#i had a very intrusive thought while watching destiny

[thedensworld]

Your Best Man | J.Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff, humor, established relationship

Summary: Wonwoo has tried his best to become the best man you've ever met. At the end, he is the best man.

Author note: let's have a break from angsty suffering story and have some fluffywonu!

Wonwoo loves you. He loves you with all of his heart. Honestly, he loves you with all of his life. In conclusion he loves you very much. Wonwoo sat there, an empty soju glass in hand, his words flowing like the river of affection he held for you. Mingyu, realizing his friend had reached the brink of tipsiness, halted the soju parade, albeit reluctantly, knowing Wonwoo was just getting started.

"Mingyu, remember when I fell head over heels for her at first sight?" Wonwoo's tone was earnest, albeit slightly slurred, as he delved into his favorite topic, you.

Mingyu nodded, taking a break from his spicy budae jiggae to indulge Wonwoo's sentimental journey.

"She was stunning," Wonwoo continued, his gaze drifting upwards as if searching for you among the stars. "I mean, she's always been gorgeous, but back then? Wow. Even Cupid would've been jealous of my aim that day."

He chuckled, the warmth of nostalgia enveloping him as he recalled the moment fate intervened, intertwining your destinies.

"In hindsight, it's like the universe had a checklist and decided, 'Yep, these two are meant to be.' And who am I to argue with the universe, right?"

Wonwoo's laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy you brought him, even in the haze of alcohol and spicy food.

So there they sat, one lost in love and the other in a spicy stew, united in their admiration for the wonder that was you. And as Wonwoo raised his glass in a tipsy salute to your magnificence, Mingyu couldn't help but toast silently to the cosmic comedy that brought you all together. Cheers to love, laughter, and the occasional soju-fueled confession.

Years ago, Wonwoo became acquainted with you through a movie he watched with Vernon. You were a rising rookie actor at the time. Fate, however, had a more direct introduction in store for him. It happened one evening by the Han River, where Wonwoo sought solace in the night air and a bowl of ramyeon, alone with his thoughts.

The tranquility was shattered by the intrusive click of a camera shutter, followed by a beam of flashlight. Initially annoyed by the presence of paparazzi, Wonwoo's irritation quickly turned to anger as he contemplated the invasion of privacy suffered by countless others in the industry.

His resolve to confront the paparazzi was cut short by a sudden thud and a groan. Rushing to the source of the commotion, Wonwoo discovered the paparazzi lying on the ground while another figure stood nearby, inspecting the camera.

"I know this is your job, but this is not right," Other person admonished, voice firm with conviction. "You've invaded someone's privacy and caused them untold discomfort. Can you even sleep at night knowing what you do?"

As the other person, you, retrieved the memory card, your eyes met Wonwoo's. In that moment of shared understanding, Wonwoo offered a thumbs-up in appreciation of your intervention, sparking a conversation between the two of you.

You explained that you recognized the paparazzi, having caught them fabricating rumors within the industry. Wonwoo nodded in solidarity, acknowledging his own frustration with such unethical practices.

"I was about to take action myself," Wonwoo admitted, shaking his head. "I'm relieved to know I'm not the only one who feels this way."

And so, amidst the backdrop of the Han River, a bond formed between two strangers united by their disdain for injustice and their shared desire to protect the integrity of others. It was a chance encounter that would leave a lasting impression on both Wonwoo and you, shaping the course of their future interactions.

A conversation led to another, as late-night discussions evolved into playful banter and eventually escalated into vulnerable talks. What began as strangers connecting gradually blossomed into friendship, and then something more profound – love. Wonwoo cherished every step of the journey with you, never once regretting the decision to let you into his life. With you by his side, life seemed brighter, the shadows dissipating whenever you were together, and he couldn't shake the feeling that you were the one sent by a higher power to fill the void within him.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" Wonwoo's question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation and hope. When you said yes, he made a silent vow to himself to be the best man you'd ever known. He listened to your concerns, ensured you never felt pressured, and held you in the highest regard, becoming your staunchest supporter whenever your movies or dramas premiered.

Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing. Like any couple, Wonwoo and you faced their fair share of ups and downs. But each challenge served as a lesson, strengthening their bond and shaping them into better individuals for each other. If Wonwoo were to recount their biggest argument, it would likely be the time he recommended you to a director he knew.

Wonwoo happened to know a veteran noir movie director, a figure you admired deeply for his work. During a discussion between Wonwoo and the director at a premiere event, your name came up, sparking a conversation that would ultimately change the course of events.

"Your girlfriend is Ji Y/n, right? Her acting was exceptional in the last movie," the director remarked, his interest piqued.

"She's a huge fan of yours," Wonwoo replied. "I know it might be unconventional, but I was hoping you could consider casting her in your next project. It would mean a lot to her."

To Wonwoo's surprise, the director revealed that he was indeed seeking an actress for his upcoming movie and would be delighted if you were interested in joining the cast.

Initially, the news seemed like a dream come true. However, Wonwoo's excitement turned to concern when he received a series of missed calls from you while he was away on a business trip. Upon calling you back, he was met with the sound of your sobbing, instantly stirring worry within him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I never asked for your help with my career," you replied, your tone heavy with frustration.

Wonwoo's brow furrowed as you mentioned the director's name, realizing he had unwittingly stepped into a sensitive issue.

"I never asked you to secure a role for me in his movie, so why does everyone think I got it through a connection?" you inquired him, your voice trembling with emotion.

Wonwoo sighed, acknowledging his mistake. "I was talking to him that night, and he mentioned you—"

"He talked behind my back saying you begged him to put me into the cast."

"I never asked for that!" you continued, your frustration evident.

"I know," Wonwoo conceded, regret weighing heavy on his shoulders. "He didn't say what you think he did."

Feeling hurt and misunderstood, you ended the call abruptly, leaving Wonwoo with a sinking feeling in his chest. Acting swiftly, he instructed his manager to drive him to your place, determined to resolve the misunderstanding before it escalated further.

Wonwoo entered your apartment well past midnight, his fatigue from a long day's schedule overshadowed by the weight of guilt gnawing at him. Upon seeing you seated on the couch, head bowed in distress, he felt a pang of remorse pierce through him.

"What did he say to you?" Wonwoo inquired gently, his voice laden with concern as he approached you.

"It doesn't matter what he said," you replied, your tone laced with frustration. "What matters is that you overstepped by asking him to cast me in his movie! I want to build my career on my own terms, and I want people to recognize that."

Wonwoo knelt in front of you, seeking to meet your gaze. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his remorse evident. "I just thought—since you admire his work—it would be a good opportunity. I didn't anticipate this outcome."

A heavy silence hung between you before you confessed the truth. "I walked away from the role midway through filming. I couldn't bear to work with someone who talk trash their talent like that."

Wonwoo nodded understandingly, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "I understand," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled thoughts. "You did what felt right for you."

As you feared, rumors began to circulate in the weeks following the announcement of your departure from the movie. Speculations about your connections within the industry surfaced, casting a shadow over your hard-earned reputation. Yet through it all, Wonwoo stood by your side, offering unwavering support and reassurance.

He knew the truth, and that was enough for him. Together, you weathered the storm of gossip, emerging stronger and more united than ever before. For Wonwoo, there was no greater reward than seeing you stand firm in your convictions, unyielding in the face of adversity. And as long as you had each other, no amount of speculation could tarnish the bond you shared.

Years later, you and Wonwoo went public with your marriage, and he was grateful for the overwhelmingly positive feedback you both received. The wedding was an intimate affair, attended only by close family and colleagues. For Wonwoo, it marked the culmination of his journey to become the best man you'd ever known, now leveled up to become the best husband himself.

He found joy in the simple moments of life, relishing in the comfort of sleeping and waking up beside you each day. To the surprise of his fellow members, who often referred to him as the prince by his fans, Wonwoo had embraced domesticity wholeheartedly. Learning to cook, clean, give massages, and take on any task that arose became second nature to him, especially during your pregnancy with your firstborn, Jeon Jihan.

Now, at five years old, Jihan possessed a strong will of his own, often refusing to hold hands with Wonwoo when being taken to daycare. Wonwoo couldn't help but wonder whose attitude Jihan had inherited—though deep down, he knew it was undoubtedly from you. Nevertheless, it didn't dampen Wonwoo's love for you and his son. He cherished every moment spent with his family, grateful for the love and happiness they brought into his life.

One day, while Wonwoo was away on tour and Jihan was just two years old, he heard from his fellow members that the women—referred to as "their girls"—had gathered at Seungcheol's wife's place. Concerned for your well-being, Wonwoo immediately called you to check in.

"Are you joining them?" he asked, his worry palpable over the phone line.

"Will you bring Jihan?" he added, mindful of your responsibilities as a parent.

"Of course, he can't take care of himself," came your sarcastic reply.

Wonwoo chuckled at your dry humor. "But didn't you say our car broke down yesterday?"

"I'll find a solution, don't worry about it, darling!" you reassured him.

However, after the concert, Wonwoo discovered from Seungcheol himself that you had ridden his bike to their place—with Jihan in tow. Not a word of this had come from you. Frustration and disbelief churned in Wonwoo's chest as he made a call to you.

"How could you ride a bike with our child being that young?" he demanded, his tone edged with concern.

"Jihan loves it!" you countered, sending a photo taken by another woman at a traffic light, showing Jihan smiling while securely attached to your front.

Wonwoo facepalmed with his hand, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You could have endangered both of you and Jihan. You're not allowed to ride my bike again!"

It wasn't that Wonwoo doubted your skill—you had been riding bikes for years, a shared passion that had drawn you both together. However, the idea of riding a bike with your child had never crossed his mind, nor did he ever imagine you would consider it. The incident led to his members labeling him as a "gangster husband," a nickname stemming from your unconventional lifestyle and characters in the movies.

"So what's the matter now, hyung? You said you're okay, you love her, you'll support her no matter what. Then what's with the change of heart?" Mingyu confronted drunken Wonwoo.

Wonwoo clumsily put down his glass, "You're not married, Mingyu. You won't understand my pain!" he declared, slurring his words as Mingyu rolled his eyes in amusement.

Without missing a beat, Mingyu dialed your number. "Hello, Y/n! Did you miss your husband already? He's being a pain in my ass tonight. Should I take him home?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened in panic as he realized what Mingyu was up to, but his drunken attempts to grab Mingyu's phone proved futile.

"Just the usual babbling about his undying love for you and some other nonsense. I'll be there in 20, okay? Bye!" Mingyu announced cheerfully before hanging up.

"No! I don't wanna go home! I don't wanna face her like this," Wonwoo protested dramatically, his words slurred as he tried to resist Mingyu's attempts to escort him home.

Mingyu sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "This hyung..." he muttered, resigning himself to the task of dragging a stubborn and intoxicated Wonwoo back to the safety of your arms.

*

"Where's Jihan?" Wonwoo groaned, nursing his pounding head while seated at the dining table, his breakfast being served by you. The mere act of opening his eyes felt like a Herculean task.

You shrugged casually, "Someone woke him up last night, and he ended up staying up late. He's still asleep."

Wonwoo's brows furrowed, knowing full well that the culprit was none other than himself. Yet, he was surprised by your nonchalant reaction to Jihan's extended slumber. "He's not going to daycare today?"

You shook your head, taking a seat across from him. "I'm free today, except for my ballet class at 4. Your mom wants to see Jihan, so I'll be taking him to your parents' place before then."

The mention of your ballet class jogged Wonwoo's memory of his conversation with Mingyu the night before. "You're still taking ballet classes?"

You set down your utensils and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Yes," you confirmed firmly. "And Mingyu filled me in on your little chat last night."

Wonwoo grumbled, "I'll punch him later," before offering a weak smile in your direction.

"I've decided to take the role no matter what, darling. It'll be my first-ever romcom movie," you declared, determination shining in your eyes.

Wonwoo sighed deeply, his headache worsening at the thought. "That's the problem, babe. I'm just not ready for that!" he confessed, his tone tinged with a hint of panic.

"What are you not ready for?" you queried, raising an eyebrow as Wonwoo stretched his hands and gestured vaguely.

"All the lovey-dovey stuff you'll have to do in the movie! Kissing, hugging, and acting all smiley with other men—I'm just not prepared for that!" Wonwoo exclaimed, his expression a mix of concern and discomfort.

You scoffed, "I thought we were done talking about this. I asked for your opinion, remember? If you don't want me to take the role, I won't. But you said your opinion doesn't matter as long as I'm happy, and I'm more than happy to challenge myself with this role."

Wonwoo nodded solemnly. "I know, but that was before I found out about the intimate scenes like kissing and hugging!"

You nodded understandingly. "You're right. And besides, you're the only man who can kiss and hug me like that."

Wonwoo sighed, relenting slightly. "Just kiss me three more times every day, and I'll pretend like nothing happened," he bargained, a hint of resignation in his voice. After all, he is your best man, right?

[p3sephone]

More than just friends. (Dark! Wanda Maximoff x reader)

Summary: you thought Wanda could be a very good friend for you, she didn't agree with that.

Warnings: implied stalking, implied violence, increasing obsession, use of mental manipulation, forced kissing, home intrusion, forced relationship. This is a dark story with dark themes, minors are not allowed. Only +18. This character does not belong to me.

Notes: okay so, at first this was supposed to be a dark! Wanda x reader x dark! Natasha Romanov, then I went for this. But if you'd like a second part with Natasha involved, then please let me know! Also, any kind of interaction would be appreciated, so thank you in advance and hope you enjoy. <3

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Wanda noticed you from the first moment, even though you hadn't even noticed her existence, at least at first. You were simply gorgeous, walking from one place to another and completely busy while you carried coffee, papers, documents, whatever was asked of you. The only thing she didn't like was how happy you were when someone thanked you or was nice and kind to you, and then asked you for one last little favor. It was obvious that it wouldn't be the last favor and that it was just an excuse to exploit you, but you didn't realize it.

Sometimes you were so naive that you made her angry. It started out extremely simple, you did your job and she had to stay inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers. It was more than natural that you met her from time to time. Then, after the first meeting Wanda started seeing you more often: she could lie to herself and say it was just coincidence, even destiny, but in reality she was purposely creating opportunities to see you. Before she knew it she had started fantasizing about things… about you. At first she even felt guilty because of it, then she convinced herself that she actually deserved one single good thing in life. She had lost everything, really everything.

And then she found you. It had to be a sign of some kind, right? So she started what you would normally call stalking, but no, for her it was obviously just checking up on you and watching over you. You had to be safe, when you were working she made sure no one could bother you, she would chat with you even if sporadically to cheer you up when you were in a bad mood and finally she always made sure you got home safe and sound. There had been times when you were in danger of not being safe, but she had eliminated the danger before you even realized it, like that man who was suspiciously following you down that dark alley.

Magically gone, and all for you! Who knows, maybe one day she would tell you everything she had done for you and you would thank her. Maybe with a tender kiss, who knows. Those thoughts that were swirling around in her head started to please her more and more, and more. The thought of being able to kiss you, touch you, even touch you and do more than just imagine you. She imagined that she could even wake up next to you, and that was the moment it clicked.

It was no longer enough for her to use her imagination or dream of having you by her side, or manipulate your mind in the women's bathrooms just to get a few kisses of affection that she had been craving since the moment she saw you, no. She wanted the real thing and she was about to have it, without the mental manipulation. She wanted you and she would have you, and that day had come. That night she had snuck out of Stark Tower, not that it took much effort really. She had to see you and make her dream come true. She heard the lock on your front door move and couldn't help but shiver with excitement. She felt your feet dragging on the wood after you locked the door, her good and diligent girl. So careful to keep danger out that you hadn't noticed what was inside your house. Wanda wore a small happy smile, getting up from your bed as you turned on the light. You had squealed in fear and then looked at her in shock. You had even asked her what she was doing in your house, that wasn't very nice. Wanda's smile narrowed until it almost disappeared, seeing you in your state of fear and fear. You were friends. In short, Wanda wanted to be much more than a friend and she certainly would have been, but you had told her that she was one of the few people you were truly comfortable with. You had said it shortly after she manipulated you in those bathrooms to give her a few passionate kisses, and she was happy. In short, it was a start for Wanda. Wanda approached without hesitation, she had every right to approach you, to touch you and kiss you. You were hers, she just had to make you understand, you were simply meant to be together. But you didn't want to understand it. The moment she took steps forward, you took steps back, backing up to the hallway and finally arriving at the kitchen. The further you moved away from Wanda, the more she felt hurt and ultimately the angrier she became. In the end, you had in front of you a completely annoyed and angry Wanda. Her red eyes shone in the dim light of your kitchen with the lights off and a few tears were rolling down your face: you didn't understand, what had you done wrong? It was painful for you to try, but you couldn't help but beg. "Don't hurt me, please… we- we are friends Wanda…" you barely whispered between broken sobs, and Wanda almost laughed in your face. "We are more than just friends, I've given you a lot of time to figure it out darling, but maybe I'm using the wrong method, I'll try another one now. Let's play a game together, you'll see I'll show you your true place."

[lcandothisallday]

Jeremy concepts: Jeremy sees you at a pickup game and shows off to flirt

A Shot Worth Taking - Jeremy (WMCJ) x f!reader

Part 1 - Meet Cute

note: this started as a concept (that’s why the writing is very unprofessional lol) but the idea has sparked an idea for a series

warnings: none

series masterlist!

no because imagine you and your girl friends are there because your friend vanessa is supporting her man while he plays a different game, and you're just sitting there on the bench slightly bored and scrolling through your phone.

but then jeremy sees you and his breath gets caught in his throat--your beauty just stopping him in his tracks completely. and he glances down at his outfit--specifically at his wacky sandals and its the first time he feels a bit self-conscious so he KNEW he had to step up his ball game if he wanted to impress you even an ounce.

kamal notices jeremy's internal conflict and he follows his line of sight and sees you sitting there which causes him to smirk. "finally considering your god awful outfit choices?" he teases the curly haired man. Jeremy scoffs and shrugs him off nonchalantly. "fuck off" he mutters. "we gotta win this pick up," jeremy mumbled.

kamal begins laughing before he smirked, his intrusive thought winning. "AYO!!!" he yelled out towards you, causing you and your home girls to look up and pay attention to the group. immediately Jeremy's eyes widened and he smacked kamal. "man what the fuck are you doing?!" he exclaimed.

"getting her to pay attention," kamal responded. "now pull up and work your magic," he mused, moving towards the middle of the half-court to begin the game.

jeremy groaned and sluggishly followed, hoping you didn't catch on. but the thing is--you did catch on. after kamal had shouted for your guys' attention, you were intrigued, a playful smile on your lips.

"oh my god," Vanessa exclaimed. "what the hell is the white boy wearing?!" she laughed. you cringe playfully but you can't help your giggle.

"its not...that bad" you laughed. "I wonder if he's any good."

your other friend destiny scoffed. "looks like he was dragged from an organic smoothie shop to play in the pick up...aint no way this white man can jump."

as the game starts, you lean forward, resting your elbows against your knees as you and your girls watch intently. jeremy nervously glances you once more before he laser focuses on the game.

you observe as he runs around the court, effectively working with kamal before he approaches the 3-point line for the first time and easily sinking the ball into the basket. your friends gasp in shock and all you can do is grin. jeremy had a proud and cocky grin evident on his face, before he turned, made direct eye contact with you, and confidently winking your way, causing you to blush madly.

destiny instantly caught on and playfully shoved you in disbelief. “the white boy is into you!” she laughed. you go to deny and she scoffs. “don’t try to deny that shit! own it babes!”

“i cant lie…he’s really cute,” you breath out, feeling your face get hot at the confession. you all continue watching as jeremy puts on a record show. he was unbelievably good and extremely funny just from what you overheard him say to the other team.

“oh he’s definitely showing off to get your attention,” vanessa points out after a while with a smirk. “i say you shoot your shot after the game…maybe you need a white guy after the shit show you experienced with that lebanese guy that did you dirty.”

“ugh don’t remind me,” you shutter.

jeremy and kamal were huffing as they stood in front of the other two guys, effectively waiting for the pay out with smirks on their faces.

“pay up bitch,” jeremy mused cockily, his right hand held out while the other held onto the basketball.

the guy whined as he pulled out the bills and handed them over. “you’re gonna get beat up one day with that strategy,” he muttered sourly.

jeremy could only grin. “pleasure doing business.”

“nice game,” he hears someone say, causing him to swing around to face the person, coming face to face with you. he grinned even wider if possible.

“hey,” he breathed out.

“hi,” you smile. “you were really impressive…i cant lie—me and my girls didn’t think you’d play that good,” you admit shyly.

jeremy licked his lips and looked at you with amusement. how the fuck did you manage to be even prettier up close? “i played at gonzaga—”

“yeah i figured with your knees,” you replied, causing him to smirk. “so you paying attention huh?”

you scoff playfully. “how can i not when you’re so obviously trying to impress me,” you flirt back confidently.

Jeremy grinned. “how can i not when such a pretty girl is in the stands watching me?” his comment makes you blush. “im jeremy by the way.”

“im y/n…”

“would you maybe wanna grab dinner sometime?”

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part thirteen) 🌹

Part 12🌹

A/N: please don't banish me to 12🙏

Hunger game warnings apply!

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The world had gone yellow. Over the days and hours, it remained muted but ever-present. Not even the glistening white walls of the laboratory could escape an aged yellow tint. Four white walls are supposed to drive one mad, but in the case of Clemensia Dovecote, it was the lack of pure color that had her picking at her scaled skin.

However, there was one spot that Clemensia knew retained its purest shade. The crimson splatter on the dented wall, caused by her ramming her own head into it when the hissing became too much. Ironically, her evidence of insanity was keeping her sane.

She was focusing on that wretched spot once more when the door to her room in Gaul's freak laboratory opened. Clemmie was surprised by the intrusion. It wasn't test time. Or had she lost all sense of time? And here she thought she was getting better.

All questions were silenced when a figure was rushed inside on a stretcher, followed by half a dozen glove-clad figures. Tens of commands were shouted in the air as Clemensia watched from her bedside. The appearance of needles and oddly colored substances brought waves of all too familiar panic over the young woman.

As knives and needles buzzed around the poor body beneath the doctors, not a single scream was heard. Clemensia found it odd. When she was first bitten by the snakes, she was sent into the very same room she had been stuck in for days. Her only memories during the operations and tests were the blinding lights, glass-shattering screams, and heart-stopping pain.

Not a peep was heard from the body under operation. Dr. Gaul must have been feeling in a good mood and knocked the poor victim out. Or the person was already gone.

Just as quickly as they came, the team of scientists and medical specialists left in a flurry. Clemensia sat frozen in her bed, unsure of her next move. Would she be subjected to more testing if she approached? While the raven-haired girl debated, the body began making noises. So, not dead. Or back from the dead?

Clemensia was sick of the questions and lack of answers, so she pushed herself off the uncomfortable bed and began taking cautious steps toward the waking person. The lighting was dim enough to obscure the face of the damaged body but caught the light of three dainty metal rings.

Clemensia's gasps radiated off the walls when recognition hit her. All thoughts of punishment evaporated as she rushed to the bedside.

"Y/N?"

Her panicked shriek was met with mumbles and grumbles as your eyes fluttered open. You were heavily disoriented, taking in your new surroundings— weird tiled walls, creepy lighting, and no Coriolanus. You turned to your left, and your eyes connected with another pair of pale yellow ones.

"Clemmie?"

The girl in question noticed your fear of her appearance but decided she could deal with that later. For the time being, she wrapped her healing arms around you in a crushing embrace. Your left shoulder became soaked from Clemensia’s body-shaking sobs. You had no idea what had, is , or will happen. You just felt you could do nothing more than rub your fingers through your friend’s dark locks in a comforting manner. Time passed in a fluid motion by the time Clemmie untangled herself from your healing body. You took in her eyes, now a marble mixture of yellow and red, while she took in the brutal cuts on your neck.

“I don't remember your cuts being this bad.”

Her slender fingers trailed lightly over the now stitched and wrapped injury. The motion was light yet still earned a wince from your chapped lips. Clemmie quickly removed her fingers and a string of apologies left her mouth. Odd. The girl you grew up with seemed to be shaken and hollowed out.

Clemnisa was always small, whether from genetics or malnutrition, but it wasn’t her body that gave the appearance now. It was the skittish movement of her eyes. The shakiness in her fingers. Short and shallow breaths. Though, those attributes were nothing in comparison to the scales that cover her once clear skin.

“Clemmie, what happened?”

Whether articulate planning or happenstance, the moment was interrupted by the shadow of gloom known as Dr. Volumnia Gaul.

“The dawn of Vaun, a deadly blade. Worn out dull from deadly decay.”

Cackles echoed off of the walls with the room lit up by the maniacal grin of the Head Gamemaker. Next to you, Clemnisa began twitching slightly from the woman. Oh, Clemmie, what has she done to you?

“Oh, what a lovely game you played, Miss Vaun. You have such wonderful potential to take over my position one day.”

Your jaw hardened at the thought. You wanted to do everything in your power to stop these games from ever happening again, not be the ringleader.

“Is Coryo alright?”

The woman’s demented eyes sharpened at you, in slight offense for cutting off her point. She took predatory steps towards you and shooed Clemnisa away to her respective bed. Dr. Gaul sat next to you and took your hand in her own cold, calloused one.

“Mr. Snow is quite alright. A few stitches here and there, but well earned. Your dear Coriolanus learned a good lesson about humanity though I doubt you needed a refresher. Not a second do you go from comforting your friend to murderer. You have a strength seldom seen these days.”

“You have not forgotten the war. Good. Don't you ever.”

You stared at her stunned and ashamed. Of course, only she would congratulate you on murder. You felt nausea swim through your veins and begged for moral release. You could feel Clemnisa’s stare burn across your face, but you had no words. How do you explain execution? Dr. Gaul felt satisfied with whatever she saw and sighed as she rose. A hand was firmly placed on your shoulder as she bore her gaze into your own.

