#have such ... Your last statement was I am my own home ... prior to that You acquiesced

[williamswifey]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 - 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐘

pairing ; bella ramsey x fem!reader

summary ; bella does an at home interview, and you overheard them discussing your relationship while they think you’re asleep.

content warnings ; none

a/n ; i was watching a bella ramsey interview and was inspired so enjoy this 🥹

masterlist

you blinked sleepily as your eyes fluttered open, rolling over to your right. while normally your head would gently hit bella’s chest, instead you found yourself brushing against an empty, cold spot.

this woke you up fully as you sat up in confusion. you yawned and stretched, and you could hear bella’s voice coming from the dining room. their voice was loud, much louder than it usually was when they were on the phone attempting to remain quiet while you slept.

however, you noticed bella’s tone was professional, the way they did whenever in public or when doing something work related.

oh.

you remembered last night bella had mentioned an interview early in the morning, and you had been half asleep as you hummed in acknowledgment to their statement.

you frowned. it was a saturday, and you loved saturday mornings with bella. you loved cuddling with them until noon, you loved brushing you teeth side by side. you loved cooking breakfast with them and doing chores while singing, and then rewarding yourselves with lunch and a movie.

however, bella wasn’t there for you to cuddle. the room felt chillier, and your feet softly padded down the hallway of your shared apartment.

you peeked your head out slightly, trying to get bella’s attention so you could wave to them. except bella was so into the interview, they were in their own world. you loved how serious they were about their job, and how respectful they were to interviewers.

you sighed, noticing bella had left a few windows open throughout the hallway. you closed them and went back into your bedroom to grab one of bella’s sweatshirts. it was long and fluffy on the inside and smelled so strongly of bella you could’ve mistaken it for the real thing.

when you returned to the spot you stood moments prior, you noticed bella and the interviewer discussing an entirely new topic: you.

“…yeah, as cringey as it sounds i never really felt i belonged until i met y/n. it was an instant bond—an instant warmth. it sounds cliché, i know, but…my heart was just drawn to her.”

“that’s beautiful,” the interviewer commented, “now tell me, how different do you think your life would be without y/n?”

you heard bella scoff at the question, as if it was a joke.

“i don’t think i could fathom a world without y/n. i definitely wouldn’t be where i am today—she’s pushed me to do the unthinkable.”

“do you think she feels the same way?” the man on the laptop asked.

“i’d hope so,” bella said with a giggle, “i mean, she’s asleep right now but otherwise i’d straight up go and ask her.”

“you live together? how’s that experience been?”

“it was the best decision of my life. getting to wake up next to y/n every morning—being able to see the little things about her, the things i wouldn’t have seen had we not lived together.”

you felt a smile grace your face. you bit down on your lip, and you felt your heart squeeze within your chest.

“your relationship is by far one of the most popular on social media. how have the two of you dealt with being in the spotlight?”

“um…it surprisingly doesn’t affect us much. because yeah—our fans see a lot of our relationship, but it’s really only what we want them to see. there’s still so much to our relationship that’s only for us to have, and that’s what keeps the spark going.”

you grinned to yourself, fiddling with the lose thread on bella’s sweatshirt. you listened for a few more minutes—even after the topic had changed. you loved watching bella at work, but you were exhausted and couldn’t fight the urge to crawl back into bed.

you had fallen asleep again, much to your distaste, though a soft hand running throughout your hair woke you up.

you blinked to see bella above you, smiling down at your sleeping figure. they noticed you stirring awake and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“my sleepy girl,” they said softly, “how did you sleep?”

“good,” you replied, “better now that you’re here.”

your hands interlocked with bella’s, and you remembered everything they said about you. it made your heart flutter as you pulled them impossibly closer.

“i love you, bella. you know that right?”

bella let out a hearty chuckle at your words.

“of course i know that darling, i love you too.”

“you promise?” you asked, sleep still fogging your brain, but your head was clear enough to know that you loved bella more than anything else.

“on my life,” bella whispered back, pulling the blanket over the two of you, ensuring that your saturday morning cuddles were still on track.

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Alright folks, I think I’m on the other side of this cold. Which unfortunately means I am back at work. Things are going to start getting more serious here, so bear with me.

Moving forward, each chapter will have its own warnings above the normal, so just keep an eye out. As always, thank you for reading. ☺️

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery. **STRONG TRIGGER WARNING FOR SA** Please proceed w/ caution.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess

Part 8 - Limits

Three months is not a long time. Not long enough for me to drink in the relationship that now was encompassing the vast majority of my life. I still had my job, my meetings, my daily walks with Angel…but everything else was Noah.

Nights watching movies with him. Days going to his house and just existing while he sat in his studio making music. Standing backstage at random pop up shows they did. Morning showers. Evening cuddles. Very late night sex. Sex all the time? Noah had an incredible sex drive and I was along for the ride.

But today, this truly horrific day, was his last day before he left again on tour. It was panic day. And I couldn’t get out of work. He leaves in the morning for Houston, and is absolutely losing his mind with anxiety.

My phone was going to vibrate off of my desk, so I slipped it into the top drawer and turned my attention back to the clients in front of me.

“I’m so sorry about that, where were we?”

The young couple sat in the chairs in front of my desk, their expression cool and positive. They radiated happiness, love. Jared and Sarah Miller, newlyweds, and visibly elated to be buying their first home. Sarah’s belly sat heavy in her lap, thirty-six weeks into her pregnancy with their first baby.

Their house was closing next week, so we needed to discuss what all needed to be done prior and run their one last statement check.

“You can take that, if you need Mileena. We don’t mind waiting.” Sarah smiled at me warmly, and I felt a tug in my chest when I heard my phone vibrate again.

“Oh, it’s fi-“ Before I could finish, it stopped vibrating, only to begin again half a second later. “Uhm…”

I opened my drawer, looking down to see Noah’s face flashing once again.

“I’m so sorry, it’s my boyfriend. It may be an emergency if he’s calling this much.”

Jared stood up. “No worries! We can run to the car and get Sarah’s snacks, if you don’t mind we eat in here?”

I shook my head. “Not at all! I’ll only be a second.”

“Take your time.” Sarah chirped before they walked out of the office, the door latching behind them.

I slid the newest call open. “Why aren’t you answering?! Are you dying?!”

I had to pull the phone from my ear due to the sheer volume of his voice. “Noah, I’m at work. Not dying.”

“Oh.” His voice calmed down instantly. “Good, because I almost got worried.”

I snorted. “Almost? You’ve called me like, a hundred times!”

He chuckled. “It’s panic day?” He said defensively.

“Panic day or not, babe. I’m with clients.”

“Fuck! I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”

I glanced at my computer screen to a new Teams message.

Sam: Saw your clients left. Wanna get lunch?

I cringed.

Me: They’re coming back. And no, eating in.

I saw the indication he was typing pop up, but disappear a moment later with no new message.

“Listen, babe,” I brought my attention back to Noah. “How about I go to your place after work? I can grab food on the way?”

“I really should focus.”

I laughed. “Cause you’re doing such a great job.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll see you about six. Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

And we ended the call right as Jared and Sarah walked back in.

I smiled widely and took a breath. “Crisis averted. Now, let’s get you guys this house.”

-

I sat cross-legged on Noah’s bed, pulling potstickers from the paper box in my hand. Noah was chewing on his food while his fingers clacked at his keyboard, sending last minute emails to his tour manager.

Rick and Morty played on the television, and I idly watched it while letting him have his space. ‘Just having you here makes me feel more calm’ is what he told me, so I’m just existing, letting him have his panic in peace.

Noah had gone to my house this afternoon and picked up Angel after we talked, bringing him back to his place so I didn’t have to stop home after work. I was almost convinced he loved that dog more than me. I’m okay with that.

Noah turned, chow mein noodle hanging out of his lips. I chuckled at the sight, and he turned his lips up in a goofy smile. He slurped the noodle in his mouth and licked his lips. As silly as he is, he’s still absolutely breathtaking.

His muscle shirt showed his arms that were slowly becoming more defined every time I really looked at them. Noah had been filling free time he had going to Muay Thai and Boxing classes, trying to keep off any unnecessary pounds he may put on from his sugar intake. The results were becoming…difficult to not appreciate.

“You done?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I think so. Nothing left to do but sleep.”

I nodded, satisfied. “Good.” I glanced at my watch, noticing it was already seven-thirty. The first forty-five minutes of me being here was spent trying to calm the anxiety and help him find his favorite jacket that somehow ended up in Jolly’s laundry hamper.

“We’ve got to head out in about an hour.”

His lips turned down in a frown. “Why?”

“I’ve got work in the morning, and you’re leaving at 4 in the morning. You need sleep.”

“Nuh-uh.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Noah, unless you have a show, you can barely stay conscious past 10PM. You still have to shower.”

He shrugged. “Don’t care.”

“Mkay, well I care. Because I also have to shower and decompress before bed.” I stood off the bed and piled the empty food containers into the bag they came in, walking it over to the garbage can.

“Take this out tonight, or it’ll be awful when you get back.”

He just stared at me, a look I couldn’t quite place on his face. It made me shift my weight under me, unsure of how to react.

“What? Do I have soy sauce on me?” I wiped at my face, but he just shook his head.

“No.” He then sighed heavily. “We’re going to be gone longer this time.”

My heart pulled. He was right. He’d be gone two and a half months this time, which shouldn’t be long, right? Three months went by so fast…

“I know. But, I’ll be at the show here in October. And you’ll be home a week after that, just in time for your birthday.”

He chewed his bottom lip. I walked over to him, stopping directly in front of his chair.

“Then we’ll spend the holidays together.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, his head leaning into my chest, his arms swallowing my waist. “Christmas, New Year, Thanksgiving.”

He would be going back on tour at the end of January, so we had to take what we could get.

“Can’t you just come with me?”

I chuckled. “I wish, baby.”

I pulled my arms back, gripping either side of his neck to bring his face up to mine, placing a soft kiss on his lips. His arms tightened around me and a soft moan hummed out of him.

“Now,” I pulled my face back and pushed him back into his chair. “sit there quietly, and let me give you your parting gift.”

I sunk down to my knees and watched while he lifted his brows at me, narrowing his eyes.

“Since when do I do what you tell me?” His tone was apprehensive.

I gazed up at him through my lashes, doing my best to look innocent while my hands unzipped his jeans.

“Since I have something you want.” I very dramatically licked my lips, leaving excess saliva on my bottom lip for effect.

He pursed his lips, and gave a curt nod of his head.

“Fair enough.”

-

I was wrong. I was so wrong. Two-and a half months was crawling. I would assume it felt that way since it had only been two weeks, but it felt like a year.

I had just hung up the phone, Noah having to head into sound check. My lunch break was close to over, so I was already sitting behind my desk, scrolling through emails while I waited for my next client to make their appointment.

My desk phone chimed, and I grabbed the receiver.

“Kline Home Lending, this is Mileena?”

“Are you not logged in to Teams?” Sam’s voice was sharp on the other end.

“I’m on lunch. I haven’t taken Do Not Disturb off yet.”

“Lex wants to see us. Didn’t say why. We need to go now.”

I straightened my back and checked the time. I only had twenty minutes until my next appointment. That didn’t matter, though. When Lex called, you went. He was the President of Kline, and he didn’t make appearances often.

I shot my client a quick text to wait for me in the lobby if I wasn’t back as I walked down the hallway behind Sam toward Lex’s office.

“What do you think he wants?”

Same didn’t turn to respond. “Don’t know. He just asked to see us two.”

What could he possibly need? I kept my nose down, sold my loans, and kept it pushing. I didn’t make waves. Sam, on the other hand…

“Ah! Thank you both for coming on short notice. I won’t keep you too long.”

Sam and I each took a seat in front of Lex’s desk. Our boss, a tall, older man with white hair and his shirt unbuttoned the top two buttons, stood up and rounded the desk, leaning against it.

“I’m certain you don’t know why I’ve brought you here.” We both just nodded. “Right, well I’ll get straight to it.”

He went back to his chair, sitting down and waking his computer. “I assume you’re both familiar with Shamrock Lending?”

“Aren’t they the company that just declared bankruptcy?” I furrowed my brow, my question making him nod.

“Nearly. They’ve backed out of that.” Sam and I looked at each other inquisitively. “We’re absorbing them, including their employees and client base.”

“Why?” Sam sounded unamused.

“Shamrock maintained a prestigious client-base and had great word of mouth. The pandemic killed the business, and with them having been such a small company to begin with, it didn’t cost us much. And now we can retain their clientele, including their celebrity accounts.” He had his chin resting in his hands. “They sold Kelly Clarkson a house last year.”

Sam snorted. “So, what does that have to do with us?”

I had to forcibly not roll my eyes at his disrespectful attitude.

Lex looked intrigued, staring directly at Sam.

“I’m glad you asked, Samuel.” The sound of his full name made Sam visibly straighten. “We need to do something to boost morale for their employees. Shamrock was a family-owned company so most of their staff are…less than thrilled at coming over to Kline.”

“I could understand that.” I empathized.

“Exactly. So we are going to arrange for a company event, something to lighten the spirits. Eating, drinking, and overall merriment.” He pointed at us. “Oh, and live music! That always gets people excited.”

He stood again. “I need you both to organize it. You’re my top performers, so I trust you both to be able to arrange something within the next week or so.”

My eyes widened. We had to what?!

“With all due respect sir, but when you say organize?”

“Find a venue, get catering, hire a band, all that jazz.”

“My family has an estate on a vineyard in Escondido. Perfect for this.” Sam was now smiling confidently. Kiss ass.

Lex snapped. “Wonderful! We need this ready happen by the end of September. The merge is effective as of October 1st.”

I’m so fucked.

-

The following seven days had been a blur. A long, exhausting, frustrating blur. I had to reschedule so many appointments so Sam and I could work on the event.

Venue was no issue, but we needed catering, entertainment, staff, decorations, which is what Sam and I were currently arguing over.

The amount of arguing we had done over the last week had drained everything out of me. Spending this much time with him was absolutely ungodly. He was so difficult to tolerate, his bravado and over enthusiastic flirting got so far under my skin I could feel it in my bones.

“We need a theme!”

“It’s not junior prom, Sam! We don’t need casino night!”

He scoffed, pacing over the floor in my office while I sat, my fingertips rubbing my temples.

“So it’s just a ‘Hey we get you hate us, but get drunk and have salmon’ party?!’

We were interrupted by the door opening, Chrissy, the janitor, coming to clean my office.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you guys were gone.” She backed out and closed the door.

“Jesus Christ, what time is it?” I checked my watch. “Ugh, it’s already seven. I’ve got to go.”

“No, no, we need to finish this. The event is in three days.” He pulled his phone out. “I’m ordering some pizza.”

I stood up in protest. “As fun as that sounds, I’ve got to go walk my dog. Or he’ll piss in the house.”

He locked his phone and gave me a disgusting grin. “No worries, we can just finish at your place.”

My face must have mimicked my disdain because he only smiled wider. I groaned and sat back down.

“Fine. Let’s just finish it.”

I finally swung my front door open at 9PM, exhaustion and agitation fueling me the entire ride home. Angel met me at the door, eyes big, obviously concerned for my whereabouts. He's never left alone quite this long, more so these last few months with Noah picking him up nearly every day.

"Hey baby." He barked in response while I kicked my heels off. "I'm so sorry I was gone so long."

He ran to the back door in response. I dropped my bag right there on the floor, slipping my slides on and striding to let Angel out.

I stepped outside with him, watching as he disappeared near the trees in the corner of the yard, undoubtedly relieving himself. I stayed on the wooden porch, flopping down into the wooden chair at the table. I slipped a single cigarette out of the pack next to the ashtray and lit the end with a match. I didn't indulge in my nicotine habit often, only in times of severe stress. I bought a pack the day I learned of the event and had smoked one each night after work.

I hadn't told Noah that.

This reminded me that I hadn't heard from him all day. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, taking a long drag from my smoke.

I pressed call as soon as I found his name in my recent list, noticing our last phone call was yesterday afternoon. We hadn't talked hardly at all since Sunday, when the shows became more frequent and my work started taking up all my damn time. Our nightly calls had been skipped a few times now, and we mostly communicated over text. Until now, I hadn't noticed how badly I missed him until I saw his contact photo show up when the phone rang; a picture of him sleeping, Angel stretched out over his stomach, snoozing comfortably on my bed.

I put the phone on speaker and set it on the table, leaning back in my chair.

"Hello?" His voice that came through was loud. There was a ton of background noise and voices. There was also some kind of music. Music I didn't recognize - heavy bass drums, some kind of high-pitched synth, with rhythmic reverb. Club music?

"Hey babe. What're you doing?" I could hear shuffling on the other end.

"What?" He couldn't hear me. "Hang on, babe. One sec." The phone then went completely silent, evidently muted.

After a few moments, I could hear sound again, but it was much quieter. "Hey babe, I'm sorry. I couldn't hear shit in there."

"What are you doing?" My voice was sharp, which I wasn't sure if it was due to me being wildly suspicious all of a sudden, or the frustration bleeding over from work.

"Oh, uh, after the show the guys wanted to stop off at this place on our way back to the hotel." His voice sounded intentionally nonchalant.

"What kind of place?"

He was quiet. Too fucking quiet.

"Babe, don't freak out." He sighed heavily. "It's a bar, and look-"

"You're at a fucking bar?!" I stood up, dropping my cigarette into the ashtray.

"Babe, please don't yell at me." I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, forcibly evening out my voice.

"Noah, why the hell are you at a bar?" I said through gritted teeth.

"It's one of the guys' in ERRA's birthday tonight. We're just here to celebrate. I'm going to be fine." He was annoyed, I could hear it. I was 'sponsor'-ing him, but I didn't fucking care.

"Please don't drink, Noah." He groaned.

"I won't, Leena." His voice was slightly venomous. This bothered me. How could he not understand why I was upset by this? It was a valid fucking reason to be upset. He was right on top of earning his 6-month chip.

"Good. Because I swear to God, I will snatch those chips away from you so fucking fast."

He didn't even breathe. "Nick is here. He'll keep me straight."

"He's not drinking?"

"No."

"Okay." I sat back down.

"I'll call you when I get back to the hotel and after I shower."

"Okay." I picked my cigarette back up. "I love you."

"Love you too." Click. My heart tugged. It felt wrong.

When he finally called me, I was already half asleep. I had showered, finished getting ready for bed, and began fading while watching Supernatural. It was typically unheard of for me to pass out so early, but I was positively exhausted.

My phone began singing next to my face, and I moaned in defeat. I just wanted to be unconscious.

"Hey." My voice was thick with sleep.

"Hey, were you sleeping?" His voice sounded pretty sleepy too. It was past his bedtime.

"I was, but I'm fine." I sat up in bed. I ran a hand over Angel, who was now sound asleep in Noah's spot on my bed.

"Mmm. How was your day?"

I leaned back on my pillows, yawning. "It was long. Had to stay late again."

"With Sam?"

This made me snap to attention. The bite in his tone startled me. "Yeah, unfortunately."

"Hmm." He was making a lot of humming noises tonight. "Been spending a lot of time with him, yeah?"

You're fucking kidding. Noah was not getting jealous...of Shithead Sam?!

"Not voluntarily. We just had to get this event worked out."

"And did you?" He was still so serious. Nothing like what I was used to with Noah.

"Yes." My words were slow, still in disbelief at his attitude. "The event is on Saturday over in the valley. I'll be driving down there Saturday morning to make sure it gets set up."

"Well, I'm sure he'll meet you there."

I had about enough.

"Noah, what's your problem?" I was serious now, over whatever bullshit game it was he was playing.

"I don't have one." He paused. "Do you?"

Is he instigating an argument? "I didn't think so, but you're acting weird." I sighed. "I don't like it."

I heard him breathe, a sigh, maybe? "I'm sorry."

I didn't respond.

"I don't know, I just don't like that guy."

I sat up, pausing the television. "I know you don't. Neither do I. But why be rude to me over it?"

"Well, you spending so much time with him bothers me."

"...and?" I furrowed my brow, bewildered. "I can't help that we got put on this project together."

He snickered. "I mean..." He trailed off.

"What?" I dared him.

"You could have said no."

My jaw dropped. Was he for fucking real? "How do you figure? The President of the company I work for tells me to organize an event, and I just...what? Decline?"

"Pretty much."

I shook my head, absolutely flabbergasted. "Are you fucking joking?" My voice was raised.

"I asked you not to yell at me."

I swung my legs over the bed and began pacing. "Well, that's hard to do when you're acting like this."

"Like what?" His voice was so even, so calm. It was getting under my skin.

"Like a jealous boyfriend!"

He was silent for a minute. "Am I not?"

"Oh my fucking God, Noah! You have nothing to be jealous about!" I was now laughing, but not because it was funny, but because it was so ridiculous. "The guy is fucking putrid!"

"So I've heard." That evenness in his tone was going to kill me, or get him killed if I get my hands on him. I knew that bullshit. It was manipulative, which up until this point, I didn't think Noah was. He had never acted like this before.

"Noah, you don't fucking get it. He's the opposite of attractive. He reminds me of my ex." I had never admitted that before, to him or myself. I didn't think about him often.

"Right, yeah. The ex-boyfriend you never want to talk about. Got it." There was a slight inflection in his voice. Good. At least I know he isn't a robot.

He was just a fucking asshole.

My voice was calm now, still as standing fucking water. "That's correct."

"Leaves me with lots of questions, Mileena."

Who the fuck was this douchebag on the phone with me? What piece of garbage was I talking to? It wasn't Noah. Not my Noah.

"I'm hanging up." My hand was shaking now.

"Sure, yeah, ignore the problem." He was getting worked up. I couldn't tell if that was better or worse.

"No, I'm just not letting this go any further." I took a breath to keep voice even. "You should get some rest."

"No, c'mon, let's talk about it! You always want to know about me and my fucking skeletons in the closet! Where's yours? What's the big fucking secret? Why do I have to pull fucking teeth to get you to fucking talk about your ex? Or your drinking? Or anything fucking personal?!" He was full-blown screaming now, and I was frozen solid.

He wasn't wrong. I always avoided talking about Jeremy, at all God damn costs. He enabled my drinking, he set back my sobriety, and that was the mild stuff.

"Noah...please stop." My voice was cracking now.

"Whatever. So much for a trusting fucking relationship."

That was it. That broke the dam. That sent me spiraling.

"Are you fucking KIDDING me?! You call me, start a fucking fight, and then have the audacity to say I can't be trusted you fucking bastard?! Why? Because I don't want to talk about the asshole that drove me to drink because he was abusing me so badly?! Who slapped me around so much that only the alcohol made it bearable?! Back when I tried to kill myself, couldn't because I was so God damn drunk, and ended up going back to him because he convinced me no one else would ever love me?!"

I couldn't stop. He flipped the switch and you can't just undo that.

"Fuck you, Noah! Fuck you and your bullshit jealousy and trust issues!" Tears were streaming down my face, blurring my vision. Somewhere, I felt Angel's nose pressing into the side of my leg. "Now go the fuck to sleep before I tell you to go to hell instead!"

I ended the call, before he could respond. My shaky hands frantically turned my phone off before I could receive a text or a call back.

-

I had put my phone on vibrate all day Friday, spending the majority of the day in my bed sulking. I didn't want to talk to anyone; Laura, my Dad, most importantly, Noah. Anytime I thought about it, I started crying. I laid in bed, only getting up to let Angel out and get snacks from the kitchen. I laid in bed, watching comedy movies to try and relieve my mind.

It wasn't until I woke up Saturday morning that I finally read all of the missed texts.

The night of the fight:

Noah: Leena I'm such a fcking asshole. I'm sorry. Pleese call me back.

Noah: Babe I don't even know what got into m please.

Noah: Yourr phone is going straigt to voicemail. I guess you turned it off. I'm going to sleep now. I love you. Call me please?

Friday morning:

Noah: Is your phone back on?

Noah: Guess not.

Noah: Leena, please call me. I feel sick thinking about how dumb I was being. I promise I will never do that again. I swear. Please just respond to me.

Nick: Leena, Noah won't stop asking me to text you. Please call him.

Noah: I'm about to cancel the show tonight and fly home. Please Leena.

Noah: Nick said I can't cancel the show. Too short notice. Please call me. I need to hear your voice.

Friday evening:

Noah: Look, I've tried really hard to be patient but I'm starting to freak out. Babe, please. I was stupid. I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever do anything like that again. I have no idea what got into me.

Noah: I'm going to quit texting now. I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry. Call me when you're ready. I love you so much, more than you'll ever know Leena. Always.

I sighed hard. I wasn't angry anymore, mostly just hurt. I really wanted Noah to be different, but after the way he was talking, it was hard to believe. Nothing made sense. In five months, he had not spoken like that to me at all. He was always so laid back, even about things that bothered him.

Something was wrong. Something was different.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to ponder it, as I had to get ready to drive to Escondido and get this hellscape of a day over with.

I decided to send him a response, but not give too much.

Me: I love you too. We'll talk tonight. Have a good show.

-

All things considered, the vineyard was absolutely stunning. The event was exactly how we planned, music elegant but still upbeat. The food was high-class, Kline sparing no expense. People were swaying and mingling, their drinks from the open bar settling nicely into their systems.

I was stood on a hill just out of sight of the happenings down by the massive estate home, overlooking the winery. Vines upon vines of grapes grew, causing such an incredible landscape while the sun began to set over the hills. It soothed the ache in my soul.

I heard footsteps approaching behind me, and gauging the weight of them, I rolled my eyes, knowing my moment was spoiled.

"Too good for the party?" I sighed. Sam's voice was the same as always, condescending and arrogant.

I turned, my long, olive green dress twisting at the skirt. "Nope, just taking a breather."

"Is it hard? Being around people drinking?" For once, he didn't sound like he was being judgmental, and it caught me off guard.

I shook my head lightly. "No. Not really anymore."

He nodded, standing next to me with his hands in his pockets.

"Hell of a view."

I shrugged. "It is."

He nudged my shoulder, gesturing over to a stable to his left. "Want to go see the horses?"

I smirked. "I'm okay, thank you."

He narrowed his eyes at me playfully. "C'mon, girl. Everyone loves horses!"

I chuckled. I contemplated this for a moment. I do love horses, having ridden many when I was younger.

Sam began stalking toward the barn, waving me along. "Just for a minute. You'll love them!"

I rolled my eyes, but still, I stomped after him, my heels nearly sinking into the grass beneath me.

He pulled the door open, the familiar smell of hay and feed hitting me in the nostrils. It was a comforting smell, reminding me of the horses my Dad helped tend when I was a little girl.

He walked into one of the stalls. "This one," he pulled on a rein, a stunning black horse peering out of the stall. I was drawn, walking up to her and smiling. "is mine. Her name is Onyx."

Her large nose pressed into my hand. I ran a hand up her face, reveling in the feel of her silky fur.

"She's amazing." I was in awe.

"Yeah, she's a good girl. Rides like a champ." I nodded.

"I'll bet she does." I backed away from her, peering over at Sam.

"You want to see another?" I nodded, a soft smile on my face.

He waved me down the stable, opening a stall at the end. "Come on."

I didn't see a horse, but I stepped in front of the door, confused. Sam was gone, and the stall was empty. I took a step forward just beyond the door, puzzled.

"Sam?"

It was at that exact second, a hand clapped over my mouth from behind, and a large, thick arm came to snake around me around the waist, holding my arms down to my sides and pulling me in close.

Sam had me pinned, his body pressed against my back, as I began writhing and struggling beneath him. Oh no. No, no, no, no.

I struggled as hard as I could, working my arms around in an attempt to get free. I felt his breath on the side of my face, his voice low and hushed.

"Shh, hang on there, girl. Wouldn't want anyone to know we're in here." I screamed against his hand, forcing him to clamp down harder, giving the feeling that my jaw may break.

Please, fucking, please, no.

"You've been playing this 'hard to get' bullshit for so long. It was about time we finally made it happen, huh?"

His hand over my mouth slid down to my neck, squeezing so tight that my vision began turning fuzzy.

I choked hard, trying like hell to get words out. "S-Sam, please, d-don't."

He had turned us around, pushing me against the wall of the stable. His hand that wasn't holding my throat was roaming up my skirt, his giant palm under my dress and tugging at my underwear. I thrashed again, trying like hell to get an inch so I could slip out of his grasp. It was futile. He had me, I was trapped.

I felt his fingers slipping into the hem of my panties, sneaking underneath. His hands violated me, making hot tears pour out of my eyes. I squeezed them shut, trying to just focus on having enough air to stay conscious. If I pass out, it's over.

I ignored his hands on me, and focused. His feet. His feet were the only shot I had.

I shifted my weight onto my other leg, realizing his was immediately behind mine, using both legs to keep mine spread.

I lifted my foot, and with as much force as I could muster, I jammed my heel into top of his foot, causing him to jump back, his hands releasing me at once. Without hesitation, once my arms were free, I reached my elbow back, connecting it with his face. I felt something crunch beneath my arm, but I didn't care.

As soon as he was no longer on top of me, I ran. I booked straight out of the barn, my vision slowly returning.

I was running back toward the party, up the hill. That's when I stopped. My dress was ripped on the strap, my hair was tangled up, and my makeup had to be running down my face. I was a mess. I looked insane.

I had to get the hell out.

I began sprinting to the parking lot, passing several people on my way but not stopping. I ran to my car that, thankfully, I had left unlocked, keys in the visor. I turned the engine over and tore out of the parking lot.

I didn't care that I blew past multiple stop signs. I pulled onto the interstate and drove. I drove until I couldn't see the winery behind me. Until I could barely see at all because my eyes were watering so badly. My breathing was so sporadic. My hands were screaming with how tight I had been gripping the steering wheel.

I finally snapped out of my state, realizing I needed to stop.

I pulled off on the next exit, finding a rest stop just off the highway and pulled into the parking lot. I sat there, staring out of the windshield, tears streaming, trying to calm my breathing.

It took me a moment to realize I had stopped, and for my brain to begin functioning again.

I picked up my phone, opening it and ignoring texts and missed calls and going straight to my contacts.

I pressed 'Call' and waited for the line to pick up.

"Hey babes, what's up?" Laura's voice rang through the line.

"I need help."

[humbledragon669]

S1E6 – The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives P4 - from the departure of Shadwell and Madame Tracy

There are just under 10 minutes of this episode left at this point, so I’m hoping I can get this season pretty much wrapped up in this write up (not counting the write up of the opening credits, or the couple of bits I’m intending on doing around the book. Oh, or the work I’m intending on doing around the deleted scenes in the Script Book. Or on identifying differences between the Script Book and the end result. So y’know, so close to getting season 1 all wrapped up…). If I forget by the time I get to the end of it, I’ll just say thank you for sticking with me – I hadn’t really intended for any of these write-ups to be as comprehensive (waffling) as they are, but here I am, 64K words later, not even finished the first season. So, yeah, thanks and other such affectionate gratitudes.

There’s something to be said about Gabriel’s idea of what exactly the “greater good” is. He still seems to think that the “greater good” is little more than winning the argument against the legions of Hell, which seems quite ridiculous: imagine holding the outcome of an argument in higher regard than the consequences that the event of said argument would have. But then I suppose that’s largely what war is – two parties adamant that they’re right, trying to force the other to concede. We as the audience are likely to see the preposterousness of Gabriel’s stance in this particular instance because the consequences include the obliteration of the entire human race and the planet that they reside on. Still, the principal is the same, and ultimately I feel like world peace is entirely possible, in both the show and in real life, if people simply respected the right to an alternative point of view.

We also see the recurrence of a running theme in this scene – the idea that “what” you are defines your nature by default.

Don’t talk to me about the greater good, sunshine. I’m the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.

This statement is something akin to stating that all hedgehogs must, by default, be irritable (or… prickly… *tumbleweed* I’ll get my coat), and in fact we have come to understand that this ingrained attitude as to what constitutes a “good” or “bad” could actually, in and of itself, be construed as a “bad” quality to have, and that being capable of seeing nuance is an inherently “good” quality to have. The irony of that statement is almost philosophical, isn’t it? Still, we get to hear John Hamm use the F word, possibly proving that Aziraphale’s reluctance to use it isn’t necessarily because he’s an angel (which just hammers all of that point home even further).

Let’s take a quick look at a couple of things we see from Crowley (as Aziraphale) prior to his entering the Hellfire. Firstly, his use of the phrase “for Heaven’s sake”.

It’s a little different from the last time we saw Crowley using the same phrase.

I don’t know whether this much easier delivery of the same phrase is because he’s in Aziraphale’s body (issued to him by Heaven) or if he’s having to exercise a monumental amount of restraint as he says it. It doesn’t look like the latter, but he’s been doing a pretty good job of keeping his own mannerisms under control up to now, so why would this be any different? After all, the Hellfire reacts to the being that inhabits a body rather than to the original source for that body, so you’d think this principle would apply for other matters to.

The second thing I want to take a look at is this glance Crowley (as Aziraphale) takes at his captors before he steps into the Hellfire:

It’s so beautifully knowing. He knows full-well what’s about to happen as he steps in the column of flames: absolutely nothing. He’s checking in to make sure his cover is still intact before he takes his leap of faith.

There’s an interesting difference between the reactions from Heaven and Hell in the aftermath of the punishment being applied. Both parties are, understandably, terrified. Hell’s assessment of the situation is that Crowley has “gone native”, even going so far as to say he isn’t one of them anymore (I don’t really think he was ever truly “one of them” though, was he?). This is an accusation we have heard before, not always so explicitly stated, levelled at both Aziraphale and Crowley by their respective employers. In this instance, we are to take it that they think he has become human, or at least more human than demon. I don’t think the Heavenly hosts would be able to come to the same conclusion – presumably a human would be consumed by Hellfire just like an angel would. It’s my belief that their assumption, based on their accusation that he is a traitor to Heaven and therefore siding with Hell, is that he has somehow converted to a demon, or that he is on the way to becoming one. I find this difference interesting, as it suggests that, whilst Heaven still firmly believe the antithesis of their agenda lies in Hell, Hell in turn believes that the worst thing a being could possibly be is human. Stripping all of the philosophy and theology out of the situation, what’s important is that neither Heaven nor Hell are aware that a body swap scenario was a possibility, and both believe there has been a fundamental change in their accused.

I also find the individual responses of Crowley and Aziraphale (in their respective other half’s body) to the outcome of the punishments to be rather charming.

There’s something really special about knowing that, despite the work they’ve both done to make sure they’re acting as the other one would, they cannot help their true personalities from coming through when they’re enjoying themselves: Aziraphale (as Crowley) playing the situation with his intelligence and resulting wit, and Crowley (as Aziraphale) choosing instead to strike fear into his captors with harmless mischief (rather like we saw him do to the paintballer at Tadfield Manner).

Let’s talk Michael’s reaction to seeing (Aziraphale as) Crowley in the bath. Subtitle capitalisation is taken from the Script Book, rather than being my own emphasis.

I know I’ve seen this discussed in other posts, so I won’t dwell on it too much, I just wanted to acknowledge that firstly there is a definite question mark over the use of phrase here. Is it just an exclamation or is there something more subtextual going on? I vote the latter because… well because I’ve watched the show really. And I don’t think the scripted words are ever used without thought to their meaning, overt or otherwise. Secondly, this isn’t the first time we’ve seen a verbal reaction to Crowley’s presence containing the “L” word. Remember Paris, 1792?

