to your feet, terrified and intrigued, and shoved him back as you took a step back.

"Excuse my language, Jake, but what the hell was that?"  As he got up and approached you, he cocked his head to the side.

"My request?" He snatched your hands and held them in his. You'd never been caressed with such gentleness before. It was an unfamiliar sensation that made you feel warm but strange.

"This is not permitted, Your Majesty. This is not something I believe we should be doing, "You began to walk out of Jake's regal room, shaking your head.

A hand touches your shoulder as he turns you around, shuts the door behind you and gently pushes you up against the wall, hearing footsteps behind you.

"Don't act like you weren't eyeing me these past weeks. I know you want this just as much as I do y/n."

You smack his hands off of you and make your way to his large bed as you fall back, licking your lips.

"It's not like I don't want to do it. It's simply your royalty, and I'm not the Mikaelson type."

Jake snickers as he approaches you and raises you up by your hands, bringing you face to face with him. He touches your cheek in his palm and caresses it as he moves closer to your face.

"Well, we're notorious for occasionally breaking the rules. Why don't you give it a shot?" As you shoved his hand away from you and opened the door, you snapped back to reality.

Your heart ached as you turned back to see a befuddled Jake, and you cried out to him before closing the door.

"Jake, please stop. You and I both know I'll never be good enough for your family."

As you turned the corner and ran down the corridor, you left him stunned and in disarray. You didn't stop running until you were outdoors, far away from the castle, in the fabled garden.

As you fall on top of the fountain, the tears won't stop flowing. The day was slipping away as your sobs drew the attention of a curious woman. It wasn't until she sat next to you and spoke to you that you realized it.

"One of those days, huh?"

As she stretched her hand to you, you shrieked and fell back on your hands, frightened and terrified.

"Sorry for scaring you, hun; I didn't intend to. Haven't we all had awful days? My name is Davina, by the way." As she helped you up to the edge of the fountain, you took her hand in yours.

"Thanks for asking, today is one of these days." "So, may I ask what the problem is?" she asked, smiling as she moved closer to you.

"I miss my father and all that made up his eccentric character. He would know what to do." you sniffled as you glanced up at the girl with a welcome atmosphere.

She leapt to her feet and squealed, extending her hand "I enjoy helping others. In this area, I do have the upper hand. Allow me to demonstrate." You took her hand in yours after a brief moment of hesitation.

You had never expected a witch to be able to assist you, but you were willing to try. She waved to her neighbor across the street as she unlocked her door. As she arranged her stuff, she turned on the lamp and signaled for you to come sit at her table.

"Please take a seat; I won't bite. Maybe" You chuckled as you sat in the wooden chair, having forgotten that the witches lived in this neighborhood. It's not like they were exiled, but you hardly had time to check in on them and the rest of the group.

Everyone looked to be so comfortable in their own little world. Why couldn't you seem to fit in anywhere?

"All right, all right, we're ready; don't worry, it won't hurt."

"What might hur-'' As the knife quickly passed across your palm, you felt a searing feeling.

'What the hell, Davina,' you exclaimed." She chuckled as she put yout palm over a stone bowl and watched the blood drip into it.

"Sorry"

As the blood began to bubble up in the stone bowl, you pouted. As her hands swiveled around the bowl, Davine began to speak phrases you couldn't comprehend. As your eyes blinked quicker, your head began to spin.

"What's going on?" you exclaim. When she opened her eyes, you could see white orbs replacing her natural ones.

"We're ready."

---

You passed out as you receded back into your chair. Awoken Davina took your hand in hers and escorted you outside. This time, though, things were different; the day had turned to darkness, and everything appeared to be dissimilar. The town has turned completely around.

"Where are we?" As she turned to face you, she laughed.

"A better question is when are we. The spell I casted transported us to a time when I hoped you would learn something new and put things into perspective." For the 23rd time today, she began to tug you. Your heart began to drop as you arrived at your house, well, the one in the past, as you beamed at that. As you let her hand fall from yours, your nerves were heightened. As you took a step back, you began to feel panicked.

"Noo-nooo wait, how did you do this?" you say as you fall to your knees and cover your eyes. You could feel her hands on your back as she gently caressed it.

"I know, it's crazy, y/n. I just pulled some old memories back to life. I won't leave your side if you're afraid." As you saw the familiar image in front of you, you slowly pushed forward.

"Just don't leave." As you walked through the front door, you held her hand in yours. Everything seems so blurry at this point; you were just a small child, and your life was about to alter dramatically.

"Hey sweetie, go tell your father to go get some firewood. Okay?" As you crawled down off the stool and out the door, you smiled. As he turned to face you, your little feet found their way to your father's side.

"There's my little princess. What exactly do you need?" He massaged your backside as he hauled you onto his lap.

"Mommy said to get wood, and I wanna come too, daddy. May I, pretty please." He sighed as he looked at his watch, it was fairly dark, but the wood wasn't far away.

"Yes, you are welcome to join me. You're a big girl now. So you gotta help daddy out, okay?"

As you and Davina stood on the sidelines watching everyone make their way to the woodpile, you wished you had done more for him.

"All right, sweetie, you can carry one and I'll take care of the rest." You squealed as you clutched a small, almost insignificant log in your arms. As he placed a twig in your batch, he gazed down at his girl.

"Daddy, I think that's all I can carry." As he and you both began heading back to the home, you both laughed.

As the horror grew, you turned around and began crying on Davina's shoulder. You knew what was going to happen, but you couldn't bear the thought of having to go through it again. As Davina turned to face you, you felt her hands on your shoulders.

"You must see for yourself. It is the only option."

As tears flood down your cheeks, you slowly open your eyes and look at the scene.

"Thanks for helping daddy, sweetheart." "Mommy would be so proud of you." He kissed you on the head as he knelt down to you.

"You're welcome, Daddy. "Now that I'm a big girl, I can do huge things." He smiled as he took another glance around. " As your mouth enlarged, you dropped your logs. Your father's life vanished before your eyes in an instant.

As his body went slack, he fell to the ground, and you began to scream. As words slurred from your mouth, he began to shiver.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" HELP, MOMMY." As he held you in his hug, your small body slumped forward into your father's chest.

