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photmath · 4 months ago

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Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Gala Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him. Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: very rusty writing, some angst, brief out-of-character kylian Note: Yeahhh, so this was long overdue.

Aurie had forgotten what it felt to be engrossed with a man. The tightness of her chest and the feel of her throat closing up when things were at unease between them. It had been a while since her last relationship, and although she and Kylian hadn’t defined their terms yet, things were getting serious between them. The constant worry that would creep in after not hearing from him for a couple of hours was a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time. She despised it.

It felt childish to feel like this. Aurie was too grown up to be feeling like a preteen girl with a crush. Plus, she had too many jobs to do.

“Aurie,” Camille repeats, snatching Aurie’s attention.

“What?” Aurie spins around, her fingers smudged in hot glue.

“Are you seriously still fussing with the sign? The dance starts in a couple of hours, at this point you are going to ruin it if you continue,” Camille says as she puts the final pieces together for the centerpieces. “Simi! Help me place the centerpieces on the tables please.”

The three of them, alongside Raphael, had spent the last three days setting up the gala and it was finally all coming together. The colors of summer, all splattered around the ballroom. Flowers wrapped around chairs and tables—Simi even had a flower crown. The glass centerpieces that were lanterns were filled with yellow chrysanthemums and twinkling lights inside. The pillars of the ballroom had been neatly wrapped in green leaves, colored flowers pinched into them seamlessly.

It was beautiful.

Aurie distracted herself from Kylian’s silence decorating the pillars the other night, having never left the nursing home until the next morning. Maria and Estrella had come into the ballroom seeking silence and there they found Aurie tediously working on a ladder to drape pastel colored curtains.

It had been a week since her window was ransacked. A week since having to have a few of Kylian’s security guards at her place—Bleu getting accustomed (and healing) to their presence—and a week since Aurie last saw Kylian.

She hated it.

Kylian had been in Paris, getting treatment from Martin, as he did whatever he was doing—Aurie was still out of the loop. Every time he called her it was the same: he’ll let her know when he has time to talk. But it was infuriating because he would call her when he barely had time to talk and there was so much to say but could never be uttered because Kylian was racing around. So why even call in the first place?!

She detested it.

Usually she was the one who sought to avoid serious conversations, but with the roles now being reversed, made her want to scream. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep also sneaking up onto her, but either way, nothing had been the same. Not since Kylian confessed that he loved her.

He wasn’t entirely silent. Throughout the day, he would send her messages such as:

I can’t wait to hold you.

I just want to be in your arms.

I miss you—so much, mon amour.

And it made Aurie all even more confused. What could possibly be occupying his time that he couldn’t even give her an hour of his time? Martin and Dr. Minic had given her their documents of his session with him last week. His temperament was a lot better, but there was also redacted information about a “couple” of stressors. Why was it redacted?! Martin’s notes about Kylian’s calf were nothing but positive progress: “Showing great progress under Aurie’s care, and on track for the first week of preseason. No international competitions.”

But then she read the next couple of lines: “Will be monitored in Paris for the next week (or so) under Martin’s care as he has many meetings in Paris. Will begin some light sessions with a ball and sprinting.”

How many meetings is too many? And why? For how long? There were endless questions that Aurie had but still could not get answers. Most were about Kylian but a few daunting ones were about her—did she do something wrong? Was his progress actually not on track?

For fucks sake.

The silence from Kylian and then vague answers from Martin were fucking awful. All of her phone calls to Martin were the same: “Aurie, don’t worry. He is doing really well. He has some things to do here so it’s better for me to take care of him so that he isn’t constantly traveling.”

And as if to make matters worse, Aurie’s mother showed up to her door the other day wondering why her window was blue. Aurie lied and said she broke it while playing with Bleu upstairs—but then Bleu came jogging towards them and Elina saw his still red gash on his snout. When she finally told her mom the truth, it was all the same thing: “He’s ruining you…you’ve come so far. You gave it all up for this job, imagine how much you’ll give up following that man.”

Aurie blinks away tears as her hands shake while dotting the last drop of glue. She presses down a green leaf onto the glue. The sign for the summer gala was now finally done, even if Camille said it looked fine an hour ago—it didn’t. But now, it was perfect. There were green leaves and pink flowers that swooped around the words: “Summer Garden Soirée.”

She leaves the sign to dry and gets up from her seat, seeing Simone and Camille arrange the last centerpiece together at the other end of the ballroom. She sneaks out of it quietly, her legs unbalanced like Bambi on ice.

Aurie’s phone buzzes a couple of times and she digs it out of her pocket and notices it’s a random number calling her. She declines the call, but then a previous message on her lock screen reads: “It’s Brice.”

She sighs, answering his next incoming call. He greets excitedly, “Hey! I’m out shopping for Kylian—uh what color is your dress?”

“My dress?” Aurie furrows her eyebrows.

“Mm-hmm,” he shuffles around, the sound of hangers sliding across the metal bar fills her ear. “For the gala.”

“Uh…” Aurie thinks. She knew the color of her dress but why did they need it? Kylian didn’t say he was coming to the gala. “What for?”

Brice chuckles, “Kylian did say you were stubborn. I need it to match his tie.”

“He isn’t coming tonight.”

Brice pauses on the other line, the sound of him moving hangers comes to a halt, “Oh. Uh—did he not get invited?”

“Brice,” Aurie pauses, utterly confused. She knows nothing about Kylian’s whereabouts. Brice knew more. She sighs deeply, “I mean…yeah he was invited but after everything that happened…I didn’t think he’d be coming.”

“Mm-hmm,” Brice repeats, the metal grinding on metal continues. “Well he said he was gonna be there tonight—”

“News to me,” Aurie mutters, and then closes her eyes and silently curses herself for letting her sarcastic remark slip out.

Brice sighs on the other side, “Aurie…it won’t always be like this…he just has a lot going on right now. I promise he’ll tell you everything when he can. This is the first time something like this has happened.”

Aurie stays quiet, now leaning against the hallway. The first time? What the hell is that supposed to mean? But it is still the same thing everyone has told her. “Yeah…”

“Hang in there,” he encourages.

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles, desperately trying to make her voice strong. Everything about this situation was hard. This wasn’t the same Kylian she had been exposed to—and she was realizing that this is probably how he was before they met—his real self. A glimpse of what their future would be like.

And in all honesty, Aurie wasn’t strong enough for this. She couldn’t bear the silence, not when Kylian seemed to always want to seek her out. Was it because he was forced into her house, so naturally he reached towards her? If he had been in Paris this entire time, and she was visiting him, would things have been different? Or is it—

“Aurie,” Brice says softly, “the color of your dress?”

“Green, like an emerald green,” she answers quickly.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll talk to you later,” he sighs. “Take care, Aurie.”

Aurie hangs up the call as quickly as she can. She closes her eyes and leans her head against the wall. Her phone buzzes again and she audibly groans, but her heart sinks at seeing Kylian’s name pop up…and his smiling photo they took outside when they were chopping wood. His dimple is so deep and pronounced in it.

Her fingers instinctively graze her necklace, the gold daisy he gifted her now a source of comfort. But she couldn’t answer the phone. She couldn’t bring herself to press the ‘accept’ button, which only made her only feel worse. She sighs as it goes to voicemail, and then Kylian sends her a message almost immediately:

I miss you, call me when you can bébé

Aurie frowns at the message, forcing herself to send him one back:

I miss you too, I will

Aurie went home and napped for almost three hours and caught up on sleep she had missed the past couple of days. The window had been patched and fixed by now. Maple still slept in Kylian’s room, while Bleu seemed to be getting much calmer each day. He had been waking up to every slightest bit of noise—the security guards switching, animals rustling around, or even thunderstorms. He would whine or bark so aggressively that Aurie would have to get up and open her bedroom door so that he could go search for the problem.

She had showered and taken her dress and makeup to the nursing home. She got dressed with Maria and Estrella, the two of them filling the room with endless laughs making her forget all about her troubles. Everything seemed insignificant in their presence.

And they looked stunning. They wore matching puffy and ruffled dresses—purple and pink. Their jewelry was simple but elegant with just enough sparkle. They let Aurie do their makeup and it wasn’t like Aurie could do impeccable makeup but it was enough for the gala. Plus, it made them all laugh even more when she messed up.

With the gala set to start in half an hour, Aurie left their room and made her way towards the ballroom. The cake is decorated just as she imagined it, a traditional 3-tier light pink cake with a white border. A couple of decorative butterflies were centered on the top and down one side of it. The photo booth and drop were in a corner, different colors of greenery and flowers made the border. Instead of balloons, it was bunches of flowers that made the booth pop.

“Tatie Aurie!” Simone yells as she catches Aurie off guard. She didn’t hear the ballroom doors open. Simone comes crashing to Aurie’s dress, “The green! So pretty!”

Aurie smiles, watching Simone’s face light up as she looks up at her. Her little yellow poofy dress flowed all the way down to her sparking silver slippers. And that flower crown that Aurie made earlier, on top of Simone’s head proudly. “You look so pretty too, Simi.”

Simone blushes with a smile, “Thank you, I brought you a surprise—look!”

Aurie had been so caught up with Simone that she didn’t even notice someone else walked in behind her. She turns towards the door, and Kylian is standing there in a black tuxedo with a matching green bow tie. He wears a sloppy but nervous grin once Aurie sees him. His hands fidget with the buttons before he clasps them tightly together.

Aurie’s breath hitches, not at all anticipating to see him here. Sure, Brice had let her know, but she didn’t believe him. It was almost like she was getting used to Kylian's absence that she was no longer expecting him to show up when she searched for him. But here he was, standing at the entrance, his eyes twinkling and growing fonder with each passing second.

“I’m going to go find my mommy now,” Simone whispers, making Aurie look down at her with a hesitant but then genuine smile. Simone trots off towards Kylian, his eyes soft as he watches her skip past him and then out the door. They watch her both in silence until the door shuts.

Kylian struts towards Aurie in a few, long strides, kissing her temple and then embracing her firmly. His head fits right into her shoulder as he leans down, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. Aurie’s arms wrap around his back tightly, her head nuzzled into his chest and for the moment she doesn’t even care if makeup transfers onto his tux.

God, she had missed him so much. There was no denying it. She missed his scent, his strong and protective arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. She really didn’t want to cry right now but she can’t help it. It felt like she had been holding it all in and now she was finally able to release them. All the unanswered questions, the lack of sleep, the stress—it was all coming out at the wrong time.

Kylian hugs her tighter, his hands wrapping tightly on her lower back. “I know,” he repeats.

“Kylian,” she croaks.

He cradles the back of her head with his hand, holding her close to him. “I’m sorry, Aurèle.”

“Stop apologizing,” she mumbles, her voice trembling as she sniffles. “I’ve ruined my makeup.”

He chuckles softly, “We can fix it.”

“And your tux.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes softly. He hated seeing her like this and if his week wasn’t so fucking hectic, he wouldn’t have made her feel like this. He kisses her temple and leaves his lips pressed up against it. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

“Just tell me what’s going on,” her voice trembles as she speaks. Kylian’s heart sinks.

He pulls his head away from her slowly, far enough to see her confused and hurt eyes. Her makeup messed up from her tears. He frowns, “Can we go somewhere more private?”

“Just tell me,” she pleads—demands.

Kylian purses his lips, glancing around at the ballroom. It was so beautiful that he momentarily got distracted with it, and he looked at all the decorations that he knew she had been working hard on. His fingers press into her lower back more firmly.

“It’s only us in here,” she waves around. He would have chuckled at her sassiness any other time but he can’t seem to find the courage to do so now.

He looks back at her, searching her eyes and his knees buckle at the sight. They’re patient, full of adoration—but hurt. Gleaming with tears of confusion, anger, and exhaustion. He sighs, “I’m moving to Madrid. It was finalized this week.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Her eyebrows raise softly and that is all the emotion she expressed. She isn’t confused or hurt…she’s…unreadable. He can’t decipher her look.

“Oh,” she says.

Kylian furrows his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue, but she never does.

A part of Aurie feels relieved, that his silence was warranted. It was a big deal. It was a huge deal. This silence was possibly just a single occurrence and most likely wouldn’t happen again. All the cryptic messages from him, Martin, Dr. Minic, and Brice—they all made sense. It all made sense. Sure, they still have much to say, but with maybe fifteen minutes until the doors opened, they couldn’t hash out everything right here.

“Okay,” she says, blowing a relieved sigh.

“Okay?”

“You want this right?”

He nods slowly, confused, “Yeah…” His hands let go of her waist and rested on his own hips. “That’s it?”

“Well we certainly can’t talk about this right now,” Aurie says. “Congratulations though, Kylian. For going to Real Madrid, I hear that’s a great team.”

Kylian chuckles, still slightly confused, “You’re being weird, but thank you.”

Aurie smiles, her hand capturing his palm as she leads him out of the ballroom. With their hands intertwined, they walk to the front of the nursing home to retrieve Aurie’s makeup bag. As they enter one of the restrooms, she locks the door.

“I’m happy for you, Kylian,” she says truthfully, “I kind of remember the whole thing about you and Madrid some years ago.” They share a small laugh. “So I’m glad it worked out.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

Aurie stands in front of the mirror and wipes her face with a makeup towel as Kylian comes behind her and slides his hands around her waist. His frontside bumps into her backside and he kisses her neck, smiling bashfully at her, “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but I couldn’t—and still can’t—so you don’t know anything. It’s a secret.”

Aurie chuckles as she reapplies her makeup. She doesn’t put too much on this time because she knows the night might call for more tears.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he sighs heavily against her shoulder, his eyes peering up at hers in the mirror as he tucks his head into her neck. His lips graze her skin tenderly, pecking the skin before he fully rests his chin against her shoulder. His arms bring her into an actual embrace from behind. Her body flushes against his and they both share a sigh. Full of longing, more unspoken words, but for now, they are soaking in each other’s breath as if they need it to survive.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’ve missed you too.”

“If I could’ve handled that situation any better, I would’ve, chérie. I would’ve flown you with me to Madrid.”

“You went to Madrid?” she furrowed her eyebrows, a small chuckle rising out of her.

His knees buckle at the feel of her laugh against him, “Yeah.” He sighs softly. “I did, to discuss further with Florentino Pérez.”

“That is so…cool,” Aurie says, amazed. He laughs when he sees her eyes full of wonder in the mirror. “You can just get on a plane and fly.”

Kylian’s chest rumbles again with another laugh, “Why is that? Do you want to get a plane and just go away too?”

Aurie shrugs. After the week from hell she’s had, she wouldn’t mind dropping it off and forgetting all about her troubles to rest at some unknown location. Even if her main trouble was staring right back at her, it would be better than the shitty week she endured.

Kylian notices the slight drop in Aurie’s eyes and squeezes her hips firmly again. He brings his head up to kiss her cheek, languidly and chaste. “I’m really sorry, Aurèle. I’ve felt awful ever since I left that day. Had I known I wasn't going to see you for a week, I would’ve held you a little tighter that night and told you right then and there but it just happened.”

Aurie blinks away the tears, “Kylian, stop talking please. We can talk about all of this later okay? I promise. I just can’t right now—I know you didn’t mean it.”

Kylian nods slowly as he stands up straighter. His hands remain on her waist and the fleeting thought of her avoidance invades his mind. “Don’t avoid this, Aurie.”

She turns around to face him, the makeup brush stops mid-motion. “I’m not. The gala is about to start in five minutes.”

“I know, but,” he sighs, “I don’t want us to go long without talking.”

“We aren’t,” she promises again. Her voice is unwavering as she says it and he hates that he came at a bad time. Hates that his flight was delayed because if he had come the original time, they would’ve had an hour to catch up and resolve their issues.

Aurie senses the doubt on Kylian’s features and so she soothes her hand across his freshly-shaved jaw, “I’m not running away from this, Kylian.”

“Okay,” he whispers softly. He leans in to kiss the space between her brows and then kisses her lips softly.

She chuckles, “I’m almost done here.”

Kylian instinctively grins as he lets her turn around to finish her makeup. He glances at himself in the mirror to make sure his tux still appeared fine, and there was a small spot of makeup that had rubbed off from Aurie but it was unnoticeable. He adjusts his bowtie and then slips his hand onto Aurie’s back. He wants to steal every moment of her that he can, especially after experiencing how his life would be without her.

A chill runs down Kylian’s back at the possibility. The sudden realization that Aurie probably wouldn’t be coming with him to Madrid and his face stills. His eyes land on her daisy necklace as he thinks—horrifically—his life without her presence now. He’s gotten so used to her the past month that the one week away from her was enough to make him groan into the pillows at night and stare aimlessly into every empty seat. A week that felt so long—

Aurie spins around, snapping Kylian out of his thoughts, and his hand rests now against her hip.

“Let’s go,” she beams and clasps her hands with his. He swallows his emotions down harshly as he follows her. He masks his face quickly once he sees Camille and Simone, Raphael tailing the two of them.

Across the corridor, a couple of guests and their family members begin to trickle into the ballroom. Aurie leaps out of Kylian’s hand and he lets her go do her job, wistfully smiling from across the corridor. Simone chases after her happily, giggling cheerfully. Camille steals a glance at Kylian and notes how content he looks.

The gala proceeds as planned; Aurie camps out at the photodrop section because all the residents want a photo with her. She doesn’t mind it at all. Kylian shares his fair share of taking photos and autographs as well, even dancing with many residents who were left unimpressed with his hesitant dancing skills but they let him lead anyway. Kylian’s politeness and charm woo the residents’ families.

Kylian steals a couple of photos with Aurie and Simone at the photo booth, making silly faces with the both of them. Simone wraps her arms around both him and Aurie as he holds her up.

The dinner portion of the gala goes smoothly as planned, there is even food leftover for seconds. Kylian and Aurie sit together with Camille, Raphael, and Simi. But as the hostess Aurie is, she can barely eat or sit down. Her mind is on too many different things—the DJ, the small mishap with a bouquet on the photodrop getting loose, and making sure that everyone actually gets a plate of food. Even with the help of volunteers from the local university and staff working to make sure the event goes smoothly, Aurie has to be in the middle of it to confirm everything is good. Eventually, she sits back down at the table and Kylian encourages her to eat but her bites are small.

Later on, he dances with her to two songs—he takes count because he stepped on her heels a couple of times and he felt bad. Aurie only encouraged him though, never chastising him or getting upset. The sound of the music drowned out that he could only hear her giggles in his ear and the feel of her hands wrapped around his neck.

Even with Aurie and him separated for most of the night, it didn’t stop him from constantly stealing glances of her from across the room. His eyes would focus on anything and everything when he looked her way, such as her necklace or her smile that never failed to make his knees buckle.

Now, as Aurie takes a breather outside in the corridor of the gala, she runs into her two favorite troublemakers, Maria and Estrella.

“What are you two doing out here?” she announces with a smile, sipping on her cup of water. The two women startle and then turn around in their walkers. Their faces trying to recover after being caught red handed. Aurie’s smirk only grows. “What is it?”

Estrella laughs, her pink gown sparkling against the corridor’s lights, “We were just having a break.”

“Really?”

Maria nods, “Estrella is escaping Claude. He won’t stop talking!”

The three of them share a laugh. Aurie walks closer to them and leans against the wall, resting her head on it with a somber smile.

“What’s the matter, Aurèle?” Maria inquires, her face immediately etching with concern. Estrella follows suit and steps closer gingerly.

“Nothing,” Aurie smiles softly. “I am just thinking…tonight has gone better than I expected. Everyone looks like they are having a good time.”

“Well of course, you are always the best planner,” Maria says. “Do you remember when you organized that dinner and we ran out of sides? Many of the residents were upset and it was your first week here, but you quickly found a solution and it was perfect.”

Aurie smiles again at the memory, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Plus, Simi and the other kids make us feel young,” Estrella adds. “And that boy of yours, Kylian. He is a charmer—can work on his dancing skills though.”

Aurie snorts, “He tries.”

Estrella gives her another look, “What’s really bothering you?”

Aurie deeply exhales. “What do you guys think about Kylian?”

“He really loves you, darling,” Maria smiles. “I remember my love like that. It’s beautiful to witness.”

“I know,” Aurie says truthfully. It scares her that she knows exactly what Kylian’s love entails and how deeply it shows. Even with their week apart and their short time together, it was difficult for it all to be a cruel ruse. “But the famous part of him…the side of him that is going to Madrid. With crazy fans…harsh critics. A huge life. That side of him?”

Maria and Estrella share a look with each other. The mischievous mood of the corridor had quickly turned pensive. The ballroom’s door suddenly opens up and the three of them turn around quickly. It is just another resident making their way to the restroom. Maria says, “Do you want to go out in the garden to talk more?”

“Sure,” Aurie says softly, walking in between the two women. “You guys are great.”

Estrella chuckles, “We know you have been working hard for this. So let’s go outside so you can get a breather.”

Aurie snickers although her heart feels heavy. If she were to move to Madrid, she would miss this. She would leave this life behind. It would mean leaving the nursing home that her mother worked so hard on shaming her for working there. The coworkers and friends at the hospital and nursing home that she has made along the way, she would leave them too. Two places that drew her back to her real self, especially the home. Without this place, she would still be a physio for PSG, feeling miserable because keeping up with the workload was too much for her. Every day she felt like she was drowning. She never felt like she was underwater here, even when her first week had been so rocky and the residents were reluctant to trust her.

She memorizes the cream-colored painted walls and white tiles as they lead up to a set of doors. The night sky is in full effect, with glittering stars and a crescent moon. She smiles as she sits down. Maria and Estrella gingerly set their walkers aside and sit down on the bench on either side of her.

“Do you love him?” Maria asks.

Aurie simpers, “Yeah.” She looks at Maria, “I do…it would just be so fast. I barely met the man almost a month and some weeks ago.”

Maria chuckles, “I married my husband after three weeks of knowing him. We were married until he passed, for 57 years.”

Aurie bursts into a small laugh, “Three weeks?! That is too fast.”

“You love him though?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Would you be able to uproot your life to live with him at least?” Estrella asks. “If he really is going to Madrid like the rumors say…would you be able to do that? To try?”

Aurie freezes momentarily. Sure she was just thinking about the possibility but she hadn’t come up with an answer. It was too soon to say.

“I don’t know,” Aurie says. “I’ve left here many times and still always come back.”

“Can you imagine a life in Madrid at least?” Estrella proposes. Her hand touches where Aurie’s knee would be over her dress.

Aurie stills. Images of her in the Santiago Bernabéu appear and while the two of them seem happy, it feels empty to imagine her life without the nursing home.

Maria says, “You need to go, Aurie. If it doesn’t work out, you will always have here. You have so much life and love to give. If you don’t go for him, go for yourself. Explore Madrid. Pretend it’s a vacation if you will.”

Aurie chuckles softly, “That is absurd, Maria. This is my home.”

“You can always visit home, Aurèle,” Estrella sighs. “You don’t have to live with him immediately…like a trial run.”

Aurie snorts, “You guys, do you hear yourselves? What will happen here while I’m gone on this ‘vacation’ and ‘trial run?’” Aurie makes quotation marks with her fingers. “To uproot my entire life for a man…I mean? It sounds a little pathetic.”

For the first time in a long time, Aurie’s mother, Elina, sneaks into her head again. That chasing and following Kylian would ruin her. Maybe Elina was right. Maybe she was seeing Kylian’s plan all along.

“Aurèle,” Estrella snaps her fingers in front of her face. “It’s not pathetic, you know why? Because you are able to afford it. You are able to afford to try it out. You have time to see if it works. You have the skill and power to find a job over there—although you wouldn’t need money with that man’s kind of pockets.”

Maria interrupts with a chuckle and Aurie smiles sadly.

“And what have you done when it hasn’t worked?” Estrella asks rhetorically. “You’ve picked yourself up and kept going. Tenías ganas. You did that, no one else.”

Aurie feels the few tears that slip out and once they start, she can’t stop them. Tears stream down her face as she tries to wipe them away. The girls pull her into a side hug and lay their heads down onto her shoulders which only makes her cry harder.

“What about you two?” she asks with a wobbly voice.

“We will be fine,” Maria says. “Do not worry about us. You will always have us.”

“Phones work too,” Estrella adds and it makes the other two laugh.

“Plus,” Maria continues, “you can always visit us. Knowing you, you would probably come every two weeks.”

Aurie laughs as she wipes the tears, feeling a little better. She could always visit. Kylian had a jet that he could fly anywhere with and even if she couldn’t use that because let’s be honest, she wouldn’t want to, she could find a commercial flight.

“We will miss you certainly,” Estrella says, “but you won’t really be gone. There will always be a piece of you here.”

Aurie smiles fondly, wrapping her arms around the two bestfriends, “If I do end up leaving, I am going to miss you both so much.”

“‘If?’” Maria and Estrella shriek.

“We didn’t do all this crying for nothing!” Estrella chastises. “I will book your flight tonight.”

Aurie laughs loudly, “No, no, I am kidding. But seriously, Kylian hasn’t asked me to move anywhere, and if he does, it will still be my decision in the end.”

They nod understandably. “Yeah-mmkay.”

Aurie snickers, “I’m glad it took the possibility of me leaving for you two to show your true colors. Who knew you two loved me so much.”

“Oh Aurie—”

“You are full of jokes today—”

Aurie laughs again and unwraps her arms around them, “Thank you for this. I needed to get more tears out and this was perfect.”

“Of course, princesa,” Estrella smiles. “Always breaks our hearts to see you sad.”

“I know,” Aurie wipes her face more. “I am just emotional.”

Maria agrees and helps clean Aurie’s makeup with a tissue from her small purse, “Why even put makeup on if you will cry it off?”

“I know, I know,” Aurie repeats, enjoying getting pampered by her. They never let her look like a fool. Something they kept true since when Aurie first met them, and they let Aurie know her hair was all kinds of messed up from the bad weather.

The three of them make it back to the gala without a batted eye in their direction, seamlessly blending into the crowd. Kylian was too engrossed in conversation with a collection of teenage boys that were related to the residents. He was sitting in a chair, relaxed with his legs open and his arms resting against the empty seat next to him. His eyes were in deep concentration as he gave the boys advice on how to improve their football and mental skills.

Aurie notices him immediately and lets him continue the conversation. She mingles around with the other guests and makes sure all the refreshments are stocked. Raphael and Simone are sitting down at the table. Simone’s head is resting against her father’s shoulder as he holds her in his lap. Raphael now wears the flower crown, Simone most likely putting it on him. Aurie grabs two lemonades and heads in that direction.

Raphael gives her a kind smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Aurie smiles, gently tapping Simone’s back. Her hair is disheveled and her shoes scraped up. She peers up to look at her and gives her a tired smile. “Tired, Simi?”

Simone nods sleepily, “I ran too much with the other kids.”

“Aww,” Aurie chuckles, glancing back at Raphael.

“She’ll sleep well tonight.”

“She will,” Aurie agrees. “Where’s Camille?”

Raphael looks in the direction he last saw her, “Restroom, although I think she was trying to find you. Where did you go anyway?”

“To the garden with Maria and Estrella.”

“Ah,” he tsks, motioning to the cup of lemonade. Aurie nods and pushes it towards him for him to sip. Simone’s eyes blink heavily.

The two of them chat longer briefly until Aurie gets up to mingle with more guests. And as she crosses an empty table, Kylian grabs her forearm gently, “Sit.”

“Sit?” she looks up at him with a surprised smile. “Hello to you too, princess.”

Kylian rolls his eyes, feigning to be flustered, “You gotta eat something because I know you will want to help tearing all of this down.” He pulls a chair open with his foot and motions her down. He slides the plate of food in front of her. Aurie chuckles as she sits down in the propped seat. As Kylian sits down beside her, he kisses her cheek.

Aurie does just that. She eats while Kylian talks about his conversation with the teenage boys and the guests.

“You owe many people dances,” he mentions. “The ladies weren’t happy with my skills…and the men kept coming up to ask me if it was okay to dance with ‘my woman’ and I said yes.” Kylian grins cheekily.