Did I just use this tiny scripting point to so I could revisit that incredibly hot look Aziraphale gives Crowley in the Bastille? 100% I did. Sue me. However, there is an important difference here that the angel also uses the word “good” in his exclamation. I don’t think Aziraphale has ever truly considered Crowley to be anything other than at least a little bit good, so that does make a lot of sense.

Theirs is something of an odd paradox in Anathema burning the second volume of Agnes’s prophecies, isn’t there? Because Agnes, being the incredibly gifted psychic that she clearly was, should have foreseen that the copy given to Anathema after Armageddon is averted would be burned. So why send the box at all? More importantly, is there perhaps another copy that she wrote and kept somewhere else? There is a nice symmetry in Newt helping Anathema to burn the pages though, seeing as his ancestors have a history of burning her actual family members. I’m sure it’s meant to be symbolic that he’s present for the literal burning away of the things that tie Anathema to the past, and I can’t help but feel like his own unpleasant ancestral ties are being erased at the same time.

There is so much tying up of subtextual ends in Adam’s final scene, it’s rather difficult to know where to being. Let’s first address the non-so-subtextual confirmation that, at this point in time at least, he has retained some of his powers.  

We have a few more hints at the idea that people are forgetting what happened the day before, firstly when Wensleydale asks Adam what happened, and again with this line from Adam:

Tomorrow will be alright. They’ll have forgotten by then. They always do.

Then there is, of course, the reference not only to a garden, but of having to leave it, and that his leaving would be the result of a choice he makes to right a wrong. The informed choice that Adam makes here forms the ending of the book, and serves to prove God’s prophecy from the beginning of episode one:

It starts, as it will end, with a garden.

Adam’s choice to leave the garden is, without doubt, a comparison to the departure of Adam and Eve from the original Garden of Eden. The difference here is that they were forced to leave because they chose knowledge and free will, whereas Adam leaves through choice because he already has free will. The parallels between the two situations don’t stop there either – Adam (Young) is next to be seen taking an apple from a tree, which he is forbidden to do (because it’s not his to take. Technically stealing I suppose, but hey, he’s the ex-Antichrist, he’s done worse) after he leaves his own “garden”. He takes it willingly, and of his own accord, rather than having been tempted as Eve was.

We also hear God telling us that Adam has an awareness that “something” was ending. I think it’s likely the “something” being referred to here is the innocence of childhood, particularly as he has now been made all too aware of the potential cruelties of human nature. And lastly, we have a pretty strong statement being made, not only about the idea that knowledge should never be considered as being owned and should always be shared, but also that the cost of the acquisition of knowledge is always worth the sacrifice it took to get it.

He couldn’t see why people made such a fuss about people eating their apples, but life would be a lot less fun if they didn’t. And there never was an apple, in Adam’s opinion, that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.

Quite beautiful really. That previous scene being the last we see of any of the characters other than Crowley and Aziraphale, we join the main couple in a park. By now it should be blatantly obvious that something is very different about both of them – their voices, speech, and (most obviously) postures are complete opposites of what we’re used to seeing from them. Crowley sitting bolt upright with his hands clasped in his lap whilst Aziraphale’s slouch is so severe it looks like he poured himself into the bench. What I love about this is that we’re being shown the extent to which both of them have had to fight to hide what comes most naturally to them. What’s even nicer to see is that they drop all hint of pretence now that they’re back in each other’s company again. And just so we can see how perfectly David and Michael are at copying each other, just observe how little movement there is between the before and after body swap reversal in their postures.

They each managed to set themselves up to sit like the other pretty much exactly. Very impressive. And of course, the red collar is back, which Crowley (as Crowley now – thank goodness I don’t have to keep writing those confusing sentences out anymore) actually draws attention to. It does make me wonder if the only purpose of the tartan collar was to have something tangible that could be pointed out after the fact. The change in tone of voice, speech, gait, and behaviours could be argued as objective, but a piece of material that’s a completely different colour? That can’t be argued as being fundamentally different from the norm. And it’s subtle, which I don’t think could have been achieved with something about Aziraphale’s outfit (for instance, changing his bow tie from tartan to red).

I think it’s so telling that it takes the pair of them next to no time at all to settle into their old comfortable ways. Aziraphale for instance, can hardly keep his eyes off Crowley once they’re restored to their normal bodily states. In fact, he’s back to flirting at the first opportunity. Check out this gorgeous little side eye and gooey gaze:

And he’s so desperate to tell Crowley what he did that was so clever. Almost like he would pop if he didn’t tell someone about it… We will of course later come to find out that this little personality trait is apparently one of the only reasons that Aziraphale calls Crowley, so it’s actually quite nice to see that this behaviour isn’t something he limits to interactions that aren’t in person. What his anecdote from Hell does tell us is that they do not have any access to the memories that were made in their own body during the body swap – they apparently go with the essence of the being that inhabited the body at the time the memories were formed.

I do not believe for a second that Crowley’s mention of “leaving the garden” is simply there to wrap up the story line. Both he and Aziraphale will be well aware of the connotations that go along with that statement, having been present when the original residents of the original Garden were forced into the wilderness. And whilst there’s a feeling that the angel and the demon are also wandering into the wilderness, they are doing so under their own free will, which they have actually been exercising for millennia. The difference now is twofold: firstly, they have no intention of returning to the false promise of safety that the garden (aka affiliation with a Heavenly or Hellish authority) proffers them. Secondly, their free will, and their choice to exercise it, is no longer forbidden, and whilst both Heaven and Hell may not approve of their friendship, relationship, or any other consequence of their free will, they no longer have any authority over them. They have in a very real sense of the word, been set free. Leaving the “garden” is really just a metaphorical way of them stretching their wings (no pun intended) before taking full flight into their newly gained freedom.

Ah, wasn’t that all really beautiful? Well, don’t get used to it, Crowley’s about to lower the tone.

Did ya see it? Let me see if I can make it a bit more obvious:

Maybe it’s me and my dirty mind, but that invitation to lunch looks like it comes with a much more personal invitation from Crowley… I mean, even if we disregard that fairly blatant “presentation” of what’s on the menu for Aziraphale, let’s remember that it’s my belief Crowley enjoys watching the angel eat. And yes, I do believe that watching Aziraphale eat is a sexual (or perhaps sensual) experience for him. So him asking the angel to go to lunch with him is far from an innocent invitation in my opinion. That last point is perhaps underlined by Crowley’s use of the word “tempt”, which he would have historically done to lessen or destroy the innocence of others. And Aziraphale has absolutely no hesitation in taking him up on the offer. So absent is his hesitance in fact that it seems to me that his acceptance of Crowley’s temptations is something he is very used to doing. *wink wink, nudge nudge*

It's my view that we would be foolish to think that this lunch at the Ritz is anything other than a date. We know that this is one of the things Aziraphale suggested that they do in that awful car conversation in 1967. We know that they have been there before on at least one occasion. Aziraphale’s choice of venue tells us everything that we need to know about things between the two of them being set to rights. I’m sure Aziraphale knows that his offer comes with un underlying offer of peace between them, and when you see Crowley’s reaction to the offer, I’m pretty sure that he knows it too. He looks impressed, a little surprised, but most of all, happy.

I don’t think I need to go over the song used in the soundtrack here. I know I have written a lot of words about this season, but I think that my running word count would look pretty pathetic if we were to count up all the words written about the choice of “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” being played at this particular point in the storyline. So let me simply highlight the particular part of the lyrics that make it the absolutely perfect choice as the closing song for this season:

There was magic abroad in the air There were angels dining at the Ritz And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

Right, that’s that addressed. Despite the fact that there are less than 2 minutes left in this episode, there’s still so much to talk about.

Aziraphale’s furtive glance at Crowley before the champagne is poured; the loving gaze he gives him to assure him that his assessment of him being a “good” is meant in love and not in animosity; Crowley’s acceptance of the compliment with his own look of resignation; Crowley’s loving gaze as he awaits the angel’s response to being told he’s a “bastard”; Aziraphale’s acceptance of the return compliment suggesting that it might just be the best thing anyone has ever said to him: all of these things are enough to melt my heart, but they are NOTHING compared to this:

Or perhaps, more precisely, this:

I said Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off Crowley, didn’t I? That lingering gaze he rests on his demon’s face after the toast is complete genuinely makes my stomach flip. It’s beyond gorgeous. And it would be horribly remiss of me not to talk about the toast itself. Aziraphale proposes they toast to the World. On a surface layer, this would appear to be in reference to the fact that they have just saved it. But. But. They look each other in the eyes when they’re actually making the toast. Because they are each other’s world. It might have sounded like the toast is in recognition of their part in saving the world, but really, it’s to them. I appreciate that this is probably going over old ground, but I need to get it written down so that the words can stop going around my head.

I do want to do a tiny bit of backtracking to look at the way that they compliment each other on being “good” and “bad”. It does not escape my attention that Aziraphale refers to Crowley as “a good person”. Not simply “good” or a “good demon”. A good person. I think this follows up on the conversation that they had with Adam in the time bubble, that they now think of themselves as closer to humans than to their respective ethereal beings. Not only that, but there are no more arguments between them about being a little bit good, or a little bit bad. I think this probably applies more to Aziraphale than to Crowley, but they’ve come to the full realisation that you don’t have to be all “good” or all “bad”. And with that realisation, comes the knowledge that each of them having their own “good” and “bad” qualities actually make them a better partnership, because they compliment each other so beautifully. They “cancel each other out”, as Crowley so eloquently said. He was only about 1000 years ahead of Aziraphale on that one. But most importantly, it’s the supposed “flaws” in their characters, the bits they’re not supposed to have, that actually interest and attracts them to each other.

As we leave our beloved pair, we see one last act of affection from each of them.

It’s so subtle. Not only does Aziraphale reach for Crowley across the table, he switches the champagne glass to his other hand in order to do it. He places the glass next to his right hand so that the hand closest to Crowley will always be free, presumably in an effort either to flirt with its presence near to something of Crowley’s (mind out of the gutter please, this is the Ritz) or to actually make contact. And Crowley’s returns the gesture with silent attentiveness. It’s so charming to see him just watch Aziraphale babble away, fixing his gaze on the angel’s face. At least that way it won’t be weird when he deliberately stares at him whilst he’s eating…

I have one last thing to say about this episode, and it’s actually about a character that we have been acquainted with from the very beginning of the show, yet observe so little about. It’s God. Sounds like a pretty bold statement about religion in general I know; it’s not meant to be. I’m not about to go off into some sort of religious diatribe about how the voice of God has been guiding the audience through the story blah blah blah (did I mention I’m Pagan?), I merely wanted to point out that God has been narrating this last part of the story of the demon and the angel that are in love. Does she sound disappointed or unapproving at all? She really does not. In fact, it sounds like she’s pleased. And when she talks about the nightingale in the Square, she sounds a little smug, proud almost. It makes me wonder if this was her way of blessing the partnership. And if she’s blessing it, doesn’t that mean it was all part of the Ineffable Plan in the first place? I guess that might come to light in season 3, but for now we’ll just have to wait and see…

You know the drill by now. Questions, comments, discussion: always welcome!

[demispark]

I Swear Mickey Did Not Abandon a Woman in Hell For Over A Decade (In Defense of Kingdom Heart's Mickey Mouse)

Excellent question! @notbrucewayne48 and @mintchocolatemagic , Mickey Mouse did not do anything wrong, and I will explain why.

Firstly, please leave you The Walt Disney Company-based opinions of Mickey by the door. If you have negative opinions of Mickey as a result of him being the mascot of an evil all-consuming corporation, those don't really apply here. Mickey Mouse, in Kingdom Hearts, is the king of Disney Castle and a talented Keyblade Wielder.

People seem to have a lot of animosity towards Mickey Mouse in Kingdom Hearts. Maybe its because his reputation has been ruined by the corporation he represents, I can't say for sure. It's fine if you don't like the guy or think he's annoying, but it personally grates on my nerves when people let that color his depiction and actions in the Kingdom Hearts franchise.

This post ended up pretty long, so if this is way too long of a post, I recommend reading the first two paragraphs, watching the video, and reading the last paragraph. Maybe not as good as a TL;DR, but it should give you enough context and understanding without taking up too much of your time.

Beyond this point, SPOILERS for basically the entire Kingdom Hearts series up to KHIII, excluding the mobile games.

To begin with, what am I even on about? That title is a pretty extreme and ridiculous statement, after all. So, here's the plan: I'm going to show you the clip, and then we'll go through the relevant points on the timeline to examine the truth of this claim.

Here is the claim, made by the supposed victim herself: Keyblade Master Aqua.

Aqua claims that Mickey abandoned her in the Realm of Darkness, knowing full well what a decade trapped there would do to her. However, her statements contradict reality at multiple points, likely due to the effects that sustaining an attack filled with darkness and being submerged in the waters of The Dark Margin, as well as the mental toll of being stuck in the Realm of Darkness for over a decade.

To figure out where everything went wrong, let's turn back the clock by about 11 years, to see where this all started.

At the end of Birth By Sleep, a prequel taking place a decade prior to KH1, Aqua is with Mickey in the tower of the wizard Yen Sid. Following the final battle at the Keyblade Graveyard against Master Xehanort and Vanitas (we'll get to them later, don't worry), Aqua and her friends are in bad shape. Aqua was really the only survivor, with Terra going missing and Ventus' heart being shattered, leading it to sleep elsewhere until it could recover (we'll get to them as well). Mickey, Aqua, and Ven were blown away after defeating Vanitas and destroying Xehanort's attempt to forge the X-Blade (Pronounced the same as Keyblade, and good lord we will get to that later), and Mickey brought Aqua and Ven to Yen Sid.

Leaving alone, and not really having told anyone at the tower where she was going, Aqua returns to her old home, the Land of Departure. There, she drops off Ven's sleeping body, and uses the Keyblade of her now-deceased Master to transform the land into a confounding castle that we'll come to know as Castle Oblivion. Following this, she senses Terra's voice and goes to a world called Radiant Garden. It is here that Aqua discovers the truth of Terra's disappearance. Terra had been manipulated throughout his journey to be consumed by darkness, which Xehanort took advantage of. Using his own Keyblade, he removed his heart and sent it into Terra's body, possessing it.

Long story short, Aqua won the fight but failed to free Terra, and he began to sink into the darkness. Aqua dove in after him, using her Keyblade Armor to protect herself and her glider to attempt to get herself and Terra out of the darkness. Realizing that herself and Terra were too heavy and wouldn't make it out in time, Aqua sent Terra ahead with her Keyblade and armor, launching him out of the darkness as she sank into it.

This will be very important later, so remember it, I won't be getting into it in this post, but it will come back later.

This is where she spent the next decade, wandering through the Dark World and the remnants of worlds that had fallen into the darkness, plagued by hallucinations, phantoms, wave after wave of Heartless, and even a dark reflection of herself that pointed out all of her mistakes and gave a voice to all of her intrusive thoughts.

Mickey didn't know where Aqua went, and it isn't easy to just enter the Dark World, so he was not able to find her. Between being the King of a world and training to become a Keyblade Master, he likely didn't have time to look for her forever, either.

Do we see Aqua sitting around waiting for help to come, as she claims? Nope.

... 0.2 - A Fragmentary Passage is an interesting game.

Anyway, silly new accessories aside, we see Aqua traveling though the Realm of Darkness, enduring the previously mentioned hardships. Here, she encounters Mickey, who slipped in via a world that was in the process of falling to darkness. He explains that the worlds are in trouble, and that he is searching for a Keyblade of the darkness, a counterpart to Sora's that will allow them to seal the Door to Darkness.

This coincides with the ending of Kingdom Hearts 1. After battling through more powerful Heartless, Aqua and Mickey see Riku running towards the Door to Darkness, and are beset by a Demon Tide, a powerful storm of basic Heartless known as Shadows. Aqua attempts to hold them off, which allows Mickey and Riku to assist Sora, Donald, and Goofy in sealing the Door from their side. Aqua tells Mickey to go on without her, before losing control of the Demon Tide and getting swept away. Her ending monologue is resolute, however, prepared to face the darkness and act as a guiding light for whomever finds themself trapped in the Realm of Darkness next.

Not only was this Aqua's choice, her sacrifice, but she stood by it. So what happened, and why didn't Mickey return for her immediately? The simple answer is that Mickey had a lot of more urgent things to worry about than assuming a Keyblade Master couldn't take care of themself.

Immediately after this, Mickey needs to look after Riku and get them out of the Realm of Darkness. This leads into Re:Chain of Memories.

Sora and Co. could help, except that they had their memories tampered with, and will spend the next year asleep while false memories are removed and their forgotten memories are put back in place.

Riku has been struggling with the darkness throughout KH1 and Re:CoM, so he isn't in the best place to be thrust back into the darkness.

Over this next year, the threat of creatures called Nobodies and the sinister Organization XII rears its head, and Riku doesn't exactly get better with his darkness.

Forced to rely on the darkness, Riku transforms into the spitting image of the man who used his darkness and possessed him - Ansem, Seeker of Darkness - and this isn't exactly great for his mental state, either.

Sora was weakened by his journey through Castle Oblivion in Re:CoM, and with the threat of the Organization looming, the hero had his work cut out for him before Mickey would even dare asking him for help.

Sora and Riku, who has finally gotten his darkness under control, end up at the Dark Margin by the end of KHII, but do not encounter Aqua there. Since Aqua was not there, the attack that overwhelmed her with darkness and sent her flying into the water that was mentioned earlier must have happened between the final world of KHII and this scene. They manage to escape, and return to the Realm of Light.

Sora and Riku rest back at their home, the Destiny Islands, during the events of Re:Coded, and eventually receive a message from Mickey calling them to Yen Sid's tower. These boys need to get better, hopefully becoming Keyblade Masters, in order to rescue the fallen Keyblade Wielders from their fates and prepare for the upcoming final battle. Dream Drop Distance comes and goes, and Riku is named a Keyblade Master.

Prior to the events of Kingdom Hearts 3, Mickey relays his experience in the Realm of Darkness with Aqua, to which Riku angrily questions why Mickey never told him or attempted a rescue.

You should know the answer to that by now.

Mickey explains that he respected Aqua's wishes, just as he did for Riku in the past, stubbornly refusing to tell Sora anything about his missing friend during KHII, as Riku was dealing with the whole Ansem and darkness thing and made Mickey promise not to tell Sora.

Yen Sid also chimes in, pointing out that if Sora and Riku had found out, they would've recklessly tried to find a way into the Realm of Darkness to stage an ill-fated rescue mission.

Now, however, the time has finally come. Since Mickey's Kingdom Key D is a Keyblade from the Dark Realm, he could use it to enter the Realm of Darkness without having to use the incredibly unreliable and dangerous method of waiting for a world to fall into darkness.

Mickey and Riku suit up in some new darkness-resistant threads made by Yen Sid and the Three Good Fairies (of Sleeping Beauty fame), and set out for the Dark Realm.

This doesn't go well, to say the least, leading to Mickey and Riku's Keyblades being damaged. Mickey's is recovered and used to create the Star Cluster (which Aqua can be seen picking up in the video shown at the beginning of this post), while Riku leaves the pieces of his behind and recieves a brand-new Keyblade.

Second time's the charm, and now we are all caught up to the aforementioned clip from KHIII.

Anti-Aqua happens, Sora shows up via the power of friendship and following his heart (oversimplification, you know KH isn't that simple), and Aqua is finally rescued from this dark hell.

So, to wrap it all up, Mickey very much did not abandon Aqua. Aqua disappeared off the face of the worlds - literally all of them - for ten years, sacrificed herself to protect Mickey, Riku, and the worlds when Mickey finally did find her, and then Mickey simply did not have the time or resources to stage a rescue mission that actually would've worked in the year or two following his original trip in the Realm of Darkness.

Thank you for joining me on this rather long-winded case. I feel like my writing ended up being a little stiff due to all of the recapping I was doing, so if you have any critiques I would love to hear them!

Until next time, may your heart be your guiding key.

[thecharmedquill]

Chapter One: In A Different Light

A/N: Hello! I know in my last chapter I said I would frequently be posting but I forgot the holidays were coming up, so now I am catching up. I will post this chapter and then finish the second chapter by tonight. I’ll try to post two chapters at a time, otherwise I will for sure post at least one every other day moving forward. 

Warnings:

Word Count: 1448

-

There was a week before classes started and the halls of Hogwarts were rather quiet. Your schedule was clear except for a few administration meetings, during your free time you decided to meet Hermione in the Library to plan out the curriculum. Instead of staying in a shared dorm, eighth years were given separate living quarters in a new wing since there were few in number. This meant your own private bedroom alongside a small bathroom. Your mother had snuck a smaller charmed bag into your suitcase that held a few houseplants and decorations to make you feel more at home. When you arrived earlier in the week, McGonagall had gone over some of the expectations for the young professors as well as the new or returning professors. Student professors were given the option of whether or not they wanted to sit with the rest of the professors or if they preferred being sat at their former house tables. You had chosen to sit at the head table with Neville so he wouldn’t feel so lonely, you knew he had always wanted to be a professor but under these circumstances, it was a little nerve-wracking for him. You had all discussed on the train the anxieties you felt toward your new jobs. It would be awkward teaching fellow students who you had fought with a year prior but even more difficult to teach the younger students who have just joined the school. Pushing your anxieties to the side, you decided to get ready for the administration meeting.

You put on a simple blue sweater and a pair of brown dress pants, old school shoes, and your school robe. Although most professors graduate from their house robes, you weren’t quite ready to give up your house pride. As you headed out to the hall, you caught up with Hermione and Harry, both dressed in professional attire and their school robes.

“It’s a little weird to know in one week we will be teaching at our school,” Hermione says, playing with the red outline of her robe. “I didn’t know if I should've packed my proper uniform or if I should’ve packed professor attire. I ended up packing both just in case.”

Harry nods. “ I think we could’ve brought anything and McGonagall would’ve just been happy we showed up.”

McGonagall had been very grateful the students were willing to come back to help the school. She has been so caught up in repairs, restaffing, and sending out letters for the first years she has barely had enough time to create a solid curriculum for her classes. In the end, she decided to let the teachers and the ministry work together in creating a balanced curriculum, which is why the staff has been meeting so frequently.

“Did you hear Malfoy is coming back to teach?” Harry said, crinkling his nose at the thought of a Death Eater, former Death Eater, teaching at Hogwarts, especially after everything that has happened.

“He is? I doubt the Headmistress would allow him to step foot on the grounds. I know his family has been doing charity work for the families who were impacted by the war. But I doubt the ministry would allow for him to come back.” Hermione shook her head. “Besides, I haven’t seen him once since we arrived. He hasn’t been to any of the previous meetings nor was he on the train.”

“I think Harry is right. I overheard McGonagall speaking to one of the other staff asking if Malfoy had arrived yet.” You thought back to a discussion you had had previously with Neville and Luna on this subject. Malfoy’s mother had made an agreement with McGonagall, in hopes to help the Malfoy name. “I think Luna said this is another charity, like a redemption opportunity.”

“Or maybe it's another ploy.” Harry scoffed. 

You frowned at his statement. It wasn’t fair that Harry was quick to judge. “You know, Malfoy probably was scarred from the war, too. He was just as much of a pawn as you were in the war. Besides, in a way, Narcissa helped you, even if it were to save her son.”

“Yeah but-” You cut him off.

“I am not defending him but I think we should at least show some respect to him. McGonagall wouldn’t have agreed to let him teach students if she was suspicious of him. Malfoy is about to be one of our peers, we should try to be open to the idea of him being equal.” With that you walked into the Great Hall, ignoring the glares you were getting from Harry. You made you way to your seat next to Neville noticing the empty seat next to you. You had figured that it was meant for a professor who had not yet filled their position. Harry and Hermione found a seat in the front next to Luna, who was beaming at the sight of all of her friends. 

“Alright everyone, please come in and take a seat. We have a few things to discuss today that are of importance.” McGonagall walked in with a long parchment paper and stood at the podium where everyone could hear her. “First off, I hope everyone is done or almost done with their curriculum through winter break. When you have finished, send a copy to my office for me to review so that I can make sure we are covering the needed bases. Secondly, I would like us to clear the air with any pressing matters or concerns for the upcoming year. We as a staff need to be on the same page so there is no miscommunication or assumptions.”

Harry raised his hand, “Is it true Draco Malfoy is going to be teaching students this year?”

McGonagall smiled, “Yes, it is true. Professor Malfoy and I have been working closely this past week in planning his curriculum. He seems excited to take the position.”

“Aren’t you worried about his reputation, Profe-Headmistress McGonagall?” Hermione asked, though not in a judging way, out of sincerity. 

“I am not worried about any reputation. We as a staff must support each other through this upcoming year. Meaning, any rumors or whispers you hear about Professor Malfoy should be corrected, as he is now your colleague and equal. I expect you to encourage the students to have an open mind and treat all their Professors the same.” She gave a knowing look to her audience. The rest of the meeting was discussing basic policies that are being put in place to keep both staff and students safe such as curfews and spell restrictions. 

Your mind began to slip from the conversation as you began reminiscing on your past school years. You weren’t much of a troublemaker as you had always made curfew and spent most of your time in the library. You loved learning as much as you could about magic, often spending countless hours reading further on various topics such as the history of magic and the various creatures around the wizarding world. The library is where you had found Hermione, you had quickly become friends bonding over the fact that you both had muggle backgrounds and loved learning new things. Slowly, you had begun growing the group, adding on Harry and Ron as Hermione had met them on the train. This was followed by Neville as you and Hermione felt protective over the accident-prone boy, he was a major help to the group when it came to anything Herbology, destined to become a professor. Luna was the last to join the group as many were hesitant to become friends with someone whose nickname was Loony Lovegood, but quickly she grew on the group as she was sweet and quick-witted. You always admired Luna’s kindness, she saw the good in everyone and was a major reason why you were quick to defend Draco. Although you never knew Draco well, besides the rumors that had gone around the school, you did know that he was just a young boy when he was exposed to the Dark Lord and his wrongdoings. If you were in a similar situation, where everyone in your life seemed to be connected to the Death Eaters, you were sure you would’ve done the same. 

Hermione approached your table, “Y/N, do you want to go to the Library and finish our planning?”

You nodded, “I would love that. Neville care to join us? You can invite Luna as well, I know she has been persistent in helping you plan.”

“Sure.” And with that, you all headed to the Library, just like the old days when you were cramping for midterms and essays.

[castiels-babydoll]

Divine Devotion; Chapter Two

--------- ● Castiel x Cassius Winchester ● An Angel and Hunter Love Story ● Themes: Fluff, Goofiness, Sibling Antics, Suggestiveness, Flirtiness, Language, Use of (supposed) Enochian, etc ● This is part two to Chapter two, if you haven't read chapter two part one then read that before this one. This will be tagged as part two and the other part(s) will be tagged as their respective parts to the story. ● "Ol love angels" translates to "I love angels"

“Do you know about the pizza man?” He asked, curious if she watched the same “movies” as Dean since Sam had told him she was practically a mini version of the man, her eyes widened in shock, did he really just ask her that? “I uhm…. How do you know what that is? Aren’t you breaking rules? Sinning?” She asked in disbelief, dumbfounded by the angel, “What the hell did/does Dean let you watch? He’s tainting you- How did you find it in the first place-” she then said. Castiel stared at her, “I am sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just curious. I do not know,” he replied, “Why did you not have bottoms on earlier?” he then asked, curious about everything with her, the girl shaking her head, flustered deep down on the inside. “I was bottomless because I was home alone mixed with I threw away most of my wardrobe while some was in the washer but it’s dried now” Cassius replied to his last question, “And you’re not making me uncomfortable” she shyly smiled to him, Castiel brightening up a little, “I am glad” he replied. “To answer your question about the pizza man, I think he is lame. I don’t like him.” Cassius said, Castiel tilting his head in confusion, “But I thought all girls liked him? Is it because of him smacking her rear?” He questioned as she walked to the living room. “No, he's not what I’m attracted to. Him spanking her wasn’t the problem either, he could have done a better job in my eyes though” she replied as they sat down on the couch. “What are you attracted to then?” Castiel asked, painfully curious, was it because of the pizza in general, or what? “I uhm….” She started, stopping to clear her throat, “I like supernatural beings” she said, trying to be vague but that just made him more curious, “Like werewolves or vampires or ghouls or dragons or ghosts?” he questioned, Cassius shaking her head. “Demons?” He then asked, the girl shaking her head again, Castiel’s brows furrowing in confusion, thinking hard trying to figure out what being she could be possibly talking about. “Do you really want to know?” She asked, “I do, I would be very pleased to know." he said, almost pleading with his tone, Cassius took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking, hoping her answer wouldn’t make him uncomfortable in any sorts. “I like angels. True form and all. The multiple wings, the multiple eyes, the insensitivity at times. The devotion and strong loyalty to god, how most of you never stop fighting for what you believe is right. You’re drawn to the good. You, they, are supposed to be pure beings, not supposed to feel anything except for the angel code. Only supposed to serve god and humanity. Perfect for a relationship……” She finally answered his question, Castiel staring at her, mouth agape, shocked by her answer. “Not mentioning how Lucifer betrayed god by his pridefulness, and wanted his own free beliefs. I find it mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. Enticing. How simple, yet complex, beings can turn to be the deadliest most feared beings ever. How powerful they can be. Ol boaluahe angels.” Cassius then added, Castiel’s eyes widening at the last thing she said. “You just spoke Enochian- How do you know it? Only prophets and angels know how to speak it-” He said, in awe and shock from the human girl in front of him, “I told you, I love angels. I am fascinated, intrigued, enticed, in love, obsessed with them. I have studied them the best I can” She mumbled, embarrassed from her prior statements, Castiel quickly falling for her, unsure of what he was feeling but he was truly enjoying being around her, his body, more so his vessel’s body, was buzzing.

[avintagepumpkin]

The Concert

A/N: Tumblr keeps giving me problems with posting so as I just posted it unedited, so sorry if its messy

Triggers: cussing not really any I can think of

This is an AU where the events of season 4 never happened, so of course Eddie is alive.

"Times have changed and times are strange Here I come, but I ain't the same." You, Robin, and Nancy were huddled close together all singing along to the deafening music. "Mama, I'm coming home"

FLASHBACK TO CHRISTMAS

As you ascended the steps to Steve's brightly lit house, a familiar voice called out your name. "Wait up!" You paused and turned, seeing Eddie hurry to catch up with you. His cheeks were rosy, and his breath came in short bursts from the brisk Christmas air. Each year since high school, you and your friends convened at Steve's a few days before Christmas to celebrate and exchange gifts. "Eddie, hey love, glad you could make it." You extended your arms for a hug, seizing every chance to embrace Eddie, whose presence always brought you joy. His hands cradled your chilled cheeks, thumb caressing your skin softly. "It's been too long since I've seen this face," he murmured, a statement simple yet potent enough to color your cheeks. "You have no idea how thrilled I am that you're here." "I wouldn't miss spending time with my favorite girl for the world." Eddie's gaze held yours, his hands still framing your face, and your heart raced with affection for everything about him—his smile, his eyes, his scent. Indeed, you harbored a deep crush on him. You yearned for his kiss, your lips inching closer to his, only to be interrupted by Dustin's exuberant shout. "EDDDDDDDIIIIIEEEEE!!!!""DUUUUUUUSSSSSTTTTIIINNNNN!!!" The two collided in a playful tussle, nearly toppling you, until a hand whisked you away into the warmth of Steve's family home. "STEVE!!! Y/N and EDDIE ARE HERE!!!" Robin's voice rang out, guiding you down the hall to the festively adorned living room. The Harrington residence never failed to dazzle, thanks to the expert decorators hired each Christmas. This tradition persisted, even though Steve had relocated to his own place three years prior. Approaching the tree to set down your gifts, Embraced by Nancy, she and Jonathan had arrived about five minutes earlier. "STEVE!" Robin's voice echoed once more. "ROBIN, YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE MY SOUFFLÉ COLLAPSE WITH ALL THAT SCREAMING!" Steve emerged from the kitchen, an apron with little Christmas trees tied around his waist. "What's up?" "Y/N and Eddie are here; can we start already? I'm starving." Steve was already handing Eddie a beer and greeted you with a light kiss on the cheek. "Hey sweetheart, so glad you could make it." "Wouldn't miss it for the world… Soufflé?" "Robin's request." You chuckled, oblivious to Eddie's gaze fixed on the small exchange between you and Steve, but Steve noticed. Aware of Eddie's crush on you, he couldn't resist teasing him about it.

After dinner, Robin announced that it was time to open presents, prompting everyone to gather around the tree. Eddie attempted to sit next to you, but Dustin and Steve got there first. With a sigh, Eddie settled on the other side of Dustin, not missing the chance to punch him in the arm. As gifts were opened and admired in turn, Steve brooded over his present from Robin—a book titled "100 Ways to Not Suck at Getting Girls," each of its 100 pages simply stating, "Don't be Steve Harrington." Dustin found it hilarious, which led Steve to leap over you and start punching Dustin's leg. Amidst the commotion, Eddie seized the opportunity to scoot closer to you. Mesmerized by the way the Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, Eddie was utterly captivated. Eventually, Robin intervened to stop the scuffle and began distributing the last of the gifts. The excitement was palpable because the surprise was finally unfolding. You, Robin, and Nancy had been saving weeks of paychecks to buy the group tickets to see a certain someone's favorite artist, which just so happened to fall two days before his 27th birthday. As Robin handed out matching envelopes to all the boys, your heart sank with anticipation. Eddie immediately recognized your handwriting and traced the script with his index finger, a smile spreading across his face. As Robin counted down, you placed your hand gently on Eddie's thigh, which caused his breath to hitch. He glanced at you, and your smile nearly kills him. At Robin's cue, the boys ripped open their envelopes. Eddie sprang up, pulled you from your seat, and enveloped you in a joyous bear hug, spinning you around. "OZZY FUCKING OSBOURNE, are you fucking kidding me right now?" "I'm taking you're happy?" "Happy? Are you fucking kidding me, I'm fucking in love right now." Eddie slowly stopped spinning you around as his cheeks flushed as bright as the Christmas bulbs on Steve's tree, you noticed panic mode set in as he quickly explained what he meant. "I didn't mean I'm actually in love with you, I just meant that I'm in love with the thought of us all going to see Ozzy Osbourne, you know sometimes you say things that come out all wrong" "Eddie" "I never meant to say something" "Eddie… its ok… you're welcome" You giggle hoping to ease his nerves, you knew he wasn't in love with you, so it wasn't a big deal. Robin broke up the awkwardness by grabbing Eddie and swinging him around screaming "OZZY OSBOURNE"

It was the best Christmas you could have asked for.