Your mother's footsteps were quick to arrive as she knelt down and took up your father, holding him in her arms.

"Honey, I'm right here," she says. A tear streamed down his cheek as he glanced up at his beautiful girls.

"Never forget that I love you all." And then, as he fell limp on your mother's lap, life left his eyes. As you gazed up at your mother, the screams resonated across the forest. Her eyes were welling up with tears.

You had no idea what was going on, but you knew something had changed.

"What's wrong with daddy, Mommy?" She slowly turns to you, pulling you closer to her breast and kissing you on the head with moist lips.

"He's gone, daddy's gone."

----

"NOo, noo stop this. I don't want to remember this." As Davina chases you down, shouting out to you, you begin to flee the scene. You come to a halt and turn to face her, yelling at her.

"Is this a joke or something? Your spells, you witches." As you fall to the ground grasping your arms and gently rock back and forth, tears begin to flow from your eyes.

Davina finally reaches you and attempts to calm you down by wrapping her arms over your shaking body. Your heart felt like it was racing at 100 miles per hour and you couldn't stop it. Everything seemed a little too real. You didn't want to think about it.

It's not that you didn't believe it; it's just that you didn't want that memory to resurface in your life.

"Just wait and listen to me, y/n. I know it's horrible, but something good came out of it." You push her away from you as you leap to your feet, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"How did something wonderful emerge from my father's death, who died in my arms? DAVINA, HOW DAVINA." Davina frowns as she walks around, taking your hand in hers and leading you somewhere.

"You weren't the only one whose loved one was taken from them." You look up at her and stare blankly at her as she comes to a halt at a familiar location.

"How did we end up in front of the castle?" As inaudible sounds flow from her mouth, she begins to swirl her hands around. You stand there in astonishment as you are whisked away to someone's private quarters.

You and Davina both walk into a room where a young boy is crying into the chest of someone. As you recovered consciousness, you noticed that you were surrounded by the Original family, or at least some of them.

"We couldn't get the remedy to her in time." You stood there watching Klaus thrash around as he collided with a vase that shattered on the ground.

You shifted closer to the young kid as you observed him as his brother shouted out to him, "Niklaus." As the rest of the family walked out in tears and small sniffles, you shifted closer to the young child.

Jake was there; you had no idea his mother had died. It had never been mentioned before, so you were taken aback.

The little boy crawled onto his mother's chest as he sobbed into her chest.

"Mommy, come back to me, please."

"I'm ready to leave right now." You took her hand in yours and gripped it strongly. You were prepared for anything the world could throw at you now that you had this new knowledge. Although it was painful to revisit that memory, you chose to use it to your advantage.

Your father raised a fighter, not a wimp. You wanted to honor his memory rather than mourn it, and I feel Jake should as well.

"This is for you, Dad,"

With that, you were transported back to reality, and you found yourself back where you started. You instantly stood up and exited her room.

"Hey, where are you going?" 

You came to a halt, raised your head, and shook your head, saying, "Acceptance."

She waved you off with a smile on her face. You brushed yourself off as you walked out of her house, mentally preparing yourself for the road ahead.

----

You felt more alive when you woke up in this house. Although the work was endless, you earned something greater than it all, A friend. Your mother groaned as you rolled over and landed flat against her backside.

"Mmmh, mom, I think it's time for you to get up." "Mmmh, five more minutes," she mumbles as she yawns on your shoulder. As your body moved up off the bed and towards the blinds, you giggled. You chuckled as you let the blinding light move into the room as you heard your mother's nasty shrieks.

"Sweetie, it's Saturday; it's a free day today. Go hang out with your friends." As you fall to the floor, she kicks your body off the bed. You giggle as you walk towards the shower, scoffing at her acts and mumbling words to her.

"Have you noticed, Mom, that I only have one friend?" You chuckle as you take a step into the shower and let the suds run down your body. As you wash slowly, your thoughts begin to wander.

You were reminded of your previous outburst with Jake as the water flowed over your body.

"Shit"

You felt the chilly air hiss against your body as you stepped out of the shower and hastily wrapped a towel over your body from the shelf. You noticed that the girl in the mirror had a different smile. She felt happier and more grateful.

You cried out to your mother as you opened the door and entered the frame.

"Yes, darling?"

"Get ready. I'd like to take you out for a picnic." She grinned and drew you in for a hug while cocking her head to the side.

"That would be fantastic. I'll take care of everything. You don't worry, okay?" You grinned as you shut the door behind her and returned to your self-pampering.

"It's going to be a terrific day today."

As you rested your head on your mother's shoulder, you held the picnic basket tightly in one hand and your mother's hand in the other. It was moments like these that made you long for your small family. You spread the blanket on the ground and placed the goods on it as you chuckled.

"My two lovely ladies are here."  When you raced towards your father, he stretched his arms open wide for you. Your mother took out her little camera and snapped a candid shot of you two.

"Don't forget about me," as she made her way over, your father pressed a kiss on her lips as you all sat down on the grass.

As you stumbled towards the basket, your little fingers pointed to it, saying, "Mommy, open". Before you saw the glorious fruit in front of you, a small pebble made its way in your path as you trip on it.

As a result, your father gracefully caught your small body in his grip while you giggled.

"My princess, you need to be more cautious. I can't have my pretty girl all beaten up."

You chuckled as you kissed his forehead and said, "OK, daddy, me be careful." You dashed over to your mother's side as he let you go, and she handed you a strawberry.

Your smile widened as you jumped up and did a small dance as you bit into it. Your parents stood there in astonishment as they watched you eat some more fruit.

"Is it good y/n?" You giggled as you ran around them, shaking your head up and down, as they simply watched their exuberant kid spout forth incoherent words. They smiled.

'I love you, honey,' she said. Light kisses on her temples were exchanged by your father while your mother rested her head on his lap.

"I will always love you."

Finally, with everything in place, you sniffle and wipe a stray tear from your eyes. Your mother immediately turned to you and rubbed your arm as she drew you closer to her.

"Hey, sweetheart, what's the matter?"

"I miss him," you said as you drew closer to her.

She smiled as she rocked you back and forth, kissing you on the head.

