#i knew i wanted to do something along the lines of the plush dragons we get from the festivals

[guardian-instincts-bad]

my birthday gift for @knight-of-the-thorn this year is a little unorthodox, but one of the best things i think i ever made, so now that it's been gifted and is no longer a surprise, i present to you - the plush mordy (mouth of mordremoth edition)!

entirely handsewn, several months of work, including having to make all the patterns by hand and figure out how to get from screenshots of dragon's stand to a working 3d model, but i couldn't be prouder - and he even fits on your shoulders like i hoped he would!

[thebadgerclan]

The Dynasty’s Heir: Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: The search for solutions...

It wasn’t all that odd for Zoya’s ladies to track Nikolai down and pass on a message.  Sometimes it was a note she’d written, sometimes it was official paperwork that needed his signature, sometimes it was an informal invitation to have dinner at their favorite spot in the gardens.  So, when his secretary announced Lady Natasha, Nikolai was anticipating such a note.  “Pardon me, moi tsarevich,” Natasha curtsied.  “Not at all,” the prince said, waving the girl into the room.  “What missive does my beloved queen have for me?”

“Her Majesty returned from her council looking rather upset,” Natasha explained, and Nikolai sat up a bit straighter.  “What happened?”  “I’m not sure, sir.  Queen Zoya dismissed us as soon as she returned.”  Nikolai stood, pushing in his plush desk chair.  “Thank you, Lady Natasha, I’ll see what’s the matter.”  Natasha curtsied as Nikolai left, making his way through the corridors and back to their rooms.  The guards posted outside bowed when they saw the prince approaching before opening the doors, shutting them firmly behind him.

Zoya was on the blue velvet divan, her legs tucked beneath her, her shoes haphazardly discarded on the floor before her.  “Darling?” Nikolai asked as he approached.  “What’s the matter?  Natasha said you came back from council upset about something.”  He sat at his wife’s side, taking her hand in his.  Zoya sighed, her head resting against the back of the sofa, her crown shifting in her hair.  “Councilman Lenkov brought up that we do not have an heir.”

Nikolai cocked his head, and Zoya went on.  “He was very persistent that we need one, which we do, but that way he spoke of it, like a pawn on a chessboard rather than a living, breathing child, it just ruffled my feathers.”  “You mean your scales, my love?” Nikolai teased, running a finger along the black dragon scales around her wrist.  “Nikolai,” Zoya chastised, and he held up a hand in mock surrender.  “I’m serious.  You know that I want children, but-”  “But neither of us are there quite yet.”

Zoya nodded.  “But I want them on our time, not when some advisor or councilman thinks it’s time.  He all but questioned my ability to conceive.”  “He what?”  “His exact words were ‘with two years of marriage to His Highness, one cannot help but wonder why no children have made an appearance yet.’”  Nikolai grit his teeth, feeling anger rise within him.  “The nerve.  I should have him executed-”  “Kolya, no.  As crass as his wording was, he has a point.”

“What do you mean, love?”  Zoya sighed.  While she was alone, she’d passed through the rage and anger of Lenkov’s words, but she’d also seen the sliver of truth within them.  “I am the first of my line,” Zoya explained.  “The only of my line.  When Vasily died, the crown fell to you.  If something had happened to you, you have cousins, people in line to inherit the throne.  We are a new dynasty, if I die, the crown falls to nobody.”

Nikolai was silent for a moment, processing his wife’s words.  It was true, while Nikolai was never truly considered for the crown, he always knew it was a possibility, a remote one, but still a possibility, that the crown would be his.  And when his brother was killed, that remote possibility became reality.  Even then, he knew that until he had an heir, the throne would pass to his cousin Stephan.  But Zoya, she had nobody.

Zoya sighed, shifting so she was closer to her husband.  “You’re right,” Nikolai said, kissing her hand.  “If something happened to me, the crown had someone to go to.”  Nikolai fell silent for a moment, remembering a document he’d been required to sign after his coronation.  He stood abruptly, and Zoya startled.  “What?” she asked, and Nikolai turned to face her.  “There might be a way around this,” he said.  “To placate the council while letting us wait to have kids.”

“Kolya, wha-”  But Nikolai was gone, sprinting through the corridors to the library.  The librarian leapt to his feet when he entered, not expecting a visit from the Prince Consort.  “Moi tsarevich, what can I do for you?”  Out of breath, Nikolai leaned against the desk.  “Do you have a copy of the Succession Act?  Specifically Clause III?”  The librarian glanced at a leger before nodding.  “I believe we have a copy here, shall I retrieve it for you?”  “Yes, please.”  “Just a moment, sir.”

The librarian disappeared among the shelves, emerging a moment later with a stack of paper.  “This is the entire Act,” she explained.  “But Clause III can be found on the fifth page.”  “Perfect, thank you!”  The librarian curtsied.  “Of course, moi tsarevich.”  Nikolai took off in a sprint back to his rooms, where Zoya was sitting, very confused, still on the divan.  “Care to explain what that was all about?”

Nikolai sat at her side, flipping through the packet of papers.  “This is the Succession Act,” he said.  “It was passed when my great-great grandmother couldn’t have children.  It establishes the line of succession when there is no royal child.  But, Clause III allows the reigning monarch to name a regent if they wish.”  He handed Zoya the papers, pointing to the paragraph labeled “Clause III.”

If the reigning monarch finds his heir apparent unfit for rule, he may name a regent to rule in his stead in the event of incapacitation or death.  It should be noted that after the reigning monarch’s passing, the regent must establish a line of their own to continue the royal bloodline (in the case where a regent shares no royal blood, they must marry a member of the royal family to continue to bloodline).  All reigning monarchs should name a regent, in the event he falls ill, is injured, or is otherwise unfit to rule.

Zoya looked to Nikolai, whose eyes were full of optimism.  “This could work,” she said, and Nikolai nodded.  “It will work,” he insisted.  “I named a regent when I was crowned, but I never needed it.  Naming a regent will satisfy the council’s want of the line being secured, and it lets us take our time with having kids.  Zoya, this is a perfect solution!”  But the queen looked hesitant.  “It feels too good to be true,” she said.  “There has to be some type of flaw.

Nikolai took the papers and read through the entirety of the act, along with all its clauses.  “I don’t see anything here that could mess this up,” he said.  “Besides, it’s recommended that you name a regent anyway, and you’ll likely never have to enact it.”  For a moment, Zoya contemplated, before she nodded.  “It’s a good plan,” she said.  “A really good plan.  What do I have to do?”  “Well, we need to vet candidates for the regency, then you’ll make a formal announcement of their appointment and sign a document.”  Zoya nodded, and Nikolai saw his fierce Dragon Queen return.  “Let’s start finding candidates then.”

[guccidishtowel]

The Viscount’s Secret

NSFW UNDER CUT (Warnings under cut)

Fandom: Dragon Age

Words:  3859

Pairings: Varric/Reader

AO3: The Viscount’s Secret

Warnings: Thigh-Riding, Blowjobs, Light Dom/sub elements, Light Degredation (use of ‘whore’)

Walking into the Viscount’s Keep that afternoon, the tension had been palpable. Guards gave their usual greetings, nodding their heads and a few of the more friendly lot offering smiles, but their eyes carried that familiar glint that was just as telling as the muffled voices coming from the office.

The merchant bit back a quiet grin as the reason for their sudden summons became infinitely more clear.

The Viscount was having a bad day.

Halfway up the stairs they heard the telltale sound of something heavy thump against hardwood. Seneschal Bran had no doubt avoided a heavy tome to the head by mere millimeters yet again. They’d mounted the last step when he came stumbling out of the office, chased by a few quills and--if they saw correctly--a paperweight. The poor Seneschal met their eyes just as he closed the heavy doors and practically threw himself upon their mercy.

“He’s impossible!” Bran cried. Upon closer inspection they could see where a blotch of ink stained his forehead. Apparently Bran’s evasive maneuvers had been lacking. “I don’t know how you manage to do it, but please calm him down. We have a stack of correspondence growing larger by the moment and this is certainly not helping!”

They gave him a sympathetic smile, complete with a pat on his shoulder and a subtle gesture to his forehead and sent him on his way--hopefully to clean the ink off. No one else populated the upper floor; apparently no one wanted to encounter the Viscount’s wrath. ‘All the better for me,’ they thought, a wicked smile darting across their face.

They approached the heavy wooden door to the office and lingered outside for just a moment. Even through the thick wood they could hear the telltale sounds of frustrated pacing and smiled to themselves. Perhaps it was self-serving, but when the Viscount was this worked up it always ended up far more in their favor. The familiar thrill of anticipation slipped up their spine like a lover's caress, lighting every nerve on fire. Being such an open secret was interesting. Officially they were just a merchant of some means and one of the Viscount’s personal favorites, often requested to help with balancing numbers or bringing in specialized shipments. Unofficially…

They bit their lip in anticipation, soft lips quirking upwards as they knocked once on the heavy doors.

“The next person who walks through those blighted doors is meeting the business end of Bianca!”

His rough voice sent tingles up their spine, and the quiet fury beneath the words only added to the flame. His threats weren’t always unfounded, but even as agitated as he was he wouldn’t turn his trusty crossbow on one of his own. Still, when they cracked open the heavy door they made sure to let their voice reach him before presenting any potential targets.

“Even when it’s me?” Finally poking their head inside, they were greeted by the sight of Varric’s office in even more disarray than usual. A few of the heavy plush chairs had been overturned. The desk was littered with half-open correspondence, the stains of splashed wax and ink evident on more than one. Even the curtains had suffered a few minor wounds; apparently Bran had led Varric on a merry little chase around the office before making it out to safety.

And then there was the Viscount himself. Standing by the roaring fire with his shirt half open and a glass of what was surely poignant draught in his hand, he painted quite the image. Varric Tethras was a handsome man, of that there was no doubt. From the charming gleam in his eyes to the aged lines on his face, everything seemed to blend together into a visage so breathtaking most men and women would give their right arm for just a night with him. That’s how this merchant felt, at least. But now, with the dark cloud of anger shading his handsome features, he looked...somehow more enticing. A familiar heat began to rise in the pit of their stomach and as Varric threw back the glass to finish off the alcohol they licked their own lips, suddenly quite parched.

“Sorry for the mess, Mischief,” he began, and they didn’t bother to hide their smirk at the familiar nickname. “Today’s just...been a day.”

“I could tell. I think you’ve scarred poor Bran for life. Or at least the rest of the day if he can’t get that ink off his forehead.”

Despite his obvious frustration Varric chuckled, the soft grin breaking apart the dark clouds on his face. He stepped away from the fire and set his glass down to instead rummage around in the drawers of his desk. Soon enough he found another glass, filled both, and turned to pass one off to them with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

“Come on. You know I hate drinking alone. Besides,” he paused, letting his gaze roam over their form. They always felt a pleasant little shiver when under his scrutiny, and they didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened before he brought his own glass up, but he didn’t drink. Not yet. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

The promise in his eyes made their knees weak and the burn of good Ferelden brandy only stoked the fire growing on their stomach. Still they drank it down, hoping to stave off some of the thirst long enough to at least try and find the root of their Viscount’s frustration.

“To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” They finally asked, setting their half-emptied glass aside. “I haven’t seen you this worked up in a while.” It almost felt a shame to bring up business, especially when it made that delicious look fall from his face, replaced instead with an aching weariness out of place on a man so lively.

“It’s the Maker damn day that won’t end. I’ve got nobles squabling like toddlers--which isn’t anything fucking new--along with a whole heap of new laws to look over. Then there’s tying up the loose ends from the Inquisition which is a headache in and of itself. Shipments to look over, palms to grease, and enough signatures to pen that I can already feel my damn hand falling off.” He punctuated his tirade by dropping heavily into the chair behind his desk, glass still clutched in one hand and the other coming up to thumb at the space between his brows.

They pursed their lips, sympathetic expression at odds with the hunger from earlier. Perching themselves on the edge of his desk they brought a hand up to his head, their fingertips massaging into his scalp. As they predicted he leaned into their hand, his sigh rumbling through his chest. It wasn’t the first time a long day had left him more than a little frustrated, and it certainly wasn’t the first time they’d been called up to help him deal with the stress. There was no doubt how the night would end, but sometimes the moments before were just as important. Watching Varric’s shoulders lose their tension as he melted under their fingertips, they knew this was one of those times.

“Definitely sounds like a shitty day,” they agreed, smiling softly at his snort. His eyes had long since closed as he relaxed into their ministrations. There was something empowering about this, about having the Viscount of Kirkwall turn to putty in their fingers. Emboldened by the thought they slid off his desk and instead found themselves comfortably nestled on his lap, prompting him to finally peel his eyes open to observe them. Grinning down at him, they trailed the hand in his hair down, brushing over his temple until they found his jaw. “But I bet I can help you forget all about it.”

Varric’s lips curled and he turned his head, catching the tips of their fingers between his teeth. The subtle sting prompted them to chuckle as Varric moved to settle his broad hands on their hips. “You know I love to gamble, darlin’, but I don’t make stupid bets. We both know you’re going to turn my mood around.” The certainty in his tone was a stroke to their ego. It was hard to think this had all started from a single trip he’d made to the merchants quarters in Lowtown all those months ago.

“I’m at my lord’s service,” they purred, grinning when his expression morphed to one of minor irritation. His hands tightened on their hips in warning and they chuckled, bending forward to brush their lips over his ear. “Oh, let me have my fun.”

“By all means,” Varric replied, his voice husky. “But know it’s gonna cost ya.”

They smiled against his skin. “Mm, promises, promises…”

Promises that would be paid in full, it would seem. Varric finally moved, his mouth finding the skin of their throat and painting it with bruises. They tilted their head to allow him access, helping themselves to the expanse of skin his shirt exposed. The damn dwarf never covered his chest and it was honestly unfair just how distracting it was. Their fingers smoothed under the halves of his tunic, carding through the hair and feeling the muscle beneath their palms. Varric chuckled against their throat, his tongue and lips soothing another love bite.

“No one can resist,” he teased, earning a pinch when their fingers found his nipple. He grunted, the sound tapering into a low growl at the back of his throat. “Brat.”

“Only for you, your grace,” they replied. He glowered up at them, earning himself another wry smirk. “Going to bend me over your knee?”

There was a sudden gleam in Varric’s eyes that made them wonder if, perhaps, they’d made an error in judgement. They knew that look well. Just the sight of it had them tensing, a shot of arousal rushing through them. Varric tilted his head back, leaving their neck for now and instead settling his hands a little lower, spreading their thighs on either side of his own. Realization struck just as he dragged his hands back to their hips, rocking them forward gently. The friction drew a soft, shaky breath out of them that had Varric smirking.

“Well, we can certainly use my knee, but I think I’ve got better ideas than what you had in mind.”

His hands tugged, bringing them forward again, until he settled into a slow and steady rhythm. It was too slow and too light, but they had a feeling it was by design. They brought their hands to his shoulders, marveling quietly at the strength as he guided their motions. The slow build of pleasure promised to be worth it, but they weren’t a patient sort.

“I thought this was about you,” they huffed, their cheeks already blossoming with heat. “I don’t see how this is giving you what you want.”

“You’re right,” Varric shot back. “ This is about me and what I want. And what I want is to see you coming apart on my knee like a good little whore.”

The acidic words brought a small whimper out, the surprise on their face turning to pleasure when he roughly jerked them forward, picking up his pace. Varric chuckled as their fingers dug into his shoulders. “You like that, sweetheart? Like being the Viscount’s whore?”

They groaned aloud, dropping their head against his shoulder, hips rolling again as they ground against his thigh. “Now we’re using titles? I think you’re just being petty--fuck, Varric!” In the middle of their complaints the grinning dwarf had brought one hand up and then down just as swiftly, slapping against their ass with enough force to have them jolt.

“Hey now, you were the one that wanted to be bent over my knee, weren’t you?” he teased. “I think this is much better. Especially when I can see all those cute little faces you make. And speaking of that…”

With their face buried against him they couldn’t see what he had planned, but when strong fingers threaded into their hair it became abundantly clear. He tugged, pulling their head away from his shoulder and forcing them to arch back, throat exposed for his waiting teeth. He bit down roughly and they cried out, the sound ending on a gasp as he sucked at the abused skin. Satisfied, he broke away to look up into their face.

“Don’t hide from me. I wanna see all those little looks. I wanna see how good I make you feel, Mischief.” His hooded eyes sought their own, dark and wanting. They shuddered under the look, their hips moving of their own accord now, chasing their release desperately. Varric noticed and hummed, his fingers threading gently in their hair now. “That’s it. Take what you need from me, sweetheart.”

They didn’t last much longer after that. Rutting against his thigh like an animal and clinging to him, they broke apart just how Varric wanted, muffling their cry of pleasure by sinking their own teeth into his neck. Varric groaned at the sensation and would no doubt sport the bite proudly for the next few days. He took a ridiculous amount of pleasure from seeing all the nobles blush and look away, tittering and hiding their comments behind hands and ornamental fans.

It took a few moments for them to calm, the rush of pleasure leaving them momentarily light-headed. Varric carded his rough fingers through their hair gently, his voice soft and soothing in their ear.

“There’s my Mischief,” he murmured, the tone of his voice making them blush anew. “Good. Always so good for me.” It carried on that way for a few minutes until finally they straightened, standing from his lap only to drop to their knees. Varric blinked in surprise and they relished the thought; it took a lot to shock the blighted dwarf, after all.

“You know I’m not selfish, Varric,” they purred, all traces of the gasping and blushing from earlier gone. “Besides, I have to perform my civic duty, don’t I?” They were here on a mission, after all, and as nice as it was letting Varric have his way, they knew the best way to ease his stress was with a more hands on approach.

He’d appreciate the pun, they were sure.

Surprise turned to amusement and Varric answered by spreading his thighs invitingly. They settled between and smirked at the sight of the bulge straining against his breeches. A few deft tugs of the laces and he fell free, heavy and throbbing in their hand. Varric hissed above them, the light touch already wreaking havoc on his self-control. Humming in delight, they lifted their eyes to his, fingers closing as they began to slowly stroke his shaft.

“Don’t you have some correspondence to attend to?” they asked, a little too sweetly. “I promised Bran I would help you see reason, after all.”

Varric groaned, in pleasure or at the thought of more work they couldn’t tell, and dropped his head back. “The damn nobility can wait,” he insisted. “It’s a waste of time anyway.”

They clicked their tongue disapprovingly. That wouldn’t do.

Varric all but jerked when their hand left him suddenly cold and aching. Eyes wide with disbelief, he looked down at them. Oh, they’d treasure that sight for a long time to come. “Sweetheart, you can’t be serious--”

“I don’t hear a quill moving up there,” they cut him off, lips curling wickedly. “Better get to work, Master Tethras.”

For a long moment he stared at them, disbelieving. They saw the moment he began to appraise them, likely considering if it would be worth waiting out their stubborn streak. He could, and perhaps they would, break, but when the mood took hold they could be quite firm. He seemed to be weighing the odds. And they could see the moment he gave up, sighing heavily as he scooted his chair closer to his desk, casting his shadow over them.

They heard him pick up his quill, begin to write, and leaf through the documents above.

And they heard the moment he sucked in a breath as they took his cock in their hand once more, warm breath ghosting over the tip as they brought it to their lips. His hand stilled for a moment, and so did they. Then he cursed and began to write again, and they finally closed their mouth over him, jaw already burning at the stretch.

What Varric lacked in length was more than made up for in girth, and already they could feel their jaw settle into that familiar ache as they began to slowly work their way down him. The discomfort was worth every moment they could feel him twitch in their mouth, hear every curse and sucked in breath above them. Settling their hands against his calves they began to work in earnest, their head rocking back and forth. The familiar feeling of his hand in their hair had them pause just long enough to make sure they still heard the scratch of quill on parchment before resuming.

Above them, Varric cursed, his shaky signature being scrawled across shipment orders and premade letters alike. “Andraste’s fuckin’ ass, you’re an absolute menace. I’m--fuck, you feel so good.”

The praise only fueled their movements. Just when they thought Varric was beginning to catch his breath they paused, dragged their mouth all the way back to the head of his cock, and hollowed their cheeks to suck against the skin. Varric bucked, his knees slamming into the underside of the desk. It was only by a miracle that he didn’t snap the quill in his hand.

“Shit!” His frustrated grunt had them smiling against him and his hand tightened in their hair. Their scalp tingled from the force. Satisfied, they set to work again, eyes closing as they felt him begin to guide them. His hand tugged them back and forth, the pace increasing as he slowly began to fall apart. They could feel the way he throbbed in their mouth and paused just long enough to trace a vein on the underside of his cock.

“Maker,” he breathed above them, his hips bucking into their throat. By now his hand was faster and jerking them along his length in a way that made their eyes water. “Sweetheart, you feel like you were made for this. I’ve never felt anything--fuck--anything better in my damn life.”

They would answer if they could, but by now the grip on his shins was just as much to steady themself as much as him. He jerked them forward once more and they gagged around him, eyes nearly rolling into the back of their head. The noise set Varric groaning, and his cock throbbed once more in their mouth. They heard his brief warning then, right before he emptied into their throat, his grip on their hair holding them tight against him. Even as they coughed when he turned his grip loose they felt more than satisfied, with the taste of him lingering on their tongue.

Varric pushed his chair back the moment he caught his breath, quickly looking down to meet their gaze. They heard his hands shuffling on the desk before he finally produced what looked to be an embroidered handkerchief. Likely a gift from some Hightown aristocrat. They wondered how they would feel knowing just what it was being used for.

“You all right, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice softer than before. He reached to gently wipe their mouth. “Not too rough?”

They shook their head, still hazy from the pleasure. They thought their smile was answer enough, but Varric always insisted they use words. “Mm, perfect.”

Chuckling, Varric finished wiping their face. He then tugged them back to their feet to carefully guide them back into his lap. It was always this way. After they’d finished their business Varric would always insist on keeping them close by for a little while. They found it endearing, really; not many of their past partners had any sense of aftercare. When they’d told Varric, he’d scoffed.

‘Probably didn’t know how to actually satisfy a partner either, did they?’

They hadn’t disagreed.

“I think Bran owes me this time,” they finally said after a few moments of companionable silence. “I actually got you to do some work this time. Normally I’m distracting you.”

Varric laughed, the sound warm and vibrating through his bulky chest against them. They settled further into his lap.

“Just don’t tell him how you did it. I think he might die of embarrassment. But then again, without him around…” His conspiratorial look was met with a swat against his bared chest.

“Behave. You put the poor bastard through enough as it is,” they insisted. “If anything, I think he needs the vacation from you.”

Varric grinned and didn’t even have the audacity to look offended. With one arm still wrapped around them, he reached the free hand to straighten the letters he’d managed to sign into a neat pile, sighing at the sight of the rest. He’d made a dent, at least, but there was still a mountain to go. That, and the thought of them leaving threatened to kill what little optimism he had remaining. Of course that’s when a brilliant idea struck.

“Y’know, Mischief, I was thinking…”

“Dangerous thing, really.”

Varric smirked and shook his head fondly. “Always so rude to me, sweetness. Anyway, I was thinking. Instead of trotting out of here all rumpled like usual, how about...well. How about you stay the night? Make use of the bed this time instead of just my desk.”

They snorted. “You’re the one who always suggests the desk, Varric. I’m surprised my ass doesn’t have splinters at this point.”

“I mean, I could always check if you’re worried--”

“Don’t you have papers to sign?” they cut him off, their mockingly stern expression melting to laughter when he all but pouted at them. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. The thought had crossed their mind more than once. A night in Varric’s bed, of course, would likely have little to do with sleeping, but the idea was still...intimate. They’d always assumed the situation between them to be born of mutual attraction and necessity, but were they really opposed to something more?

Not in the least. But that didn’t mean they had to make it easy for him.

“Mmm, how about you make it through, say, half of this mountain on your desk,” they finally said, ignoring his sputtered indignation. “Do that, and I’m all yours for the whole night, serah.”

Varric paused, his eyes darting from the foreboding pile of correspondence back to the grinning mischief maker in his lap. It wasn’t even a contest, really. Varric had always been a weak man for a nice smile, and when they shot him one that promised nothing but trouble, he could never say no.

So instead he sighed, pressed a kiss to their forehead, and settled them properly in his lap as he picked up his quill.

“Only for you, Mischief. Only for you.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary:  As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes:  Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note:  The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

[blue-bird-kny]

The Decoy

Finally got this out of the drafts! Its been a hot minute but I hope everyone is doing well, enjoy!~Amanda

Warning: Cussing, Gore 

(1.3k+ words)

You bathed under the dazzling city lights as you took in every moment of the district's nightlife. You’d only ever heard stories of this buzzing city and all the crazy endeavours you could partake in. While you were the epitome of enthusiasm, your brute of a boyfriend was not as animated beside you.The atmosphere surrounding Sanemi was deathly; his face sagged in a deep scowl as he prowled at your side like a predator searching for its prey. Sanemi was sent to the Red Light District in hopes of finding and killing a demon who had been disguising themselves as a wealthy nobleman, promising women a hefty pay for their time. As hilarious as it would be, Sanemi would never pass for a decent lady in drag, so it was only obvious you tag along to act as the decoy.

“Hey look at this candy Nemi’! It's shaped like a dragon!” your eyes sparkled childishly at the glassy pulled sugar stick for sale on the vendors station. Sanemi growled in mock annoyance a few feet behind you, his arms crossed over his bare chest, “How fucking old are you? We’ve stopped at every damn stand” he complained. You paid the old man selling the treats, slipping in a few extra coins of gratitude, before shuffling over to your brooding shadow, offering an affectionate smile, “Come on Nemi, lighten up!” you chastised. Yea like that was possible, as if he wasn’t about to ship you off to some monster so he could touch you for sport, “Let’s go L/n”.

You found yourselves hidden between two tall buildings, using the shade as a rendezvous spot. “How do I look?” you joked, desperately trying to alleviate a little of his stress. His eyes wandered over your silky yukata, painted in brilliant blue shades with blue ombre blossoms and white accents adorning the sleeves. His eyes narrowed further as he passed your cleavage on complete display for any hungry eyes, wanting nothing more to sink his teeth into the exposed skin of your neck, to mark you as his. Your finger lifted his lowered grimace up to your far softer expression, holding him there, “Sanemi I volunteered, you don’t need to be so worried about me. I’m just the bait, you get to have all the fun” you giggled. His furrowed brows crumbled, revealing something softer for a moment, a moment meant for just the two of you.“Don’t do anything stupid, Stupid” he poked your forehead gently, silent confessions filling the small space. As he watched your retreating form from the side lines, Sanemi swore he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, even at the expense of the mission.

You walked around the large house alone, trying your best to blend in with the scantily clad women around you “maybe I’m overdressed”. You peered above at the poles that lined the roof where you felt Sanemi’s gaze following you. In your periphery you spotted your target, pretending to stumble on your own dress and falling at the feet of a very tall man, “show time”.

“I-I’m sorry, I lost my balance” you pleaded to the man from the floor, gazing up at him innocently. His domineering chuckle was deep and cocky, offering a hand out to you. “You’re new right? I’ve haven’t seen you around” he questioned, his amber eyes boring into your soul. He pulled you uncomfortably close to his chest, forcing your face near his, “I’d remember a face like yours”. You averted your eyes to the floor nervously, to him it looked like you were submissively falling into his touch,“All I need to do is get him away from everyone else”

“Come, let's go somewhere quieter” he wrapped your smaller hand in his larger one, pulling you away to an empty part of the house blocked off by a thin curtain.He sat himself down in a plush chair, gesturing to his lap, “Don’t be shy, I don’t bite” yea right. You gulped before awkwardly climbing onto his clothed thighs, trying everything in your power to not grimace.

Sanemi was two steps away from exploding as he watched the scene unfold before him, his eyes lighting with fire and dripping with bloodlust, wanting to rip that thing to shreds. It took every fiber of his being to hold out and watch every insufferable second of you being handled by a demon, but he needed to trust you. He knew that you didn’t need him around, that you were capable of killing the demon using the small blades hidden in the strap around your thigh, but he wasn’t willing to see how much of yourself you’d have to give for that to happen. Sanemi gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white while the man's hand languidly trailed your bare shoulder, slowly pushing the fabric lower and lower.

You giggled obnoxiously for the tenth time, laughing at whatever nonsense the demon was spewing. His touch was like ice against your skin; searing against your warmth, leaving an icy chill with every stroke. You stealthy moved your hand out of sight, flexing your fingers into the signal you and Sanmi had agreed on when the demon snatched your wrist, raising it to his long fangs. “I’m offended you think I’m so stupid, little girl”

Everything happened too quickly; before the demon could sink his teeth into your skin, Sanemi was  already standing there, sword raised against his neck and hand ripping the hair off his scalp. “Move even an inch and I’ll send your head rolling asshole” Sanemi growled. The three of you sat motionless, the sound of your faint breathing filling the tense space. “I must say, you’ve got me” the demon started, “But your only mistake was not grabbing her first” he sunk his teeth into your veins, biting down almost to the bone. You parted your lips in silent screams, blood gushing out of the wound as Sanemi severed his head, prying his teeth off the torn skin.

Tears spilled freely as you lay on the wood floor clutching your battered arm, praying for something, anything to ease the pain. “Shit” Sanemi breathed, frantically tearing a piece of his clothes to act as a bandage, “You should have fucking stayed home!” his words were lost in your whimpers. Your lips twitched, desperately trying to form words, but the world was fading fast and the last thing you saw was Sanemi before everything faded away.

“I almost died”

It was the first thought you had once your eyes finally opened, the warm blanket you'd been wrapped in falling to your hips. You remembered everything while you admired the crafty stitch work that lined your arm in intricate loops, wincing when you probed the tender skin. “Don’t touch it dumbass” a harsh voice called. “Hey Nemi” you greeted shyly, instantly recognizing the nickname. A million questions rushed to roll off your tongue, instead, morphing into one solemn “I’m sorry”

“You were right, I had no reason to be there. All I did was prolong the mission and hurt myself in the process” your voice quivered as you spoke, your eyes not able to reach his. Loud stomps marched towards your bed spread, Sanemis rough hands gripping your face, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t say that shit. You did your part of the mission while I hesitated and let that prick hurt you. So dammit don’t say sorry because I’m fucking sorry!” his tone grew higher and higher to the point where he was practically yelling, but it didn’t bother you. You smiled softly, nuzzling into his palms, grasping your flushed cheeks, turning slightly to place soft kisses on each one. “We’re a mess sometimes, aren’t we?” you yawned, pink washing over the both of you. “Whatever, just go back to sleep” he mumbled, pushing against the mattress. “Hey Nemi guess what?” “What?” “Now we’ll have matching scars” you laughed, eyelids already growing heavy “That’s not funny, dumbass!”

“Are you going to stay?”

“Of course”

Masterlist

This isn’t my favorite, but I 100% headcanon Sanemi using your last name as a term of endearment. 

