#i want to believe they were playing the same insane death note mind games i was

[cimicherrychanga]

sigh. i miss that stranger i had the most insane game of rock paper scissors online with some 9 years ago

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! do you know that tiktok trend where the girl asks her bf if he can temporarily break up with her so she can be heartbroken when she listens to olivia rodrigo’s new album and the bf always says no? could you do that but with peter and avenger!reader? i don’t really know how the avengers play into that but i trust you to think of something great. love your work babes <3

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey fren, tysm <3 i do know that trend, and it always warms my darn heart. you probably meant for this to be a headcanon but halfway through i realised that i was writing full sentences, so i just rolled with it bc i have no self-control lol enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter, I need you to break up with me.”

Not a moment later, you heard a series of loud crashes and Peter stumbled out of the bathroom, hopping on one leg while fiddling with his zipper. “What did you just say?” His eyes were wild as they scanned your face.

“I need you to break up with me,” you repeated calmly, not taking your eyes off your laptop.

“Break up with you?” Peter echoed, hand raking through his hair in bewilderment. “Why would I do that? Do you want to break up?”

This made you look up. Peter was staring at you like you had just insulted his face, making it quite an effort to stay serious. “It’s just for 34 minutes and 46 seconds,” you assured. “So I can listen to Olivia Rodrigo’s new album.”

He blinked at you.

“What?”

“Please?” You set your laptop aside, shuffling to the end of the bed so you were sitting right in front of him. “I want to listen to it in full effect with a broken heart and everything.”

“I…” Peter slowly shook his head. A helpless laugh escaped him. “Um, no. Thank you.” He turned and made to return to the bathroom.

“Peter,” you whined and grabbed for his hand, pulling him to a halt.

“Sorry, angel.” He shrugged, supressing the faint tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Pleeeeaase.”

“Nope.”

You pouted. “We can break up when you train with Bucky! In that way you won’t even notice because you’ll be busy and distracted. I won’t even be on your mind.” You weren’t sure what you had said that made Peter stare at you like you were insane, but it took him a second to snap out of it.

He cupped your face with his hands and made sure to meet your eyes. “Babe, I think about you all the time.” He said it like it was a wish he wanted to word correctly. Slow and precise. Then he switched to a lighter tone that implied that he was done with the conversation. “I’m not breaking up with you.” With that he turned and left for the bathroom.

“Fine,” you called back although the water was already running and you doubted that Peter could hear you. And if he did, he probably didn’t care. You took that as your cue to leave. Defeated, you plucked your headphones into your phone and picked out a song of Olivia’s album at random.

Steve was lounging on the couch of the common room when you entered. He looked up from his magazine and gave you a small smile by way of greeting. You returned it by tapping two fingers at your temple in salute, ignoring the way how his stare lingered a little longer. You sat down next to him. When you locked eyes again, you saw the silent question on his face and let out a laugh. It ended up sounding more like a delightful scoff.

“I know Tony takes pride in being the philanthropist amongst us, but for someone who grew up in the ice age, you’re really good at reading people’s faces.” You wanted to annoy Steve, maybe even coax out a laugh, but he just kept looking at you, and you held his gaze. You were good at it—an aftereffect of living with Bucky who happened to love the same yoghurt as you did. Sometimes you put all western movies to shame with the way you narrowed your eyes at each other early in the morning in front of the fridge.

To your luck, Steve was just as stubborn, which meant that you two could’ve kept it going until death if it weren’t for the door banging open.

“I can’t believe you did this to me!” A voice boomed. You took a wild guess and assumed it was Clint.

“Tell me about it!” Another voice bellowed right back.

A second later, Sam and Clint marched into the room, furious, whereas Bucky strolled in behind them with no care in the world.

The former two were holding bags of food. Both were animated and waving their arms through the air while arguing. You turned down the volume of your phone in time to hear Steve demand, “What’s going on?”

Clint and Sam stared daggers at Bucky until Steve amended, “Buck, what did you do?”

The man in question turned around, facing his best friend in exasperation. “I asked these two to get food for me.” This earned him a snarl. Bucky waved them off and examined his metal arm, unconcerned. “Honestly, I have no idea why they’re getting so worked up about it.”

“We—” Sam gestured wildly between Clint and himself. “—were asked to pick up food for him from two different places. And neither of us knew about it!”

“Yes, neither of us knew,” Clint chimed in, eyes narrowing at Bucky who was busy flicking dust off his arm. “And I don’t know about you, Sam, but I was touched. I was moved, okay? Because Bucky never asks for anything and here I was, thinking we’re starting to bond or whatever but now I just feel USED.”

Sam gave a harsh sound in agreement.

“Bucky,” said Steve after no one had anything to add. “What do you have to say to that?”

Your gaze flitted between them, not sure what to expect. Bucky didn’t give any sign of wanting to respond, making you wonder if he had heard Cap at all. But then a slow smile swept over his lips and you noted that it was probably the most feline smile you’d ever seen. It was a smile storybook villains wore after burning down the world.

“The only thing I have to say is that I regret not having the moment they ran into each other in the elevator on video tape, because that—” He turned and looked Sam and Clint straight in the eye. “—was amazing.”

No one spoke.

“Ruthless,” you said under your breath and just like marionettes, the four men glanced you before another argument broke.

You took the chance to turn the volume back up. “happier” was playing and you settled further into the couch to watch the scene unfold. Sam was arguing so passionately that the vein on his neck was making an impressive appearance. Clint, on the other hand, had a palm pressed flat to his chest; his face showing pure betrayal. Bucky didn’t seem to care for the chaos. He tried multiple times to grab for the bags only for one of them to move out of his reach. When you glanced at Steve, you nearly lost it.

He was staring at them like his lifespan had just been reduced to ten years. He looked like he wanted to throw pebbles after them.

Nudging him with your arm, you silently handed him one of your earphones. He glanced at you and hesitated, probably thinking of the many times you had offered him a taste of blaring electronic music. You rolled your eyes and insisted again. This time, Steve took it and you watched in amusement as his brows rose in surprise.

“I like the piano,” he mouthed and glimpsed at the name of the song. You grinned.

In the meantime, Clint and Sam had decided to form an alliance. They had planted themselves in the opposite couch, digging into the contents of the brown bags while Bucky gawked at them from the other side of the room with his mouth ajar and heart ripped out of his chest. Shaking his head in disbelief, he let himself fall into the armchair facing them. He looked devastated. You weren’t sure if you had to stifle a laugh or tears.