"I miss him as well. This brings back memories of our picnics with him." As you reached for the basket, you shook your head. Before removing the famed strawberries, you smiled. You chuckled as tears streamed down her cheeks after delivering them to your mother.

"Thanks for this, y/n." You were both crying as you rested your head in your mother's lap before entwining your hands.

"Anytime mom, but I do have to get going. I need to speak with someone, and I'd prefer to do so now before the situation escalates."

Before biting on a plump strawberry, she laughs and smirks.

"Tell Jake I said hi." "Wait, how did you know?" you start to stand up as you freeze in place.

As she pushes you toward the gate exit, she shakes her head at you. You blow a kiss to her, embarrassed and honestly surprised, as she yells at you.

"Use protection."

You cringe as you race towards the gate, not even looking back. You came upon a guard at the entrance who winked at you as you stared at him.

"Oh, Mark, shut up." After saluting you, he chuckles and returns to his former stance. Making your way to his chamber, you slowly knock as you hear his voice on the other side of the door.

As you slowly come in, you notice him at his desk, working, and you move your glance in his direction.

"Oh, look who it is?" As your lips fell, his eyes rolled at you.

"Hey," you say as you approach him and take a seat in one of his sofas. They felt like marshmallows, and you spent your days and some nights in them.

"Let me explain before you go all pouty and stirred up." He doesn't even move as he goes about his business. You kick his chair while rolling your eyes at him, eliciting a yelp from him.

"Fine, I'm listening, what?" he says, smiling as he scoots over to you and places his hand on his lap.

Not only did the close proximity make your heart race, but his position didn't help matters either.

"So, for starters, I'd like to apologize for my outburst. We both know if they're a problem we can freely discuss it. That's something that's been on my mind for a while and has now exploded, but it's not your fault. I just don't think I belong."

He approached you with a puzzled expression on his face as he moved forward. You look around, worried, as you cough.

"What?"

"What you just said made me pause because you and this family know how important you and your mother are to all of us, especially to me. I'm sorry you feel that way. My family can be difficult at times."

As you push past him and land on his colossal king-sized bed, you scoff "Yeah, tough how about, protective, vengeful, murderous, and hot-headed? That's a lot better." He laughs as he pushes you over and lays down next to you, a little closer this time.

"I can't argue with that, but you still love us. Right?"

"Yeah, I do love yo-" As you rolled over and smacked your hands in your face, your eyes widened.

"Yeah, go ahead and spill your secret y/n."

You kicked him as you rolled back on your side, facing him, rolling your eyes. As his hand landed on your leg, the newfound electricity between you two shifted.

Before his hand lightly moved up your leg, he grinned at you. He came to a halt and stared at you, waiting for a response. You softly shook your head as he continued as his hand came to rest on your chin.

"You must have been waiting a long time for this one, dude, ain't I so attractive," you chuckled before scooting closer to him. Before extending his delicate hands towards your lips, he reddened.

"Shh, also what happened yesterday? You said this wasn't right, didn't you?" As your desire overtook you, you became irritable.

"Oh, shut up and kiss me, people change Jake." you said as you drew him closer to you and your lips smashed together furiously. As he pushed you over, you both synced up quickly, and he was on top of you in no time.

"Oh how the tables have turned," says Jake. You had definitely changed as your body craved for his touch even more. As you threw your arms around his neck, pressing him closer to you, his lips never left yours.

His shirt was ripped off and dropped to the ground in a flash as he touched yours, hoping for a response.

"Yes, you may remove it." He stopped and peered at you, chuckling, as he slowly pulled it above your head. You subconsciously flew your hands to your chest, concealing your body.

This was the first time a boy, much less a Mikaelson, had seen you half-naked. Jake's mouth falls open as he rushes to unlatch your hands.

"Hey, don't hide your beauty, because I love each and every part." That made you grin as you approached him and kissed him on the lips.

"You haven't even asked me to be your girlfriend yet, and already you're behaving cringy. Maybe this was a mistake." As you begin to rise, you smirk. Jake grabs you and pins you down before you can even get a foot off the bed.

"Wait- stop, wait, don't go" You chuckle as he kisses your frigid body while you squirm under his touch.

"Ahhh, please stop tickling me...ahh." He comes to a halt in his actions to look at you for a little moment.

"I can't believe we've reached the point where we've gone from friends to lovers. It feels like some teenage drama."

(Am I right readers, don't we all love a trope like this... I know I do.)

This isn't a book; it's real life, and can we please get back to making love? Jake, the readers are waiting." He continues to laugh as he gently removes your bra as he completes the last clip.

He didn't have time to marvel at the beauty in front of him as you placed your hand on his hardening spot. This elicited a tiny moan as he swirled his lips around your soft nips.

"Mmmh, wow, don't stop, that feels great." You quickly remove your jeans and underwear while his tongue works its magic, placing his hand within your folds.

"This is my first time; wow, I'm not sure whether I'm doing it correctly." Wow!" As a moan explodes from your throat, you laugh.

"Stop playing me; you're making me laugh. I'll show you the way." He finds a groove in your folds as he pushes faster and deeper, striking a familiar area, while your eyelids roll back.

"AHHHH, Jake, right there."  As your back arches off the bed, thrusting deeper into his finger, your body reacts perfectly.

A knock on the door is heard just as your high reaches you, and you both pause and look behind you.

"Prince Jake, you have been summoned to the royal room to receive a message." Before Jake speaks to him, you both remain silent for a few moments.

"Thank you very much; I'll be out for a minute."

Before he turns to face you, you cover your lips with your hand. Before pulling away, he bends forward and kisses you on the forehead.

"You're not going to finish me off, are you? You can't stick and dip; it doesn't work like that." You start arguing with him before he bends in and kisses your folds.

"I have to get going, and if I'm late, I'm toast. You did mention that my family is what now-" You shake your head as you push him off your body and start putting your clothing on.

Another knock is heard as the door slowly begins to open and a familiar face appears. Jake rushes to conceal your half-naked body as Elijah walks in.

As you lowered your head and snickered, it felt like a million pairs of eyes were on you. Jake covers your body with a blanket before pulling up his pants and walking towards the door.