[jobean12-blog]

Reader, nat and Wanda dishing about their sex lives trying to top each other’s experiences (reader obvi wins cuz beefy Bucky, no other reason needed) and Bucky hears her gushing about how great he is to her and he’s walking around a lil extra cocky and reader is so embarrassed he heard. Maybe he does the same thing but with the guys after.

Girl Talk

Pairing: Bucky (beefy) x reader

Word Count: 1,572

Summary: After a really fun night with the girls, dishing about the boys, you go home to Bucky...who may or may not have heard you gals. 

Author’s Note: This was fun to write, especially the girls gossiping about the boys and I took it in a little different direction at the end because I couldn’t help it and it worked for another request I got. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading :)

Warnings: fluff, girls night fun, SMUT, light choking, metal arm kink, oral, vaginal sex...the whole nine yards. Bucky (he should always come with a warning) (18+ eyes only please ;)

Friday night was almost here. You were very excited that you would be getting some much-needed girl time. Nat and Wanda had set up an evening filled with snacks, drinks and romcoms, the perfect girl’s night.

You mentioned it to Bucky early in the week, “I’m spending Friday night with the girls, we are going to get drunk and watch movies and eat.” “That sounds like fun, doll, are you going to come home to me drunk like last time?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. You merely smile in his direction, giving him a wink and sauntering off.

Friday finally arrives and you can barely contain your excitement, the texts flying back and forth between you and the girls in preparation. Wanda has made all sorts of sweet and salty snacks and Nat got everything you could possibly need to make drinks. You’re in charge of the movie list and it was easy enough with all the online streaming devices.

You decide to have your girl’s night in Nat’s room since Clint is away on a mission and you won’t be interrupted. “First things first, ladies, drinks!” Nat squeals, preparing something potent yet delicious. It goes down easy, too easy. “This is really great, Nat, what’s in it?” you ask as you eye her over your glass.

“All the good stuff, don’t ask questions, just enjoy.” You giggle, downing half the glass easily. You decide to start off by watching ‘Clueless,’ a classic that you have all seen but love so much. Just when they get to the part where Dionne, Cher and Tai are talking about ‘sizes,’ Nat grabs the remote and pauses it in between her laughter.

“Ok, y/n, time to dish. How big is it?” You stare at Nat and Wanda, eyes wide and mouth hung open in shock. “Are you asking me how big Bucky is?” “YES!” they both screech in unison. “I, uh, well…” you stutter, red faced as you try to think of what to say. “Well??” Wanda whispers, “he is a super solider, is everything about him…super?”

You burst into a fit of laughter, holding your stomach as you try to catch your breath, “I can’t believe you two! You’re ridiculous! But if you really need to know…it’s definitely super…in every way.” You let out a sigh at the thought of him and now it’s the girls turn to burst into high pitched laughter. “I KNEW IT!” yells Nat, smacking you in the face with a pillow.

You grab the pillow, holding it over your face before asking, “ok, now it’s your turn, what about Clint and Vis? Spill!” You three continue to share notes between fits of cackles, completely unaware that both Bucky and Vision have been listening on the other side of the door.

“Phasing through the wall would be easier,” Vision states plainly, finding this behavior strange. “No, no, Vis, you can’t let them see you or else it ruins all the fun!” Bucky whispers harshly. “I can remain unseen,” Vision says, a small smile on his lips. “Just be quiet and listen, they are getting to the good part!”

Bucky and Vision heard the whole conversation, the two of them grinning like idiots as they head back down the hallway after you start the movie back up. “I really can’t wait until y/n comes home, I have to tease her about this,” Bucky says, standing a little taller with a haughty smile. “Wanda will know what we did,” Vision states, but Bucky can tell he is happy after hearing her confession.

The rest of your night goes by in a flash, watching one more movie in between drinks and lots of snacking. It’s after 1am by the time you all decide to call it a night, cleaning up quickly and saying your goodbyes. “This was so fun and just what I needed ladies, thank you so much,” you mumble into their hair during your group hug. “Me too,” they both say, squeezing you tighter.

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Nat says to you and Wanda, giving you her best ‘I know what you’re both going to do tonight’ look. “Thanks Nat,” you say with a giggle. “Don’t you wish Clint was going to be home?” you ask, smirking. “Actually, he text me about half hour ago. He’ll be home by 2!” she says excitedly, grabbing her bag and running out the door. You wave goodbye to Wanda and head down the hall to your room, hoping Bucky is still awake.

There is no light shining from beneath the door, so you open it quietly, tiptoeing in and closing it soundlessly. You go into the small kitchen and grab a large glass of water, heading toward your bedroom to see if Bucky is asleep. You peek in and notice the bed is empty but there is a small piece of paper on Bucky’s pillow. You grab it and read, “Sweetheart, I had to go down to the conference room to debrief with Steve and Clint, they just got back from the mission. I should be back in about thirty minutes, hope you’re still awake…Love you.”

Laying your head on the pillow you take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of Bucky and sighing in happiness. You decide to take a bath before getting in bed. Shedding your clothes, you head to the bathroom, running the water and adding some of your favorite bath bubbles.

The water is so warm and you’re so relaxed that you barely register Bucky returning and entering the bathroom. “There you are beautiful.” You nearly empty the tub when you jump, “holy shit, Buck, way to ruin my relaxing bath,” you half joke, half scold.

He just smiles, his eyes wandering over your naked body that is now more visible below the water, “want some company?” You turn the hot water back on, adding some more bubbles, “definitely.” He takes off his clothes as you watch, the heat of the water suddenly insignificant compared to how hot he makes you feel.

His cock is already half hard as he gets in the tub behind you, pulling you flush against his solid chest. He rubs your shoulders, working his hands down to your breasts as he massages the soft tissue. Your head falls back to his shoulder as he dips his metal hand between your legs.

“So wet for me already, baby, were you thinking about me all night?” he whispers against your ear as he runs a metal finger through your folds. You manage a small ‘mmmhmmm” lost in the pleasure of his hand as he inserts two fingers inside you.

His lips trail over your neck leaving soft and wet kisses wherever he can reach. His flesh hand continues kneading your breast, occasionally rolling the nipple between his fingers, “fuck, baby, I’m so close.” He brings his other hand down, gently rubbing it over your clit as he adds a third finger, his cock now hard and resting against your lower back.

You cum in a rush of curses, body writhing in the water as he draws out your orgasm. “Do you want my cock now baby, I know how much you love it.” Your eyes fly open at the cockiness in his voice, turning your body around to straddle his lap, “is that so, babe?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

He doesn’t answer you, grabbing your hips and rocking you back and forth along his length. You can’t help the moan that falls past your lips, “Bucky,” you warn, leaning down to kiss him. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he pulls you closer, lining himself up before slowly brining you down on his cock.

The water in the tub sloshes over the sides as your ride him, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter with every thrust. Bucky nips at your neck, his metal hand reaching up to lightly wrap around the delicate column. Your hands fly to his wrist, a silent request for him to squeeze harder.

He does as you ask, the added pressure causing your walls to clench around him as you soak his cock, “that’s it baby, cum for me” he praises. He follows you only moments later, his loud grunts echoing through the bathroom.

You lean against his chest, steadying your breathing as the water calms. “Wrap your legs around me,” he says, lifting you up and getting out of the tub. He pulls out and sets you down on the plush rug, grabbing the fluffiest towel and wrapping it around you.

Bucky wraps himself in a towel before picking you up once again and carrying you to bed. He lays you down on your back, discarding his towel and crawling over you, “I think I need a snack, doll. I worked up quite the appetite.”

“There are some snacks left over from tonight, we have popcorn, some chocolate chip cookies…,” you continue thinking as Bucky slowly unwraps your towel, kissing down your stomach. “Oh, and there are the brownies that Wanda made, they are so…ohhhhh,” you cry out at the first swipe of his tongue.

He looks up from between your legs, “those all sound great baby, but I think I found something much more delicious,” he says before his tongue flicks over your clit. Your hands grab his hair, pulling his face closer as you rock your hips into him, thinking aloud, “super soldier indeed.”

 @book-dragon-13 @collinsstanharbour @cchellacat @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @itsunclebucky @jewels2876 @jhangelface0523 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @lollypop-lam @ikaris-whore @marvelgirl7 @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @sebastiansloserclub

[missdawnandherdusk]

How Do You Solve A Problem Like Malfoy?

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One     Part Two

Summary: Now that you were as confused as ever, you decided to do something about it. And that something was absolutely nothing. Or was it? And would Draco notice? 

A/N: Y’all I really can’t stop writing this because it’s so cute and it needs to get somewhere but those things take time and well welcome to pining and a change of heart. Please enjoy my semesters of Latin used in this series also. It’s quite fun to use what I know to create potions and spells. I love you all and the feedback I’ve gotten so far! It means the world to me! Stay safe and stay creative!

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings​ @coffee-addicti​ @ilikestuffproductions​ @msmcsmutt​ @ravn-87​ @artemismohr18​ @whygz​ @crazywritingbug​ @dolphincommander​ @bisexualbumblebeesstuff​ @fuzzy-panda​ @bitemebro522​ @zombiesnips-blog​ @jillanaholland​

I spent almost all night trying to figure out what Draco meant in the hall but found nothing. Well, there was the hope that maybe he understood something deeper about happiness... but that couldn’t be possible. And if it was why would he tell me?

I wanted to talk to him, confront him, ask him what he meant.

I also wanted to know where this family feud started... there had to be a good reason that Lupines didn’t get along with Malfoys, other than the obvious I assumed.

But was it obvious?

“You’re going to stare a hole through the wall Y/n,” Hermione didn’t look up from her book as she noted my glaring.

I sighed and flopped back into the plush couch of the common room. Hermione was currently reading—or maybe rereading—So You Think You’re A Wizard? A Guide to Simple Spells and Hexes.

“What am I supposed to do?” I muttered, hugging a pillow and watching the fire dance. “What is anyone supposed to do with a Malfoy? The only options are fear him, hate him, or follow him like a puppy,” I noted.

“Have you actually been around their family?” Hermione asked. “Your family is pureblood, almost noble, like Malfoy... ever go to parties or gatherings or whatever it is that you all do?”

“No,” I sulked. “I was in America. Far away from all of that.” I sat up. “Not that I’m complaining, I loved growing up Muggle... no magic... no shortcuts.” I smiled. “But I came back to go here, and the feud followed me.”

Growing up Muggle was one thing that my parents had kept a secret from the rest of my family and the wizarding world. The only one who knew that I had grown up like that was Hermione—I had accidently slipped up and mentioned that I knew how to bake around her. It was part of the reason that we were good friends, we understood the bizarre nature of magic versus normalcy.

“So, why did you give in?” She asked, looking up from her book.

“I don’t know,” I groaned. “I was younger... he didn’t like me, and I guess I just went with it.” Shrugging, I thought about the last four years.

“And when do you ever do what you’re told?” Hermione challenged with a smile.

I didn’t have an answer for that. She was right of course, there was no reason that this was the one thing that I let someone else decide for me. I was too stubborn for any of that. And maybe it was time that I stopped letting people tell me who I was and who I was going to be.

From the moment I fell down the rabbit hole of Hogwarts I've been told where I must go and who I must be. I've been shrunk, stretched, scratched, and who knows what else. But this was my life. I was going to decide where it went from here.

How I was going to do that... I didn’t have the faintest idea.

“Maybe try to talk to him,” Hermione suggested, reading my thoughts as if they were the words on the page of her book.

“He’s not going to talk to me,” I pointed out.

Hermione gave me a sympatric look and a shrug as she picked up the next book.

______________________________

Draco paced his common room, Crabbe and Goyle’s eyes following him. Every time they tried to speak or offer advice, a cold glare shut them up.

“She is absolutely mad!” He insisted. “She’s worse than Potter and I never thought that was possible! Who does she think she is to accuse me like that!?”

“Why do you care?” The question came from Pansy, who was leaning against the entrance to the common room.

“Excuse me?” Draco snapped.

“You hate her. Why do you care what she says about you? Stop acting like a princess and man up.” Pansy sneered. “She doesn’t know who you are, so why are you listening to her at all?”

Draco glared Pansy down. She did have a point though.

Why did he care at all what you thought of him? Why did he care if there was something about you that drove him insane? Why did he care if you hated him like the rest of the school did?

Why did he care if you had people to confide in about this? Why did he care if you could write to your parents and ask them what to do?

He didn’t care.

That was the bottom line.

It had to be if he wanted to stay on top.

He had a reputation. He wasn’t going to let some Gryffindor demolish it because you could bat your pretty eyes at him and make all of his thoughts stop on a dime.

Nope.

He wasn’t going to let you.

___________________________

“Okay,” I stopped Hermione before we left our shared room the next morning. “There is no way that talking to Draco is ever going to get him to open up... or do anything,”

“Yes,” She waited for me to continue.

“But... he is doing better in the classes that he feels like he has to beat me in?” I said sheepishly. 

“So are you,” She pointed out.

“Yeah, uhuh, not the point,” I dismissed. “But what if I... just kept doing what I am doing... and let it be?” It was a weak proposal, but it was all that I could come up with in the early hours of the morning when he had me wide awake.

“So... you’re going to do exactly what you’re doing and giving into the rivalry... to stop giving into the rivalry and try to get through to him?” Hermione clarified.

“Yes?” I squeaked.

“Yeah, okay I’m in.” She grinned. 

“Really?” Shock flitted across my face.

“Well, you’re doing it with a better motive, so I suppose that’s better than whatever it is at the moment,” She bottom-lined. “Now, will you help me get Ron and Harry to talk to each other again?”

I laughed and took her arm as we headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast and another day of lessons.

Nothing did change, not on the outside. Malfoy was still himself and I still did everything I could to get under his skin. My hand would shoot up in class with the answer before his could and a smirk would stay on my face when the professor commended me on my knowledge. In Potions later that week was the highlight of it all.

“And what is the most dangerous ingredient to Pungo Aedificem?” Snape asked, looking down his nose at the rest of us.

Draco’s hand shot up a grin curled onto his face as he glanced over at me.

“Re'em Blood,” He answered, confidently.

I almost laughed out loud and raised my hand passive aggressively.

“Miss Lupine?” Snape diverted his attention from the crestfallen Draco to me.

“Belladonna,” I answered correctly. “Where Re’em Blood is expensive and rare, it can’t kill you,” I smiled sweetly at Draco. He glared.

“Yes,” Snape eyed the two of us and continued with his lesson.

It was a great way to start the weekend.

As November slipped away and Draco and I were still at our game—one that I had decided to play myself... not because anyone told me to—the excitement of the first task was all the school could talk about. Our feud seemed to simmer a bit with the Triwizard Tournament.

Of course, I supported Harry and wished the best for him, but I knew he shouldn’t be in the tournament to begin with, and I didn’t want to see him win... not that I wished anything terrible on him.

“So, you supporting your friend?” Draco sneered. “He doesn’t have a chance of winning. Not with Krum in the running,”

It was true, Krum had a good chance of winning. Not that every girl in the school had already told him that... multiple times... as they followed him around like a shadow. It was ridiculous.

“How is Krum?” I purred. “He must be swarmed with pretty girls all day. Not like you’d know anything about what that’s like,” I drawled.

“I don’t see you at his heels,” Draco grinned. “He tell you off?”

“I’m flattered that you think I’m a pretty girl, but no, I don’t need to follow a guy around for him to notice me. Unlike some people,”

“I don’t need pretty girls to tell me how good I am,” He retorted.

“You’re right,” I didn’t miss a beat. “You have enough mirrors for that pretty face of yours,” I batted my eyelashes and walked away, towards the Gryffindor Tower to study for upcoming exams.

Hermione found me neck deep into notes and books when she came back to our room.

“Do you have time to help Harry and I work on a Summoning spell?” She asked, grabbing a few books.

“For?”

“The challenge, it’s dragons. Harry needs to Summon his Firebolt and fly,”

“Some of those words made sense, but how they fit together I will never know,” I mused and turned the page of my book. “And I wish I could, but Snape is giving an exam soon on Potions and I need a good grade.”

“Still at it then?” She asked. “How’s your plan working?”

“Like I know... He is talking to me more... but we’re just arguing. Talked about Krum today.”

“Krum?” Hermione stammered.

I grinned, knowing about her little crush. I had caught them a few times in the library closer than necessary.

“Yes, I said he had a good chance of winning. Not that I don’t believe in Harry,” I amended. “Seemed to annoy him that I was interested in Krum,”

“So, he’s jealous,”

“Of what? Me liking Krum? I don’t even like Krum like that,” I scoffed. “And besides, he’s all yours,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She mumbled. “I’m going to help Harry,” 

“He called me pretty,” I blurted out.

“What?” Hermione lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Well, kinda? I said something about pretty girls following Krum around and he asked me why I wasn’t following Krum around and I don’t think he meant it, but it happened?” I rushed the explanation out.

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes, leaving me to my thoughts and books. When the books look more like Latin than English, I gave in and packed up my stuff.

Rain started to patter on the windows as a storm swept over the school. I sighed and got up, draping my robe around me and headed to the Great Hall for some food. It was getting rather late and I hoped that I didn’t wait too long to eat.

I began to think that maybe I should write to my mother about what was happening. She would know what to do... or at least what to say to make me feel better. I didn’t know much, but I knew at least that she was the one who had made my father move to America to take me away from the feud.

In the midst of my thoughts, I ran into someone.

“Sorry,” I blinked, offering an apologetic smile.

Then I saw familiar cold blue eyes.

“Oh,” I took a step back. “Sorry,” I repeated and walked past him.

It struck me as odd that he was alone in the halls without his normal posse of Slytherins. I paused and turned back to him.

“Where’s your friends?” I asked, half teasing half curious.

“None of your business.” He snapped. “But if you must know, they’re helping Krum with the challenge.” He smirked.

“Okay,” I spoke slowly. “I’m... going to get dinner... You’re welcome to join?” My voice was as unsure as I was about what I was asking.

He stared at me like I grew a second head and a tail. Pursing my lips, I shook my head and headed to the Great Hall, rather quickly now.

_________________________

Draco stared at you as you rushed away from him. Did you seriously just ask him to go to dinner with you?

What was that about?

You seemed more at ease around him when it was just the two of you and he thought that it was odd. And you apologized to him instead of making a remark or snide comment. What the hell were you doing?

Nothing much had changed between the two of you. He still found every reason to put you down and you still tried your best to beat him. But recently you weren’t getting angry. You were just smiling when either of you won.

Not that he noticed you smiling.

Of course not.

“Y/n!” He called.

You turned; an expectant look on your face. The same warmth in your eyes. 

“The Great Hall closed about an hour ago,”

You slumped and let out a disgruntled sigh. You rubbed your face, and something fell from appearance. He could see exhaustion in your features. He wondered what had you up so late and so neglectful of mealtimes. Actually, no he didn’t. He didn’t care.

“Okay,” You sighed, finding some sort of resolve. “That’s okay, thank you,”

You kept on your way towards the Great Hall and he wanted to ask what you were doing, or if you needed something to eat. Surely, he could get something from the kitchen for you. He knew how to order around house elves. Now that Dobby was working here, it would be too easy.

Instead he went his own way and didn’t look back.

.

. 

Part 4

[malindamay]

Ian POV: Hi uh, I’m Ian and I-I’m going to you a story about time that. I saved Disneyland and how me and Barley become the 26th characters so, uh, I’ll try my best I never tell anyone story’s except my movie story, of course. Uh, *clears throat* so here’s my NOBLE story. *chuckles* Mickey Mouse will you please be the narrator, please?😅

Mickey/ normal POV oh boy! Yes! So *clears* one day In a beautiful place, where all mystical creatures live in peace and harmony mostly, called, New Mushroomtin. The Lightfoot family was starting a new day. Ian, a 16-year-old elf, is shy and sometimes unconfident, but he wanna make his family proud especially his dad and his beloved brother, Barley. “Dear Brother we have a buffet awaits us!” Said Barley with enthusiasm-

Ian POV if you don’t know barley, he’s my older brother, and he’s very joyful and kind-hearted for me and the only thing that fears him the most is A, staying in hospital long time, B, he sees someone who has medical problems or has tubes, ventilator ETC, and C, seeing me hurt

Sorry, Mickey, gotta tell our Disney/fans about my brother if they don’t know who he is.😅

Mickey POV ok, so Ian replies with a chuckle, “*chuckle* its dinner Barley not a fancy buffet lol” Blazey pounces on Ian making Ian almost dropping the food “ *yelps* laughs * Blazey *ack!* okx3!🤣 😅 love you too.” Till Ian saw a letter tape on their door it’s from me(Mickey Mouse)

“ Hey Ian

this is Mickey Mouse and I was wondering if you and your brother can come to Disney world for the DVC Celebration plus you and your brother will be debating on the Disney team I know you’re shy,but you’ll be fine I’m sure my pals love ya, and even there’ll be fans who love your movie! Please accept this invitation.

Love, Mickey Mouse.❤️”

Ian reads it twice and his face turns from 😕 —>🙂😀 “Barley, will you love to go on a majestic quest with me?!😀”

Barley suddenly answer” *laughs* My dear brother, of course!” Ian nods he grabs his staff and he goes pack up their luggage’s! Laurel( their mom) looks at them a little nervous.” Are you sure you boys will be fine?” Ian nods “don’t worry I’ll call ya if something happens wrong,ok?” Laurel says “but-“ Ian cuts her off with a smile “I’m wizard well, 1st stage *chuckles* we”ll be fine, I’ll try to protect barley and he’ll protect me!”

Laurel had a tear in her eyes “ *sniffs* you two always have your father’s spirit. *sobs* 😢” Ian hugs his mom “before you go I have something for you,Ian. *grabs a flowey (lavender with gold,swirly glittered design in the edges) scarf(same style like elsa’s mom’s but different) it’s from your dad’s when he’s about almost your age.”

Ian clenched it suddenly a guset of wind swirls around him ounce as Ian closes his eyes. “Thx mom.”

Barley smiles at Ian till Blazey comes up to Ian and hugs him likes they’re gonna be leave her with their mom alone for few months, Ian says in his sweet tone “sorry girl wish we could take you with mom but, I think Mickey just wants me and Barley,ok? Who’s a good girl,come on who’s a good dragon?” Blazey barks at Ian as a “I am.” Ian gets up grabs their luggages “we’ll miss you mom,Blazey. We’ll be fine I’ll text call or FaceTime you when we want to.” Barley comes and puts his shoulder around ians’s softly “ it’s ok mom.🙂” Lauarel sheds a tear “*sniffs* you’ll always have your dad’s spirit.���

Ian goes and about to close the door “see ya in a few months,mom. *blows a kiss*”

In New Mushroomtin Airport:

Ian was a little nervous and excited to go,but he knew he always have his brother by his side and his spiritual dad beside them. Barley smiles at Ian “ready,Ian?🙂” Ian takes a deep breath and grabs his luggage’s as Barley grabs his, as Ian says” *sighs* yes!🙂”

After few days they had landed and as they saw the beauty of the Disneyland hotel Ian slowly twirls as he admires around “woah, this place is gorgeous!”😀” they’re about to unpack their luggage’s till they heard a knock on their hotel room(room 24) Ian opens the door and saw the big cheese himself,the one that started it all, Mickey Mouse! “Hi pals, hope you’re enjoying your room so far *ha ha* oh boy!” Ian shakes Mickey’s hand, *gasps* it’s a really honor to meet you Mickey can’t wait to make our 1st debut in DCA!😅” Barley comes up “hi, names Barley nice to meet you,bro*laughs* “ barley gives Mickey a bro hug. Mickey asks in his kind voice “is anything that my cast members can do for you, or-“ Ian says “no,but we’re a little hungry.” Mickey says in his cheerful tone” oh boy! I know just the place! I’ll wait till you 2 are done with your unpacking.” Ian nods and says “ I’ll knock after we’re done unpacking

Mickey closes the door as the 2 brotherly elves unpacking their luggage’s Ian took his staff out of his long suitcase. Barley asks “need help dear brother?😀” little help,please!”Ian replie. As Ian saw something in his satual shiny is a locket that has the Lightfoot gain including Blazey in the inside! replies, He puts it around his neck and looks at his reflection in the mirror Ian sheds a tear in his eyes. Barley looks at him and coax him “hey,you ok?” Ian couldn’t control his tears, so he let his tears out Barley gently puts down his stuff and hugs Ian to conforts his beloved brother. “I know you miss mom and Blazey, I miss them too,but hey, we get to make our 1st apperience in DCA,Disneyland! They’ll be tons of human fans will love us,and ETC, it’s ok.” Ian sobs softly as he hugs barley back. “ I love you and *sobs* I’m not letting anyone or anything hurt me or you. *sobs softly*😢😭“

Chapter 2

After they unpacked their luggage’s, Ian wears his shawl/scarf and grabs his staff, and knocks on the door, “ready pals?” Mickey asks. Ian grabs Barley’s hand, “*sighs* yes!🙂”

“ wow this place is majestic!” Ian said

Mickey replying “yes it’s a fun place where all ages to have fun and ETC.

Mickey: Yes, the wind blows a little bit cooler

And we're all happy

And the clouds are moving on with every pixie dusts

Our flowers just became gorgeous

Goofy:And my leaf's a little sadder and wiser

Mickey: That's why I rely on certain certainties

Yes, some things never change

Like the feel of your hand in ours

Some things stay the same

Like how we get along just fine

Like an old stone wall that will never fall

Some things are always true

Some things never change

*to Ian and Barley* Guys, did your dreams come true?

Minnie: The flowers are already blooming

Pluto, it feels like the debut is coming

*talks for pluto* tAre you telling me tonight he’s gonna get down on one knee?

Yep, but I'm really nervous at planning these things out

Like greeting them the 1st time!

*talks for pluto* Maybe you should leave all the exciting stuff to the characters

Yeah, some things never change

Like the joy that I feel for them

Some things stay the same

Like how dogs are easier

But if I commit and I go for it

I'll know what to say and do, right?

*talks for pluto* Some things never change

Pluto, the pressure is all on you

Ian: is this really true , could that be this day of our debut?

Dad, wish you could see us now? I'm not sure I want things to be perfect

These days are precious, can't let the magic fade

I can't stop this moment, but I can still go out and see this day!!

Other Disney characters: The wind blows a little bit cooler

Goofy: : And if you believe in yourself

The elf brothers: It's time to count our blessings beneath an heaven sky

Disney characters: We'll always live in the kingdom of plenty

That stands for the good of the many

Ian: And I promise you the flag of Disneyland will always fly BOOMBASTIA! *staff swishes*

Disney characters:Our flag will always fly

Our flag will always fly

Our flag will always fly

Some things never change

Turn around in the time that's flown

Some things stay the same

Though the future remains unknown

May our good luck rest, may our past be past

Time's moving fast, it's true

Some things never change

Barley: And I'm holding on tight to you

Ian: Holding on tight to you

Mickey:Holding on tight to you

Ian and barley: Holding on tight to you

Chapter 3

A trolly appears and a tourist comes would you both like a tour of the park?”

The elves replied “ yes of course. *laughs at each other*” Ian goes inside the horse trolley Barley sat beside his brother after he grabs few snacks from one of the shops in Main Street USA.

After 2 hours of touring around and. Behind the castle. “Thank you so much for giving us a tour!” Ian shakes the tourist and hugs him and Barley asks, “if you don’t mind can I take a selfie with you Ian and your trolley with your horse?” “Oh absolutely!” Ian poses with his staff and helds his shawl/scarf. “SELFIE!😀” Barley calls out with delight! “Thank you so much!” “Hey no problem, have a magical time on your 1st day!” Calls out the tourist as the 2 elves goes out and have fun. They’d arrive to the AMC in Disney Hollywood studio. “Ready Ian?” Ian takes a deep breath and he holds his staff in his right arm and the other holds his brother’s hand, and said “ Yes, Yes! I’m- we’re so proud of our hard work with our movie. *sigh* I’m ready to meet our fans!”

They enters the entrance and they stop at their meet and greet spot and Ian is ready.

Chapter 4

The crowds was in line and a little girl, a 2 year old dressed as Ian, got her own Ian’s staff. It was her and her family’s turn. She hides behind her mom’s leg. Ian kneels and holds out his hands “hey little girl, it’s ok I won’t use my staff on you to hurt you, it’s ok, awww. *hugs* it’s that your staff?” The mom says “ wanna show Ian your 19 inch Ian plush?”

Ian holds his doll and make it wave at her and covers its eyes “peekaboo.”

“Aww, hey, name’s Barley it’s ok. Wanna take photos? Huh?” The girl turns towards the photographer. Ian holds his doll in his left hand and his right, hugs the girl. “ok say bye.” Says the mom. Ian blows a kiss to the girl and make his doll waves bye to the girl and says in his little high pitch voice “bye, love you * makes his doll blows a kiss and make his doll hugs her* *normal pitch* bye love you, one more hug? aww. *hugs* bye.we Love you.”

Chapter 5

Suddenly blast of wind burst the door open! Malificeint appears, smoke appears from her. “Well well well.” The wind from her power makes Ian’s hair,flannel,scarf/shawl, Barley’s vest flows. “Who are you?” Ian asks as he holds his staff and points it towards the dark souceror . “I’m Malificent. The powerful villain in all the land!” Thunder boomed as she evil laughs. “ there’s something I want. Something that’s magical and more powerful. I need your magic.😈” Ian looks at her puzzled “what?” Barley looks little upset “ why,why do you want his magic?!😨😠 Ian nobley says “wait so-“ Malificient cuts him off “let you something to you all! I want his magic to becomepowerful and become the queen of DISNEYLAND!!” Ian emotion turns from 😠 —>😨 “wait. NO!! *grunts* VOLLTEr ThUNDE-“ Malificent used her power to push Ian! “*yelps in fear* NO you YOU MONSTER!!” “YOU’LL SEE YOU’LL ALL SEE!!!! *evil laughs out loud*😈” a huge gust of wind blows ounce hard across the room. Ian’s flannel opened from the wind! Ian looks at his hand and the staff “NO! *sobs*” Ian grabs his shawl/scarf and flieds through the park the trolley horse stops and yelps out the tourist tried to calm the horse down and saw Ian ran to the hotel room(room 24). Ian shuts the bedroom door and sinks to his knees and cries as he hugs his dad’s staff. “Dad! *sobs* please help me! *sobs*” suddenly the window opens and a swirl of wind created a spirit of his dad his voice echos. “Ian,my son. Why does she wants your magic?” “*sniffs* *breaking voice* I-I don’t know.” His dad puts his hand on his young son’s cheeck.

Ian holds his scarf close to him as he looks up at his spiritual dad. His dad holds his staff and gives it to Ian, but Ian slowly grabs the staff. Suddenly he saw darkness pulls into Disneyland. Ian looks out the window, he gasps in horror his iPhone rings. “I-Ian it’s me B-barley please he-“ Ian got scared his dad told him “listen you can do this you defeated the curse dragon last time.” Ian looks at the staff and looks noble! “ I’m going to give Malificent what she wants!😠” Wilden cries out “What?! No Ian I can’t let you be powerless I can’t let my son be powerless and weak!” Ian clenched his staff and runs off to Malificent!”