“Check in on Mr. Snow. I fear he has been a bit shaken from his first death. Happens to the best of us, no?”

Flashbacks from the arena flooded in as you began remembering. The sound of splashing blood, bursting organs, and obliteration of bones. The sight of a wild man, unrelenting in his punishment over a boy. Coriolanus, the wild beast set upon poor Bobbin.

Your eyes shut in repulsion and discomfort when the door opened once more. A small woman with cold eyes and a stern mouth walked straight to Dr. Gaul. The Gamemaker wasn’t too close to you, but the proximity was enough to hear snippets of the whispers.

“Ravenstill… dead…”

Felix? You looked to Clemnisa and found that she must have heard as well as her eyes swelled with tears. She bit them back as Dr. Gaul looked you both over with a hard look in her eyes. She nodded to the woman and wordlessly made her exit. You waited a few moments before engaging in conversation, if such a thing could be done currently.

“Clemmie-”

“What happened.”

It was not a question but a demand. You took a moment to look at the world through Clemnisa’s eyes. It had been days since she was bitten. Days stuck in the laboratory with the wicked Gamemaker. No friends or family visiting. Then all of a sudden, her friend comes rushing in, flirting with death just to know that she had her hand in murder. Not only you, but yet another one of her close friends decided to join in the slaughter while another was dying. Dead.

This was not the Clemnisa you knew. She had her tears, but she did not bawl. Her body shivered but did not crumble. She became hardened at the edges. Though, familiar or not, she deserved answers. Your voice cracked and pitched as you relented to her demands. The agonizing tale of horror you had so actively lived and scarcely survived.

“The Hunger Games.”

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Arachne Crane was many things. Vile, cruel, demanding, sneering, and the list goes on. But one thing she was not, was a fool.

She was not to be fooled by Bobbin's sudden death. She knows there would have been recaps. Arachne noticed Coriolanus’s silence while his classmates chattered among themselves. His eyes were calculating like usual, but they were shadowed by a look of remorse. Guilt? Relief.

The red-haired girl certainly took note of your delayed arrival and the fresh-looking stitches on your neck. Peculiar as they looked perfectly fine last night before Arachne left. The look of unreadable emotion between you and Coriolanus was the most incriminating evidence. As if you never thought you would see the other ever again, yet there you were. However, the look was cut short as it was replaced with horror.

Upon the vast screen, a district caved into itself. Jessup began accusations against Lucy Gray, his closest confidant.

Most district pairs stuck together, but none more than Lucy Gray and Jessup. Even Arachne knew that neither would turn on the other, so why is Jessup Diggs chasing his friend with deadly intent? Arachne’s brown eyes moved from the screen to you and Coriolanus to ease her confusion. If it wasn’t enough that the tributes were friends, their mentors were more than enough to solidify their truce.

Yet, you both understood. Coriolanus noted the foam appearing from Jessup’s mouth and turned to you for help, but you were already ahead of him. You remembered rabies all too well. Hunched over your computer, you inhaled a somber breath.

“I know you did your best, Jessup. You did your part. It's my turn now. I’m so sorry.”

Your voice was small and quaking as your fingers hovered over, and eventually pressed the buttons signaling Jessup’s doom. A drone came rushing in, zooming straight for Jessup, narrowly missing both him and Lucy Gray. Instead, it hit the rock straight behind the District 12 boy, ricocheting off the stone and onto him. Fear overtook his eyes as he began swatting it off, only to have fright filling his lungs.

“What’s wrong with me?! What did you do to me?!”

His pleas echoed in the viewing hall as Lucy Gray’s heart was shattering as much as the glass that brought this situation. She begged him to calm down, but no sense rang through his ears as he tried everything to get the water off. His erratic movement caught up with him. The dark-eyed boy slammed into the rock below- a deafening sound.

“Jessup? Jessup!”

Your teary eyes watched on as Lucy Gray comforted and hugged her now-gone friend.

“I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? You watched over me and I’m gonna watch over you.”

With dirt-covered hands, Lucy Gray closed her friend's eyes as she hugged him close. In the hall, a buzzer was heard, signaling his death and your elimination from the wicked games. You knew this was going to happen. It was inevitable yet the truth brought no comfort.

You walked past Coriolanus and met his swimming blue eyes. A nod and eyes filled with thousands of emotions, flickering past too fast to decipher. One was gratefulness. Your own eyes had their fair share of emotions that shouted out to the star mentor. He knew the unspoken plea. There was no chance to be taken. He had to win.

As Lucky Flickerman ushered you out with his charismatic words, you made your way to the audience stands. You saw Tigris first and flashed her a soft smile, to which she reciprocated. When you reached the girl, she pulled you into a warm embrace. No words needed to be said. As you were in her arms, a soft thought fluttered your mind. Tigris has been nothing but kind to you and treated you like a sister. You never had a sister. Her smiles and jokes, even while surrounded by a crumbling and colder world stunned you day in and out. If you ever get your stuff back from your apartment, you don't have to sell it all. You had a few dresses you think Tigris would love.

You stayed there for a few moments, lost from reality, before taunting cackles were heard. Laughs you knew far too well for your liking. The scene played out in front of your eyes as Lucy Gray became cornered by Coral, Tanner, and Treech. All looked roughed up from the earlier night, but the sight of prey gave them more than enough energy. You and Tigris sucked in a shared breath as they got closer to the shaking girl. You watched as Coriolanus focused on his computer, slamming the buttons as fast as possible.

Confusion laced your features for a fleeting moment before realization dawned over you. Coriolanus Snow, you scheming genius.

Half a dozen drones swirl around the pack as they begin to defend themselves from the mechanical mess-ups. Coral swings this way and that with her trident as the rest of her pack does the same. You watch Coryo’s mouth move as he pleads to his tribute to run and to your collective relief, she does.

Lucy Gray takes advantage of the chaos and slips away under some rubble, taking two bottles with her. Coral and her pack are arguing among themselves while Lucy Gray regains her spirits. Coral and Treech target Lamina, who has yet to move from her spot on top of the collapsed rubble structure, while Tanner is left to guard the piled-up water. As the two zero in on Lamina, Lucy Gray makes her own moves; though, it can be argued how much of it is her idea when you notice the silver hiding in her hand.

Frantically removing the cap of one of the bottles, a beautiful silver compact shines in the light as she pours powder into the water. You stopped breathing as if you inhaled the substance yourself. Like when you had inhaled the substance. Your eyes shift to Tigris and see her own squinting, trying to pinpoint the recognition. But you know.

You move your gaze to the back of beautiful blonde curls but you are interrupted halfway. Instead, the cold hard stare of Casca Highbottom filled your vision. His face was cemented into a grave expression but you caught the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. The dean made no move to back down from your stare, knowing he caught you right where he wanted. More specifically, he caught Coriolanus Snow.

The man smirked as he relented his gaze and directed it towards the screen where you missed plenty of action. Lamina succumbed to the power of Coral and joined Marcus beneath the structure while Lucy Gray, once again, hardly escaped from death. It was clear her various escapes drove a wedge between Coral and Tanner before the former drove her trident into her district partner. The crowd took a collective gasp at the sudden death and betrayal, but it was clear that today would be the day of death.

Only Treech and Coral remained of their former pack but that did not stop their hunting as little Wovey suddenly appeared. You had to look away as you heard their footsteps rush after the little girl, praying for her safety, even though it would be useless in the Games. The pair ran off into the tunnels, leaving the center of the arena with an odd silence.

No sign of movement for fleeting moments before a tribute could be heard before they could be seen. Coughing and stumbling, Dill from 11 approached the water. Or what she thought was pure water.

The relief on her face was blinding as she took gulps of the poison, no thought about the death she just consumed. You gulped down your nausea as she laid down next to the bottle. Your eyes shut as you heard Reaper call out for his friend. It wasn't supposed to be her. Why her? Why any of them?

Your face cringed in sorrow at Reaper’s howls and felt Tigris close her fingers over yours in comfort. You weren’t the one deserving of the comfort. Why were you given a shoulder of support while children had every last bit of hope and companionship slaughtered?

Reaper hovered over his friend's body and took off his hat in mourning. Your heart felt like it was going to give out in anguish. This isn’t a battle. This isn’t war. Death is indiscriminate except for the arena. Only the innocent. The good. The hopes of the world are massacred.

Reaper grabs Dill’s corpse and moves her to be with their fellow fallen tributes. One by one, Reaper lives up to his name as he creates the graveyard of innocent children. Most of which wished no harm to the other.

You take a look around the room and see sullen faces. Humanity and regret dance behind the crowd’s eyes. Maybe there is hope, a chance for change. Maybe the Hunger Games have grimly brought the Capital back to their senses-

Gasps shudder off the dome-like walls. Shrieks of offense and terror fill the air. You return your gaze to the screen, expecting more corpses and gore, but are only met with the flag between Reaper's hands. You look around the audience once more to see every pair of eyes hardening against the actions considered more vile than child slaughter. Every pair is focused in outrage at the offender who mocks the Capital and its punishment.

Every pair except a chestnut pair who stare at you. Arachne takes a look around the room once more and lands back on you. They always land back on you.

You watch her face contort into disbelief and realization. Across the room, your gaze connects as understanding flows straight to the girl.

Arachne Crane is many things. A top student, a promising youth, an unrelenting patriot.

Arachne Crane was many things.

But what Arachne Crane still is not, is a fool.

With the Panem flag draped over her fellow countrymen, she feels her blood boil with the districts, thoughts that would have never even scraped her mind before. But she was not the person from before. She is not, and never again will be, the Capitol's fool.

Your eyes still bore into one another when your attention was recaptured. So swift was Reaper’s act of rebellion cut off, instead replaced with the chilling look of a furious Dr. Gaul. Nothing good was to come of this.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravenstill, son of our beloved president.”

The sounds of shock and fury were drowned out as you only listened in to the Gamemaker. Watching how perfectly she articulates the fear to an unsuspecting audience. An audience that plays so perfectly into her game.

“He succumbed this morning to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing. Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games.”

You froze in disbelief. Not that Felix was gone, that fate was digested with Clemensia earlier. What you couldn’t believe was that all this time, you were led astray. You finally gathered the answer to Dr. Gaul’s question: ‘What are the Hunger Games for?’

You thought you knew. Everyone thought they knew. But this isn't about the districts. It has nothing to do with teaching them lessons or keeping them in their places. It has nothing to do with them at all.

The Hunger Games are not about survival. They are about control. And Dr. Gaul is losing her title as victor as the players stop playing.

“And where is he going?”

Your heart leapt to your throat at the sudden voice. You fully expected to see Casca Highbottom’s ever-present scowl as he seems to only show up at the worst times. However, you were pleasantly surprised to see your own scowling friend. You followed Arachne’s gaze to see Coriolanus rush out of the hall and you share a look of confusion with Tigris. You turn back to confess your lack of knowledge when it hit you. ‘A rainbow of destruction.’ Oh no.

“I have to go.”

You gave Arachne no time to protest in your haste to follow Coryo as you begged that you wouldn’t end up in the intimidating laboratory you have grown to detest.

Mere feet from the exit, you slam into something, causing you to stumble backwards into some unfortunate pedestrians. After collecting yourself, you realize that you didn't run into one of the many pillars surrounding the structure but rather an unamused looking Clemmisa Dovecote. 

Nothing ever goes your way.

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“Where exactly is your boyfriend going because if it is Dr. Gaul, I will throw him into a pile of snakes myself.”

You hesitate for a few moments as you take in the fact that Clemmisa is out and free. She told you of her time at the laboratory, none of which was in any realm near pleasant. The fits of insanity, the burning of her scales, and the absolute torture she went through in Gaul’s expression of science. Despite all that, here she stood, in a black turtleneck to hide her still fading scales and clearer eyes. Your observation was cut short however as the girl cleared her throat, clearly waiting for an answer. You sighed as you confessed. 

“Let his fate be quick please.”

Clemmisa was a singular second away from smashing her head into the nearest wall, not out of insanity, but rather frustration with her former class partner. However, any skull smothering plans were interrupted by an intrigued Arachne. 

“Ah so that's what the ‘flu’ was.”

You and Clemmisa both turn at her startling appearance. Your face must seem to translate your confusion well enough as the redhead continues. 

“You’re in a public and crowded area, be careful what you say. Plus, Y/N, don't be suspicious and expect people to not follow you. Though, it's good to know you are back Clemmie,”

“And that we are throwing Coryo into a pit of serpents.”

You turn to her unimpressed by the comment but she takes it in stride as she grins at you. Arachne gestures with her head for you and Clemmie to follow her into a more secluded part of the building. Ending up in an empty hallway, she turns to both of you, a thoughtful expression gracing her features.

“Wonder if Gaul’s colorful destruction has to do with her catching onto Coryo’s trick.” 

You watched as Clemmie’s brows furrowed in confusion. If she just made it to the hall now, it was likely she didn't see any of the Games today or frankly, at all. But as Clemmie stood there, awaiting an explanation from her friend, you were on the other side of the spectrum and looked towards Arachne with shock. The girl rolled her eyes and scoffed as she leaned on a nearby wall. 

“Oh please, no district kid has the money to get something that nice - singer or not. Besides, I remember fragments of Coryo's mother when our families used to get together and she was always fidgeting with that compact.”

As you digested her words, Clemmie still felt out of the loop and let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Okay good to know, but what does that have to do with anything?”

The two of you were quick to catch your unaware friend up to date: deaths, eliminations, rat poison, and all. In turn, she, along with your help, helped catch Arachne up with recent events including the rainbow snakes and your dance with death in the arena. The latter caused a flush of fury to appear on Arachne’s fair skin as your battle for survival was recounted. Once you were done, Clemmisa huffed out a breath, clearly overwhelmed. She turned back to face you two as she tried to figure out Coriolanus’s motive. 

“So what, he is just going to beg for Gaul’s forgiveness while he is actively cheating her games?”

“Coriolanus Snow does not beg. He is up to something obviously. Though what, I can’t figure it out.”

“It’s clear she is going to send the snakes in but I still don't understand what Coryo’s plan is going to be?” Clemmie puffs in aggravation at the dead end. Then, a look of conspiracy glistens in Arachne’s chestnut eyes.

Arachne turns to you in question. Since you seem to spend every breath with him, she thinks bitterly. You, however, turn to Clemmisa as she likely had insider information about Gaul due to her time spent at Gaul’s prison she calls a lab. It was clear from last night that those who work there don't mind having loose lips around their experiments. 

“He smells like her.”

You whip your head towards her, face nearly daring her to continue with that train of thought. 

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, don't even. You and I both know he's not like that.” She waved her hand in the air as if physically offended at your train of thought. 

“I meant that he is her mentor, not to mention she saved his life, so they spent a decent amount of time together. When I walked past her at the zoo, even surrounded by dirt and disgust, she still had a strong perfume smell to her. If what you say about the snakes is true-”

“Then he is going to use Gaul’s snakes against her.” You finish the thought for Arachne who looks to you slyly. Clemmisa looked as if she were about to burst from glee at the thought of Gaul tasting her own poison. 

With that, the three of you walk back into the main hall and can only wait for the events to play out. Pray and beg that you won't leave empty-handed, or more worryingly, hands tied behind your back.

Just as you reach the entrance to the viewing hall, you collide once again into an unsuspecting body. You really need to watch where you are going, you began saying to yourself before you felt familiar hands steadying you by the waist. Well, well, if it wasn't the golden boy of the hour, whose irises, colored in your personal favorite shade of blue, looked down at you in worry.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here?”

Clemmnesia didn’t have the patience for pleasantries and crossed her arms, ready for answers. “Okay, cut to the chase, is it gonna work or not?”

Coriolanus’s already pale skin lost any residue of color at Clemmie’s interrogation. The sight of his panic brought out a sick feeling of glee from Arachne as she laughed in her own high class, snobby, yet intimidating way.

“Take a breath, Coryo. Doubt anyone else noticed and besides, we all want you to win anyway. We wouldn’t hear the end of it if Festus won.”

Ara cringed at the last thought while you bit your lip in contemplation. Well, someone else, someone very important, might have noticed. You opened your mouth to voice your concern when Clemniesa clarified her own motivation.

“Not to mention playing Gaul and winning. I want to see her sense of power to crumble so perfectly in front of my eyes.”

Well, your discontent for Gaul was not as vile or seething as Clemnisa’s, it was enough for you to nod in agreement. Coriolanus didn’t know the details of Clemmies' pain, but he could see her burning glare had a yellow tint to it. Add on your own pain and separation from Coryo when you needed him most, Coryo won't question a single one of your feelings. Although, that left Arachne as the only one without a motivation. He turned to her with an arched brow in curiosity in which she was guarded in her answer.

“I have my reasons.”

Coriolanus figured he won't get any further answers from Ara, though she wasn’t the one he wanted to talk to. He knew he didn't have much time, but he needed to talk to you. Coriolanus needed just one ephemeral moment with you to know that you are okay. An assurance that you weren’t a biological lab rat like Clemmnesia or saw him differently after what he did. Of the two fates, he wasn’t sure which one was worse; Coriolanus would lose you in both cases.

The two other girls must have noticed the changing air between you and the charming blonde as they suddenly disappeared from your presence. Coryo took the slice of time to step closer to your cautiously worried being. You, much to Coryo’s relief, did not step back from the action but looked at him quizzically.

“Y/N, I –”

His ocean of eyes deepened as his breathing became shallow. The boy has always been a wonder with his wit and words yet all his ability decided to leave him at the moment he met your eyes. He couldn't stop seeing them closing in pain and refusal to open as death gripped you down. Will you ever be able to live without cruel fate seeking into every crack of your life?

The scream of Lucy Gray was impactful enough to hear it even outside the hall. Alerted and on edge, all confessions were pushed to the side as both you and Coriolanus ran to the screens. You were eliminated and you were not allowed back in the mentor observation area, but no one was able to move a foot as all were too captured by the action unfolding.

Coral and Treech had been poking up at Lucy Gray's hiding spot until the latter of the duo began coughing violently. His throat began closing up and even with the bad quality of the cameras, the life abandoning his adolescent body was visible to all. The singer from Twelve made a run for it as soon as she fell from the vents. Sprinting into the center, with Coral on her tails, Lucy Gray, along with the rest of the remaining tributes, were met with a chilling sight. An ominous glass container was slowly being lowered from an aircraft vehicle. It descended slowly and once finally released, the stillness of the arena was mocking. Desperate, sweet Wovey stumbled towards the glass-contained doom.

Your breathing ceased as Reaper's pleas for Wovey to stop moving rang throughout the nation. While the young girl begged for an end, Coriolanus had his own pleas: let his plan work. At once yet in slow, even artistic movements, the glass shattered, releasing death in the form of a beautiful display of colors. Wovey was the first to go, rapidly drowned by the snakes. Reaper took his death in honor as he kneeled tall, refusing to bend to the Capitol even in his final moments. The only two left were Lucy Gray and Coral, the latter only a few steps away from the venomous serpents. Your hand found Coryo’s in apprehension as you watched the two adolescents run from inevitability. 

The girl from Four opened her own towards her final opponent as she begged for mercy.

“It’s not fair! It’s not!

I can’t have killed them all for nothing.”

The young life that was never allowed to blossom within Coral was extracted by hundreds of beautiful fangs. The room was covered in a layer of paralysis as Lucy Gray was the lone warm-blooded body standing. Your hand began crushing Coryo’s but he only squeezed back. 

“She won.”

No, indeed it was rather the frighteningly seething Dr. Gaul, who was perched above. Coriolanus turned to the Gamemaker, doing what he does best: talking his way out of the situation. His victorious tribute was doing what she does best by singing to the snakes who were now slithering all over her, matching the bright colors of her mother’s dress. 

Coryo looked to you for confirmation, as if it was an unbelievable possibility with no ties to reality. In all truth, it was to each mentor and spectator, but not Coryo or you. Especially with Coriolanus’s own battle moves and tactics. The boy’s blue irises frantically moved from yours to Lucky Flickerman. The host was no help in confirming Lucy Gray’s victory nor her release as it was “not his call to make.” 

“Dr. Gaul, she’s won. Let her out.”

You’re headed for heaven, the sweet old hereafter. And I’ve got one foot in the door. But before I can fly up, I’ve loose ends to tie up. Right here in the old there-before. I’ll be along -

The woman was flushed with her anger, present through her twitching nostrils. Lucy Gray has won which means Volumnia Gaul has lost. The most powerful woman in Panem was outsmarted by a thin, sickly, backwoods singer. 

As Coriolanus tried to convince the woman to let Lucy Gray out and confirm their mutual victory, you tried to cover up his meddling by attributing the snakes' calmness to the girl’s beautifully heartbreaking singing. You looked around at the hypnotized crowd and witnessed Clemmnesia watch on with a mix of envy and nausea at the girl's relationship to the very snakes who caused Clemmie so much trauma. 

When my folks run aground. When I’ve tallied the score and I’m flat on the floor. Right here in the old there-before. 

When nothing is left anymore. When I’m pure like a dove. When I’ve learned how to love. Right here in the old there-before. When nothing is left anymore. 

“Dr. Gaul, please. Get her out.”

You watched as Coriolanus’s eyes dipped with persuasion and pleading as he started intently at Dr. Gaul, whose stance began to crumble. Lucy Gray can’t sing forever and you refuse to go back on your promise to Jessup. Lucy Gray will live.

“Get her out!”

All eyes turned to you as you shared the sentiment. If it was just going to be you and Coryo against the Capitol, so be it. However, you both know that if support was needed, it can always be found in Tigris Snow. 

“Get her out!!”

She stood tall as she joined you in rebellion. Swiftly, two more voices were heard. Clemmnesia and Arachne bore their intimidating glares into Dr. Gaul while they joined the ranks of opposition. Within just a moment, the entire hall was heard chanting for Lucy Gray’s freedom. You knew that Gaul could not silence the entire Capitol and their demands. A truth Gaul was, reluctantly, able to acknowledge. 

“Get her out.”

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Her hardened eyes ended up landing on your still intertwined hands while looking at Coriolanus, the victorious mentor of the ultimate underdog. The fact that he won hit you both a bit belatedly but as claps and cheers surrounded you, brilliant smiles broke across your faces. He separated your hands just to use his own to pick you up and spin you around in glee. As laughs and applause drowned out all your sense, the gaze of one Casca Highbottom was not felt. Though he was wearing a matching smile at the two of you. So happy the pair of you looked. Unaffected. Perfect and unscathed. Highbottom snarled at the thought.

Time to melt the snow.

When Coriolanus Snow was directed to follow a pair of Peacekeepers, he didn’t think much of it. He was on his way to congratulate Lucy Gray and released his breath knowing she lived. But while Coryo was lost in his accomplishment, you were not as trusting with his final destination. It was highly reckless, but then again, when did you ever have a clear head around Coriolanus Snow? 

You watched as the still softly smirking boy entered the room that was quickly locked and guarded by Peacekeepers. If he was meeting with Lucy Gray, why would they lock the door? In the Capital's eyes, she is still a high-level threat and the Capitol’s golden boy has just been trapped in there with her. You hypothesized the possible scenarios until the light went off in your head. The realization that Coryo had indeed been caught by Dean Highbottom occurred at the same moment the aforementioned man appeared in the locked room. 

“I warned you, Mr. Snow. Cheating will be punished.”

With a cynical laugh, he continued with his glorified lecture. “More poetically than even I could have hoped.”

“Lucy Gray, where is she?”

Coriolanus tried to retain his frustration and panic. He should have known. If Arachne and Clemnissa were able to figure him out, of course, the ever-vigilant and sneering Highbottom would in a second. 

“I would be more concerned with your own survival if I were you.”

Highbottom circled around the teen until he came to a stop in front of the table that displayed his mother’s compact and father’s handkerchief, proudly embroidered with “C.S”. 

“It’s fitting that both your parents could be here for your big moment. That compact. How many times did I see your mother use it to powder her beautiful face?”

The heir of Snow felt the anger boil as he clenched his jaw while the pure joy circulated in his father’s former best friend. 

“Come now, we both know that child from 11 didn’t die of disease. Or that lumberjack from 7. And that old handkerchief, we found it in the snake tank, appropriately condemning you with your father’s own initials.”

Snow had no rebuttal as Casca continued with satisfaction lacing his words and cruel grin. The man was ready to continue before slightly muffled screams from the door were heard. 

In the moments that Dean Highbottom spent giving his self-satisfied monologue, you grew anxious at the silent moments. You didn’t know what was happening but whatever Coryo was facing, he wasn’t going to do it alone. 

You thought of trying to sweet-talk your way in, but just one look at the stone-faced guards was enough to scrap the plan. Alarm was overtaking your brain and any semblance of rationality, which left you with only one plan left. 

You moved from your hiding place behind the pillars and ran straight for the door, barely scraping the doorknob before two pairs of strong arms began dragging you away. While they might have captured your body, your mouth was left free and used the highest decibel of your voice to alert a certain blonde. 

“CORYO! CORYO! CORYO-”

While one of the guards was able to silence you, it was too late. Coriolanus turned in alarm at your screaming voice while Highbottom tilted his head in curiosity.

“Loyal one, isn’t she?”

The Dean notified the guards to let you in and within a passing second, your rumpled clothed figure stumbled in. You, unfortunately, met Highbottom’s mirthful gaze first, to which you returned with a harsh glare. You quickly then shifted your focus to the concerned Coriolanus as you walked to his side. With a deep inhale to steady yourself and sparing no further time to allow you to overthink your next actions, you addressed Dean Highbottom.

“It was me. I cheated in the games.”

Coryo’s brows furrowed in confusion and astonishment at your words while Highbottom’s raised in surprise. Though his surprise quickly morphed into amusement.

“Did you now?

His question was met with a steady nod and yet no movement from young Snow. The dean’s smile grows further.

“Care to explain how both Snow artifacts came into your possession?”

To your credit, you were quick on your feet, showing no signs of nerves.