He flashes a big grin at Elijah before crossing his arms and stepping closer to him. "My dear brother, keep your indiscretions to yourself," he yanked his handkerchief from his pocket before handing it to Jake. Another familiar figure arrived in front of the entrance as he saw the chaos unfold before his eyes.

Kol appeared behind Elijah before chuckling as he crossed his arms, "well, well, well looks like someone having fun." He gave you a wave as he walked out of the room, smiling to himself. You turned away and mentally slapped yourself as soon as he said it.

"We'll be out in a second. Please visit us again." Before turning around, Jake slammed the door shut. While yelling under his breath, his reddened face brought you your garments.

"Please forgive them; they enjoy barging in here unannounced. I'm sorry if they saw anything." You're hauled up by him before you can secure the button on your jeans. He kissed your lips as he assisted you in putting on your shirt.

"Okay, I'm definitely not going to get tired of those." You kiss his lips once more as you pull his shirt closer to you.

"Mmh, your lips are soft. As you approach the door, you take Jake's hands in yours before gently pushing it open.

“We will definitely finish this later.” As he plants a kiss on your hand, he smirks. Before enlarging your gaze, you licked your lips.

You moan under your breath, "Oh, I can't wait," as Jake discreetly lays his palm over your mouth.

“You’re already a mess for me, aren't you?” He comes to a halt in front of the door and cups your face in his hands, kissing your hungry lips.

“As much as I would love to kiss you,” you say as you rest your palm on his chest and giggle. "Let's hurry up because I don't want them to come back and dagger you." He took your hand in his and led you to the throne room.

---

Jake strides over to his family's gathering and excuses himself, letting go of your hand. You took a step back and stood next to Mark, who was looking at you with a curious expression.

"So...how did it go?" Then, after a brief scan of the area, you struck him across the shoulder with your fist.

"Aren't you guards supposed to be quiet? You do know we all have vamp hearing." After chuckling at your remark, he returned to his job.

Besides Jake and I, Mark was the only person around our age with whom we both became close as we basically all grew up in the castle. Although being the only female in the group, they made up for it.

We all had our own ways of having fun in those late evenings, so there were many nights of loud laughter and sticky fingers. Those were the days, but now Jake had his royal duties, they were a thing of the past. Everyone seems to be set in their ways.

When your name was called, you were swiftly brought out of your thoughts. They didn't seem to know you were there, but you knew it was true when Mark bumped your arm.

"Uh.. yes. I'm here, your majesty."

Walking over to the gathering, you stood next to Jake as you heard his booming voice; still to this day, you could never get over that.

"So, y/n, you and your family have been so kind to not only the Mikaelson family, but the entire kingdom. And we thank you for your service, but we've heard rumors that my father is planning to travel to our country to assassinate our future heir."

You exhale, your body trembling as you clasp your hands behind your back. You weren't old enough to recall certain details of the attacks.

This was how horrible it was 

As he gazed down at you and winked at you, he entwined his fingers behind your back and whispered, "It's going to be okay."

As he stepped up from his throne, Klaus began again, "So, once again, I'd like you to protect and guard him while we're out; you've had plenty of training for this, so I'm confident you'll do fine. Finally, you are responsible for whatever happens to him."

He was now directly in front of your eyes as he kept a wary eye on your flimsy frame.

Thanks for the extra pressure. 

Jake gave him a gentle push back as he walked in front of you and coughed "Okay, don't scare her. We've got a lot of security in place, and I'm an original here who can take care of myself. I don't want to put anyone at risk, especially y/n."

As he acknowledged you specifically, it warmed your heart. He squeezed your hand not only to show that he was paying attention, but also to make you feel comfortable and secure.

Klaus grinned as he walked away from you, both of you speaking in a condescending manner.

"Our father has not and will not stop if we are alive in the past centuries, and now that you are of legal age, he is coming to take advantage of that opportunity. Our father's reign is far from done. After all, it's more for y/n than for you. Take a look at her. Do you believe she'll be able to defend YOU?" 

Your heart stung as you gasped in pain as you yanked your hands from his grasp. As you took a step forward, tears welled up in your eyes. You coughed as you drew Klaus' attention, enraged and honestly taken aback.

"No one has the right to treat me like an outsider just because I'm not a member of this family. Instead of making trouble and fleeing, why not stay and fight like a brother once in a while?I've done more for Jake than YOU could possibly do.

You turned and walked away from the family, tears streaming down your cheeks. A hand grabbed your wrist as you flung it off of you. Before exiting the room, Elijah caught Klaus just as he was ready to explode with wrath.

"This meeting is over. After 30 minutes, we'll be on our way." As you raced away from Jake, he called your name.

You heard shouts of anger from Jake as he yelled at Klaus.

However, he has never been able to see what you and your family went through to safeguard his prized heir. They were going to get a guard if they wanted one, and a good one at that.

You vowed to prove to them, and particularly to Klaus, that you belonged here.

You got to a familiar area and pounded on the door, enraged, as she approached the door.

You hurried by her and sat down, your hand outstretched as you glared angrily at her. "Oh hey—," she said. As she sat down gently across from you, she rubbed her chin and arched her brows.

"Okay, no hello or nothing. That's awesome, what's up?"

"I'd like to see him; please, show him to me right now." She chuckled, as if she'd read your mind. You wanted to prove yourself to someone. And he was the only one who had a clear idea of what needed to be done.

She sliced your hand and poured the liquid into the stone bowl as she spoke. You sat up straight and became ready. As soon as you closed your eyes, you were transported somewhere else.

---

Davine touched you on the shoulder as you sat up straight and followed her instructions by moving forward.

"You just have a few minutes, so work quickly. This is a difficult spell that becomes weaker by the second."

You stood up, shook your head, and walked over to the man perched precariously on the ledge, his feet dangling dangerously in the air. After a few minutes of sitting next to him, you began to become worked up.

"I was curious as to when you planned to pay me a visit. Princess, how are you?" As tears welled up in your eyes, you turned around in astonishment. He looked exactly the same as he did that night. His black slacks matched his stained white collared shirt.

He was perfect, still 

"I miss you, dad." Upon entering his embrace and taking in his smell, he extended his arms and welcomed you in. The lingering woody smell filled your nostril as you held onto him tighter.