Next to you, Steve chocked back a laugh. You quirked an eyebrow and considered him only to realise the reason behind his glee. Bucky was brooding in his seat while Sam and Clint did an excellence job on commenting every bite. Nothing has ever received as much praise as that pasta, and you were certain that if this were a cartoon, there would be rain clouds hovering above Bucky’s head. As if the angels had set it up themselves, you took notice of the lyrics.

I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great but don't find no one better

Bucky was pouting, poking the leather of his armchair with his finger while stealing glances at Sam and Clint. It was perfect. Steve slapped a hand on his chest and he tipped his head back, laughing.

I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

You were both laughing hysterically. The others had stopped their on-going war to stare at the two of you; their expressions baffled. The song came to an end and Steve gave back your earphone, rubbing his eye as if wiping away a tear. He rose and walked over to Bucky, hurling him to his feet and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve said with a note of laughter in his voice. “There’s a song I need to show you.” You smiled as you watched them leave.

“Well, this was fun.” You pushed yourself off the couch and shook your head as Sam offered you some of his sushi. “Thanks, but I’m on a mission to get heartbroken.”

Leaving the men to their food, you wandered the halls and listened to “traitor” as you walked past Wanda’s room. Her door was open and you could see that Vision was in the middle of a chess game with Bruce and Wanda. By the looks of it, Vision was as good as winning and you reined the urge to cheer for him. You peaked around the door frame and saw that Vision had their king in check. Deep betrayal crossed Wanda’s face.

You chuckled quietly and whispered, “FRIDAY, play what I’m listening to right now through the speakers in Wanda’s room.” FRIDAY didn’t bother to respond but not a second later, the lyrics were blasting through her room and their heads snapped up in confusion.

Don't you dare forget about the way

You betrayed me

'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

“Wanda?“ You heard Vision’s careful voice. “What is going on?”

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still

You're still a traitor

“I’m not sure, but these lyrics aren’t wrong…You are a traitor.” Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, slowly bobbing her head to the music. Treason danced in her eyes. It was the beginning of a villain origin story.

“Maybe it’s a sign of God,” Bruce said and you almost burst out laughing.

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

“Hell yeah!” Wanda yelled and this time you bolted down the hallway, wheezing. You dashed right into Tony’s lab and slammed the door.

“What are you on?” He looked up in amusement. You simply shook your head, laughter still bubbling over your lips.

“Just spreading love in this facility.” You waved your hand at nothing in particular and Tony nodded.

“Right, I heard you asked Peter to break up with you to listen to that one album? Very dramatic. I like it.”

“See.” You gestured at him, indicating that he was the only one who got it. “It’s a good album. Maybe you should ask Pepper to divorce you.”

Tony gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think she would come back if I asked her.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled and this time Tony’s laughed for real.

“So what? You’ve just been walking around waiting for heartbreak?” He turned back to whatever he was working on. You stepped closer to get a peek.

“Precisely.”

“Sounds tiring.”

“I’m powered by exhaustion” You handed him the wrench he needed. “Want a listen? I think there’s a song you might like.”

He contemplated the offer and lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, why not.” You couldn’t help but squeal. You knew that Tony probably didn’t care but sharing your music was always exciting.

Beaming, you removed your headphones and connected your phone to the speakers of Tony’s lab. The first tunes of “good 4 u” started playing and Tony tapped his foot to the beat, head bobbing just slightly. When the chorus hit, he stood up and you stepped back, thinking he wanted to headbang. Instead, he reached for a tool that was further away. You didn’t miss the way he moved his shoulders in a little dance move though.

“I like this one,” he said, and you flashed him a smile. You continued working on the suit, handing Tony things you knew he needed until you passed him a plier and he froze. You furrowed your brows, glanced at the tool you knew was the right one, and cocked your head in silent question.

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Looking you straight in the eyes, he flung the plier over his shoulder, opened a drawer, and took out another plier to use on his suit. You gasped.

“How dare you,” you whispered in shock. Tony had the nerve to shrug.

“Enjoy your little heartbreak moment, Y/N.” He shooed you away like a cat. “FRIDAY, yank up the volume, would you.”

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me

“Guys?” Peter’s voice was drowned out by the booming music. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching in amusement as you and Tony towered on the lab tables, using screwdrivers as provisional microphones. While Tony played a terrific air guitar, you sank dramatically to your knees and impressed the crowd with your air drumming skills.

“Guys?” Peter tried again, chuckling. This time you and Tony whipped around at the same time and pointed straight at Peter.

Like a damn sociopath

You threw your arms up in the air and spun in circles while Tony jumped into quite an impressive split leap.

I've lost my mind

I've spent the night cryin' on the floor in my bathroom

Just over the fact that I really don't get it

But I guess good for you

The song came to an end, and you leapt on Tony’s table to share a screwdriver with him as you sang the last lyrics together.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

The song ended and all you could hear was heavy breathing. Peter began to clap. “This was great, you guys. Wow.”

You exchanged glances with Tony before making a show of bowing at the waist.

“So this is what happens when I refuse to break up with you?” Peter strolled over to where you sat on the lab table, positioning himself between your legs. Tony chuckled and jumped off to grab a water bottle from across the room.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that,” you said, just for the devil of it.

Peter smiled. “Cap and Bucky are crying over a song, Vision is sending Wanda flowers in ten-minute intervals, and you are down here having a rock concert with Tony.”

You gave him a toothy grin. “I was just feeling sour.”

* * *

stay hydrated pals

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {4}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2429

IBSY Masterlist

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Tara’s Masterlist 

October 1940, The Autumn Court

Major Cassian Nazari was bored.

Nesta could sense it from where she was, back turned to him at the other end of the tent. It had also been a sign when she came in that morning and he was complaining, loudly, to Madja. I don’t see why I can’t get up and walk around. I’m fine. And bored shitless.

Madja, of course, had told him, Very well, Major. Do as you wish.

Cassian had taken two steps before a wave of nausea hit him from the pain, and he was throwing up his breakfast. After a dose of pain medicine, he had fallen asleep.

Now, he was awake, his pains were dulled, and he was loud.

Loud, and having a one-sided conversation with the unconscious soldier next to him about his favorite brands of whiskey.

He was just getting to the pros of living near a distillery, back in Velaris, when Nesta approached his cot. He glanced over to her and gave him a smile. A sleepy, drug-induced smile. “Nurse Nesta.”

“Major,” she replied, sitting next to his bed. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Feeling great. Ready to get back out there.”

“Really now?” She asked, feeling his head for fever. He’d been warm after getting sick and she wanted to check and be sure they hadn’t missed some sign of infection setting in. His skin was cool as could be now. “So this morning was just a reaction to the breakfast porridge?”