“I thought of the poison plan too spontaneously to bring a proper container. Coryo had just given me the compact so I thought he wouldn’t notice.”

The “nor you” was left unspoken.

“Coriolanus gave me the handkerchief a while ago and I must have forgotten of the initials.”

Highbottom nodded along with claims though he was armed with follow-up questions. 

“And when did you exactly spend so much time with Miss Biard to capture her smell on the forgotten handkerchief?”

Coriolanus watched as you answered yet again without a falter, though the answer shocked him at the near-total accuracy. 

“I visited her at the zoo the night before the games.”

“You visited Lucy Gray but not your own tribute?”

“Lucy Gray might as well have been my tribute because I swore to make sure she won. I made that promise to Jessup because we both knew he wouldn’t make it. I was willing to break a few rules to ensure that he died for a reason.”

Highbottom stepped closer to you, which caused Coryo to put an arm in front of you and step ahead, much to the dean’s amusement. The Hunger Games’ inventor took you in as he calculated in that malicious mind of his. 

“I must admit Miss Vaun, you are quite an admirable young woman. Clever and loyal. Not to mention one of the few Capitol kids with a heart.”

You and Coryo listened to his compliments with unease as you were sure that the other shoe had yet to drop. 

“Smart explanations. There was a visitor to Lucy Gray’s cage the night before the Games, but I know it wasn’t you. The Zoo’s cameras need work but even those janky machines can pick up on the ridiculous shade of blonde of the real cheater.”

Coryo looked to you, defeat lightly creeping up on his pale face, but you were unwilling to accept his defeat. You didn’t care if you had to get on your knees and beg: Coriolanus’s family needed the money and Coriolanus. 

“The Games are about survival and survival has no rules. In life or death, you don’t survive by playing nice. Coriolanus was just doing what those tributes were doing: surviving. And he won.”

Highbottom’s ever-irritating and grating laugh filled the enclosed room, shaking his head at you. 

“Oh dear girl. Here you are, using every last inch of skin and bone to defend him and yet not a word of protest came out of his mouth. Willing to defend a Snow who is more than willing to let you take the brunt of their actions. You truly are your mother’s daughter.”

He takes in the pair of you with a mocking pout as he can sense your confusion. 

The man’s bitter tone was dripping as he circled in on you both like a vulture. You had been able to piece your parents' former courtship but if only you knew the full extent. No need to worry; Casca Highbottom was oh so gracious to provide. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know? Y/N, where do you think that ring is from? After this, besides an excuse of a heir, the only remaining asset of Crassus Snow will be hanging around your neck. Ironic, after a war, death, and poverty, Snow still get’s the girl. Isn’t that right?”

“He was so quick to use the last remnants of his dead parents for his ambition, what makes you think he won't use you? I wonder if you are smart enough to realize it in time, just like your mother. So sad it didn’t matter in the end, Crassus brought her down into the grave with him.”

At that, Coriolanus finally spoke up, utterly done with Highbottom's mockery, especially when it came to both of your parents.

“She died from poisoned water. Years after my father's death.”

Highbottom looked at his two smartest students as if they were the dullest minds to walk on the earth as he explained.

“Now why would rebels go through so much effort to poison Cloria? If they wanted to hurt the Vaun family, why not cut off the head by taking out Tyre? He was a far easier target in the districts than his wife stored away deep in the Capitol. The rebels could have gone after you, Coriolanus, but humiliation states far better than ultimate demolition. But oh Cloria Vaun? The last fully functioning remnant of Crassus Snow. She may have run from his arms, she was never out of reach.”

“There was a reason your brother, your dear Otto, and uncle were sent to Twelve with Crassus Snow, Y/N. The family ties between your maternal family and the Snows were a notorious bond. One that couldn’t even be broken by the cruel heart of Crassus.”

Highbottom landed right in front of your swelling eyes as he spelled out the pain for you. Coriolanus kept his eye on you, dread flowing through his arteries. 

“Every person you have ever loved died at the hands of the family you strive at any chance to defend. You are just the next victim.”

You look down at your necklace, a priorly never noticed detail shouts out at you. The two golden rings of your family were split apart by the aggressive silver shine of the Snow’s ring. Your breath began to quicken as Coriolanus ducked his head down to get your attention. His eyes began to match your teary-eyed ones as he too took in your appearance. 

No, no, please no. You can't believe he is like his father. You can’t.

Casca Highbottom took in the scene of heartbreak in front of him with jubilation. He never had anything against Cloria, but he wished the world’s worst suffering against any bearer of the surname Snow. 

“Your family won’t ever see that prize money now of course, Coriolanus. President Ravinstill has left your form of punishment to me, and I’ve decided banishment to the districts where you’ll serve your Capitol in exile for the next 20 years as an anonymous, peacekeeping grunt.”

Both pairs of youthful eyes snapped to the dean. You share a look with Coriolanus and in that one glance, you knew. You didn’t care if it was your so-called destiny to suffer. You refused to let your life be controlled by the actions of two people who weren’t you, even if they were your blood. You were unwilling to accept your love to be ripped from you by a man’s personal vendetta with a ghost. 

The sound of fireworks popping in the distance filled the tension-packed room as Highbottom finally felt his long-awaited satisfaction. 

“Do you hear that, boy? Finally. The sound of snow falling.”

Any arguments from you were drowned out by half a dozen Peacekeepers storming and dragging Coriolanus away. Just as you had pleaded on your way in, you did the same as he left. 

“CORYO!”

You were held back by Peacekeepers just like before, but you made no effort to move. Your mind had nothing to provide as it was hazed with anguish. No thoughts were able to be formed besides the image of that singular look in Coriolanus's eyes. The look of one who was screaming their proclamation of love in a battlefield. The look you give to your loved one before you say goodbye. Forever. 

You whip yourself around once you were finally released from the guards' grasps as you intend to argue against Coryo’s punishment. Your tear-streamed face was met with an unnervingly calm and serene Highbottom.

“Time to discuss your punishment.”

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

You stood in front of the grey vehicle with a small bag in hand. A handful of items stuffed into it, the few personal items you had left at the Plinths. You heard the whistles blow, the third of its kind, alarming all persons on the platform for the train's soon departure. You knew you needed to get on but you felt frozen in time. No movement in your body, not even a blink or breath. All until a voice startled you into motion.

The train looked only slightly more advanced and clean than the cattle car the tributes arrived in. An arrival that was less than a week ago. Yet here you stood. From top student and Capitol darling to a scarred, disowned, and failure.

At least that's what kept on ringing in your mind when you went to the Snow’s apartment to break the news that no money would arrive along with their Coriolanus. The look in Tigris's eyes was a sure affirmation that sleep would not be coming to you for days.

“Wonder if it moves.”

You turn to your right and there stands a surprisingly plain-looking Arachne Crane. Your eyes squint in confusion at her appearance and presence but she takes no notice as she continues to look at the train like you just were. You clear your throat as you warily address her. 

“It’s a train, Ara. Yes.”

“I was talking about you.”

She met your eyes with a smirk that only widened at your further confusion on just how long she had been standing there without your notice. The final passengers, mostly just Peacekeepers, boarded, leaving just you and Arachne. 

“Alright, I admit it’s a decent-looking train but now it's time to get going.”

The girl grabs your hand and made it onto the train's low steps for boarding when you pull her to a stop. The girl turned around with an eyebrow arched in slight frustration.

“What are you doing, Ara?”

The girl huffed at what seemed like an obvious answer. She flipped her high ponytail over her shoulder as she switched hands to hold yours. 

“I don’t like to be played like a fool. The Capitol says the districts are evil, let them but I’ll find out for myself. Besides, the two people I actually can tolerate here aren’t going to be here, so why would I?”

“You have Clemmnisa.” You countered which made the girl softly laugh. 

“Yeah, but she isn't you. Besides, it's a ‘business trip’.”

You tilted your head at her excuse. “Arachne, your family doesn't have hotels in Twelve.”

She smirked at you gleefully at your comment. 

“I know.”

And with that, she pulled you up into the train, feet leaving the ground just as the train left the tracks.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

A/N: FINALLY! sorry guys I was struggling to write this, material and time wise. To all those who celebrate Eid tomorrow, here is your lil gift;) to all: have a lovely day!!

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

[pascaloverx]

Invisible Bonds: The Power of Destiny

Author's Note: This fanfic contains possible strong language and explores themes of unconventional love. The relationship between the protagonists will be handled with sensitivity, without explicit scenes. If there are explicit scenes, readers will be warned. This fanfic focuses on the reader's relationship with Jungkook and Taehyung, separately.

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Chapter Eleven

In the first moment, you're unsure how to react, realizing that Jungkook won't let go of your hand. Your eyes are fixed on him, as if you want to convey to him to step back. However, he seems unwilling to let you go. You wonder why he still wants to be close to you, especially since he ended your connection.

"Let me go, Jungkook. Go back to your party, and do me a favor by keeping the volume down. I don't want to involve the police in this." You speak firmly, pulling your hand away from his. Unsuccessful, you huff, looking at Jungkook with an angry glare as he watches you with a smile.

"I thought our thing would be over once the call ended, but it seems you and I have a lot of unresolved tension." Jungkook says, getting closer to you. He stares at you face to face, as if trying to provoke you.

"You think this is tension? I'll show you what tension is." You say seconds before stomping on Jungkook's foot with all your strength. The pained groan he lets out almost makes you feel sorry for him. However, you quickly manage to break free from him and open the door to your apartment. Unfortunately, he manages to recover in time to enter in your apartment with you.

"That was unnecessary." He murmurs while he looks at you with a victorious expression, even though he appears to be in pain. You look at him indignantly at his audacity.

"As if you know what is necessary or not. You just barged into my apartment uninvited. After proving to be a..." You pause for a few seconds, contemplating how to describe Jungkook in the moment.

"Being an adult and single man? Sorry if our connection misled you, but we're not married." He says very clearly. You can't deny that realizing you probably only meant something to him while you were connected hurts a bit. But he's right, at least in that part.

"That doesn't give you the right to be intrusive. If you want to party, hook up with others, or whatever the hell, that's not my problem. But this loud music in the middle of the night, while I'm trying to sleep to go to work early, is something I can and will complain about." Your gaze locks with Jungkook's as if you're ready to shut down any of his arguments.

"Are you sure that's what bothers you? Isn't it the fact that I moved on? Or that I ended what we had between us?" Jungkook retorts, smiling smugly at you.

"Don't make me laugh. There was never anything between us for you to end. We just fooled ourselves for a few days, but the truth is, we never had anything." You look at him seriously while resisting the urge to kiss him. It seems that your connection still has some effects on you.

"If that's the case, why do you still want me? Why do you want to be near me, to the point of crashing my party?" He speaks in a condescending tone. You then approach him, as if wanting to make him realize that he invaded your apartment as well.

"Screw you, Jungkook. I didn't go to your party looking for you. I went looking for peace, for the chance of having a good night's sleep. Can't you see that you came after me too? And why would I ruin the party of someone who already means nothing to me?" You smile as you see Jungkook seeming to realize the situation. In the end, both of you end up being as foolish as the other.

"Why don't you try facing reality, princess? You and I like each other, with or without the connection. The difference is, without the connection, we're allowed to like other people too." He speaks, staring at you, surprising you with his words.

"Are you telling me that you ended our connection to like other people?" You're almost speechless. Deep down, you always thought he gave up on you because of your closeness with Taehyung.

"I wasn't born to be tied to one person, Y/N. The expectations, responsibilities, and duties of a committed person don't appeal to me." Jungkook speaks with a confidence that almost makes you want to laugh in his face. So in the universe, precisely a man with commitment issues became your soulmate?

"I have to thank you. If you weren't so self-centered and selfish, I would actually be stuck with my worst nightmare. Thank you for freeing me from you." you say, getting very close to him, as if wanting to make your feelings clear. A slight mischievous smile appears on Jungkook's face, leaving you puzzled.

"You should thank me for freeing you from responsibility. You don't want to be only with me, and I know it. I'll even accept it. I made it possible for you to be with Taehyung without feeling guilty." You don't know how to react to what he's saying. In reality, it's hard for you to concentrate on what he's saying while he's so close. You're seconds away from getting lost in Jungkook's gaze.

"You must think I'm foolish. Do you think I don't know that you did this so you could be with anyone without worrying about me?" You speak, trying to compose yourself, taking a step back while attempting to appear confident.

"The only person I want to be with right now is you. Even if you hardly believe that." Your eyes meet, as if for a moment, all the tension between you two becomes immeasurable.

"You're right about that. I don't believe anything you're saying..." You say it almost in a whisper, trying not to lose your train of thought, but it's too late. Surprising both of you, you end up kissing Jungkook. Without a concrete explanation, your body approached his, and your lips moved toward his. A very brief kiss. You kiss him as if kissing a forbidden fruit. But quickly, you pull back from the kiss you initiated. It's as if you're waiting for his reaction to figure out what to do next.

"You say one thing and do another. Your luck is that your madness makes me extremely excited." Jungkook says, kissing you with more intensity. It seems like he's wanting to lose himself in you, or maybe even find himself in you. You reciprocate the kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach. It's as if it makes you feel alive, even though you know that you and Jungkook definitely aren't right for each other.

Unfortunately, you're interrupted by a female voice knocking on the door, yelling for Jungkook — you then feel like the world is calling you back to reality. You step away from Jungkook, feeling awkward, while he seems a bit regretful. You just don't know if he regrets the kiss or his party.

"I believe that's your irresponsibilities calling you. After all, you weren't born to be tied to anyone." You say, a mix of sarcasm and a hint of bitterness in your voice. Jungkook seems hesitant, unsure if he should stay or leave. When the woman yells again, he decides to leave your apartment. Without saying anything, he just looks at you, as if wanting to convey something. You then decide to go lie down, even though you might not be able to sleep due to the noise and the fact that you kissed Jungkook after spending the night with Taehyung. You have no idea what this means emotionally for you.

[kimium]

Warning I’m getting a bit sappy here, so that’s why I’m putting most of this under the cut. Also this isn’t planned. This is just me rambling.

I don’t usually talk about what I watch here, however, earlier in December I posted about how I was re-watching Gundam Seed.

As it happens, usually in December, I get a burst to rewatch something nostalgic and this year I felt like rewatching Gundam Seed. However, even though I watched Gundam Seed years and years ago, I never got into the sequel, Gundam Seed Destiny. So, I decided to fix that and give Gundam Seed Destiny a try.

This feels so strange. Normally my nostalgic anime dip doesn’t go further than me just rewatching the series and then moving on. Having an opportunity to rewatch not just Seed, but watch Destiny for the first time has been an experience for me.

It’s been a wild ride. It astounded me how much of Seed I remembered. I’m equally surprised how much I enjoyed Destiny. I remember when it first came out I was wary and that wariness lead me to not watch it until now.

To finish this off, I want to just list some of the points I enjoyed in Seed and Destiny.

-Anna ni issho datta no ni is still, in my opinion, the best ending to the series.

-Find the Way needed to be used more as an ending because it’s amazing.

-Lacus’ insert songs still hold up (Mizu no Akashi, Shizuka na Yoru ni).

-Wheel of Destiny still effs my emotions over.

-Actually that entire scene with Cagalli and Athrun with the stand off is absolutely breath taking and is probably one of my favourite scenes in the entire anime series.

-I’m surprised that in an action series my favourite songs are the softer ones.

-Fields of Hope is probably the only song in Destiny I enjoyed entirely.

-The fight scenes were pretty good considering the show clearly had a limited budget with the reuse of shots.

-I genuinely enjoyed the relationships in Seed. Destiny, I may be a bit more hesitant, but Stella and Luna are good girls.

-I liked Shin more than I anticipated. Sure, there were some scenes I wanted to hit him but in the end I do like him as a character.

-Mu and Murrue Ramius are legit as a couple and if you think I don’t also have an OT3 with Waltfeld in there you’re sadly mistaken.

-Yuna’s scenes leading to his death and his death were glorious and cathartic to me.

-I expected myself to dislike Meer Campbell but I genuinely like her and I’m Extremely Shocked because she was one of the reasons holding me back all those years from watching the series proper.

-The Chairman really worked well as the main “antagonist” in Destiny and I am pleased because my pet peeve in series is when the radical antagonist who truly believes they are helping the world is clearly Stark Mad. I always say they have to be charismatic or it feels unbelievable to me.

-My favourite side character is Miriallia because she was a brief foil to Flay. I also like her and Dearka together.

-Nicol is Best Boy and I still am a bit upset

-I think Yzak has been the fastest character for me to go “I dislike you so much” to “Holy Crap I like you”

-Mu La Flaga’s entire story premise in Destiny is My Jam and I’m All In for the trope. 100/10.

-Finally, I really like that no matter what happens, Kira pilots Freedom and Athrun ends up piloting Justice. It feels very symbolic and I love stuff like that.

[absolutebl]

Cutie Pie Review - It’s All About the Chemistry

quick pitch 

Cutie Pie 

(Thailand, Feb-May on YouTube) 

8/10

Main Tropes: arranged marriage, age gap, secret identity, cohabitation, rich kid problems, he’s in engineering

It was a real pleasure to see Zee again (Why R U?) and his new love interest is very well cast. MaxNat turned in their usual consummate side dish action, (origin Why R U? also Y-Destiny & Close Friend) and it’s always fun to see Perth (My Engineer) and the other guest cameos. 

With very high production values at at first I thought they were gunning for Korea, but I’m got a real Japanese feel from this one, Thai style of course but there is definitely a lot of visual referencing live action yaoi. Also the music and sound were pretty darn good.

It took me a few episodes to accept the absurd conceit of this show and its quirky characters and motivation as ALSO EXTREMELY traditionally yaoi and very lifestyle D/s. After that I just rolled with it. I realized that if this had come from Japan I would have given it a pass immediately. Why be tough on it just because it comes from Thailand?  So, about half way through I liked it A LOT more. 

The chronic miscommunication: 

Really tested my patience at the end tho. 

THAI LANGUAGE CORNER

Why Ai'Hia was so funny in Cutie Pie 

A Mini Essay on My Love of LianKuea in Cutie Pie (and ZeeNunew's performances)

Honestly I just love LianKuea's dynamic, it's so D/s but also so classic yaoi seme/uke. The way Lian smiles when his Nu does something cute is so damn sweet. He’s practically the definition of a caring Dom. Killing Kuea (and us) with stern softness. Zee did a fantastic job with this character. That said NuNew also managed to give us an appealing uke with gumption and a crush and a failure to understand self actualization who we liked.

But let's be honest here, the actors chemistry is REALLY good.

(After Semantic Error, I'm beginning to develop theories about same-sex actor age gaps and the chemistry development quality that results. But I need to gather more data first.)

Look, there is something about the way Zee looks as his acting partners. His eyes are very doting, no mater the line delivery or any other aspects of the scene. He's been given these fierce stern roles to play in Fighter and Lian but he always seems to manage to temper his characters with fondness.

I like doting affection on screen.

I also like to see a seme actually sexually intersted in his uke, otherwise the archetype comes off as more inclined to ownership and less about desire. To be frank, Zee is also good at transmitting the "I want to bone" thing.

Since a seme character is aggressive and obsessive and intrusive he has to be tempered by some sort of softness to appeal to a modern audience. Add in authentic feeling sexual interest and the seme character MUST be gentled by the actor's performance, or we end up with a H4 situation. And Zee manages to transmit all that with just eye work. It's great to watch.

But NuNew did a wonderful job too. Kuea was clearly interested and willing and game. There’s no sign of the Blushing Maiden with this uke. Thank fuck, could we PLEASE kill that archetype?

As much as I love a Daddy who wants his boy, a boy who needs his Daddy is about a billion times better. And genuine sexual interest from the uke character is still far too rare in BL.

In this regard, Cutie Pie was a breath of fresh air.

What can I say?

They love each other, they just idiots

is a favorite of mine.

But...

They WANT each other, they just idiots?

Yeah. That one is gonna get me EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

The other pairs were good too! 

MaxNat serve us high heat while smiling the whole time. Which was kinda charming and basically their signature. These two just seem to have fun together. It’s nice. 

Language note on Yi’s confession: Diao’s nickname khondiao means “only” or a”lone” in Thai? So when Yi confesses, he’s using world play when he says “I love you only”. More here.  

However, I gotta say my favorite kiss of this show (and it was VERY kissy), was actually Syn and Nuea. Adorable. I wish we had gotten more of these two. 

Cutie Pie ended very navel gaze maudlin and sappy for my taste. The absurd proposal back-and-forth thing was kinda par for the course with Lian and Kuea  and their miscommunication antics, but I was bored by it. 

This show went from absurd to appealing to annoying and then back to absurd again - but always sappy and nicely high heat for what ultimate seemed to be an equal marriage propaganda piece. Which I’m fine with, but Taiwan’s Faded did it better in 20 minutes back in 2017. 

Nevertheless, on the strength of the chemistry of all three couples, the odd but very old fashioned romance tropes, and clear high rewatchability this one is getting a 8/10. Watch this one for the pretty, give it a pass on depth.

(source)

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt.3

I’m so sorry for the late post guys! I had the most hectic work load today. I’m taking too many goddamn classes this semester. ANYWAY here is my filthy part 3. I mean... they still haven’t fucked, but we’re getting there. I think this can be wrapped in a nice little 4 part bow, but I also kinda want 10 chapters of them together because I’m a slut for this dynamic. This is my FIRST TIME writing smut! So go easy on me. Thank you so much for reading! - Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3   Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (m receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2300

It was a short ride to the compound, and y/n had a hard time keeping up with the fast walking team as they tried to explain little things along the way.

She hadn’t been outside in a decade. The grass was green and warm where it met her bare feet as she walked behind Sam and Steve. The rest of the team immediately left the quinjet, seeking the comfort of their showers and beds. Bucky was the last to leave, not feeling right about just disappearing from her, but keeping his distance.

Y/n was still so heartbroken. Hearing about her family’s death had really stung, and she knew if she dwelled on it, she’d cry about it for days. But all she really had time to be sad about was how cold her Soldat was towards her. It seemed very much like he didn’t want her around him.

Steve and Sam brought y/n inside the residential wing of the compound. They toured the common areas, kitchen, and showed her where everyone’s bedroom was. They finally got to a guest bedroom down the hall from Natasha, and left her to get cleaned up and comfortable.

Y/n looked around her new bedroom. It was barely decorated, but she had to admit, it was still much nicer than her room with the Men. She sat her yarn and needles down on a table and sat on the large bed. Her body instantly sank into it, the plush comforter conforming to her body in a way the single sheet never did on the twin bed she slept on.

But she couldn’t enjoy her new favorite place in the world for long because not 3 minutes later, she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it, and much to her surprise, Bucky was standing there, with 2 pairs of sweatpants, and 3 t shirts in his arms.

“I figured you’d want some fresh clothes after you’re clean.” He said sheepishly, not making eye contact with her. “You can ask Nat about undergarments.”

That made her giggle the tiniest bit. “I’m not allowed to wear any undergarments.” But he should know that. She was trained to do things to please him, so wouldn’t he like her to not have on obstructing materials?

“Oh. Well, umm… you can now… If you want to. It’s up to you.” She could see the blush rise up his neck, coloring the bits of his face that weren’t blanketed by hair. She took in his attire. He obviously changed out of his tactical mission gear, in favor of the sweatpants he wore that looked almost identical to the ones in his arms. He also appeared to be freshly showered, his hair still damp, and if she looked close enough, she could see little wet patches on his shirt from where he didn’t dry himself completely.

“Are these your clothes?” She asked, taking the bundle from his arms and opening her door wider so he could enter her room.

“Yeah, Steve went a little overboard on the shopping when I first got here. They’ll be a little big, but the pants have a drawstring, so it should work for now. Until you get something better.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to put the sweatpants up to her face and inhale deeply. She just felt a primal urge to know what he smelled like. Gunpowder, wood, and something naturally male- Bucky. She couldn’t stop the moan low in her throat.

Bucky watched her as she did that. He felt his pants tighten just at the thought of her in his clothes, and the way she just smelled his pants and let out that sound of satisfaction, made him want to take her right there.

“Thank you, sir.” Y/n replied. Fully engulfed in her embarrassment.

“Y/n, you really don’t need to call me that. I’m just Bucky.” He reminded her. Honestly, he loved when she called him Sir- the authority it gave him, but it made an unholy amount of blood flow directly to his cock and he couldn’t think as clearly. Especially when she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

“Okay, Bucky.” She said, trying the name out on her tongue. He liked the way she said it. “If that makes you happy.” She risked a step closer to him.

“You need to do what makes you happy.” He took an equally measured step back, knowing he was close to giving in to her temptation.

“I’m working on it, Bucky. But I need your permission. I just wanna be good for you.” She said, quickly taking 3 more steps until she was about 6 inches from his face.

“This isn’t right, Y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. Hydra wanted this. You don’t have to belong to me.” She craned her neck up to be closer to his lips, but he was determined to reason with her before he does something he can’t take back.

“But I want to belong to you. I thought about you every day for 10 years years, Bucky. And I hadn’t even seen you.” Bucky tilted his head down ever so slightly, their lips were just shy of touching. “Let me be good for you, Bucky. Let me make you happy.” She repeated.

“Okay.” Was all he said. He expected their lips to touch then, but she was already down in her knees. None of her videos showed passionate kissing. She wanted to please him in the way she read about in her studies.

On her knees, Y/n was able to see the thick outline of his erect cock very easily, and couldn’t stop the involuntary moan. Just as she did with his other sweatpants, Y/n pressed her face against the bulge and inhaled deeply. Between the smell that was just so him, and the warmth of his clothed cock rubbing on her face, she was starting to go feral for the man standing in front of her in complete shock.

Bucky hadn’t been with a woman since before the war, and they definitely weren’t like this. He watched as she was damn near purring while she rubbed her face on him. She reminded him of a kitten, the way she open-mouthed kissed the line of his cock through his sweatpants. Then she pulled them down, and he felt her wet tongue roll around the fat tip.