Fast Forward

Ozzy was already into his second encore, and there seemed to be no end in sight. But none of you minded; you were all having a fantastic time, soaking in the great music and cherishing the evening with wonderful friends. "Times gone by, seems to be You could have been a better friend to me Mama, I'm coming home"

With everyone's busy schedules, filled with work and school, this time together was precious. Steve, Eddie, and Jonathan were right behind you all. Throughout the night, Eddie would occasionally pull you close, swaying to the music or miming an air guitar, making sure to hand you an imaginary microphone so you could sing along to his favorite song. And for Eddie, every song by Ozzy was a favorite. "You took me in, and you drove me out Yeah, you had me hypnotized, yeah Lost and found and turned around By the fire in your eyes" Eddie reveled in your attention; he loved the way you smiled at him as he played the guitar riffs to "Iron Man," or gushed about how amazing it would have been to have gotten to see Randy Rhoads before he died. "You made me cry; you told me lies But I can't stand to say goodbye Mama, I'm coming home" Eddie adored your petite stature, standing only 4'11 You were his cherished little princess; he adored holding you close, feeling your head rest against his chest as you looked up and offered him that smile that always drove him crazy. "I could be right, I could be wrong It hurts so bad, it's been so long Mama, I'm coming home"

Steve was aware of Eddie's feelings and often encouraged him to take action. He knew many guys who would give their left nuts to have you, but Steve noticed you seemed to only have eyes for Eddie. You two were just too stupid to realize it. "Selfish love, yeah, we're both alone The ride before the fall, yeah" Eddie would dismiss the idea quickly, unable to believe that you might reciprocate his feelings. Thus, he would simply bite his lip and observe you from a distance. Steve frequently expressed how stupid he thought he was. "But I'm gonna take this heart of stone I just got to have it all" Leaning your head against Eddie's chest, you looked up at him singing and smiling lovingly at him. "I've seen your face a hundred times Every day we've been apart" Eddie felt as if his heart was on the verge of bursting. He doubted how much longer he could endure before he simply crumbled and die. "I don't care about the sunshine, yeah 'Cause mama, mama, I'm coming home I'm coming home" He needed his heart to stop pounding in his chest, and his lungs to allow him to breathe. He needed your gaze to stop piercing his soul, and the scent of you to stop overwhelming his senses. "You took me in and you drove me outYeah, you had me hypnotized, yeah Lost and found and turned around By the fire in your eyes" Towering over you with your head leaned back against his chest, he takes your face in his hands, leaning your head back so he could stare into your eyes. He slowly starts rubbing the sides of your face. He notices your pupil's contract and your breath hitch. "I've seen your face a thousand times Every day we've been apart" Your face was so warm against his hands Your lips were plump and wet from your lip gloss, he could smell the beer on your breath He needed…… "And I don't care about the sunshine, yeah" Leaning his face closer to yours "Cause mama, mama" As You pressed your lips to his and closed your eyes, hoping this moment would last forever. "I'm coming home" As you opened your eyes, the room seemed to whirl, and the music ceased. Uncertainty lingered about whether it was a figment of your imagination or reality, until Eddie twirled you and his lips met yours once more. In that moment, both you and Eddie were the happiest you had ever been, having Eddie finally kissed you.

[marlasomething]

(my) Mag a Week: Melanie Hunt UK

Hello there!

I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened. For today I rolled Archivist!Jon and The Beholding (Eps. 186-191). It's a Season 5 style one...with evil character!

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: stalking, revenge, cruelty, lack of intimacy, control issues

Also on AO3!

Of intimacy and its lack thereof.

Audio recorded by The Archivist, in situ.

 Melanie King.

Melanie Stephanie King.

Melanie Stephanie King, former YouTuber, tempted by both The Beholding and The Slaughter, just to end up serving The Web.

Melanie Stephanie King, former YouTuber, tempted by both The Beholding and The Slaughter, just to end up serving The Web. Currently still serving it , in the pathetic manner she can allow herself to; only comparable with of how much use she was to his dying father.

Melanie Stephanie King, former YouTuber, tempted by both The Beholding and The Slaughter, just to end up serving The Web. Currently still serving it , in the pathetic manner she can allow herself to; only comparable with of how much use she was to his dying father. I know you are listening to me. Not only hearing, but also listening.

You cannot simply avoid doing so, can you? You hate the sound of my voice, but it is likely the only thing that keeps you connected to an existence not based on vast solitude. You don’t want to join The Lonely, do you?

Nah’, of course not; you like to own yourself far too much to let it go between the fogs of lost memories and echoes that still want to believe they could be called souls…

…but this is too much for a mere introduction, isn’t it?

We shall better give you the company you deserve…

Melanie Stephanie King, former YouTuber, tempted by both The Beholding and The Slaughter, just to end up serving The Web. Currently still serving it , in the pathetic manner she can allow herself to; only comparable with of how much use she was to his dying father. I know you are listening to me. Not only hearing, but also listening.

Time to listen a bit more, am I right?

 Actually, there is absolutely no good reason for this voice grasping your every thought. You are just at home, on a regular Thursday night. It is funny, though, how you once decided to make the day plenty of your allegedly closest friends chose to go out for a drink or two as the very day just for yourself. You wouldn’t even pick up the phone, because a call always meant questions and you didn’t own anyone any explanation.

Sorry, my bad.

You don’t own anyone any explanation.

Still, there was this one time, with this woman…used to be a friend…Georgie, wasn’t it? You thought you might manage to change your very rules, to find comfortable intimacy without having to cover even the camera of your phone. However, Georgina Margo Barker took too much of an interest in you.

She would have had too much leverage on you by the time you have managed to screw it all up (as you have done in all your previous long-term relationships: Michael Stephen Hsu, Sarah Jennifer Richardson, Clara Resines Ortiz, George Melchior and Ariana Mia Holmes; or excuse for relationship, giving the exact time each of them had lasted…)

Ah, yes, there it is; you are already remembering the days prior the break-ups, aren’t you? The painful sentences; everything you could, you knew you could have done different…don’t worry: you are not the only one who knows. I am here, after all, and, if you turn to your computer…yes, indeed, you are loudly muttering to yourself while the automatic keyboard is on.

What a clumsy mistake! Oh, well, here it comes: everybody’s a critic. Especially of your hair without dying, Dear God, what a dull tone…and so greasy, tst.

I realise, though, you weren’t the one to post that chunk of your precious life. It is like the outtakes of Ghost Hunt UK : you have never wanted them out and, yet, is that a bunch of patreons commenting on them? (Yes, it is, and now they are trying to access your webcam, results to be given later on).

 WHAT A GROWING BUSSINES YOU ARE, MELANIE STEPHANIE KING!

You could refuse; you loath people seeing so much of you, but how could you live if not? You had your new friend, that spider, so nicely distant, but now she’s gone! Probably your fault, you manage to be shitty to a shitty person already, very much you. I could replay on your mind what happened?

No?

Pity? Maybe I will do it later on… surely latter on .

 Ey, no reason to be rude! I am just doing my job, like you in those videos people oh-so-much-love, believe it or not. They really like when Melanie cannot control who she shows to the camera!

Oh, you are turning the computer down, throwing it through the window, was that a bloody hammer over it?…Yes, I guess, I should have predicted you would do something radical like that, you have always been far too sensitive…yeah, yeah, go for a walk, just please stop given the finger to the giant eye on your wall, I have feelings too, you see?

Just like you had that night of April 4th 2008…ok, opening the door, I will momentarily shut it.

 Say hi, Melanie, all these people are here for you!

They know about what happened that first Christmas you spent knowing there was no Father Christmas, and that your mom might not be very happy with your grades…why were they almost perfect ? Perhaps if, now that you did realise Santa Claus was not real, spent a year without presents, it could help to perform better…

Oh, yeah, see? They even have headshots of you! Wouldn’t you love to speak to every one of them? I can assure you, they all have very detailed opinions on all those small moments of your life you so claim you don’t remember properly…and, that one, in the background, aren’t they Georgie? She’s looking, she always is ; but she won’t come, and you cannot make her do so.

You lost that power; you know why . You shouldn’t have tried to control anyone, Melanie. Now, people don’t care about owning you, but, knowing you? I hope you have decided to buy your groceries online. At least, that way, you will be able to pretend nobody will judge how much packaged food you order for such an environmentally compromised gal you are.

Fruit don’t need a plastic envelope, Mel.

 Ah, back inside.

Yes, I am still on your wall. Also in your window and bathroom’s mirror, so you don’t get surprised when you realise it is a bit fleshier than it should.

Ey, calm down, don’t cry and don’t insult me . Do you want me to switch on TV so you can see how they are analysing frame by frame your program? Finding all those mistakes you were certain were there, but you were lucky enough you mattered so little people didn’t notice?

Na’, of course not. There are better things we could be doing. Like reading your diary…where did you keep it…oh, yes, it’s just voicemails in your phone…

…good thing there is a speaker connecting your house to all of London Town…

…it won’t remain just between you and me, aright?

  That’s all for a little while, Melanie. I will be back.

You shouldn’t have tried to control The Institute, to control me. Everything was fine. Yes, yes, I was already…using a bit more of my power but…it was for a good cause. It was to help , like Gertrude, but without bloody killing off anyone.

You changed that, you forced me to turn the world…

…and, now, you suffer the consequences. You could have been safe, as Basira, Daisy, Martin, Georgie and Sasha are now. They think they hate me, but it will pass.

I know it will.

[ibvix]

DARLING SOULMATE, RELATIVE TO THE TOTAL SIZE OF THE BUILDING STRUCTURE, HAVE YOU ALWAYS FELT THAT YOU HAVE BEEN "LOCKED IN" OR COMPARTMENTALIZED INTO THE SMALLER SQUARE, WHICH APPEARS TO BE THE SIZE OF A JUNCTION BOX ???

SPECIFICALLY REGARDING, "NOTHING BETTER THAN HOME SWEET HOME," IS THIS INTENDED TO BE SARDONIC IN NATURE ??? THE SYMBOLS OF FIVE DROPLETS OF BLOOD, A BIRD OF PEACE, AND A POLKADOT BATHING SUIT SEEM QUITE DISPARATE TO LIVING LIFE IN A TINY LOCK BOX LIKE ROOM ...

THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR EXTRAORDINARY RIDDLE WITH ME !!!

BUT WHERE'S MY HOME SWEET HOME ???

Locked inside

I.S.A.

[sexsellz]

Halo! Can you do a Tommy x reader (gn or fem) were they've meet through discord? Platonic or romantic, i don't have a prob

— 🍰 strawberry shortcake anon

★̲ ⤻ 𝐝𝒊𝐬𝐜𝒐𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝒂𝐭𝒆𝐬, tommyinnit 。 ᥫ᭡ ‧₊˚

🫶🏼 - 𓄹 S͢UMMARY: 𝒙𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Love prevails .. even over discord.

🪐- 𓄹 W͢ORDCOUNT:

602

🧸 - 𓄹 P͢AIRING(S):

tommy x reader

🍰- 𓄹 A͢/N:

ty for the request :)!

After applying to Tommy’s LOH a few weeks prior and hearing nearly nothing back from Austin or Tommy, your hopes had been diminished significantly for any chances of getting to know the internet sensation that is TommyInnit. And although you hadn’t been chosen by Austin to attend the show, your discord was chosen to accompany Tommy on a ‘Discord Date’.

Not that you complained though, Tommy had specifically chosen you to go on a date while the LOH contestants had to compete for one. A win-win situation, to say the least. And after you’d went on your phenomenal date with Tommy, the flirty, humor filled interactions hadn’t halted with him in the slightest. He was in your discord DMs all day long, inviting you along on his many adventures. Although your lack of living in Brighton had made going along with him difficult he still put in maximal effort to make your relationship bloom.

As well as pestering you on Twitter.

Your friendship had quickly turned more into playful flirting, which of course coaxed him into developing a major crush on you.

Of course, you were more than obliged. Even if he’s kept you up till 6 am the night prior making you watch him play Stardew Valley, his company was one of your favorites. So, you eagerly made your way to your computer with a blanket wrapped around your body and sat down in your chair to accept his discord call. The little ‘ba-dunk’ noise echoed in your headphones when you joined, as well as Tommy’s charming voice. “Y/nnn helllooo my little pog champ!”

You cringed playfully at his nickname for you, replying with; “Tommy, you’re sweet but I hate that name more than anything in the entire world.” His screen was shared, displaying the ‘Stray’ home screen across your monitor. He giggled, sending butterflies fluttering through your belly. “Well, what else do you want me to call you? Darling? Makes me wanna puke just saying that.” 

Your face lit up, even if the pet name was sarcastic. “Ha! C'mon now, anything’s better than calling me your little pog champ.” You turned on your camera and showed the fit you’d worm, as well as the blanket that shielded your head and torso. Tommy’s mouse hovered over the start game button before he stated. “You look quite adorable.” 

The game continued and your banter subsided for a while. Tommy knew that you were already tired, so he stuck to laying low and letting the chill vibes mellow out. With the occasional comment from you, as well as Tommy comparing your cuteness to the array of different four-legged felines, you found it difficult to keep your eyes open for more than a few seconds. 

Now and then he’d regain your consciousness by uttering things like. “HOLY SHIT IS THAT A LION?” (It was not, but how else would he get your attention?) or “Y/n our cat child is missing your presence. I will not be a single dad again!” The last silly statement made you perk up.

“Again?” You could hear the devilish smile through his dialogue. “Gotcha! Now look we gotta-“ You cut him off with a yawn. 

He sighed, accepting your sleepy defeat. Even if he could’ve continued playing the game on his own, he didn’t want you to miss any cute moments shared between the two of you. “Alright alright, you wuss. I give in. Go back to sleep.” So, with a final good night from the two of you, you crawled back into bed for a nap. And Tommy was sure to leave something sweet for when you returned.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

if you enjoyed, consider reblogging! :)

[mayasaura]

thinkin thots about varus the eater,,,, when i read htn and was introduced to the whole 'RB induced insanity' and how the lyctors perceived the Beasts, i assumed it was your classic 'cosmic horror too large for the human mind to convey appears in form that teeters on the edge of reality' , but now with ntn telling us everyone sees an RB the same way, I'm being led to believe its more 'cosmic desire so large it almost ruptures the brain but is still ultimately recognisable' 1/2

(varun anon) what is that desire? it presumably changes from beast to beast, and because we don't know anything about the others apart from some descriptions (though i am curious about what a beast that is received as 'beautiful' by human standards[the one who was trying to drown mercy and only softly repeated 'die'] could possibly want, considering how we have alecto the haunted barbie doll and how much she hates being 'pretty') 2/3 now lmao

(varun anon for the last time i promise/lh) assuming that varun is presenting as their body pre-Oh-Fuckening, it means their cosmic desire is home!!!!!! it makes so much sense why they love none so much and are so ready to come to her aid

Yo, I had assumed the same thing, that the nature of a Resurrection Beast depended on the observer, not the Beast itself. But you're right, Varun proves otherwise! Why do all the Resurrection Beasts appear as different kinds of cosmic horror? Why a giant head? Why something beautiful that tried to gently drown them? Why a giant glowing blue orb?

If Varun is the ghost of Uranus, then that really is just... what it looked like in life.

Of course, there is the difference in location to consider. This is Varun periscoping, peeking out into the physical world, while the other Resurrection Beasts that Augustine and Mercy describe were in the River. We don't know what a fully realised Varun might look like.

So what does Varun want? Does it want to go home, is that why it looks like itself? If home is a place, the solar system, there would be nothing stopping it from going there. Like any revenant, it must have a thanergetic link it could follow back to its corpse. If home isn't a place but a time when it was alive, a part of its existence now ended, then home is beyond even it now.

Most revenants have links to their murderers, too, if it's looking for John: which it seems like it was, prior to the events of Harrow the Ninth. It isn't anymore.

There's only one reason for Varun to be hanging over New Rho, and that's Nona. It's looking for Alecto, the Earth, the last living representative of its kind. I had thought it was looking for her to enact vengeance on its behalf, and it does want that. It asked for it in as many words, the first time it possessed Judith. But...

“They concoct their own vengeance,” said the Captain. “Their justice is not my justice. Their water is not my water. I came to help. I am made a mockery. The danger is upon you, and you do not even know … they are coming out of their tower, salt thing. There is a hole at the bottom of their tower. I will pull their teeth. I will make it blank for you.”

There is clearly a wrong way to go about it, in Varun's opinion. Who or what the "they" is in this statement is not entirely clear, if it's even referring to the same thing every time. The 'they' coming out of their tower would seem to be the devils possessing people, the things that took Colum back in Canaan House. Is their justice not Varun's justice? If it doesn't want what the devils want, then what is its vision of justice, what vengeance does it want Alecto to enact?

[kpopfanfictrash]

Ember Burning (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for this MOODBOARD WOO!

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Fantasy / Dragon / Enemies to Lovers

Synopsis:  The dragon riders of Duret Ghal are known across the continent; fierce warriors who take to the skies on their leashed, winged beasts. You are the last Dragon Queen of Ashya, ruler of a dying species who can transform from human to Dragon at will. When a new foe emerges which threatens both Dragon and rider alike, you find yourself forced to broker peace with your former enemy. The King of Duret Ghal, and a dragon rider himself: Jeon Jungkook.

NSFW Warnings: oral (male and female), nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms, big cock, dirty talk, hair pulling (her to him).... tattooed, man-bun jungkook who has a big sword

Trigger Warnings: somewhat graphic depiction of a shoulder injury  

Word Count: 36,079

Soaring through azure-colored sky, golden wheat fields spread out below, you could almost convince yourself duty did not exist. It was easy to pretend while disconnected from the ground – flight broke the strings which bound you to all mortal beings. You ceased to be of flesh and bone and instead became one with the air, the wind, and the wildness of flame in your throat.

The Thadal mountain range loomed ahead, its jagged peaks piercing the sky. Idly, you wondered if they truly did. Legends said Natal, who had created the world and everything in it, formed the Thadal range last of all. Exhausted by the sheer effort of creation, her hand had slipped, causing the tallest of peaks to rise higher than planned. This ripped a hole in the veil which guarded this world from the next and before Natal could fix it, magic slipped through.

It had been the dragons who slumbered in the mountains’ highest peaks who received this blessing.

Dipping a wing, you wheeled about in the air. With the sun at your back, you surveyed the splendor of your realm laid beneath you.

Ashya, land of the Dragons – of which you were Queen.

Stifling the sigh which rose at the thought, you turned from the furthest rim of the world and began the flight home. A return to duty, to obligation and to your human form, as well as the conflict which loomed on the horizon. Not to mention the sleeping King within your castle walls.

Each of these weighed upon your shoulders, replacing the freedom you’d felt in the air. As you shifted to human, donned a gown, and entered the castle, the sun had barely risen above the lip of the world.

And your true day was only beginning.

From the thunderous expression on Park Jimin’s face, it was clear you needed to do something, and quickly.

Your choices were either to interject and stop a second war from breaking out at your table or sit back and watch while King Jungkook was pummeled into the ground by the esteemed commander of your armed forces.

Admittedly, the second option was tempting. You would so dearly love to watch the crown knocked from King Jungkook’s perfect tresses, but pettiness was unbecoming when far greater evil lurked on the horizon.

With a wave of your hand, you signaled Jimin to sit back.

The remark which had so enflamed your commander came from one of Jungkook’s advisors, a Lord Kim Seokjin you’d only met once prior. He had insinuated, in so many words, the power of your kind was nothing more than a parlor trick. Something to be taken out at parties, but incapable of truly defending your realm.

Jimin’s steely gaze remained fixed on the Lord, a thin line of steam rising from the seat where he sat. It was never wise to anger a Dragon, especially not a renowned fighter like Jimin. There was a reason he’d been named the youngest commander in over a century, and it was only partly because your people had dwindled in size since the last Dragon War.

The Dragon Wars were the reason it was truly remarkable for you to sit in the same room as King Jeon Jungkook at all. Only a hundred years had passed – barely a blink, in the grand scheme of things – since your nations had been labeled bitter enemies.

Duret Ghal, Jeon Jungkook’s nation, was home to the fierce dragon riders. Warriors who tamed the dull, vicious beasts of the mountains and rode them into battle. Their riders were human, although they fancied themselves important because they dared to treat dragons – albeit a less intelligent kind than your own – as glorified steeds.

You, on the other hand, were a Dragon.

Not one like what King Jungkook rode into battle. Duret Ghal bonded with dragons, mere animals ungifted by magic and unable to transform into humans. You were a Dragon, descended from the first magical beings blessed by the veil. Those who had shifted to the flesh of their enemy to defeat humans on their own terms.

At will, you could shift from human to Dragon with barely a thought. Beneath your smooth, human exterior lurked the scales of a dragon, and Lord Seokjin would do well to remember this while he sat at your table.

Tilting your head, you looked his way. “Would you care to repeat yourself, Lord Seokjin? The way you phrased your objection just now made it sound as though you were doubting my people.”

Although Lord Seokjin hesitated, he met your gaze. This surprised you. Few humans had the courage to look a grown Dragon in the eyes. You were well-aware of the rumors which plagued your people.

Some insisted Dragons held power beyond that of humans. This was untrue, of course. Aside from their shifting, Dragons could not use magic. It was only the offspring of a Dragon and human who could wield magic, often called gifts.

Then there was the rumor Dragons retained scales in places best left unmentioned when they transformed into humans – also untrue. Once you became human, you were nearly indistinguishable from your more stagnant counterparts. The main differences were your skin, which ran hotter, the occasional steam from your lips and hidden embers which flickered in the depths of your gaze.

Your unusual eyes were likely the source of the third rumor. Looking a grown Dragon in the eyes would result in paralysis, or worse. This was also untrue, although you liked to encourage it all the same.

It made meeting human dignitaries much more amusing.

“I am not saying Dragons are not fierce,” Seokjin said, backtracking a little. “Merely observing your numbers have diminished since the last Dragon War. Without Duret Ghal’s riders, you would be at a disadvantage against the Mor Empire.”

To this, you had no response because Lord Seokjin was right. He had easily identified your current problem – Mor continued to press upon your southern border, and there were not enough Dragons left in Ashya to defend it much longer.

To your right, Jimin scowled, knowing the truth to this as well.

It was the main reason you’d decided to meet with King Jungkook at all. The reason you considered entering an alliance with a country who’d once been considered your enemy. The Empire of Mor, a nation of humans, had recently decided to rid themselves of all dragons.

This declaration placed both your nation, Ashya, and Jungkook’s at risk.

Ashya, since you were Dragons and Duret Ghal because they rode them. The Mor Empire was led by Emperor Cyan, whose quest for dominance had consumed him since he was a child. His Empire had already gobbled up the quiet Kingdom of Mica to the west and Kindare, to the south. Now he’d set his eyes on the northern wilds.

His largest obstacle to this was the dragons. Few human soldiers could keep from shitting their pants when a great, winged beast breathing fire rose above their ranks. Ironically enough, the sole reason the Mor Empire stood a chance was because the number of Dragons had greatly diminished over the centuries.

There were two main reasons for this.

The first were the Dragon Wars – centuries of bloody conflict between Ashya and Duret Ghal. During this period, dragon riders had fought Dragons for control of the northern border. The wars had caused untold damage on both sides until a truce had been called to save you from destruction.

The second reason for your diminishing numbers were the humans themselves. In order for a true Dragon to be born, two Dragons needed to mate and continue to bloodline. When a Dragon mated with a human, the resulting child was human. Occasionally, this child was blessed with a magical gift, but not always – and they could not shift into Dragon form. Over the years, your kind had mingled with humans until there were few Dragons left.

Hence the need to align yourself with your greatest foe to protect both your people and his. You needed numbers, which Jungkook had. Emperor Cyan had declared war against all northern realms. Only the might of riders and Dragons together stood a chance against him.

It was a mission of fools though, made even more evident by the blatant ill-will around the table. Releasing a sigh, you glanced to where your most trusted advisor, Min Yoongi, was seated on your right.

Min Yoongi was not a Dragon, but a human born with a gift. He could read the emotions of those in the room and determine whether they told the truth. It was magic he’d inherited from his Dragon mother and had come in handy many times during the negotiations.

Subtle, Yoongi nodded.

You managed to stop a second sigh from escaping. It seemed Lord Seokjin was telling the truth. He truly did respect the Dragons, which made his second statement all the more troubling. It would have been easier had he hated you.

“We may be at a disadvantage without Duret Ghal,” you admitted. “But you are equally disadvantaged without Ashya. If our realm were to fall, Mor would come for you next.”

“We could have this same argument for hours, Your Majesty,” Jungkook drawled, speaking up for the first time. “And we have. I grow tired of this stalemate. What are the terms you require to sign the treaty?”

Jaw tight, your gaze shifted to the King seated opposite. Jungkook stared back at you, his gaze dark and lidded in the flickering light of the fire.

Jeon Jungkook was a young ruler, like yourself, but while your transition of power had been relatively peaceful, his had been anything but.

The former King and Queen of Duret Ghal had been slain by his Uncle, Lord Vonner, when Jungkook was only eighteen. Duret Ghal had been close to signing a treaty with Ashya at the time. In said treaty, your hand in marriage had been promised to Jungkook in exchange for unified lands.

Obviously, opposition had existed on both sides of the treaty, but things had not turned violent until Lord Vonner. He’d risen against his sister and brother-in-law, killing them both in their sleep and claiming the throne. At the same time, he had sent assassins to your land and attempted to kill your parents.

He’d only succeeded in killing your mother.

The blood of Lord Vonner’s actions had ended your betrothal, throwing your lands into chaos while your father roared his revenge. It was only once Jungkook had usurped and executed his Uncle that your land had tentatively agreed not to retaliate in force.

This had taken place nearly ten years ago, and still Jungkook was not yet thirty years of age. His youthfulness was apparent everywhere but his eyes. These had been hardened, darkened by all he had seen and done.

Looking at him now, it was difficult to place the boy you had once known.

“Use of your ports,” you answered. “Free travel for Ashyan merchants along the roads to said ports, and then usage without the current fees.”

Lord Seokjin chuckled. “You must be mad.”

A low growl left Jimin’s throat – a warning. “How ironic to hear you speak of sanity, Lord Seokjin,” he said. “When you dare to insult the Queen of Ashya within her castle walls.”

Holding up at hand, you bade Jimin to cease.

Jimin was even younger than you were, and twice as hot-headed. Admittedly, he had good reason to despise Duret Ghal. His father had been killed in a skirmish on the northern border when he was barely twelve. There was a subset of Ghalians who despised the humans who dared to love Dragons. When a Ghalian woman had fled, seeking the protection of Ashya at the northern border, a mob had fought your soldiers and Jimin’s father had died.

Still, Jimin needed to remember you had a job to do. As your commander, he was well-aware of the weakened state of your armed forces. The treaty between Ashya and Duret Ghal needed to happen in whatever way possible.

Ignoring the interaction, Jungkook merely raised a brow. “No fees?”

Although his voice remained calm, a hint of steel lay beneath the silken words. You could hear it plainly, as did Yoongi based on the way he stiffened.

“No fees,” you repeated.

Jungkook exchanged a glance with Seokjin.

“It is not possible,” he said at last. “Our nation’s ports remain the primary source of income for many Ghalians. Now that Mor has conquered Kindare, they have free access to their ports and fail to use ours. It is only the revenue from Ashya which keeps up afloat.”

“I do not ask you to forsake all payments. Merely those from Ashya.”

Jungkook’s teeth flashed in what might have been a smile but came off as a grimace.

“Ashya provides half the sales at my docks,” he informed you. “By granting your nation free trade, you cut my people’s livelihood in half.”

Somewhat chastised by this, you sat back in your seat. You had not realized Duret Ghal’s economic outlook was so dire.

When Ashya had been a land of only Dragons, the fact you were landlocked had not been a problem. You could simply fly where you wanted and take whatever with. Now though, Ashya had more humans than Dragons and you were forced to find more accommodating solutions.

Ashyan craftspeople were famed for their metalwork, in addition to textiles, but such trade would be useless without people to buy and places to sell. For years, Duret Ghal had steadily increased their tariffs, which in turn had steadily crippled your people.

Returning to Jungkook, you clenched your jaw. “And what would we need to give Duret Ghal in order for our demand to be met?”

The corner of his lip curled.

In this singular motion, you were reminded of Jungkook’s somewhat brutal reputation. After the coup of his Uncle, rumor had it Jungkook had been bloodthirsty in his quest for revenge. Lord Vonner had been put to death in the main square of their capital city, roasted alive by Jungkook’s dragon, Nemrys.

You had not faulted him for this at the time, having also lost people at the hands of Lord Vonner. It was hard to imagine the type of pain Jungkook had gone through, losing both his parents and his throne in a single blow. Despite your understanding, you knew some had disapproved. They’d whispered amongst themselves the King had lost a better part of himself on that day.

“Shares in your mines,” Jungkook said in answer to your question. “Given the current situation with Mor, we’ve had difficulty collecting on some of our foreign loans. A fifty percent share in Ashya’s mines would ease our cash flow problems.”

Your lips tightened in response.

Jungkook had managed to touch upon Ashya’s main source of riches, and a large reason for the previous century’s Dragon Wars. Much of the Thadal range fell within your borders, meaning you owned the majority of gemstones on the continent. It meant little without Duret Ghal’s port cities, however. Mor had ceased trading with Ashyan merchants long ago.

Still, it pained you to grant Jungkook access to your most coveted resource. Everything in your nature – Dragon and otherwise – went against it, but sacrifices must be made for the greater good. You’d entered these negotiations aware this might happen. Another advisor, Lord Kim Namjoon, had warned you of it beforehand and yet, you had hoped.

If you did not find a compromise soon though, Mor would overtake you and the point would be moot.

“Ten percent,” you said at last, lifting your chin.

Jungkook’s eyes gleamed. “Forty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Twenty.”

Jungkook paused, then glanced at Seokjin for counsel. Bending close to the table, Seokjin scribbled something on a piece of paper and sighed. Looking at Jungkook, he nodded.

“Twenty,” Jungkook said, facing you.

You nodded, but before Jungkook could get too cocky, you held up a hand.

“In return,” you said. “All fees will be waived on Ashyan merchants.”

Jungkook stilled, a lone muscle ticking in his jaw. “I can lower the tariff to a flat rate of two and a half percent, but no more.”

The current tariffs on Ashyan merchants ranged from three to eight percent. Two and a half would benefit all Ashyan merchants, but you were uncertain if Jungkook had more to give. Possibly he was low-balling you, unwilling to show all his cards at once.

Glancing at Yoongi, you watched him slowly shake his head. No, the King was not lying.

Blinking, you returned to Jungkook. You had not expected him to show his hand so quickly. Perhaps he also tired of these negotiations. Gaze narrowed, you attempted to read the young King at the other end of the table.

His face remained blank, as inscrutable as your own. A shiver of something traveled down your spine, although you quickly pushed this away.

“We can accept this,” you said.

Jungkook nodded. “Then we are in agreement.”

Pushing your chair back, you stood from the table. “I think we have made enough progress for today. Lord Namjoon will draw up revisions for the treaty.”

Lord Namjoon nodded, near the center of the table. He was also a Dragon, although he rarely saw battle. Namjoon’s talents lay elsewhere, mainly in crafting legislation which aimed to avoid war in the first place. You could not afford to lose a mind like his to some border skirmish.

As you turned around, the skirts of your gown swept the floor. You’d nearly made it to the door when a firm hand caught your arm.

“A moment, Your Majesty,” Jungkook said, his voice low.

Going utterly still, your gaze shifted to his hand on your sleeve. Glancing up, you wished you truly had the power to turn humans to stone. It would have made these proceedings much easier.

Jungkook had dressed casually for the meeting. He seemed to have come straight from his dragon, since he wore riding leathers. He had no crown, unlike you. Amara, your lady in waiting, had insisted you add the thin, silver diadem before leaving. It lent you an air of authority, she’d said.

It seemed Jungkook could command his authority without such trinkets. The realization made you straighten, meeting his gaze several inches above yours.

“Yes?” you said, your voice frosty.

Jungkook released his grip.

A move you thought wise, all things considered. Behind him, you saw your advisors gathering their reams of paper. They chatted amongst themselves, purposefully ignoring the Ghalian retinue. All except for Lord Namjoon, who spoke politely to Lord Seokjin about a provision of the treaty.

To Lord Seokjin’s right sat Kim Taehyung, a dragon rider whose reputation preceded him. The general of Duret Ghal’s army, he had remained silent throughout the entirety of the negotiations. Based on how often he looked out the window, you got the feeling he preferred to spend his time in the sky and not amongst stuffy people.

Honestly, you could not blame him. Even if his kind of flying were a poor imitation of yours – seated astride a dragon, rather than becoming one himself.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook returned your attention to him.

“Is there something you want, Your Majesty?” you said, growing impatient. “I have a nation to run outside of these meetings, you know.”

A smile curled his lips. “I am aware.”

“So long as you are aware, then.”

You moved to walk past, but Jungkook stopped you again. Teeth gritted, you exhaled steam past your lips.

“What?” you snapped, turning to face him.

Something unreadable stole through his gaze. “We need not have these conversations at all,” he said, dropping his voice. “If you would agree to my original proposal.”

Immediately, your expression shuttered.

“Good day, Your Majesty,” you said and walked past.

This time he did not follow, falling silent as you swept from the room. Yoongi and Jimin joined your exit, the latter tossing a haughty look towards the Ghalians. Namjoon remained in the room, likely to continue his conversation with Seokjin.

As you walked away, you tried and failed to push Jungkook from mind. The offer he alluded to was completely ridiculous.

Marriage.

Seven months prior, Jungkook had sent a message to you after nearly a decade. He’d proposed several items, amongst which was a request to resume your failed betrothal. A list of reasons had been provided. Your nations were on the verge of war, the merger would benefit you both financially and would go a long way towards healing the realms.

Equally politely, you had declined.

It had been a long time since you’d sworn not to marry – or mate, as it were. The mating bond was a possibility for both Dragons and humans. Dragons only mated once in their lifetime, which tended to be longer than ordinary humans. Your parents had been mated to each other, meaning you’d witnessed firsthand the tragedy of their ending.

You would choose an heir when necessary, of course. You weren’t so selfish as to plunge Ashya into civil war when you died because you did not wish to mate. You’d even considered a marriage of practical alliance, one with no chance of mating, but the appropriate circumstances had yet to present themselves.

For this reason, amongst others, you had declined Jungkook’s offer.

Coming to a stop in the hall, you bade Jimin and Yoongi goodnight before continuing on your way. The sun had long since sunk below the horizon. Negotiations with Duret Ghal had taken up most of your time since their arrival in Valor, Ashya’s capital city, nearly ten days ago.

Outside your chambers, you nodded to the guards before entering. Once the door fell shut behind you, you released a sigh.

Straightening, you strode to your dresser and seated yourself at the mirror. As you removed your crown to set on its pedestal, you stared at the silver.

It was not as though you wished to be alone forever. Truthfully, you found yourself exhausted at the end of each day. It would have been nice to fall asleep beside someone and wake with them by your side. Each time you imagined the prospect though, you recalled your father’s death and thought better.

Both Yoongi and Namjoon knew the King had proposed.

Not Jimin, which was for the best. If you had accepted Jungkook’s offer, it would have taken a lot to convince Jimin to remain at his post. He had barely accepted the necessity of a treaty between Ashya and Duret Ghal.

Namjoon had been practical when he heard of the proposal, which you had expected. Lord Namjoon could be practical to a fault, known to ‘factor in’ emotional responses when making decisions. Privately, you thought him a nice foil to Jimin.

When you’d told Namjoon about the King’s offer, he had simply nodded and said it made sense. He acknowledged, of course, the difficulties such a match would present, but did not seem to think it would be a bad idea.

Yoongi had been the one who surprised you. As someone with decisive opinions, you’d imagined Yoongi wouldn’t approve of the match. Instead, he had merely suggested you consider the offer. When you had declined, Yoongi had seemed almost disappointed. It could be hard to tell though, since the Lord usually kept his emotions close to the chest.

Undoing the laces of your gown, you let it drop as you entered your bathing chambers. Amara had left heated water and oils, flickering candles set around the edge of your sunken tub. Lowering yourself to the water, you tipped your head back to rest on the edge.