He got quiet immediately and rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” She helped him sit up and checked the wounds on his back. They weren’t healing like she would have liked, but it was also likely he could have used stitches over a few of them. His burns were healing nicely though, even though she knew they still caused him quite a lot of pain. The broken arm and shoulder were the same.

Now that his shoulder was set correctly, it was all about keeping him still, which seemed to be a continual problem for him.

“I can’t sit here forever,” he claimed. “I’ll go insane.”

“You need something to occupy your mind,” Nesta said. “I’ll bring you some books.”

Cassian snorted. “Your romances? I’ll pass.”

Nesta huffed and shook her head. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult a man you are?”

“On many occasions,” Cassian noted. “Mostly women.”

Nesta sighed and helped him fall back against his pillows. “I’ll be back.”

“Good,” he muttered with a yawn as she walked away. After telling her fellow nurses she’ll be back in a moment, Nesta exited the tent and walked to the one just across the way from it, where the nurses slept. She strode to her tent in the far corner and grabbed an old western romance that he would surely read if bored enough, then pulled a suitcase from underneath her cot and popped it open.

The old, folded-up wooden chess board that sat inside had once belonged to her father. They used to play often, before the death of Nesta’s mother.

All the pieces were slightly dusty, but still in good shape. She picked up one of the ivory pawns, wiping it off with the apron tied around her waist, careful not to get any blood or antiseptic lotion on it. Without the dust coating it, the piece shined and she replaced it in its home before cleaning off each piece. She closed the suitcase, carrying it, the book, and a small, foldable tray back across the camp, and into the med tent.

As soon as Cassian saw her, he zeroed in on the case. “What’s that?”

“First,” she said, sitting down and holding the book out for him. “I brought you this.”

His face twisted with a twinge of pain as he reached out and took it, opening it and flipping through it. He paused on a random page and read a few lines. His eyes widened. “This is…explicit.”

Nesta’s cheeks reddened.

“It’s a romance,” he groaned.

“It’s an old western,” she defended. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a very good book.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian sat it on the side table, but pointed at the suitcase, which she had set down to unfold the tray. “And what’s that?” He repeated.

Nesta set it on the end of his cot and opened it. “Until I’m needed, we’ll play chess.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before repeating, “Chess?”

She lifted a brow as she set up the board, on top of the tray. “You’re complaining about the forms of entertainment I offer?”

Cassian hesitated, and Nesta secretly liked that hesitation. For once, a comment made by her actually made him think. Usually, he was so quick on his feet. She liked it when he wasn’t.

“Fine,” he said, at last, clearing his throat. “But, it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You may have to refresh my memory.”

She suppressed her smile, moving the tray just next to his bed, so it would be within his reach. “I can do that.”

He nodded, grunting as he got himself into a sitting position. Nesta made a move toward him, but he held up a hand, letting him know he could do it on his own.

Even if it was just barely.

She laid out the pieces, almost reverently, but quickly and efficiently. She didn’t have to think about where the pieces went and before he knew it, the board was set in front of them. The white pieces sat on his side of the board, the black on her own. She gestured for him to make a move.

He reached for one of the pieces in the front, but then pulled his hand back. Twice, he repeated the movement, before clearing his throat and saying, “Ladies first.”

“That’s not how chess works, Major,” she chuckled. “White goes first, black second.”

He nodded and stared back down at the board. “Right.”

Picking up one of the pawns, Cassian moved it diagonally, as if it were a checker.

Nesta blinked, waiting for him to move it back or chuckle as if he were playing a joke. “That’s not how you move a pawn forward.”

His cheeks heated and she knew he was embarrassed. “Well not all of us grew up as well off as you were.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta was unable to stop the surprised chuckle from bubbling from her lips. “Excuse you, sir?”

“I’m just saying, only spoiled, rich girls grew up playing chess.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry at his words. “You don’t know how to play chess, do you?”

“I told you I would need your help.” He wasn’t looking at her, just the board and pieces.

“When’s the last time you played chess?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Never.”

Nesta stared at him for a moment, waiting for an explanation. “Never?”

Cassian’s head fell back and he groaned. “Nurse, are you going to make me ask you to explain the rules to me or do I have to make a fool of myself any longer?”

Nesta pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Very well.”

She went on to explain the rules to him, then just to make sure she was not setting him up for failure, she explained the rules to him, again.

The pawn can move one square, unless it is the first time they move, then they can move two. It can’t move backwards. They can capture pieces on either space, diagonally, in front of them.

The knight moves in an L shape. Don’t ask why.

Bishop is a bit of a roamer. It can move in diagonally, as many squares as it wishes.

The rook can move both horizontally and vertically, as many squares as it wishes, as well.

The Queen is basically the best, most important piece. She can move however she wishes, wherever she wishes.

Cassian stared at the board thoughtfully. “Hmm. And the king, again?”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “He can move only one square in any direction.”

“And he decides who wins the game?” Cassian asked, head cocked to the side as he stared at the board, trying to imagine it all.

“More or less, yes,” Nesta said, watching him study the board. “When a player attacks the other’s king, it’s called a check. A checkmate, or the win, is what happens when the opposing king can no longer make any legal moves.”

“So you must protect the king at all costs, then?” Cassian asked. “That’s the purpose of the other pieces?”

“It is,” Nesta nodded.

“And that’s why the queen is such an important piece?” he continued, meeting her gaze. “Why she has the most freedom? To protect her king?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Speaking like that, I cannot believe that you don’t admire a good romance novel.”

“I already told you, I don’t think women are meant to stay home and do nothing but become mothers,” he replied, reaching out and moving his own piece properly this time. “However, a boring book about two people falling in love? No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Falling in love isn’t boring,” she defended, moving her own piece.

He grunted in answer, making his move.

Nesta looked at him, gauging his non-reply. “Have you ever been in love, Major?”

“Now who’s asking the personal questions,” he muttered, waiting for her to take her turn. She did, silently waiting for him to answer. He picked up the piece, studying the board, though barely anything had been done to need strategy yet. “No. I haven’t.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before looking back down at the board. “Interesting.”

Cassian moved his piece at last. “Don’t worry, plenty of women have been in love with me, I just haven’t returned the feeling.”

Nesta couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Of course you would think so.”

Cassian’s grin told her it was all just a joke, but Nesta had no doubt that Cassian had had his fair share of women throughout the years.

“What about you?” He asked. “I know about your ex, of course, but have you ever been in love?”