Chapter 6

Inside Disneyland castle all the Disney/Pixar characters inside Malificent is waiting for her power gift,Ian! Doors slam open with a blast of Ian’s staff from Ian. “Oh Ian *hugs* I thought you-“ Ian cuts Barley off. “I’m here to give you the gift. My MAGIC!” Barley gasps in horror so does all the other characters! Malificent approaches to Ian and she stabs him in the heart Ian yells in pain.

“IAN!!!😱 NO!!!”Malificent froze Barley in place. Ian lies there shouting out pain! “No *moans* please.” “Your magic will make me more powerful! *evil laugh*

Malificent: I'm not the villain in distress.

I'm not your girlfriend or the frightened sourccer .

I'm not a little bird who needs your help to fly.

Nope..... I'm the bad guy.

All these former villains that you see...

Each of them with shaking knees has knelt before me.

So I'm not your teammate or your partner in crime.

What am I, boys?!

-She's the bad guy..-

Oh, it's magic

To watch a planet

Shrivel up and die...

Oh, it's thrillin'

To be a villain.

I take over their homes and then I watch them suffer...

Mwhaha!

CUZ, I'M THE BAD GUY!!!!😈

Ian tries to stands up but the pain in his heart hurts so bad Malificent dissapears Barley unfroze as she dissapearss.

Chapter 7

Barley brought Ian to their hotel room and laid Ian on the couch, along with the other characters “Runpunzel use your heal power.” Flyn says. Runpunzel sings a special song as she wraps her hair around Ian’s torso.

✨💫flower gleam and glow,

Let your power shine.

Make the clock reverse,

Bring back as mine.

Heal will help the pain.

Change the faith desires.

Say what’s has be loved bring back ounce was mine.

When ounce was mine.💫✨

His heart was healed Ian breaths as Barley holding his hands while he sobs sofyly and saying prayers.

Chapter 8

Elsa and Anna rush yo check on Ian withe the other Disney characters

“Elsa! *moans*” barley coax Ian @shh Ian lie down.” “ I’m so sorry it’s not our fault.”

Ian: Barley, 🎶 you’re the soul who I understand. The love that show me of who I am! through the darkness to the light. You got my back and I believe you. If It weren’t for you. I’ll be the wheels and you’ll be the road.

Barley: Ian,what you’re trying to say? Can you please let me know.

Ian: cause you carried me with you

From the quest of the gem to the battle of the dragon. I was so brave cause of you. Like a moonlight with the stars you’ll guiding me, yeah it’s true. You carried me with you!

Barley: Ian, 🎶from the day that Youall begun. But, I was there to protect you. But when I see you being hurt. I tried to help, you’re a fighter. And when my heart filled with worried. found a way to comfort me. You always found a bright side, and make me feel better.

Both: cause you carried me with you

From the quest of the gem to the battle of the dragon. I was trying to protect you, like a moonlight with the stars, you’ll be guiding me, yeah it’s true, yeah carried me with you.

Ian: oh we’ll be always be together no matter what.

Barley: watching out the days turns into night

Ian: we know to brave the stormy weathers.

Both: well never give so without a fiiiihhhhhhttt!!

Ian: and if it weren’t for you from the battle

I’ll would’ve die without you.

Barley: I’ll see us through thick and thin

For love and lost till the end.

Both: yeah you carried me with you

From the quest of the gem to the battle of the dragon I was just to secard to see

Like a moonlight with the stars you’ll always protect me

Yeah it’s true

You carried me with you

Ian: oh you carried me with you.🎶

Chapter 9

Judy and nick rushes to Ian and barley with other characters in the hotel. “We heard the news! oh sweet cheese and crackers, are you ok,Ian? *holds Ian hands*” “*sighs* he’s fine,except he has no magic left Malificent had his power!” Barley told Judy. “I’m-we’re sorry we-“

“How do we stop this darkness?!” Ian asks. Barley puts their dad’s shawl/scarf around Ian’s shoulders. Barley ordered all the characters, except Ian, to go and try to stop Malificent with him, but Ian won’t let him. “What?! No” “Ian I can’t let you die!” “No I’m coming too! If dad was here, he would go a-and go to be noble to fight and never give up. I may not have dad actually being here, but if I swear to God, he’ll be with us spiritually,I love you!” Barley looks at him little sceard. Ian holds his shawl/scarf and shouts “Come on, stay together! STAY STRONG!!” Barley can’t believe that his brother is gonna sacrifice his love for his family and old/new friends!

Chapter 10

Malificent : 🎶Believe me I know

I've sunk pretty low

But whatever I've done you deserved

I'm the bad guy, that's fine

It's no fault of mine

And some justice at last will be served

Now it's time to step up

Or it's time to back down

And there's only one answer for me

And I'll stand up and fight

Cause I know that I'm right

And I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready

Ready as I'll ever be

Ian: Now it's time to rise up

Or it's time to stand down

And the answer is easy to see

And I swear by the staff

If you're in, get on board

Are you ready?

Judy: I'm ready

Mickey Minnie : We're ready

Crowd: We're ready

Ian: Ready as I'll ever be

Barley : Are you quite sure we can do this?

Ian: Together we will guarantee

Malificent : I'll make them hear me

Crowd: Now it's time to redeem

Or it's time to resolve

Ian : Prove they can trust me

Crowd: And the outcome will hardly come free

Ian: I'll save or land and family

Crowd: Now the line's in the sand

And our moment's at hand

Mérida : And I'm ready

Barley : I'm ready

Ian & Judy: I'm ready

Malificent : Ready as I'll ever be!🎶

Chapter 11

Ian got on a horse(which it almost reminds him Guenivere (their stead)

Barley looks confident but scared for his brother. “Ian, are you sure? I don’t want you to get hurt. “ Ian says “I may not have magic, but I still have little magic inside if me.” Ian fleds through Main Street USA to the Castle. As Ian gets off alone with the horse, the horse neighs meaning: be careful, ” it's ok I’ll be fine.

Chapter 12

In Disneyland caatle area the sky covers with darkness, The wind blows across the land. Ian gasps in horror along with the Disney characters. Ian stood noble to try to control his tears. “Come on, Barley you Judy with me the others splits together.” The characters nods as they splits up. They go inside the castle until army of guards surrounded them Ian reaches out his staff,Barley grabs his sword and Judy grabs a spare sword and they start batting! “Boombastia! Guys I’ll go and and find Malificent!” They agree as the others continue battling withe guards. Ian goes and find Malificent with his staff till *whoosh* smoke appears and she appears in front of him! Ian grabs his staff, “you’ll never NEVER take away my magic😡!” Malificent and Ian starts their battle as she knocks him out the bouncony and top of the castle’s roof the wind was strong. Ian shivers from the wind. Malificent uses her magic. Ian uses his staff “Volltar Thundersir!” Till Malificent shoot her magic and Ian hit hers created a huge gusts of wind till *whoosh* Ian was shot a little thank god he’s still alive. Barley saw the action “Ian? NO!!!!!” And the final act of the magic Malificent and Ian magic hits Barley and knocks him down,dead. Ian cries out “BARLEY,NO,no, please, YOU MONSTER!!! VOLLTAR THUBDERSIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” *BOOM!!” His staff explodes and kills Malificent, for good Chapter 13 sadly, Ian rushes toward his brother crying, “*voice break* Barley no please don’t leave me. I-I love you *sniffs*” Ian tries his very best to use his staff to try to heal Barley. Ian grabs his staff,still crying, and says”I-insta r-Repairo!(please work please😢😭)” suddenly swirls of wind swirls around Barley from his staff his vest,hair,shirt,Ian’s hair,flannel flows in the wind. Ian’s eyes squinted from the wind and bright swirls. Few moments later with a soft swish, Barley slowly opens his eyes. Ian cried out tears of joy! Then suddenly his staff swishes around Ian the TRANSFORMATION of a WIZARD! The cape,kimono flows in the wind as his staff rose Ian in the air and twirls him majestically . Few moments later Ian opens his eyes still full of tears of joy. “Wow,Ian you look majestic!” Barley amazed “thanks *sniffs* “Chapter 14. At the castle where they do spectacular front of the stage the crowd is waiting for a special ceremony debut. Loud speaker booms over the speaker.”laddies and gentlemen,boys and girls, please welcome,Tennesha and Alex!” The crowd cheered as they appeared to the stage “Welcome everyone we’re so delighted to have this majestic debut coming for this day before we meet our special surprise guests, we wanna bring our Disney / Pixar friends on stage!” The crowd cheered as the Disney/Pixar characters come on stage and greeted the audience. “Hello everybody!” Minnie says, “Hey pals oh boy how everybody’s doing today?!” Mickey asks the crowd shouted yes out loud! “So Mickey we are so excited to see our special characters on their debut,right everyone?!!” Tenneshia says as the crowd screams with excitement! Woody says “can’t wait to meet them *giggles*” “Ok everybody I want everybody to say Onward really loud,ok? Ready? “ the crowd stood up and shouted withe the characters “1 2 3, ONWARD!!!!” Suddenly Ian voice boomed over the speaker BOOMBASTIA!!!” Fireworks and with a flash of a firework with smoke shooting and appeared, Ian and Barley are on stage and the speaker played “Carried me with you in instrumental. “It’s Ian and Barley Lightfoot say hi Guys, come on Ian don’t be shy!” The crowd went wild with excitement till they settle down. @bluezey @itsme-starmunch

[rosy-night-sky]

Of Treasure and Adventure

Genre: Treasure Hunter/Indiana Jones AU

Pairing: Ot7 x reader

Summary: Your grandmother gave you a gift that she won in a game, so naturally you are curious as to the origins of it. A decision was then made that you should seek the answers to your questions. However, you never expected your decision to lead you on a treasure hunting quest.

Warnings: Suggestive themes (whoo hoooo! It’s getting a bit steamy in here!)

Tag List: @sevenincubistolemyheart @xxqueenwxtchxx @technicolor-blues @taevkimchi @youcantbesiriusremus @vannilacake @baby-hobii @catsandstrawberries @izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash @http-lostforever @jhopetypes

(A/N: So sorry this took forever to write! I have been super busy lately, but I really hope this makes up for the wait!)

Chapter 7

“How’s your arm?” 

The casual yet carefully chosen question caught you off guard for a few moments. After his ominous statement earlier followed by locking the door, you figured he would get straight to business. You knew, of course, that this question was going to lead into something else later on. It always did. He wouldn’t actually be concerned for your well-being, not after everything that just occurred prior hours. Would he? You stared at him for a few seconds, processing what he just asked, before clearing your throat awkwardly. You flickered your gaze to the side, suddenly taking interest in the eggshell colored walls. 

“It’s fine. Hobi told me that I sprained my elbow along with my cut during the fall,” you explained, shuffling in your spot. “He was on me about making sure I rest my arm.” 

Oh, he was on you alright, a cynical voice commented snidely.

You shoved that thought to the back of your mind, hoping Jin didn’t notice you. The millionaire paused for a few moments, taking in this information, and then gestured to one of the nearby cushioned chairs. 

“Why don’t you sit down and rest then?” he suggested, then made his way over to one of the bottles of champagne sitting in an iced bucket. He popped off the cord with ease and grabbed a red tinted glass sitting next to the bucket. You listened to his proposal and sat down on the plush chair, setting your bandaged arm on the armrest. A slight tinge of pain shot up your arm, causing a groan to escape your throat, but you just bore the pain and continued on. Jin held up an empty glass as an offer. “Would you like a glass?”

You nodded fervently. “After what happened today, definitely.”

Jin poured the white, bubbly liquid into the glass and handed it to you, to which you took a long sip and basked in the way it warmed up your insides. You momentarily closed your eyes and released a drawn out exhale, feeling a heavy weight slowly lift off your shoulders. Ah, that hit the spot. 

You reopened your eyes, this time focused on Jin. As you readjusted your posture, reminding yourself not to put too much weight on your injured arm, you interrogated, “So what do you need to desperately talk to me about? You’ve been ignoring me all day. What changed?” 

Jin parted his round lips for a moment to answer before pressing them together into a thin line. He then took a seat across from you and crossed his long legs, his own glass in hand. He contemplated his choices on how to word what he wanted to say before sighing tiredly. “I believe you deserve an apology,” he finally revealed before taking a much needed drink. 

Your lips formed a firm scowl. You clinked our fingers against your glass for a few seconds, waiting for him to continue, but was met with only strained silence. Was he actually serious? You finally spoke up, “You believe I deserve one?” you scoffed humorlessly, feeling anger shoot down your veins like hot fire. “Jin, you accused me of being a traitor, you twat!”

Jin raised his hands in surrender, guilt taking over his features. “I know. I know. What I did was irresponsible and uncalled for-“

“I’ll say!” 

“-And I’ve come to my senses long ago. By no means do I wish to give myself any excuses for my behavior, but I wish for you to understand that I was angry, confused, and wishing to blame anything for why the Dragon wasn’t in the caves... even you.” He took another drink of champagne and then placed it on the table next to him. He folded his hands together tightly, thumbs rubbing over each other anxiously. “I was also scared, scared that the Japanese had already obtained it before us, and that the last bits of my country’s identity were forever gone.” 

“I can understand that, but that doesn’t give you the right to lash out at me. Do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought you were going to kill me!” You shook your head in disbelief as a sigh escaped your lips. “Out of everyone on this team, I thought I could trust you the most. After all, you trusted me enough to bring me into this. And then when you accused me, all that trust was gone. I felt like I had no one, no one to turn to. I felt abandoned.” You then laughed almost bitterly. “Good thing the others had my back.” 

Jin’s hand clasped over his mouth as he listened to you spilling out your feelings. You saw how he thought over what you said. The millionaire was never not thinking, it seemed. “I felt similar. I felt our trust meant nothing in that moment. However, there was no reason for me to distrust you. My paranoia got the better of me in that moment.” 

The frown never left your face as you argued, “If you realized that, then why didn’t you bloody apologize earlier instead of ignoring me the rest of the day?” 

“I... I didn’t feel like it was the proper time to apologize, not when we were distracted with everything going on at once,” he answered, disregarding your bitter snort as he continued, “I know ignoring you was incredibly rude of me, but I couldn’t just pretend that everything was fine when it obviously wasn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he continued, “I apologize fully for what I’ve done against you and for letting my paranoia getting the better of me.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed when a question popped in your mind out of the blue. “I know we have every reason to be constantly looking over our shoulders, now that the Japanese are after us, but why are you so paranoid of them finding us? You were like that back in the hotel in Darjeeling when that spy tried to mug me,” you questioned, resting your chin on the palm of your hand, waiting for him to answer. 

“I...” His voice trailed off with a slight groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose before throwing his hand in the air exasperatedly, slumping back into his chair. “It’s personal. Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of run-ins with the government. Every encounter I could’ve been executed. I wouldn’t be here, if I weren’t a bit paranoid.” 

You arched an eyebrow perplexedly. Hundreds of different thoughts sprung up into your mind at his mysterious answer. “Please don’t tell me that you’re secretly a rebellion leader,” you almost pleaded. That would’ve been the cherry on top, wouldn’t it be?  

He chuckled, and you relaxed when seeing that. That was the first time he actually laughed ever since the incident in the caves. “No, no, nothing like that. I wouldn’t be a good rebellion leader anyways.”

“A drug lord, perhaps?” 

“Oh, good Lord, no! I can barely handle smoking cigars let alone actually dealing drugs.” 

“How about a smuggler then? I hear the Americans are in need of liquor nowadays.” 

He scoffed, waving his hand in the air as if dismissing that idea. “I have no idea how the Prohibition is supposed to help. But all the same, no, I’m not a smuggler. I’m just a humble businessman.” 

Your arched eyebrow quirked even higher. “A businessman who has had multiple run-ins with the government, it seems,” you remarked, then remembering what Namjoon revealed to you hours prior, added, “and knows self-defense also.” 

He smiled fondly. “Ah, did Namjoon tell you that? Then he must’ve also told you that business is rather cutthroat.” He lifted his glass to his lips before taking a sip. 

You nodded slowly, still suspicious of his mysterious aura. “Yes, he did. Doesn’t mean I believe it for a bloody second,” you said bluntly. You’ve learned to call people’s bull over the years. That was made you into the talented journalist you were today.

“You’re going to have to believe it, darling, because that’s the story I’m sticking with. Now then, we’ve gotten a little off track. I was trying to make reparations for my disrespectful behavior before you began interrogating me.” He chuckled mirthfully, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “You definitely are a reporter through and through.” 

You took a drink, enjoying the taste and bubbles fill your mouth  before swallowing. “I have to be thorough. Nobody likes an article with little to no answers, me included,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Good thing I’m good at keeping my secrets,” Jin asserted, leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs. “Is there nothing I can do to help rebuild our trust?” 

You pondered the question for a few moments. At first, you wished for things to grow naturally, but a devious thought emerged in your mind. You tried your hardest to hide the evil smirk from crawling its way onto your face. “Actually, I do have an idea,” you admitted, the playful tone sneaking into your voice. 

Jin didn’t seem to notice, thankfully. Instead, he appeared to be desperate to mend the broken bond between the two of you. “Really?” His eyebrows shot up in slight shock. “Please, tell me, and I’ll gladly do it.” 

Oh ho, this was going to be perfect. “Stand up.” 

“Done- wait, what?” 

You rested your unhurt hand against your hip as you stood up from you seat. “You heard me.”

Although he was obviously confused by your command, Jin reluctantly got up only for you to take a few steps toward him. Little space was in between the two of you. One more step and you would be flush against his body. You smelled the faint scent of his cologne waft off him. His eyes widened slightly. “Ah, y/n, if I may ask, what do you have in mind?” 

You remained stoic in hopes that you wouldn’t give away what you were about to do. “Just stand there,” you ordered, your voice a lot more commanding than you expected. 

He then quirked an eyebrow almost amusedly. “Dear me, I never thought of you to be-” 

You didn’t give anytime to finish as your uninjured hand came flying across his cheek with a loud smack. Ah, it was so satisfying to hear the sound of your hand cracking against his face. You almost wanted to turn back the clock and do it again. 

Jin cried out loudly as he stumbled back a few paces, almost crashing against the table. The glasses and champagne bottle jingled as the table shook precariously. His hand flew to touch the now red skin gently, flinching at the stinging pain, as his other hand supported him on the table. He jerked to stare at you with round eyes, as if he couldn’t believe you actually slapped him. He stood there in stunned silence, groaning in pain. “I suppose I deserved that,” he admitted, shutting one of his eyes. 

A grin broke through your stoic expression. “Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do,” you commented, a short laugh escaping your mouth. 

“Quite a while I’d imagine,” he responded, then looked at you with worried eyes. “It isn’t going to leave a bruise, is it? That’d be bad for my handsome face.” 

You rolled your eyes, annoyed at how he was thinking about his looks at a time like this. “You’ll be fine,” you groaned. 

The millionaire pouted with pursed lips like a child would and mumbled to himself about how he hoped the red mark faded away soon. “So, are we good now?” he asked, looking at you with hope. 

You shrugged your shoulders. Of course, you knew that a slap across his face wouldn’t immediately fix the broken bond like magic, although you wished it did. However, you knew that the slap meant the beginning of your mending relationship. “It’s a start, that’s for sure.” 

Jin rubbed his assaulted cheek tenderly. “I’ll take that over you being angry at me any day,” he confessed, then groaned. “For being injured, you have quite a swing.” 

You made your way to the door and opened it after unlocking it, gesturing for him to take his leave. “Thank you, I was pitcher for my school’s girl’s cricket team,” you mentioned, a cheeky smile curling the corners of your lips. “I was worried that I was slacking over the years.” 

The millionaire walked over to you, hand finally falling at his side to reveal his pink cheek. “Well, worry no more, you’re not slacking,” he complimented. 

You laughed softly before giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Thank you for letting me take my anger out on you,” you said innocently. “You should get some rest now after today.” Judging by the way his shoulders sagged slightly as if weights attached themselves to him, you knew he needed to rest.

Jin nodded in agreement after taking a step out your door, standing in the living room of the suite. “You should, too, we’re having a meeting in the morning on what our next step should be,” he informed you. He took a step to begin walking away but paused and turned back to you, a devious smirk pulling at his lips. “You know, since I’m done talking to you, I should let Taehyung know that you’re free to finish his business with.” 

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers as your lips parted in horror, your stomach suddenly lurching to your throat. “You better not, you little devil!” Taehyung is the last thing you need to deal with, especially after your “checkup” with Hoseok. 

Jin ignored your desperate pleas and lifted his head towards where the other boys’ rooms were. “Oh, Taehyung!” he called innocently, his wicked smirked growing into a grin. “Y/n is free to talk to!” 

“You bloody wanker!” you hissed venomously before slamming the door shut and locking it. 

You pressed your back against the hardwood, hearing Jin’s faint laughter through as it faded in the distance. Your hand flew to your chest, feeling the thrumming of your rapid heartbeat under your fingers. One of the drawbacks of rebuilding your relationship with Jin was the fact that he could tease you whenever he wanted once more. Great, now you were back to seven men relentlessly teasing you, two of which were taking the teasing to a whole new level. 

You figured you should do a little work before going to bed, if only to distract you from wandering thoughts about your teammates. Pulling yourself from the door, you took off your camera from around your neck, feeling somewhat odd since you’ve grown used to the familiar weight. You needed to develop the film, since you guessed that Namjoon and Jin would want to take a look at the pictures in the morning. As a reporter, you left the developing to your coworkers who were trained for this type of work, but the didn’t mean that you were unaware of how to do yourself. 

You went to your luggage and skimmed through your supplies, finding it difficult to grab the necessities with only one arm. God, how were you supposed to manage this for four weeks? You took out all the equipment needed for the developing process, which included: a safelight, a black and white developer, a changing bag, a developing tank and reels, a digital thermometer, a timer, scissors, beakers and containers, bottles, and film clips. Yes, it was quite excessive, but the process demanded it.

It took you quite a while for you to haul all of your supplies with one arm into the bathroom. Already you were wishing for your arm to miraculously heal. After nearly half an hour of carrying equipment to the water closet, you set everything up in the available space given to you and took out the film canister from the camera. 

You sighed as you stared at it. Who knew how many hours of sleep you were getting tonight? You set the canister down and immediately began to work into the night. 

—————————————

Your eyes groggily peeled themselves open when the first sliver of sunlight hit them. You tiredly groaned and pulled yourself up, sitting on the bed for a few moments to get rid of the heavy feeling of exhaustion. You took this moment to realize that you were still in your clothes from yesterday. Ugh, what time did you go to bed? You felt like you didn’t get a wink of sleep at all. 

You rubbed a hand over your eyes, getting rid of the gunky sand in the corners. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. You figured that if you got yourself clean and pumped yourself with at least eight cups of tea, you’d be fine. 

You stretched yourself, excluding your injured arm, and felt the various pops and cracks across your body. You let out a little groan before finally climbing out of bed, your feet hitting the soft, red carpet. You needed a shower, especially after rolling around in the forest for a few hours. 

You entered the water closet once more, finding all of the equipment still inside, leaving no room for a shower. You groaned in agony and lightly slammed your head against the doorway. You really didn’t want to clean out the equipment, not after the long, tedious process it took just to haul it all here. You could always just ask one of the boys if you could just use their shower instead. Realizing that was, indeed, a horrible idea, you reluctantly carried out the equipment from the water closet. 

After another half an hour, you finally got the supplies from the water closet and took that shower you desperately needed. It felt like you entered heaven right then and there, feeling the warm water on your grimy skin. You could take another nap in there if you wanted. However, you continued to wash yourself and got out, wishing you could sit under the water for an hour or two. 

When you finished drying yourself off, you put on a simple pair of trousers and a light shirt and stepped outside your room, expecting to see everyone already out in the living room. However, you were surprised to find no one except yourself outside. You craned your head around, looking for anyone else, but found no awake soul. Bloody hell, what time was it? The sun was out, right? So people should be waking up by now.

You finally found the clock and read the time. Five o’clock in the morning. Shit, no wonder no one was here, they were no doubt still sleeping. You groaned exasperatedly and ran a hand down your face, pulling down your skin. You probably only got three hours of sleep, if that. Bloody perfect. 

You needed a cup of tea right now. You went into the kitchen and managed to find the kettle. Placing it on the stove after filling it water, you turn on the heat and rummaged through the cabinets looking for teabags. You pulled out a box and read the label. Chamomile with lavender? You heard that this was supposed to have relaxing effects, although you never drank it before. However, relaxation sounded like exactly what you needed. 

Hearing the kettle’s high pitched whistle, you poured the kettle into a teapot you found and placed the teabag in the boiling water. You got together a tea tray with all the necessities and placed the teapot on it before carrying it back to the living room, precariously carrying it with one hand. Luckily, you managed to set it down on the table without dropping everything. 

You sat down with a satisfied sigh and prepared yourself a cup, making it to your contention. Just as you were about to pick up the cup and drink the nectar of the gods, a pair of hand wrapped themselves around your eyes, casting your vision into complete darkness. You jumped a little at its suddenness but soon relaxed, figuring it was one of the boys. 

“Guess who~?” a voice whispered playfully into your ear, causing your shoulders to scrunch up. Your ears were always sensitive. Even the slightest puff of breath on them would send you squirming and cringing. 

You rolled your eyes behind the hands, your eyelashes tickling his hands. “Good morning, Jimin,” you greeted politely despite your annoyance. 

The hands disappeared and instead were replaced with Jimin’s smiling face. He slid around the couch and took a seat next to you, a tray full of pastries accompanying him. “Ooooh! Did you make tea?” he asked excitedly, his eyes following the steam rise from the hot liquid. 

You nodded and made a gesture to it. “Help yourself.” You finally took a sip of the warm liquid, relishing in the release of dopamine rushing throughout your body. The scent of lavender fanned your face along with the comforting steam that rose from the cup. Ah, this is exactly what you needed. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to wake up so early? After all, you got to enjoy the peace and quiet. Well, until Jimin came along that is, not that you didn’t mind, of course. You enjoyed his presence, seeing as how he brought you comfort on the ride here. 

Jimin made herself a cup of tea, setting down the tray of pastries next to it. He took a small sip and curled the corners of his lips into a small smile. “Mhmm, what a perfect way to start the day,” he murmured more to himself than to you. He then gestured to the tray of pastries with a curious glance. “Would you like one?” 

Your stomach growled involuntarily. Now that you thought about it. You didn’t have much to eat yesterday what with all of the excitement. You completely missed dinner! No wonder the thought of food made you nearly drool in anticipation. Nodding your head, you set down your teacup and reached for the delicious looking cream puffs. Before you could claim it, however, Jimin quickly swatted your hand away. 

“Uh-uh.” He wagged his finger in front of you like a parent to a child. “Hoseok told me that you needed to rest. Now then, you wanted this one?” He plucked the cream puff from the silver tray like an apple and held it out to your face. 

Bewildered by his actions, your hand slowly reached out to take the puff from his fingers. What was he trying to do? Coddle you like a little girl? He suddenly retracted his hand when seeing your attempt to grab it. “Say ‘ahhhhhhh’!” He then held it right up to your lips, your eyebrows raised in surprise. 

You rolled your eyes once more. “Jimin, it’s not like I’m incapable of doing anything. I can eat on my own. Look, I even made a pot of tea without any help,” you protested. “I only sprained my elbow, not break every bone in my body.” Did he think you were suddenly a grandmother needing to assist your every need?

Jimin tilted his head to the side, concern slipping over his soft features. “But you went through a lot of stress yesterday, both mentally and physically. Why don’t you just sit back, relax, and let me take care of your body?”

You remembered those last words coming from Hoseok last night. For a mere moment, you feared that the doctor boasted to everyone about your little rendezvous, that he managed to get to you before Taehyung. However, your fears quelled when you didn’t recognize any mischief behind his eyes. You only saw a giddiness gleam in them.

You wanted to relax, true, but you weren’t sure if this was how you wanted to unwind. You could only imagine how awkward it might be to be fed by the survivalist. “I’m not a child,” you argued, glancing around the room to see if anyone else had left their rooms. “Besides, what if someone sees us? I would die of embarrassment!” 

He shook his head with an airy laugh. “No one else is going to be up for awhile. They’re gonna sleep like rocks, especially after that whole fiasco yesterday.” He lifted the cream puff closer to your mouth, his lips forming a tiny pout. “Come on, just for today at least.” 

Seeing as how he wouldn’t give in until you complied with his wishes, you hesitantly bit into the cream puff, tasting the delicious cream mixed with the bread. It honestly was one of the best cream puffs you had in awhile. “Did you make this?” you asked despite your mouth being full. 

“No,” he answered with a small giggle, “I asked the chefs downstairs if they could make me a breakfast platter, but I’m flattered you think I could make something as good as this.” 

“I’m surprised the kitchen is open at this hour.” You paused to swallow and then asked, “I take it you’re an early bird?” 

He nodded before practically shoving the puff into your mouth. You barely had time to prepare yourself for the impact. A surprised noise escaped your mouth muffled by the pastry. Jimin hid a snigger seeing your slightly shocked expression as he continued, “I’m a light sleeper, I guess you could say. As soon as the light hits me, I’m up. It’s okay, though. I usually take this time to stretch and workout a bit.” 

You never really had time to exercise given your constantly busy schedule, but you respected him for managing to keep in shape. You wished you could do the same. 

“You don’t seem like a morning person,” Jimin observed, probably because you looked like you wanted to crawl back into bed. “What are you doing up so early?” 

You munched on the puff for a few seconds before swallowing and replying, “I couldn’t really fall asleep last night. I don’t know why. I was bloody exhausted, but for some reason I couldn’t.”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Maybe there was too much on your mind? A lot happened yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if all the action kept you up,” he suggested, taking a sip of his tea. 

You leaned forward and took another bite, ready to say a reply to your own. However, a string of cream still connecting to the puff in Jimin’s hand suddenly broke and stuck itself to your chin. Your hand flew up to wipe off the mess, but Jimin was faster. 

“Oops, you got a little on your chin,” he chuckled. His free hand cupped your chin while his thumb rubbed itself over the skin, wiping off the cream. Your cheeks flared with heat at the intimate contact. You flickered your eyes to look to the side, taking a sudden interest in a brass vase sitting on a table. Wow, what year was that made? It had to made recently; no doubt anything older would be in a museum back in England. You estimated it was perhaps manufactured towards the end of the nineteenth century, judging from the design etched into the brass.

Your panicked examination of the vase was cut short when you noticed your heart rapidly beating in your chest like a ceremonial drum. Why were you so flustered? This wasn’t the worst thing any of the boys had done. If anything, Jimin was being kind and considerate. 

Of course, you spoke too soon, because in the next second Jimin brought his thumb to his mouth and licked the cream off of it, his tongue peeking through his plump, pink lips. It wouldn’t have set your skin ablaze if not for the fact that Jimin stared at you with the same narrowed eyes that Taehyung and Hoseok have been giving you recently. Oh Lord, why must he be so attractive?