Today ended only the first week of negotiations between you and Jungkook. Another week remained – you could survive this much, you reasoned. One week from now, you’d have much needed relief for your merchants, along with an ally against the looming threat of Mor to the south.

Only one more week, and Jungkook would be gone.

Ignoring the strange tingle which spread down your spine at the thought, you held your breath and lowered yourself underwater.

Lips pursed, you stared at yourself in the mirror.

Amara hovered, pins in her mouth while tightening your corset. Your dress for the evening was a mix of old and new – although you despised corsets, this one cinched your waist tight enough for the armor-like bodice. Skirts flowed like water to the ground, brushing the floor with emerald chiffon.

Tonight, you had decided to throw a feast honoring the upcoming treaty with Duret Ghal. The event had not been your idea, but Namjoon’s. He believed it would increase the goodwill between you.

You had protested this until Namjoon pointed out there’d been little to celebrate recently. Realizing the truth to this statement, you’d reluctantly acquiesced to two events. Tonight’s feast and a ball, to be hosted their final night before Duret Ghal left.

Inhaling, your eyes watered as Amara cinched the last hook.

“My apologies,” she said, casting a sympathetic glance in the mirror.

Mutely, you shook your head, not blaming her in the slightest. It was not her fault women's fashion tended to be barbaric, more often than not. It was why you preferred to wear looser gowns, ones you didn’t need your lady in waiting’s help to undo.

Amara had been your companion ever since you were little, although you could not exactly call her a friend. You were her Queen, first and foremost. There was no one else in Ashya for you to call an equal.

“Amara,” you said curiously, glancing up. “What do you think of the Ghalian King?”

Startled by your question, Amara nearly dropped the pins she held. Her wide brown eyes stared back at you in the mirror and briefly, you wondered if she thought this a trap. Possibly you needed to work on your resting facial expressions. Yoongi said you were too harsh, but then again, hearing this from Yoongi was the pot calling the kettle black.

“You can answer me honestly,” you said, a bit gentler. “It has been a long week of negotiations and I find myself wondering what people think of the treaty.”

“Well.” Amara looked thoughtful. “I rather think those are two different questions, Your Majesty. Do you wish to know what people think of the King, or the treaty?”

She was correct, you realized. The two were different, even if they were one and the same in your mind.

“Both,” you responded.

Turning towards the mirror, Amara began to fit the bodice over your bust. It was elaborate, with swirls of silver and emerald stitched into the hard lining.

“Well,” she said, hesitant. “Of course, people think the young King is handsome.”

“He is a rider,” you said sharply.

“It is not as important to humans,” Amara reminded gently. “It does not offend so much as it does the Dragons. And objectively speaking, the King is handsome. He could smile more,” she admitted. “But this does not seem to deter from his handsomeness.”

“I suppose not.”

Seeing your expression, she laughed. “You did ask me to speak honestly, Your Majesty. The people find the King handsome, but they do not trust outsiders. Especially Ghalians. Most have a family member who perished in the Dragon Wars.”

None of this was new information, although it did irk you to hear Jungkook’s looks were a topic of conversation in Valor. It was always like this with men versus women. The moment a male monarch had a somewhat pleasing expression, people were willing to forget all manner of atrocities committed in the past.

“And what of the treaty?” you pressed.

Amara bit down on her lip. “Well…”

“Yes?”

“It depends. Some oppose it, much as they did the treaty all those years ago. Others look forward to the potential trade gains. And still others,” Amara said, a knowing edge to her voice, “think you should accept the King’s proposal of marriage.”

Jerking upright, you prompted Amara to nearly stab you with a pin.

“Amara!” you gasped, looking down.

She blinked in surprise. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“How… did you hear that?” you said, utterly flummoxed.

“It was only a guess.” Amara shrugged, a ghost of a smile at her lips. “Many villagers wondered if there were other reasons for His Majesty traveling all this way. They imagined you must have declined his offer, since nothing official has been announced.”

You stared at her in shock, a bit thrown by the assessment. Perhaps it had been naïve of you to assume no one would guess based on Jungkook’s elongated presence.

“I see,” you said at last. “The skirts, if you please, Amara?”

Sensing you were done with the conversation, Amara nodded and hastened to fasten the fabric. You stared at the dress in the mirror, willing your racing pulse to slow.

Your gown for the evening was emerald green; one of the colors of Ashya, along with the color of your scales as a Dragon. It had always been a source of pride for your parents, as though Natal herself had proclaimed your destiny.

As Amara arranged your train on the ground, you stared at your reflection. Most of what she said you had already known. Ashya had been divided for a long time now on how to proceed with Duret Ghal. You knew whatever choice you made, there would always be those who opposed you.

And yet, it was strange to hear some rooted for a union.

Glancing at Amara, you found yourself curious. “And what do you think?” you asked. “What is your opinion of the Ghalian King?”

Amara’s fingers hesitated on your hem.

“Me?” she said as she straightened. “I am sure I do not know, Your Majesty. I do not know the King personally, so it is hard to say.”

You nodded, having assumed as much.

“Although…” Amara hesitated, drawing your gaze back to her. “How a person treats their servants is usually indicative of their personality. Take Lord Larkin, for example,” she said, naming a wealthy noble at your court.

“What about him?”

Amara looked down. “His servants are skittish. They mostly keep to themselves at the request of their Lord. It is rumored he keeps a strict household, and his wife is inscrutable.”

Knowing what you did about Lord Larkin, these facts did not surprise you. He had an archaic mentality of most things – dutifully, you filed this information away for later use.

“What of His Majesty, then?” you said. “How do his servants treat him?”

“They seem to admire him.” Amara stood straighter. “From what I have seen, they seem to genuinely enjoy working for him and respect him. I know he has a fearsome reputation, but… perhaps it is only towards his enemies.”

“Whom we used to be,” you noted drily. “Until now.”

Her head bobbed in a nod. “This is also true.”

Despite this, Amara’s words lingered as you finished dressing. It was quite possible your feelings for Jungkook personally had clouded your judgement of him as a ruler.

There was not time to linger on this, since Yoongi arrived soon after to escort you to the great hall. You would be the last to arrive for tonight’s feast, which was customary.

Noise from the hall grew as you approached the doors. Tonight’s event would be more casual than the ball a week from now, but casual was relative since you’d been forced to wear a corset and the meal would feature no less than twelve courses.

As the doors swung open and you began to walk in, all noise within the hall ceased. Ashya’s great hall had seen centuries of celebration, along with conflict and conquest. At one point during the Dragon Wars, Valor had been briefly occupied by Duret Ghal. During this time, the banners hung on your walls had been blue and gold, instead of emerald and silver.

Entering the room with Yoongi at your side, you sensed the gaze of every inhabitant upon you. Focusing straight ahead, you did your best to ignore this. It had never felt natural to you, being the center of attention. You did so for the sake of appearances but had never enjoyed the sensation.

At least you had Yoongi, who looked handsome as usual in his formal attire. With his dark, sweeping hair and keen gaze, Yoongi would have made an excellent King consort. Unfortunately, your relationship had never progressed in this direction and frankly, Yoongi was not important enough to consider marriage without love.

Glancing your way, Yoongi caught your eye. “Is there something in my teeth?” he muttered.

Stifling a laugh, you faced forward.

“No,” you said. “I was only thinking about choices.”

Although Yoongi arched a brow, he said nothing in response. Now was not the time for an in-depth conversation. People bowed as you passed, a veritable rainbow of fabrics and colors. At the front of the hall, a table had been placed atop the raised dais. Behind it, the banners of Ashya and Duret Ghal had been strung.

High above, evergreen boughs entwined with the chandeliers, carefully spaced so they would not catch fire. Evergreens were considered sacred, symbols of Natal’s everlasting power. Although the winter solstice had not yet arrived, the air in Ashya was cold enough for them to thrive.

Your visiting guests had already arrived you saw as you approached the dais. To your surprise, you saw women traveled in Jungkook’s party. On the other side of Taehyung stood a lady with dark hair, right hand resting on the pommel of her sword.

Although both genders fought in the armed forces, it was still considered an unusual path for a woman. It was a pleasant surprise to see both men and women amongst the soldiers Jungkook had brought to greet you.

Seokjin wore robes of deep purple tonight, eschewing the colors of either nation. It was nearly as bold a statement as Taehyung, draped in the royal blue of Duret Ghal beside him. As you neared the table, both of them stood, and your gaze finally fell upon the man at the center.

Jungkook was already on his feet, a golden crown on his head in contrast to your silver.

Your gaze traveled lower, realizing he’d worn robes of midnight blue as well. His waist had been bound in a golden sash, robes flowing to accentuate his trim thighs. At his side, his sword remained hidden, a decorative golden tassel placed before the hilt. It was not the broadsword you’d seen him wear on his dragon, but a more formal rapier made for ceremonies and balls.

His gaze lingered on you as you approached, sweeping your body in similar fashion. Your skin burned each place he lingered, flames consuming you from the inside.

At the bottom of the steps you paused, and Jungkook inclined his head. His gaze remained fixed on yours the entire time.

After ascending the dais, you stood before your chair and surveyed the room. Long rows of tables and benches stared back, along with the faces of your many subjects. Taking a deep breath, you raised your chin.

“Citizens of Ashya and Duret Ghal,” you said, your voice ringing out. “We gather this evening in uncertain times. Much as Natal crafted the first light from darkness, so are better things forged in the fire of adversity. Although dark days lie ahead, I know they will only strengthen our bonds to each other.”

At your side, Jungkook listened with rapt attention. The rest of your speech was conciliatory, bland words about coming together for the betterment of both nations. Namjoon had written most of it and, in the corner of your eye, you saw him mouthing the words.

You only went off-book once, near the end.

“It is important now, more than ever, to remain united in the face of such a foe. Mor seeks to wipe us from the map – and why? It is because we are strong.” The entire great hall had gone silent, focused on your words. “We have what they will never obtain and so, they seek to destroy it. To destroy us, but I will not let them. We will not let them,” you corrected, glancing a Jungkook.

He looked at you and nodded.

“And when they do come to face us,” you said, turning forward. “We will show them exactly why they were right to fear our teeth and claws.”

A roar echoed through the hall, several shooting to their feet to vocalize approval. Turning around, you sat in your seat as gracefully as you could and arranged your gown.

Jungkook was next and once he began speaking, Yoongi leaned over.

“Nothing like a little bloodlust to get the party started,” he murmured.

You winced. “How bad was it?”

Yoongi chuckled. “They seemed to enjoy it. Lord Namjoon might not forgive you so easily.”

Glancing down the table, you saw Namjoon rubbing wearily at his temples. You nearly laughed at the sight, schooling your features to neutrality when you remembered Jungkook still spoke.

His speech was brief, which did not surprise you. During the time you’d spent in his presence, Jungkook struck you as a man with little bullshit, or patience.

Once he was finished and seated beside you, you waved a hand for the meal to start.

In the corner of the room, a string quartet began to play. Doors opened on both sides, allowing servers inside holding trays of food. As the first course was set before you – a medley of greens with spiced, mashed nuts – you reached instead for your cup of wine.

Even this strained your bodice, but you managed. One of the many perils of being a woman in power was navigating foreign dinners while wearing a corset.

“The ballroom is beautiful,” Jungkook said by your side.

Surprised, you turned. “Small talk, Your Majesty?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his greens. “You do not seem inclined to discuss important topics outside of our negotiations.”

“And what important topics would you care to discuss?”

Jungkook paused, setting down his fork to face you fully. Eyes gleaming, his lips parted, and you felt your heart start to race.

Yoongi cleared his throat at your side.

Both of you turned to stare at your advisor.

Eyebrows arched, Yoongi motioned towards the front. “The greeting line has begun,” he said.

Realizing he was correct, you sat back in your seat. Already, the line of subjects stretched down the main aisle. Lords and ladies, merchants and townsfolk, all attempting to curry favor with their monarchs. Reaching out, you gripped your wine glass to drink again. Yet another reason you disliked feasts, balls, and the like.

The politicking side of ruling had never come naturally to you, although you did practice. It meant endless hours of hobnobbing, spending time with people fawning for your favor. Still, it was important to meet with your citizens and hear their concerns. If only most of your court weren’t completely unbearable.

Inclining your head, you allowed the first two to come forward.

When they came into view, your expression softened. You had expected nobility, and instead found yourself faced with two tradespeople, by the looks of them. The man and woman had worn their best attire, immaculately neat under the scrutiny of court.

“Merchant Calum and his wife, Natalia,” said the announcer at the front.

You smiled in response to their curtsy and bow.

“Thank you for coming,” you said, and gestured for them to rise. “We are so glad you could join us tonight.”

“It is our honor, Your Majesty,” Natalia said, looking up.

“Is there something particular you came to discuss?”

Her gaze slid to Jungkook and you tried not to stiffen. Likely, they had come to see the King of Duret Ghal. It had been more than ten years since Jungkook had last entered Valor. 

“No, Your Majesty,” she said, her gaze sliding to you. “No favor to ask. We simply wished to see you in person. I apologize for my husband’s lack of speech in your presence,” she said, reaching for his hand. “He lost the ability during a fire in the mines years ago.”

“I see,” you said gently.

Looking at him, you signed your thanks for his attendance tonight. The man brightened, signing back gratitude for the invitation. His wife beamed, thanking you once more as the announcer stepped forward to hurry them on. It seemed their allotted time in your presence was up.

As they left, Jungkook glanced at you curiously. “Where did you learn how to sign?”

“Occasionally, one wishes to communicate without being overheard.”

Jungkook allowed the matter to drop but continued to look your way.

The true story was longer.

A year before your father had passed, you’d decided to join the Ashyan forces. You had called it a part of your training, but the reality had been the castle was empty and cold after your mother died.

No one had known who you were when you enlisted. You’d entered a regiment far enough away for few people to have ever walked the streets of Valor. It was where you’d met Jimin, whose parents had been Dragons of relative unknown. Under your parents’ regime, Jimin would never have been named commander.

This had been one of the first laws you overturned after your coronation – the blood laws, which had decreed only noble lines could serve in certain positions. Jimin was more Dragon than most of the realm. He fully deserved the title of commander.

While you served in the army, you’d also fallen in love for the first time. Leo had been human, from a western province so far away, it nearly fell off the edge of the map. An encounter with riders had left him without speech, so everyone in your regiment had learned to sign to communicate.

Unsurprisingly, your love had not lasted. As soon as Leo discovered who you were, things had come crashing down. When your father’s condition had worsened and you returned to the castle, your title and demands were placed on display.

Leo was ultimately forced to make a choice – a life of duty with you, or relative freedom in the western wastes. He chose the latter.

None of this was pertinent to your conversation with Jungkook though, and so you kept quiet and welcomed the next guest. A wealthier Ashyan merchant, to whom you made veiled references about lower tariffs which seemed to please him.

Once he had gone, you realized Jungkook continued to glance your way. Ignoring him, you motioned for the next group to be brought forward, but when they came into view, you stiffened. Following your gaze, Jungkook took in the two men who’d made you go still.

Lord Larkin and his son, Lord Declan – the very same nobility Amara had spoken of earlier. While you’d never liked the pair of them, your opinion had obstinately worsened based on what she’d said.

Lord Larkin bowed, silver hair shining in the candlelight above. His son, Declan, lowered his head as well. You waited a moment longer than necessary before asking them to rise.

“Lord Larkin,” you said flatly. “And Lord Declan. What a pleasure to have you both attend tonight.”

“The pleasure is ours, Your Majesty,” Larkin said with a nod. Casually, he glanced at Jungkook. “We wished to extend our welcome to the rider King, as well. It is certainly unusual to see a human seated beside an Ashyan Queen.”

Jungkook merely smiled.

Admittedly, the gesture didn’t do much to brighten his countenance. The warmth of his smile failed to reach his gaze. On the table, Jungkook tapped his long, agile fingers. You realized with some surprise they had been inked.

Tattoos were not uncommon amongst soldiers, but it was rare to see them amongst members of nobility. You found yourself curious what other marks the King bore.

“I imagine it would be unusual for any man to side beside your Queen,” Jungkook said calmly. “Dragon, rider, or any variation within.”

The implication to Lord Larkin was clear – you are not seated beside her, either. Seeming to understand, Larkin’s eyes flashed while he inclined his head.

You fought not to smile.

Lord Larkin owned two of the largest mines in the Thadal range and was integral to the Ashyan economy. It would be unwise to anger him or his family, a line you’d tiptoed around since your coronation. Especially once it became clear Lord Larkin wished to align his son, Lord Declan, to you in marriage.

For a while, you had considered the idea. Their family was powerful, in possession of both lands and titles which would enrich the crown. Lord Declan was also a Dragon, ensuring the royal Ashyan line would continue unhindered.

It had been Yoongi who advised caution. You were still young, new to the throne and with plenty of time to make an heir. Better to first gain control of your nation and consider the offers of a political marriage after. You had known even then Lord Declan was not your mate, no matter how much his father wished for him to be.

Mates were a mysterious thing in your world. They could be either Dragon or human and did not always present themselves in an obvious manner. A person could stand before their mate several times before realizing the bond.

People spoke of the signs, though. Some likened the beginnings of the bond to slow trickles of energy. Others described it as sparks caressing their skin. Still more mentioned an invisible thread which tied them to one another.

None of this you’d felt with Lord Declan, so you felt fairly comfortable saying he was not the one. And yet, you knew Lord Larkin would continue to bide his time.

“It is unusual for a male to sit by my side, you say?” you mused, sipping your wine. “Whatever do you imagine Lord Yoongi to be, Your Majesty?”

Lord Declan laughed, which prompted a glare from his father.

Jungkook tore his gaze away from the Lord. He glanced instead at Yoongi, who seemed determined to ignore your conversation while he finished his greens.

“A very pretty piece of décor,” Jungkook said at last.

At this, even Yoongi smiled. Stifling a laugh, you returned to the Lords who remained standing before you.

“He is most horrified to hear it, I am certain,” you said. “Although if His Majesty considers Yoongi’s looks to be his best asset, perhaps he is the foolish one at this table.”

Jungkook smiled at this, reaching out for a sip of his wine. He seemed more relaxed, less formal and you marveled at the change in his features.

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?” you said, returning to the Lords.

Their time with you had been longer than the townspeople but then again, this was oftentimes the way of things. Lord Declan nodded, but Lord Larkin simply looked thoughtful, glancing between you and Jungkook. At last, he bowed his head.

“That is all,” he said. “Thank you both for your hospitality.”

Once they had left, you sagged in your seat.

“Pretty.” Yoongi snorted. “I shall have to write home and tell mother immediately.”

Jungkook laughed in response – a real, honest sound which made your heart flip in your chest. It was your first time hearing such a noise from his lips during this visit. It fractured your thoughts into a million pieces.

Rather than confront any of these pieces directly, you looked at Yoongi. “Now, there is food in your teeth,” you said.

Yoongi shrugged, lifting his spoon to fix his reflection. Returning to the waiting line, you gestured the next guests forward.

The rest of the evening passed smoothly. Most of your conversations were kept short, allowing only enough time to greet and move on. By the end of the line, your head was beginning to ache.

Collapsing into your chair, you released a sigh. The line, consumption of wine and lack of food had begun to create the perfect storm. At the next lull of music, your stomach growled in a most unbecoming fashion.

Closing your eyes, you prayed to Natal no one had heard.

“Have you eaten at all?” Jungkook asked from your side.

Opening your eyes, you wondered if perhaps the goddess was busy. Or maybe she simply didn’t care about mortal whims and petty Queens. Looking to your side, you found Jungkook frowning at your full plate.

“I have eaten some,” you said, and cut into the meat.

Before you could stop him, Jungkook had raised a palm to signal the server. “Was there a problem with your plate?” he asked, returning to you. “Or do you simply prefer to eat alone?”

Startled by how earnest Jungkook sounded, you were silent while waving the server away. The poor man fumbled a little, taking a few steps backwards before he turned around.

“Nothing of the sort,” you said, glancing at Jungkook. “The food is fine, and I do not care about eating before others.”

He seemed baffled. “Then, what is it?”

“It is my corset,” you hissed, lowering your voice. “Or have you never sat beside a woman at dinner before?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, drifting below your neckline. Amara had done an exceedingly good job at making certain you filled out the bodice. A lone muscle ticked in Jungkook’s jaw before he looked up.

“I have sat beside women before,” he said.

“What a delight.” Reaching out, you plucked wine from the table. “I am glad to hear it is not my responsibility to teach you about the fairer sex.”

His gaze narrowed. “Corsets are not as fashionable in Duret Ghal as they are here, Your Majesty,” Jungkook said lowly. “I have never had the pleasure of removing one before.”

Gaze snapping to his, you met his darkened stare. A flicker of heat curled in your belly, making you feel even more light-headed.

Before you could respond, Seokjin asked a question and Jungkook was forced to turn away. Hastily, you sat back and faced forward again. Reaching again for your glass, you took a large sip of wine.

Amara was not wrong. Jungkook was handsome and you were no better than the many people who’d come here tonight to look at the attractive, young King. Inwardly, you cursed your weak morals.

“He is not wrong, you know.” Yoongi continued to chew on your other side. “You should eat before coming to these events, Your Majesty.”

You shot him a look. “And when I desire your opinion, I shall ask it, Lord Yoongi.”

“I thought you paid me to advise you?”

“Only under specific circumstances.”

“And what circumstances would those be?”

“When I ask.”

Yoongi laughed, setting down his fork to reach for his glass. “Will you at least send up food to eat afterwards?’

“Of course,” you said, pushing your meat aimlessly away. “This is not my first gathering, you know.”

Yoongi nodded and the two of you fell into comfortable silence. The conversation had lessened some of the tension between you and the King. And yet, you continued to be aware of his presence beside you.

On the table, his hand rested close enough for you to see. Tanned fingers entwined with black ink, his palms roughened by callouses, proof of the leather he gripped when he rode.

Jaw taut, you continued to drink from your glass of wine. Long before it was considered polite, you yearned to stand and retire for the evening. People danced after the final courses, but it was a paltry thing compared to a real ball.

Once most of your guests had begun to leave, Namjoon agreed it was acceptable for you to go. With great relief, you stood and said your goodbyes. Yoongi went with you, following you towards a separate hallway to avoid foot traffic in the castle. Halfway down the hall, you heard someone say your name from behind.

Turning around, you found King Jungkook striding towards you. His robes swished about his ankles, head held high despite the wine and the hour. As he came to a stop, you turned towards your advisor.

“You may go, Yoongi,” you said, dismissing him. “I will return to my rooms after speaking with His Majesty.”

Yoongi hesitated, then took his leave. You watched him disappear down the hall, waiting until he turned the corner before you spoke again.

“It will seem suspicious for us to leave at the same time, Your Majesty.”

Jungkook made a dismissive noise. “I am not concerned by the thoughts of people in there.”

“An odd way to think of your subjects.”

He considered you standing before him. “You have a very low opinion of who I am and how I run my Kingdom.”

“No,” you said. “Merely of the idea of you running mine.”

Jungkook blinked, taken aback by your statement, but his confusion did not last long. After a moment, he stepped forward to close the space between you.

“Is this what you think of me?” he asked, voice low. “You think I asked for your hand in marriage – why? To become King of Ashya without the difficulties of waging war?”

“It would be a practical way to go about it.”

Jungkook’s gaze scanned your features. “I do not desire to rule Ashya in your stead. Merely to provide the best solution for both our peoples.”

Standing this close, you could feel the heat from his body. His scent was a living thing, wrapping your limbs, coaxing you closer – teeth gritted, you fought the need to take a step backwards.

“That is what you say, Your Majesty.”

He stiffened. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I believe there are things you do not tell me.”

“And what about you, Your Majesty?” Jungkook tilted his head. “You have declined my offer of marriage and have yet to give a reason.”

“Do I need to give you one?”

“I would like one.”

“I should think you used to disappointment by now,” you said. “Such is the lot of Kings and Queens.”

He stared at you for a moment, his features softened by candlelight. A feeling almost like regret stole through you, gone before you could fully embrace it.

“Do you remember the last time you visited Duret Ghal?” Jungkook asked, which surprised you.

You stared at him a moment. The suddenness of the question pushed all retorts from mind. Thus far, you had held firm to your vow not to marry by convincing yourself the man standing before you was your enemy.

Now though, he asked if you remembered.

In truth, you did.

It had been your seventeenth birthday when you last traveled to Duret Ghal. The occasion had been to finalize your parents’ treaty, as well as formally meet Jungkook as your betrothed. You had met a few times before then, as children, but it had been a long time since those days.

Duret Ghal was a land of icy wilderness, except during the summer, when harsh winter snows melted to expose greenery and cliffs. Rumors said the dragons kept their bays clear of ice, but you had gone at the wrong time of year to see this in person.

To the north of Duret Ghal lay the Irik Sea, a fathomless expanse of foamed troughs of water. Its only mountains to speak of were the famed Cliffs of Oria, which circled the capital city of Ebril. It was within these cliffs the famed dragons nested.

Ebril was situated along the coast, known equally for seamen as much as their riders. The people of Ebril were known to be craggy and sharp, much like the topography. Despite their reputation, Ebril was a city of learning. Built from the white limestone which lined its cliffs, it was occasionally referred to as the jewel by the sea.

Ebril had not been the only thing which fascinated you on that trip. You had found Jungkook equally intriguing.

He had been different then. Still quiet, but in a studious way. His hair had been shorter, as though he could not be bothered with the time it took to comb it.

Upon your arrival, you had thought Jungkook hated you. He could not seem to stand being in the same room as you for very long. Still, he had not seemed antagonistic and so, you had resigned yourself to a loveless marriage and spent time exploring the city.

One morning, you’d woke to find the day warm enough for a trip to the cliffs. Your parents had been busy from sunup to sundown, negotiating the treaty you now found yourself crafting. Back then though, you’d been blissfully free of obligation and duty.

Having never seen the Cliffs of Oria, you’d gone to the stables to secure a mount. Strictly speaking, you did not need one as a Dragon. Ideally, you preferred to fly by yourself, but your parents had warned you against shifting in Duret Ghal.

Although some things had changed since the Dragon Wars, many Ghalians still did not trust your kind. It was never a good idea to push boundaries, especially not when the treaty depended upon it.

You had even borrowed Amara’s clothes in an attempt to blend in. It had been a practical move on your part, since you’d been packed only dresses.

When you’d arrived and requested a horse from the palace stable hand, he had looked you up and down before sneering.

“You’re Ashyan,” he’d said upon hearing your accent. The word Ashyan sounded like a curse. “I heard some of your kind had come to the castle. Thought you could fly without horses, huh? What need do you have with a Ghalian mount?”

You’d been so taken aback, you blurted out the first thing which came to mind.

"If you know so much about Ashya,” you’d told him, gaze hard, “then surely you know more humans live within its borders than Dragons. Humans cannot sprout wings any more than a man like you can see reason.”

The man’s eyes had bugged, taking a threatening step forward – as a soft laugh echoed through the courtyard. Surprised, both of you had turned towards the sound.

In the archway of the stables, Jungkook had shut his book in one hand. “That was funny,” he said, looking at you.

Upon seeing the Prince, the stable hand had paled.

“Your Highness,” he said, hastening to bow.

Jungkook’s gaze slid towards him, any trace of humor disappearing. He stared at him coldly and for a moment, you’d seen a hint of the King he would become.

“I believe the lady asked for a horse.” Jungkook had spoken calmly. “Were you about to deny the request of a royal guest to the crown?”

He did not call you the princess and for a moment, you had wondered if he knew.

“Of course not, Prince Jungkook,” the stable hand had stammered and for a moment, you’d felt a modicum of pity for him.

Then the man had cast you a dark look entering the stables and you'd quickly forgotten your mercy. Instead, you’d found yourself wondering how loud he’d scream if you shifted.

Jungkook cleared his throat.

Looking at him, you’d found him lingering in the entrance to the courtyard. Curiosity washed through you, wondering if he intended for you to thank him. The idea was vaguely insulting. You could have handled one measly human.

“I did not need your help, you know,” you had said.

Jungkook had merely arched a brow. “Oh, I am aware.”

“Good.”

Turning around, you had considered the conversation to be over. While you stood and waited for your horse though, you realized Jungkook did not leave. After another moment, you’d turned towards him.

“Then, why did you interject?” you’d asked, suddenly curious.

Rather than answer immediately, Jungkook had crossed the courtyard. He came to a stop before you, forcing you to tilt your head back to see him. For a human, you remembered him being quite tall.

That close, you’d seen Jungkook’s eyes for the first time. They were not all brown, as you’d imagined. Instead, you saw many colors within – auburn, hazel, and a deep, burnished gold. 

Meeting his gaze frankly stole your breath away.

“You are my guest,” Jungkook had said. “And my betrothed. It is my duty to protect you.”

Looking away, you’d tried not to smile. Despite the fact you were trying not to laugh, it felt oddly wrong to be free of his gaze.

“Why are you smiling?” Jungkook had asked, confused.

“I am sorry,” you had said, biting back a smile. “It is only… well. Is that how women are raised in Duret Ghal?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Before you could answer, the stable hand had emerged with a horse in tow. Accepting the reins he gave, you’d placed a foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Settling your weight, you’d leaned forward and pet the horse’s long mane.

Glancing up, you’d locked eyes with Jungkook. “You speak of women as though they need protection. I must say, it has never been something I needed or wanted,” you’d said quietly, then clicked your heels and steered the horse away.

You had not looked back as you rode from the castle, but felt the weight of his gaze between your shoulder blades the entire way. It had sent the strangest energy across your skin but once you reached the trail, you managed to push both this and Jungkook from mind.

The sea had always been a subject of endless fascination for you. Crossing the grassy plains which topped the Cliffs of Oria, you’d found satisfaction in the salty taste of the air.

After nearly an hour of riding, you’d slowed to a stop. Before you, the Irik Sea had stretched in an endless display of blue. It reminded you of the sky with its limitless potential. As soon as you thought this, you had the dearest wish to fly.

Glancing away, you realized you’d seen no other humans for miles. Quietly, you slipped from your horse and tied him to a tree.

Entering a nearby thicket, you’d changed from your clothes and placed them under a rock. When you transformed to a Dragon, it tended to shred whatever clothing you wore.

Naked as the day you’d been born, you stood under the sky and tipped your head back. Allowing the transformation to take hold, warmth had spread through your veins until – opening your eyes, you were a Dragon.

Humans referred to this as the change, but you’d never found it to be an accurate descriptor. It was not as though you changed from one thing to the other; merely shifted to a different part of yourself. You were always a dragon and always a human. To be a Dragon was to be both.

Wings unfurled, you’d bent and leapt into the sky. It always took you a moment to reorient after shifting. Your senses of sight, smell and hearing were sharper as a dragon, although some things were different.

Beating your wings against the sea breeze, you’d risen and fallen while surveying the cliffs. From this height, you’d been able to see the smaller cities which dotted the fields of the capital. Ebril shone like a star on the distant shore. Instead of flying towards this, you turned in the opposite direction. You had no desire to be seen and send their women into hysterics.

Remembering Jungkook’s words, a jet of flame left your nostrils in a wicked snort. The idea of protecting a Dragon was laughable. Wheeling sideways, you’d traveled further out over the ocean. It had been silver-green at the time, bright as the clearest Ashyan jewel.

Growing bolder, you’d flown lower and skimmed the waves with your toes. Swooping higher, you’d circled again before diving straight down. When you plunged beneath the surface, the coldness of the Irik snatched fire from your lungs. Sputtering, you’d breached the surface and shot into the air to hang there, gasping.

Then you grinned and dove again.

For the first time in months, you’d allowed yourself to have fun. Ever since you’d turned sixteen, you’d become infinitely aware of your title and duty. Your duty to marry, to someday become Queen and leave your childhood behind. You’d wondered why you needed to give up fun and freedom, all for someone else’s hand.

In truth, the idea of marriage had scared you. Riders enjoyed taming dragons, or so the legends had said. They’d taken your ancestral creatures and turned them into beasts who willingly did their bidding. You had no desire to do anyone’s bidding but your own.

After a long day of flying, you’d tucked in your wings and returned to the cliffside. Although you had told your parents where you were going, they would worry if you were not back in time for dinner. Approaching the spot where you’d left your things, you realized a second horse had been tethered beside yours.

Searching the plains, you’d immediately spotted Jungkook. He lazed in the sun at the edge of the cliff, book open on his stomach and one arm behind his head.

He did not so much as look up when you landed, although the noise from your wings must have been deafening. Dropping into the thicket, you’d quickly returned to human form. With trembling hands, you’d pulled back on Amara’s clothes.

As you exited, Jungkook remained in his same position. Upon seeing him there, you’d stopped and looked away. Perhaps he had not seen you after all.

“How was your swim?” Jungkook had asked, eyes still shut.

Your stomach had dropped.

“I can explain,” you’d said, stepping forward.

One eye opening, Jungkook had frowned. Pushing himself to his elbows, he’d surveyed you and it had struck you suddenly how beautiful he was. Brown curls and soft gaze, above a lean body.

“What do you have to explain?” he’d asked, sounding curious.

“I – well.” For the first time, you’d found yourself flummoxed. “I did not mean to take advantage of Duret Ghal’s hospitality.”

This seemed to amuse him. “Are you… apologizing for using the sky, Your Highness?”

“No. Well, yes.”

Something in your expression made Jungkook soften. Closing his book and setting it aside, he’d stood from the ground and began to walk closer. He came to a stop near enough to see the tiny mole beneath his lip.

“Some Ghalians fear Dragons, it is true,” he’d said quietly. “But you need not ever fear this from me, Your Highness. If someone asked you not to fly in my Kingdom, please consider this to be a formal revocation.”

You had stared at him a moment before arching a brow. “It could be dangerous to fly, though. I might be in need of protection.”

Jungkook had paused for a moment before laughing, his head thrown back and smile wide. It was the same laugh he’d made tonight at the banquet.

“Forgive me for earlier,” he’d said, lowering his head to meet your gaze. “It was foolish of me to imagine I might protect a mighty Dragon.”

Although he’d adopted a teasing tone, seriousness lit his gaze. You found you rather enjoyed it. Enjoyed him, against all better reason. The slightest of thrills went down your spine.

“Foolish, indeed,” you’d murmured.

In your mind though, you’d wondered if perhaps you were the foolish one.

Although the day had been nearly ten years ago, you had never forgotten it. Never forgotten the boy who’d wanted to protect a Dragon.

The answer to Jungkook’s question was a resounding yes.

Yes, you remembered. Perhaps too much.

“I remember some,” you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Not all.”

Jungkook paused. “I see.”

“If that is all, I shall –”

“We were to be married before,” he said, expression inscrutable. “Is the idea of marrying me now so repulsive?”

“I do not find you repulsive,” you said on instinct.

Too late, you realized you’d eliminated an answer. You did not find Jungkook repulsive, so your reason for declining was something else.

He considered this. “No?”

“I do not,” you admitted. “But I also don’t know you, Your Majesty. Our former betrothal ended nearly ten years ago. The intention was to mend a rift between two nations. The situation is different now. Now, we have a common enemy to unite us.”

“And once Mor is defeated?”

“The defeat of a mutual enemy will be enough.”

Jungkook gave you a look which plainly said, will it?

Growing increasingly frustrated, you stepped forward until you stood nose to nose. Tilting your chin higher, you fought the overwhelming tide of his cedar and sunshine.

“You asked if I remember our last meeting and I do,” you said hotly. “I also remember the carnage which followed. Do not ask from me more than I can give, Your Majesty.”