It was Nesta’s turn to be quiet, but she pretended to be thinking over a move. “Yes,” she finally admitted, moving one of her knights, which had finally been unblocked by her pawns. “At least, I think so, at least. Things with Tom were…complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing,” he replied, mirroring her own move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, finally catching on to how he’d been playing. She said nothing about the game though, and continued on. “There’s a reason we aren’t together anymore, if you recall.”

Nesta moved another piece and he asked, “Would you go back to him? If you found out he’d been waiting for you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, still staring at the board, if only to keep from having to look at him. “His family was much better off than mine, which was the reason for our engagement anyways. I came here to keep my sisters from having to do so.”

“That doesn’t sound like love,” Cassian murmured, taking his turn.

“And what makes you such an expert on the subject?” Nesta snapped.

Cassian slowly met her eyes once he set down his knight. He didn’t look offended by her tone. Instead, he remained quiet for a moment, then said, “I may not waste my time reading romance novels, and I may have never been in love, nurse, but I have plenty of experience in what love is not.”

She couldn’t place it, but she didn’t like why his voice became so…sad when he said it. “I didn’t mean to react in such a way,” she replied, not even paying attention to the moves she was making at this point. “I’m just not…accustomed to talking to anyone about these sorts of things. Especially a patient.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

Nesta nodded and broke his gaze as her eyes settled back on the board. After a moment, she moved her queen and said, “Check.”

Cassian blinked, eyes darting to the board, trying to find how his king was in jeopardy. Once he saw it, he tried to figure a way out of it, but after five minutes of thinking, he knocked his king down in surrender.

Nesta suppressed her smile as she outstretched her hand. “Good game, Major.”

He chuckled and shook her hand. “Nice lie, nurse.”

“Perhaps we can play again tomorrow,” Nesta asked, with a questioning tone.

Cassian met her eyes, and the edge in them softened as he said, quietly, “I would like that.”

She nodded and began putting it away as a few nurses entered the tent with big boxes in their arms. “Looks like we got some care packages from Velaris, gentlemen.”

Cassian’s brows rose, and Nesta chuckled at the excitement that flooded through the tent from those who were awake. In a war, it was the little things that made it all better.

Nesta placed the chessboard beneath Cassian’s cot and rose to help the nurses go through the boxes. With everything they pulled out, there was an announcement.

We’ve got candies!

Homemade breads and jams!

The funnies from the newspapers!

Tea!

Nesta reached into the box and pulled out a big carton and announced, “Cigarettes!”

That one got a round of applause, but nowhere near the number of cheers that the whiskey got. It went on for another few minutes, and then for the first time in quite some time, something that resembled joy could be felt in their little war camp.

As the goodies were dispersed, Nesta’s eyes kept trailing to Cassian.

She was surprised to find his eyes on her as well. Carrying one of the small bottles of the cheap whiskey that had been sent, she found herself standing beside his cot. She set the bottle down on the side table, along with a pack of cigarettes, and said, “Might not be the brand you prefer, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d drink anything right about now, brand doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “If you could possibly get me some of that sweet bread and blackberry jam though, it might make it just a bit easier to go down.”

She shook her head, saying, “You’re unbelievable.” But she knew she would get it for him, she’d make sure of it.

Because his smile was the first thing that made her own appear without being forced in quite a while.

[murasakispace]

Adam/Shindo Ainosuke X Male Reader

Author's note : Adam needs a bit of love, don't you think? A little love that doesn't imply to hurt Tadashi. It doesn't prevent that it is certainly crap. English is not my main language and it must be awful.

Warnings : NSFW, spanking, degradation and all the BDSM pack.

You were a newcomer, a rookie here. In S. You had the time to watch the local legends fall from their safe sky on the large screens. The most incredible was the race against Langa. Well... You were still wondering if his name was really Langa. Maybe you misunderstood, hidden in your shadows. First Joe, then Cherry and finally Adam. You had to admit their style was eclectic. Even them had to learn again. They were believing themselves as gods because they were the founders of a clandestin course. It made you shrug a little while you were observing them.

People were people. Here, in S, freedom was at its most powerful. A place were no one could say, order to someone something he doesn't want to do. Everything was ruled by skateboard and the people's talent. You were quite happy of that. Because of an accident years ago in mountains with your motorbike while you were heading to the summit so as to practice snowboard. You had the ambition to reach the Winter Olympic Games in half-pipe. You fell from a cliff and you miraculously landed meters below with broken ribs instead of your backbone.

During years you suffered and your dream of medals in the Olympic Games was gone, vanished into the air. Your well-known recklessness almost hurried you in your grave. In the hospital, you spent the last three years to reeducate with an omnipresent pain in your back, anger against the people who had forgotten you when you would have given them your soul if they asked for it an ended alone. You nearly lost your mind when you woke up from coma and nothing appeared in front of you. You weren't able to see anymore. Time went by and you found yourself offered the chance to remedy to your blindness. But it doomed you to wear particular sunglasses every day of your life. A little cost considering what you've been through.

You suffered. You were still aching but less than these last month. Moreover you felt better each day passing. Only eternal scars remain. And to be here in S got you like you were free as much as before your accident. And you would thank Adam for this. Yet, you meant nothing, watching the same scenes which were playing in front of your eyes.

You were sitting on your motorbike far behind the last people composing the crowds ahead of you. Actually, the last time you came at S was when Adam had been defeated. Since then, you weren't coming as often as you should now. Everything was more peaceful and Adam abandoned this bad habit to smash people in the face with his own skateboard. Of course, the blue-haired show-off would never stop to make his little shows and big entrances. You don't think that one day his "hey bitches and bros and non-binary hoes" would leave your mind so easily.

Yet, even if you admired Adam as an remarkable skater, you wouldn't prevent yourself to hate him for everything he was aside all of it. He was "in love" as he told to anyone who would like to hear it with his partners of race. It was nothing like love. You didn't know how you manage to not go through the crowds to slap him right in the face. He didn't understand. He wouldn't anyway. Love is sweet, a fluttering sentiment which set upside-down your guts and your soul. It wasn't how you remembered this wonderful thing.

Anyways, Adam had been defeated by a rookie that you had the power to crush on a snowboard. Even if he was talented, had he the talent of someone able to go in the Olympic Games? You didn't think so. You had yourself a modified board. And right now before the attended race between two opponents, you were as if you were playing on the half-pipe near the start of the race.

You were jumping even higher than this little rookie and executing figures in air that were turning sick some of the people gathered in your audience. You were hearing the slight gasps of awe coming from several girls watching them. Even Langa applaused you in the distance with an annoying smile. That little group comprehending Shadow, Reki, Langa, Miya and the others was sincerely uselessly noisy. Though, they were sometimes giving you back a smile you had long forgotten it was existing. But you didn't care anymore. You were busy with your "switched back flip with nose grab" and to make people applause even louder around you.