“Why would you say that?” Aurie chuckles, not upset at all, just endeared from his reaction.

Kylian shrugs, “I liked the sound of them calling you my girlfriend, my girl, or my lady as some of them said.”

Aurie cringes, feeling older with the formality. “‘Lady?’”

Kylian chuckles and sits up to kiss her cheek, his arm resting around her seat, “My lady. You forgot a word, mon amour.”

Aurie’s cheeks warm at Kylian’s excited rant, his hands jesting around in the air. His continuous rambling should be annoying but it’s like music to her eyes. She hadn’t heard his voice the past week and hearing it all once again, it made her content. Such a simple sound, and it was all hers. Right here in front of her.

As she finishes her food, she clasps her hands with his underneath the table on her knee. He smiles when he feels it, pulling her empty plate off to the side so that he can lean against the table with his elbow propped up. His smile falters, “You…took off your makeup? Or some of it?”

Aurie’s smile wavers. “Do you have to notice everything?” Always so attentive.

“What was it?”

“I cried some more outside with Maria and Estrella.”

“Ah,” he frowns. His thumb strokes Aurie’s hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

Kylian’s hand squeezes hers in a sign of reassurance. The pads of his fingertips bristle over her nails. “Okay.”

FIVE HOURS BEFORE

Kylian could practically hear the blood pumping through heart as the rain storm raged through Madrid. His palms were sweaty as he looked out the plane’s window. His flight was already set to be delayed an hour now and he was running out of time to find a tuxedo.

“Relax, I can go to the store real quick,” Brice suggested, watching Kylian’s face grow anxious the longer they sat on the tarmac. His bouncing knee was bound to burn a hole through the plane’s floor.

Kylian shook his head. “We’re gonna be too late.”

“No we aren’t. The dance will probably be three hours long so that gives us more time.”

“I need to talk to her beforehand, I can’t just walk up in there,” Kylian groaned, rubbing his face with his face. “She’ll be upset. And most of all, she deserves an explanation for my silence.”

Brice exhaled softly, staring across the small space at his best friend. “She’ll understand. She’s…sensible.”

Kylian snorted. “Too sensible. She probably wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Would you though?” Brice questioned and Kylian quieted down as he opened his eyes. He wouldn’t. That wasn’t the time nor place to talk about why he’s been gone. He should’ve never been absent in the first place. But one missed phone call after the other and it began to get pathetic to continue apologizing for it. He could tell she felt the shift as well—who wouldn’t—through her short responses.

And god did he miss her. He hated being away from her for so long without a proper goodbye.

Brice shuffled up to his feet, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “You stay here, I’m gonna find you a tuxedo.”

Kylian sighed, his head rolling as he watched him walk by. “And if the plane takes off?”

“It won’t, but if it does, I’ll just have it transferred to a store in Paris and someone will give it to you there when you land,” Brice reassured. “Just relax. It won’t bring you any help if you see Aurie and you feel anxious.”

Kylian nodded wordlessly, watching Brice exit the plane swiftly and then jog into a black van. He was beginning to accept that they wouldn’t have much time to talk when he did arrive before the gala began. With the minimum two hour flight and hour drive out of Paris, it would be a miracle if he even had a moment to share with Aurie.

Screw it, he thought.

Bouncing up from his seat he raced out of the flight and caught up to the van, knocking on the dew-plastered window before it drove off. Brice opened the door confused. “What?”

“Move over,” Kylian said, his eyebrows pinching as he felt droplets land on him.

Brice slid over to the other seat beside him without saying a word. Kylian couldn’t stand being on a plane alone with nothing to distract him for who knows how long.

Mac and Paul sat quietly in the front seat and they drove them to a Dior store. It was unusual for Kylian to not have a tuxedo ready on hand for an event like this but truthfully, all of his old tuxedos were too fancy for the occasion. He could’ve gone with a suit, but he wanted to be a bit more dressed up for Aurie.

And while his measurements were already on hand with Brice—and Dior—he still needed to pick it up and the downpour was making it difficult for anyone to drive to the airport to drop it off in time.

Although it seemed like they had all the damn time in the world now.

Kylian cursed softly as the rain got heavier once they entered the bustling streets of Madrid. The rain on the window blurred everything in his view.

Once the van halted, Brice and Kylian rushed out with their heads ducked. Paul was right on their side, attempting to hold out an umbrella for them but they rushed inside too fast that it was no use.

“What’s the color of her dress?” Brice asked.

“Green,” Kylian said, eyeing the racks of the suits.

“There’s hundreds of shades of green, Ky, what kind of green?”

Kylian paused at the associate coming up to him with the tuxedo in tow. Kylian grabbed it politely and held it over the back of shoulder before he glanced at Brice.

He had no idea what color green it was. He didn’t think to ask, barely even finding it out that it was green in general—was it even green? The more he thought of it, the more he doubted.

Brice’s face dropped. “You forgot?”

Kylian rubbed his face in despair. He was going to lose it. He was so tired, desperately needing sleep because the past couple of days he rarely got any. And not being able to talk to Aurie drained him.

He pursed his lips, the hand gripping onto the hanger of the tuxedo becoming like a lifeline.

Brice pulled his phone out of his pocket, promptly tapping along it and then holding it up his ear. He stood close to Kylian and scooted the other suits on the rack to calm himself down. They were both getting frustrated.

Brice tsks to himself when the call declines, immediately tapping the contact again and sending them a text. Kylian furrowed his eyebrows, trying to lean in closer to make out who the other person was.

He calls them again and masks his annoyance with enthusiasm. “Hey! I'm out shopping for Kylian—uh what color is your dress?”

Kylian’s eyes bulged as he overheard his words, reaching out for Brice’s phone. Pivoting his body, Brice bumped into the racks again and tried to straighten out the hangers. He successfully shielded his phone from Kylian.

“My dress?” Kylian overheard, stilling at her voice.

“Mm-hmm,” Brice nods with a scowl in Kylian’s direction. Fixing the hangers, he glared at Kylian. “For the gala.”

“Uh…” Aurie thought. Kylian’s hands paused on Brice’s forearm. “What for?”

Kylian can’t tell if the noise that comes out of Brice is a snort or a chuckle. “Kylian did say you were stubborn. I need it to match his tie.”

“He isn't coming tonight,” she responded. They halted in their fussing, Kylian stared at Brice in shock, his lips parting softly.

“Oh,” Brice said. Kylian urged him to continue the conversation with the flick of his hand. “Uh—did he not get invited?”

“Brice,” Aurie started and her tone stabbed Kylian right into his chest. He grimaced, rubbing the spot, she sounded upset and confused. “I mean…yeah he was invited but after everything that happened…I didn't think he'd be coming.”

Kylian sighed, rubbing his head. God he was going to get a headache, he could feel it. All of this miscommunication was stupid and unnecessary. Why did he have to keep it a secret anyway?

“Mm-hmm,” Brice mumbled, sliding the hangers to grab Kylian’s attention. He knew his best friend was starting to feel discouraged about the whole ordeal. “Well he said he was gonna be there tonight—”

“News to me.”

Kylian felt gutted hearing her remark and he shook his head quickly. Brice shouldn’t make any more promises to her because with the way this weather was, who knew if he was actually going to make it?! Despite the tightness in his chest, he motioned for Brice to end the phone call. He’ll buy every shade of green he has to.

Brice sighed, watching Kylian’s shoulders deflate and ignoring his plea. “Aurie…it won't always be like this…he just has a lot going on right now. I promise he'll tell you everything when he can. This is the first time something like this has happened.”

Kylian groaned, closing his eyes. It took a while for Aurie to respond and when she did, her voice sounded so small that Kylian could barely hear it. “Yeah…”

“Hang in there,” Brice encouraged, flickering his eyes towards Kylian.

Another agonizing moment goes by while Kylian eyes the green ties and bow ties. Maybe he could sneak in to get a look at her dress and then fix the tie onto himself in the parking lot. Hell, did he even really need a bow tie at this point?

“Aurie,” Brice said softly, getting Kylian’s attention. “The color of your dress?”

“Green, like an emerald green,” she answered quickly.

Of course it was, like the color of most of her plants. He should’ve known that.

“Okay, thank you. I'll talk to you later,” Brice sighed. “Take care, Aurie.”

Once he ended the call, Kylian looked at him remorsefully.

“Yeah, she’s upset,” Brice said curtly.

Kylian huffed, exiting the store with his tuxedo, leaving Brice to pick out a bow tie. He needed to call Aurie.

Once in the car, Paul shut the door behind him while he found Aurie’s contact quickly—it being his most recent—and called her. With each hum of the ringtone, his knee bounced and shook the car. The tuxedo was loosely draped across the seat and at this point he didn’t care if it got wrinkled.

“C’mon, Aurie,” he muttered.

But the call didn’t go through. It went to her voicemail, causing him to groan loudly.

He hesitated to call again. She was upset, no doubt about it. Hurt most likely.

He sighed, sending her a text instead:

I miss you, call me when you can bébé

He watched as the message was read and then saw her type a message back. He held his breath, hoping that the typing bubbles wouldn’t disappear.

I miss you too, I will

He frowned and shut his phone off. He didn’t have time to think about the message because Brice came in, tossing the green bow tie and receipt towards Kylian’s lap.

“Why are you upset?” Kylian asked, confused, although there was a slight irritation in his tone.

“Because, whatever is going on between you could’ve been avoided,” Brice exhaled sharply and clicked his seatbelt after he moved Kylian’s tuxedo.

“I know, but it’s been a hectic week, I couldn’t tell her,” Kylian defended himself.

“Yeah but saying something—anything, really—is better than not saying anything at all. I mean come on, Kylian, how much do you actually like her to be treating her like this?”

Kylian gaped but Brice shook his head.

“No,” Brice grumbled. “She’s perfect for you. I don’t get why you’re acting like a child.”

“I want to tell her but it has to be in person. I can’t even tell anyone yet.”

“But Aurie is different,” Brice sighed. “She isn’t just ‘anyone’ right? Or so I thought.”

Kylian pursed his lips. No, Aurie wasn’t just someone. She was someone he cared about, deeply and quickly, but still struggled to show it. Even with the tumultuous week he went through this week, he should’ve spared more time for her.

His trip to Madrid was abrupt and quickly planned by his mother and Florentino Pérez. One day he was in front of Dr. Minic and Martin for another mental evaluation and rehab, and the next day he was in Madrid getting tests done on his physical fitness.

It all went too fast.

Way too fast for Kylian to catch his breath and tell Aurie.

“I know,” Kylian sighed.

Brice eyed him, his disapproval slowly dissipating when he saw how stressed Kylian was. His eyes stared blankly at the back of the driver’s seat. Brice exhaled, “I know this is the first time something like this happened, the timing of everything and all, and you’re handling a lot of stuff at once, but don’t push her away and expect her to welcome you with open arms. You screwed up—sure—but Aurie is reasonable, she’ll understand if you just tell her the truth.”

Kylian nodded, digesting Brice’s words as he continued staring ahead with a dull gaze.

In the midst of Kylian droning his thoughts away, they return to the airport and climb up the jet’s stairs. The rain stopped and they took off about half an hour later.

Two hours later, Kylian was jolted awake in his seat by Brice.

“Come on,” he motioned, holding both his and Kylian’s bag on his shoulders. Kylian stood up and grabbed his bag from him and then tuxedo bag.

“What time is it?”

Brice tilted his head, his lips tight, “You have maybe an hour and a half. Probably just thirty minutes by the time we get to the gala.”

“Where’s your suit?” Kylian realized, barely noticing that Brice only had the suit he took to Madrid somewhere in his bag.

“I’m not going, but you are,” Brice reassured him as they climbed into the car. “However, you do have to get ready in the car.”

Kylian sighed. This wasn’t his first time getting ready in a car and most likely wouldn’t be his last. Each time he hated it, the height was entirely too small to maneuver around in there.

He would be fine without Brice at the gala but it would’ve been nice to have alongside him to calm him down.

Kylian undressed and dressed fast in the back seat, adjusting his bow tie over and over again. Finally when they arrived at the nursing home, Kylian was able to adjust his tuxedo better outside of the car and then quickly walk in to find Aurie.

Inside, he was met with the familiar walls he would walk through for Aurie’s bingo sessions with the residents. Turning the corner, he ran into Simone.

“Kee-lan!” she cheesed and pulled him into a hug. Her arms barely reached around his thighs as he bent down properly to give her a hug.

“Hey,” he beamed, adjusting the flower crown on her head. “What are you doing here alone?”

“I’m not alone,” she replied, pointing a nimble finger at a door that was opening. Camille and Raphael walked out of a small room in their matching purple dress and suit respectively.

They smiled at Kylian, greeting him warmly before Simone looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. “You want to see Tatie Aurie?”

Kylian chuckled, his cheeks flushing with heat, “Yeah.”

“Okay, follow me,” she smiled and led him to the ballroom doors. “I haven’t seen her yet too.”

Kylian’s hands shook as he adjusted the buttons of his tux. Simone was doing good at distracting him but once they stopped at the door, he gulped.

“In here,” Simon paused and pointed at the doorknob. Her small hand reached out towards the handle and pulled it down, opening the door wide enough for the both of them to fit. He found Aurie before Simone could. His breath caught in his throat as he took in her stunning dress and pure beauty. His hands stopped trembling as he watched her adjust a centerpiece. His damn knees wanted to buckle.

Simone took off running and screamed, “Tatie Aurie!”

Kylian’s thoughts blurred as he watched them hug, his mind racing with what he should say first and what he could save for later. All his thoughts jumbled together in her presence that they didn't quiet down until her eyes landed on his.

PRESENT

Kylian watches blissfully as Aurie dances with the guests he promised would get time with her. She moves effortlessly on the floor, her steps light and her smile unwavering, as if she’s free from all worries. The sight warms Kylian’s heart.

Simone rests peacefully against his shoulder. Kylian had suggested Raphael switch off holding her so Raphael and Camille could share a dance, and he was grateful that Simone occupied his arms, providing an excuse to avoid the dance floor.

Time passes slowly, but Kylian doesn’t mind it. He’d rather soak in the gala that Aurie had been perfecting for weeks now. Every few minutes, her eyes find him with a radiant smile, and his fingers itch to reach out and touch her.

As the song changes, Camille approaches Kylian from behind, startling him as she appears beside him.

She chuckles, “Sorry, here I’ll take Simi.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. Camille’s hair is now frizzy, her skin glimmers with a small layer of sweat.

She nods. “Rafa and I danced too hard and now we need a breather.”

Kylian chuckles, carefully standing up and passing a sleeping Simone to her mother. Her small frame cuddles into Camille’s chest as Kylian pulls the seat out for her to sit in.

“Thank you,” Camille smiles. Kylian shimmies off his tuxedo jacket and drapes it over a chair nearby. He loosens the cuffs of his sleeves and heads toward a glowing Aurie.

As she notices him, her eyes light up with a sparkling smile, and he laughs nervously. She thanks her previous partner for the dance and wraps her arms around Kylian’s neck when they meet.

He kisses her nose as his hands settle on her waist. “Having fun?”

“Lots,” she smiles. She pecks his lips and then sways him to the slow rhythm of the song. Her fingers play with the collar of his white dress shirt. “You look really handsome.”

“Thank you,” he simpers. “You look stunning. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you all night.”

Aurie’s cheeks warm, and then her smile dips. Her hands tighten around his neck and he raises an eyebrow.

“What?” he whispers.

“I want to meet your family,” she admits. “I know I don’t have the best track record of families and mine is small, but…I want to meet yours. Soon. Plan it on my calendar and everything.”

Kylian's smile widens. “Okay. How about in two days?”

“Deal.”

Aurie leans in to kiss him, the kiss chaste and delicate, without an urgency but a promise. Kylian has rarely ever invited a girl to meet his parents, let alone the rest of the family. And Aurie, always reluctant to meet parents not just because of her time working in pediatrics, but of what this particular set of parents meant.

Of what it could mean for the future.

-------

Note: So sorry for the longest delay I’ve ever had, was on my last year of uni and yeah…life happened. Experienced many joys and lows over the last bouts of months, met a bunch of great people, stepped out of my comfort zone, and studied hard while dabbling in many outings. Not only that but I felt inspired to write for a couple of different players and scenarios and kept feeling stuck on this particular story, but I’m starting to find my groove back. Hopefully if all goes well, this story will at least have one more chapter (the epilogue) or two. Thank you for everyone who stuck by this story. It’s been fun closing the journey of Aurie and Kylian and I can’t wait to finish it soon, not only for you but for me. (:

Taglist: @karotland @mrs-bellingham @kylianswifey @kymb-10 @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @lovekm @okayymochi @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros @heli991113 @neymarloverxxx @444jodie @mm2007 @freespirit-51 @flawlessdiamond1 @euphoriapillz @imagesthatlive @ohpuckyeah @nothingtoes

#kylian mbappe x oc #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fic #em.writes #comme les fleurs

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formulapookie · 2 months ago

Text

💛💛

Under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3

chapter 1 ; chapter 2

Les fleurs du mal rosquez, 2.1k words

Next race is two weeks later, championship finale, and Marc has been feeling increasingly worse for these past days.

The coughing had gone on almost non-stop, sometimes accompanied by petals, sometimes just a bothersome feeling of suffocation.

He doesn’t precisely know when, but some of the petals have started coming out colored a deep blue now, the yellow still there, perfectly matching Vale’s color scheme.

He had a half thought of reaching out to Vale, telling him about his situation, and telling him how truly hurt he was.

But he ultimately didn’t, he couldn’t - after last time, when he tested on his skin what hate meant he couldn’t bear the thought of being close to Vale without breaking down.

It had only gone worse, from his visit to Vale’s motorhome, he could feel his lungs crush under the pressure of the roots around them.

His brother knew something was wrong but couldn’t say what, Marc hadn’t spoken to him about his problem at all, and much less to his father.

His mother, well she didn’t need any kind of words to know what was happening to him, not after he had yelled at her when he came back and found his room stripped of any kind of reference to Vale, the room who was supposed to be his sanctuary, the room he wanted to photograph and send to Vale to remind him.

Remind him he had been there, had seen it all, reminding him how they had shared his room for more than a night.

And it was all gone, as if it was never there, just a ghost in Marc’s heart.

Marc had yelled so much to her his throat closed, he had begun coughing and gasping for air, until a bunch of petals had come out his mouth, falling to the ground, next to the cardboard boxes where his mother had carefully put away all the collection bikes and the poster.

The cap and the framed picture on top of them, the helmet stored in another box, wrapped so as not to ruin it.

He had cried then, cried so much he barely could breathe, and his mother had just held him, trying to calm him down as more petals made their way out of his lungs.

“per què fa tant mal mare? Vull que s'aturi, si us plau, necessito que s'aturi” (Why does it hurt so much mom? I want it to stop, please, I need it to stop)

“perquè estimes amb tot el cor, i la gent no és tan amorosa com tu, Marc” (Because you love with all your heart, and people are not as loving as you, Marc)

“Em fa tant mal que no puc respirar, per què m'odia? Em va dir que m'estimava. Per què m'odia? L'estimo mare, l'estimo” (It hurts so much I can’t breathe, why does he hate me? He told me he loved me. Why does he hate me? I love him mom, I love him)

“Ho sé, ho sé, l'estimes tant que estàs disposat a no sotmetre's a l'operació perquè tens por d'oblidar-lo” (I know, I know, you love him so much you’re willing not to undergo the operation because you’re scared you’ll forget him)

“Només vull que em torni a estimar” (I just want him to love me back)

“Ho sé Marc, ho sé” (I know Marc I know)

He had passed out in his mother’s arms, tears all over his face and lungs burning.

He didn’t understand how Vale could hate him so much after all the promises he made, all the murmured “I love you”s between the sheets, all the sweet glances when he stayed over at Vale’s.

He's preparing for the press con now, quali gone, he had crashed a few minutes to the end, he had trouble getting up, but he had managed to get a few good laps in.

The crash had made him lose breath, the little one he still has.

For a game of sorts, he’s sat next to Vale at the press con, and he hates it.

He’ll see how pathetic he looks like this, how lonely and miserable he is without Vale in his life.

They don’t speak, Vale ignores him completely if not to bad mouth him to the press, who like flies on honey is eager to get the micro expressions on Marc’s unreadable face.

When the journalists turn to Lorenzo for some questions Vale strikes.

It’s calculated, cruel, made to hurt.

“You like helping him uh? You sucked his dick too? Did you go to him and let him fuck you as a thank you for letting him win? Did he fuck you well Marc? I bet you enjoyed his dick so much given how you ran to me immediately after to suck me off”

“Stop it Vale please”

“Ah stop what? I’m having fun here aren’t you? Does he know how you like to be treated like the whore you are?”

Marc can’t hold it anymore, not with the amount of cruelty Vale is throwing his way.

He starts to cough, turning towards Vale, and the petals fall from his lips, they’re of a dark deep blue.

He can’t stay here, he just can't, he has to get out this damn press con now.

Vale is staring at the petals, one of them has landed on his lap. The room has gone silent, one can only hear Marc‘s all-but- hidden coughs as he runs out the room.

The journalists are frozen, Vale rushes out the room.

He doesn’t make it too far before noticing Marc leaning over a bin coughing and puking those fucking yellow and blue petals.

Some of the people standing out of the press con room start to take out phones and cameras to record Marc.

Vale tries to get close to Marc, somehow shield him from the flashing of the phones and the fuckers taking pictures of him, but Marc just pushes him away.

Yells at him to go away.

And Vale is shocked because he never heard Marc yell, much less would he have expected Marc to yell at him.

He tries to get close again, understand if what’s happening is truly what he thinks is happening.

And Marc now just looks like a wounded animal, and he hates it; he hates it even more than being insulted by Vale. He's weak in front of who knows how many people, he’s weak in front of Vale.

He feels one of Vale’s hands on his arms and jerks away with force.

“Don’t touch me!”

He’s crying, face red and his whole body is shivering.

Vale doesn’t really make out what is going on, it’s all too confusing right now.

He only sees a flash of blue, speeding right next to him, and closing the distance to Marc as he’s frozen there.

“Marc let's go away I’m taking you to the medical center come on, let’s go”

As he focuses back on reality he only understands Lorenzo has come to Marc’s rescue, somehow, and managed to drag him away.

He’s standing there, the flashing of phones disturbing, press con canceled, his mind racing.

He walks back to his motorhome, everyone saw the press con, he avoids talking to people.

Meanwhile Marc has been taken to the med center, he didn’t want to go, he tried to free himself from Jorge’s hold, but the older man just didn’t let go, he was stronger than him in this situation, Marc too debilitated by the illness.

When he arrives at the center he’s shivering, his body is burning, he’s coughed so many times he feels his whole throat scratch and tear at every breath he takes, his lungs feel caged in an intricate maze of roots.

He’s crying and sweating and shivering, he looks like he’s on the verge of a collapse from how much his body is out of his control.

“Marc you have to focus back on where you are I need you to focus on where you are”

The voice of the doctor seems far, as if he’s talking through a glass door.

He somehow manages to get back, resurface to reality.

The coughing stops, for now at least, but the fever is really high, and the tremors are only slightly better.

“Marc, were you aware you were suffering from Hanahaki?”

“Yes”

Marc’s voice sounds so feeble and thin he doesn’t think it’s him doing the talking.

“I need your consent and signature here to have you transported to the hospital for the surgery, we caught it in time luckily, you just need to sign here and I’ll-“ “No” “Marc don’t be stupid sign the damn form” “No” “Marc, you understand the risk you’re putting yourself through?”

“Yes. I can’t - I just can’t forget him, you get it? I know he’ll - with a bit more time he’ll love me back. He’ll love me again. I can’t have the surgery. I have to race tomorrow I have no time”

Jorge is just staring into the void, he can’t believe this kid is wiling to fucking risk his life for what? Valentino Rossi?

Because no matter the fact Marc has not said his name, he’s got heart eyes for him since they met, and the two of them were all but subtle.

He is willing to sacrifice his health for a man so egotistical he dares to blame this same kid for ruining his chance at a tenth title?

A kid who for fuck’s sake is willing to endure this inferno just because he can’t think of living without the knowledge of who Vale is?

The same Vale who’s now sitting in his motorhome, on his couch, silent, trying to elaborate what he just saw.

A feeling of guilt is gnawing at his guts, twisting them in a way he doesn’t like in the slightest.

He had been pushed away by Marc. First time in history he was the one who was pushed away, yelled at, distanced.

And it feels fucking horrible.

The door opens slightly, Uccio sneaks in, an ugly looking grin on his face.

“What the fuck did I do Uccio”

There’s silence, the man doesn’t answer, he waits for Vale to finish.

“I - that’s a kid I - he was puking petals fucking God, they were all blue and and yellow I - oh God”

“I don’t think those petals were for you Vale”

At this Vale gets up, he’s angry, and something else Uccio can’t quite figure out.

“Not for me? The fuck do you mean not for me? Yellow and blue remind you of something Uccio? Huh? Maybe I don’t know, MY fucking colours? The ones I’ve been wearing all the time? Why the fuck are you saying shit like this? Why - why did you come to me saying he - he would ruin my championship”

Uccio takes a step back, Vale is too close to him and a bit too angry for his liking.

Every word he speaks is like poison to Vale’s mind and heart, it takes over everything else, over every rational thought.

“There weren’t any yellow petals Vale. Just blue. Blue petals each time he coughed. And look, look how he pushes and yells you away and look how when Lorenzo comes close he melts in his arms. What does blue make you think of?”

“Me, Yamaha for fucks sake”

“Yamaha. But whose one? Look how the coughing stops here, when Lorenzo goes to drag him away”

The sequences playing on the ipad screen are undeniably those Uccio spoke about.

He was sure he had seen yellow petals, he was sure.

Like he was sure Marc wasn’t responsible for the losing of the tenth, until Uccio had shown him proof.

every cough two or three blue petals coming out his mouth, Marc pushing him away, Lorenzo being accepted as a savior.

“The petals are not for you Vale. They’re for Lorenzo. Why else would he have helped him win? Why else would the petals be blue? Why else would he trust only Lorenzo to be close?”

And the little poison Uccio is spreading with his words gets to Vale, it digs its way to his brain, to his heart.

Marc truly helped Lorenzo win because of a more intricate and complicated relationship between the two.

Marc. Marc wasn’t suffering because of him. He didn’t play a part in it.

He knows because he was shown evidence.

Like the telemetry. Yes. The telemetry it - it was clear from there.

Marc is not his. Marc can suffer on his own.

Because it’s not his fault after all, if Lorenzo doesn’t love him back.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #angst no comfort #tw throwing up #motogp rpf #motogp fic #so basically Uccio has been decided as a villain #but Vale is not to be stripped from responsibilities #Marc is a kid #and stupid #Roser is a mother after all #she can't force her baby to do something he doesn't have the heart to do.#I hoope you have fun with this (you won't)#(it's a “turning point” part so it's not the best one)

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hedwig123 · 4 months ago

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Counselor Playability

OK so this post by @lunamayn and @ghostradiodylan's comment about the counselors playable time got me to finally sit down and make a spreadsheet of their playable sections (I say finally because I've actually wanted to do this for a while. It took like an hour and a half.)

(Click to enlarge)

They're color-coded by counselor (Gray is Ryan, Yellow is Kaitlyn, Dark Green is Jacob, Light Green is Emma, Pink is Dylan, the Red-Pink is Abi, Faded Red is Nick, Blue is Max, and Orange, obviously, is Laura), and the italicized sections are the determinate ones. There's an asterisk by the two alternate scrapyard sequences as, unlike the rest of the determinate sections, one or the other has to happen.

So in summary:

Laura, unsurprisingly, has the most playable segments, with a minimum of 16 and a maximum of 18. On the other hand, 10 of those are in Chapter 7, back-to-back-to-back.

Ryan has the second most by a pretty wide margin- 11 no matter what. About twice as much as Kaitlyn, the third most, who gets either 5, 6, or 7 (7 is only if you kill Dylan in Chapter 8 and Kaitlyn survives going to the scrapyard alone). Ryan's also the character who's playable in the most chapters, with sections in 8 of them.