A shadow crossed Jungkook’s expression, quickly followed by anger.

“If you remember so well,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Then surely you remember it was my Kingdom, not yours which paid for the coup in blood. It took me many years to rebuild what my Uncle destroyed.”

“I did not mean –”

“I think you did,” he interrupted. Taking a step back, he allowed cool air to pass between you. Stiffly, he bowed. “Thank you for the evening, Your Majesty. Enjoy the remainder of your night.”

Turning around, Jungkook strode down the hall until he disappeared.

You remained still for a moment, staring after him and wondering what you had done. All you’d wanted to do was to steer the conversation away from your vow not to marry. Instead, you’d insulted a man who had done nothing to harm you – at one point, he’d even wanted to protect you.

Gathering your skirts, you turned and walked away. Yoongi had not waited for you, for which you were grateful. You had no doubt he’d side with King Jungkook regarding your display this evening. Anyone with half a brain would, you supposed.

Still, it was too much for Jungkook to expect you to marry him simply because you had once been engaged. You’d been right about one thing – the situation was different now. You were different now and could not afford to let Jungkook get any closer.

You’d witnessed firsthand the kind of disaster such unions wrought.

Climbing the steps to your chamber, the crown on your head felt heavier tonight than ever before.

The sun had not yet risen when you left your bed the next morning. Donning a gown, you hastily braided your hair and slipped outside. Nodding hello to your guards, you hurried down the corridors and out a side door.

As the land of Dragons, Ashya had developed unique features attuned to their needs. One such accommodation were the sheds – tiny, low buildings with large yards beyond them. They rested on the opposite side of the stables, since horses tended to be spooked by dragons and the main purpose of the sheds was for Dragons to shift.

Entering the one closest, you shut the door and began to undress. Hanging your clothes on the wall, you strolled into the enclosed yard. Its walls were high enough to ensure no passersby saw, yet large enough to encompass an adult Dragon.

Inhaling a breath, you tipped your head back and let the shift come. Wings unfurling, you opened your eyes and set your forelegs upon the ground. Bending low to the dirt, you pushed yourself upwards and into the sky.

Soaring over the castle, you began to fly southeast of the city. Valor sprawled out beneath you, a haphazard city of cobblestone and flint. Smoke curled from the chimneys, the earliest households waking for the day.

To the east, the foothills of the Thadal mountains were covered in pasture. Sheep and goats grazed there; their wool favored by Ashyan merchants. Circling overhead to ensure all was well, you found yourself satisfied and began to climb higher.

This was one of your favorite pastimes. Flying high enough that even your Dragon’s breath froze in your lungs, crystallizing in bursts until you could no longer bear it. Then you dove, tucking your wings in to hurtle towards the ground.

At the last moment, you snapped your wings open and rode the wind.

Snorting a thin stream of smoke, you slowed as you approached the mountains. The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, spilling their light between the rocky crags. Inhaling fresh morning air, you flew further south.

The Thadal range was truly one of the wonders of the continent. Flying between towering peaks, you did not question why the Dragon Wars had been fought for its riches. The mountains went on for miles in the east, a flight you’d only made once. It had taken you nearly a week to cross the entire range and at its end you’d found a desert similar in size to the Irik Sea.

When you had returned, your father had berated you. Your mother had died only a year prior and he had only recently managed to pull himself together. If you had died, he’d shouted, the entire future of Ashya was lost.

It was a heavy burden to bear, but one you’d shouldered after his passing. Everything you did was for your nation and people. You would be enough for Ashya and would guard against the kind of attachments which might put this at risk.

As the sun slowly rose, the tightness in your stomach increased. With the rising sun came the responsibilities of being Queen. You had a schedule to keep, meetings to attend with Duret Ghal, your advisors and a large group of nobles.

Tucking in your wing, you began to turn – only for bright, searing pain to hit you in the shoulder.

Crying out, you fought to keep stable while twisting around. Wings beating the air, you frantically searched for your attacker. Vision blurred, you scanned the tree lines below and found nothing.

A second bolt shot towards you. With great effort, you managed to dodge the strike, rolling in midair. Mid-twist, you realized a large iron bolt remained lodged in your shoulder.

Stomach curdling, you realized what danger you were in. Only Mor had crossbows strong enough to kill a Dragon. Somewhere beneath you lay a Mor patrol.

Searching the woods, you felt hot drops of blood dripping from your scales. Before you could retaliate, before you could so much as inhale, an arrow of darkness shot into your vision.

Jungkook, astride his dragon, Nemrys, laid waste to the mountain.

A great wave of fire engulfed where the Mor patrol had been. Faint screams rose from below, a final shot fired but its aim was way off, as though whomever had done so, did so out of panic.

Wings flapping, you tried to stay aloft, but to no avail. It was hard to bring down a Dragon with a single bolt, but Mor had perfected their technology over the past century and you’d been caught unawares.

Nemrys continued to torch the forest even as you dropped, struggling to stay alight. Vision turning black, you thought you heard Jungkook yell – or maybe it was your own subconscious – before you spiraled down, wings cutting through branches before you hit the ground.

Everything went dark after that.

Groggily, you woke to the sound of your name being called.

Fabric had been draped over your torso, softer than the dirt beneath your back. As you opened an eye, you realized you’d shifted to human. This happened occasionally when you went through a great shock.

As soon as you thought this, you remembered the attack. When you attempted to sit upright, a gentle hand gripped your shoulder. Re-focusing through the haze, you realized it was Jungkook who knelt beside you.

His expression remained on your arm. A shudder of pain wracked your body, which had been covered by his cloak, you realized.

Except for your shoulder, that was.

Catching a glimpse of it on the ground, you winced and forced yourself to look away. The lower part of your arm remained unscathed, but the upper portion was in bad shape. All you could see was blood, shredded muscle, and bone peeking through.

“The arrow,” you breathed, head spinning. “Where is it?”

“Knocked loose when you landed,” Jungkook said, tight-lipped. “Which was lucky, given how large the bolt was. Had you shifted while it was still in your shoulder… I do not know what might have happened. Still…” He paused. “You have lost a lot of blood.”

Turning aside, Jungkook began rummaging through a pack on the ground. Dizzily, you glanced around the forest clearing.

“W-where is Nemrys?” you asked, your teeth chattering.

Jungkook looked back with alarm. “I left him in the clearing,” he said. “There was not enough room for him to land.”

“And this is… your cloak?”

Jungkook nodded but said nothing more. He was dressed in all leather, a broadsword strapped to his back in a pragmatic sheath. When he turned your wrist over, you let out a hiss and his gaze snapped to yours.

A war seemed to wage within him as Jungkook sat back on his heels. “You have lost a lot of blood,” he repeated.

“There are healers in Valor,” you said, struggling to sit up. “You must bring me to them.”

Jungkook gripped your good shoulder again. “You cannot shift in this state, and I fear moving you would aggravate the wound ever further.”

You glared at him from the ground. “What do you propose, then?”

Even as you spoke, it occurred to you the situation might be bad. Right now, shock and adrenaline kept the pain at bay, but it would soon wear off.

“I stopped the blood flow as best I could,” Jungkook said. “But it continues to bleed. I fear you may lose consciousness before we reach the capital.”

Panic rose, choking whatever retort you had to say. If you lost consciousness now, it would only be a matter of time before your organs began to fail. You could not die here. You would not; not on an unknown forest floor, miles away from your home.

You would not be brought down by a single Mor patrol before you even got the chance to face them on the battlefield.

“What are the options,” you said, returning to Jungkook. “Do you have a tourniquet with you? Can Nemrys cauterize my wound? I can survive the loss of a limb, Your Majesty, but I will not leave Ashya so poorly defended.”

Jungkook stared at you a moment before he slowly exhaled.

“There is another option,” he said at last.

“Whatever it is, you best do it quickly. Before I pass out and leave you to wrestle with your conscience alone.”

Suppressing a grimace, Jungkook finally nodded and rolled up his sleeves. It exposed sinuous forearms and ink which, in any other circumstance, you might have found appealing. As it was, you merely found them distracting.

Jungkook hesitated before laying his hands on your arm.

“You must…” He paused, then swallowed. “You must trust me, Y/N.”

The use of your first name was shocking enough for you to fall silent. Nodding, you stared at the sky and laid as still as you could. The pain had begun to set in; you could feel phantom tingles from your injured limb. Dull, shooting pain which throbbed in your shoulder.

At first, nothing happened.

Jungkook’s hands remained on your arm and for a moment, nothing changed. Then – a flurry of sparks skittered down his hands. They sank into your skin so quickly, you thought you’d imagined it.

In response to this, the pain flared, and you arched your back.

“Steady,” said Jungkook, calloused hands on your body. It could have been your imagination, but his dark eyes seemed to glow. “The pain will be gone soon.”

As he spoke, more and more sparks traveled down his forearms. They increased until a golden stream of light poured from his fingertips, fracturing into pieces and – healing you, you realized.

Each place the golden light touched, your muscles reknit. Blood flowed back to the wound as your skin stitched itself together. Shocked, you stared at the evidence of your wound being erased. A bead of sweat rolled down Jungkook’s brow, his color turning sallow while you stared in alarm.

“Jungkook,” you rasped, chest rising and falling. The steady stream of light continued to brighten. “Jungkook – enough.”

He inhaled and jerked back, severing the connection.

Still breathing heavily, you stared at him in shock. The forest around you seemed darker, as though it, too, missed the light. Missed the golden magic which had poured forth from his fingers.

Shakily, you pushed yourself to a seated position, one hand on his cloak to hold it in place. Glancing down, you saw your shoulder and went still. He had healed you. Somehow, Jungkook had healed you.

Experimentally, you flexed the muscles and watched the skin ripple, undeterred.

You’d heard of healing magic but never experienced it in person. Magic was rare enough for not all gifts to be born in the same lifetime. There was also the small matter of neither of Jungkook’s parents being Dragons. Only a human with a Dragon parent could inherit magical gifts.

“Explain,” you said, gaze lifting to him.

Jungkook blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Explain,” you repeated, not looking away. “How did you heal me?”

Finally understanding, Jungkook sat back on his heels. Twisting around, he rummaged in his pack for a canteen and unscrewed the cap. As he took a long sip, Jungkook stared at the forest.

His exhaustion was clear, and you felt a glimmer of regret at your words. Regret – and something else. Something warmer, which wrapped you in golden tendrils as easily as his magic.

Clutching the cloak, you stared and realized you were being unfair. First and foremost, he had saved your life. Everything else could wait.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Jungkook stilled.

“I do not know how, nor why you healed me,” you continued. “But… thank you for doing so.”

Setting down his canteen, Jungkook waited a moment before turning to face you. He seemed to wrestle with some inner emotion.

“You are welcome.” After another beat, he reached into his sack. “Here,” he said, pulling out a ball of clothes. “If you wish to change into my spare clothing, you may. I can wait over there.”

Once you accepted the bundle, Jungkook stood from the ground. Dusting his palms on his pants, he swayed a little before he steadied himself. Before you could comment on this he was gone, trekking across the clearing.

Silently, you unfolded the clothes in your lap.

They included a tunic and trousers, along with a leather belt to hold them in place. Scuffed boots made up the last item of the pile. Running a thumb up their side, you attempted to determine their make.

“Why do you have all this?” you asked, looking up.

Even from here, you could see Jungkook’s cheeks redden. “Nemrys and I were once trapped by a snowstorm. We were forced to camp for the night in the mountains. Ever since then, I’ve always carried supplies. Get dressed,” he said, turning around. “I promise not to look.”

Tough you bristled, you watched and true to his word, he did not turn around. Once you were certain of this, you stood from the ground and began to dress yourself. His tunic was much too large, as were the trousers, forcing you to tighten the belt to its final notch. The fabric was soft and warm though, smelling of him.

Again, you marveled at your ease of motion. You’d seen your shoulder before Jungkook had done his healing and knew the situation could have been worse. If you hadn’t bled out in the woods, you might have lost the limb. Even in older accounts of magical healing, you knew it could be dangerous work. Healing required knowledge of muscles, veins, ligaments, and nerve endings. It was simple to patch up skin – harder to make everything beneath it work again.

Whatever magic Jungkook had, it was powerful.

Once you were fully dressed, you approached him on the other side of the clearing. Jungkook continued to stare pointedly at the woods, only turning around when you tapped his shoulder. He swiftly took in your outfit, gaze darkening at the sight of his clothes on your frame.

Ignoring the possible meanings his look could contain, you cleared your throat.

Jungkook’s gaze jumped to yours. “Are you ready to go?” he said, a bit brusque. “Nemrys is willing to fly us both back.”

Your jaw fell a little. “You wish for me to ride a dragon?”

“I expect you not to undo the gift I gave. Although I fixed your shoulder the best I could, I’d prefer a healer examined you back in Valor. It would be bad,” Jungkook added, seeing your expression, “if the Queen of Ashya were to plummet from the sky after my attempted healing.”

Much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. Magic was tenuous – even you knew how complicated healing magic was.

“Fine,” you muttered. “I will ride back with you.”

When you moved to walk past him, Jungkook grabbed your arm. Bristling somewhat, you stared at his hand on your sleeve.

“What?” you huffed, looking upwards.

Jungkook met your gaze. “Before we go,” he said slowly. “There are things you should know. Things we need to discuss.”

“Such as?”

“Such as my magic,” he said, releasing your arm. “My magic, where it comes from, and what it means for Ashya.”

You stared at him, not understanding.

Jungkook exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. Dark strands fell around his face, partially concealing the worry in his gaze. Of what, or for whom, you did not know.

“Do you know the origin story of magic?”

His voice had deepened, softened a little. Something about this and his expression convinced you not to snap back. Every child on the continent knew the origin story.

“Of course,” you said curiously. “Natal ripped a hole in the veil and before she could close it, magic seeped through.”

“True.” Jungkook nodded. “In your version of the story though, only your kind were gifted with magic. This is not the case. All dragons have magic.”

The world around you seemed to tilt. What Jungkook said was impossible and yet, he seemed utterly serious. For a moment, you wondered if he’d also been hurt in the attack. Perhaps he’d hit his head in his haste to heal you.

“You are the only kind of dragon who can shapeshift,” he continued. “Other kinds of magic exist, though. There are other types of power the dragons can wield.”

“Impossible,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.

“It is true.” Jungkook’s gaze remained level. “Riders can use the magic of the dragon they’re bonded to. It is why I can heal. Nemrys comes from a long line of dragons with healing magic.”

“It cannot be,” you said, reeling from the implications. “Only the descendants of Dragons and humans are born with magic.”

“And riders, once they bond.”

You stared at him a moment, then shook your head. “We would have known. We would… we would have known if someone else could use magic. How could we not?” you demanded.

A shadow of something bitter crossed Jungkook’s expression. “I am sure you are aware there are parts of Duret Ghal which disapprove of magic.”

You did not know how this could relate to the dragons and their riders but allowed the detour to continue. It could not be worse than the sudden revelation magic was different from what you’d always imagined.

“I am aware,” you said flatly. “A ridiculous notion. Magic wins wars.”

“True.” Jungkook seemed to weigh his words. “But those born with gifts are viewed as a necessary evil by some within Duret Ghal. A tool for battle and nothing more. If these people had discovered their leaders had magic?” Jungkook shook his head. “A century ago, Ghalians would have revolted.”

Your eyes narrowed. “They would accept you ride dragons, but not that you have magic?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Jungkook’s lips.

“Humans are gifted magic when a Dragon and human mate,” he explained. “For many years, Duret Ghal considered Ashya and Dragons to be our enemy. You can understand why the idea of magic was an inherent threat.”

“…I suppose.”

“They only accepted the riders because Ghalians imagined the same thing you did – that the dragons we ride are a tame, subservient species compared to your own. It is not so.”

“No?”

“No.”

Unable to fathom this, you looked away at the forest. If everything Jungkook said was true, then the history of your nation – of your continent – was a lie. The Dragons of Ashya were only different in that they could shapeshift. The rhetoric you’d believed your whole life, that you were somehow more than the rest, was untrue.

The dragon riders had magic and, realizing this, you turned back.

“Why did you heal me, then?” you asked. “If the Ghalians feel so strongly about magic, surely you would wish to keep this a secret?”

Jungkook hesitated.

“We were… aware of the risk coming here. For many years, I have been trying to convince the other riders to reveal themselves,” he explained. “It was the coming war against Mor which convinced them, in the end.”

“What does Mor have to do with it?”

“Everything,” Jungkook said. “Mor has declared a war on all dragons, including those of Duret Ghal. Their technology is beyond ours. When they do come, it will be a bloody battle. If we do not fight with our full capabilities, we might fail. I will not allow this to happen.”

“And so,” you said slowly. “You healed me because… you had already decided to reveal your magic?”

An amused gleam entered his gaze. “Amongst other reasons,” Jungkook allowed. “Though you may not believe it, I rather enjoy having you around, Your Majesty. It would be a pity to waste a life such as yours.”

There seemed to be deeper meaning to his words, but you had no time to dissect it. Stepping closer, Jungkook looked down.

“We had planned to reveal our magic once the treaty was signed,” he explained. “Your injury simply moved up the timeline.”

“I see,” you said, somewhat dazed by his presence so close to your own.

Jungkook nodded, then turned to continue, but something within you kept you from moving. Staring at the back of his head, you realized the words you truly wanted to say.

“And the other dragons,” you said slowly, then stopped. “What about them?”

Paused at the edge of the clearing, Jungkook turned around. Wariness had entered his gaze.

“I do not know this is my story to tell,” he admitted. “But since you cannot speak directly to Nemrys, I can tell you what he told me.”

Jungkook glanced overhead and you wondered if he searched for the time. Or, you realized, he could be communicating with Nemrys.

You had known rider and dragon had a bond. This had been well-documented throughout history, but not much else was known beyond their ritualistic ceremony. Whether dragon and rider could converse was a controversial topic amongst historians, but based on what Jungkook said, it seemed they could.

Based on what he did now, it seemed they did.

“Thousands of years ago,” Jungkook finally said, looking down. “Natal broke the sky and magic flowed in. It entered all dragons who slept in the mountains below. The magic manifested in different forms. A line of dragons known for compassion became healers. Another line, known for passion and wildness, became stormmakers. And another, always curious, became the shapeshifters.

“Human beings were originally from the south, but as they moved north, they encountered the dragons. Wars were fought between them, bloodier than any of our recent conflicts. Many were killed on both sides, until the head of the shifter dragons decided to become human.

“There was dissent amongst the dragons as to whether this was wise. Many did not like the idea of stooping to the humans’ level, but the shifter line proceeded despite their caution. Your kind founded Ashya and lived in peace for a while.

“Over time, changes took place. Small, at first – and then larger. Some of the shifters chose not to shift, even though they could. Some decided they preferred human form over dragon. In an important conflict, the shifters sided with humans. Certain lines of dragons deemed this to be unacceptable.

“The most feared magic amongst dragons was – and still is – that of the memory dragons. These dragons, though rare, can manipulate thought, memory and perception. As punishment for siding with the humans, they took away your memory of all dragons. Stole your ability to communicate while in dragon form. Over time, your kind have forgotten what you once were.

“It was a terrible punishment. One which has not been given since. That is the whole truth,” he finished quietly. “That is the knowledge which has been kept from your kind.”

Falling silent, Jungkook allowed time for his story to sink in. The forest around you was silent as well, as though it, too, were holding its breath.

You could only stare while struggling to comprehend. If what Jungkook said was true, then you were not different from other dragons – or, you were, but not in the ways you’d once thought. They were as intelligent, as cohesive, and knowledgeable as you were. More, perhaps, if they had hidden this from you for so long.

“And so, rider magic,” you said, a bit hoarse. “How…?”

“Ah.” Jungkook gave a wry smile. “The riders did not come until later. Call it Natal’s judgement, if you will. As time went on, some of the dragon lines grew more curious about humans. One of them somehow bonded with a human. This continued to occur until finally, the King of Duret Ghal himself became a dragon rider.”

“And the riders,” you said, trying to piece it together. “They can use their dragon’s magic?”

Jungkook nodded.

“And you speak to them?” The barest hint of wonder entered your voice. “Can you speak to all dragons?”

“Only the one we are bonded to,” Jungkook said, a bit softer.

“I see.”

He gave you a look. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“No. Well, yes,” you said as you shook your head. “You have given me much to think on, Your Majesty.”

Jungkook’s expression shuttered a bit at the formality, but he inclined his head. “Indeed, Your Majesty,” he responded.

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the dried sweat on his forehead from the energy spent healing you. Something had changed between you, and you did not know how you could turn back.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Jungkook glanced up. “For what?”

“For many things, I suppose. For healing me. For trusting me with the truth. I owe you a life debt, Your Majesty.”

An unreadable look passed over his face. “I imagine there will be many life debts between us before this war comes to pass.”

He was not wrong and for a moment, you allowed yourself the luxury of imagining you might face this war together.

“A fair point,” you allowed.

Glancing past him, you surveyed the clearing. Nemrys must be nearby, or Jungkook would not have gotten to you so quickly. Suddenly, the prospect of meeting another dragon held an entirely different meaning. All this time, you had assumed them to be less intelligent than your own and had treated them as such. You could only imagine how little they thought of you.

Nemrys would likely be less thrilled to have you riding him, than you would be in the saddle.

“There is another reason I healed you,” Jungkook admitted.

You glanced his way in surprise. “And what reason was that?”

Jungkook walked closer, step by step until he was barely a foot away. Reaching out a hand, he adjusted his tunic where it fell on your frame. His thumb brushed your bare collarbone and in response to this, you barely suppressed a shiver.

“You said you did not know me.” Jungkook swallowed. “It seemed a shame for our time to be cut short before I could remedy this fact.”

With that, he dropped his hand and walked away.

You stared as he left, feeling utterly thrown until he spoke again.

“Follow me,” Jungkook called. “Nemrys is impatient. Not unusual for a dragon, but he does make a good point. People will be looking for us – I was expected back nearly an hour ago.”

Glancing overhead, you realized Jungkook was right based on the sun's position. It had risen nearly above the treetops, meaning Jimin would have people looking for you soon.

Jungkook kept going as you followed, striding from the clearing you’d made when you fell. It took only a few minutes before the trees had thinned enough for you to come face to face with Nemrys on the ground.

His scales were ebony in color, dark as the night sky above during the witching hour. Only one golden eye could focus on you at a time, but the one which did remained steady as you entered.

Nemrys did not seem happy to see you, and you did not blame him. Dragons were a territorial bunch, whether shifter or otherwise. If Nemrys considered you a threat to Jungkook, he would stop at nothing to protect his rider.

As you exited the forest, Jungkook looked up. “No,” he said sharply, walking around Nemrys’ side.

Curious, you turned and realized he wasn’t speaking to you.

“What did Nemrys say?” 

A growl left Nemrys’ throat, clawing at the ground with a single, curved talon.

Jungkook sighed in response, looking skyward. He seemed thoroughly exasperated, and it was one of the most natural expressions you’d seen on him thus far.

“Nemrys asked if you wished to ride in the saddle, or have him carry you,” Jungkook said at last, looking down.

Gaze narrowed, you turned your head to Nemrys. If you did not know any better, you could have sworn his upper lip curled. To be carried by a dragon meant to dangle upside down from their claw while they flew through the air.

“No, thank you,” you said, walking closer. “Although, I do have something I wish to say to Nemrys.”

Coming to a stop before him, you looked Nemrys in the eye. Nemrys slowly blinked, as though he were extremely uninterested in whatever you had to say.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice softening. “Thank you… for telling me, through him.”

Nemrys stilled.

“And for healing me,” you added, bowing your head. It was a sign of great trust to expose your neck to a dragon. “I cannot find the words to express my gratitude.”

After a moment, Nemrys exhaled and lowered his head as well. Glancing up, you met his gaze and felt something unspoken pass between you.

“He thinks you might find the saddle more comfortable,” Jungkook said, sounding a bit amused at the side.

Lips twitching, you took a step backwards and looked now at Jungkook. Nemrys snorted again, steam exhaled past his lips. In response to whatever he’d said, Jungkook’s cheeks turned a bit pink.

“What was that?” you asked, curious.

“Nothing.” Jungkook glared at the dragon. “Nemrys said we should go.”

Nemrys snorted once more, steam rising as he hauled himself to his feet. It did not seem Jungkook was telling you the entire truth, but the importance of this faded when you saw the saddle. It had not seemed as high when you were also a dragon.

“You sit up… there?” you asked, coming to a stop.

Jungkook hid his smile. “It isn’t as dangerous as it seems,” he insisted, placing a hand on the ladder. “You just climb all the rungs until you reach the top.”

Nodding, you placed one foot in the stirrup and firmly gripped the ladder. As you began to climb, hand over foot, you found yourself holding your breath. Eventually, you reached the top and swung a leg over.

��Careful,” Jungkook called from the ground. “I still want my healer to take a look at your shoulder.”

“I have healers, too,” you grumbled, settling onto the leather.

Jungkook climbed after you, swinging his leg over to land firmly behind you. His right hand found your waist, tugging you back until your spine met his chest. None other would dare touch the Queen in such a manner but then again, Jungkook was also a King.

“I know,” he said, his breath warm on your ear. “But mine are accustomed to dealing with magical healing.”

Unable to argue, you gripped the front of the saddle. Unconvincingly, you tried to make yourself believe it would be like riding a horse. Jungkook’s hand gripped your hip, distracting enough that you nearly forgot what you were doing.

As Nemrys bent and spread his wings, you forced your eyes shut. It was a silly thing, but you’d never flown through the skies when you were not the one in control.

You felt, rather than saw, when the ground fell away beneath you. Wind whistled past your ears, the force of gravity pressing you against Jungkook’s chest. He said nothing in response, merely curled his fingers into the hem of your tunic.

One you felt comfortable, you opened your eyes against the rushing wind.

For a moment, vertigo overtook you and you felt a bit nauseous. It felt wrong to fly in your human body, with nothing protecting you if you were to fall. The feeling only lasted a moment though, before you began to marvel at the landscape beneath you.

It looked different with your human vision – as a dragon, you could see UV as well as blue, red and green. Vision as a human was softer, the mountains before you a muted grey-green. Even the air felt colder without your dragon skin.

Unbidden, you shivered, and Jungkook’s hand tightened.

“It is different,” you breathed, staring hard at the ground.

Jungkook chuckled, low in your ear. “Different for me, too,” he admitted. “I have never flown with another person before.”

Startled, you turned and found his face close to yours. You had not thought about this when you moved, but now found yourself inches away from his lips.

“Never?” you murmured, your words caught by the wind.

“Never.”

Again, the same shiver swept your spine, so you forced yourself to face forward. The wind continued to blow, ferocious and cold, but Jungkook managed to stay warm behind you. Eyes drifting shut, you allowed yourself a moment to bask in his presence.

Only a moment before you pulled yourself together.

All too soon, you arrived at the castle courtyard. Landing in the open space by the gates, you realized a search party had already gathered. Sliding down from Nemrys, you barely paused to give thanks before hurrying on.

Midway to the castle, you saw Jimin break ranks as he jogged to see you. Scanning your frame, his silver-blonde hair blew haphazardly in the wind. Coming to a sudden stop, Jimin glanced past you, his eyes widening when he realized you’d come from Nemrys.

Before he could speak, Namjoon skidded to a stop beside him.

“Y/N,” he gasped, lowering both hands to his knees. “By the veil, you scared us.”

Guiltily, you turned. “I am sorry,” you told him. “I am fine, though. I promise. I apologize for making you worry.”

Jimin continued to stare at Nemrys. “Your Majesty. What –”

“It was my fault,” Jungkook interrupted, striding into the circle. He came to a stop alongside you, as though he belonged there. “I saw Her Majesty injure herself while out flying and insisted on escorting her back to the castle.”

Namjoon looked at you in alarm. “Is this true? Are you hurt?”

“Only a dislocation,” you assured him. “Nothing to worry about.”

Although Namjoon nodded, Jimin continued to frown.

“A dislocation,” he said slowly, his gaze flicking to yours. “While flying?”

“Momentarily blinded by the sun,” you explained. “Hit a cliff and was forced to shift back to human.”

“And… Jungkook saw?”

Both Jimin and Namjoon glanced at Jungkook, who jumped into the story without missing a beat.

“Nemrys has excellent vision,” he said with a shrug. “Better than I, that is for certain.”

Jimin still seemed suspicious, but he eventually nodded. “We are glad to see you safe, Your Majesty,” he said. “I will go and tell the search party to stand down.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Jimin began crossing the courtyard, leaving you alone with Namjoon and Jungkook. You fully intended to tell Namjoon and Jimin the truth, but now was not the right moment. Too many ears were listening.

“Is Yoongi furious?” you asked lowly. “How many meetings have I missed?”

Namjoon gave a rueful smile. “He will get over it. Your meetings for the morning have been postponed. The afternoon remains.”

“Good,” you said, stepping forward. “I will just –”

“Your Majesty,” Jungkook said, and you paused. “I did hope you would see the healer on my staff before returning to duty.”

He stood to your side, looking at you earnestly. Namjoon glanced between you; his surprise further increasing when you eventually nodded.

“His Majesty is correct,” you admitted. “I do feel fine, Namjoon, but it is better to be safe than sorry. I will have things to discuss with you after.”

Namjoon slowly nodded, seeming to understand. “Anything I need to know now?”

Glancing around, you ensured no one could hear. “A Mor patrol,” you said quietly. “Barely fifteen miles south. They were the true cause of my injury, but they are no longer a worry.”

Namjoon’s brow creased even further. “Are you certain you are alright? If it was a Mor patrol, you may have–”

“I am fine,” you cut in, quiet.

Namjoon hesitated before he nodded again. “Alright. I will have Jimin send soldiers to search the surrounding mountains.”

“Thank you. Tell Yoongi I will be up as soon as I can. And have Amara send me new clothes,” you added as you walked past. “I believe it sends the wrong message to wander around in His Majesty’s leathers.”

Namjoon nearly choked on his response while turning to leave.

“Well?” You glanced sideways, at Jungkook. “What are we waiting for?”

Turning his laugh into a cough, Jungkook began to walk forward. “Nothing,” he said.

Following his footsteps, you realized he went towards the guest entrance of the castle. Jungkook had not landed near the sheds, which made sense. Dragons and riders did not take kindly to one another. You supposed you and Nemrys now made the exception.

As you entered the halls of the castle, a draft brushed your exposed skin and you shivered. Pulling Jungkook’s clothes tighter, you considered the excuse he’d fed to Jimin.

“You said Nemrys saw me from the sky,” you said, breaking the silence.

Jungkook looked your way in surprise. “Should I have said something different? You did not seem inclined to discuss your injury out there.”

“No, you are correct. However, I now find myself wondering how did you see me this morning? Did you follow me from the castle, Your Majesty?”

Coming to a halt at the next corner, Jungkook turned sideways to face you.

His gaze flickered in torchlight. “Are you accusing me of following you?”

"Merely asking.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “If you must know, I was also out for my morning ride. I saw a Mor scout and had tracked them back to that mountain when I saw you get shot.”

“How very convenient,” you said, lifting your chin.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, stepping closer. “Is it?” he murmured. “I find it tiresome to have my honor continually called into question, Your Majesty.”

“Can you blame me?” you said. “You have kept many secrets from me, it would seem. Some are more substantial than others.”

“I also saved your life.”

“A debt I am well-aware of.”

A door creaked open down the hall.

“Oh – I am sorry,” a chestnut-haired man said, peeking out. “I heard arguing and wanted to make sure no one needed my help. Carry on!”

The man was about to duck back inside, when Jungkook held up a hand.

“Wait, Hoseok,” he said, not looking away from your gaze. “I need you to do something for me.”

The man – Hoseok, it seemed – paused halfway across the threshold. His gaze slid to yours, clearly recognizing you for who you were.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly.

Jungkook nodded, turning on his heel as he strode down the hall. You were left with no choice but to follow, glaring daggers at his retreating backside. Something about the King made your blood boil, making you see red as you traveled in his footsteps.

“This is my healer, Jung Hoseok,” Jungkook said, coming to a stop. “Hoseok, this is the Queen of Ashya. I would appreciate it if you looked at her shoulder.”

Hoseok hesitated, glancing past Jungkook to you. After a moment, he nodded and stepped inside. 

“Of course,” he said with a bow. “Please, come in.”

Inclining your head, you walked past Jungkook to enter. The space past him was tidy, though there was not much light to see by, aside from the fireplace. Possibly the room had belonged to an Ashyan healer, although you could not be certain. You rarely traveled into the guest wing.

Once Jungkook had joined you, Hoseok crossed the room to pull open a cabinet. Rummaging around, he set several jars on the counter.

Jungkook lingered by the door, leaning a shoulder to the wall to stare at the healer.

Deciding the best thing to do was ignore him, you glanced away. One minute the King was tender, binding your wounds with the utmost of care and the next, he seemed ready to bite your head off. It was maddening.

Glancing around, you took in herbs, linen, and jars of salve. On the hearth was a fire, crackling merrily beneath a large, copper pot. The scents of witch hazel and thyme filled the room, a natural antiseptic.

“Hoseok is the best healer in Duret Ghal,” Jungkook said, by way of introduction.

Hoseok snorted. “I do not know about that,” he said as he turned around.

“Careful.” Jungkook arched a brow. “Her Majesty may take you at your word and see an Ashyan healer instead.”

Hoseok made an unbecoming sound before he looked up, stricken. “I did not mean insult, Your Majesty,” he said, a bit panicked. “It is only –”

“It is alright,” you interrupted. “None of my healers are accustomed to wounds healed by magic. I would prefer you look at my wound, regardless of what you have to say about Ashya.”

Hoseok shot Jungkook a surprised glance, who nodded.

“The Queen’s wounds were severe,” Jungkook said quietly. “An iron bolt to the shoulder while in dragon form. She crashed through the forest and shifted on impact. Had lost a lot of blood when I arrived.”

“I see.” Hoseok glanced your way, sympathetic. “I am so sorry to hear it, Your Majesty.”

With anyone else, you might have thought the words sounded patronizing, but not with Hoseok. He had an earnest way about him; you imagined he couldn’t tell a lie to save his soul.

“I would not care to repeat the experience,” you admitted.

Briskly, Hoseok scanned your body. “Left shoulder?”

Surprised, you said, “Yes.”

He nodded, rolling up his sleeves to walk around the table. An empty jar stayed behind on the counter, the flames from the hearth casting flickering light on the floor.

Hoseok stopped. “In order to evaluate your arm, I will need you to remove the tunic, Your Majesty. Is this alright?”

You nodded, then glanced at Jungkook.

Cheeks a bit pink, he seemed to take the hint. “I will take my leave,” Jungkook said, his hand fumbling for the door. “Should you have further need of me, Your Majesty, you may send Hoseok to find me.”

“Which might be rather difficult,” Hoseok observed. “Given Hoseok is currently tending to Her Majesty’s injury.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes but hid a smile as he left. The door fell shut behind him, leaving you and Hoseok in total silence. With a rueful smile, he glanced your way.

“Apologies,” he said with a shrug. “Jungkook and I grew up together, so we tend to forget our formalities when others are present.”

“We?” you said, arching a brow. “It seemed you were the only one forgetting your manners, healer Jung.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, unsure how to respond until you laughed.

“I am sorry,” you said with a smile. “It is cruel to tease when you do not know my nature.”

Hoseok paused before throwing his head back to laugh. Eyes shining, he wagged a finger in your direction as he walked away. “You are funny,” he said, pulling out a bowl. “It is no wonder the King seems to enjoy your company.”