They were kind and cute because even if the trick wasn't so hard, doing it on a skateboard was something else. And it earned you the nickname of Eagle in S. You were impressive to say the least and people were clearly stunned. What you didn't expect was to attract the boss' attention here. Adam. Actually, his little grieves left you as if you were like marble.

Not only was he sticking to you but he also was quite insisting in his behavior. You didn't like him at all. It may have been the second or the third night that you came on the half-pipe of S. No one challenged you that time. You just shrugged your shoulders and were going on the way to leave this place. The pressure, the people gathered here, the races and the clear lack of delicacy from them made you get away from here. A sort of repulsion ordered you to go away. A skatepark would be big enough to allow you to do the same show for any passerby. After all what was the point of tiring yourself by skating if no one could applause for your demonstration of pure talent. And today, several nights after Adam's defeat, you were leaving S for good this time. It has no point for you to stay.

Yet, Adam didn't want the same. He was observing you before Langa. So he caught you up while lights were dancing around him.

"Mmh... What a wonderful little bird I see here. Don't be scared my dove, I'm not going to bite you." Adam said both loudly and sensually, thus it made crowds look in the same moment towards you.

A heavy silence has just fallen onto the crowds. You have heard the wheels of Adam's skateboard behind you. And he came, leaving his hand on your hips, getting you closer and closer to him. You could feel his hands roaming and doing delicate circles on the fabric of your clothes. Such an intimate action while you could almost feel his head rest on your shoulder. He made a little comment about your scent. Does this man have really no shame ?

"Aren't you tired of your own bullshit, Adam? Losing once wasn't enough to bring humility in you?" you snapped back while the man gazed at you.

"Never, my sweet, stubborn little dove" Ainosuke whispered in your ear while his hands were circling around your waists.

His sweet, gentle, poisonous tone was near to give you shivers. You weren't able to discern within yourself if it was a sort of trespassing desire that was boiling in you or a fire of rage and the deep will to smash him with your skateboard. Probably both. Let's agree on the fact that this man was a living invitation to luxury and rough love. You were just a little smaller than him but strong enough to make him comply and kneel in front of you like a slut. You clicked your tongue and forcefully escaped from Adam's treacherous embrace.

"Alright Eagle. I challenge you into a beef" Adam called behind you.

"Carry on" You answered back while the crowds become immediately silent were watching you with great interest.

"A race. You and me. Right now. The loser become the slave of his opponent." Adam added with his usual disturbing smile.

For one of the first times since you were coming in S, it was one of your first beefs. Moreover, with the boss of all that mess. And finally, it involved something hidden behind all of this display. And you liked it. Why not enjoying fully the race and the aftermath. You used the back extremity of your skateboard you hit Adam in the belly and making him move backwards. You were almost ecstatic. You walked calmly until the start line, put lightly your skateboard on the ground and set your foot on the deck while you were waiting for Adam to come. Obviously, he made his way towards you.

"Mmh... I'll enjoy to turn you upside down after this race" Adam sensually whispered.

"Your self-confidence will kill you one day, filthy man" you replied with a dry tone.

"Let's say that now that I've lost my Eve, the only person in S having my attention is you my little dove. Be ready, I'm not going to be easy on you"

These last sentences would the death of you. His magma-like voice was burning your insides. How can someone warm you up so efficiently? That was a mystery. But you liked it. Adam was well-known to be kinky. You hated a little yourself at that time. You were falling for an insane guy who is now targeting you. Obviously, it was not in a romantic way. Yet, Adam remained a reachable fanstasm. And you were apparently one of his. The green fire came rapidly, thus the start of the race.

Adam became fastly the first. You forgot about everything and just tried to have fun. You were skating as if your board was a part of yourself, dodging rocks and Adam's attack. You knew very well that he didn't change that much after his first defeat here. He even did his little thing of holding you close to him with the sort of horns on his skateboard.

" I love the movement of your hips, so agile, so smooth, I can't prevent myself to wonder what it will feel like to love you fully until you will ache for attention under my touch. You are a snowboarder too, right?" Adam asked more or less.

"You could say that. But I'm not like that kid. I prefer half-pipes. Besides, you have really no shame, haven't you? Anyways, goodbye."

You increased your speed and left Adam behind. You were jumping the cliffs where the turns formed the shape of a snake with the lights in the night. While you were flying, you were shining with more and more complicated figures and graceful landings, making you significantly ahead of the blue-haired holy creature named Adam. He managed very quickly to catch you up. A little smile was playing on your lips. That was funny to see him a little bit in difficulty.

You were provoking him. That was unbelievable and remarkably bold of you to do so. You annoying smile was allowing to build desire and longing in Adam's heart. He was the king and yet, a little dove was playing with him shamelessly. Adam was so mesmerized by your own race that he barely realized he was in the factory. The screams of the people gathered in there dragged him from his thoughts. He saw you fly until the finish line and cross it. You win against him. A huge silent welcomed him.

"One of the first things you have not to lose when you run is your own concentration. I don't know what happened to you but it doesn't prevent that you weren't really skating. So for the beef, I cancel the slave thing." You declared when Adam went towards you.

You turned your back to him and headed to your motorbike followed by the blue-haired man. You didn't want to stay any longer. Adam's footsteps were soft behind yours.

"How can you cancel the slave thing, as you called it?" Adam demanded.

Seeing that he didn't have any answer, Adam reached you to catch your shoulder and make you turn to look at him.

"Because I'm the winner" you responded with a threatening tone.

"So having me doesn't interest you?" Adam questioned with a spark of deception.

"I didn't say that" you replied with a playful half-smile crossing your lips.

You were surrounded by darkness and no one cared anymore about you. For the people, you were remedying with your little issues about the beef. Nothing very interesting for them. Your hand climbed Adam's tensed thigh before going backwards to his ass and caressing it shamelessly. You heard the man getting a heavier breath and mumbling sinner sentences in your ear. You didn't even move when he came closer to enjoy the caress.

"Adam... You are such a slut... Look at you, you sound like a virgin discovering sex" You told with an incredible amount of heat on your voice.

You left your fingers coming down on his half-hard dick and rub it lightly. Just enough to give shivers to the man.

"Horny, aren't we?" you carried on while Adam was melting under your touch.

It was only simple caresses yet the man in front of you was letting himself go as if you were escaping and he won't have anymore opportunities to have you so close.

"More" demanded Adam while he has finally what he wanted so hard.

But you stopped here, creating frustration in the man.

