#i always end long forms of text in ''thank you for your time'' its a quirk of mine

[simptasia]

You know what i've been thinking about? If Aaron was raised on the island, what would his accent be? Cause you see all those studies of the people of multiple countries coming together in remote places having children and their accents are something unheard of. Totally new accent. So by that would Aaron's accent be something like that? A mash of British/Australian/American/Korean/Iraqi/ whatever is wrong with Ben, like a totally new accent. Of course, I'm just condensing like Sawyer has his YeeHaw accent and Mike has a more New York, Hurley is Mexican and while he has an American accent in English when Speaking Spanish It's probably not that sooooo I'm just so curious on if they never left what the fuck their accent would be like. Plus, if they stayed on the island and Jin Suns kid was born there and in the future more babies would they inherit the same accent? Like say in this scenario Juliet/Sawyer or Kate/Jack or even fucking Charlie/desmond had children would they too inherit this new dialect/Accent thats contained to them only?Like would they create their own unique accent?, and when Aaron gets older he gets with Ji Yeon (which is so funny like the show runners were like yeah at the end they're still watching Bluey, we should totally imply they get together as adults) So if they hypothetically do get together in this idea where they never leave the island would their children help develop this complete unique accent?

funnily enough, you're pretty much describing what caused the australian accent to begin with. they plopped a ton of english and irish people here, added alcohol and a brand new fucked up way to talk was born

yes, studies show that a child's accent comes more from their enviroment more than their parents! hence why i have an adelaide aussie accent rather than my mum's southern english accent. because i grew up here. this also explains why daniel sounds american as opposed to his english mother. thats actually how it works (tho daniel also went to oxford during his teens so he should sound at least a bit more english but be glad we were spared jeremy attempting that)

i like this idea!

okay so, i think in regular world of lost, aaron grows up to have an american accent but with aussie turns of phrase. because i imagine aaron to be raised by claire and kate, in america. and also sawyer, miles, richard and frank are part of his life too. so claire is really outnumbered here. but he refers to her as "mum"

in this au where everybody stays on the island forever? ...probably still american because holy shit theres a lot of americans on this show but you're right, it could be at least a little muddled. i don't think it'd turn into an immediate frankenstein melting pot of aussie, england (north and south), american (yeehaw and otherwise), korean, iraqi and scottish because thats not exactly how accents work, it would take longer. but certain words and phrases would mix in aaron and ji yeon's (and the other hypothetical babies) little brains. and like certain pronunciations would probably be off. like, they'd be somewhat uncanny. also it's probable that these versions of aaron and ji would be so fucking good at accent impressions. oh and in this world, i like to think aaron can speak korean because he'd hear it around him a lot

so i think yeah the next gen in that AU would sound like,,, kinda weird sounding americans? so basically canadians

i've done my own recreational study of linguistics and phonetics in my time but i'd love to hear about this from somebody who knows more about this stuff than me. that'd be neat

also bless you for taking the take to adknowledge that not all the american accents are the same in this show (or in real life). i know i glide past it sometimes but its a fact i'm very aware of too

oh, oh, since you brought this up:

"Hurley is Mexican and while he has an American accent in English when Speaking Spanish It's probably not that sooooo"

i will take the opptunity to once again say that while hurley's voice is whiny american when he's speaking english (in a cute way! no dunk!), when he's speaking spanish his voice is absolutely beautiful

i realise that spanish accent > american accent isn't exactly a hot take but it blows me away because its coming out the same guy

thank you for allowing me to bring that up again. and for your time

[gallivantingheart]

synopsis: y/n is a witch from a long bloodline of illustrious Spellmasters. After a spell gone awry, they are left cursed to age prematurely and disfigured. In shame, they run and end up in the picturesque town of Martine to regroup and lift the curse. Enter Class A Spellmaster, Jeonghan - a little boastful of his talents, honestly - who agrees to assist in their research. All the while, a vicious wizarding manhunt sweeps the land - but what does the handsome Spellmaster have to do with it?

pairing: wizard!jeonghan x (f)reader feat. wizards seungkwan, mingyu, seokmin, soonyoung + joshua

word count: 41k+ (holy shit.)

genre/s: howl’s moving castle-inspired au, fluff, humour, romance, magic!

warnings: some very!minor body horror and dysmorphia, mentions of persecution by demographic, minor mention of blood, inaccurate references to witchcraft practices, some kissing

a/n: welcome, esteemed reader, to a fic over three years in the making. spawned from hannie's pretty pretty hair in ready to love era. my poor geriatric laptop is currently hemorrhaging due to the sheer amount of text right now. bear in mind that while this may be my magnum opus, doesn't mean it's going to be amazing. just damn long, which was never my strong suit. but hey, lore so deep i have a glossary? i hope you enjoy the ride anyway! also also @wonwooslibrary SAMMMM, SHIT LOOK I DID IT!!! thank you for your capital letter support, reading drafts and hearing my constant empty promise word count updates.

You caught your image in the reflection of a window; a bus stopping at a crossroads. By Merlin, you looked like a ghoul - swathed in layers of loose fabric, hooded to hide your face from direct vision. It was a recent image you had taken on in the last few days since you had left your family home.

You had cried for most of it, as if in mourning. Your veins feel empty and breathing is dull. You can’t feel the magic that you know is always in the air for the first time in your life and you’re panicking. Like drowning in a void. Suki, your familiar, looks as if she’s taken on a form of mange, her flickering whiskers wiry. She yowls often, glaring at you every moment you’re both awake.

It’s not until you reach a tram line and lopsided tram depot that you realise that you’re almost out of pity money in a far-off town. Said tram dings as it passes. Martine.

You went there growing up for a few school breaks. A hilly, seaside town that felt too modern yet nostalgic with its intricate and old tram network and tall brickwork. You really have been walking for a while.

You look at Suki. “Well. Back to civilization, huh?”

She seems to curl her lips up at you to bare yellowed fangs and turns to stalk down the main road. Fair enough.

In the time you’ve walked, you’ve had a lot of time to think of your next move. Too ashamed to turn back. Afraid of the debris you’d left behind and the consequences from it. You didn’t want to remember, ironically enough, seeing as memory spells are what got you in this mess in the first place. If you don’t want to go back, you must go forward. Fix this - and Suki, you guess. So, you had to reach for magic again and find a cure. It wasn’t hard for you to make that choice; you yearned for it to spark at your fingertips again.

But you feel so ashamed, wandering the town of Martine, a slovenly beggar in a matter of days. Just as people had on the walk here, everyone avoids any eye contact with you and Suki. Monsters in public, too grotesque to look at. Limp and withered on a park bench, you slip further and further into self-absorbed depression. How old were you now? How were you to survive? Where do you even begin?

A large hand touches your shoulder. In the almost-night, a tall young man smiles gently. “You look lost - are you okay?”

You shake your head slowly. “I - well no…”

“I’m Kim Mingyu, first of my name. You must be tired and hungry - Martine is quite far away from any other towns. Did you want a bite to eat?” He guides you to your feet, making your decision for you even as you protest in confusion.

“I, well yes, but - I have no money or - wait -”

He shakes his head and feather light, steers you through the streets to a corner of town a little less busy, but further uphill. Something more suburban. Suki doesn’t protest for the first time since the curse has struck.

“Don’t worry. I’d feel terrible leaving you exposed to the elements like that. Think of this as something for me rather than a favour for you. To keep my conscience clear.” He babbles on as shop signs are turned closed and street lamps are lit.

“Ah, here we are.” Mingyu says to a small manor house.

It’s quaint compared to the other houses that line the street, but still extravagant by regular residential means. Faded red brick and a thatched roof with a blooming front garden and white picket fence. Hanging from the fence is a lovely sign – Aji’s Home Away from Home: B&B. He doesn’t even lock his front door! In the entryway there is an altar, a wooden spoon amongst it - you bow. Leading you both down the low hallway, Mingyu seats you at a round dining table and swiftly puts a tattered apron over his head. The table rocks a little on old, uneven legs and he chats with you as he sets up.

“I never got your name - you are?” He looks over his shoulder expectantly with bright eyes.

You only give your first name, rude in most situations. “This is Suki, my fami- companion.”

A scrawny white dog enters, claws clattering over the hardwood floors. Suki and the canine are civil, seeming to communicate in a language all their own. Mingyu checks the pie in the oven - how he arranged it so quickly is beyond you - before eyeing you curiously.

“Y/n, do you happen to be of magic blood? A witch?” He asks.

You heave a sigh, unable to hide the glare you shoot the animals on the floor. “How could you tell?”

“Well, Aji never behaves this nicely with non-magical beings, like Suki. You bowed to my altar and didn’t panic at the dishes cleaning themselves. Most mortals are at least a little amused by it, even nowadays.” He surmises.

Honestly, the dishes were such a regular thing in magical households you didn’t even realise it was happening. Wooden spoon, quick food, warm house - must be a Kitchenmaster.

“I am - well, used to be. My magic is a little…. compromised to say the least.”

He hums in acknowledgement. “Well, if we can rustle up some sort of payment, you’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as necessary. I run the B&B here, anyway. Just me.”

You smile, idly adjusting the table settings in front of you. “I - Mingyu, thank you. That is most gracious of you.”

“So, you look like you’re a little lost to say the least - very far from home?” As he flits about the kitchen, he chats with you over his shoulder.

You bow your head, engrossed in the dents and pot burns that litter the wooden table top. “Uh, yes, very.”

“Something happen?” Something quietly simmers and bubbles as he works on some root vegetables.

“Yes. I - magic. I suspect.” It’s hard to admit any more than that.

Saying more means admitting to your own fallacies. Right now, you are content to wallow in your misery; lick your wounds. Suki however, gives you a surly side eye from her place by the window with Aji. He twists to properly eye you. You know how disarming and unsettling your appearance is, so having someone examine so intently makes you want to curl up into a ball.

Mingyu looks at you, thoughtful. “Magic related. Was this curse by someone else or a backfire - self-inflicted?”

You sigh, long winded. “Both? The spell was quite old, so it may have had caveats I wasn’t aware of.”

“Hmmm. I have a friend. Potionsmaster, Class B. Family run apothecary. He might be able to help. Lee Seokmin.” Mingyu stoops against his fridge to write it out on a notepad magnetised to it - of course he has one of those. He rips it off and folds it neatly, handing it to you. “Give him a try tomorrow - see what he can do.”

As soon as he’s written that, it's the blink of an eye and dinner is served. Something that would have taken the average person half an hour, takes the Kitchenmaster mere minutes. Mingyu pretty much force feeds you a stew of sorts with plenty of vegetables and hot spices - to warm you, he says firmly, arms crossed - and a side of rice. The pie he claims is for tomorrow - it’s better the next day when it all settles and isn’t so viscous. Suki gets a little saucer with salmon, mushed to bits for her little teeth.

After a waddle - read, struggle - up to the attic, his smallest room and a fitful rest, you drag Suki out at the crack of dawn to make the long walk down to Lee Seokmin’s shop, the address tucked into the pocket of your own apron. Suki, disgruntled by the wake-up call, trots haughtily in front of you, weaving about and purposefully getting in your way. You pull up to a stop, fists on your hips. You can hardly see her through the head covering you had meticulously wrapped this morning in the mirror in the attic.

You glare down at Suki. “Hey now, be good. If Mingyu is right we might just get out of this just as soon as we got into it.” She gives you a glare with her green-gold eyes and you sigh, amending your words. “Fine, as soon as I got us into it. Sorry.” The mangy cat seems to roll her eyes at you, trotting ahead with a haughty tilt to her nose. Even in her state she’s as proud as ever.

The door jingles when you open it, the light from the street shining in. The wood is warm and despite the knowledge that a lot of potion supplies need to be cool and out of direct light, sunlight illuminates everything - how was this supposed to be a Class B Potionsmaster with a place like this? Herbs and dried ingredients sit in jars on top of tinted glass cabinets. Touching them you find them cool, yet not icy or condensated - must be magic.

A door to the side is open, even more sunlight streaming through a room much like a greenhouse. A cauldron softly bubbles and smokes, its fragrance neither sweet nor unpleasant but inherently herbal. A young man, tall with narrow features and a sunny smile pops up. He wears a canvas apron, stained wooden spoon in hand.

“Hello - welcome to Lee Apothecary! How can I help?”

He’s so warm and sweet! “Seokmin?”

He nods. “That’s me – Lee Seokmin, first of my name.”

“Mingyu sent me. Said you may be able to help.”

You heave a breath, shutting your eyes. You can’t even bear to see your hands as you uncover your face from the loose coverings. You can hear the soft inhale of shock. Suki jumps from a shelf to land next to you, warm against your leg.

“It’s a curse. Can you help me?”

Your age and disfigurement are too hideous to be natural. The wiry age in your grey hair, gnarled limbs and wrinkles. One eye is different from the other. Warts and missing teeth. Your hand is strangely shaped and you try your best not to hobble when you walk. It’s only now that you notice Suki’s appearance goes further than mange, her tail with a sad broken kink in it.

He walks around his counter to face you, his long fingers cradling your own as he examines you. Touches your palms and turns them as if they will reveal something to him, like an Augur. The Potionsmaster does the same to Suki, who is for once calm and pliant - the moggie never does as she’s told.

He sighs and shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. This is too heavy a curse for a simple potion to fix.” He squints at you. “But...you knew that already.”

“I was hoping otherwise.”

“Even if I could tell you, no potion would do this, or fix this. A spell does something like this - changes your aura. However, if you want, I can make a glamour mist and tonic to lessen the blow. Your familiar, however, is stuck as she is.”

Suki yowls broken, and you nudge her into silence. “Please, it’s been awfully hard as I am.”

It’s only been a few days, but it’s more than enough to be grateful for however you looked before this.

He turns away to pick out ingredients, weaving through the store and dropping them into his apron. “What did you look like before all of this anyway?” He says.

“Younger.” Is all you say, guarded.

He tells you he’ll be by Mingyu’s tonight to drop off the tonic along with some other supplies for Mingyu – free of charge. Somehow your disfigurement has lost your youth but gained luck. Or pity. They’re both the same at this rate. Mingyu is welcoming new guests when you come up the road. So as not to scare his clients, you gesture to the courtyard, a tall gate on the left. With his towering height, he sees all and merely nods in the slightest. As soon as the door is shut, you carefully walk the winding side path to the gate, the path all but hidden in his immaculate garden.

He opens the gate for you from the other side. “Wh-”

“I don’t want to scare anyone.” You murmur.

He tilts his head in sympathy, dressed in brown trousers and a lovely knitted cardigan. “You needn’t worry. They were just dropping off their luggage and have headed off to the beach. You are welcome here, trust me.”

You both walk through the bright courtyard back to the kitchen. This is Mingyu’s home turf, his safe space and is quickly growing to be yours. He instantly puts the kettle on and sets the two of you up for late morning tea.

“So, how did Seokmin go?”

“He’s coming by tonight to drop a tonic off. He couldn’t fix it, only ease it. I think I will need to do some research myself, once I’ve worked out how to take care of myself.”

You’ve never been on your own, the family house your only home. So, you meant it when you said taking care of yourself. Never having had to stay under a roof that wasn’t your own. As promised that evening, as the sun is just beginning to set and the lamplights are being lit, Seokmin is at Mingyu’s, dropping off his concoction of cleaning supplies. The two of them chat away animatedly in matching aprons. The tonic smells like roses and ginseng, in a spray bottle. You could pretend and mistake it for a perfume if you wanted to. The directions, to spray three times in the morning, in sunlight, facing east are labelled on the bottle. His eye falls on you idly stirring Mingyu’s soup with only a finger against the spoon handle.

“You look dead bored.” He says to you in passing.

“I am. Magic used to be a crutch for me. Part of my studies and my livelihood. Now I don’t have it…” you go quiet on that sombre thought. “Anyway! I’ll find something to amuse myself and my creaky bones.”

They both laugh weakly. You were getting used to the old and geriatric jokes that spilled off your tongue. Used far too often to lighten the mood and ground yourself.

Seokmin perks up though. “Well, if you’re ever in need of something to occupy yourself, I could always use a hand down at the shop. Someone to cover while I’m on errands.”

“Happy to help, Seokmin.” You say firmly.

You take Seokmin up on his offer, puttering around out the back of the apothecary, cutting and preparing ingredients as well as appropriately storing them. His parents have retired so Seokmin runs the place on his own. It’s sweet, seeing packages come in from them once in a while with limited, rare ingredients along with heartfelt messages reciting their recent grey nomad adventures. His own family has limited texts on spells, the whole family being Potionmasters, but it’s a start. A way to adapt the spray that he provides and eventually add on a tonic to improve your actual health. You can’t run a marathon, but you can go the full day on your feet now, without feeling like you’ll keel over by the end of lunch. Seokmin graciously provides you a small salary - exactly enough to keep your lodging with Mingyu. By day you work out the back of the apothecary, by night you pour over any magical text you can get your hands on to gather knowledge on how to reverse the curse you’ve brought upon yourself - truly showing your real age with a part time job and all.

Sat one mid-afternoon at the iron garden table, you catch the tears in Mingyu’s apron - fraying at his shoulder and the scorch mark that wore a hole in his pocket. You pout and groan as you rise, feeling your body creak as you reach to pull it off the hook in the wall.

“Mingyu, your apron.” You murmur.

He’s come in from the garden, wearing a soft sage green one, the pockets filled with herbs. He has gardening gloves on, dusted with dirt. The Kitchenmaster splutters and panics at the sight of you up and about but you wave him off with a huff.

“Please, I can mend this. Something small for your kindness.” You say.

He must see the desperation in your eyes because he nods, tugging off his gloves to toss on the garden bench by the back door. Mingyu guides you back inside to plonk you back at the dining table, round and thickly waxed.

“I think I have some old sewing bits in a cupboard. I’ll be back, okay?” He says, gently as always.

You nod, smiling. “Yes, please.”

As he dashes off, his large frame swallowing any space down the hallway, you clutch his cooking apron. There are food stains on the canvas, obviously an effort made to clean them away to no avail. Not to worry - you can fix that too.

A small biscuit tin popped open before you. The young man hovers wearily in front of you for a moment, in and out of the natural lighting as you scrounge through for thread and needle as well as something like a patch. It’s sweet how he gapes like a fish, squeaking a little and flapping his hands in the air. Very distracting though.

“I - are you sure you’re okay? I mean - if the joints in your hands, well -”

You level him with a look. “I'll be fine, thank you Mingyu. Give me the rest of the night at most and it will be done. Don’t go fussing and panicking just yet.”

He falls quiet and nods, waddling back out to the garden to finish up his chores. Suki sits outside on the wooden bench where shoes were usually shucked underneath, snoozing in the sun. If you were sure of one thing, other than your magic, it was sewing. All of your family had a mundane ability. Your mother was a wonderful gardener, your father a mechanic. Your grandmother was a hairdresser before she became a member of the high council. You took up sewing - something your mum was also adept at so could give you a head start. So mending Mingyu’s apron was a slice. By instinct, you add a sigil, a meld of cleanliness and resourcefulness. If only to help in repelling any more potential food stains and to better utilise the pocket. Sewn with an off-red thread, for luck. By the time the sun sets and Mingyu heads inside to make dinner, his apron hangs back on its hook, better than before. He gapes, rubbing his calloused thumbs over the new thread. The splash of colour seems to bring a bit more life into it.

Mingyu plunges his hands, then his elbows into the pockets of his apron, wonder rounding his lips. “They’re… endless!”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “I merely sewed some charms and sigils into the inner. They aren’t magic or anything special I assure you. Holds just as much as you need - in theory.”

“You fixed it so well. Thank you.” The Kitchenmaster says softly.

“Of course. You’re welcome.” You shrug. “The least I could do. Now, what’s on the menu?”

Over time, between helping Mingyu and helping Seokmin, you would sew. Cloaks for Mingyu and his wizarding friends, sigils stitched inside to keep them warm and to not lose them. Resistance to wear and tear, to give luck. They were richly designed and soon others, magic or mortal, were taking notice, asking for hats or coats. They would pay handsomely too for their commission. Women who wanted bonnets and sunhats and men who wished for suit jackets and mending their jaunty hats. You would measure exactly to size and chat as you did so, posted up in Mingyu’s kitchen by day and your attic room by night. The attic now has bolts on bolts of fabric leant against the wall and sewing scissors constantly on your person. The research has taken a bit of a back seat, actually.

“So, this is awfully pretty. For any reason in particular?”

The young woman hums and gazes out the window to the courtyard, bright and peaceful. Her clear skin glows and her petite lips curl in a shy cherry smile. Minji is her name and this is the second time she has come to see you, the first time for some basic mending on a lingerie dress for a summer outing.

“I’m going on an outing with a very kind young gentleman - Hyungjin. His father works at the radio company, you see. He’s asked me out for a picnic - just us. Or, as just us as it can be with my sister chaperoning. I want to look my best.”

You smile. “And what do you consider to be your best? Imagine how you want to be seen - what you want him to think when he sees you.”

“Pretty. Oh, maybe a little taller? I just want him to think that there is no one else like me.”

“That makes sense. Remind me, when was the deadline for this hat?”

She looks at you, a little startled. “Oh! Three weeks from Wednesday - the outing is on Thursday.”

You nod, pulling away to a calendar in the hallway draw to mark the date. Suki follows in your shadow, eyes speaking volumes of curiosity. “So I don’t forget. This is a big commission, Suki.” You murmur down to her.

You pull over a sketch as you sit back next to her. Measurements down the left. A large floppy straw hat with sakura pink ribbon around the base and fluttering down to tie to her chin. A floral pin to the right, twined with many small flowers like a bouquet. The sketch shows how the inside will most likely be felted, to prevent the straw from snagging in her dark silky curls. Minji’s eyes light up as she coos and sings. Her slender hands clasp against her chest as she sways on the spot, ever the romantic.

“Oh it’s perfect. Delightfully summery. If we could have the brim a touch thinner and the band a quarter of an inch thicker, that would be divine.”

You grasp the pencil oddly in your gnarled grasp, roughly drawing the modified lines. This has her singing again, humming and clapping in agreement. She is only one of two commissions - the other being an optional winter cloak for Soonyoung, a vivacious Spellmaster that specialises in ritual dance. He was going up to the mountains for the next month and needed something a little sturdier than whatever he wore down in Martine. He’d even had the mind to pre-buy the material he wanted and bring it to you!

Mingyu lets you work in his kitchen for almost a month, one danish tin filled to the brim with sewing supplies and another biscuit tin on a shelf in the hall keeping your payments safe for board. He disappears out the back for long periods of time, banging about on the other side of the kitchen wall. He comes back sweaty and dusty, waving off your curiosity with a giggle. He would even shoo Suki out from around the corner.

“I promise I’ll tell you about it as soon as it’s done.” Is all he says one evening.

So, when he finally announces his work complete, you’re embarrassingly eager. The Kitchenmaster tugs you standing and holds your gnarled hands, guiding you up and around the back, down a path you’d never thought to wander to. Maybe he had cleaned this up too, recently.

He leads you around the back of the house to a little building, seemingly tacked on the end as an afterthought.  Somehow, you realise, you’ve never thought to look this way, even out of curiosity. The bricks were the same but the wood for the window frames weren’t. The door frame was different again in material and shape compared to the rest of the house. Pulling out an old skeleton key, Mingyu opens the peeling forest green door to a dusty room, odds and ends everywhere. The room is dark and a little musty. Dust floats free in the air. He’s quick to open curtains and windows to air out the sizable room.

“This used to be my uncle’s office - he used to be some kind of intellectual. The garden was planted for his studies, actually. But when I moved in, I never needed an office, so it kind of just became the storage room. But, now that people are asking for your sewing and tailoring skills more frequently, you need more than just the dining table or even the attic. I can of course help clean up, but I thought, maybe? You could set up here? I mean, the desk is big enough to do something with, right?”

His warm eyes are hopeful as he stands by a desk, hands fiddling with the pocket of his apron. Suki surveys the space, sniffing at boxes and furniture. Finally, she settles herself atop whatever was on the window seat. Her yellow eyes glare at you expectantly. Certainly not taking no for an answer.

“I mean, this has way more natural light and saves people from walking through the boarding house all the time? O-Only if you want to? Take up tailoring properly?” Mingyu babbles on.

You take it in, slack-jawed. “Mingyu...you...you found a room, just for me?”

You’re afraid to speak any louder than a whisper, unable to trust your voice. You rest your hand on the heavy wood of the desk, surely a generation old, by the carved designs alone. Suki is inspecting every corner, her twisted whiskers getting in everything and catching cobwebs. Mingyu starts to go a little red, chuckling with a shrug.

“Well, yeah. Can’t have you working on the kitchen table forever, can we? And I want you to feel comfortable here, for as long as you need to be.” He smiles.

You bite your chapped lips to stem the gurgled breath - your eyes prickle. You squeeze his large hand with your knobbly one, weak but meaningful.

You smile. “Mingyu, this is a lovely idea. How much extra would you like me to pay?”

He pauses to stare at you, as if you’ve grown a third eye. You flinch at the expression, uncomfortable with it in your current state. Mingyu softens his expression, shaking his head.

“Extra? No, I don’t use this room and you need it. No extra charge. It’s a win-win for the both of us. Please.”

You relax and nod, smiling tentatively. “All right then. If you insist. Thank you Mingyu.”

Mingyu tinkers away for a few days after. As do you, the both of you working on opening up the back room some more. Dusting and wiping down surfaces, packaging anything up that needed to be out the way. Mingyu carves sigils into cupboard doors, jamming more and more things into them than usually possible. You stare curiously at the lone sewing set you had been working with, sat awfully small on the desk – still out of a biscuit tin. You take in the rest of the room – empty window seat, desperate for cushions, plenty of empty shelves for whatever you desired. Fabrics and sewing supplies. Maybe a dress form and some hat bases. If you really dared in the far future, maybe a sewing machine.

It’s at the end of the week that Mingyu reveals his final work for you. Signs. Two – one to hang above your study door, the other to hang by the back gate of the bed & breakfast, facing the street. Martine Fashion and Millinery. You gasp, running your fingers over the painted and sealed wood.

“Mingyu, really?” You murmur.

He beams. “Well, if you’re going to be working here, your business needs a name. And customers need to be able to find you. Really, it was no trouble.”

He stoops to pick up and push a small lacquered chest across the table at you. You let out a wet gasp, hands trembling as you reached out, fearful to do so.

“Now, now before you panic, this came out of your board for the month, so this isn’t so much of a gift as it is an investment. And it’s just a basic one. You can add to it when and however you choose. But the biscuit tin was a little meagre at this point.” He explains.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what to say. I-I don’t understand. Mingyu, I’m just some lady you met and took in. There is no need to go to these lengths.”

He shrugs and smiles again. “Like I said, this is all just an investment for me. I know this will pay off, for the both of us.”

You nod and promise to yourself that you intend to make every moment of this work count. If not for yourself, for Mingyu and all his hard work.

So Minji’s commission plans get moved into the back room as does the calendar from the hallway. And the next morning, as soon as the sun kissed the horizon, you waddled through town to pick up supplies. Speaking of Minji, she’s just as delighted as you are at the new space, swaying and bouncing on her toes and clapping in joy in the doorway.

“Oh, look! It’s wonderful! Your own space! You’ll be flooded with work in no time.” She gushes.

You smile warmly. Suki isn’t even perturbed by her noise.

“I hope so. Here, this is yours.” You guide her to a hat sat on a back shelf where dry specimen jars were but days ago.

You turn to present it to her and watch with shock as her bright eyes go glassy. She holds her delicate hands to her little mouth. She glances between you and the sun hat, made to her specifications, almost as if you’d pulled it straight from the original plans.

“This - this is for me?” She squeaks.

You nod. “Of course. Exactly as you asked. Would you like to-”

She whipped her hat pin out and wrenched her current hat off, slipping the new sun hat on. In that moment, you had to tip your head up a little to see her as before. There is a little mirror nailed to a wall and Minji twists and turns to examine it and herself.

“I’m…it’s beautiful. Oh, Y/N, you’ve done a magnificent job.” She says softly.

“I hope so. Hyungjin can’t possibly resist you now.” You add.

You’re startled suddenly as she throws her arms around you, her soft floral scent enveloping you. She squeezes tight for such a petite girl, swaying you a little.

“I can’t thank you enough. Truly.”

She pulls back, radiant and pops it into the waiting hat box. She takes a moment to secure her current hat back in place with her glittering pearl hat pin and cradles the box close.

“I don’t care what happens tomorrow. I know it will go swimmingly. I’m telling all my friends about you. I want you positively swamped with work if it’s all going to be just as good as this.” She says, resolute, before whirling out with a spring in her step.

Minji quickly rushes back, swinging into the doorway. “I will have my father send payment to you by the end of the day. You’re getting paid handsomely for this, I assure you. A mere one hundred is not enough.”

You open your mouth to protest the agreed price but she’s already gone, past your window and away.

In the days after, a young man walks into the study, angelic and handsome. As if he walks on air and pretty eyes almost hidden behind a lemon blonde fringe. There is a sleepy yet sweet turn to his lips as he waltzes into the study, a bundle of fabric in his arms. However, as soon as he lays his eyes on you, his face twists unpleasantly.

“Oh dear. That is quite the curse you have.” He hums, letting the door shut behind him.

You deflate, leaning wearily against the desk. Of course, it has to be a wizard - a Spellmaster no doubt from the way he looks you over.

You heave a sigh. “How can I help?”

“Well, I heard there was an exceptional seamstress in town and I just had to see them. My cloak is in tatters after my last assignment - small chimney dragon. Mingyu sent me.”

You perk up. “You know Mingyu?”

“Certainly.” They smile. “I’m Yoon Jeonghan, first of my name, Class A Spellmaster - best in Martine.”

No wonder they could see through Seokmin’s glamour. You hold out your hands as he gives you the dusty pink and sky-blue cloak. It’s shredded and singed, limp in your grasp the way a wizard’s cloak never should be. Most cloaks of magic users had some sort of life or vibrancy to them. Their energy would zing over your skin, leaving you alive and sensitive. You lay it out over the heavy desk to make out the top and tail. He peers over it like a worried parent.

“So, can you fix it?”

You shoot him a scowl. “If you gave me some space and light, maybe.”

He ducks his head and steps back. “Right. Sorry. I just - my mother and grandmother made it for me. They’re my family colours.”

Something jabs right underneath your rib cage - an uppercut of feelings. Now you really can’t turn it down - not that you would, you need the money.

“I see. Well, come back in a few days and I’ll see how I go. I - you’re my first proper, official customer. With the sign and all.” You confess.

Jeonghan straightens up. “Well, that is an honour. Please, let me know how you go - good day.”

The way he eyes you, you’re not sure what he’s referring to. But still, you pass a vague wave and hunch over the garment. When he leaves it’s with a little less bravado as before, his airy gait is a little more grounded - vulnerable. But Suki is absolutely enamoured with him, watching him with intent from the window. 

“Suki leave him alone and come here, I need you to hold this.” You call, brisk.

She reluctantly turns and leaps up, sitting exactly where you need her as you unfurl it all and get to work on the spare space of the buffet. Your pencils and tailors’ chalk come out as you sketch plans and designs. You frown over your shoulder as you eye it again. This was not going to be some small feat, that’s for sure. By the end of the day, you have a semblance of a plan drawn up, especially after you realise that the tatters are worse than first feared. It’s as if a bear has torn into it then a flood of moths had a feast. That small chimney dragon certainly did a number on this. Too many holes to just sew back together and call it a day. He’s going to need a whole new cloak. So, you add new fabric to the list of shopping supplies. And then note that you’ll need to design something asap - befitting of the willowy wizard.

It takes until the end of the week to have the design drawn up and fabric brought and cut to size. At least the hood and collar are still intact, so the measurements from that are used. Mingyu approves of the new design heartily, mindful of spilling goulash on the plans.

“Oh, that’s just perfect. His family isn’t from around here, so he’ll be waiting for a new one from them forever otherwise. Jeonghan is going to love it.”

You work furiously with it, alongside three other garments for Minji’s friends – as she had promised, a steady stream of pretty socialites had come in with grand commissions, all with varying deadlines and needs. Jeonghan pops in once or twice as well, still appearing full of confidence, yet a little bare now you knew he was missing something. He didn’t quite look whole. You shooed him out every time, with the promise it would be done soon.

“Do bear in mind that this is going to cost you a pretty penny. You gave me some shreds of a cloak and expected me to work magic on it – of which I cannot.” You huff one day.

He shrugs blithely, lemon yellow hair shining in the sun. “If Mingyu and the others trust you, so do I.”

Then, he has the nerve to better eye you. “Hmm - cursed?”

You draw up short and glare at him. “How dare – yes. Why?”

Jeonghan shakes his head. “Who would curse you?”

“It’s none of your business!” Your grip is fisted in the fabric of his cloak, ready to slam it down and kick him out.

He slides his sight to Suki, looking at him as if he hung the moon and stars in the sky for her. He giggles and slants his head down at her.

“And with a familiar? So, you were a witch? A cursed witch with no magic. Hmm.” He ponders like a detective.

“Out with you.” You say through clenched teeth. “It’s not ready yet.”

The blonde draws back and tips his head as he backs out of the study. His shadow draws long over the floorboards.

“Of course. I will see you next week.” Jeonghan says softly. At least he has a bit of tact, you think as you heave a steadying breath.

When the assigned day arrives, Jeonghan is dramatic, splaying his body across your counter and disturbing your garments. Despite your irritation at the disruption, you smirk – your anger over the other day has dissipated. The secret is out, no use in holding anything over it.

"You roll wrong on that Spellmaster, and you'll become a pin cushion."

He sits up swiftly to attention, shooting you a pout. "Right. So, is it ready yet?"

You nod, opening the small cupboard above your head to pull down a folded garment, delicate and fine. You tuck some of the other pieces aside, folding them to hold their designs. The window streams in sunlight that catches on the metal of the pins.

"Now, like I said, I can’t work magic and that cloak you gave me just could not be salvaged." Jeonghan deflates at your news. "However, I hope you don't mind, but I did take the liberty of designing and making a brand new one, based on the old pattern and colour scheme, and with Mingyu’s approval. With some added practicalities."

You shake it out, holding it up, inside facing. It looked a bit like the old diamond design but stylistically fragmented, like falling confetti. You used most of the old cloak, in fact, splicing it over the new sky-blue fabric you’d brought. You added a hood lining. Thin gold trim along the entire edges and a pocket or two as well. What catches his eye though is the talismans and charms stitched into the pattern. Ones for protection and added strength to the material. Ones for luck and a weave of beauty charms along the bottom hem, as functional as it was decorative. He smiles blindingly, taking it from your grasp. The fabric is thicker than before but still breathable and good for varied types of weather. He holds the cloak to the window, inspecting it with awe rounding his petal-like lips.

“I - It’s beautiful.” He looks at you. “I’m glad you fixed this so well. I don’t know what I would have done if you had done any less.”

You’re a little overwhelmed with the compliments but shrug to take them, turning away and somehow trying to hide. But Jeonghan’s gaze isn't something you can hide from - he’s too talented and observant not to see. Every wrinkle and atom of your disfigurement. It suits his fair hair and skin, somehow more ethereal than before. Only now do you notice how discreet his wand holster is, tied under his shirt by his waist, only the wind giving it away. He steps in long paces into your personal space.

"And you used your magic as well! I thought you said you lost it along with the curse?" He blinks at you owlishly as he slides it over his solid shoulders - nothing like Mingyu's but still attractive. You frown. 

"I have. Sigils aren't magic per se. Regular mortals can invoke them." You mutter, shifting your face deeper into your swath of fabrics.

Ever since Jeonghan arrived and re-exposed your curse, you'd taken to wearing your well-covering garments, if only for peace of mind. Not to mention the fact he was absolutely gorgeous so who would want to be seen next to him in your condition?

"Still. These ones have power to them. I bet they've never failed." He replies in a hushed tone, running his fingers over the silvery white thread stitching it all together.

You stay silent as he caresses the fabrics again, his posture changing back into something haughty - just the same way as you had first met him. His dark eyes brim with sincerity though, a warm lopsided smile there too.

“No, really. I am indebted to you - this cloak is one of the most important things I own. Please, will you let me help you find a cure for your curse? I insist.” Jeonghan has to dip his head quite far to eye you with your lopsided hunch.

You wave him off with a scoff. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. Just please ensure that I am paid for my work. It’s going to be a little bit more expensive than you probably expected, including labour and materials.”

You’re lying. Obviously. Your trip to Seokmin was enough proof of that. Your room in the attic was back to being littered with research texts from Seokmin and any of Mingyu’s other friends who you raided. It had even escaped down here, cluttered in the corner of a shelf behind you. For those moments when your fingers could not take a moment more with a needle.

“Of course - name your price! But please, I insist. I am a Class A Spellmaster - the best wizard I know, if I do say so myself. If I cannot find a cure, then I will leave you be.” He casts a glance at Suki. “But I'm sure neither you, nor your familiar, want to stay in these forms for very much longer.”

You grumble and gristle under your breath but concede - it couldn’t hurt to have another pair of eyes, not to mention the expertise. You knew you were just as smart as him, once upon a time.

“Tsk, if we can help it. I suppose another perspective isn’t the worst thing. Thank you, Jeonghan.” You straighten up a bit. “But, just for the record, I do know far better casters than you.”

He shows up bright and early the next morning, a satchel slung by his hip and a pile of books tucked amongst his arms. His lemony hair is in his eyes, from the wind. His cloak looks good on him still, settled with airy pride on his shoulders as it drifts about his calves. You splutter and scoff with disbelief from your new place in the study. You didn’t expect him to start so soon.

“I - good morning?” You grouse.

His back is straight as he plonks it all down on the buffet. “Hello, study buddy.”

“Hmm, speaking of that...where will you be studying? I have the desk?”

Jeonghan really makes himself at home, politely shucking his shoes off by the doorway to show white redarned socks with sky blue patches over his big toe sewn with swamp green thread. He hangs his cloak up on the prescribed hooks by the door, the curling bronze dulled with age. Somehow, he finds a stool and tugs that over. How he looks so at home with his pastel attire startles you. Suki, as usual, is no help at all, no matter how much you nag her - “this is for our board payment, you know. Keep a roof over our head? Useless cat.”

He pulls out his ink and quill and arranges himself neatly, a notebook rested against his thigh. A pair of thin gold rimmed glasses come out and gingerly perch on the bridge of his nose.

“So, how far have you gotten with your research? I assume you’ve done some?” He stares at you expectantly over his spectacles and you can’t help but screw your face up - he looks like some kind of fluffy gossip column reporter, even the way he crosses his legs in such a conversational fashion.

“Jeonghan, all my notes are in the attic. I don’t really have the time to trudge all the way up there at the moment - I have three deadlines to meet to make board for next month.”

He waves you off. “Oh, that’s fine. Just talk to me and I’ll listen - get what I can. Then maybe tonight I can borrow your papers and we’ll see what we come up with. I give it no more than a week and I'll have some answers for you.”

Ugh, arrogant.

It’s been a few months and business is booming. You work late hours most days and often carry some sort of garment with you to Seokmin’s when he is out on house calls and needs someone to watch the apothecary for a delivery. With you around he can even afford to do house calls now, something unheard of before, seeing as he was the only one at the shop. Suki doesn’t like those days much, moving about, so she stays in the study, the window opened a crack to let herself in and out as she pleases. Meanwhile, you enjoy working on commissions in the bright, warm conservatory attached to Seokmin’s apothecary. You make board and more, having the profits to purchase hat stands and so on, as well as squirrel away a portion into the former Danish tin for…well you weren’t sure what. But it felt responsible to have a bit aside for whatever emergency may befall you. Maybe injury? You were old.

Jeonghan has become a steady fixture in the study, between his own jobs. His cloak has been mended plenty of times since. His own corner while you take commission appointments at the main desk, his shoes staying on then. The Spellmaster even has the ingenuity to draw up a hefty glamour spell, with your expertise. You preen a little at his surprise at your knowledge – before all this you were studying to be an apprentice Spellmaster for the High Council your grandmother is on, so you needed to be a vessel of knowledge for anything. The glamour spell helps you ease the fear of leaving the study to retrieve any of your purchases from the post office, or even being seen by him. He brings lunch from the kitchen yet is fairly quiet, other than bouncing the odd theory about. It’s refreshing from his dramatics initially.

Jeonghan rushes into the study one afternoon, face flushed but eyes a light. He’s waving a scrap of paper in his hand, a massive book tucked under his arm. He had told you the evening before across Mingyu’s round, wobbly kitchen table that he would be working from his place - he had Spellmaster duties to attend to after all. He acted as if you thought he was the centre of the universe.

You scowl at him, a little irritated at the interruption. “Hmm?”

“Y/N! I’ve - I’ve got something!”

You look at him, nose screwed up. You roll your free hand at him, as if to continue. He rushes to sit on the edge of the desk yowling when a stray pin pricks his thigh.

“About your curse! It’s self-inflicted!” He says quietly, full of pride.

Your face turns even more and your voice drops deadly low. Everything goes still. “I beg your pardon.”

He wilts at your tone of voice. Deathly calm yet uneven to tread. Your glare is both old and young, a fury for any age. He turns out the tome he held, fabric hardcover soft and faded on the corners from age. He points to a passage that threw your entire life back in your face.

Self-inflicted curse caused by a power recoil, usually due to using a spell too advanced for one’s own capabilities. This can affect the caster’s relative surroundings in any fashion from explosions and fire to time displacement. The cure is unknown and inconclusive, suspected to be only found by the caster themselves. A caster’s Familiar, should they have one, is greatly affected by this curse, as they are linked. 

“It’s…the effects are the same.” He says carefully. “This is why you had so many sources on self-induced effects. You knew.”

It’s a slap in the face having your own suspicions said back to you. You didn’t truly want to admit out loud this was all your fault to anyone else except Suki. Nor did you want anyone else finding out your own monumental mistakes.