“Is that so?”

Hoseok seemed not to hear your question, selecting some linen to lay on the counter. “There is a partition in the corner,” he said, nodding towards it. “Fabric is laid on the stool, so you can wrap it around your midsection for modesty.”

The partition was barely more than a folding screen, but it did the trick. Stripping free from Jungkook’s tunic, you folded it neatly and placed it on the stool. Winding the fabric around your breasts, you covered them tightly and stepped outside.

Glancing up as you exited, Hoseok set down his work. “You may sit on the stool,” he instructed. “That will do for the examination.”

Taking a seat, you waited for Hoseok to come around the counter. Gently, he took your wrist and turned it this way and that. Raising your arm, he examined its mobility until he seemed satisfied. Deft fingers moved up your arm, applying gentle pressure to several key points. When you failed to react, he prodded deeper.

Aside from the occasional twinge, you felt nothing unusual. After a while, Hoseok took a step back and nodded approval.

“Jungkook did a good job,” he said as he turned away.

“Is that all?”

“Not quite.” Hoseok stepped behind his table. “I will make you a salve, Your Majesty. This will ease any stiffness you may feel from the magical healing. Magic requires a great deal of energy, some of it yours. You may feel more tired than usual.”

“Oh,” you said, a bit thrown.

You had never questioned the toll of magic before. Yoongi had never complained about using his gift to help your council.

Pulling things from his cabinets, Hoseok began to mix and measure in a bowl. He was quiet for a while, content to do his work while you watched. After a while, he cleared his throat.

“I imagine it was a shock,” he said. “To be healed in such a manner.”

You stared at him a moment, unsure how to respond.

“It was… unexpected.”

Hoseok laughed as he looked up. “That is one way to put it,” he agreed. “The first time Jungkook healed me, I screamed like the veil was being torn apart. Thought he was trying to hex me.”

“Is such a thing even possible?” you said, smiling despite yourself.

Hoseok shrugged. “It seemed as likely as a rider having magic. I am sure Jungkook told you, but most in Duret Ghal are unaware of that particular secret.”

Silent, you nodded. Jungkook had, indeed, explained to you the image of magic in his homeland.

After a moment, Hoseok sighed. “The perceptions of Ghalians have changed greatly since the end of the Dragon Wars, but some of the fear remains. There are some who, no matter what we say, will believe magic and all Dragons are evil.”

“Not those His Majesty rides, though?”

Hoseok gave you a wry smile. “They do not view those dragons as the intelligent creatures you and I know them to be. Jungkook wishes to change that,” he said. “But it will be a difficult path. One he is determined to set upon.”

“I see.” You paused. “Forgive me for being blunt, but why are you telling me this?”

Hoseok resumed making the salve. “When Jungkook first revealed his magic to me, I was upset. He had lied. Kept something important from me for such a long time. It took me a while to understand that he, himself, did not always view his magic to be a gift.”

You stared at Hoseok a moment. 

Jungkook had seemed so confident when he healed you, and had always seemed different from the Ghalians who despised magic and Dragons. It had not occurred to you his reasons for keeping his magic a secret may have also been personal.

Hoseok was right. Changing perception within Duret Ghal would be difficult. Jungkook had taken a great risk by revealing his magic to you. A risk you did not wish to examine too closely for the moment.

“Is the examination finished?” you asked, rising from the stool.

Hoseok looked up in surprise. “Oh, yes. Feel free to get dressed, Your Majesty. I will finish this salve and send you on your way.”

You nodded and retreated behind the partition. Once you were no longer visible, you allowed yourself to fully breathe. Hoseok’s words painted a different picture of the Ghalian King. Magic had always been viewed as a gift in Ashya; you should have recognized the stigma elsewhere.

Unwinding the fabric from your torso, you returned to Jungkook’s clothing. His scent was everywhere, enveloping you fully.

It made you remember the ride with him on Nemrys, his body warm and solid behind you. Closing your eyes, you pushed this memory from mind. More and more, you found yourself considering Jungkook as a man instead of your enemy, and such thoughts were dangerous.

Fastening the belt, you stepped outside and found Hoseok waiting.

“Here,” he said, handing over a jar of salve. “If you need more, please send word and I shall bring it immediately.”

“You are too kind,” you said, accepting the bottle. “I appreciate your help, healer Jung.”

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseok,” you agreed with a nod.

Not wishing to overstay the welcome, you gave him a last smile and walked towards the door. One hand on the knob, you paused.

Hoseok looked up at your silence. “Yes?”

A thousand questions sprang to mind – silly, inane ones of no use to anyone. What Jungkook had been like as a child, why he’d once needed to heal Hoseok and reveal his magic. You found yourself wanting to know more, wanting to know him and again, this was dangerous.

“Nothing,” you said, pulling open the door. “Thank you again for your services.”

Hoseok nodded and smiled as you left the room. Amara was waiting for you in the hall, a fresh bundle of clothes in her arms.

“Thank Natal,” you sighed, taking the dress. “It would have caused a lot of talk had I worn the King’s clothing upstairs.”

Hiding her grin, Amara followed you inside the empty room across the corridor. Once the door was shut, she began to help you dress.

“Did you fall in a pond?” she asked innocently, tugging on your laces.

You winced while lifted your arms. “Nothing so exciting. I was caught unawares during my flight and needed to shift. My morning dress is still in the sheds, unfortunately.”

Amara nodded, finishing the final button as you turned around. “I will get it,” she said, gathering Jungkook’s clothes and the salve to exit the room.

Left alone with your thoughts, you hesitated a moment before following suit.

Jungkook had not waited for you.

You were not sure why this mattered. It didn’t – it should not and yet, you couldn’t stop the sinking feeling it somehow did. Shoving the feeling aside, you managed to seem unruffled by the time you reached your first meeting.

The day only grew longer from there.

When people imagined the duties of the crown, they typically thought of the more extraordinary parts. Being coronated, going to war, grand marshalling parades and the like.

The reality of ruling was far less glamorous. It was one tedious decision after another, with the most minute turn of phrase sparking ire or admiration. It was sitting through meeting after meeting while you listened to weather reports, updates from mines and concerns about a two and a half percent tariff still being too high.

By the time your meetings ended, the sun had long since sunk below the horizon. Wearily, you returned to your rooms and tried to forget the day. It did not seem possible only this morning, you’d feared for your life while bleeding out in the forest.

The only thing which drove you on was the thought of shutting yourself in your chambers, sinking into a bath and closing your eyes. A wish which seemed destined to be thwarted, you saw when you entered.

Min Yoongi had seated himself in an armchair by the fire, his expression steeled like a weapon of war.

“We need to talk,” he said simply.

Coming to a stop at the table, you inspected the salve Hoseok had made. He had not given any instructions on how to apply it, and you wondered if you should have Amara find out.

“Do we?” you said, lifting your gaze to his. “Need I remind you who amongst us wears the crown, Lord Yoongi?”

“And need I remind you which of us pays the other for their counsel?”

Hiding a smile, you pulled out a chair. As much as Ashya’s stability depended on your authority, you were not above thinking yourself impervious to counsel. If Yoongi had something he wished to speak to you about, it was likely important.

“Shall I guess what this is about?” you asked. “Or, are you going to eventually tell me?”

Yoongi did not waste your time. “What happened this morning?”

“I was injured during a flight.”

He made a noise of dismissal. “Are you truly telling me the Queen of Ashya was injured on a routine flight? That you spotted a Mor patrol and became so distracted, you crashed into a mountainside and dislocated your shoulder? Again,” he said, gaze hardening. “What happened?”

Slowly, you exhaled. “The truth is far less believable.”

“Try me.”

And so, you explained. Everything. Your flight this morning, the Mor patrol which had shot you down from the sky. The way you shifted to human before Jungkook arrived to heal you. You told Yoongi about Jungkook having magic, as did all riders. You explained about the different dragon lines, how they all had magic and were not unintelligent, as you had previously assumed.

Once you had finished, Yoongi stared at you and blinked. “That…” He shook his head. “Is equally insane, but at least you are now telling me the truth.”

He had questions then – many of them, and you soon settled into a familiar rhythm. Planning for different eventualities, laying out who to tell and when. Yoongi, along with Namjoon, were your sounding boards for strategy. When you’d given all the answers you could possibly provide, Yoongi fell silent, staring into the fire.

At last, he stood and walked towards the window. Pouring whiskey from a crystal decanter, he swirled this in one hand before he returned.

“This will change things,” Yoongi said, taking a sip of his drink.

“It will.”

“If what you say is true,” he said slowly. “We have acquired an entire new arsenal against Mor. Who knows what kinds of magic lie within their rider ranks? There has not been a healer born for many decades in Ashya.”

“Some of them will be passive powers,” you warned.

Yoongi waved a hand. “It is still a gift. Still magic. In all Jimin’s plans, he has only accounted for the gifts of humans between us. That number will now double! Triple, even.”

“His Majesty only revealed his magic to me because he was forced,” you countered. “We cannot count on them in upcoming battles with Mor. He could still decide otherwise.”

Yoongi gave you a look. “He said he was planning to reveal it after the treaty was signed, yes?”

“Yes, but –”

“But what, Your Majesty?” Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “What reason do you have now not to trust the King? What lie could you possibly have prepared for me this evening?”

Freezing in place, you could only stare. Yoongi seldom spoke to you like this. For one, you were his Queen and for another, he usually understood you better than to yell.

After a moment, Yoongi sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. He looked tired, you realized. Hoseok’s words from earlier came to mind, about how magic required new energy. You wondered how much Yoongi had used his gift these past few weeks.

“I am sorry,” Yoongi said, and looked as though he meant it. “I did not mean to sound so harsh.”

Choosing not to respond, you waited instead for him to elaborate. Yoongi rarely said things without meaning them.

Closing his eyes, the dark of his lashes dusted paler cheekbones. The veins in his eyelids were prominent, stark against the rest of his skin.

“It can be exhausting to have a gift like mine,” Yoongi said quietly. “All day, I can sense other people’s emotions, yet cannot shut them out. It can be useful, but it is also tiresome. Oftentimes, I am not sure which emotions are mine. It is especially trying,” he said, eyes opening, “when someone continuously lies in my presence.”

“Me?” you said, taken aback. “When have I lied to you, Yoongi?”

Yoongi stared into his glass for a moment, seemingly weighing the consequences of whatever it was he had to say.

“Each time you say you do not wish to marry the King.”

You went still, staring at him from across the table. Within the confines of your chest, your heart began to beat faster.

“I do not mean you are lying on purpose,” Yoongi said, then paused. “Or maybe you are. It can be hard for me to tell. All I know is your emotions are murky each time you speak, as though you are battling something inside.”

“You think… I desire to marry His Majesty?”

Yoongi considered for a minute. “I do not know,” he admitted.

“And yet, you presume to know a great deal,” you said, drumming your fingers on the table. “Why would I turn the King down if I wished to marry him?”

“I am sure I could not say.”

“Hazard a guess.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Fine.” He took a long sip of his drink. “When you are around Jungkook, your emotions get lighter. Happier. And yet, there is sorrow as well. I do not know if this is because of His Majesty, or the idea of marriage itself.”

Staring at Yoongi, you refused to move. He was dangerously close to hitting upon something important. Something you’d worked tirelessly to hide, even from yourself.

“Is it Leo?” Yoongi asked, a bit gentler. “Do you still love him?”

Yoongi had not served with you in the army, but he knew about your former love. Early on in your reign, you’d asked Yoongi to go about certain steps to protect Leo from harm.

“No,” you exhaled. “It has been a long time since I chose my path, and he chose his.”

“Pride, then. Perhaps you do not like the idea of ruling beside someone else.”

“It is not that,” you muttered.

“Hm.” Yoongi tilted his head. “That is the truth.”

“Stop doing that,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Perhaps it is the idea of losing your independence, then. Or possibly…” Yoongi paused as something seemed to occur to him. “Ah.”

“What? What is it?”

“It is the mating bond, is it not?”

Going utterly still, you stared at him from across the table.

“Y/N,” Yoongi said softly. “Not all marriages occur with a mating bond. Not all loves do, either. And it is still possible Jungkook could be your mate. Humans have mated with Dragons before. It is not impossible for him to–”

Realizing what he meant then, a laugh left your lips. It sounded bitter, even to you. Yoongi thought you didn’t want to marry Jungkook because he wasn’t your mate. He thought you wanted to marry for love, when the truth was the exact opposite.

“I know it is possible,” you gasped, interrupting. “I know it is possible because Jungkook is my mate, Yoongi. I have known this fact since I was seventeen and visited him for the treaty.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened as you pressed on.

“I felt it even then,” you whispered, the words pouring out. “It was hardly anything at that age, barely more than a brush of energy against my skin, but… I knew. I knew the mating bond lay between us.”

Silence fell between you, the weight of what you’d said settling over the table. Eventually, Yoongi managed to shake himself free from his stupor.

“Then what is the problem?” he demanded. “If you two are mates, surely this is even more reason for you to accept his proposal. It must be a sign from Natal.”

Jaw clenched, you looked away. The mere thought of accepting the bond brought a dull roar to your ears, twisting your insides into knots. You could never forget what occurred after your trip to Duret Ghal, nor the solemn vow you had made at your coronation.

“I cannot marry him,” you said stiffly.

Incredulity entered Yoongi’s gaze. “But Y/N –”

“I cannot,” you said, turning your head. “Yoongi, you know as well as I do how bonds like this end. How it looks, how it feels for someone to lose their mate. I vowed when I accepted the crown it would be the only constant in my life.”

Pity filled Yoongi’s gaze as realization dawned.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment. “You are not your father.”

The silence in the room drew as taut as a bowstring.

“It killed him,” you whispered. “The loss of my mother killed my father. You know this to be true. It may have taken him five years, but from the moment she died, he began to die as well. I cannot – I will not – do that to myself, or to Ashya.”

Yoongi stared at you a moment before he looked away.

It was a silent truth acknowledged throughout the Kingdom. Dragons had a long lifespan, but the mating bond was something other and strange. It only occurred once in a lifetime and was a love so deep, so true that to lose one’s mate was to lose oneself.

Your father had tried, at least. He’d stayed alive for you, for his Kingdom, but it had not been enough in the end. After five years of trying, he’d finally given in.

It was why you’d enlisted after your mother’s death. You had seen how her loss was killing your father and could not bear to be around for the process.

When you finally returned to accept the crown, you’d made your vow. The same fate would not befall you. You would not become your father and leave Ashya at risk. You would not accept the mating bond – which meant you would not accept Jungkook.

Even if every fiber of your being wished to do so.

Jungkook was not yet fully your mate. He needed to be aware of the bond, for one and you needed to accept it, for another. Tendrils already existed, but it was not the same thing as the full bond in place. Once you accepted, there would be no return.

“Not everyone views their mate as a bad thing,” Yoongi said quietly.

Startled, you looked up. “They are fools, then.”

He frowned at his glass. “Are we not all fools in love, though?”

“Precisely the reason I do not care to accept it.”

Smiling sadly, Yoongi lifted his drink and drained the rest. His expression shifted from resignation to thoughtfulness while he set down his glass.

“They say the loss of a mate is akin to ripping one’s heart from their chest,” he mused. “They say it is an unbearable pain, one which cannot be endured.”

“Are you trying to help me?”

He paused. “I only wonder… for such unimaginable pain, there must be unimaginable beauty before it. What could be so wonderful that to be without it would be close to death?” Yoongi shook his head. “Maybe the loss of a mate has no parallel because its happiness has no parallel, either.”

Struck by this statement, you looked into the fire.

“It is not a bad thing to want happiness, Your Majesty.”

Brow furrowed, you continued to stare at the leaping flames. It was not a bad thing to want happiness, but the mating bond had never meant such a thing to you.

Not until Jungkook. When he had arrived a week prior, you’d kept him at arm’s length for two reasons. One had been his title and Duret Ghal’s legacy, but the other had been self-preservation.

You could not miss what you did not know. Unfortunately, each passing day brought you closer together and you feared when he left, it would tear your heart from your chest.

Still, it was better than accepting him as your mate.

Yoongi stood from the table and stretched his arms overhead. Looking up, you appreciated the silence he gave you. The truth of the bond was something you hadn’t told anyone. To share it with him felt like a weight lifted.

“There are more negotiations tomorrow,” Yoongi said, returning to business. “With the secret of the riders’ magic revealed, we will need to factor this into our military discussions.”

“Agreed,” you said quietly.

Yoongi considered you a moment longer before he turned around. As he reached the door, Yoongi paused on the threshold.

“I understand your hesitance, Your Majesty,” he said quietly. “I would not blame you if you decided not to accept him. It is only for your happiness I urge you to reconsider. Not all of us are gifted with a mate,” he said simply, and walked out the door.

As the door shut behind him, you stared at the wood.

You remained seated for some time, listening to your heartbeat, and imagining it entwined with someone else’s. This was the second secret of yours only Yoongi knew.

The other was you hadn’t wanted to accept the throne at all.

When your father had died, you’d been content to stay in the armed forces, living a life of anonymity while you served Ashya. You had planned on relinquishing the crown, but Yoongi had known and convinced you to return. He’d been the one to talk some sense into you, saying if you truly wished to serve Ashya, you’d do so best in the role you’d been born into – as its Queen.

Duty had been thrust upon you sooner than it should have; yet another reason why you resented the bond. You should not have become Queen when you did. You should not have had to accept the burden so soon and yet, you had. It had been the right course and you deeply loved this nation.

It was why you refused to put Ashya through such a thing again.

And yet, you could not help but think upon Yoongi’s words. It was not a bad thing to want happiness for yourself.

After a long time, you roused yourself from the table and went to bed.

The first time you’d felt the bond had been at the cliffs, although you had not realized what it was at the time.

It had only been later, in the middle of Duret Ghal’s gardens, you understood the gravity of what you felt for Jungkook. Or rather, what you one day might feel.

After the day you spent riding, you’d began to notice Jungkook’s presence more and more. He could usually be found in one of two places – in the palace library or out on his dragon, Nemrys. You had found yourself watching for him, somehow attuned to his presence.

Even with all this, the magnitude had not stricken you until the night of the ball. On the last night of your trip, Duret Ghal decided to celebrate both your betrothal and the anticipated treaty. No expense had been spared for the evening. Even now, you remembered the sounds of the orchestra playing, chandeliers bright above as the people laughed and danced.

At some point, you’d searched for the Prince and found him no longer inside. Curious, your search had led you out the northern doors, onto a patio which overlooked the gardens below.

Duret Ghal had been colder than Ashya, but during the summer the evening air had been pleasantly cool. Wandering away from the castle, you’d drifted amongst the flowers until you came upon him.

Jungkook had faced away from you, his hands clasped behind his back while he watched the tree above with its delicate, orange blossoms. His eyes had been closed; wayward, dark strands of hair blown over his face.

Realizing you’d intruded upon a personal moment, you turned to take your leave, and stepped on a twig. 

Jungkook’s eyes had flown open and when he saw you, he smiled.

The sight sent such simmering warmth through your chest, you’d nearly stopped breathing. White-hot energy blazed across your skin, brightening the world while you basked in his gaze.

That had been the moment you realized. Jungkook was your mate.

“I – I am sorry,” you’d stammered, turning to leave. “I am intruding–”

“Not at all.” Jungkook’s gaze sought yours in darkness. “Please. Stay.”

After a moment of consideration, you had acquiesced. The closer you moved, the more aware you’d become of his energy. Suddenly, all the wives’ tales and legends about mating made sense. The bond had been real, and you felt it for Jungkook.

Jungkook had smiled at you, then returned to the flowers. “Were you also tired of the people gathered inside?” 

“Yes,” you’d murmured.

None of the people inside had been him.

Forcing yourself to look up, you had focused on the tree. It was not a species native to Ashya; its delicate, floral scent was unfamiliar. Between its boughs, the night stars had peered down. Legends said stars were where Natal’s veil was thinnest and otherworldly magic seeped through the cracks. You liked to imagine stars held some kinship to dragons.

Jungkook had cleared his throat. “I must admit,” he’d said. “You are not at all what I imagined you to be.”

“No?”

You had turned sideways to face him in the moonlight.

“Not that it is a bad thing, mind you.”

Heart racing, you you’d smiled. Jungkook had looked your way, his expression gentle in the light from above.

“It is not?” you had whispered.

Turning fully to face you, Jungkook had stepped closer. His right hand flexed at his side, as though he had yearned to reach out and touch you.

“No,” he’d admitted.

His gaze had dropped to your lips.

Your throat had gone dry. “What were you expecting?”

“I do not know,” he’d said. “I thought I might resent you. For taking away my choice to marry. For forcing me to become King before I was ready. For reminding me duty will always be greater than our happiness.”

Each word he said had sunk your heart like a stone. It had been how you’d felt at the start of your journey, but perhaps not then.

“Now though,” he’d said, and you lifted your gaze.

“Now?”

Without quite meaning to, you’d drifted closer. The space between you had lessened to several inches, the heat from his body near-tangible.

“Now,” Jungkook had said, barely audible. “I find myself intrigued by what the future will hold.”

Before you could respond to this, before you could say you felt the same, a shout had echoed throughout the gardens.

“Prince Jungkook!” someone had called.

Springing apart, your heart had protested the movement. You had known then exactly who Jungkook was. He was your mate, your betrothed and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed a magical place.

One month following, his Uncle had staged his rebellion.

Soon after, you’d learned what the mating bond truly meant.

The world had not seemed quite so wondrous after that.

“So.” Jimin arched a brow. “I assume you have brought us out at this unseemly hour to do more than stare at one another through the mist, Your Majesty.”

Giving Jimin a withering look, you chose not to respond.

Yesterday had been full of meetings with little importance to the Ghalian treaty. After telling Yoongi of your vow and bond, you’d found yourself more aware of Jungkook’s presence than ever before.

Everything which had taken place over the past forty-eight hours resulted in three facts. The first being, you could not afford to spend more time in the King’s presence. Already, your façade of indifference was crumbling and would only worsen as time went on.

Second, Mor had become bolder in their travels north. It would only be a matter of time before war arrived on your borders. You needed to be prepared.

Which led you to your third point. Jungkook’s reveal of magic could turn the tide of the war; it needed to be factored into your discussions as soon as possible. Which was why you’d asked Jungkook to bring whomever he deemed appropriate to the field this morning.

Glancing around, you found Jungkook looking back. He was dressed in his flying leathers again, simple armor reinforced at the joints with lighter metal. No breastplate, his hair unadorned and a broadsword strapped firmly across his back.

He’d brought Taehyung with him, along with the woman rider you’d seen at the feast and Lord Seokjin. The last one had surprised you, since you hadn’t thought Seokjin a rider. From Ashya, you’d brought Jimin, Namjoon and Yoongi.

“We are not here to stare,” you explained to Jimin. “But to fly.”

Jimin hesitated. “With each other,” he clarified.

It was not a question but a statement, and the woman rider across the circle seemed to share in his sentiment. She stared distrustfully at the group gathered on your side.

Yoongi squinted up at the sky. “Why am I here, then?” he wondered aloud.

“To observe,” you informed.

“Scintillating,” he said, looking down.

Namjoon laughed as several other people attempted to hide their smiles. Ignoring all this, you focused instead on Jungkook’s delegation.

“I believe I have met everyone except you,” you said, looking at the woman.

“Maia,” she said, boldly meeting your gaze. “I am a rider in His Majesty’s forces.”

“One of our best,” Jungkook added, as Taehyung nodded.

Maia had large, dark eyes and short hair bound in a plait down her neck. Her features were pretty, delicate in contrast to her hardened exterior. You respected her for being in the delegation but found yourself appreciating her even more for her no-nonsense response.

Nodding once, you looked away. The pride in Jungkook’s voice when he spoke had not escaped you; nor had the way Maia glanced in his direction, as though pleased by the mention.

Jungkook was not yours to want, you reminded yourself. You’d made sure of this with the vow you continued to uphold. Still, you felt your jaw clench as you refocused on your surroundings.

“Is this a serious request?” Jimin asked in disbelief. “You truly wish for us to fly alongside the riders.”

Pointedly, Seokjin cleared his throat. “I believe it is not considered polite to question the Queen’s sanity in her presence?”

Jimin glanced at him, stunned as Yoongi started to laugh. His smile widened, eyes nearly disappearing when Jimin turned to face him, incensed.

“What?” Yoongi snorted. “That was funny.”

“Regardless,” you said, a bit louder. “There is much to discuss. His Majesty has shared information about the riders, their dragons and what they can do which may change the battle against Mor.”

Maia’s glanced at Jungkook in disbelief, and she was not the only one. Taehyung also turned his head sharply, which surprised you. You had thought Jungkook would tell his general he’d revealed his magic in the woods.

It appeared not. Seokjin was the only one who did not look surprised, examining the nails on the back of his hand.

“What the riders can do,” Namjoon said, picking up on the key phrase. “I assume you refer to something other than flying, Your Majesty?”

“I do, yes.”

When you looked at Jungkook, he nodded.

“She is referring to our ability to use magic,” he explained. “The bond which links rider to dragon allows us to do more than just ride them. It grants us access to their magic, similar to humans who are born with a gift.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened, as did Jimin’s.

Both listened as Jungkook went on to explain the history of dragons and magic on the continent. When Jungkook healed a paper cut Namjoon had on his thumb, your advisor gasped and looked on in wonder.

“A healer.” He shook his head. “Truly amazing. How large of an injury can you heal?” Namjoon asked, and you knew he was already thinking ahead to battle.

Someone like Jungkook behind the front lines, healing soldiers as they were injured, could provide an untold advantage.

“He healed me in the woods the other day,” you informed them. “A Mor patrol shot me down with a crossbow, and His Majesty saved my life.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “It would seem we are in your debt then, Your Majesty,” he told Jungkook, seeming displeased by the thought.

Jungkook merely shook his head.

“Let us not speak of debt, Jimin,” you said before Jungkook could speak. “If we are to work together, we must stop thinking of our relationship as a ledger. Instead, we must learn to work as a unit.”

Yoongi arched a brow, clearly amused by your shifted stance.

“Hence our flying this morning,” Jungkook agreed.

Looking his way, you nodded.

This was what you’d decided after your conversation with Yoongi. Although you had not changed your mind about accepting Jungkook’s proposal, the least you could do was set aside your own differences. If you chose not to accept him as your mate, that was your decision – but first and foremost, you were Ashya’s Queen.

You had made a vow to do whatever you could for your country, and this meant working closely with the Ghalians.

“Is it only healing magic?” Namjoon asked, sounding curious. “Or are there other kinds?”

Rather than answer, Jungkook looked at Taehyung, who rolled up his sleeves. Walking out of the circle, he came to a stop several paces away.

“There are other kinds of magic,” Taehyung said, and it was one of the first times you’d ever heard him speak.

Taehyung’s voice had a deep, earthen quality. It was soothing, rhythmic and you stared at him with interest as he spread his hands.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Taehyung closed his eyes and storm clouds began to gather. You stared at the sky as it darkened, russet-tipped thunderheads swirling overhead. As the wind whipped his hair, Taehyung opened his eyes and you saw they’d turned silver.

A bolt of lightning shot from his palms, lighting the sky above a deep purple. He let the tempest continue until his point had been made. Then, teeth gritted, Taehyung lowered his arms and allowed the clouds to disperse. As quickly as they’d come, the clouds disappeared, leaving only mist and the rising sun.

Everyone from Ashya stared.

“His dragon is a stormmaker,” Jungkook explained. “It is rare for one of their kind to bond with a human. It has not happened within living memory.”

Yoongi was the first to regain himself. “Do all riders have magic?”

“No,” answered Maia. “It is similar to when a Dragon and human have a child. The child does not always have a gift. It is the same with riders and dragons. I, for example, have no magic.”

“Yes, but you have a dragon,” Yoongi pointed out, which made her smile.

“I do have that,” she acknowledged.

Almost sheepish, Taehyung rejoined the circle with his hands in his pockets. His gaze had returned to dark brown, but you could not seem to shake the memory of silver. It was a tremendous power you could use on the battlefield.

Abruptly, you turned to Jungkook. “How were you planning to keep that a secret?” you demanded, waving a hand. “I should think it would have been obvious once your rider started throwing lightning around.”

“Hence why we planned on explaining after the treaty,” Jungkook said mildly.

“All this time.” Namjoon finally found his voice. “Magic in Duret Ghal has been passed down by the riders, not Dragons?”

“Both,” Seokjin corrected. “Riders cannot pass on their magic to their children. It is only the offspring of Dragon and human who can be born with gifts. Like your advisor,” he said, nodding to Yoongi.

Yoongi arched a brow. You had not spoken openly about his magical abilities, but you supposed word got around.

Namjoon continued to frown. “Most peculiar,” he said slowly. “When a shapeshifting Dragon mates with a human, their offspring can inherit one of many magical gifts. Not just shapeshifting.”

“Uzza, my dragon, has a theory about that,” Taehyung offered. “He believes dragons have a more fixed nature than humans. When magic is passed down through dragons, it remains the same, but with humans… we are more fluid.” He paused, then shrugged. “Magic becomes whatever form the human is closest to.”

“Fascinating,” Namjoon breathed.

“Which is why I asked the King and his riders to join us this morning,” you announced. “Once the treaty is finalized, we will fight together against Mor. It is time we learned how to use everything in our arsenal.”

Jimin, who had remained silent throughout the demonstration, finally nodded.

Despite his personal feelings towards Duret Ghal, he would always place Ashya above all else. If the magic of the riders was something you could use to your advantage, Jimin would be the one who figured out how to do it.

Still, you knew this must hurt. You were not the only one who noticed Jimin’s reticence. Taehyung had been watching your commander from across the circle, and he now cocked his head as he took a step forward.

“You are Park Jimin, are you not?” he asked.

Jimin met Taehyung’s gaze. “I am.”

Taehyung nodded. “I have heard stories of you, both on and off the battlefield. Neither of us led our respective armies when your father was killed,” he said, a bit quieter. “But all the same, I am sorry for your loss.”

Jimin’s eyes glinted. “Sorrow does not bring back the dead.”

“No, it does not.”

Jimin stared at him a moment, until some of the anger faded from his gaze. Finally, he looked at the castle and exhaled.

“Are we to fly this morning?” he asked, returning to you. “If we are, we should probably go before the sun gets too high.”

You nodded, uncertain what had just transpired.

“We should leave, then.” Jimin turned away. “I will need to know the full capabilities of your riders. General Kim,” he called out as he walked. “Can you control the lightning, or merely call it?”

Taehyung fell into step alongside him, discussing strategy as they left the field. You watched them go, amazed Jimin had released his past so easily.

Namjoon sighed. “Must I fly as well, Your Majesty?”

You hid a smile. “If you truly wish to stay on the ground…”

Grumbling beneath his breath, Namjoon turned to follow Jimin across the field. You knew you should go as well, but something within seemed to hold you back.

“And what about you?” you asked, glancing at Seokjin. “Are you a rider?”

Seokjin grimaced. “No, Your Majesty. My mother sent me to the bonding ceremony, but all I succeeded in was falling off several dragons.”

“It is where we met though,” Jungkook said, jumping in. “I admired his honesty and wit. Enough that, when I became King, I requested Lord Seokjin be appointed to my closest court.”

“His honesty has been well-noted,” Yoongi said drily.

Maia laughed, her features losing some of their earlier tension. Yoongi glanced her way in surprise, a pleased flush spreading across his cheeks.

In the background, the steady beat of wings filled the air. When you turned, you saw Jimin in Dragon form rising above the sheds. His scales were a dazzling gold, sparkling as he flew across the morning sun.

Taehyung had joined atop his dragon, Uzza. Uzza had scales of slate grey, faded to blue along his spine and his shoulders.

As you watched them both fly, a bout of longing swept through you. Seeing a rider and Dragon fly alongside one another had not been something deemed possible before.

Their wings were swiftly drowned out by Nemrys’ arrival, who circled once overhead before landing beside Jungkook. Bowing, you kept your gaze fixed on his. Nemrys inclined his head in turn, then released a snort.

Jungkook grinned. “He wishes to know if you plan on being shot again.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to walk away. Jungkook laughed at the sight, the sound of it echoing as you crossed the field.

Once inside a shed, you stripped quickly from your gown and laid this on the bench. Only a few days ago, you’d assumed dragons mostly unintelligent and now, one of them was insulting you. The realization made you smile.

It made the world seem wider, somehow. As though more things were possible than you’d previously thought.

Shifting quickly to Dragon form, you lifted from the ground and hovered above the sheds. In the distance, you could see Taehyung alongside Jimin on his dragon. Glancing west, you spotted Namjoon and Maia rising to join them.

Namjoon’s scales were a deep purple, a jewel-tone Ashyan miners would envy. Maia’s dragon, whom you did not know the name of, was a grey pale enough to be confused with blue. As you flew towards their group, Taehyung pointed from his dragon, Uzza.

Craning your neck, you saw Jungkook on the ground. He watched from below, wind whipping his hair as Nemrys beat his wings. Leaning down, he murmured something to Nemrys, who bent his legs and took off. Far below, you heard Seokjin whoop.

With a roar, Jimin dove towards the ground. Taehyung followed suit, along with Namjoon and Maia. Once Jungkook had reached you atop Nemrys, you joined in the show.

It was strange to fly as a group. Dragons were solitary creatures, only banding together when necessary for survival. When you did fly with others, you communicated through a combination of flame and roars, signaling what direction you were about to take.

Soaring higher, you turned your head and saw Jungkook beside you. From the back of Nemrys, he grinned and something warm bloomed in your chest. You recalled what it felt like to fly with him, against him. Something within you ached to feel this again.

This was not the time to reminisce though, so you attempted to focus on the moment at hand. That first flight didn’t last long – you were still monarchs, after all, and the day remained before you. Still, your heart felt lighter when you landed on the ground.

For a first foray between nations, things had gone relatively smoothly. Even Yoongi seemed pleased by the progress, speaking with Taehyung and Jimin as they returned to the castle. The success of today made the impossible seem possible.

Including some things you’d never let yourself imagine.

Jungkook’s face while he flew, his eyes bright and smile wide, played like a loop again and again in your mind.

After another full day of negotiations, the treaty between you and Duret Ghal began to come together. It was a good thing, since Jungkook and his delegation would leave in the next couple of days.

Preparing for sleep that night, you reached for the jar of salve Hoseok had given you and found it empty. You’d applied it every morning and night, whenever the muscle ached, or you found yourself tired. It had helped a great deal, so now you hesitated. Flying this morning had been strenuous on your muscles.

Amara had left, gone to visit her family in the city for the evening. In her absence, you strode across your room and opened the door to the hall. You instructed one of your guards to bring the empty jar to Hoseok and ask for a refill.

While you waited for them to return, you changed into a nightgown and robe. You had just finished washing your face when a knock came from the hall. Expecting the guard returned with your salve, you strode from your chambers and pulled open the door.

You found yourself face to face not with a guard, but with Jungkook.

“Your Majesty,” you said, freezing in place. “I – to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, then pulled a jar from behind his back. “I brought the salve from Hoseok,” he said. “I heard you were in need of more.”

“I am.” You blinked. “But you did not need to do that.”

His gaze searched yours, lingering when he dropped to your parted robe. Although you wore a nightgown beneath, you were suddenly aware of the sheer material.

Hastily, you closed the robe tighter.