“Shit, Y/n, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do you want me to stop, Sir?” She said, taking another lick from base to tip.

“God no. Fuck.” he groaned as she started put his balls in her mouth and sucked, hard. “But if you keep working me like that this is definitely gonna stop.”

She moaned hearing him fall apart above him- finally fulfilling her destiny. Making her Soldat happy.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you’re so good at this. Where the fuck did you learn this?” He asked, more to himself than to her, seeing as she started bobbing and swiveling her head. He wanted to put his hands in her hair, but ultimately decided not too. If he was gonna let this happen, it had to be at her pace.

She had never seen a cock in person but she knew he must be above average, her tongue counting 3 thick veins running up the sides and bottom of it. Trying to remember everything she saw the women in the videos doing and all the descriptions she read in the erotic literature, she hollowed her mouth around him and flattened her tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Babydoll you’re doing so well for me. Y/n, shit.” She felt his cock touch the back of her throat and gagged around the intrusion. Spit mixed with precum rolling down her chin. When she looked up at him, her big eyes meeting his, he lost it. She could feel his cock harden just a little bit more, and his balls tightened, right before he released his heavy load into her throat. She backed up a little so it wouldn’t go straight down, she wanted to feel him on her tongue and taste him. Once she was sure she got every drop, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little so he could see his cum sitting on it before she swallowed it all with a soft moan.

“Did I do good, Sir?” She said, still sitting in front of him, his cock softening in her face as she watched the anatomy work in fascination. She reached her hand out to touch it, really appreciating the feel and warmth of his skin. He groaned loudly at the overstimulation and the sound of her normally smooth voice, now rough from the number she did on him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you did so good, Babydoll. You’re such a good girl.”

And in that moment he felt like he could pass out. He wanted to vomit because he looked down at her face and saw the innocence still in her eyes. Good girl. He remembered saying those words to her before. So long ago. He saw a flash of a memory of rubbing a little girl’s head before knocking her out. Carrying her to her house and tucking her in her bed, before stroking her face one last time and leaving. He remembered how Hydra fried him so hard after that mission, they were afraid they killed him. She looked different, older, but it was the same eyes. Definitely her. And there that same girl was, on her knees for him, and just gave him the best blowjob of his life.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants. Part of him wanted to run away. He was ashamed of himself. He knew that he should have turned her down and left before anything could happen. He took advantage of her. But he also knew that if he just left now with no explanation, he would be an even bigger asshole. Times like that made him miss the simplicity of not having control over his life.

“Y/n, you did such a good job for me.” He stood her up, pulling her in for a bone crushing hug. This confused her, because she never saw the aftermath in her videos. It was always brutal and then the woman was just left there. But he was so gentle with her as he tenderly stroked her hair and lowered his lips to hers for a kiss.

It was the absolute least he could do. He wanted to kiss her- he wanted to reciprocate and make her see stars, but his mind was racing. Debating if it was a good time to tell her about their previous encounter, wondering if she remembered him and was acting, or if she had no idea that he’s the reason she was kidnapped. And even though he didn’t kill them, the reason her family is dead. Selfishly, he decided that it would be best if he told her another time. He hadn’t experienced intimacy like this in so long, and Y/n’s lips felt amazing on his.

He finally broke the kiss to give her air, knowing she doesn’t have the lung capacity he has. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked, not wanting to rush her into anything else. He knew he’d be going to hell for it, but he needed to be around her.

“I would love to, Sir.” She said with the biggest smile her face could muster. He swore he’d never get tired of seeing that smile. Feeling her tits press against his chest through the thin cotton layers of both of their clothes. Hearing how she moaned just a little when he stroked her jaw. He could feel his brain going fuzzy from just the intoxicating proximity of their embrace as they hugged, swaying slightly and exchanging sweet kisses in between longing looks.

“Call me, Bucky.” He gently reminded her. For his sake, really- his self control couldn’t handle her constant submissive nature. “I’m gonna let you take that shower, and in the meantime, I’ll go order some take out. Do you like chinese?” He asked, putting some distance between them, to prevent her from noticing how he was getting hard all over again and dropping to her knees for round two.

“Chinese people? I don’t know any, but I’m sure they’re lovely.” She replied, a little confused by his strange question.

Part of him liked that he wasn’t the most clueless person in the compound anymore. When it came to texting and pop culture, he was useless, but Y/n was held in captivity. She didn’t have takeout, or dinner dates, or freedom to shower with nobody watching her. He would be able to teach her those things, and he liked that. Someone needing him for more than violence. Someone to take care of.

“I’ll just go order the food. I’ll be back soon, Babydoll. There should be shampoo and conditioner in the shower with towels and all types of other stuff. Just look around a bit.” He said before he walked out of her room. She had never experienced moisture between her thighs like she was in that moment, so a shower was probably a good idea. 

Part 4

~

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[narrators-journal]

Step three

Back with another spicy part while I wait for more tasty tasty asks! This one includes consent! Look at Illumi go!

cw: nsfw, possessiveness, mentions of murder, that’s about it honestly

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi enjoyed his new relationship, but he was also somewhat confused by it. He was never taught much about 'dating', marriage was about the only romantic dynamic he knew of in detail, but after 5 or so outings together with you, his mother had informed him that you two were officially a couple. However, when the dark haired assassin had assured her he'd be swift in getting a wedding band for you, she'd put a halt to his plans,           "Now now Illumi dear, you can't just jump to marriage with this girl." she'd chided gently, "She's shy, you'll overwhelm her with talk of marriage so soon. You still have wooing to do, so start out slow, 'boyfriend and girlfriend' status for now." The thought made the man grimace,          "Mother, I can further court her when she's my fiancee," His mother huffed at his stubborn tone,          "Dear, the titles of 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' are basically the same as fiance. The only difference is referring to this girl as your girlfriend will spook her less than calling her your wife. Trust me on this, your father was not the first man to date m-" He hung up on her before she could finish that thought. Nonetheless, he took her advice and refrained from calling you his fiancee, for now, though that's what you were to him in his mind. He'd confirmed his status on your next outing together, and it was reassuring for him to see how you turned pink at his inquiry and stuttered out your acceptance, it solidified the fact that you wouldn't be a wife he needed to worry about too much. However, this progression brought a new level of reluctance to leave you, to let Milluki watch you while he was on jobs. He very much wanted to just scoop you up now and take you to the safety of his family home, but Kikyo shot the idea down again, forcing him to 'take things slow' and 'ease (y/n) into things' . This issue was, of course, never a problem at work though. While it did bother him like a needle pressed too deeply into his shirt, he was a perfect professional, and didn't let his musings over what to do about you turn his work sloppy. If anything, his desire to return to you as soon as possible made him seek out more efficient methods of disposing of his targets, which permitted him some free time to pick off the meager few friends you had on his way back to his secondary home. That sort of detour is what earned him his current position. He'd returned home from a rather textbook assassination that had been simple to do and spared him a day or two to hunt down and kill your final remaining friend to you once again miserable.        "W-we're dating, right?" you'd asked, your voice shakey with anguish despite the (favorite flower) Illumi was standing on your porch offering to you. He nodded, hiding his disdain at the word behind a mask of his usual unchanging expression, "Than...do you mind staying the night with me? I've now l-lost all of mm-my friends and I've been so lonely..." you explained, physically shaking from the strain of fighting back tears. Illumi adored seeing you so isolated and alone, it was adorable in a dark way, and it meant he could finally be your only source of substantial human contact. You'd finally depend on him severely. Of course Illumi agreed to your demand, so the two of you spent the day together, and when evening fell, you snuggled into his side, squishing your form to him as if that would push out more of the attention you so craved. It was honestly hard for him not to smile in the dark living room while you watched a movie and clung to him while he played with your (h/l), (h/c) hair, you were just too cute when you were so needy for him. Just like she was the night I'd moved in. he thought, but than had to force himself not to recall the night you'd slept on the couch in nothing but your panties and a shirt, begging for him to claim you with the way you laid on your back, shirt pushed up just enough to preview a hint of your (r/c) panties. Now was not the time to rile himself up. He might not have much self-restraint. Luckily, he had the discipline to focus on something else aside from that night, and he found he rather enjoyed having you nestled beneath his arm, your own (s/c) arm draped loosely across his chest and, after a while, your leg thrown over his lap. The simple physical contact made Illumi burn with an addictive, yet not lustful, warmth. He couldn't place the feeling, but it made the ebony haired assassin tighten his grip on your dozing form. If he wasn't certain of your destiny as his wife, he was now. After that night, he admittedly lingered a tad. He came over quite a bit under the guise of checking on you while you were so vulnerable, but it seemed he wasn't as skilled at hiding such an unknown emotion.        "Illumi?" you hummed one night when he was over, laying between your legs with his head on your chest while you lounged on the couch with a tv show on as a way to keep you from being awkward in the silence,        "Yes, (y/n)?" he responded, moving to look up at you while you threaded your fingers through his silky black hair,       "I do enjoy you coming over and spending time with me, but you do realize you can just come over to hang out sometimes, right?" you asked, smiling slightly.        "Ah, I don't want to seem overbearing," he said, lying slightly, not wanting to try and explain this addiction to your soft, affectionate touches and cuddles. You giggled, blushing a bit as you spoke again,      "Well, I-I don't mind you being over, so as long as you ask first, I don't see how you'd be overbearing." you assured. Illumi hummed in response, looking at you curiously for a moment before he resituated himself so that he was propped up on his elbows, your face darkening in response to the shift causing his hips to be pressed more against yours, to look down at you. For a moment the two of you looked at one another, than he lowered his head and kissed you. He felt you tense in response, so he pulled away slightly, far enough to break the kiss, but close enough so that his warm breath gently fanned over your (s/c) face. However, you didn't complain, instead giggling and turning a darker shade of pink, so after a short moment, he pressed his lips to yours again in a quick kiss, pausing for a shorter time before doing it again. Much to his delight, you began kissing back. With that encouragement, he held the next kiss, leading you into a short make out session. After he pulled away again, you giggled again, your face now pretty red, which gave Illumi a spark of smug satisfaction, I'm the only man you'll be this vulnerable for. He mentally told you, but he refrained from verbalizing the thought at this moment. He could potentially get consent for sex, he couldn't risk it for his controlling urges.         "Um, 'lumi?" you asked, your voice a quiet, slightly breathy whisper, drawing the man out of his possessive thoughts and back to the moment, "d-do you think we could, I dunno, um, s-see how far this goes?" you asked, your (e/c) eyes now refusing to meet his, but this time it wasn't because of how empty they were, but because of your flustered nerves.          "Only if you want to," he assured, "though, you should know that I have a habit to get a bit rough," he warned, more to see how you'd react. Judging from your embarrassed silence, you weren't opposed to that.          Such a good girl, (y/n) He thought before going in for another kiss, moving one hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him possessively. You squeaked, but only wrapped your arms around his neck, wiggling your hips testingly against the growing bulge in his pants, mewling when he mindlessly rutted against you. After that, things swiftly got more heated. He snuck a hand up your shirt as he moved his mouth down to your neck, no longer hesitating to leave a trail of rather rough love-bites down to your collar bone. He relished the little noises each nip and bite brought, even if they were more pained than pleasurable whimpers, as he tugged your top off and let you tentatively remove your bra, willingly revealing the soft breasts he'd memorized the night he'd laid his claim on you. Something about you shyly removing your clothes made his dick throb more. He was rather eager to nibble and suck at the tender (s/c) skin until you were writhing and whining more, your noises encouraging his touches, especially when he snaked a hand between your bodies to press against your clit and you gasped, pressing your hips into his hand hungrily. With that, he tugged your bottoms off, getting up to shed his own pants but returning to station himself back between your legs before you could sit up. He pushed you back down onto the couch and kissed you again, this time more forceful in the way he claimed your mouth and ate the needy moans you gave in response. The way you clawed into his shirt and did your best to grind against his cock to achieve any friction you could woke that primal emotion he always failed to repress, threatening to drive him crazy.       "(y/n)," he breathed, not outwardly showing just how badly a possessive, neglected desire was burning him from the inside out beyond his stiff member and the tight grip he had on your thighs, "I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said, his urges mixing with his lust strong enough for him to realize the likelihood of him potentially crossing a line. With your shy nod, he positioned himself correctly and pushed into you. He hummed along with your slightly shocked moan at the feeling of his throbbing member pressing into the delicious warmth of your welcoming cunt until he was buried up to his hilt.        "I-Illumi!" you breathed, gripping his shirt desperately while your walls twitched and spasmed around him as you adjusted to the intrusion. He grunted and kissed you as he began moving, slowly at first, but it didn't take long for the pleasure to drive him to pushing your thighs up to your chest and speeding up until the only sounds he heard in the room was the slew of lascivious noises you made and the slapping of skin upon skin. The new position made you moan more, slurring out his name, drunk on the delectable sensations after only a short while, when you orgasmed and your walls tightened around the assassin. However, he didn't stop to give you a break, only letting one of your legs go to move his hand to your hip, keeping you in place as he now plowed into you, driven by the overwhelming waves of pleasure that rolled through him. Outwardly, he didn't seem terribly phased, making few noises, but if the rough pace didn't reveal his feelings, the burning urge to make you scream his name was a big piece of evidence.         "Tell me who you belong to," he ordered, his voice firm and steady as always, despite how he was skillfully thrusting into you to make your (e/c) eyes roll into the back of your head. "Say it" he repeated, gripping your hip so hard it'd bruise again until you managed,       "y-yours! I'm yours!" you whined, clawing into the couch since you could no longer reach his shoulders,       "Again," he ordered, making sure to hit your g-spot so that you once again arched your back and moaned his name loudly,      "I'm yours! I-I'm all yours Illumi!" you gasped out, beginning to whine and whimper from the creeping pain of overstimulation, though luckily for you, the sound of you saying you belonged to  him was the push the assassin needed. He locked his hips against yours, ensuring he was as deep as he could be before shooting ropes of cum into you with a groan. As he came down from his euphoria high, he realized he still held onto your thigh and hip so hard that your thigh at least was beginning to bleed under his nails. You, however, didn't seem to mind or notice. He could see that your (e/c) eyes were already beginning to drift shut, your brain more than likely fried from your own repeated orgasm. It wasn't a new sight to him, but he savored it and the thought that he was the only one who would give you such ecstasy from now on. Once he could regain his composure, the little he lost, the man was careful as he moved you to lay on him, his dick still nestled snugly inside you, ensuring none of his potent seed slipped out while the two of you dozed off to the sounds of the forgotten TV.

[beautifulletdownfics]

Terrible to Meet You - A Harry Styles One Shot - Act 2, Let not the time discern

++

Harry wants to get out of the house. Alex wants to get home.

Alex meets Harry at at crossroads. Harry meets Alex on a one way street.

A coffee shop OU fic feat. lattes, lamingtons & that Great Unfathomable Feeling.

Story Page Here My Masterlist Here

Read Act 1, If at first we meet Here

++

Two of Us:  'This universe ain't big enough to keep us apart'

&&&

Harry went back to the cafe the next day. (And, after that, every day for a medium while)

There was something about it. Something about the tiny cafe he must have walked past a hundred times before but never took much notice of. Perhaps it was the way he felt the rest of the day after having been there. Or the fact the coffee was fucking good. But also maybe it was her—kind eyes, a foreign accent and a quick wit. It would take Harry's mind and body marginally longer than his heart to recognise what pulled him there. 

Alex was surprised when he returned. Part of her was relieved, too. The other part of her was busy extracting the dagger of guilt that shot through her chest. Seeing Harry reminded her that she forgot to tell her flatmates the juicy The Daily Dose gossip about Harry Styles. And Harry walking up to the window a little before 8 am with a calm but reassuring smile on his face made something in her still, and Alex realised he wasn't gossip at all. 

"Hi," he greeted her pleasantly, seemingly thinking nothing of the way his hand was tucked into the top of his running shorts to extract his phone for payment. (Alex's heart did a lusty little backflip) She saw a slither of a toned tummy and the way the elastic of the shorts folded over itself, "I'm back for more," he said.

More coffee, and more of whatever else it was packaged into the takeaway cups with it. Alex and Paul were Harry's first human interaction after returning from LA. And, where 24 hours prior his aching need had been to see literally anybody, it was now just a need to see more of this somebody. A person whose name he didn't know yet and who Harry had absolutely no reason to feel connected to at all. Knitted hearts aren't visible to the human eye, not when it isn't Looking.

He did though. Although the way she was now watching him with a completely blank expression on her face and a far off look in her eyes made Harry's confidence falter. He repeated what he'd already said over in his head looking for where he might've gone wrong. Harry came up blank. Was she completely freaked out by him already?

Paul rescued her from what Alex was sure was turning into a flushed moment for her. Did Harry really not realise what he'd said with his fingers beyond the elastic of his shorts? Paul's head appeared over her shoulder as a frown started to appear on Harry's face, "Careful Harry, she's a grump today."

Nobody blinked an eye at Paul using Harry's name before it was technically given to them. 

"I am not," Alex insisted too quickly, too forcefully. Her elbow launched backwards, trying to catch Paul's gut. She really was a grump. But last night's wine was still causing her head to thump and her throat to ache. Tears and a bottle of red worked well in the moment but weren't as comforting the morning after. 

Paul's eyebrows rose in Harry's direction, and he waved a hand out in front of him, expertly weaving away from her attack even in the tiny space, "See?"

"Ah," Harry nodded awkwardly and briefly looked at his feet.

"Doesn't like it when I start talking about universe stuff," Paul explained loudly, despite nobody asking for him to. "Very spiritually pragmatic, the Australians."

"Didn't know that," Harry added, expression turning to one of interest. He wasn't involved in this part of the conversation the previous day.

"Long black?" Alex asked because yes she remembered his order, and she had the defence of it having been less than 24 hours since she last made Harry's coffee in case anyone started raising eyebrows for another reason.

"Uh, yeah," Harry fumbled over how quickly the exchange turned to business, "Thank you."

She got to work but felt Harry's eyes on her as her hands ran on autopilot, stepping through the process. The click click of the bean hopper, the churn of the grinder, packing the head … Alex put the machine on to run and internally cursed Paul, who took himself into the back room, mumbling something about them running low on serviettes. A blatant lie. 

Now, when she turned back to Harry, she tried to look calm and serene, like him. But she was already covered in coffee grind and couldn't be sure there wasn't a smudge of it across her face. Paul never told her when there was. Harry's heart was waving to hers widely.

"So … You're definitely not in a bad mood then?" Harry had an expression on his face that told Alex he was testing the waters, but the teasing note was there in just the right amount. 

"I'm hungover, which is completely different," she provided.

His smile turned into a grimace, "Oh yeah, completely … Nothing worse … Self-inflicted misery."

Alex tried not to let Harry's awkwardness affect her and in doing so fell into an old pastime of hers; filing the silence with mindless chatter, "Exactly. And then if you add in some idiot going on about the universe and it's wonderful, eternal plans for my existence … I could just kill a man, you know?"

Paul, Paul is the man I could kill, she thought.

He didn't know, but Harry nodded obediently anyway, "You need carbs and coffee, not the cosmos."

"Thank you," Alex gave Harry a look that told him she thought it was obvious the two of them were right, "I mean, the downright gall of that man, trying to put the universe on me this year of all years. Absolutely bloody insane."

Harry tried to hide the instant smile that came to his face hearing her accent navigate absolutely bloody insane. "I'm Harry … By the way … Feel like we're at names."

"Alexandra. But it's Alex." She added quickly, ignoring the lovely, melodic chuckle that came from Harry, "Do you really think that this year, with a global pandemic, anyone can claim that the universe is conspiring for their specific good? Like, 'Sorry everyone about the pandemic, this is really about my destiny, so you're all just going to have to hang tight while that all falls into place!' This is a terrible year. The universe isn't setting up shit."

"Well, it's terrible to meet you, Alex," Harry grinned, stealing her word. She really was in a grump, and he loved it. But if there was one thing Harry knew how to do, it was charm and disarm. He had a feeling nothing would look as lovely as Alex with a blush he'd put there. 

Alex paused where she was about to put the lid on his coffee. She felt her cheeks heat as the last few moments played over in her head—her ranting, Harry's introduction, threatening to murder a man—and then she took in the way he was watching her. A little pink-cheeked himself, amused but not appalled, a waiting look of anticipation on his face for what might come out of her big mouth next. 

"I think I might still be a little drunk," she excused meekly. Despite herself, Alex thought she might have a little crush.

"You're handling it well," Harry provided kindly, taking the coffee from where Alex put it down in front of him. He waved his phone over the payment portal, waiting for the beep before locking the screen and going back to looking at her, "Drinking for any particular reason?"

"Oh," Alex's eyes widened, "I—

—"Sorry, that was intrusive of me."

"No, it's okay," she continued quietly, not seeing the way her softening had Harry frowning in concentration to tune into what she was about to say, "I've been trying to get home—back to Australia—for a while now. Flights keep getting cancelled or, on Saturday, I was bumped from one at Heathrow…. So we're back to square one."

Dread filled Harry instantly. He could see how upset Alex was, the heartache in her voice—the homesickness—and he hated this look on her, the opposite to the one he'd just daydreamed about. If there was one thing Harry knew it was what it was to miss home. There was no cure for it. A dozen ways he could offer to help burst to the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. 

"I'm sorry, that's really shit. Have …" he hesitated to ask, "Have they put you on another one?"

She smiled through glassy eyes, "It's complicated, that's not really how flights home are working at the moment … But it's alright! I'm fine. I'll get there eventually. I got the refund for the first one, back in April, last week and Paul's let me come back to work here three times now so … This can't last forever, right?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that, he was in no hurry to return to his house as he took a sip of his coffee, "How long has it been since you were home?"

"I went back for a visit a little over two years ago," Alex flipped a button on the espresso machine in front of her, to distract herself from the subject but also the way Harry was watching her. If only she could see the way the hearts were watching each other. She started rinsing out her coffee mug under the stream of boiling water, "My sister came over for Christmas last year, though."

"I just got back from America," Harry provided without knowing where the urge to comfort this stranger was coming from, "I was only gone a few months, and it was a little hard to get back, it felt dreadful, so I can't imagine what it's like for you. That's a long time to be so far from home, especially now."

While he spoke, Alex started making herself a latte, for something to do in the moment and for something to hold onto if Harry stayed at the window. 

"How long have you been in London?" He asked. How long have you been just around the corner? Harry thought. 

When she looked over at him, Harry felt like she was seeing through him. There was something about her soft, brown eyes and the way they exuded kindness that had him buoyant with giddiness at the same time as feeling incredibly self-conscious. 

"Four years now," Alex told him, "Was supposed to be just a 12-month adventure."

"Your family must miss you then."

She shrugged, "I think they're used to it now. Life moves on without you, which is strange at first. Tough to get used to, that the people who own you suddenly have lives you only know about from catch-ups and Instagram posts."

Harry didn't know how to tell her that he knew exactly what she meant. He'd been struggling with that very notion for years now. Home never left like the same home he remembered, and wherever he found himself living—LA or the road—never quite felt right either. 

"I've loved it though," Alex added, "Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't. This year though … I just want to be home, London's… Lost something."

Harry watched her shake herself out of the sad moment, her face brightened, and he barely registered the way Alex said in a genuinely upbeat fashion that she'd just have to wait for her time. He smiled along with the rising of her cheeks and felt like he saw a transition between two feelings that was entirely healthy and okay. She wasn't pretending. Her graciousness and patience with life were astounding, despite the fact he'd equally seen her sadness as being genuine as well. The balance there was enlightening. 

"Need to make the most of the bonus time you've been given here then," he tried hesitantly. The hearts nodded at each other, gleefully. 

That had been the right thing to say, the smile on Alex's face amplified in agreement, "Exactly.”

3AM 'She's got a little bit of something' &&&

Alex was sitting on an upturned milk crate as Harry rounded the corner. 

His step faltered but only because she was looking right at him as if expecting him to arrive. He smiled under his mask and tugged it down while he was still a reasonable distance away. Alex smiling at him, holy hell did that taste—the flavour of her spirit—feel good in Harry's chest. Each day for nearly a month he'd felt the same way every time he saw her.

Alex received a text message from Harry just after 7 am that morning. Unlike the ones he sent every other day telling her he was on his way (an old fashioned tip from his sister, to demonstrate to Alex that Harry was thinking of her) that morning Harry told her he wouldn't see her until the afternoon. All day, she waited. Her heart tapped its foot impatiently in her chest, a nervous ticking that made Alex clumsy and disappointed when every new customer wasn't him.

"Hello," Harry grinned back at her, because that was all he could do, really. In her presence happiness exploded out of him and charged his whole body faster than caffeine ever could. His shoe scuffed the concrete path again as he looked at the closed cafe behind her, "Did I miss something?"

Harry stopped a safe distance from her, not sure how this new level of interaction would go. He'd never seen her whole body all at once, part of her was always obscured by the cafe window. Alex in the flesh—in the whole—was like the first taste of chilli on his tongue, invigorating in a way that stole the breath from his lungs.

"We close at three every day," she stayed seated but pushed another crate towards him with her foot. There were brown smudges of coffee grind all up and down her shins, and he guessed the black jeans she wore to work were strategic.

Harry squinted the sign on the window by the door, he was always occupied by her and didn't need arbitrary activities like reading signs to keep him entertained waiting for his coffee, "Really?"

"You usually come in the morning," Alex said pleasantly, waiting for him to sit down opposite her, "Here."

Harry was overwhelmed, he really was, by the sight of a white takeaway cup in her hand, and he reached for it carefully, "What's this—Alex."

"Can't have you missing your coffee … Made it right before closing, had to put the tiniest drop of milk in there otherwise it would shit itself and taste horrendous," she laughed at his wrinkled nose at the mention of milk, he sniffed the lid just to tease her or to get her to roll her eyes at him blithely. It worked, "It won't kill you, promise."