“With an unknown cure, Jeonghan!” You cry out, louder than you intended, but you meant it. “I can be stuck like this forever - or however long that is in my state. And all I know is that it’s my own fault! Which, from everything so far, was kind of obvious!”

You rise up and snap the book shut, narrowly missing his nimble fingers. You haven’t been this enraged in a long time. Before the curse. You shove it back in his direction.

“Get out. Get out!” You yell, shooing him out of the room like vermin.

Suki is rumpled and skitters around your feet, sending herself out with him. Traitor. You slam the door in his fearful face and bow forward, resting both palms on the wood.

Of course, it was your fault. You’re the one with the arrogance to try and cast the memory spell when your father had explicitly told you not to. It was old and full of components you thought you understood – you were studying this specific vein of magic, of course you should know by now. You could do everything else, why was this the spell that would hold you back? Once it had been cast, your memory would be able to hold almost infinite information. It was easier than binding a caster’s magic. Your own hubris led you to cast it in the sloping backyard of the family house. In the dead of the night with everyone away at a Council convention. You had felt it fly out of control, like a garden hose pressure sending it spinning and water flying. Your shout of shock and Suki’s yowls the last things you heard. Then the home that had been in your family for generations was up in flames, the frame hanging together by the thread. The force of it all sent you careening into your mother’s prized rose bushes. When you came to, this is who you were. So, you ran.

So yes, you’d known deep down for a long time where it came from. But hearing there was no cure? Well then, what was the point?

You work in a guilt and anger fuelled fever the rest of the day and only until the oil in your lamps had dwindled did you toss it in for the time being, dragging your feet around into the house. There was a serving of dinner set aside, still magically warm to the touch, but the rest of the place was dark and quiet.

Jeonghan waits a few days before he returns, devoid of supplies for once. You suppose now that he had worked out the crux of the curse, that that was it. Mission accomplished. You’re working on a suit for Eugene who owned the post office. He’s planning on surprising his wife for their anniversary and wanted to look as good as feasibly possible. Guilt has been eating at you like nothing else, but you were too prideful and busy to find him. His hands are tucked underneath his cloak, behind his back. You fold the suit away quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You say quickly, softly before he can get any thought in conversation.

He looks up, brow creased beneath his fringe. “Sorry?”

“For snapping at you. And not telling you everything about the curse. I let you go on a wild goose chase and didn’t stop you at all.”

Jeonghan sighs and smirks wryly. “Thank you. But I’m sorry as well. I was a little insensitive when I brought it up. Of course there is guilt to things like this. But, now that we know where this stems from, we can start working on how to reverse it.”

You can’t help it. In shock, you laugh, bowed against the desk. You laugh so hard, you must cover your eyes, tears seeping out with the force. Suki is at attention, ears folded back at the sharp noise.

“You still want to help me. Even though we may never find a cure?”

He nods and straightens up smartly. “Even if we don’t find one, we’re all still here for you. So, are you in?”

“Sure.”

He backs up from his place in the doorway. He hasn’t even taken off his shoes yet, like usual. “That’s great, since I left all my supplies in the kitchen, in case you said no. We’ve got a lot of work to do. But, imagine it - my life’s work, breaking the unbreakable curse. Yoon Jeonghan, legendary Spellmaster.”

You scoff loudly and turn away from him to let him bask in his imagination before retreating to get his things. Goodness, he was ridiculous. The most arrogant Spellmaster in Martine, surely.

Not even a week later, Mingyu peers in, a little frazzled. “I - are you very busy?”

Jeonghan is at his usual perch, swiftly sitting upright. You’re intently over another filmy garment - with summer breathing down your neck, a lot of commissions were being used with thinner fabrics, looser to let that salty sea breeze through.

“No more than usual. Do we have an urgent client?” You ask.

“Sort of. I’ll bring her round.”

Moments later, Mingyu is trailed by a young woman with inky black hair piled in a typical Gibson bun from the way her hair sits off her neck and forehead. She wilts in a large sunhat and pastel pink dress with a touch too many frills to be tasteful. There is a basket on her arm.

Mingyu ushers the young woman in. “Hi, Y/N. This is Park Haeun, third of her name. She’s holidaying for the summer. From Aria. I suggested she come round to get one of her dresses fixed?”

She’s petite and full of soft shapes - except her eyes. Despite how wide they were, her eyeliner is sharp and narrow. She’s the epitome of an Aria summer - all muslin fabrics and warm rolling hills. In her arms is the basket, and in quite a rough fashion she pushes it onto your workspace, disrupting some of your other commissions. Her little round lips are pursed in a pout. Jeonghan busies himself with Suki by the window, teasing her a little and scratching at her chin. He usually does this with any of your consultations, some false air of privacy.

“Oh! I - Madam Y/N!” You bristle at the title but understand - the glamour does show some age. “I met Master Mingyu’s current lodgers on the train when the most disastrous thing happened! One of my favourite dresses was caught in a trunk and ripped. Master Mingyu says you are a dream with a needle and thread! Is there any way to salvage it?”

You tie off your thread and carefully (yet hastily) fold the combination undergarment away into the cupboard you have commandeered from Mingyu. Wading over, you pull the dress out, shaking it straight. The hem of the dress has torn a good inch or three, leaving it frayed and disrupting the overall image of airiness. It was right at the front. Not an easy feat.

“The fabric is awfully thin. I mean, with the price of fabrics here, I would just recommend a little mending and sew a whole new layer over top, if you’re that attached to it.” You mutter.

She withers a little. “Oh. I was really hoping something could be done. It was a gift from my father.”

You clench your teeth. Sentimental stuff always gets to you - Jeonghan’s cloak was enough evidence to that. Laying it out, you better inspect the garment, comparing the tear, then the rest of the stitching. If you did it close enough with two strands rather than six like usual…

“Leave it with me for the week. I’ll see what I can do.”

She beams and you blink from the haze of her image. “Oh, wonderful! Thank you so much Madam Y/N.”

Haeun reaches out to shake your hand vigorously and draws back a little as she comes closer. Her joy morphs to concern and you can feel her eyes seem to go through you.

“Are you well, Madam Y/N? You look awfully...ailed.”

You draw back as well, tucking your hand into yourself and drawing your attention to Mingyu. “I... well, I’ve had a bit of a tough time. Mingyu, when is lunch?”

He blinks at you. “I - very soon. I’ll back around when it’s ready? Bye, Y/N.”

At least he gets the picture of dismissal. Haeun looks guilty enough for you as she dips her head in farewell. Only now you realise that she’s still wearing her hat. Inside.

“Thank you so much again, Y/N. Goodbye.”

They both exit and you can see her give a lingering look to Jeonghan, who she hasn’t had a chance to speak with at all. He smiles small and polite, eyes sliding to yours widened in alarm. The moment their feet hit the brick pathway, he steps over for you to catch his forearm.

“She saw through the glamour. All of it. How did she see through my glamour? We made it ourselves." You hiss in panic.

“What do you mean?”

“She couldn’t look me in the eye - barely looked at me at all. Asked if I was ailing. I’m supposed to look old, not haggard!”

He shrugs. “She may just have The Sight. No need to worry.”

You scowl and twist away to eye the garment darkly. You had to fix this pretty thing now. If only to be rid of her chipper disposition.

You tinker away at it, your assumptions right when it comes to mending it. You were glad that the waist was well gathered, so the movement mostly hid anything possibly unsavoury - which none of it was. With such a straightforward fix, you had no reason to sew in any charms. In those two days, Haeun was exploring the town, often running into any of the wizards you knew. Mingyu invited her over for dinner the night you expected her back for her dress. Jeonghan chatted with her at length about Aria, something you wouldn’t have expected of him - he was usually so private. Your chest would have a sharp icepick driving through you the more he opened up to her. It had you turning your nose up at him and giving him the silent treatment under the guise of commission work. Small wins, you suppose.

When she shows up in your workroom again, Jeonghan is on her tail, smiling brightly. It makes your stomach churn and you can’t work out for the life of you why. She may not be the most tactful person, but she was pleasant enough. There was nothing to be worried about, no matter how much your gut may think so. Mingyu was trying to get you and Suki to eat. Haeun’s dress, once you’d set up for it, was an easy job, finished in a matter of hours, so you were back to your more demanding garments. Minji’s new hat - yes, another, the girl had an addiction, you swear - is half done, glaring at you from the mannequin head standing on the desk. The ribbon looks limp as it seemed to reach out for you.

“Madam Y/N! How does my dress go?”

You duck into the side room, formerly what you assumed to be some sort of library or dark room before it was cleaned out and a window busted through. Hanging in the sun is the dress. She gasps on sight, rushing over to grab at the hem. Gently ruffling and tugging the skirt, Haeun deems it worthy. She scoops it from your arms, folding it hastily back into her basket. If that was how it was packed in the first place, no wonder it caught a snag – no respect.

“Thank you so much! It looks like it never happened at all. How much?”

You shrug. “Only $60.”

She looks at you from the side of her lashes but passes over the money for you to slip into the Danish tin in a drawer of the desk. Patting the lid of her basket, she beams back over at Jeonghan.

“You were right when you said she was the best seamstress you’d ever met in the world.”

“Are there no seamstresses in Aria?” You can’t help but ask.

She shrugs. “Yes, of course, but none of them would have said yes to this job.”

Oh. So it was like that then - the impossible job.

You’re still smarting over her comment when they sweep out in the same breezy fashion that they arrived and you get back to your work, ignoring the beseeching gaze of Jeonghan through the study window. You were tempted to pack some of his studies away for room, but at the heart of it all, you didn’t have a venom in you to do so - there was plenty of room elsewhere for your spread out. He was only trying to help, after all. And Haeun did pay as requested. Other than a foul mood there was nothing to negate or argue.

You are surprised though when Jeonghan reappears not an hour later. Your ears are attuned to the sound of his sensible boots over the pathway, even through a catching giggle of Haeun’s that carries from what must be the kitchen or courtyard.

“Jeonghan, is dinner ready so soon? It’s not even dark.” You comment, pausing to lean on the desk.

He shakes his head. “No, not yet. Mingyu is waiting for the others to arrive first before he even thinks about touching a spice or spoon.” You huff a laugh through your nose but he continues. “I was actually checking on you. Haeun’s words didn’t sit well with you and I wanted to settle her before I saw you.”

Again, you laugh at his turn of phrase - he treats her like a child to be coddled. Knows you too well not to make his words a statement. You nod.

“You are correct. I didn’t like her comment about the Aria seamstresses. I can’t pin down just one thing, but it’s enough to annoy and insult, Jeonghan.” You say as evenly as you can. It’s not his fault.

He hums and comes closer to lay a hand over your own gnarled knuckles. It still takes everything you have not to withdraw. His dark eyes are warm and the turn of his mouth sympathetic.

“Ah, I know. She is from Aria and they tend to be like that, you know? Bad at filtering their thoughts with a serve of perceived imperious. I should know, I’m from Aria, too.”

Your brows shoot up into your hairline, even as it comes together in your mind. Oh, of course! Jeonghan’s accent was a dead giveaway to his upbringing. Through his soft, slightly raspy voice the faint accent of those from Aria was present. Even in the way he dressed, simple but clean, unlike Seokmin and Mingyu who both looked more ready for a day farming and other labour in earth tones and natural woven fibre such as linen. So, he had that air of superiority about him you liked to pop so often. How had you not noticed it before? It was nice, as much as you hated to admit it, to work with someone a bit more well-travelled like yourself. Soonyoung was an exception seeing as his magical talent was so rare and sought after, he travelled often. But Jeonghan had grown up in another country. There were different customs and meanings for social etiquette and various objects. It meant more knowledge which you had always selfishly strived for.

“I see. That makes sense.” You say carefully.

He nods again, eyes shut sagely. “Hmm. Would you like to come inside now? Have a cup of tea before we send Haeun on her way?”

He squeezes your hand gently and you pull away from your work, letting him lead you out. Suki meows and takes the window exit instead as you grab the key and lock the door.

Famous last words. Somehow, you’d both forgotten she was here in Martine on holiday, so whether you liked it or not, she was sticking around for a little while longer. A few days later showing up at Seokmin’s for a chat and to arrange a lunch by the sea for those who could join - you were instantly withdrawn from this event as you had jobs to do and a trip to the post office for Eugene. 

Then, a day or so later after that, another feature at Mingyu’s place to see off his lodgers and stick her nose in your business. An empty babble about how hard working you were and a slight kickback about your age again. You bite your tongue at how the cluster of wizards humour her, like babysitting a child. Even Jeonghan gets in on it sometimes, your research on the back burner for his own jobs and Haeun.

Seokmin is walking you back to the boarding house, his arms full of fabrics ordered from the post office. The sun is almost set, gas lamps lit and casting everything in a dim, warm glow. But your hackles raise when you feel the rush of whispers through the air. For once though, they don’t seem to have begun because of you - in fact, barely anyone is looking. It’s the women of the boutiques and the populace donned in cloaks that huddle close and murmur, something akin to a buzzing hive. Pointed hats up and down the street, tilted together in hushed tones. Distress weaving them together. You glance at the Potionsmaster and he guides you to a pair of young men. Joshua and Soonyoung - you’re getting quite close to them as they drop into Seokmin’s store, asking for this and that or into Mingyu’s for Sunday night dinner. Soonyoung loved his cloak, toasty and functional up in the mountains for the solstice. They’re kind enough not to speak of your condition and they chat with you almost as easily as they do Seok.

“What’s going on?” Seokmin chirps, hands tucked into the pocket of his canvas apron - he’s resting your fabrics on the park bench the group managed to grab.

Soonyoung turns to him. “Where have you been? Have you not heard?”

You look between them all and shake your head. “What is it? Why are all the Casters out tonight?”

Joshua pulls out a limp and crumpled newspaper from his cloak. It’s folded back to a page in the middle. Wizards Flee Aria En Mass. He puts it away before you get a chance to read much else.

“The King of Aria has put a bounty out on a wizard who entertained the court for slighting the princess. Every wizard in Aria is being called for questioning - word is it’s more like torture. Soon, Aria will be devoid of magic users all together if this is how they treat us.” Joshua summarises quietly with a shake of his head and soft tut between his lips. “I thought it was bad before, when the royal family called wizards extortionists of the court.”

“I don’t know how much of a heart she has, honestly.” Soonyoung grumbles. “Enacted a ritual for them for the summer solstice once. She had the nerve to call it barbaric.”

Seokmin gently kicks his leg in silent scolding but doesn’t disagree. Nor do you. You can’t help but think of that throwaway comment of Jeonghan’s after hassling you one day in the office, feet kicked up on the desk. Then again, when Haeun rubbed you the wrong way.

“Jeonghan is from Aria.” You say softly, looking to the pavement. “He might get called up.”

The three of them turn to you, Suki plopped on a foot. You shrink into your head scarf, feigning cold. The crease to your brow has Seokmin slipping an arm around you, tucking you tightly to his side. He smiles small yet bright.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He can handle himself - besides, he’s here in Martine with us. They haven’t summoned anyone from over the border yet.”

You hum and nod, bidding farewell to the other two wizards as you turn for the hill.

The summer was in full swing, fresh sea breeze winding up the hilly streets of Martine and into the open window of your studio. It had the sun turn warmer and days drag languid. Sometimes you just wanted to stop and let the world go by, like today. Jeonghan seemed to be in the same mood, his notes open but empty in his lap and his ankles propped up on the window seat. He sits a little awkwardly, twisting to sit half in the sun. All he had asked was if your family was just as powerful as you. Then off you went. Tangents about your father and grandmother, the most powerful witch you had ever known. The gently rolled hill that made your backyard so smooth juxtaposed with your family’s higgledy-piggledy ancestral home, structures leaning and hanging off it as the members of your family grew over the generations. Your mother’s gardens, blossoming and flawless year-round. Shadows have changed for sure by the time you surface from your memories.

You feel like a bit of a fool for harping on so much about your family home, the homesickness eating away at you so obviously. Even as Jeonghan listens so intently to you, pausing his research. You laugh and shake your head.

“Y’know what? Enough about me. What about you? Did you grow up in Aria? What’s that like? Land of Melodies as they call it - oh! Can you sing?”

He chuckles but shifts, and officially closes his notes to toss them on the other window seat cushion - guess nothing was really getting done today then. You’ve mirrored him, putting a hatpin in the hat stand you were working on, setting it to the corner of the desk. You slump in your set, arms folded over the dark wood.

“I can - most of us in Aria can. If you can't, you play an instrument. Or if not that, you certainly have some kind of talent in the fine arts. It’s the backbone of the country.”

Jeonghan though, is quiet and guarded with his answers and you can’t help but think you’ve struck a nerve. But he lets you press on so you don’t quite know how bad said nerve is. You find out that he has a younger sister who is a beautiful witch herself who likes working with animals. And that he’s been away for a long time.

“So, what’s kept you away for so long? For work or - did you screw up at home too?” You laugh lighter than you feel at the self-deprecating joke.

He shoots you a look but shakes his head. “No, for work. I used to work in the King’s Court. As a performer.”

You coo in interest. “Ooh, what did you used to do!”

“I was a court magician. One of the best Spellmasters means I can do all sorts - make the stained-glass windows dance and sing, send people into the sky.” Jeonghan says gently. 

Is that a whiff of wistfulness you detect? You wouldn’t be surprised. Such a job could easily boost his already inflated ego on a daily basis. Listening to the King - a man with no magic, despite his daughter’s extensive magical talents - exclaim and wax poetic about Jeonghan’s abilities would surely leave any normal magic user with a sense of importance.

“I bet that would have paid handsomely too. Why did you leave?”

Then he goes quiet, a shadow passing over his warm eyes. You’re about to pull your question when he speaks again, glancing away from you.

“Uh, affections were not returned at court, so I couldn’t stay. The King was after me over the whole ordeal, so I had to leave.”

You can’t help it - you splutter out a laugh. “You’re...on the run from the King of Aria over a jilted lover?”

He pouts and huffs, sleepy eyes turning to a steely glare. It doesn’t quiet you at all as you stop further forward, howling with laughter. Suki is curled up on the floor in a slice of sunlight, one golden eye squinted open to watch the two of you. Tugging his cloak tighter around himself, he nods.

“Not just any. The princess; his daughter.” He mumbles.

You’d met her once as a child with your family on a work trip to Aria. Beautiful and graceful. A wonderful magic-user. But very haughty and condescending to your younger self, which you never took very kindly. You could imagine the two of them together easily. Jeonghan’s pretty appearance and her sophisticated beauty, not to mention their combined magic abilities would have been something to be reckoned with. Your own heart shrinks a little, aggravating the creak to your aged bones.

“Of course - you’re the wizard the King has a bounty on! It had to be you! But why would you run from a life like that?” You say with wonder.

“I didn’t mean to lead her on - didn’t even know I was doing it until I turned her down and she threatened my life! She told the King that I stole her heart and called a bounty on me. Good thing I used an alias at the palace or I would have been done for by now.” He explains with a sigh, raking his hands through his hair and pushing his fringe back.

Surely the use of an alias didn’t make him look much better, but you decided not to offer that opinion even as you ignored the way your heart picked itself back up again. You direct your attention back to the hat at your desk, nodding in understanding.

“Wow, I’m still impressed you’ve managed to hide out for this long.” You say instead.

Jeonghan smiles. “I know. But still, I try not to get too comfortable.”

You look at the way he’s kicked off his boots by the door and now shifted off his seat and into your sunlit window seat, curled up like a cat.

“Oh yes, you look most uncomfortable in a foreign space.”

He rolls his eyes but says nothing else. Your focus back on Ms. Kang’s summer hat, an odd request for autumn - nevertheless, it’s work. As you attach and gather the inner felt and matching ribbon, you can’t shake the questions bubbling on the tip of your tongue.

“Did you steal her heart, like she said? Physically or otherwise?” You ponder aloud.

“No! As able as I am, I didn’t. She still has one. Where, I don’t know.” Jeonghan whines.

Suki startles at that, eyeing you then the beautiful Spellmaster. She migrates to his stomach and he smiles softly, rubbing gently behind her ears. You snarl under your breath, lip curled back.

“Rude little…”

Jeonghan can slowly see your youth turn its head, in minuscule ways.

Your growing passion for your little sewing business. Minji especially brings it out whenever she comes by to say hello, the grey in your hair seeming to glow like starlight in the sun - two cosmic lights against one another.

You talk to him, not like a Spellmaster to be revered, but a person. A mischievous young man that won’t leave you alone. And when he isn’t actually doing his job as Spellmaster in Martine, you’re making him run errands for you. Haeun could try and vie for his attention as much as she wanted, with a pout complaining how he worked just as hard as you. But her saccharine syrup words had nothing on the whip tongue you had that would catch his ankles.

“Jeonghan, I’ve ordered a few bolts of fabric from Seychelles and had mail come by saying it is here. Can you go down to the post office and get it?” You say, a pincushion in the shape of a squishy cat sits on your wrist. If he squinted it kind of looked like Suki.

He jerks a little from his reclined perch across from you at the desk. “You want me to do what? Can’t you get Mingyu to do it or cast it over? Or delivery?” He complains without venom.

You shoot him a severe glare. “Mingyu has guests in the B&B at the moment. Besides, this is Martine, not Aria - you should know as well as I that they aren’t forward enough to have a delivery service yet.”

There are no fine wrinkles catching on the edges of your eye side, nor in your laugh lines. Like a young woman with a grey wig on. He has to blink away his awe and compose himself. Something, he thinks, to add to his study notes. With a dramatic sweep he settles his cloak on. Running his fingers through his lengthening blonde strands to clear his face he flops in the doorframe.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

You smile, small and grateful with a minor tip to your chin as a nod, aiming your focus back on the garment scattered in front of you.

You’re still young on the inside, you remind yourself, every time you gaze a little too long at Jeonghan. Rain or shine, he’s angelic. Sometimes he helps you garden, hovering by you like a worried mother while you hack away at weeds and cut flowers for the many vases that are scattered throughout Mingyu’s house.

“I - be careful! You’re…” He murmurs under his breath, gardening gloves and a ratty canvas apron tied around his waist (that you made for him, a patch of blue flowers on the pocket) 

You twist on your knees to look up at him severely, a snarl twitching at the edge of your lips. “I’m what?”

“Fragile.” He sighs.

You’re still old on the outside, you remind yourself every time he says something like that, stamping out the skip in your heart.

Suki adores him, obviously - they’re just as vain as each other. Suki used to preen and fluff all the time before her mange. And now that’s back on form with the strengthened glamour, she does it twice as often, as if to make up for lost time. Jeonghan submits to her every whim.

“Oh Suki, you are gorgeous today.” He says, sickly sweet, clapping softly as she parades around the study, a new scarf made from fabric scraps nestled amongst her fur - this one in a brassy gold and green to match her eyes and her fur.

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need to humour her so - she does enough of that herself.”

She yowls at you, shooting you a scowl - you return the sentiment, sticking out your tongue over the combination undergarments you were mending - one too many romps in the field for Minji, you think wryly.

You don’t realise that your age eases every time you stay outspoken. How you glow cool yet bright like starlight, bouncing off Jeonghan’s warm and strong radiance with something softer but just as steady. You miss his glances - he has a bit more self-control - who wants to be caught daydreaming about the elderly seamstress that Mingyu houses? You hope he misses yours as it’s a little odd to be having someone of your condition look so at a young wizard of his calibre.

He doesn’t see your age very often any more - physically or otherwise. Whether it may be because he’s seen you without that elderly edge for a while or because often you don’t act your physical age. Maybe it might have to do with the fact that magic users age at a different rate to mortals, so age is less of an obstacle. But no, you're still twenty-something to him. You’re still magic.

A few weeks later, Minji, now a regular client of yours (actually, your most frequent and favourite, if you’re honest) comes rushing in. She’s a youthful whirlwind, running into the work room, the door left swinging open to let in the early autumn air. It’s not even a week after you finished her second hat and she’s waving her left hand around, shards of light scattering throughout the room.

“I - what is the meaning of this?” You splutter, squinting to shield yourself.

Hyungjin peers in from the doorway with a kind and soft smile, a little flushed in his cheeks. The ribbons of Minji’s hat flutter through the room as she squeals.

“We’re getting married!”

You stand up and eye the ring glittering on her finger, the gold band pristine and a teardrop shape of a diamond set in a gold crowning. It’s beautiful and tender, just like her. You smile brightly.

“I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!”

“It’s thanks to you - it has to be!”

You shake your head as you cradle her hand. “No, how can it be? Minji, you’re a wonderful person - of course Hyungjin would propose. He would be foolish not to.” You smile over her shoulder to him. “Just as you would have been silly to turn it down.”

She shakes her head. “No, no. It would have taken us forever! It must be you! Y/N, will you make my wedding dress? With your beautiful work and luck, I can’t imagine anyone else. Father and I will pay handsomely for your work as always, I assure you. Just, please, say yes?”

Her dark, sparkling eyes plead with you silently as Hyungjin shrugs - as if to say what his fiancé says, goes. Her hands swing yours as the bottom lip juts out in a pout. You screw your own nose up and turn away.

“Alright, fine. If you stop pulling that face.” You say gruffly.

Suki, however, has perked up immensely, golden eyes watchful and curious with their glow. Minji squeals, jumping on the spot. She even drags Hyungjin’s loping frame closer, planting a solid kiss to his cheek. Her skirts kick at your legs as she flounces about like a puppy.

“Oh, thank you! I’ll come by next Wednesday? To discuss design and budget, of course.”

Before you have a chance to even agree, she whirls out, her heels clicking over the cobblestone, but not before stopping suddenly, head tilted at you in confusion.

“I - yes?”

She laughs, shakes her head. “Nothing, only that it looked as if you had gotten younger somehow. Silly thought to tease you with, I’m sure. Goodbye!”

Her shoes sound over the stones and around the corner, naivety dancing past your window. You turn, bewildered, to Suki. She meets you halfway to stare at you just as intently. You look down at your hands, then to the half-sewn sigil in Seokmin’s mended shirt.

“Do...do you think it was really me?” You say softly to Suki. “I - do you think I can cast again?”

She chirps and leaps up to paw at the shirt, swiping it towards you. You nod and claim your usual place behind the desk, stitching away at the strength charm, pouring intent into every piercing of the fabric. You want this shirt to be strong, almost indestructible. The moment you tie the thread off, there is a gust of wind, warm and cold all at the same time. Suki bristles against it, struggling to hold herself upright. When it clears you let out a strangled scream.

Suki. She’s fluffy and majestic as the day the two of you met. As if the curse and mange had never happened. Whiskers straight and wispy, twitching proudly on her face. Her yellow eyes were vibrant, reminiscent of topaz rather than tarnished gold. She seemed to preen and wink at you, as if to say, yes, we’re back.

Jeonghan has shown up early - early being midday - for another round of study. But he’d gawked when he had seen you, claiming you were somehow different.

So, in a panic you dash back inside, scrambling for the powder room on the ground floor of Mingyu’s place. You delicately touch your face, watching your reflection react. Old. Not ugly anymore, but still old.

You tear up, biting your lip as your turn away in disgust all over again. You jump in fright at the sight of Jeonghan in the doorway. Then you promptly burst into tears, pushing past him and dashing down the path to your sewing room, slamming the door shut. You scramble to shut the filmy curtains there for privacy. Barely a moment later, there is a faint tap at the door.

"Go away!"

"Can I come in, please?" His voice is soft.

You whine out in disagreement. He knocks again, pleading gently.

"No! I'm still old! The curse isn't gone!" You cry out, crumpled against the wood.

Head buried in your knees, you lament your situation. He taps again, this time much closer to your head. His hand smooths down the wood and you assume he's sitting on the pebbled ground outside.

"Let me in so we can work this out together. Suki is out here and she looks perfectly fine. We really should talk about this."

"Ugh, I know she does! I don't want to! It's hopeless, Jeonghan. Go home, please. Take Suki with you if she'll let you. I really want to be alone." You whimper.

You can hear him shift against the wood. "Okay. But I will be back tomorrow. We will fix this. Together."

There is a soft tone of pleading you've never heard of before and he drifts away.

Jeonghan makes good on his promise, showing up the next afternoon to see how you are. He carries in a small pile of spell books, full of ideas. They fall quiet at the sight of you, passed out in the late afternoon sun over a half-made garment, the design plans crumpled under an outstretched arm. Jeonghan has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. Your youth has returned to your face, smoothing out wrinkles and giving your hair a lively shade again. He seems to hold his breath, keeping the world as still as he can to look at you a moment more unbroken. This is really you. There is a pucker to your face as you shift in discomfort, opening your eyes. Then like the flood of a rainstorm, the age has returned, your prim hairstyle drawing your face back. He quickly drops all of his papers to your sewing cabinet, all of them obsolete at this new clue.

“J-Jeonghan. You are back.” You yawn, threading your needle into your garment in a baste stitch to hold it in place.

Standing, your posture isn’t as hunched as before and he can finally make out your proper facial features, even through the age. You would have looked beautiful a few months ago - you did, moments ago. The grey of your hair isn’t so wiry, more reminiscent of the silver that glints on his fingers when he casts spells - glowing and bright.

“I said I would be, so I am. Suki is in the kitchen with Mingyu. Seems like I’m not a cat’s cook.” He laughs softly.

You smile too and roll your eyes. “Don’t take it personally. She’s been my familiar for years and she’s never been completely happy with whatever I give her.”

Then, you look down to the garment you’re working on, fiddling with the rough hem. “By the way, I’m sorry for lashing out again, yesterday. It wasn’t the best news.”

He sighs and comes round to meet you by your desk. Jeonghan’s slender hand falls over your own, his thumb rubbing absent circles.

“I understand. Of course it wasn’t. It was something we didn’t factor into our journey. But it’s still progress. So now we work on this new phase.” He gives your hand a squeeze and a gentle smile. “Before you know it, you’ll be back to normal and even more amazing than before.”

With Jeonghan’s persistence at solving your magical mystery, you feel it’s only right to maybe divulge the true goal - your past. So one balmy afternoon, you walk to the back of the attic room, to the small shelf. Jeonghan is hanging in the doorway, polite yet curious. A single book sits flat - charred on the top corners and missing the back cover. Suki jumps up to the window sill and watches the two of you intently. You flip to the back few pages that move in a loop. Jeonghan leans over, scanning them carefully. It’s one of the few things you took from the accident, and it was only by luck seeing as it flew from the explosion and landed in the scorched grass nearby.

"That's Suki. Wait...is that. That's you." He says, pointing at one.

It's a personal favourite of yours. You were dancing in a circle on the back lawn of your ancestor's home, casting sparking light charms with your newly carved wand. Suki weaved and pounced at your feet, trying to catch them while you laughed at her. Even though it's in sepia tones you could see the life and youth that you used to have. The one next to it a few years before, out the front of the High Council building. You’re in your favourite cloak and a dark formal dress, the heirloom witches’ hat wonky on your head and a blinding smile. You’re holding your Class B Spellmaster qualification proudly in both hands, your wand clutched amongst it. A little over two years later, you were cursed.

"Yeah. That's what I looked like before the curse - that last one. A few months after this the accident happened and my wand splintered to pieces. I lost it and my youth to the fire." You murmur.

He smiles. "You're very pretty."

"Was, Jeonghan." You correct him gently with the slight gravel to your voice.

"Well, the ugliness was lifted, surely the age can be too." He says with conviction.

You shrug. "Let's hope."

All the while, Haeun slowly worms her way into almost every facet of your new life. Waltzing to your study space too often unannounced to do nothing but meddle and make herself at home.

Dinners and lunches at Mingyu’s round kitchen table he has to always polish before she comes or else she will say something about it. Perched daintily in the window of Seokmin’s conservatory as your little band of wizards tries another way to lift your curse. And if you weren’t familiar with these tactics you wouldn’t have picked up on just how damn nosey she was. She was no help in your quest to reverse your curse, content to babble and give the wizards the nth degree about absolutely nothing!

Asking Seokminnie about his wand skills, naively watching the shame round his shoulders as he confesses his minimal wand ability. Then her botched attempt to smooth it over and move on as if trying to hide a table under a rug.

You pat Seokmin’s arm later on, in a rare shadow of the greenhouse. “Seok, you’re the owner of the best apothecary in Martine. Who needs spells when you've got that?”

He smiles small and shrugs, his aura still seeming too dim for your liking. Such a kind young man didn’t deserve to be diminished.

“I guess. Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. Leave her be. You’re worth far more than you’re obviously giving credit for.”

Haeun isn’t a threat. You aren’t competition. There is no competition – you’re an old lady. Albeit a young woman trapped in the body of an elderly one, but still. Haeun doesn’t know that. Still, whenever she comes around to your sewing space specifically, babbling like a schoolgirl, you end up more accident prone and grinding your teeth. Mingyu and Joshua have wisely learnt that it is in your best health not to bring the Aria holidaymaker to the study.

Jeonghan is another story.

Suddenly, for all his perceptiveness, he brings her round every time he’s with her. Despite your abrasiveness toward her, he’s smooth as butter. Perches himself on the edge of your desk, the soft scent of honey and something fresh filling your senses. Haeun almost always tries to hover with him before resigning herself to the window seat, thus kicking Suki from her sun spot. You’re glad you have at least one comrade - as unlikely as she is - in arms against this imaginary foe. Surely he isn’t being that oblivious or insulting. Jeonghan isn’t like that. You hope it’s just a necessary evil he can’t get out of, or constant coincidence. Maybe she likes being in your space? Whatever it is, you wish it weren’t true.

Mingyu brings it up, oddly enough, as you nurse your tender, well-stabbed fingers just before dinner.

“Have you ever known Haeun to be a flirt?” He says over the chopping board.

You shrug. “Not entirely? She follows Jeonghan around like a lost puppy, but that’s most likely only because they’ve both been to Aria. I mean, I went when I was a kid - my grandmother had work liaisons with the royal family and their council - but I don’t remember much.”

The tall Kitchenmaster frowns and nods slowly. “I see.”

You stand up and scoop up the pile of carrots and drop it in the pot. “Why, ‘Gyu? Do you see something?”

Your heart sinks as you say it out loud and Suki peers up at you, careful and strangely still - now that she’s back on form, she’s exceedingly attuned to you, perceptive to everything you don’t want to say.

Mingyu shrugs. “I mean, it was fine at first - she’s new to Martine. But now she hangs off Jeonghan like a... a bit of a leech. She’s almost been run over twice! Jeonghan has had to pull her out of traffic both times and she fell all over him when she did so. I don’t know - it just seems a little too much to be coincidental. She’s even starting to stir talks in the bakery and the post office! Eugene is talking about her.”

Your brow shoots up and you decide to avoid Mingyu’s awfully accurate deductions. “Eugene! Well, she’s making an awful lot of fuss for some summer holiday maker.”

The tall young man shrugs, fluffing his brown hair out of his eyes. “I suppose. But I have a feeling she might fancy Jeonghan - she’s always trying to get him to go to dinner or lunch with her. He can’t seem to take the hint for once though. He’s usually so perceptive with people.”

You screw your nose up and scoff. “Oh, my days. Who would ever think that throwing yourself into oncoming traffic is a successful way of courting someone? I certainly hope you aren’t right, Mingyu or else I’ll be a bit sick. Poor Hannie.”

The taller man snaps his head up at the affectionate name, but says nothing else.

You see it yourself later in the week though when Jeonghan convinces you to come out with them for lunch. You even waggled your finger at him as menacing as you could.

“Only because I do have errands to run - I have some deliveries to pick up and drop offs to make, okay? Lunch is a maybe.”

He pouts at you as you leave the study and lock it behind you. Suki is right on your tail and you blow your silver-grey hair from your face.

“A definite maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “Fine… a definite maybe.”

Haeun somehow ends up trailing behind us and Suki, a third wheel dressed in a sunhat and another chemise de la Reine, a pricey garment for a stroll. “I - if you are too busy to come along, we understand, don't we Jeong? You ought to leave her alone at her work - she must have a lot to do.”

She hastens to shut the gate behind the lot of you, bundling up her skirts a touch so as not to catch it on the fence or the bushes. Her pet name for him makes you turn - it didn’t even roll well, you think in a petty tone. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, slipping your arm through his and patting your frail hand that rested over his forearm.

“Haeun, don’t be silly - our seamstress mistress here never comes out! She needs a rest - a breath of fresh air, hmm?”

He looks down at you kindly but you keep tight-lipped. You hope the elderly don’t know how to blush or you’re done for.

Jeonghan guides you to the inside of the sidewalk, closer to the shop fronts, his arm curled securely in yours. This leaves Haeun to bring up the rear, her steps fast and small as she tries to keep up with the two of you - Jeonghan’s legs long and your agenda short.

“So, what’s for lunch-”

“Can we go to the post office first? That’s why I came out. And to Madam Park.” You pat the hat box in front of you.

He rolls his eyes but smiles. “Ah, yes that. I suppose so - let me.”

He tugs the hatbox from your grasp, tucking it up under his arm. Haeun gasps and puffs on your tail as you turn into Martine’s post office, the door jingling brightly.

“Eugene!” You call.

A familiar man with dark wavy hair pops up around the corner, fluffy moustache and all.

“Ah! My favourite witch! And Jeonghan, Master of Spells!” Eugene cries out, heavily accented.

You roll your eyes. “You know better than to call me a witch - and don’t stroke his ego. He doesn’t need the help.”

You all laugh as the owner personally attends to you from the gate by the counter. His hands are permanently ink stained and a roll of postage stamps is unfurling from his pocket.

“Ah, but you have to be a witch to enchant Master Jeonghan to do anything!” Eugene counters.

Jeonghan’s mouth flaps indignantly, no sound able to come out, even as he goes a little pink. You actually giggle – Eugene had always been the best for banter, ever since you did his suit for him. The anniversary dinner went great and he had sung your praises to anyone in the post office that week.

“Do you have my parcels?” You chirp.

He nods and hums, flipping his imaginary mane of hair. “Certainly! A lot of them this week - are you sure you can carry them all?”

“I, uh just the little ones today - I’ll pick up the mannequin tomorrow.” You decide aloud.

He puts them in a little canvas bag, no doubt one of many from his wife, Francesca. “Here you go, amica.”

“Not to worry Eugene, I’ll pick up the mannequin tonight?” Jeonghan says breezily. Jeonghan scoops that the little canvas bag too, even as you grab for it in protest. He tips his nose up haughtily to end the conversation.

“Ah Master Jeonghan. Of course, of course.” Eugene smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. “See? He’s so enchanted you didn’t even have to ask him!”

You protest again without much energy, more so out of propriety. They chat lightly and you happily wait. Maybe the wizard was right about getting some fresh air. Your shoulders felt lighter, your mind a little less restless. There is movement in the corner of your eye and you catch the tail end of Haeun slipping out the door to wait outside. With her many skirts and her feathered straw hat, maybe it had become a little claustrophobic in the little store for her. If she had learned to take off her hat…

Finally, the two of you wave off the postman and head back out into the sunny weather. Haeun appears indifferent and patient, turning from the shop window next door to brighten at the sight of you.

“Ah, Jeonghan.”

Oh. Right. Again, he situates you on the inside of the sidewalk and straightens his back. “Thank you for your patience, Haeun. Now, Y/N, what’s next?”

You lift the small package you bought with you; a pink cloth held together with twine. “I have to deliver this and the hatbox to Madam Park’s residence then I am back to the study.”

He pouts. “Not even lunch? Look, even Suki would like something to eat!”

You glance down to your familiar, sitting and glaring patiently. She just wants out, full stop. You stoop to glare her down – a stalemate. “You little… fine. Madam Park then lunch. Then, back to the study.” You state firmly.

Madam Park is not at home, but her doorman takes the package. You’re a little disheartened that you cannot see her reaction like you usually do, but surely she’ll come back later on in the week to thank you – she always does.

So as you walk down Martine’s cobbled Main Street – the only street in town devoid of any cars – the three of you discuss lunch prospects.

“What about that spicy thai?” Haeun suggests.

Before you can voice your weariness because you’re fussy like that, Jeonghan shakes his head. “No, Y/N is very sensitive to heat. There’s that tea house in the gardens? Overlooking the koi pond? An iced tea and something fresh?”

You smile. “Oh, you remembered. Thank you. But, I don’t mind.”

“The tea house it is then.” He decides.

As your little group walks downhill for the tea house, chat is mostly shallow - about things such as his upcoming jobs and rumours about Minji’s wedding. It was so far off but already the rumour mill was working overtime about anything from a secret child to his sister being snubbed from the guest list. You both know the truth and you’re delighted to hear that Hyunjin’s family has enlisted Soonyoung and Joshua to be part of the ceremony - both of their talents would be well utilised. Haeun makes comments here and there about the unfounded rumours as if they’re true but for once they roll off your back like water on duck feathers. His arm doesn’t loosen from yours once.

It’s mostly business as usual from here. Jeonghan brings your mannequin by and complains the whole time setting it up that it’s too heavy and any minor inconvenience in between. But it’s sorted eventually and just in time for Minji’s preliminary appointment - she’s bringing her mother and a few of her friends by too for an ideas session. She sent a brief message the other day that her whole wedding party was considering garments or accessories from you and you could already see how packed you would be leading up to it. Haeun comes around more unprompted, making herself a nuisance.

Haeun looks at you, pity bloomed like a garden in her eyes. “Oh, how horrible to be cursed with such an affliction. I would hate to be so old so soon.”

She shudders at the thought and you pause the mending of her winter stockings to glare at her. One positive to it all is how hard an old lady’s glare can hit home. It can silence even a morning rooster if used well. She stills and settles, suitably humbled-

“- but why someone would curse a mortal like us is beyond me.” She muses and your brows shoot up into your hairline. Mort-what? But she still wasn’t quiet, dammit.

“So, what did you look like before?” Haeun asks, fluttering her lashes.