(While making this chart I finally realized that Ryan does not have a playable section in Chapter 7, which is very annoying. I already hate that he can't have a playable section in Chapter 10, why doesn't he have one in Chapter 7? Especially when the beginning of Chapter 8 would fit just fine with the other poolhouse scenes.)

Dylan has either 4 or 6 (he can't die in his 5th section).

Jacob has a minimum of 2, but if he survives all the way through he will have 6.

Emma has a minimum of 2, but can survive the night with either 4 or 5 segments, depending on if she's infected in Chapter 4 or if she ends up in the cellar alone.

Abi has either 3 or 5 segments depending on if she gets past werewolf Nick and (potential) werewolf Emma.

Nick, like Ryan, has a fixed number- 4 segments. Unlike Ryan, he only gets them in 2 chapters, the fewest chapter appearances besides Max.

And of course, Max gets 1 section, and only if you manage to un-werewolf him by shooting Chris in Chapter 9.

#the quarry #spreadsheets #poor max #I know it wouldn't make much sense narratively but since only one of the Chapter 7 choices matters ANYWAY why couldn't Max get ONE section #like just say Laura's recounting what Max told her about how he felt #laura kearney #ryan erzahler #max brinly #nick furcillo #kaitlyn ka #emma mountebank #jacob custos #dylan lenivy #abigail blyg

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delightfully-deranged-dagur · 10 months ago

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TD OCs Redesigns part 2! At long last!

Lulu

This Clown didn't change much in concept but she definitely changed in design.

Previously I already made a more casual look for her when she's not performing, and that became the basis for her redesign. Her old outfit will be repurposed for her performance outfit. Still need to draw that.

Besides that she got a new hairstyle! And a hint of that Pinkie Pie inspired front swirl.

Madileighn

The Influencer had a massive overhaul from her 1st look to her 2nd. The first look I've actually recycled for her mom's design. Who I'll post here eventually.

Anyway Madi got a warmer yellow tone, some bangs and a shorter coat. She's still looking fabulous!

Marlo

The Prankster kept a lot of his original elements. Purple + green colors, curly black hair and a bomb on his clothes.

The hoodie became a jacket. The hair got more sharper in the back and the bomb was moved to his shirt. His shorts and nose kept changing but I finally settled on something I like.

Olive

The Shy Doormat stayed very consistent in design. The clothes just became baggier, the nose changed shape and her colors more muted.

But she still hates the spotlight and is still a lesbian disaster.

Parvati

Immediately, the Mythology Buff became more tomboy-ish. Her features became a lot more sharper and a bit more androgynous.

Her outfit stayed the mostly it just evolved. Less cluttered details. A more eye pleasing color pallette. All changes for the better.

Phoenix

He's a menace this one. Definitely the one that gave me the most trouble redesigning.

Like Parvati I removed a lot of unnecessary details and gave him a more eye pleasing pallette. His skintone got a cooler undertone to better see the line work.

And the big change. His hair. Less knock-off Hobie Brown and more his own person. I'm very thankful for my friend Howai for giving me the idea for locs.

Rachel

Ah Rachel. The Rodeo Star. Who actually started out as a pathetic Heather Wannabe. She became something way different. Now an antagonist more in line with Bowie.

Her design barely changed from V2 to V3. Just changed her bangs direction and gave her abs. Why mess with perfection?

I just realized Rachel gained boots and lost her sandals, while Madileighn lost her boots and gained sandals. Huh. Fun trade-off.

Raheem

The Oblivious Hearth Throb is still as good looking as ever.

Now he gets to take his hair down and really make people swoon. Not that he realizes.

I basically made his outfit more warm weather oriented then cold. Also, he went from green to gray. A more neutral color helps him stand out from the cast.

Sasha

Now if Rachel isn't the one with the least changes. Then it's Sasha. I struck gold with the first design. And she barely changed after that.

The 2 big differences are her hair, from flowing waves to bantu knots. And her concept.

Originally she was a singer going on TD to promote herself. Now she's a nepo-baby who's uncle got her onto the show. She doesn't realize her well connected, rich girl experiences aren't universal.

Tony

Last and certainly never least. The Short-Tempered Greaser.

Tony's outfit barely changed. Just some color adjustments. But his body definitely changed. The 2nd time I designed as someone short and not just shrunk someone down.

The big difference this time is his hair. I love the pompadour+swirl but I wanted something different to differentiate him from how i draw Johnny Spirit. So he got a quaff. I think that's the right word.

Anyway lastly his pose makes his personality more clear. He's cranky and impatient.

Thank you for joining me and listen to me ramble about these guys.

I'm hoping to get the first chapter of my OC season out sometime this year. So stay tuned.

#my art #total drama #total drama island #total drama action : take 2 #total drama oc #oc art #oc lulu #oc Madileighn #oc marlo #oc olive #oc parvati #oc phoenix #oc rachel #oc raheem #oc sasha #oc tony

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colormepurplex2 · 1 year ago

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Flowers of Fate | Lavender & Thyme

↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft. x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 20,683 ⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, talk of murdered loved ones, angst, hurt feelings, vaginal sex, cum eating, body exploration, awkward yet endearingly cute sexual moments, jealousy, blood, stab wounds Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

The man looming over you narrows his eyes before he flicks them up to JK, who looks smug behind you. “They are supposed to be willing. This does not look willing to me. The bitter stink of her fear is burning my nose.” His nose wrinkles as if to accentuate his observation. “Can you not smell it? And…is that,” he sniffs the air, “the loch I also smell? What the hell happened?”

JK shifts his feet and clears his throat. “She may have had a slight incident going through the gateway. And, of course I can smell the fear. But what would you have had me do differently? She was unprotected, the first we’ve encountered in nearly a decade. I did what I had to.”

That makes the man’s eyebrows rise, and his eyes fall back down to you. “Unprotected? Is that so?”

“More or less,” JK mumbles.

“And that means?” The question comes from a man that steps around the side of the one in front of you. “That sounds a lot like loophole shenanigans to me.” He is pretty, with sandy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and ears pointed similarly to the man now glaring down at you.

“Well, Joon, it means when I first arrived at the gathering, not a soul was without protection. Then, suddenly, she lit up like a dry stick of tinder, and I did the only thing I could think to do…I took her.” His placating shifts from the man he called Joon back to the one standing before you. “We’re losing time, Yoons. We can’t keep waiting around as we have been with our thumbs up our asses. This was the break we needed, don’t sneer at me over something I’ve done for you.”

The man clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Seven Hells. I hate that you are right.” Suddenly he’s in your face, crouched down with an elbow resting on a knee. He tilts his head slowly from side to side, those faceted green eyes roving over your face. “What is your name?” he finally asks, a long, slender finger lightly tapping your chin.

You jerk back, appalled. “Oh, fuck you, man! I’m not giving you my name! I’m not stupid. I just want to go home.”

“You’re stupid enough to get snatched up by a Fey,” JK snarks softly.

The man standing behind Yoons slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Do be fair, JK. It is not like the poor girl really knew what was happening. It seems she may have become a victim of vandalism,” he muses, the words slightly muffled behind his hand. He steps forward and fingers a yellow petal from your wet hair. “Honey bell petals.”

JK snatches the petal from the man’s fingers. “Fuck,” he curses. “I saw the damaged crown, but I didn’t see any honey bells. Well, she was unprotected when I approached her. That’s what matters, right?”

“Mmm, technicalities,” Yoons scoffs, swatting JK’s hand, making the petal flutter down and land in your lap.

You pick up the tiny, crumpled, yellow petal. “This is why I’m here? Because my God damn flower crown got destroyed?” you ask, incredulously. The petal turns a dark ocher color as you roll and mash it between your fingers in anger. “Monica, you fucking drunk asshole with your flailing hands.”

“JK does have a point, though, Yoons. You are running out of time, and beggars cannot really be choosers. Sure, she is maybe not…ideal, but she will provide you with what you need.” For some reason, your hackles rise at the idea that you’re apparently not ideal for whatever it is they seemingly need you for.

Yoons straightens and brushes his hands along the front of his shirt as if absently ridding himself of the slight touch he exchanged with you. “Yes, so it may seem. Well—,“ he glances at JK before continuing, “—Beautiful, it seems that either way you look at it, you are stuck here for the time being, and I do, indeed, have need of a human mate. Perhaps, we can come to some sort of…uh, agreement?”

All the warnings your grandpa ever gave you about making deals with the fae come crashing down on you all at once. “An agreement? You want me to make a deal with you, a supposed fae? Do I have ‘fool’ written on my forehead or something? Absolutely not!”

You scramble to your feet, backing up and putting as much distance as you can between you and the formidable forms standing around you. It’s a shorter gap than you’d like as your back bumps into the now-shut wooden door JK hauled you through. A cursory glance around shows a small open space serving as a kitchen, dining area, and living space. There are two doorways on the backside of the space, the doors slightly ajar, but the rooms beyond are too dark to discern.

“If you could just listen to my proposal, you may find yourself a bit more amicable to agreeing,” Yoons explains softly, gesturing behind him to the wooden dining table with benches to either side. “Please, sit and let me explain as much as I can. If you do not like what I have to say, then you will be free to walk back out that door, and we will not follow—”

“Yoon—!”

Yoons holds up a hand, silencing whatever protest JK is about to spew. “You have my word,” he says to you, slowly and deliberately. His eyes are wide and sincere, even though they’re still quite jarring to look at. They glimmer in the light emanating from the few wall sconces and the fire humming in the hearth across the room, the green shifting to soft gold and back again.

“The fae can’t lie, right?”

Yoons’ lips twitch, the corner tugging up into a slight smile. “Right.”

You sigh. “Even if you could lie, you probably wouldn’t admit it. God, maybe I really am a fool. Okay, okay, I’ll hear you out, but just so you know, I’m about two-point-five seconds away from just running out that door and never looking back.”

“Right back to the kelpies,” JK mutters. You catch Yoons giving him a stern look that makes him drop his eyes to the floor and take up a guarded position by the door, his hands behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart.

“Despite his seemingly irresistible need to be so harsh with his words, JK does present another point to consider. Outside of this home and the clearing it sits in, you would be at the mercy of the creatures and beings of the Hollow Lands. Though we are closer to the Seelie Court, perhaps if you choose the right direction to run in…” he trails off, rolling his lips between his teeth. You can see how his prominent canines stretch the fullness of his upper lip.

The other man, Joon, gives you a gentile smile and gestures to one of the benches. “Please, have a seat. Oh! You must be freezing,” he titters, moving across to a large woven basket beside the fireplace. “Here.” He grabs out a large, thick woolen blanket and promptly drapes it over your shoulders. “If you decide to stay here, I am sure I can rustle up some garments that will fit you while yours dry properly.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Yoons places a hand on Joon’s arm as he passes by, heading toward the sink in the kitchen area. “My thoughts are scattered. I am grateful for your courtesy.” Those flickering green eyes shift to you, and you can see Yoons’ shoulders sag a little as he sighs. “Apologies, truly. I am normally not so…lacking in hospitality.”

Yoons takes a deep breath and settles on the bench across the table from you. The wood is smooth, dark with age, and worn from use. A steaming pot of what smells like lavender and thyme tea and empty teacups are set on the table between you by Joon. “Lemon sugar and sweet honeysuckle cream if you want it,” he says softly, placing small lidded ramekins and a tiny wooden spoon beside the pot.

You eye the steaming pot of tea, tempted but shake your head, keeping your hands fisting into the soft woolen fabric of the blanket instead. “If you are worried about accepting food from a Fey, thinking it will leave you ensorcelled or trapped here forever, you need not worry about that with Joon. He is not a Greater Fey. He does not possess the ability to entrap a human with his food or drink,” Yoons explains, helping himself to a cup of steaming tea. The fragrant brew is a light plum color, deepening as he adds a spoonful of lemon sugar. “For the sake of transparency, JK is not a Greater Fey either.”

“And you?” you ask when he doesn’t offer up that knowledge as well.

Yoons blows gently over the lip of his cup before taking a slow sip. The silence stretches, broken only by the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace and the soft sound of Joon now kneading dough on the kitchen counter. “I…am,” he finally says, setting his cup back down and cupping his hands around it as if seeking its added warmth.

“What does that mean exactly?” you ask, tentatively, eyeing the steaming pot of tea again. Your throat is dry, and you are awfully cold, even with the wool blanket and heat coming from the fire. Can you trust his word?

Yoons shift uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes staring into yours as you assume he thinks of how to respond. Instead, though, Joon comments, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “He is right. I am a simple woodland nymph. I barely have the magick needed to encourage my garden to grow and protect my home, much less entrap a human here in the Fey Realm. JK is but a simple Seelie guard. His prowess is more related to the thickness of his muscles than the ability of his glamor.”

JK scoffs from his position by the door. “Yes, let’s tell the human everything.”

“Half-truths are not the way to receive her trust. You, better than anyone, should realize that after the foot you have started her off on,” Yoons admonishes JK, waving a stern but dismissive hand in the air.

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” you grumble, cutting your glance between Yoons and JK.

Yoons’ lips press firmly together before he gives you a slight nod. “Right, apologies again. It has been some time since we have had company other than those who know about this glade.”

“Let’s just get on with whatever this proposal is so I can decide whether or not I’m actually going fucking mental.” You finally relent and reach out to pour yourself a cup of tea, if only to have something to hold for extra warmth.

The lavender and thyme scent is comforting, reminding you of your grandpa. The heat and warmth suffusing through the porcelain cup seep into your hands, helping pull back a fraction of the chill from your tumble into the loch.

“I will try to speak as plainly as possible,” Yoons begins. “However, there are things that you still may not understand. For starters, it may be hard to believe, but you are indeed in the Hollow Lands, the expanse of land that sits between the Seelie and Unseelie courts. We are outside of your realm. JK brought you through…a portal of sorts—one that we have been using for centuries when the veil between our worlds is thin enough. You see, the myths and stories you may have heard all have at least a little truth about them. Do faeries kidnap humans? In a way, perhaps. Though, there are safeguards that humans have been using for just as long to make their desire and status known to the Fey. The honey bell flower is a ward, protecting any and all who wear a circle of it against the glamor of a Fey. Anyone not wearing a circlet of the honey bell is seen to be willing.”

“That doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, though, now does it?” you question.

Yoons sucks a breath between his teeth. “It does, but this seems like a very unusual situation we have all found ourselves in. You see, JK is sworn to me as a protector. He was acting on my behalf, trying to find the key I need in order to stop something bad from happening to my people.”

“That’s not cryptic at all,” you say, laying the sarcasm on as thick as you can. “I thought you were going to speak plainly?” You wet your lips with your tongue, so tempted to take just a tiny sip of the tea.

There is a momentary pause as Yoons takes another sip of his own tea. “I think this might be your best brew yet, Joon,” he murmurs softly. “Plain. Okay. I have been banished from the Unseelie Court. If I do not find a human mate before the next full moon, I will be permanently banned from crossing into the border of my home…locking away all of my people and my family in endless darkness with the one responsible for the turmoil that has befallen my court.”

“Why have you been banished? Banishment usually means you had to have done something to earn it. People don’t just get banished for no reason.” The last thing you want is to be fooled into thinking you are helping the good guy, only to find out later that he’s really the bad one.

Yoons shifts, again looking mildly uncomfortable by your question, which makes you glad you asked it. “It is believed that I killed my father and my brother.”

A chill slithers down the nape of your neck with that admission. “It is believed—believed but not true?”

“I would sooner take my own life than that of my kin. I loved my father dearly for what he did for our people; my brother was my best friend. I did not want nor seek their deaths.”

“What’s so important about the next full moon? Why is that significant?” Every piece of the puzzle he provides will help your decision-making. You just have to be sure to ask the right questions.

Tapping his fingers lightly against the outside of his cup, Yoons explains, “The longer a Fey is away from their origin of magick—for me, that would be the Unseelie Court Moon Stone—the less connected we are to it. It has been nearly a decade since I last was within the borders of my home, since I last felt the cooling mist of the lunar winds on my face. I can already feel how significantly depleted my magick is, how much weaker I grow by the day. If I do not secure a way to access the inner well of my power before the end of my tenth year away, I will lose touch with it completely. So, having a human mate is not only crucial to me being strong enough to defeat the one that started everything, but it also means I’ll retain my ability to touch magick at all.”

“What does a human mate have to do with any of that? How can that help? Couldn’t you bond with anyone?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least somewhat intrigued now—if this is indeed the truth. The idea that you’re on a different plane of existence seems to be unquestionable at this point. How you’re not completely coming apart at the mental seams is beyond your understanding. There is a small glimmer inside, though, that you recognize as the same feeling you once got listening to your grandpa’s stories.

Yoons spreads his hands out in front of himself in a placating manner. “Everything. The reason there are tales of Fey taking humans is that they have taken willing participants as mates because humans can open the inner well of a Fey, unleashing their full potential of magick.”

“So, I woul— I mean, a human would allow you to access a secret well of power that’s just supposed to magically…what? Make the bad guy go away?” You hope they don’t read too much into your slip-up of words. It’s not like you’re actually considering his offer…whatever it is, as he still hasn’t truly laid that out yet.

He’s nodding before you finish asking. “Humans are like a conduit, an open channel for magick. They can amplify the strength of existing Fey magick and allow more to be harnessed safely. Having a human mate is the only way I can access enough of my power to save my people.”

“And you haven’t had any luck finding a human mate so far, so you send your muscle bunny over there to kidnap one for you?”

JK steps forward, intent to protest, but Yoons holds up a hand, silencing him. “Look, I know you did not come here of your own free will, and for that, I will forever apologize. But, I would be remiss to say I am not also grateful that you are here. Once, it may have been easy for my kind to come into your world and find someone willing. But, over time, the stories have changed how humans react and perceive our kind. In your stories, we are monsters, tricksters, and sly thieves. That is just a warped perception based on exaggerated presumptions. All I want is someone to help me save my people.”

“Say I do agree, then what? What will happen to me?” The tea in your cup ripples as you clench your hands around it in agitation. “You say I’m trapped here regardless. What happens if I say no? What madness awaits me out there?” You nod toward the door behind JK.

Joon turns from placing his dough into a deep pan, dusting his hands off on a blush-colored towel. “If I may?” Yoons gives him a slight nod. “Beyond my glade, await things that are far worse than being a mate to a Greater Fey. My magick is a ward, tethered to the soil where I plant my seeds. If you agree to stay and help Yoons, there is a chance you could see your world again…but if you leave here, that chance diminishes greatly. You would be lucky to make it to the Seelie Court, but even then, you would most likely end up as a captive rotting away the rest of your existence in the dungeons. The Fey take great care in choosing the outsiders they allow to walk freely within their courts. They would spend your entire human lifetime discussing what to do with you. Your bones would molder in the dark before they made up their minds.”

“I really am stuck here.” The resignation in your voice is apparent.

You see the moment Yoons thinks to reach across the table and console you. His hand lifts from where it’s resting on the wood, but he drops it back down and clenches his fingers instead. “Unfortunately, yes. At least, for the next six months or so, until the veil thins again and a gateway is accessible. As to what will happen to you if you agree to help me, well, you will become my mate. It is similar to what your kind calls marriage. There is a ceremony where we are bound and then a…um, consummation to solidify the link to my magick.”

Ignoring that blatant statement of having to have sex with this man, you ask another question, “Tell me more about your home and what’s going on with this supposed bad guy?”

Yoons’ face closes down, and he straightens his shoulders, hands dropping into his lap. “The male who murdered my father and brother, and holds my mother captive is using dark magick in order to steal and manipulate his way through my court. He has bewitched the whole of the Unseelie Court and uses his connection to the Seelie Court as a ruse. His ultimate goal is to see the end of my people and the absolute rule of Seelie. He thinks we are no better than a people to be enslaved, fodder for his kind to use as building blocks so they may reign supreme over all of this realm and the beings within it.”

“Do the Seelie support this? Why aren’t they doing something about it if they’re not in agreement? Are you fighting one man or an entire people? You make it seem like an impossible task.” You can’t help that some part of you feels sympathy for this man—faerie, whatever he is—despite your indignation over his methods of finding a solution.

JK harrumphs softly from the door. “It’s only impossible if you say no. The Seelie are just as much victims of this maddening farce as we are. The entirety of our realm, our world as we know it, is on the line and you can be the force to tip us one way or another. Look,” he sighs, taking a few steps forward from the door to stand beside the table, “I’ll be honest. It’s my fault you’re here. I didn’t realize you actually had a circle of honey bells on at some point. But, even if I had…I can’t say for certain I wouldn’t have still tried to bring you back with you being unprotected. Over the last decade, I have gone through the Carterhaugh gateway every chance I could. I have walked among the festivities, danced around the May-poles with oblivious humans, tried to ask for help, created friendships, anything I could think of that might allow me to do my job, but every time, it’s been the same. No one cares; no one believes me. They chalk it up to too much whisky or too many hours listening to childish fairy tales. It wasn’t until you that there was ever even a glimmer of hope for us.”

“Peace, JK,” Yoons murmurs. “It is the truth—The Seelie are victims in this. You see, the Fey responsible for all of this first came to the Unseelie Court as a liaison from the Seelie. It is no secret that though we are of the same people, we have conflicted against one another since the dawn of our time, at least until some fifty years ago. The Unseelie and Seelie Kings had enough. They were tired of seeing their people suffer. They came together to spark a truce. All conflict ceased, and trade began—bringing near-instant fruitfulness for both sides. The Hollow Lands remained neutral ground where markets were held at the beginning of each new moon phase, and things were going wonderfully. Then Chaddick, the Seelie Queen’s brother by marriage, came to the Unseelie Court to continue with the politics, and it has been darkness and decline ever since, beginning with his murder of the Unseelie King.”

“And you’re the only one that can save your people? Why you? Why your family? What exactly happened?” The more you learn, the harder it becomes to find a reason not to agree to help. It’s not like you have many other options. Perhaps if you decide to help, you can barter for your own help in return.

“As Greater Fey, we posed the biggest threat to thwarting his plans. I escaped, but only barely. I am the only remaining Greater Fey of the Unseelie Court who knows the truth and has the ability to do something about it. I represent the only hope there is.”

Silence settles between you and Yoons, his last words sinking in with a finality. You glance down at the cup nestled between your palms. As if without your permission, you bring it up and slowly press it to your lips. The slightly bitter and floral scent fills your lungs before sliding over your bottom lip and coating your tongue. It’s the tiniest sip, barely enough to wet your throat, but already you feel better—calmer. There is no apparent mindlessness, you’re not consumed with the desire to obey, and something inside you tells you that you know you could still leave if you wanted to.

“If I agree to help you—to become your mate…I want you to promise me that you’ll take me to a gateway and allow me to leave at the very next Samhain, unharmed, and with no strings attached.” The cup rattles gently against the tabletop as your trembling hands place it back down. “This is the only way I will agree to help you.” The words you choose are careful, constructed, and spoken in a way that is plain and concise, with no room for misinterpretation or fae foolery. “There will be absolutely no tricks, deceptions, or wayward attempts from you to keep me here. I want a guarantee that you will do all in your power to ensure I get back to my world in as much the same condition at which I left it as you can manage.”

Yoons studies you for a moment, his eyes unreadable as they flicker over your features. “I will agree to this…with one variable if you will. If I am able to free my people and see to it that Chaddick is no longer a threat, I will personally escort you to the Carterhaugh gateway come next Samhain and will allow you to leave with no further obligations. I, however, can not guarantee there will be no strings attached, per se. You see, becoming my mate would mean we are mated for all of our respective lifetimes. Being the mate to a Greater Fey, even living in your mortal realm, will mean you will still see the effects of our bond. Your life will become irrevocably longer. You will experience greater strength and stamina; you will, for all intents and purposes, be Fey yourself. Know that there is always a danger in being one of our kind living in your world. Even across the distance of parallel realms, we would still be aware of each other…the mate bond is an intimate one.”

Joon clears his throat before giving you a gentle smile. “I do know of a way to create an herbal suppressant, though. It will not completely blanket the bond, but it would ease the ache of separation. I could show you how to make it. Thankfully, all the herbs and spices you would need grow in your world, too.”

“The ache of separation?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at Yoons.

“As I said, I can not guarantee no strings. After many years apart, bonded mates may feel…ah, well, something akin to discomfort of the soul. A sadness that no amount of sun or sweets can remedy.” Yoons straights again in his seat, quickly bringing up his teacup to take another sip. “It is something I am willing to endure for the safety of my people. No pain could possibly compare to the pain I know in my heart currently.” His green eyes flash, hatred and malice darkening his features before he swipes his free hand over his face and sighs. “It has been a long day, longer for you, I am sure. If you would, Na—ahem, Joon, see to it that our guest has dry clothing and a place to rest. You may have an hour to rest and think about my offer.”

Pushing up from the table, Yoons places his cup back down and makes his way to the door you came in through. JK beats him to it, wrenching the knob and yanking it open. Yoons walks through the open door, JK disappearing behind it. The door thumps closed, sealing the interior of the small cottage in silence once more.

“Come, my dear, let’s get you more comfortable.” Joon gestures toward one of the doorways at the back of the room.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

“This is a terrible idea. I swear, if you had wings…I. Would. Clip. Them,” Yoongi seethes, rounding on Jungkook, punctuating the last few words with sharp jabs to the center of his chest.

Jungkook swats Yoongi’s hand away, baring his teeth in turn. “The only terrible idea is you agreeing to let her return to her world in the end! You know the consequences of that. Are you really willing to accept an eternity of crippling pain for her?”

Yoongi sighs, turning away from Jungkook. His eyes fix on the large, green leaves of Namjoon’s seeded oak that are closer to the ground than they were yesterday, faintly twisting in the hazy breeze wafting from the west—the direction of the Seelie Court. The air holds a floral scent, one that Yoongi knows fondly.

“I do not think I have much of a choice, my friend,” he finally admits, resigned. “We need this to work. You have said so yourself that we are running out of time. The next full moon is just a few days away. If I cannot access the rest of my power by then, all will be lost, and you and I will never see the stars of the Unseelie Court again. It is a thought I can barely bring myself to contemplate. My mother…” Yoongi doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Jungkook knows exactly what would become of Yoongi’s mother—the woman that is just as much a mother to Jungkook—if all of this fails.

Jungkook closes the distance between himself and Yoongi. He hesitates, warring internally on whether or not he will be crossing a line, but finally places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi instantly tenses, making Jungkook flinch, but he keeps his hand where it is. “You know I would do anything for you. If there were even the slightest possibility that we could do this any other way, I’d dump her back in the loch myself in a heartbeat. Just know this, Yoongi, you have agreed to see that she returns to her world if she so wishes…but I have made no such promise.” Letting his hand slip from Yoongi’s shoulder, he huffs in irritation and disappears into Namjoon’s garden beyond the seeded oak. “I’ll gather some food for dinner.”

Yoongi watches Jungkook until he’s lost among the foliage. He knows agreeing to your terms was foolish. He just wasn’t sure what else he could have done to help convince you to agree. It took everything in Yoongi not to lunge across the table, grapple you to the floor, and use his magick to force you into submission. It would have been easy, a simple feat in just a matter of moments. But it would have been too risky.

There isn’t much known to him, personally, about the bond between a Fey and a human other than what his mother told him during his childhood. What he told you was mostly true, with perhaps a few omissions. It is true that the Fey took willing humans for their mated bonds, but that is such an archaic practice that Yoongi has never actually known a mated human-Fey pair. In all his years, it has only ever been Fey mated with Fey. It has been a very long time since a Fey needed access to their full power.

From what he knows, a mated bond can only work to its fullest potential with a willing human. Forcing a human into a mated bond has been known to have the opposite effect than desired. A Fey that takes an unwilling human will be tainted by the bond, their magick forever infused with darkness and pain. At least, that’s what the stories say. Yoongi entertained the idea in the beginning when he first escaped from Chaddick. Jungkook even captured a human man, hauling him back through the gateway just to have to take him back after Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to bond the man against his will. It’s been a very precarious line to walk ever since.