"Hey, love. Whatever you're going through right now, I have complete faith in your ability to get through it. I didn't raise a wimp; instead, I raised a powerful warrior. Don't allow them get to the point where they're controlling your thoughts. What is it that I usually say?"

"Life struggles are necessary for growth."

You continued his sentence with the words "life struggles are necessary for growth." He pecked your head and held on for a little bit more.

"Y/n we have to go; the spell is slipping."

When your father saw you, he got to his feet and stood up. His hand went to your face as he noticed all your new features. He seemed intent on studying you, as if he wanted to make up for the time he had lost by not seeing you.

"I'm very proud of the women you've grown to be. I'm so proud of you, y/n. Remember that and know that I am always here for you." As a tear rolled down his cheek, he pointed to your chest.

You gave him one more hug as you raised your eyes to see his face.

"I love you, dad."

"Princess, you have my undying love. Now go out there and confront the world. Fighting for you always."

Davine held your hand as she guided you back to the present moment in time. You observed his disappearance as you bid him farewell by waving.

As soon as you regained consciousness, you hugged Davine and thanked her for her time. Afterwards, you left.

"Don't worry, y/n you got it. I've had my fair share of the Mikaelson family, so don't fret. I'm here for you."

You took a deep breath and then made your way back to the castle, smiling as you did so.

You already knew who you were on the inside; you didn't need an all-powerful family to confirm it for you. You only needed a little nudge to remember who you truly were on the inside.

The princess in your father's eyes.

"Thanks, Dad, this one for you."

[emiewritesthings]

doctor, doctor - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n takes it into her own hands to look after a sick jay 

a/n: i’m not gonna lie i think this is one of my fav things i’ve ever written, i would really appreciate some feedback and p.s the beginning of it is based on that scene from brooklyn 99 :)

masterlist

“okay, it’s 10 o’clock, meaning halstead is officially an hour late to work,” y/n announced as she appeared from the break room with a mug of poorly made coffee. looking around, she had immediately distracted everyone in the room with her playful smile. “okay let’s do this, theories!” she encouraged, taking a sip with excitement, but immediately regretting it as s he spat it back in the mug and abandoned it on adam’s desk as she leant against it.

“uh, he forgot to set his alarm?” antonio suggested, willing to play along with the little game that y/n had created. however clearly his answer didn’t suffice as y/n scrunched up her nose and shook her head in disappointment.

“you are a detective in a unit that just last week rescued 5 people kidnapped and used as chess pieces in a human sized version of the game and the best you could come up with is he forgot to set his alarm? pfft, disappointing, dawson. who’s willing to take this seriously?” she scoffed, brushing his idea off with a simple roll of the eyes as the group laughed at her ridiculousness. 

“maybe he has been murdered by a gang looking for revenge.” adam piped up, earning a sudden and rather forceful slap on the back as y/n cheered. her eyes looking over at antonio as she gestured towards the less experienced detective.

“yes, that’s what i’m talking about. bit dark, ruzek, but better than dawson’s,” y/n hummed, adam clearly pleased with the praise he had received by the pretty detective. “any one else wanna shot?” she offered it out into the room, suddenly the sound of rolling wheels on the chair had everyone turn to face al who was munching on a ham sandwich.

“he walked into the middle of a drug ring, slept with the kingpins daughter and is now having limbs removed, one by the hour.” suddenly an eery silence fell in the bullpen as al suddenly disappeared back to his desk and everyone was left with an image that she was sure was burned on the inside of everyones mind.

“uh, okay, someone might want to arrange a psych check for olinsky asap,” y/n mumbled, pointing in the direction where he had once been and looking around as if checking that she hadn’t been the only one to hear al’s suggestion. “anyways, all of you are wrong. clearly he has joined a motorbike gang and now makes his money on the road striking off names on the government’s hit list.” 

just as the room erupted into discussion about how idiotic this conversation was, as well as their ideas, the sound of footsteps caught y/n’s attention as she arrived at her desk. however as he reached the floor, the reason for his absence was clear.

“woah, you look like death.” adam chuckled, it immediately being silenced as jay sent a deadly glare his way. with his skin paler than normal with undertones of green, a layer of sweat draped over his forehead. jay flashed as smile at y/n as he passed, reaching his desk and collapsing on his chair with a wince. 

as everyone went back to what they were doing, y/n found herself straying her eyes away from her computer screen for longer and longer periods of time until she found herself by his side with a sickly sweet grin, pun intended. 

“i don’t wanna hear it, y/l/n.” jay mumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers hoping it would somehow sooth his pounding skull. whilst usually he had every minute of his day just to hear the woman chat away about whatever crossed her mind, he had found himself in quite the state since last night, leaving him restless and irritable.

“believe it or not, i just wanted to make sure you were alright,” y/n’s entire demeanour crumbled as she melted at the soft features of his face that came with being so vulnerable. but from the look in jay’s eyes, it was clear he didn’t 100% believe her excuse. “and to ask what the hell you think you are doing here? you are sick jay, you need to rest.” 

it was very rare that jay found himself ill. in the years that y/n had been working by the man’s side, she could count on one hand the times she had seen him with so much as a cough. in fact she had called him captain immune system for a period of time when she realised he was pretty much indestructible. y/n couldn’t deny the concern bubbling in her gut seeing him so weak.

“i’m fine,” with her eyes slitted in a look that practically shouted ‘bullshit’, jay continued. “i promise, it’s just a little cold. nothing serious, i think i’ll survive.” he joked dryly, finding it incredibly hard to look away from y/n for her eyes were filled with a warmth that he knew was an expression usually saved for those she cared deeply about. 

“yeah well, you need to take care of yourself, jay, i’m being serious. chicago can cope if you just have one day off, get your energy back.” 

y/n was reminded of the times she had the exact same words spoken to her by the exact person that didn’t seem to want to take them onboard. every time she had so much as a sniffle he would be straight over with some soup that his mother used to swear by and the name of a box set that he would put on for the two of them to watch as he sat stroking her hair in order to try and convince her body to rest. neither of them had anyone else to take care of them, so had taken it upon themselves to be that person for the other. 