She speaks as if she’s never been told no. You push her garment away, utterly finished for the day, no matter how much daylight was left. Although why she wanted to have a winter item fixed in summer was beyond you. Using and abusing your talent with a needle while she was here, must have been it.

“Younger.” You snap, rather loudly.

The young woman startles and looks at you, mouth finally closed.

“I have other errands to do - I’m sure you can see yourself out now. Suki.”

You stand, Suki hot on your heels, like she doesn’t want to be seen there either. There is a faint hiss from the furball as you turn the corner. And if Suki gets to her stockings again later on and renders them irrevocably damaged, you try very hard to appear ignorant and sorry. You don’t need her business - you weren’t that desperate.

But you startle on an overcast morning at the loud thunder of footsteps nearing you. There is a blur past your window before Jeonghan breaks into your doorway. His expression is the strongest pout you’d ever seen. He smells like smoked fish and his pants up to his knees sopping wet, not to mention the rest of him was at varying levels of soaked as well.

“What in Merlin’s - Jeonghan what happened?” You say, pushing your current commission aside. Suki stands still, very obviously torn between running and comforting him - the smoked fish smell is throwing her off, for sure.

He sighs, out of breath. “I was on a job this morning and the Port Authority forgot to mention that it was Flying Bluebream season. As soon as I started my casting on the first ship, they flew out of the water and into me! Then, since I hadn't finished the spell, the engine of the boat blew up with the sudden influx of weight and magical energy in the area and I almost sank with it! Never again. Soonyoung can have them.”

You take him in better and your chest seizes up. Softly, you mention the added problem. “Jeonghan…your cloak. Did it get caught in the engine maybe?”

His mournful eyes fly wide and he unclasps it from his neck, swinging it round for him to better examine. On the outside, there were fish scales and guts - that was an easy wipe down thanks to your sigils and choice of fabric. But the hem…it looked like it had been chewed on and spat out before being set on fire.  Then Jeonghan makes the loudest noise you’d ever heard from him - a raspy quiet-loud yell layered with dismay and frustration. He even gives it a maddened shake.

“How did I not notice? What are we going to do?” He cries out at the top of his lungs.

You’re shocked into silence with all the raucous he’s making and Suki has made her choice to back up behind the desk, her jewelled eyes blown wide. Carefully, you pry it from his grasp. As much as you’re annoyed by the destruction of your hard work, you know it’s not his fault. The Port Authority should have told him - they would know the seasons of the ocean off by heart, so to enlist his help but not think through all possible occurrences is their fault. Even the explosion is on their head. You carefully run your fingers over the damage, mind wandering. You still had scraps of his cloak material in the cupboard and you could add that length back along with the sigils, which had held up surprisingly well. They would be even better now you had some of your magic back.

“Calm down, Hannie.” You say, gentle. “First of all, we need to clean it of all this fish and guts. Go find Mingyu and ask for a bucket of warm soapy water and a soft scrubbing brush. And a stool - I’ll need something to sit on.” You give him a once over and frown, reaching for him - you weren’t sure where your hand wanted to land though. “Oh, Jeonghan, please get a change of clothes too. You’ll get sick.”

He nods and races out. You carefully drop it to the floor while putting your pin cushion and various other sewing supplies aside. Then you adjust your apron tighter and roll up your sleeves past your elbows, grabbing a scrap ribbon to keep your hair out of your face. Suki sniffs the air and backs up even more and you shoot her a look.

“Don’t you be so dramatic. When Jeonghan gets back, you need to be nice. He’s your favourite, so it shouldn’t be too hard, huh?” You mutter at her.

From there, you scoop it back up and take it outside, resting it on a windowsill. He waddles around the corner moments later, trying as best as he can not to let the water slosh. His lovely brow is furrowed deeply, teeth bared in concentration.

“I’ve got to get you a stool - be back.” He adds as soon as he’s put the bucket in front of you.

You pick up the brush straight away from the depths of the water, brisky brushing it down to dislodge the unwanted debris and give it an initial spot wash. You make a note to sweep this all away into the garden once it is all sorted. You delicately soak the swath of fabric and you’re about to drop into an awkward squat when he comes out in a shirt two sizes too big, sliding to bare his porcelain collarbones and a pair of trousers with a drawstring tightened over his hips and rolled up at the hem. He’s in a pair of clogs you would have thought were for gardening and a towel slung around his shoulders. Jeonghan’s wand holster has moved from under against his ribcage to sit lopsided on his hip, easier to put on but more often a more combat-style placement. You bury a chuckle behind your fist and he sets a three-legged seat by you. You don’t react and take a seat, getting to work on washing out the smell and anything else hidden.

“When I’m done, this is going to have to dry before I can mend it. If we do it without a spell, I won’t be done till tonight at least. Unless Mingyu or you have anything up your sleeves to dry it out quicker.” You say, starting to twist your wrist to scrub.

He’s gone again and by the time Suki has finally braved the mild elements and you’ve finished washing it, he’s back, his wand twirling between his gracefully calloused fingers. There is a bit more pep in his step too and his hair is dry, towel missing.

“Hang it here.” He says with soft command, gesturing to Mingyu’s washing line. 

Once done, his hand takes your wrist, keeping you close and yet out of the way. He murmurs an incantation and a sculpted blast of wind spurts from the tip of his wand, swirling and fluttering the garment in a targeted way before dissipating. Mingyu had obviously provided some kind of spell, as you suspected he had as a Kitchenmaster. You’re smiling smugly when you whip it from the line and bring it back inside.

“Jeonghan, can you give me…two hours? Then it’ll be good as new.” You say, already buried in the cupboard full of your scraps.

He takes a seat in the window, sleepy lashes fluttering expectantly with his chin in his palm. “I’ve got time.”

You can’t help but smile a little, trying in vain to press it down between your lips. In an effort to be nonchalant, you shrug and stoop over your emergency project, brandishing your scissors to the light like a mad scientist before hacking at the charred edges. His eyes on you set you ablaze and build the much-needed pressure to spur you on.

Finally, after exactly two hours and a lot of fiddly sewing and snipping, the sigils are fixed and the hem looks like it never happened. It had somehow gotten easier over time, your shoulders and knuckles not aching so much and more dexterous than usual. You put it down to finding a working rhythm. Now you lift it and flick it straight with a flourish, presenting it to Jeonghan, who has been mostly quiet during your fever state. He springs to his feet on your rug, having kicked Mingyu's gardening shoes by the coat hooks. He doesn’t even bother inspecting your work, reaching straight for it and slinging it over his shoulders. His eyes sparkle again and his lemony hair has regained its willowy life.

“Are you not going to check my workmanship?” You pout a little.

“Do I have to? I trust you.” Jeonghan says lightly, smoothing it down his sides.

“What about a thank you?”

He rolls his eyes and leans for you, bowing multiple times. “Thank you so much for your tireless work, Mistress Y/N. Ah, my hero - an angel.” Then he goes ramrod straight, his eyes lighting up, scarily so. “Yes, Angel.”

You squint your eyes in return. “Why do I feel like that isn’t good for me?”

He reaches to brush a non-existent hair from your cheek and you seize up with the affectionate implication. Then there’s that grin that only spells trouble, too pretty and too sly.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Angel.”

Then you scowl and clench your teeth, hoping you can’t blush - they way his grin widens and his shoulders roll back says otherwise. You curse Great Merlin, Morgana and all in between for the name. With that he whirls out, mentioning something about Mingyu and washing.

Haeun’s outspoken opinion really crosses state lines one blithe summery day in the studio, which has eventually become the main hub of all things – Mingyu’s kitchen is usually the other location of large discussion. Soonyoung has come in with another newspaper article, detailing the sanctions and tough conditions wizards and now other magic users are facing in Aria. You know that this would be a matter of great concern to your grandmother, as a principal member on the High Council. But, no mention of them has occurred yet. Perhaps they are biding their time on a plan of sorts. You look over to Jeonghan, who has sobered at the mention of other magic users. His sister. You hope the Council has a plan.

You frown. “That’s horrible. But surely, a crusade against wizards is a little much?”

Haeun looks at you with a glaring pout. “Love is enough for a war. A broken heart is enough for such a mission. I feel as though maybe your age may cause you to forget the strength of young love.”

You rear up, pushing aside the mending task at hand. Stepping around the desk, you point menacingly. Mingyu is startled, too stunned by the unfolding argument to intervene.

“Excuse me? Did you just call me a forgetful old biddy?” You snap. “Heartless and dismissive because I think the king and princess are being stupid?”

Her eyes widen and she puts her palms up. “No! No, not at all! Only that things feel different over time and such an endeavour is warranted for a higher power.”

Another step as you swat her hands away to encroach on her space even more, forcing yourself to look upwards at her soft face. You growl through clenched teeth, “you’re making it worse.”

“Whatever do you mean? Madam Y/N, the crusade in Aria is at the will of the blood of the monarchy and magic. I was always told that magic casters felt things differently - stronger - and that their love was not something to be messed with. It was fate and it cannot be fought. So of course the current situation in Aria is serious. But easily resolved.” Haeun pouts, tilting her head like a lost puppy.

Now your finger jabs her chest, hard and you bare your teeth just like Suki. She gasps, making a little squeak when you do it again. “How - How - just where did you hear all of this drivel! You Arians are delusional if that’s what you all think. It’s cruelty - even a mortal can see that!”

Jeonghan delicately reaches out to grasp your hand, turning your smaller frame away. His eyes are insistent, the quirk to his mouth begging you to back down.

“Okay, okay, let’s give everyone a little space. Haeun?” He soothes, even as his eyes slide back to you to betray his uneasiness. “Come, this kind of topic is not worth the energy.”

You’re still glaring. She relents and smiles prettily at Jeonghan.

Haeun nods. “Exactly. As much as the King is right, it’s not something to be debated over at this point in time. Everyone here is safe.” As you try to dodge and struggle at her underhanded quip, she looks expectantly at the wizards in the room. “Masters Jeonghan and Mingyu, will you accompany me to a lunch venue - I haven’t had a chance to find anywhere particularly enticing today.”

Jeonghan smiles diplomatically, stepping away from you and closer to the door. “Certainly, it would be a pleasure.”

Soonyoung has wedged himself up against the wall at the exchange, gaping like a fish out of water. All over a news article, he’s probably thinking. Haeun dips her head at you as you stew, smiling brightly. Her dress is taking up most of the work space and you want to yank off the silly lobster tail bustle you would never see in this summer weather. Not to mention the hat she rudely left on as she entered, despite standing right next to the coat rack. She keeps doing these things! How quickly your perception of a person can change.

“Right then.” She quirks her lips up in a wry smile, as if she knows something you don’t. Such a feeling is something you’re not used to. “I have a feeling our relationship is becoming quite interesting, Madam Y/N. Even with our differences - but that will only make it all the more intriguing, will it not? Hmm, goodbye.”

She turns with a swirl and exits the room, leaving you unable to make a reply as she leaves the door wide open. What in Merlin’s name is that cryptic babble supposed to mean? You turn your lip back and shut the door with a simple push - an action that takes about as much effort as a charm in a sock. So why couldn’t she do it! Jeonghan looks at you and presses a polite kiss to your temple, patting your hand.

“I’ll see you later, okay? Try to calm down. She’s from Aria - she doesn’t mean to antagonise you. That’s just the way their people are.” He says with a shrug.

You arch a brow. “What, like you?”

He clasps his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, Angel. I’m a delight.”

He tucks your grey hair behind your ear and waves you off. Jeonghan jogs after the others and around the corner, waving wildly as he passes the window - you roll your eyes and return the gesture, sagging against the edge of the desk the moment his shadow is gone. Suki watches you and in an uncharacteristic move, jumps the desk to your hip and settles against you, the fluffy warmth swathing you in a moment of calm.

Seokmin has a massive order of potions to send out, so he’s called everyone in to help. The sun doesn’t blister through the cloudy day, which is a saving grace. Soonyoung and Joshua, a Crystalmaster in the highest class are inside the shop arguing over whether rose or rose hip is the better ingredient while Seokmin is working on one cauldron in the warm conservatory. Jeonghan is there too, laughing amongst them all - goodness, he glows. You’re with the far larger cauldron outside - this batch flies off the shelves so it needs to last at least the rest of summer. It’s in the final stages of brewing, you know that much, with how few ingredients are left out.

You don't miss Haeun walking past the simmering potion, thick fluttering lashes blinking curiously as she passes by. You turn your attention back to the bunch of herbs you've twisted in twine, chopping the foliage as small as possible for the next step of the potion. You suddenly flinch as the sharp smell of something chemical and sour hits your nose. Looking back up to the potion, you see dark smoke curling thick from the cauldron.

"Uh, Seokmin?" You yell from the courtyard, unable to tear your eyes away from the vicious turn.

You shoo Suki back as you peer into the iron vessel. It bubbles thick and slow like tar while simultaneously bubbling and boiling in the middle like dishwashing liquid. It's turned from a calm aloe green to a sickly swamp and forest shade. You jump back with a squeak as a large bubble pops and spits. The four rush out, Seokmin pushing through. Haeun is perched on the entry steps, brow creased.

"What did you do?" Seokmin says accusingly, dipping his ladle into scoop some of the turning potion out into a shallow bowl. It hisses and burns, the smoke lessening.

"I didn't do anything! I don't have the recipe, you do. Besides, I don't have the kind of power to put something in with that much intent, we all know this." You snap, stepping back.

You cross your arms, indignant that you were accused of something that you didn't do. Joshua screws his nose up at the scent, falling back next to you. His built upper body dwarfs you greatly and you bury the urge to shrink into his dark navy cloak.

"Can you fix it, Seok?" Soonyoung murmurs.

"Maybe. Do we have salt, distilled water, probably sage and… ‘Shua, you got any quartz on you?"

Joshua beams and fishes amongst his many pockets to pull out a white crystal. "Always."

You and Soonyoung wade over with the other ingredients, watching as he carefully cups a small pile of salt in, a hefty splash of moon water and a whole bundle of sage. He murmurs to the quartz in his hands until it glows and drops it in, waiting. It seems to calm and dilute itself, falling back to a simmer. But as soon as it calms, it seems to turn violent, growing rapidly in size, the iron cauldron warping with the backfired potion. Seokmin's eyes fly wide.

"It’s going to blow! Run!"

The group scatters, but as you hear the rumble and creak growing in insistence over your shoulder, you worry if you'll make it. Jeonghan turns and yanks on your arm, huddling you in front of him as he dives for the work bench you were just at. There is a hollow explosion, seemingly full of air that bursts behind you and rocks the bench, then a heavy splatter. Jeonghan keeps you curled up tight against him, tucked under his chin. It goes quiet and all of you peek to see the damage. The backyard is covered with tar-like liquid, Seokmin's cauldron out of shape at the rim, but not burst. You're shaking from the suddenness of everything and Jeonghan is gentle in helping you up and trying to soothe your racing heart. Haeun and Soonyoung both pop out from inside the conservatory and Seokmin and Joshua from around the side of the shop. Suki is frazzled in the window.

"What the hell happened to that?" Joshua says carefully.

"No idea. Something might have fallen in it. Also, definitely the sage." Seokmin confirms, dodging the sticky substance on the floor and walls.

You can feel eyes on you and you slide your sight to catch Haeun staring right at you, mouth ajar. She blinks rapidly upon being found out, turning away purposefully. Her nose still tips up in the air. Jeonghan's arm doesn't leave your shoulder.

"I'm gonna get y/n back to Gyu's - she's a bit shaken up. Will you be okay here without me?" The pretty Spellmaster says.

Seokmin sighs. "Yeah, I guess. We have the cleaning here covered. See you guys later. Feel better soon."

You wave goodbye, not sure if you can trust your voice yet. Jeonghan's arm doesn't leave your shoulders, Suki trotting in your shadow. You're glad the walk isn't very far, but he still lets you take your time as your breath still rattles and your limbs suddenly fragile as glass. You hate being reminded of how out of touch your body is with your mind. It's not until you're back at Mingyu's, sat at his rocky kitchen table that you finally speak.

"Haeun was the last person near the potion." You murmur.

The pretty Spellmaster turns to you from the window - he’s gorgeous in that afternoon sunlight. "What?"

"Haeun. She was near the potion right before it went weird. I don't want to point fingers but there's a chance that she put something in." You dip your head.

Jeonghan takes the seat next to you, resting his hands over your knees. Dark eyes bore into you, steady and sure. There is no vengeful conviction, but you don’t need that. Whatever Jeonghan is, is enough.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I believe you.” His lip pulls up and he pats your knee again, a little more rough and good natured. Then he stands and pats at the sleeve of your dress, adjusting the strap of your apron. “I’m going to go back and check on the clean-up. But I’ll be back for dinner tonight. Will you be okay till then?”

You nod. “Sure. We’ll be out in the study, hmm Suki?”

She tilts minutely to open her eyes, the best version of agreeing you’ll get. Jeonghan hums. “Right, then, I’ll see you later, Angel.”

He floats out and you wave your fist indignantly after him the moment he closes his mouth. “Hey, stop calling me Angel! I’m an old woman for goodness’ sake!”

 You hear later on that the cleaning went off without a hitch and that the next batch of potions did as well, notably you were not invited. It feels like a bit of a stab to the gut, but you try to brush it off, especially with the amount of commissions you have this month - you would have more than enough money left over after Mingyu’s board and re-stocking your supplies you wouldn’t even know what to do with it!

Haeun comes by far more often than before, sometimes even unaccompanied. Still shoving Suki from her place in the sun and pulling out a battered poetry book that she didn’t seem to really read. Instead, she would interrogate you, full of backhanded compliments and badly veiled insults under the guise of curiosity and culturally different social etiquette. Suki had made it clear she hated her, even ditching you in favour of scruffy little Aji in the main house. You bit your tongue a lot with her, especially after the last argument. Pick your battle seemed to be the motto of your relationship.

“So, Madam Y/N. Jeonghan likes to be close to you. Wouldn’t you consider that a little odd at your age?” She says with her funny little lilt. Her poetry book hasn’t been touched, her pinky finger slipped between the wrong pages.

Your teeth grind but you don’t stop to look up at her. “Perhaps, but I’m also at the age where we can learn a lot from one another. He could stand to grow up a little. I don’t read into it, Haeun. Besides, didn’t you say that age moves differently with magic users?”

Her pillowy mouth rounds and flaps as she struggles for words. “But-but it still doesn’t make sense. He takes such good care of you and escorts you out of here like a date! I find it far too familiar of the two of you.”

“Jeonghan takes care of me. I am frail and ill-tempered at my age. He and the others are kind and attentive to me and my afflictions. There is nothing wrong with that, nor is there any more to it. Haeun, I would sincerely advise you to stop trying to read between lines that are not there.” You are quiet yet firm.

She merely ducks her head, scolded for the time being. After a long while where you manage to finish the darts needed for the garment and she ruminates in the quiet, Haeun sets her poetry book aside and reaches into her reticule to pull out an embroidery panel of Aria’s native flowers.

“Madam Y/N, I would like to give this to you. I am by no means the best at the work, but I thought you might appreciate it.” She lays it in front of you, right over the garment you’re currently working on.

Again, as if she is the centre of everyone’s universe. You pick it up to better inspect it. It’s a shocking result - the threads are uneven and twisted, front and back and you worry that the hoop hasn’t been tightened to the correct tension. You smile thinly and put it in the third draw of the desk - where you keep your scraps.

“Haeun, thank you for the gift. I can see you worked very hard on it and appreciate it very much.” You lie through your teeth.

She preens. “Thank you for noticing. I think I should get going though - I do have other appointments.”

You grunt a reply but question what other engagements she has - she has only ever oscillated around the young wizards you call friends. She pops to her feet and glides out, leaving a heady scent of roses in her wake that stab right between your eyes.

Perhaps it’s your own fault for going back this late at night – your last delivery could have waited, and you certainly weren’t given extra for it like usual. The sea breeze whipped through these narrow streets particularly sharply, so the shawl you had on combatted it well. Soonyoung had brought it back as a souvenir from his trip to the mountains, so the fabric was enchanted – thin but well insulated for versatility. Despite the late time, the shadows were longer and darker than expected.

Then there was the smell. Rather than the brisk tang of sea salt and a touch of pine from the shoreline, this was closer to sulphur or the mudflats from further down the coast. The swamp dwellers were notorious for their proclivity to dark magic. They were the ones you went to for revenge and the forbidden. So why that scent was here confused you. The air was thick and the streets devoid of people, something was very wrong. People liked to stand on the cobbled streets well into the night, warm drinks in hand, socialising in the most inconvenient of places.

You turn and stretching from every shadow and unsavoury corner are beings oozing and rasping toward you. Bottomless ink black Phantoms for your soul. The more shadows you pass, the more they catch and gather, growing in numbers. The smell is thick and suffocating, an ice cold rocketing up your spine. Mingyu’s is too far, Seokmin too far as well and under protected for such a situation. Joshua has already been passed. Jeonghan said he was on a job tonight. Which leaves Soonyoung. He’s a detour down a risky, dimly lit alley to the parallel street, but it had to be done.

“S-Suki, Soonyoung’s. Go.” You gasp, as she yowls and takes off running.

You pick up the pace as best you can with the uneven cobblestones and winding streets. The Phantoms sound like a windstorm, no human noise to be heard. They swallowed anything human or otherwise they set their sights on. You let out a weak yell when you feel a tendril, wet and viscous glance at your ankle. Soonyoung lives in a wonky little townhouse with warm brown and black fired brick and a russet brown door. There is some kind of sigil carved into the door, a pattern of them around the doorframe and windows as well. Perfect choice to seek refuge with. The door flings open before you can get to it, his keen eyes on you as he grabs both of your wrists and yanks you in. The door slams shut. Suki is sitting on his living room carpet, awash in warm tones and streaks of black.

“By Merlin, what’s going on with you!” He cries, patting you briefly to check you over.

“Phantoms.” You wheeze.

He jumps, wriggling about on the spot. “You brought Phantoms to my door! How did you find them?”

You lean against his hall table and glare at him. “They found me.”

“Phantoms are old entities. They need something physical to keep them attached to this plane.” He murmurs to himself, looking you over with his chin in his hand.

Soonyoung goes still then fixates on the brooch that kept your shawl on your shoulder. He points accusingly at it as it glints in the streetlight. “Where did you get that from?” He yells out.

You pat it, tracing your finger over the filigree edging. “I - Haeun gave it to me. For fixing her third dress this month. Said it was in her family but not her taste? Insolent girl.”

She’d implied that it was too dated for her and that your old age was perfect for it. By Merlin, always a dig at your age from her, constantly backhanded. He almost rips your shirt-waist in his haste to take it off your person. As your shawl falls away, he tosses it to the floor of his hallway like it burns. Again, he points at it aggressively.

“That - that thing is riddled with negative energy! It has to be cursed as well.” he tosses a glance over your shoulder to the Phantoms loitering outside his door. “That’s why those entities have been chasing you. Something has happened to set off the energy and attract them. We need this cleansed, right now.”

Soonyoung backs up the hall, eyes still on the glinting metal. “Stay here. Watch that. I’ll call the others.”

As soon as he turns the corner for his pokey kitchen, the windows start to whistle and rattle, as if there is a hurricane outside. You know it's the Phantoms. But you don’t dare face them with what Soonyoung has told you. Something you don’t want to risk blinking and missing. Moments later, he’s racing out the room, and grabbing your wrist, yanking you down the house after him. Throwing open a door with his free hand, there is a small, step-in study with all sorts of ritual resources. Instantly, he pulls a swath of cloth, a jar of salt, matches and some dried herb bunch. The phantom hurricane roars louder and you shriek in shock. His brows are set - you’ve never seen him so serious and determined, usually happy-go-lucky and chaotic.

He passes you the cloth and salt. “Can you help me block off the area? Until they get here?”

“Who’s coming?” You ask as you throw the sigil-sewn cloth over the brooch and trickle a steady unbroken ring of salt around it.

“Everyone - ‘Shua, Seokminnie, Jeonghan and Mingyu. If it can pull out all this level of Phantom, I don’t know how powerful it actually is.”

Everything within you seems to seize up as you stare, unseeing, at the pile of fabric at your feet. His warm hand wraps around your shoulder. He’s burning the herbs, waving the smokes in patterns over the brooch. Soonyoung’s sharp gaze shortens momentarily.

“We’ve got you. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m so sorry for bringing this into your house.” You lament.

He shrugs. “That’s what friends are for. I’m glad you trusted me enough to find me for help. I was probably your best bet in a pinch anyway - a lot of my magic works with physical items and energy signatures.”

There is a long, frantic knocking at the door and Soonyoung leans back to call down the hall, “come round back! Quick!”

Joshua bursts in first, his cloak pockets heavy and clinking softly with his multitude of crystals. His hair looks a little sleep rumpled. “I saw them crowd the windows - what’s going on?” He says.

“Y/n set off a cursed artefact. Phantoms ensue.” Soonyoung explains. “D’you bring cleansers and shields?”

You take offence to his choice of words. “I-hey! I didn’t do anything but wear it! Why do you guys keep thinking it’s my fault these things happen?”

The dancer gives you a sympathetic look but says nothing more of it. Instead they seem to ignore you and start to merge and chatter orders and ideas, Joshua setting crystals - most quartz - around your shawl. Static starts to build in the air and the Phantoms even more restless somehow. You feel listless and left out. Maybe even a bit envious - if you had proper magic this would never have happened. Jeonghan breaks in next, hair windblown and his cloak buttoned wonky over an undershirt and loose trousers. His scowl rivals the storm outside. Instantly he steps for you, raising a hand to your face, checking you over.

“What happened? Are you all right?” He says a little harsher than you’re used to.

Still, you nod as Mingyu jogs in, apron smouldering in patches and Seokmin carrying a large bag, a little pink in the face.

“Yes, I’m well. The brooch from Haeun is cursed.” You mutter.

His expression turns funny - something about it you can’t pin down - and he guides you to the edge of the stairs. “I see. Stay here while we cleanse it. Then we’ll dispose of it.”

“I’m sorry for pulling you away from your commission.” You mumble, tilting your chin away from him.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright, Angel. I’ll always come. Let’s go, hmm?”

He knows you too well, that after this ordeal you wouldn’t want anything to do with it anymore. That you knew he was busy and Soonyoung called him anyway. Seokmin is frantically stirring and splashing concoctions on the pile while Mingyu, Soonyoung and Jeonghan plan out a spell. The three of them start to chant in Archaic, wands aimed at a point in the air. You clasp your hands over your ears as the noise of the Phantoms becomes closer to a wretched scream. The fabric starts to smoke then is alight with bright orange flames, burning rapidly to a crisp, with the ease that the natural cotton had. Then the brooch starts to jump and rattle, writhing painfully on Soonyoung’s floor. Seokmin peeks under Mingyu’s arm to splash some more potion on it. Joshua is sat on the floor, eyes screwed shut as the quartz flexes and glows at his command - you can almost see the tangible webbing of magic whispering white between them, like a cage. There is the sensation of all the air being sucked from the room, into the brooch in its last ditch attempt to fight before it also screeches and pops, molten and limp. Mingyu’s forehead is beaded with sweat and Soonyoung’s jaw is cleaned so tightly you would have mistaken it for being screwed shut. But the Phantoms are silent, the streetlight back to glaring through Soonyoung’s front windows. You slump and heave a sigh, the air back to normal. Joshua, a little pale, collects his precious stones and stores them in his cloak, clattering away with the weight. He tilts his head to check in on you.

“How are you?” He says gently as always.

You smile. “Better, now that’s over. Thank you all for your help.”

He rises to his feet and rubs warmly at your upper arm. “Of course we would. Here, take a couple of these for protection for a little while. You know the drill - put them at windows and on your person.” He drops a few quartz and malachite into your apron pocket with a soft smile.

They’re all a little drained from the ordeal, so Soonyoung brews some tea and you all claim various seats, sprawling out from the front living room to the stairwell where you stayed on the bottom steps. The tea was warm and strongly herbal with lemon balm and chamomile. You were pointedly not looking at the heirloom item that had started all of this. Seokmin is the first to finish, taking his chipped mug to Soonyoung’s sink and meandering over to you. He leans on the banister to peer over at you. The tea serves to centre and settle your thoughts and Suki slips into the living room for some attention.

“Are you okay?” He says softly; kindly. “What a night!”

You shrug. “I am now. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry for causing you such trouble. This is the second time something has happened.”

His arm awkwardly reaches over and pats your shoulder. “No, not at all. Anything for a friend. As long as you’re safe now.”

Jeonghan is next, coming round to stoop by your knees. His eyes are more droopy than usual but they never waver from you. If he had the energy you were sure he would have crossed his arms or put his fists on his hips. The background noise of the house guests is an added comfort.

“I agree.”

Somehow, the very sight of him settles you even more, any walls or cautious misgivings crumbling away. He tips his chin and you shuffle over so he can sit next to you by the wall. His knees go up comically high with how low he sits. But instantly, his arm is around you, humming and patting.

“There we are. We should get you home soon, hmm?”

You nod and let Seokmin pull you to your feet. You squeeze his hand and look for a long moment at Jeonghan. “It happened again. Something from Haeun. She brought it from Aria.”

You’re thankful that Jeonghan is whip-smart - not that you’d ever admit it to his face - and can read between the lines. He smooths your stray hair down, fluffing the ends of it. He has that funny look on his face again, the same one he had before the spell when you had mentioned her and you physically bite your tongue, regretting even voicing your half-thoughts. Seokmin is too busy guiding you through the cluttered hallway of shoes and various items they had all brought with them, dumped unceremoniously. You call short and brisk for Suki and she brings the rest of your friends with her as they cram into the doorway. They look ridiculous, all wide, patient eyes watching you.

“I-I’m going to head out. So I’ll take the -”

Soonyoung’s eyes crease and he quickly scoops up the cloth and brooch, throwing it over his shoulder into the burning fireplace. The fire twists a brief cobalt blue before settling, the cotton and metal smouldering to nothing. It should put things to rest, but thoughts linger, like floating particles in water.

“No, you aren’t. I would never make anyone carry a cursed artefact. Y/Nnie, go home. Me, Seokmin and ‘Shua will clean up.”

Mingyu’s wide frame breaks free and meets you at the front door so you’re wedged in by Jeonghan on one side, and the kitchenmaster on the other. You give everyone brief goodbyes as you're escorted out the house and onto the hill. You didn’t do anything but you don’t have the effort to be part of the empty conversation going on over your head. The pair of them lead you upstairs and Jeonghan waits outside while you get changed and settle for bed. You have no shame as he moves about the room, murmuring some spells over windows and any kind of door including your wardrobe. Suki steers clear of the windowsill where the Spellmaster sets up Joshua’s cluster of stones. The moonlight that streams in seems to glow whiter than before the quartz was there, like filtering dirt and evil. Even with his sluggish movements, Jeonghan even tucks you into bed, patting the blankets down over you!

His hand stills on the folded edge as he seems to look past you. “Angel, if anything else happens, we will need to talk. You aren’t safe anymore.”

You try to sit up, but with how tightly he has you wrapped, it’s not possible. “What do you mean by that?”

“Once is a coincidence, twice is a maybe. Three times? Someone wants to hurt you.” His tone is devoid of the initial bravado or sweet warmth you’ve always known from him.

“Jeonghan, the only changed catalyst since I’ve been here is Haeun. I’m scared she has something to do with it. But I haven’t done anything to her - she’s just a rude girl from Aria.” 

Your turn of phrase doesn’t lighten his demeanour. But he says nothing else, instead, smoothing the covers down one more time and giving Suki a scratch behind the ear before turning out the light.

“Goodnight, Angel.”

Jeonghan is around far more than not now, as is Soonyoung who brings a life to your space that you appreciated in the short bursts he gave. There is a brightness and innocence to the energy he gives, always coming from a place of good - even as he grumbles when you use that boundless energy of his to rearrange the study. You aren’t sure how Jeonghan manages to hang around so often, especially between his jobs. If anything, they should be building with the near change of the season. But he even escorts you to your various deliveries and supply pickups from Eugene. He doesn’t say why, only that he “always has time for you, Angel.” Which you partially expect with your curse, but his world should not revolve around you.

It’s one of these various trips that Haeun tacks herself onto, drifting out of the tea house and sweetly calling Jeonghan’s name. She struggles a little to catch up but hums and smiles.

“Thank goodness. I haven’t seen you for such a long time. May I accompany you? Oh, Madam Y/N. You are out today as well?”

What in the - you had both walked past the window together! You simper over your shoulder at her.

“Correct. As long as we are not disrupting any prior engagement of yours.”

She tuts and shakes her head while Jeonghan has an eerily still look about him, his head slanted and eyes slightly squinted. His gaze is intense and disarming so you have no idea how she is managing to act so blithe under its beam. The plan now is to head back to Mingyu’s with a supply pick up and you wished she wasn’t accompanying the three of you to no doubt insert herself into her place in your study. No point arguing it now. Conversation is stilted and awkward as you personally struggle to maintain politeness. Suki has gestured to something for Jeonghan and he humours her, dawdling to a shop window she arches up to. A sharp shriek from Haeun cuts through you, right in your ear and you pause to turn at the drama. You don’t get to eye her when she cries out again in vague distress and leaps backwards, knocking you backwards over the edge of the sidewalk.

The tram is the only mode of transport along this road, horse and buggies no longer allowed due to the… smell, so usually you would be able to right yourself, dust off and scold the flighty young woman with time to spare. But the trolley cars were running late, almost front to tail. All you can hear is the persistent dinging of the trolley car rolling down the hill, signalling disaster. Haeun is still muttering and whining, her hands over her face and her pretty button up boots standing on your own skirt so you can’t move. Jeonghan yells, high and thin and while you’re struggling to move as close to the sidewalk as you can, he drops all your supplies and nudges the girl out the way. Her feet tangle and her eyes fly wide as she almost hits a store window - by Merlin you all must look like a slapstick skit. The ringing bell is deafening now and the Spellmaster stoops over to effortlessly scoop you up and onto the walkway, both arms wrapped tightly around you to tuck you against his chest. You can hear his heart flutter and his breath heave loudly over you. The tram rattles past, the passenger chatter an inaudible blur.

“Good Morgana, that was close. Y/N, are you well?” He mutters, leaning back just enough to eye you.

You nod. “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what happened, I - Haeun?”

You carefully unfurl yourself from the blonde, peering around to the young woman, tears dried on her cheeks. Suki stands between the pair of you, wide stance and glaring.

“Haeun, what’s going on?” You say sternly.

She sniffles and shakes her head, trying to almost bury her face under her hat like a child. Jeonghan’s hands fall protectively to your shoulder and the small of your spine, over the knot of your apron.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry! Only I - it was just here?”

“What was?” You press, scowling.

“The-the Kaononai. It came out from that bookstore. Oh it was so scary!” She cried out, her hands already reaching for her face.

You glanced down to Suki who hadn’t let Haeun out of her sight. “Suki, did you see it?”

Her tail flickered, as did her left ear, but no response - something to discuss when you both got back to the studio.

“Haeun, you need to be careful.” Jeonghan says, careful yet firm.

She pouts and goes a little cold, her fists bunching tightly so they turn pale. Suki’s tail has fluffed up and you make a point of looking around for anything dangerous. The only being that could cause trouble is Haeun at this second.

“Me, be careful? Jeonghan, if I was right and the Kaononai was really here, we would all be dead by now from it.” She says low - it’s the most threatening thing you’ve heard from her and sounds nothing like the obnoxious innocent little mortal from Aria that has been shadowing your group since the day she arrived.

His grip tightens on you. “Y/n certainly would be - she doesn’t have magical offensive skills and your panicked dancing could have killed her before the Kaononai got to any of us. Besides, Suki is a very well attuned animal and would have sensed it long before you.”

She glares down at your familiar, going beet red in the face - you could have sworn you saw steam billow from her little ears. It’s a miracle that no one else has shown up on your part of the street, even as onlookers on the other side of the street pass. Suki’s eyes glow and somehow, you’re touched by her fierce show of protection. She’s never done something like that for you in all your years of tethered companionship.

“Suki, shhhh.” You say, repeating it till she had taken a step back. You level a look at Haeun. “I think you ought to go back to your lodgings and lie down. It’s all been a bit much for you today. Good bye, Haeun.”

You don’t leave any room for argument with your patronising tone – you really couldn’t keep it to yourself, no matter how much you should have tried - and Jeonghan seems to take a hint, collecting everything from the pavement. He tips his head in a silent sulk her way and turns on the heel of his boot to follow you with Suki proudly leading. You leave her on the street and while you don’t regret it, something ice cold and viscous seeps down your spine.

Jeonghan guides you home startlingly somber, and drops your things in the study when he asks for the key while depositing you in Mingyu’s front living room. It’s a warm space of neutral cream shades and comforting textures and fabrics. The main window oversees the front garden, private enough thanks to the fence and the artfully placed rose trees - less so bushes from the way they grew upwards. Suki claims the space next to Aji, both little furballs feeding off one another’s warmth. Jeonghan returns with a glass of water for each of you and deposits it on a dated doily.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You can say no.” He says soft and firm, dark eyes settled on you.

You nod your head. “I’m a bit shaken, but fine.”

You have too much to do to be shaken. Jeonghan has now insisted on staying with you in your study, not hiding the fact he wants to keep an eye on you. He’s managed to simmer down much faster than you have from the events. A surprise with how riled up he was right after - he didn’t fight your cold dismissal of her either. You hiss as you prick your finger on the needle - usually hand sewing, as tedious as it was, could be soothing. It was one thing to focus on, those back and forth motions of the thread therapeutic. But not when you mind has way too much going on. You couldn’t quite sweep it all away with the repetition. You swear under your breath when you do it again, not a few moments later. Jeonghan looks up from his papers, a millimetre of concern between his brows. 

“Are you okay? You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Maybe you should take a break.” He hums.

You scoff. “Don’t be silly. I have three things due in the next week, I can’t really afford to take a breather. It’s this or go stir crazy here.”

He slants his head, his blonde strands glowing, again. “Like what?”

Jeonghan eases over on his stool, careful not to catch his cloak under its foot. You sigh and fold away the shirt you were working on for Joshua - he wanted something lightweight for the warm weather and you were more than happy to accommodate as much as he was willing to pay.

“I...It’s okay. Something for another day.” Your smile wanes.

“Don't be silly, Angel. I want to hear about it - it’s making you wrinkle.” He says as compensation.

You tip your head back to laugh. Of course that’s why he wants to hear - because it’s interfering with his research and studies of you. Another variable that needs taking care of. Sure, you’ll humour him.

“It needs to be kept quiet - I don’t want our friends getting all funny. Not to mention, we have been meaning to have a chat about it.” He mimes twisting a key over his lips and tossing it over his shoulder. “I’m a little weary of Haeun. Something doesn’t feel right. From the moment we met her, all that’s happened is trouble. She feels like some kind of bad omen. I don’t want to think that of her, but I can’t help it when hiccup after hiccup has happened. The cauldron, almost getting run over, the Phantoms? I don’t like it - her. But I also don’t want to look as if I am fixating on her unfairly either.” You gnaw on your lip instead of pouting, not a very flattering look for someone of your physical age. The Spellmaster’s frown deepens.

“Hmm, I understand that. And I know you’ve both been butting heads over a lot.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be shy - everything.”

He laughs, airy like the weather outside. “Fine, over everything.”

“I just worry that there is more going on than we fully understand. If someone should be in danger, shouldn’t it be you?”

“But instead, this is the third incident that has endangered you since you arrived in Martine. Things that come in threes. Auspicious number – it means something.” He puts his little diary aside, filled with his upcoming commissions and appointments. You know for a fact that the pricing of his talents is the backs pages, well worn by now.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. The curse is one thing, all these almosts are another. And she has been involved with them, one way or another. willingly or not. It’s all too much to be coincidence. Please, be careful around her. Sight or not, something is off. I can feel it, with what little magic I have.” You softly argue.

His dark eyes scrutinise you, scanning for something, you’re not sure. Finally, his shoulders relax and he nods, giving in. “Of course, I trust you, Angel. And, besides, I have my own reasons to be wary of her too, thinking about it - she is from Aria. And she has had some part in all of our recent incidents, there is no longer any coincidence or doubt about that. I can’t get too comfortable, in case it all turns on me next.”

You chuckle - It’s easier to breathe now. “Oh yes, right. Fugitive of the law.”

He scowls and you laugh harder, letting him draw back to sulk in the corner. He even turns his back on you! “Leave me alone - don’t you have things to do?”

Haeun doesn’t see you buried in the extensive garden when she leaves Mingyu’s kitchen. You’re taking clippings of this and that, inhaling the intense scent of marigold when you hear her heels hit the brick flooring. The end of her voice still carries as she heaves a sigh, weighing at her delicate shoulders. The roll of her eyes is unexpected nor attractive on her doll-like face. It sits unfocused in your eyes as you squint and blink away the haze that clouds her figure. It flickers as she looks down to check her purse and you wobble on the balls of your feet, falling into the garden. Her eyes, a shocking forest green - the colour only found in the royal bloodline of Aria. Haeun’s hair is now a mousey brown in long waves. Haeun is really the princess of Aria. The scent of roses, heady and thick in her wake. Her opinion of the wizard inquisition - she was in charge of it. It was alarming how much of it made sense. As you fumble to right yourself in the dirt, your mind reels. Why hasn’t she attacked Jeonghan yet? Haeun has been in Martine for a good few months and the only one who’s had trouble since she’s shown up is you. But Jeonghan has never actually been left alone with her since he arrived in Martine. Maybe not as silly as you thought then. You feel wiry hands grip you standing. Haeun - Seoyun is in front of you, dusting you down.

“Madam Y/N, are you okay? I didn’t see you there, you’re so quiet!” She says.

The smell of roses is making you dizzy, now you’re close to her. She scoops up your clippers, dropping them into your apron. She guides you to the garden seating, pushing on your shoulders to encourage you. Her frown sits heavy on her brow while your stomach churns. The princess fluffs at your grey hair, shaking it of leaves and dirt.