You cleared your throat awkwardly and turn your head away. Maybe if you just ignored him long enough, he’ll lose interest and go away? The blood rushed to your ears, and you felt the tips tingle with the heat. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest, you thought it was going to burst. Your fingers played with themselves nervously, trying to distract you. Your mind chanted repeatedly for him to go away and leave you in peace. However, luck wasn’t on your side that morning, as per usual.

Jimin chuckled deeply, grabbing his teacup. “You’re too cute when you’re embarrassed,” he commented playfully. “So innocent, so sweet. I bet you taste sweeter than these treats.” 

With that, you drained the rest of the tea from your cup. It seemed the chamomile and lavender weren’t helping the amount of stress you were currently undergoing. “Oh! Would you look at that? I’m out of tea! I’m going to go to the kitchen and make some more,” you announced, standing up to quickly leave the room.

“Oh? And waste all the tea right here?” Jimin inquired while gesturing to the steaming teapot sitting on the table. Bollocks, you forgot about that small fact. 

You laughed sheepishly as you slowly spun on your heel to meet his expecting gaze. Nothing was going your way it seemed. Quick, you needed to come up with a lie! “I didn’t really like this type. I guess chamomile and lavender isn’t really my thing. I’m sure there’s probably some black tea bags in the kitchen!” 

You retreated back into the kitchen away from his prying gaze, throwing your back against the nearest open wall to support yourself on. You fanned yourself with your uninjured hand, hoping to cool down your hot skin. Ugh, you were such a prude. Even the slightest show of sensuality had you reeling. 

Were you always like this? You thought yourself to be rather confident when it came to romance. All your previous boyfriends never made you flustered or disoriented like these boys did. That may be because your previous boyfriends never really sought you out sexually. Everything was always casual, besides the once in awhile makeout sessions. Maybe it was because everything was happening too fast for you to keep up? These boys were constantly bombarding you so much that you couldn’t even think straight.

Embarrassingly enough, you were still a virgin. You never had sex with any of your previous boyfriends, because, well, you weren’t quite that attracted to them in that regard. Sure, you liked them, but you never got down to it. All of your friends would tease you that you’d be a virgin until you died, and maybe they were right. 

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts as your eyes wavered over to the stove. You rather not make another pot of tea, but you didn’t want to be caught in a lie. So, you grabbed the kettle and looked through the cabinets for any black tea bags. Unfortunately, it seemed that you found just about every other type of tea in existence except for the one you were searching for. 

You groaned in agony and frustration. Why the bloody hell did this place have green tea but not black tea? You were so focused on your burning rage that you didn’t notice Jimin sneaking in until he wrapped his arms around your waist, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. 

“Jimin! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you having breakfast or something?” you sputtered, hoping that he might leave if you reminded him of the abandoned baked goods. 

Jimin whined quietly and rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips forming a small pout once more. “I want something sweeter,” he complained, sounding like a spoiled child. 

You knew deep down exactly what he meant by that but remained oblivious. Maybe he really wanted something else to eat? “Alright, I can make some custard if you-“ 

“You’re really walking on thin ice here, y/n.” 

You froze in his arms, eyes glancing down at him. Was that a threat? “What do you mean by that?” 

Instead of replying right away, he moved his head so that his lips latched onto your neck. You flinched at the sudden contact, nearly dropping the box of teabags in your one hand. You bit your lip feeling him leave fiery kisses on your sensitive skin. Setting the box of teabags down, you gripped the edge of the counter so hard your almost left nail marks in the wood. 

“What I mean...” His voice trailed off as he sucked on your neck for a few more seconds. “... is that you’re driving me crazy.”

His kisses were soft and gentle, a change of pace compared to Hoseok’s rough and hot lips. Although your mind was going through a hurricane of emotions, your body began to relax under the pleasant feeling he gave you. 

His hot breath against your skin made you squirm with a soft squeal. Each puff of breath sent shivers running up and down your spine. It was almost unbearable. Damnit, how did these men know how to leave you breathless? 

His lips moved tantalizingly slow up your neck until he found that little space behind your jaw. As his mouth curled into a wicked smirk, he nibbled on the skin. Your eyes widened as your jaw went slack, a stifled gasp slipped from your lips. He replaced his lips with his tongue, sending warm sensations down to your core. You were practically melting in his hands. God, you didn't know how much longer you could survive this.

When Jimin’s hands left your waist to grip the counter, you saw your chance to escape. You dropped down low, leaving Jimin’s wandering lips hanging, and slithered through the small gap under his arms. Aha! You escaped like a mouse vanishing from a cat’s clutches. Jimin widened his eyes slightly in surprise when he realized you slipped away from his grasp and looked at you with confusion etched on his face. He honestly looked like a child whose favorite toy was just taken away.

You laughed nervously, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Well, if I drive you crazy, then maybe you take a break from me and just clear your head?” you spewed out. Dear Lord, what were you talking about?! You honestly wanted to bash your head into the nearest wall in mortification.

Jimin slowly crossed his arms while leaning against the counter, his confusion ebbing away into aggravation. His eyes narrowed onto you as his jaw clenched. You noticed his tongue poking into his cheek as he exhaled sharply through his nose. Oh God, he looked really ticked off. Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as a flash of excitement and fear shot down your spine. 

“You really love to play hard, don’t you, y/n?” Jimin tilted his head slightly to the side, eyes flickering over your form momentarily. You swallowed hard when hearing his growling tone, sweat beginning to form uncomfortably on your back. Oh, you were fucked…

“And you really love to play with me,” you retorted as you wrung your hands sheepishly, although you tried to keep a strong gaze of your own. You were digging your own grave, it seemed, like a complete and utter fool.

He pushed himself off the counter and took a few paces toward you. You stood your ground despite wanting to back away from him, your mind chanting at you to remain strong. He kept his arms folded as he stopped just a hair’s length from you, his cologne washing over your senses. “I think it’s about time we stopped playing these games though. I’d like to get right down to business.” 

You bit your lip in thought for a few seconds. “What if I like where we are now, playing these games?” Your mind screamed at you to just stop it, to just stop making the whole situation worse, but you just couldn’t. Words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even realize what you were saying.

Jimin arched an eyebrow as he kept his hard stare on you. “Then I just might have to play rough with you then,” he answered cooly. However, you recognized that familiar twinkle in his eyes that gleamed with mischief, although he desperately tried to mask it with nonchalance.

You cleared your throat that suddenly tightened upon hearing his response. Red lights went off in your head while sirens blared internally. Your body was throwing every signal at you to run away and hide, that this man was one second away from doing what Hoseok did the night before. However, you remained composed as you stared at him for a few painful seconds, unsure of what to reply with. 

Panic ran through you like a raging storm, though it didn’t show on your face. What do you do? What can you do? Your instincts took over your mind, shoving all logic and reason out the window. It was either fight and flight, and honestly…

You were going to take the flight instinct.

“You’re going to have to catch me first,” you sputtered out before breaking into a sprint out of the kitchen. Honestly, you had no idea what you were doing. You wanted to slap yourself for thinking that you could simply run away from your problems.

Luckily, you managed to get into the living room before what you said finally processed through Jimin’s mind. You fled for your bedroom, thinking that you could lock the door and hide from him until later. Unfortunately, Jimin charged right after you with the prowess of a jaguar. Curse him and his athleticism! You knew you wouldn’t be able to reach your bedroom in time. So, you made a sharp turn around the couch and spun around it before Jimin could grab you. You stood on one side of the couch while your chaser remained on the other side, waiting for you to make a move in one direction. 

You took a step to your left while he mirrored your actions, grinning from ear to ear and relishing in the rush of the chase. You then faked a step to your right and sprinted in the opposite direction. Jimin quickly pivoted and followed you, causing a small squeal of panic to escape your throat. Before he could lay a hand on you, you threw yourself over the couch and darted for your bedroom, hearing a small growl of frustration from Jimin. You made quite a distance from him. You had a good chance of actually making it to safety. 

All of a sudden, an arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you away from your sanctuary. You squeaked out of surprise when another arm slid behind your knees and scooped you up from the ground. You jerked your eyes to meet the perpetrator’s and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart hammering in your chest. His eyes gleamed triumphantly, his lips curling into a smug smirk.

“I win.” His smirk widened when you huffed in chagrin. “Now then, you need to keep your side of the bargain.” He carried you back to the couch like a groom carrying his bride into their new house and dropped you onto it. Your body bounced on the plush cushions and pillows that were worth a good fraction of your weekly paycheck.

Jimin climbed onto you, his body hovering over yours. He placed his hands next to your head, caging you between him and the couch. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as you swallowed the lumped lodged tightly in your throat. “You’re so cute,” he cooed, moving his himself so he was straddling your hips. “Look at you… all flustered and embarrassed, just by my presence. I wonder how hot and bothered you’ll get by my touch.”

He suddenly leaned down, eyes boring into yours with clouded emotions and want. Oh how those lips of his look so kissable. They must be so soft; after all, they felt amazing on your neck. You mentally slapped yourself when realizing your wanton thoughts. Why were you giving in so easily to his charms? 

His hands moved from their place on the couch and began to unbutton your shirt at a teasingly slow pace. You were fairly certain his fingers could feel the pounding of your heart against your chest. Goosebumps ran up and down your arms when the cool air came in contact with your hot skin. 

“You’ve told me in the past that you hate how much the boys and I tease you. But the thing is, y/n… You’re just as much of a tease to us as we are to you.” His smirk grew when seeing your perplexed expression. “Oh yes, you’re just as bad, doll. You, too, get us all worked up when you act so innocent and adorable. It’s only fair that-” He cut himself off when his pulled back your collar, revealing your collarbone to his roaming eyes. 

However, you noticed his eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he detected something that shouldn’t have been there. You would’ve moved your head to see when had him so bewildered, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from him no matter how hard you tried. His hand left your shirt and skimmed his fingers against your collarbone delicately, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Realization then suddenly dawned upon him, and a humorous chuckle spilled from his plump lips.

“Oh, y/n…” he drawled, pausing to tut playfully. “You’ve been a naughty girl lately, haven’t you?”

It was your turn now to stare at him in bewilderment. “What? What are you talking about?” you demanded, though you kept your tone leveled.

He rocked his hips suddenly, reigniting the heat in your very core. “Still acting innocent till the very end, I see. Very well, how do you explain these hickies?” he revealed, his smug smirk now forming a wicked grin.

You finally tore your ears from his enchanting orbs and bent your head to take in the view of your bruised collarbone and chest. Your eyes widened in horror at the sight, spots of red and purple painted your neck like drops on fine wine. Lovebites?! Your heart dropped to your stomach as a small feeling of slight nausea set in. Hoseok… next time you see him, and you will, you were going to give him hell for leaving those marks.

For now, all you could do was sputter in astonishment. “Those must be from the fall-”

“Oh, spare me the excuses.” Jimin leaned back on your hips, giving you a nice view of all he had to offer. “The evidence is damning. Someone had lots of fun with you last night, it seems. Now I wonder who?” His hands left your collarbone and began trailing down your chest, tracing your curves and prodding at your skin. “It couldn’t have been Taehyung, no matter how much he’d love to be in that position. He never left his room last night,” he mused to himself. “Maybe Jin? … No, Jin is somewhat of a gentleman. He would’ve left hickies on your chest so only he could see his handiwork. That leaves…” His face lit up with realization, almost dramatically. He mouth gaped open, as if he were told a scandalous secret. “The doctor?”

Your face burned with humiliation. You hoped this secret of yours would remain just that, a secret, something that you’d bury deep into the ground where no would dare go searching. However, before you even begin digging the hole, your secret was revealed like a present a child opened up the night before Christmas. 

Jimin snickered when you didn’t reply, further proving his suspicions. “So that’s why you were eager to pull him into your room. I thought you just wanted to avoid Taehyung, but I guess you really have a doctor kink.”

Your eyes widened even further to the size of saucer plates. “No!” you immediately protested, earning a curious arched eyebrow from the man looming above you. “He… he made the first move. I didn’t intend for him to…” Your voice trailed off as you couldn’t bring yourself to recall those sensual acts from last night. Sure, you didn’t have sex, but Hoseok’s kisses still left you breathless.

Jimin didn’t need for you to continue, for he already put two and two together. “Ah, so Hobi took the opportunity. Shame, I wanted to be the first one to mark you.” He released a deep, exasperated sigh, his shoulders sagging with the action. “Although… being first doesn’t mean being the best.” His hands stopped at the hem of your trousers, fingers curling around the fabric and pulling at it playfully. “Let me show you why I’m the best, baby.”

With that, he lowered himself onto you, your bodies flush against each other. His lips attached themselves to your neck. Instantly, a gasp fell from your mouth, feeling his lips mold against your neck perfectly. Involuntarily, your uninjured hand snaked up behind his head and dug your fingers into his dark locks, holding his head close to your neck. 

His lips moved magnificently, kissing your bare skin as if his life depended on it, as if he were addicted to you. Your breath hitched in your throat when he lightly nipped your sensitive skin, causing your fingers to tighten their grip slightly on his hair. Reactively, he groaned deeply, and the vibrations against your neck made you mewl softly for more.

His hands wandered up from where they rested around your waist and brought themselves up to your shirt once more, unfastening those pesky buttons that just got in the way of your passion. He practically ripped your shirt open and unhooked your bra before quickly discarding it, revealing more hickies from your amorous rendezvous with the doctor the night before. Jimin growled at the sight of them and attacked your chest, leaving no patch of skin unscathed. 

A long string of moans left your mouth as you arched your back like a bow, shoving your chest into his mouth. His kisses became a mix of teeth and sucking, wanting to get rid of all evidence of Hoseok’s marks. His lips moved dangerously low, now attacking the supple skin of your breasts. A low moan escaped your throat once more, feeling his mouth latch onto your nipple. Your moans seemed to encourage his actions, because he deepened his kiss, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud. 

He pulled his lips away from your needy breast with a pop and looked up at you through his dark lashes. “Fuck, you look so pretty under me.” You bit your lip shyly and craned your neck to the side, too reticent to keep your gaze on him. He breathlessly chuckled and brought his hand to cup your chin between his fingers, forcing your head to face him again. “Uh-uh, princess, no looking away this time. You’re going to keep watching me as I cover your entire body with marks.” When your eyes widened at his words, he continued, “You know I love seeing you so bashful.”

He must love torturing you, it seemed. You had barely any time to reply or even register his words before he attacked your collarbone again. Your hand left his dark locks to grip at a pillow, the cushions, anything to keep you somewhat grounded. His lips made their way back up your neck and reached your ear. He nibbled on it playfully, and you naturally scrunched your shoulders together reactively. 

Pleased by your cute response, he gave your ear a kittenish lick, and you squeaked from how sensitive your ears had gotten. His hands roamed down your body and landed on your breasts once more. His fingers played with your susceptible skin, gracing it with soft strokes and touches that left you whining and panting. 

“Jimin…” The name fell from your mouth unconsciously in a quiet whisper. Your mind was a muddled mess of pleasure and pure bliss. You could barely even think straight from all the emotions and sensations that coursed throughout your body like a rapid moving river.

“Ah, fuck…” He paused his nibbling on your ear to capture your lips with his own. You knew his lips were extremely soft and plush, but they felt even more amazing on your mouth. He kissed you with passion, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. One of his hands left your breast to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. He acted as if he was intoxicated by the taste of you. “I was right.” He cut himself off to quickly peck your lips. “You taste so sweet.”

You both moaned into the kiss, finding yourselves equally addicted to each other. Hands gripped and clung to each other, as if letting go of each other would be the end of you both. Jimin undoubtedly wanted to prove to you how he was the best at passionate love, and he was certainly proving a good argument. 

For a moment, you feared the moaning, whining, and gasps would be enough to wake up one of the other boys. Because of this, you held yourself back, concentrating entirely on keeping yourself quiet. Jimin picked up on this, judging on your scrunched up and focused expression, and tugged on your nipple almost harshly. Your breath hitched for a mere moment as a choked gasp left your mouth.

“Don’t be quiet,” he practically growled, his eyes now taking on a darker gleam to them. “I want everyone here to hear how good I make you feel.”

A string of moans and whimpers left your mouth as he rolled your nipple in between his fingers before reluctantly letting it go. You whined from the loss of contact but soon noticed the same hand skimming down your abdomen and close to the hem on your pants. A mix of excitement and uneasiness rushed within you. 

His fingers teasingly curled around the fabric and played with it, torturing you as your desire for him was beginning to grow impatient. He smirked, knowing fully what kind of effect he was having on you at the moment. “Come on, baby, tell me how much you need me. Beg for me,” he whispered huskily, “and maybe I’ll oblige.”

Your cheeks blazed with heat once more, the familiar sensation tingling your skin. He was asking you to do what?! Beg like a dog? Your eyes widened to the size of saucers, flustered by what he wanted you to do. Your pride told you to remain stubborn. He actually wasn’t serious, right? 

From the lack of a response, Jimin took this as a challenge and placed a knee in between your legs, pressing it against your clothed core. “Tsk, you’re going to be a naughty girl now, of all times? Fine, I guess I’ll make you beg for me.”

You gulped, feeling a tiny bit intimidated by his words. He pressed his knee even further into your core, causing a rush of pleasure to blossom within you. He shuffled his leg a bit, causing his knee to rub against you slightly. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, giving his the reaction he wanted. He prepared himself to torture you a bit further until- 

The sound of a door opening and then closing sent your heart racing, not from arousal but from the flash of fear that shot throughout your entire body. Oh no, if any of the other boys saw you in such a disheveled and messy state, it would be the absolute end of you. On one hand, you were terrified someone would find you like this, but, on the other hand, you were glad that you had an excuse to avoid whatever punishment Jimin had in store for you. 

You ripped yourself from Jimin’s grasp and fell onto the floor with a thud. As quickly as you could move, you tried your best to make yourself appear as if you hadn’t been fucked out of your mind. You collected and fastened your bra, readjusted your shirt and trousers, and ran your fingers through your sweaty hair. You adjusted your shirt’s collar so that it covered the new lovebites that covered your skin.

You grumbled irritatedly when you noticed how Jimin only needed to brush himself off in order to look presentable. It didn’t help that he gave you a proud smirk as his eyes watched you skittishly clip your bra on. You brought your head to look away from his wandering eyes as he took a few steps toward you. He draped himself across the cough while propping his head up with his hand. “Good thing you reacted when you did. A second longer and whoever walked in would’ve had quite a show.” 

You cast your eyes to the ground as your cheeks blossomed with heat. You fixed your hair lastly before turning back to meet his smug grin. “If you mention this to anyone…” you threatened, jabbing a finger right into his chest. You were dead serious; you couldn’t afford him announcing to anyone about this. It would only end up with everyone stepping up their game. You didn’t know if you could handle that. 

Jimin’s eyes flickered down toward your finger before returning them to stare into yours. “Oh, don’t worry, doll,” he chuckled, finding your serious attitude all too cute. “This will be our little secret.” He brought his own finger to his plump lips, the same ones that were attached your neck minutes ago, and pressed it against them. “I’d worry more about Hoseok though, if I were you. He can’t keep such a thing to himself for long.”

Ugh, right, Hoseok. How could you forget? Not only did you have to worry about Taehyung, but you had to add Hoseok and Jimin to the pile of secrets. Eugh, you were really becoming a strumpet, weren’t you? 

You tucked your shirt into your trousers and fixed your collar before sitting on the couch across from where Jimin laid, grabbing a bun to appear a little less suspicious. Jimin merely smirked smugly watching you fidget and squirm. You were surprised to come across Jin looking elegant and professional as ever. He merely wore a white dress shirt and gray slacks with black leather shoes.

Jin paused his walking and looked at you and Jimin with a surprised expression creeping onto his features. “Oh, morning, you two,” he greeted, cuffing his sleeves as he took a few steps toward you. You relaxed when you realized he didn’t seem to notice your sweaty and rumpled state. “Are you both the only ones up? I thought the others would have woken up by now.”

Jimin shook his head innocently. “No, they’re sleeping like logs. It seems we’re the only responsible and mature people on this team.”

Jin rolled his eyes, annoyed by the others’ delay. He stomped over to the occupied rooms with an irritated groan. “Can’t believe I have to wake them up like a mother,” he grumbled to himself.

“Where were you, Jin?” you asked curiously, noticing that he came from the door leading to the elevator. 

The millionaire perked his head toward you as he made his way toward Yoongi’s door. “I was making sure no one managed to track us to this hotel, and I also decided to buy a few shirts to replace the ones that were ruined yesterday,” he answered before flinging the door open. “Rise and shine, Yoongi!” He clapped his hands loudly to gain Yoongi’s attention. “Wake up! It’s already seven o’clock!”

After the mechanic reluctantly dragged himself out of his room with messy hair and a glare that could kill, Jin gathered the remaining members, all of whom still looked exhausted. You were about to move into one of the armchairs next to you; but before you could even lift yourself from your spot, two bodies made themselves comfortable snug against you. You froze and lifted your round eyes to see the two men. 

Taehyung and Hoseok… could your morning get any worse?

Dread pooled in your stomach like lead as you settled yourself back into the couch, figuring it would have been way too obvious that you were trying to avoid them if you left now. You tried to push out the negativity that filled your mind. Maybe they just wanted to spend some time with you? No way they wanted to tease you so early in the day. Apparently that was Jimin’s thing. You should give them another chance.

“Good morning, boys,” you greeted, curling your lips into a pleasant smile. “Did you sleep well?”

Taehyung returned your smile with his own, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. “I would be better if I had a little more time to sleep,” he answered, his words slightly slurred from grogginess. 

“Me, too,” Hoseok chuckled tiredly. You noticed how unkempt the doctor’s appearance was. His hair was messy, his eyes were unfocused and glossed over, and his clothing was disheveled. However, his dazed eyes blown wide in remembrance. “Oh, y/n! I almost forgot!” He rushed off back into his room only to return with a clothed ice pack, offering it to your injured and slightly swollen arm. “Remember, you need to ice your arm for ten to twenty minutes for the next four days.” His exhausted aura gave way to his usual bright energy. Man, you envied how he could sometimes snap himself out of exhaustion.

You took the ice pack out of his hands and applied it to your casted arm, sighing at the calming coolness that washed over your heated and tender skin. After thanking Hoseok, he merely plopped down next to you and said, “No need to thank me, I almost forgot, anyway. Oh, and remind me to give you your painkillers sometime, okay?” You didn’t fail to notice the impish gleam in his eyes that glittered when he said those words. 

You just nodded your head and turned your gaze away sheepishly only for your stare to connect with Jimin’s. His eyes held the same gleam that Hoseok’s bore, but you also saw the way the corners of his lips curled into a smug smirk. Oh, he knew the meaning behind those words, didn’t he? He was never going to let this down, it seemed. 

“Geez, I feel like I could fall back asleep at any moment,” Taehyung butted into the conversation.

Hoseok nodded in agreement. “I’m pretty sure Jin woke me up from a dead sleep,” he commented. He brought a hand to his mouth to stifle his yawn before it broke away to an airy laugh. “Oh my God, Yoongi!” He gestured to the mechanic, who was plopped onto the armchair you planned on taking.

Yoongi had brought a fuzzy blanket from his room and was currently wrapped up in the cloth like an Inuit man huddling around a fire. The only thing visible was his pissed off face, glowering at everyone and everything in the room. “Don’t talk to me,” he grunted, his voice barely audible.

You tried your best to hold back your laughter in order to avoid Yoongi possibly strangling you, and offered the teapot to him. “Would you like some tea to wake you up a bit?” you asked, ignoring his warning.

A few long seconds passed, and you were unsure if Yoongi even heard you in the first place. However, you saw him nod his head subtly and widened your smile. You grabbed a teacup sitting unused on the table and poured the steaming, amber liquid into the porcelain cup. The scent of lavender wafted into the air, causing everyone to desire the warm drink. “Sugar?” you prompted, hand hovering over the sugar cubes.

“Noooooooo,” was his tired, mumbled reply, muffled by layers of blanket.

You complied with his wishes, smiling fondly at how adorable Yoongi looked and acted, and handed him the cup of tea. His hands wrapped around it and brought it up to his face, relishing in the warm scent before taking a sip of it. He released a relaxed sigh before sinking even further into his blankets. Your heart clenched at the sight; he looked so endearing!

“Alright, everyone!” Jin announced, dragging a half-asleep Jungkook into the living room followed by Namjoon walking in with a book in hand. “Now that we’re all here, we can get down to business.” He pushed Jungkook into a nearby armchair before standing in front of everybody, arms crossed in front of his chest. “We know our next step is in Punjab, but that’s a lot of area to cover. We need to figure out a way to narrow our search.”

Namjoon closed his book with a soft ‘thud’ and took a few steps toward Jin’s side. “If we had spent a few more hours down in those caves, we probably could’ve found where our ancestors went in Punjab, but those soldiers stopped us before we could look further,” he sighed disappointedly.

You felt a sting of pity in your heart upon seeing Namjoon with his arm in a sling. You supposed he was till in a lot of pain from the bullet that was lodged in his shoulder. You noticed how slowly he would move, as if the slightest movement would bring him pain. You wished you could’ve done something, anything, to prevent him from getting shot. However, you knew that no one expected the group to get ambushed, much less from the Japanese government.

“It’s not like we can go back either,” Jimin added, moving himself out of his lying position and now sitting upright. “That place is probably swarming with guards, especially after our little shoot-out there.”

You raised your non-cast arm to gather everyone’s attention. “I took some pictures of the tapestry in the caves and developed the pictures last night.” With a shrug, you commented, “I figured you chaps would like to study them, since you didn’t get the chance to yesterday.”

Namjoon released a sigh of relief and smiled broadly from ear to ear, absolutely beaming from your news. “God, y/n, you really are an angel,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You brushed off his compliment, now getting used to all the light praise the boys would shower you in. Of course, if the boys praised you in a more flirtatious manner, well, that was a whole different story. “It’s nothing, I’m just doing my job.” You stood up from your spot on the couch and retrieved the pictures from your room. You were rather pleased with yourself that they developed rather nicely considering that you weren’t exactly experienced in developing film.

Returning back to the living room, you handed the photos Namjoon, who eagerly plucked them from your fingers and examined them over. His eyes scanned over the images quickly, absorbing every once of information he could obtain from such small pictures. You noticed the way his lips subtly moved to mumble the ancient language inscribed onto the tapestry. 

Quite a few seconds, or maybe it was minutes, passed in tensed silence. Everyone waited in anticipation for the great discovery that Namjoon was about to disclose. Everybody hoped for the best; that somewhere on that tapestry was the exact location of where the fleeing Koreans went to with the Dragon of the Stars. At least, everyone hoped for an indication of where to go next in this never-ending quest for treasure.

Finally, Namjoon tore his gaze from the picture and looked at a nearby wall in deep thought, his brows wrinkled in confusion. “‘Give drink with a bowl of stone waters from the lake of the moon’s flower to the Dragon in order to bring it to its homeland’...?” he wondered out loud, completely forgetting everyone else in the room.

“What?” Bewilderment stretched across your features at his cryptic words. What on earth was he talking about? He might as well have been speaking in tongues. “Was that on the tapestry?”

Namjoon nodded in confirmation, snapping himself out of his deep thoughts, before adding, “Yeah, this was the last line given to us by our ancestors. They must’ve left behind some clues to follow in this passage.”

“Great,” Yoongi grumbled, poking his head from his thick blankets. “More fucking riddles.”

“Could the Dragon in the riddle be the Dragon of the Stars?” Jungkook prompted, ignoring Yoongi’s complaining.

Jin shrugged his broad shoulders. “That’s the only connection I can think of. The phrase ‘in order to bring it to its homeland’ could mean finding it and taking it back to Korea.” He cupped his chin, his face scrunching together in deep concentration. “So in order to find the Dragon, we have to follow these instructions.”

“‘A bowl of stone’?” Jimin echoed the riddle, slight signs of frustrations creeping on his face. “That could literally be any bowl on the planet!”

Jin began pacing back and forth in front of everyone, one hand on his chin while the other rested on his hip. His leather shoes clicked against the stone floor rapidly as his strides became faster with hidden anxiety. “Bowl… bowl… bowl…” he repeated to himself. “What could that mean? Maybe they’re talking about a basin or something related to that?”

“Sounds to me they’re speaking literally,” Taehyung inputted with a yawn. “Who knows? Maybe they really want us to find a bowl.” He stretched his long arms above him with a groan and then wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders. He did it so casually that your brain didn’t register its presence until a few seconds too late, causing you to stiffen in reply and glance at him cautiously out of the corners of your eyes. “Too bad they couldn’t give us a better description of what this bowl looks like.”

“Ah, yes, a stone bowl,” Yoongi recalled, taking a sip out of his warm drink. “That helps us so much. Even if we just happened to know which bowl we’re supposed to be looking for, who’s to say that it’s still around? We were lucky that y/n’s tapestry was in good condition for it being nearly two thousand years old.”

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Hoseok began with a shrug of his shoulders, “but if I were someone who just made a bowl that was the key to finding a hidden treasure, I’d hide it somewhere where it’ll be protected from anything that might destroy it. People, natural causes, stuff like that.”

“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” the mechanic jeered. If he wasn’t wrapped up in fluffy, white blankets, his mock might have actually hurt Hoseok. “Got any ideas on where that might be?”

Hoseok raised his hands slightly in the air in surrender. “Hey, you didn’t let me finish! As I was saying, I might hide it in a container of sorts. Like a chest!”

Yoongi snorted. “Great… we’re pirates now.”

“Well, to be fair, we did desecrate a historical site that was hidden away for nearly two milenia,” Namjoon remarked, giving a pointed look to Taehyung, who merely gave him an angelic smile in reply.

“And kidnappers!” you added, reminding them of how they drugged you and captured you in order to obtain your tapestry.

Everyone released a collected groan at your comment, the loudest being Hoseok, who, of course, was the main culprit behind your kidnapping. “For the last time, we had to do what we needed to do!” Jin protested, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically.

“Still makes you kidnappers.”

“Wait, guys,” Namjoon interrupted the argument before it could spiral out of control. “I think I might have an idea of what this bowl might be.”

Jungkook deflated with a sigh. “And you just decide to tell us this now, after we’ve been wracking over brains over it?” He ran a hand through his dark locks, shoulders sagging in exasperation.

Namjoon turned his sharp gaze to the youngest. “Excuse me, you weren’t contributing much to the discussion. So you don’t get to say anything.” He returned his attention to the rest of the team and continued, “So before Koreans began using celadon in their pottery, they made what we call silla pottery, named after the time period it was first made in. Basically, silla pottery is stoneware pottery. They would make changgyong ho, which are tall jars, and kobae, which are wide bowls.”

Kobae. That word sounded so familiar to you. Your heart nearly stopped beating in your chest and your blood almost turned into ice at the name. Where did you hear that before? Did Namjoon mention this in previous conversations? You quickly searched through your memories, but you couldn’t recall such a discussion. Damnit, what was it?! Where did you hear that bloody word before?