"There's a love hotel down Crazy Rock. Come with your Grim Reaper costume." You requested with an overbearing tone.

Adam ordered to Tadashi who wasn't present in S that night to bring him to this place and the black clothes he was wearing against Langa. Once arrived in the building, he headed towards the receptionist who led him until the room. The space was dark and very classical for a love hotel but it was enough to arouse Adam. He felt as if your hands were still on him while he was changing his red costume. The memory of your hands trailing down his back to reach his ass and caressing it shamelessly was still unbelievably strong in his mind. Then he felt the touch join his cock, gently but still enough to make surrender to your touch. He desired you so much right now. Once he wore his Grim Reaper clothes, he laid down the mattress. He let himself go to the warmth he was feeling. He already wanted you so hard. He thought he was still dreaming when he felt the sudden touch of your hand on his neck.

"Ready to cum due to a shameless imagination. What a dirty little pet we have here. Were you planning to touch while you would wait for me? " You whispered in Adam's ear, getting him to have goosebumps.

Your fingers went down along his spine then reached the start of his ass. You were riding him from behind, each of your legs apart Ainosuke's body. You spanked his cheeks violently when you see you wouldn't get your answer, making the man moaning of both pain and pleasure.

"Use your tongue. You still have one, right?" you picked up after this unwanted silence.

"Yes" mumbled the submitted man.

"Louder. I don't hear you."you commanded.

"Yes"

He was speaking at the volume you wanted to listen. Loudly but not enough to disturb people out there.

"Better" you acknowledged with a neutral tone.

You got away from the position you have over Ainosuke. You were looking for the bad you brought with you. In the corner of your eye, you remarked the presence of a mirror. It could be useful but not now. You were secretly impatient to play with the king of S. You glanced at him and couldn't prevent a half-smile on your face. His hips were slightly higher than what would be normal. The blue-haired man was aching for your touch. Unhappily, it seemed sometimes you weren't as mean as some of masters with their human pet when it comes to tough, rough and painful but delicious sex. Well... It didn't matter actually. Your beautiful puppy lying on the mattress would love it anyway. You sincerely enjoyed the fact that this natural dominant male was completely under your control.

"Get up and kneel. Be rid of your clothes and keep your eyes on the wall. If you look at me I leave you here, tied and with a toy in your ass until you faint. Is that clear?" You ordered with a severe voice.

You didn't get any answer immediately.

"Yes". You heard behind you.

"Yes who?" You added.

"Yes Master" Adam ended while he just worked to be in his knees over the blankets.

The man got rid of his suit not so quickly. The fabric was comfortable and smooth, suiting perfectly his body. The memory of your touch was almost disappearing with him leaving aside all the clothes. He ended naked on the bed, his pale skin revealed to the air. He kept his eyes locked on the wall and he didn't have any access to the mirror to watch what you were doing. He only heard some noises somewhere behind him. Adam was shivering litghtly because of anticipation. He didn't want you to be kind with him. The rougher the better. Anyways, love and pain were both the faces of a coin, right? He submits but you serve.

Ainosuke felt your hand climbing along his leg and rest a few seconds on his thigh. You slided a lubed toy in his hole. You went as deeply as you could without bruising you pet and without leaving without any sensations. His insides were slightly stretched enough to emphasize the rubbing which you started from a few feets away.

You had the time to change in a black leathery pants and high boots, all black, with an open shirt lazily flying along your sides. After that, you were just watching Ainosuke's nakedness from behind. He was well-shaped. You couldn't say more. And this beautiful insane man was craving for your attention. You knew the effect the toy had. The more Adam was holding back his moan, the more the toy is going to make him lose his mind. You knew very well that the man had a certain endurance. Yet, it had no effect when the right points within his body were touched and loved.

You were still gentle. You could be more cruel and less careful about your little pet. Adam knew it very well. He was sure he looked like a little virgin taking pleasure for the first time but the thing inside of him suppressed all of his strength. He was grunting and moaning like a whore and he loved it. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't you.

"More..." Breathed the man while his whole body was totally shaking.

"More? Really?" you asked while you were enjoying the frustration on Adam's face and the red hue on his cheeks.

"Inside me... Touch me..."you went to caress Ainosuke's naked ass before spanking it another time.

"You have no permission to cum, dirty pet. I'll punish you otherwise."you warned with a threatening tone in your voice.

The heat was slightly consuming the blue-haired man and pleasure was way too heavy for him, almost choking sometimes. You would be the death of him if it carried on.

"Please..."Adam silently begged while you were heading to an armchair not far away from the display in front of you.

Were you sadistic? Probably. You had one of your legs hanging on the side of your seat and watching Ainosuke fighting the destroying pleasure inside of him. You were so desirable. No one would ever say the contrary. It was only the start for your adorable pet. But it wasn't enough for you.

"Come here." You commanded with a monotonous but commanding tone in your voice.

You saw Adam moving to reach you. He stumbled on the few meters he had to make to come at you. He knelt in front of you but it sounded more like he wasn't able to carry his own weigh. He was looking up at you with eyes tainted of pleasure. He caressed your legs as any good cat would do to please his master and get some food or any touch. Your hand reached his chin and you lift it without any delicacy. A few more and Adam was going to surrender and leaving himself being overwhelmed by pleasure. His red eyes were blurry and full of lust and you locked yours on his. Your hand went in his hair and you brought him closer to you.

"Take it. And do it well, slut" you requested with an overbearing tone.

You felt shaking hands roaming over your leather pants and undo the belts resting on your hips. His fingers freed your half-hard dick but he was too slow.

"Faster" you ordered.

Adam put his finger on the skin of your shaft, then his lips. You hardly held back a grunt of pleasure while you were feeling his hot mouth around your cock. That was divine but not enough. You settled your fingers in Ainosuke's hair and pulled it closer.

"Come on, slut"

The blue-haired man wasn't slow but it wasn't fast enough and it frustrated you. You ordered him for more speed and he did it. Adam was all focus on your pleasure, worshipping you with his tongue and his lips. It was warm inside his mouth. You wanted to dirty your sub with your seeds and make him feel like a doll in your hands. Besides, you increased the speed of the toy inside Adam's ass. He was fighting tou bring you pleasure and not to cum. His whole body must ache but you didn't really care. You wanted more. You helped a little Ainosuke with his movements. His tongue was caressing you shamelessly, and he was all focused on you. You were almost fucking his throat.