“A damned fool,” Yoongi whispers to himself before following Jungkook into the garden. He knows there is no use in arguing with Jungkook over his last declaration, so he will just have to tread carefully and hope you don’t catch wind of that revelation.

Namjoon’s garden is something of pride and bounty. Glowing, magick-infused spheres dot the meandering paths between beds of vegetables and fruits. Vines slither along runners of trellis, and branches ladened with juicy fruits dangle within easy reach at the end of each path. Everything in the garden, except for a few vegetables and herbs, is mortal. Just another precaution that Namjoon personally undertook to help Yoongi in this quest. Without the help of Jungkook and Namjoon, Yoongi knows he would never have had a chance.

“Do you think we should have asked if she has any allergies?” Jungkook muses as he digs up a cluster of red potatoes. “Maybe she only eats meat. I did find her by the grill pits. I have a few snares in the western glen that I can check.” He rattles off the different locations and how he’s learned the best runs to set up traps on, and how they change with the seasons.

Yoongi can’t help but smile as he listens to Jungkook. The youthful swagger left Jungkook’s step around the same time the roundness of his face did—when they escaped the Unseelie Court nearly a decade ago. Yoongi wonders if Jungkook mourns the playful nature that once possessed the guard as he does. Despite Yoongi’s status as a Greater Fey and Jungkook’s lack of, growing up together solidified their bond. The day Jungkook got down on his knees and swore himself in service of Yoongi only helped to strengthen it.

It’s on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to talk about you, to muse along with Jungkook about what you do and don’t like. But, he holds back, choosing a different thought to voice aloud, lest he somehow gives himself some odd sense of false hope by letting you linger too long in his conscious thoughts. “I think Namjoon, at least, would appreciate some meat to add to the stew.” Yoongi moves to grab one of the harvest baskets Namjoon keeps in the garden, depositing the vegetables and fruits he chose. “I will take these inside and help Namjoon begin dinner if you want to check your snares.”

“Sure,” Jungkook agrees, depositing his own armful of goods into the basket. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

Yoongi makes his way out of the garden, parting ways with Jungkook at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. Pausing at the top of the stairs, Yoongi takes a moment to look east, toward the Unseelie Court. For all the years he’s been in hiding, the constant drive to return home hasn’t lessened in the slightest. He can feel the longing deep in his heart and soul, his magick calling out to be within the barrier of his home. Perhaps, he’ll be returning there sooner than he imagined. Hopefully.

He hefts the basket onto his hip, freeing one of his hands to open the door. It swings open slowly, revealing Namjoon tending to a boiling pot over the fire. The welcoming smell of baking bread fills the small space.

“Where is she?” he immediately asks when he realizes you’re nowhere to be seen.

Namjoon smirks, his warm brown eyes twinkling in the light from the fire. “I offered her the courtesy of a warm bath. You are welcome to go in and check on her if you would like.” He nods toward the second door across the room, now firmly shut—a tiny sliver of light peeks from under it.

Yoongi scoffs. “You have a poor sense of humor.”

“Do not worry. I did not let your precious human mate escape. As much as I am of the middle ground, our friendship means more to me than neutrality,” Namjoon comments quietly. “After all, I have been harboring a pair of wanted Fey for nearly a decade now.”

It’s not a jab by any means; Yoongi knows that, but those words add a slight ache to the crushing weight already on his shoulders. Just a reminder of how important this all is. Yoongi and Jungkook aren’t the only ones that would be facing irrevocable consequences should this not succeed. Even though Namjoon has been able to hide Yoongi and Jungkook behind the ward of his magick here in the clearing, Namjoon’s magick has slowly been depleting. With each passing year, the ward weakens. The drooping branches of Namjoon’s seeded oak are proof enough of that. Whereas the tree once stood tall, proud, with limbs extended high into the air—they’re now far closer to the ground than the clouds, a very alarming reality.

Before he can reply to Namjoon, a thump followed by a muffled yelp has him dropping the harvest basket—sending fruit and vegetables scattering across the floor—and racing to the closed door. It swings open, the hinges squealing in protest of the force at which Yoongi opens it. “Are you okay?!” Yoongi exclaims, eyes wide on your naked form, bent over to retrieve the towel puddled on the floor by the sink.

“What the—close the fucking door!” you yell, snatching up the towel and trying to cover yourself.

Your words barely register before Yoongi lets out his own yell and scrambles to close the door. “Sorry! Sorry!” he yells through the now-closed door. “I heard you scream! Seven Hells consume me. I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

Your voice grows louder as you walk closer to the door. “I’m fine,” is your breathy reply. Yoongi can hear the barely concealed laughter in your words. “I missed the last step getting out of the bath and caught myself on the sink. The only thing wounded is my pride at this point.”

Yoongi jerks away from the door when he feels you opening it. He tries to look anywhere but at you when it slowly opens, revealing you now with the towel tucked under your arms. His traitorous eyes lock onto a water drop that slips down your neck and traces the curved mound of your breast before being absorbed by the towel. He clears his throat, taking another step back and forcing his eyes to the floor. “I—uh, that was—I am terribly sorry. I should have knocked or…”

You do laugh now. It’s a pretty sound, one that has Yoongi’s eyes flickering back up to take in the slight smile now curling your lips. You take a deep breath. Yoongi is proud of himself for refraining from watching the rise and fall of your towel when you do so. “Well, I guess that will help with the awkwardness of seeing me naked before we have to…you know.”

A choking sound echoes from across the room, Namjoon trying to suppress his own laughter. Yoongi’s brows bunch together as he frantically tries deciphering some hidden meaning behind your words. Because, surely, you don’t mean what he thinks you do. “Is that your way of saying yes?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he fights the need to heave air into his lungs for fear of breathing too loud and not hearing your response.

“Not how I intended to say it, but yeah…umm,” you pause, shifting awkwardly on your feet, wet your lips, and try again. “I mean—yes, it’s a yes. I’ll help you if you promise to help me return at the next Samhain.”

Yoongi can’t believe what he's hearing. He was sure he’d have to barter and spend several more hours trying to convince you, despite his earlier words of only giving you an hour to decide.

“Yes, yes, okay. Agreed.” Yoongi hesitates, wondering if he should let you get dressed. But decides he doesn’t want to give you any more time to possibly talk yourself out of the agreement. He steps toward you quickly, extending his right hand. “You have my word, I swear it. For your agreement to be my mate, I will do everything in my power to see to it that you return home at the next Samhain if that is your wish.”

Yoongi watches a myriad of emotions play out on your face as you stare at his long and slender fingers hanging in the air between you. He can see the moment you mentally leap over whatever last hurdle there was. You take a soft breath–that Yoongi allows himself to watch swell your chest this time–and slide your hand into his.

“It’s a dea—“ a loud yell outside the front door cuts off your words. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around yours, and he lets a trickle of his magick leech into you, cementing the agreement.

The smell of jasmine and chamomile floods the room as the front door is slammed open. That combined fragrance makes his heart ache, but not nearly as much as the look on the face of the figure now standing in the open doorway. He was so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized the scent in the air around the cabin had changed.

In strides a striking figure, regaling in beautiful blush-colored robes with silver accents. Jungkook follows quickly behind, a string of fuzzy hares tethered to his belt. “If you would just listen to me!” He stops in his tracks, eyes flicking from the newcomer to where you and Yoongi are standing across the room, hands still clasped together. “Ah, Seven Hells…you did it, didn’t you?”

Yoongi opens his mouth, intent to address the room, but a sharp hand is slashed in the air, cutting off anything he could possibly say in his own defense. “Sixty years,” whispers a voice Yoongi knows intimately. He is beautiful as always with his dark brown hair, the silky strands shifting to reveal his ears' soft, pointed tips. His plush lips help conceal the points of his canines, but as he speaks, they peek out. “Sixty years gone in an instant. I knew this day was coming. I knew it needed to come for the world to be right again…but I thought you would at least afford me the decency of allowing me to be here to help, to witness, to ensure you did not bind yourself to someone unworthy of the status of the bonded mate of a Fey Prince!” By the time he’s finished speaking, his voice has risen to a booming volume that fills the entire space.

“Mini.” Yoongi winces as Jimin sneers at his nickname—the name Yoongi has moaned into his ear many times over the last sixty years.

“Wait—a Prince? You’re a fae Prince! Oh, for fucks sake, what else are you keeping from me?!”

Tightening his grip around your hand, Yoongi prevents you from snatching your hand away in anger. He groans, tasting the sudden sour flare of betrayal coming from you. “Fuck.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoons and the stranger, who you heard him call Mini, disappear out the door quickly after it’s revealed that Yoons is actually a fae Prince. He gave you a guarded look, dropped your hand, and stormed out the door with Mini hot on his heels. JK shut the door and has been standing with his back to it like a guarding sentinel ever since.

That was hours ago now, you’re sure. It’s hard to tell, considering what Joon explained about the passage of time in the fae realm. When he ushered you back into the lone bedroom, where he had clothes waiting for you laid out on the bed, you asked how long you had been there. He shrugged, explaining that time passes as it needs to based on the power demand of the sun and moon, but if he could guess, it would be nearing midday back in your world now, leaving you to balk at that realization as you got dressed.

Now, you sit cross-legged on an overstuffed pillow on the floor, elbow on your knee, and chin resting in your palm. You watch the fire crackle in the hearth. The stew Joon made with the vegetables and hares brought in earlier sits heavy in your belly. It was tasteless on your tongue, the flavors lost to your senses as you tried to come to terms with your situation.

You cringe at a loud curse from outside. It’s been a near-constant yelling match since the front door closed. The voices are muffled enough that you can’t make out every word, but it seems Yoons and Mini enjoy punctuating their sentences with very loud profanities.

Joon sighs from his spot in a rocking chair on the other side of the fire. He has a block of alder situated in his lap, shearing off small fluffs of wood with a tiny whittling knife. “I think this is the longest lover's quarrel they have ever had,” he murmurs, almost as if to himself.

“Lovers quarrel?” you question, glancing away from the fire and toward Joon.

“Oh,” Joon laughs awkwardly. “I did not realize I said that so loud. I—uh, well, I suppose you will find out eventually. They,” he nods toward the door, “have been together most of their lives.”

That’s an interesting revelation. “Cool. So, I get to be the Jolene in this situation,” you scoff. “Typical. Apparently, fae males are just as bad as human ones. They can’t be honest and think it’s okay to have multiple lovers just because you didn’t specifically tell him you wanted to be exclusive. You’d think that would be a given, right? But also, shouldn’t transparency come from the person who wants to do the hustling? Fuck me, I guess, for assuming men have the emotional maturity to navigate a relationship or, heaven forbid, know how to communicate beyond the twitch in their pants…” You let your words trail off, realizing you just let them vomit out in frustration.

“Well, I am not sure who or what Jolene is, but I know Yoons has had nothing but good intentions for this whole situation. Things have moved a lot faster than any of us could have anticipated. It is not like he was intentionally keeping Mini from you, nor you from Mini. They both know good and well that this is far more important than whatever feelings they have for one another. Fate is a cruel master that we are all at the mercy of.” Joon's speaking is oddly comforting, even if it is pretty blunt. He reminds you of your grandpa in many ways, seemingly knowing what needs to be said and when.

You may not understand the situation to the degree that they do, but you can still relate to and sympathize with their desperation. There was a point where you wanted something so badly you would and did do anything to obtain it. Granted, a sterling silver and amethyst engagement ring doesn’t quite equate to the lives of an entire people, but you still know what it feels like to fight tooth and nail for something you wholeheartedly want. It’s part of why you were so adamant about Monica enjoying herself with Malcolm and trying not to put so much expectation and demand into the situation. You’ve learned that life and its opportunities are fickle at best, so it’s inherently important to grab onto them while you can.

As opportunities go, despite Yoons apparent inability to not be the stereotypical fae you heard about in your grandpa’s stories, you know you don’t have many right now. Your best one is still to keep to the bargain you’ve agreed to. The faster you help Yoons, the quicker you can leave. Though, you reckon maybe you won’t be able to go all that fast. From your recollection, JK said Samhain wasn’t for another six moons.

“Joon, what happens once things are back to normal around here? Do I just stay here with you until Samhain?” you ask.

The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. “You are more than welcome to stay here, but I imagine Yoons will want his bonded mate as close as possible until he can see you back through the gate himself when the time comes.”

“Why would you even want to go back?” The question surprises you, coming from JK. You had almost forgotten he was standing by the door.

You drop your hand and turn to look at him. The fire casts his face in shadows, highlighting the bridge of his nose and the cut of his cheekbones. He looks every bit the fae of lore that you once fantasized about. His eyes bore into yours, lips mashed into a severe line as he waits for you to respond.

“Why would I want to go back?” you parrot back incredulously. “Are you serious? Why wouldn’t I?! That’s where my friends, family, and all other things important to me are. It’s not like you took me from a life of nothing. You haven’t done me any favors…I can only imagine the domino effect this will have on the people in my world.”

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

“Mal, why isn’t she back yet? She’s abandoned me after everything I’ve done for her…traveling halfway around the world chasing after woo-woo kids' stories all because she can’t cope with losing someone.” Monica mumbles into Malcolm’s shoulder. If the way her stomach is clawing at itself, she’s sure it’s been hours since you left to get food. “I’m hungry.”

Malcolm shifts Monica in his lap, getting ready to stand up with her in his arms. “Well, I am glad she brought ye half wey aroond the world. And, I’m sure she’s braw. She likely got caught up in th’ festivities again. I will have mah pal, Finn, keep an eye oot for her. I think I should be getting ye in kip. Otherwise, ye’ll be in a fankle come mornin’.”

“At least send her a text or something for me, please?” Monica whines. “What about my food? Can you ask her where my food is, too? Ugh.”

Swinging Monica into his arms, Malcolm cradles her close, whispering assurances that he’ll take care of everything and not to worry. He calls out to his friend, Finn, asking him to keep an eye out for you and, if he sees you, to let you know that he’s taken Monica back to his place to sleep it off.

After getting Monica strapped into the passenger seat, he shoots off a quick text to your number that he got from her phone, reiterating his intentions and providing his home address if you wanted to come to check on her after you’re done at the festival.

When morning rolls around, you’re still nowhere to be found and aren’t responding to any texts or calls. The hangover is nothing compared to the guilt Monica feels recalling her words and actions last night. You may not have heard what she said to Malcolm, but she hates that she said it regardless.

“Where is she?” Monica voices for what feels like the thousandth time, wiping at the smeared mascara under her red-rimmed eyes.

Monica was nearing her wit's end when you still hadn’t shown up by lunchtime. Malcolm took her down to the local Police Authority to file a report; they immediately went into action. So far, the entire Bowhill House estate and surrounding woods have been searched with no luck. The rental car is still parked at the estate, and all your luggage and credentials are still in your hotel room. It’s like you simply disappeared.

Malcolm pulls the hot kettle off the burner, setting it aside to begin preparing coffee. The bakery sits empty, aside from him and Monica and the occasional officer or concerned friend who pops by with any updates. The time in between information has grown increasingly more significant, putting Monica even further on edge.

“She’ll turn up, lass. She would nae have left ye.” The assurances don’t seem to be doing as much as they had before.

Monica sighs, staring out the bakery window, trying to think of anything important that might lead to finding your whereabouts. Deep down, though, she can’t shake off the niggling thought that you’re no longer here…but somewhere else.

🌸🌸🌸

JK glares at you as if you’ve somehow offended him with your words. “At least your loved ones are safe, protected back in the human world…not mere days away from utter destruction.” His words make you grind your teeth, irritated in your own way that they make you feel selfish and ungrateful.

Joon clears his throat, breaking the thick tension in the air. “That will be enough of that; from both of you. Far too much negativity has permeated through the eaves of my home, and I will not allow it to continue.” A soft breath leaves him as he returns to his wood, murmuring something else you barely catch, “I do not think my magick can handle much more strain anyway.”

Drawing your legs up to your chest, you return to watching the fire dance in the hearth. The silken fabric of the pants Joon gave you slips along your legs as you shift, bringing with it soft whiffs of cedar and clove. The entire outfit smells faintly of it, like mulled spices and freshly chopped cedar chips. It’s comforting, much like the lavender and thyme tea from earlier. It reminds you of your grandpa. Your thoughts shift to him and his stories. A sad smile tugs at your lips, and you wonder if he’d believe you if you told him where you’d found yourself. You’re sure he would.

The voices outside have quieted down. Your eyes begin to droop as exhaustion creeps in. Since time holds little meaning here, you wouldn’t be surprised to see the sun peeking through the windows soon or several hours from now.

When the front door creaks open, you’re nearly slumped over on the floor asleep. You jerk upright and blink rapidly to bring your eyes back in focus. Yoons walks in, followed by a very somber-looking Mini. They both look as if they have been crying, eyes red-rimmed, and cheeks blotchy.

Mini approaches you, back ramrod straight and shoulders squared. He looks down at you along the bridge of his nose. His eyes are a startling turquoise color, something you missed when he first stormed through the door hours ago. They are soft, unlike the glinting green and gold of Yoons’ eyes. “I am sorry.”

You’re taken aback by his apology, balking up at him in confusion. “What?”

“My behavior was unbecoming of someone of my stature. I formally extend an apology to you on behalf of the entire Seelie Court and my position as Crowned Prince, Protector of The Sun, and Guardian to The Stars.” The words are stilted, sounding rehearsed and lacking any genuine emotion. “I hope you do not allow your first perception of me to color the view you hold for the rest of my people.” He cuts a short bow, looming over you as he does, before straightening and turning toward Yoons, standing by JK near the door. “I will be going now.”

“Mini, it does not have to be like this, and you know it.” Yoons crossed his arms over his chest, eyes fixed in a glare.

You can’t see the look on Mini’s face, but you can’t imagine it’s a nice one. “I would rather chew off my own tongue than witness the love of my life fornicating with a magickal void. I will return tomorrow night to move forward with our agreement of attack. Until then, goodnight.”

Yoons moves quickly, cutting off Mini’s advances toward the door. “Please, just stay. They will not miss you at court if you are gone for a few nights. They already think you are patrolling along the border.” He hesitates, flexing his fingers where they are wrapped around Mini’s bicep. “I was hoping you would do the binding for us as a way of offering your blessing. I would not want it to be done by anyone else.”

Mini scoffs. “You want me to be the one to bind you?” Bitterness coats his words, “Do you have no shame? You would ask me to do this, for your sake? What about my sake?”

“Please, Mini, I need this from you. I need this to know that once all of this is over, we will still be okay, that we will still be us” Yoons pleads, moving his hands to grip the lapels of Mini’s jacket. “I cannot do this without you. There is no point in doing this without you because, without you, I might as well not have a people, a kingdom…I would have nothing.”

“Fuck you,” Mini whispers, resignation taking the heat out of it. Yoons pulls him into a fierce hug, clinging to him in desperation. “Seven Suns knows this is not fair. I do not know what I did in a past life to deserve this.”

“I promise to spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” Yoons responds, his words choked with emotion.

You feel like you’re witnessing something private, something you shouldn’t be present for. There is no doubt the connection between them. You’re suddenly feeling something you haven’t in a long time; envy. To love and be loved, in turn, is a desire you hold close to your heart. Tearing your eyes away from where Yoons and Mini are still held in each other's arms, you let your gaze slide across the room, briefly landing on JK and then Joon, who seem to be ignoring the other two as you’re trying to do.

Running Mini’s words back through your head, you realize he mentioned his position as crowned prince of the Seelie Court. Of course he would also be a prince. No wonder he doesn’t think you’re good enough for Yoons. You’re nowhere near having a status like that. You feel a pang of sadness, knowing they can’t be together as mates all because Yoons needs to have access to his full power. It seems that Joon is right; fate is, indeed, a cruel master.

“The sun will be rising soon. We should hurry,” Yoons murmurs, finally pulling away from Mini. “Um, Beautiful,” he stumbles over the nickname given to you by JK, “I also want to apologize.” He turns to face you, quickly rubbing the sleeve of his top over his cheeks to clear away the residual tears. “This is not how any of this was supposed to pan out. I know you must have many questions, but time is not on our side. We are both bound by our word and agreement. I promise to answer any more of your questions once we have fulfilled the bond we have agreed to.”

You chew your bottom lip a moment, focusing on the knot you can feel sitting in the center of your chest, which you know is tied to the agreement you made. There is surprisingly little waiver in your voice as you speak, “What happens if I go back on my word? What if I have changed my mind and am no longer willing?”

The room falls into an uncomfortable quiet. As he stares at you, darkness boils in the mossy depths of Yoons’ eyes. “What can I offer you for that not to happen?” His words slice through the silence, quiet but teetering on the edge of barely restrained frustration.

Smoothing your hands along the front of the borrowed top you’re wearing, you stand from your place on the cushion and face Yoons fully. “I want you to give me your true name.”

“Absolutely fucking not!” JK roars immediately.

“Let us be reasonable here,” Namjoon tries, knuckles turning white as he clutches the wood in his hands.

Mini hisses, baring his teeth at you in challenge. “How dare you! I will—”

“Yoongi. Yoongi of House Min, Crowned Prince of the Unseelie Court, Protector of The Moon, and Guardian to The Stars.” A sense of power settles next to that knot in your chest. You weren’t sure if the stories about the power of given names were true, but it was worth asking; you’re glad you did. Holding leverage over this fae gives you a sense of peace, despite the circumstances.

You nod, satisfied and finally feeling in control for the first time since coming through the gateway. “Okay, Yoongi, what do I need to do?”

“We begin with the binding of our fates,” he says, glancing at Mini, who has a guarded expression on his face. “As the moon gives way to the sun, and the lines between the planes of magick blur, allowing them to embrace and kiss like lost lovers, we will exchange vows bound beneath a knot of eternity.”

“Under the oak?” Mini asks quietly.

Yoongi nods. “It is the closest that we have. JK, if you will?” He holds out a hand to his guard. You watch as JK slowly reaches up and undoes the silver necklace with the crescent pendant from around his neck.

“May I witness?” JK questions, his eyes wide and rounded with curiosity and wonder. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the flickering light or not, but you’re almost sure you see the glossiness of unshed tears in their depths as well.

“I would not have it any other way, my friend,” Yoongi answers in kind, taking the silver necklace from JK with one hand and clapping him gently on the shoulder with the other. “Joon, you are welcome to bear witness as well.”

Joon hums thoughtfully, setting aside his wood project and tools on the floor. “It would be the greatest honor to stand in observance.”

“What exactly is going to happen?” you ask. You clench your fists at your side, fighting off the sudden wave of nerves barreling through you. You might have power over this fae, but you’re essentially about to marry him, and that feels far more daunting now that it’s about to happen.

Yoongi steps forward and takes one of your hands, gently uncurling your fingers and soothing them with his own. “There is an incantation, ancient words that bind souls together. We will clasp each other's arms like this,” he explains, sliding his fingers along your wrist and forearm before firmly grasping it so his wrist presses against the inside of yours. “We will wrap the silver chain of JK’s necklace around our wrists to keep the pulse points connected as we are bound, my magick to you and you to my magick. This opens the doorway to access the well of my magick. The act of…giving ourselves to one another—removing all barriers—will allow you to step through that doorway, anchoring my connection to my inner well through your access.”

“It sounds so mysterious and, let’s be honest, crazy.” You shake your head, silently pleading for some sort of sign that this is the right thing to do and that you’re not blindly putting your faith in a group of deranged strangers. The breath in your lungs wheezes out, and with the next inhale, you catch the faint cedar and clover scent of the borrowed clothes you’re wearing. It has a calming effect, one you latch onto and allow yourself to cling to. Everything happens for a reason. That’s something you have always believed. Perhaps the thing you’ve been chasing, that something that drove you to fly across the world on a whim, is this. Why else would all of this have happened? “So crazy that it has to be true, right? Fuck. Please don’t let me regret this,” you mutter to yourself.

Mini gestures impatiently toward the door. “Come on, before I have sense enough to change my mind.”

Yoongi guides you out the door and around the side of the tiny home. This is your first time getting a good look at the area. Joon’s cottage sits in a grassy clearing, a massive towering oak in the center, like everything else was built around it. The outer wall of the house sits just under the lowest branches, the fat leaves lightly brushing the lip of the roof. A small picket fence surrounds an expansive, full and lush garden with greenery and crops.

Mini, JK, and Joon follow you and Yoongi around the oak's far side. A large stone wall with a circular opening spanning through the center is hidden on the other side of the garden. Through the space, you can see a pathway into Joon’s garden, lined with blossoming white and purple flowers. “A moon gate,” you whisper in awe.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you in surprise. “You know moon gates?”

“Well, yes, I’ve seen them dating as far back as the 17th century in China, though they are also popular in Bermuda. They’re often associated with wealth or good omens,” you rattle off the generic information you know about them. “Though, my grandpa always had a theory that, like structures such as Stonehenge and the Carnac Stones, the moon gates—given the proper implements—could be used as ceremonial gateways to and from other planes or as conduits of power.”

All three of them give you mild looks of astonishment. “You must tell me more about your grandfather once all of this is over,” Yoongi requests, much to your own surprise. “He sounds like an extraordinarily intuitive man.”

“He was, yes.” And with that, you decide you’re no longer acting on your sole behalf but on his, too. You know he would tell you this is the right thing to do. He would be proud of your sacrifice and commitment to helping Yoongi. “I think I would like that very much.”

A distinct pink hue begins to infiltrate the horizon, just over the treeline surrounding the clearing. “The sun is rising,” Joon comments lightly.

Standing together in the opening of the moon gate, Mini and JK work to secure the silver crescent moon necklace around your and Yoongi’s wrists. There is a fervent way to how they work, methodical with nimble and sure fingers. “You said before that we would exchange vows under the knot of eternity?” you say it more as a question than a statement, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Surprisingly, it’s Mini who answers. “Moon gates are an infinite symbol. They have no ending or beginning. They represent eternal continuity. The masonry of the moon gate is a form of stone knotting, precise cuts and measurements that allow the stone to secure together like a knot. It is integral to how the stone retains its perfectly rounded opening, thus a knot of eternity.”

“Beautiful,” you whisper under your breath, having a newfound interest in the symbols and nature of things here that are considered relatively mundane in your own world.

Yoongi’s hand is cool against the heat of your skin. The tips of his fingers graze lightly along the underside of your forearm, sending a slight flush of goosebumps up your arm. Those green and gold eyes meet yours, holding all his worries and relief, reservations and hope within them. He’s such a complex creature, you realize, full of facets and depths deeper than you can imagine. He’s a drowned soul, just someone looking for a way back to the surface . Fate may be a cruel master, but it seems also to have a poor sense of humor.

As the sun replaces the moon, darkness melding into light, Mini speaks words that you do not understand, but you know for sure that they are beautiful. The poetic words chanted over your union are rhythmic, flowing in a way that tugs at your heart. Joon and JK stand on either side of the moon gate, watching in silence as Mini recites the words of the bonding incantation. Finally, his words trail off, and he looks to Yoongi, giving him a slight nod.

Yoongi takes a slow breath, his eyes dropping to where your hand is clasped to his forearm. “As the moon gives way to the rising sun, so too will I give way to you as my mate. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my stars and find warmth within my soul. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

With his words, you feel an effervescent tingle beneath your skin from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. You’re not sure what to say or if you need to say anything at all, but you feel like you should.

“I—uh…”

“Just speak from your heart,” Mini encourages, sounding genuinely friendly toward you for the first time.

You look at him, realizing just how hard this must be. Wetness is gathered along his lashes, and his hands are fisting into the sides of his linen pants. He looks at Yoongi like he created the universe, and you suppose that maybe Yoongi did create one—the universe he shares with Mini.