"Says someone whose intestines know how to handle lactose without making you shit yourself," he borrowed her phrase. Sounded better when Alex said it, with the wideness and the breadth of her accent. 

Alex tilted her head back and laughed. Really laughed and Harry didn't have it in him to be embarrassed or scold himself for how he just spoke about his bowels in front of her, because the sound is marvellous and so Alex. It's unapologetic and genuine and a touch off-beat, which he loves. 

"Holy shit," she let out a long, shaking breath afterwards, holding a palm to her rib as if in pain. She was pretending not to notice how Harry stared at her while she was laughing as if extremely happy with himself. "You wear white bottoms far too often for that to be a daily worry for you."

"Oh, it's a worry," Harry insisted, mainly to keep the joke going. He felt like his face was about to crack in half, "I can't have people spiking my coffees without my knowledge," Harry took a sip but then pointed his finger at her playfully, "I'm going to have to keep an eye on you."

As if he wasn't already.

"Busy day?" Alex asks, watching Harry take a hearty sip of the coffee she made him.

"Yeah, I um … I had some, ah, work stuff."

"Oh?" Alex crossed one leg over the other and looked at Harry with (mock) interest, "What do you do for work?"

Harry's eyes bulged involuntarily, and his mind went completely blank. Did she actually not know? 

Alex only let the horror play on his face for a few seconds, "I'm kidding! I'm kidding. Jesus, Harry, sorry. I was just having a go."

"You're an excellent actress, as it turns out," he swallowed down the moment of panic. It only ever happened once before, years before, that a girl he'd been interested in hadn't known who Harry was beforehand. It hadn't ended up going down well.

Alex asks Harry about the book recommendation she sent him the week before, whether he'd started reading it yet. 

Harry held up a finger at her, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that," he said, "But I haven't had lunch … I'd promised myself one of Paul's ham and cheese croissants."

"Well, you're shit out of luck, unfortunately," Alex told him, "He takes the keys with him, I can't break in and make you one. But the cafe on the high street around the corner stays open until five. You could try there?"

Harry felt like he was about to defecate himself, but it wasn't from the lactose, "Will you join me?"

Alex's eyes brightening instantly, but Harry didn't miss the way her cheeks reddened, "Sure. Of course."

"Great!" Harry coughed down his too-enthusiastic response then worried—as everyone did in 2020—that his physical reaction to her saying yes, the cough, would be interpreted as a symptom of something else entirely. He checks the time on his Apple Watch, "Should we go then?"

They walk in step away from The Daily Dose, and away from the previous pattern of their friendship. It strikes them both that this is the first time (both trip over 'first' in their minds as having the possibility to suggest it happening more often but their hearts have known all along, of course) they were out in the world together, the first time they were more than barista and customer.

Harry's hand touched Alex's forearm when they got to the cafe's door as he held it open and encouraged her to go inside. They ordered takeaway, Harry got a croissant (he was still working on the coffee Alex made him) while Alex ordered a tea. They then walked back a little way to where there was a small park with vacant seats Harry noticed on the way past. 

"So, the book …" Alex asked him, the lid of her tea is off to let the heat escape. She’d crossed her legs and angled her hips towards him on the bench seat. Harry faced forward, heart hammering as he tried to remember how to use his voice.

Harry struggled to look dignified while biting into his too-hot croissant, the cheese burnt his lip, but he tried to hide it, "Oh, yeah, well, I haven't started it."

"I thought you said you wanted to speak to me about it!" She laughed.

"A ploy," Harry admitted sheepishly, "Was trying to figure out how to ask you to come with me."

In her head, Alex squealed. Her heart held two thumbs up at Harry's.

"How's the coffee," she asked, eyeing the cup in his hand.

Harry grins, knowing his next line is a winner, "Best in London, easily."

+++

GIve me all your best Alex & Harry theories Act 3, Hearts beat not fail - coming soon!

+++

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[geeks-universe]

Veritas Vos Liberabit IV

The truth will set you free.

Previous Part

Next Part

Tag List: @the-british-koala @ilearnedthatfromethepizzaman @shadowalley @ao-spadez

A/N: Hehe, there’s gonna be a super awesome character arc just you wait

“You still haven’t explained,” John reminded you, pulling you from the staring match you were having with your phone.

You flicked your gaze towards him, stopping yourself from reading anymore texts. Lucifer was relentless, jumping from asking you to come home, to threatening sending Amenadiel after you.

“Hmm?” You hummed gracelessly, before realizing he was most definitely referring to your mojo. “Oh, just a little trick I learned from my dad.”

He didn’t really look like he was buying it, so you sent him an amused smirk. Deciding that presentation was better than explanation, you slowed him to a stop. Ever curious, Sherlock watched tentatively as you made eye contact with John.

“What is it you truly desire?” You inquired, that brief flicker of connection to your divinity sparking something inside. Your fingers tingled, air alight with a power you’d never had the opportunity to tap into.

“Uh,” John blinked a couple of times, “I…”

Sherlock was staring at his friend, brows furrowed as he saw the man at war within his own mind.

“I want to feel happy again.”

The smirk on your lips faded to a thoughtful smile. Humans were interesting creatures to you, but not in the same way they were to your father. He reveled in their sins, and believed in their corruption. You, however, were inspired by their flaws. Emotions were at the very core of their being, and it was a beautiful melody you would never tire of.

Sherlock looked to be torn between wonder and annoyance. John, however, shook his head, furrowing his brows in your direction.

“I couldn’t stop myself,” he explained slowly, trying to piece together exactly why that was in his mind. “No matter how hard I tried.”

You tilted your head to the side, just observing him. Confusion was evident, though he didn’t look upset by what he’d said, or embarrassed.

“Some sort of psychological trick,” Sherlock muttered to himself, pulling your attention to him.

John seemed ready to chalk it up to magic, while Sherlock was skeptical at best.

“Enough of that,” you exclaimed, “I was promised a tour! It’s already so different from Los Angeles.”

And just like that, John was back to the charming, kind host. Sherlock was inquisitive, but quiet. He kept a close watch on you, and offered brief explanations to some of your questions, but otherwise remained vigilant.

Every step you took was cataloged, along with each expression that crossed your face. Despite it, you didn’t let his quirky nature detract from the time you were having.

“Is it your dad,” John finally asked after one too many alerts from your phone. (Seriously, did Lucifer really not have anything better to do?) “That you’re ignoring, I mean.”

“Of course it is,” Sherlock interjected, looking for all the world like it was the most obvious assumption.

Instead of getting upset at his interruption, you found your lips turning up in a smile. He was rather fascinating, if not a little intrusive.

“I left without saying goodbye,” you admitted a little forlornly, nervously fiddling with your phone. There were moments when you felt that you absolutely made the best decision, but doubt wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Why?”

John didn’t sound judgemental, nor did he sound pushy. To you, he just sounded worried almost, like someone who knew the importance of close bonds and didn’t want you severing one without good purpose. 

“I love him,” you were quick to defend your own actions. Of the two, John was the only one who seemed comforting. “But I need to be away from him. He was so worried about keeping me safe that he’d suffocated me.”

There was a hint of sympathy on John’s features. Even if he didn’t understand the full extent of your story, he did know a thing or two about family troubles. Perhaps having a confidant in him would help to soothe the growing loneliness in your family’s absence.

Silence reigned supreme over the three of you as you continued your walk. John was casting an occasional concerned glance to you. You were lost in the buildings and architecture that spread from the ground to the sky. And Sherlock, well, he was too busy connecting dots you’d thrown around with each word. Still, he couldn’t quite picture it all. There was something more to you than what he was able to uncover, though what it was he couldn’t be sure.

It wasn’t until a few minutes more that your feet stopped on their own accord. Your eyes, wide and full of sadness, scaled the stone steeple that stood proudly at a height far above the other buildings. There wasn’t much foot traffic moving in and out of the building, but a soft ringing called to you nonetheless.

You cleared your throat, dragging your teary gaze from the stained glass to your walking partners.

“I need a couple of minutes, do you mind if…”

John caught on immediately, quick to pull his friend out of the line of questioning he looked about ready to go into.

“I’ll grab us a bite to eat,” he assured you, practically dragging Sherlock away as you ascended the stairs into the church.

The air was buzzing with an energy you couldn’t recognize. The room was dark, and nearly empty. Something propelled you forward, bringing you to a stop at one of the pews in the back. You’d only ever been to a church once before. For obvious reasons, your father wasn’t the biggest fan.

Lucifer wasn’t the biggest fan.

But, then again, he wasn’t your real father.

You sucked a breath in, staring forward at the cross that stood proudly at the very center of the stage. Unlike the rest of your siblings, you had never actually met your father. As much as you tried to act like it didn’t bother you, deep down it did. Why had he handed you off to Lucifer? Why were you forced to spend your days in Hell when the rest of your family was acquainted with the Silver City.

You dropped your head into your hands, breaking your wandering gaze.

“Dad,” you breathed, your voice shaky.

“Why did you do this?” You asked into the silence, your voice nearly imperceptible to the people around you. “Why am I here? Why did you send me to Hell?”

There was no answer.

Not that you expected one.

Lucifer didn’t have any faith left in your father. He talked about abandonment, about the atrocities your father let happen. He spoke of an unfathomable cruelty and undeniable destiny.

You didn’t believe that.

No matter how bad things got, you couldn’t believe it.

There had to be some explanation, some rationalization of it all.

Whatever it was though, you would be the last to know. If your father didn’t even want you, he wouldn’t want to give you an explanation that he hadn’t even given his other children.

Tears were beginning to blur your vision, your phone burning in your back pocket. You should answer Lucifer. Your actual father may not be around, but you did have a dad, and at the very least he deserved an explanation.

“I just want to know who I am,” you quietly confessed to the empty room.

You took a moment to wipe away your tears and calm your breathing. Just as you moved to stand up, a person beside you cleared their throat politely.

He looked vaguely familiar, with his auburn hair and pressed suit. It wasn’t until you spotted the umbrella he twirled in his hand habitually that you realized who it was. John had told you all about Mycroft Holmes, and how you should expect him to pay you a visit just for breathing the same air as his younger brother.

“Oh, hello, didn’t see you there,” you admitted, smiling warmly at him.

The little you knew about the man in front of you caused a soft affection to bubble inside. You loved your family, and you could understand that desire to protect them. Even if he went about it in an odd way, you couldn’t blame the man for his vigilant nature.

“Miss Morningstar,” he greeted, the thin curve of his lips little more than an intimidation tactic, though he looked considerably charmed by your behavior, as did practically all humans. “I have a proposition for you, though I do apologize for disturbing you at a place of worship.”

You swallowed, briefly flicking your gaze to the cross.

“I’d say it hardly deserves worship,” you replied, inclining your head towards him. “Are you a man of faith?”

He raised a brow at your apparent disinterest in religion, despite your choice to retreat inside an old church. There was a certain amount of amusement in his brow, likely due to the question.

“Not particularly, no,” he answered cordially, but without much interest. “I consider myself a man of science.”

“Science,” you echoed, a fragment of a smile. “You believe science and faith can’t coexist?”

For one reason or another, he actually considered your argument. You knew it was likely a ploy to further his own business, but you found yourself innately curious about the man beside you. Most of what you knew of Sherlock came from John, and if there was a reason why he seemed to be immune to the divinity you exuded, you’d like to learn a little more.

“Faith is an explanation for what science can’t yet determine.”

His words were precise, and sure, as if there was nothing you could do to shake that determination. You paused thoughtfully, turning so that you might fully face him now. There was a glisten of veneration in his eyes, an unconscious acknowledgment to the river of divinity that flowed through your veins.

“Your proposition?”

You interruption was met with a continued cessation, followed by a diverted gaze.

“Information,” he claimed, leaning back to create an air of detachment. “Your recent neighbor, Sherlock.”

You waved off the rest of his proposal, not bothering to listen.

“No.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, dangerous calculations swirling inside his mind as he scoured every detail on your person.

“So quick to align yourself without hearing how much I’ll offer you.”

You stood up, tilting your head curiously.

“If you want information on your brother, you could always just ask him, Mycroft.”

There was a momentary spark of confusion, or perhaps annoyance, in his stare, but you paid it no mind as you left without a further goodbye.

The sun was a blinding contrast to the dark building you were in before, but you found yourself comforted by its overwhelming presence. Your eyes shut on their own accord as you felt the heat seep into your soul. Before Lucifer returned to Earth, you had been in Hell with him. You hated it there. A part of you had always longed for the sun and the warmth it rained down upon mankind. In your youth, Lucifer took to calling you ‘sunshine’ and it had stuck with you through the years.

You knew, standing under the bright rays of the star, that you could never return to Hell again. Something in your veins longed for the sun, and the divine power that coursed through your system seemed to swell with its embrace.

Your thoughts were shattered as a body collided with yours, sending you stumbling a couple of steps by the sudden, unexpected intrusion. There was a moment, less than a fraction of a second, where your connection to the supernatural world was shifted.

“I am so sorry, I-”

Surprise stopped your words as you met the eyes of the man who ran into you. His gaze was unnatural, a color darker than night. They looked like the depths of Hell frozen over. A smile painted his face, one of cruelty and unspoken horror. His hands were icy where they held you in place, one on your shoulder and the other on your arm. You stood frozen to the spot, whispered tendrils beckoning you to the precipice of madness.

You nearly followed, to a destiny unknown and a journey fraught with danger. The presence was familiar, and much too comfortable. An evil lurked beneath his cool exterior, chilling the very air you breathed. 

Still, you were entranced by the muted lunacy. 

As you began to take the first step towards instability, you paused, a heat flaring up along your spine, to the base of where your wings stayed hidden. A claw gripped your throat, forcing fire down into your chest to wash away the sins of your thoughts.

As quick as the encounter began, it ended. You gasped for air, finding relief against John a minute later when he worriedly took a hold of your arm.

“Are you okay?” John asked, concern tinting his voice as he rubbed your back in the event you might have trouble catching your breath once more.

Sherlock was quick to look you up and down, tracing any details he might need.

“What happened?”

The black eyes flashed in your mind. This wasn’t an issue you could take to the two of them. Whatever happened was something more in your realm than theirs.

“Nothing,” you assured them, “Someone in a rush.”

Your smile was every bit as convincing as you could make it, hiding the image of blackened eyes and a searing pain along your collar.

Sherlock wished he could believe the lie you tried to sell, but curiosity got the best of him, and he would discover the truth without your help, as it seems.

[nelllraiser]

into the fold, two: surrender | adam & nell

PREVIOUSLY: into the fold: part one TIMING: the ma’al cult investigation. PARTIES: @walker-journal​ and @nelllraiser​. SUMMARY: nell and adam dive deeper into the cult. CONTENT: sibling death mention, torture (implied), gaslighting (demon telepathy)

The intrusion of the eldritch on Neveah Alcott’s palatial home had initially been a subtle thing. Corruption came in degrees, and just as Neveahs parties were initially just high society networking that occasionally dabbled into idle metaphysical conversation, so too were the tiny within changes Alcott’s manner easy to dismiss as tricks of mood lighting or fanciful imagination until it was far too late. 

Those ‘idle conversations’ became more pointed speculation and the reading of certain disturbing texts readings as shadows darkened with the discrete crevices of the Neo-Gregorian architecture. The nooks behind statues, pillars, and within arches grew deeper until those shadows became actual holes into nothingness rather than the mere absence of light. Those avant garde readings proved to be strangely magnetic, even to those with no previous intellectual interest. As dalliance turned to obsession, angles within the Alcott residence started to be ...not quite right...not lining up correctly even when one squinted. 

More people were invited to these readings as doors in manor started opening to rooms that weren’t on the building's floorplan, only to lead elsewhere when opened again later. After Helena’s first ‘demonstration’ of bloodshed and symbology could attract the attention of beings beyond the confines of four dimensional space, guests started to report seeing the horrific landscapes of alien worlds beyond the house's windows. As high society parties devolved into debauched experiments to ‘expand consciousness’ through dangerous excesses of sensation, the manors’ light bulbs started to shine with colors that didn’t exist in the electromagnetic spectrum. 

It had been around the time Helena performed the first ‘miracle’ by being briefly possessed by her otherworldly patron, that the walls began to bleed. 

Now Adam sat in a dark room where the floor breathed, fleshy surface moistly yielding beneath him. The walls and ceiling stretched inward as the faces of hellish things strained against the fabric of reality. Maws, mandibles, and not quite human vissages pressed in a menagerie of faces from every angle as creatures from beyond the veil struggled to rip their way into this world. 

“Nell…,” Adam managed to gasp past the broken spasming of his ribs, “you there?” 

It hadn’t taken all that long for Nell to begin dreading the trips to the mansion. It wasn’t so much the bleeding of the walls, or even the screams that seemed to shatter silence out of nowhere that turned her stomach. No— she liked to think she was fairly ironclad when it came to things such as those at this point in her life. Instead it was the slow and steady transformation of the people, Neveah Alcott’s loyal followers, that made her insides squirm. Many of them hadn’t the faintest idea of what they were being readied for, harvested for as they pledged undying dedication to the woman whose ‘miracles’ left them wide-eyed and breathless despite the brutality of it all. 

It had taken most of what Nell had to make sure she didn’t succumb to the trials and tests of the demon, and the witch had been sparing her magic and strength specifically for nights such as these when she wasn’t sure whether the shifting of the floor beneath her was due to the emerging hellscape or loss of blood. It would have been easier if she could use her usual protections against the less savory side of demons and their effects, but such a thing wasn’t thinkable when she was meant to be embracing the demon that lay in wait, getting closer to phasing through the thinning veil every day. No doubt any resistance would be perceived as opposition, and that wasn’t the behavior of a willing and wanting devotee. 

Nell’s eyes were closed when Adam’s voice found her, cutting through the fog of her mind like the beam of a lighthouse on land’s shore. In a moment they were opening to the twisted visages of the creatures waiting to emerge into this world, but she quickly searched for Adam’s face amongst them until she found it next to her, reaching a hand toward him instinctively as he looked for her. “I’m here,” she answered, the tail end of a cough finishing the words for her as she covered her mouth, pulling her sleeve away to find fresh blood amongst the dried bits of it. Her first thought was to check his injuries as she usually did during a quiet spell of their demonic endeavors. “Everything in one piece?” she asked, already trying to scoot closer so she might try and take a look. 

Adam stirred again at Nell’s voice. Bloodshot eyes opened. Adam’s gaze was unfocused at first, as if he were looking at some other world entirely. But his broken fingers found Nell’s outstretched hand and that physical presence seemed to anchor him. The red-rimmed brown of his eyes eventually found Nell’s face. 

“Uh more or less,” he rasped, a weak attempt at a smile stark against a livid canvas of bruises and lacerations down his face and neck. 

Adam had been conditioned to quietly endure suffering and even agony if it was necessary to preserve humanity’s destiny. But spiritual wounds that’d sapped his Hunter powers have become all the more serious  in the sadism and darkness of this place. Day after day the cult’s rites wore Adam down physically as the tendrils of their master’s psychic  influence drilled down into the bedrock of Adam’s selfhood. Little by little, Adam felt himself giving ground inside. 

Adam struggled to sit up, but broken ribs protested so much that he abandoned the attempt. He himself fall back against the fleshy softness of the not-quite-stone floor. 

Adam adjusted his head as the now literally blue-veined marble throbbed with cardiac warmth against his temple.

“How’re you holding up?”

Nell cradled Adam’s broken fingers gingerly, thankful for the grounding effect his touch had, but reminding herself not to squeeze his hand in reassurance for fear of making things worse. A pinpoint of frustration surfaced in her stomach, wishing for what wasn’t the first time that she could mend bones as well as she closed up flesh wounds. “I guess I can’t ask for more,” she managed to say while matching his half-hearted attempt at levity. “Actually that’s a lie. I can and will ask for more, but I know it’s not gonna do anything.” As she spoke she reached her free hand towards the gashes she could see making a jagged and broken path across his neck, beginning the work of magically willing them shut, scabs beginning to form where open wounds had been before. It wasn’t anything as useful as healing fingers or ribs, but it at least made her feel like she could provide some relief, no matter how small. 

“I’m not super sure if I’m just lucky enough to see two of you- or if there’s actually some doppelganger who’s decided to give up the long con and just lay right next to you.” Who said you couldn’t mix potential impending doom with a bit of flirtation? Despite everything, she was determined to keep things light for a moment longer, hoping it might somehow hide the truth of their shared misery. When she’d finished with the gashes on his neck, Nell tried to lower herself closer to the ground to begin work elsewhere, but it seemed her noodle-like ams had other plans when they gave out halfway through her descent. She landed roughly next to Adam, and a grunt of pain paired with a gasped curse of “Fuck,” worked its way through her lips. 

Sometimes Nell thought about what it might be like to give in. To fully immerse herself in the whisperings of the walls inside this mansion, and let herself be truly taken into the fold. It would stop then, wouldn’t it? The pain she watched Adam go through far too often. Her own injuries, and the constant ache in her body she couldn’t seem to shake since joining up. Fighting had always been second nature to her, as if she’d been born with a stubbornness that made it impossible for her to give up no matter how far ahead or behind she might be. There’d never been any exception to that rule, and yet here she was— doing her best to keep herself semi-vertical and thinking about how the easy way out was looking more and more appealing every day. If she were being honest it wasn’t just about making sure she and Adam were safe. There was a space for here whether she wanted to face that truth or not, a place where her talents would be embraced rather than shunned or cast out. This was a coven that wanted her, not one that had turned their backs to the witch. “You know...do you think he’d settle for just...one of us?” she asked quietly as she lay next to Adam, her voice barely above a whisper as if she were worried that Ma’al might be listening at this very moment. “Like if I just hung out here with the cult and really gave it my all- maybe you could go keep working on getting your strength back and stuff. It might not even be so terrible.”

“Shouldn’t use up your power like that Nell…” Adam rasped even as pain became more manageable and the clammy numbness of blood loss stopped crawling up his body. Adam may not understand magic, but he intuited that everything Nell spent on him was strength she didn’t have to save herself later. This forces in this place were looking for any chink in their armor and Adam swallowed down guilt that Nell was leaving herself vulnerable to keep him from sinking. 

Adam’s gaze was drawn to the walls and ceiling as alien forms protrude into this reality. Spined proboscises stabbed blindly. Mouths with multiple interior rings of saw-blade teeth punctured outward like bladed xylophones before folding back in on themselves. Tendrils slick with acid fumbled around for organic matter to dissolve and absorb. Flowery blooms opened to lash out with hungry stigma while even stranger orifices extended luminous filaments or branching nerve clusters in search of fresh lifeforce to drink. Some of the faces pressing in through the walls were even vaguely humanoid, just with eye-sockets and too many mouths in all the wrong places. The stone and wood of the mansions structure buckled, like a dam about to give way before the tide. There was a taut tension in the air, as if reality itself was straining under some vast weight. 

Adam looked into that wall of horrors for longer than was safe, and found his mind wandering dangerously as something weaved insidious thoughts in Adam’s own inner voice. 

Why did Adam fight his true nature? He’d had always been addicted to the wrong things, craved the fucking, fighting, and killing like a drug instead of being pure and purposeful. Sure, he’d shackled himself with a code, hoping pious bullshit some dead martyrs had come up centuries ago could make him something more than just an adrenaline junkie that got his rocks off from killing. Adam had been a good little soldier, dutifully risking his life to save people who never even know he existed. 

But look at you now, Adam had told Adam. Broken, repressed, and bleeding out while those normie motherfuckers just keep slaughtering each other in rich mens’ wars. Admit it, your mission is pointless. You were made into a weapon for a cause that is already lost.

Adam looked at the woman who’ve risked everything to follow him in here. 

Shouldn’t he just be free? Free to fuck, fight, and kill without guilt. Why not take his strength back, and use it how he liked? It was his life wasn’t it? What claim did others have on it? Why was he afraid of what he wanted? 

‘Didn’t Nell deserve to be loved by a real man, not someone’s else’s wind-up soldier?’ asked a quiet voice that knew all Adam’s deepest insecurities. 

Adam put a small and feeble pressure on Nell’s hand, bloodshot eyes alive with forbidden thoughts as they looked at her with the wrong kind of hope. “I dunno but…” 

“I’m an oathbreaker and you're an exile,” the fallen Hunter pointed out softly. “Maybe like, this place we could just…,” Adam didn’t finish the question, but raised torn eyebrows to Nell as if trusting she understood what he was asking. 

“I want to,” Nell insisted stubbornly, not pausing in her work of closing up every wound she managed to find on Adam. By the time she reached the end of her efforts the black spots in her vision had widened, and a part of her was thankful for the way they blocked out the terrors of the surrounding walls. It was easier not to get caught up in the unsettling yet mesmerizing shifts that the twisted images went through when you couldn’t see half of them. She tried to wait until the world had stopped swimming to begin on the cuts decorating her skin that were bleeding a little too much for comfort, not all that keen on passing out here and now. It was taking the majority of her strength to make sure she didn’t slip into something of a forced sleep, her body practically begging for rest and a chance to recuperate the magic she’d spent while she swayed where she sat, forcing herself to sit upright, and hoping that would be enough to ensure she stayed conscious. 

Despite Nell’s best efforts, her head swam with the visions on the walls, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw her own face among them. The bones of her cheeks looked sharper, harder than the reflection she saw in the mirror, but there was a confidence that couldn’t help but be alluring, a promise of power and the ability to ensure that no one would ever make a victim of her again. She could make them afraid if she really wanted to. Most normies were already there when it came to witches. Surely it wouldn’t take all that much to rake others into a similar boat? And if they were afraid, there’d be no one to lop off the heads of sisters in clearings in the forest like a knife through butter, or trap Nell beneath a Ring while brain biters stole bits of her she never thought possible to lose. What was stopping her? The judgment of others? The fragile and paper-thin concept of right and wrong? Was it wrong to want to protect herself? Wasn’t releasing the demons within the walls of the mansion the perfect way to achieve such a thing? No doubt a town that was razed would be one that wouldn’t lift a finger against her or the ones she cared about.