“You really don’t look well - you’ve gone so pale. Stay here and I’ll find someone to fetch you. Okay?”

You hum out a response and she nods, dashing inside like a gazelle. You’re too shocked to do much else. Mingyu is running back out in a heartbeat, kneeling before you. His kind eyes search yours for anything. His big hands rub at yours, limp in your lap.

“Are you okay? Can you see?” He prattles off questions endlessly.

It’s only as you see her dress in the corner of your eye that you pull him in, whispering quickly, “get Haeun out of here and call for Jeonghan, now.”

“Thank you so much for taking care of Y/N. I’ve got it now. Will we still see you Thursday evening?” He says, hand at the small of her back. You can see the confusion and protest lining his lips and you scowl wordlessly. He nods, standing to turn to Haeun.

His tall figure leads her down the path out to the main entry. She looks over her shoulder in confusion, but still responds to him as they disappear from view. You lay your head forward on the cool painted metal of the table. You don’t know how long it takes but there is a cool hand curled around the junction of bare skin where shoulder curved to pulse, thumb stroking idle circles.

“You called?”

Finally, you lift your head to eye the Spellmaster. No doubt you have swirling indents on your forehead from pressing your face into the metal, but no matter. “I was right about Haeun. She’s not just bad news. She’s the reason for everything from the last six months. She’s the princess.”

The concern from Jeonghan’s face melts away and leaves him pasty and pale, eyes unseeing.

You barrel on, quietly, as if for fear she could catch you out. “She’s got a glamour on, really strong. Weaker on females though - she’s hiding from men because she wants to catch one. You. That’s why she’s been hanging around. She’s been trying to corner you for months. But you’ve never been alone with her.”

“I - Haeun is Princess Seoyun? Why didn’t… she’s an extraordinary witch, and can easily best most of us here at once. Why didn’t she just attack us and then deal with me?”

You shrug. “No idea? Too much of a scene? All of us are well respected here in Martine. It would be hard to be rid of any of us without drawing suspicion.”

He clutches both of your hands too tightly as he bows over you, as if holding on for dear life. Everything is shadowed about him. “So, what do we do now?”

“Neither of us can be left alone until we work out what to do with her. We need to protect ourselves first. So we need to let the others know. If we know anyone else, we should ask if they can help. It’s the entire crux of the wizard persecution at stake.” It’s unspoken that your side will not be called to arms. That means facing things you didn’t have time for. Jeonghan nods.

“Us against the kingdom of Aria, hmm Angel?” He smirks limply.

You roll your eyes. “Something like that. C’mon, better fill Mingyu in.”

It’s the earnest way you ask Mingyu to call in every favour or magical contact in Martine for a meeting at his place that seems to ring the severity of the situation home. Everything about Mingyu’s place was warm and safe and inviting. A levity about it that melted away when you reached across the benchtop to lay a hand over his as he cooked dinner.

You squeeze his free hand and stare him down as you say, “do not under any circumstances tell Haeun that this is happening. She must not suspect anything out of the ordinary or try to invite herself. This is for magic users only.”

He frowns but nods. “Of course. I think a few friends are passing through in a day or two from across the sea.”

“The more hands the better.”

Mingyu sends out magical mail from his fireplace that night to Soonyoung, Seokmin and Joshua, the ashes turning lime green in the fire and the smoke seeming to twist with an underlying life. Then another flash from the fire in a cobalt-ocean blue. You lean closer.

“Wow, who was that for?” You mutter from your place on the bowing sofa.

He pokes at the embers to drown them out. “A few friends from out of town - a Spellmaster named Boo Seungkwan and a caster called Lee Chan. Chan is only a Class C wizard, but he’s currently travelling for his Class B examinations so he’s pretty much passed. He’s one of the smartest guys I know - quick learner and good at anything he picks up. Actually! Last I heard he was currently out west seeking guidance from the only Shieldmaster known, Choi Seungcheol, first of his name.”

Your mouth rounds. You had vaguely heard of him - specialised in all manner of strength and protection magic. No one had specialised in it like him before. Moments later two flashes of green and a blast of blue spark in the base of the fireplace before settling at the edge of the hearth. They settled on three scraps of parchment. Mingyu stoops over to scan them. Suki has parked herself by the embers, soaking up what little warmth is left.

“Soonyoung and ‘Shua are coming, of course. Chan is still up country with Seungcheol.” Mingyu’s brows raise. “Now he would have been good to have.”

The next evening, Mingyu makes double his usual amount of food, seeing as there would be seven mouths in total crammed around his round dining table. Jeonghan had been with you all day, refusing to leave you alone. Neither of you were sure why you had become the target here if Jeonghan was supposedly the one at fault. Only that it was there to scare as much as it was to hurt you. It was odd how much the both of you were so right.

“Otherwise,” you scowl, “she could have finished me off at any time. She’s one of the most powerful magic users known by The Council. Ugh, it’s like playing with your food before you eat it.”

That notion has you quickly, stuffing food in your mouth to refute it with yourself. Surely Mingyu’s heartfelt meal would be distracting. Seungkwan was instantly very righteous and vocal, swearing to protect and agree with whatever it took to keep the pair of you protected. A rotating roster was easily set up to keep someone with you at all times. It didn’t make you happy, having to be guarded and helpless, but such was your current ability to protect yourself. Jeonghan’s eyes don’t leave you for very long and you try to be mature and not read into it, even as his knee bumps yours.

It felt like a long, slow limbo state, full of tension that sat in your shoulder blades you couldn’t shake. Not even Minji’s bustling plans and back-to-back appointments could distract you. Your friends aren’t the best liars, especially Seokmin, which certainly tells her implicitly that circumstances have changed. You’ve been deposited at the apothecary today as part of the roster, sat in the warm space under crystal clear sunlight as you work on a thank you gift for Seungkwan for coming into town just for you. Seokmin is making a batch of your tonic when he gives you a guilty expression, pinned with his lips worried between his teeth.

“She came by yesterday.” He says quietly.

Your needle goes still. “Oh, did she?”

“Hmmm. Asked for rosehip and some northern cinnamon. I said I didn’t have either in stock…then she pointed to the cinnamon right by my head. And the dried rosehip in my hand.” He goes tomato red and cringes over the pot. “She left after, really quiet.”

You can’t help but laugh, swinging back on your chair. It’s a laugh bordering on hysteria. “Ah, Seokminnie, you tried. It’s alright.” You sigh. “It just might mean she’s got a clue something is up. I mean, we know Soonyoung has been avoiding Haeun like the plague because he can’t hide his facial expressions. And ‘Gyu has locked the side gate.”

The sweet potionsmaster still pouts a little. “I’m just, worried.”

You rise and meet him at his weathered wooden bench, leaning your head on his shoulder. The tonic was clear at this point, having boiled and distilled for so long, past the grassiness of the herbs and sweet jamminess of the rosehip. It was still a little thick, so you pass Seokmin a glass of moonwater.

“I know. But we’re doing all we can - we don’t know her well enough to plan any other moves.” The words taste chemical and bitter with how unsure you were.

A week goes by and finally both yourself and Jeonghan have a shared roster - by Merlin, it sounds so boring. Soonyoung had gotten in the way yesterday during a commission and was back at home, nursing a pair of missing eyebrows. Jeonghan was haughty upon entry of the study, insisting that it was his own fault for dancing like a b-rate ballerina. As if a trap had been triggered, a yellow-orange spark appeared in the air between you, swirling open a portal. An envelope in peacock green hung in the air before dropping as the portal closed. The corner drops on Suki’s head with a petulant yowl. Jeonghan’s wand is out in an instant, aimed at the door, then the window.

“That sorceress.” He hisses.

You stoop to open it up, hearing Jeonghan squeak in protest. His name is at the top so you hand it off to him. “Oh hush, it’s for you anyway.”

His sleepy eyes scan the heavy paper and you watch them turn to stone. His fist crumples the paper to the point of ripping and you rush to ease it from his grip. Jeonghan isn’t a violent person as far as you know.

“It’s a threat. To hand myself over to her.” His gaze settles on you, grasp twisting from the note to your own hand. “Otherwise, you’ll get hurt. Like she has already tried before.”

Damn propriety - you step closer so Suki is forced to move and your toes of your shoes almost touch. “You’re not going to do that, are you? Jeonghan, she’ll kill you, or something worse.”

He’s quiet and you don’t trust him as far as you could throw him. So, you take the note and turn on your heel to your desk, tossing the letter away before he can ruminate on it longer. Today, he stays out of the sun, claiming the stool by the wall instead, just watching you. It usually annoys you, but at least if he’s watching you, he’s still here. By the time sunset hits and Joshua shows up with his soft feline smile to escort Jeonghan home, you’re even more on edge, the thought of Mingyu’s tea the only possible soother to your worry. Jeonghan is taking some time to fuss over Suki and Aji in the kitchen when you grab Joshua’s wrist, yanking him up to your level in the doorway to the courtyard.

“Please keep an eye on him. More than one of you. Haeun sent a letter to him today, threatening him to turn in or risk me. He didn’t answer me after that.” You wring his wrist with your fingers, as if it were your own instead. “I want him to be safe, especially after all he’s done for me.”

Joshua hums softly and nods. “Of course, Y/N. We’ll go round to Soonyoung’s tomorrow then.”

On Mingyu’s turn babysitting you, he locks up your study for the day and sends another note in the fireplace to Minji to delay your appointment by a day or two under the guise of supply shortage. The B&B is now quieter, autumn being the off-season. He’s repainting the front fence and has you checking bedding and towels for any moth damage. It has you in and out of the house so Mingyu can keep an eye on you. Once that was done, he had a stool in the front garden at the ready under an umbrella. You wished there was a way to stave off that upcoming boredom somehow. With everything confirmed to be moth-free – you had even refilled the mothballs, breathing through your mouth to avoid the strong scent – you turn the hall to smell the tell-tale scent of electricity in the air, sparks and cracks meeting your ears. It’s a slow jog to the courtyard and you find Haeun casting something, casting shadows dark and long.

“H-Haeun. What are you doing?” You call quietly from the doorway.

She turns to you, her glamour all but fallen away with the strength of her casting. Now green eyes meet you and burn, a manic edge to her lips.

“Ah, just the person of the hour. Come here.” You hesitate, still confused - the actions have all been proven, but not the motive. Her wand waves at you too casually. “Here!”

You stumble out with the magical force, looking down the pathway. “Where’s Mingyu?”

She shrugged. “Gullible dear - fooled him into thinking there was an attack on Jeonghan. Especially after yesterday’s little scare. The gate has been enchanted. I won’t need to stall that long, if you do as you’re told.”

Even your own shadow has been cast long, despite the clear weather. There is a wicker basket weaving itself with vines and roots. Black and red candles, obsidian and amethyst. Rust nails and something ugly and pickled. This was a vicious spell.

“So you baited them? He didn’t even have a chance to think about what he wanted to do?” You protest.

“Of course not. He has had months to do it. Those little scares should have been enough - he’s supposed to be smart. The most cunning member of the Aria Royal Artists Guild, apparently.” She almost sings and this voice feels more natural to you. No all-knowing simper that gave you whiplash.

“Haeun - no, Seoyun. What do you want.” You say, the fear fading from your voice, only left with caution.

“Your heart.” She shrugs simply.

Somehow, she is not surprised at your knowledge in the reveal. No dramatic announcement or offended gasp. So shameless, you think disapprovingly. The basket is placed on the ground, candles and crystals surrounding. The candles’ smoke swirls restlessly into the air and there is a putrid scent overtaking all else. She wants to catch it.

“Why? You have one - Jeonghan never took it in the first place - that was just some rumour of the court.”

“So? Yours is unbroken. You have the one he wants - why he wants your old, shrivelled up thing is beyond me, not to mention highly improper. I mean, a real step down in my perspective.” She makes a flourishing gesture at herself. “But you are to his taste, so I want it. If I have yours, I have his - ugh why do I have to spell everything out for you?” Seoyun rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know - why do you keep answering?” You grumble.

You startle though as she pulls out a bloody lamb’s heart from the depths of her purse, holding it aloft, the dagger in her left hand making you squint from the glare. She drops it with a sickening splat in the basket. The dagger stays though as she advances on you. You look around for something - someone - anything - until your back aches against the door frame. Suki yowls and rushes into the courtyard.

“Suki, go! Get away!” You command - you didn’t want her getting hurt.

And maybe she could get out of here for help. Suki’s claws clatter and fade down the hall. From her skirts Seoyun pulls out a corked vial, empty for the minute. She slices her own hand, red dribbling down her pale skin into the glass. She gestures for your own hand, jerky and severe. You hold it out limply in between you so she can yank it toward her. Instead, she initially bypasses it and yanks for your hair, held back in a severe, business-like braid. As you cry out sharply, her grip on her blade switches and she smoothly arches up and slices it off. Pocketing the hair, she twists your slack hand to her liking. You hiss and whine as the used blade cuts into your fragile palm. She squeezes and prods until she gets what she wants and you continue to whimper in pain. Seoyun tosses your hand away after that, marching over to her materials. You’re honestly a little curious as to how she is going to do it, so as much as you know the danger, you stay to watch while pressing your hand in your apron to stop the bleeding. The blood is dripping into the basket with the heart and suddenly she holds the dagger downwards.

“You have a heart,  I could use that. What’s yours is now mine. Love, loss, man. This heart, tied to another’s, Give this power to me.”

It feels like twine has been twisted and looped through your chest, tightening, everything seeming to go tunnel vision on the glinting metal. A sound like shattering glass. Then a crack by your ear and the blade goes flying. Another and the spell is scattered, candles rolling into the garden bed and the butchered organ making another splat to the stones. Jeonghan braces himself, breathless, around you. His eyes fall to your bloody and wrinkled palm.

“What did she do to you?” He hisses.

“Shhh, just a cut.” You say through the sting.

Jeonghan scowls darkly and cradles your hand, running his thumb over it and murmuring a spell that seals the wound. You’re finally given a moment to breathe, with the princess’ spell broken and the squeeze from your heart relaxed. 

He draws himself up and turns to put you in his slender shadow, asking again. “What did she do?”

“Tried to bind and take my heart.” You’re still a little too shy to say why.

She laughs now in surprise and over his shoulder she grins. It’s not hard to see her plan forming before you as she flicks a spell at him, the air turning hot and strong in the courtyard from her fury. Her power turns red, electric and vicious - it puts static in her hair. Jeonghan, though, steps flawlessly in front of you, bracing his forearm up and disarming it. The force is so strong though that it sends you both skidding back, what little strength you had before gone. Your legs wobble, forcing you to your knees, a wilt. They begin to duel, the smell of burnt electricity suffocating, smoke beginning to swirl. It looks like Jeonghan is gaining. Until she starts talking, her eyes glowing a sickening green.

“You lied to me, Jeonghan! Said you loved me! You string me along for my power, my status, even my money! You thought I was pretty until something prettier came along. Now look at you. Infatuated with some old hag, defending yourself from one of the best Masters in the world. You’re not doing very well.” Her lips curl up in a smug grin. “Left yourself wide open.”

She sneers as she lifts her free hand at you. You can already see it coming. You can defend yourself from it easily. So, as you brace yourself to stand, Jeonghan twists his wrist sharply to break the connection between himself and Seoyun and leaps to take your hit. The surge of animated smoke flies, flinging him into the wall behind you. He slides to the ground with a low groan, squinting his eyes at the princess. Now he’s physically vulnerable, she steps closer and closer as Seoyun lays into him, finishing him off with a psychic attack, a burst of pretty pink popping limp from his chest. He’s out of magic. She seems to love kicking a beaten horse when it’s down as shards of debris rise from the pavement and glow red and green – a toxic swirl of colour – to rain on the two of you. You make your way to him to shrink her catchment zone. It’s instinct how you want to whip your old wand out from your apron. Instead, you say the spell straight, a lot riskier and more unrefined. It does the job though as a dark metallic grey blooms to shield the two of you from most of it. A rock clips your shoulder and tips you forward. The princess’s eyes widen in manic surprise before she smirks triumphantly as you hobble over the rest of the way to scoop up Jeonghan's prone frame. He kind of smoulders, burning hot to the touch and his eyes unfocused and hazy.

"Jeonghan, can you hear me?" You call, patting his cheek.

Long lashes flutter as his head lolls to face you. He smiles. "Yeah, I'm still here."

"Can you - can you get up? On your own?"

He nods and braces himself on the wall, swaying. You carefully let him go, stepping back. His eyes fly wide as he collapses, hacking a heavy cough. His skin glows a sickly green. You can't catch him fast enough this time and you cringe at the heavy thud he makes.

"Maybe not. You should probably get out of here. Go find Mingyu and Seok." He groans.

You shoot a glare over your shoulder as the princess inches closer and you position yourself in front of him in a weak shield. Your thin hands brush his dull blonde fringe from his eyes. They have a halo of green around the irises that sets your gut off and you gnaw on your lip.

"Yeah, but what will she do to you?" You hiss.

"Probably take me back to her father. Maybe...hang me?" He rasps out and you gasp.

You can't stop your grip from tightening in his hair and he flinches limply. "So I won't make it back in time to do anything, will I? Jeonghan."

He doesn't reply, only looks at you with a deep fondness you hate. You can't leave him here, alone and vulnerable to a witch like her. Someone with too much vengeance in their power. You can feel her glare as you pull out a pen you had in your apron from Seokmin's desk. Quickly, you draw a few healing and shield charms over his skin, watching the glow fade into a pasty and clammy shade stuck to his skin.

"Move, hag. You are no longer my concern." She says haughtily. “The bait has suddenly served its purpose. I have you right where I want you, hmm.”

You hate the lack of respect she gives you, whether you are old or not. If he can't do anything... You yank his wand from his grasp and turn to face her. You can hear your back crack as you stand to your full height. The weight of Jeonghan's wand in your hand is equally familiar in your posture but different in the fact that it isn't your own - the wooden curves and ridges suited to his style. Just something to shield, you remind yourself. There wasn't much you could do but stall and wait it out. Hopefully the others would catch on and come in for reinforcements…through the back door. Soon.

"Surely you don't need to hurt him anymore. He didn't mean it. Jeonghan isn't like that." You protest gently, casting as you speak.

Another soft, rippling shield fans out in front of you and she steps closer, lip curled. "You act like you know him! He's a devilish warlock. I'll only ask once more. Move aside - now that I have him, I’ve no want to hurt you. Don't talk about what you don't know and let me deal with him, hag."

Hag this and hag that! You didn't look that bad! And how dare she call Jeonghan a warlock, a magic user of evil. Between his sweet, sleepy gaze and his dedication to you alone, he’s the furthest from evil. The princess shrugs helplessly and starts firing off spells when you don't respond to her. You’re quick to sling up another, more combat-suited shield to protect the two of you. You try not to let your surprise show - that has been the most powerful thing you could cast so far. Her brows raised in interest but nothing else was said from her. You step closer, finally dropping the shield and firing off your own spells with a deft flick of Jeonghan's wand, swiftly building in strength and speed. Sparks crackled in the air, flying into the brickwork and burning smoke grey shapes.

"Do you know who this old hag is?" You snarl.

She's a challenge but nothing you can't handle, being from such an old, powerful family. You had been taught well even with your current fallacy. Despite the odd weight distributed by your body, your stance is planted strong. Oddly enough, you can barely feel it.

She shakes her head, finally unsure of herself. The crease to her pretty brow is satisfying. "Nobody."

"Wrong. I am a descendant of the best Spellmistress in the land and sea. I am a Spellmistress strong enough to bind you."

Your head is tilted back as you perform the spell down your nose, murmuring low and fast under your breath. Vines from the walls shoot out to twist her into submission, her wand clattering to the brick floor. A moment of blinding light and a hot, burning sensation rips through the space and distracts you enough to flinch, but not much more, still steadfast in the middle of your spell. The spell you were casting didn't usually do that... Wand aimed at her, you don't bother to focus on Jeonghan. If you bind her, maybe her own spell will break. Her eyes bulge comically and she splutters and gapes like a fish, probably from shock at the trick you pull. You can hear a shifting and a soft groan behind you. Holding the princess in place, you glance over your shoulder to see the Spellmaster crawl to stand, leant heavily on the brick wall. His eyes are large, but still have a sheen of green shining over them with the light that streams in. 

"Jeonghan, if you can, get two empty jars from Mingyu's shelf. I'll separate her magic and make her a more...manageable size." You say, your newly claimed wand is still weaving your spell. He rocks to stand freely but doesn’t move anymore, still staring. “Jeonghan, now!”

You cast again, watching the vines tighten and shrink her, like squeezing water from cotton. She finally seems to find her voice, gasping and yelling a chant which is easily silenced with a magic laden word. You suck in a breath, holding it for a moment to centre yourself again before yelling a sharp chant to separate the princess from her core. A small marble sized shape hangs in the air, glowing a pulsing green, dark and fierce. Obviously, her emotions had gotten to her core - no wonder Jeonghan was a sickly green colour. You can hear him hop down from the step next to you and flicking your wrists inwards, you drop the minute princess in one jar and her glowing core in the other. He hastily secures lids onto them, while you're murmuring a shield spell over the two of them. It wasn't strong, but it didn't have to be with their sizes.

"Well, that's that. Let's get you ready and we'll get you on your way to clear your name, shall we?"

"W-wait."

You turn in the hall, pushing the jars on the bench. You've changed the princess's lid for a piece of cloth, so she can breathe. You can see her yelling at you, shaking the jar as she hits the glass with her fists.

"Hmm?"

He grabs your hand. "Go look in a mirror."

You roll your eyes, tugging your hand free to glare at him. "Wow, way to add insult to injury. No thank you, no nothing. Just a reminder of my appearance. It’s not like I cast magic, just for you to save your life."

Jeonghan glares back in return, surprisingly sharp, grabbing your hand again and pulling you down the hall to the bathroom. Suki has since slunk out from the living room, jumping sky high at the sight of you. Obviously didn’t bother looking for help. Damn cat. Jeonghan stands behind you as he manhandles you in front of the mirror. You gasp, reaching up to touch your face. You appeared your age again. No wrinkles, no bony hands. You smile, blindingly so as Jeonghan does the same.

"I'm...I'm me again. I'm..."

"Beautiful. But I already knew that." He says.

You chuckle. "Liar."

His brows shoot up. "No, really! I've seen you like this before. When the first one was lifted. Well, except…”

Your hair. It hadn’t turned back to its former colour before the curse. But instead of the wiry, dull white-grey, it’s vibrant, short and almost metallic, glowing like…

He runs his fingers through the uneven ends Seoyun cut. “It’s just like starlight.” The hand on your shoulder goes to hold your cheek, his sweet smile seeming to melt you a little.

You hear a strangled cry of shock and the soft slam of a door. You cringe - Mingyu must be home. The two of you rush out to the courtyard to meet up with him. He turns to look at you, his own wand – his kitchen spoon, of course – brandished and expression more furious than you even thought possible.

"What th- oh my goodness! Y/N! Your curse is broken! How?" He drops his things at his feet rushing to meet you. You hold out your arms as he comes crashing into you, rocking the two of you unsteadily. His laughter is loud and muffled in your ear.

“Hey. Uh, well. Kind of a weird story. But the princess of Aria is in a jam jar on your kitchen bench and I shrank her to help Jeonghan out. But we’ll need to take her back to the Aria court and plead Jeonghan’s innocence.” You pull back and shrug, shy.

You’re not used to the strength in your bones, the life curling in your hair. Jeonghan, in the meantime, has cast the courtyard back into its former state, garden table and all. You feel anew, the magic thrumming through your veins, your breath sweet and easy. Everything around you seems alive and restless. Mingyu marvels at you as well, giving you another not so light squeeze.

“That’s, uh, amazing. I’m so glad you’re okay! When I got to the apothecary, Seokmin almost chewed me to bits for leaving you behind.” He glanced at Jeonghan, who had picked up Suki in the hallway. “I - how did you know?”

The blonde shrugged. “I didn’t. Not until Suki here came out into the street. She’s never alone. Soonyoung couldn’t hold me back, even if he knew.”

Suki purrs, a loud rumble, quite impressed with herself. You’re grudgingly glad she actually listened for once, after all. You crouch to her level and reach out to give her a thorough pat and tail scratches in thanks. Jeonghan glances at you, going sober.

“We’ll need to leave as soon as we can to get Seoyun back to Aria and end this mess. It’s not right for our kind to be persecuted over the delusions of a young witch such as herself. She’s used her privilege so irresponsibly.” He tuts.

You’ve rarely seen Jeonghan so serious. You detach yourself from Mingyu.  “Go back to yours, and collect what you need. I’ll watch the princess, now I’ve got my magic back in full. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready. My commissions are not so urgent that I can’t be away for a few days.”

He smiles warmly. “You’ll come?”

“Of course! I’m not leaving for a while! If you’ll have me.” I whittle off.

Mingyu is watching the two of you like an avid sports match - back and forth in the kitchen. Jeonghan breaches the space between the two of you, a hand resting on your arm, his thumb idly stroking for a moment.

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll need the most powerful witch in town to help plead my case.”

He barely tears himself away before sweeping down the hall and back out the door he entered. You turn to Mingyu, to catch him out but he spins so violently to eye the miniscule princess in her jar. He raises his finger, about to tap on the glass as the princess screams and shakes her hand at him in spelled silence.

“Uh, excuse you. Don’t tap the glass – she isn’t a science specimen.” You scold. He rears up, going pink with guilt. “I’m going to pack a bag with what I can feasibly wear. Can you watch her? Suki, you as well.”

He nods his head. As you turn to the stairs, the young man calls your name.

“Yes, hmm?” You raise your brows in question.

He beams. “Your pictures don’t do you justice.”

Jeonghan and yourself catch the first trolley car you can up the hill to the outskirts of Martine. You swing out near the back door, feeling the afternoon sun and salty wind whip through you. You missed feeling at ease in your own skin. Maybe you would never have gotten used to ageing. Princess Seoyun is in a little picnic basket, napkins and a scarf tucked around her to prevent the jars from cracking.

“How long is it going to take us to get to Aria?” You ask as the two of you hop off at the end of the route, the trolley car stops connecting to a small train station.

Jeonghan has a small suitcase and is also holding your own, insisting on doing so, no matter how much you argue against it. Suki even managed to come with you, perched on your lap.

“Probably at least the rest of the night if we caught the express. If not then by midday tomorrow at the latest.” He gauges. “I just grabbed the first tickets they had.”

The train to Aria is spent with a million marvels and twice as many questions, try as you might to bask in your newfound freedom and youth. The magic that thrums through you feels stronger than before and you’re not sure if it’s because it’s true or that it’s been so long that you’ve been without it that you underestimated it.

“Oh, and we must arrange a new wand for you as soon as possible. You have a family craftsman, I assume?” Jeonghan says, wedged next to you in economy class, the best seats that could be arranged on the fly.

You go quiet at the thought. Your family. You had become so absorbed in your plight and new life in Martine. Now that you were cured of the curse, you could go home. Was home still there, despite the curse being lifted? Or was it irreversible collateral damage? The blonde frowns at your stillness and reaches for your forearm.

“Hey, what’s-”

“I – yes we do. Eight generations in fact. I’ll need to send word once we finish in Aria.” You look away from the changing scenery to the handsome Spellmaster. “Are you ready? We both know that Aria’s royal family are stubborn and arrogant, to put it mildly.”

He startles at your swerving topic but accepts it, sighing. Together you spare a moment to glare at the basket covered and locked on the seat across from you. Suki has a possessive grey paw on it and she’s already been told twice to stop batting at it to the point where it had to be locked away.

“As ready as I can be. But that’s why you’re here. Surely, he’ll listen to you – brightest witch this side of Morgana’s Gate.” He smiles winningly, a warm haze in the setting sun – you don’t remember Aria being this far away.

Your economy train cabin is not the most comfortable - the padding in the seats worn to indented lumps, potential carpet burn from the worn fabric and no curtains on the window. The doors rattle unless something is pressed against them, which is counterproductive for their use. It was not the most ideal conditions to be sleeping in, so for a while, despite how limber your new-old body is, you struggled to get comfortable to even doze. Suki had no troubles, curling up and a purr rumbling to life. The princess has been given some scrap fabric to sleep on like a mouse and the basket covered again. Jeonghan seems content to sit across from you, watching the dark scenery go by. Your body was exhausted though, the fluctuation of magic so soon and extreme wringing you out.

He glances at you, lashes fluttered and shadowy across his face. “Trouble resting?”

You hum. “I just want to sleep for a bit. I can’t even think straight now. But, well, it’s not the most comfortable spot, is it?”

He coos and hums at you like a baby, getting up and sitting on the side closer to the door. His hand reaches up to pat your silvery hair that now glows in the dark - another element that didn’t help. “Awh, my poor angel. Here, rest on me. Take your shoes off.”

The blonde lifts his feet up to show his green and grey striped socks with a soft chuckle. You mirror him, lifting each leg awkwardly so your knee hits your chest, yanking at laces and buttons to toe your sensible shoes off inelegantly with a thump. You wriggle your own stocking covered feet next to his, covered with blue flowers and he snuggles impossibly closer. You aren’t used to such closeness now and you gasp, looking up at him. His fluttery gaze stares patiently in the dim light.

“Sorry. I’m not used to… being close with people. The curse and all.” You say under your breath. He tries to draw back but your own brow crumples and Jeonghan sways back. “Stay though. I - well, I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Trying to pry honest, tender emotion for you is like water from a clogged drainpipe. Jeonghan seems to have the patience for it though as he loops his arm around your shoulders and you tuck yourself into the hollow of his arm. His thumb strokes slow, soothing circles into the sleeve of your blouse and you let yourself be sucked into the motion, going slack and limbless. He softly hums a song you’ve never heard and you struggle to remember where in the royal court he worked, only that his voice was as beautiful as him. Upon arrival into Aria, still a little drowsy and weaving on your feet, you’re stopped by guards at the station entrance. They demand to see identification. The moment Jeonghan pulls out his navy leather identification, you’re both swarmed.

“Magic Caster.” One spits with cornflower blue eyes and honey stubble.

Two guards flank Jeonghan, grappling roughly with each arm. His dark eyes were blown wide and furious on you as you were knocked about in the kerfuffle.

“Leave her be!” He protests.

Suki rears up and hisses next to you and you swoop to pick her up and shush her. You’re all making quite the scene in the old station foyer, all the commotion echoing off the marble flooring and domed ceilings. You try your best to struggle and get closer to the Spellmaster.

“You are arrested under the Imperial Aria Proclamation for treason against the crown. You are to be taken for questioning regarding the curse upon the crown princess and their whereabouts. Anything spoken or performed while in custody may be used against you in judicial proceedings as evidence. You will have your magic bound indefinitely or until proven innocent.” The blue-eyed guard says aloud.

You finally reach Jeonghan and grab the one part of his arm that isn’t occupied. You go still and stern, a pillar against the ebb and flow of the Aria guards. “I’m gonna say it.”

He frowns and limply struggles for some breathing room. “Say what?”

“It’s us! We stole the princess’s heart! We also kidnapped the princess.” You thrust the jar with the Thumbelina-like figure above the heads of the guards. “We demand an audience with the King of Aria, as is our right by Imperial Law.”

The station goes eerily silent from every person in the nearby vicinity. Suki and Jeonghan have mirrored, slack-jawed expressions. Then a riot ensues. Suki is ripped from your arms as is the jar holding the princess. Rough, armoured hands yank you back and forth, thus detaining you as well.

“What have you done?” One soldier mutters loudly.

“I’ll not free her until we have been given an audience with the King. Only the spellcaster can return a witch’s bound powers.” You repeat in return as you’re carried out to the nearest carriage.

Your legs dangle a little as they sway back and forth through the station. Jeonghan’s eyes are on you the entire time, watching intently of every move.

Aria is a bright, vibrant land, fairly flat in terrain. Where Martine uses patchwork cobblestones, uneven but full of character, Aira is laid with smooth stone brick to ensure the masses move easily - they do have a far larger population than Martine, after all. A charcoal grey that absorbs water well and makes the buildings pop with colour. All roads lead to the castle in the centre of the city, behind an inner wall. It used to be a liberal place, known for its talent in the arts and court of expert entertainers, the likes of Jeonghan included - singers, comedians, acrobats, dancers, musicians and so on. After the death of the queen, Seoyun’s mother, it had been a little off-kilter. That was why your family had travelled here when you were a child. To talk some sense into the king. The people of Aria had been walking on eggshells for years. Jeonghan still gapes at you from the bench across from you in the carriage. Obviously not prepared for more than one person to arrest. Not surprising seeing as they’ve questioned almost every Aria witch and wizard according to sources.

“I can’t believe you turned us in.” He says in disbelief.

“What else was I supposed to do? Let you get arrested without a chance? Whatever we would have done next would be weak without the other. We need to do this together.” You rationalise. “Besides, as if I was letting you try and sacrifice yourself to the royal family twice in two days. It’s almost like you have a death wish.”

The guards bracing you both watched the conversation intently, committing it to record for sure. But you had nothing to hide, no point in trying to protect some right that hadn’t been needed at this moment in time. You had faith that this would be resolved with the meeting at the palace. The Aria Royal Palace - Ritornelli Palace. A grand, sprawling building in Baroque-style with the central throne room encased in a large glass dome. It glittered like a jewel on the horizon. Of course, you lot were not paraded through the front gates, instead sent to an eastern entrance, nondescript and almost unbearably tight.

The guard on your left was more abrasive than the one on the right and by some miracle they all barely spoke. Suki was being given a rough time of it as well, flying about in the baskets at your feet, being kicked between guards. With your new found strength, you speak up.

“Hey! Be careful with her. She can’t do anything to you.”

She yowled loudly, the storm cloud of fluff persistent as you were. A different guard, dressed in emerald green marches towards the back of the carriage. This must be the royal guard of the palace - the inner circle, so to say.

“Take them to the Throne Room. The King is expecting them.” he says, before turning on his heels, back the way he came through a sliver of a tunnel.

The halls are low and curved in narrow arches, with enough room to fit two people passing. You’re sure that these must be the servant’s passageways; the highly functioning underbelly of the castle. Finally, you open up into a grand hallway with smooth marbled floors and rich carpets from the southerly countries. This looked familiar, vaguely. A glance at Jeonghan has his eyes roving the space, but you’re not sure what he’s seeing. The grand double doors open without even a creak and reveal the grand throne room. A rainbow of stained glass and exotic designs looks exactly how Aria is famed to be. The King Rodolfo of Aria is a stoic man with a short white beard and glittering golden crown. Stern green eyes bore into the two of you until you’re dragged to a halt in the centre of the space. So this is where his daughter gets it from.

“Ah, Yoon Jeonghan. Back from your grand escape to hand yourself in – with an accomplice.” His haughty gaze hits you in full, mouth twisted unpleasantly. “They’re pretty. Poor thing. With the nerve to summon an audience?”

Why Jeonghan is so quiet worries you. But with your curse broken, by yourself, you have a renewed confidence along with riding the fumes of adrenaline. Bordering on arrogance yourself. Just. As you glance at him briefly, you note his downward chin and the tensity of his muscles. Fear.

“I know my rights.” You barrel on, loud and firm that your voice projects to every corner. “To plead our case. Or else your daughter stays in the jar and I call upon my family.”

Okay, that last bit wasn’t supposed to come out. The Spellmaster whips his head around to gape. “What in Merlin’s name does your family have to-”

“You don’t get to bargain.” The King snarls, cutting you both off and leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees.

You’re on a roll now. “Yes, actually, I do. You aren’t familiar with it, but the spell on your daughter can only be broken by the caster or by death. And you can’t kill us after the scene we made at the station.”

Jeonghan has been forced to his knees, as the primary criminal and seeming the larger threat of the two of you somehow. Even though you’re the one running your mouth. The blonde looks up though, briefly, as if begging you to get on with it, a little bit of your previously possessed cautious sensibility there. How the tables have turned.

So, you arch a brow and tip your chin up at the King. “So, may we?”

King Rodolfo relents. “You may. Only you. Your testimony will determine the wizard Yoon Jeonghan’s fate.”

He gestures twice – once at yourself, the next at the quiet shadows of the room. Suddenly the guards have released you and Suki. Along with that, there are now two simple seats and a small table placed at the bottom of the dais. The princess and her little ball of power are placed atop of it. She’s making gestures at you and you just know that she’s trying every curse under the sun, just to see if any stick.

The King sits in one, so you cautiously claim the other. Now that you’re closer to him, you can see he holds a faint glow, like sunlight from within. His tunic is embroidered with vibrant feather motifs, a parrot red and sea green. Everything about him is fashioned brightly just like his country. Another silent gesture over your shoulder and Jeonghan is hoisted up roughly and pulled to end up on your left again, back on his knees on the mosaic floor.

“Now start from the beginning. Who are you? Who is the witch that defeated the best Spellcaster in Aria?”

Now that the focus has been put on yourself, you glance at Jeonghan who nudges his chin. “Tell him. Please.” He says in a breath.

“I am uh, Y/N, Class A Spellmistress. Daughter of Jisung the Magnificent, Granddaughter to Bora, Grand Spellmistress of the Magic High Council.”

The King’s brows shoot up and he leans in again, as if he can’t see very well.

“You’re a Class A, descendent of the L/N family. One of the oldest magic families in the world. The missing granddaughter.” He says in a hushed tone, oddly calm compared to moments ago.

“I gue- yes.”

“And you’ve been in some seaside town with a known fugitive for how long?”

You hastily put a finger up. “Almost seven months, but! I didn’t know Jeonghan was a fugitive. And I was in the middle of a very private, personal matter, which the crown princess inserted herself into. It all got very tangled and complicated. And private. Not really relevant here.”

He smirks at your fumbling and you shrink in your seat as best you can. Suki rubs against your weak ankles in support from beneath your seat. Meanwhile Jeonghan is agog at this influx of information. Oh right…no one knew who you really were apart from some old cursed lady. You ponder where to actually begin. First meeting you supposed. From that rocky first meeting in your study, to every run-in after. The explosion at Seokmin’s and the shadowy beasts that chased you. Your growing weariness of her every move – Jeonghan’s trust. Every now and again the jar would rattle in defiance, but the king stilled it with a hand.

“I promise I’m not trying to make her a villain, Your Majesty.” You hasten to add at one point. “But her actions don’t make it easy.”

“I am quickly gathering that.” Is all he says. “Continue.”

You’re talking so much that the shadows have changed their angles and Jeonghan has been forced to sit back on his heels, he’s getting tired. Then you explain the final act. Her delusional spell, the battle in Mingyu’s courtyard that ensued. It’s all gotten very tiring.

“Which brought us to the station and then here.” You sigh.

The King has since gone very quiet, bottle green eyes pensive. He looks at his daughter, so small. She’s since given up her protest and escape and now sits at the bottom of the jar in her mended chemise a la Reine, resigned. Elbows on her knees and chin in her palms - maybe you’re imagining it, but even a little red in the face from embarrassment. You wished you could reach for Jeonghan, just for another familiar soul.

“My daughter has caused you quite the…trauma.” He says finally.

You jerk at his turn of phrase. “I – well yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I may have had the tact to lessen the blow and call it trouble – inconvenience?”

He smiles, wane. “Polite of you. But no need. The Crown Princess is unfortunately as immature as feared. I had hoped with time and goals she would ease and grow wiser. Particularly after the passing of her mother, the Queen. Her magic seemed to become her haven and I indulged it. And my own judgement has been clouded by grief and bias. The magic wielders of my land have been persecuted for long enough.”

He levels Jeonghan a look. “With this testimony, I decree Wizard Yoon Jeonghan, Spellmaster Class A, cleared of all charges laid against him by the kingdom of Aria. Your record will be scrubbed of any evidence or investigation. A formal apology will be published and the bounty removed. You will leave this room a free man.”

The guards release him and he springs to his feet, turned toward you, his smile blinding. At the last moment, he thinks better of it, bowing low to the King instead, to bare the blonde crown of his head, his lengthening hair drifting about his chin.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He says, reverent

The glass jam jar is now jumping and rattling worse than ever, and you can hear the princess’s yelling, although a little indistinct – your silencing spell must be wearing off. The King lays his palm over the lid to press it still.

“And you,” he settles on you, “I decree you cleared of all charges laid against you by the kingdom of Aria. The same steps will apply for yourself as they will for Jeonghan. You are also free.”

The more he speaks, the older he sounds. You know how that feels. Age rushing into your body like a torrential flood. Reminding you of your limits and fallacies. You rise and bow as well, the curtsey you learnt as a child seeming little juvenile right now. Then you leap for Jeonghan, he barely manages to catch you as you squeeze tight as you kick up your ankles.

“We did it. You’re free.” You say into his shoulder.

 The Spellmaster’s hand is back in yours the moment you both finish and your gaze trails to the glaringly obvious loose end, now echoing through the hall like niggling background noise.

“I...what will happen to the princess?” You ask.

King Rodolfo’s expression sours. “She will be disciplined accordingly. When she receives her magic back will be up to her and her future behaviour. I’m not pleased in the least with how she has humiliated our kingdom and our family name.”

He gestures again and the chairs, table and this time, the princess are squirrelled away into the shadows. You feel all too exposed all over again, eager to end the meeting and return home. But the royal levels his gaze to the both of you.

“Yet, I am not done. You have both proven your worth as Spellmasters – even bested my daughter, the best in Aria. I offer you both places in my court and seats on the royal magic council for Aria. After this shameful time in our history, we should be eager for fresh eyes and new talent that has our people’s best interests. I can now see that the princess’s actions have left us vulnerable to the whims of the few.”

Your dream, within reach. Not completely what you had in mind, but almost. And with Jeonghan? You turn to him, to find him doing the same, an expression of expectance and some kind of hope in his eyes. You don’t know what for. But you can’t find yourself leaping at the chance like you used to. Before the curse. Before Martine and Jeonghan.