“now, i’m gonna go tell voight that i’m taking you home before you infect this whole office.” before he could object, she had already ran (not literally but jay was impressed by her speed walking) to her boss’ office. knocking on the door, with a sweet smile and a sea of words running off her tongue so quickly that voight had to agree just to shut her up, y/n returned by his side. “come on, germ face, your carriage awaits.” 

“you know i love it when you talk dirty to me, y/l/n.” winking at her, y/n giggled as she supported him back down the stairs and out of the station. the two chatted away, y/n explaining how she thought al was secretly a sociopath and jay filing her in on the newest instalment of his apartment block drama until they pulled up in front of jay’s apartment building. 

as they walked through the door, jay’s arm resting around y/n’s shoulders as he struggled to find strength, they managed to reach the sofa before y/n’s body gave up. both of them letting out large breathes before looking at each other and falling into laughter. 

“you hungry, i could try making your mom’s soup?” y/n asked, as she pushed herself up to look down at the man. her hair falling down around her face and tickling jay’s skin. “i’m sure it won’t be as good as her’s but i’m willing to give it a try.” 

the way she was sat with the large window gleaming light behind her, y/n almost looked like an angel. her eyes and smile were wide, with her beauty wrapping its hands around jay’s neck squeezing until his head felt light and he nearly reached up to touch her porcelain skin. but jay had noticed the sensation way before he was blocked up with a cold.

“yeah, uh, that sounds nice.” jay agreed with a minimal amount of sass, but y/n didn’t seem to notice as she moved off the cushions and towards the kitchen. she had pretty much memorised the recipe when jay had finally given it to her on her birthday after offering to pay for it multiple times. whizzing around the kitchen, she was too busy to notice the tired eyes admiring her from afar. 

jay wished his mom was alive to see the woman that she would have loved. all the times he had brought girls back to his family when he was younger didn’t add up to an ounce of the beauty and power that y/n held in her middle finger. the way she bit back at his wit, but also had the ability to spot when he was upset from the other side of the city. she was everything her mother wanted in a daughter in law, everything she wanted for her little boy. 

“okay, give me your honest opinion. i can take it i promise.” y/n sudden appeared with a tray that held a large bowl of the semi-thick orange liquid, a glass of water and a couple pills. approaching jay, she carefully helped him up from where he laid and placed it onto his lap. “actually that was a complete lie, do not tell me the truth. i may just cry.” 

“why thank you, nurse y/l/n.” he teased.

“it’s doctor actually.” she quipped back.

jay chuckled lowly, as he grabbed the spoon and took a large spoonful to his mouth. feeling the slight sting of his tongue at the heat, it was only when the flavours hit that he was suddenly transported to an earlier time in his life. a simpler time. only this time there was y/n by his side. 

“the verdict?” she prompted, taking a seat besides him, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

“not sure whether i want to tell you, don’t think you’ll fit in this room if your ego grows any bigger.” y/n grinned as she leaned over to press a kiss against his shoulder. jay closed his eyes at the contact, feeling the ache in his body freeze for a moment as it registered the tingling sensation. “all jokes aside, it really is good.” 

“i’m glad, your mother was a smart woman.” she nodded, leaning forward to turn tv on. jay continued to spoon the soup into his mouth, as y/n chose a show that they both had started together and had refused to watch another minute without the other. y/n leaned back making herself comfortable, having already texted voight telling him that she would most likely need the entire day off, and getting the go ahead, she had no plans other than being by jay’s side for the next however many hours. 

it was sometime in the early evening and the tv continued to emit light, but neither jay nor y/n was paying any attention to the drama. jay, with his head on y/n lap, was leaning into her touch as her short, thin fingers ran through the dark strands that sprouted from his scalp. his body wrapped in a blanket that y/n had grabbed from his room, he felt completely at peace. 

“you know what, i think you are more bearable when you are at death’s door.” y/n joked quietly, as the forest green eyes were exposed back to her own. jay groaned in annoyance, realising that there was no sweet y/n without the sharped tongue y/n. a trait he adored, but at his own expense. 

“and to think i was starting to think you had gone soft on me, y/l/n.” he hummed, wishing he could forever have her giggle on repeat wherever he went, for the sound made goosebumps run down his neck and down his arms, like some kind of magic that only y/n possessed. 

“as much as i love you, i can’t risk my bad ass reputation for you.” 

although jay was sure it was just part of her banter, the moment the ‘i love you’ fell off her tongue, he found himself wide awake, unable to push past the feeling in his gut as it looped over again and again in his mind. y/n could see the conflict in his face, as he glanced up at her with something she had never noticed before. 

“you mean it?” he asked. 

“mean what?” confused, her fingers fell from his hair, making jay regret ever opening his mouth.

“do you really, you know, love me?” he knew he had committed too far to try and retreat. maybe he could blame it on the fact he couldn’t think straight, although she was like a lie detector that wouldn’t let such a bogus excuse pass. y/n blinked down at him, watching as he sat up to look at her with a hunger that needed to be addressed. swallowing the lump in her throat, y/n nodded.

“of course, you are one of my best friends, jay.” it was true, but it wasn’t the full truth, both of them knew that.

“i didn’t realise we had started lying to one another,” jay’s eyes were soft, as he reached to place his hand against her cheek, smiling as she slowly leaned into it. closing her eyes, she tried to find what direction she was looking for, but didn’t dare take the first step. without even thinking, jay jutted forward and captured her lips before they could form a single syllable. 

gently, but passionately, jay and y/n moved their lips against the others. the feeling was ever-growing as the kiss deepened and deepened until they had no choice to pull back, deprived of their ability to breath. as jay’s eyes came back into view, y/n, for the first time in her life, had lost the ability to form a sentence. 

“we just...” she began but it ran off quickly. jay chuckled.

“we did.”

the two sat in silence, examining the other one’s face until y/n found herself moving forward until she was sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as she pressed her lips against his. just like before their bodies and minds were set ablaze with desire and what had remained unspoken for what felt like forever. jay had nearly completely forgotten about the illness that had put him in the care of the woman that he craved more than anything else the world had to offer. 

as their lips parted ways, suddenly the air had thinned and everything felt... normal. jay’s lips were unable to break out of the large grin mould that y/n had put them in, which was soon mirrored by the young woman. a small giggle escaping her lips.