"You are really a whore my pet. Worse than a dog in heat. Loot at you"

You led his eyes to the mirror not far from you. Adam moaned when he saw the image of himself. The red hue on his cheeks while he was taking your cock into his mouth. The sight was mesmerizing. Then, lower, the pre-sperm was dripping from his own sex. Adam wasn't able to suffer it anymore and the last image had been the death of his limits and he cummed lankily on the ground. His muscles all tensed relaxed in a few seconds. He spilled his white liquid everywhere at the bottom of the armchair while he was moaning with your shaft still in his throat.

You raised your hand and gave him an echoing slap which made the blue-haired man fall on his back, covered of his dirty sperm. You perceived Adam hard cock raising between his legs.

"Kinky whore. You are not even able to handle it, right? Such a disobedient little puppy. You'll be punished, you know that, aren't you?" you threatened with a sweet voice, penetrating under Ainosuke's flesh.

You were watching your pet getting up from his position on the ground.

"Be happy that I'm not going to order you to lick it, silly kitten. On the bed, now. Twenty whiplash, and if you are not obedient, I'll double that number. Understood?"

"Please Master, no!" Adam surprisingly begged with and hoarse voice to you.

"This is the cost for your insolence and disobedience. It could be a hundred so take what I allow you" You replied without any softness.

You gave the order to your dog to be astride on the bed, on all four. Adam settled over the blankets and stayed still. The man heard you get the tool in your hand. And without telling him, he felt a painful burn on his ass, followed by your hand which rubbed it. Ainosuke heard himself grunt to the sudden soothing caress.

"It was the first. I won't be that kind after. Count them. At any mistake, It'll be thirty"

You blowed him again and your sub was counting but it was painful and red traces were appearing on his skin. You weren't soft with him and appreciated his delicious reactions of suffering and adoration. The toy was still in his ass, driving him crazy from both inside and outside. Adam wasn't able to keep up anymore and at the end on the punishment, he fell over the blankets, naked, full of shame, pleasure and love. He was crying due to the overwhelming amount of feelings. His shaft was so hard that it was painful and he wanted freedom from you. His pants were perceptible in the silence of the room. The blue-haired man felt your hand on his ribcage and forcefully turn him on his back.

He saw climb over the mattress and settle near him. Your finger roamed over your pet's belly and touch his nipples, making him shiver and grunt. Your softness was welcome for Adam. His body was aching due to tension and slaps but pleasure was still present in his blood and adrenaline was keeping him conscious. Suddenly, the toy Ainosuke had in his ass had a different movement, more intense, more rubbing and making him moan loudly.

"Did you seriously think it was ended?" you questioned with a playful tone. "No. Of course not".

You got up and put yourself in a riding way. You pushed your shaft inside Adam's mouth and start to fuck his throat again. Fingers curling down the sheets and becoming white. Your sub was testifying of this pleasure. And you were too. Your hips were getting faster and faster and Adam's eyes were rolling backwards while pleasure was burning him. You were silently moaning and keeping your features still but it was hard when your little pet's tongue was that agile and smart to find the areas able to make you shudder. It felt like eternity till you finally cummed inside of Ainosuke's mouth. Your sub swallowed everything and as a reward you ordered him to change of position and to rest on his belly. You removed the toy from his ass and caressed it softly.

"Master..." called quietly Adam.

"Mmh?" you responded with distance in your behavior towards him.

"Please. Fuck me." begged silently the man.

Where was Adam, the king of S, almost undefeated? Where was the show-off, the insane guy? You knew very well where he was. He was subdued to every of your desire now, drunken by pain and pleasure, knocked by envy. He wanted you in the simplest way. The incubus became the innocent virgin and you were his master. Nothing was left from the skater man that you met at the nightfall. He was just a body aching for softness after a hardship, pleading for quietness now. And more sincere than he never had been until tonight. He needed you.

"Please Master..." whispered again Adam.

But his begging stopped when Adam felt your dick against his hole. A slight moan escaped from him and you started to bury yourself in him. His insides were warm and comfortable but so tight. The rubbing was divine and you could help yourself but start to fuck his ass very slowly to push him to worship you. Adam had his hips hanging a little in air as you were thrusting to give you both an amazing amount of pleasure.

"P-Please Master... More..." moaned Adam while you were almost hitting his ass.

It was so nice to see the man so submitted to his needs coming from you. You couldn't help yourself but started to thrust more and more quickly and fastly. The sound of your flesh against each other was echoing in the room and you liked it. You got rougher and rougher but it was still nice and finally, you let yourself be. You felt Adam's hole tightening around your shaft for the second time. Your hands slide down his hips to find his own sex so as to apply languid caresses. It was too much for him and his muscled yet thin body sank on the bed and you followed him in his climax not long after him.

You were panting heavily and your pet was actually nearly fainting. You took him into a warm embrace and rubbed his skin to soothe him. You didn't have the time for a real aftercare because he fell asleep immediately. You would wait him to take a needed shower. For the time that you had, you left him be.

Adam had been a wonderful sub. You were happy. But you didn't have the intention to stay with him. If he wanted you, then maybe you should have a more serious and deeper conversation. But now, it wasn't what you wanted.

[solarwonux]

6. “Feel free to admire me.”

19.  “Give me a kiss please.”

non!idol taehyung x f!reader

warnings:  angst if you squint, slight mentions of going crazy, a teeny tiny bit suggestive, minimal editing, 

note: helloooo, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy this one, and if it’s bad I apologize from the bottom of my heart, it’s my first time writing anything but academic papers in like 3 months. And it’s my first time writing for bts, so i’m dusting off the cobwebs. Either way thank you for reading it means the world to me.xx

masterlist || drabble game 

You were acting strange

Taehyung noted as he watched you scramble around the apartment, running a frustrated hand through your hair, mumbling underneath your breath as you tore the apartment apart looking for your glasses.

You had been doing that a lot. Living up in the clouds, distracted. Your mind racing to the point you would forget what you were saying mid-sentence or misplacing things you had just been using in obvious places. He knew something was bothering you, keeping you from grounding yourself back down to Earth, and he so badly wanted to know. But after almost being together for almost a decade he knew that asking you what was happening would only frustrate you and keep you from coming back down to Earth. To him.

So he sat back, a small smiling forming against his face. He cradled his almost empty wine glass between his index and middle fingers, the setting sun reflecting off your glasses on the coffee table. The same place you had left them earlier before walking to the bathroom to wash your face. He could tell you, to stop your endless pacing and ease your mind a little. But he was oddly amused as you made your way around the living room, retracing your steps, endlessly.

The movie the two of you had been watching, paused. The wine bottle you had refused to share with him was reaching its wilts end as he kept refilling it every time you sat down next to him silently looking around for a few minutes and then getting up again to make your way around the living for the umpteenth time.