“‘Han, what are you choosing?” You say, turning to face away from the king.

He drops his gaze to the marble mosaic flooring. “I never wanted that. Being in the position I am and working hard where I am is enough. I landed well when I fled the castle. I’m going back to Martine. But if this is something you’ve always wanted? Whatever you choose, I will support you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Jeonghan bows again. “Thank you for the generous offer, Your Majesty, but I do not feel capable of the task given and I’ll have to decline.”

You see the shift in sight to you and you shake your head with a tentatively growing smile. “I thank you as well. However, this isn’t my home. Martine is. I can’t just leave it all when so much has happened to me and I have unfinished business.”

He pauses to look between you. Suddenly, there is booming laughter as he nods, reclining back in his place. The gold halo appears again and the jewels in his crown scatter fragments of colour through the space and over your feet. You don’t feel as if he has taken offence to your rejection, which you're thankful for - you only just got into his good books. But your grandmother always told you about the library underneath the Aria gardens, stretching for acres. Full of magic resources.

“However, I do have my own request, if you please.” You call, holding a hand up gingerly.

Jeonghan whirls to look at you, but you ignore his pointed look and the miniscule tug on your wrist. Don’t be greedy, he’s saying.

“Open access to the castle’s private magic library, anytime we choose.”

There is a silence of mixed tensity before he nods, swatting idly with a wave of his hand. “I’ll grant your request, small in comparison to what duties you have declined. Thank you again for your service, you are dismissed.”

You beam and bow deeply, twice over before dashing out the door with a giggle. You tug the blonde along with you, Suki weaving about the both of you in joyful zoomies. By the time you have exited the castle - through the front gates this time - you have been given back your belongings and provided safe passage back to Martine as soon as available. There was even another carriage waiting, this time far more luxurious and less utilitarian in style. A guard follows you both, with explicit orders you’d heard in the hall to ensure that the three of you made it safely onto the train without resistance. With the drama of this morning, you were thankful for the promise of security. The footmen open the door and Jeonghan assists Suki in, then yourself, his hand gentle on the base of your spine for stability. He leaps in smoothly and the door closes with a mute click. There is a small lunch pack on the bench across from you, along with your tickets.

“Oh look, an en-route meal.” He says lightly.

While food sounded amazing, what you wanted even more was rest. The ordeal had taken it out of you and you longed for your creaky bed in the attic with the pink frilly floral sheets and Mingyu’s living room fireplace. Maybe that old age thing was still hanging around - everything kept wearing you out! Even as the thrum of magic through your body resisted it. Jeonghan glances over at you and shifts closer - By Merlin, your thoughts must be that obvious on your face. But then you remember how gruelling kneeling on the unforgiving marble floor must have been for the hours that you talked. The awkward angle that his arms stayed distended at to keep him subdued. Now you notice his own mirrored signs of weariness and the ginger way he held his arms. He kept rubbing the space under his kneecaps and he had limped with a favour of his ankles in the effort to move through the castle. Now it’s your turn to give him a haven, opening your arms for him to awkwardly settle into. His smile was warm like fresh pastry and made your cheeks heat up too.

“Rest. There's plenty here for the both of us and we can always take it on the train back.” You pat his knee and shift to lean back. He’s a little more firm and it’s a little more difficult to manhandle him to tilt so he’s leant against you. “Properly.”

You smirk a little before closing your eyes. The smooth stone that paves the roads comes in handy as the trip is easy and devoid of bumps. With the angle, your nose is now amongst his soft blonde strands and where you thought it might tickle, it doesn’t, instead gentle. The faint scent of cotton and lemon lulls you until you’re carefully shaken from the edge of sleep. Jeonghan’s dark eyes crinkle when you jerk upright.

“We’re back at the station. The footmen have advised that the next train is boarding and leaves in half an hour. Are you ready?” His already pillow-soft voice drifts quietly.

You sit up to attention, Suki already leaning on you with a paw that feels like a dagger on your thigh. “Sure, let’s go home.”

One of the footmen goes as far as to escort you all onto the train, flashing his seal and the tickets the King had provided. These tickets lead to the plush private cabins with their dark wood and red velvet seating. He stores the minimal luggage before pressing the tickets into Jeonghan’s grasp, bowing and exiting. Suki finally gets out and has a sniff around before claiming one of the window spots, with the wind away from her.

Poor Suki though, her peace doesn’t last long, seeing as this is yet another sleeper train back to the coast. You let Suki pick at the feather light slivers of salmon in your boxed lunch, while in turn, Jeonghan let you pick out the lettuce and spinach salad mix of his in exchange for your sheets of dried seaweed. You let him talk idly to fill the time, and prompt him with questions on his studies - ever the academic you were. It was also a ploy to push him out of his listener role between the two of you. At promptly sundown, Jeonghan casts the beds flat - the sight of the crisp monogrammed sheets had your drowsiness and worn magic come flooding back to the forefront of your mind. He could barely get them laid on before you were curling up in a ball, walking boots still on.

He nudges you. “Angel, you need to take your shoes off, get changed.”

You groan and sit back up, yanking at the buttons and laces to kick them off by the door. Even though you had sleeping garments, you didn’t quite feel comfortable yet in being seen in them. Your body may have felt like your own again, but not enough to not remind you of how old you’ve been.

“You go, I’ll do it after.” You lie, eyes closed.

That’s the last you remember until dawn, the cool sunlight piercing through the crack in the curtains and the steam horn blowing to announce the train’s arrival in Martine.

Your vest is off, hung on one of the coat hooks, next to his cloak and the collar of your shirt waist is loosened. You’re missing one stocking, your foot hanging off the edge. But you’re under the sheets, the sound of deep breaths next to you growing more familiar. Good Morgana, he sleeps like a god. He had the sense to change but the pity to leave you be. Suki is tucked right under your arm, her tail laid across your neck. The whistle sounds again and Jeonghan’s nose wrinkles like a rabbit’s. Rubbing at his eyes, he rolls to better face you, calling your name thick and low with sleep. You’re glad he can’t hear your heart stutter.

“Are we back yet?” He mumbles.

You hum, sitting up and adjusting the curtains to peek out at the landscape. The thinning trees blur by and the air is more arid - you can almost imagine smelling the salt on the rolling breeze.

“We must be. Let’s go home.”

A burning streak races through you as you say the words. Home. Martine was home.

Mingyu meets the two of you in the front living room. He takes your little suitcases and sets them aside, proceeding to wipe his hands nervously on his sage green canvas apron.

“You both made it back. How did it…” He raises his brows as he trails off.

You preen. “Yoon Jeonghan is no longer a fugitive and is now a free man. Aria is on its way to being back to normal for all magic users.”

The tall wizard heaves a sigh, then pulls a face. “Oh, thank goodness. I mean, it’s a little more than I expected, but!” Then he simmers, going back to being weary. “There’s someone here for you – just you, not Jeonghan. I told them you were out of town and wasn’t sure how long you’d be but they insisted they wait…”

“Good Morgana, for how long!” You shoot to attention.

Only then do you realise that Jeonghan’s hand sits loosely at your waist, an unconscious and certainly not unwanted notion. His grip tightens a fraction, becoming more noticeable.

“Only for an hour or two. Funnily, they didn’t seem to think you’d be too long.”

That sets you off even more. No one apart from the guys here knew where you were. With that, you ignore everything else and stride up the hall, Suki racing past and almost tripping you. Past the dining table to the courtyard-

You draw up short. An elderly woman in a simple blue and white striped shirt-waist and skirt at the garden table idly sipping a cup of tea. It would have been green or chamomile for sure. Her grandiose navy velvet cloak is slung over the back of her seat. She looks up at the thundering of your steps, her eye colour mirroring yours. A familiar coat of arms pin glints proudly on her chest.

“Grandmother.” You say quietly.

Suki is absolutely delighted to see her, meowing loud and persistent as she meanders over for pats. Meanwhile you’re halted in the doorway, your feet cemented in place. It’s been over six months. Which in theory, doesn’t sound like a lot. But after the curse and having not mentioned a word to your family of your condition or whereabouts, away from people you’d never been without, any amount of time is monumental.

“Enjoy your sabbatical?” Bora says dryly.

“I didn’t want… it’s complicated.” You murmur. You move to wilt and sit on the back steps of the kitchen, suddenly so small.

“From Kim Mingyu’s recount, so it would appear.” She replies. “The house is fine. It was in a temporal bubble so easily reversible. Our clocks are still off though, even now. However, perhaps that will have changed now you are…back on your feet.”

You slant your head in the afternoon light. “Grandmother, how did you know where I was after all this time?”

“Well, at first scrying didn’t work.” She begins.

“My aura had been disrupted.” You confirm.

She hums, levelling a glare to silence you. “So, after months of putting out contacts, we hear from sources in the palace in Aria of all places that you had returned, with silver hair. That you had bound the crown princess with the Vine Principle. We had informants work their way back from Aria, to here - this very house. The family was worried sick. Your mother had to close the nursery for a month – her emotions were affecting the plants.”

Guilt churned deep and thick in your stomach. Suki pulled back to headbutt your calf and comfort you. Now that the curse had been lifted, you were closer than ever. Bora’s gaze is expectant.

“I’m sorry, I just – after what I’d done and – I was cursed. I couldn’t bear to stay. So ashamed. I thought I had destroyed everything. But, Martine has made things better.”

She sighs softly. “I understand. I too, have made mistakes – nothing like yours, but mistakes all the same. But you’ve broken a strong curse that would have taken years for anyone else to even scrape the surface on. You have made an impact on the lives of those in Martine, without a drop of magic. And you corrected a wrong for our people in Aria that not even I could rectify when you were younger. Your journey and time away has done you good. It was necessary.”

Finally, the weight lifts and you can breathe. With a hand preoccupied, scratching Suki’s chin, you look up to smile. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

Setting aside her tea, she rises to stand and lean on the back of the chair. When your grandmother smiles in response, it’s rare and demure, the vision of elegance. But always worth it. Better than gold.

“You have done outstanding. Now, you’ve always had your eye on the High Council, yes? Like myself and your father?” Bewildered at the direction of conversation, you nod. This must be what whiplash feels like – you’ve seen the look you’re pulling on Jeonghan too many times. “For your diplomatic heroics, I would like to offer you a role within the Council. Most likely as an attendant for myself or your father as we both work in Spellmastery. But I believe your perspective would be valuable in furthering the strength of our people. You would have to leave Martine, probably stay in the Glass City, to attend to your duties.”

Six months ago – hell, even two months ago – you would have leapt and grovelled for a part to play in the High Council. But, you had roots here now. A happy future you’d carved by yourself. People who cared about you and you felt the same. And there was him.

“I – I appreciate the offer. Truly, I do. And I understand that this kind of opportunity isn’t given to just anyone all the time. But I have a life here now and I think I’d like to live it before having such a career. I hope you understand.”

You feel eyes on you and twist back on the steps to peer down the hall. A blur of lemon yellow vanishes round the corner, then pokes sheepishly back in. Eavesdropping. His cheeks are the faintest colour, his grin cheeky at being caught. Speaking of life. You wink back and then face your grandmother, to gauge her reaction. You don’t say no to a woman like her easily. But there’s something akin to pride blooming in her features, pushing her shoulders back and curling her thin lips.

“I do.” She makes her way back inside, climbing past you on the steps. She pauses at your side to lay a hand on your shoulder. “You have done extraordinary things here. I hope you continue to do so. Just please, call once in a while?”

You throw your head back to laugh as she passes you and glides down the hall.

Another, warmer presence is at your back moments later. “So, who was that?”

You roll your eyes and tip your head back to eye him upside down. “As if you weren’t listening.”

He holds his hands up. “I actually didn’t get all that much.”

You shuffle over so he sits. His knees sit up near his chin and it’s almost comical. “My grandmother.”

His eyes go wide. “The High Spellmistress?”

You nod and watch his jaw go ajar. “The very one. She offered me a place in the Glass City; in the Council as an attendant.” You can feel his presence dim and you reach out to lay a hand on his thigh. “I said no. That there was life to be had here - people I care about.”

He looks down at you, his expression calm but also unreadable. An aspect of him you were still trying to get your head around. From flamboyant, arrogant Spellmaster to careful and cautious Jeonghan.

“Like who?” He says, fishing very obviously.

Something you had absolutely no patience for. You purse your lips, amused. “Oh, I don’t know, Mingyu certainly.”

He deflates even more and now you can’t help but panic - you had hoped he could take a joke, like always. He had always had a confidence and bravado about him you didn’t think you could shake. Yet again, the shoe is on the other foot. You twist to better face him and tuck your knees under his.

“Hey, hey. And you, Jeonghan. Of course you.” You reach out to turn his face towards you. Dark eyes swimming beneath his sunny yellow fringe, almost exactly the same way as the day you met him. Your thumb runs circles over his cheek, daring for you. “You know, fishing for compliments is not very flattering, Jeonghan. And you don’t need to with me. I found my magic for you.”

He smiles, radiant, and puckers his lips to kiss the pad of your thumb - a gentle romantic, you’ve slowly realised. You gasp quietly, your heart stuttering relentlessly as it tries to catch up and regain control with your emotions. Now you know you’re blushing, your chest all tight and, oh maybe a little lightheaded with how easily confessions come to light. As much as he grated on you, Jeonghan made talking easy. Suki meanders closer and pleasantly interrupts with a loud meow. The sun is setting - dinner, like clockwork. Jeonghan grins and shushes her, still under your touch.

“Quiet Suki, we’re having a moment. That’s good. Because no matter what, I was going to be with you.” He says with a steady conviction that makes you feel as if an Augur could have predicted his from miles away. “The moment you laughed - really laughed - I was hooked. My angel, spun of magic and starlight.”

Martine’s annual Magic Festival is a month away, but preparations have been in the works for at least two months before. Between Joshua’s Crystal forecasting, Soonyoung gearing up for the many rituals to take place and Seokmin bringing in extra stock for the apothecary and any roaming magic users, everyone is busy. Jeonghan is slowly getting busier, with wards to put up and a lot of liaising with Aria’s magic council for their representatives to be greeted well. It was all about marketing, you supposed. And they deemed yourself and Jeonghan the best people for the job. You had still not been given permission by the King to release the princess, so she must not be… mature enough to participate in the event.

You had commissions coming out your ears, requiring daily trips up to the Post Office for supplies you had ordered. Most of the time Eugene would just throw your new supplies at you and send you on your way. Not that you weren’t welcome to conversation, but everyone now knew your services were a well sought after commodity. Even more so now the curse had been lifted. A better Spellmistress than Jeonghan in Martine? Everyone paid handsomely for your wares. 

Somehow between everyone’s commissioned garments, you managed to find time to work on planning your own. The week-long festival was the biggest event on the Magic Calendar. Held in a different city every year, casters from far and wide travelled to celebrate. Everyone dressed in their best and stored their best spells or potions for trading and enjoyment. Martine would become a city that never slept. Street vendors and magic demonstrations, parades and parties. You thought it a bit funny when Martine had been announced. Maybe, for those in the know, even rigged. It meant your whole family would be coming to town and making a nuisance of themselves in your business.

It’s a cool sunny morning when the post arrives to you first. It’s magic mail, from the way it’s wrapped in velvet and floats in the door of the study of its own accord, landing gently on your work - a suit for Soonyoung with glittering chains and coins that would jingle as he danced. Your name is in thin cursive on the note slipped between the many folds. The velvet is long and wide enough for a whole new garment - which gets your brain thinking before you’ve even reached your gift. You gasp and hold it to the light. Suki perks up and goes still as well. It looks battered and a little weathered in places, the top not quite pointing straight. But you’ve seen this hat in your family’s home for many years and in plenty of portraits - painted or photographed. The ribbon around the base needs freshening up since the last wearer and the dead flowers pinned beneath it look a little meek. Setting it aside, you reach for the note and unfold the heavy textured paper. The letterhead is emblazoned with the High Council’s coat of arms.

Y/N, It is now your turn to proudly represent the family in this years’ Magic Festival. Like those before you, decorate as you see fit and wear it with pride. I will be speaking at the opening, so I look forward to seeing you then. Regards, Bora

You look at Suki. “Are you seeing this too?”

She meows assurance in response. You twist it and tilt it to get a better feel of it. It even felt magic, humming with its own presence and life. Of memories from those before. This was monumental - you’d seen your mother wearing it for as long as you could remember and you’d been dreaming of the day it was your turn. When you had completed your studies and the family deemed you ready to represent them. While you had briefly worn it for graduation photos, it had still firmly been in your mother’s possession. You look past it to the fabric it arrived in - you now needed a whole new plan for what to wear, and that bolt of velvet was just where to start.

Some days Jeonghan deemed his jobs to be two-person jobs, effort and time cut in half he had said blithely. So you were tugged out of the studio and on the streets. He still walked on the side closest to the road and Suki still weaved trouble beneath feet. But the tasks were easy and a way to stretch your magic muscles, so to say. Today entailed a few wards and something about a “Full House Down”, an expensive offer that Jeonghan had available.

“What is a Full House Down? It sounds like a lot of nothing. Scammer.” You say, sceptical.

He gasps, mock offended. “It is not! It is a full sweep of a household to implement an integrated magic system. Wards, self-cleaning, security, and other such additions.”

You baulk at his list of services. “Oh. And what are you - we doing today?”

“Mr and Mrs Park Hyunjin require our talents for their new home.” Jeonghan smirks proudly over at you. “I thought you might enjoy flexing your magical talents for your dear friend and customer.”

You beam and twine your arm in his, your grouchy mood instantly mollified. “Ah Jeonghan, that’s very sweet of you. Thank you. Now, tell me the plan - what is the commission, so to say.”

The job is only an hour and half, entailing security measures over windows and doors, kitchen cleaning spells and temperature management. And if you managed to put in a few luck and protection sigils about the place, Jeonghan didn’t mention it. Hyunjin was in his office, Minji having tea with her mother and sister at the family home. His fine features greeted you warmly from the window as you carefully hovered a storey from the ground. Your wand was now your own, crafted by a close travelling friend of the other wizards, Minghao. It was a sturdy oak wood with lovely engravings around the top end that looked like rippling ribbons that curled into a comfortable moulded grip. The Tudor-style home with thatched roof positively glowed by the time the two of you were done with it.

You knocked Jeonghan’s hip with your own. “Well done Spellmaster Jeonghan.”

“And you, fellow Spellmistress.” His dark gaze slid to you, warm and crinkled.

Again, you slip your arm in his and he yanks you close to lead you back to your many garments awaiting attention. Idly he drops a kiss to your temple as you both pass a café, some mortal young women pausing their conversation to look at the two of you longingly through the window front.

“You’re a tease, Hannie.” You mutter with a smirk. “Oh, did I tell you my grandmother is coming to open the Magic Festival? She sent me the family Hat. My mother had it last.”

Your mind drifts from the cobbled pavement and pelting sunlight to the faded ribbon and withered floral you knew were hers. The embroidery was your grandmother’s and the patches and unfortunate kink in the pointed tip were your great grandmother’s - she worked on a farm and put the Hat through the wringer.

His breath catches as he looks down at you. “Really? Congratulations, I’m so proud of you, Angel.”

You nod, your face warming. “I- thanks. She sent it in a pile of velvet I just have to use. I have a feeling she knew I would - I don’t really have anything to wear that would be suitable otherwise. All of it is back home, for the best.”

He coos and pats your hand. “Oh, I would have loved to see you in your little dresses before you dropped the hem! So cute.”

You screw your face up and squirm. Suki has leaped up onto a brick wall to parade in the sun, her tail lax but pink nose in the air. He means the dresses and garments you would have worn before being deemed an adult, with hemlines to your mid-calf and flat slippers and frilly neck decorations. Even trousers and tunics for more manual work in pleasant pastels.  While you had worn more adult wear before the curse had happened, the darker tones and properly dropped hemline didn’t happen until you were in Martine. You had stuck to mainly ankle length skirts and light linens for breathability and easy manoeuvring for spells.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I looked like a child! I do not need the thought of you coddling me like one.” You softly snarl.

He simmers a little and gently sways the two of you. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to annoy you. Only that, I would have liked to know you when we were younger.”

“Not much has changed, apart from the fact I’m a little wiser.” You shrug. “Maybe a little grumpier.”

Jeonghan chuckles and leans forward to open Mingyu’s back gate. “Remnants of old age.”

You make a grumbling noise but leave it at that as you fish your key out of your apron to unlock the door. Suki dashes in first, narrowly missing tangling your ankles together so she can return to her well-warmed spot in the sun.

You work feverishly on your own personal project, stabbing your soft fingertips far too much for your lack of patience in the few weeks left. Mingyu is sweet enough to bring you dinner a few nights into the studio, humming positive observances of your progress. Suki is not allowed anywhere near the garment, for fear of having stray fur caught on the textured material. Minji has her regular tea appointments with you as well, perched in your window seat, every guest’s prime position.

“Oh, you know what would be absolutely darling? If you and Jeonghan matched! He is escorting you, of course.” She sings.

You slide your eyes at her. “I’m my own person, Minji. Besides, this dress is for me. It’s my first after the curse.”

She had been absolutely ecstatic for you when she came in the day after you returned from Aria to find a silver-haired young woman making measurements and grumbling remarks. She had claimed on sight that she knew you were magic - you had to be with the way you handled a needle and thread. Then she made a point of barging in unannounced just as often as Jeonghan in the lead up to her wedding with tea and gossip. It was what friends do, she preened. You don’t tell Minji after your conversation that you were now looking for a ribbon for lacing the same blue as his cloak - you refused to give her such satisfaction.

You could barely sleep the night before - Suki just as restless, bouncing up and down off the bed. Only after a potent, lukewarm shot of Mingyu’s lavender tea did sleep find you. Certainly not the way in which Mingyu intended for it to be consumed. You were meticulous when getting ready by the soft east sunrise, murmuring ceremonial incantations as you did so. Some to bring prosperity and power during this auspicious time, others for your family and magic. Everything felt warmer and buzzing, as if the magic that swirled within you was just begging to burst free. Suki’s golden eyes seemed to glow even more as the magic between you both strengthened. You were meeting Jeonghan in the studio, which was handy seeing as you had forgotten the extra pin for your apron there, hoping you wouldn’t need it. You can hear him before you see him, his boots making crisp steps over the russet pavement - even the air sung in his wake. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress, spinning from the full-length mirror to face him in the entryway.

The velvet hugs your torso nicely, the sky blue silk ribbon of the back lacing popping brightly. It had thick straps and was long enough to hit your ankles. A thin white blouse underneath you’d been working on for a while with long sleeves to protect against the sun, a turned up rounded collar and rounded v-neck from the apex of your shoulders that met nicely with the straight neckline of your overdress. There were little lace eyelets on the neck of your blouse that had been painful to sew on that you imported from Aria. Sensible lace up boots in a shiny black leather - Eugene had recommended a fabulous cobbler, that turned out to be his cousin. Flowers embroidered on the hem of your dress, difficult with the thickness but necessary as they weaved with luck and magic sigils. And your hat. You had added that same Aria lace to the brim but dyed it a sky blue as well. Your apron is a crisp white with more lace on the bottom along with the sky blue silk ribbon in a strip near the bottom as well, white cotton sigils almost invisible to the eye stitched in. Jeonghan in his cloak and a starched shirt and sky blue pants goes still in the entryway. Multiple layers of long necklaces and talismans from his family glinted and shimmered against his pure white starched shirt. His graceful blonde hair curled gently with the magic in the town, a life all its own and dark eyes that glittered with morning light. Suki graciously let you tie the last of your ribbon around her neck in a pretty bow. And you bathed her too! Miracles do happen.

You frown after he neglects to move again. “Jeonghan, what? Is it not good? I mean I know the velvet is a bit much but-”

He scrambles now and shakes his head, closes his mouth. “No! Not at all! It’s beautiful. I’ve just - I’ve never seen you like this? So…I have no words. None that make sense.”

You smile and secure your hat. “Oh good. Let’s go then, I’m meeting my grandmother there.”

He shakes his head again and steps closer, reaching for you and tugging you by the waist close. You gasp and grab to steady your hat.

“You’ve almost made it too well. I wish I could keep you here.” It’s a pondering purr that electrifies you.

“If you would like to brave the wrath of my grandmother, then by all means.” You roll your eyes as best you can.

Jeonghan laughs and shifts your hand to lift your hat. He angles it to shade both of you from the sun blasting through the window. There is a sweet scent about him, like sugar dust and lilies with that undercurrent of pine that you would miss if you didn’t know he used it to fragrance his bedsheets.

“Sunlight and Starlight - I think we could take her.” He draws a long, meandering kiss from you, making your lashes flutter in a struggle to focus. He grins, cheeky. “But for you, Angel, I’ll escort you to town.”

He withdraws to settle your witch’s hat back on your head, straightening the brim. Looping your arm through his, you motion for Suki who leaps down and trots in front to the gate. The zing of your magic under your skin and through your pulse never gets old as you pull out your wand from the holster on your rib cage. A simple wave of the wood instrument and the door closes, sealing with a silver spark.

[vxnuslogy]

— to you, who finally saw the sun.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: to you, who finally saw the sun, i bid you one final farewell.

— warnings: angst (kinda, i also dont know), bittersweet goodbyes, they do kiss yippie, written before the 2.7 update.

— author’s notes: in honor of getting e1s1 sunday, have this actual final stellaronhunter!sunday fic. art credits to 隐世樱yyy on weibo. also, fun little easter egg, colored texts are a reference to previous stellaronhunter!sunday fics i've made, so yeah!! maximum emotional damage!!!!!| ~2.8k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mitsvriii @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @st6rly @pneumosia @tetrachrxmacy ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms on my pinned or post or send me an ask off anon!!

how long has it been since sunday played the piano?

he can’t quite remember the last time he pressed a finger to the delicate white notes and let its noise resound in the room. but he does recount the harsh judgemental stare his instructure had whenever he made a mistake—a note lingering too long and going off course, it always led to the snap of a ruler to his wrist.

“do you play?” a voice from behind asked.

sunday turned around to capture the stars in your eyes. when he met your gaze halfway, a gentle smile grazed his lips before his golden eyes skidded to the instrument once more. “yes, i do. though i have not played in years.”

he heard the click of your shoes as you approached. sunday took a peek from the corner of his eyes as you longingly stared at the grand piano in front of you both. your gloved hands gliding over the polished wood before you eventually sat down by the small stool. you turn your head to him, hair fluttering with the wind as he feels the remaining breath in his lungs be taken away because of your smile. you patted down the space beside you and sunday reluctantly took it.

“will you play me a song?” your request was nothing but a small plea, one exhale away from crumbling. sunday didn’t know about that—he never will. you mask the desperation in your voice when the first note rang and sunday looked at you with a smile.

“i apologize if it sounds rusty,” he looked bashful and bare in this light. drapes of white clouds, dark blue galaxies, and golden suns hang from his body and you couldn’t help but stare. the wings behind his ears flutter in embarrassment with your silence so you laugh—forced, melancholic, and unlike you. 

“i’ll love anything you play, sunday.” and you weren’t lying.

when the following notes soon echoed in the empty music room that was once reserved for only kafka, you let your desire to be close to him consume your entire being. sunday flinched slightly when your head fell on his shoulder, but didn’t shrug you off. with a flustered clear of his throat he continued.

sunday played the piano like it would be his last performance—forever caging himself to the audience after this performance to never take the stage again. he felt your emotions like they were tangible items courtesy to the halo behind his head, because the following song, he briefly muttered “for you” under his breath.

you both relished the moment spent by each other’s side. 

to sunday, this song was dedicated to the person who dragged him onto the stage once more. despite all his reluctance, difficult attitude, and past grudges, he will always bathe you in a golden light like the followers of xipe. singing choirs about your greatness till the end of time as he remained as your faithful follower. this was his thank you to you, and he felt it would never quite repay the kindness you’ve given him.

but to you, this was goodbye. each note, though filled with tender affection and cherished dreams, pinched at your heart like tiny pins and needles. you looked up to gaze at his face—calm, moved on from the past, and freed. though not fully, his contract with jade still remains, he was as free as the express travelling the cosmos. 

this was goodbye.

“will you play a song for me too, sunny?” a voice from the entrance joked.

there stood kafka, in her usual attire but without the coat, leaning by the door frame with arms crossed over her chest. you chuckled as sunday hid his embarrassed and flushed face, finding an excuse to say “no.” because everyone knew—order or finality—that sunday will only play for you.

“nothing to worry about angel,” kafka seemed solemn as she cleared her throat. she motioned for both of you to get up and follow her. “new mission is here. be sure to do your best, m’kay?”

sunday furrowed his brows as his wings twitched in confusion. kafka only took a few steps forward before leaving you two alone once more. you shook your head as you took his gloved hand in yours and tugged him in the direction of his new home. even though it's been a while since he joined, sunday still never voiced his worries—a habit you hope will slowly die out once he arrives at the boarding station.

“where are we going this time?” he asked. now he only realized your new attire and he feels his eyes wander. a black undershirt and pants, layered with a white asymmetrical coat. the gold cuffs of your sleeves caught the moonlight and casted a faint glow of your tears. sunday doesn’t get the chance to say something when a body crashed onto his back.

“good luck, mister,” silver wolf buried her face onto his back. arms tightly wrapped around his waist. if you looked closely, you would notice the way she slowly started stepping back—trying to prevent sunday from going out the doors he once entered from.

but sunday only chuckled. he turned to face the girl, patted her head and squatted down to her height as he slowly tried to pry the arms hiding her tear stained face. “it’s going to be alright, i have [name] with me, remember? they’re elio’s favorite, remember?”

the girl gripped the sleeves of his coat with an iron grip. sunday frowned in sadness, he hated seeing the girl so upset over a mission. and all you did was stand there, motionless as the clock by your waist continued to tick.

“sunday.” you call and you don’t know what shattered you the most: silver wolf’s fresh tears, or how sunday cradled and shielded her from your harsh reality.

silver wolf eventually peeled herself away. with a harsh motion, she wiped away all her tears and returned to her quirky self, “you better beat the final boss! if you don’t, then don’t bother to show yourself to me ever again!”

sunday nodded and once he reached your side, he waved the silver haired girl goodbye and fell into the same steps as you. each turn, each stairway taken to reach the skies, it drowns your lungs in realization. and like the time when you were both drenched in the rain, the ticket in your back pocket suddenly felt heavier than it should.

“leaving without as much as a word?” 

you both stopped in your tracks and turned around. the hallway was dimmed, your only witness being the moon in its full glory. sunday was the first to break the delicate silence with a soft utter of ignorance, something you never realized could happen.

“a mission that requires both of us,” he replied, a sketchy smile on his lips as he slowly shielded your vision of the immortal man from view. “we won’t take long. it won’t end like it did back in the capital of passion. i promise.”

you felt blade’s judgeful stare before he let out a heavy sigh. he threw a small journal bound by beds of stars onto his hands and handed you a sheathed sword. “i expect you to be back before dawn.”

sunday nodded and you don’t have the heart to tell him that blade wasn’t speaking to nor about him. 

“sunday wait!”

right when you were about to board your car—a testimony to your genius in engineering, sunday still wondered how you got it to work like the express. firefly ran out the door with nothing but her sleep attire. she clutched a small item to her chest as sunday looked at you. you hated the look of expectation in his irises, but you still relent. with a heavy sigh, you muttered, ‘5 minutes’ before you entered the car. sunday nodded like an obedient servant and met firefly halfway.

“i–!” she tried to find the words to say, but they always fell short by the time a sound escaped her lips. but sunday was understanding, he was kind, so he waited. like a dutiful older brother letting his baby sister come out of her shell.

beats of silence passed before firefly settled on a simple goodbye, “please take care on your mission.” she took his hand and handed him a small pen. his name delicately engraved on the fountain pen’s cap in her handwriting. 

the wind howled and she shivered. and like a moment right before a mission started and ended, sunday took off the white hood over his shoulders and draped it over her. “thank you, firefly. i’ll be sure to put it to good use.”

sunday wished firefly told him the rest of her thoughts, but he saved them for another time he will never have. even as he buckled the seatbelt in your car and drove off, firefly tried to chase after you. and if he looked close enough, soft glimmers of hopeful tears would be seen.

“you never answered my question.”

you looked at him from the rearview mirror. the way he carefully placed the fountain pen in the journal and the way he softly grazed the cover—afraid that the small book would shatter under his fingertips.

“it must have slipped my mind. what was your question again?”

“where are we going?”

you wet your lips and tighten the hold on the steering wheel. you don’t answer immediately. instead, you let your vehicle warp through space like a nameless traveler through the stars. when you start unbuckling your seatbelt, sunday follows shortly and you both get out.

“penacony.”

sunday feels his vision blur and merge into one giant puddle. he feels you drape another hood identical to the one he gave firefly as you harshly tugged it over his head. your hand finding its way to his and tug him towards a familiar direction.

“h-hold on!” he cries out in a desperate plea, but you don’t turn around. “what business could we have in penacony?! and,” sunday’s eyes wander again over your figure and feels dread start to bubble in his stomach—you weren’t wearing a disguise like you did in past missions.

you don’t answer and sunday feels his wings hug his abdomen tighter and tighter. he can already imagine the ghostly hands of the family—even under robin’s guidance—do unspeakable things to you. sunday can’t have that, he will never allow you to be caged in their clutches like they did with him. so with all the force he could muster, all the while being mindful of your comfort, he caught your wrist in a firm hold and turned around. tugging you in the direction of your home.

“sunday.”

“apologies, but i promised blade. bare with me for a moment longer.”

“sunday.”

“[name], please.”

“sunday.”

“cease the uttering of my name! do you not understand the position we are in right now?!”

sunday never shouts—not in anger, but in worry. he takes gulfs of air into his lungs as if he’s being dragged to the bottom of the ocean as he looks at you with blown eyes. his wings flapping erratically, fanning the reddening of his face as the pair by his waist briefly flutters. if you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear the soft clinks of the golden exoskeleton you created just for him.

“sunday,”

“i believe this is where your journey ends, mister sunday.”

“our story is over.”

you feel the world still as small orbs of danger surround you both. a man with whiting hair stands behind him, a cane glowing in pink as you feel your body grow heavier and heavier. welt pushes his glasses up and lets his eyes fall to you.

“[name].” he says in a tense tone. the grip on his cane so tight you’d argue beneath the gloves he wore, his knuckles were turning white in confusion.

“mr. yang.” you reply back, calmer than the loud beating inside the column of bones inside your chest. “please let him go.”

the older gentleman debated in his mind. before sunday could raise a hand, you step forward and force him to face you. you feel your body go back to normal and you sigh. sunday on the other hand, remains on guard as the golden eyes you grew fond off stared at you with emotions that could only be named as betrayal.

“the express misses you, [name].” welt says, “it won’t hurt to say goodbye to them.”

you only nod bitterly. “thank you, mr. yang. but there’s really no need.”

“what do you mean our story is over?” you hear sunday murmur.

you take a shaky deep breath, of all the ways he could ask, why did he do it as if he was about to cry? you shut your eyes tightly, you let your desires consume you again as you interlace your hands together in one final hold before you relax and exhale. when you open your eyes, you feel tears drop one by one like idrila’s blood. welt stays motionless behind him, looking at you both in confliction.

“welt,” you lower both your hands, stepping in front of the angel. “i know this isn’t the reunion you had hoped for. but please believe me when i say that we come in peace. i’ve come to return what is lost.”

welt’s frown deepens, “i take it you aren’t talking about yourself.”

“no, and i never will.” you feel sunday’s arm snake around your waist and his head fall on your shoulder. and suddenly, it felt like your shopping trip with the rest of the hunters was today.

“please wait for us by the golden hour.”

“no…” sunday weakly protests. “i can’t leave, i won’t allow myself.”

“welt. please.”

“mr. yang, please don’t.”

“welt–”

“i’ll wait.” the older man says in a rushed tone. he was quick to turn around and start walking away. it was unlike him, but you don’t blame him. after all, the missing child of the express was now found and the previous head of the oak family were together—with conflicting convictions to top it.

his steps grew fainter and fainter until all you could feel was sunday’s tears and his quiet whimpers, begging you to not let him go.

“sunday,” you mutter, slowly facing him. “our story is over. you need to go.”

“what about you… will you stay behind?”

“i have to.”

“no you don’t!” his volume rises as his arms tighten around your waist. “you can come with me. they’ve been looking for you, they’ll accept you! so please, don’t make me lose you, too.”

you chuckle, and for the first time tonight, you smile genuinely. “silly bird, you’re not going to lose me.”

“but i already have…”

you frown. you try to pull away from his embrace but he still keeps you caged in his arms. “sunday, will you play me a song?”

“enough, please.”

you pat down his hair, pull away just an inch, and cradle his face. “sing me a song about adventures and stars. can you do that?”

“will you come with me if i do?”

you shake your head no and he dives his face into the crook of your neck again. you laugh in disbelief at his stubbornness. it reminds you of the time he first started to try and take flight. how long ago was that memory? you can’t quite put a number on it but it no longer matters.

“sunday,” you sing his name like a song to be remembered. reaching into your back pocket, you take out a golden ticket and gently lay it flat on sunday’s palm. when you meet his eyes again, his wings obscure half of his face. you gently push them away and rub away the tears staining his cheeks and press your foreheads together. “perform. not for me, but the world. your stage is set, all you need to do is step on it.”

his gloved hands hold yours, you feel his head turn for his lips to meet the palm of your hand as presses a soft kiss that leaves the spot tingling. “will you watch me play?”

you drag a knuckle down his nose, an action too affectionate for people who claim to be just “comrades.” suddenly it dawns on you that kafka’s teasing, firefly’s giggles, silver wolf’s eye rolling, blade’s huffs and elio’s script all align for this moment. with a careful step forward, you invade the line with the words “comrades” and look up. you feel his breath on your lips and you smile.

“for all eternity, my eyes will always be yours.” you stand on your toes and press your lips together in a final goodbye. his arms hug your waist just a tad bit tensely as sunday tries his reciprocate—but in the back of your mind, you know he doesn’t have to try. sunday loves you like it's as easy as breathing.

“sunday, congratulations. you’ve finally seen the sun.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[threestarsinline]

Children's Books and Leather Jackets (Part II)

Jason Todd x reader one-shot

Summary: You couldn't love your job more. Or at least, that's what you thought, until Jason Todd started coming into the bookshop every week without fail, like clockwork. And then you form a connection that tilts your whole world on its axis.

Word Count: 15.5K (total of 29.2K)

Category: More fluff for you all (yes, more jsjs), (plus slight angst related to mutual pining, idiots in love, friends to lovers and typical Gotham villain stuff)

Warnings: Jason stealing your heart (and you stealing his)

Author’s note: Well, here you go babes, the second (and final) part to what once was just a one-shot but that became so long that I had to split it up (despite how much it broke my heart to do so). Hope you enjoy it!

<Part I

After that night at the dinner (that you didn’t ever want to end, though of course, sadly, it had to), everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, while you scanned the children’s books, as you knew what they were for now, you asked how the kids were doing.

Except that now, a lot of times when he came in the afternoons, Jason stayed in the bookshop with you until you closed, keeping you company.

Except that now, sometimes Jason brought food with him and had lunch with you.

Except that now, you texted each other practically everyday, carrying on conversations from the bookshop and talking about everything.

Except that now, your heart, instead of giving little jumps, it run whole laps every time you saw him.

And right now, you’re buzzing with nerves.

Because you don’t know where the line stands anymore, having become blurrier and blurrier with each smile, every longing look and every soft touch on his arm or the small of your back when you pass each other a lot closer than what is necessary.

And now you’re bouncing behind the counter, wondering if what you are about to do today is too much.

When that white streak that you love so much makes its way through the door, you can hardly wait to show him what you’ve found. Jason, like always, greets you with a smile and goes directly to the counter, not bothering with excuses anymore.

“There you are!” You exclaim, barely containing your excitement.

“Hi to you too.” He chuckles at your warm welcome as he finishes approaching the counter.

“I found it.” You say with a grin. Surprise makes its way across Jason’s features, immediately knowing what you were talking about.

“You did?” He asks in disbelief. You nod proudly and from under the counter, you slip out the third and last installment of a book series about the adventures of Daisy the giraffe. In the store you only had the first and the second one and the kids loved them. They had read both several times but were unable to see how the story ended since the books were quite old and very hard to find.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it.” Jason continues as he takes the book from your hands that are extending it to him. “You’re amazing, Y/N.” He looks back up at you with shining eyes. “How did you do it?” You shrug your shoulders.

“I just tracked it down.” You answer. The truth was that it had taken a lot of time and effort to find it but the kids’ joy and how happy you felt right now made it all worth it.

“You did a lot more than that, believe me. The kids are going to love it.” Jason says, glancing back at the book and then at you once again, his eyes full of admiration. “Thank you.” He adds almost breathlessly.

You nod in acknowledgement with a bright smile.

Jason had faced a lot of impossible situations during his life. Hardships that proved difficult to endure. From his days in the streets, to his Robin training and to his patrols as Red Hood.

But right now Jason feared that he may have found his greatest enemy. A problem hard to solve. A feat that will not be easy to achieve.

These damn braids.

Jason’s eyebrows are furrowed and he clenches his jaw in concentration. Despite having asked for help and Cass and Steph having taught him, he still was having trouble french braiding Lily’s hair.

He was in the area and decided to check on the kids, even though they didn't have a reading scheduled. After greeting the few that were there, Lily grabbed his hand and monopolized him.

She had asked him a few times to do her hair and he had tried but without much knowledge it had proved to be a disaster. At least now, even though it still felt a bit like an uphill climb, it seemed that his new skills were getting him somewhere.

They were sitting on some crates on the floor, Lily in front of him playing with her teddy and telling him his latest adventures as Batbear, making him chuckle at her great imagination.

He was working on the second braid when suddenly Lily fell into silence, deep in thought. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she finally spoke up.