It was the press of Adam’s hand in her’s that made her realize she’d lost track of time somewhere in the middle of her wanderings, and her fingers pressed lightly against his own while she blinked herself back to this plane of existence. A mirthless chuckle fell from her, because she knew he was right. An oathbreaker and an exile. The world didn't want them, so why should they want the world in return? But as her vision cleared and her black eyes searched Adam’s, there was the smallest reminder somewhere in the back of her head. They’d come here for a reason, right? She hadn’t wanted Adam to fall. But was it really falling? Focusing on the man in front of her, her brows furrowed, a frown claiming her lips while she spoke. “We...that’s not why we came here...was it?” What if they’d both secretly hoped to be taken into the cult? Perhaps Ma’al had simply awakened a part of them that was already present. No- there was a promise she was meant to be keeping. A promise to the hunter that she wouldn’t let him go under, because that wasn’t something he’d wanted. “That’s not why we came here,” she said with more certainty this time around even as another voice within her tried to poke holes in the words. “You...want that? To stay here?”

Adam knew Nell was right, that wasn’t what they’d come here. Something was leading them astray.

But the walls breathed, bulging and distorting inward as multitudinous alien things strained against the skin of the world. The bleeding painting on the walls asked Adam if that was true. 

Hadn’t he already been astray? Was really it so bad to realize you were lost?

“Only if you’ll stay with me,” he murmured.  

Let me set you free. It was the slithering voice of Kevin, and the words the dream-being had uttered within the caves of the catacombs that echoed through Nell’s mind as Adam made his admission. Even then Nell had nearly given in to the promise of peace and the sheer relief of simply letting go and giving up. She’d barely managed to shake free of the tempting offer when it was a stranger making it, but now that it was the familiar and comforting features of Adam that was making the proposal she found the words all the more intoxicating— certain that warmth and safety would be found on the other side of them. “I want to stay with you,” she said while reaching out her free hand to place it along the side of Adam’s face, thumb resting upon his cheek as she weighed the gravity of her words. This was one of the only things she was certain of these days- that Adam was one of the more stable pieces of her life, and she was more than willing to follow where he went. So many people had left in the last few months, other magnets that had kept her carefully balanced between one another. Winston, Bea, Blanche, and now Jared. They’d gone the ways they’d needed to one by one, and though Nell didn’t resent them in the least it was undeniable that their departure had left her adrift. So if Adam wanted to find the peace they deserved here amongst the cult, and so did she...what was there to stop them? “I’ll stay with you, and we can just be here together.” Away from the world that was determined to throw whatever pain it could their way.

Hey Ma’al,

It's me, Adam. 

Guess it's about that time?

If I do this, let you in...there’s one condition 

Soft spring sun refracted through townhouse windows, golden rays playing across the kitchen. 

“So anyway,” Adam said, trying not to get dish-soap on his jersey as he put plates in the washer. “Dad said Winn and Mr. Woods might be coming over later to help fix the roof...”

Sunflowers swayed in the warm wind outside the window, the nostalgic golden haze of the afternoon casting golden petals stark against their black centers. Light glinted off the harbor bay and the commercial bustle of the Sink District as tourists poured in from ferries to peruse shops and Spring Festival stalls. 

Adam turned to look across the rooms with gentle brown eyes that’d never beheld violence beyond a locker room scuffle. He ran an unscarred hand through his hair and gave Nell a lopsided grin. “Hey...Nell? What’re you thinking about?”

Nell had been watching the gentle arc of the sunflowers as the breeze played with them, more than pleased that they’d grown so beautifully in the past year and already thinking about what she might plant next. “Hmm?” came her questioning hum, head turning towards Adam with a look of chagrin at being caught staring into space. The light of golden hour played over her unmarred skin, the only lasting signs of imperfection being the dirt under her nails from the garden, and the roughness of her finger pads. “Well I was definitely listening religiously,” came her knee-jerk reaction of a tease. But as she took in the perfectness of Adam’s grin and the sun lighting his hair her own smile claimed her lips, softening in the slightest. “Nothing. Nothing, really.” Her mind was at peace, finally serene with a lack of problems to solve and shadows of witch-killers to fear in the night. “Just thinking about how I’m...happy.” She took a few steps towards him, beginning to close the space that had found its way between them. “Happy here with you.”

[jungnoir]

destiny | 08;

⇢ summary: you’re just about ready to give up on life altogether; your love life is in ruins, you’ve lost your job, and your family couldn’t care less about you… and then you meet your blushing guardian angel, and maybe life isn’t so bad after all.

⇢ relationship: jeon jungkook/reader, min yoongi/reader.

⇢ genre: supernatural, angel!au, demon!au, romance, thriller.

⇢ words: 7.5k words.

⇢ warnings: mentions of depression, violence, murder.

previously |  next

a/n: lots of scenes now that we’ve got the whole cast introduced! I think I cleaned up everything I needed to... I hope I did, at least ;-;

“You’re taking your sweet time.”

Seokjin shivers at the sudden intrusion into his thoughts. How long had it been since he’d last spoken to him? Chancing a glance around the dark alley, he confirms it’s empty, no onlookers in sight. “It’s barely been a week.”

“And in that time, you’ve had several chances to complete your task, no? One very early on, if I recall.” God’s voice is mocking, if not irritated. 

Wincing, the angel curls further in on himself against the brick wall. It felt like he was perpetually stuck here, pacing outside Hell’s Kitchen with his tail between his legs as he plotted your demise. It was supposed to be quick, over with the night Jungkook had fallen, but he’d been cowardly, hesitant. God knew. He always knew. Now he paid the price.

“I’d assumed... there was no way I could’ve known that the fucking prince of Hell would be brought into this.”

“That’s why we strike when the iron is hot, child. Now you’ve just made it harder on everyone who will be affected by your mess. That poor human would have died like planned if you’d just done it then and there on the bridge, but you were weak. They would have never thought to align themselves so stupidly with evil if you hadn’t been a coward.”

He couldn’t have. How would that have been handled? Killing an angel in plain sight, perhaps in front of you if he was particularly cruel? The angels that would see, the whispers that would spread, there was no way- 

Of course—all of that—he knew.

It was part of the punishment, forcing him to deliberate every step he took next. To carry out this task alone, letting the shame fall on his shoulders alone, to shirk himself of his own most potent morals... all of it was for his amusement. He was turning him into the thing he despised the most. “I will handle it... I am handling it.”

God laughs, “By bringing someone else into it?” 

“You’ve given me no choice!” Seokjin’s voice rises before he can catch himself. Anger is seeping out of every pore. A few passing by the mouth of the alley startle, but see nothing. 

“You had a choice the day you defiled yourself with that demon scum. You betrayed me. It hurts me to hurt you, but you must know the severity of the pain you’ve caused me... the pain you’ve caused that boy. It’s evil. You must purge yourself of it. I’m giving you a chance because I love you-”

“I did what you asked.”

God’s voice vanishes from Seokjin’s head in an instant, cowering away into the darkness at the sound of the new angel’s voice. Quickly schooling his expression into indifference, the elder angel stands tall in front of the younger, “And?”

Jimin sighs, “You should give up. The demon is too intertwined now.”

“Did they suspect you?”

“No, not that I know of. I told them everything they needed to know.” Jimin looks around the alley with an uneasy look, “They’ve got someone else helping, too. The demons didn’t say much about them, but supposedly it’s a friend of the prince, someone who could take you down. That’s where Jungkook went with him earlier.” 

“I saw as much,” Seokjin swears under his breath, “and after he left, the demon trailed them back home. They’re making things messy.”

“Then give up.”

Faking a smile, Seokjin draws closer to the other angel until he’s practically mounting him. The air grows very tense between the two, “Give up? Now, where’s the fun in that, Jimin?”

Jimin keeps a guarded expression even as his hands shake, “You’re not God.”

I’d do a damn better job, Seokjin bitterly muses. What would’ve resulted in an immediate death for any other angel just leaves him with a sudden, annoying headache. “What else did you say to them?” He growls through gritted teeth.

“Are you going to do what I asked?” The smaller angel grabs Seokjin by the collar, a brave move on his own part, “You promised.”

In retaliation, Seokjin grabs Jimin by the shoulders and shoves him so far back that he stumbles to the ground with a thud. Quickly overtaking him, Seokjin straddles Jimin and yanks his head closer with a hand clenched about the back of his neck, “I’ll keep my side of the bargain if you keep yours. Remember, runt, I run shit around here. If anyone should be worried about following through with what they promised, it’s you.” Jimin’s eyes widen and spark with fear, setting something off in Seokjin that makes him jump off of him in an instant. The angel on the ground can only stare up at him in hopes that he could discern what the other would do next. “Find out who and where that friend is. Don’t get caught. God thanks you for your cooperation.”

To further drive home his intention, Seokjin raises a hand and sends the wounded angel flying into a wall, effectively cratering the brick. 

“Mook, come on,” the first grumble of a voice is heard throughout your home early that next morning, definitely not your own, “you can’t just- Mook!” The frustrated grumble rises an octave as the clatter of ceramic against ceramic calls you from the dregs of sleep. Eyes closed, you can sense the body moving in front of your window toward the unoccupied side of the bed. A dip in the mattress makes you roll more onto your side, lazily peeling your eyes open.

Jungkook is there, hair neatly combed and lying limply over his flushed features. There’s a tray in his hands (a tray you hadn’t seen since the last time you had entertained at your home, way back when Yongsun would bring a couple of her friends over for brunch to “get you socializing”) holding two mugs of something steaming; just by the smell alone, you can tell it’s tea. There’s also a plate separating them with a modest omelette in the middle too, and you aren’t sure if it’s his, yours, or... both.

Jungkook’s cute bunny teeth are revealed when his lips form a face splitting smile; he looks between the food he’s made and you with an expectant look, “Hungry?”

You stare at him blankly, tiredly for a little longer before rubbing your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Whatever that is,” you wince at the deepness in your voice, plagued with sleep, “smells really good.”

Jungkook beams with pride when your eyes flutter back open to examine him, “Thanks. Thought you might want something simple to start the day. I already ate some cereal that hadn’t expired.”

Ah. Your small fantasy of sharing an omelette with Jungkook in bed was quickly shot down and perhaps for good reason. Jungkook ate like a teenage boy who’d been starved on an abandoned island his whole life, and god forbid he tried to be playful and feed you! You’d burn up like a hot stove. 

Heh, “god forbid”.

“Shit, I forgot... I haven’t gone shopping for you or for food.” You look over the clothes that Jungkook had been wearing; he’d alternated between a few makeshift outfits of yours for the last two days, but you could only keep washing the same clothes over and over before it got tiring (and costly). He had virtually nothing of his own. No clothes besides the ones he’d fallen in, no personal belongings, nothing.

Jungkook was new to being a human, so thoughts of personal items probably hadn’t been on his mind. As an angel, things like showering, eating, sleeping, and the like had never been a requirement to stay alive. Now that he was human however, those human needs were becoming hard to ignore. Hunger pains after several hours of not eating would make him unnecessarily irritable, and he definitely disliked the smell that would begin to emit from his skin if he hadn’t washed in a while. Being a human was... incredibly burdensome.

You didn’t need to go over board; technically, the room down the hall could be his bedroom (as soon as you got around to tidying the rest of Youngho’s things you’d bought him that he’d respectfully left) and as a new human, he was going to be incredibly low maintenance. You doubted he’d want tens of pairs of shoes or designer accessories to match. It wasn’t even really just that; Jungkook was fairly simple in everything. He really was godsent.

“Whatever you wanna do,” Jungkook says, setting the tray between you two, “but we should be wary. We don’t know where Seokjin might be waiting to pop up from next. I want to be able to protect you... but I’m not used to the limitations of this body.”

Mook hops up into bed the next moment, her beady eyes observing the scene before settling herself next to you. You hadn’t spent much time with Mook since the Youngho incident, and you could tell from the way she rubbed against you that she was glad to have you back. You reach a hand to gently comb at the fur on her head before taking one mug from the tray. The aroma that hits you is a pleasant vanilla and white tea that instantly soothes your nerves at the mention of Seokjin. Taking a sip, you notice that he’s made it just the way you like it too. You guessed after watching you make it so many times, he’d gotten the hang of it.

You hum and settle back into your cushions, “Jungkook... I’m thankful you want to protect me, but I think you should be worried about yourself too. All these sensations are going to be new to you... this is a new life you’re going to live, if we live. Being human looks simple but compared to what you had going on before, it’s really not.”

Jungkook begins to protest, yet his halt is immediate. Who was he to say that you were being too worrisome? After all, you’d been the human this whole time. You had a better grasp on it than he did. Angels could watch from their perches in a world between human reality and the afterlife, but at least they were safe there. You, on the other hand, and the other billions like you were not so lucky.

And you were right. Being a human... it was terrifying.

Yoongi’s offer had bothered him all night long, and even now as he was getting used to these new urges and needs, he wasn’t subscribed to the idea of it lasting. Demons truly were closer to humans than angels, but demons were also closer to angels too. If he became a demon, he might feel more at home in his body- no, he couldn’t simply give up just because of bodily needs. He... he had to be stronger than that.

Being a demon meant he was stronger, possibly as strong as he was in angel form, and by extension it also meant that he could take care of you. As a demon, he was more apt to fight off any supernatural (or human) pests that dared to hurt you. As a demon, he also could form a connection to you that, while paling in comparison to his angelic one, would still be a hell of a lot stronger than his human one.

But as a human... he could die with you.

As a guardian angel, the worst part of being a guardian is the inevitable moment when your charge would have to move on to the afterlife. There were charges that would pass in their sleep peacefully, but then there were charges who would die in house fires, drown, be shot and killed in a robbery, be hit by a car on a night of sadness and impulse. He was told it’d get better the longer he lived. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. That’s why he was here, and that’s why you were now alive and suffering alongside him.

If he hadn’t done a thing, you’d be dead. A life of pain ended, but a life of happiness never found. It hurt him to think you’d never know a true lover’s touch or feel elated with the sun soaking into your skin. You would never know true happiness, and that’s what scared him about humans the most. He did not want that for you.

Maybe he was selfish. He might have tried to play God. Some grand plan aside however, your life meant more to him than that.

“...You’re right. I’ll take it easy, okay? Until I get the hang of it all, that is.” Jungkook gives you a patient smile despite the turmoil in his eyes, and that’s that on that.

You match his smile and take another sip of your tea at the same time an idea pops into your head. The outfit Jungkook had been stranded in was nothing special, which of course begged the question... what did he like to wear?

Jimin, from what you’d seen of him, dressed simple and stylishly, a contrast to Jungkook’s casual athletic clothes. You had assumed all angels had a standard issue outfit to wear, but now you weren’t so sure. “Where did you get your clothes, Jungkook?”

Jungkook glances down at the hoodie of yours that was just big enough to fit him and then back to you, “You mean the clothes I first appeared in? They’re kind of… a choice of ours, as angels. There are times when we may need to show ourselves to humans, and in those cases, we very well can’t walk around in ivory robes and sandals,” the image of Jungkook in such a getup makes a laugh tickle in your throat, “so we pick out human clothes that we feel we’d best blend in with. For guardians, they’re also something we believe our charges would find appealing.” It’s unsaid, but the way Jungkook’s eyes fix on you gives you the feeling that he was curious if you had found them appealing.

“Did you have different types of outfits for different situations?” You draw your knees to your chest as Mook gets bored of your petting and makes her way into Jungkook’s lap. 

He nods, “As an angel, my clothes were a glamour. I could change them at the snap of a finger, but once I became human, the clothes I’d been wearing became real and the only clothes I could keep. However, you’ll never find anything like them. No tags, no earthly material, stain-resistant. All the works.”

“Your only clothes, huh? Glad you didn’t have to save me at a swimming pool.” You snort.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to see that outfit? The board shorts were nicely fitting.” Jungkook even bothers to smirk, posing his hips toward you, and the image of a smirking Jungkook in nothing but shorts flashes in your mind’s imagination. Said imagination had always been terribly vivid and you physically jolt as the details appear in your mind. You were not about to think about Jungkook like… that. Right now.

You shake your head quickly, “I-I think I’m good.” The crack in your voice says otherwise. 

Jungkook probably would have teased you more had your phone not alerted you then. You blink, retrieving the phone from your nightstand to see who it had come from.

(1) Unread Message(s)

received: 9:31 a.m.

Min Yoongi (Boss): Forwarding your first paycheck to your account now. Don’t ask how.

“Wha...?” You look at the phone in disbelief, feeling Jungkook lean over your shoulder to peek at the screen too. You exit the message as soon as it registers and, sure enough, once you’ve pulled up your bank app, there is... $50,000 more in your account than there was yesterday. You almost drop your scalding hot tea all over your lap.

sent: 9:35 a.m.

you: I think you may have added a few too many zeroes??

received: 9:36 a.m.

Min Yoongi (Boss): Enjoy your day with lover boy, (Name). Emphasis on enjoy.

Min Yoongi (Boss): :)

You had a feeling if you tried to press the issue longer, Yoongi might actually block you.

Like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, the numbers in your bank account comforted you down to the core. Even in the midst of supernatural feuds centuries older than you, one of your biggest worries had been how you were ever going to pay your bills. Going from your job before to a waitress job practically spelled a major downsize for you until you could get back on your feet, and now that you had another mouth to feed, you had seriously feared that every meal would be your last.

Something told you this was only the tip of Yoongi’s generosity. After all, he was a demon prince. He didn’t run a bar to make a living, he ran a bar because he had the time. That’s why prices were so low when the quality was so high: money was no issue.

“I have to be honest, I never expected Satan’s spawn to be so... nice.” Jungkook comments, taking a sip from his own cup of tea, frowning when the liquid had since gone cold.

You look up from your phone dazed; if you still were convinced your life had turned a vivid hallucination, you now how had half a $100,000 in your bank account to say otherwise. “Me neither.” Is all you can muster, letting the phone drop to the covers in order to motivate you out of bed. Jungkook looks up at you, then forlornly at his omelette. “Heat it up again with your tea. I need a... cold shower.”

An hour later, Jungkook is sitting cross-legged in the spare bedroom with his eyes glittering, “I can have it?”

There’s an old PS4 resting in his hands, covered in a fine layer of dust but otherwise functional as far as you can tell. Youngho probably didn’t have the balls to take it with him given that you’d bought it for him, so for now, it laid here untouched. “Of course you can. I don’t play it that much and I doubt he’s coming back for it.”

There was a litany of gifts lying around that you had given your boyfriend over the years, many of which had been bringing back painful memories, but some of them felt like they could be rebranded. Coats, colognes, video games and the like. What he had claimed for his own at his place was either up for sale or Jungkook’s pleasure.

“I’ve always wanted to play one of these. Whenever Youngho would come over, I’d just sit and watch.”

“Does Youngho have a guardian angel?” You ask, “I’m just curious. I mean, that night you kicked him out... wouldn’t his angel have intervened?”

Jungkook shrugs, “Of course. Everyone has a guardian angel.”

“Except me now, I guess.” You laugh bitterly. Jungkook’s head snaps up to you, eyes flashing with hurt. The guilt you feel is immediate. “Oh, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

The longer it takes Jungkook to reassure you that it’s fine, that he understood what you really meant, starts to make your breath quicken with anxiety. All he does is look down at his lap, sadly fiddling with the console in his hands with much less excitement than before. God, you’d royally fucked up with that comment, huh? 

You’re about to give him a much lengthier apology when Jungkook speaks up again, “To answer your question, his angel was there. We are- I was trained to stop demonic threats toward humans, nothing more, so I could only imagine that angel’s confusion at my interference. Perhaps, they were too afraid to do anything. It’s only a guess though.”

“...Maybe they were aware of how much of an asshole he was and decided to sit that one out.” You offer, trying to lighten the mood. Jungkook says nothing.

He only looks up when you’ve walked over to his spot on the floor, reaching a hand out to softly tangle in his hair. His breath hitches as you move down to cup his jaw, “Jungkook, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was insensitive to you when you’ve been working so hard to protect me. Who cares about a title or wings? You’re my guardian angel no matter what. God doesn’t get a say in that, not this time.”

Little tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He just keeps looking into yours, switching back and forth between each of them as his lip tremors, “What... good am I to you when I’m like this? You should have someone else. God should’ve sent you someone else. If he doesn’t send someone else and he knows I can no longer protect you, then he’s letting you die and I can’t- I can’t do anything about it. What good am I if I can’t do the one thing I was made to do?”

You drop into a crouch until you’re face to face with him, “Jungkook, you are more than a guardian.”

“Am I?” His voice cracks, “I don’t know who I am. I’ve never had a reason to be anyone.”

“I know... I know what it’s like to feel like you have no purpose anymore, believe me. I know what it’s like to be unsure of who you are. I want to tell you that it gets easier, and that there will be more days where you feel whole than when you don’t, but I can’t. It’s up and down. It’s never the same for everyone,” you wipe at a stray tear that escapes his eye, “being human sucks for that. You don’t have any guidelines and apparently everything is already laid out for you without your consent. But I think I can say this with certainty: you, for one, have made it very clear it’s possible to change that.”

The boy scoffs, “And look where that’s gotten you. Now you’re in danger.”

You smile. Cupping both his cheeks firmly, you bring him so close to you that he thinks he’s doing the human version of short-circuiting, “And I found out that there’s someone who loves me so much that he’d defy God just to let me know.”

“Is that enough? To make you happy?” 

Was it? You’d always assumed it would be. A lack of love, easy to explain away. If you could just get that feeling you’d been missing, you’d finally be happy, right? You couldn’t lie to him.

“It won’t magically fix everything, that’s not how these things work, but love does give you something to fight for when you don’t want to fight for anything. I’m still going to hate being awake some days. All I can say is that I would like to at least be awake with you. Does that make any sense?”

He sniffles, then nods.

“Can I hold you?” You inquire.

He nods again, “Yeah, sorry.”

You shuffle some things out of the way so that you’re laying against the carpet and he’s leaning against your shoulder, one arm of yours thrown around him while the other holds his hand in your lap, “What are you sorry for, silly? Being a person?” You giggle, squeezing his hand tightly. “I don’t know, I think you’re doing pretty good all things considered. Some people become serial killers under way less stress.”

Jungkook laughs softly into your neck, giving you delightful little goosebumps. Was he aware of what he was doing to you, or was he just clueless? Part of you wanted to hope it was the latter. The last thing you needed was a hot, self-aware angel. Wait, when did you start thinking of Jungkook as hot- “Then I guess I feel much better. Can we stay like this for a while longer?”

“As long as you like. We’ve got all day to ourselves.”

Taehyung mutters a soft prayer, “Be at peace.”

It’s one of the quickest ways to death when the target isn’t struggling, and the second quickest way when he didn’t have his gun on him. He preferred the closeness of knives anyway. It made it make sense to him, but it also made him feel less like a contract killer and more like he lacked the empathy to be repulsed by killing up close.

The truth was that he did feel empathetic, especially when he really didn’t want to. He imagined how much it might hurt his mother to know of what he was doing, and if he could see her face just once, he’d probably stop for good. He’d tried.

When he’d asked Yoongi that one time, after far too much thinking, if he could see her, the prince had made it clear that to see his mother was to go against God’s wishes and that alone could start a war that didn’t need to happen. It was to be like this. Taehyung was to die alone.

All he could have were the little moments.

The demon falls at his feet with a soft thud, her heart releasing the blade of his knife. Blood drips over the corpse, staining her waitressing shirt red. Slowly, sinking back into the earth, the body disintegrates until there’s virtually no trace left. That was the one upside of dealing with demons: they never left a mess.

Taehyung sends a simple confirmation text to his client that the work has been done and the money is wired moments later. Stashing his now clean knife away into its scabbard at his waist, he makes his way out of the alley and directly into the human traffic of the city, blending in with ease. There’s no rush to be anywhere or see anyone. The world is moving with or without him, just as he likes it best. 

It’s only the middle of the day but he’s already considering which bar he wants to linger at at the moment. If he wasn’t working and he wasn’t sleeping, he was drinking. Had he a human liver, he’d probably have been dead a long, long time ago.

Just as he’s about to slink into one, his phone vibrates with a text.

(1) Unread Message(s)

received: 2:08 p.m.

suga: About the kid—are you sure you want to help? 

sent: 2:09 p.m.

taehyung: you asked me that already, wouldn’t have said so if I wasn’t

received: 2:09 p.m.

suga: You know that’s not what I meant. You’ve never seen him. Are you ready for that?

sent: 2:11 p.m.

taehyung: I don’t think I ever will be so I might as well get it over with

Not waiting for another response, Taehyung locks his phone and shoves it into his back pocket, ignoring the vibrations that signal Yoongi’s concern. As kind as it was, it really wasn’t what he wanted to hear right now. All he should be focusing on is the best way to kill the bastard before he killed anyone else.

“He’s scaring me,” the demon sighs, holding her head up on her fist, “I can feel how angry he is, Lucifer. He’s going to do something he regrets.”

The king of hell is perched on the edge of a bed of satin and silk, one leg crossed over the other as he watches the young servant delicately braiding Inhui’s hair back from her face. “No offense but if I was the kid, I’d also want to kill my father. You can’t blame him. You should want to just as much.”

“I’ve told you time and time again that he didn’t do it for greed. I know him.” Inhui growls, snapping around to stare Lucifer down. The servant girl pales at the sudden change in mood, hands stilling around the black strands weaved through her fingers. Knowing it would be another one of those days, Lucifer waves a hand at the servant girl to leave and Inhui’s hair comes undone with the speed at which she exits through the iron bars of the prison cell. “And now my braid is ruined.”

“You think that an angel would ever give up their cozy seat in heaven for fucking this? You knew the boy for how long? 17, 18 years? That’s barely a second in time.”

Inhui huffs indignantly, looking away from him to the mirror once again to take her hair into her own hands. Roughly, she begins braiding where the servant had left off, “I saw him most of that child’s life. The way he cared for her, the way he cared for me... I had expected you to understand. We were angels once.”