“if i get whatever it is you have, i expect the exact same treatment.” 

“only for you, doctor y/l/n.”

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

[sxfik]

Helloooo. Lemme start by saying how awesome fantastic amazing your fics are. I have a solhwi ask/prompt if it's not a problem. What would the study group's reaction be to established solhwi + bonus for prof kim and yangs reactions. Any headcanon or fic you can write about this please.

wicked love, leaves me blind

read on ao3 • masterlist

a/n: aaaa thank you so much for the kind words and the request! there's slight canon divergence in this and i decided on a more head canon format for this fic. this turned out kinda longer than expected but AAA my mind really ran with this prompt lmaooo. without much further adieu, i hope you like this <333

it's been 2 weeks since joon hwi confessed to her, running to her house in the middle of the night, panicked and afraid after the news of lee man ho hunting down professor yang

after the man had run from the scene, joon hwi was sure that he'd come back to his house, not afraid to hurt anyone on the way there. and in an instant, he started running, taking off towards her house without a second thought

by time he had reached her house, he was drenched in sweat, his heart thundering out of his chest in panic, in fear and in hope, that she was all right. he knocked frantically on the door of her house, hoping, praying that she was alright.

and to his relief, sol opened the door, her hair put up in the familiar messy bun. she yawned as she opened the door languidly, still wearing the hanguk law school sweatshirt he had once loaned her during a sleepless night of studying.

"han joon hwi? what are you doing here, it's lat-"

he lunged for her without a thought, gathering her in his arms and pressing her close to his body. she's alive, she's okay, chorused in his head as he shuddered out a breath of relief. she let out a soft oof but relaxed into him, her arms coming around his waist in a familiar way

he pulled away after what seemed like not long enough of a hug, and maybe it was the adrenaline, or the pure euphoria of finding her safe and in one piece that pushed him towards her lips, kissing her with fevor.

and after a shocked moment, she kissed him back, drinking him in, tugging him closer, desperate for more, more, more

and the rest was, well, history. it didn't take long after for the two of them to confess to each other, understanding that they needed each other in their life.

so it's been 2 weeks since han joon hwi confessed to her. really, they meant to keep their relationship secret. in the midst of their fight against assemblyman ko, the case against lee man ho and the mystery of what really happened the night of the hit-and-run case, they agreed that it was easier to keep it under wraps

after all, it was a new relationship to both of them. it wasn't like they hadn't dated other people, but what sol and joon hwi had was a carefully built friendship that was founded in trust and care for each other. and making it public, could only do them more damage as they become leverage against each other if their case goes south.

they only had one, very, very small, problem.

they were awful at keeping their hands off each other

alone time was very scarce for the both of them. with joon hwi being highly ranked, he was always pulled into every study session and every discussion in the school. not to mention, he had his own studies to maintain, alongside working at the legal clinic and helping professor yang with the mystery that had plagued the school.

kang sol's case was no different. she had to slave over her assignments, spending every spare moment at the school library, pouring over her text books. the moment not spent there was split between working to gather money for her mother and byeol, the legal clinic and assemblyman ko's case. not to mention her digging into kang dan's whereabouts as much as she could.

every single time they had together, there were too many people around for their tastes. during their busiest days, they had settled for subtle touches and stealing glances at each other whenever possible

so they spent their spare moments, huddled in the corridors, catching up on each other's days, making out and getting some time alone.

they'd make all kinds of excuses to leave early or walk each other to their dorm rooms, trying to maximize all their time with each other. every time they made to each other's rooms, they'd linger at the entrance, trying to see each other for just one more second.

and it was no wonder that when they first got caught, sol was pinned against the stairwell wall, joon hwi's lips buried in her neck. his fingers ghosted the hem of her shirt as she was pulled him closer to her and then...

clang!

the two broke apart, startled at the noise, their faces red. joon hwi's usual bangs were disheveled, sol's messy bun now loose and her hair cascading down her shoulders.

the two of them turned their head towards the noise only to find ye-beom and bok-gi, the latter's mouth gaping open like a fish. ye-beom on the other hand, stopped sucking on his lollypop, eyes wide as they looked at each other then looked back at the couple who were caught red handed.

bok-gi's hands were still frozen as the plate that fell from his hands lay at his feet and for what felt like eternity, there was absolute silence.

and then chaos.

"you two- when did you- how- what-" both of them started firing their questions rapid-fire.

the couple, who's faces were strawberry red, shushed them the best they could, looking around frantically to ensure no one else would here the commotion.

it took around 10 minutes for the boys to calm down, still reeling from what they witnessed

slowly, the couple explained that they were dating, and satisfying some of their curiosity before letting the boys go, with the stern warning of never repeating any of this information to anyone.

predictably, their whole study group knew about sol A and joon hwi the very next day.

of course, while ye-beom and bok-gi were huge gossips, they made sure the news didn't reach outside their sphere.

the next day, sol and joon hwi were the first ones to walk into the hideout, attempting to put up their "we're best friends! no relationship here!" facade up early, while the rest of the group quietly shuffled in.

they were good for the first 5 minutes (in reality they didn't last even 2 minutes) but joon hwi just can't keep his eyes off of her, especially when she's working through arguments for the case

the lovesick display lasts about... 10 minutes before Sol B stands up from her chair abruptly, causing everyone to jump in their seats.

as always, her face is neutral, but she spins to face ji ho, as the boy adjusted his glasses on his face so he could look up at her

"you own me 20 dollars" she simply stated at him, her hand outstretched

"what, no way i'm paying that" ji ho moved back, his face shocked that she even remembered

"you bet that they would take 3 months to confess, and i bet at 6 months— "

"it's been way longer than 6 months!"

"mine was closer"

"i think," ye-seul interjected as she took her seat at the table, heading back from her project work for professor kim's class, "that you both owe me 20 dollars. from what I remember, i bet that they would take longer!"

a chaotic clamber erupted as each member argued who owed who money, who bet on what,

"yah, ye-seul, how could you bet on me like that!" Sol interrupted the clamor, spinning to look at her best friend in shock and disbelief.