“Do you like Y/N?” Lily asked, with the blunt curiosity characteristic of children her age.

Jason’s hands freeze on her blonde hair.

“Why do you ask?” Jason asks back nervously, afraid to give a clear response, as if after hearing it, Lily would run over to wherever you were to tell you. But she just shrugs her shoulders, lifting Batbear in her arms and examining his button-like eyes.

“She’s nice and funny.”

“Yeah, she is.” He coincides while slowly continuing to work on the braid.

“I like her. The other day she brought us all cookies from a bakery. They were delicious.” Lily continues, her voice acquiring a dreamy tone at the delightful memory.

Jason’s hands freeze once again. He had no idea you had done that. You hadn’t mentioned it to him. You had gone out of your way to buy treats for the kids and come here on your own on a non reading day.

Jason stands still on his seat, his gaze lost and thoughts clouded with you. He didn’t think that he could admire you more than what he already did, yet here he was, even more entranced by your kind nature.

“So you like her then?” Lily insists. She says it more in an innocent way rather than in the romantic sense, like when you meet a friend of a friend and they asked you if you liked hanging out with them. Just as Lily finishes her question, he ties up her braid and Lily turns her head, feeling him finish his work.

She catches sight of her reflection on a dirty window and lets out a delightful squeal that makes Jason jump in surprise. In an instant, the little girl is on her feet and admiring her hair from side to side, Batbear still in her grip.

Jason grimaces when he sees how the top of one of the braids is already starting to loosen and worries about what Lily will say. He still clearly needs more practice. But then-

“I love it!” Lily screams and Jason grins at her happiness. Ha, success. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She says in quick succession in a way in which the words jumble together and turns to give him a bone crushing hug, surprising for how little she is, and a sounding kiss on his cheek.

Then Lily sets off running, probably to show her friends her new hair, laughing all the way, completely forgetting about her earlier question. Jason can’t help but laugh under his breath too. He loves those kids.

He stands up and shakes his hands over his jeans to get rid of any possible dirt from the crate.

“Yeah, I like her very much.” Jason whispers, answering Lily’s question. His thoughts, as they usually tended to do, drifting back to you.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You ask him another day when he enters the bookshop with a black eye. He opens his mouth to answer but you interrupt him. “Let me guess, boxing again?” You say with eyebrows raised in a playful manner so that he doesn’t need to worry about a fake excuse. But he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not this time, no.”

“No? Impossible.”

“Okay so, turns out that Damian, for whatever reason that I still cannot comprehend, threw his phone at Tim. But Tim ducked and guess who was passing behind him in that exact moment just peacefully enjoying his bowl of cereal?”

“No way.” You say breathlessly, a smile already pulling at your lips and a laugh making its way up your throat.

He nods and sees you put a hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your laughter. The sight makes him smile, despite the fact that the movement pulls at the swelling of his cheek under his eye, making him wince slightly at the pain.

“Sorry.” You say, failing miserably in containing your laughter.

“It’s okay, go ahead. It is funny.”

You then finally burst out laughing and Jason feels his heart swell, the sound having become his favorite in the whole world, like listening to his favorite song. And he can’t help but join in your laughter too.

“Though I did drop my precious bowl of cereal.” He adds with an exaggerated pout and you laugh even more, making him feel a radiating warmth that not even the sun could equal to.

“Oh, poor Jason.” You say.

As your laughters finally slowly die down, you round the counter and lift your hands to hold the sides of his face, turning him to see the eye better in the light.

“Are you okay though?” You ask in a low voice, serious now, almost like a whisper.

And with your hands holding him, Jason thinks that he will always be okay, no matter if he's drowning or bleeding to death.

“Yeah.” He whispers back.

Were you this close just a second before? He can clearly see how the lights of the bookshop reflect in your eyes now.

“Did you put something over it?” He nods. You tilt your head, not sure to believe him with how he hadn’t really treated the wounds on his knuckles that one time.

“Some ice.” You manage to coax out of him and you shake your head and click your tongue in slight disappointment. 

“Not enough.” You say, and just like that one time, with the bookshop empty except for you two, you guide him into the break room by his hand, sit him down and bring the first aid kit. You take an ointment from it and stand in front of him. You look down at him, asking for permission with your eyes and he gives an almost imperceptible nod.

One of your hands takes hold of his face to tilt him to the light and the tips of your fingers on the other start applying the ointment softly to help with the swelling.

Jason’s hands twitch to place themselves on your hips to bring you even closer but he grabs his own knees instead. He doesn’t have the right to do something like that. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend.

No matter how much he might want to.

So he contents himself with looking into your eyes that are concentrated on his wound.

He can feel the warmth of your body seeping into his with how close you are and he can’t help but close his eyes to savor it even further. 

He has never felt safer.

The silence of the intimate moment is deafening in the best of ways. He would gladly stay like this forever.

But then, just like a crack of thunder, cold surrounds him once again as you whisper that you’re done and retract your hands from him. You wash your hands in the faucet of the kitchen part of the break room and Jason follows your every movement hypnotized.

“Better?” You say as you return and sit in front of him.

With you? Always.

“Yeah.” He breathes out and he isn’t lying. He can already feel the swelling going down. “Thank you.” 

“It’s nothing.” You say, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders.

It’s like you don’t see how much you do for him, and not just for tending his wounds. Just everything in general. Your laugh. Your long conversations. And it kills him. It kills him that you may not know just how much he cares about you.

And it kills him even more that he doesn’t have the courage to tell you.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You say and quickly get up to grab a heavy looking bag from the corner before coming back. “I went to my parents’ last weekend and I got these books that I thought the kids might like.” You start as you take the contents of the bag out and put them on the table for him to see.

He notices how you worry your lip and how your shoulders tense and he wonders why you’re suddenly like that. He then looks towards the several books displayed on the table in front of you two.

“Most of them are bedtime stories. My mom used to read them to me.” You start and then your small posture and uncertain tone clicks. You’re shy about this. Almost ashamed that he might think that this is something ridiculous.

As if he could think anything negative about you.

“They’re not much but I loved them when I was little.” You continue and as you tell him more about them, he can see with how much fondness you remember them and how excited you are to talk about them. The insecurity seems to leave your whole body as you get lost in your explanation of the books. 

Two of them are quite thick and you tell him that they have several different stories, from a prince and a princess that could only meet at sunrise or sunset since one of them could only be in the light of the moon and the other in the light of the sun. And that if they were exposed to the other light, due to a spell, they would die; to a story about a mother reading to his son.

Another couple of them follow the adventures of a mole at his house and at the beach and the books include a small mole cut-out that you move across the pages to make him follow the story. Another one is about a boy and his dog that go on a great adventure thanks to a magical blue balloon.

As he listens intently, he marvels at you. You really were the most thoughtful, kind and beautiful person that he had ever met and he couldn’t get enough of it.

He has to resist the urge to close the space between you and kiss you right there and then. But he decides against it. He liked how everything was going with you and he didn’t want to ruin it by suddenly rushing and risking everything.

Aside from the fact that you still didn’t know about a part of his life that he’s sure would make you push him away and send you running. Even though every time that he thinks about it, he’s considering telling you more and more, wanting to be completely sincere and honest with you, knowing how much you valued that.

“Sorry, that was a lot. This probably was a bad idea.” You say after you finish explaining all the books. You’re about to start picking them up to put them back in the bag when you feel his hand enclosing over one of your own, softly stopping you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“No. These are great, Y/N. I love them and I’m sure that the kids will too. Thank you for sharing them.” He says looking into your eyes. You were sharing with him and the kids a very personal part of you that you held very close to your heart. And he wanted you to know how much he appreciated it.

He also gives your hand a small squeeze to show you how much he means his words and to encourage you. After a moment, you smile and nod.

“Tell me more.” He says.

At his genuine petition, you can’t do anything but carry on, your radiant smile matching his. “Okay.”

It had been a long time since you had played any of these types of games. But you really do not remember being so bad at it.

After the reading that day, the kids had suggested (or rather insisted) on playing hide and seek.

So here you were, running around the playground trying to find a good place to hide all while questioning your life choices.

Had you really been this bad at hide and seek as a kid? Then again, it is quite easier when you’re much smaller and you can fit almost anywhere. Try doing that as an adult.

You turn a corner of the nearby buildings, entering into a small passage between the back of it and a wall separating the playground zone from the rest of the block. You know that Lily has had to have finished counting already. You don’t have much time left.

In the passage there are some piled up crates leaning against the wall. You consider hiding behind them though you know that it’s not the best hiding place. However, you’re already here and you can’t risk going back into the open space of the playground if you don’t want to get caught.

Just as you start moving towards them a voice whispers your name.

You turn and find that the building has a small space that cuts into it with a back door. Due to the afternoon light, the space is covered in shadows and leaning against the wall you find Jason, hiding. 

You can’t believe that you missed him with his impressive build.

But the place seems to work as a great hiding place, almost in plain sight yet easy to miss. So, when Jason extends a hand inviting you into it, you don’t think twice before taking it.

Next thing you know, your back rests in one of the walls carved into the building that lead to the door and Jason is positioned in front of you in a way that, even if Lily were to pass by and notice you, she would only see him. At least at first.

Jason leans his head out of the space for a second to check if anyone is coming and then he comes back in front of you.

And then your breathing hitches in your throat when you realize just how close you are, even though there is plenty of space in the small opening of the building for you two to stand next to each other without problem. Yet both of you remain in your current position, not daring (nor wanting) to move a muscle.

Suddenly all your nerves are alive and buzzing, your senses heightened and all you can see, hear and feel, is him.

You're hyper aware of everywhere that he’s touching you.

His left hand on your waist.

His right arm at your side, brushing up against yours, shielding you from view.

Your chests almost touching each other.

Your hands on his shoulders, even though you have no idea how they ended up there. The urge to bring him even closer to you, practically irresistible.

You look up to find that his green gaze is already on you. Up this close you notice that there is a slight shade of aquamarine blue in them.

You feel lightheaded and dizzy but in the best of ways. It’s like you’re drunk, even though you have never actually drunk enough to feel like this.

You realize then that you’re drunk on him. You want to drown in him.

Then the scent of his cologne reaches you and you know that you’re intoxicated with this man in front of you.

And the best part is that he seems just as intoxicated with you.

You don’t know how you two get even closer but then his nose is brushing up against yours, your breaths mixing together.

He’s leaning a bit over you so maybe you should feel a bit crowded but you don’t.

You feel safe.

The safest that you have ever been. And the thing is that it doesn't even surprise you. Everything feels easy and safe and warm with him.

Like nothing could ever happen to you with him by your side.

And you’re absolutely addicted to the feeling.

Jason is breathless, as if he has just run a marathon. His breathing as heavy as yours.

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest with how fast it’s going, thrill and anticipation pumping through your veins instead of blood.

Your gaze drops and you suck in a breath when he wets his lips.

Your own tongue darts out to mimic his movement on your own, when you realize that they’re already wet and that he was the one mirroring your previous action.

Your eyes go back up to his and notice that his pupils are dilated. You can’t help but think that yours look probably the same.

It seems like he’s asking a question with that mesmerizing gaze of his and your throat feels dry, as if you haven’t been able to drink water in days and the only person that can alleviate it is Jason Todd.

His gaze flits to your lips once again and returns to your eyes just as fast and they seem to be pleading you.

You can feel yourself nodding almost imperceptibly.

You’re not sure you have wanted anything more in your life. Your stomach flips.

You close your eyes, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

And then-

“Got you!” Lily’s voice rings out, like shattering glass, breaking the spell and bursting the perfect bubble that you two were in, before your lips are able to make any real contact.

And just like that, you deflate like an old balloon forgotten by a kid in a fair.

You have never been more frustrated in your entire life.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regain your senses, letting your pounding heart beat out the drug that the proximity to Jason Todd is, in order to come back to reality.

When you finally open your eyes, Jason looks just as frustrated and disappointed as you.

Your faces part, putting distance once again between them though your hands remain on his shoulders and his remain on your waist. Part of yourselves still refusing to let go of what had been about to happen, both of your breathings still heavy and deep.

“Come on, it’s your turn now!” Lily exclaims impatiently. She’s too excited about being able to hide now to really notice what was going on between you two.

“We-” Jason stops at how hoarse his voice is and clears his throat. “We’ll be right there.” He finally continues, though his gaze is still fixed on you.

“Great!” Lily chirps and she leaves the way she came, Batbear like always, tight in her grip.

You watch her go and when you look back up at Jason both of you have shy and embarrassed smiles. Sad for the moment that has left and unsure of how to proceed now.

You both suppose that keeping things how they are is the best course of action so very slowly and very reluctantly your hands leave each other. Not sure what to do with them now, since they still feel like magnets being pulled towards each other, Jason runs his hands through his hair and you fix your already perfectly placed clothes.

But as you two make your way towards the center of the playground, you both are hopeful that the moment will come again.

The road might have a few bumps on the way but it still goes on.

Jason didn’t know how it had gotten so late. He had meant to stop by the bookshop earlier and hopefully, after you closed, go grab dinner with you, as you two sometimes did now. But he had got caught up with patrol stuff with Bruce and now he would be lucky if he managed to catch you before you left.

Thankfully, he’s able to reach the bookshop twenty minutes before you close. But when he enters, you are nowhere to be seen. 

Rose and Jimmy are behind the counter, chattering between them and just like every time that he went into the bookshop and you weren’t there, he felt his whole body deflate. The idea of seeing you always being his driving force.

But just like that other time when he entered knowing that you worked that day but Rose had greeted him, worry begins to settle in him. Had something happened that had made you change your shift? Were you sick?

“Hello, Jason!” Jimmy says when he and Rose notice him.

“Good evening, dear.” Greets Rose.

“Hello. Sorry, didn’t mean to bother, I know you’re about to close.”

“It’s okay, you’re always welcomed.” Jimmy answers.

“It’ll be quick. I just wanted to see if Y/N was here, I-”

“Does this look right, Rose? I feel like-” You say, emerging from the bathroom but then you freeze in your step when you spot him. “Oh, hi, Jason.”

But Jason is unable to answer, in fact, he’s pretty sure that he has forgotten how to breathe because he’s stunned looking at you.

You’re wearing a very nice dress that you must have changed into in the bathroom, and it’s clear that you’ve dressed up for something.

You look beautiful.

You always do but Jason has never seen you so formal and it stirs up something in him. For a second, he can imagine that he’s come to pick you up for a date.

But the joy of seeing you doesn’t last long as he feels his throat dry and he swears that he can feel sweat begin to form at the back of his neck and run down his back. It takes him a second to understand those symptoms and the unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Dread. Panic.

Because what if you actually do have a date?

Had he waited too long? Neither of you were any experts on relationships but it really felt like you two were working towards something. But what if it was too late now? What if he had let time drag on too much and now he was forever stuck in some kind of friend stage? Just like when he didn’t tell you about why he checked out so many children’s books and then it had passed so much time that it became awkward for him to do so.

His mind is in a spiral now, racing with thoughts. In one of your many conversations and hangouts after the very first reading with the kids and the diner, you both had mentioned that neither of you were seeing anybody. It was an off comment, something that you tell a friend without thinking too much about the implications of it.

But the idea hung in the air. The idea that the persons that you two were seeing were each other.

But still, neither of you had said that out loud.

And the thing was that you two weren’t just friends. Or at least that’s what Jason felt like and he thought that you probably thought the same. You two had a connection there and you were heading towards being something else. Slowly but steadily and surely, you were building something.

Right?

Suddenly, he finds himself revisiting every interaction that the two of you have ever had. Every longing look, every soft touch and that oh so wonderful moment while playing hide and seek where you two had almost kissed.

He couldn’t have possibly imagined all of that on his own, could he?

If he thought that the memory of holding your hand while he helped you down the ladder that one time had been haunting, it was nothing compared to that moment.

That moment that had plagued his mind every damn day since.

Everything about it, how you had looked at him, the smell of your hair, your hands on his shoulders, your slightly parted lips, added to everything about you from the very first time he met you, like your smile or the soft tone of your voice, creeping onto his skin and taking a resident place there. Like ivy, carving marks into him, down his arms and up his back, clasping and biting into him, leaving him red and scarred forever.

The difference of those imprints with the scars that he had gained over the years of crime-fighting and suffering was that they didn’t hurt nor weighed him down. Instead, they lifted him up, invigorated him and softly caressed his skin, like your hands taking care of his wounds, reassuring him that everything would be okay. That with you, everything will always be okay. They showed how much someone cared about him and valued him.

The difference being that he would wear your marks proudly. 

And Jason finally decides that he doesn’t want to walk on the tightrope anymore. He wants to let go and fall into the void, take a leap of faith and come clean to you. Tell you that he’s in love with you and that he wants to be yours.

He can only hope that you may lay a safety net beneath him to fall into.

And if he’s not that lucky, he would have another invisible scar added to him, from both crashing into the ground and from having at least tried. And even though that one would hurt, more deeply and a lot longer than any physical one that he may have, you would have given it to him, and he would welcome anything that came from you with open arms.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to do all of that but what he does know is that before anything, he wants to be honest with you. Tell you about being Red Hood. You deserve to know what you’re going to get into (if you even decide that you want to), before you two delve into something deeper.

The only thing is that you two are already there. Too far gone for each other, even though Jason doesn’t know that you are. The one thing that he is certain about is that when he tells you, it will change the foundations of the road that you have been building together.

What Jason isn’t so sure of is if it will destroy them, or make them even stronger.

But something that he does know, is that right now is not the moment for any of that.

So, for the time being, he settles with greeting you back and eventually saying:

“You look… You look great.” Even though that is an understatement.

You smile and shyly look down, your fingers playing with the skirt of your dress.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He says, and while you two are busy looking at each other, you both miss Rose and Jimmy’s knowing looks and smiles. And before he can help it, he’s opening his mouth again. “So, uhm, do you have a date or something?” He tries to say nonchalantly, not wanting to sound too obtrusive, but the doubt killing him.

Your eyes widen and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“What? God no, just fancy family dinner. It’s my parents' anniversary. Since they’re visiting they decided to celebrate together.” You explain, and Jason can feel a wash of relief going over him, his racing heart calming down.

He hasn’t lost his chance.

“Oh, that’s nice. Congrats.”

You nod and grab your things, getting ready to leave before turning to Jimmy and Rose.

“Thanks again for letting me go early.”

“Of course, dear. And don’t worry about the dress, it looks perfect. You look lovely.”

“No problem, sweetie.” Jimmy adds before complimenting you too.

You kiss the couple’s cheeks in thanks before bidding them goodbye, Jason copying your words before opening the door for you.

As you two leave, you see Jimmy whisper something into Rose’s ear while putting an arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him. She chuckles and she kisses his cheek and Jimmy kisses her forehead in return.

Jason smiles at the fond interaction.

“They’re lovely, aren’t they?” You say, still looking at the couple.

“They are.” Jason says, already looking at you. You’re lovely too. “You’re going to the restaurant with your family now?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have enough time to spare after the shift to go back home so I had to change in the bookshop. My parents lend me their car in order to make it.”

Jason nods, trying not to look too disappointed at the fact that he can’t even offer to drive you there, and a comfortable silence settles between you, neither of you wanting to part ways yet.

But you have to go if you don’t want to be late so you sigh before speaking once again.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.” Jason says, hands in his pockets. “See you soon then.”

“Bye.” You say and you haven’t taken two steps before Jason calls your name. You turn.

“You look very beautiful.” He can’t help but compliment you again.

You feel your whole face heat up.

“Thanks.”

You think about him the whole way to the restaurant but then again, when aren’t you not thinking about Jason Todd?

Jason has never been more scared in his life. Well, maybe he had, when he was in that damned warehouse. And then later, when he woke up after that without being able to recall who he was or where he was.

But this other type of fear... It's almost paralyzing, threathening to swallow him whole.

He runs as fast as he can, taking long strides, his rugged breathing making him have tunnel vision and only allowing him to focus on one thing.

You.

He hadn’t liked how close the situation had been to the bookshop from the very first moment that they had received the alert. Worry tight in his throat since he had always hoped not to ever have this kind of situation this close to you.

The bookshop’s neighborhood had always been one of the safest in Gotham, there were certain minor crimes, yes, which part of the city didn’t have them? But none of the rogues had ever attacked there.

You had once joked that you thought that the reason for it might be that some of the villains had family living there. You once even said that you could have sworn to have seen the Penguin accompanying an old lady that might have been his mother crossing the street.

Yet still, now an ACE Chemicals truck had been assaulted by Scarecrow and his henchmen. The truck wasn’t even supposed to be in the neighborhood in the first place, but the company and the police had received some information that an attack was being planned and they had decided to detour it.

And now you were in danger.

Jason keeps running with his hands clenched into fists that were turning tighter and tighter by the second.

He can feel sweat gathering on his forehead and he can almost hear a ticking clock hanging over his head as he puts some distance between him and the sickeningly looking mist of muddy green gas that had exploded in the truck.

The very same gas that was quickly spreading along the streets and that would reach the bookshop in a matter of minutes.

The first ones to arrive at the scene had been him and Tim, trying to control the situation until backup could arrive.

Scarecrow’s men were taking over the truck and before leaping into action, Jason threw Tim a look that even with the helmet on, Tim could perfectly understand.

If anything starts going sideways, I’m out of here. Going to her.

Going to you.

Tim was also aware of the fact of how close it all was to the bookshop and he just nodded, knowing how much you mattered to Jason.

They had been able to control the situation more or less as more and more police cars gathered around the truck. But then Scarecrow had finally made his appearance and everything derailed. At first, it seemed like they just wanted to steal from the truck but then something happened and the truck exploded.

Between the chemicals from inside the truck and whatever other things the villain and his gang always brought with them, the gas set off along with the explosion.

Scarecrow and his men scurried off immediately after, giving the feeling that that had certainly not been their desired outcome.

But the gas started spreading and they had no idea what chemicals were inside the truck or what the effects of it could be, but Jason wasn’t going to risk it.

And so, he took a quick glance at Tim, who already had his gas mask on, helping people on the street, and returning his gaze, Tim just nodded.

Go. We handle this here.

And with that, Jason set off.

The bookshop wasn’t actually that far away, just a few blocks, but Jason feels like he’s doing the longest run of his life and that time itself is slowing him down. He has also tried calling you but the line was already overloaded with all the emergency calls.

As he runs, he can hear through his intercom Steph and Duke shouting instructions to everyone nearby and Barbara guiding Bruce to track down Scarecrow.

His heart’s racing and when he finally catches sight of the bookshop, he feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest.

The sound of the door slamming open startles you in your place behind the counter. You turn your head to tell the person that had entered to mind their manners when you are met with a red stare that you had only seen in blurry pictures on the news and heard rumors about.

You take in a sharp breath as Red Hood closes the door and approaches you in quick strides. You freeze in your place, not because you are scared of him but because of the surprise of it. Especially when you look him over and your gaze can’t tear away from the brown leather jacket that felt so familiar to you.

Red Hood grabs your wrist, bringing you with him hurriedly into the break room. And though his grip is strong, you’re surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt at all. You can hear him talking and you know that his presence here can’t mean anything good, though not for you of course, you know that Red Hood wouldn’t hurt you, he didn’t hurt innocent people, but something must have happened.

However, you can’t seem to register any of his words, it’s like he’s saying something but you’re underwater, his words sounding muffled and jammed together.

Because for some strange reason you’re still fixated on his jacket.

He sets you down on the floor next to the sofa in the break room and crouches down in front of you. And then he does something that makes your brows furrow in confusion.

He calls you by your name.

How does he even know your name?

You want to ask him but everything feels so confusing right now, like a tornado spinning around you. You only manage to utter a weak “What…?”, before you can’t help it and your hands, with a life of their own, run over his arms, feeling the fabric of the jacket until they reach the lapels and grip them.

Your heart was already racing and your breathing labored from the whole situation but it seemed like they hadn’t reached their limit yet. Though you feel like they are surely about to do so. You can feel your heart go even faster as your mind begins spiraling with thoughts and you suck in a breath when the realization hits you.

Because this… This piece of clothing so characteristic of the vigilante in front of you, you had spent an awful lot of time staring and gawking over the man that wore it several times in your bookshop.

Because this… This is the very same fabric that your hands had touched while you had been inches away from kissing that very same man in an alley while you were playing hide and seek.

Because now that you were able to see it up close, you instantly recognize it.

How could you not? When you had spent so much time with its owner, laughing while you two ate lunch; admiring him when he found an interesting book on the bookshelves; feeling understood when you shared your worries with him; taking the opportunity to touch his arm anytime that you could, covered in this very same jacket, one of the few of this type that he owned; hoping that if you were to tell him how you feel, he would feel the same way; and wishing that you could kiss him without having to worry about the consequences?

Because this jacket belongs to the man that you’re in love with.

Because this jacket… This jacket belongs to Jason Todd.

And then everything clicks, how he works nights, the wounds on his knuckles, his occasional and strange run offs. Suddenly it all feels so blatantly obvious that you wonder how you didn’t see it before.

You know in your gut what it means but your brain is still catching up with everything going on around you to fully make sense of what your heart already knows.

For a quick second, the thought that maybe he shouldn’t wear the same jacket while patrolling and during his day to day, makes you want to start laughing. Though it’s true that unless you saw it more than once, several times and very close, no one would realize that they were the same jacket. But the reality of the situation around you helps you to rein in the inappropriate laugh.

And then your name being called again finally breaks you out of your thoughts, and the only thing that you can focus on is him.

Jason’s gripping your shoulders now, willing you to focus on him and needing to have some kind of contact with you to make sure that you’re okay. He moves frantically, his eyes quickly checking the front door of the bookshop through one of the break room’s windows that look into the main part of the shop, already seeing the mist of gas slipping under it, trying to calculate how much time he has left.

He’s been asking you if you’re okay and trying to explain what has happened but the sentences come out stumbled, his brain going faster than what his mouth can follow.

In his haste he doesn’t even register the change in the look of your eyes at your realization.

He knows what he has to do but he’s afraid of what it will entail. He wanted to sit down with you, tell you about being Red Hood and explain everything to you. He wanted to be hopeful that you may understand but now he doesn’t have the chance to let you know how he would have wanted to.

It feels like someone has pushed him from the tightrope beneath him, directly cutting it, or rather, that it has snapped over his own weight, not able to hold him and his secrets anymore, and now he’s falling and he can’t do anything about it.

And if you would have ever laid a net beneath him, he’s sure that you would cut a hole open in it now.

He’s about to break everything that you two have been working towards, a shattering earthquake destroying what once was a strong and beautiful road.

But it’s the only way to keep you safe.

And he would cut the rope sustaining him himself and willingly fall into the abyss if he had to to make sure that you’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters to him right now.

And that’s exactly what he does.

You watch perplexed as Red Hood takes the helmet off and you’re met with the sharp features and white streak that you love so much.

It really is him.

He’s Red Hood.

Jason is Red Hood.

Jason, who always seemed to be checking out children’s books, wearing leather jackets and making you smile like no one has ever done before.

Your Jason.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a weird mist start to seep through under the door to the break room that Red Hood- no, Jason, had closed after you two entered.

“Jason?” You whisper. He lifts his head up from where he’s been fidgeting with the helmet since he took it off to meet your gaze, and the broken look in his eyes makes your heart feel like it has been stabbed. “What’s going on?” He follows your line of sight and his eyes grow with worry.

“Scarecrow.” He mutters while turning back to the helmet, he pushes a few hidden buttons in it and you’re surprised to see how its panels shift, changing its shape slightly but still having a head-like form.

And then Jason turns to you, his hands lifting with the helmet towards your head.

Your face contorts with horror when you realize what he wants to do.

You immediately grab his forearms, pushing them down and therefore, the helmet too.

“What are you doing?” You say.

“I have to protect you. And we don’t know what the gas does yet so I’m not taking any risks.” He pushes the helmet towards your head once again but you repeat your previous action, preventing him from doing so.

“And you? What about you?” You ask desperately, the gas coming closer and closer towards you both.

Jason’s lips pull into a sad smile. “I’ll be fine.” He whispers. It’s like he has already resigned himself to something. You shake your head.

“No. I’m not taking it.”

“I have a spare small mask, don’t worry.”

You’re still so in shock from everything that you don’t realize that he’s lying, yet in the pit of your stomach you can already feel a pool of dread forming.

“But-” You start but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, listen to me. We don’t have much time. Do you trust me?”

Even with everything that has just happened, you don’t hesitate.

“Always.”

Jason nods and puts the red helmet over your head, the shifted panels allowing it to fit your head perfectly. Jason sighs with relief and looks at you fondly, his hands still on either side of your head.

Your hands come up to cover his own and he nods reassuringly. “You okay?” He whispers, and you nod.

Everything is going to be okay.

But then Jason starts coughing.

The gas has already reached you both and gathers at your ankles.

Your eyes widen and you reach for him as his hands let go of your head to support himself when he begins lulling to one side. “Jason!” You shout.

You can see his eyes losing focus, starting to get dizzy. While your breathing keeps coming in deep and clean thanks to the regulator built in the helmet, Jason seems to be gasping for air, like he isn’t getting enough oxygen or like his lungs are refusing what’s going in them.

And you finally realize that there never was a spare mask.

How could you have been so foolish?

You try to take the helmet off to give it back to him but it’s like it’s closed off. You press the buttons that you find on the underside at the back but nothing happens. You try everything but it just won’t come off.

Nothing.

You can’t take it off.

He must have locked it somehow, almost as if he knew what you would try to do.

You can’t protect him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” A cough. “ I swear I wanted to tell you.” Another one. “ I was going to.” He says between short breaths before finally collapsing onto the floor.

You grab him before his head hits the ground and you hush him gently.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Now it’s you the one holding the sides of his face softly.

One of his hands comes up to hold one of your own, and you can’t stand the look of utter adoration and affection with which he gazes at you.

Because you can’t help him.

And his look is as if he would be content to go this way, knowing that at least you’re safe.

And your heart breaks all over again.

The room is covered in gas now and it’s not until your vision becomes slightly blurry that you register the tears welling up in your eyes.

You cry for help but there’s nothing that can be done now. You also try calling 911, not caring what will happen if someone sees that he’s Red Hood. You just need him to be safe. But the line doesn't work. Jason begins to close his eyes.

“Hey, hey, no.” You urge. “Stay with me, stay with me.” Jason opens his eyes once more, fighting to stay awake, but you can see in them how he’s almost gone, his consciousness slipping away from him.

“Please.” You whisper, fighting the tears.

And then his hand holding yours falls limp.

And with it, your heart does too.

You shake him, call him, scream at him to wake up but it’s no use. Tears run down your cheeks now, raked sobs breaking though your chest.

You even try to take off the helmet again but of course, nothing happens.

You feel for his heartbeat, it takes you an agonizing second to feel it but it's there.

Weak and slow, barely perceptible, but it’s there.

Although you fear that probably not for much longer.

Fear and dread run through you, you don’t know how to fix this. You don’t want to let him go but he’s being pulled away from you.

And then the door to the break room bursts open.

You look up and there Red Robin stands.

And the way in which he shakes his hair away from his eyes with a movement of his head while looking around the room frantically, trying to locate you through the mist, makes your breath hitch in realization for the second time in the last few minutes.

Tim.

Then he notices Jason’s unconscious body in your arms and when his gaze meets yours, even with the helmet on he knows what you want to say.

Save him.

Your shifts at the bookstore have never felt longer. You had become so used to him and come to rely on his visits so much that now, without him, they only drag on and on and on, something that had never even happened before.

Even before him.

Your only solace being that he’s alive.

You often have to remind yourself of that fact when the memory of the fear of losing him claws back at you.

Jason is alive. He is okay.

After Tim found you two, he launched towards Jason, checking his vitals and addressing his state.

He told you that he needed to bring Jason to the batcave as soon as possible and you had immediately grabbed Jason’s hand, refusing to let go of him and profusely saying that you were going with him.

But Tim had only shook his head, explaining how Jason would kill him if he ever allowed you to not go to the hospital for a check up.

But you had fought him with tooth and nails, saying that you weren’t leaving his side anytime soon and Tim had no other option but to give up.

However, just as Tim was calling for Steph to come and help him with Jason quickly, you passed out.

Whether because of all the emotions and stress of those five minutes (because yes, since Jason first entered into the bookshop to protect you, it had only been five minutes, maybe even less), or because due to the shifted panels in the helmet, some gas had managed to slip in, you didn’t know.

Probably more the later than the former but still.

Next thing you knew, you woke up in the hospital. Thankfully without the helmet, Tim having probably managed to unlock it.

Through the doctors, nurses, and the news on the TV in the ER, you learned that the gas was dangerous but thankfully non-lethal. In most cases, like yours, people in the neighborhood who had only inhaled a bit just felt dizzy for a few hours or passed out for a bit.

In other cases, the most serious ones, like Jason’s, people were put into a coma-like state, with the lungs rendered to a point of near-exhaustion. But with good rest and the appropriate care, they would recover soon with no side effects.

Batman had managed to apprehend Scarecrow and just like the vigilantes had suspected from the beginning, it wasn’t a deliberate attack but a robbery gone wrong.

They let you go of the hospital that very same afternoon, with instructions that if you felt any kind of dizziness to come back. After your family (and Rose and Jimmy of course) checked in with you, you were finally able to grab a hold of your phone that had been left in the bookshop.

You were met with a text from Tim, how he had managed to get your number, you didn’t know, but it probably had something to do with the fact that all the Waynes were part of the Batfamily.

Or at least, that’s what you figured, once you were finally able to think with a clear head and digest all of your recent discoveries.

The text said that Jason had made it to the batcave safely, that he had been treated immediately and that he was resting now.

You have never been more grateful for anything in your life.

But that had been a week and a half ago. And you hadn’t seen Jason since.

You felt like a part of you had been ripped out and taken along with him. The absence of a vital organ leaving you empty.

Probably your heart, since it had left your chest and leaped itself into Jason’s hands a long time ago.

The neighborhood had been deemed safe after the gas dissipated and you were back to your job like nothing had ever happened, just like how it often was after any incident with a rogue in Gotham.

Life just went on. Gotham and its residents as resilient as ever. The fight and survival etched onto their DNA.

If there ever was something to admire Gotham for, its survival skills were definitely it.

You had wanted to see Jason immediately, and you had even called Tim so that he could tell you more about Jason’s state and tried to see when you could go see him but then your mother had called.

Your uncle had had an accident at work and he would need surgery.

Though there was some risk, it wasn’t a extremely dangerous procedure. But if there was something that all of your family had in common and that was characteristic of all of you, was that if something happened to someone, every single member of the family would come running to be there.

And you knew that you had to be there, you wanted to be there, but it still tore at your insides having had to leave without having being able to see Jason. But your uncle lived on the other side of the country and you had to take a plane that very same night to be able to arrive before the surgery the next day.

So, you had called Tim back, telling him that you had to leave, how bad you felt, how sorry you were and that you would try to come back as soon as possible. But Tim assured you that it was okay, that they would all take care of Jason, that it would take him a couple of days to wake up and be fully conscious and that he understood (and that Jason would too) that you had to go.

You nodded, trying to hold back tears and muff your sniffling due to all the stress that had taken a hold of you due to all the recent events. Tim had calmed you down and promised you to keep you updated. Helping you just like you had done when you met him.

Thank god for Tim Drake. You’re pretty sure that you would have lost it if it weren’t because of him. His reassurance a sign of a friendship for a lifetime.

And so, you left. Everything went well with your uncle and you were glad to have been able to see your family for a few days since quite a long time ago.

But when you came back, Jason wouldn’t see you.

It took Jason two days to wake up from the coma-like state, though he had been getting better and better with each passing hour, and a full day of only eating and sleeping before he was able to return to normalcy.

Still, when he first woke up, the only thing in his foggy brain was you. He asked about you as soon as he opened his eyes and Tim told him that you were okay but that you had to leave for a few days due to a family emergency, and that you had called every day several times to check in.

Jason let out a sigh of relief. Both because you were safe and because he didn’t know how he would have faced you if you had been there.

He was sure that you hated him now. Despised him. Sure, you had called to see how he was, but that’s just how you were, caring and protective. But deep down, he knew that you had to resent him for having hidden being Red Hood from you.

He was sure that if he saw you, the first thing that you would do was scream at him and tell him that you didn’t want him in your life anymore.

And he wouldn’t be able to bear that.

He didn’t know how he could ever go back to a life without you.

That’s why he refused to see you everytime that you reached out after you came back. Letting his phone ring out when you called, later just sending a quick text saying that he was fine, that he was just busy with some things in order to not worry you. He knew that it was unfair and that he was being an idiot but he didn’t know what he would do if he saw you, even though he knew that he eventually would have to.

And yet, despite all of that, he still couldn’t bring himself to fully cut ties with you. He simply couldn’t. Needing you at least in some way in his life just as much as he needed air. As well as the fact that he knew that he couldn't do something like that to you, at least not without explaining.

It wasn’t until Tim cornered him and talked some sense into him that he realized that he couldn’t put it off any longer. 

When Jason enters the bookshop, a chill runs through him as he shakes the drops of water from his hair. He had dreaded every single step that he took towards the bookshop, a cloud of shame hanging over his head. And then the universe had decided that he wasn’t miserable enough and so that cloud of shame had quite literally started to pour on him. He couldn’t help but think that he deserved it but still, it sucked.

He usually liked rain. Just not when he didn’t have an umbrella and was tethering on the edge of sanity while trying to hold the composure that he had created to give him the strength necessary to face you. And certainly not when he was holding a hot chocolate that he had bought for you; having already lost count of how many times he had previously done so when he came to visit you, in a sad attempt at a peace offering, even though he was sure that you would dump it on him; but that now surely was just cold chocolate.

Shit. He really was going to look like even more of an idiot than he already was.

“Jason?” Your soft voice comes through, like an antidote calming him instantly and soothing all his worries. Your presence, like always, making all of his dark thoughts go away.

Though that peace didn’t last long because you were here now and he couldn’t run now. He had to do what he had come to do.

Even though he still wasn’t sure what exactly that was, no matter how much he had tried to prepare himself. Had he come to apologize? Explain? Beg for your forgiveness? He had no idea.

It didn’t matter anymore because as usual, all his thoughts and working brain cells flew out of the window when he was near you. This time even more so than usual since he had never gone this long without seeing you. He just stands there, soaked from the rain on the entrance doormat, like a wet cat begging to be let home again after causing trouble and running out.

And you’re just standing there, in the doorway of the break room, looking at him like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing, as if he was some mythological creature and you didn’t dare to move an inch, either in order not to scare him away or because you were petrified in fear, Jason didn’t know.

And he’s just rendered speechless. His breath taken away from him as he takes you in for what possibly is the last time, trying to commit every part of your beautiful self to memory, all of those parts that he already knows by heart, before you kick him out of the bookshop and out of your life forever.

“Yeah.” He finally responds.

Great, Jason. Very eloquent.

No turning back now.

He gulps.

“Hi.” He adds, trying to act with normalcy but he winces when he realizes that it doesn’t match the situation at all. There really is no way of making this any easier, is there?

He expects you to start yelling at him, push him, anything. But you just keep staring at him. And then:

“God, you’re drenched. Wait here.” You disappear for a second and Jason can’t believe what has just happened, a bewildered look in his eyes. He expected anything but that. But he obeys, doing whatever you asked of him in his very nature, trying to move as little as possible so that he would only drop water onto the doormat. You return quickly and hand him a towel after taking the hot (cold) chocolate from his hands so that he can dry up a bit. 

You put the cup onto the counter as he shakes his boots on the mat, dries his face and ruffles the towel through his hair. When he finishes you approach him once again.

“Here, let me take your jacket. You're going to freeze.” Jason feels like he’s on autopilot as he follows your every direction, like a sailor the call of a siren. Not daring to move a single muscle or do any abrupt movement other than what’s necessary, afraid of breaking whatever is happening right now.

You hang his jacket on the coat rack by the door to dry a bit and then you turn back to him.

There’s a moment of silence, the only noise being the rain’s soft pattering against the windows, the dark clouds filtering the setting sun, casting the bookstore in a gloomy atmosphere though the place still maintains its warm glow from the few lamps turned on with a yellow and orange glow.

The place is quiet, not a single soul in the bookshop except you two. Jason made sure of coming around closing time so that you could be alone, without any other customers interrupting and, even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, the small hope of finding the bookshop closed and therefore having the perfect excuse to delay this another day.

But of course, the universe wasn’t going to have it. He never was that lucky.

Jason is so stupefied that he doesn’t move from the doormat as you take a couple of steps closer to him and look him over. Assessing him. Studying him. He avoids your gaze, not knowing what to do under your scrutiny.

He might as well be a cactus now with how rooted he is to the goddamn doormat. And then he sees how your feet join his on it and he can’t help the chill that runs through him once again, but not from the cold this time, but from your intoxicating proximity, so reminiscent of the one from the ghost kiss in the alley.

This is it, he thinks. This is when you finally push him from your life forever.

But then you surprise him once again, when without any trace of hesitation nor fear you touch his face. Sofly cradling it as if you might still care about him.

He doesn’t understand anything that’s going on right now. He has never been more confused in his entire life.

After so many months, Jason had come to know you in such a way, so intricately well, that he could read you like a book. Just like you with him. But now, Jason is seriously questioning that because he has no idea what is going through your mind right now.

He finally gathers the courage to look at you, still afraid of what he’s going to find, but you’re not even looking at him.

Your gaze is fixated upon the small cut at the end of his left eyebrow.

A reminder of the Red Hood duty from the night before. How he had managed to get a wound there even with the helmet on, he had no idea.

He sees your eyebrows furrow and your expression change to one of worry.

And then your hands run down his sides until they take a hold of his, inspecting them over after taking the towel from them.

And you sigh, disappointed in finding what you hoped not to be there. The skin on his knuckles broken once again.

Jason feels like a stranded boat, lost at sea, the water around him lulling him to its will.