The conversations around you were muted as you were lost in your own thoughts. You almost gave up on trying to remember, but then it all came back to you in a flood. Bloody hell! That’s what it was?

You suddenly stood up from the couch and began to search through the many newspapers that were lain strewn on the various tables in the room. Your eyes scoured through many articles, comics, and headlines. The others watched in curiosity and slight concern as you tossed bundles of newspapers to the side like it was trash. 

“Y/n? You alright?” Jimin called out to you, his voice full of worry more than confusion.

You distractedly nodded your head, not bothering to look back at them. “Yes, I’m fine. I just remembered something very important.” You tossed another newspaper to the side that almost fell to the floor. “Before I teamed up with you lads, I worked with the British’s newpaper company here while I was researching into the Indian Indepence Movement. We exchanged some info and articles and they told me- Here!” You pulled out a newspaper page from the rest and showed it to them as if it was the solution to all problems. You jabbed your finger at the article in question when Namjoon took it from your hands. “Some British archeologists found an artifact that left them bewildered in an excavation site by a Hindu temple in ruins. They said it was an artifact of Asian origin rather than Indian, and they think that the artifact is indeed…” You pulled away with a large grin plastered on your face. “A kobae.”

Everyone at this point was huddled around you and Namjoon, peering over your shoulders to read over the article with intense, focused stares. Their eyes ran over the words with a rapid pace, eating up the words like wolves devouring a caribou. Finally, Jungkook released a burst of laughter of shock. “I can’t believe it. That’s gotta be it!” He slapped a hand against his forehead in disbelief. “It’s right there for our taking. Jin, you can buy it, can’t you?”

Jin crossed his arms, his surprise fading away into disappointment. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lips. “Technically, this is now the property of the British government, and I highly doubt they’ll just give it away,” he revealed, causing everyone’s hidden excitement to quickly disperse.

“Look here,” Namjoon said, gathering everybody’s attention back to the article. “It says here that the discoveries of the archeologists will be displayed during a private exhibition opening gala at the Imperial Museum at Calcutta on Friday evening. That means that the kobae will be there.”

“But don’t we need the kobae in our actual hands, not behind a pane of glass?” you reminded, confusion etched across your face. “Besides, like Jin said, the government isn’t just going to hand the bloody bowl over to us.”

A long, pregnant pause settled upon the group as the tension began to rise. Unspoken words were said, but the boys began to give each other knowing stares. You watched in pure bewilderment as one by one the boys began to grin at each other, and only then did you realize what they were silently insinuating. Your eyes blew wide open in utter distress. “No! No, no, no! We are not going to break in and steal a bowl from a museum!” you protested, throwing your injured hand in the air in exasperation and dismay.

“One: they technically stole it from our ancestors and are claiming it as theirs,” Taehyung argued, raising one finger in the air before adding another. “And two: we won’t break in. We aren’t savages, after all.”

Jin clapped his hands together in anticipation and to gain everybody’s attention. “Alright, everyone, sit down. We need to make a plan of action.”

The team did as Jin ordered and settled back down in their previous spots. Dread filled every part of your being. Right now, you were going to be apart of a conspiracy to rob a museum. You were about to become a criminal. Great, another thing to add to the list of things you have done. First, you abandoned your job to join a treasure hunting expedition, then you were almost killed by the Japanese government, and now you were about to raid a historical museum. You have certainly done it all at this point of your life.

“So,” the millionaire began, clasping his hands together tightly. He stood in front of everyone like a boss about to give his employees the rundown of the week. “We know that the gala will begin in the evening on Friday, but it will most likely be guarded since it’s private.”

You rubbed your temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache already. You couldn’t believe you were about to seriously do this. “I can get us inside,” you announced, dropping your hand onto your lap in defeat. “They’ll let a journalist inside, especially if I’m there to write an article on the event. They’ll probably even let me bring at least one escort.” You regretted those last words leaving your lips, because now every set of eyes were on you. Each stared at you with that gleam, that gleam you were now so familiar with. 

You opened your mouth to protest any inappropriate behavior, but Jin interrupted you, saying, “I’ll be your escort for publicity’s sake, and we can bring Jungkook along and claim he is our bodyguard.” 

You desperately wanted to protest to such an idea, but you then realized that going with Jin was probably the smartest move out of everyone else. You also didn’t fail to notice the look of excitement that crossed Jungkook’s features. He bounced eagerly in his seat, looking like a child who was just told that he could go to the candy shop. 

“I can probably get in, too,” Namjoon mentioned, stuffing his hands into his pockets idly. “After all, I’m a historian. I won’t rouse any suspicion from others. That way, there’ll be four of us there to grab the kobae.”

“What about your shoulder?” Jungkook asked, his face full of concern for the historian.

Namjoon gave the youngest a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Kook, it’s not like I’m going to do any heavy lifting. I’m just going to be socializing and scoping out the area. If anyone asks about my shoulder, I’ll say I fell down a flight of stairs and injured it.”

“Can I go?!” Taehyung suddenly burst out, raising his hand to get Jin’s attention, who only shook his head in disagreement.

“Sorry, Tae, but too many of us will get some people suspicious.”

The demolition expert deflated and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his lips forming into a childish pout. Jin ignored Taehyung’s grumbling and continued, “The rest of you will be nearby though. What I propose is that we perform a lights-out operation. Yoongi, you can tamper with the building’s power, correct?”

Yoongi ran a hand down his face while letting out a tired groan. “Yeah, I can do it. I just need to study the building’s wiring to figure out which plug I need to pull. Hopefully, I can scout out the museum without anyone noticing me,” he answered.

“And then what? We just grab that bowl and run?” you questioned, wondering how the team could pull it off. “What about security?”

“We can take care of that!” Jimin exclaimed, gesturing to himself and Taehyung. “Kookie will be too busy making sure you three are safe. So we’ll make an escape path for you so the guards won’t notice you running off with the kobae.”

Hoseok waved his hand in the air excitedly. “And I’ll be nearby in case anything goes wrong!”

You sighed, feeling all the worries and anxieties come upon you all at once. “It can’t be that simple. We’re going to get caught one way or another,” you remarked, you stomach starting to do flips from the nervousness that began to settle in.

“Think of it this way, dollface,” Jimin began. “It won’t be a simple walk in, grab the kobae, and walk out. It’ll be more like… walk in, spend a few hours there, socialize, dance, drink, wait for everyone to get a little tipsy, pull the plug, grab the kobae, and then sneak out. No one will remember you because they’ll have enough alcohol to muddle up their memory.”

“And if we get caught?”

“Then we’ll knock them out and put an empty wine bottle in their hand.”

“... We’re going to end up in jail.”

—————————————

And that was how you ended up in Calcutta outside of what was definitely the biggest, fanciest, and richest clothing store you have ever seen in your entire life. Your round eyes continuously stared at the large building for what seemed like hours. Rich men and women walked in and out of its golden revolving doors with boxes and bags filled with items that would cost a big number out of your paycheck.

Jin had convinced you to come along with Namjoon and Jungkook to go shopping for the appropriate attire for the evening gala. You figured that you would wear the dress you had packed in your suitcase; but once Jin saw the dress you picked out, he cupped your face, called you a poor child, and then dragged you to this monstrosity of a store

You swallowed a large lump in your throat, clearly intimidated by the magnificence of the building. Your eyes roamed over the golden sign for what seemed like the millionth time. Goldosa. It sounded like the name of a foreign princess, to be honest.

Jin suddenly appeared by your side with big, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. He wore a special grey suit for the occasion, and, to be completely frank, you felt like a pauper next to him. He pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose so his eyes could stare expectedly into yours. “Come on, y/n, we can’t have you be the fashion disaster of the gala!” he exclaimed as he looped his arm through yours and dragged you through the shining doors.

As you stumbled after him, you commented, “You know, Jin, I’m starting to think you wanted to be my escort only because you wanted to attend the gala.” You took in your surroundings. Your reflection could be seen on the polished marble floor. Everything shone brilliantly in the light , from the metalic, golden designs that seemed to cover every single wall and pillar to the crystal chandelier that hung magnificently above your heads. You were scared that by stepping into such a place that you’d have to pay an entrance fee.

Jin chuckled humorously at your remark, tearing you away from your wandering thoughts. “Of course not, I volunteered to be your escort so that I can get the kobae, simple as that.” He then gave you a cheeky smile followed by a flirtatious wink. “That and to have the pleasure of having a lovely lady at my side.” 

Your cheeks burned as you released a small huff. “I almost forgot how much of a flatterer you are,” you observed, willing your face to cool down.

“Ah, but I haven’t forgotten how susceptible you are to my flattery,” he replied, now taking off the sunglasses and placing them in his breast pocket. “Your reactions are far too cute. You do know that, right?”

You faintly recalled Jimin mentioning that you had as much of an effect on them as they did on you. Perhaps you could give them a taste of your own medicine for once? “So I’ve been told. In fact, a little birdy told me that I have quite an effect on you. Shall we test that out?” You wanted to see Jin’s face flare up like how yours had been for the past few days. Oh, what you would give just to see him act shy and timid for once.

However, your plan didn’t go very far as Jin suddenly pulled you very close toward him so that your bodies were flushed. You squeaked in surprise, unable to foresee such events, as your cheeks blossomed with even more heat than before. Your eyes looked around frantically, hoping that none of the shoppers saw what an embarrassing situation you found yourself in. 

Jin stared at you amusedly, a smirk tugging up the corners of his lips. “Is that an invitation, dear y/n?” he asked all too innocently. His hand reached out to cup your chin so that you were forced to look into his eyes. No doubt he could tell how much of a panic you were in. “Because if it is, then I’ll gladly take you somewhere else where I can bend you over a table and show you what an effect you have on me over and over again.”

Dear Lord! You couldn’t believe you just heard such vulgar words come from him! You stumbled over your words, your tongue suddenly tied. Your hands suddenly felt clammy as you squeezed them tightly. “N-no, it isn’t,” you meekly stuttered.

Jin seemed content with your quiet answer and pulled away, letting his hand fall away from your face. However, he still kept his arm looped in yours as he guided you throughout the store. “Then don’t suggest things that you don’t actually want.”

You shuffled after the millionaire, casting your sheepish gaze down to the marble stone floor. What the bloody hell was that?  You thought you had grown used to being in such suggestive situations, especially after your experiences with Jimin and Hoseok. However, it seemed that you were proven wrong yet again. You still were shy when confronted with flirting and vulgar comments. Would you ever get used to this?

Probably not.

“I thought you said that Namjoon and Jungkook would be with us,” you mumbled quietly. You desperately wanted to fan yourself from how hot you had suddenly gotten, but Jin currently grasped your unjuried arm in his own, and Hoseok told you not to use your wounded hand unnecessarily.

It seemed like you were going to die from heat stroke, you guessed.

“I sent them on ahead, since you were too busy ogling at the exterior of the building. They’re probably already looking through some suits if not getting tailored,” Jin answered, bringing you up a series of stairs. 

You climbed up with him, hearing the heels of your shoes clicking against the stone floor almost satisfyingly. Finally bringing your eyes up to him, you momentarily forgot your flustered state, protesting, “I’m sorry that not everyone can afford to go shopping at stores that cost a fortune to buy from! I’ve never been in a store like this before.”

“Which is why, my dear, I’m treating you this time with a dress and accessories of your choosing.”

Huh, was this what it felt like to have a sugar daddy? 

You were brought to a section of the store where racks of dresses were scattered across the space along with a few mannequins standing lifelessly on stools presenting the best of what Goldosa had to offer. You pulled yourself from Jin’s arm and began to look through the racks, marveling at the vibrant and intricate material of each dress.

The sweat that had built up on your brow and back grew sticky, your hair and clothing plastering against it. You only hoped that Jin wouldn’t notice how flustered you still were. In fact, you made sure that you retreated a few racks away from where Jin idly looked through the dresses. Never before had you seen so many flapper dresses in your entire life. Of course, you had a few of these in your possession, but the gala didn’t call for such promiscuous attire.

“Do you have any colors in mind, y/n?” Jin suddenly called out to you, snapping you from your thoughts.

You paused for a few moments, thinking over the question in your mind. You really didn’t have a preference. You just chose whatever happened to look nice on you; your closest was a mix of every color and style on the planet. “I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?” you replied, eyes scouring through the rows of dresses.

Jin looked up from his searching to study your face. You didn’t notice his staring until you got a feeling of someone watching you. Bringing your gaze to meet his, you both stared at each other for a few seconds. Awkwardness began to bubble within you, and you tried to think of anything to comment about. However, your mind was at a complete blank.

“I think red would be a lovely color on you. It would go very nicely with your skin,” he suggested, giving a gesture to you.

Red. The color of blood. You supposed with what you’ve gone through these past few days, red would be an appropriate color for you. You abandoned the rack you were searching through and went to another that had a few more dresses of that color and began to inspect the clothes hanging there. You collected a few dresses that caught your eye and laid them over your arm.

“I’m going to try these on,” you notified Jin, who gave you a nod of confirmation, and left the area.

Entering the changing rooms, you were immediately intimidated by the setup of the rooms. Everything was so… open. The changing rooms in the stores you shopped at had a closet for a changing room. This… this was almost excessive with how much space there was. You awkwardly scuttled past a woman who was checking herself out in the large mirrors in a dress that revealed more than you really cared to see.

You quickly ducked into one of the rooms and locked the door with a click. Finally, some privacy. You hung the dresses you admired on a hook and began to undress yourself. Occe your blouse was off, you just happened to glance up at the mirror, and your mouth instantly fell agape in horror. Your entire neck and chest was just a mass of lovebites. Blotches of red and purple  colored your skin as if someone took a paintbrush to your skin. The bloody hickies were even worse than before!

Jimin! Hoseok! Those little- argh! You couldn’t try on these dresses, not unless you wanted the entire world to see the scandalous activities you’ve been apart of as of late. Your hand massaged your face, feeling dread and humiliation wash over your entire being. Right now, you just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear from society.

There was a sudden knock on your door that nearly made you jump out of your bruised skin. You frantically whipped your head toward the source of the sound with wide eyes. “I-I’m almost done!” you responded, trying to mask the panic in your voice.

You continued to undress yourself and then slipped into the first dress that caught your eye. Unfortunately, this dress didn’t really cover your neck enough to hide the hickies. You felt your entire face heat up from the disgrace you were in. Another knock on the door made you panic even further. If Jin saw you like this… you would never hear the end of it.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” 

Namjoon! Oh thank God, he wouldn't force you to show yourself to him. After all, he was the most mature out of everyone on the team. 

“I’m fine!” you answered, beginning to undress yourself. “I’m done trying this on. I don’t like it, the fabric is too scratchy. Could you please take it back, Namjoon?”

“Jin told me to see you with the dress first before you took it off.”

Of course he bloody did. Nothing ever went your way. “Darn shame, I already took it off, and I don’t want to put it back on.” You quickly slipped out of the dress and returned it to its original hook. You brought it over the door for the historian to grab. You sighed quietly in relief when he took it without protest.

You then tried on another dress. Luckily, this one had a better fabric than the last one did. It slipped over your skin easily like silk. Once you adjusted it, you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Sadly, this one didn’t cover your lovebites either. You might just have to wear a nun’s habit to cover up the bruises. However, you really like this dress. It was a deep shade of red with a loose neckline. It fitted you nicely and had an open back with a necklace that drooped down your backline. In all honesty, you looked rather high-class in this dress, and that was what you were going for, correct?

Another knock on the door caught your attention. “Are you done getting dressed?” Namjoon asked, his tone more relaxed than before.

Before you could catch yourself, you answered, “Yes, I’m just about done.”

“Alright, I’m coming in.”

You whipped your head around, panic etched onto your face. “Wait! No-!”

Too late, Namjoon opened the door and took a step in. What the hell?! You thought you locked the bloody door! The historian took in your image, and it took him a few seconds to notice the artwork on your neck and chest. Humiliation blazed within every fiber of your being. This was just a nightmare, it had to be. There was no way that everything could be going wrong all on the same day.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight. You stood there like a deer caught in the headlights and then ran a hand through your hair in frustration. “Look, it isn’t what it looks like,” you began slowly, trying to keep your tone even and calm. “This was all from the tumble I took down the hill.”

Okay, that had to be the worst lie in existence, but you honestly couldn’t think of anything else.

Namjoon nodded his head, his expression blatantly telling you that he wasn’t buying your story. “Yeah, you somehow managed to get bruised all over there but nowhere else besides your arm?” 

You sighed, feeling a wave of exhaustion suddenly wash over you. You sagged your shoulders in defeat. “Please don’t tell anyone,” you begged languidly. You were tired of keeping these secrets. It was too much for you to handle.

The historian didn’t reply at first. You could practically see the gears that were turning in his head as he gathered his thoughts together. “Who did it?” he finally asked, his expression completely serious now.

You stood there awkwardly, unsure if you necessarily wanted to throw the two boys under the bus. However, you relented. “Hoseok…” you answered, then squeezed your eyes tightly together before adding, “and Jimin…”

Namjoon sighed in disappointment, and you obviously tell the disappointment was directed at you. He leaned against the wall of the changing room. “Leave it to them to do a messy job.”

Wait, what? That wasn’t the response you were expecting. You face took on a confused expression, your eyebrows knitting together closely. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard right.”

Namjoon pushed himself from the wall and took a step toward you, his face wincing for a mere moment. You figured he moved too fast and caused pain to shoot up his shoulder. “No, you heard me right. They did a very messy job,” he groaned from the pain, then shook his head and released another sigh. “What are they? Animals?”

You blinked a few times, unsure if he was actually acting serious. To be fair, you weren’t really sure what you were expecting, just certainly not… this. It was almost as if he was used to this type of behavior. “You’re taking this surprisingly well,” you remarked slowly.

His seriousness faded away into a small smile. “Normally, I’d teased the hell out of you over this, but something tells me you already have enough on your plate. I’ll let you off the hook this time, but only because I like you and you’ve been very helpful, despite all of our teasing,” he explained, digging his hands into his pants pockets.

You instantly relaxed, a smile of your own matching his. “Oh thank God,” you breathed out, feeling relief wash over you. ���I was scared you would take advantage of this situation.”

“I would normally,” he admitted with a nonchalant shrug, “but you already looked fucked out.”

Your cheeks glowed with a small burst of heat at how bluntly he said those words. Did none of these boys have a filter for their mouths? “I guess you could say that…” you mumbled quietly, not wanting to mention that neither of them have actually fucked you yet.

Namjoon then looked you up and down, taking in the dress that hugged your body nicely. He approved of the color, seeing how red looked so gorgeous against your beautiful and soft skin. The open back was a plus, too. He always did admire a lovely back. “The dress looks beautiful on you,” he commented with a pleasant smile. “Do you like it?”

You smiled shyly at his kind words. “Yes, I think I’m going to get this one. It fits me rather nicely, don’t you think?” You spun around, allowing the skirt of the dress to fan out gracefully like a red rose in full bloom. 

Namjoon’s smile widened when seeing how relaxed you seemed to be in his presence. “Aphrodite herself would be jealous.”

You playfully hit his arm while rolling your eyes. “Oh please, now you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m an historian, I only state the facts.” An idea suddenly dawned upon him like a revelation sent from above. “I know what would go nicely with you dress.”

You arched an eyebrow in curiosity, wondering to yourself if he was thinking of a bracelet or a brooch of some kind. “Oh? What do you have in mind?” you asked inquisitively. 

The historian then took a step outside in the hallway. His hand began to close the door so he could give you privacy from wandering eyes. “Get dressed and I’ll show you.” Before you could further question him, he closed the door, leaving you alone with your questions and thoughts.

Slowly you began to take off the beautiful dress, trying to ignore the three digit number on the price tag, and placed back on its hanger. Questions still boggled in your mind as you stepped outside the changing room, the dress hanging over your arm. What exactly was he planning? You hoped deep down that whatever he had in mind wasn’t going to end up with your humiliation.

You walked out into the main store once more and noticed Namjoon waiting patiently for you. He glanced at a pocket watch in his hand before detecting your arrival. He shoved his watch into his pocket and strode over to you, a smile gracing his lips. He offered his hand to you in which you took. Somehow, this seemed more intimate than Jin’s interlooping his arm through yours. 

“What are you planning?” you finally asked, wondering what was going on in that brian of his.

He chuckled humorously and began to lead you down the store aisles. “Nothing malicious, I promise you. I saw it when Jungkook and I were going toward the suits, and I instantly thought of you.” 

Well, that was rather sweet of him. Men and women of high status gave you wondering glances as you walked hand-in-hand with Namjoon. You didn’t know if it was because of the fact you were walking with him hand-in-hand or because of Namjoon’s arm sling.

He suddenly tugged you down into a smaller area where belts, faux fur shrugs, and fur shawls all hung from racks. You stood there a little confused for a mere moment until Namjoon grabbed what he was on his mind the entire time. He held out a white fur shawl out toward you. You had to admit, this took you by surprise. You had no idea what animal the fur came from. Mink? Fox? This wasn’t exactly your area of expertise.

“Oh, Namjoon…” You took the fur from his hands and examined it further. This had to be the finest fur out of the whole collection. You never owned a fur shawl in your entire life. That was something for the high and rich class. “I can’t buy this… It’s too high quality for me.”

“I’ll buy it for you then,” he implored so casually, you would think he was discussing the beautiful weather outside.

You sputtered in shock, your mouth seemingly at a loss for words. You looked at him as if he suggested that you walk out of the store without paying for the fur shawl. “That’s not what I meant, although I probably couldn’t afford this either,” you babbled like a nervous trainwreck. “What I’m saying is this is too nice for me. I’ll probably end up ruining it or losing it or-”

“Y/n,” he interrupted with a chuckle, finding your stammering and babbling to be way too cute. “Nothing is too high-quality for you. If anything, you’re too high-quality for the shawl.” He looked earnestly into your eyes as if you were the most valuable thing in the entire room.

You shuffled in your spot and were oddly touched by his kind words. In all honesty, no one had ever complimented you like that before. You cleared your throat that had suddenly gotten tight and flickered your gaze away for a moment. “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say,” you said, feeling the butterflies flutter around your stomach once more. 

“Hey, I mean it. Besides…” He took the shawl from your hand and draped it over his arm. “Think of this as a thank you for your help so far. You’ve really been helpful in this expedition. I’m really glad that I got Jin to let you join us.”

You widened your eyes in surprise upon this revelation. This had never been disclosed to you before. In fact, you never questioned why exactly they let you come along. You knew that Jin said they needed someone to document the expedition, and you happened to be a journalist and were in possession of the tapestry. However, you never knew why they chose specifically you for the job. 

“You convinced Jin to let me come along?” you echoed, your eyebrows shooting up your forehead.

Namjoon realized the information he confessed and was, for once, the one who was stumbling over his words. “I… um… well… you are a reporter… and I thought…” He then sighed in defeat, letting his head hang low in shame. He rubbed the back of his neck stiffly, wondering to himself how he was going to dig himself out of this hole. “I thought that it would be unfair to you if we robbed you of the last tie to your grandmother. I saw how excited you were to learn more about the piece of history that she managed to have possession of in your letters to me, and I thought it was too cruel to just deprive you of the satisfaction of achieving your goal. Jin thought it was too dangerous to let you join us, but I made up an excuse that we needed someone to take pictures and document the journey. That way you could join us.”

You took in his words and processed them over. So Namjoon was the whole reason you were here and not back in England. If he hadn’t felt compassion toward your cause of coming to India, you would have never met the boys. You would never have become friends with such amazing people, even if they teased you relentlessly. You would probably be writing a boring article about the latest fashion trend, instead of embarking on a journey that could change a whole nation. 

You knew that anyone else in your position would be furious with him, but, for some reason, you were grateful to him. Something in your chest fluttered at this realization. “So, you’re the reason I’m here…” you concluded, feeling rather overwhelmed with all these emotions flooding over you.

Namjoon looked rather with ashamed of this confession. He cast his eyes to the ground, not bringing himself to meet your gaze. “I know… if I hadn’t convinced Jin, you wouldn’t have fallen down that hill, or nearly got shot, or be in this mess-”

You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Before you could stop your body, you closed the gap between the two of you and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was soft and gentle, and you felt your heart flutter ever-so-slightly in your chest. Namjoon froze for a few seconds before he melted into your kiss. His free hand cupped the side of your cheek, rubbing his thumb against the curve of your warm cheek. The fur shawl slipped off of his arm, long forgotten in the loving kiss you shared.

You pulled away and looked deep into his eyes, seeing the warm glimmer shine in them. You smiled lovingly at him and whispered, “Maybe so, but I would have never met you either.”

He shared your smile, and, for a moment, you thought you saw the beginnings of tears form in the corners of his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply to your sweet nothings, but was suddenly interrupted when you both heard, “Namjoon! Y/n!”

Jungkook. Of course he had to ruin your perfect moment. You and Namjoon quickly pulled away from each other, and you notice a slight shade of pink dust the historian’s cheeks. You couldn’t help but inwardly coo at how adorable he looked when he acted shy. Was this the reason why the boys were so insistent on getting you so flustered? If it was, you couldn’t exactly blame them anymore.

Jungkook quickly ran up to you two with a box in his arms. You assumed that pristine suits were what lay hidden inside them. One for each of the boys that were going to be accompanying you to the gala. “Did you find what you were looking for, y/n?” he asked, running a hand through his dark locks.

Snapped from your warm thoughts about the affectionate kiss from seconds ago, you stumbled over your words but finally managed to get out, “Oh! Right, um- yes, uh, I really like this one.” You practically shoved the dress on top of the box in Jungkook’s arms in your embarrassment. Dear Lord, you were so awkward sometimes!

Jungkook almost let the dress slip off the box but manage to grab it before it hit the ground and then tossed it back up on the box. “Alright, I’ll take this to Jin to pay for.” He then gave you and Namjoon a bold grin, as if he was ready to badger you both. “You can go back to making out again.” With that, he ran off with a little skip in his step. 

Oh how you wanted to chuck something at the boy in that moment. You instantly wanted to protest to what Jungkook insinuated, but he was already gone before you could get a single word out of your lips. You huffed in frustration and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

Namjoon chuckled at your annoyed grumbling and offered his hand to you once more. “How about we get out of here? We have a gala to get ready for.”

You stared at his hand for a few seconds, thinking over the plan to steal the kobae. Even if one thing went wrong, you could land yourselves in jail, or, even worse, end up dead. There was no turning back from this. After that night, you were officially deep in this expedition.

“Let’s go.” With that, you took his hand and enlaced your fingers with his before leaving Goldosa.

[spiteweaver]

previous | next

(Note: this story takes place in October of 2019!)

--

Of all the dragons Achilles had expected to show up on his doorstep out of the blue, Yọmí was the absolute last. Yet, there he stood, shivering in the early autumn chill, and looking very much like a sheep among wolves. The dragons of the pleasure district, patrons and proprietors alike, paid him little more than a curious glance now and again, but if you’d asked him, he would have told you they were leering at him, biding their time until they could sink their wicked teeth into fresh meat.

“We don’t bite,” Achilles said.

Yọmí gave a violent start, and scrambled to appear as if he wasn’t petrified. “N-no,” he stammered, “no, of course not, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Oh, don’t be so polite, darling,” Achilles cut in, “it makes me weak in the knees.”

“I don’t—I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Never mind.” Achilles turned, motioning lazily over his shoulder for Yọmí to enter. “Come along,” he said, “and explain to me what an upstanding young drake like you is doing calling on a courtesan at this late hour. I can’t imagine you’ve come to buy.”

“No,” Yọmí confirmed as he shuffled into the Nightingale’s dimly-lit foyer. “Actually, I’ve come to speak with you about a—a personal matter.”

Achilles arched a brow. “Oh?” he hummed. “Well, you’re lucky you caught me. I was about to head out for the Lighthouse District. The grand opening is next week, and the boys and I have hardly made a dent in the packing.”

“It seems a shame,” Yọmí said thoughtfully. “The Nightingale is—it’s a very beautiful building.”

“Want it?” Achilles asked. “It would make a mighty fine manor for a mighty fine architect!”

“O-oh no,” Yọmí replied, “I wouldn’t know what to do with so much space.”

“Get married,” Achilles suggested, “have a kid or thirty.”

The quiet hitch of Yọmí’s breath catching in his throat confirmed Achilles’ suspicions. There could be only one thing an aristocrat of his disposition could possibly want with a drake in this line of work. Sighing, Achilles braced himself for a long night. “So this is about all that then?” he inquired.

“Yes,” Yọmí mumbled after a split second of hesitation.

“I had a hunch,” Achilles said, and then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Darling! Dear!” he called. “If Arroyo or Jean-Baptiste come looking, tell them I’ve already gone down to the pier, would you?”

Another drake appeared in the doorway to their right. Yọmí thought he had seen the stranger before, recognizing his dark, mottled skin and smart dress, but wasn’t sure if he was Darling or Dear. “What should we do if they don’t buy it?” the drake asked.

“I’ll leave that to your discretion,” Achilles replied.

“Delightful,” the drake purred, and noticing Yọmí at his employer’s side, gave a short bow. “Lovely to see you, Master Architect!”

“You, uh, you as well.”

The drake departed, and Achilles led Yọmí up an unexpectedly modest staircase. He had imagined the staff quarters to be every bit as ostentatious as the rest of the building, but the third floor looked like it could have belonged to any of the houses in the capital. The drakes of the Nightingale were so famous for their showmanship, in fact, that when Achilles halted in front of an equally unobtrusive door, Yọmí stared at him as if waiting for him to go on.

“This is it,” Achilles said. “You did want to speak in private, didn’t you?”

Yọmí shook himself from his daze. “Er, yes,” he said. “I’m sorry, this is—it’s a first for me.”

“If I had a gold piece for every time I’ve heard that one...”

Achilles’ private chambers were more in line with what Yọmí had anticipated. Though lacking the rest of the building’s over-the-top decor, they were dressed in the deep purples and reds their inhabitant was so fond of, and Yọmí doubted a single item within was made of anything but silk, velvet, or lace. The intimacy of the space made him second guess himself, but Achilles appeared entirely nonplussed, moving immediately to pour his guest a drink from his exceedingly expensive stash.

“Sit—” He waved to the plush couch at the opposite end of the room— “start talking, and don’t be your usual bashful self. If you’re going to vent, do it right.”

Yọmí hurried to oblige his host, sinking so far into the cushions that he felt they may swallow him, but his mind was suddenly, inexplicably blank. “I don’t know where to begin...”

“You were a courtesan before you came to us,” Achilles supplied. “Start there.”

“That’s just it,” Yọmí said, “I wasn’t a courtesan. I wasn’t a—a—”

“A whore.”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Achilles silenced him with another wave. “Don’t apologize,” he insisted, “it’s not an insult, sweetie, it’s what I am. I’ve been called far worse by far less charming drakes than you.” With a small, reassuring smile, he offered Yọmí a goblet of rich red wine. “What’s eating you then? I thought you were worried about that ugly ex of yours spilling your dirty little secret, but that’s obviously not the case.”