The words come easy now, flowing like you knew what to say all along. “The moon spends its entire life reflecting the light of the sun so that others may see, even in the dark. I offer myself to you not as the sun but as the ocean, so that you may look upon me and see the reflection of yourself with every cresting wave, to see yourself as others see you and know your full potential. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

There is a small glimmer of playfulness that you can see in the awe on Yoongi’s face. His hand is no longer cold against your flesh. The buzzing beneath your skin has begun to increase to a staccato pulse, centered in the middle of your chest. The smell of fresh cedar and mulled spice reaches you suddenly, making you realize it is, in fact, Yoongi that smells like that. The subtle scent of jasmine and chamomile mix with it as Mini moves to begin unwinding the silver necklace from around your and Yoongi’s wrists.

“Thank you, Mini, for this gift you have given me.”

Mini gives Yoongi a sad smile. “I am sorry for the way I acted before. I know I have been selfish and a fool, but I will never stop loving you.” His eyes drift to yours. “I thank you for everything you do for Yoongi and our people. Your act of selflessness and kindness will be forever marked in our history.” He finishes removing the small silver chain, allowing you and Yoongi to release each other.

The sun is starting to peak above the treeline, flooding the garden with soft light that catches in the silvery strands of Yoongi’s hair and makes his eyes glitter. Yoongi’s hand slides down your arm until his fingers meet yours. It feels like he’s beneath your skin, the touch heightened in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“We will remain out here for the day, I think,” Joon comments. “It is sure to be a pleasantly beautiful one and perfect for a nap under the oak.”

“I should return to my patrol. I shall return here before nightfall to move forward with the plan.” Mini hesitates, looking uncertain as to what to do. Finally, he briefly grips Yoongi’s free hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go and taking a step back. “Until then.”

You watch as he crosses the clearing, his shoulders tight and his steps stiff. He glances back over his shoulder before disappearing beyond the treeline heading west, back toward the border of the Seelie Court.

“What plan is he talking about?” you ask, turning your attention to Yoongi. His hand still lingers on yours, his fingers lightly tapping against your palm in a calming rhythm.

Yoongi nods to Joon and JK, who have started to meander into the garden through the moon gate. “We think it best to move as soon as possible. My powers are at their greatest when the moon is high, so once night falls again, and we are fully bonded…I should be powerful enough to enter back into the Unseelie Court and finally confront Chaddick—to kill him and his swamp hag, Borgia.”

“That seems so…soon, so sudden. Would it not be better to wait a few days to get used to your new level of power?”

The look Yoongi gives you makes you want to cry. There is so much anguish and hurt you’re certain you can feel the extension of it in your own chest. “I have waited for nearly ten years. I do not know the extent of what horrors have befallen my mother. Every day I do not return is one more day that that bastard gets to extort and pull the strings of my people.” His fingers drop from yours. “Please try to understand.”

Yoongi turns and begins walking back to the front of the cottage. You mean to follow him and apologize, but Joon calls out to you from the garden. “Just a moment, please.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching Yoongi disappear around the corner before turning and finding Joon standing just on the other side of the opening of the moon gate. “What’s up?” you try not to sound too irritated, but you’re not sure it works.

Joon rubs the back of his neck, eyes locked onto the ground at your feet. “I was not sure when would be a good time, but I wanted to give you this before you went back in.” He looks up, extending his hand toward you. In his open palm rests a single white flower, the petals wide and curling haphazardly. “It is called Silver Ward. We use it to control the moon cycle of a female. I believe from what JK has told me of your world…you would call this birth control.”

That has warmth settling into your cheeks. “Oh. Thank you, I think.” You take the flower, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger. “What, um, what exactly do I do with it?” The bud left a chalky residue on Joon’s palm, and you can feel the powdery texture between your fingers.

“You need just one petal. Let it dissolve under your tongue. I am told it tastes like sweet cream. It offers protection for up to one moon cycle. I grow it here in the garden if you have need of more,” he says the last part hurriedly, giving you a shy smile before gesturing back through the moon gate. “If you need anything, we will be…here.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you,” you offer, blowing out your cheeks and eyeing the small white flower again. You turn to go, but Joon clears his throat, making you look back.

“I know this is unconventional, and you and Yoongi are practical strangers, but go easy on him. These are new waters for him to navigate. He will most likely make a fool of himself at least once.” And with that, Joon disappears back into the garden. You stand there easily more confused than you were before. You’re not sure what exactly Joon means concerning Yoongi, but there is only one way to find out.

The sun has risen above the trees by now, but the interior of Joon’s cottage is dark, the curtains over the windows drawn. A small fire burns in the hearth, illuminating enough to see the flower now nestled in your palm. You pluck off a single petal, the chalky coating feels silky against your fingers. You set the flower on the dining table and bring the petal up to your lips. It tastes like marshmallow fluff and disintegrates quickly under your tongue.

There are a myriad of new smells inside the small space, but the most prominent is a mixture of pine and orange blossom. With each breath you take, you’re sure you can distinguish the different smells on a deeper level than before, almost like you’re experiencing them with more than just your sense of smell. Already you feel so different, and you’re not even fully bonded to Yoongi. Before you can let yourself dwell too much on the changes and the unknown that’s to come, you take a deep breath and approach the door to the bedroom.

“Here goes nothing, I guess,” you mumble to yourself. The door to the bedroom is pushed nearly closed, leaving just a line of soft firelight revealed from within. You stand at the threshold, listening for a moment.

“You need this. You better not mess this up. We know the basics. It is not so dissimilar to—“ The floor under your feet creaks as you try to inch closer to hear him more clearly, cutting off his personal pep talk.

Knowing you’ve been caught, you ease open the door and step inside. “Sorry, I was just—whoa! Oh god!” You throw up your hands, slapping them over your eyes. “What are you doing?!” The image of Yoongi standing in front of the fireplace stark naked might as well be burned into your retinas. You can still see it just as vividly, even with your eyes now squeezed closed.

Yoongi makes a distressed noise, fumbling over his words in confusion. “I thought—is this not—umm, would you like me to cover up?” You can hear the rustle of fabric and his light footsteps as they draw near. “I am sorry.” He’s so close that his words, laced with his distinct clove and cedar scent, ghost over the backs of your hands where they’re still covering your face.

The stories got it all wrong, you’re sure. Fae don’t charm people with their glamors; surely all they do is remove their clothing, and the person is entranced. You can’t get the slow curve of where his spine meets his ass out of your head; the way his shoulders appear wider without a shirt, or how his waist tapers in to accentuate the angles of his hip bones. You only caught a brief glimpse as he turned from facing the fire to looking in your direction, but it was enough to fully flesh out all the intimate details.

You’re not a prude by any means. You actually consider yourself very sex-positive and forward-thinking. However, you suddenly feel like you belong in a nunnery, which is absurd. Shaking away the residual thoughts of habits and virtue, you lower your hands and open your eyes.

Yoongi is standing right before you, his black brows pinched in concern. The purple and green checkered quilt tucked under his arms seems comical now, considering you already know what it’s hiding. “You don’t have to do that,” you wave a hand toward the quilt. “I just wasn’t expecting to walk in and see you—umm, like that, is all.”

“I was nervous,” Yoongi admits shyly. “I thought if I went ahead and removed some barriers, it would make it easier.”

That makes you laugh and lightens the mood instantly. “Well, I guess that makes us even, at least. We’ve each seen the other naked without expecting it.”

“So it would seem,” Yoongi muses playfully.

You clear your throat, trying to think of something thoughtful to say that doesn’t involve asking him to drop the blanket so you can get another look. “Why are you nervous?”

He studies you briefly before opening his mouth but doesn’t answer your question. “JK chose correctly,” he says instead, a slight smile on his face as his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes. “Beautiful is the perfect name for you…you are absolutely exquisite. I hate that I am just now getting a true look at you up close.”

“Oh.” Heat creeps into your cheeks, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. “Thanks, I think. Umm, should we?” You nod toward the bed, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you.

Yoongi glances at the bed and then back at you. “Would it be okay if I kiss you first? Just to get over some of my nerves.”

All you can do is nod, caught as you are swimming in the serenity you find in Yoongi’s eyes. His lips are light against yours at first, just a soft brush. The flavor of clove and spice bursts on your tongue as you inhale, tasting his harried exhale as he presses his lips more firmly to yours.

Your fingers find themselves fisting into the blanket covering Yoongi’s chest as you try to draw him closer. His taste is intoxicating, spicy, and exotic. The first brush of his tongue against yours has your knees going weak. He brings his arms around you, effortlessly supporting you as you take over the kiss.

It’s like a switch has been flipped. You feel consumed with desire and the need to mark this fae as yours. That intense pulse inside your chest is compounding, intensifying into a roaring storm. Yoongi lets out a soft moan that spurs you on, your fingers loosening the blanket and letting it drop to the floor between you. “What am I doing?” you pant, mildly appalled by your own brazen behavior. “It’s like I can’t stop.”

“My m-magick—ah, it is calling to you,” Yoongi moans as your lips break away from his to move along his jaw. You nip and lick down his neck and press open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone.

Yoongi staggers back a step, breaking free of your hold, gasping and clutching at the center of his chest. “Seven Hells! It is like you are beneath my skin,” he speaks the words you thought to yourself earlier.

“I know,” you moan breathily. With the step he’s taken back, you’re now free to see what you only got a glimpse of before. It’s just as pleasing, maybe even more so, considering the very impressive erection that he’s now sporting. His cock is blushed pink at the head, a glistening bead of moisture pooling along his tip. “I need to feel more of that. Whatever that is,” you fist a hand over your own chest, “whatever this is.”

Licking your lips, you can feel how aroused you are. The pulsing between your thighs is accentuated when you step toward Yoongi. He backs up, and you continue forward, smirking at the shy alarm on his face. “I-I am not sure what to do.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, chuckling softly. “You have done this before, right?”

Yoongi flinches when the backs of his knees bump into the foot of the bed. “Well, I—uh, sort of.”

“Mini?” His name leaves your mouth as a breathy question.

“That is different. It is…not like this,” he admits, eyes wide as you press your body to his. “If you had a cock I might know what to do with it.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Take my clothes off.”

Yoongi gives you a sharp look, raising an eyebrow like he expects you to be playing with him. He settles against the end of the mattress, his weight dips the downy material, putting him now at eye level with you. “Your clothes?” he smirks. “I was annoyed, at first, when I saw you wearing these. Apparently, Joon thought it would be funny to have you parading around in my clothes, marking them with your scent.”

The linen fabric of the top shreds easily under his hands, his fingers sliding between two buttons and pulling until they all pop, scattering across the room. You can’t help but moan. Your chest heaves as you try to regain some composure, sucking in stilted breaths laced with cedar and clove. “Do you need me to give you a step-by-step guide to a woman’s body?” you go for a bit of snark to try and tip the power balance back in your favor.

All evidence of Yoongi’s previous shy awkwardness has vanished. “I think I can figure it out,” he whispers before leaning forward and pressing an opening-mouthed kiss to the fabric covering your left nipple. Your bra is lacey, quickly becoming sheer as Yoongi laves his tongue over it.

You shudder under his mouth, tentatively resting your hands on his shoulders. “Take it off,” you urge.

Yoongi leans back, strings of saliva connecting his parted lips to your breast. “You taste like solstice rain and moonlight. I do not know how else to describe it.” His fingers make quick work of the remnants of the tattered top. He fumbles with the clasp of your bra, but before you can move to help him, he simply snaps the strap—the sound of fabric rending tears through the air with your own gasp of barely restrained surprise.

“I needed that,” you whine, trying to step back and away from Yoongi before he ruins any more clothing.

“No.” He bares his teeth, glaring up at you through a lust-filled haze. “It is unfair to keep yourself so restricted.”

You roll your eyes and giggle softly as Yoongi grabs at you and brings you back in close. “What’s unfair is how long it’s taking you to undress me.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let the straps of your bra fall down your arms and discard it on the floor.

“I will take my time, and you will be patient,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your now exposed chest. “You are making me ache in ways I never knew possible, like a hunger that can not be sated.”

He slides his hands up your stomach, letting his fingers spread across your ribs and thumbing over your pert nipples, kneading the rounded flesh of your breasts. “Does it always feel like this? Y’know, with a fae?” you question with a gasp.

“This is the first time I have experienced something like this,” he admits, a dopey smile tugging at his lips to expose his pointed canines. “I feel drunk whenever I touch you like I am high on moon wine and blue caps.”

His breath is warm against your skin as he dips forward and latches onto one nipple and then the other. “I might cum if you keep doing that,” you moan as he does it again, spreading his attention between them equally. “It’s like you’re sucking right on my clit.”

“I do not know what this clit is, but I would like to find out,” his words are muffled against your skin, reverberating through your chest and right down to your aching core.

You find your hands fisting into his silver hair, encouraging him to continue exploring your chest with his tongue and teeth. “Let me show you,” you plead. Relenting, curious to continue learning your body, he pulls away and pants against your sternum. “The pants.” He drops his hands down to the fastening on your borrowed pants and methodically unties the knot, letting them fall lax around your hips. Earlier, after your bath, you put your bra back on but decided to forgo your panties, thinking a slightly damp shirt was better than wet pants.

Yoongi’s eyes follow the pants as they slip down your thighs, and his breath hitches as they hit the floor, allowing your sweet and intoxicating scent to permeate the air of the room thoroughly. “You smell so sweet. Show me.”

“Here,” you breathe, bracing your hands on his shoulders and slowly bringing one of your legs up, perching your foot on the bed beside his hip, opening yourself to him. Your half-mast eyes meet his as he stares up at you. The gold and green of his eyes are nearly consumed whole by the black of his blown pupils.

“Fuck,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and grinding his teeth. “It is almost too much,” he grits, bringing one of his hands down to fist around his weeping cock. He hisses in a sharp breath, stroking slowly up and down before finally opening his eyes and letting them drift down to where you are exposed to him.

Slowly reaching down, you grab his other hand and bring it up between your thighs. You guide his fingers, probing them along your lower lips until they brush over your clit. “This is it. It’s very sensitive,” you suck in a breath as he swirls his fingers in a circle.

“Interesting,” he muses. “I wonder what would happen if…” his words trail off as he catches one of your nipples between his teeth and lightly pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

You jerk against him, crying out from the mix of pleasure and pain. “Yoongi!” When his name leaves your lips, you feel his body go rigid, and a strangled sound emanates from his throat.

That tether inside your chest pulls taut, and you’re pretty sure you can feel him even more now. Not only does it feel like he’s beneath your skin, it feels like he’s invaded every molecule of your being. His breath is your breath, his heartbeat thumps to the same rhythm as yours, and the arousal pumping through his body echoes through you with a shiver down your spine.

His lips come off your nipple with an audibly wet pop, the sensation making you both moan wantonly. “Where do I put my cock, Beautiful? I need to mate with you before I lose my mind.”

“Fuck me,” you correct. “You need to fuck me before you lose your mind. Mating sounds so clinical, fucking is far more sexy, dirty…naughty.” You push on his shoulder, forcing him to lay back. “Say it.”

“I need to fuck you before I lose my mind,” he emphasizes, voice going husky, letting the words curl his lips up in a smirk. His dark eyes track your movements as you follow him onto the bed, moving slowly on your knees as he shifts toward the pillows.

Stopping with your knees to either side of his hips, you settle your ass against the tops of his thighs. The glistening head of his cock smears drips of precum against his stomach as it twitches under your gaze. If you weren’t already so strung out, you’d take him into your mouth and draw more of those guttural moans from him. As it is, the ache between your thighs is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Yoongi isn’t the only one on the brink of losing their mind. You’ve never wanted something so much in your life.

“I want you to feel,” you encourage, taking up both of his hands. You guide one between your thighs, purposefully dragging both of your hands over his swollen cock. His bottom lip is puffy and red from the gnashing he’s giving it. Sticky strands of arousal drip onto your fingers as you press his to your clit again. “Spread your fingers,” you guide his hand further, nudging his fingers to either side of your pussy.

“You are so warm and wet. Is that normal?”

You hum in amusement. “Warm? Generally. Wet? Only if you’re doing it right.” Yoongi makes a satisfactory noise, his eyes taking on a smug softness as he gazes up at you. “Just wait until you feel how warm and wet it is around your cock.” That makes him lick his lips, his gaze sliding down your body until it rests on his fingers, now gently probing around your opening.

His thick erection pulses in your hand when you wrap your fingers around it. They don’t reach all the way around. You give him an appreciative squeeze that has his teeth sinking into his bottom lip again and his hips flexing under you.

You press his other hand against one of your breasts, encouraging him to knead and thumb over your nipple. “You are so soft everywhere. Delicate and sweet. It makes me want to mark you and dirty you up.”

That makes you shudder and whine, his words tugging at that place in the center of your chest. Not being able to hold back any longer, you shift up onto your knees and angle his cock up. With a slow and smooth roll of your hips, you work the head of his cock through your wetness. You can feel his fingers move, rubbing along the crown of his head, smearing your arousal around.

“Fuck. Me,” he growls. If words alone could elicit an orgasm from you, you’re pretty sure it would be those exact ones, spoken in that very tone, coming from this specific male.

Your lips part with a gasp, your walls fluttering in anticipation. A smirk kicks up the corner of your mouth as you give him precisely what he wants. It’s an empowering experience, watching the emotions and feelings morph across his face. The way his lips slowly part until you can see the pink of his tongue resting over his teeth, the hitch in his breath with each additional inch you take; perhaps most potent of all is the heat and all-consuming desire you see bloom in his eyes as he bottoms out inside of you.

There is a moment of suspended time when you can feel your body accepting his, the stretch is delicious in all the right ways. The universe shifts around you, clicking into place so he truly becomes the moon reflected on your ocean—realistically and metaphysically. You know this is the bond expanding and settling into place, the door opening for you to cement that connection to Yoongi’s magick.

Yoongi smoothes his hand across your breast until it’s pressed right over your heart. His other gently slides out from around where he’s stretching you, fingers splaying against your lower stomach and thumb settling against your clit. “I can feel everything, my hands on your skin, the pressure of my cock inside you, the way my magick is ardently beckoning to you. Reach for it,” he urges, flexing his hips again to grind himself inside you.

“What does it feel like?” the words become a moan as you lift up and then drop back down, rocking your hips as you do.

The full-body shudder that goes through him reverberates into you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck and making goosebumps cascade down your arms. “Ecstasy,” he moans, mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. His back arches, and you find yourself mesmerized by the incandescence of his skin in the firelight.

You dip down, flicking at one of his nipples with your tongue before sucking a blushing mark beside it. The sound of your body meeting his repeatedly is obscene, the scent of arousal and sweat heavy in the air. With each rise and fall of your body, you accept him deeper until there is no discernible difference, no ending or beginning. You just exist together in the same space.

His magick is like a cool sip of water on a hot summer day, cooling and soothing your throat that you didn’t even know was so parched. It is the finest ambrosia, sweet silk on your tongue. Pinpricks of light break through the shadowy haze of your arousal, keying you into the well inside Yoongi. His eyes snap open, finding yours; glittering stars and fiery planets flit through nebulas of swirling galaxies in their depths, constantly changing with every beat of his heart.

The closer you draw to orgasm, the closer you feel to fully immersing yourself in that pool of starlight and cosmic energy. Just as the moon is forever connected to the tide, this will tether you to him for the rest of your existence. The fear of that, which was palpable before, is now nonexistent. You find comfort in letting your walls down and welcoming Yoongi in.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, moving faster against him. His thumb adds just the right amount of pressure to your clit with each roll of your hips.

“Make me yours,” Yoongi pleads.

His words are the beginning, the tipping of the scales into the endless abyss that is his magick. You cry out, your body surrendering to the pleasure that he provides. The orgasm begins at a violent peak, sucking all the air from your lungs and pulling your muscles so tight they feel like they will snap. The plummet down the other side is exhilarating in high contrast to the tempest, turning from a raging storm into a comforting spring rain. You pulse around him, claiming and marking him as yours, demanding he gives in, too.

You can see the moment he lets go and feel the muscles in his thighs bulge with strain. Warmth floods you with each jet of his cum, punctuated with sharp grunts through his bared teeth. Magick floods the room, encapsulating you and Yoongi in a fog of power so potent you can feel it caressing your skin, thin tendrils of smoke curling around your limbs and weaving through the strands of your hair.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name, completely in awe at what you’re experiencing.

“Mine,” he murmurs in response, looking up at you with complete and utter devotion—surrender—in his lichen and ochre eyes. He raises his hands, cupping your face and gently pulling you down. His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, lingering a moment before deepening.

Pulling back, you break the kiss with a breathy sigh of contentment. “Mine.” The fact that less than twenty-four hours ago, he was nothing more than your captor no longer matters. He is yours as much as you are his. You know you are where you’re meant to be, doing what you’re meant to do. It was always written in the stars—how could it not be?

Easing one of your legs up, you brace yourself and, with his hands on your hips for assistance, pull off him in a gush of sticky warmth. The scent of clove and maple syrup invades the air in a thick wave. It makes your mouth water, and you can’t help but look down at the mess pooling around his half-hard cock and smeared over your inner thighs with a bit of hunger in your eyes.

“Here,” he says, amusement coloring his husky voice. He swirls a long, slender finger through the sticky mess and brings it to your lips. “Taste.”

Your lips part automatically, your tongue poking out slightly in anticipation. His finger presses down on your tongue, firmly depositing the mix of cum. You greedily suck at his finger, moaning at the taste of warm spices and sweet syrup that burst on your tongue.

It’s now on the tip of your tongue to request to suck his cock, but the flicker of seriousness you see on his face stops that line of thought. You shift, slumping onto the bed beside him, never letting your eyes leave his. The finger he had in your mouth goes into his, and he makes a pleased sound deep in his chest, but his face remains alarmingly impassive. You wonder if you concentrate hard enough whether or not the bond will allow you to hear his thoughts. You can feel him trying to tamp down his feelings as it is. The only thing you have clear and unfettered access to is the seemingly endless well of magick he now has.

“I guess we should go then?” you say after a stretch of silence.

He gives you a sharp look, brows pinched. After a moment, they smooth out, and his face softens. “I can feel your uncertainty. No, my beautiful mate, we do not need to go yet. I do not mean to appear so…distant. I am just trying to understand these new feelings,” he trails off in a whisper, dropping one of his hands onto his chest above his heart. The tips of his fingers prod at his skin like he could dig beneath it and find the answers.

“It’s kind of weird, huh?” You rub at your own chest, marveling at the echoed sensation of Yoongi still gently prodding at his own.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him as he rolls over to face you. It surprises you that his cock is fully hard again, resting against your thigh. “I would not call it weird. I would call it extraordinary.”

That makes you feel fuzzy, cottony-sweet in all the right ways. “Tell me about the plan,” you hesitate to ask, but can’t help yourself now. Your fingers brush lightly along his hip as you adjust beside him, absently moving closer.

Yoongi reaches up, brushing hair from your face. His eyes flick over your features, lingering on your lips several times. “We will leave as soon as the moon appears in the sky. It is roughly a two day journey if we move cautiously. We aim to reach an old turret house on the castle's south side. The last time JK did reconnaissance in the area, he found it abandoned. There is a tunnel through the gatehouse there that leads into the dungeons. It was filled with stones and rubble many years ago, but JK has slowly been excavating it over the last handful of years. It should not take long to break through the remainder and make it inside the castle. The rest…” he trails off, shrugging slightly.

“What about Borgia? The guards?” You lick your lips, trying to stay focused on getting some more clarity on his plan. The heat of Yoongi’s body calls to you. You slip your hand onto his side, trailing your fingers over the smooth curve of his hip bone.

“We can talk about those things later,” he dismisses. “I would much rather focus on something else.” He nips lightly at your bottom lip, trying to coax you away from the conversation. “Wait–you can’t really expect just to waltz in there and be welcomed with open arms. You said you were framed for murder. That leads me to believe that everyone believes it. Otherwise, they’d not be following this Chaddick douche in the first place. So, how are you—“ Yoongi cuts off your tirade with a searing kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth as you try to protest weakly. “What are you doing? I was just wondering about th–”

He shifts beside you, rolling so his body fits over yours, his hips pushing your thighs wide. “No,” he says, a light snarl sharpening the word. “None of that—not now. It seems I may have not fucked you thoroughly enough, if you still have a mind to wonder.” There is a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he smirks before adjusting his hips and sliding back into your wet heat with a groan. You gasp, clawing at his back as all thoughts of the holes in his plan are replaced with heady moans and delicious orgasms.

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin

It was hard to walk away, leaving Yoongi standing there beside such a devastatingly beautiful creature. The thought makes his lips curl in agitation. It’s not that he hates you. It’s just that he’s jealous of you. So, painfully jealous.

Now that he’s on his way back to Namjoon’s, the sun having set a few hours ago, Jimin feels like he has a clearer head than before. He spent the entire day barking orders at his squadrons, pushing them to train harder than usual. Something he might come to regret in the following days, but he’s resolved to deal with that when and if it comes up. Right now, he focuses on what lies ahead and the journey Yoongi is about to embark on.

To most individuals traversing the Hollow Lands, Namjoon’s clearing looks like a standard meadow with a large oak in the center. Jimin feels a repulsion as he approaches it, something he has to consciously fight against as he comes up to the invisible barrier. It’s how Yoongi has gone the last ten years undetected. Not only does Namjoon’s magickal ward hide the power signatures of another Fey, it also acts as a deterrent, forcing those that don’t know it exists to walk entirely around it without even knowing.

After Yoongi escaped the Unseelie Court, the Hollow Lands were crawling with Unseelie and Seelie guards alike for several months. All in search of the rogue prince. Jimin lamented the entire time, knowing where Yoongi was but wondering whether or not Namjoon could hold the ward. Little did Jimin realize, Namjoon could hold it for far, far longer than any of them thought possible. Though, Jimin is hyper-aware of how much Namjoon’s magick is flagging. He’s glad the ward and strain on his magick won’t be needed much longer.

The large, seeded oak, swathed in shafts of moonlight, comes into view, and Jimin slows his pace, taking as much time as he can to control his breathing and temper. He doesn’t want to snap and snarl at you like a rabid hound constantly, it just happens, and the guilt of it is gnawing at him.

Plastering on a neutral expression, he pushes through the invisible boundary and enters the clearing. The first thing he sees is you and Yoongi, standing on Namjoon’s porch, haloed by the soft glowing lights, with your lips pressed together in a languid kiss. His nose is tickled by your sickly sweet syrupy scent, mixing with his lovers’. A growl forms in his chest, but he swallows it before it can come out.

Jimin clears his throat as he crosses the yard, startling you and Yoongi. Yoongi flinches away from you, putting several inches between your bodies. That familiar guilt rolls in as Jimin watches your expression drop as if Yoongi’s knee-jerk reaction hurts you. Jimin subtly shakes his chin, dismisses it, and looks to Yoongi. “The moon will be at its zenith soon. Have you prepared?”

Namjoon and Jungkook appear from around the side of the house, carrying baskets full of harvested crops. “We began preparing as soon as the sun went down. We’ve been waiting for you,” Jungkook states cooly. He eyes Jimin, daring him to offer up some pitiful excuse for why he is arriving so late.

“I was under the impression we were not going to leave until the moon was at its highest point, giving Yoongi the most access to his magick,” Jimin replies, sounding only mildly annoyed.

“There will not be a we, Mini. You are not going.”

Jimin jerks around to gawk at Yoongi. “Excuse me?”

Yoongi subconsciously brushes his hand against yours as he steps closer to skirt around you and descend the porch stairs. “We have been talking about it and—“

“We? I thought there was no ‘we’?” Jimin interrupts, his annoyance flaring again.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi gestures back to you, “We—Beautiful and I—we, have been talking through the plan and agree that it would be best for you to remain behind just in case something happens. I do not want the wrong people to discover that you have been privy to my whereabouts this entire time.”

Jimin knows that makes sense and is exceptionally logical, but it still burns him inside. “What does she know?” he sneers. “She is barely Fey. What can she possibly offer in this situation other than her cunt!?”