That’s you.

The rain continues on as you turn slightly and flip the sign of the bookshop to closed before locking the door.

As a lightning strikes in the distance, flashing momentaneous light into the bookshop and illuminating your soft features, you take Jason’s hand and just like several times before, you drag him to the break room, but this time, instead of on a chair by the table, you sit him down on the sofa.

And he lets you. He gladly lets the sea take his boat wherever it wants to. Even if it’s to his own demise.

You take the blanket resting on the arm of the couch and drape it over him, making sure that it stays on his shoulders before you take the towel back to the bathroom and for the third time, you grab the first aid kit there.

You return to the break room and not even your shuffling steps make his lost gaze go towards you.

Despite his big frame you had never seen him so small, curled onto himself, head hung in shame; and it makes your heart clench. He looks deep in thought, grabbing the edges of the blanket so that it stays wrapped around him, as if he’s contemplating how to say whatever he has come to say to you.

But you don’t care. He could stay quiet the whole time if he wanted to.

Because at least he was here.

And honestly, your first instinct at seeing him back in the bookshop had been to run to him and hug him like your life depended on it and never let him go. But you had ultimately decided against it, not wanting to scare him away.

His presence there still felt almost like a mirage to you, after having gone so long without seeing him for the first time ever since you met him.

So, it was a very welcomed step from just sending you short texts letting you know he was still alive and well.

And you couldn’t blame him. Like always, you two worked by taking your own time, giving each other space.

And you knew that Jason had a lot on his mind after the gas incident. In the chaos of it all, he had told you that he had wanted to tell you about being Red Hood before and you wholeheartedly believed him, knowing that it wasn’t something that you could just tell anyone at any given moment. And now he had to deal with the reality that now you knew about that part of his life.

And you had a feeling that he thought that you would push him away for it. Resent him. When it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Because now you saw the whole picture that Jason Todd was.

And you know what?

He still was your Jason.

He still was the man that you were in love with.

Someone to whom you felt connected in a way that you had never felt before. Someone that was your friend and that always managed to make you smile. Someone that was always there for you when you had a bad day. Someone that reads to kids in his free time. Someone that tries to make this city better and protects its people as a vigilante. Someone who goes out of his way to visit you, a completely normal and ordinary woman who runs a simple bookshop. Someone that didn’t hesitate in sacrificing his own safety for yours.

Yeah, you were still very much in love with that man.

And if he needed some time to come back to you, that was fine with you because you knew that he wouldn’t just leave you like that. During the last few days you could even have sworn to have seen him peering through the windows into the bookshop in passing, but when you focused a bit more, he was gone. Or at least that’s what you hoped, the string pulling you two together too strong. 

No matter how much it had pained you to have the person holding your heart keeping you at arm’s length.

Because a day or two more of waiting and you would have stormed into wherever Jason was and told him how much he meant to you until that stubborn head of his realized how you weren’t ever letting him go.

You also hoped that he didn’t resent you, for not having been able to be at his side when he woke up. Something that you will never forgive yourself for, no matter how you knew that it couldn’t have been any other way.

You sit down next to him and place the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of the sofa, getting all that you will need to heal his wounds ready. You take one more look at them and your heart clenches.

You don’t like how he doesn’t seem to take full care of himself.

Because to you, Jason Todd was a treasure. A treasure that you will never be sure how you had managed to be able to find.

And he should be treated just like one.

And that’s exactly what you intend to do.

You follow the same process as the last time to take care of his knuckles, Jason quiet and avoiding your gaze the whole time, before moving onto the cut on his brow.

You raise your hand with a cotton patch to put some antiseptic on it and your eyes finally meet his. The green in them, like always, lighting up your insides, a forest in which you would gladly get lost in.

Jason looks at you as one of your hands takes a hold of his chin to tilt his head while the other one begins treating the cut.

And Jason feels like dying when he sees the flash of pain that crosses your eyes because he knows that he’s the one who put it there.

From the very first time that you healed him, he could see how you didn’t like seeing him hurt. Yet he still had let you see his wounds and tend to them more times after that.

He really usually does tend to his wounds. Except that very first time with his knuckles that he had been so tired he had only cleaned them. But after feeling your soft hands taking care of him for the first time, it was like he didn’t want his wounds healed anymore unless it was you the one who did it.

And so, subconsciously, selfishly and guiltily, he barely tended to them, just what was strictly necessary, a desperate attempt and blind hope of you maybe wanting to heal him in order to feel your delicate touch, that Jason was sure did a lot more for his wounds than whatever any kind of medicine could do.

Your touch not only mending his wounds but also healing his soul and soothing all the bad thoughts in his mind.

But right now, Jason wants nothing more than to get on his knees and do whatever you ask of him. Anything to make the slight hurt that briefly passes your eyes go away. Beg if it's necessary.

He thinks that apologizing may be a good starting point.

“Y/N…” He begins but before he can go on any further you hush him, almost like you want to enjoy the silence and this moment of intimacy as much as possible.

Then you reach for the first aid kit again, taking a steri-strip from a pack that you had bought, along with some other extra items, knowing that the basics of a normal first aid weren’t going to be enough now that you knew that he was Red Hood.

You put it on the cut, careful of not hurting him. Jason watches you mesmerized, still not believing that you haven’t kicked him out yet.

Then, you take a normal band-aid to put over the strip, just to be extra safe but mainly because you want to see him smile.

“Is that a Hello Kitty band-aid?” He asks in disbelief, breaking the silence, as he watches you open the band-aid with the pink, red and white doodles.

“Yup.” You say as you put it, covering the cut and fully hiding it from view, Jason not putting any kind of resistance to it. And your heart clenches blissfully at the small smile that pulls at Jason’s lips. Oh, how much you had missed it, your own personal kind of drug. And you can’t help but mirror him too.

“Thanks.” He whispers once you’re done patching him up. You give a slight nod in return.

You pass your thumb softly over the band-aid to make sure that it doesn’t fall off and then you meet Jason’s eyes again, that look just like a kicked puppy’s. Shining with oncoming tears and wide in fear of what is going to come next.

“I owe you an explanation.” He finally says with a sigh of resignation and you shake your head.

“Jason, you don’t-”

“No, let me do this. I need to do this. It’s the least I can do, I owe it to you.” He says, taking your hands in his, one of which still was caressing his eyebrow and stares at them as he can’t help but begin to rub soft circles into the back of them.

Goosebumps raise all over your skin.

Jason takes a deep breath before he starts talking. It seemed like you still cared about him but would you still do so once he finally explained everything and told you the truth?

He didn’t want to get his hopes up. But he knows that he can’t delay this anymore. He doesn’t want to.

As he begins, a cracking thunder sounds in the distance, shaking the foundations of the road that you two have been building together to its core.

The question being, would it stand the storm?

You listen to him intently. He doesn’t look at you once, instead deciding to focus on your joined hands. Grabbing onto a last part of you before he lets you go forever.

“And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I totally understand that you may not want to see me anymore. I betrayed your trust and that’s unforgivable. Some of the things that I’ve done…” He shakes his head. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. Please know that. You mean so much to me. And even though it breaks me having to remove myself from your life, I know that it’s for the best.”

“Jason, I-”

“No, no. Let me finish please.” He continues ranting. “I promise you that I won’t let the feelings that I have for you get in the way. I will go out that door tonight and never come back again. I’ll let you get on with your life.”

You’re fairly sure that he doesn’t even realize half the things that he’s saying. It’s like he has opened a gate and now not only is he apologizing and telling you the truth about everything, but he’s also letting his feelings for you finally come to the surface, unable to stop himself. He’s so caught up in everything that he leaves them out in the open without even realizing it.

And you just want to smile. Because Jason Todd has feelings for you too. And he has just said it out loud. You try to conceal your beaming smile to not scare him away. He’s way too much into his own head now, spiraling around the fact that he has to remove himself from your life as some sort of self-imposed punishment and in order to at least spare himself a part of the pain that would come from you outright kicking him away.

But you would never do that. Because even with everything that he has just told you and the things that he hasn’t yet, because you know that his story is a lot longer than what an evening can hold and holds a lot more things and very much darker ones than what he has revealed for the moment, you still want to be here with him. You still want him in your life.

Nothing could make you want to stay away from Jason Todd.

Not even himself.

And if there’s one thing that you’re stubborn about is that you’re always there for the people that you care about.

You just need to make him see that. To make him see how important he is to you. And you’re going to do everything you can so that he does.

You call his name again, trying to center his attention back to you but he keeps rambling.

You can only think of one thing that might finally make him stop and listen to you while also making him realize how you feel about him.

You have never done something as bold as this before. And there’s still a knick of doubt in the back of your mind, but the mere possibility of Jason leaving and the fact that the safety line that you two had drawn about your friendship and your feelings is fully difuminated now after his unintentional confession, almost as if it had never actually been there, has you determined. You want to think that it would turn out right.

And if not, at least you would get to do something that you had wanted to do for a very long time.

So, after firmly saying his name once more, and one of your hands getting out of his hold and tilting his head towards you, just when his eyes finally, finally, lock with yours for a quick second, you press your lips to his.

It’s not a long kiss and there isn’t much movement but you hope that you’re conveying everything that you feel for him and more. You can tell that Jason’s caught by surprise but it doesn’t take long at all for him to slowly press his lips against yours, returning your kiss. He lets himself melt into it and you do too. You feel warm all over and then you both sigh against each other, the two of you having fallen off the tightrope and finding that not only there’s a safety net beneath you, but an infinite number under it, one after the other, in the impossible case that one might break.

A soft place to land, a warm embrace.

You think that you could die happily right now.

You part, not wanting to overwhelm him but just from that taste you can already feel yourself slightly dizzy in the best kind of way. You slowly open your eyes and see Jason already looking at you, not believing what has just happened. You take a deep breath. Might as well put the nail in the coffin now. Cement the road.

“I’m in love with you Jason. All that makes you be you. Including being Red Hood. And I’m not going anywhere. And I really, really hope that you aren’t either.” You whisper.

“I’m a mess.”

You tilt your head with a small smile. “Aren’t we all?”

“Are you sure?” He whispers back, caressing your hair, still giving you an out, a last chance for you to escape him and all his problems, before his instincts take over and he latches himself onto you forever and never lets you go.

You nod, not faltering in your resolve. “Yes.”

“I’m in love with you too. I love you.” He says next and nothing has ever felt so liberating. Jason feels light, floating. And all he wants to do now is say it over and over again, just in case that you might still not be aware of how much he loves you.

“Good. That’s very, very good. I love you too.” You giggle, pressing your forehead to his, your noses brushing each other. Jason grins.

“Can you do that again?” He asks, his gaze dropping to your lips, already knowing that the day that he goes by without tasting them will be torture.

Your smile widens even more, if that’s even possible, and you kiss him once again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

After that, everything stayed more or less the same. Jason kept coming into the bookshop several times a week, buying books and checking out some others.

Except that now, he also kissed you everytime he did so.

Except that now, you went on very official dates, not ones that could be mistaken by a friendly hangout.

Except that now, you paid a lot more attention to any news about Red Hood.

Except that now, you always patched him up.

Except that now, you spent nights in each other's beds.

And right now, you’re very confused.

Your brows knit as you try to understand what is in front of you. The computer screen showing the details of a book order that you had made for the bookshop a while ago but that hadn’t arrived, not making any sense.

You’re so concentrated that you barely register the jingle of the bell above the entrance door. Out of the corner of your eye you feel a figure come to stand in front of the counter.

“Just a second, please. I’ll be right with you.” You say almost automatically, trying to see if you can just wrap your head around what you’re reading on the screen, though you doubt that a few more seconds will make any difference. But still, you’re adamant to try.

“It’s okay. I’m just looking for my girlfriend.” The figure says and your head lifts up so fast at the voice that you should be worried about getting whiplash. But you don’t care.

Because there he is.

Jason Todd.

Your boyfriend.

You still feel giddy inside every time that you think about it.

You let out a small gasp before your lips twist into a wide smile and you might as well be The Flash with how quickly you round the counter and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Jason’s smile is just as radiant as yours as he watches you come to him and gets ready for when you crash into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and giving you a slight spin when your feet lift off the floor due to the force of your hug.

He closes his eyes and breathes you in while he hugs you and brings you even closer to him, if that’s even possible. Your bodies merged into one in your embrace.

Never in his wildest dreams would Jason have ever thought that he would find himself in this situation. One in which you rush to meet him glowing with happiness. One in which he gets to kiss you without the fear of being rejected and one in which he’s able to call himself yours. He never would have believed any of that when he stepped foot into the bookshop that fateful night, which he was sure would be the last time he would ever get to see you.

He still can’t believe how lucky he is to have you. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you want him. That you accept all of his demons and that you help him fight them. That you love him. He will never take it for granted.

God, he loves you so much.

Your feet touch the floor once again but he doesn’t let go. He lets his senses overwhelm with you, everything about you enveloping him and not letting him feel anything that isn’t you. Your scent, the feel of your hair tickling his cheek, your arms around him. He doesn’t want to ever let you go.

He’s finally home.

Two weeks and a half is too long without you.

You think the very same about him as you do the exact same with him, your senses taking every part of him in, committing him to memory once again, even though you already know them like the back of your hand.

The feel of his soft hair as you run your fingers through it, just like you had dreamed so many times before, the scent and feel of his leather jacket beneath your arms.

God, you love him so much.

You finally pull back and look up at him with stars in your eyes. And then, without sparing another second, he dips down to kiss you. Or you pull up to kiss him, you’re not sure.

The only thing that matters is that his lips are finally back on yours and that’s all you need to know. You kiss him deeply, savoring him after being apart for so long and he kisses you back just as eagerly, loving the feeling of finally having you back in his arms.

And just like everytime that you kissed, like the very first time, it feels like a dream. Because you still can’t believe that he’s yours and that you’re his.

It was a long time coming.

But it turns out that you two are still human and therefore still need to breathe, so you both pull away but only what is strictly necessary to regain your breaths. Your chests and foreheads are still pressed together and lips inches from each other, so close that you can’t tell which breaths are his and which breaths are yours.

Your fast beating hearts falling into the same rhythm, syncing once again, going as one.

One of your hands holds the side of his face, softly caressing his cheek, so smooth that he must have shaved that very same morning. You feel his grip on your waist tighten.

“What are you doing here?” You finally say between giggles, the drug of his proximity, like always, making pure happiness run through your veins.

“Wrapped the case early.” He answers breathlessly before not being able to resist anymore and kissing you again.

You can’t help the smile on your lips while you kiss him and you can feel another one pulling at his own. When you separate once again you smile at each other, your eyes shining with love and affection for one another.

Jason had left earlier that month to help Dick with a case in Blüdhaven for a few days but then the thing had gotten bigger and dragged them all the way to Metropolis, making his trip longer than what he had first anticipated.

And then earlier in the week he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to return until the end of it. But here he was. Holding you in his arms and kissing you on a peaceful Wednesday afternoon.

“Everything went well?” You ask, not daring to tear your eyes away from his, only perhaps to steal a quick look at his lips.

“Yeah. All good.”

Before either of you can say anything else or even try to kiss each other again, Rose, Jimmy and Charlie, all of whom had been chatting over coffee in the break room, emerge at all the fuss.

“What’s all this?” Says Charlie with a smile as you and Jason disentangle, though he keeps you tucked into his side with a respectful arm around your waist.

“Just a young lovers reunion, Charlie.” Answers Rose.

“Sorry for intruding on, kiddos.” Adds Jimmy.

“It’s okay.” You say.

“You must be this Jason that I’ve heard so much about.” Charlie comments.

“Yes, sir. And you must be the famous Charlie. Nice to meet you.” Jason answers while shaking his hand, though not before throwing you a glance that makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and hide your face in his shoulder for a second. So you talked about me too huh?

“You too. My grandchildren are going to be devastated that you’re with someone now, darling.” Charlie says jokingly towards you now.

“Sorry, Charlie.” You respond with an apologetic smile.

“It’s good to see you, sweetie.” Says Rose to Jason to which Jimmy nods in agreement.

“It’s great to be back home.” He answers and you feel his hand give your waist a slight squeeze.

Shivers run down your spine.

You look up at Jason lovingly, a gaze that he returns, and you’re so lost in each other that neither of you see the smiles and look of recognition that the elders have in their faces, having themselves experienced a love like yours that still lasted to this day.

“Go, honey. Take the rest of the day.” Rose offers. You turn to her surprised but you can’t help but to also be excited at the possibility of going out with Jason already. Maybe to see Lily and the other kids, since Jason hadn’t seen them since he left, though you had of course shown up to check on them and continue with the readings, or maybe to eat something at Millie and Ruby’s.

But you don’t care as long as Jason’s with you. There were so many possibilities and you two had all the time in the world. And you were going to seize every single second of it. You two had wasted enough time already.

You also already know that Jason’s either spending the rest of the week at your apartment or you’re spending it at his.

“Are you sure?” You ask Rose.

“Yeah, go have fun, kids.” Jimmy confirms. You thank them before smiling brightly at Jason and then going to get your bag and coat.

As you and Jason make your way towards the door, Charlie speaks up once again.

“You’re treating her right, I suppose.”

Jason looks at you as he opens the door of the bookshop before turning back to Charlie.

“Always.” He says without hesitating and Charlie nods, glad with his answer.

The elders watch you go, happy that you two have each other. They watch how Jason moves the hand on the small of your back to take your hands between his and blow into them to warm them up in the cold Gotham air. And how you then zip his jacket all the way up, adjusting the collar so that it would protect him as much as possible, both of you smiling and looking at each other fondly, before you disappear from their view hand in hand.

Because as it turns out, it isn’t really a surprise when the road stays as strong and sturdy as ever after that cracking thunder.

Because that night, the days after and over time, Jason told you everything. About his past, about his family. And over time all that you did was fall even more for him, loving every part, every scar that he decided to show you. And he did the exact same for you.

Because in the end, he still was your Jason, the kind and handsome young man who always checked out children’s books and wore leather jackets.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[cloudluvrrr]

fluff with obsessive (ok sounds hella creepy lmao) madly in love sunday but NOT LIKE THE YANDERE TYPE IF YK WHAT I MEAN. LIKE THE TYPE WHERE HE WILL WORSHIP THE GROUND U WALK AND THANK THE AEONS HE BREATHES THE SAME AIR AS U

basically sunday who sees you as the aeon of beauty herself

a/n: i love sunday guys hes so cute i wish he wasnt so negative and traumatized. Also idk if it was but i just made him like love bomb you but its permanent and he just loves you a lot and worships you and also general ideas 😭🙏

loving! sunday x g/n reader

Angel

virtual angel - artms

--

-hes very busy, with meetings and constantly is in his office. Reviewing plans or studying the scripture. But he never fails to send you texts

'hello angel <3'

"I will be home late, please don't stay up for me <3."

“I’ve made us restaurant reservations, so be ready when I get home <3.”

-his texts are always grammatically correct, since hes always writing to his colleagues or to other families.

-but sometimes he tried to incorporate emoticons.

“How are you my angel? :3”

“These meetings are boring. ;-;”

"Hello darling, I bought take out! o((>ω< ))o"

-he’s so cute

-but he often checks in when he has a chance too, and often responds quickly. And always ends his message with a heart.

-when speaking of you or to you he smiles with his eyes closed. He will find any excuse to talk about you

-and he’ll likely bring your flowers after a long day, as an apology for taking too long.

-taking you to his 'family' dinners, and parties.

-and help you dress up and even put on your makeup, jewelry, and help you with your zipper/tie/buttons.

-kissing your cheek, and shoulder as he does. Whispering sweet things in your ear.

-he'll always have things for you incase of an emergency as well, if you find yourself with a spill or your shoes are hurting. He'll tell his assistant to bring you a new pair and escort you to a private room.

-during parties he'll drag you away, to walk around just the two of you

—

Your sitting on the couch on your phone, reading the latest news before your attention is turned to the door opening. Revealing Sunday as he carried a small bouquet of flowers “I apologize the florist didn’t have any that were bigger my love” he began as he closed the door “I’ll buy you bigger ones next time”

"you and your gifts for me sunday" you spoke taking the flowers from him and arranging them. "I love giving you things, I have money to throw around why not spend it on my lovely fiance" he replied playing with your hair, and burying his nose into your collarbone "you're so wonderful... " he uttered his hands gently rubbing your waist "so perfect.. I love you very much you know"

--

-Sunday only works during the week, on weekends he's all yours.

-you both wake up late in his expensive bed, he'll be all over you in the morning whispering sweet nothings.

-he'll make breakfast, whatever you want he'll make.

-Making a plan of what you want and organize the day to fit your schedule. Ordering his driver around and having a private shopping day

-giving anyone a look if they look at your a little weird

-buying you anything and everything 'I dont have any other use for my credits' he'd say as he placed another ring on your finger.

--

"Sunday I can make pancakes" you huff trying to take the spatula from his thin fingers

"You work too hard, It time for me to pamper you" he said slyly, bringing up your hand and kissing your knuckles. "You do that every week"

"oh do I? I guess i forget" he chuckles flipping the pancakes.

"Would you like bacon with that my love?"

--

-you spend weekends together, in restaurants or shopping.

-or just at home lazing around, watching tv, scrolling through social medias or just petting his wings.

-he spoils you in every shape and form.

-buying you earrings, rings, necklaces and all kinds of stuff that'll make you happy

--

"this looks lovely on you doesn't it" he said pulling out a frilly shirt, with a gentle smile. "Sunday I have that one in 3 colors"

"it looks so beautiful on you why not have one more" he said putting up again your torso "its on sale as well" he added placing it on the overfilled basket

--

- He'll try to hide his stress and his own emotions from you, in an effort to not affect you.

-sometimes he'll open up about his past if hes tipsy enough, his wing piercings, his clipped wing on his torso, his trauma with the family, loosing his mother.

-especially when its something with that gopher fuck gopher wood

-you could tell when he was anxious, he would touch his piercing on his wing or play with his gloves

-that and he'll be spacing out during dinner

--

"did something happen a work" you asked taking his hand from his wing. "Nothing to worry your pretty head about" he said calmly kissing your hand, and smiling. "your sure.. you seem antsy" you insist "Just a bit antsy for the festival.. Hoping everything will be perfect, especially you. We have to find a new outfit for you don't we?"

--

-he was always a smooth talker and manipulative, hes able to easily do it when your worried as well.

-he does it so you dont think about it too much, as well as using gifts to lead you away from the conversation

-he doesn't like manipulating his love he'll avoid it, but its so you dont ask too many questions.

--

"I love you, you know that" he said not looking up from his desk, as he spoke to you over the phone "I know that.. I'm just worried you know, you haven't taken any days off this week." you vocalized as he continues his paper work "I'll make us reservations at your favorite restaurant" he suggests finally picking up the phone

"Sunday.. I just want to know you're okay"

"I am my angel, please stop worrying we'll see eachother at dinner. I love you, alright? I love you.. very much" he murmured before hanging up. His mind had many thoughts but you were always on top, he smiled to himself as he looked as the many photos of you on his desk.

--

Sunday loves you very much, his only regret it not showing it more. As he fell from the penacony theatre, his eyes following the horizon as he envisioned your smile. The only thing giving him hope, that he'll survive this fall.

-

STREAAM TTYL BY LOOSEMBLE GUYSYY

also kinda got carried away 😔😔

-- navi >.<

[remxedmoon]

“the valiant bison. it leaps to protect its fellow creatures, but not you.”

hooved

2 power - 8 health - 3 blood

protector - when a creature on this card’s side of the field is about to take damage, this card will jump forward to take the hit instead.

sharp quills - once a card bearing this sigil is struck, the striker is then dealt a single damage point.

BISABEAU!! YIPEEE! and a fancy custom sigil to go with him! wow! writeup below, as always

that custom sigil huh!! i had to rewrite that description SO MANY TIMES and it STILL ISN’T PERFECT GRAAAA. i couldn’t fit it into the proper description, but isa’ll return to his original spot after taking the hits. he basically redirects all attacks on his teammates to himself. like a moleman but in reverse.

also ^ he won’t try to protect terrain cards! because that’s a boulder. not his friends. the entire concept around the sigil is based around him protecting his friends from harm.

sharp quills is there to let him counterattack while covering for his allies! fun fact, in my original concept for this card, this was replaced with the mighty leap sigil?? for some reason??? even though airborne cards can’t attack cards on the field?????? idk what my thought process there was. thank god i caught that before finalizing his card

don’t ask how he has sharp quills btw. it’s uhh. his horns. yes. the quills are his horns.

i went back and forth between calling him a bison or a buffalo. his design was based more on water buffalo than american bison? but i ended up going with bison just because it was shorter lol. plus the bisabeau pun. i am beholden to the pun.

you might’ve noticed that the patch is in a different spot here! i couldn’t find a spot that didn’t cover an important part of the card. so i had to go through the miserable experience of moving the patch and cutting it out even more thoroughly to prevent it from messing up the pixels around it. somehow that damn patch was harder to make than the CUSTOM SIGIL.

speaking of the sigil patch. he gets burrower! which makes him move to any empty space that’s about to be attacked. functionally, this means that ALL damage on the board will get redirected to him. except for airborne attacks i guess

this card doesn’t have a hidden trait! and there’s a reason for that! because…

“a meek, unassuming calf. it has not yet learned its own strength.”

hooved

0 power - 2 health - 2 blood

fledgling - a card bearing this sigil will grow into a more powerful form after 1 turn on the board.

clinger - when one of your creatures is placed in a space, a card bearing this sigil will move towards them as far as possible.

TWO CARDS!! he gets to have a fledgling form :3

fledgling is self explanatory i think? i wanted to keep some kind of reference to his Change and this was the best way i could think of! lil baby thing based on his past self…

clinger is a sigil from act 3! it’s like. only on the lonely wizbot i think. initially i was just going to give them sprinter (which makes them move to a different space after attacking) but it felt… too similar to the elk fawn for my liking. and it felt more appropriate character-wise

this card is also part of the reason why i went with bison. buffalo calf is a long name!!!

idk how well it comes across but they have their lil braid!! i wanted to include the glasses in some way but it felt a little out of place with the card design. so they only have the braids. a necessary sacrifice

i realize that burrower is a TERRIBLE sigil for this card but! i had to keep it consistent with his mature form. hope your bison calf doesn’t fling itself into danger and die! oops!

that’s everything to do with these cards! phew! that was a lot of text. here’s the patchless versions!

[reidsdimples]

Confetti 🎉

Spencer Reid x bau!Reader

Just cute 💝

“It’s not too much! How could it be too much?!” Penelope exclaims as she tosses confetti onto and around Spence’s desk.

You frown, especially because she picked the tiny confetti that finds its way into everything. Spencer will hate it.

“You just wanna torture him,” you shake your head and grin.

“You remember that time he filled my office drawer with those spring loaded snakes? Nearly gave me a heart attack! He gets what he deserves in the form of too much confetti love,” she quips as she dumps the smaller confetti into his drawer.

“Baby girl, you have your own office. We’ll never hear the end of what you’re doing to the kid,” Derek cuts in and drapes an arm over her shoulder.

“Shh! He’ll be here any minute!” Penelope says.

“Lights out, he’s in the elevator,” Hotch says more stoically.

The surprise party probably could have happened anywhere. But he would be least expecting it in the bullpen and as a result of a late night text from Hotch.

You crouch down and fiver nervously with the horn noise maker thing. Emily drags JJ behind a desk as the elevator dings open.

Spence pauses before opening the glass door, suspicion painted over his soft features. He glances through the glass briefly, furrows his eyebrows like he does when he’s thinking, and sighs.

“He’s suspicious,” you whisper to Penelope who swats your arm.

Just then Rossi exits the elevator. Your saving grace and plan B in case he decided to back out.

“I wonder what Hotch has for us,” he smiles knowingly at Spence before ushering him through the glass door. You can tell he so wanted to back out.

“SURPRISE!” The team jumps out with a roar of noise makers and clapping.

“Happy birthday Spence!”

“Happy birthday kid!”

An onslaught of attention is turned towards him and he sweetly smiles and takes it all in.

“Wow I didn’t expect this,” he lies. “Thanks everyone!”

“Happy birthday, you,” you nudge him sweetly. His face lights up when you talk to him, causing your heart to flutter.

You’re starting to think this crush isn’t just one sided. You hope, anyway.

Spencer kind of took you under his wing when you arrived at the BAU six months ago.

“It’s everywhere!” Spencer exclaimes upon inspecting his desk and drawers.

The team collectively points at Penelope who smiles wide with pride.

“That’ll teach you to put spring loaded critters in my desk!” She teases.

Spencer bites his lip and nods in a touchè manner and you find yourself smiling almost too hard. His cheeks are reddened and it always so cute.

Pizza is delivered and cake is cut while everyone socializes. You see that Spence occasionally turns his attention to picking confetti off of his desk, it seems to really bother him.

While he and JJ converse with Rossi, you decide to start emptying his drawers so you can dump the confetti out. It doesn’t take very long, mostly folders and a few fidget toys are scattered within them.

You’re dumping out the second drawer when he appears.

“What are you doing?” He asks and sits on the edge of the desk.

“It seemed to really bother you,” you answer as you tried the contents of his drawer.

“I’m pushing the meeting to ten am tomorrow, go home and get some sleep!” Hotch instructs the team abruptly. It was one am so there was a collective sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” Spence smiles. “I can do the rest tomorrow.”

“No it’s okay, I don’t mind,” you insist. “Go home and get some sleep. It won’t take long.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N,” Emily hugs you and then JJ.

“See you guys!” You wave them off.

Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Penelope leave in tandem. Penelope offered to help you clean the confetti but you told her to go home, she had already decorated the entire office. You could clean it up.

“Shouldn’t you be going,” you point to the elevator closing on the rest of the team.

“No I’m going to help. You can’t get rid of me so don’t even try,” Spence teases you playfully.

You huff a small laugh, smiling to yourself as you shake your head. He’s so cute.

“Huh?” Spence says suddenly. Wait, did I murmur something?

“What?” You turn to him, flustered.

“I swear you said ‘so cute,’” he tilts his head as he pops a balloon in his hand. You jump at the sound.

“I- uh- no,” you stammer. Your cheeks heat which is a dead give away.

“You’re stuttering, your breathing increased, your face is red… you’re lying,” he seems amused.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” You slap his arm with an embarrassed smile. You rush past him back to his desk to keep cleaning.

The next few minutes drag on awkwardly, neither of you knowing what to say next. Spence seemingly having little experience in the flirting department.

“Okay fine, I thought it was cute that you insisted on staying and helping despite the mess driving you crazy,” you cross your arms and lean against the wall.

You watch him closely as he turns his head toward you from where he’s leaning over his desk. His long hair and sharp jaw line causes your heart to skip a beat. His brown eyes meet yours as he articulates what exactly he’s going to say.

“You think I’m cute?” He asks, standing to his full height with all of his attention on you. No I think you’re fucking drop dead sexy but sure cute works. A small grin plays in his lips as he awaits your response.

“It’s a crush, really a small crush. And I’m sorry. It’s so inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said anything,” you ramble off and turn away from him.

Something about admitting this makes him intimidating. Especially because he’s walking towards you, fixated and silent. The gears turning in his big giant brain and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

“I like you too,” his voice comes out hoarse, a near whisper and he’s right behind you.

You turn back towards him as he pushes his hair back, he swallows hard, his face and neck now colored pink.

He’s nervous, disheveled, adorable.

You push yourself up on your tiptoes and kiss him quickly, just a small kiss. It shocks him, his eyes widening. His tongue runs across his bottom lip and then he’s grabbing your face in his hands.

He kisses you softly, sweetly. Your hands run down his arms and tangle into his shirt. You’re against the wall and his kissing you slowly, as though to take in and taste you completely. His soft lips taste better than you could have imagined as you push your tongue out to find his.

Shit.

The moment goes on in perfect passionate kissing and touching. His hands find your waist, your hips, your lower back, and your body comes alive for him. Small breathy sounds escape as you both fight for air and dominance in the kiss.

Finally you break it, pulling back and looking up at him. His lips are slightly swollen now, his pupils blown wide, and his hair messy from your hands.

“Happy Birthday, Dr. Reid,” you whisper against his lips before kissing him again.

[cabi-leodrann]

hi, person from infodump question here again! i feel like im being nosy but i couldn't help but notice those little symbols near each character on the ref sheets and that they seem to have a pattern to them. i did decipher the easy ones, like the top elements being the species, the elements of each crown, the little circles at the top of the desciples' symbols, but that's pretty much it. if it isn't spoilery, i would love to see the system of these symbols! it seems very intricate and intentional, like those half-sun elements have different number of x-es at their sides depending on what character we're looking at

if you don't want to reveal this yet it's completely alright, just know that i noticed aha

hehehehehe You fool! YOU'VE ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD ANON-FROM-INFO-DUMP-QUESTION! YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO READ MY RANT ABOUT THE WRITTEN LANGUAGE I MADE FOR LAMB! HAHAHAHAHAH You won't need to know this language to understand THaB. It's more for flavor and world-building, so you will see the language in the comic, but if asked, I will give the translation! This language is not very developed, I didn't really have the occasion/time/energy to use it extensively- There are problems with it, things will change over time, but this ask is the occasion to put down what I've got, nice and clean! Thank you very much to @wowowhy and @greenycartoon for your precious help✨ _ _ _ _ _ A BIT OF CONTEXT: This language has no spoken form, it was made to keep/give simple informations and/or orders. It is exclusive to Lamb and their disciples, as nobody else knows how do read it. Very useful to have secret/private written instructions to not cause a fuss in the flock. Context and interpretation are an important part of reading, as this language is not as precise as our modern languages.

HOW TO READ:

The text is written on a straight line, called the guide. It crosses symbols/glyphs throughout the whole sentence. It starts at the base of the first glyph, and ends by crossing the last.

(The post is REALLY long, so Imma put the magic "Read More" button here- I will put the symbol's lexicon at the very end)

-Head/person glyphs are NEVER crossed by the guide, no matter where you put them. It represents sentient beings, and can be customized to match the person's specie and/or looks. -Place Glyphs are pretty vague, and are not really used on their own. -Particles are additions to symbols to give more (often abstract) information. They can change the meaning of the glyph/verb they are attached to. -Punctuations and Regular Glyphs are pretty self explanatory. Punctuations are attached to the guide, unlike Particles which are attached to glyphs. To make a plural of a Regular Glyph, just put it twice, using the guide as a symmetrical axis. _ _ _ _ _

SUBJECT: It is always first in a sentence, and the guide starts from it. There are multiple different structures to format a subject:

-You can use a single glyph (fig.a) for simple concepts, otherwise you use a 3 Part Subject (fig.b). - For the 3 Part Subject, you start with the glyph of the head/object/type of place you are talking about. Then you use the other 2 slots to describe it further by adding other glyphs. The order is important, and there are different kinds of structures.

1- If you put a Head glyph first, followed by a glyph representing an object, and then nothing, you're describing the person's job. 2- A Head glyph in first slot and a Place glyph in last indicate the person in charge of the place. 3- An empty first slot with a Place glyph at the end gives a specific location. The middle slot indicates what this location is about. You don't need to fill the 3 slots. Just add a little line to the unused slot. -The 3 Part Subject with the "hats" is a Cartouche (fig.c), you use those to write names! Cartouche are a bit of an exception to the importance of placement and which glyph goes before/after which. The focus is more on the individual glyph rather than its interactions. You always put a Head in the first slot, then 1 to 2 glyphs signify important features. (The 3 slots limit can be broken if needed, but it's not common. Don't be like him.) -The Closed Cartouche (fig.d) is an abridged version of a cartouche . You don't really want to write the full cartouche again and again, so you can take a Closed Cartouche, and put the most recognizable glyph. (Often, it's the Head glyph, but if there are multiple names with a similar Head glyph, you could use another glyph of the cartouche)

_ _ _ _ _

VERBS: symbolized by a sideways parenthesis that includes the next glyph. This combo gives you a verb. If the action influences something/someone, you put the influenced concept after the verb's glyph, and then you close the verb. You always close your verb, except if it is at the end your sentence. In this situation, you leave it as is.

Some verbs have multiple uses, and change meaning depending on the structure. Here we have the verb "give", that becomes "exchange". The meaning changes when you add a comma (green) after the verb, and it is followed by the object being exchanged. The glyph of the person being interacted with is put at the end.

Particles give the state of what it's attached to, and can be attached to every glyph. Here you have the use of particles on a Head glyph (ex.1), and a verb (ex.2).

When half a particle is used to describe a physical attribute, write it down as you would if that person is facing you. Ratau and Loki's left eyes are injured, but in the cartouche, its inscribed as the injured eye on your right. _ _ _ _ _

PUNCTUATION:

Question Marks are the only instance where the first glyph is not the subject.

Commas are used to indicate a pause between parts of a sentence or separating items in a list. With commas, you can have multiple verbs, and/or multiple concepts that the action influences in one sentence. A lack of commas is the end of a list.

If/Then Commas are used to indicate the influence of the first part of the sentence onto the second. It can replace "Because" "So" "Therefore" ect.

Time arrows are used to indicate when a sentence is temporally affected by the Past/Future, but can also be used as a particle. Time Arrows follow the sentence they influence. They ends when you finish a sentence, or at a comma. When ending at a comma, if the rest of the sentence is still affected, you need to draw the arrow again. The Continuous Arrow (following the guide) is a special kind of Time Arrow, used to symbolize an action lasting in time. _ _ _ _ _

NUMBERS:

Numbers act like normal glyphs, but with the additional dots to indicate the beginning and end of it.

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LEXICON:

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello~!

So may I request a poly ghost face (from 1996) where they have an autistic trans!reader. Ik a lot (I'm projecting) the reader stims vocally by mimicking what they say, and they have a special interest (am like bugs, gore, sharks, dinosaurs, something around those lines yk? I feel like gore would fit) the reader rambles and rants Abt their special interest a lot! Just those kinds of things. I feel like you'd be able to capture this perfectly, thank you! Have a wonderful time zone :)

Poly Ghostface x autistic trans male reader

Headcanons

I always headcanon Stu as having something like ADHD, or just more hyperactive autism.

Been a while since I wrote about these two, huh? I’ve kinda missed em, ngl. Hope it’s alright I took some liberties with the hyperfixations :)

I can imagine that maybe you were friends with Stu when you were kids, because you were both “weird” in other people’s opinion. Stu because he was too hyperactive and could never sit still, and you because of your weird interests and how you were quite antisocial at times.

Time would pass, you guys would grow older. Stu would become someone popular, as his erratic and hyper personality becomes something others admire because he’s fun, whilst you stay being the weirdo with too much interest in medical texts, insects, and decomposition.

Neither of you meant to do it, but you would grow apart. Stu would get his new friends, specifically Billy, and you would stay by yourself burying yourself in your special interests. Its not strange to find you flipping through medical books or books about the horrors of war and medical malpractice. The more pictures the better.

When its not medical texts and war pictures with as much gorey detail as possible in the text and pictures, you can be found reading about death and the work of being a mortician, the way a body decays, and all that.

And when its neither of those things, you can be found looks at bugs, lifting rocks or moving trash to see what critters you can find. You have a sketchbook you like to draw in, three ones at that, one for each hyperfixation since you don’t wanna mix the information in them.

Its in the many niche medical books you learn about being transgender, and suddenly how uncomfortable you are in your own body makes sense. You don’t need any friends, or your families support to transition, that’s what you tell yourself at least.

You haven’t really had any real friends since you split form Stu when you were kids, and your creepy interests chase off anyone who might attempt to befriend you.

So, when you show up one day to school and openly tell people you are now a boy, no one really questions it, because why would they? You’re already weird, and compared to all your other quirks, being a boy is probably the most normal thing about you.

Through all these years you haven’t experienced as much bullying as you probably would have anywhere else, all thanks to Billy and Stu.

Stu because he still sees you as his friend in some way, and Billy because he’s fascinated by you. One day after you had come out, he walked behind you and saw you drawing detailed diagrams of top surgery in grotesque detail, and Billy has been hooked since.

At some point you and Billy would end up talking, one way or another. Maybe it was at the video store around Halloween one night, maybe the year Sidney’s mom died, and Billy would ask your opinion on the horror movie selection.

Youd grimace and say they sucked since the gore was so unrealistic, which Billy, the freak, would definitely ask into why you thought so. This would lead to you infodumping to him for a long time, going through multiple movies and explaining how its unrealistic and what would have made it better.

As infodumping goes, you don’t even realize how long you’ve been standing there talking to one of the hottest guy at your school about fictional gore, until Randy has to tell you guys that the store is closing soon.

You end up getting real embarrassed about wasting his time like that, which Billy is quick to tell you that nothing was wasted because he loved talking about it with you and hearing what you had to say. He would love to talk again some time.

You don’t really believe him, until he searches you out the next day in your shared free period when you are sitting outside drawing bugs and beetles, dragging Stu with him of all people. You haven’t actually interacted with Stu in a while, so you cringe and get jitters when he hugs you and gets into your personal space.

Its Billy who has to remind him of personal space, and before you know it, they’ve asked in about your special interests, and then they just sit back as you infodump and show them the pictures and drawings you have in all three of your sketchbooks, making the two Woodsboro killers fall for you harder and harder.

Time would pass and you three would start spending a lot of time together, Billy and Stu always hanging around you to listen to what you have to say, never growing tired no matter how much you infodump.

Stu would be the first to confess his feelings, as he feels fast and he feels strong, so one day when you two are laying on his bed and you’re talking about the difference between two beetles who look almost the exact same, whilst also talking about lungs and how they’re built, Stu just leans over and kisses you.

You would be so confused, until Stu tells you that he really likes you, he would even spill the beans that Billy feels the same way too. As if summoned, Billy would show up and Stu would be all like “right Billy? You like him too, right?” and Billy would facepalm cuz he planned on confessing in a much better way.