“I am,” Yọmí said, accepting the wine with a gracious dip of his head, “sort of. It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

Yọmí stared hard into his glass for a moment, and then, to Achilles’ astonishment, drained it in a single gulp. Achilles was glad he’d thought to bring the bottle with him. “My father arranged my marriage to Abaeze,” Yọmí went on, “because he found out I’d been seeing other drakes behind his back. I was lonely. Without my siblings, father was all I had, and he wasn’t very much. I started seeking solace in the arms of my peers, wealthy bachelors like myself who understood and respected me.

“I knew it was wrong; I was meant to be saving myself for marriage, for the sake of our house. That’s why father was so insistent that I marry Abaeze. Abaeze knew I was spoiled, but he wanted me regardless. Marrying into royalty would cement our family’s influence in Dragonhome after father’s exaltation, so he made all of the necessary preparations without even consulting me. I simply awoke one morning to find that I was engaged to a prince, and father was gone before I could think to protest.

“Then when Abaeze turned up here, he—” Yọmí’s words stuck in his throat, coming out as a strangled sob— “he humiliated me in front of my clan. Now they all think I’m some kind of harlot who will spread his legs for anyone, and I can’t tell them any different, because I was, Abaeze is right, and—”

“Stop.” Achilles pressed a finger to Yọmí’s lips. “Breathe.”

Yọmí did as he was told as Achilles leaned forward to light a stick of incense on the low table in front of them. It smelled of lavender, and Yọmí found his eyelids growing heavy all at once. There was a gnawing fatigue in his bones that he hadn’t noticed until then, with a goblet of wine in his belly and a beautiful drake’s hand against his cheek. Unable to fight it any longer, he allowed his head to be guided down to rest in Achilles’ lap.

“There,” Achilles murmured, “now slow down, take your time.”

“How do you do it?” Yọmí asked.

“Do what, love?”

“Deal with it.”

“Ah—” Achilles ran a hand wistfully through Yọmí’s wild curls— “that. Well, I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It isn’t about ‘dealing with it’,” Achilles elaborated, “there’s nothing to ‘deal with’.”

Yọmí didn’t find that a very satisfying answer, nor much of an elaboration. “What about what others think of you?” he pressed. “What about your reputation? Your status? Your family name?”

“Why should consensual sex between two drakes tarnish any of those things?” Achilles retorted.

“Because it—it isn’t done—”

“Stop,” Achilles said again, “breathe.”

“I just—” Yọmí took in another deep breath to steady himself, but his next words came out soft, barely audible and hoarse with emotion. “I just want to feel normal, like everybody else.”

“Oh, sweetheart—” Achilles bent to press a tender kiss to Yọmí’s forehead— “what did they do to you in Dragonhome? You’re such a darling thing, and still so young. Drakes your age are supposed to wear their hearts on their sleeves.”

“I’m two cycles already,” Yọmí said, a bit indignantly.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Achilles, evidently ignoring his guest’s displeasure, “come with me to the Lighthouse District tonight. It sounds to me like you’ve been taught an awful lot of awful things by the aristocracy, and if you ever want to get that weight off your shoulders, you’re going to have to unlearn them.”

“Un…?” Yọmí tilted his head back, so that he could catch Achilles’ gaze. “Unlearn them?”

“That’s what I said!”

“How?”

Achilles smiled, and Yọmí felt a peculiar stirring in his chest that he had not felt for longer than he cared to quantify. “Little by little,” Achilles replied. “It won’t happen overnight, but if we can start by changing your view of the world, perhaps we can change your view of yourself.”

“Will that really work?” Yọmí asked.

“Well,” Achilles said, “it certainly worked for me.”

“You…?”

“Do you think confidence like mine springs up out of nothing and nowhere?” Achilles scoffed, pinching one of Yọmí’s cheeks playfully. (The teasing gesture brought heat rushing into them, and Yọmí was glad then for his dark skin.) “I had to work hard for my vanity, darling, and a boy like you, with such low self-esteem, will have to work even harder. That’s why we ought to get started ASAP.”

Perhaps it was the wine, or the stress, or simply Achilles’ skill as a courtesan, but without really even looking for it, Yọmí had found his courage. Reaching up, he placed a hand on the back of Achilles’ head, and dragged him down into a kiss—the first kiss he had shared with another drake since leaving Dragonhome all those aching, longing eons ago. Achilles tasted sweet, like wine, and honey, and something Yọmí couldn’t name, but that made his entire body warm with desire.

When they parted, it was breathlessly, and Yọmí didn’t let Achilles wander far. “I am not,” he said, “a boy.”

“Evidently not,” Achilles conceded. “My, when you decide you’re going to do something, you commit! Here I had you pegged for a bottom, but that was raw, visceral top energy right there! I’ve got goosebumps!” Then his sly smile returned, indescribably beautiful beneath the pale pink color of his blush. “Are you certain you aren’t here to buy?”

“O-oh, n-n-no, I c-couldn’t—”

Well, so much for courage.

--

@nostlenne

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

read the full story on Ao3...

v. i will not fold

I will not fold,

she’s in control.

Of everything.

Of everything and everyone.

-The Lumineers, “Scotland”

They left Winterfell before the sun was up. The motorcade of cars traveling along the Winter Road to White Harbor, the closest thing the North had to a city. It was also the only town in the North to have an airport large enough for commercial aircraft.

Barrowton had a small one for bush planes and small private jets and some lords had hangars on their properties but the Starks never felt the need for such luxuries. Their commercial flight got them to King’s Landing just fine. 

They were never ones to flaunt their money, mostly to appear relatable to their citizens. The North was a poor country. What would it look like if half the people were starving in winter but the royal family had a private jet? According to Ned, it would look tacky and selfish. Lord Manderly on the other hand, owned three and his fleet of yachts was rivaled only by the Redwynes of the Reach.

But the Royal Starks weren’t saints, they had their weak spots. Specifically, fancy cars that weren’t built to drive the speed limit. Those extravagant purchases were only on the occasion of an important birthday. Arya and Bran were the last ones to receive their tricked out vehicles and they were still waiting for their first race with their older siblings.

The King’s Landing airport was huge and flashes of cameras greeted them. A far cry from the welcomes they received at home. In the North, the tabloids weren’t interested in the Starks. And the Starks worked hard to keep it that way. 

They were escorted by men in white and gold uniforms to a line of black cars waiting for them. One for the King, one for his children, and a third for any extra security detail. 

The capital city of the United Kingdoms of Westeros was much larger than Jon anticipated. There were so many cars and people, White Harbor was a mere hovel compared to the sprawling grid of high rises. It expanded past the jumbled gathering of squat buildings comprising the Old City and into the definition of modernity and industrialization.

Sansa gazed out the window, giddy as a young girl on her name day. Robb tried to hide his amazement but he’d never seen buildings so tall in person either. Jon would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed by them too.

He couldn’t hold back the feeling that the large buildings were mocking them. This is what happened when your ancestor was too stubborn to bend the knee, they taunt, the world moved on and left you in the past.

Curious pedestrians looked at their cars as they passed, as if their eyes could see through the dark tint. Jon couldn’t shake the feeling they were animals in a zoo. Wild northerns out of their native habitat.

The buildings got shorter the closer they got to the old city. The road narrowed, just wide enough to allow their vehicles through. The disappearance of the skyscrapers did little to lessen Jon’s apprehension.

The Old City was poorly planned. The influx of people after the establishment of the southern capital didn’t allow for proper city planning and the construction of the low buildings was rushed to accommodate the people. The streets were still cobblestone like they were in ancient times and the facades on the buildings crumbled. It felt like a different city entirely.

“I read that the old city isn’t anything more than a tourist trap now,” Sansa remarked.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live here when there’s a shining city just feet away.”

Robb sunk back against the seat, eyes still glued to the Old City. 

“They remind me of White Harbor,” Jon commented.

The one massive difference between White Harbor and King’s Landing lay ahead of them. The detached mood of the car brightened when the gates of the Red Palace came into view.

They were impressive. A high wall of red brick interrupted by an iron gate flanked by two silver dragons with widespread wings. As the cars drove around the courtyard they got a view of the large fountain. Three dragons spouting water from their jaws instead of fire. It was obvious the fountain was meant to convey the greatness of the Targaryens but the absence of fire made it less fearsome. 

The fountain didn’t need to be menacing. The facade of the palace rose above them, intimidating in red marble. Hundreds of windows and dragon shaped gargoyles leered at them. It was as if Jon stepped through the gate to another dimension. He couldn’t imagine a structure with dominance disguised as opulence. 

If the front of the palace was breathtaking, the entrance hall was even greater. The high ceilings painted like the sky with dragons resting on clouds and flying between them, Targaryens atop their winged backs. A chandelier descended from the false sky, the clear crystal sparkled in the natural light from the high windows. At the back of the room stood a large staircase of red marble, just like the floor. The walls hosted large paintings in front of the intricate blood red wallpaper, interspersed with busts of important figures. From the picture frames to the delicate filigree moulding along the edges of the room, everything was accented in silver.

It was overbearing and Jon suffocated in the gaudiness. Something in him wanted to run but the King awaited them.

“That’s not how I imagined Rheagar looking,” Sansa commented.

Jon remembered the Targaryens having silver hair. The man who stood before them was short and sharply dressed, his cropped dark hair streaked with grey. 

“Welcome, your graces, to the Red Palace. His Majesty apologizes for his absence but he had important matters to attend to but he looks forward to meeting you at the gala tonight. I’m Petyr Baelish, Palace Coordinator.”

“We understand. Rheagar is a very busy man. Tell him-”

“No need, I’m right here.” 

Descending the staircase was a thin, tall man with silver hair, his posture erect. That man was a king. He had a charming smile and moved as though he wore a heavy crown on his head, though there wasn’t one there.

“My apologies again, Your Majesty, some matters can’t be handed off to an eager assistant.”

“I understand entirely.”

“I trust your journey was well?”

“It was, thank you,” Ned smiled, “This is Jon, my eldest.”

Rhaegar turned to Jon, “Your father tells me you spent time in the armed forces.”

“I was stationed at Castle Black for four years with the Night’s Watch.”

“Good,” he affirmed, “Military service makes for good kings. I was stationed in the Stepstones for a time. That was an experience I’ll never forget.”

“My next eldest, Robb.”

“And you’ve just graduated from University?”

It was strange. The way Rhaegar spoke to them as though he’d known them for years even though they’d never met once before. There was no etiquette or formality. Jon tried to catch Sansa’s eyes to see if they were picking up the same feeling but she was too focused on Rhaegar.   

When he was done with Robb, he complimented Sansa on her grace and beauty, as everyone did. 

“A pleasure to meet you all. I would have more people to introduce but it appears they’re all too busy preparing for the gala tonight. Baelish, would you please show our guests to their rooms, I’d like a moment to talk alone with Ned.”

Rhaegar gave a knowing look to the Northern King before Baelish ushered them out of the hall. 

“Did you get the feeling there’s something else going on here?” Jon whispered as they trailed behind the palace coordinator.

“They weren’t even trying to hide it,” Sansa agreed. 

The assistant showed them the guest rooms, which were just as decorated and saturated as the entrance hall. Jon got lucky with the room he was assigned.

It was much quieter with simple white marble instead of red and significantly less decor. He set himself to work unpacking the three piece suit required for that night’s gala and trying to not get distracted by everything around him.

“I’ve never seen so much stuff,” Robb said, strolling through the door connecting their rooms. 

“They’ve been here forever.”

“We’ve been in Winterfell for centuries and we don’t have half as much.”

“You obviously haven’t been to the first keep recently,” Sansa entered and lowered herself onto the plush bed, putting her feet up in the air.

“They have a marble bust of every ancestor. Isn’t that overkill?” Robb asked.

“We have a marble bust of every ancestor too. We just keep ours in the crypts,” Jon remarked.

“By the way, Jon, dad wants to talk to you.”

Sansa rolled onto her stomach to look at her older brother. As if he knew what was going on.

“About what?”

“He wouldn’t tell me so it must be really important.”

Jon sighed and abandoned his suitcase, heading off to find his father.

The study of the guest apartments was another overdone room with green and gold walls and marble floors. There was even a mural of a luscious orchard set between rolling green hills with a far off castle. Ned sat behind the imposing mahogany desk, a manilla folder in his hand.

“Please close the door and sit down.”

Jon did as told and awaited his father’s words.

“Is there anyone special in your life right now?” 

Jon chuckled, “No.”

“Well what about that girl who works at the Smoking Log, Ygritte? What about her?”

“There’s nothing there.” 

Maybe once, when they were eager teens who spent a lot of time around each other, but not anymore. Jon was sure she wasn’t crown sanctioned and approved. Being the daughter of a local diplomat put her on the list (at a very low position) but she still had no real title and her current job was a strike against her.

“What does my romantic life have to do with this meeting?”

“Do you remember why we’re here?”

“You said the charity tonight is an environmental conservation we support,” Jon said, unable to take his eyes off the folder.

“Yes, but that’s not the only reason we’ve come. A couple of months ago I received a report from Maester Kennet that crop yields for this year are significantly low compared to last year. He also included in his report, a prediction by the weather service that this winter will be the longest and harshest we’ve endured in the past hundred years.”

“We’ll have enough for ourselves and Wintertown. Surely the other great lords can figure something out.”

“The great lords are already asking for more supplies and it’s only the middle of summer,”

“What can we do?”

“Patience, Jon. Let me finish.”

Jon sat back in his chair, eyeing his father.

“I reached out to Rhaegar to see if we could reach a trade agreement. Something that would allow us to import food from the Reach but still recognize our sovereignty. And he agreed. A week later he contacted me and told me that the Senate refused to send us aid without us joining their union. They claimed the original treaty was so well thought out that there weren’t any loopholes.”

Jon wanted to speak up but he remembered that he had to be patient. He was not a politician and this was a political game.

“But there is one exception.”

Ned placed the folder he was toying with in front of Jon. He opened it carefully. An official portrait of a young woman with white blonde hair and violet eyes. Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros and Lady of Dragonstone. The look in her eyes and hint of a smile on her face reminded Jon of the famous painting of a Braavosi Lady, haunting and mysterious.

He looked at his father in question.

“Association by marriage. If an important royal family member is linked to our country they will send aid. Marriage is the only way to do that.”

“What?”

“Since we are in desperate need of support, Rhaegar offered the marriage contract between you and the Princess without hesitation.”

“Isn’t this archaic?”

“It’s old-fashioned, sure, but it’s necessary.” 

“It can’t be,” Jon protested.

“I know it’s shocking-”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jon huffed as he turned over her photo to look at the rest of the dossier. 

There were a few other words Jon could think to use in that situation. Earth shattering and heartstopping, to name a couple.

The report listed all of her charity work, schooling, and family. Jon remembered Sansa talking about a gossip column from one of the tabloids she liked to read. That tidbit was strangely absent from the information. No doubt the Red Palace wanted to smooth over the rough parts of their princess.

“What about Robb?”

“I suggested your brother first. He’s certainly the better choice, politically. Their union wouldn’t cause a fuss since she’s not inheriting the whole kingdom. But Rheagar insisted that it be you.”

“They’ll never accept her,” Jon stated.

“They don’t have to. She’s the key to our survival and she gets a say in the treaty. Tonight, your job is to impress her, get on her good side and convince her that we are worth the sacrifice.”

“What if I can’t?”

Jon had to be honest with himself, he was not a “lady’s man”. That was Robb’s department. 

“You don’t have to sweep her off her feet like Prince Charming. Arranged marriages aren’t uncommon for people of our status, if you make her feel comfortable and understood we shouldn’t have a problem.”

“I can try,” he promised.

“That’s my boy.”

Taking another look at the princess’ portrait, he ran his hand over her title printed at the bottom of the page. When he was younger, and still a bastard, he dreamed of proving himself to his father and gaining a title and lands. When he was legitimized he thought the need to prove himself would go away but there he was, with another test to face. And Jon knew he was going to do everything in his power to pass it.  

“You can’t be serious! We can’t have a southern queen!”

“We know Sansa. The situation isn’t ideal but it’s what dad thinks is best.”

“Did he tell you about her scandals? She’s been spotted with dozens of different men, not to mention her nipple was all over the internet! The small council will have a field day with her.” Sansa paced back and forth, the train of her dark green dress swishing.

“Our own people will mock us,” Robb objected.

“You act like I have a choice in the matter!”

Jon ran his hand through his messy curls, disrupting the gel that held them back.

“We’re not saying that,” Sansa assured him, reaching out to fix his hair.

“It’s upsetting.”

Robb stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his suit jacket. He picked up the folder with the Princess’ information in it.

“She is beautiful,” he mused.

“Don’t let her looks fool you. She’s … calculated.” Sansa smoothed out the shoulders of Jon’s jacket.

“Calculated?” Jon asked.

“When she wants something, she’ll do anything and everything she can to get it. That’s what the Dothraki Khal said about her in an all-access interview.”

“A Khal? Oh, you’ve got competition buddy,” laughed Robb. 

“I doubt measuring up to a horselord is the thing to worry about. The Maester claims that if we don’t get aid we won’t survive. And we all know the Boltons are looking for a crack in our armor.”

“And marrying a Southerner is supposed to strengthen that armor?”

“It’s better than letting our people die.”

“What about the Kingdoms in Essos? Couldn’t we arrange trade deals with them?” Robb interjected.

“Not without paying them. And our economic situation isn’t in the best place either.”

“The last thing we need is to be indebted to other countries.”

Sansa pushed Robb out of the way so she could fix the gold butterfly pins in her hair. She’d forgone the tiara, wearing her hair down. She always thought she was too young to wear her hair in the complicated updos favored by the older ladies. 

“So, what’s our plan?”

“Our what?”

“Our plan,” she enunciated, “We need to secure this alliance for our people and, let’s face it, Jon’s conversational abilities are subpar.”

“Hey!” 

She gave Jon a sympathetic look. 

“We’ve got to win over the princess.”

Dealing with the soul crushing weight of his future marriage would have to wait. There was only one mission for the night, to impress the princess.

This whole thing wouldn’t matter if you blew it tonight. The errant thought danced across his mind and Jon took no joy in the fact that he even considered it. If he slipped up in the slightest, his people wouldn’t get aid. And they wouldn’t survive the winter.

“Sansa, what was that tabloid picture you mentioned earlier?” Jon questioned.

Her phone was in her hand before he finished his sentence. 

“The tabloid issued a statement that the photo was doctored and offered an official apology to the princess. They also took the photo down, but not before I could screenshot it.”

She held her phone out to Jon, the article in question displayed. He read the caption and a name stood out. 

“Who’s Daario Naharis?”

“Tyroshi tech millionaire.”

“A millionaire and Dothraki horse lord? Jon doesn’t stand a chance,” Robb laughed.

“Well, he has one thing they don’t.”

“And what’s that?” He handed her phone back.

He wished this evening long roast by his siblings would end.

“You’re going to be a King.”

[chimbu617]

A HTTYD Micro Memoir of the Past Ten Years

     It was 2010. I was 8. I just moved to a new town and as someone who was bad at trying to talk to people, I spent all my free time in my imagination and/or with my brother. He was my best friend and we did everything together.      My parents weren't big on going to theaters especially with an 8 and 12-year-old. So whenever we watched the newest, latest movie it was always through Red Box, they somehow always got for free. They rented two movies. I don't remember how they picked them out, if it was their or mine and my brother's choice. One night, after dinner, they popped in a disc and played the movie for us. I vividly remember how I felt sitting in our faux leather couch, cuddled up with a blanket in a dark room, focused on the movie.      The camera swoops in over a vast ocean in the dead of night. Pillers of stone carvings extruded out of the water with fire burning inside the mouths. In the distance, a beautiful island inhabited with wooden shacks. Small specs of fire can be seen in the village. Over this is a voice-over by the lead character, "This is Berk." A line that will follow me throughout the next 10 years of my life.      I spent the rest of that year dreaming of owning a terrible terror and have a friend to explore my world with. Of course, that was virtually impossible. Jump to 2012. I was 11. The first episode of Dragons: Riders of Berk aired. My brother and I begged our parents to record the series and we watched it religiously. We jumped into my bed turned on my tv and grew immensely excited for this world we both developed a love for.      I remember how I watched Heather first be introduced and immediately hating her character from the moment she was on screen. I created a self insert character where "I" washed up onto berk after a shipwreck with amnesia. I always thought that Heather stole my premise and then ruined it by betraying the main characters. I now enjoy her character and look back on my childish foolishness.      I guess my mom at some point stopped recording the show after my brother moved out and I grew out of the show, but not the fandom. 2013, I was 12 and just started 7th grade. The teaser trailer of the second movie came out and I watched it with awe. I was conflicted by the redesign of Hiccup yet I probably watched that trailer more times than I could count. I met my best friend and we both spent our time in science class drawing. She convinced me to start drawing actually. I spent that time drawing and watching crack compilations for Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons.      I never stopped my love for the world despite not having a lot of content to fill in the void in my heart. I ended up teaching myself Viking/Celtic runes, so I could read the text in the movie and show. It was 2014 when I taught one of my friends in my 8th grade English class the runes so we could pass notes in class. We wrote notes that absolutely made no sense but had so much fun knowing that we were the only ones who understood it. Our teacher caught us passing the note and took it from us. The look on her face was priceless. She looked frustrated and confused. She gave us a baffled look and continued on with class without a word.      I wasn't able to watch the second movie in the theater either. I ended up pirating it off some streaming site. I laughed and cried. At his death, my parents came in to ask if I was ok.      Several weeks after my 14th birthday in 2015, Race to the Edge's first season was released onto Netflix. I ended up binging all of Riders of Berk and Defenders of Berks in a few nights. I cried when I saw Stoick alive again and revived my undying love for this franchise.      January of 2016, my brother called me and asked if I had seen the new season of Race to the Edge. I ended up watching only a few episodes before falling out of interest in the series.     In December of 2017, I decided to catch up with the show. I would wake up, go to school, go home, did homework, binge as many episodes as I could and repeat. Soon after I finished it was 2018 and the new and last season was released. I had my friend come over to spend the night and I straight up said "Sorry, but I want to watch this" and she had to sit there and watch the show without any context of prior seasons. For Halloween that year that same friend and I ended up dressing up as Hiccup and Jack Frost. My mom gave me a stuffed toothless she was holding for Christmas for my costume. Some older lady told me she liked my plush cat.      When I found out about The Hidden World coming out my friend group and I decided to go see it in theaters. I accidentally overslept that day and rushed to the theaters where my friends were waiting. One of them ended up buying a ticket for me, refusing to accept my money when I offered to pay him back. There aren't words to describe my emotions in those few seconds the Dreamworks logo played. I was excited at being able to finally see one of the movies in the franchise in theaters. Although I started to feel my heart being pulled apart by tiny strings attached to the muscle. I then realized in that small amount of time that, this was it. This was the end. No more. That everything I watched, learned, waited for was for this moment. The dragon classes and types I learned, the runes I used, the music I would close my eyes to and imagine I was in a different world, and the reality in front of me ever since I was a child that I could never live in this world. It was all in front of me.      The movie played, and sure I laughed at Tuff, watched in awe at the beautiful plant and sand animation, cried at their parting, and rejoiced at their reunion. As I left the theaters though I couldn't help but think, "It was better than expected but not as good as I hoped". Whenever someone asked me my thoughts of the movie I would tell them those exact words. Looking back now, I don't know what I hoped for it to be. A happier ending? No, I came into this expecting the loss of dragons. A more interesting villain? I can't think of any better villain for the context of the scenario. I left it as such. I hoped for better yet knew not of what I hoped for.     It was winter break in 2019 and I left my dorm to go home and visit my family. The first night I was back my mom said she recorded something for me. I sat in the recliner as my cat snuggled into my lap and my mom started up Homecoming. I appreciated the fact that my parents haven't seen the second or third movie, yet sat through Homecoming with no context for me. This last Thursday, the 19th of March, I was working on my theater assignment mid-quarantine and randomly had the desire to watch Ratatouille. As I finished the film it reminded me of How to Train Your Dragon. With the whole human and animal bond that overcomes the differences between the two species to work together. I ended up wanting to watch the film again. As I watched it, I thought to myself, just the first movie, right? As I started The Hidden World, I thought to myself, just the movies, right? As I started Riders of Berk, I thought to myself, just the pre-time skip series, right? As I started Race to the Edge, I thought to myself, I need to drop my Biology course since I'm gonna fail.      When I rewatched the third movie all my original doubts on the film vanished. At the end when Hiccup decided to let Toothless go, I didn't cry. But, when Hiccup tells us, the viewer, that dragons were waiting for us to get along, I sobbed, more than I did any other time watching the entire series in the last 10 years. I realized two completely separate things. We as humans will never earn the right to have dragons, as we will never get our crap together. We are filled with corrupted morals and mindsets and will ruin everything and anything we get ahold of. The second thing was something I experienced earlier. Though I was afraid of the end I was so used to things claiming to be over and then the creators ending up making more for a cash grab. In that moment of watching 30-year-old Hiccup throw his son into the air, I realized that this was it. This was the end. The end of the movie, the end of the story, and the end of a large part of my childhood.      When I graduated high school I cried in my car after our practice run. I was growing up and I would have to be leaving everything I had known until then behind. It was Troll Hunters a series I started before I moved into my dorm that helped me calm down and move into a new place. It helped me understand that I can't just change and leave what I love behind. I can take it with me beyond this line I drew myself. The past few days changed that though. I couldn't take my beloved world across the line with me. It will forever be chained into my past as something I can look back on yet have no expectations for any future with it. I cried because there was nothing in my hands that I could do to keep what I loved with me. But, with Stoick's words "With love comes loss, that's part of the deal. Sometimes it hurts, but in the end, it's all worth it."      Thank you How to Train Your Dragon. You have given me so much. More than I could say. More than I know. We have grown up together, but now it's time for both of us to move on. Time for me to let you go.

Whoever stuck around until the end, thank you. I felt I had to write this as my fingers were itching for it. This is just a first draft but I doubt I’m ever coming back to this. I wanted to do something for the anniversary but like I said I didnt start getting back into httyd until the last 2 weeks and I just found out. I wrote this in like 2-3 hours, and I’m suprised at myself for powering through it. I’m still working on writing personal memoir pieces so excuse my skills. Anyways thank you again and Happy Ten Year Anniversary HTTYD!

[megabadbunny]

No Place Like Hohm (7/8)

***

(Aka the obligatory post-GitF fic, for anyone else who ever wondered what might have taken place between a trip to France and an adventure in a parallel universe. Ten/Rose, all ages, full of angst, fluff, a pinch of romantic bickering, a dash of mutual pining, and a dollop of swashbuckling adventure!)

***

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Chapter 7 | Ch 8

Perhaps later, Mickey thought, he’d have an easier time picking out the discrete parcels of what happened next, establishing some sort of sensible timeline.

(He was, of course, magnificently wrong.)

At the moment, what he knew was this: he was pinned to the ground with the business side of a sharp blade pressed to his throat, until suddenly he wasn’t, and then the crowd went absolutely mad around him, screaming and shouting and stomping their feet until Mickey thought he’d drown in the noise, and what had riled them up like that anyway?, but maybe it didn’t matter because a bunch of those Golden Guards rushed in, and there was lots of shouting amongst the Champions and their captives, and the Guards might have been splitting everyone up or they might have been making everything worse, and there might have been a bit of a scuffle, and Mickey might have punched one of those pratty Guards in the face, which they Very Much Did Not Appreciate, and then he might’ve got a punch-to-the-face of his very own, which might’ve hurt quite badly actually, and now here he was, in some sort of alien infirmary, wondering exactly how he’d come to be in this position, thousands of miles and years away from home, nervously awaiting the decision of a council of humans and horse-people who would determine whether he and his friends deserved a reward or an execution for their impertinence, watching the events of the day play out before him on one of a dozen hi-res screens as he iced a bloody nose.

It was more than a little disconcerting, watching yourself get tackled to the ground. More than that, though, it was a little annoying to watch it while someone poked fun at you in ceaseless mocking commentary.

“All right, but this is my favorite part,” Vareem said gleefully, pointing at the screen as Rose yanked Mickey to the ground to avoid a barrage of dragon-fire. “Look at your face! Your face, Mickey!”

“What was I supposed to do, pout like a supermodel?” Mickey grumped. “That thing was gonna kill me!”

“I didn’t even know faces could make shapes like that!”

Huffing in frustration, Mickey pushed up from the plush bench, pacing round the room for what felt like the hundredth time. Certainly it had to be the hundredth time they’d watched these bloody clips from the stupid Championship, the giant screens in front of them blaring Mickey and Rose and the Doctor’s faces over and over and over again for all in the room to see.

But that, though, that was a thing all its own—it was like ancient Greece out there, how comes it looked like an Apple store exploded in here? It wasn’t just the jaw-droppingly huge television screen, either; it was the gentle music that played from some unseen source, the lights overhead whose color slowly changed with the mood in the room, the curved clear windows that displayed facts and figures and useful tidbits at a mere touch of the glass, the doors that went whoosh in and out of the walls like something out of Star Trek, all of it posh and polished and spotless pristine white. It was almost like the further they got away from the town and the townspeople, the fancier this weird little planet got. It just didn’t make sense. Nor, Mickey thought with a frown, did it make sense that their lot had been tossed in here amongst all the other winners while the City Council decided their fate, instead of being chucked into some sort of alien jail.

If they had access to the TARDIS, Mickey imagined they would have grabbed Dyana and Vareem and hopped out of here lickety-split, but since those Golden Guard blokes had confiscated the TARDIS to whereabouts unknown, that complicated things a bit. At any rate, Mickey supposed he should be grateful, however grudgingly, that the whole instant-death-round thing no longer seemed to be on the table. But there was still time enough for that, he thought glumly.

“How much longer d’you think it’s gonna be?” he asked Dyana. “Feels like it’s been hours.”

“It has been hours,” replied Dyana, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against a pillar. “Not that I’m too keen on them rushing into things. Don’t really want to become someone’s property any sooner than I have to, thanks.”

“Nah, it won’t come to that. The Doctor will talk some sense into the Council, if nothing else.”

Dyana offered a wistful smile. “That would be nice. Wouldn’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Trust me, he’s got a talent for it. Only took him six words to uproot our entire government back home.”

“Sure it did,” teased Vareem.

“It sure did!” Mickey replied. “I wasn’t exaggerating. Just six words, and he toppled the whole thing. Poof! Done and done.”

Vareem frowned. “That’s sort of terrifying.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Well, I reckon it’s not so great for Harriet. And probably not for the people who work for her. And probably it’s causing some problems in the long run,” said Mickey thoughtfully. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Point is, he takes care of things. That’s what he does. And sometimes Rose ‘n me, we help. Isn’t that right, Rose?”