Lucifer snarls, “Don’t remind me.”

“You should be reminded. It’s like you forget where we came from. You’re angry at them when you should be angry at God. He’s the one brainwashing them.”

“I personally don’t care what he’s doing with them. I care what it has to do with my demons.”

“So you don’t care about the angel your son is so interested in?”

At that, Lucifer frowns. “...that one doesn’t count. He’s fallen.”

Inhui huffs something like a laugh when she’s finished her braid, tying it off. Then, she steps around her chair and moves over to her bed until she’s hovering over Lucifer, being one of the few who was ever capable of being in such a position. “You’re worried about your son too, aren’t you? Then you know he’s caught up in the same situation. Have you talked to him about it?”

“I... trust him to make the best decision.” 

“And you think that the one he’s making is the best one?” Not at all, Lucifer thinks, but who am I to stop him? “You have him so close, and you don’t say what you want to. You’re lucky that you can see him.”

“But he doesn’t want to see me. I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. Whether it’s staying in hell or taking the throne or staying away from people he thinks he can save, he doesn’t listen to me. At least your boy wants to listen to you.” Lucifer doesn’t mean to sound so snippy, doesn’t mean to come off so bitter. Yet, all he feels is bitterness. And sadness. And genuine worry for what is unfolding with their sons right in the thick of it.

It’s silent for a while.

Inhui drops down onto the mattress next to him holding her head in her hands, “What great parents we are.” Nudging Lucifer, she leans back until they’re both looking at each other, “Do you think that fallen will be much trouble?”

Lucifer sighs, “Weren’t we?”

You’ve somewhat setup a neat little space for Jungkook, and while it’s lacking in decorations and style, he looks more than happy with what he’s got. He’s even gotten attached to you calling it “his” room. 

With Yoongi’s gracious gift, you’d spent some time paying off bills and handling some of your pesky student loans. By the time you were through, you’d taken a big gulp of fresh, relieved air. 

Now came shopping, the fun part.

“Jungkook! Are you ready to go yet?” You shout up the stairs.

“Just a minute!” He yelled back, and you could faintly hear him over the sound of video game sound effects in the background. You made a mental note to be ready for him to drag you into a GameStop at some point. 

With how quickly things had been moving for the past few days, you felt that all of the free time and leisure you’d enjoyed today had invigorated you something fierce. You could go for a run, or maybe start some new hobby. The only issue with either of those options was that your reality was not lost on you in the slightest. Your days were forever being haunted by the shadow of Seokjin. In fact, he was starting to haunt your dreams even. He always appeared as a lifeless, indefinite aura, suffocating you in your sleep to the point that you’d wake up thinking you’d died and gone to hell.

And while you were enjoying spending time with Jungkook, you couldn’t help wondering what you could be doing right now to keep him safe. He was so obsessed with protecting you, and yet you were equally as obsessed vice versa. Even though Yoongi had told you to enjoy the day off, it was quickly becoming harder to do so with the places your mind was heading.

You decided to mindlessly scroll through your phone, answering messages you hadn’t gotten around to yet from your old co-workers. You see some messages from Jaebum but decide you’ll get back to him later. Your mother had sent you a few things asking how you were doing while demanding you come to the family reunion that upcoming summer, all of which you completely ignored. It seemed the world was still turning. That was nice at least.

About fifteen minutes later with no sign of your new roommate, you begin to grow irritated. Just as you’re about to yell for him again, you hear a peculiar sound. It’s your doorbell ringing. Your doorbell hadn’t rang since...

A hard lump forms in the back of your throat. You quickly check your phone for any warning messages from Youngho about him stopping by again, perhaps with a lawyer and police in tow. Maybe he was going to sue you for that night and how Jungkook had handled him. You could not deal with that on top of every other thing going on in your life right now.

You quickly preen yourself in a nearby mirror and huddle over to the front door, heart accelerating. You take a peek through the peep hole but can only see a sliver of hair that doesn’t look anything like Youngho’s. A sigh of relief is followed by stark confusion. Who the hell would come to your house uninvited like this? Your mother would, perhaps, but you highly doubted that she would... you needed to check.

Slowly opening the door, you peek around the barrier between you and the outside world. 

“Hey,” Yongsun greets you with relief, “you’re alive.”

Alive? Did she- there was no way she knew...? “Huh?”

She chuckles, shaking her head at you, “Jaebum texted me all worried saying you hadn’t been answering his messages. I thought it was weird so he asked me to come to check on you.”

“You didn’t text me yourself?” You ask, frowning. 

“I... didn’t think you’d answer.”

Shit. She had a point.

She awkwardly fiddles with her fingers and looks down. Part of you was angry at her, another part angry at yourself, and an even bigger part angry that all of this had done to one of the closest relationships in your life up until this point. All over a stupid job. 

“You want to come in?” You offer. She looks up with slight shock but nods anyway, slowly stepping closer as you open the door up enough to let her in.

Her heels clack against the hardwood floor lightly as if to not make her presence anymore imposing than she probably felt it was. She looks around the living room with slight confusion, “Where’s Mook?”

You grumble at the mention of your cat, realizing she was probably upstairs too, “In Jungkook’s room, no doubt.”

“Jungkook? Is that... is that the guy you told Jae was my little brother? I’d been meaning to ask about that.”

Oh, fuck.

With royally good timing, Jungkook makes his presence known as he stomps loudly down the stairs. Yongsun’s eyes widen at the boy, trying to recall when she had ever seen someone like him around you before. You surely would have told her about a guy like that, right? 

Jungkook’s expression is impenetrable, his eyes darting over to you as if to gauge what you were thinking. You give him a helpless look back.

But ever your knight in shining armor, Jungkook forces a laugh that seems genuine enough on the outside looking in. Then, he makes his way over to Yongsun and holds out his hand, “Ah, so this is the famed Yongsun I’ve heard so much about? It’s so nice to finally meet you, ‘big sis’.” 

Yongsun is bewildered but takes his hand nonetheless, a light blush dusting her cheeks, “B-Big sis?”

Jungkook takes his hand back and shoves it in his pants pocket, “Sorry about the identity theft and all. This one here wasn’t quite ready to spill the beans.”

“I’m sorry, I’m completely lost here. What beans? (Name)?”

Did you look like you had any clue about what was happening here too? Jungkook had all the self-assuredness in the room!

“It’s... a bit complicated. You know how silly (Name) can be sometimes, getting flustered over nothing. They weren’t ready to introduce me to Jaebum as their boyfriend yet and we kinda ended up going along with a little white lie for the time being. (Name) doesn’t know how to break it to him.” Huh. Were angels supposed to be this quick at lying?

Yongsun looks absolutely stunned. Looking back between you and Jungkook, she can’t seem to form a coherent sentence easily, “You’ve moved on from Youngho already? I had no idea... how long has it been? Are you-”

“Yongsun,” Jungkook draws her attention back to him with a charming, apologetic smile, “me and (Name) were actually just about to head out and do some shopping. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh,” the girl looks deflated, “I wanted to... I had some really important things I wanted to talk about with you, (Name). Can we talk, at least for a little bit? Alone?”

Jungkook looks about ready to sweep in with something positively corny with just the right amount of socially repulsive to save you. All you had to do was give him the look. And yet... Yongsun looked so sincere. So worried. You couldn’t lie; you missed her. You wanted to talk too.

An idea forms in your head, “How about... we all go shopping together and then we can talk? I just wanted to get Jungkook some new things to wear, it’s not a date or anything.”

At that, the girl perks up immediately, “T-That sounds great! We can even take my car. I’ll go start it.” She sends you a tentative smile and quickly squishes past Jungkook to get to the front door, making her way down the pavement to her sedan parked on the curb. You groan softly. So much for a relaxing day. You guessed it was better to rip the bandaid clean now than never.

You glare at Jungkook as he sidles up beside you, handing you your bag, “Of all people, Yongsun’s little brother?”

“Of all people, a little brother?” The indignant fallen glares right back.

Shopping turns out to be not as stressful as you’d expected. 

Jungkook takes the reins completely the minute you arrive at the mall, going in and out of different stores with a firm understanding in what he wanted. You felt more like a bodyguard, watching him flit about with different bomber jackets and chunky boots. You were finding that you quite liked whatever sense of style he was forming for himself, absentmindedly wondering if he was picking it all based on what he assumed was your preference on purpose.

Yongsun, up until now, had only been making small talk with you about how things were going. Given that you couldn’t disclose a third of what had been happening in your life without sounding insane, you only tell her little bits and pieces about finding new work and spending time with your new “boyfriend”. She spends most of the time asking about him, finding it quite amusing when you get bashful at her questions about when he’d first fallen for you and vice versa. It seemed, however, that even her well of boyfriend questions could run dry at some point.

“I... wanted to apologize to you. About going radio silent. And the job.”

She finally acknowledges the elephant in the room when Jungkook goes to the dressing room to try on some jeans. You share a bench with her outside the changing rooms, a small smoothie in hand (a treat that you’d distributed amongst the group of you about halfway through the trip) that drips cold perspiration onto your pants legs. You’d been pumping yourself up for it for about an hour and a half now, so it hadn’t hit you with quite as much force as it probably would have back home, “What is there to apologize for? You were clearly the more qualified of the two of us.”

“You were going through hell because of Youngho. I wasn’t more qualified, I was just... available,” she sighs deeply, “and I just wanted to tell you that I didn’t know that it was your position at the time I accepted. They’d only told me that another, better position opened up and that they wanted me to move up and... yeah.”

You churn the thick fruit mixture with your straw thoughtfully. “It had all happened so quick. I believe you.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that I took your dream away from you. You had wanted that job so badly, and I... I feel terrible everyday that I come to work.”

“Yongsun,” you command her attention immediately, meeting her sorrowful eyes, “...it’s not your fault, it never was. We both have dreamed of jobs at that place since we were freshmen. You worked just as hard as I did. I didn’t keep up to par and they did what companies do. I can’t fault you for being in the right place at the right time.”

“I should have...” Her voice trembles, “I should have done more.”

“We both were caught off guard, huh?” You ask with a sympathetic smile, reaching a hand out to touch hers. Yongsun lets a few tears fall from her eyes in response. “I’m sorry for ignoring you over it. That wasn’t cool.”

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, squeezing your hand back, “I understood why you did. I... I really love you, (Name). I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t want to lose you.” 

God, it had been a long time since you’d heard something like that.

You reach out to her and pull her into a tight hug, letting her hiccup into your shirt even as bystanders give you both odd looks in retaliation. You only hold her tighter. 

After a few minutes, Jungkook has exited the changing room with a few pairs of the same jeans slung over his arm, quietly assessing the situation. When it looks like Yongsun has calmed down enough, he makes his way over, “I think we’re almost all good on the clothes front. Can we stop by one more place?”

If Yongsun is confused about you paying for all of Jungkook’s clothes, she doesn’t say anything about it.

Jungkook ends up taking you to a much different store on the third floor... a very familiar one. “Jungkook...” You ask, looking at him in confusion, “you want to shop here?”

The boy grins, “It’s your favorite, isn’t it? It’s my treat.” You try to tune out the cooing that Yongsun is making in your ear from behind. 

“But I’m paying- okay.” He doesn’t let you finish your thought, dragging both you and Yongsun into the store with relative ease and dumping you off at the first rack you see. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really treated yourself to anything nice. You rarely felt like you deserved to lavish yourself with anything back in the day, but after all you’d been through in the past few days... you can splurge a little, right?

You find yourself enjoying the moment the more you walk around, picking up pieces here and there and knowing that money was virtually no issue. You could get whatever you wanted. It was... kind of heaven, actually.

Yongsun would follow you around, dropping off things she found herself that she thought you would like. When your arms were nearly overflowing with clothes, she’d pushed you toward the changing rooms to try some of them on, urging you to show each and every one of the outfits off to her and Jungkook, and show them off you did.

You hadn’t even made a dent in the pile by the time you’d shimmied into the fifth outfit, quietly admiring your figure in the lit mirror before you. A small smile graced your face: who knew it could be this nice just doing something fun for yourself?

You smooth down the fabric of your clothing and prepare yourself to leave when you feel the room grow a little warmer behind you. Odd. You look back up in the mirror and almost scream out loud.

The not-so-strange stranger hovering behind you grabs you by the throat from behind and shoves you against the wall, making the stall shudder in response. The lights on the mirror keeping the small room lit flickered and burned out at the same time by no natural coincidence.

He was there. The beautiful man you’d passed on the street before. The one who you’d thought was from out of this world. How did he...?

“You and that angel of yours are awfully hard to get alone, you know?”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

What Might Have Been - 9

(This one got a few re-writes and wound up not very connected to the prompt. Sorry! CW for some violent intrusive thoughts, but not very graphic.)

This is part of a single story for the @goodomenscelebration​ “Theme” prompts.

Parts 1-6

Part 7

Part 8

Doubt

It’s a trap. He’ll hurt you. Destroy him.

The whispers were starting again, but the Antichrist waved them aside. The first ones were always easy to ignore. Once, he’d been able to go weeks – almost a month – fighting them off, but the times when he could be himself were getting shorter and shorter. Maybe soon there would be no time at all.

He studied the demon crouched beside him for another moment. Dark clothes, red hair, sharp features. He’d been wearing a pair of sunglasses before, pitch-black lenses curved over his face to hide the glint of his bright yellow eyes from most angles. Now they were in his hand, the metal arms (black with bright red flames) hidden.

He didn’t look like a demon, not really. The eyes did, the black wings he’d briefly revealed, the sigil on the hinge of his jaw.  But apart from that, he looked human. Demons didn’t usually bother to look very human.

“So,” he started, ready to teleport the demon as far as possible if he didn’t like the answer, “if you’re not supposed to bring me back to the war…why are you here?”

“Looking for an angel.” The demon glanced around, his eyes distant. “Not even sure where to start.”

The Antichrist nodded. Some of the angels and demons were sworn enemies, locked in eternal single combat. “Your Adversary?”

The demon grinned, but there was nothing bloodthirsty about it. “Oh yeah.” He stood up, brushing himself off, then held out a hand for the Antichrist. “Had him in my clutches this morning, but he slipped away. And now…” the grin faded.

Ignoring the hand, the Antichrist stood up. “The nearest fighting’s down by the coast. Brighton, when I ran, probably spreading from there. Th biggest is over America…” he closed his eyes to concentrate. “Yeah, New York. And smaller fights in what’s left of the Amazon, and somewhere over the mountains in Asia and…” he looked at the demon again. “Is this angel good at fighting?”

“The best,” he said, with some kind of strange pride.

“Probably America. That’s where I’m supposed to go next, but…”

“I don’t think so.” The demon wandered back to the inn, where a still-partially-green plant in a red pot sat in the box planter. Tucking the glasses in his pocket, he carefully picked it up and walked back. Was it some sort of weapon? He hadn’t heard of that type of biological warfare, but you never knew. “He was here, my Adversary. Or not too far, anyway. I And he doesn’t really like America. He’d stay close, I think.” The demon sauntered past the Antichrist with hardly a glance. “Just gotta keep looking.”

More whispers, destroy him, forget him, find your destiny, but the Antichrist pushed them away again, and found himself following after. “Is he on one of the Retrieval squads? They’re supposed to be some of the best fighters. The Guardian of Humanity only picks the best.”

“I don’t know about Retrieval Squads,” the demon said. “He doesn’t get on well with other angels. But Guardian of Humanity…that sounds like his kind of scene. They keep the humans safe?”

“It’s what they say,” Adam said darkly. “If he’s mixed up in that, I can’t help you.”

“Adam, if there’s anyone who can help me, it’s you.” The demon frowned, studying the buildings lining the road behind them.. “Can probably help me figure out what happened here, too. This…” He tucked the plant under one arm and waved a hand at the last house, bricks melted to mud. Across the street, the remains of a stone wall and a marker stone of some kind, broken down and scattered as if kicked over by an unruly toddler. “This is wrong.”

“Dunno. Same thing that happened to all the villages.” Rumor had it there were still a few holdouts, but they tended to be destroyed a few hours after the Antichrist arrived. Having an army of demons will do that.

He didn’t realize the demon had stopped until almost too late, and the Antichrist very nearly walked into him. “Look. This is going to be a lot easier if you just do your mind-reading trick. I give you permission.”

“No,” the Antichrist said firmly. “I don’t – not anymore.” He shuddered, trying not to remember the last time. The feel of maggots on his flesh, the voices in his head. Rip his arm off, one of them suggested, rising a little above the whispers. That’ll teach him some respect.

“Adam? What happened?”

The Antichrist knew if he looked up again, he’d see golden eyes watching him. Might even see an expression he’d never expected to find on a demonic face, on any face ever turned to him again.

He kept staring at his shoes.

“I…didn’t want to fight. Kept teleporting home, even though no one was there. They’d drag me back. One day I read their minds and told them their battleplans were stupid.”

The demon chuckled at that. “That’s my boy. Bet they were stupid.”

“They were glorious,” the Antichrist said, bitterly. “Battles that would rip apart the Earth, shows of power that would make everyone quake in fear. And more than half our forces would be lost in the first three years.”

A long pause while the demon glanced around, taking in the destruction, the boiling red rivers cutting across the field, the pond reduced to an empty pit with a black tar at the bottom. A swarm of locust rose from the dead grass, the only sign of life. “I take it you didn’t convince them to change their plans?”

The Antichrist raised his head to meet the demon’s eyes, but wasn’t ready for that. It was easier to stare at his shoulder. “They. They locked me in a cell with a pair of demons.” His throat grew tight. “Made me read their minds. Over and over. Every…nasty thing they’d ever done, all their awful thoughts…”

For days afterwards, he’d thought like them. Gloried in the idea of ripping people apart, destruction for the sheer joy of it. Even now, one voice whispered, Hurt him. Rip his wings off. Lock him in a church and laugh as he tries to escape. He didn’t even think there were any churches left, not around here.

“Hey. Adam.” The Antichrist let his eyes flick up for a second, meeting the golden eyes of the demon. Like a cat. Or a snake. “Let me guess. Hastur and Ligur?” He nodded. “Nasty pieces of work. And you were…all alone? No friends? No dog?”

The Antichrist shoved his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t really have any friends. All those rich kids, we just tried to outdo each other, you know? Who had the better toys, who could throw a cooler birthday party. Never really talked with any of them. When things turned bad…” he shrugged, frowning. “As for the dog, he finds me sometimes, drags me back to the fighting.”

The demon scratched his head, looking confused. “Your dog does that? ‘S not right. You should be able to control him. He was designed to obey you, be loyal only to you.”

“You’re kidding.” The demon didn’t look like the kind to joke around. “How’s a kid like me supposed to control a Hellhound?”

A long silence. The Antichrist wished he knew what the demon was thinking about, but he still refused to read his mind. Refused to allow another voice in. Finally, he stepped in front of the Antichrist, making it very hard to look away. “Call him by his name, Adam.”

“Killer?” His expression crumpled into pained disbelief. It would have been funny, if anything in the world could still be funny. “I know. The kids at the party suggested all these really violent names. Widow-Maker. Throat-Ripper. Luger. They said a bit scary dog needed a big scary name and…I didn’t want to look lame.”

“What did you want to call him?” the demon asked.

“Dunno. I had one I liked but…I mean…it was dumb,” he confessed. “Stupid kid stuff.”

“Call him that next time, Adam.” A hand with long, thin fingers fell on his shoulder, squeezed gently. “Every creature prefers to be called his real name.”

The demon started walking again, and Adam followed.

--

--

For those curious, Crowley’s new glasses:

I wanted something a bit more relaxed post-Apocalypse. He’s started letting the walls down a little, so we’ve lost the side-shields and gone for a Ray-Ban-style design. I think Aziraphale helped him pick them out, in that Aziraphale was there, saying vaguely encouraging things for each pair of glasses while not really having a strong opinion.

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 21 ~Faith and Hope~

"Jaaaa-mie, breakfast is ready!"

Jamie smelt burned food as he came out of the shower and walked into the adjoining bedroom. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he sat on the slipper chair to check his phone.  Burnt waffles!   He smiled. This was Claire's third attempt in the week in making waffles after revealing that he loved them.

"Jamie, is there really a need for Angus to drive me to the doctor's today? Surely, I can go by myself. My car hardly gets used, and really, it needs a run." Claire ambled into the bedroom with a mug of black coffee, wearing a short silk floral blue robe loosely tied around her waist, her stomach protruding at the opening.

Jamie sighed, looking up to his wife. "Sassenach, we've been through this before. I can't have ye walking around on yer own in town while I'm away in Paris. I can't take any chances with all the headcases crawling out of the woodwork."

The news of Jamie's marriage had spread like wildfire when they returned to Inverness three and a half months ago. He hadn't liked the intrusion on Claire's privacy as the press found out the identity of his wife. There were several candid pictures taken of her in town and unscrupulously published in a tabloid newspaper. The last straw was when Jamie's representatives had intercepted hate mails and messages on his public social media accounts. Although most were petty and seemingly harmless, one message was traced to Laoghaire MacKenzie's brother with death threats. The threats came after it was revealed that the MacKenzie/Christie case may be taken to the Scottish High courts.

Fearing for his wife's safety, more than his own, Jamie had ensconced themselves in his penthouse apartment with the round the clock security surveillance. He loathed leaving the cottage since it was the first place Jamie had felt at home since leaving Lallybroch, and for the most part, Claire loved it there. Jamie was aware it would have been a matter of time before the media discovered their hideaway, and he was mindful that Tom Christie knew the address of the cottage.

Claire stood in front of him with an exaggerated pout as she handed him the coffee. Jamie knew his wife was restless after being relieved from work after a photographer had nearly hampered an emergency case Claire was working on; moreover, there was the doctor's warning about stress because of her high blood pressure.

Jamie took the coffee off Claire's hand and placed it on the table. He undid her robe to kiss her belly before pulling her down onto his lap, her legs straddling him. "Now Sassenach, ye promise me ye'll not try to lose Angus this time. The poor man was almost out of his wits with worry the last time ye tried to abscond. I know ye don't like the security and the fuss, but we have the baby to think about now, aye? And I'm so sorry I cannae be with ye for the doctor's appointment." He leaned forward for a kiss, his large hands firm on her hips. "Mmm, ye taste of hazelnut chocolate spread."

"I promise." Claire sighed as her arms snaked around his neck. "Besides, I have a project that I'm working on, and I'll need Angus' brawn with the shopping, so I need to stay on his good side. Shall I message you later when I find out the gender of the baby?"

"Ye can call me anytime, Sassenach, but no... I want the gender of our baby to be a surprise. But keep me updated what the doctor says about yer health." Jamie's first and foremost concern was Claire's well being as he tried to push away thoughts of how his mother had died, giving birth to a stillborn child. He didn't want to leave her, but he needed to sort out some paperwork in Paris concerning Château Cheval Blanc.

"Alright then, if you want it to be a surprise, the baby's room is off-limits to you. I plan to decorate it while you're away, and Geillis and Gail promised to come around to help with some ideas."

"Mmmm...off-limits. Got it. Now let see what delectables you have for my breakfast," Jamie breathed nuzzling her neck as he slipped off Claire's robe down her arms. 

"Jamie! We just did it this morning, and you have a plane to catch!" But his warm breath against her skin was already sending tingling sensation down her spine.

Jamie ignored her remark. "Christ Sassenach, yer tits are so massive, and yer arse is so plump and round." He nibbled her earlobe delicately, one hand cupping the weight of her breast and another squeezing her arse, as he pulled her closer to his hard arousal. "Feel that Sassenach, that's what ye do to me when ye walk around half-naked. Damn, ye're so bonnie...so sexy," he whispered in a ragged voice.

"And you're so ravenous and insatiable...how are you going to survive a few days in Paris, huh?" Claire whispered as her hips started to move against him, pulling his head down to her breast. She smiled as he groaned, his hip movements matching her own.

Impatiently, Jamie raised Claire by the hips to pull down her panties and whipped off his towel before lowering her down to his cock. Then he reached down to their adjoining nakedness and stroked her sensitive spot. "Weel, ye just have to talk dirty to me tonight on the phone. They call it in French,  en libre service ." He chuckled softly as he heard her gasp, knowing she was shocked and roused at his suggestion.

Claire's head lolled back as Jamie bent his head to tease a nipple. " En libre service?  Alright Jamie, tell me more about it...what would you like to hear as by way of example..." she whispered as a whimper escaped her lips.

Jamie raised his head from her breast, and with one hand behind her neck, pulled her closer. As Claire began to rock more frantically against him, he whispered all the naughty things he intended to do to her once he was back from Paris.

.........

Joe had suggested accompanying Claire to see the doctor, which he had done on previous occasions as Jamie had been very busy with work. He had recommended as soon as she was back from Lallybroch to make an appointment for a screening test, acknowledging that there was a high probability of abnormality with her baby after she had ingested ketamine a few weeks back. Joe had voiced his concern to Claire, but she had been adamant that whatever they find wrong with the baby, she refused to terminate her pregnancy. Joe knew if Jamie had found out that there was a risk of developmental challenges, disability or risk to Claire's life, he would have had wanted a say as Joe had known how his mother had died. Stubborn as Claire was, she had prohibited Joe from voicing his concern to Jamie, thinking this was probably the only chance she'll ever be pregnant. As it turned out and much to his relief and surprise, and after a series of doctor's appointments, Claire and her baby were in perfect health. And today they were about to find out the gender.

"Are you excited, LJ? I'd say though, you look massive for 21 weeks," he chortled as he looked her over on the examination bed and held her hand. "Importantly though, I'm glad that you're passing through all examinations with flying colours and you're positively glowing."

Claire's face turned a shade crimson as she thought of Jamie, secretly attributing her glow from their lovemaking earlier in the day. "You know, as much as I'm enjoying this pregnancy, I can't wait for the baby to be born. Jamie is driving me nuts with his worry. He has enough on his plate already, and he still insists on cooking when he comes home from work. And for crying out loud, he even hired a cleaner to come twice weekly. And he's so paranoid with the trial, he had the cleaner screened thoroughly."