"sorry, unnie. it was too tempting of an offer for me to turn down" she replied, not looking the least bit apologetic.

joon hwi grinned at sol A as she looked around flabbergasted at their friends, before he grabbed her idle hand and held it up.

"just so we can fend off any confusion, sol is now my girlfriend. sorry we didn't get to tell you earlier, but to make up, we'll treat you to a dinner after all this mess is offered."

their group cheered at that, never being the one to turn down an offer for free food

it was bliss for the couple after that, and relief too. they could both agree that keeping a relationship under wraps was much harder than they could handle, with so much of this being new to them alongside the chaos of their lives

telling their friends took the pressure off, at least allowing themselves to indulge in each other without having to be extra careful of who was watching.

theirs was a blinding love. it was blinding bliss, it was peace.

bonus +1:

professor kim was a busy woman, but she always had the time for her students. taking the time to know each and every one of them was something she took pride in as a teacher.

but out of all her students, the study group lead by han joon hwi consisted of her favorite students that she taught. as a result of professor seo's unfortunate death and the reveal of everything that assemblyman ko had orchestrated, professor kim found herself around those kids more and more.

nevertheless, it was another day, another case to navigate at the legal clinic. it was a busy afternoon at hanguk law school, and professor kim's star students, sol and joon hwi huddled together trying to find the best way for the property case at hand

she had always had a soft spot for those two, ever since their class first semester when sol A blurted out a judgement and joon hwi, out of nowhere supported her. of all her years of teaching, she hadn't found a duo that was more hardworking, passionate and loyal than the two of them

Sol A was not her brightest student but she had tenacity and passion that more than made up for it. She could spot the hardworking girl, hunched over her textbooks hours after every other student had left.

Professor Kim had always found that some of the brightest students in her class would make for the worst in the field. because, being a lawyer wasn't about memorizing the codes or adhering to the rigid structure that many assumed the law to be. it was to offer kindness, compassion and understanding that they were humans first, before they could be judged by the law

and she knew that Sol A was one such girl who had that. She had watched as she defended Yang, even when the detectives and prosecutor were trying to close up the case and force him down as the perpetrator. even when joon hwi was accused, Sol stood by his side, pursing every route possible to prove his innocence. At every turn, she stood up for those who needed sympathy and kindness from the law; for those that the law would have hurt.

Joon Hwi was no different. the first time she saw him, she assumed him to be a cold, callous genius who had no time for anyone but himself. but oh, how wrong she was. Joon hwi was quiet the opposite. Even while being a generally reserved student, he had an inviting energy surrounding him that made every one like him, despite the intense competition at school

from the first day, it was clear he wasn't here for the marks or the validation of his teachers: it was passion and self motivation that drove him. it was clear that he was built to practice law, his mind was always sharp for legal terms and loopholes. but joon hwi always went the extra mile for his friends, always gave an extra hand to help, even when they didn't necessarily need it.

she could see it in him during Ye-Seul's case, eager to help her. she could see it when Ji Ho's father's suicide case came out, how eager he was to help and comfort his roommate.

but most of all, she could see it with Sol A. she wasn't sure when she had noticed their closeness, but she could see them walking the halls together, a smile spread across both their faces or them arguing across the table at the legal clinic, trying to work out the best method.

she could see it in the way Joon Hwi watched Sol, an almost lovesick smile on his face when she smiled or when she finally got the answers she was searching for. Professor Kim also knew, from her years of watching professor yang and prosecutor bae dance around each other, that it would be rare if they confessed to each other

so it was very odd when she looked across from her stack of papers to find joon hwi holding sol's hand as he flipped through the case file in front of him, both of them hyper focused into the details

maybe it was pure curiosity, maybe it was a taste for chaos that motivated her to call out "oh, are you two finally dating?" expecting their flustered and embarrassed reactions

but instead, she was met with a beaming smile from Joon Hwi that answered all the questions she had. Kang Sol on the other hand was left glaring and sputtering at her new boyfriend.

it was funny and gleeful, watching two of her favored students find a new life together, forging a new path.

and it was also pure relief for her, that she wouldn't have to deal with another professor yang and prosecutor bae situation

bonus +2:

the cold wind whipped around them as the couple accompanied professor yang back to campus. another night, another mystery, another trip to the police station to give witness statements

tonight was no different as the truth of the hit-and-run case started revealing itself, and the professor had accompanied the two students in silence, contemplative of all that has happened, the puzzle pieces slowly clicking together

professor yang was never meant to be a professor, in fact he hates the title itself. what he was meant for was to interrogate, to dig up clues and find out exactly who the culprit is and use the law to prove why they were guilty. for him, one's feelings did not matter, it was always about the evidence presented in front of him and how it could be interpreted.

it didn't mean he didn't care about his students, quite the opposite. it just meant that he wasn't the nurturing type as professor kim was. the one to always meddle in student affairs or keep track of how his students were doing outside of class

but with the two students walking beside him, they were the ones that he wanted to see succeed. they were the ones he was the most proud of as they presented their cases in public, finding their own ways to fight against injustice.

he was proud of them and in his heart, he knew it reminded him of a certain set of school mates, ones that were attached at the hip, a regret he has carried with him until he met her again on the court floor.

so maybe it was the deliriousness of all they had went through together or pure stupidity that made him pause in the tracks. his students continued on for a moment but then paused in their tracks, turning around to see what had stopped their professors.

"Kang Sol A." he nodded towards her.

"Han Joon Hwi." he nodded towards him.

"Congratulations on your new relationship"

he paused after, looking up at his students, both of them wide eyed that Professor Yang of all people, congratulated them on this.

and then, as if making it worse, he smiled.

Kang Sol's mouth dropped open, her hands reaching up to her eyes to rub them as if she was hallucinating what she saw.

Han Joon Hwi was incredulous, blurting out "Professor, have you been taking methamphetamines again?"

"Professor Yang has taken WHAT?" Sol whipped her head around, the sight of her professor expressing glee was already too much for her to handle but the news that he has taken meth just drove her head into overdrive.

the two were stuck in their positions, as their professor moved forward, brushing past them as if this event had never happened.