Rose did not reply, lost in thought as she sat still on a fluffy white hospital bench, staring at nothingness like it wronged her. A flash of silver peeked from her wrist and upper arm, two of several high-tech mesh bandages peppering Rose’s body, slapped here and there over bruises and cuts. The bandages were good stuff, futuristic high-tech mesh infused with something that would greatly expedite the healing process, or at least that was what Mickey had garnered from the physician’s explanation—the physician, not the Doctor, because he’d waltzed off the moment they’d arrived. Strange, that; Mickey would have expected the Doctor to insist on tending Rose’s wounds himself, or at least he’d hover over the physician while they did it and drive them batty explaining everything they were doing wrong. But no, he’d vanished almost immediately. Mickey wondered why.

A flurry of raised voices erupted from the monitors, pulling Rose’s attention and Mickey’s, too. They both watched as an onscreen Doctor and Rose bickered heatedly. Mickey had every intention of teasing Rose about it, but stopped upon glancing back at her; her gaze sharpened into a glare, her mouth tightening at the sight of the Doctor onscreen, tiny and digital and utterly confused, and oh dear, but this would be a very bad time for teasing, wouldn’t it?

Mickey’s brow furrowed in concern. “Rose?”

Wordlessly, she pushed up from the bench and stalked out of the room.

 **

 “All right,” Rose said impatiently, pushing aside the privacy screen—didn’t matter how he might try to hide, she’d recognize the telltale whir and buzz of the sonic screwdriver anywhere. “We can’t keep dancing around this, Doctor. We’ve got to—”

The Doctor’s gaze snapped up to hers, eyes wide in alarm, but that wasn’t what killed Rose’s words, left her breathless, nor was it the sight of him shirtless and exposed, though that was certainly unusual in its own right. No, it was the bandages, dozens and dozens of them. Some of them were wrapped round his arms, others pasted on his shoulders, others still slapped on his flanks, curled around his ribs and peeking round from the back; stepping to the side, Rose could see even more bandages slathered along his spine. What few patches of skin left uncovered by the bandages were dotted with little pink cuts and bluish-yellow bruises and angry purple welts, a perverse sort of rainbow playing out across his skin.

Bruises and cuts and wounds, a whole tapestry of hurt, and—and how long had he been wearing those special healing bandages, now? They’d been waiting here for hours, hours, and the bandages had already helped Rose and the others so much—so why did it look like the Doctor had fought and lost a round with a heavyweight champion? Or were the original wounds just that bad? When had he even gotten those wounds?

Had he been hurting this entire time, and Rose just hadn’t noticed, somehow?

“God,” she breathed, aghast. She reached out to touch him, but drew back at the very last second. She didn’t want to put pressure anywhere he hurt. “What is all this? What happened?”

“Erm, like you said earlier, average line-of-duty stuff,” said the Doctor just a little too quickly, avoiding Rose’s gaze. He continued his work with the sonic, scanning something in his hand--that pet-chip-thing, by the looks of it--and he frowned. “Just a couple of action hero wounds. Normal stuff. Standard. Run-of-the-mill, even. Nothing a couple of Beznisian battle-bandages can’t cure—and isn’t that funny, that they’ve got battle-bandages here? Definitely unexpected, considering the technology outside these walls doesn’t appear to have advanced much past the Middle Ages, but then, I suppose we’ve encountered stranger and more out-of-place things, haven’t we?”

Rose swallowed against the suspicion bubbling up sickly in her stomach. “Doctor, how’d you get hurt?”

“I just told you,” said the Doctor, pocketing the sonic and the pet-chip. “Standard stuff. Nothing worth discussing. Certainly nothing worth worrying about.” He stood up, grabbing his shirts from where he’d discarded them and pulling the tee-shirt over his head, only wincing a little as he did so. “Now, they did offer me some acetylsalicylic acid to help with the discomfort, and that actually is worth worrying about, because you know what they say about Time Lords and acetylsalicylic acid: they don’t mix. Or rather, they shouldn’t. They occasionally do. But that’s why you always have a handy spare bar of chocolate on hand!” He pulled on his oxford and hastily buttoned every other button. “There’s a bit of advice for you: Always keep spare chocolate around, Rose Tyler; you never know when you might need a good source of simple trigclycerides.

“Anyhoo, now that we’ve all had a chance to rest and recover a bit, I rather think it’s time to get going, don’t you? Shall we collect Mr. Mickey and the TARDIS and call it a day?”

“Doctor…”

“Speaking of chocolate, it’s probably time we restocked, or added to the current stock, as it were. You can never have too much chocolate, you know. It’s demonstrably proven to be the one thing in the universe you can never have too-much-of—”

“Doctor, please,” Rose interrupted, firmer this time. “Would you just—”

“Finish saving the day, first? Yes, of course,” said the Doctor. He grabbed his suit jacket and pulled it on. “Give a good speech, give a good glare, give the baddies a good what-for, don’t you reckon?” He whipped his coat about his shoulders with only the tiniest of grimaces. “Oh, and good job on recognizing what the pet-chip-thing was, by the way. It gave me a couple ideas, so I scanned and poked around a bit and I think it might end up being rather important after all. But isn’t that always nice, when something so small actually ends up being rather big in the grand scheme of things? Always a fun revelation, never a dull moment there.

“All right, shall we?” he asked, setting off before Rose had a chance to answer.

She hung back for a moment, hesitating. Even if she didn’t recall every moment of the adventure today—which she did, in startling detail—the footage playing on the screens overhead, over and over and over again, would have reminded Rose that there was no rational explanation of how the Doctor had sustained those wounds. There was no moment when he would have received them, no time he could have received them, and there was certainly no reason. Except as she watched the scene playing out onscreen, following the progress of her tiny digital self as she struggled to steer a sickly-glowing dragon, and it disappeared behind the mountainside in a hail of fire and a thunderous boom that shook the speakers around her, Rose realized that there was, in fact, a moment when the Doctor could have been hurt, and moreover, there was certainly a reason.

(And the screen flooded black with smoke, and Rose remembered awakening, groggy and sore but relatively unhurt despite everything, and what had happened to the dragon, and where was the Doctor, and was he hurt, and later, Mickey couldn’t believe she’d survived, and how…?)

Worrying her lip between her teeth, Rose followed after him.

 **

 The Doctor, Dyana thought with a sick-clenching throat, was going to get them all killed.

(It was not surprising that the guard had no inclination to bring the Doctor and co. before City Council; what was surprising was how easily the Doctor managed to convince them otherwise, and how suddenly, in a matter of seconds it seemed, the group was bursting through the Council doors.)

“About time,” Mickey muttered under his breath, but everyone else stayed quiet as their Golden Guardsman guide typed a series of characters into the keypad next to the chamber door. Dyana couldn’t guess what held Rose or the Doctor’s tongue, but a look over at Vareem let her know that Vareem, too, was likely clenching her teeth against the urge to vomit, fighting all of the instincts screaming at her to run, run, run while she had the chance, that they were both silent for the same reason:

This was it, for them.

Their entire lives had been building up to this single event, this single conversation, this one moment, a slice of time dangling their futures precariously over the knife-sharp edge of a narrow precipice. After this handful of moments, one way or the other--whether they were punished for their insolence, executed for their crimes, or maybe, just maybe, pardoned and offered freedom--their lives would forever change.

The robotic chime of the keypad sliced through the silence, paving the way for the heavy groan of the doors as they swung inward, revealing, bit-by-bit, the darkened chambers within. The second the doors parted enough, the Doctor surged on ahead, Rose and Mickey following immediately after; Dyana and Vareem hung back, frozen in uncertainty and fear. It was all good and well for Rose and her blokes to forge ahead without a second thought, but they didn’t know the Council like everyone on Hohm did. They didn’t know enough to be afraid.

(For all her plans of rebellion, Dyana had never imagined she’d meet the Council in the flesh--she had hoped to escape the Championship with her freedom intact, or die trying. Never had it crossed her mind that fate would bring her here, face-to-face with her planet’s own personal devils, confronting the pieces of filth responsible for so much death and destruction. The very same monsters who had sanctioned the her sister’s murder.)

Dyana closed her eyes against the memory that fought its way to the surface, her fists clenching in anger. She forced herself to drink in a deep, calming breath. It didn’t matter how terrified she was. She would do what she could with this chance--a chance her sister never got.

Swallowing hard, she grabbed Vareem’s hand, squeezing it; Vareem squeezed back, as if in thanks. Dyana led them both in.

Blinking against the dark, Dyana waited for her eyes to adjust as the Councilors murmured in response, and she grimaced at what she saw. It was about what she’d expected, a mixture of old money and new tech, marble pillars and velvet curtains blossoming out of the semi-darkness amidst softly glowing lights and screens. A grand table spread out before them, a great polished wooden thing that cost more than Dyana’s family could earn in an entire generation; behind it, gilded in the finest golds and silks and gems and slim electronic accoutrements the surrounding systems had to offer, sat a half-dozen humans and horse-people, gazing down imperiously.

The Council. Dyana felt Vareem shudder next to her.

Rose glanced back at the two of them and offered an encouraging smile; Dyana knew she was telling them, without words, the same things Mickey had said earlier. The Doctor will help fix everything. It’ll all work out in the end.

Gods, Dyana hoped they were right.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded one of the Councilors.

“Six hours and fourteen minutes,” the Doctor announced as he strode confidently forward. “And eleven seconds, in case you were wondering.”

The Council stared down at the group, each of them distinctly unimpressed. “Guard, we did not send for these offenders. Why have you brought them before us?”

“And counting,” continued the Doctor, consulting his wrist as if he wore a timepiece there--which, he didn’t. “That’s more enough time to collect the facts and render a decision, wouldn’t you say?”

“We would not,” said another Councilor. “We have not yet decided your fate.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about your decision,” the Doctor replied cheerfully. “I’m talking about mine.”

The Council stared down at them, unimpressed. “Guard, remove the offenders,” ordered the Prime Councilor, “and report to your superior for suitable punishment.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said the Doctor, waving his hand dismissively before the guard could reply. “In fact, here in a few moments, none of this--” he continued, gesturing to the room around him, “--will be necessary, because here in a few moments, none of this will be in operation. See--”

Flashing the Council a cheeky grin, the Doctor rummaged around in his pockets, presenting a slim black wallet that he flipped open, displaying its contents for all to see. Normally Dyana might have delighted in seeing all of these stuffy upper-crusts breaking out of their dusty indifference, some of them stiffening in alarm at the sight of the wallet while others grew pale, but she didn’t understand--when the wallet flashed her way, all she saw inside was a small white paper that simply read: Trust me :D.

She and Vareem glanced at each other in confusion, then turned to Rose, a question half-formed on their lips. Rose shot them a little wink.

“See, things are about to change around here,” said the Doctor, absolutely beaming with mischief.

Even the Prime Councilor seemed surprised at what she saw in the wallet--which, Dyana could only imagine, must have differed wildly from what she and Vareem each saw, somehow. “I see,” the Prime Councilor murmured. Her gaze switched back to the Doctor, her mouth pressed into a thin smile. “My apologies, High Commander. We were unaware the Shadow Proclamation had chosen to honor us with their presence today. Were we not?” she asked, glancing at her fellow Councilors, as if perhaps one of them had invited a guest to the party without her permission. Dyana wondered if any of the lower Councilors would end the day without a head attached to their neck.

“Had we known a member of the Proclamation would deign to enter our humble competition, we would have proceeded quite differently,” said the Prime Councilor. “Forgive us, High Commander. You and your party are, of course, free to leave, winnings and usual fees fully intact, and we will deliver your ship promptly.”

“Excellent, most excellent. And after that, you’ll dismantle the Championship, lift your technology ban, and all of you will resign from office, effective immediately.”

The Council broke out in a murmur, but the Prime Councilor simply glared at the Doctor, her smile tightening unpleasantly. “We beg your pardon?”

“Which you most certainly will not receive,” replied the Doctor. “I’m not interested in winnings or usual fees, whatever they might be--”

“Sounds an awful lot like bribes,” muttered Rose darkly.

“--which, I suppose, sort of makes me your worst nightmare, doesn’t it?” the Doctor laughed. “After all, you must have had great success bribing anyone who came before me, mustn’t you? It’s the only thing that makes sense with all of the statutes-violations and felonies bloodying up your ledger. No way you’d have been permitted to run things so poorly for so long, otherwise.”

The Prime Councilor drew back, eyes flashing. “High Commander, those are very serious allegations, none of which, I assure you, you have any evidence to support.”

“So you’re not forcing people into your stupid little knockoff Olympics, then?” Mickey demanded.

“Or promoting the use of kidnapping and date-rape drugs?” added Rose.

“Or denying us access to vital and sometimes life-saving technology?” blurted out Vareem.

“Our people have been denied nothing,” the Prime Councilor said sharply. “The Honorable Council ensures that the people of Hohm do not descend into anarchy and chaos. We are not your mothers and fathers; it is not our place to award trinkets and treats. We cannot be blamed for those of you who have not earned your way.”

“And what about giving us away as bloody prizes, huh?” Dyana spat out before she could stop herself. “What about pawning us off on a bunch of rich off-worlders, just moving us like we’re so much rubbish? You gonna tell us you don’t do that, either?”

The Prime Councilor turned Dyana’s way. Dyana forced herself to hold the woman’s gaze even as she shuddered at the cold.

“Certainly the Honorable Council would never do such a thing,” replied the Prime Councilor. “But should any member of our population choose to volunteer themselves as bride-prizes in the Championship, we will not stop them; your lives are your own, to do with as you choose.”

“Horse shit,” Dyana tried to say, but her words were trampled by the Prime Councilor’s continued insistence that “Freedom, on Hohm, is valued above all things, even the freedom to devote oneself as a winning token. We cannot strip our people of their liberty to make such decisions, however inadvisable they may seem to others. We will not deprive our people of the right to choose.”

“Except we don’t choose at all,” Dyana argued. “Your Champions choose for us.”

“And is it not a great honor to be chosen by one of our Champions? For our Champions to pay a generous price in your name, to fight and compete and strive for your hand?”

“No!” shouted Dyana. “We don’t want that--you know we don’t want that!”

“Save your breath, Dyana,” said Vareem, pulling her back with a gentle hand on her arm. “It’s not like they can hear you over their jangling purses, anyway.”

Dyana managed not to pull out of Vareem’s grasp, but only just barely, and only because she was surprised at Vareem’s candor in front of the Councilor. She didn’t think Vareem felt so strongly about all of this. She’d never been happier to be wrong.

“It is unfortunately true that few things speak louder than money,” the Doctor agreed. “Which, I suspect, is why most of your Champions, especially the wealthy offworlders, pay such a hefty fee to enter the Championship. Does that sound about right?” he asked Dyana and Vareem. “Forgive me if I’m wrong; it’s just a hunch, as Mr. Smith and I didn’t exactly enter the competition via the usual circumstances, sort of bypassed the whole exchanging-of-money bit.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dyana replied. “They call it an entry fee or a fee to participate, but everyone knows what it really is. They put out a call to everyone in the surrounding systems, and anyone with money can pay a fortune to come here and either compete for a wife or watch the blood spilling from the stands. We’re out there risking our lives, stripped of our freedom, and rich offworlders just sit there and watch it like it’s bloody theatre.”

“All while the Council sits up here with their silks and their gold and they watch everything from behind their pristine screens,” Vareem spat.

“And they don’t even allow us to own so much as a telecommunications device.”

“Of course they don’t,” scoffed Vareem. “Otherwise they know we’d band together and stop them getting rich off violence and selling us as slaves!”

“We’re Hohm’s greatest export,” Dyana said bitterly.

“As I said,” the Prime Councilor replied, her voice as smooth and cool as the marble surrounding them, “you have no evidence to support your claims. Nor, I assure you, will you find any.”

“You know, on some level that may be true,” the Doctor admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “On the other hand, I’m certain there are scores upon scores of native Hohmish citizens who would loudly object to their mistreatment at your hands, if given the opportunity to do so--is that an accurate presumption, Dyana? Vareem?”

“Yes,” Vareem nodded, as Dyana muttered a sharp, “Very.”

“Although, if pressed by the Proclamation, I’m certain you would do your utmost to convince your citizens into stating otherwise,” the Doctor continued, to the Prime Councilor, “via your usual methods of coercion, pressure, threats, violence, et cetera et cetera. There’s the video footage of the Championship, of course, but certainly that could be easily erased, if it hasn’t been already. And unfortunately an official investigation into your many (many) sentient-beings’-rights violations could take weeks, months, possibly years, even if we did have physical, tangible evidence at our disposal. Sadly, folks like Dyana and Vareem don’t have that sort of time.

“You know what they do have, though?” the Doctor asked, and here his smile grew downright manic. “They have us,” he said, gesturing to Rose, Mickey, and himself. “And one of us has some of your oft-requested evidence conveniently hiding right in his pockets.”

He withdrew something from his coat-pocket, a small, rectangular silver thing with a series of numbers stamped across its face, and tossed it onto the table before the Prime Councilor. It clattered over the wood and slid to a stop beneath the Prime Councilor’s nose; unmoving, she peered down at it, lip curled in a disgusted sneer. “What is this?” she asked.

“That, my dear Prime Councilor, is an identifying integrated circuit, also known as a passive integrated transponder tag, outfitted with the very latest in local radio frequency identification and remote control technology; in short, as my brilliant friend here just happened to notice, it’s a pet chip,” the Doctor explained. “But Doctor, whatever are you doing with a loose pet chip floating about your considerable pockets? you might ask. Why, I’ve got a loose pet chip floating around my considerable pockets because I found it in the arena after the oh-so-mysterious explosion of a dragon, and it has yielded a surprising amount of helpful information, I would answer. In fact, I would go on to say, a scan of this particular pet chip just so happens to inform me that its original  host was a squamata basilisk draconus, a species that is massively illegal to be imported, purchased, or otherwise owned in this quadrant of the universe due to its status as an endangered species.”

“You want to shut us down because of illegal animal ownership?” asked one of the Councilors, amused.

“No, I want to shut you down because you’re denying your people access to things they want and need purely in the name of control, you’re turning a profit off violence, you’re running a thriving slave trade, and you’re dabbling in illegal pet ownership,” the Doctor replied. “Oh, and the fact that you murdered a endangered animal in cold blood. Can’t overlook that.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the Council, but the Prime Councilor did not flinch. “Once again, I must assert that you have no evidence to support your claim--”

“Ah, but I do! It’s right there on the chip. It’s oh-so-helpful and absolutely packed with information. For example, it tells me who engineered the dragon, and when, and where, and why, and most importantly, for whom. And that whom is you!”

The Prime Councilor glared at him. “The Honorable Council would never--”

“Now, admittedly the chip doesn’t tell me how or why you inserted a remote detonation device into your pet dragon, but it doesn’t have to; anyone with a working brain can tell you that,” the Doctor breezed on as if the Prime Councilor had never spoken. “You, being fully aware of this creature’s status as an endangered (and therefore protected) species, asked the engineers of this specimen to implant a remote detonation device in case something happened and you needed to take dramatic action very, very quickly--say, for example, a devastatingly handsome agent from the Shadow Proclamation just happened to drop by unannounced, or a pair of disgruntled Championship participants stole your dragon for a joy ride and flew a little too close to the sun, figuratively speaking, and you lot got nervous. All you needed to do was press a little button, and boom goes the dragon.”

He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Unfortunately for you, the dragon might have gone boom, but that pet chip? It’s made out of none other than some of your very own Hohmish ore, and that stuff is nigh indestructible. The chip survived totally intact, with all your damning evidence written right across its face. Really, you should have made your money exporting your ore instead of your citizens, but you know what they say: hindsight’s 20/20, though there’s no time like the present to start sporting a pair of spectacles.

“Anyhoo, I may not have physical proof that you’re violating your people’s rights, but I have plenty of physical proof to charge you with multiple counts of violations of Proclamation Article 72.3 subsection 17-B, being the illicit breeding and destruction of an endangered, protected species,” said the Doctor, his hands clasped behind his back like an office manager delivering an only-mildly-unpleasant presentation to his wayward employees. “My report is on its way to my superiors right now, with the full details. Once they receive it, and find you guilty of your charges--which, make no mistake, they certainly will; dragon-breeders are notorious for turning on their clientele, no confidentiality amongst thieves I’m afraid--you’ll be stripped of your titles, fined of all your wealth, and thrown into a Proclamation prison for a minimum of ten years.”

A self-indulgent little laugh escaped his lips. “And once you’re locked away in prison, it’s only a matter of time before your other crimes are uncovered. After all, with you lot in the brig, who’s going to intimidate your citizens into silence for you?”

Finally, the Prime Councilor had the decency to look nervous, and inwardly, Dyana rejoiced.

“We could kill you where you stand,” the Prime Councilor said, her words slicing the air like shards of ice.

“Could do, but it wouldn’t stop the report from going through,” the Doctor replied. “It’s already on its way. No one can stop it going through, except me.”

Councilors whispered nervously amongst themselves in a low susurrus of mounting desperation. “What do you want?” the Prime Councilor asked the Doctor.

“Ooh, is that another veiled reference to a bribe? How exciting. It just so happens that what I desire is for you--all of you--to resign from your posts, effective immediately.”

“You can’t be serious,” one of the Councilors balked.

The Doctor laughed. “Of course I can! In fact, for every time you argue with me, or say any other silly or inane thing, I’ll add another punishment to the list. This time, you get to donate seventy-five percent of your total net worth to your citizenry.” He grinned beatifically. “Would you like to argue some more?”

“Please, be reasonable,” protested another Councilor, and the Doctor just chuckled in response. “And now I’m banning you from the planet Hohm altogether,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, you’re off the planet. All of you. It’s that, or prison for a decade.”

His grin grew sharp. “A decade, if you’re lucky.”

This time no one dared argue with him; the only response the Doctor received was a bunch of open-mouthed, disbelieving stares.

“Uh-oh, hear that?” asked the Doctor, pointing to the imaginary timepiece on his wrist. “Sounds like it’s make-a-decision-already o’clock.”

“You would really break our world like this?” asked the Prime Councilor. “Break our foundations, shatter our economy, leave our people leaderless and wandering?”

“I’m sure your new Councilors-in-interim will smooth things along nicely.”

“There are no other Councilors. We have not chosen successors.”

“Nor would any reasonable person permit you to. I am referring, of course, to Dyana and Vareem,” the Doctor replied, brow quirked in amusement, as if the Prime Councilor was terribly stupid. “Both excellent candidates for Councilor-ship. That is, if they’d like the job?”

All eyes turned to Vareem and Dyana, and Dyana’s throat ran dry. She had strode into the arena fully expecting to escape, or die trying. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined any of this would happen. Never had she dared hope that she would help make it happen! And now, this bright, shining gift sat just before her, the chance to help guide her world into the future, to make things better for everyone, to give every person on Hohm the choices they needed, the choices they deserved…

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She wished her sister had lived to see this. She would have been so, so proud.

“Yes,” Dyana whispered, warmth blossoming from her cheeks to her fingertips to her toes, bringing joy and hope and relief flooding with it. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Me too,” added Vareem, nodding emphatically.

The Doctor beamed at them. “Wonderful. You’ll both do brilliantly. I’m certain of it.”

He turned back to the Council, clapping his hands together in anticipation. “All right! You’ve got a choice before you, which quite frankly in rather generous considering the choices you’ve robbed your people of over the years; you can voluntarily resign, leaving behind most of your fortunate and all of your privilege and prestige, but living otherwise modest lives somewhere far, far away from the people you’ve hurt, or, my report goes through, my superior officers at the Shadow Proclamation get a nice little arrest warrant handy, and the swift hammer of justice strikes fast, hard, and without mercy.”

His smirk was one of the smuggest things Dyana had ever seen, as if he knew the answer even before asking, but wanted to savor the satisfaction of it, anyway. “So,” said the Doctor. “Which’ll it be?”

 ***

 Rose was willing to bet the Councilors had never made a decision so quickly in all their pampered lives.

“How are you doing?” she asked in a low voice, sidling up to Dyana as they watched the Council exiting their chambers, some of them leaving with heads held high and proud while others slunk away like perhaps, if they tried hard enough, they might disappear into the shadows before anyone caught them. “You gonna be all right?”

Dyana shrugged, eyes wide. “I think so? I don’t know. I never expected anything like this to happen. I think I’m sort of in shock, actually.”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “Kind of funny, though--they’ve been so horrible, for so long, made such a huge mess and made things so bad for so many people--only to be brought down by something so small.”

“Ah, I sort of love it when that happens. Poetic justice.”

Dyana shifted, shooting Rose a glance full of suspicion. “And you deliver that sort of thing often, then? The poetic justice?”

“We’ve been known to,” said Rose with a smile.

��As agents of the Shadow Proclamation.”

“But of course,” replied Rose, tapping the side of her nose knowingly, and the two of them laughed.

They both fell quiet as a pair of Golden Guards wheeled in the TARDIS from its hiding spot somewhere in confiscation-land, watching as Vareem poked about the ship in confusion and Mickey excitedly explained it to her. The Doctor was oddly quiet as he looked on, patting the TARDIS doors in greeting, like the arm of an old friend.

“Wouldn’t have mistaken any of you for the authoritarian type,” Dyana said thoughtfully. “Doesn’t really seem like any of you care too much for any sort of rules.”

As if he could sense her watching, the Doctor glanced Rose’s way. Their gazes locked. His expression was neutral, perfectly inscrutable. But something about it twisted in Rose’s gut anyway.

“But then again I didn’t think the Doctor’s paper-thing said anything important, so, I dunno,” Dyana continued. “I guess looks can be pretty deceiving, huh?”

The Doctor ducked into the TARDIS, breaking their gaze. Rose frowned.

“Yeah,” she murmured, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I guess so.”

 **

 “Okay, look. I know you don’t want to talk about this,” Rose called out, closing the TARDIS doors quietly behind her. “Not really, not in any way that actually means anything. And that’s fine. You don’t have to talk. Just listen.”

Surprised, the Doctor looked up from the console, watching wordlessly as Rose fidgeted in place. God, why was this so difficult?

She swallowed, loudly. “You hurt me,” she said. “Back on that spaceship. Back in France. You said things and you did things that hurt me.”

Before the Doctor had a chance to reply, Rose shook her head, rushing along with, “Maybe you didn’t mean to, maybe you didn’t think about it that way. Maybe you didn’t think about it at all. And I mean, I guess that matters, at least a little. But when you share your life with someone--because that’s what we’re doing, Doctor, we’re sharing our lives right now, that’s what’s happening whether you want to call it that or not--when you share your life with someone, you have to think about how your actions affect others. You have to.”

The Doctor didn’t reply, just kept watching her, his brow knit in concentration, or maybe concern.

“I know you’re hurt because of me,” Rose said, her voice quiet. “Because you protected me. That’s what happened, yeah? I don’t remember, and it was too dark and smoky to make it out on the screens back there--but you kept me safe when we were falling. Right? Cos I don’t have barely a scratch on me, but you look beat to hell under all those layers. So you must’ve protected me, put your arms around me and broken the fall, somehow. You must have done.”

Now the Doctor couldn’t meet her gaze, scratching his neck uncomfortably as he looked away.

“I wanted to say thank you for that,” Rose said, forcing her words to stay clear and strong, not to shake the way they wanted to. “I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you. Honestly, I’d probably be dead several times over if it wasn’t for you. Of course, the same is probably true in reverse. But that’s what we’re both there for, yeah? To watch out for each other, keep each other company, keep each other safe. To trust each other.”

Drawing a deep breath, Rose closed her eyes. “What you did a few days back--leaving us behind on the spaceship, kissing Reinette and bragging about it after--that was a violation of trust,” she said, her cheeks flushing red-hot with embarrassment. “Whether or not you meant it that way. It was--it felt like a betrayal.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him; big mistake. He was staring into the distance, mouth tight, jaw taut, fingers clenched round the edge of the control desk. To an outsider, it might have appeared that he was fighting not to be angry at Rose; Rose knew him well enough to suspect he was trying not to show his anger with himself. The thought broke Rose’s heart.

She kept going.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” she said, carefully. “But you need to know how it felt to me.”

Silently, the Doctor issued a curt nod.

Rose suppressed a sigh. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but she felt disappointed, somehow. Although really, she’d given him the option not to speak, so maybe she shouldn’t be surprised he was taking her up on the offer. Still, she’d hoped…

But that didn’t matter. She’d said her piece and he’d heard it, and acknowledged it, at least a little bit. That was worth something, right?

Rose turned to leave, to give the Doctor some space, but stopped in her tracks at the sound of him clearing his throat.

“Rose?”

She turned back to look at him, her heart convulsing painfully in her chest, so hard she thought her ribs might crack from it. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” said the Doctor, slowly. “What I did--it was a betrayal.”

Now Rose’s pulse was hammering in her ears. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

The Doctor’s gaze met hers. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Relief flooded Rose like waters through a broken dam. Before her brain had a chance to make any choice in the matter, her feet had carried her across the console room, up the stairs, and launched her straight into the Doctor, her arms wrapping snugly round him, purely of their own volition, she was sure. She squeezed him tight in a reassuring hug and he responded in kind, embracing her in a way that felt only a little bit desperate. Rose buried her face against his shirt and let out a long, pent-up sigh of release.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice muffled by his shirt.

The Doctor did not reply, but hugged her harder instead.

***

Previous | Next

***

note: once again, as much as i wish i had come up with it all on my own, the conversation about semantics re: betrayal is heavily (heavily!) inspired by some writings from my good friend, the insanely talented @ksgsworld , who is super amazeballs <3

[secret-vore-lair]

Neyra’s Gift

Okay major warning here because this one is rough. I PROMISE it’s not fatal vore but that’s . . . really not obvious for a long time. Mally is fine. I’ll tell you that up front in case you don’t want to read this, since, well, this is definitely not going to be for everyone. It gets dark before it gets sweet. That said, I really hope that if you do read it, you enjoy it!

Mally wheezed and dragged herself across the snow, one of her back legs stiff and refusing to cooperate. Her wings were bent unnaturally, one of her eyes appeared swollen closed, and she was "bleeding" a thin trail of liquid the same color as her scales. In fact, it was her scales. It appeared that the dragon was terribly injured, and her whole body was coming undone, twisted and unable to hold together.

She collapsed, leeching green into the powdery white around her, and heaved a slow, deliberate breath. She wouldn’t last long out here. She knew it. Her life would be over, soon. Yes, any second now. . .

A shadow fell over her. Her one good eye looked up dully, its rich red faded by exhaustion and despair.

She saw an angel.

A fire dragon like her, but twice her size and with the smoothest, glossiest scales, and a silky mane flecked with snow and flowing hypnotically in the current of the wind, now stood over her, head canted as if listening, clouded eyes as white as the bleak world around them gazing at nothing. The angel's tongue flicked out, and she lowered her head beside Mally's to speak. And oh, her voice. . . It was as exquisite as her appearance, Mally thought to herself in her muddled brain. So focused was she on the dragon's soothing, compassionately soft tone that she missed the first few words, only focusing in blearily after several euphoric moments.