“Watch what you say,” Yoongi warns in a voice like cold steel. “I have been nothing but patient with you, Mini. But I will not tolerate your tantrums much longer. Do not let my love for you blind you to all else. You will stay here, or you can go back to the Seelie Court, but you are not coming, and that is final.”

That burn intensifies, consuming Jimin in a conflagration of sorrow and anger. He chews his tongue until the metallic taste of blood bubbles in his mouth. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, wondering if they’ll be able to come back from this or if he’s lost him to the human forever. He finally drops his eyes, backing down from the argument. “So be it,” he mumbles.

Namjoon and Jungkook amble up the steps, setting the food baskets by the door. “The bags are almost ready,” Namjoon tells Yoongi. “I just have a few more items to add.”

“You honor me,” Yoongi replies, affectionately clapping Namjoon on the shoulder. “It will not be much longer, my friend.”

There is a haggardness around Namjoon’s eyes that Jimin hadn’t noticed before. The strain on his magick has never been more apparent. It helps break him out of his internal battle, pushing aside his grievances to deal with later.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Jimin hears you telling Yoongi.

“Everything will be fine, Beautiful. You have nothing to worry about.”

Jimin watches you shake your head and your brow furrow as you take up one of Yoongi’s hands. “I don’t like it. There’s still so much we don’t know about this,” you gesture between yourself and Yoongi. “What if it’s too much and we can’t navigate the flood properly? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin can’t help himself. He’s curious as to what you’re whining about. Curious about your bond in general, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your eyes slowly shift to Jimin, and he feels like a bug under a looking glass, being examined for flaws by you. “I want Yoongi to wait, a day at least, so he can experiment and get used to the new level of power he has now. I can feel it,” you absently pat your chest, making Jimin realize you’re wearing another of Yoongi’s shirts. He tries to shove down the envy that rears up, only barely managing to keep the sneer off his face. “It’s chaotic and unruly…it scares me.”

Jimin scoffs. “Of course it scares you. You are not Fey. You are not used to the ways of magick. Have some faith in your mate. I know you have barely known him for a day, but I have known him most of my life. Take it from someone who truly loves him. If he says he will be fine, then he will be.” He’s so intent on lashing at you that he misses the hurt he causes reflected in Yoongi’s eyes.

You frown at Jimin, chewing your bottom lip. “I do…um, have faith in him. I’m just…it’s hard to explain.”

Yoongi turns his eyes on you, and at that moment, Jimin almost drops to his knees. But, instead, he remains on his feet, swaying slightly as he silently anguishes over the adoration he sees in the depths of Yoongi’s gaze, the passion that was once meant only for him but is now shining so brightly for you.

“With you and JK with me, nothing can go wrong. We have two days of travel to work on control. We will be fine,” he assures, kissing your forehead softly.

“She’s going with you?” The words are caustic, like acid burning up his throat.

Yoongi sighs. “Yes. She and JK will accompany me. They will remain outside once we get to the castle while I confront Chaddick.”

“Ready to go whenever you are, boss,” Jungkook calls, coming out of the house ladened with three rucksacks and a string of metal canteens. “Beautiful, you get the tiny bag,” he chuckles, handing you the smaller of the three bags.

Jimin notes the amusement in your eyes as you swat at Jungkook affectionately. It seems the two of you have made up in the time he’s been away. It makes Jimin curious about what else you’ve managed to do. He glances at Namjoon, coming down the steps behind Jungkook.

“Packed enough food for the journey and then some.” Namjoon smiles, offering you a small loaf of something wrapped in a blue linen cloth. “Bread for tonight.”

“I tried to convince him that a loaf of bread isn’t really sensible for travel like this, but you know how he is,” Jungkook chides, playfully elbowing Namjoon in the ribs with a laugh.

“You will not be complaining tonight when you eat half of it yourself,” Namjoon murmurs. It makes Jungkook laugh again, their light banter continuing. Jimin watches, trying to come to terms with the myriad of emotions he’s feeling.

Yoongi takes one of the packs from Jungkook, securing it on his back comfortably before helping you with yours. “Joon,” Yoongi turns to Namjoon, embracing him. “Without you, we would have been lost long ago. It is time, my friend. Rest.”

Namjoon nods his head, eyes glistening with emotion. “It has been my pleasure.”

The moment the ward disappears, Jimin can feel it. His own magick prickles with the loss of such a powerful expression. He had never paid much attention to just how quiet the barrier made the glade. A cacophony of sounds infiltrates the small space around the house, bugs and birds, and all other manner of creature noises.

The seeded oak in the center of the clearing rustles in the wind, the leaves perking up ever so slightly as the strain of the ward lifts off of Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Take care while we are gone. I will send word as soon as possible, if you do not hear something beforehand.” Yoongi shifts his attention from Namjoon to Jimin. “Mini, it might be wise to check in with the Seelie Court sometime between now and three days from now to solidify your alibi just in case.”

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “This is absurd. I could just as easily wait outside the castle with JK. Besides, what if you need someone who can actually help if things go badly?”

“I already said—“ Yoongi begins but, to Jimin’s surprise, you step forward and cut him off.

There is no hostility in your eyes, which makes Jimin irritated all the more. He wishes you would yell and scream at him, shake a finger in his face or something to paint you in a negative light—to validate his dislike for you. “Mini,” the way you say his name so calmly makes him want to spit, “I know how much you care for Yoongi, but it wouldn’t be doing him any favors if you somehow got caught or found out to be with him. He explained to me much of what you have both endured the last ten years, don’t throw it away now.”

“You talked to her about us?” Jimin doesn’t bother to mask the hurt in his voice.

Shaking his head, not in denial but in exhaustion for this back and forth, Yoongi spreads his hands. “I do not know what you want from me. I am doing the best I can right now, Mini. Please…just, try. Try to be understanding. You and I both know this makes sense.”

Jimin wants nothing more than to lash out, continue arguing his point until Yoongi relents—leaving behind you and taking him instead. But, the way you look at Yoongi, almost like you pity him for having to put up with Jimin’s bullshit, has him swallowing down his next snide retort. The bridge between him and Yoongi is already hanging precariously by a fraying thread that’s maple flavored and you-shaped. He can’t afford to see it weaken further because of his own wounded pride.

“We need to move now while the moon is high. The darkness will help conceal us, but we can also use the additional power to cloak with,” Jungkook states, breaking the awkward tension, offering a brief nod in farewell to Namjoon and Jimin.

Jungkook has already moved to the edge of the tree line, waiting patiently for Yoongi and you to follow. An awkward moment passes as Yoongi and Jimin stare at each other. You offer Jimin a tight smile before pushing onto your toes and whispering something into Yoongi’s ear. Jimin wishes he could read your mind or that you’d speak aloud instead of in hushed tones. You pat Yoongi on the shoulder, turn without another word, and join Jungkook, your back to the clearing.

Yoongi closes the distance between himself and Jimin, reaching up with both hands and cradling Jimin’s face as he’s done countless times before. Jimin’s eyes flutter closed, a sob catching deep in his chest. He refuses to cry right now. He won’t let you see his weakness and how much this is hurting him. His resolve almost flags when Yoongi’s lips press to his, that familiar taste of clove flooding his senses, bringing with it a hint of maple that is far more alluring than it has a right to be.

It’s over far sooner than Jimin would like, but he’s too stunned to react. “You do not give her enough credit, my love. She deserves more than your ire.”

Whatever response Jimin had died on his tongue as Yoongi stepped away, giving him a sad smile before turning. He doesn’t look back as he joins you and Jungkook. Jimin stands there, staring until your group disappears in the gloom of the trees. Even then, he remains rooted to the spot, uncertain of what to do.

“Join me?” Namjoon asks. Jimin shakes himself, turning toward Namjoon, who nods to the baskets of potatoes and peas sitting on his porch. “Just like old times.”

“Of course.” Jimin nods, willing away the sadness threatening to swallow him whole. “I will welcome a good distraction.”

Namjoon moves up to the porch and eases himself down to sit on the edge of it, long legs making his feet nearly touch the ground. He pats the porch beside him. Jimin pulls over a basket of peas and has a seat.

Picking up one of the green pods, he presses his thumb into the seam and pops it open, depositing the dozen or so peas into the empty basket Namjoon places between them.

“Is it really so bad?” Namjoon asks. He doesn’t pose it as a snide question but as a genuinely concerned inquiry.

Jimin grabs another pod, methodically opening it and shelling the peas into the basket. “You would think after all this time, I would have developed some sense of acceptance regarding this situation. Perhaps I even thought I might have, but it seems that would be incorrect.”

“She is not that bad, you know.” Namjoon is efficient in his shelling, working through handfuls of pods simultaneously.

“I can see that, be assured. I just—Seven Suns—I am being an asshole. I do not mean to be. There is something I can not shake no matter how hard I try.” Jimin accidentally smashes a pea in frustration, flicking the ruined green mush into the yard. “I love him and fear that may not be enough now. I can not bring him the joys that she does. There is nothing more powerful than a mated bond.”

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls between them, Namjoon letting Jimin take the space he needs. Jimin knows he can speak plainly to his friend. After all, he has known Namjoon even longer than he has Yoongi. Namjoon used to reside within the Seelie Court, the son of a gardener on the very grounds where Jimin grew up. They were fast friends and crib mates when Namjoon’s mom would sometimes help the Seelie Queen tend to the younglings.

Namjoon is the reason Jimin did not neglect his duties as crown prince, and Jimin is the reason Namjoon now lives a life of solitude in the Hollow Lands. It was an accident, but no less Jimin’s fault for being careless. Namjoon had been helping him sneak out of the castle to meet with Yoongi secretly, helping foster the budding of their never-meant-to-be romance. They were caught one night. Jimin received guard duty as punishment. But Namjoon was turned out of the castle, not permitted to return.

Hours have passed and Jimin is so deep in his thoughts of life from before, that it takes Namjoon a few tries to get him to snap out of it. “Jimin! Jimin! I thought I heard—”

“Huh, what?” Jimin blinks his eyes, throwing a glance at Namjoon. Namjoon is staring into the distance. The sun is just beginning to peek over the trees, the spaces beneath still heavily shadowed. Namjoon opens his mouth to respond, but a pained scream echoing from the trees cuts him off. “What was that?”

“That sounds like—“ Another gut-wrenching scream rips through the air.

They’re both on their feet in seconds, leaping effortlessly off the porch, peas scattered and forgotten. “Can you get the ward back up?” Jimin asks, a feverish pitch to his words.

Namjoon licks his lips, perspiration already beginning to bead on his brow as he gathers the strength to attempt it. “I do not know, but I will try.”

“Here,” Jimin mindlessly snatches at the pendant around his neck, popping the links of the chain it’s attached to in the process. “Use this.” He drops the crescent moon necklace they used for the bonding ceremony in Namjoon’s palm. Implements used for bonding retain residual powers that can be used as amplifiers, like an echo of the magick the bond was created with. Jimin hopes it’s enough.

Namjoon closes his eyes and begins to mumble words under his breath. “It will not be as big, just focused directly around the house…but it will have to do.”

Jimin steps forward after another scream peals through the air, closer now. His feet falter as two figures come into view, stumbling out of the gloomy covering of the trees. “Seven Suns!” Jimin curses, frozen in shock at the sight before him.

His feet finally move as if with a mind of their own. He lurches forward, arms catching the smaller, bloodied form before it hits the ground.

Your cheeks are marred with jarring splashes of raven-colored liquid. Unseelie Blood. The metallic tang burns Jimin’s nose as he hauls you against his chest. Pitiful whimpers bubble past your lips, your whole body trembling in his hold. A faltering, equally bloody Jungkook hits the grass beside him, barely within the new barrier Namjoon has erected.

“What the fuck happened?” Namjoon drops beside Jungkook, frantic hands patting at his friend, checking his vitals.

“Sh!” Jungkook huffs, slapping a hand over Namjoon’s mouth. Despite being obviously injured, Jungkook pushes up into a sitting position, eyes locked on the treeline they just stumbled from.

The sounds of shouting pick up a moment later, and then a cluster of silhouettes move along about fifty yards in. It’s hard to hear what they’re talking about, but the few words Jimin catches have his hands tightening around you.

The new ward is up, but Jimin isn’t sure how long Namjoon can hold it. If it were to drop before the guards move on, they’d be far outnumbered. It would be an impossible battle. His eyes flick to Jungkook, taking a moment to assess his condition. There is already a dark wet patch on the grass beneath him. The entire right side of his body is drenched in black blood…hard to tell if it’s his or someone else's.

Jimin grits his teeth, silently willing the guards to move on. They finally do, pushing further west. You’re practically catatonic in Jimin’s arms, he realizes after finally looking back down at you. Your head is listing to the side, and your eyelids are drooping heavily. Pulling you away from his chest, he realizes bright crimson is coloring your front. He quickly traces the blood, finding the source—a fingers-width-sized knife wound in your right side. He can’t tell how deep it is, but probing with his magick tells him it’s not immediately life-threatening.

“Beautiful,” Jungkook croaks, trying but failing to shift over to you. “Is she okay?”

That is the furthest thing from Jimin’s mind right now. There is only one thing he can focus on. Even though he fears the answer, Jimin forces the words past his lips, “Where is he? Where is Yoongi?”

Jungkook lets out a despairing sob, collapsing back into the grass. Namjoon begins to assess for wounds, tearing away Jungkook’s clothing methodically.

You pitifully grab at the front of Jimin’s shirt, your eyes locking onto his turquoise ones with a fleeting moment of clarity. “T-th-they took him.”

It’s like a dagger to Jimin’s heart.

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levis-coffeecup · 11 months ago

Text

chapter 22| Lovesick

WC-3.9k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

Hi guysss!!!

I'm sorry it's been soo long. But the next chapter is finally out!!

It's similar to the Trost fair chapter, if anyone remembers... but the scene is rewritten. And scene 2 and 3 are completely different! Also, if you find any grammatical errors please comment about it to let me know!

Song for this chapter is Seneca by Novo Amor.

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

SEPT 847

The streets are muddy, the clouds are gray, and Levi shakes off the muck from his boots as he stands in front of Mae's door.It's been a minute since he's been knocking on her door, and still there's been no answer.

His lips pull into a frown. As much as he hates to admit this, he likes to be welcomed by her jumping into his arms.

His fingers slide down to his pocket, bringing out the spare keys to her home that he always keeps. And he opens the door.

The walls have been repainted yellow. She's knitted colorful pillow covers to keep on the settee. His favorite books are all stacked on the shelf. And the kitchen is always stocked with all kinds of tea.

His gaze turns soft as he takes it all in. Mae has taken her sweet time to make her house theirs.

He climbs up the stairs, making his way to the bedroom.

The curtains are drawn close. And Mae sits on the bed, huddled in a thick blanket. Her face is almost red, and her eyes are dull, clearly unwell. The sight makes Levi freeze at the door frame.

"I knew it was you...," Mae beams with pride, her voice scratchy. "I could tell by your footsteps."

Her forehead is burning up, and it hurts to smile through the pain. But she's so ecstatic to see Levi, she can't help herself. "I want a kiss." Her lips shift into a cheeky grin, and she stretches her arms forward, towards him.

And Levi leans on the doorframe, meters away from her. Unsure of what to feel.

They've only kissed a few times before. But the thought still knocks the wind right out of his lungs.

"N-no, you are sick. Stay away from me." He somehow manages.

"Humanity's strongest can handle a little fever, can't he?" She teases.

"Tch.. y-you're so gross." He pivots and walks away. Only to come around a minute later. With his hands cleaned, and his clothes fresh.

"You're burning up." He scolds as he keeps her hand on her forehead. "How the hell did you end up like this?"

"The weather change-" she coughs.

"Ssh," he silences her off. "Don't talk, your voice is almost gone."

He goes back down again and comes up with some water in a bowl and a clean napkin. "How many times have I told you to not be so careless," His voice is almost angry, but Mae doesn't miss the concern woven in it. "And why didn't you write to me and let me know that you were unwell?"

The tray is set down on the nightstand. And he drags the chair from her work desk, to sit next to her.

"It's just been two days, and a letter takes a week to reach... I'm sure I would have been fine by then."

"Tch," Levi frowns. He dips the napkin into the bowl of water. Squeezing it out and putting it on her forehead. It's cooling, and Mae shuts her eyes close. Warmed by his love.

"Should I call a doctor?" He suggests, a few minutes later.

"Levi! I am a doctor..." she retorts.

"Well congratulations then Ms. Doctor, for falling ill." He grumbles, pissed. The space between his brows is crinkled, and he seems incredibly focused keeping a wet cloth on her forehead.

The relentlessness in his actions gives away his stress.

And Mae doesn't understand why he's getting so paranoid over this. It's a simple fever, that's all, nothing she hasn't had before.

It takes her a minute to realize that his mother died of sickness, too. And perhaps what is making him act this way are the wounds that have been left long forgotten.

Her face softens, and she places her hand over his lap.

"Take a breath Levi. I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon." Her hand lands on his, she gently squeezes it in reassurance.

And Levi's icy blue eyes widen for a millisecond, before he catches himself. Then he grunts, pressing his lips into an unamused line.

"Try to sleep, instead of staring at me," grumbles. He grabs her shoulders as he helps her lay on her back. Then he tucks her in the blanket, for good measure

"You're not mad that I'm unwell, right? I know you're here to take a break... but I don't have anything prepared as I was sick yesterday too..."

"No shithead, why would I be?" he questions, as he blinks at her. There are words buried in his lips that are hesitant to come out. But somewhere down the line, he knows they'll make her feel better.

"I," his voice trails off. "I-I'm glad t-that I'm here and you're not alone, having to take care of yourself."

And Mae's eyes light up. She's blessed indeed, to have someone as wonderful as him next to her.

Her fingers interlock with his, as he sits on the bed, next to her.

"Baby," she sighs. Tempted to bring his hand to her lips and peck it.

"Tch, is that your way of calling me short," Levi's face turns serious all of a sudden, and he raises a brow.

"What noo!" she exclaims, "Raz found herself a guy, and he calls her baby."

"That's such an uncommon thing to call your partner, is he a pedophile or something?"

Laughter escapes past Mae's throat at that. Trust Levi to make the cutest things dark. And then she starts coughing.

He turns her to the side, and starts rubbing her back.

"But isn't it cute." she pouts.

"Tch," Levi clicks his tongue in disdain.

"But Leviii, " Mae huffs, her brown eyes sparkle playfully. " I don't want to be 'brat' anymore, I want to be 'baby'."

"Well unfortunately for me you are a brat and a whiny baby as well." Levi smirks.

"I knew you weren't going to give in to this, which is why I'll find cute nicknames for you instead!"

She ponders for a minute.

"Sweet cake?"

He frowns.

"Okay Mr.Frown Face, how about buttercup then?"

"You're horrible at this" he blinks.

Thunder cackles and raindrops run down the window like tiny rivers. The overcast sky dims the room further. The sound of rain fills up the space, but the dreary weather doesn't dull the mood.

And when Levi places the napkin on Mae's forehead again, her heart races.

"Cupcake?"

"Ew."

"Pudding?"

"Not at all."

"Sugar Plum."

"Mae," Levi sighs, exasperated and partially embarrassed. "I'm an army officer who has killed hundreds of titans with ease. I'm Humanity's Strongest for god sake!"

And Mae sports a toothy, teasing smile. Fully knowing she's the only one who can get away with this. "But... but you were Humanity's Cutest before you were Humanity's Strongest."

And Levi looks back at her. Turning pink and ridden speechless.

"Okay how about pumpkin pie then?"

"I'm not the menu card of the bakery you dream of opening in the future."

"But all my desserts will be inspired by you and you only."

And Levi tries his best to act annoyed. But she has flustered him too much now, much against his own wishes.

He decides that someday if they ever end up having kids, he'll never let Mae name them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sunlight slips past the narrow gaps in the curtains, making the dim room a tad bit bright. The morning sun rises past the trees, making the world get up from its slumber.

And the first thing Mae sees when her eyes open is Levi.

He's on the chair next to her, fanning her body.

Sitting exactly where he was, before she drifted to sleep.

And slowly the clogs in her brain start spinning.

"Levi," she gasps, almost horrified. "Did you not sleep at all?"

"I'm alright..." he mutters, but there's a softness in his gaze. "You're doing so much better now, I guess the wet cloth helped."

Surprisingly, he's not grumpy after not sleeping the entire night. Instead there's a tiny smile playing on his lips. He's happy she's gotten better.

"If you're feeling good, I'll do the other chores then." He says after a few minutes.

And Mae sits up at that, propping herself on her elbows. "I'll help too, my fever is almost gone-"

"No, you rest," he shushes her off by keeping his hand on her forehead. "Take it easy today."

And truly, Levi doesn't let her lift a finger.

He mops the floor. Cleans the cobwebs on the ceilings. Dusts the shelves.

And Mae watches, stuck to her bed.

Now he's sitting on the carpet, with his back to her. Folding all the freshly laundered clothes.

Guilt gnaws at the bottom of her stomach. He's stepping out for a mission the day after tomorrow. And yet she's making him work so much.

It's him who deserves rest, not her.

"I'm sorry for making you do all of this." her voice comes out timid. Still hoarse from the cough that has accumulated in her throat .

His actions pause, and he thinks for a moment, before answering. "Actually I like it... Makes me think of the type of life we would have if the titans didn't exist...Just the two of us, living together."

And Mae doesn't see the smile on his face as he stares down at the pile of clothes. She thinks it lies he's spouting to make her feel better. After all, who likes doing household chores... she hates them for sure.

And so she gets up from her bed, determined to help. But the mirror attached to the adjacent wall makes her stop in her tracks.

A frown forms as she catches her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair is oily and matted against her scalp. And she's not as toned as Levi in any way. Her thighs touch and her belly is not flat. Insecurities crawl underneath her skin.

"Why don't you date someone like Petra?" She asks, thinking out loud.

"Mae." Levi swivels around to see her. "She's not even an adult. How could you think something like that?" He speaks distastefully.

"But she'll grow up, you know... She's pretty, she's strong, and she's got a good body for sure."

Moisture wells up in her eyes. It's not just the guilt of him doing all the chores, it's something that has been troubling her for long.

And Levi sits baffled. He has no idea where this is coming from.

"It's so hard Levi... dating long distance," she sniffs. Her gaze still doesn't come off from the mirror in front of her. As she stands, so obsessed with finding faults in her. "You would be better off dating someone who's in the Corps. That way they'll at least be there for you when you need them, they can help you with all your work, and every message won't take a week to get delivered."

And Levi is on his feet in an instant. His arms reach out to her, and he pulls her into a hug

"Is it becoming too hard for you? Do you want to end it?" he whispers, masking his own heartbreak at the thought.

"It's hard," she ruminates. "But that's not the problem... The problem is that you deserve better." Her voice breaks, and another tear slips past her eye.

Because she sees all the women in town gawk about Humanity's Strongest and how attractive he must be. And she sees all the children that find their hero in him. She's nothing in comparison.

And one day she does hope to be slightly successful. With her own clinic, and a few regular patients. But for now she's just some doctor at a hospital in town. And her dreams seem so far-fetched.

"Look at me Levi... I'm not the best doctor, I'm not the smartest, and I'm not the prettiest... And you're Humanity's Strongest... Don't you see it? You can do so much better than me."

Their gaze meets in the mirror. And Levi stands stumped as he sees how moist her have turned moist.

He's never compared her with any other person he's met.

"But don't you see it?" He questions as if he's stating out the obvious. "You're the closest thing I have to normalcy." And normal sounds so wonderful to him. She doesn't have to be any more capable, or beautiful, she just has to be.

Of course there must be people who are better than her in many ways. But comfort, warmth, home, these are all words he only attaches to her.

His finger reaches below her chin, and he turns her face away from the mirror. Making her look at him. "You're more than your looks Mae, and you're more than your career... I hope you know that."

And she closes her eyes, as he presses a kiss on the top of her head.

"C-can I sit next to you while you fold those clothes?"

"Yes."

"I-I thought y-you were mad at me":

"Why would I be mad, silly?" He says as he ruffles her hair, making it a bigger mess.

"Don't let such crappy thoughts stuff up your head." He flicks her forehead. The next morning Mae wakes up feeling much better. Her throat still feels sore, and a mild headache still troubles . But there is peace in her heart and Levi in her arms.

That's all that matters.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The night is young, and Mae and Levi have returned back home from their impromptu dinner date.

The curtains are drawn shut. The hearth is warm, cackling with fire. And Mae sits on the bed, changed into something more comfortable.

She was feeling better, and she really wanted to treat Levi to a good meal, before he leaves tomorrow morning.

Next to her bed is the sketch of her and Levi that she got at the Trost Fair. With her smile so big, it makes her eyes squint. Levi obviously sits with his poker face, and his arms crossed in front of him. But Mae loves the way the painter has colored his cheeks and the tips of his ear, slightly red.

A few minutes pass by, and the gears of the bathroom door shift into place.

The door is nudged open, and Levi slips inside. Fresh from his bath. With his inky wet hair clinging on to his face, and pearls of water still dripping down them.

Mae places the sketch in her hands, on the nightstand and withdraws a bottle of essential oil from the drawer. She raises a brow, slightly shaking the bottle as she gestures to levi.

And Levi feigns a sigh as he ambles over to her, and sits in front of her. With his back to her chest, and his butt positioned in between her legs.

She takes the towel that rests on his shoulder, and gently rubs it on his head. To dry his hair that is still dripping wet.

Mae likes to do all these small things for him, from buttoning the shirt he wears to tying the cravat around his neck. It makes her happy. Like she's being of some help to him.

"Are you using all the oils and seasonings I gave you?" She asks as she tosses the towel aside, and picks up the bottle of oil kept on her nightstand.

She pours some of the essential oil onto her palms Then she slides her oil-slathered fingers through his hair strands

"I try to," Levi mumbles, and his eyes flutter close, as he feels her fingers work their way through his scalp. "Tch, my hair is greasy again now... I hate this so much."

"Levi this is expensive, and Lavender really helps in aiding sleep, so you better shut up and follow the routine I have set for you." She speaks with seriousness. "And you take a shower like 5 times a day anyways."

And Levi knows the only say he has in this matter, is to complain, and then comply. So he closes his eyes, and enjoys the sensation of her fingers running through his hair.

And Mae feels sentimental too. She wants to make time pause.

Because when the sun rises tomorrow morning, Levi will be far away from her. Outside the walls. It's a feeling that she's still not used to. Of not knowing whether this moment she's spending with him will be their last together.

"Levi..." she calls out. "You remember the day when you became Humanity's Strongest... back when I was working in the Survey Corps? ... You came back injured and I was treating you."

Levi hums, in correspondence.

"That day Petra told me, that you fight as if you have nothing to lose.... But now that we're together. Does that change anything? Does that mean that you have something you are scared to lose?"

The question renders Levi quiet for some minutes. Or maybe it's that he knows the answer fully well, but he is just hesitant.

He drums his fingers on to his chin, and after some serious contemplation, he finally answers."You are i-important to me Mae, but you aren't more important than humanity... And I do have something to lose now, but I can't let that change the way I fight.. Because if I start fighting like a person who is scared to lose what he has, then humanity might lose as well, and that is something that everyone fears."

It's the bitter truth, the pill that's hard to swallow. She's fallen in love with a man, who will always keep his duties first.

She slides her arms around his chest, and pulls him closer. His back presses her chest, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. "That's the right decision. After all, I'm just a person."

Her fingers graze across his bare chest, caressing all the scars his battles have given him. The moment is delicate yet heavy with emotions.

And Mae decides that it's time to release the feelings that have consumed her heart since forever.

"I love you Levi." The words are tender, like a kiss on his nape.

He doesn't have to say it back.

He doesn't even have to turn his head and look at her.

Because love is the softness in his eyes when he looks at her. And the sweetness in his emotions when he comes home to her.

And Levi closes his eyes as he relishes the moment. It feels safe here in her arms, like no force in this world can harm him. And for once he doesn't hide the red that settles on his cheek.