"Well, after what you've been through, coupled with being a first-time parent, I can hardly blame him. And you missy, knowing how stubborn you are, you tend to do as you please which makes all the more difficult for him. Go easy on Jamie...you know how much he loves you and with his mother's history..."

Claire sighed. "I know, I know. It's just so difficult not doing anything but I guess, I'll be busy enough doing the nursery."

"Mrs Fraser, Dr Abernathy, hello, are we ready for the scan?" Claire and Joe turned towards the door as her doctor, Dr Grant, a woman in her fifties and a female sonographer walked in. "We've done this before, and it shouldn't take long, so whenever we're ready..."

Indeed it was all very a standard routine test, and Claire only felt the mild discomfort of the coldness of the lubricating gel slathered onto her belly, and the handheld probe pressing near her full bladder, making Claire want to burst. When the first images appeared on the screen, she could hardly make out any semblance as the monitor was not in her direct vision, but she could hear soundwaves coming from the ultrasound probe. But when Joe's head tilted funnily and his brows furrowed, Claire became worried.

"Joe, what is it?" Trying to suppress a rising panic, she tried to turn her head around to her side to take a look at the screen monitor, but she couldn't make out the images.

Joe's eyes were about to pop out. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Joe!!!!! For fuck sake Joe, what is it?!?"

Dr Grant smiled. "Congratulations Mrs Fraser...it looks like you're expecting twins."

"Twins? There was no mention of twins in Claire's previous examination," Joe said with utter disbelief.

"Well, they call it the hidden twin and sometimes they're not detected until later. See here?" Dr Grant pointed, "There's the second baby. And it's quite clear from here the twins are girls."

"Sweet Mother of Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Jamie wanted a surprise... well... he's definitely in for a surprise."

..........

"Och twin girls, Claire, double the trouble an' double the fun. Ah bet Jamie nearly had a heart attack," Geillis smirked as she danced around the nursery, not really concentrating in measuring the walls for wallpaper.

Claire was sat in a reclining chair she had recently bought, sipping cold lemon water as she watched her friend. "Jamie doesn't know."

"What? Why didnae ye tell him?" Geillis stopped mid-twirl.

"Well, I did ask him before he left for Paris if he wanted to know the result of the scan and Jamie said he wanted it to be a surprise. And surprise he will get." Indeed a surprise considering Claire was still in a state of shock. She had yet to wrap her head around the prospect of having twins, let alone the impact it would have on their lives and her career as a doctor. She had wanted, after her maternity leave, to complete her residency at the Northern Royal Infirmary, instead of continuing to work at the Scottish Ambulance Service. Murtagh had thought too that it was for the best as he didn't want any more press lurking around the emergency department.

"But Claire, he was probably talkin' aboot the gender. Surely he would want tae ken how many mouths he has tae provide for. No' that he cannae afford it,"

"Good Lord, Geillis, it's bad enough him knowing I have a baby...imagine what he would be like when he finds out we're having twins. So promise me that you'll zip your mouth, alright? The only people who know about the twins are Jenny, Joe and you. So not a word!"

Geillis made an action of zipping her mouth, her cheeks dimpling wickedly. "That wee secret of yours will be hard tae keep an' surely, Jamie will start to wonder you're unusual size at yer next stage of pregnancy. An' how about the bairns' shower? An' the nursery? How will ye keep that all a secret from Jamie?"

Claire waved the key to the nursery room. "The nursery is off-limits to Jamie, and he knows that too, but as a precaution, in case he does get tempted to take a peek, the door will be locked. And Jamie will be too busy at work in the next few months...he said so himself as he planned to have paternity leave. And as for the baby shower, Jenny had already offered to organise it. That woman is truly a wonder."

"Speaking of the wee fox cub, there are pictures of him in Paris hittin' the news already. The press in France sure loves him. Ah wonder how the public took the story now that he's nae longer in the single market."

"I don't want to know Geillis, and I don't read news about Jamie. I just hope he doesn't blurt out that we're having a baby because he does have that tendency. Thank God the press doesn't know about it yet, and I guess, having Angus around to drive me about and accompany me, has its perks."

.........

October

Jamie noticed his godfather came more often to the gym than he used to. Usually taken to running to keep himself fit, he had been doing a lot more strength building and trained more often with Jamie. And the change didn't stop there. Ever since Jamie was a wee bairn, he'd always only seen Murtagh with a full beard, so it was a shock when his godfather walked into the gym with a clean-shaven face.

"Dare I ask what's with the sudden change in your looks?" He tried to suppress a smile, but Jamie had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with his aunt Jocasta. Ian had already informed him that his aunt will be flying back to Scotland soon and visiting Inverness and apparently, to be there when Claire gives birth to their baby.

"Dinna bother and one word about my beard, I'll wallop ye," Murtagh warned in a gruff voice as he started his warm-up exercises doing arm swings and standing-trunk-twists next to his godson.

Jamie didn't say another word, and Murtagh only broke the silence as they went on to their next warm-up on the stationary bicycle. "How's Beauchamp?" Despite Claire not working for the Ambulance service anymore, Murtagh continued to call her by her maiden name.

"Aye, she's braw." Jamie paused, hesitating as he pedalled vigorously on the bike. "Say, what do ye think about Claire's size? That bairn she's carrying looks massive in her tummy."

Murtagh glanced at him as if he was asking a stupid question. "Weel, with yer muckle size, what did ye expect? Obviously, the baby must take after ye...size-wise that is."

"Hmm, I've never seen a pregnant tummy that huge. I'm just worried about Claire...she can hardly get off the chair, and she tires easily. Do ye think that's normal?" Jamie asked, reflectively.

"I dinna ken. Why ye asking me? Ask yer sister," Murtagh muttered as he doubled his efforts on the bike.

"I did. I know Jenny has more experience when it comes to pregnancy, but she just dismissed it as Claire being a tall lassie. She said, the taller the lass, the bigger the tummy. That doesna make any sense at all."

"When is she due?"

"In two months...December she said. But the way I see it, she looks like she's about to pop."

Murtagh just mentally shrugged, not really interested in pregnancy talks. "Jamie, I've meant to ask ye something..."

Jamie got off the bike and waited for his godfather. When Murtagh finally finished, they walked over to the rowing machine. "What is it?"

"Aye weel, I was thinking..."

"Aunt Jocasta?"

"Ye're very perceptive! How dae ye ken?"

"For fuck sake Murtagh, I saw ye fondling my aunt's arse back in Lallybroch as both of ye dancing to slow music during the party...the whole hamlet knows," Jamie pointed out laughing, as he settled down on the rowing machine.

Murtagh's face turned red, and it was even more evident without his beard. But Jamie couldn't tell if his reddened face was down to being found out or exertion from their warm-up.

.........

November

Claire was doing some finishing touches to her hair, and as usual, her locks refused to cooperate, so she opted to leave it loose around her shoulders instead. It was aunt Jocasta's birthday, and she had the whole French restaurant booked for the venue. As Jamie was going to be late for the dinner, Murtagh and Jocasta had offered to pick Claire up on the way.  

Claire was slightly worried about going to the party as she knew pregnancy with twins means she can go on to labour before the nine months term. She was already on her 37th week, and Jamie had no idea she was carrying more than one baby. Dr Grant had informed her during one of her more regular visits that at 38th week they would have to induce the birth, assuring her everything was perfect even if she had been complaining of sharp back pains. Twice, Claire had gone to the hospital with Geillis thinking it was time and each time it had been a false alarm. Despite the possibility of complication, Claire had insisted on keeping it secret, knowing Jamie was too busy with work. She wished now she had confided to more people, but Geillis had promised all will be well and to stop worrying as it was not good for the bairns.

When the doorbell rang, Claire waddled to the door, feeling slightly out of breath, as she felt shooting pain in her back. It was Murtagh on his own as he had left Jocasta in the car.

"Christ lass, are ye alright? Ye looked a bit flushed," Murtagh asked with concern in his voice.

And just as Claire had feared and of all days to happen, her water broke.

"Oh...ahh...I think I'm about to give birth," Claire breathed heavily, holding onto the door. As she felt herself sway, Murtagh, caught her in his arms just on time.

..........

Jamie was just finishing some paperwork when his godfather had called to inform him Claire was taken to the hospital. At the mention of the word hospital, he didn't let Murtagh finished his sentence and was already on his feet, dropping everything he was doing. His heart was hammering as Jamie weaved through the traffic, willing his car to go faster, cursing himself for working late. All sorts went through his head and the one memory he didn't want to think about kept resurfacing in his mind: his mother's death giving birth.  Dear God, please let her be safe.

When Jamie reached the Northern Royal Infirmary, Joe was already there to greet him. "C'mon buddy. You're about to become a da! Claire's in labour. I think the babies are too eager to come out," Joe announced calmly as he led Jamie to the lift that would take them to the maternity ward.

"Babies? Da? I thought she wasn't due until December. Murtagh only said Claire was taken to the hospital, so I presumed it must have had something to do with her high blood pressure..."   Christ, what the fuck is going on...why is Claire having the baby now?

Joe caught himself. "Erm, I mean Claire and the baby are ready. It happened so quickly, and we didn't think...Anyway, she's fully dilated and is on active labour now. The contractions are so close together...so you'll be a da anytime soon."

Fully dilated? What the fuck does that mean?  Jamie had attended only a couple of Lamaze classes with Claire, and he remembered the breathing techniques. 

Joe looked at Jamie oddly. "What are you doing, Jamie?"

Jamie was doing rapid, short breaths. "Practicing for the birth? Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Christ, am I doing it all wrong?"

Joe smiled and slapped Jamie on the back. "That's Claire's job. You're only there to assist her with the breathing. C'mon, calm down. Claire's doing wonderfully, and Gail is there with her."

"Oh Christ Almighty, I'm really going to be a da. Oh God...oh God. Christ, can't this lift go any faster?" Jamie was impatiently moving around and fidgeting in the lift much to Joe's amusement.

When the lift finally opened, Joe guided Jamie through the corridors of the maternity ward, and Jamie grimaced inwardly as he heard birthing screams and moans at each door he passed by. "Right buddy, do you want to be in the room with Claire, or do you want to wait until it's over? You don't have to you know...Claire's in good hands."

Jamie didn't hesitate, as he removed his tie and stuffed it in his suit pocket. "Aye, aye. I want to be there. I'm ready." He slammed a fist on his hand, puffing big breaths out as if he's about to enter a boxing ring.

"Right, you need to wear scrubs as we're going to the operating theatre."

Jamie's face turned white. "What? Why the operating theatre? Are there any complications? I thought everything was going well?" 

"Standard procedure buddy just in case the doctor deems it necessary to perform caesarian..." In actual fact and what Joe didn't tell Jamie was that most twin or multiple births are done in the operating theatre in case one of the babies refused to come out of the womb and the doctors are forced to perform a caesarian.

"Caesarian? Th-they'll cut her open? Claire had always wanted a natural birth...is it truly necessary?"

"Not necessarily...like what I said it's all precautionary. Calm down now...Claire needs you, remember that. "

A few minutes later, dressed in scrubs, a very nervous Jamie was led into the operating theatre. He stood there for a minute, dumbfounded taking the whole scene in, thinking what a pair of healthy lungs Claire had, and the sounds she was making made him tremble on his feet. Jamie saw his wife surrounded by medical staff, and there were monitors and bright lights everywhere and not the birthing room he had expected.

"YOU BEASTLY SCOT, WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" Claire screamed as soon as she realised Jamie was there, to the astonishment and shock of the doctors and nurses. Ever since she was wheeled into the hospital, Claire had been shouting all sorts of profanities that would shock a naval officer. Even Jenny and Ian, who were attending Jocasta's party, and were immediately on the scene, was shocked but amused at Claire's very colourful use of the language. 

"Mr James Fraser?"

"Aye?" Jamie's eyes darted from the doctor's face to his wife, who had a look as if she's about to commit murder, her riot of curls wild if not plastered to her perspiring face.

"Yer wife is about to give birth, you can stand here or take a stool next to her."

Jamie didn't need prodding and immediately went to Claire, nearly slipping and sliding under the operating bed from his awkward and shaky movement. As he caught himself, Jamie leaned over his wife, one arm around her head and the other, taking her hand in his. "Ssshh Sassenach, so sorry...so verra sorry. I'm here now, and I love ye...love ye to bits. And ye're so beautiful...and I love ye..." He regretted holding her hand after realising what a strong grip she had, her fingernails digging into the back of his. He winced but kept his hold firm, as his other hand stroke her hair, keeping it away from her face. 

Claire let out another howl as she pushed with her back. "I FUCKING HATE YOU JAMIE FRASER. LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME. WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON YOUR BALLS.....AAAAAHHHHHH!"

Jamie swallowed audibly as he felt Claire's body convulsed with pain. He closed his eyes, wishing he could take the pain away from her, and for once, he felt utterly useless.

"I can see the head Mrs Fraser, just a little bit more," a gentle voice reminded Claire, as she prepared to push, her face contorted in pain. 

Jamie's face was as white as the hospital's bedsheets, as Claire grunted and his heart thundered between his ears. His wife's nails, earlier digging painfully into the back of his hand was no longer felt as he heard the sound of a baby's wail to rival his wife. The room suddenly spun, and Claire's cries and the medical staffs' mutterings became distant. "Congratulations Mrs Fraser! Looks like this wee one inherited your pair of lungs," he heard one of the doctors said before he succumbed to the oblivion.

A couple of minutes later, a nurse hovered over Jamie, and he came to his senses immediately as something pungent and strong was waved under his nose. Realising at once what was happening, he quickly got onto his unsteady feet, breathing as many big breaths as his lungs can muster. He leaned over Claire, who was sobbing uncontrollably. Taking her into his arms, he looked around to catch a glimpse of the baby, but he couldn't see it. "Sassenach, shh...it's over now, the baby is here. Ye were so brave...so incredible, and I love ye so..."

"Right, Mr and Mrs Fraser, are you ready for baby number two? This next one is very impatient to come out, and we don't need to wait," announced a doctor with a smug smile on his face.

"W-What?? Wait a minute...what ye mean number two?" Jamie's voice faltered before he fainted once again for the second time, his head making a resounding thud on the floor.

It was too late for any of the nurses to check on Jamie, as the second baby came out without a hitch and with less push required from Claire. 

Once the babies were safely delivered and taken to be cleaned, the bewildered staff looked at Jamie's immobile body, still on the floor and then Claire, who was wildly dishevelled and wet from perspiration and exertion.

"Well, my darling husband wanted a surprise, and I merely obliged," Claire shrugged with a smile as she leaned back against the pillow, feeling all of a sudden tired and spent; nevertheless relieved and ecstatic that their baby girls were safe, whole and healthy.

..........

Jamie looked down at his wife, the twins nestled against her chest. After Claire and the babies were cleaned, they were rolled into their own private room in the hospital and were given an hour of family bonding. The bairns have latched on immediately as Claire breast-fed them and now slept contentedly. Jamie wasn't ready to share them to the world just yet even if he knew friends and family were waiting outside. Taking off his shoes, he slid into bed next to Claire, putting his arm above her head as he laid on his side, watching his bairns sleep.

He leaned towards his wife and kissed her on the forehead. "Ye were so incredible, Sassenach. The birth...ye...and everything has been a miracle. I dinna ken how ye've done it, but ye were so brave and strong." Jamie contemplated for a bit as he leaned to kiss the babies' head, inhaling their clean smell. "Ye've given me so much...yer love, our babies. I have so much joy in my heart that I feel I'm about to burst anytime soon."

Claire smiled, tenderly at her husband. "And I love you, Jamie Fraser and I'm sorry for shouting at you. How's your head?" she croaked hoarsely as all her screaming from earlier started to take its toll.

Jamie chuckled. "Och, it's fine. I dinna mean to faint like a wee lassie on ye, but it must have been all yer screaming that did it to me. I couldna bear the pain ye were going through. I wanted to take all yer pain, and I would have gladly suffered it for yer sake."

Claire was just lifting her face to kiss Jamie when the door to their room suddenly opened.

"Right, ye two, that's enough. Ye have plenty of time for cuddles later. We want to see the baby!" Jenny announced as she burst into the room, followed hesitantly by friends and family.

"Jenny!" Ian tried to pull back his wife, shrugging apologetically, but Jamie signalled them all to come in with a nod of his head, not moving from his position.

Jenny and Geillis were immediately leaning over Claire's side, crooning at the sight of the bairns as the rest congratulated the new parents.

"Och, they're no' identical... one's got dark hair an' the other lighter," Geillis chirped excitedly as she gently touched each baby's head.

Everybody crowded around the bed to have a better look. "Do we have names for the bairns yet?" Aunt Jocasta piped in as she stood by his nephew's side, one hand on his shoulder.

Jamie straightened up from his position. "Weel, everybody, Claire and I'd like to introduce ye to our beautiful lassies, Hope and Faith Fraser...our wee bundles of joy and miracle..." 

"Hope and Faith...how fitting after what both of you have been through," Joe said, smiling.

"Aye, Claire and I have talked about names. We have already decided on the name Faith awhile back if the bairn is to be a girl. But my wife never told me about a second girl," he laughed, lightly tapping Claire on her nose.

Claire looked at Jenny, smiling. "We thought too of the name Brian after your father, if the baby was a boy."

Murtagh peered his head to take a look. "So which one is which?"

"Well, Hope is with lighter hair and Faith is with the darker hair," Claire explained, her tired face breaking into a contented smile as she leaned her head towards Jamie's shoulder.

Jamie felt Claire's head bobbed up and down, trying to keep lucid in front of their friends and family. To his relief, the nurse came in to take the babies and announce visiting hours were over. By the time all of them left, Claire was already sound asleep, weary from all the excitement and effort of giving birth. Jamie remained where he was, holding his wife tight against him, thinking of the future for his young family. He said a silent prayer of gratitude as he stroke Claire's hair, and for the first time that day, Jamie allowed tears of happiness to flow freely until he too eventually fell into a peaceful sleep.

[arazolasecrets]

A Talk Over Drinks

It was a cold night in Wexford, and the inn was full of people eating, drinking, and taking it easy after a long day. In the inn was Estefania, sitting with Hana Yasmin, who had decided to stay and was trying to figure out what to do next.

“You could start to work here in the inn. That’s how I started. Finn helped me with that,” Stef informed her, which prompted a nod from Hana as she drank her warm water.

“He offered me a job to work behind the bar top,” Hana stated, looking back at Finn, who was busy with patrons, “I may do that, and then figure out what I want to do. Starting over has been frightening...but exciting.”

Stef smiled, understanding completely. “You’ll do fine. I’ll help you the way you helped me way back then.”

The two women smiled warmly at each other as they lifted their cups in a toast, but soon, a pretty, short-haired woman holding a cup full of wine approached Hana, and tapped her on the shoulder. Hana looked back and stood up.

“Aunt Riley! Hello!” She greeted, prompting the shorter woman to one-arm hug Hana Yasmin tightly.

“My dear, darling Hana Yasmin! It’s so good to see you again!”  She said to her, pulling away, but still held on to Hana’s upper arm. “I’m so sorry about what happened. As beautiful of a man as he was, you deserve better! You deserve consistancy!”

Stef watched as Hana gave the woman a sad little smile, but soon, she turned and extended an open hand towards her.

“Aunt Riley, this is Estefania Arazola, a good friend who is also my former trusted advisor and councilwoman. Stef, this is Riley Sargenis -- my true father’s half sister.” Hana told her, and Stef stood up to give her a respectful and proper nod.

“Oh! You’re so small!” Riley remarked in surprised. Indeed, both women were small-statured, but Stef was smaller by a few marks. Riley grinned. “Sorry, I usually never get to say that. I’m usually the smallest person around!”

“I only get to say it to children,” Stef said with a laugh, “Please, sit with us.”

Riley pulled over a seat and sat with the two of them. “I was talking to some of the women of the town today. Apparently there’s this amazingly good looking man that looks like a god that lives here, and I was hoping I’d see him here for myself but...” Riley let out a long sigh, lifting her wine to her lips, “I guess I just missed him.”

Stef raised a brow. Leviticus had been the man women all over town had hounded over before, but once they married, the women of town would still look at him, but no longer approached him. She wondered if it was Keiran, Leviticus’s father, but she wasn’t sure, as Keiran usually kept to himself.

“Maybe the man isn’t a people person,” Hana commented, shrugging, “I’ve heard women here mention such a man. But, I’ve been too focused on other matters to pay attention to that talk.”

“Hah. I am never busy for a beautiful man. That man is quite the looker, although he also looks awfully mean,” Riley gestured towards Finnegan, who was giving a drunk patreon a stern talk, “Listen, if they call a man as beautiful as a god, Riley Sargenis will find him and judge that for herself!”

Stef couldn’t help but grin at Riley’s determined declaration, finding herself liking the woman already. Then, a thought popped into her head.

“Wait, are you Caspian’s Maxson’s aunt as well?” She asked as Riley drank her wine.

Riley wrinkled her nose, and once she lowered her cup, she let out a loud scoff. “I haven’t heard that name in ages. Unfortunately yes, I am Caspian’s aunt, although I don’t recognize him as my nephew anymore.”

There was a loud whistle, and when the three of them turned around, it was Finnegan, holding up a plate of food and gesturing towards Hana.

“Oh, excuse me, I have to get my dinner,” Hana told the two, and got up, leaving the two petite women alone together.

“I... was courted by Caspian once,” Stef revealed, causing Riley to look surprised, but Stef added in, “I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“Oh! Oh, good for you! I’m glad you got to escape that mess,” Riley said  with a big smile, before she tilted her head, “So... spill it out. Why did your courtship end? He was always surrounded by women, so it’s a surprise to hear a woman actually ended something with him. ”

Stef took her cup of mead and took a drink, looking up as she began to recall events.

“One reason was an occurance that happened during the funeral of his father, Ryan Maxson. I was there, and watched everyone speak: his relatives, even women rumored to be his mistresses. And... get this -- When the service came to a close, that’s when I realized: His wife wasn’t given the chance to speak.”

This prompted a loud, theatrical gasp from Riley as Stef nodded while pursing her lips.

“No! They didn’t let Destiny Maxson speak?! His very wife?!” Riley asked in shock.

“They did after I said something out loud,” Stef told her with a shrug, “And that’s when the poor, grieving woman was finally allowed to say something. It was awful.”

“Good god. Well, I would have said something as well if I were there, but I wasn’t even told Ryan was dead until days after his mother left for the funeral,” Riley said indignantly with raised brows.

“They didn’t tell you?” Stef questioned her in disbelief.

“No. That’s why I didn’t go. That’s why I refuse to call Caspian my nephew. The only nephews I have are Benjamin Areli, and now little Erik Adair.” Riley declared, lifting up her wine before taking another drink.

“I do not blame you at all,” Stef told her with a firm nod, “But anyway, so I saw the way they treated the Queen and you know, I was a powerful woman in the kingdoms I had lived in. I had pride. I didn’t want to go through that, especially since I had been Destiny’s presence before. She was a strong willed queen who cared about her kingdom, her husband, and Caspian -- she didn’t deserve that treatment. So, I told Caspian I needed some time away to think things through. But then, he said his father said he should marry a docile lamb, not a lionness like myself. That’s when we parted ways.”

Riley let out a loud snort, then let out a laugh. “Oh, I forgot what a buffoon Ryan could be when he still lived. I went to Caspian’s wedding, mainly for another family matter, but god, I feel bad for his wife. She seemed nice, as she was the one to invite me to the wedding, but if her husband followed in Ryan’s footsteps? Oh boy.”

“I got married to a wonderful man. He’s the blacksmith of this part of town.” Stef told Riley with a pleased smile, and Riley grinned.

“Oooh, I see that you’re living the blissful married life. I’ll toast to that,” Riley declared with a wink, and the two women toasted, clinking their cups together. “You dodged an arrow, darling. Snow Mystic is in a problematic state from what I heard last, and well, while I never got to spend time with Destiny Maxson, I do hope the poor woman is resting in peace.”

“Me too. She treated me with respect, and I’ll always appreciate that.” Stef said, feeling sad for how the woman’s life turned out. “And Caspian wasn’t bad towards me, so I hope he fixes his life and finds some peace.”

“Hah! Don’t count on it.” Riley replied with a roll of her eyes. “But, if he does finally stop his stupidity, then that would be good, I suppose. It’ll take a miracle for that to happen, however.”

Riley tilted her cup, frowning as it was revealed to be empty. “I’m getting more wine. Do you want some?” She asked Stef as she stood up.

“I wouldn’t mind some.” Stef replied with a chuckle. “I love wine.”

“Good! ... Hm, by the way, you know my sister Slania right?” Riley asked, and when Stef nodded, she continued, “You haven’t seen her with a man, lately? Or getting closer to one?”

Stef thought for a moment. “Slania is a pretty sociable person. She has a lot of friends. In fact, I’m sure most of these people in here with us consider her a friend. I haven’t seen anything particular yet.”

Riley clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Ugh. She’s so BORING! It’s always battle things or scary things she has to tell. She never has anything of the fun kind to tell me. Even our older sister Fay had fun things to talk about.”

Stef chuckled. “Maybe she’ll find someone here. I found my husband here, and he was once the talk of town himself.”

“Ooooo! Well, next time I see you, you should introduce me. I want to see the man that ‘outwon’ Caspian,” Riley grinned but then, she remembered: “Oh, right! Wine!”

Stef watched the woman move through the crowd towards the bar, passing by Hana as she returned to the table.

“I hope she didn’t seem too intrusive,” Hana told her with a half smile as she sat back down, setting the plate in front of her, “She loves to ‘investigate.’“

“Oh, I don’t mind. She’s a fun woman. I really like her.” Stef said as she raised her cup to finish the rest of her drink.

Hana blinked and then smirked amusingly.

“Of course you do.”