"--ly wish I had found you in time," she was saying. "I'm so sorry to say this, but there's nothing I can do. I don't know if that's what you want to hear. I only know that, were I in your place, I would desire honesty. So I will give you the truth, at least."

Mally struggled to keep up with what she was being told by this gorgeous creature. The dragon had such a beautiful face, even though it looked so very sad. The other dragon kept speaking, but Mally was too tired to comprehend much. But then she licked Mally's forehead, and Mally refocused in time to hear her say, "Actually. . . there might be something I can do for you after all." Now the larger dragon looked both sad and conflicted, and Mally hummed sympathetically. She didn't want this pretty dragon to be sad! She wanted to help, but she was just so sleepy. . .

Neyra looked down on Mally, her heart breaking inside. The poor thing was doomed to die out in the miserable, unforgiving cold. Or, at least, she was, until Neyra had happened upon her. But there was only one thing Neyra could offer her, and though it was undoubtedly a kindness, it promised to wrench her tender heart even more painfully. Before she could torment herself further with premeditation, she forced herself to move forward with her mercy, giving Mally another lick, then slipping her jaws over the smaller dragon's snout. Her . . . her prey . . . didn't respond at first to this initial step, and, feeling encouraged, Neyra hurriedly pushed her mouth over Mally's entire head, the plush pink flesh of her maw sheltering Mally's damaged snout in softness and warmth. Soon the wounded dragon's entire body would be so held. This was Neyra's gift. Mally would not pass alone in the cold, but surrounded by love and warmth. As the other dragon began to struggle feebly with some of the last of her strength, Neyra's unseeing eyes welled with tears. She choked back a sob and took a weighty gulp, trapping the dragon's head in her throat. She held her arms and wings to her sides with her own larger claws, and rushed to consume her, even if she wished she could go slower, be more gentle, and savor her prey. Indeed, the other dragon possessed a flavor superior to anything she'd eaten before, her scales shedding the faint taste of citrus over Neyra's especially sensitive tongue, along with a viscous green film that drizzled through her teeth like a sugary syrup.

Neyra purred. She couldn't help it. As much as she felt guilty about enjoying this, wouldn't it be wrong not to seize what pleasure she could from this act, and encourage the other dragon to do the same? It was what was best for both of them, after all. Her throat bulged with the shapely mass of the doomed dragon as she walked her jaws over her wings, restraining them safely. With consistent, smooth swallows, soon only a pair of kicking legs and a weakly lashing tail could be seen of Mally. Neyra lifted her head high, wincing, and finished the deed, slirking the other dragon into her firelit confines with a thick, wet gulp and sealing her fate with the closing of jaws and interlocking of gleaming white teeth. Peristalsis would take over, now, and bring Mally into Neyra's core. With a meal this large, it would normally be a struggle, but so faint was Mally, and fading, that she couldn't put up much of a fight, and Neyra's involuntary processes would be more than sufficient for doing what was required. Neyra wiped the drool from her lips and lowered her head, feeling Mally's wriggling, depleting form gain admittance to her stomach, her middle sagging down with the extra weight, her belly stretching and groaning, a pleasant, slothful satiation spreading from her abdomen and warming her from head to tail.

"Wh. . . Why?"

She tensed up as she heard the word spoken with some effort, the other dragon's muffled voice cracking as she pleaded to understand.

"Why would you. . . I thought. . ."

Neyra shut her eyes tight as she felt the other dragon paw at her inner walls and struggle to catch her breath. She took a shaky breath of her own, her lungs expanding to press in against Mally's body. She whispered, "Please. . . I know you have to struggle. I understand. But I promise, I don't want to scare you. I know it's so much to ask, but will you listen to me?"

Mally panted, staring at the faintly glowing walls, then frantically casting her gaze down to the fluid that lapped at her exhausted body, harmlessly. . . For now. The slimy walls squeezed in on her in a way that was almost calming, like an embrace. But even in her state there was no denying it. This was a stomach. She had been eaten. And yet, when her devourer spoke, she sensed that same earnest kindness in her voice from when she stood over her with concern. There wasn't a trace of smugness or cruelty. She didn't feel like she'd been deceived. She mustered her strength and strained her vocal cords, managing an, "Mm. . . Mmhm?"

Neyra sighed and settled softly onto her side, raising her external temperature to melt the snow in a perfect ring around her. "O-Okay! Thank you!" She rested a claw on her stomach, but immediately thought better of it and removed it, such a familiar gesture seeming out of place in this scenario. Heartened by Mally's willingness to hear her out, she asked, "What's your name? I'm Neyra."

"Mal. . . Mal . . . ly."

"Mally. That's a lovely name." The more she spoke, the easier it became to continue the conversation. She smiled sadly. "Mally, I know it's difficult to accept, but you and I both know that, um, you're . . . you're not long for this world. And I can't save you. But . . . I can hold you. And I can give you a different way out, one without pain." She sniffled. "Gods, I wish we were meeting under different circumstances." She wiped her eyes, then gasped in surprise when she felt Mally prod her from within. "Yes? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. . ." Mally croaked softly. Even with Neyra's keen ears, she had to hold her head close to her stomach and strain to hear. "Will you . . . di . . . digest . . . me?"

Neyra moistened her lips, nervous. She didn't want Mally's end to be filled with fear. But honesty had worked so far. "Yes, Mally. That's what I intended. You would be warm, and I would be with you the whole time, and I would remember you--" She cut herself off as she heard something faint from inside her. Mally? A stomach sound? She was extremely quiet for a long moment, and when it became clear that Mally wouldn't repeat herself unprompted, if at all, she hesitantly asked, "Mally? Did you say something?"

"Ye. . . yes."

Neyra waited.

"It's . . . okay."

Neyra trembled. "It is? I mean, um. I didn't think you would. . . I didn't think you would, well. . ."

Mally pushed against the stomach lining with her snout. "My end . . . serves purpose this way. You're kind. Want to help you." She smiled in spite of herself. She was shockingly calm now. It became much easier to speak, though her voice stayed low. "You'll keep me company? Talk to me?"

"I will," Neyra said without hesitation.

"Then this is better. You'll carry me with you. I'll become . . . part of you." Mally laughed, then coughed. "Talk about . . . an upgrade."

Neyra blushed. "I don't know about--"

"Shush, you're ravishing. You're going to kill me, so you have to accept my compliments. That's the rules."

She laughed, and Neyra laughed along with her. Mally sucked in a pained-sounding breath, cutting off the mirth for both of them with a harsh reminder of the dire nature of their situation. "You . . . had better get started. Think I might go . . . any time now."

"Right, um. Okay. You sure? Yeah? Then, well, h-here we go." With that, Neyra elevated the temperature of her innards, activating the enzymes inside and causing the liquid to bubble and simmer. Her heart leapt when she heard Mally's voice once again. Amidst the escalating gurgles, she could make out broken purring. "Oh, Mally. . . I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I think . . . In another life, I think I would've liked to have you for a friend."

Mally shook her head as the flickering of Neyra's inner elemental energies showed her body succumbing to the biological expression of the larger dragon's hunger. As her form blurred and ran further, tingling all over, she was scared, yes, but the process, even as it only just began, already brought her such relief from her suffering. As the walls pressed in, the tension left her incrementally. It was like slowly relaxing into a deep sleep. . . "Neyra. You already do have me for a friend. You have me . . . completely. There's no other way I'd rather my story end. I give myself to you."

Neyra was shaken. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead she curled tighter around the dragon dissolving in her core, shrouding her stomach in her wings and wrapping her tail around her body, trembling. Finally, she managed, "I . . . I need to know how I can honor you, Mally."

"Keep living."

Of course. That seemed obvious. Carry her memory forward. Never before had Neyra so resonated with the idea that her body was a temple. With Mally's sacrifice it seemed to become a holy place. Their union was consecrated, sacred. "I promise, Mally." She kissed the scales of her belly, and tried not to think about the surprising softness and give in its surface as she did so. "Thank you." She waited. Listened. Wait, when had the purring stopped? She pressed a claw to her stomach in alarm. "M-Mally? Mally?!" She stifled a sob. Knowing what would happen didn't make it any easier. But as her stomach continued to churn, and she felt energy flowing into her body even as a wave of heaviness and exhaustion washed paradoxically over her, she tried to focus on a silver lining. She was alive, and fed, and Mally had been given an exit she was satisfied with. At least, that's what she hoped. Her life was better for this, for knowing Mally, even if it hurt. If she'd never stumbled onto her, then Mally would have suffered. So would she, and she never would have known what she had missed. She heaved herself to her feet, belly sloshing and swaying beneath her with liquid weight. She had a long way to go before she was home. But she had the strength now to make it. Of that she was sure.

"And as for Mally? The dragon too sweet, literally and figuratively, for this dark, gritty world? Why, she's nothing but calories now for the most beautiful fire dragon to ever walk the earth. She's nothing but pudge on the world's cutest tail, keeping the owner of that tail warm and plump and--"

"Mally," Neyra chided the voice in her head, "Don't you think narration like that undercuts the raw emotion we're supposed to be feeling right now? The profound loss and all of those things you talked to me about when we planned this?"

Neyra's claws crunched a steady rhythm in the snow, in time with the sloshing of the sludgy remnants of her very willing meal.

"Neyra, come on," Mally replied mentally, her consciousness settling itself alongside the blind dragon's own in her neural pathways with comfort and familiarity, an ease that comes with practice and trust. "You can't really expect me to talk about anything else! Your body demands appreciation. Surely you don't need me to tell you that."

Neyra found her cheeks getting hotter again. "I . . . do always find myself to be more confident when you're part of me. You're very . . . affectionate, and when all of that gets translated into self-love, I'll admit I do get a little . . . overwhelmed. In a good way."

"'Overwhelmed in a good way' is what I live for, sweetie," Mally said proudly.

"Hehe, yes, I suppose so. Even though I don't quite understand what it is you enjoy so much about playing out such morbid scenes with me, or the others."

"I don't know, there's something just kind of alluring about it. The permanence of it, the desperation. . . And it's all hypothetical, so as long as I don't push your limits and you don't push mine, it's just a safe space to experiment with my feelings and . . . face my fears." Mally said.

Neyra nodded, brushing her mane back. She tasted the air, making sure the two of them were still going the right way. "Yes, imagining how you and I would make the most of a terrible situation is a compelling story, not to mention cathartic. And of course, not actually needing to deal with the consequences is a bonus. I couldn't bear to lose you, after all." She rubbed her gut, causing Mally to mentally purr. "Speaking of which, I know we agreed that you could appear wounded to increase the immersion, but that form you took, it was a little much. Even if I knew in the back of my mind it was just some macabre charade, hearing you act so hurt, feeling you all twisted up and disintegrating . . . it was, well, it was a lot for me."

"Aww, sorry Neyra. I'll dial it back next time, I promise."

"Next time?" Neyra raised an eyebrow.

"Pleeeeeeease?" Mally begged, hopeful. "You were so good. I wanna get mercy-killed by you every day now. But I'll settle for . . . once a month?"

Neyra smiled. "Fine. You wore me down." Then, hearing Mally take the mental equivalent of a breath to wind up for a quick bit of banter, Neyra swiftly added, "'No, I wore you down.' I know, I know, I set you up for it."

"Wore me right down to mush, hahaha!" Mally giggled, way too pleased with herself. Still euphoric from dissolution and integration into Neyra. "Yep, you know me so well. It's like you're in my head! Get it? 'Cause we're sharing a brain? Oh, I slay myself. . . Or I would, if my gorgeous girlfriend didn't beat me to it!"

Neyra shook her head. She couldn't help but smile at her partner's barrage of terrible puns. Finally arriving at the entrance to Mally's cave lair, she squeezed inside, the entrance a little dicey for her with the addition of Mally, but still manageable. She settled onto Mally's treasure hoard with a groan, the coins and trinkets pressing into the sensitive scales of her belly and providing a pleasant texture to relax atop. "Mally, you know something? You're a lot," she said with a chuckle. She felt Mally's consciousness twine around her own as they prepared to sleep and dream together. With uncharacteristic mischief, perhaps something that quite literally rubbed off on her from Mally, Neyra saw them both off to sleep on a note she knew would leave her passenger prey a flustered mess, whispering, "Yes, you're a lot. . . And you’re all mine. Lucky me!" She smiled as Mally found herself at a loss for words, and then was promptly dragged into unconsciousness when the brain she dwelled within shut down for rest. Neyra couldn't wait to see what kind of dreams the two of them would conjure up now.

[twodaysintojune]

Rahab

Supernatural, Debriel, Warnings-Fluff

Created for Round 4 of the @debrielcc Debriel Creations Challenge Prompt: Mythology, Theme: Chaos and Order

One Shots Masterlist, Long Stories Masterlist

Find me at AO3

Dean groaned after he almost missed the steps into the kitchen, he went forward to the cupboard to get a sippy cup and fill it with lukewarm tea. Hopefully Sam and Cas would be back soon with the medicine now that their hunt was over, it had been two days already and he was unable to leave the bunker just like that.

“How’s the runt doing?”

Dean glared at Gabriel who was drinking a milkshake while browsing mindlessly his phone. He didn’t have to say a thing for the archangel to catch his train of thought.

“I’m sorry Dean-o, we’ve talked about this, natural defenses. She has to get over it by herself. Besides it’s just the flu.”

Gabriel also wanted to say something about the fact that Dean had forbidden him from getting anywhere near his child last time they had met but he didn’t want to start a discussion again.

“Well you could still help a little, seeing that you don’t need sleep like I do!”

Gabriel looked at Dean surprised and stood, moving towards Dean he grabbed the sippy cup from his hand and began his way towards the bedroom. There was no way he was going to let this chance slip away. Walls that once had held armory and lore books now covered in stars and plushies and coloring books. A currently empty toddler crib resting aside Dean’s bed. He knocked softly to interrupt the toddler’s half dozed attention over the tv. Immediately the child slightly improved her position in the middle of the oversized bed over the pillows and motioned her arms towards the archangel with a shine in her eyes that had not been there before.

“Gabriel!”

“Hey there Marie! How’s my favorite Winchester doing?”

The girl giggled when the archangel threw himself at her and blew a raspberry on her cheek and playfully pushed him aside. Despite being upset at Gabriel, Dean smirked at the display of affection.

“I’m sick.”

Gabriel magicked a couple of pillows and moved into the bed with her. He passed another pillow to Dean who literally dumped himself over it, laying down and most likely falling asleep almost immediately at the other side of the bed.

“I know, your dad told me. How are you feeling?”

“I hate being sick!”

“Really?”

“I’m hot but I can’t take out the sheet. Dad told me it was bad. And I want Bunny but it’s too hot!”

“So that’s why Bunny is at your bed?”

The girl nodded seriously while Gabriel helped her straight up to drink her tea.

“What are you looking at?”

The girl shrugged. She was starting to get upset once more, now that the novelty of Gabriel visiting was gone and her body was reminding her of the awful uncomfortability of general sickness.

“You don’t like that show?”

“I wanna sleep but I can’t.”

Oh, so that’s why Dean had been in such a bad mood. Gabriel turned off the tv and lowered the light.

“How about I tell you a story?”

“Is it a princess story? I know all princess stories. I want another kind of story.”

“Oh? Well then how about a Sea Monster story?”

The toddler’s eyes sparkled.

“Are Sea Monsters Real?”

“They are in this story. You want to hear it?”

Marie thought for a second and then nodded at Gabriel. The archangel beamed at her and moved her carefully to lay over his chest.

“Long, long ago, there were huge monsters lurking in the sea...”

“What is lurking?”

“Lurking is like when you try to jump scare your dad in the middle of the night.” The child giggled. “So, these monsters were not really good or bad but they were big, way too big to be able to live with humans and so to keep the order of the world, it was commanded that they lived in the depths of the ocean.”

Gabriel moved his hand away from Marie’s line of sight for a moment and produced a plushie sea snake, similar to the Chinese traditional image of a dragon, he began to move it in a swimming fashion towards her. Marie squealed in delight watching the plush in front of her.

“One of them, unhappy with having to stay in the depths of the ocean tried to get away from the law that kept it down there and summoned a terrible being of Chaos to help it, a Leviathan. And the Leviathan told the monster: ‘If you let me in your body, I’ll take you to the world of the humans.’ And the monster said yes and the Leviathan went in but it was a terrible mistake.”

“Why?”

“Because Leviathans are evil. They like to eat and destroy everything and respect nothing. And this Leviathan was no different. Once it was inside the monster, the Leviathan took over its body and raised to the upper levels of the sea.”

Magically, the plushie snake turned so dark in the dimmed light of the room that you could only see it’s white teeth in the middle of its head. Marie gasped in horror.

“The Leviathan ate everything it found on it’s path and when there was no fish dumb enough to get close to it, the Leviathan moved to the shore and found a city filled with humans and began to destroy their ships and eat the people in it!” Gabriel made the plushie ‘eat’ some of Marie’s toys scattered over the bed “And when the ships were not enough, the Leviathan tried to destroy the city itself!”

Gabriel grabbed a pillow that apparently represented the city and tried to attack it with the plushie when Marie placed her hands between both.

“No!”

“This is wrong, isn’t it?”

“We have to help the city!”

“What can we do to help the city?”

Marie thought for a moment, she liked the plushie but it was bad to let it destroy an entire city. The problem was that the monster was not supposed to be in the city at all. Her frown impressively reminded Gabriel of the man sleeping by their side. He smiled fondly and caressed her hair full of love.

“We have to send the monster back.”

“How?”

This time Marie was unable to come up with a way. Gabriel realized this and took over the story once more.

“Back in the day, when monsters showed up, people who fought the monsters showed up too.”

Gabriel appeared a plushie Gabriel in the hand opposite to the sea monster. Marie gasped, she snatched it from his hands and looked at the tiny version of the archangel in awe.

“It’s you!”

“Haha, yeah, it’s me.”

Marie stared at it for a second.

“This is wrong.”

Gabriel looked at her puzzled.

“This one doesn’t have wings.”

Gabriel looked at her stunned. She was able to see his wings? Adding to his surprise, Dean grunted a laugh.

“I knew she could see your wings.”

“You’re awake?”

“Not really.”

Gabriel snorted but still felt his chest clutching for a moment. Naturally Dean was not gonna be able to sleep much knowing that the trickster was taking care of his child. To put wings on the plushie, he made Marie cover her eyes and when she opened them, voilá! There were golden wings on plushie Gabriel’s back. She was delighted with it.

“So, it’s time to fight the sea monster. Are you ready?”

Marie gave him a grave nod and the battle began. Gabriel attacked her with sea monster tickles, until she was laughing so hard he had to give her a rest. Moment that she took advantage of to attack with her plush version of Gabriel. After a heady confrontation between the plushies of chaos and order, Marie won and brought down Gabriel’s sea monster.

“Now the Leviathan is defeated, Gabriel has to send him back to the depths of the ocean.”

Gabriel motioned at the plushie Marie was holding. She took the hint and pushed the sea monster off the bed while Gabriel made the noises of a defeated monster falling into the depths of the abyss. Both Gabriel and Marie cheered.

“That was awesome.” snored Dean, by their side.

Gabriel and Marie shared glances and giggled at Dean’s half asleep state. Footsteps shuffled outside the door and a knock came before Sam stepped in the room. He was surprised to see Gabriel in there but had enough tact to not comment a thing about it.

“Hey Marie, I brought the medicine, you should be able to sleep well with this.”

The girl drank the overly syrupy and sweet concoction from the plastic spoon and drowned it with more tea making odd faces. Minutes later, when the medicine was starting to kick in and Gabriel tried to move away from the bed, Marie held his sleeve yawning.

“Sleep here.”

“I’m sorry little runt, I don’t think your dad’s gonna be too happy about it.”

“He will be, he likes you. I like you.”

Gabriel blushed with the earnest comment of the child and moved back into the blanket. Maybe he was being silly taking the child’s invitation but sharing a bed with Dean at least once and see him wake up the next day had always been in his bucket list and hell if he was not gonna take the chance now that he could.

“Are you sure he’s not gonna kick me out later?” He asked the girl in a conspiratorial hush.

“Won’t. Now shut up and sleep. Both of you.” Grumbled Dean, getting into the sheets himself and pulling the little girl into his arms.

Marie giggled, she finally had her dads together. Maybe for adults things were always more complicated but surely sleeping like this made them a family. Right? She yawned once more but there was something still bothering her.

“Gabriel?”

The archangel switched off the lamps.

“Yeah runt?”

“What was the name of the monster?”

“Rahab”

Dean grunted in that final ‘goddamnit please just let me sleep’ tone all parents eventually learn while dealing with their children. Gabriel turned to look at him surprised. Dean immediately felt Gabriel’s gaze on him.

“How do you know?”

“I remember an angel telling me that same story once.”

Gabriel’s chest clenched, he also remembered telling that story once to a six year old feverish child whose father had been out on a hunt when the fever had hit him along with his little brother.

Looking at these two humans finally drifting to dreamland, Gabriel leaned over and kissed Dean and Marie’s foreheads, careful enough not to wake them up and tucking them neatly into the blankets wondering if this time he could actually be a decent guardian angel and look after their dreams.

[fictionalsadist]

Redoing this post without the cut line because I can’t figure out how to get rid of it on the original. based of this prompt from @write-it-motherfuckers

Kaiba bros from Yugioh with the tiniest dash of implied Prideshipping. Hope you all enjoy.

The faint sounds of muffled celebration could be heard through the walls, the sounds echoing through the lonely halls of the mansion even with the great distance between them. Despite the noise and just how many of them were gathered here, Mokuba knew he had little to worry about. They were a cocky bunch, assured of their own victory, and all very very drunk, he had checked.

As Mokuba finally arrived in the hall he had been searching for, he took a moment to rest against the wall, the weak irregular pounding of his heart sounding in his head as he dragged in shaky rasping breaths. Far too long Mokuba had been forced to sit aside and watch his “family” do unspeakable things in the name of “God”, too weak to take an active roll in stopping them. He had done little things to sabotage them, not that they knew, but there was so little he could do when he weren’t even strong enough to leave the house.

After what they had done this week however, Mokuba could no longer stand aside. They had always been vicious and cruel, using God as an excuse to do unspeakable evils. Their most recent hunt, had led them to capturing a family of peace loving vampires, two parents with three half vampire children. They intended to bind the parents and children, and force them to watch each other burn for their “sins”, the sin of existing.

It was the final straw for him, hearing how gleeful they were over something so deranged. So here he were, pushing his fragile body to a point you knew he wouldn’t be able to return from.

Shakily, Mokuba pushed yourself upright again, feeling some of the pain in his chest fade slightly. With trembling hands, he carefully opened up the secret door to the cells below, and made his way down the dark stairs. There were others that his family had caught, two werewolves, a witch, and one other vampire, who had been here even longer, your family having captured them a few weeks back.

He had been too powerful to be executed in the way they wanted to immediately, and so he had remained down here, being fed only enough to keep him alive, or in the vampires cases, not at all. Mokuba had always done what he could for those locked away down here, but this time he had gotten help. Two of the kitchen maids had ended up being witches, having gotten jobs here simply to help the other witch escape.

Mokuba had discovered what they were instantly, having always had a strange ability to feel a beings true nature, and approached them carefully. They had been wary at first, but soon began helping him. With their help, he had managed to bring food down to the prisoners once a day while his family were otherwise indisposed. Though they had no human blood to offer, (his body far too weak to be of use and the witches outright refusing for reasons of their own) they had managed to keep the vampires fed and strong with pigs blood, in preparation for their escape.

The witch, Ishizu, had warmed up to him first, having trusted Mokuba the moment he passed along the message from the other two. After her, the werewolves (Tristan and Otogi) had slowly come around, able to scent his lack of deceit when he answered their questions. Even the family of vampires had warmed up to Mokuba quickly when he had gently calmed and soothed their children, the family having separated the little kids from the parents, just to fulfil their own amusement at their suffering.

The only one who Mokuba was unsure of, was the lone vampire. He had been there the longest, and you still remembered the loud celebration they’d had after they had finally captured him, as well as the casualties. He was their biggest catch, and his power was why they were so wary with him, wanting him as weak as possible before they tried to officially kill the creature.

He was definitely an intimidating image, one glance from him enough to have anyone fearing for their life. You could tell that he was on an entirely different level to anything the family had ever dealt with before, and something told Mokuba that it would take very little for him to break out. For some reason though, he remained.

Unlike the others, the vampire had never spoken a word to him, watching him silently and intently with his blue hellfire gaze. Despite his silence, he had never made a move to harm Mokuba, remaining perfectly still whenever he arrived, his gaze following him like a physical touch until he had once more left, often with a light flutter in his chest that had nothing to do with his weakened state.

Shaking away his thoughts, Mokuba stepped into the room, smiling weakly at the children as they perked up at the sight of him. Seeing the keys in his hand, the rest of them perked up as well. Carefully, Mokuba went to the children first, unlocking the cell door and then carefully unbinding each of them, frowning at the sight of the burns around their tiny ankles. Next came the parents, who instantly gathered their children close once they were free.

Silently, he let them have their moment, knowing they needed to calm their children and themselves if they were going to escape properly. Soon enough he had the witch released, who thanked him before heading to the far wall that he had pointed out. The two werewolves practically tackled each other once they were free, nuzzling each others necks as they cried, soothing their inner wolf with the knowledge that they were no longer separated from their mate.

Suddenly, pain flared in Mokuba’s chest, and he subtly leaned against one of the cells, trying to ride out the wave of agony that overtook him. Once it had calmed enough, Mokuba opened his eyes and looked up, freezing as he found himself meeting the knowing gaze of the one vampire he had yet to free. In that moment, Mokuba could tell that he knew.

He was dying.

Pressing his lips in a firm line, Mokuba shakily straightened himself , determinedly making his way over to the final cell. He had known what would happen if he continued to push himself when he’d first started this, had known just how close he was to pushing too far. It was unlikely he would live to see the morning, but Mokuba couldn’t find it in him to be upset about it, not when his death would undo at least one of the families many many wrongs.

As the lock on the cell door finally clicked open, Mokuba looked up, not entirely surprised to see the vampire standing directly before it, free of his bindings as if they had been nothing but a mild inconvenience. Eyes locked with his, Mokuba pushed the door open for him and stepped shakily to the side. Behind him , he could hear the quiet sounds of the wall crumbling away at the hands of the three witches, the three of them quickly hugging as they were finally reunited, before beginning to guide the others to freedom using the path you had taught them about.

“Go… “ Mokuba whispered, unsure why he lingered.

The tall brunette vampire knelt down next to him. He stared deep into Mokuba’s eyes. “Go! You don’t want them to find-” Seto sswore softly and sliced his wrist open. Mokuba watched in a panic as the vampire brought the bleeding wound to his lips. Mokuba pushed it away “I don- wanna be a vampire…” he protested weakly.

“You already are. You’re a halfling like me. I should have known that they weren’t feeding you. I know the blood of our own kind isn’t great but it will keep you alive long enough for me to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere we can have you feed properly.” Seto pleaded. “Come on Mokie. Drink…for me…”

Something about the strange nickname echoed inside him as the vampire strode forward. Making him recall a soft smile, warmth and safety. Something that Mokuba never felt with the Schrodinger Hunter Clan.

“Drink.”

It was too soft to be a command Mokuba realized. It was almost as though Seto were begging him.

The nickname and the look of desperation in the normally stoic vampires eyes made Mokuba drop his hands and drink from Seto’s open wrist. The liquid acting like a key to the door of his own locked memories.

He was Mokuba Kaiba. He had been taken away from his elder brother by the Schroeder’s who had though they were “saving” a human child. Except he was a half vampire and with out regular blood he would have died soon enough.Mokuba fed until Seto took his wrist away and tucked him back to his chest. “There. Now let’s get out of here before those morons realize we’re gone.”

Seto scooped his little brother up into his arms and Mokuba found himself clinging to Seto’s shirt as they hit the night air outside of the crumbled wall. “I refuse to leave you behind again Mokie.”

Mokuba happily fell asleep against his brothers chest

“What the hell were you thinking?!” yelled a voice from outside the room. “You went off half cocked without a plan and no back up-”

Mokuba jerked away and found himself woke up in a large bed. Big enough for like 4 full grown adults to sprawl in without touching one another. He was warm and wrapped in blankets with an IV hooked into his arm giving him a steady infusion of blood. Mokuba looked around the room he was in, which could have fit three of the his bedroom back at the Schroeder’s. On the small bedside table sat a plush stuffed silvery white dragon with angry blue eyes. He reached out to stroke it’s soft fuzzy head

Seto’s voice drew him back to the conversation outside of his room. “Come off it Yami! Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if it were Yugi or Atem-”

“At least I have a bond so at least someone would know where I went!” Yami’s voice snapped.

Mokuba couldn’t see either of them. The door was far enough away that he was sure he wasn’t supposed to be able to hear them word for word. But it was like he’s been wearing glasses that dimmed his vision and ear plugs for years. Now everything was sharper and even the dim lighting of the room was bright enough that he could see every detail of the ornate furniture.

“You should have at least left a note or something!” Yami shouted at Seto “You got your answer from Gozaburo and ran off! He was dead before anyone else found him! What if you had died Seto?!”

“Like they could have-”

“That is not the point Seto! What if you had? You and I both know that hunters have access to things that could kill even you. If they had killed you, darkness forbid, no one would have been able to find Mokuba. No one else could have saved him. Pretty stupid move for the Head Strategist! What did you expect me-the kingdom to do with you gone….” at the correction Yami’s voice softened, almost defeated.

Mokuba wondered for a moment what kind of relationship they had.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. Next time I’ll leave a note.” Seto said in a teasing tone.

“You had better because next time you pull a stunt like this I will lock you up.” Yami told him.

“I would love to see you try.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Yami chided.

There was something in Yami’s voice that Mokuba couldn’t quite place. He didn’t get long to think about it because someone knocked on the door. Out of habit Mokuba hastily laid back down and closed his eyes to feign sleep. He heard the door open and footsteps approach his bed. Mokuba opened his eye to just thin slits so he could watch Seto replace the blood bag. Then he sat down on the bed and brushed the hair out of Mokuba’s face.

“How are you feeling” Seto told him gently calling his bluff. Mokuba opened his eyes the rest of the way.

“I’m kind of tired. But I feel better than I have in a long time.” Mokuba told his brother opening his eyes. “Who was that?”  he asked referring to the stranger.

“Oh. That was just Yami. He came over to put his two cents in one my actions.” Seto told him.

“He sounded worried.”

“Yeah. Well being the brother to the King make you do that.” Seto answered frowning.

“But-”

“Hush.” Seto chided “You should be sleeping. My room is just down the hall if you need-”

“Seto?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me?” Mokuba asked. Seto smiled down at him in a soft fond way that Mokuba had the feeling only he would ever get to see. Seto pulled off his boots and curled up behind Mokuba on the bed. He snagged the little dragon and handed it to Mokuba, wrapping his arms around the pair of them.

“Welcome home little brother.” Seto whispered to him softly.