"Thank you..." he speaks with a certain heaviness.And a sigh escapes his mouth, as he realizes that his weekend getaway is close to an end. Just a few hours from now he'll be outside the walls

Sometimes he fantasizes about what it would be like if he wasn't in the Survey Corps. Just him and her, living their life as a simple couple.

To divide all the household chores, and cook meals together. To go on dates on the weekend, and to bicker like a couple. Marry her, after a few years and maybe have little versions of him and her run around the house.

It's a far fetched dream, but Levi can't help but indulge in the thought for a couple of minutes.

The Survey Corps, the title of Humanity's Strongest, and the titans outside the walls. He wants to run away from it all. He's strong and no one would be able to track him down.

But the guilt in his mind would haunt him forever.

And it's indeed a curse that such exceptional strength and skill lands on his shoulders. And he wields the responsibilities as Humanity's Strongest soldier. He can't let all the people that look up to him down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The weather is dreary today. Heavy gray clouds loom over the sky, like a blanket. And occasional drops of rain fall to the ground. In a light drizzle.

Not many people line the streets, but there's still a small crowd. And they watch wide eyed, as the Survey Corps trot with their horses. Dawned in their olive capes.

Mae stands in the crowd as well, lost . Her height doesn't help much at all. And she tries balancing on her toes, tipping left and right, in the push of the crowd.

"ERWIN DANCHOU, WIN BACK WHAT HUMANITY HAS LOST." Loud cheers erupt.

"LEVI HEICHOU KILL ALL THE TITANS FOR US." The crowd raves, and Mae stands on the sidelines.

Moisture settles in the corner of her eyes as she looks at him longingly.

How can she ask him to not go when everyone is counting on him?

How can she ask him to stop, when he is leaving to serve all of humanity?

She thought this would get easier as the time passed by, but nope.

It's a feeling she still hasn't gotten used to.

Fleetingly, his eyes meet hers. He sees the way they glow, heavy with tears and the way her lips tremble. His gaze softens, almost caressing her with the way he's looking.

He flashes her a small smile, his gaze flickering to the gate and then back to her. To anyone, the action is hardly noticeable, but Mae gets his message loud and clear.

Let me go, will you? He says to her.

The tear caged in her eye falls freely. Her hand flies up and she bears a shaky smile as she waves at him.

The moment is short-lived but etched forever in his heart.

This chapter may feel like a filler chapter, but I just wanted to talk about how Levi and Mae's relationship is now that they are long distance. And how they are in a relationship as well (before I start getting to the actual AOT plot lol)

It's been a few months now, so Levi is more comfortable initiating physical touch.

I hope their character growth is noticeable, because it isn;t really obvious.

Mae says I love you but doesn't expect it back, and Levi doesn't say it back. That's something that would have crushed Chapter 18 Mae. But now Mae feels secure.

Its kind of rushed but Levi and Mae have grown, understanding each others imperfections better. Mae is more secure, she doesn't need Levi reminding her that he needs her again and again, because she sees his effort

And Levi too is trying to communicate his feelings even though they make him feel weak and vulnerable. (Him saying he's glad he's here). And he's trying to be sweeter when Mae needs sweetness (telling Mae that she's more than her looks and her career).

Let me know your views on the chapter!

As always constructive criticism is also welcomed!

To all the people who keep up with this fic despite all the irregular and late uploads, I am very very grateful to have you! <3

I will see you again with the next chapter! And HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Taglist: @keijikunn @evas-leslas @leviackermanmyhero245 (message me if you want to be added)

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neonponders · 1 year ago

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Part 39 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🧜🏻‍♂️ ~ marine biologist!Steve x shark!Billy with his pilot fish guppies 🍣

Part 37 & 38 (merman!Billy x marine biologist!Steve)

Part 36 (main plot)

Part 31 & 32 (werewolf!Billy chapters haha)

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳) ( pt. 27’s art 🦦 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

A quiet boat. That’s what Billy had said.

Steve presumed this meant a boat without an engine, but this cut Steve’s options in half. He didn’t know how to use any kind of sailboat - yet. He put that on the list of classes to take - and the matter of price made his options even more limited.

He decided on renting an ocean kayak as well as a satellite radio and a nautical gps because he had no idea what Billy intended. If the shark abandoned him in the middle of nowhere, he might have a chance to get himself back to shore.

In the shallows of their customary beach, he practiced paddling around, both seated and standing. He tipped himself on accident a few times, one of which had him coming back up in Billy’s arms. You call this a boat?

Steve wiped his eyes and shook his head for clarity. “I have conditions if we’re going somewhere.”

The subject got sidetracked by the littles greeting, “Hi, Stevie!”

“What’s this thing?” Small Billy smacked the side of the kayak and darted back to Billy’s side.

“It’s a kayak,” Steve said, wiping his eyes as Billy let his feet sink to the sand. “Billy said to bring a quiet boat. This is the best I can do in a day.”

Steve pressed the pads of his fingertips into Billy’s chest, warranting a lifted brow. “We can’t go far. If I can’t use an engine, I need enough energy to get back here. I’m not as strong as you.”

“I know,” Billy said, but it echoed a little in Steve’s mind. Maybe he wasn’t good at separating mental and auditory things the same way he couldn’t kiss without a little teeth.

For some reason, Steve felt like they were at an impasse. “Can I ask where we’re going?”

“You never asked before,” Billy said, and unfortunately he was right. Steve had always trusted him.

“This time I’m asking.”

“Not far,” Billy answered, scrutinizing the backpack Steve had tied to the front of his kayak.

“Could you not do that?” Steve droned as his rope got untied, but Billy ignored him to rework it to the front of Steve’s kayak.

“Get on, pretty boy. Would hate for you to get too tired to swim.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Steve countered, but he figured out what Billy intended. Once seated on his rented plastic salvation home, Billy started to swim with the kayak in tow. Steve felt bad. Sharks were like cheetahs; they could do impressive bursts of speed, but they were lazy endurance swimmers. Steve hoped his paddling relieved at least a little of the strain.

He and Billy had different measurements for ‘not far,’ but they stayed within a mile of the shore. Jagged pieces of land, not big enough to be an island, went by as well as clumps of reef.

Steve didn’t know what he expected. A sunken ship? An abandoned yacht? No, humans would notice those. But a cave was not it.

Billy must be able to feel or read his thoughts, because he stopped before the break in the cliff face to breach the surface and look at him. Steve felt his heart in his ears. Everything about this was different. He was used to seeing Billy in turquoise waters, so much blue, green, yellow, and pink. Not darkness. There was no way the littles lived in darkness. Colorful fish needed sunlight.

“Home.”

“You live in a rock closet?” he all but spat.

“Home is safe.”

“Where’s the sunlight?”

Little Steve held onto Billy’s hair as he tried to say above the choppier water, “It’s inside, Stevie! The fwont’s gotta look scawy to keep the bad fishies away.”

Little Billy joined him. “Thewre’s a beach inside. You gotta come with when the waterw’s down.”

That hole is usually covered, Steve’s brain reeled. What was he going to do? If Billy had finally decided to eat him, it’s not like Steve could out-swim him. And he’d constantly broken the hiking and sailing rules about telling people where he was going or when he’d be back. Nobody would come looking for him, except maybe his work colleagues when he’d missed too many shifts.

He rested the paddle on his lap, resigned. Billy took that as his cue to keep swimming. Steve had to use the paddle as a rudder to thread the needle of the opening. It was large enough for three or four kayaks to pass through, but with the sea swinging widely, he could become a bug splattered on the rocks too fast.

Once inside, the water was calm and aglow from the sunlight outside. Veins of light rippled over the rock ceiling. Steve’s heart bounced ferociously between the black tip of Billy’s silver tail and every new turn the winding tunnel made. Sometimes a stripe of rock would glitter, full of quarts flecks. If Steve wasn’t busy trying to figure out what he wanted his last words to be, he might appreciate it all more.

Of all the things he expected to see - fish skeletons, human debris like beer cans, maybe a piece of a boat or airplane - he did not anticipate the color green. Green like leaves. Green like there were holes in the ceiling, and the holes were getting bigger. Leaves and grass sprinkled the water from where masses of foliage hung over the collapsed sinkhole rims.

Steve was so busy looking up that he yelled when his kayak struck land. Small Billy giggled. “Scarwedy Stevie.”

Little Steve swam in excited figure eights. “Wewlcome to our beach!”

Steve carefully stepped out, glad that the stalagmites stood by the walls and not all over the floor. The beach had some soil and sand but was largely solid rock underfoot. Steve dragged his kayak up to where a long stretch of grass grew lush and green directly underneath the sunlight. Hopefully this area stayed dry during high tide.

“It’s pretty,” Steve admitted, and it was. He could see some wildflowers on the fringes of the biggest hole, and a butterfly fluttering around them.

Billy’s hand grasped Steve’s ankle, but didn’t pull. When Steve looked down at his long form stretched out over the beach, Billy said, “Let’s swim.”

Steve unpacked his flippers, snorkel, and mask. In the water, he crawled on his fingertips since the littles darted all around him, but after Billy took his hand, he gently kicked behind him.

The biggest sinkhole was just down the beach and around the corner, large enough for a couple of boats to anchor in. It made sense why Billy called this place home; with the above ground compromised, no humans would dare settle here, and any predators would have to risk entrapping themselves in the narrow tunnels.

This main room had sand and tall kelp that provided more hiding places if the littles needed it. When small Billy heralded, “Stevie! Fowllow me!” he followed the fish into the vast green swaying like hair in the gentle current.

“This is my shewll,” Billy said, managing to lift a shell no bigger than a dime. The inside of it was bright, watermelon red.

Steve tried to say, “Pretty,” under the water, but he settled on chipper humming instead. He pointed to his dandelion yellow shirt today, and the littles sorted through their shell collection until they found the yellowest one.

Little Steve moved on to a spot of sand. "We’ve got these ‘cause they wook wike big Biwwy.”

Steve helped him dig through the top layer of sand and made an awed sound over the collection of pearls. He touched his chest and gestured upward, where they followed him up so he could breathe and say, “Do you have a favorite?”

“Biwwy, obviously,” little Steve said.

The former laughed. “Yeah, he’s my favorite too. I like the blue and green ones. They look like your tails--”

Steve couldn’t say more, because a certain shark grasped one of his flippers and pulled him under the water. They spent a while playing Kissy Fish, which is just a variation of tag, but they were in Billy’s home terf and Steve tried his best to keep his flipper kicks gentle in their home. The consequence was his mask getting knocked off, a lot of kisses, and a bite on his leg that had him swimming back to the beach.

“Okay, okay. I need water and rest. Ow, this feels like a jelly fish sting.”

The littles knew that Steve needed fresh water, but beyond that they didn’t really understand. He sat on the beach, tossed his flippers onto his kayak, and guzzled from his two liter bottle as they spoke just as much to him as with each other.

“We twied swimming in borwing water.”

“It wasn’t borwing. It made me dizzy.”

“The snaiwls were yummy, but the water was dizzy, yep.”

“Stevie, why do you dwink borwing water but taste like us?”

He shrugged and offered, “Because we’re the same. We’re both salty; you just have a tail, and I have legs.”

His gaze lifted and he frowned a little at Billy pacing back and forth, black tips of his fins reminding him of the tips of cat tails.

“But why do you need borwing water then?” small Billy asked.

“We both need fresh water, but I drink mine and yours comes down as rain and rivers.”

Small Billy beached himself on Steve’s knee cap, chin poised on his little fist to think over that. “But we don’t swim in wivers.”

“That’s good for me. It’d be hard for me to find you in a muddy river.”

Billy smiled. “We found you firwst.”

“Stevie?” his smaller self asked. “Do you wike shewll meat?”

Like clams? he wondered, just in time for Billy to emerge with a bushel of oysters in his hands. Considering he’d only brought a sandwich and pickles today, a grin brightened his face. “I sure do.”

All three fish stared at him when he removed his shirt to use as a scrub for the oysters. “What? You knew it wasn’t attached.”

The littles whispered to each other while Billy sank so only his nose and eyes gazed at him over the water. All Steve had to work with was how Billy’s face had flushed a rich pink. Steve defended weakly, “No biting.”

Billy crawled in between his legs, his shoulders knocking Steve’s arms out of the way for him to climb right up and kiss his mouth and purr, I’ll bite whatever I want.

“BIWWY!” the littles screamed as Steve slumped backwards onto the grass and weeds.

#harringrove #like magnets #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au #merman!billy #guppies 🥺😭#fic rec #marine biologist!steve

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just-a-shark333 · 2 months ago

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Dadbaccio au chapter 2 finally yayyy

uuughhhggggh same as last time ig

Words: 649(it's short, I know sorry)

Uhhhhh

They go home in this one.

part one if you haven't read it

Ao3 version

Haruno had no fucking clue what was going on.

All she wanted to do was wait for her Mama to come back, but that officer- Mr. Leone decided that this was a big deal and that he had to do something about it. Haruno hated police officers, they never did anything about anything that mattered! Like Mr. Leone, he was worrying about Haruno when he could be doing something about the city’s drug and mafia problem.It frustrated Haruno to no end, but it wasn’t like she could do anything about it. Not now at least. When she grew up she was going to join the mafia, like the man she had found in that alley a few days ago. She would join the mafia and work her way to the top, so she could destroy the drug trade from the inside out.

Haruno was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of someone yelling,

“This is stupid! Outrageous! Completely insane!” It was Mr.Leone. Suddenly the sound stopped and the door opened

“Change of plans kid, you’re coming home with me.”

What?

If Haruno didn’t understand what was going on before she sure as hell didn’t now.

What was going on? Why was Mr.Leone trying to take her home with him? He seemed upset, had Haruno done something wrong? Haruno had had her fair share of less than great experiences with cops before, often being left with one to look after her while her step-father went to ‘talk’ to their captain.

Through those experiences, she learned that it’s much better to just go with them and whatever they want from her than it was to try to fight back, so, Haruno picks up her small backpack and slowly walks over next to Mr.Leone.

The taller man takes her hand once again and smiles down at her as they make their way out of the station.

They walked in silence for a while, creating a strange, eerie feel to the dark path they took back to Abbacchio’s apartment. The eerie silence was the kind that you can never quite tell if it was awkward or not, Haruno internally debates trying to start some kind of conversation with the taller man, but inevitably decides against the idea. The possible cons far outweigh the possible pros.

Soon, the pair found themselves up the stairs of a fairly average looking brick apartment, standing outside his home. After a moment of Abbacchio fiddling with his key in the lock he opens the door, allowing Haruno in before himself.

“Sorry it’s not much, but it’ll do for now.” He says as he kicks the door shut, “You can just set your bag wherever,”

Haruno set it next to the door. In case she had to make a quick escape, she wouldn’t have to leave what little she owned behind. In her bag was nothing but a coat riddled with holes and what little money she was able to pickpocket from random strangers.

The apartment walls were painted a gross yellow-beige-off white color that made everything look dirtier than it actually was- though, that’s not to say that it wasn’t. Looking around, Haruno could see various pieces of trash sitting around, mostly takeout boxes and glass bottles. Aside from that it was a pretty nice little place, a bit nicer than Haruno’s home at least.

She was once again pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Mr. Leone’s voice.

“You probably haven’t eaten today, right? I’ll start dinner.”

Ok, now Haruno was certain that Leone wanted something from her. Taking her out of the, admittedly very cold and uncomfortable, park to his apartment, and now making her food? Something was definitely up with this.

“...Ok. Thank you, mr- Leone,”

“It’s no problem, kid. You- uh- you can just..sit in the kitchen with me, I guess.”

Haruno didn't respond, just followed him to the kitchen.

---

Wooooooo it's doneeee

Took longer than I wanted it to but whatever

Ive been pretty busy lately and will be for a while so chapters are gonna be far apart, sorry.

I think this fic will have either 5 or 6 chapters and then I have plans to make this a series.

Uhhh but yeah

Thats it, hope it wasn't too bad

Go eat food, drink water, and get some rest. Have a great day/night, love you! <3

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thesolarangel · 1 year ago

Text

A touch of cinnamon and spice

Chapter 3

Summary: Halloween bash! Things start to heat up! (there's also some Jargyle in this! 😏)

3.006 words · Rated: T · College AU · Please read the updated tags on AO3! This one is a little angsty. Alcohol mentioned, but they drink very little or not at all and they don’t kiss under the influence!

Thanks again to @elronds-pointy-ears and @niennawept for beta reading!

Read on AO3 here

Chapter 3 · October 31st 1987

Eddie stood in front of the mirror at their dorm room, putting the finishing touches on his halloween costume. Dragging the eyeliner pencil very carefully across one eyelid, then the other one, then he paused, took a step back and critically examined the result. He grinned at his own reflection, totally digging this different look for himself. And he was eager to find out if Steve would recognize the character.

He had decided to dress up as “Dwayne”, one of The Lost Boys, from the movie that had come out a few months prior. Most of the clothes he needed for the costume had already been in his closet anyway: A black leather jacket, battered jeans and boots. The outfit didn’t feature a top, so Eddie was shirtless underneath the jacket. But he had made his own “tooth” earring from scratch and the necklace featuring all kinds of little trinkets, like an old rusty key, some wooden beads and a few bottle caps. All of it was tied together into a necklace with a thick burlap ribbon. He wore his hair down like he always did, but opted for some eyeliner to complete the look.

The door swung open and Argyle waltzed into their room, wearing a yellow t-shirt and cap that said "Surfer Boy's Pizza” in red letters.

“Hey, guys!” He greeted them excitedly.

“Dude! What did we say about knocking first?” Eddie complained.

“Whoops, sorry!” He scratched the back of his head. ”I promise I’ll get a hang of that someday…”

Jonathan raised his eyebrows, giving Argyle a once over. “Why are you dressed for work?”

“Man, I totally blanked on this whole thing, so this is the closest I could get to a costume…” Argyle shrugged, then he noticed Jonathan, who wasn’t dressed up at all. “And who are you supposed to be? Cute college nerd?”

Jonathan blushed. “I hate halloween, I’m just doing this for Eddie… and I’m the only one with a car.”

Now Argyle gave Eddie the once over and his jaw dropped. “Eds, dude, you look so awesome!” He gave Eddie an enthusiastic slap on the back. “Steve is gonna eat you up, bare chest and eyeliner and all!”

Eddie’s chest filled with confidence once again. “You really know how to hype someone up, maybe I’ll forget about the knocking thing…” He laughed.

…

Jonathan pulled his car into the street of Jared’s frat house. Bright colorful lights and loud music streamed from the windows. A few kids were standing in the yard, smoking and chatting.

The three of them headed inside. “Monster Mash” blasted from the speakers and a crowd of college kids in halloween costumes were dancing wildly in the living room.

“Hey, you’re Alice Cooper, that’s awesome, man!” Someone passing Eddie shouted, but he just grinned back and didn’t correct them. Did he put on too much eyeliner?

As they made their way through the crowd, they noticed some kids were dressed as movie characters, others as scary fantasy creatures. There was a beer pong table to the left and a bunch of guys were howling and cheering their friends on.

When they finally arrived at the kitchen, Eddie felt someone poking him gently in the side. He looked up and saw Argyle smirking at him, his eyes pointing towards someone.

Steve was already there, accompanied by a blonde girl in a red puffer vest. Marty McFly. Eddie was a big fan of “Back to the future”.

“Hey, you made it!” Steve greeted them cheerfully.

“Hey, Stevie!” Eddie grinned back, immediately noticing his halloween costume. Steve had dressed up as none other than Freddie Mercury. “You look amazing!” Eddie complimented him.

Steve was wearing a white undershirt with a deep neckline that showed off his marvelous chest hair. Eddie felt the urgent need to run his fingers through it… The shirt was tucked into a pair of tight faded blue jeans and a studded belt. His hair was slicked back and he even thought of the studded bracelet around his right bicep. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“Thanks, you, too! Love the eyeliner on you!” Steve beamed at him. Eddie blushed, trying to keep it together, but Steve was so damn pretty, all dolled up in front of him.

“Oh right, Robin, these are Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan.” he added politely, then he introduced the girl beside him. “Guys, this is Robin.” She waved at them. “My Platonic Best Friend – “ Steve started, but got interrupted by Robin “Platonic with a capital P!” They laughed.

“Love your costume, dude!” Argyle gave her a thumbs up.

“Nice to meet you.” Jonathan said, smiling at her kindly.

“Thanks, guys!” She beamed.

“Should we get drinks?” Steve asked the group.

While the other three got to know each other while getting drinks, Robin pulled Eddie to the side of the kitchen. “Hey, you’re one of The Lost Boys, right?” She asked him.

“Dwayne, yes! You’ve seen it?” Eddie replied, excited that she knew who he was supposed to be.

“Loved it! It was so heavily queer coded, wasn’t it?” Robin looked at him with a knowing stare and smiled.

Eddie stared back “... wait, you, too?” Robin nodded enthusiastically. Eddie laughed and hugged her. He loved making new queer friends. He already knew he liked her from her taste in movies.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you, the infamous Eddie! Steve has told me so much about you!” Robin nudged him in the side and grinned.

Eddie’s heart made a jump, but before he could interrogate her about that, Steve was back, handing him and Robin each a drink. “I just grabbed cola for all of us since Robin doesn’t drink and I’m driving.”

“Thanks!” Eddie took his drink, turning to Steve again. “So you really dig Freddie, huh?” he asked curiously.

Steve gave him a dashing smile and said “Yeah, I do.”

Eddie grinned back. “You’re missing the iconic mustache though.”

“I know! I totally forgot about that! Robin offered to just draw one on and I had to take all of the sharpies away from her…” Steve said, giving Robin a side eye.

“Your loss!” she shrugged. “Waltzing around in an incomplete halloween costume!”

…

Steve turned out to be a pretty dorky dancer. He spun Robin around to the music and insisted on doing the same with Eddie, who grumpily agreed. After seeing how freely they were jumping around, Eddie didn’t have any worry left needing to be perceived as “cool”. This was not high school after all. When “I love playin’ with fire” came on, Robin and Steve looked at each other with wide eyes and completely went nuts together, dancing to their song and ignoring everyone around them.

These dorks. Eddie smiled to himself and danced along to The Runaways.

They danced amongst the cheerful crowd like this for a while, until Robin discovered the twister mat and forced them all to play, including Jonathan and Argyle who she fetched from the kitchen.

Argyle turned the wheel, while the others curved and wriggled to get their hands and feet onto the right position. In round 2 Eddie was so close to Steve, his cheek nearly touched Steve’s outer thigh and Eddie almost fell. He smelled so great, too…

Get a grip, Munson!

But then Jonathan lost his balance and took Eddie with him in the fall.

Eddie rubbed his back. “Ouch, dude”, he moaned in pain while they untangled their limbs and stepped off the mat.

“Sorry… clumsy…” Jonathan apologized, holding his back as well.

Robin and Steve were the last ones standing and things got quite competitive.

“You may be stronger than me, dingus, but I can bend better!” Robin announced confidently as she stretched to reach the red dot with her right foot.

“Excuse me, I’m bendable!” Steve retorted, likewise extending his leg. Eddie almost spit out his drink at that.

“Next is left hand, green, guys, come on!” Argyle instructed them with Jonathan sitting beside him, attentively watching the game.

Eddie watched them closely. Steve was on all fours now, muscles tight and a determined look on his face. He stretched out his left hand towards the green dot, making his shirt ride up and exposing his tanned skin. Eddie gripped his glass tighter. But then Steve’s left foot slipped and he dropped to the ground. “Argh, nooo!”

“Ha-HA!” Robin shouted triumphantly. Everyone cheered with her, except Steve and she proceeded to tease him mercilessly the rest of the evening.

Next they went into the basement where the pool table was set up. Everyone grabbed a cue and Steve started the game. They did fine mostly, Robin being in the lead at this round, but Jonathan didn’t quite get the hang of it.

“Here, let me show you”, Argyle offered. “First of all, you can’t see shit with that fringe, my dude.” He gently pulled Jonathan’s hair back, took his pizza hat and put it on his friend’s head backwards, keeping his hair from obstructing his view. Then he stepped intimately close behind Jonathan, towering over him and placed his hands gently over Jonathan’s on the cue.

Then he maneuvered him into the right position. “And then you just….”, he lined up the cue, aimed at the ball and Bam! It went straight into the corner pocket. “There you go, dude!” Argyle let go and smiled happily down at his friend.

“Thank you, bro!” Jonathan beamed at him.

Everyone else just stood there, stunned by what they had just witnessed between the two. Robin just grinned knowingly, said nothing and stepped to the table to make the next turn.

After a few more rounds, Robin had successfully won the pool game and the group went back to the kitchen for another drink. She was plotting her next challenge. “Let’s see, what can I beat you in next, dingus?”

“Ugh, I need a break, my back hurts…” Steve complained dramatically.

“You’re just a bad loser, Steve!” she laughed. “I think I saw a dart game somewhere…”

But Steve let out an annoyed groan: “No way, I’m not letting you throw pointy objects, you might take someone’s eye out!”

As much as Eddie enjoyed listening to their banter, he really needed to pee right now. “Hey, guys, where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

“Upstairs, first door on the right.” Robin replied and turned back to Steve. “Okay, but what if…” and she went on to explain her elaborate plan to make dart fool proof.

…

When stepping out of the bathroom, Eddie heard subtle noises coming from the next room. The door stood open a little bit and Eddie risked a peek. Argyle was cornering the much smaller Jonathan against the wall, cupping his cheek and kissing him. Jonathan was still wearing Argyle’s hat and he had both of his hands on his back, pulling him closer.

Heat shot up Eddie’s face and he froze when he realized he was staring at his best friends making out.

Good for them.

He smiled to himself. He had already suspected them having a thing for each other, because of how often Jonathan didn’t sleep in his own bed and Argyle’s flirty behavior today only confirmed it. Very quietly, he turned around on his heels and made his way back downstairs to the kitchen.

Only Robin was there, grabbing some snacks.

“Hey, have you seen Steve around?” Eddie asked.

“He’s outside.” Robin pointed to the patio.

Eddie went into the living room, moved through the crowd of students, doing their best zombie moves to “Thriller” until he reached the patio.

“Hey, Robin told me I could find you here.” Eddie said softly as he closed the glass door behind him. He was relieved to find that they were the only ones here right now.

“Eddie, hey”, Steve smiled at him, he was wearing a cozy looking hoodie jacket embroidered with the university logo.

Silence fell between them as they stood there for a while peacefully, breathing in the cool night air and listening to the muffled music and laughter coming from the party.

“Listen, Ed–”

“Are you ok–”

They laughed and then Eddie said “Sorry, you go first.”

Steve looked down at his feet. “It’s nothing… I mean, I don’t know…” he murmured.

“Oh, okay…”

Then it was quiet again, but after just a moment, Steve took a step towards him. Eddie sucked in a sharp breath. Steve was so close, his cheeks were a little pink from the cold, he looked so beautiful. Was this really happening?

“Are you drunk?” Steve asked softly.

“No… I only had like one beer… are you?”

“No, I’m the designated driver tonight.”

“Good.”

“Good…”

Steve took his hand, intertwining their fingers and oh, this was happening.

“Is this okay?” Stupid, wonderful, shiny eyes looking at him.

“Yes…” Eddie breathed, heart hammering in his chest.

“And this?” he cupped Eddie’s cheek, glancing down at his lips.

“Steve, if you don’t kiss me right n–” But Steve had already cut him off by sealing their lips in a gentle kiss.

Eddie felt Steve smiling into the kiss. That bastard. That charming, considerate bastard.

Their first kiss was intoxicatingly sweet. Steve’s lips were so soft as he kissed him carefully, grazing over Eddie’s in a slow play of push and pull.

Eddie let himself get hauled in by Steve, falling deep into the vibrant aura that was his warmth, his full lips, his earthy scent, while losing all sense of time and space.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

It resonated in his mind. Steve’s kisses were tender and full of affection, Eddie couldn’t get enough. He let his hand wander onto Steve’s lower back, holding him closer. A small gasp escaped Steve’s lips and his hand moved into Eddie’s hair at the back of his neck, stroking the sensitive skin there.