But hed agree and say he fell pretty damn hard for you, but neither rushes you in your decision as they know it’s a big step. I can imagine Stu also rambling about how hes always liked you since you were kids, even before you transitioned, and how he actually started liking you even more afterwards because you looked so much more comfortable with yourself and who you were.

At some point you would come to the conclusion that you felt the same way, and boom, now you got two boyfriends who like you for who you are, and would stab a bitch if they tried to disrespect you in any way, shape, or form.

When the ghostface killings happen, you wouldn’t be at the party since they are super overstimulating, but you would go to the hospital to check on Billy and Stu since they are the only “survivors”.

I thought it would be funny if you developed a special interest in the ghostface killers and started a fourth sketchbook filled with your notes and theories, but you would keep it hidden form Billy and Stu because you fear it would trigger their trauma, since you don’t know they are the killers.

The fourth sketchbook would also have rants you can’t put anywhere else, like how certain people have hatecrimed you because of your gender, or because you are “weird”, and how some dark sick part of your brain wants the ghostface killers to kill them.

At some point your boyfriends would find the sketchbook and go through it together, whistling as they see the detailed analysis made for each kill, and how you are so close to figuring it out. But when they read all the stuff you’ve written you never told them, it angers them that people have been hurting you without them knowing.

You wouldn’t have told them since you didn’t want to worry them, and it wasn’t their fight in your opinion. Billy and Stu decide that they have to pull out the masks once more, seems they have a couple of horrible people to get rid of for mistreating you.

Imagine your surprise when one night you walk into your room stimming with both your hands and repeating stuff that Billy and Stu said earlier that day, only to find not one, but two people wearing ghostface gear in your room.

It takes you a little too long to even spot them as you were scribbling in your death sketchbook, having gotten a sudden spark of inspiration on the way home from your apprenticeship as the local funeral home.

You almost get to scream before they pounce, never actually hurting you but clamping a hand over your mouth, their gloves wet with what you can smell is blood. After they make you promise to stay quiet, they unmask and reveal who they are.

You buffer like an old computer for a little too long, before smacking the shit out of both of them, wacking them in the chest for not telling you. Your opinion on death and murder are probably really twisted, and the people they’ve killed have either hurt you or you had no relationship with them.

It does light up every light in your hyperfixations though, and you might demand them to explain what killing someone is like, or what a freshly killed body looks like for your sketchbooks.

Billy would grin and try to kiss you, because how can you be so perfect? But you’d wave him off with a grimace and demand Stu explain once again what it was like stabbing someone so you can get it all down in your book.

I don’t know if youd join them as a third Ghostface, but they might take you along every now and then, letting you roam the place after they’ve done their thing if the chance is there. I could imagine them taking pictures of things for you too.

I’m imagining them both dressed up as ghostface, except no mask, both kissing at your cheeks and neck and being all lovey dovey and almost purring, whilst you are sketching down the different pictures and notes about them.

They love you so much, its insane. You’re gonna have them hanging on you for the rest of your life, sorry man, I don’t make the rules. Even if you move to another city and start studying to be a professor or like, investigator for the FBI, they would go with you. It would even help them in their Ghostface work as you are an expert in them not getting caught.

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

[v3nusxsky]

hello, this is my first time asking here so im kinda shy... maybe can u do a emily prentiss x fem!reader where emily for some reason finds a cowboy hat and put it on to show reader and that turns reader on, then reader needs emily to deal with her... maybe smut if you into it ? thanks, also im following you for a little time and im loving your stories, bye angel

Reverse Cowgirl 18+

*Authors note~ I was unsure on which direction I wanted to take this due to writers block but I low key love it and the last word of the ask seemed to incorporate itself well here, I hope you love it*

Trigger Warnings~ roleplay?? dom em sub r daddy Emily cowboy hat reverse cowgirl position strap oral praise kink degrading kink

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

It was so rare that you ever had time to spare from chasing serial killers all around the world, but thankfully today seemed to be a rare restful day. No phone buzzing at ungodly hours of the morning with the words "we got a case." No this morning you'd awoken to your favourite agent peacefully sleeping next to you. Your girlfriend, not that anyone else knew. These mornings were definitely your favourite. You often wonder how she gets away with looking so damn gorgeous but then again your too busy starring to care why, instead admiring her beauty.

A lazy morning with your love sounded absolutely perfect until your phone began buzzing on the nightstand. A silent pray for it to not be work, you answered the call to be greeted with an excited shriek form the one and only miss Penelope Garcia. "Pg!" You whined, "my ears Garcia, what do you need?" A little scoff made its way over the line, "you me JJ and Prentiss, shopping at noon. No excuses we need a girl day and I need to spoil my god sons. I'll text you the address, bye sweets!" And just like that she was gone. It wasn't a few seconds later, and your girlfriends phone buzzed too. Trying to contain your laughter as she attempted to wriggle out of the girls day, and her side glance at you while mouthing "traitor" before giving in and accepting that she needed to get up. After the phone call ended you promised if Emily got out of bed you could shower together, apparently that was all the motivation she needed.

After a shower that took twice as long as it normally would've due to Emily's wandering hands you finally secured breakfast and both left to meet the girls. Emily drove you both and honestly you'd be lying if you said her driving with a hand on your thigh didn't drive you insane, soon enough you were separating ways after a final kiss to avoid the suspicion. A part of you wished you could hold her hand in public or kiss her cheek but another part was too scared they'd try and reassign you to keep you both apart. You'd like to think Hotch wouldn't do that but you knew it was out of his control. Plus they didn't even know you were bisexual with a preference for women.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have fun watching Garcia absolutely raid the toy stores and clothing shops while JJ insisted they didn't need anything since the absolute flood of gifts on six months ago. Garcia always won those arguments, finding some kind of loophole somewhere which made you giggle, Emily grabbed everything a coffee in order to slip a little I love you on your cup and every chance she got she discreetly joined your hands under tables. Small things like that made your heart yearn for her.

Now to end up in a sexy shop wasn't on your to do list but with JJ and Wills anniversary coming up it wasn't surprising she wanted to get him something or someone to unwrap. Garcia wondering off to another toy store left you and Emily waiting for JJ. Both of you pretending to look around separately while mentally compiling a list of outfits to get,

Emily even going as far to look at some of the strap ons. Seeing a cow boy hat in a sex shop was certainly something unexpected yet you still couldn't resist putting it on.

"Fetch me my horse daddy" you giggled adding a southern drawl into your accent causing Emily to spin around in confusion. There you stood with a cow boy hat on your head, going surprisingly well with your braided hair, and a riding crop in your right hand, "I believe I found my ride" you whispered before cheekily winking at the stunned woman. While you were putting it back where up I found the accessories you completely missed the raven haired woman buying a certain something and slipping away to hide it.

By the time JJ returned with her gift Emily was back looking at objects in the room as if she'd never left. The imagine of you being her perfect cowgirl never leaving her mind, all the ways she could fuck you in that outfit. On all fours her hand gripping and tugging on your braids as she absolutely rails you from behind. Oh and you'd be so good for her, you always were. Her sweet little cow girl. Unbeknownst to you a silly little dress up would result into an absolutely desperate Emily tonight.

The journey back to Emily's apartment was blissfully normal until you arrived. There she went to the boot of the car and grabbed a cow boy hat. The hat suited her so well and you found yourself to distract to try and find out where she got it from due to the sticky wetness now dripping down your thick thighs. "God daddy so big! I need you" you whined pitifully as she came to hug you from behind, purposefully rubbing her bulge into your ass. That was new. She definitely wasn't packing when you left this morning that was for sure. God she knew how to drive you absolutely wild.

Emily allowed you to practically drag her into the apartment and straight to the bedroom, secretly loving how desperate a simple had made you, before pushing you into the wall and claiming your lips with hers. It was lustful and needy as if neither of you needed oxygen to breathe. Emily's right hand crept up your body until it made its way to its rightful place, your throat. Now with the gentle squeeze of her hand you were begging her to take you already. The nerd becoming unbearable for you. And Emily wasn't handling the need any better than you.

Clothing was torn from eachothers body before Emily gently lifted you so you could wrap your legs around her waist all while never losing your lips. A squeak of surprise flooded the room when your back hit the mattress, "Emily! Oh my gosh" you gasped, "what's got into you?" Perhaps it was a rhetorical question but she answered you anyway with a nip to the base of your throat, "you and that damn hat." You couldn't help but smirk, a harmless silly thing had turned her this needy for you.

Any reply you may have had died on your tongue as you felt her mouth creeping lower and lower until she met your needy cunt. By now your wetness was seeping onto the sheets, "god I need more" you whined impatiently, moving your hands to her hat to hold her in place. Emily was always talented in ever aspect of life, but the way she would plunge her tongue into your tight little hole and curl it just right was enough to drive you insane, but then when she would add two fingers and move her mouth to your aching bundle of nerves you honestly saw the stars. If there was one thing Emily prides herself on is how well you scream her name as she fucks you with her tongue. In fact she swears that she would spend forever between your thighs and die a happy woman.  Yet when your tugging her up for a break from the overwhelming sensations she still feels a little glee at what she planned to come next.

A few sweet kisses and some soft praises found you straddling her lap, the new strap on pressing against your soaking slit. "Please daddy" you whimpered only to be met with a shake of her head. "Nahuh angel, you're gonna ride my cock like a good cowgirl for me" she purred in your ear before helping swivel you around to face her legs. Then the hat was settled on your had before she finally slipped into your awaiting core. "Oh fuck yes so good, so big daddy fuck" you mewled as you slowly began to bounce on her cock. "God you're so fucking sexy, bend over cowgirl I wanna see how I spilt you in two."

The moment you finally bent so she could see how her faux cock moved in and out of your slippery hole she could've swore she almost lost her composure. But her patience was rewarded when soon all you were was a whiny mess hardly able to keep a rhythm. Hands gripped onto her thighs like a life line and yet you still couldn't do as you were asked to. "Such a pathetic whore for my angel, and you were being my sweet girl and yet now you can't even do what a common whore could. I'm disappointed Angel" she murmured placing her hands on your hips. A whine escaped you, "mm sorry daddy I be good girl mm sorry" you whimpered over and over until she finally took pity on you.

With a pace that was perfectly fast and rough Emily slipped out of your cunt, ignoring your whines of protest and flipped you on your hands and knees before slamming back into your needy pussy. From there on she kept a punishing pace. Her hands gripping your braids to steady herself as she attempted to burry her cock into your womb. And you came over and over for her that night until you were nothing but her little angel absolutely fucked dumb.

"Shhh sweetheart you did so good for me darling" she murmured in between kissing all over your face to distract you from her pulling out. "Such a pretty cowgirl for your daddy" was what caused you to blush like a mad woman. You knew the routine Emily would get up to get a cloth and clean the strap but you didn't want her to go. But you didn't have the brain function to do more than whine at her, trying to convey what you wanted. "Shh two seconds my love, we have to clean up then I'm all yours baby."

Two seconds was all it was, and then Emily was back in before allowing you to snuggle up on her chest as her hands threaded through your beautiful hair. "So proud of you sweet girl" she whispered not expecting you to whine and mumble "disappoint you" the clearest you could. "No angel, you're my good girl, I love you my little cowgirl, you did so well baby, now rest angel, I'm right here."

Word count 1880

[joaniscruzing]

LUNCH CH.5 b.e

HELLOOOOO YOU GUYSSSS

sorry it took so long to get this out, i had so much writers block writing this. My requests are open, since chapter 6 will be the last, I'm always looking for requests and ideas. Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Summary: Your first date with billie!!!

Contains: Fluff, slight angst, some song lyrics, making out, and suggested sex (smut is coming next chapter!!!!)

               You head home already missing Billie. You miss her touch and her kisses. You miss being with her under the covers of her bed where she held you. Where you felt safe. Even if you had wanted her, in a physical way, you had grown close to her as well, forming a deep platonic connection. You hoped that this date would go well, so that, maybe, just maybe later on, Billie would end up being your girlfriend. Who knows what her intentions were last night? What if she was just experimenting?

               What if you two weren’t meant to be together? You spent the morning reading a book and cleaning your apartment contemplating this. At around four o’clock, you started getting ready. You took at least an hour trying to look your best for Billie. Wearing a dress that accentuated your best features. Hair, styled at its best, to frame your face. Little rings on your finger, and of course, your daisy necklace that you always wore, still on your neck. Your vanilla perfume was sprayed on your neck and wrists, making sure you smelled your best. You wanted this to be the best date possible.

               You got into your car to drive to the restaurant when you receive a text from Billie.

               by the way I bought you something rare ;)

               the reservations under claire again

               see you soon babes

               What did that girl mean by something rare? Your stomach flip-flopped as you wondered. Sometimes Billie’s personality was too much for you to handle. While she was shy around you at first, her confidence grew with you, sometimes to the point that you would have to tease her right back to hide your flustration. And who could blame you? When Billie would look at you in the eyes, or lightly touch you on the shoulder, you were done for. After your little encounter with her last night, you now, head over heels, needed her.

               The funky song that had played as you drove the past few nights was playing again in your car. You turn off the radio, annoyed by it. You drive there, thirty minutes, in complete silence, just you and your swirling thoughts. This time, Billie was waiting at the door for you. She looked quite nice in the baggy shirt she was wearing, with a tie and dress pants. She had let her hair loose once again, letting it cascade past her shoulders to her waist. You knew she had one or two necklaces underneath, as she had told you the night before that she never took them off unless she absolutely had to. She smiled, unable to contain her excitement that you were here. Her hands were behind her back as you went up to her. She held out a small box for you to open. You opened it, and in the box, was a necklace, with the letter “B” on it, you assumed which stood for Billie.

               “You said your daisy necklace was starting to rust, so I got you something else. It’s real gold, so it shouldn’t tarnish,” she explained, a smile on her face.

               “I.. I love it. Thank you Billie,” you say. You turn around to hug her, unsure if you should kiss her too. However, Billie is unsure as well, so she just hugs you tightly.

               “Can you… put this on for me?” you ask Billie. You hope that she doesn’t find it weird, in case she had been just experimenting with you last night. She spins you around, as you hand her the box. She makes sure the necklace is at your desired length.

               “Should I take off the daisy necklace?” she asks.

               “Sure. I’ll put it in my pocket so I can put it away later.” You feel her fingertips slightly graze against the back of your neck as she finds the clasp for your daisy necklace. She hands it to you, to which you put it in your purse.

               “Want to head inside?” Billie asks, extending her hand to yours. Your face heats up, not expecting this to happen. You place your hand in hers, your fingers interlocking. The two of you head in. The hostess greets the two of you.

               “Six o’clock reservation for Claire, please,” Billie says to the hostess. You are led to a table for two, right next to a window, so the two of you can watch the sunset, you assume. You both sit in seats across from each other, meaning that you have to let go of each other’s hands. Even though Billie is right there, you miss her hand already.

               You are left together in awkward silence, neither of you sure of what to say.

               “So, how was your day today?” Billie asks, in an attempt to break the silence.

               “It was good. I read and cleaned my apartment for a bit, how about you?”

               “I was in the studio with Finneas. We’re working on a new song.”

               “Ooooo, can I hear it?”

               “Uhh… no. We just don’t want it getting leaked or anything.”

               “Do you think I’d leak it?”

               “No, it’s just,”

               “Just what? You don’t trust me?”

               “I do, it’s just” You struggle to hold back tears. This date really isn’t going the way you thought it was. Billie not trusting you to hear her song? It had been too unreal, you put together.

               “Just what?” you say, a slight break in your voice.

               “It’s about you,” she confesses finally, looking down.

               “Oh.” She looks at you nervously, the cutest smile that you can imagine creeping up on her face. You feel a big weight lifted off of her shoulders. Maybe this date was going to go well.

               “So,” you say, looking up at Billie, a teasing smile on your face, “what’s in that song that I can’t hear?”

               “You’ll hear it soon, babes, I promise.” Billie holds one of your hands again.

               “Can we talk about last night?”

               “I’m so glad you said that.”

               “Um, Billie, this isn’t just experimental, right?”

               “I don’t know if I said it before, but if I have, I’ll say it again. I’m interested in more than just being your friend.” Billie says, just like that. You have to admit, her confidence really is doing a number on you.

               “Good. Because I want to be more than friends as well.”

               Billie sighs out of relief, and then begins to tell you about something funny that Shark did during the day. She even pulls out her phone to show you a video. The waiter takes your orders just as the sun is about to set. You and Billie are almost being caressed by the golden light seeping in through the window from the sun. Your conversation comes to a small lull when the two of you are eating and enjoying your food. You notice that Billie is looking at you as you eat your food.

               “What are you looking at?” you ask Billie teasingly.

               “The wall, obviously. I’m looking at you, you pretty idiot.” Her kind words make you melt inside, and you wonder how you wound up in this situation with this good of a person. You two continue eating, sweet moments like that continuing throughout the night. This time, you pay the bill, despite Billie’s protests.

               “But I invited you for real this time! I should be paying!”

               “Well you paid last time.”

               You both drive back to Billie’s house again, you leave your bag of stuff for the night, (since you knew damn well you were staying,) in Billie’s room.

               “I really enjoyed that date,” you admit to Billie before kissing her, the first time that night.

               “Me too,” Billie says, a bashful smile on her face as she kisses you back. You guys keep kissing, and as you guys keep kissing, things progress as well. It starts with you straddling her lap, her running a hand through your hair. You whisper a question of consent, to which she nods “yes,” before creeping your hand up her shirt. She moves her hands around the round of your ass as you two are still making out.

               “I… haven’t done anything with a girl before,” Billie admits, pulling away.

               “Who said we couldn’t change that tonight?”

taglist:

@naturesapphic

@hotgirlphilosopher

@jellasposts @iluvtaivan @baddestbittyontheblock @alissialg @ultraultron3000 @thecatwhodreams @fl0r3ncewifey @evilscreams009 @spencerreidmarrymepls @moonxytcn @dandelions4us @kkthecutie123 @justtr @mariswift2 @natspbnj @angielovebillie @bianchiniomg @honeywolflower8364 @brbblog123 @thelesbianapollokid4 @sage-rose2000 @babygaydemon @ranadancewithstars @mercurial0cenobite @ctamemolenoizo @alexawhatstheweathertoday @worrydariing @ iwishiwasyourgirll17 @theskinnyfatman @deluluchani @hsfallingsky @itsemilyhayden @goobergabs @lucillespeace @toorandomforthis @toorandomforthis @beckylynch-alexmorgan @devynscomet

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[ethansluvbot]

hotch unconsciously favouring new bau!reader and she doesn’t even notice 😭😭 she just thinks he’s super sweet and everyone is like 🤨🤨 where’s our special treatment aye?

WHERE DO WE GO NOW | A. HOTCHNER

warnings: mostly fluff, but a kiss?

an: SORRY I TOOK SO LONG HOPE YOU LOVE IT, ignore how bad im at writing like technical fbi stuff lol

as he returns to his seat on the jet, hotch gives you a pack of food and some water. you put your earplugs back in after grinning and thanked him. morgan smirked at his boss's strange actions, but he remained silent.

"all right, let's briefly review the case's facts. while morgan and prentiss travel to the M.E., jj and reid head to the crime site. y/n and i will head over to receive a briefing. okay, everyone, let's get going."

you smooth your dress down and collect your belongings, trailing hotch in the process. as soon as you enter, he opens the door for you and goes inside for a briefing.

"the victim's boyfriend last spoke with shelby at 9:02 p.m. we spoke with the bartender at jack's bar, where she was around for the majority of the evening at 9:30. we are currently obtaining the security footage from her. tell my staff or me if you need anything."

spencer said as he left the room, "i'm going to call garcia and ask for access to the security cameras sooner rather than later."

"how's jack doing?"

"he is doing well! he does, however, truly miss you, especially your homemade chocolate chip cookies."

"does he miss the cookies or do you?" you chuckle.

Thinking to himself, "I will not answer that question," you smile and wondered who else he let his guard down for. we was always open to you, even though he never discussed his past with others.

"what would you say about you, jack, and I visiting the aquarium? ever since you got him that ipad, he has been telling me about dolphins, and i get texts all the time."

as he takes a sip of coffee, reid enters the room and says, "garcia has found the camera footage. what did I ruin something?"

1 HOUR LATER

"as of right now, it appears that the unsub prefers women who are between the ages of late 20 and early 30. Every victim carries a huge risk, and I think he enjoys the possibility of exposure. kidnapped from bar parking lots despite the fact that his face is constantly hidden. he has a dark-colored van and it's clear by the signature he injures the victim, since he has a long-term damage of his own.

"y/n i would prefer if you would lay low on this case, you fit the profile and i don't want anything to happen to you."

"are you certain? given the profile, it could be the greatest option for us."

he nods while leaning back in your chair, knowing that he thought too highly of you to see you be in harms way. you have no idea how much more than you realized he cared for you.

"fine, do not put yourself into a situation where you know it will end bad."

the remaining members of the team carrying on the discussion regarding the unsub's actions. garcia chiming in with men who match the description. you gently brush your hair away from your face and glance at the hotch. even though you quickly avert his gaze, you can still feel his eyes on you.

"i'm sorry to break this terrible news, but I believe there is a match for this suspect. i'm sending you travis's records and the last two address on file." the group leaps up and sprints towards the available cars. together, you and hotch jump into the car navigating your way to his address.

you get out of the car as soon as you get there. as you search the house, some of the team arrives, and you head upstairs. Your mouth is grabbed by a hand and you are slid into a room. you fall as a result of your head slamming into the wall.

you were able to get up and cause him to lose his balance by kicking the back of his knees. your body reverts to its limp form. travis limps his way back toward your body. there's a shot, and you reach for your gun. You turn to face the hotch, who is gripping his gun.

You say, "thank you," as he helps you leave the house. doctors are rushing to your side right away. hotch stays by your side throughout the whole thing. It is a blessing to have someone who is as concerned as he is.

He asks in jest, "so you still up for the aquarium?"

TINY BONUS

With your earbuds in but the volume down enough to hear the entire conversation, the team continues to tease you on the flight back. "Where's our special treatment?" you chuckle to yourself in private.

[lilypadlys]

In Your Arms

Dew is having a hard time on tour. Between being homesick, missing Aether, and having nightmares, he's at the end of his rope and snapping at everyone. He really needs some gentle love but who do you turn to when you've pushed everyone away?

Ship: Dew/Swiss, bit of Dew/Aether

Word Count: 1550

Rating: Teen (for mild language)

Tags: SFW, fluff, hurt/comfort, cuddles

Below the cut or on AO3

The tour is nearing its end. Everything has been going mostly smoothly. The new summons Aurora and Phantom have integrated seamlessly. No major injuries have been sustained. Only some venue issues and inclement weather stood in the way of it being a flawless run and those were out of their control.

Still, Dew feels on edge. He’s tired. Being away from the ministry, constantly on the move, and missing Aether and Sunny, as well as a million other discomforts are all taking their toll. He hasn’t slept soundly in ages, sleep plagued with nightmares.

He’s been extremely snappy at everyone. He manages to pull himself together for the shows. Falling into his role, taking out his frustrations on his guitar strings. Off stage though, he can’t find an outlet. The smallest thing sets him off.

He hates himself for it. Cumulus didn’t deserve the hisses he spewed at her when she tried to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. Poor Phantom looked ready to cry when Dew told him to fuck off when he asked if they wanted to room together at the hotel last night. Aurora and Rain have been avoiding him entirely, afraid of invoking his wrath. Cirrus and Mountain shoot him glares on the regular in response to his snarky asides. Swiss is the only one still willing to deal with him and even the multi ghoul’s patience has its limits.

When they get settled in the hotel for the night, Swiss just wordlessly hauls the grumpy fire ghoul into their room before he can start a fresh argument in the hotel lobby. Swiss has given up trying to help. He sighs tiredly as Dew chucks his overnight bag to the floor, causing a loud thump. Dew flops on his bed and turns his back to Swiss with a growl. Swiss just shakes his head, exhaling through his nose, and disappears into the bathroom to shower. Dew is left to glower in solitude.

When the bathroom door clicks shut, Dew huffs and rolls onto his back. He doesn’t know what to do. How to get out of this funk. He knows the other’s are trying to help but he can’t lower his guard long enough to let them. Aether could fix this. He thinks. Aether always knew what to do to get Dew to chill. Be it forcing him into a cuddle pile, fucking him senseless, or even just letting Dew rage. Aether’s patience seemed neverending. No matter how long he was out of it, how many nasty things Dew said, Aether always forgave him.

As if on cue, Dew hears his phone buzz. He wrestles it out of his pocket and glances at the screen. Aether.

“Hey Firelily.” The text reads.

“Hey Aeth.”

“How’re you holding up?”

Dew snorts. “What do you think? I’m sure Mount already blabbed to you.” Dew instantly regrets it as soon as he hits send. Why is he like this? Here’s Aether, checking on him, obviously concerned about him, and all he can do is be a bitch.

“Yes, Mountain told me you weren’t feeling well. Is it the nightmares again?”

Dew is once again amazed at Aether’s uncanny ability to always find the root of the problem.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry Spark. I wish I could be there to help.”

But you’re not, is all Dew can think. He knows it’s not Aether’s fault. He’d be here if he could. But he’s not.

Even though he holds back from typing it, Aether seems to know what he’s thinking anyway.

“You’ll be back home soon and then I’ll help in whatever way I can.” Aether promises.

“Thanks.”

Dew makes to toss his phone to the nightstand when it buzzes again.

“The others care about you too. They just want to help.”

Dew wants to make some jerky comment but he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut to hold back the tears that have begun to form.

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s hard but you’ve got to open up. They can’t help if you don’t let them.”

Dew sits in silence with that. He knows it. Truly he knows that everyone in the pack loves him and cares about him, and that they want to help. And yet all he’s done is push them away.

“Sweet dreams Dew.”

Dew does start to cry then. He so desperately needs a hug. Needs someone to wrap their arms around him and tell him everything will be alright. That they don’t hate him despite how horrible he’s been. Needs someone to hold him as he falls asleep and to protect him from the nightmares and nasty thoughts that plague his brain whenever he tries to relax. He curls up into a ball, tail wrapped around himself, as he sobs into the sheets.

He doesn’t hear as Swiss quietly opens the bathroom door, despite the water never running. He doesn’t see him round the corner. Swiss’ gentle touch on his back startles him and flinches; hissing and baring teeth. Dew watches in horror as Swiss’ expression goes from gentle concern, to hurt, to angry exasperation. Swiss grits his teeth and withdraws his hand. “Sorry.” He mutters as he turns away.

“Wait.” Dew forces the word out.

Swiss turns back, brow raised; unimpressed.

“I-I’m sorry.” Dew uncurls himself and sits up as fresh tears well in his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”

Swiss’ expression softens. He sits on the edge of the bed, giving Dew his space, and waits.

Dew trembles as he forces the words out between sobs. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk. You guys were just trying to help.”

“Yeah, you’ve really been a shit recently.” Swiss agrees, teasingly rather than meanly.

Dew shrinks. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

“Oh baby.” Swiss scoots a little closer. “We don’t hate you. Why do you think we haven’t thrown you off the tour bus yet?”

“But I probably deserve it at this point.” He whimpers.

“Nah, not quite.”

“Great, another thing I can’t do right.” Dew huffs and rolls his eyes but there’s no malice in it. Instead he just sounds disappointed in himself.

“Stop that. You can do plenty of things right.”

“Uh huh.” Dew frowns, unconvinced.

“Well first of all, you're the best lead guitarist I know.”

“That’s mean to Ifrit. And Alpha.”

“I don’t care. You’re better.” Dew gives him a look but Swiss continues. “You also make amazing pancakes.”

“That’s like the only thing I can do in the kitchen.”

“So? I love pancakes.”

Dew’s sobs have slowed to the occasional sniffle and a smile is threatening to break out so Swiss keeps going.

“And let's see. You’re pretty too. That doesn’t hurt.”

Dew makes a pouty face but Swiss interrupts before he can protest.

“You are. And I have excellent taste so you know it’s true.”

That does it and the corners of Dew’s lips are quivering upwards. He ducks his head in an attempt to hide.

“In fact, the only thing I can think of that you’re bad at is getting us to hate you.” Swiss closes the distance and nuzzles Dew’s head. “We love you, you little idiot. Don’t forget it, okay?” He purrs in Dew’s ear.

Rather than pull away, Dew leans into Swiss and rewards him for his efforts with a low purr of his own.

“Thanks Swiss.” Dew mumbles shyly.

“Of course Droplet.”

Dew suddenly looks up. “I need to apologize to the others.”

“That you do, but it can wait until the morning. Right now you need sleep.”

“But-”

“No buts. Go shower and change into comfy clothes. I showered back at the venue so I’ll get a nest set up.”

Dew does as he’s told and gets up. He shucks his boots and clothes on his way to the bathroom. The hot water does wonders, washing away sweat and his bad mood alike. He feels infinitely better as he towels off and slips into clean sweats. When he steps out of the bathroom, he finds a blanket nest on the bed as promised, Swiss ensconced in the middle.

“C’mere.” Swiss beckons and Dew hops on the bed and curls up next to him, his back to the multi ghoul’s chest. Swiss pulls a blanket over the two of them and starts to run his claws through Dew’s golden mane.

Once he gets all the tangles out, he starts to braid, humming softly. Dew can’t help but be reminded of Aether. The quintessence ghoul used to do this as well. He figures Aether probably told Swiss how to help and normally Dew would be angry. It’s something special and private. Aether is typically the only one Dew can truly open up with, and be this vulnerable around. But now, he finds he doesn’t mind. He lets himself relax for once as Swiss hums and whispers praise and affirmations.

Dew doesn’t know at what point he drifts off, just that for the first time in a while he’s slept peacefully. Nightmare free.

As soon as he sees the others at breakfast he apologizes. Despite his fears, they all forgive him immediately and he finds himself in the middle of a group hug. He doesn’t even feign dislike, and just lets himself enjoy being held. In their arms he feels warm, and safe, and loved.

[kyouka-supremacy]

BSD Official Guidebook Gongeroku - Uemura Yuto & Ono Kensho interview

※ As usual, I'm heavily relying on automatic translators for this, so if you notice any mistake, please feel free to bring it to my attention! I'll be posting the original text in reblogs.

Thank you for your hard work in recording seasons 4 and 5. The story has now come to an end, with the story left “to be continued”¹.

Uemura: In “Two Hours Later,” Atsushi (Nakajima) and Ryunosuke (Akutagawa) trust each other; the exchange “Just the two of us?” "Do we need more?” also occurs in episode 53, but this time Atsushi is smiling a little. He says “Let's go, Akutagawa”, and takes on the challenge. I think it was a very hopeful ending, and I'm looking forward to seeing how the relationship between the two will develop. Also, I'm curious about Akutagawa's outfit. He had something on his head… Ono: That's right. (Akutagawa) looked strong. It seems like he's regained his sense of self, so what will happen next? What are Akutagawa and Atsushi fighting against? I'm curious about it all. I felt like the 5th season ended on an interesting note.

The story ended with Atsushi and Akutagawa fighting together, but looking back at the first season, what do you think has changed about Atsushi and Akutagawa?

Ono: I think the biggest thing is that now they're able to have a conversation. Uemura: That's right. At first, the two of them couldn't have a conversation at all. Atsushi said “I don't understand you at all” (Episode 23). Ono: The relationship started out with each saying “this is what I think'”, not listening to what the other person had to say, and then fighting, so that's where the biggest change happened. I really felt this change during the conversation on the ship² at the end of Season 3 (Episode 37), where they say: “Don't kill anyone for six months. Then you will come to see the truth in its simplest form”. Uemura: Atsushi started out thinking “I can't survive like this”, but then he joined the Armed Detective Agency and found himself in a position to save people. In the process, he made various choices, thinking about what Dazai (Osamu) would do, and what his colleagues at the Armed Detective Agency would do. He was finally able to accept himself and think that maybe there was a meaning to his life. In particular, the movie Bungo Stray Dogs: DEAD APPLE and the conversation with the headmaster (episode 31 part 2) were major turning points for him. He was able to face his inner self. I think that it was through these experiences that he was eventually able to make that “promise” with Akutagawa. Ono: Akutagawa is always one step ahead of Atsushi. But Atsushi is grows up really fast, right? He is the main character after all (laughs). So I think that Atsushi is gradually beginning to see Akutagawa³. Uemura: That's right. I think Atsushi originally had a very narrow vision. But after going through various experiences, his vision has finally broadened. And I think he's now able to see Akutagawa clearly. If you have a narrow vision, you can't accept any way of thinking different from your own; but as your vision gradually broadens, you start to accept that there are other ways of thinking, too. I think that's why he was able to have a dialogue.

On the contrary, what do you think remains the same about Atsushi and Akutagawa?

Uemura: Atsushi has grown and become more confident, but he still panics when he hits a wall. I've been playing Atsushi for a long time, so I'd like him to be to take a decision more quickly, but Wakabayashi Kazuhiro (sound director) would tell me, “It's too early, not yet” “It's not time yet”. When you can see what's ahead, you just want to move forward, but Atsushi takes many detours and puts his full effort into each step. I think that's what makes Atsushi unique, so I always try to cherish it. Ono: One thing that remains unchanged about Akutagawa is that he is always aware of Atsushi. I think that the relationship between Akutagawa and Atsushi, with Dazai in the middle, has not changed at all, and Akutagawa is the one who is acutely aware of that. In Season 5, Akutagawa says that fighting alongside Atsushi is “a trial (that was given to him by Dazai)”, but even though he says that, the fact that he's also aware of Atsushi has not changed.

The “trust” between the two was evident in their deadly battle against Ochi Fukuchi (episodes 53 and 54).

Ono: When Akutagawa was wounded by Fukuchi Ouchi's Amenogozen, and he says "You fool, get out of here" as he lets Atsushi escape, in the original comic Akutagawa has a sad expression on his face. However, in the anime, he has a desperate expression during the fight. The difference is very striking. I felt like the expression in the anime was an expression that matched the visual flow. That left a strong impression on me.

Afterwards, Akutagawa, who has turned into a vampire, faces Atsushi at the airport (Episode 60).

Ono: By this time, Akutagawa had completely become a vampire. I was able to record the scene with Uemura-kun, but… Uemura: Ono-san seemed to have a hard time. Atsushi tries his best to talk to Akutagawa, saying “It's me, don't you recognize me?”, but he can't get the conversation going. When he called out “Akutagawa!”… Ono: “Shhhh”. Uemura: That was all. But there was a moment when he regained a little sense of self. Ono: That was the toughest one. I put a lot of thought into how to express it. Uemura: In that scene, Atsushi was hoping that he would regain his sense of self. I think that was a kind of dynamic that had never existed before.

Having performed for so long up to season 5, what does “Bungo Stray Dogs” mean to you two?

Ono: This is a project that I'm putting my life on the line for. Akutagawa also puts his life on the line, so I feel like that is something we have in common. I think there is something I can learn from Akutagawa's desperation and his approach in facing challenges. When Akutagawa first appeared in the first season, Wakabayashi-san told me: “He doesn't sound strong”. It's a statement I still recall. The recording of Akutagawa started from there, so I hope I have been able to improve on that now, and I would like to continue to do my best without letting my guard down. Uemura: After recording the scene with Atsushi and Akutagawa, Wakabayashi-san said: “It looks like both of them have a lot more to scream”⁴. Ono: Oh, did he say that? Uemura: That's right. I'm so grateful for receiving such words. “I want you to go even further”, isn't that what they meant? I feel that if Bungo Stray Dogs will continue from now on, I will have to do something even further than that. Ono: I see. I guess I'll have to give it my best as well. Uemura: Personally, I would like to see what happens to Atsushi in the future, so I'm looking forward to the next developments.

In the fifth season, Dazai refers to Atsushi and Akutagawa as “the soukoku of a new era”⁵. In season 5, there was a scene where the soukoku duo of Dazai and Nakahara Chuuya played an active role; do you think the two of you can lead a new era?

Ono: Uhm, neither Akutagawa nor Atsushi are as smart as Dazai (laughs). Uemura: Right. I would like to see more of Atsushi and Akutagawa joining forces… But Chuuya and Dazai are both still very active (laughs). Ono: Yes. Both of them are still amazing. I don't think Akutagawa and Atsushi can realistically compete. Well, let's try our best to achieve that goal. Uemura: As the story progresses, I think it would be great if the two of them could become a duo known as Soukoku. It's different Soukoku from Dazai-san and Chuuya, it's a Soukoku that is unique to the two of them.

¹ The 「未了」 of the episode 11 ending ² This bit confused me, but they are indeed using 「船」 ship. They're probably referring to how the scene was showed as flashback while Atsushi was on Fitzgerald's ocean liner. ³ 「それでだん だん敦にも、芥川が見えてきたんだ なと思いますね。」 not sure about this one. Began to see Akutagawa in his own eyes? Began to see Akutagawa in himself? ⁴ 「まだまだ2 人とも叫べそうだな」 not sure about this one either 😔 Is it “it looks like both of them can scream even more”? ⁵ Unless I'm widely mistaken, this is a misattribution; Dazai says this in episode 24, not in season 5 (please correct me if I'm wrong). I don't remember Dazai saying anything similar in season 5.

[oishiyani]

🦐 ; Another Owe

warnings ; none! this is entirely SFW

🦐 ; y/n fell into a swirling feeling of misery inside! don't worry akutagawa's there to rescue!

—also this is just a small drabble about one of the episodes in bsd WAN! i thought this would be a cute idea

"err.. looks like I lost it somewhere.." you whined in a tone of distress. Having one of the missing documents you were suppose to fill in supposedly went lost! that was even one of the last batch that you had to deal with!

'now how am i gonna tell the boss now..?' you thought.

you scratched the back of your head as you continued to travel every corner in the room, looked under every sofa and chairs, maybe in the drawers? no- you still couldn't find the missing document.

your back felt like it was experiencing a massive back pain from searching through the entire room, but in conclusion- it still wasn't found! you sighed.

"are you looking for this?" a voice spoke behind you.

you turned around to be met eyes with akutagawa, who was holding a document that you assume to be the one you're looking for.

you took a look of the document, looking closely into the text and finally recognized it as the last and missing piece of your work. You let out a sigh of relief with a smile next.

"oh yeah! this is the last of it thank god you found it!" it felt like the heavy weight on your shoulders had been released as soon as you recieved the paper from akutagawa. you thanked him and went on to arrange the final documents you finalized.

"tch, you should remember where you put your things. they're always scattered.." he commented.

"sorry, i owe you one again!" you replied.

oh y/n y/n y/n.. are you even aware of how much this man had helped you through such small needs and crisis? there was a never ending loop of how much your needs were need to be fulfilled but worry not! akutagawa is there for you at any time.

while you were arranging the stack of documents you had in your hands, a thought came up in your mind. it was akutagawa, but you started to realize how much he had helped you with so much list of stuff you needed throughout your time in the port mafia!

that time, when you were feeling a flu after delivering a mail the boss ordered you.

you opened the doors leading to the meeting room of the port mafia, seeing that nobody was in the room.

your breath was starting to hitch- your body felt quite hot than before, lastly you felt like fainting. you

sat down to one of the long sofas and laid there 'till you didn't realize yourself that you had fallen asleep.

later on waking up with the feeling of something comfy under your head. you lit your eyes a bit- vision was blurry but as soon as sight cleared, you sat up and noticed a comfy pillow was what was underneath you.

at the corner of your eye, the sight of a glass of water and what seemed to be medicine pill sat across the table not far from you.

you heard the sound of a door open. you looked to its direction to see akutagawa again, with both of his hands in his pockets he walked to you.

"hirotsu provided that for you, when he entered the room- he saw that your breathing was shortening and upon checking your temperature from your forehead. he said it was hot."

"you have a flu y/n."

you stared at him then shifted your gaze back to the medicine hirotsu gave you, you let out another smile. "then i have to thank him as soon as i see him, thanks for informing me akutagawa." you replied.

while staring at the objects on the table, a sound of a loud thud occurred. you looked to where it came and saw..

a whole box of.. yogurt drink 10 billion lactobacillus cells?!

you were taken aback, not sure of how to react- yet you didn't know what were those for.. you stared at it blankly not until akutagawa let out a cough, eyes closed with fist formed on his mouth as he did.

a faint red shade on his cheeks where you didn't seem to notice. that's good.

"drink those, it'll help with your flu." he said as he retreated back his ability that seemed to carry the box of yogurt drinks for him.

akutagawa exited back to the door, still leaving you in a confused state.

the next day, you felt more better than yesterday. being stable enough to walk through the base of the port mafia.

you entered the meeting room yet again, you were met with your fellow workmates. Hirotsu, Tachihara, and Gin. they all sat except for Tachihara, leaning on the sofa with arms crossed.

"hello Y/N, how have you been feeling?" Hirotsu greeted as you walked in. "greater than ever! thank you for the medicine you gave me Hirotsu-san!" you happily thanked.

"say.. akutagawa gave me a box of those yogurt drinks called 10 million lacto- uh.. i forgot but there were tons of them! he told me to drink those.. but I only finished 3 so far.."

"HE GAVE YOU WHAT?!" Tachihara yelled.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, "you're not suppose to give those to people who have a flu! how can they down something that thick?!" he said in a frustrated tone.

"oh? so that's why he bought a box of those.." Gin said, everyone looked at her.

"yesterday around noon, I saw my brother walking around the city and I happened to get a glimpse of him stopping by a store. But I had no clue why he was there, i went on with my day after that." Gin said.

Hirotsu took a sip of his tea, "hm, yesterday he asked me where was y/n, when i told him you were resting and had a flu, he left off in a haste." he said.

akutagawa bought those for you? no way he did! that must cost a lot and he didn't need to buy that much!

"well next time, advise your brother not to buy a damn yogurt drink and instead buy something else!" Tachihara commented.

"i've never seen my brother buy something for someone that much. (aside from dazai..)" Gin said.

"i owe him another one yet again.."