Cheeks reddening, Jungkook looked up. “It was no trouble,” he said, only to pause. “May I come in, Your Majesty? I do have something I wish to discuss.”

“Ah, so there is an ulterior motive.”

Despite the humor in your voice, you hesitated. Glancing past him, you saw your guards and decided whatever Jungkook had to say, it was best to hear it in private.

“Alright,” you said, stepping aside. “You may come in.”

Surprise crossed his face, though it quickly disappeared. Nodding his thanks, Jungkook entered the room as you shut the door. You stared at it for a moment, gathering your courage before you turned around.

You’d brought many men to your chambers over the years. Yoongi had been in here only the other night, but something about Jungkook’s presence felt different. He was too big, taking up a space no one else could.

Perhaps it was this bond you felt for him, this tingling down your spine at having him so near. Your very soul ached for him, even as you denied him.

Jungkook wandered inside, taking in the décor. A fireplace took up much of the north wall, light flickering over the rug at your feet.

Coming to a stop at the table, Jungkook set down the jar.

“Why did you come?” you asked quietly.

Turning around, Jungkook found your gaze.

You realized the very real danger you were in. Not because Jungkook was your mate. He was, yes, but it was so much more than that. You genuinely enjoyed his company. You found yourself listening for his remarks when you sat by his side, trying not to laugh whenever he made a joke.

It was hard to separate the supernatural from the natural when it came to Jungkook. In a world where mates did not exist and souls were cast adrift, you thought you might have loved him even then. 

Perhaps this was the true magic of the mating bond, after all. Rather than let you wonder, Natal brought you an equal, someone who’d uplift your spirit rather than drag you under.

“You asked for additional salve,” Jungkook said again.

“I did.” You cocked your head. “A servant could have brought that, though – or Hoseok, if he chose.”

“Indeed, he could have.”

A shadow crossed Jungkook’s expression at this, gone before it could be fully realized. He took a step closer, skirting the table to come to a stop. With his height what it was, you were forced to look upwards to see him.

“The soldiers Jimin sent to search the mountains returned this afternoon,” Jungkook informed you. “They found no other Mor patrols so close to Ashya.”

“That is good to know,” you said with a nod. “We will need all the time we can to formulate a plan of attack.”

Thus far, Mor had made no overt advances against you. There had been skirmishes on the southern border, a few miles gained or lost with occasional pushes, but nothing serious. Mor’s full army remained within their own land, biding their days until they chose to strike.

It was only a matter of time before things boiled over. It made sense for Jungkook to discuss Mor’s movements with you, but he’d never visited your chambers to do so before.

“Is there something else you came here to say?” 

Jungkook arched a brow. “Is it possible I might have come simply to enjoy your presence?”

“You could have.”

“Then, what is the problem?”

“The problem,” you said, narrowing your gaze, “is you seem to be the kind of person who says one thing and means another.”

His gaze darkened. “I suppose you would know, Your Majesty.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Rather than answer this, Jungkook turned away. Staring out the window, he seemed to consider his words before he turned back.

“You are a conundrum, Your Majesty,” he said at last.

You sniffed. “That sounds like something a man might say when he does not understand a woman.”

“You are right,” Jungkook said lowly. “For I do not understand you at all.”

This made you blink. It was your own words from the night of the feast, thrown back in your face.

“In what way?” you demanded.

“We knew each other before, and yet you pretend to be strangers. You fight so valiantly for your own kind and yet, keep them at arm’s length. You decline my proposal of marriage,” he said, taking a step closer, “and yet, you consider a political union with another.”

You stared at him for a moment, utterly thrown. “A union with whom?”

“Lord Declan.”

A laugh escaped before you could help it. “Lord Declan is not my betrothed.”

“He tells people he is.”

“Then he is a liar,” you ground out.

Jungkook paused. “Did you consider his offer?”

“I considered your offer, as well.”

“Which you declined.”

“I shall decline him as well, should he ever gather the courage to actually ask me.”

Jungkook hesitated at this, curiosity entering his gaze.

“Why, though?” he asked, a tad softer. “Why decline everyone who asks for your hand? Is there someone else? The man who taught you to sign in the army, perhaps.”

At this, your eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Merely a guess,” Jungkook said quietly.

Looking abruptly away, he rubbed his thumb to his forefinger in an anxious gesture. You wished he would stop. The gesture made him seem far too human, far too genuine, and tempting and true.

Before you could consider the ramifications, you said, “I do not love someone else.”

You were not sure why you said it. Certainly, it would have been easier for Jungkook to think your heart belonged to another and yet, you could not bear to watch the light fade from his eyes.

Jungkook turned his head to see you. “So, it is me, then,” he said quietly.

“No. And also, yes.”

He frowned. “Clear as mud, Your Majesty.”

You laughed, although there was no humor to it. “What do you expect me to say? That you have convinced me after a week of interactions? That I am awed by your presence, Your Majesty? Is this what you seek in return for healing me in the forest? My hand in marriage?”

Jungkook looked stricken. “No,” he breathed. “Not that. Never that. I would never demand such a thing.”

Something in you softened at his sincerity.

“Then, what?” you asked quietly. “What is it?”

“I just… I wish you would tell me why.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you glanced away. It was a fair question. Jungkook had been nothing but good in the time he’d been here. It occurred to you suddenly that by choosing not to mate, you were taking away his one chance at the bond, as well.

Slowly, you turned back to face him. “I made a vow,” you said, so soft you could hardly hear. “When I became Queen, I vowed I would never marry. It is not something I can turn my back on.”

It was a half-truth, but enough for now.

Jungkook’s brow furrowed. “Why would you make such a vow?”

“Many reasons,” you said. “The main being I wish to belong only to myself and my country. Anything else, and I would do my people a disservice. When I accepted the crown, I said Ashya would always come first.”

The way Jungkook was staring at you made you feel on display, as though he saw through to your very soul and knew what you were made of.

“It is a tricky slope, is it not?” he said at last, stepping closer.

This step brought him within touching distance, the heat of his body seeming to reach out to yours. Something golden and strong brightened between you.

“What do you mean?” 

Jungkook did not look away. “Is the best version of yourself the one without help? Without support? You say you do not wish to do your people a disservice, but is it a disservice to lead while you are unhappy?”

“And you think... marrying you would make me happy?”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his gaze soft. “All I know is the life you speak of does not sound like a life at all.”

Having no response to this, you could only stare when Jungkook took your hand in his. Lifting your hand, he kept his gaze on yours. As he lowered his gaze, his lips slowly brushed the back of your fingers.

When he released you, you found you could not move, could hardly breathe. It seemed impossible to hide your reaction when Jungkook looked up.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly it hurt and yet, something continued to hold you back. All you could see when you looked at Jungkook was the pain in your father’s eyes when he learned your mother had died.

“I will take my leave,” Jungkook said when you did not respond. “It has been a long day, and you must be tired.”

You nodded, unable to do more than that when he turned to go.

Halfway to the door, you had the sudden urge to do something. To call out, to ask him to come back, to reveal the bond you felt strengthening between you.

In the end you did none of it. The fear of being broken was greater than your want to be whole.

Jungkook turned at the door. “My offer will stay until I go,” he said before he went.

The door shut behind him, leaving you in silence. Exhaling, you walked to the table and uncapped a decanter. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you sat before the fire and drank every drop.

It was a long time before you managed to fall asleep that night.

During your flight the next morning, you went north instead of south. Although Jimin had not found additional Mor patrols, your run-in with them had increased your caution. Soaring above the tree line, the sun brightening the horizon, your heart felt heavier than it had in a while.

When you finally landed and hurried inside, you were entirely alone.

For the first time, this did not strike you as such a good thing.

Independence had always been one of your most prized possessions. Your crown had stripped you of so much – your youth, freedom, and the first man you’d loved. Now though, you wondered what you’d given up by clinging to your ideals so tightly.

You did not have much time to consider it. The ball for Duret Ghal was tonight, and the day after tomorrow, their delegation would leave. You would sign the treaty in the morning and then they would be off.

Jungkook’s offer of marriage would disappear with it.

Amara had outdone herself with your dress for the evening. It was crimson in color, falling in gauzy pleats from a golden, metal bodice. Amara had dusted gold powder across your shoulders, resulting in a shimmering aura.

Red was neither the color of Ashya, nor of Duret Ghal. It was the color of fire, of passion – and of love, you realized with a twisting stomach.

Again, Yoongi was your escort and even his eyes widened as you stepped out the door.

“You are going to give someone a heart attack,” he chuckled, extending his arm.

You merely shook your head as you walked down the hall. The crown you wore tonight was gold, as well. A relic from an ancient Queen of Ashya before the colors had changed to silver and green.

“I am sure they will be fine,” you responded. “It is not as though I plan on shifting in the middle of a waltz.”

“It would certainly liven things up if you did.”

Although you gave Yoongi a look, you quickly fell silent as you approached the ball. Beyond the shut doors, you could hear muffled noises of music and laughter.

“Did Namjoon tell you about the dancing?”

Sharply, you turned your head. “No, he did not. What dancing?”

“Apparently, it is the custom in Duret Ghal for their monarch to lead the first dance.”

“I wish His Majesty the best of luck, then.”

Yoongi hid a smile. “You will need to dance also, Your Majesty.”

“Why is that?”

“Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the concept of balls,” Yoongi mused. “Typically, there is food, dancing, general merriment…”

“I know what a ball is, Yoongi.”

“You seemed confused by the prospect of dancing, though.”

“By the prospect of dancing with His Majesty, yes.”

“Now I am the one who is confused, because –”

“Fine,” you ground out as the doors began to open. “I will dance the first song with His Majesty. Nothing more.”

Yoongi grinned, patting your arm as you entered the room.

The ballroom had been lavishly decorated for tonight’s event. Taking it in, you passed over iced draperies, flowers and foliage spilling from every surface. People were gathered throughout, leaving room in the center of the ballroom for you to dance. An orchestra sat poised in the corner, awaiting your entrance to start the first song.

As you and Yoongi descended the spiral staircase, you only had eyes for the opposite side, where the delegation from Duret Ghal already stood. To where Jungkook was standing, watching your entrance.

His robes were similar to those he’d worn at the feast, although the colors tonight were black and gold. Long robes cut to mid-calf, tied in the middle by a black sash. Sigils of gold had been stitched into the fabric, with a thin chain of gold curved across his chest.

Lifting your gaze, your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook’s hair had been bound in a half-bun, the dark tresses broken only by his golden crown.

Walking closer to him under the lights, everything else seemed to fade. Despite your best efforts, something between you had shifted and now that it had, you couldn’t turn back.

You started imagining what the future would look like beside him. Not a future where you were lesser, but rather where you had support. Strength, like he had offered. Oddly enough, the image did not scare you as it once did.

Stepping onto the dais to turn around, you looked at the crowd. In your peripheral, you could see Jungkook looking at you. Ignoring him, you focused instead on your racing heart. You could almost feel it beat in tandem to his, yearning to run at the same pace.

It was not necessary to greet your guests, nor give a speech of pretty words. Instead you simply turned to face him as the music began. Jungkook held out his hand, waiting until you placed your palm over his.

Jungkook’s fingers curled about yours, leading you on the dance floor. People parted as you walked, leaving a space at the center. Jungkook pulled you to face him, placing a hand on your waist as you settled yours on his shoulder.

You looked up. Meeting your gaze, Jungkook took a step backwards to lead you in the first move.

His grip on you tightened as he led you in a spin. Jungkook was a good dancer, although this did not surprise you. By this point he could have announced he was the goddess Natal, herself, and you would have taken it in stride.

This image made you smile, unable to stop it as he swept you around.

“Why are you smiling?” Jungkook asked, his voice low.

Startled, you glanced up and wished you had not. This close, you could see everything, and it made your heart ache.

“I was imagining something funny,” you murmured.

Jungkook’s hand slid to the small of your back. Heat scalded your spine, making your head spin.

“Not about me, I hope,” Jungkook said, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“And if it were?”

His grip on you tightened. “I would like to know the joke.”

Looking up, you met his gaze. “Does it ever tire you?”

Jungkook blinked.

Others had joined the dance at this point, entering the floor in a promenade. Multicolored skirts and robes swept circles around you, leaving you floating at the center of it all.

“Does what ever tire me?” Jungkook asked.

“This,” you said, glancing at your surroundings. “The pressure. The weight. The constant duties, expectations and never-ending loneliness of wearing our crowns.”

For a moment, Jungkook was silent, and you feared you’d overstepped. Then he exhaled, pulling you closer. His thumb brushed against the bare curve of your back.

“Every day,” he admitted.

Before you could respond, the song came to an end.

Couples stepped apart, talking, and laughing in the lull between songs. You and Jungkook stared at one another, the only two in the room as far as you were concerned. For so long, you had convinced yourself having a mate would be a bad thing.

Perhaps it was for some. For your parents, their bond had ended tragically, this was for certain. But for the first time, you wondered if keeping yourself from happiness because you didn’t want to be hurt might simply be a different kind of hurt itself.

When a hand tapped you on the shoulder, you nearly jumped.

Whirling around, you found Lord Declan before you. You stared at him for a few moments, wondering why he was here.

“Your Majesty.” Lord Declan bowed low at the waist. “Would you do me the honor of having the next dance?”

Of course – this was a ball. You would be expected to dance with others, not only Jungkook. Feet faltering, you glanced sideways but before you could decline, Jungkook took a step back.

“She is all yours,” he said, turning around.

Jungkook disappeared, his midnight-colored robes swishing about his ankles. Lord Declan closed in, forcing your attention away as the orchestra began the next song.

“Yes,” you said, trying to focus. “You may, Lord.”

Lord Declan entered where Jungkook had left off, his right hand slipping beneath yours as his other found your waist. His touch felt wrong, as though you’d put the opposite glove on your hand.

“How fortunate the first dance of the night was a short one,” Lord Declan said with a chuckle.

Startled, you glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”

“I envy your patience, Your Majesty,” he continued, oblivious to your tone. “Had I been forced to spend so long these past weeks in the presence of riders…” Breaking off, he shuddered. “Your control is exemplary.”

Had Lord Declan been a wise man, he might have noticed the heat simmering in your gaze. Or the way your spine stiffened, a lone muscle ticking in your jaw. As it were though, Lord Declan was not a smart man, and so he continued to throw caution to the wind.

You were not certain when you’d become so defensive of Jungkook, but the fact remained the Lord’s comments made you see red.

“I do not know that I would call my control exemplary,” you said, your tone deceptively light. “Indeed, my Lord, I find my courtiers often say things I find infuriating.”

Lord Declan paused, clued in by your choice of words.

“If I have said something to offend Your Majesty…”

His steps were not as graceful as Jungkook’s, nearly stepping on your toes as you turned around. Dodging the gesture, you glanced aside and realized Jungkook had not left the dance floor. Instead, he danced with Maia at the edge of the room. While you were watching, Jungkook threw his head back and laughed.

Unpleasantness curdled your stomach despite your insistence he was not yours to want.

“You have said something to offend me, Lord,” you said, returning to Declan. “Either you are ignorant or stupid, and I pray to Natal you are not both.”

Lord Declan stared, his jaw sagging a little.

“We face an enemy,” you said, voice lowering. “Our enemy is not Duret Ghal, nor is it their riders. I suggest you cease speaking such heresy before I wonder if the mines your family owns would do better in the hands of someone else.”

His eyes widened. “Your Majesty, I do not think –”

“Then we are in agreement,” you said, dropping your arms to take a step back.

Turning around, you stalked towards the edge of the dance floor, barely managing to keep your steam in check. When you glanced again at the offending corner, Jungkook and Maia had disappeared.

Driven by a mix of emotions you dared not name, you slipped beyond the courtiers and out a side door. Eyes closed, you allowed the night air to wash over you. Coming to a stop at the edge of the gardens, you opened your eyes to take in the Thadal mountains.

It was colder than it had been a few weeks ago. The winter solstice was coming, and your human skin could only protect you from so much. Still, you could not stomach returning to the party and so, you kept walking, entering the dark hedges.

You let yourself wander, following the twists and turns with nothing but your heart as its guide. When you turned a corner and found Jungkook before you, it almost was not a surprise.

The moment was overlaid with another memory, from ten years prior. The night you’d realized Jungkook was your mate and looked to the future with wonder.

He was alone again, facing away as he stared into an empty, cracked basin. The fountain had been turned off for the winter and before you could speak, Jungkook sighed.

“Were you not enjoying the party?” he asked.

Walking forward, you came to a stop beside him. “I might ask you the same thing,” you said, staring into the basin. “I saw you enjoying yourself during the last dance.”

Jungkook turned his head.

“Are you jealous, Your Majesty?” he murmured, his gaze flinty.

“Merely noting the obvious,” you said, refusing to face him. “You call me a conundrum and yet, you dance with another woman while proposing marriage to me.”

“One dance.”

“So, there has never been anything between you?”

Jungkook paused. “I will not pretend to have been celibate these past ten years. Neither should you, Your Majesty.”

Looking at him, you attempted to calm the roiling feelings within you. It was not right to feel like this. Not right to be jealous, to berate him when you continued to decline his offer.

“Am I correct,” he said, his voice low, “in thinking you do not want me for yourself, yet you do not want anyone else to have me either?”

“That… that is not fair.”

“Perhaps you know how I feel, then,” Jungkook said, his gaze hardening.

Startled, your eyes widened as he took a step closer. Coming to a stop right before you, Jungkook looked down.

“Watching you entertain other men,” he said hotly. “Watching you dance with other men, consider other men while you continue to deny what lies between us. What we are to one another. My former betrothed. And my mate,” he added, his gaze like dark fire.

Speechless, you could only stare in response.

Jungkook knew.

He knew and had said nothing this entire time. You wondered when he’d realized but lost your head entirely when he lifted a hand. Pressing his thumb beneath your chin, Jungkook tipped your head up.

Bending, he brushed your lips against his. The kiss was chaste, sweet – and wildfire erupted in response. Before you could stop yourself, your hand had fisted in his robes to drag him down. You kissed him back hungrily, fiercely as the heat consumed you.

Jungkook seemed to burn just as bright, crushing you close. His arms wrapped around you, tongue eagerly flicking against your lower lip. When you parted beneath him, he licked into your mouth. Inhaling his scent, you wanted him closer.

It was not at all how you’d imagined it to be.

You had thought once you gave in, it would feel like erasing yourself. Removing the old to make way for the new, but it was not like that at all. Letting him in only made you feel stronger.

Thumbs skimming your cheeks, Jungkook angled you upward and kissed you again. He drew a shuddering breath before he forced himself to stop.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he stared at you, his chest rising and falling.

“If you do not want this, though.” Hoarse, his thumbs caressed your skin. “I do not wish to force it upon you. You should not marry me because of a bond, Your Majesty. Nor should you because you think it’s what’s best for Ashya. I want you to marry me because you want to. Nothing more.”

When you did not respond, Jungkook’s expression began to shutter and he took a step backwards. His hands fell to his sides, the air between you turning cold.

All too late, you realized you’d waited too long. You should have said something immediately, should have done something other than kiss him like a maniac.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said. “For the hospitality you’ve shown Duret Ghal these past weeks. Whatever your feelings are for me, I look forward to signing the treaty tomorrow.”

Before you could say anything more, Jungkook walked past you and left the gardens. You were left alone beside an empty basin.

You stayed there for a while, staring at the looming Thadal mountains, and wondering how in the world you had gotten things so wrong.

When you returned to the proceedings of the ball, Yoongi was smart enough not to ask where you had been. He seemed to know anyways, based on the look on your face.

Stiffly you stood and surveyed the dancing couples. Whenever you cared to look, you caught glimpses of Jungkook on the opposite side.

You tried not to, but this proved to be difficult now that you knew. Jungkook knew you were his mate. You knew what his lips tasted like. All of this you knew and could not forget.

It was his last words which ran again and again through your mind. Jungkook knew you were his mate and yet, he’d said nothing because he wanted you to choose him for him. It was such a foolhardy, romantic notion it made your heart ache.

Even with Leo, you had not felt this way. If you had been honest, you had known your relationship would be doomed from the start. Leo had never challenged you in ways which made you grow. You’d kept him at arm’s length, never giving him the opportunity to know your true self. 

After the death of your parents, you’d been in a dark place. You had made the vow not to marry out of an attempt to protect yourself. Perhaps you’d grown beyond needing such things.

The next time you looked, Jungkook was looking back.

He glanced away quickly, but he’d looked. The realization made you take a step forward but before you could go to him, Yoongi leaned in.

“What did you say to him when you danced?”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. You thought Yoongi meant Jungkook but then realized he looked at Lord Declan. Declan seemed flustered, pointedly looking anywhere but at you while Lord Larkin glared from across the room.

You stifled a snort. “Only the truth.”

“Which was?”

“That like it or not, Duret Ghal are our allies, so they better start acting like it.”

Quietly, Yoongi laughed as he straightened. “No wonder his father looks as though he swallowed something sour.”

Guiltily, you looked away. “I am sorry if I caused you trouble,” you said, knowing Yoongi would be the one to clean it up. “It is only –”

“You were right.” Yoongi nodded. “The world is changing, and they can either change with the times or be left behind. I am glad you said something.”

Shooting him a grateful look, you glanced again across the room and realized Jungkook had disappeared. Scanning the rest of the ball, you spotted some of his delegation but not their King. Maia was dancing with Namjoon and to your surprise, you realized Taehyung had asked Amara to dance.

Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Despite his absence, you forced yourself to stay until Yoongi deemed it socially acceptable for you to leave. The last thing you wanted was to put the treaty in jeopardy because you’d overlooked proper etiquette.

As the evening went on, candles guttered low in the chandeliers and guests began to thin out the dance floor. People started disappearing, traveling home in groups of two and three. Sometime around midnight, you finally bade Yoongi goodnight.

Forgoing his offer of escort, you took a side hall and exited the ball. It was a quiet walk to your chambers, a silence which did not lessen once you were inside.

Removing your crown, you set this on your dresser and stared out the window. You wondered if this was your future. A cold, lonely existence where you always ended up in your room alone.

Jungkook was right.

You kept everyone at a distance because you were afraid of being hurt. You were afraid if you let them in, you’d grant them the power to tear your heart in two. The problem was you weren’t sure how much longer you’d have a heart to give.

It already felt like a feeble, weakened thing within your chest. You didn’t know how to make it work like it should. So accustomed to your own company, you were unable to respond to true acts of friendship. This struck you as a poor kind of ruler for any nation. 

It made you wonder if the vow you’d once made held no further weight.

Now was time to decide what kind of ruler you wanted to be, what kind of person you wanted to be moving forward. Your life could still be wondrous if you so wished.

Abruptly, you turned and strode for the door.

Your guards seemed surprised to see you leave, but let you pass by with a nod. Once in the hallways, your feet seemed to know the way. Down one hall, then the next, you found yourself entering the guest wing before your mind could catch up.

Depending on stature, guests of the crown stayed with varying proximity to your personal quarters. It was not far to the rooms Jungkook occupied, the most lavish guest suite in the castle.

Outside his room, your steps slowed before coming to a stop. Jungkook did not have guards posted outside his doors. Some might have seen this as a sign of naiveté, but you saw it for what it was. A symbol of trust.

Lifting a hand, you knocked on his door.

It took him a few seconds to answer, rustling noises telling you he was within. When he swung open the door, your mouth immediately went dry.

Jungkook had changed from his formal attire to a more casual tunic and trousers. It took a great deal of effort to keep your eyes on his face, and not wander towards the ink you saw peering out from his sleeves.

Surprise flickered in the depths of his gaze, although he quickly concealed it. Leaning a shoulder to the frame, Jungkook arched a brow.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Your Majesty?”

Any words you wished to say dried up like a stream in the desert. Finally, you managed to rouse yourself.

“May I come in?” you asked.

Jungkook paused. For a moment, you were afraid he might tell you to go. You had turned him down so many times; surely it was time for him to return the favor.

Then he dipped his head and stepped aside, allowing you entrance. Heart pounding, you slipped past him and stood at the center of the room.

His rooms were your guest chambers, so you had obviously seen them before. Occasionally you met with foreign dignitaries or visitors. Jungkook had stayed long enough though, that portions of the room had begun to seem like his own.

The black and gold robes he’d worn to the ball were draped over a partition. A trunk remained half-open beside a table, full of stacks of books. It reminded you of your visit to Duret Ghal so long ago, where he could often be found in the library.

“Would you like wine?” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts.

Mutely, you nodded and reached for the crystal decanter. Midway there, Jungkook’s hand caught your wrist.

“Allow me,” he said, moving past.

You stopped and watched him pour two glasses of wine. One after the other, Jungkook set them down on the table.

“You knew,” you said quietly. “You knew you were my mate.”

Jungkook hesitated, continuing to stare at the wine.

After a moment, he lifted a glass and took a long sip. “Yes,” he admitted. “I knew.”

“When?” you demanded.

His eyes narrowed, looking up. “When did you know, Your Majesty?”

“At the end of my last visit to Duret Ghal.”

“I knew the moment I saw you,” he said quietly.

“You – what?”

Jungkook set his wine down. “Your arrival was scheduled for shortly before sundown,” he said. “My parents had dressed me in my best clothes, and I remember being angry about it. I remember standing there fuming, waiting for you to arrive. And then you did.”

His eyes shone. “I had never seen someone so beautiful.”

Hearing him speak, your breath caught in your chest. Jungkook began to walk closer, his expression inscrutable.

“I avoided you for a few days,” he continued. “Mates are rarer in Duret Ghal and for a while, I didn’t know what I was feeling. Even once I realized, I resented the bond. It was difficult enough to accept my own magic back then.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You.” His lips curled in a smile. “You surprised me. I found myself liking you despite myself. I started to realize the bond might not be such a bad thing.”

“So… this entire time, you have known,” you said in disbelief.

“I have.” His expression darkened. “As have you, it would seem.”

Guilty, you looked away. You had and it had not occurred to you to tell him.

That was a lie. It had occurred to you and you’d decided against it, because you did not think you could stomach denying the bond to his face.

Reaching out, Jungkook took your hand. The gesture was so simple, it nearly broke you in two. Glancing down, you marveled when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Jungkook gave you space to think until you found the courage to speak.

“You know my mother was killed ten years ago,” you said quietly. “My father survived the attack, but they were mated and when she passed… he could not bear it.” After a pause, you looked up. “He died five years later, and those five years were as torturous for everyone else as they were for him.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Jungkook murmured.

“He tried,” you said, forcing yourself to remember.

To remember the days when your father had tried to go on. He’d tried for you and for Ashya, but it had not been enough. There had been no light in his gaze, no meaning behind his odd smiles. Although only your mother had died in the attack, you’d lost both your parents.

“I know he did,” you continued. “But the pain of losing his mate was too much. Everything which had been important simply faded away. I swore after he passed the same fate would not befall me. It is why I said no to you,” you said, your grip tightening. “It is not because I feel nothing. I said no to you because you are my mate.”

His thumb continued to soothe over your skin. “And now?” he asked, wondering. “Did you come here simply to say this?”

“No. Now I find myself wondering if in an attempt to spare myself pain, I created agony of a different kind.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened. “I meant what I said earlier, Y/N. I don’t wish for you to agree out of some sense of duty, or an unearthly bond.”

A shiver went down your spine at hearing your name on his lips.

“That is not why I am saying yes,” you said, lifting your chin.

Surprise flared in his gaze. “No?”

“No.”

Deciding you needed the wine after all, you tugged your hand from his and turned towards the table. Lifting the glass to your lips, you let the sweet burn fill your throat.

In the corner of your eyes, you could see Jungkook watching. Waiting.

“I am saying yes because I want this,” you breathed, turning around. “I want you. I have wanted you since the day you followed me to the cliffs. I’m scared,” you admitted, barely more than a whisper. “I’m terrified of what you might do to me. Of what I might do to you. But I don’t want fear to hold me back anymore.”

Jungkook continued to stare at you, jaw working while he thought through what to say. His fingers began to tremble, fighting the rising tide of emotion.

“We face a difficult path,” he said at last.

You nodded. “I know.”

“The history between our people. Revealing the magic of the riders. War on the horizon,” he said, taking a step forward with each reason he listed.

“Do you not want me to say yes, Your Majesty?”

Jungkook came to a stop before you.

“I want you to say yes so badly it hurts,” he said hoarsely. “But I don’t want you to accept not knowing what it means.”

“The bond scared me for a long time,” you told him. “The idea of belonging to someone. Of no longer depending solely upon myself.”

“And why is that?”

“Loss of control.” Your smile was fleeting. “The idea has always terrified me more than any enemy. I feared the bond would mean losing myself… that it would mean…”

“Giving a part of yourself away.”

Quiet, you nodded.

“Did you not think, though,” he said, reaching out. “Giving a piece of yourself away might mean gaining something in return?”

Taking your hand in his, Jungkook laid them both on his heart.

You stared at your hand, splayed beneath his on his chest. The idea had not occurred to you, and yet – perhaps it should have.

“I have no doubt you will remain independent,” Jungkook insisted. “Accepting this bond would not change that. I would not want that to change.”

“But if I were to die –”

“Love is always a liability,” Jungkook quietly said. “It is. And yet, where would we be without it? My love for Nemrys, for Duret Ghal and the riders saved me when my parents died. A world without love is not one worth fighting for.”

Ever so gentle, you brushed the curve of his hand with your thumb.

Jungkook’s grip on yours tightened.

“Yes,” you breathed. Chest practically touching, you looked up to see him. “I know all this, and I’m saying yes.”

For the first time, you let yourself look at him fully.

You had known he was beautiful, but the truth was he was nearly unbearable. Strong jaw, soft lips and eyes which burned as fierce as any Dragon. You did not look at them though, wanting to take in the rest of him first. Lifting a hand, you cupped the side of his face.

Jungkook shivered at your touch. Startled, you glanced up and met his gaze. The need you found within nearly undid you.

For so long, this had been building inside. Suddenly the idea of you tolerating, let alone enjoying another man’s company seemed a strange concept. Jungkook was your mate, someone who had never once cowered from who and what you were.

Turning his head, Jungkook’s lips brushed your palm.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured.

“I am remembering earlier. Your kiss in the garden.”

His gaze darkened. “What do you want from me, my Queen?”

The addition of the word my sent a thrill down your spine.

“You,” you said, knowing how true it was.

You wanted every part of the man before you. Wanted to know him, breathe him in, drink from his cup and bask in his light. The man who’d known you were his mate and hadn’t claimed you, but rather waited. Waited you to come to him.

Rising on your tiptoes, your hands slid to his neck and you kissed him again.

You kept your pressure light, the opposite of the searing kiss you’d previously shared. Pulling away, you savored the press of his chest, the warmth of his body and the weight of his hands. When you opened your eyes, you found Jungkook smiling.

Pressing your lips to his again, you moved a bit closer. Jungkook seemed content just to kiss, trading gentle pressure – until you pulled back, teeth catching on his lower lip.

A growl loosened from his chest, low and primal.

Sliding a hand behind your neck, Jungkook tilted your head upward and waited for you to nod. When you did, he crushed your lips to his in a kiss equally fierce as it was possessive. Breath stolen, you gave him your desire and what was left of your heart.

Warmth flooded your veins, heating you from the inside out. With limbs of molten fire, you kissed him back until his tongue swiped at your lip, demanding entrance. You parted easily for him, a whimper leaving your throat as you melded together.

Jungkook groaned, pulling close to kiss you again. His fingers traced the skin at your nape, trailing your spine to firmly cup your ass. Nestled between his legs, Jungkook allowed you to feel every inch of his hardness.

Your skin was aflame, as though lightning had zipped across it. Reduced to only sensations, you shivered at each one you felt. His thumb, fondling the dip of your waist. Your nipples, turgid against the fabric of your gown. The sharp, aching pulse which steadily grew between your thighs.

“Oh,” you gasped, head tipping back.

Jungkook kissed each inch of exposed skin you gave him.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured.

“What I want, my King,” you panted, regaining some of yourself. “Is for you not to stop.”

Lips curved in a smile, he lifted his head. “I rather think your King is more appropriate, no?”

You arced a brow. “What is the difference?”

“One implies you are my subject and the other implies I belong to you.”

“And which do you prefer?”

His gaze glinted in firelight. “Allow me to show you, my Queen.”

Barely pausing, you breathed, “And which usage was that?”

With a soft sort of chuckle, Jungkook walked you both backwards until your spine hit the wall. Bending his head, he brushed his lips against yours until you were aching. Until your need for him became fire, racing through your veins in a silent demand.

Sliding his thigh between your legs, Jungkook paused when you gasped. Swiftly giving in, he covered your lips in a kiss which seared to your soul.

Slipping your hands higher, you marveled at the breadth of his torso. Years of riding had hardened his body, making you wonder what he looked like beneath the tunic.

One hand on the wall, Jungkook’s other fisted in your skirts as he tugged you closer. Sharply, you inhaled when he yanked up the fabric, exposing your knee to the gentle press of his thumb. A moan left your lips as your head hit the wall, eyes fluttering open.

Jungkook stopped. “Is it too much?” he asked, releasing your skirts.

“No.” You shook your head. “I want more. I want you”

His gaze darkened. “Then you shall have me,” he promised, covering your mouth with his.

His kiss was rough, lips bruising as your hands found his hair. Arching against him, you reveled in the hard panes of his body. It seemed wherever you had space, Jungkook had been made to fill it.

Hand in your skirts once again, Jungkook pulled them higher to press his thigh in between. You inhaled at the contact, his muscles rigid and hard in all the right places.

Before you could do anything else, Jungkook bent and grasped the back of your thighs. Wrapping you around his waist, he kept your body close as he walked towards the bed. Lowering you to the floor, his hands remained on your waist.

“Turn around,” Jungkook rasped, and you obeyed.

Facing the bed, you felt his fingers trace over the bodice of your gown.

“May I?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Please,” you whispered.

Carefully, Jungkook began undoing the laces and hooks. As the fabric was loosened, exposing your skin to his gaze, you closed your eyes. His fingers skimmed your shoulders, sliding the fabric lower until it hit the floor.

Bared to his gaze, you felt your breath hitch. Cool air played over your skin, perking your breasts, and drifting between your thighs. The gown was sheer enough to necessitate you wore no undergarments beneath it, leaving you naked before him.

“Y/N.” Jungkook sounded hoarse. “Please… please face me.”

Slowly, you did so as you opened your eyes.

Jungkook stared, his eyes dark as night. Jaw tense, his gaze slowly dragged down your body. You felt the intimacy of it as he trailed your throat, lingered at your breasts, your ass, and between your thighs.

When he finally returned to your face, the heat between you was scorching. Throat parched, your body felt one with the fire.

“Now, you,” you murmured.

Without looking away, Jungkook lifted a hand to begin undoing his tunic. Once it was loose, he pulled this overhead in a single motion. As it hit the floor, his hands went to his trousers. With bated breath, you watched him remove the laces.

Swallowing once, you stared at his chest bathed in soft firelight. Swirling dark lines stretched across his shoulder, encircling his bicep, and traveling to his wrist. You saw words and symbols but had no time to peruse. Later, you promised yourself. Later, you’d worship the ink with your lips and tongue.

A dark smattering of hair trailed from his abs, disappearing into trousers he undid with deft fingers. Once these had been pushed to the floor, you found another reason to swallow.

You were not what anyone would call shy, but something about this felt more intimate than it ever had. Baring yourself to Jungkook meant more than just sex. You’d accepted the bond, accepted what lay between you and acknowledged him as your mate.