Eddie thought his heart might give out any second from the way his body was melting in Steve’s hands… Every spot he caressed burned up and Eddie swore he could hear his own blood rushing in his ears.

After what felt like hours, Steve released him and both of them were breathing heavily. Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s, closing his eyes to forever burn this moment into his brain. They were still holding hands, Eddie’s thumb stroking over the back of Steve’s hand absentmindedly.

“That was…” Eddie whispered.

“Yeah…” Steve said, a shy smile curling his lips, his cheeks now properly flushed, but not from the cold. Eddie smiled as he gazed at the prettiest boy he had just kissed.

“Do you wanna go inside and find a cozier spot?” Eddie purred, one hand on Steve’s waist.

“I like the way you think, Eds.” Steve grinned.

Those words made Eddie’s face lit up.

Eds.

Nobody had given him a pet name before. Oh, he was falling hard.

“Come on.” Steve chuckled and maneuvered him back inside.

…

Back in the living room, someone yelled from the group of guys over at the beer pong table. “Hey Harrington, we need you over here!”

Steve waved at them and then turned to Eddie. “I’m gonna say hi real quick and then meet you in the kitchen, okay?” He smiled at him, his hand was on Eddie’s lower back, sending a hot spark through his body.

Eddie nodded. “Sure thing”, he said and watched Steve vanish into the dancing crowd.

Eddie made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself another cola, thinking back to what had just happened. Steve’s lips were so soft…

He couldn’t wait to do that again. And more... Did this mean they were dating? Should he talk to Steve about that? Where should they spend their first real date?

Wild laughter ripped him from his daydreaming and he turned around. The group from the beer pong table stood in the doorway, Steve was with them.

He was chatting with a petite girl with curly shoulder length hair who Eddie didn’t recognize. She was laughing so much and her cheeks were very red. One arm around his waist, she clung to him as if she’d fall otherwise.

Then she cupped Steve’s cheek, pulled him down and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. And worse, Steve didn’t even seem to mind. He smiled charmingly and kept talking to her.

What’s going on…

But before Eddie could analyze this whole situation reasonably, an overwhelming notion of disappointment and hurt rose in his chest, spreading poisonous thoughts…

» He was just playing with you. That’s all. You’re not special. «

He tried to look away, but in that brief second, their eyes met. Steve’s bright expression fell once he noticed Eddie’s upset look, but before he could open his mouth, Eddie fled the kitchen.

He almost bumped into someone in the hallway. “Eddie, what –” It was Jonathan.

“Can we go home?” Eddie murmured.

Jonathan searched his friend’s face, waiting for a follow up, but Eddie remained quiet, looking utterly devastated. “Yeah, sure, man. Let me grab Argyle real quick and then we can go.”

…

The whole way back Eddie stared out of the window of the car, dark thoughts nearly drowning him. The atmosphere was tense and Jonathan and Argyle were dead silent the whole ride.

Eddie was fidgeting with the necklace when one of the wooden beads fell off. He angrily yanked the whole thing off, but it got caught in his hair and when he tried to untangle it, it got even more stuck.

“Fuck, this – stupid – thing – this is – BULLSHIT!”

Jonathan winced in the driver’s seat, startled by Eddie’s loud voice.

“Sorry…” Eddie murmured.

When he eventually freed it from his messy hair, he threw the stupid thing to his feet and let out a frustrated sigh. Looking out of the window again, he noticed his reflection.

Damn, Munson, you look like shit.

His eyeliner was smudged and his expression was miserable. Hopelessly, he dropped his head in his hands.

I guess I don’t mean anything to him…

tag list: @starlady66 @bananaphanta @runawaymun @mistergandalf @fenharel-enaste @queenmeriadoc @elronds-pointy-ears @hbyrde36 @hammity-hammer @corrodedbisexual @spoookysix @rozzieroos @cranberrymoons

devider by @firefly-graphics

notes:

This will mostly be realistic BUT there will be hand holding, mixed dorm rooms, being openly queer on campus and at parties! So don't come at me with "this wouldn't have been a thing in 1987"! I know and it's fiction!! Also: “I love playin’ with fire” by The Runaways might not be a common halloween party song, but Maya Hawke said in an interview, that Robin likes The Runaways and Joan Jett and the song is danceable, soooo… I’m also thinking that her music taste rubs off on Steve! Moodboard: left: Freddie Mercury at the Live Aid concert 1985 (Steve’s halloween costume), right: Dwayne from “The Lost Boys” movie from 1987 (Eddie’s halloween costume) ... Hopefully it was clear, what Eddie felt and why he read the situation like he did. That the girl was flirting with Steve and he reciprocated it. It was a little tough to write!

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annonniiiiieeeee · 2 years ago

Note

ANONIE :D what the fuck? what was that chapter anonie/j

Dont you have enogh? /j (also why lord hijiki remeind me of 12Shredder) also my hate to this boomer, L+ratio, estupido cara de burro, piece of shit called Lord

Anyways I have a question abt the

FUTURE

Of Awosan Future timeline, sooo where does Leo and Usagi lives? (/w their kids obv) like i think in one ask it was stablished(? that they didnt live in the sewer, but where exactly? like in the hidden city or in another part?

Also have this

I’ve had that planned since December :)

Now you asked for the

Future

So how dare I not deliver

So Leo and Usagi’s home. It is not in the Swede and it is not in the hidden city. Usagi wants to raise his kids in the sunlight. Finding out how long it was before Leo and his brother walked above ground horrifies him. He wants the world for his family. That includes being able to be normal kids and play outside.

Their home is outside of New York City. Think like the farm house from 2003. It’s in the woods and near a lake. It has a modern Japanese style to it, a blend of their two worlds. It’s private as at this point mutants and yokai are more common, Leo, Usagi and the others are famous because of their actions to keep the city/world safe.

In other

Future

News. Do you want to hear about Raph and Mona Lisa’s kids?

No? Well You’re going to anyway.

They have been thinking about kids for a while but Leo and Usagi’s announcement that they were having a kid really sparked them forward. Why not have a kid now? It will be close in age to Leo’s kid meaning both kids will have someone to play with.

Lisa’s Italian family is traditional and normally pass down Italian names. Raph and Lisa have a deal that if they have a boy then Lisa gets to pick their name (an Italian name) and if it is a girl then Raph gets to pick their name (a Japanese name)

They have some trouble getting pregnant but finally they do.

They have their first kid about 8 months after Jotaro is born.

It’s a little baby boy named Benigno ( it means Friendly) He is named after Mona’s grandfather.

He is a green snapping turtle with a long tail but he had Lisa’s yellow spots.

And like his mother he’s bold. Where Jotaro is quite and mature Benigno will absolutely tell you what he thinks. They balance each other well and he is Jotaro’s best friend.

I think I will assign him the color red

They were thinking about having another kid. They had gotten pregnant again, when the twins were surprised adopted.

Mona was around 3 months pregnant at the time.

Making her 5 months pregnant when Leo and Usagi rushed home with two sick children.

Lisa was so scared that her kids could get this sick. She was terrified for Sakura and Ume. Luckily the girls pulled through

A little bit later Lisa had their first daughter, Mikazuki (meaning Crescent moon)

She is a black snapping turtle with yellow spots.

She is the same age as the twins but is more into sport then they are. She likes wearing dresses here and there but she’s not as girly as Sakura is. She does get a little more girly as she grows up. Helping Sakura with her fashion projects.

She is definitely a daddy’s girl as she loves playing sports ball with her father. Though if she was ever allowed on a sports team she would probably play water polo.

She picks the color white for herself

About a year later they have their youngest.

A little boy named Fulvio (it means Yellow)

He is a green salamander with yellow spots. He is a year older then Kaida and is much bigger

(all of Raph kids are bigger then Kaida was, still small but bigger then her. They are all still shocked by Kaida’s small size. This has to do with both Lisa be Raph being huge and their kids having half human DNA instead of the 1/4 that Leo and Usagi’s kids get)

He is a shy sweet little boy who enjoys reading and art. The is much quieter then his two more chaotic siblings.

Once Kaida comes along and is up and moving the two become a duo. Make no mistake Fulvio might be older but he is not in charge. He is following Kaida in all of her bad decisions

I shall make his color a greenish yellow or a bright yellow. This make him and Kaida yellow buddies.

That’s all I have so far. This can all change as well.

#asks #a world of samurais and ninjas #leosagi #raphmona #awosan Fulvio #awosan Mikazuki #awosan Benigno

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abhainnwhump · 1 year ago

Text

IMYM Chapter 2 High on Sweetness: Ink

<- Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ->

(I apologize in advance for my bad puns. Over four years in this fandom and my puns have not improved. They’re not as bad as the rock one though.)

“Well, that was weird,” Ink groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head. His skull pounded after having Nightmare inside it and his ribs throbbed a dull ache. The artist looked around and realized the Villain Sans Squad was gone, thank the stars. He felt tempted to lie back and nap for a while, watching the fluffy clouds pass through the blue sky. As soon as Nightmare left, the atmosphere cleared up. Birds were singing and flowers were blooming. Hopefully, laying back would clear the fog in his mind.

“Ink?” Dream kneeled down next to him. He had a concerned look in his golden eye lights. “Are you feeling okay? Nightmare’s influence can leave . . . scars on people.”

“Never better.” Thanks to the positivity magic still making him feel warm and fuzzy, Ink was only half sarcastic. Hate and anger didn’t burn through him anymore, which was a plus. But he was still pissed that the octopus played him like one of Error’s dolls. Why him out of the three? Why wouldn’t Nightmare go after his brother when he was standing right there?

Blue joined them with blue stars in his eye sockets. His energy hammer was gone, snapped away now that there was no danger. “Mweh, that was easy! I expected them to fight harder! But are you two alright?”

Dream looked up and nodded. “For the most part, we’re good. The mission was a success, no one died, the Villain Sans Squad is gone, and the AU is safe. The one negative was that Nightmare messed with Ink’s emotions and forced him to fight me.” He turned back to Ink. “Are you okay?”

Ink snorted. “Yeah, I’m fine. You worry a lot for the ‘embodiment of positivity’. Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually who you say you are andnot a hoax.”

Offended, Dream crossed their arms, stammering. “How dare you! I am not a hoax!” He stuck his tongue out. Despite his efforts, Ink laughed harder. Blue repressed a smile but gave up fast. Even Dream dropped the angry facade and smiled with his trademark giggle. They all broke down laughing, needing a bit of group positivity after the battle.

The Star Sanses were so distracted that they didn’t notice the human child flying above. One of their white feathers fell on Ink’s scarf, which is what finally made him realize they were there. They had brownish auburn hair, a baby blue sweater stripped with gray, and a pair of black goggles on their head. Their huge smile looked even larger with their closed eyes, or at least what appeared closed.

“Hey, kid!” Ink shouted up, “How’s it going?”

The human zoomed down a skeleton from the sky joined them. He had raven-colored goggles, which matched his jacket and wings pretty well. His only pop of color was an electric blue turtleneck. The two bird monsters blew up dust from the ground as they landed.

“Now that was an emu-sing battle.” Aviar winked, blowing dust from his goggles. The human’s smile faded in seconds. Aviar laughed. “Lark says thank you. We got the rest of the monsters out of danger and they insisted on watching the fight.”

“It was no problem,” Blue said through gritted teeth as his left eye socket twitched. “I’m glad you’re all safe.”

“That’s what we do. Protect you guys and make sure everything goes to your Creator’s vision. And this AU doesn’t involve skeleton killers. And if does, then oh well. You’re all screwed.” Ink shrugged. He stared at their unamused expressions. Lark signed something with their hands that he didn’t think was friendly. “What? I don’t make the rules around here.”

“Anyways,” Aviar coughed as he changed the subject, “I don’t know about your schedule, but I’m free for a while. My next guard shift doesn’t start for another two hours and I have to make up for slacking on the job. How about we go for nice cream? My treat.”

Dream blushed yellow. Ink never knew why, but he always seemed embarrassed when people offered to do things for him. “Thank you for the offer, but unless Ink and Blue-”

“Hey, I said it’s on me, don’t worry about it. I don’t do anything with my gold besides buy coconut oil. None of you are birdens, relax.”

Blue pressed the tips of his pointer fingers between his eye sockets, forcing a smile. “Sounds magnificent! But if you say another pun, that’s going to change very quickly.”

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

“You guys were right,” Ink said, his mouth full of Neapolitan. “Birdtale has the best nice cream.”

The Star Sanses, Aviar, and Lark sat with their legs dangling over the edge of one of the brown flight platforms. Some monsters flew around in the sky. The drop below was at least a thousand feet into an empty abyss, but Ink wasn’t scared. He could teleport with Broomie, Dream with positivity, Blue with his magic, and the birds . . . well, that’s self-explanatory. Even though Ink didn’t have lungs, he could feel the light air pressure against his bones. Lark lived up here so long their body could take it, so they were fine.

“Aviar, question.” Ink looked down into the chasm. “What’s down there? I’m guessing it’s either a river, rocks, or an abyss. Has anyone ever fallen?” Usually, Ink would know the answers to these questions since he explored the AUs and read the code so much. But sometimes the Creator didn’t make an answer, so the monsters had to figure out themselves. Even if most of the time there was nothing there. Sometimes he wondered if he could create the endings to stories himself, maybe he should try it . . .

The bird monster looked over the ledge. “No one knows. And I don’t . . . think anyone fell down. Kid, do you?”

Lark shook their head.

“Can I jump down?” Ink asked.

“No,” Aviar replied.

Ink leaned away from the edge, a bit disappointed. “Please? I’ll be fine! Trust me, I’ve been through worse.”

“Ink, no,” Blue said with a stern voice. “The last thing we need is you hurting yourself because you decided to be a reckless little shit and hurt yourself again! Look, I don't know how emotion magic works but . . ." He looked up at Dream. "Is it hard?"

He thought about it. “Speaking from experience, emotion manipulation magic is difficult. The stronger a person’s will and determination are, the harder it is to control them. I don’t understand why Nightmare only waited until now to use his magic.” Dream brushed his spoon against his banana sundae, making a swirl with the ice cream and syrup. “Oh, speaking of the battle, did anyone feel as if he retreated too easily?”

Ink shrugged. “Nope. He fought hard enough to me. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll do this.” Shoving his nice cream cone in his mouth, Ink stood up and shot a bullet of paint into the sky with Broomie. The black pellet flew threw the sky until it hit the edge of the AU, sending an almost invisible ripple. It took years for Ink to get that trick right, but now he could make a protective shell around any AU until he left it. He sat back down with nice cream melting all over his chin. “Boom, shield. They can’t get in if they tried now, we’re a-okay! What gave you that idea they weren’t fighting enough?”

Dream watched the ripples go by before turning their attention back to their sundae. “It’s just . . . I don’t know. Most of the time, he puts more of an effort in. It was like he was toying with us, buying time. ”

“You’re overthinking, Dreamboat.” Dream frowned at the nickname. “You need to chill out and stop worrying about everything. Take a page out of my playbook and don’t care about anything for few hours. Yeah, that should be enough time . . .” Ink was talking to himself by that point. He was trying as hard as he could to erase the memory of Nightmare taking him over. He still heard the red vial messing with his head. Kill him! What has he done to you besides being a pest? He’ll only make things worse. I’m the right one. He’s a crybaby and makes you look bad by being around him. Kill them both.

Like sure, the team had their arguments. Dream was a serious people pleaser and wanted to protect everyone in every AU. He was a complete sucker for the ‘happily ever after’ that Ink didn’t understand, angst and suffering was more fun. He didn’t see why saving people was so important. The worlds were unique and magical and one of a kind. Meanwhile, the monsters were all copied and pasted with different clothes. There were millions of worlds with billions of monsters, so a few deaths won’t affect anything. But noooooo, Dream wanted to save everyone. Blue tended to side with him and that didn’t help anything.

But at the end of the day, they were teammates and friends with a common goal: To protect the Doodlesphere.

Moments like this were one of the reasons he was glad to have the worst memory in the Doodlesphere. He once forgot his name for an entire day and Fresh stilljokes about it. He’d forget he ever got mind-controlled by the end of the week. At least he hoped he did. He didn’t count on it. Especially after trying to forget his weird nightmares and . . . everything else weird going on.

For the last few months, Ink felt like he was being watched. Well, people were always staring at him, but this felt different. He’d get a sick feeling of dread in his nonexistent stomach out of nowhere. Some of his stuff went missing. At first, they weren’t huge things— colored pencils, paint, drawings— but it freaked him out. Then he lost more personal things. Clothes, entire sketchbooks, battle strategies, and worst of all, his homemade flute. He didn’t even have a backup flute! Why would anyone even steal a flute? And then there was the cold feeling he woke up to some mornings. It made him feel miserable and worthless, but only when he stayed in the room. Ink tried to blame the missing stuff on his memory, even though the cold didn’t make sense. He didn’t tell Dream or Blue yet, but he planned to if he lost anything else.

Blue licked his pina colada-flavored nice cream. “So how do we keep Nightmare from coming back here?”

Ink crossed his legs over each other in his pondering position. “Why don’t we . . . I don’t know, set up a trap back? Ooh! I got an idea! How about we make a giant spider web made out of paint or something, then we put in an AU they’ll attack-”

Blue stared at him as if he were insane. “Absolutely not! Remember the last time we tried something like that?”

“For the last time, it wasn’t my fault that apartment got set on fire!” Ink crossed his arms in a pout.

“Yes, it was.” Dream and Blue said at the same time.

Lark opened their mouth and raised a finger, but put it back down and closed it.

The group talked about whatever came to mind. Ink lost track of the time, though it was probably an hour. He spent most of that time laughing at the others’ jokes (and his own for that matter). Sometimes he got distracted and forgot what they were saying.

The wind grew stronger and the temperature dropped. Ink’s bones tingled like he got a nervous stomachache, but he wasn’t scared. On the other side, Lark’s face paled. He could recognize the feeling from anywhere.

A child who looked about nine stood behind them. They had gray skin and shadow gray hair cut into a choppy bob. To continue with the gray color scheme, they wore a gray-striped sweater with shorts. Instead of eyes, they had empty black voids. They weren’t black and soulless-looking twenty-four-seven. Ink has seen Core Frisk’s eye sockets glitter entire galaxies when they used their magic.

“Core! You almost gave me a nonexistent heart attack!” Ink dramatically clutched his chest.

Lark put their thumb under their chin and circled their index finger in the air. Their eyebrows raised.

Aviar translated. “Who are you?”

“No one important.” Core winked their empty, mischief-filled eye. “I came for Dream. I need your help with an AU I found, but if you’re busy-”

“Oh, no worries.” Dream ate the last of his nice cream cone and stood up. “Thank you for everything, you two. Core, what’s the problem? Please don’t tell me it’s another Code Purple.”

Ink groaned when he brought it up. There have been so many of these things lately! AUs corrupting with negative energy and turning black, purple, and misty. It didn’t affect the story much, besides getting darker in tone, but it was the inhabitants that suffered. A black goop spread across the AU and turned the monsters into negative hateful zombies. Did they have a cure for it? Not yet, but Dream’s working on it.

Core’s face turned grim. “I’m telling you it’s another Core purple. There may be some souls still alive and I want to help rescue them, but I can’t find them under the sludge, so I was hoping . . .

“I understand.” Dream shared their expression.

Core opened up the portal they came through. Their’s was glitchy, white, and purple portal opening to a dark forest. They looked behind themself at the artist. “And Ink, your face is covered in nice cream.”

Ink touched his cheekbone and it came back white, brown, and pink. Being the mature individual he was, he licked it off his fingers with his rainbow tongue. Then he licked the rest off his face. Once he finished, he sighed and brushed off his hands. “Well, I guess I should be going too. See you around, bird brains!”

Blue blinked shocked at the “Ink, aren’t you forgetting something?”

The artist squinted his eye sockets, trying to figure out what he had forgotten. “Say thank you?”

Blue facepalmed. “That, and I can’t make portals! Are you just going to leave me here?”

“Oh, right!” Ink laughed as he swirled Broomie in the air and made a portal to the Omega Timeline. “Thanks for the nice cream, Aviar!”

“No problem.” He waved lazily. “Hope you have an im-peck-able day.

Ink could hear Blue screaming in his head. He snorted and grabbed his arm before covering them both in black paint, sinking them into the ground. Even though he didn’t mean to, he teleported up too high and they both crashed onto the ground. Their two-story clubhouse stood in front of them, made of light brown wood and had a mix of things from each of them. Blue put a pirate flag and blue streamers around it. Dream lined the front, sides, and balcony with flowers and sun banners. And Ink splattered buckets of rainbow paint around it.

“Ow!” Blue cried out when he hit the ground.

“Oops, my bad.” The artist brushed the dirt off his pants, laughing. Blue didn’t share his sense of humor. Ink held out his hand and helped him up. Blue was a person who didn’t stay angry for long though, so he took it.

Ink waved goodbye to Blue before jumping into the ink puddle. He fell into his personal doodle AU workshop. This world didn’t have an ounce of white. Instead it was beige with rainbow splatters all over the walls and floors. Ink had some . . . not so great experiences with empty white spaces. His first-ever memory was waking up alone, afraid, and with no clue where he came from or who he was. That was at least three hundred years ago, but the nightmares still haunted him.

He glanced over at the pile of stapled papers under a swirling white portal. They appeared out of magic all on their own, the new AU ideas. Each packet was full of story, art, and notes.

Ink plopped down on his beanbag, an idea he may or may not have stolen from a certain Windows Vista. He sifted through the new AU ideas with an excited smile plastered across his face. The Creators were getting crazy creative lately and Ink loved it! Some of the ideas were pretty violent, but he thought the angst potential would be fun. He didn’t accept an AU idea if it looked boring or was an exact copy of another, but there was only one in this pile. But he didn’t throw them away, he changed things up as he wanted until it was original. The rest were new and fun. As long as he wasn’t involved or getting hurt, Ink was up for a dark story.

As he was preparing to make the brand new worlds, the smell of bubblegum filled the air. Ink lowered the pencil in his mouth, knowing what was coming. He braced himself for the sparkles and rainbow explosion. “‘Eyo, brotato chip!”

Fresh appeared from an explosion of colorful confetti and a rubber duck squeak. He was one of the tallest Sanses, almost a foot taller than Ink, and years or even centuries older. The reason? Something, something, parasite body mutation. His outfit screamed 90’s. A bright blue and purple jacket, neon green shorts, and multicolor heelys. A red fanny pack hung around his waist with the word SWAG in giant white letters. He had a backward multicolor baseball cap with a blue propeller. But his most iconic thing his sunglasses, which changed depending on his thoughts. They defaulted to YOLO in yellow and teal letters.

Ink was so shocked he vomited a pile of ink, which was common for him. Heh, Ink vomited ink . . . where was he? Oh right, Fresh.

Ink took the pencil out of his mouth and set it in his sash instead. “So what brings you to my corner of the Doodlesphere?”

The parasite grinned. “I wanted to let ya know that Cross is havin’ a get-together because of some surprise dat he’s not sharing. We’re all gonin’ ice skatin’ and it’s going to be totally rad! Do you wanna join!”

Ink’s left eye socket turned into a question mark. “Wait, does Cross want me there?”

“Probs not! But I bet it’ll be fine!” His smile didn’t waver at all, not a single speck of empathy or regret in those eye lights. As cool as he was, Fresh was emotionless like he was. Ink tried to convince him to drink paint but it . . . didn’t go so well. Short version is that Fresh shoved it down his throat instead, then he possessed his body and beat up Error. So an average Tuesday.

Ink wasn’t the type to turn down an invite. He wasn’t even the type to turn down something he wasn’t invited to. “Sure! I’m in! It’ll surprise Cross! Maybe we can even make amends for . . . you know what.”

“Yah, I know what ya did. He’s ranted about it once or twice.” Fresh glanced over to the stack of AU’s and picked one of them up, flipping it around to see it better.

Ink it them out of his hands, catching one that flew out of the pile. He tried to look angry, but he found it funny so his mouth twitched. “Don’t mess with these! They’re important. Unless . . . do you want to help me with making these? You’ll just need to like hold them and I’ll make them. I’ve never done it with someone else before, so it could be something new . . . ?”

Fresh cocked his head as he thought about it. He was almost always smiling, which Ink would’ve found creepy if he hadn’t seen worse. Most Sanses were always smiling anyway, at least the less powerful ones.

Eventually, his glasses shifted to SURE! “Alright, brah! Hand me da AUs and I’ll fire them to ya!”

Ink picked up the stack of papers and dropped them in his arms, making sure they were all straight and even. He snapped his fingers and covered them both in black paint. Ink was double careful this time, teleporting them to a better height and landing in an empty space. The Doodlesphere was a giant gradient, yellow at the top and white at the bottom, and filled with islands. Most of them were portals with decorations for their corresponding AU, but some were empty, like where they stood. When Ink created them, the AUs would drift toward where they would fit the most. The Fell AUs were all in one area, the Swap AUs in another, etc, etc. It was his favorite thing to watch.

The two stood straight apart from each other. Ink’s scarf and Fresh’s pinwheel hat blew in the wind. Ink could never figure out where the gravity and wind came from. Magic? That was the only explanation. Number one rule of the Doodlesphere: Nothing makes sense and you would drive yourself insane trying to make it make sense.

Ink held his paintbrush and aimed it in the distance, making little ‘pew pew’ noises. Then he swung it in a circle, calling to Fresh. “Whenever you’re ready!”

Fresh’s look turned more malicious as he tossed him the first paper. Ink smacked it with Broomie’s and it went soaring.

The paper stretched into an island with rocky ground. Skulls built up around the stone archway of a portal. A ball of light glowed in the center before turning into a swirling portal. It drifted through the yellow void before landing in its proper spot.

Ink took a deep breath when he finished up. Each AU drained a bit of his power, hence why he slept about fourteen hours a night with several naps, but it was worth it. Creating new worlds to explore was the best thing ever and he never wanted to stop!

Fresh took a second sheet and balled it up like a baseball before throwing it at him. Ink knew he wasn’t supposed to do that, but Ink did it too, just because it was fun, so he let it slide. He hummed a number with each one he hit. He had a huge grin on his face.

Fresh smirked, his glasses changing to IT’S ON. He teleported around Ink in balls of confetti and sparkles. He didn’t have a pattern, so he had to go by sound alone. At least the rubber duck squeaks weren’t sneaky at all. By some miracle, he hadn’t died in battle from being so colorful and noisy. To be fair, the same thing could be said about himself; Ink was very noisy on his own.

Eventually, all the AUs were gone and his job was done. Stumbling, Ink put his paintbrush away. Exhausted from doing so many at once and still worn out from earlier, he panted. But he was too excited to rest. Creating the AUs was only the second-best part of the process. The first was being able to explore them, their lore, and all the characters built. He had so many to choose from this time! He glanced over at Fresh with a smile. He turned around and held his arms out so it looked like he was holding some of the AUs. “Pick a world, any world!”

Fresh crossed his arms as his glasses changed to HMMM. His finger hovered between AUs until landing on the one with rainbow colors. Skulls were covered with some kind of rainbow goop that dripped down the sides. “Dat one.”

Ink waved his hand and put Broomie behind his back. He held his hands out to make a square and took in a rough idea of what it would look like. The black box appeared with a list of code. Ink learned to decipher it over time. The plot of this AU bubbly children’s show with a darker, more malicious element underneath. It was cliche, but there were so many ways it could go it sounded fun anyway. A fizzy feeling shivered through his bones and he bounced on his feet. He beamed and held his hand out to Fresh. “Undertop it is! Are you ready for this, it’ll be fun, but it might get a little bloody . . .”

“Dat’ll be no prob-blemo.” Fresh snapped his fingers and summoned his baseball bat. It had a sticker that said VIBE CHECK in bright red letters.

Nodding at his words, Ink shrugged and teleported up. He readied his paintbrush and jumped in for a quick new adventure with Fresh.

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