Seeming to understand, Jungkook took a step closer as he bent his head. His hands slid to your waist and he kissed you gently.

When he pulled away, you saw vulnerability in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said.

You marveled at the sound of his name on your lips. “Jungkook,” you returned, and watched him smile.

Bending again, his lips found yours as his hands skimmed your body. You settled between his legs, feeling slightly light-headed from the press of so much skin. Jungkook’s hand slid lower, gripping one of your thighs to wrap around him. He gave the same treatment to the other, twisting you around to lay on the bed.

Pressing a knee to the mattress, Jungkook crawled forward and bent his head. Lips soft, he began to kiss down your body. Your hands gripped his back, trailing to find the twin dimples nestled at the base of his spine.

When Jungkook’s mouth brushed your breasts, he paused. Instead of giving in and devouring you whole, he slid a hand between your thighs and found how wet you were. Gaze lidded, he looked up as he cupped your sex. A single finger slid over your silken entrance.

Lifting the same finger to his lips, Jungkook leisurely tasted you. When he pulled his finger out, you saw it had been licked clean.

Growling in approval, Jungkook bent and closed his lips over your breast.

“Oh,” you gasped, arching beneath him.

Your nipple was already hard, peaked with desire. Jungkook sucked on it eagerly, pulling your breast taut before he raised his head. Moving on to the next, his thumb remained behind to skim over your nipple.

He continued with this sweet torture until you’d had enough.

“No more,” you gasped, curving a hand beneath his jaw.

Releasing your breast, he lifted his head. “I want to taste you,” Jungkook breathed. “I want to know what it’s like to have you fall apart on my tongue.”

Easing yourself onto your elbows, you slowly spread your legs.

“Do your worst, Your Majesty,” you said, gaze glinting.

Jungkook grinned, lowering himself to the sheets. His mouth was hot, open as he kissed your waist, your belly and lower. You did not know where to look – his entirely naked ass, or his dark head of hair before your dripping sex.

Dragging his nose up your thigh, Jungkook deeply inhaled as he centered himself. Lowering his head to your sex, he gave a tentative kiss. Even this sent a sweeping shudder through you. It took nearly everything you had not to moan like a maiden in heat.

Opening his mouth, his tongue swirled once and you nearly dissolved. Liquid heat pulsed through you, cumulating between your thighs in a sinful wave. Worshipping you with his tongue, Jungkook tore moans from your lips, one after the other.

Swiping his tongue in another slow circle, he coaxed your body to arc from the bed. With a throaty chuckle, Jungkook looked up. Hair mussed and lips wet, he looked like something divine.

“Do you want more, my Queen?” he asked lowly.

“Yes,” you exhaled, unable to look away.

A devious smile spread across his lips. Lowering his mouth, Jungkook resumed his ministrations until you were gasping his name.

“Oh,” you groaned, broken as he continued to eat you out.

Gripping your thighs, he pushed them further apart to better get at your sex. Legs splayed on the bed, you framed his broad shoulders as you reached for his hair. Another growl left him as you fisted your hand in the strands. Hips rising and falling with the motion of his mouth, your head fell limply back on the bed.

“Yes – yes,” you said, chasing the sweet pleasure with your hips.

You hardly knew what you were doing as you moved, never having felt this way before. Jungkook seemed equally entranced, his eyes snapping open to meet yours above. The bottom half of his face was wet with your juices and while you should have felt modest, instead you felt righteousness. Intoxication. Possession.

This was your body which made him look like this, half-feral with need as he ground into the mattress. “Yes,” you gasped, gripping harder as your legs started to shake. “Yes, Jungkook.”

Pleasure built from within, threatening to drown out everything but the man between your thighs. Slipping a finger to your entrance, Jungkook drew lazy circles over your sex. His tongue moved in quick, agile motions against your swollen clit.

“Come for me,” he panted, lifting his head.

Your lips parted when his finger slipped in. Gripping his hair, your hips bucked against him as he added another and curled. Crying out his name, you came hard and fast around his hand. You think you said Jungkook, amongst other things, as you went limp on the mattress, your hands falling to the sheets.

Jungkook slowly relented, gently kissing your hip, your chest and all the way up your throat. Smiling softly, he settled beside you to drape an arm over your waist. Chest rising and falling, you stared at him in wonder.

You’d often wondered what the mating bond felt like. If something would snap into place and all of a sudden, your mind would belong to someone else. Whatever you’d imagined, it had not been this. This felt as natural, as right as when you flew.

Tracing a circle on your inner thigh, Jungkook looked up. “Do you want more?”

His other hand parted your legs, cupping your heat to show you what he meant. Inhaling softly, you reached down and encircled his wrist with your hand. Jungkook went still.

“Yes,” you murmured. “But not like that.”

His eyes lightened. “How, then?”

“I want all of you. Inside me,” you said. “I take the potions monthly.”

The potions were a trio of liquids sold by most apothecaries throughout the continent. They did everything from preventing pregnancy to protecting against diseases and easing your monthly flow. Arching a brow, you glanced pointedly at the headboard.

Smiling softly, Jungkook retracted his hand. Pushing himself upwards, he shifted to seat himself against the same headboard.

You could not have imagined a more beautiful sight. With mussed hair, his skin dark with ink and flushed with arousal, Jungkook was artwork himself. Lifting yourself to your knees, you positioned yourself over his thighs and lowered your gaze.

His cock was impressive, although you had already known this. He would be the largest you’d ever taken, that was for certain.

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand gently around him. Gaze half-lidded, Jungkook stared as you dragged your hand upwards. A hiss left his lips, though he held himself back.

“Careful,” he warned, shifting his hips.

Brushing your thumb across his head, you spread already-leaking fluids down his hardened shaft. Lowering your body, your mouth slid over the reddening tip. With a flick of your tongue, you relished his soft moan of approval. Next, was a swirl, before you slid off with a pop and began to move your fist.

“This is not your first time,” Jungkook observed, breathing heavily.

“Neither is it yours, Your Majesty.”

Bending again, you took him all at once in your mouth. Gasping his chuckle, Jungkook’s hands skimmed your torso to land on your rear. For a while, the only sounds which filled the room were the sloppy sounds of you sucking.

“It is not,” he panted, fingers digging into your ass. “And yet, I cannot help but be envious of all who came before me. Of all who’ve known the sweet pleasure of your lips on their cock.”

Removing him from your mouth, you looked up.

“There is no need to be jealous,” you said, rising onto your knees. Not looking away, you swung a leg over his hips. “You are the one who has me now.”

Something proud, almost territorial entered his gaze.

Gripping you by the waist, Jungkook pulled you even closer. “Do I?” he murmured, lips brushing your throat. “My Queen. My betrothed. My mate,” he breathed, nipping the skin.

A not unpleasant shiver ran down your spine. Reaching beneath you, you gripped his cock to position at your dripping entrance. Still, you did not take him inside.

Realizing Jungkook awaited an answer, you nodded. He had you.

“Then tell me,” Jungkook demanded, looking into your eyes.

Lowering yourself, you felt his tip brush your entrance. “You have me,” you whispered. “My King. My betrothed. My mate.”

With each word, you took him in deeper. Jungkook sat upright, right hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you closer. Clasped to his warm, damp skin, you sank down on his cock.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hot in your ear. Other hand gripping your ass, he lowered you even further. “You can take more of me, can you not?”

You could and you did, not wanting to wait any longer. Hands digging into his back, you kept your chests pressed together as you sank even further. No matter how much you took, there always seemed to be more to give. Jungkook’s cock stretched you open, making you work to fit all of him inside.

“Oh,” you whimpered, gripping him tighter.

Jungkook grunted and stroked the side of your neck with his thumb. “There you go. Take all of it. All of me,” he exhaled.

A now-familiar shiver swept your spine as you moved. The last inch pushed you past your limits, but finally you felt him bottom out. For a moment, you could not breathe from the feeling of fullness. Of rightness. Of completeness.

Him sheathed inside you felt indescribable, only improved when Jungkook shifted his hips and finally moved.

“Oh,” you gasped, eyes flying wide.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

Lifting yourself higher, your nipples brushed his chest as you eased yourself down. Jungkook’s hand remained on your spine, rolling your hips as he thrust from below. Kissing him slowly, you bit down on his lip and took him in deeper.

Jungkook began to move, spearing you with his cock as you spread your legs. His kisses became harder, more desperate as a steady thrum of power built in between you. Soon it was your hips chasing his, not the other way around.

Lowering his head, Jungkook caught your breast with his mouth. Lips parting, you began to fuck him harder as you slammed your hips down. His tongue teased one rounded breast, switching to the other while his thumb flicked the first.

Dropping onto his length over and over, you marveled at the feel of him moving inside you.

“Jungkook,” you moaned, head thrown back in ecstasy.

His hands seemed to be everywhere. Clasping you to him, skimming your torso, flicking your pebbled nipples as the wave of pleasure built. Toes curling beneath you, you panted from the effort of trying not to come.

As though he could sense this, Jungkook began speeding up. Clasping you to him, he thrust into you harder, filling you with each languid roll of his hips. As your lips found each other, the strange tide of longing crested into a wave.

Winding your fingers into his hair, you tipped your head back and bared your neck to his teeth. Jungkook scraped them up your throat, whining his approval as you rode his cock. Hands gripping your ass hard enough to bruise, his hips moved even faster as he sought completion.

With his dampened skin pressed to yours, his scent began to envelop. Each moan he gave you was freely taken. Each sound you made, he swallowed whole. You were not sure how long you existed in this state, simply reveling in the pleasure from each other’s bodies.

On the edge of release, you felt the bond between you tighten. It was difficult to tell where one of you ended and the other began. Slamming your hips down to his, Jungkook was equally fierce, plunging inside you.

“I cannot hold on much longer,” he gasped.

You nodded, stroking his temple with a sweat-slicked thumb. “Together.”

Jungkook nodded, lips seeking yours in a question you answered. Hips quickening, limbs tightening, you let yourself fall into the release he offered. As you came undone, it was Jungkook you held onto. Somewhere within the bright haze of your pleasure, you felt Jungkook release as well. Thick, hot spurts of cum painted your insides white. 

You reveled in it, trembling at the idea of a future where he’d do this again. Where he’d whet you with his seed, stuffing you full in the hopes you might bear his child. The notion made you whimper, squeezing with your walls as you felt him begin to leak out. 

Although your breathing slowed, the haze of joy lingered. The mating bond became almost visible, shining crystal-clear in what had previously been darkness. It stayed with you; humming and golden, and fearfully strong.

Lifting your head, you met Jungkook’s gaze.

He had not become someone different. Neither had you and yet, something between you had changed. It was still Jungkook beneath you, inside you and with his arms wrapped around you. Now though, you knew what he was to you. Your mate. You had chosen him, and he had chosen you.

Based on his expression, you knew he felt something similar.

One of your hands slid down his chest and settled over his heart. Beneath your palm and warm skin, you felt his heart keeping pace with yours.

“Oh,” you murmured, eyes shining.

Leaning forward, Jungkook brushed your lips with his. Clasping your hand in between you, he rested his forehead to yours.

You knew obstacles lay ahead. You knew but somehow, they all seemed more possible with him by your side. With him as your partner, your mate, your betrothed.

Opening your eyes, you met his gaze and smiled.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2021. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to everyone read this long! I hope you enjoyed :)

Character Ask Game found here

[apocalypticgargoyle]

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @little-gremlin-in-the-walls @tinyegg @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @rat-poisin @alm334 @cdizzlevalntyne @phsychopathetic @froggerrrr @robinslie @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity

[mntalbrakdown]

Dreadful Energy

Sebastian Stan x actress! Reader

Requests open!

Mentions: of angst, and implied smut

masterlist!

“Hello mama!” you say with a big grin Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh.

“That is y/n y/l/n, and I am Sebastian Stan”

“And we are doing the Wired Autocomplete Interview” you go on saying what you and your costar are about to do. You get a board from the workers behind the camera and say thank you.

“Ok, so the first question, is y/n dating Sebastian Stan," you said giving off a half-hearted chuckle.

"Straight to the point, I love it." you ignored the question and continued going on, "Also do you guys have a trash can, I don't want to throw it on the floor," they handed you a small trash can and you said thank you.

"Someone is a bit OCD" Sebastian joked

"It's not being OCD, it is being polite, continuing on, when is y/n’s birthday" you threw the paper into the trash can. "I am wondering you searched this up to find my zodiac sign, which means you want to know if we are compatible, which also means you like me, or you just wanted to know my birthday, well my birthday is on-"

"y/b/d" Sebastian cut you off, you looked at him and bit your lip, you nodded gesturing he was correct.

"what are some movies y/n will star in," you read aloud "Umm, there are a bit of projects coming up, not only films but some other things in the works, but for movies specifically, that the public shall now know, I'll be in the Black Widow movie and I'm actually starring alongside Anya Taylor-Joy which will be exciting" you can feel Sebastian's eyes burning into you.

"Ok, last one for me, what is y/n y/l/n favorite scent or smell? Great question, I hope Sebastian can answer this" you look over to him meeting his blue eyes.

"Easy, strawberry, she literally has her whole house smelling like strawberries, plus her perfume is strawberry, wait isn't strawberries your favorite fruit?" Sebastian asked

"Yes," you said through a laugh "May I break this?" you asked referring to the board, they said yes and you broke through it

“You did that so respectfully" you laughed at what Sebastian had said

"My turn! Thank you, hand me that trash can will ya'?" You put the trash can in between the two of you.

"Someone is a bit OCD" you mocked his previous words

"It's not being OCD, it is being polite, continuing on, is Sebastian Stan dating y/n y/l/n" he mocked you and then his face fell. "As much as she's a marvelous person, no," he said through gritted teeth, something in his demeanor changed, you weren't oblivious, but whenever someone says they like you, more than a friend, you always took it as a joke. He cleared his throat.

"How is Sebastian Stan so attractive" he read aloud and laughed, his laugh was contagious and made you laugh.

"Stop guys he's a Leo, you are feeding to his already enormous ego," You said while rolling your eyes. Sebastian laughed at you.

"Not everything is about zodiac signs y/n," Sebastian said with a hint of annoyance

"Of course, that's what a Leo would say," you said with a laugh, confused why Sebastian didn't take your sarcastic tone.

"What is Sebastian Stan's favorite song, umm that's a good question, I usually just listen to y/n's Spotify playlists, as much as she may be annoying, she does make a mean playlist," he said, not looking at you what so ever, he was ignoring you. He finished tearing up the questions and then later broke the board.

"Tom was right, those boards are annoying" the boards were made out of what seemed like styrofoam and you just couldn't handle the styrofoam sound. When you said that Sebastian let out a loud groan.

"Are you ok?" you asked, Sebastian of course ignoring you, you gave up on trying to talk to him, two can play at that game.

As the interview was going to a close, the air progressively got intoxicated with hatred and annoyance. You hated when people were mad when you didn't know why, especially when they don't want to talk about it.

"That was y/n y/l/n and Sebastian Stan doing the Wired Autocomplete Interview!" you ended the video off because you knew Sebastian wouldn't. You thanked everyone who was there and left, leaving behind Sebastian, after everything that happened between you and Sebastian the other day, you thought this interview would go great. Much to your surprise, all you did the night prior was talk and have fun. You got into your car, you gave Sebastian a ride to the interview, so he will need to find a ride now.

"Hey! Wait up" Sebastian said. "I thought you were going to leave me behind" you rolled down your window

"I was," you stated coldly

"Ouch," he said

"I'm not trying to waste my time on someone who is clearly mad at me" you looked at his eyes

"I'm not mad at you-"

"Oh but you are, I can read a room Stan" if words can cut deeper than a knife.

"Fine, I'll find my own way home," He said annoyed, he knew that you were right, he was mad at you. You rolled your window back up. Connected your phone to your car and started driving, you tried to distract yourself from crying.

buzz buzz buzz

"hello?" you answered your phone

"Hey, so I heard you and Sebastian are having some couple issues" Anthony joked and you rolled your eyes. "Did you find a brain in there?" Anthony joked yet again which made you let out a laugh. "Anyways going back to me, you were going to have an interview with him, but if you'd like, I can take it"

"Thanks, Mackie" you sighed hanging up

My loneliness is killing me (and I) I must confess I still believe (still believe) when I'm not with you, I lose my mind give me a sign hit me, baby, one more time. You sang along to the ...baby one more time cover by The Marias that was playing in your car. You didn't want to go home just yet, because if you did then you would overthink, and driving around is much more interesting than crying your eyes out. You stopped at a red light and waited for it to turn green. You looked at the sides of your car, your eyes met with a young man who had this look on his eyes that looked like he recognized you, but doesn't know quite where. You laughed and that's when the light turned green and you sped off.

After a while of doing this, you decided it would be a great idea to just go home. Still listening to your music and driving. When you arrive home you are greeted with rain. A bit confused as to why now it started to rain, but you took it You got your phone, got out of your car, locked it, and started to walk to your front door. To your surprise it was already open, when you walked in you saw the whole cast seated around your living room.

"Hey, how y'all doing?" you asked confused and in the middle of the circle, there was Sebastian sat. You scoffed grabbing his attention and shook your head. Running up your stairs.

"Wait y/n" Sebastian grabbed your arm making you stop, making you look at him in the eyes. Oh, those blue eyes staring deep inside you, knowing your deepest darkest secrets. They have seen it all, your cries, your laughs, the way your eyebrows knit together whenever you are confused, they have seen it all. Oh and don't get me started on those lips, they look so soft, but you will never know because you just can't bring yourself to believe he may actually like you. But that was all cut short with one simple word that leads anyone to a dead end.

"No," you said completely discarding what you have just felt by looking at the man's eyes.

"No?" he was confused the only time you said no to him was when he wanted to go on a ride on Disneyland.

"yeah, no" you confirmed your prior statement.

"y/n wait" but now it was Elizabeth

"I am not going to wait, I don't even know how you got it into my fucking house" you stated confused, everybody looked at Sebastian.

"Well, that's definitely not going to help my case anymore guys" Sebastian looked at them and then at you with pleading eyes.

"No those puppy dog eyes are not going to help you anymore, I am done."

"Why are you even mad at him?" Tom asked

"He never shows his feelings to me, he doesn't want to explain why he was mad at me when we were doing an interview, and acts like everything between us is ok. I am tired of it, and he of all people knows how frustrated I get when he doesn't talk to me. I am not a real-life Marvel character, I can't read minds, nor do I want to" You stated now looking at him. his face looked down.

"Well, fine my bad, I'm sorry that I don't know how to tell you how much I have feelings for you, how frustrated I get when any other person gets a bit too close to you that isn't me. The way I have kissed you more than once and yet you still can’t catch my drift. I thought yesterday I was finally getting somewhere and then all we did was talk and dance, don't get me wrong I love it, but I just wished you can actually read my body language to you and not just the room." He looked at you almost as if there was still much more to say but wanted to see what you had to say.

"Oh," was the only audible sound to come out your mouth and you looked around to see an empty living room once again, and a Tom at the door waving to say goodbye.

"So?" Sebastian looked at you.

"I caught your drift, or maybe I missed it, I don't know just yet, can you show me it please," you said leaning in for a kiss.

"Sure will, princess," he said and just like that, now you were his pretty princess.

[bokutosworld]

convenience store stranger | suna rintarou

pairing: suna x f!reader  word count, genre: 2.1k words, college au. fluff. another meet cute story lol.  warning: none  summary: in which your late shifts become less boring and more interesting when a cute stranger stumbles in at 2 AM.  a/n: my first time writing for suna god im scared but i really liked how this turned out!! 

The first time he meets you happens on one of his late night convenience store runs. It was exams season and Suna’s been pulling all-nighter after all-nighter. To say he was exhausted would’ve been an understatement. 

He’s barely making it through on the third night and if he didn’t take a break soon, he was sure he’d have passed out on his desk. With his mind hazy from reading too many words and trying to understand a semester’s worth of lessons in one night, he decides to stand up and get some fresh air. 

Which is how he found himself currently standing at aisle four of the only convenience store that was still open near his apartment. He scans the rack for something that can wake him and his brain up. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing but he could definitely feel eyes burning holes in the back of his head. 

He settles on a pack of jelly sticks and a cup of spicy instant noodles and heads towards the counter. You mutter a greeting when he reaches the cashier and begin scanning his items. 

When he hands over the cash for payment, your fingers brush with his cold ones, making you recoil harshly as if he was repulsing.

“Something wrong?” He laughs when he sees your reaction. “I know I look like a mess now but I won’t bite you.” He bends his knees slightly, tilting his head to get a look at your embarrassed face.

“No, I’m sorry.” You avoid his intense gaze, continuing to pack his purchase. When you look at him, he’s still staring with his piercing eyes that it almost takes your breath away. 

Shaking your head to bring yourself to reality, you give him his items. “Your hands felt cold and I was just shocked.” You feel that same electricity sparking between you again when he takes the bag from you. “I.. well.. thank you. Have a great evening.”

“It’s 2 AM,” Suna chuckles and you sigh before correcting yourself and bowing to him in goodbye. “See you around,” he shouts over his back as he walks out the door. It was the first time he saw you in that store and he was sure it wasn’t going to be the last. 

The second time he’d actually planned it according to your shift. If his past trips to the store were anything to go by, he’d learned that you always took the evening shift. It was something he discovered after being called out by your co-worker on the third time that he restlessly looked around the store during a visit. 

He should be on his bed, phone in his hand as he mindlessly scrolled until he fell asleep. But with the memory of his interaction with you lingering on his mind, he wanted to see you.

“Hey, got time for a customer?” He greets the moment he steps inside the empty convenience store. You look up from the book that you were reading and quickly stand to welcome him. “What are you reading?” 

Hiding the book from his view, you retort, “Aren’t you going to buy something?” 

He grins, taking in your tired disposition and the bags that had formed under your eyes before retreating to the shelves. When he returns, he slides over a can of energy drink, iced coffee, and a large bag of chips. 

You assume he’d leave immediately once he’s paid for everything. You certainly didn’t expect him to take out the coffee and give it to you. 

“This is for you.” He opens his own drink and leans by the counter. “Doesn’t it ever get boring here? I mean it’s midnight and you’re alone. I’m betting not many people even drop by at this time.” He faces the door, crossing his arms around his chest and staring at both of your reflections at the glass. 

Worn out from your classes in the day, you take his coffee offering, instantly feeling the rush of caffeine flow through your veins and waking you up. “The job pays relatively well. Besides I can’t really work in the mornings, I have uni.”

“So you’re a college student too.” He turns around and extends a hand out to you. “I’m Suna Rintarou.”

You introduce yourself as you shake hands with him. And as soon as pleasantries were exchanged, he immediately launched into a story about how his earlier day went. He was a natural conversationalist and despite this being your first time talking with him, you didn’t feel an ounce of awkwardness. You didn’t know what it was about him but his presence made you feel comfortable. 

You learned about what he was studying (to your surprise, Psychology), how he spends his weekends playing volleyball (he was a middle blocker and an excellent one at that, he boasted), and how he ended up here during the night he first saw you (the all-nighter went well and he passed all his exams). 

He rips open the chips he bought and offers you some as you lay your story before him. He munches as he listened to you rant about how you loathed your course (Business Management) and the many case studies and papers you had to do each day. He nods his head in understanding as you explain why you needed this part-time job (to pay for apartment fees). 

You were having so much fun in his company that you didn’t notice the time pass by. (He arrived to the store at 12:32 AM. The clock on the wall now reads 2:32 AM). And for the duration of his stay, you were surprised that no one ever came by. He only ever left your side when a taxi driver walked in. 

Suna steered clear from the counter and kept his distance as you did your job. From your peripheral, you could see that he watched you like a hawk from the side and it made you somehow conscious. When the customer exited, you playfully threw a tissue at him, 

“I couldn’t concentrate when you were standing there and looking at me like that!” 

He went back to his position but this time, he leaned close with his hands on the counter. “Like what?"  

Well how could you say to him that you thought he looked effortlessly hot in his sweatshirt and track pants? And was that an adorably messy bedhead? How could you say that you liked the teasing smile that he’d been giving you throughout the night?  

You chuckle and shake your head, “Nothing.” You reach for the book you were reading prior his arrival and took your seat. “Don’t you have classes tomorrow? You should go back.”

“Do you not want me around anymore?” 

“It’s not that, I…”

He cuts you off, “Good, then it’s settled. I’m not going anywhere. I like talking with you too much to go back home. Let me entertain you some more.” He sits down at the chair on one of the tables near the counter and then goes back to chatting with you. 

Since that night, Suna had been scheduling more trips to the convenience store. Sometimes, he’d really only visit to bother you. At times, he’d bring his books and laptop with him so he could work on a paper while you restocked the shelves and cleaned around. On rare occasions, he’d help you out on a business plan and the customers who’d enter the store would be amused at the sight of you and him huddled behind the counter with your serious thinking faces on. 

He’d become a part of your life that it felt unnerving not to have him around on your shifts. And it certainly showed on your face how disappointed and heartbroken you were when consecutive nights passed without his visits. Your co-worker even called you out on it. 

“So where’s the cutie been?” She asked one time when the two of you were at the back lounge while you logged in for your shift. You groan at the nickname she gave him and she laughs at you.

“How would I know?” 

“Don’t you guys talk almost every day and night?”

“Only on nights that he visits me.” You pause, thinking about the possibilities why he could’ve stopped coming. And before you knew it, you were ranting. “God, are we even friends? I don’t know his number. Did he ghost me? Is this considered ghosting? It’s been a week. I’m scared I did or said something.” 

She’s watching you pace around the room. “Maybe he got bored of me. Or maybe he realized I’m not really worth his time and dipped. Sleeping is much better than hanging out with me at 1 AM anyway.”

You’re stopped in your tracks when she suddenly grabs your shoulders. “Overthinking is not a good look on you.” She makes you take deep breaths to calm down. “I’m sure he’s just busy right now. He’ll visit again soon.” 

“I don’t know why I’m being like this.” 

The look she gives you is incredulous, her mouth gaping wide at your statement. “Are you serious?” 

“What?” You ask, not anticipating the next words that would come from her. 

“It’s obvious that you like him.” 

The next time you see him was on campus. You don’t know how long it’s been since he last spent time with you on your shift. (Though if you were counting, you were definitely sure that it’s been two weeks and three days since then.) 

You tried not to think too much about what his absence could mean but the pang in your heart never left. Those two weeks that he didn’t show up allowed you some time to think about your conversation with your friend. You like him. 

Back then, you were too quick to shut down the idea. Denying any ounce of feeling for the boy as you saw him as no more than someone who had too much time on his hands to bother you on your shifts. A good friend is what you specifically used to defend your relationship with him. 

So then why was it that your heart was beating so rapidly as Suna waved at you from across the cafeteria? Why couldn’t you stop smiling as you watched him make his way to your table and sit down beside you?

“Hey there.” He slings his arms around and pulls you for a side hug. “Long time no see.” 

You almost couldn’t hear him over the loud thumping of your heart in your ears. He’s still smiling and waiting for you to reply. “Yeah, been a while. I’ve gotten the peace and quiet back in my shifts.” 

He breaks out in laughter while opening a snack bar. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to stop by. I just came out from a major presentation that I’ve been preparing for during the past weeks. And guess what?” 

You perk your eyebrows at his question. “What?” 

“Our group did great.” He raises a hand for a high-five and you indulge him. “The teacher liked our slides and our analysis of the topic. Ah, I feel so good right now!” He leans back with his hands behind his head, but he suddenly jerks. 

“We should go out!” Suna grabs your hands and looks at you expectantly. “You’re free the whole day tomorrow right? You’re not working the shift? Let’s celebrate. It’s my treat!” 

Feeling overwhelmed by his invitation and his overall excitedness, you laugh and pull back. “Calm down, Suna. I don’t know about tomorrow.” 

“Why? Are you busy?”

“Not really but..” 

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” He tucks a loose hair behind your ear, leaning close with his voice barely over a whisper, “It’s perfect. I’ve wanted to take you on a date for a long time now.” 

“What?” You stare at him wide-eyed. 

“Come on, you’ve never thought about us?” He finds the situation entertaining. Your flustered reaction reminds him of the night that he met you. 

“Why do you think I’ve been coming to the convenience store when I could be sleeping at that time? I like being around you. My day doesn’t feel complete if I don’t at least see you or tell you about my day or listen to you rant about the latest episode of your favorite series.”

You like him. 

“Go out with me.” He kisses the back of your hand. “Please?” 

The corners of your lips unconsciously curves up and Suna sends your heart doing somersaults when he says something about how he’s finally got to see the beautiful smile he’s been wanting to see for weeks. 

Your friend was right. You do like him.  

[thefanficmonster]

All The Colors

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Colorblindness, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: The colors are not always seen but rather felt. Just like Y/N feels the colors through their best friend and boyfriend Corpse. That’s how they realize that what they can’t see is the most beautiful and genuine feeling in the world. The feeling of knowing something and someone so deeply.

Requested by my dear friend Lulu, who you might have known as greenieofshield. Unfortunately she’ll never get to read this fic and I’ll never forgive myself for not putting it out sooner but I’ll also never forgive the universe for being so cruel as to take her away so early. She was one of the best people I’ve ever met, always so full of optimism, always there to brighten up my day and make me smile. Always so strong and brave, never falling victim to the hate she received despite not being deserving of it. The world lost an angel the day she died and I as well as so many other people will forever miss her.

Love you and miss you with my whole soul and hear, Lulu. Hope they’re treating you right in heaven ❤

For what it’s worth, Y/N has never asked people to describe the colors to them. In their eyes that seemed like the equivalent of poorly patching up a wound: they could hear thousands upon thousands of descriptions of each color and still wouldn’t be able to imagine it. The descriptions would only make that worse to them. So to avoid feeling even more like they’re missing out they never asked.

However, that doesn’t mean they haven’t developed their own way to ‘visualize’ and imagine colors throughout the years. They’ve tried loads of different methods, few of which stuck around and not for long either. That is exactly why they frequently used to tell their friends: “You can’t paint me a rainbow with black and white and shades of grey and expect me not to feel like I’m missing out on something. Paint me the gloomy sky on a rainy day and only then we’ll be even cause you’re seeing the same greys I am.”

Little did they know how drastically their logic was about to change in the following years.

Speaking of said following years - they met Corpse who became one of their best friends in practically no time. And within just a few months of that friendship’s blossoming, a romance sparked. A romance their friends would jokingly refer to as ‘romance of a lifetime’. Maybe it was said jokingly but Lord knows they weren’t wrong in saying so because the two were completely head over heels for one another -s till are to this day - and never shied away from showing it.

Y/N and Corpse met through Rae who Y/N was staying with while on a little vacation to Los Angeles. To be even more specific here, the two met through a game of Among Us, the game responsible for many wonderful friendships since its release.

“Guys, guys, guys.“ Y/N said after sparking up a bickering session for falsely accusing ‘blue‘ of faking a task in Navigation during the final round for the day, “Here’s a little rule of thumb for whenever we play together again: don’t trust me if I accuse a color instead of a name.“ It’s safe to say that statement rose a few eyebrows in the Discord call, the confusion serving as amusement to them before they explained themself, “Oh, why that is? Hm, I don’t know, maybe cause I’m colorblind.”

Rae who was in on the scheme the whole time and was struggling to hold in her laughter finally snapped while the rest of the players were left processing the information that had been dropped on them.

“But you practically kicked our ass every single round?!“ Corpse said, amazement and confusion in his tone.

“Expect the unexpected from this schemer, take it from someone who’s known them for a decade now.“ Rae said, winking at her friend from across the room. Not failing to notice the blush on their cheeks while doing so though.

“Corpse, are you calling me a good liar?“ They poked a stick at him teasingly, desperately avoiding Rae’s gaze which widened the second she realized why her friend was so flustered by Corpse’s remark.

“Practically a con artist.“ He replied to them with a laugh, earning one from them in return.

And so they practically conned him into falling in love with them with their quick wit, sarcasm and cuteness. If someone is to ask Corpse if he expected to fall for Y/N, he’d probably say yes.

“They were like a magnet the moment they entered the lobby and started talking.“ He said once on a live stream in response to a question he received in the chat regarding Y/N, “It wasn’t hard at all, falling for them. What took me a while was realizing it. While I was referring to them as ‘best friend’ all my friends were rolling their eyes and going ‘Sure, bud.’ Just took me a bit to realize why.”

Luckily, it didn’t take him too long to grasp what his heart was actually screaming at him. Good thing they came to terms with it so soon too, otherwise they would’ve driven their friends insane.

Anyway, enough about what happened and what could’ve happened under one circumstance or another, what matters is the ‘here and now’ of their relationship. And trust me when I say it has never been better and it keeps getting better every day.

The beauty of what those two have is in the tiny every day things that they do for each other, the good morning texts even though the other person in probably just in the kitchen making breakfast while the other cannot find it in them to get out of bed; or it’s laced within the calls between them when neither of them are home or at least one of them is out and about, busy with a task they’ve probably been putting off for far too long. Don’t get me wrong though, the romantic gestures aren’t rare either. Random gifts are exchanged by them on regular intervals but one consistent and super romantic gesture that repeats a few times every year (of the two years they’ve been dating) is Corpse giving Y/N a bouquet of flowers.

A detail Y/N couldn’t help but take notice of was the fact that the bouquet was always made up of the same flowers with only small changes to the arrangement of them and maybe some tiny ones added too. Unfortunately, they aren’t artificial so they couldn’t have kept them thought they wish they could’ve. That being said, it goes without saying that those flowers mean the world to Y/N, the gesture actually - they know flowers are a common gift to give but anything they receive from Corpse is so special and makes them feel like the only person who’s ever received such a gift.

And so they got curious, they had to ask. They had to ask the question they never thought they’d actively ask considering their view of the topic. But they still did.

“Hey Corpse.“ Y/N spoke up out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen over them while they watched the movie they were only partially interested in given how exhausted they both were from devoting themselves to their respective tasks and responsibilities throughout the last few days.

Corpse hummed in response, the arm wrapped around their waist doing a little motion as if encouraging them to continue, his gaze immediately traveling down to his partner.

“What color are the flowers?“ They asked, gazing at the bouquet - a gift they had received from him for their birthday a few days prior - in the vase on the dining table.

They waited a few seconds but when they didn’t hear nor feel any sort of response from him they couldn’t help but look up at him. Upon doing so, they saw his small smile as his eyes too remained on the bouquet. “They’re black and white.“ He replied eventually, “Black roses and white daffodils.“ His gaze wandered away from the vase and down to meet theirs, “I don’t want you to think I’m seeing them in their ‘full beauty’ while you only see them in black and white. You are seeing them in their full beauty and not missing out on anything. They are absolutely beautiful black and white as they are.“

As a response to his answer, Y/N couldn’t suppress the growing smile on their face no matter how hard they tried. So they didn’t try at all, they let the smile lighten up their face before speaking up: “You’re a wonder, Corpse.” They said, pushing themself as upright as they could to be able to kiss his cheek. “However, you’re wrong.” They say when they pull away, smirking up at his confused expression, “My world was black and white until you came into it. You’re all the colors, Corpse. Your love’s red, joy’s yellow, sadness blue, chaos green. Love red. You’re all the colors and out of all the people that have tried to describe to me how they look, you have managed to do that just perfectly without even trying.”

Little did they know that’s exactly what he thinks of them - their world is black and white because all the colors live within them. Because they are all the colors.

And maybe they both are, seeing as how they came into each other’s lives exactly like the rainbow after the pouring rain.

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