“I’m going crazy Tae.” You blew out a raspberry, blowing away the few strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail. “How can my glasses just disappear, I was literally just wearing them.” You threw your hands up in the air as you made your way into the kitchen. Lifting up the stacks of manila folders you had brought home from work to peacefully look over throughout the long weekend.

“Have you checked the bathroom?” He said, hiding his smirk behind his glass of wine taking the last sip. You scoffed, throwing your arms up in the air before walking down the hallway to the bathroom.

Taehyung shook his head reaching for the wine bottle on the coffee table. “Your eyesight isn’t even that bad, you don’t need your glasses to watch the movie.” He said emptying the rest of the wine into his glass and sat back on the couch, tilting his head to the side as you stomped your way back into the living room.

You gave him a pointed look before rounding the corner of the couch and sitting down next to him again. “Babe, I’m sorry.” You exclaimed dramatically, hiding your face into the side of his body, making him laugh softly. “I’m going insane and now you’re stuck with me till death do us apart.” You whined, huffing out a loud sigh. His soft boyish laugh ringing in your ears. The slight irritation you had gained during your impossible quest, bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds like a dream.” The sarcasm burning brightly in his vocal chord and you could almost feel him rolling his eyes. “Now, give me a kiss please.” He placed his fingers underneath your chin lifting your face up gently as he puckered his lips drastically.

Annoyed you pushed his face away, crossing your arms in front of you and pouting your lips. Mock hurt evident in his features. “You don’t deserve one all you did was watch me as I slowly lost my mind.”

“I can’t admire my beautiful wife now?”

“I mean...feel free to admire me, but not when I’m one step away from being admitted into a psych ward.” You leaned over, taking his wine glass out of his hand, bringing it up to your lips. A drink is what you needed. A small sip to calm down your racing thoughts, before you got up to look for your glasses again.

You threw your head back, waiting for the red liquid to reach your lips, savoring the taste before it even reached your mouth or your taste. And when it did, when it coated your lips enough for a drop to enter your mouth, your eyes grew wide in panic, remembering why you had been refused to drink with Taehyung tonight and why you had been so up in your head lately.

Taehyung watched as the scene unfolds in front of him. Instantly he had felt your rush of panic and his worries got the best of him. Acting on his fight or flight instincts he immediately took the glass from your hand, setting it down on the coffee table next to your forgotten glasses. “What’s wrong? I didn’t want to ask, but now you’re worrying me.” He placed his hands on your shoulders shaking you slightly, bringing you back to him.

Your eyes were glossy and distant as you breathed out a sigh looking into his eyes for a slight second before planting your gaze on the beige throw pillow you had been hugging earlier. It had helped ease your nerves before and now with Taeyhyungs piercing stare, burning holes into the top of your head. It was failing to do what you had wanted it to do. Comfort you.“I don’t know if I’m ready to tell you.” You whispered, playing with the little tassel on one of the four ends. “I mean I want to tell you, but I don’t know why I am so scared.”

“Is it something bad?” He said carefully. He could feel the air getting caught in the back of his throat as he tried to keep himself from thinking of every possible scenario, good or bad, to have you acting the way you were.

You lifted your head, chewing on your bottom lip. “It depends.” You shrugged slightly avoiding his eyes and settling upon the tv screen. The paused movie nowhere to be seen as it was now asking you if you wanted to keep watching.

“Depends on what? You’re scaring me.” The softens of his voice faltering as his grip on your arms got tighter, trying to keep himself from breaking down.

“On your reaction. I thought I would have more time to come to terms with it but I don’t think I can hold it in any longer,” you said in a haste. Your words combining with one another as Taehyung tried to keep up with your fever.

“Just say it...please. I can feel my heart trying to leave my body.”

“Taehyung,” you took a deep breath, digging your nails into the pillow, and turned to face the only man you had ever loved. “I’m pregnant.” You whispered with wide eyes. Maybe you weren’t going crazy but after finding out three weeks ago that you were with child, the thought of telling your husband the news was driving you to the point of no return.

It wasn’t like you and Taehyung didn’t want kids, the two of you had been trying for more than a year with little to no success. But the second you saw the little positive symbol on the pink and white stick, you couldn’t believe it. So you took another and another and another until you had about ten positive pregnancy tests staring back at you, mocking you. All you could do was cry.

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled with tears as he threw the pillow you were holding to the side and hugged you tightly. He buried his face into the crock of your neck leaving behind a trail of loving kissing trying to comfort your shaking form.

His biggest wish had finally come true.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier you big idiot?” He raised his head. His hands trailed up your spine until they reached your head. His thumbs swiping underneath your eyes taking your falling tears with him. “Why were you scared?”

“I just...it finally happened and I couldn’t believe it. I thought that if I said it outloud I would wake up from a dream or something.” You hiccuped.

Taehyung shook his head in disbelief a slight chuckle falling out of his lips as he leaned over and kissed your cheek. “That head of yours is your biggest enemy. No wonder you were in such a dreamlike daze the last two weeks.”

“Are you happy?” You pouted slightly, holding his arms gently, scared he would let you go.

“I’m more than happy, I’m so excited. I could literally run down the street naked, waking up the whole neighborhood, risking a public offense violation, just to let the whole world know that I am finally going to be a dad”

You laughed, throwing your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. “I’m starting to regret ever saying anything, I should’ve just kept it a secret for the next eight months.”

“Hmm, and here I was thinking that I should probably tell you where you left your glasses. Now I think I’m going to keep it a secret for the next eight months.” Teahyung stuck out his tongue at you before settling into the couch and bringing you along with him, making you whine in annoyance.

“I knew you knew where they were.” You grumbled crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’ll let you decide on the first letter of your childs name if you tell me.” You sang, poking his side gently, making him yelp out in pain.

He turned to you, pouting, rubbing his side in pain, “first letter and their first outfit when we leave the hospital.” He challenged, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

“Kim Taehyung, it looks like you got yourself a solid deal.” You said, encasing your hand in his, giving it a firm shake before pulling you into his side. His arm entrapping you to keep you from moving and placed a loving kiss against your forehead.

“You left them on the coffee table.” He pulled away, presenting your clear framed glasses to you. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly grabbing them, slippin them on and cuddling into his side.

“You could’ve told me earlier, I really thought I was losing my mind for a second  back there.”

“If I didn’t would I have found out about our lovely baby bean?” He grabbed the remote, pressing the ‘continue watching’ button on the t.v. and unpaused the movie.

“I see your point.” You settled further into the side, finally letting yourself enjoy the movie. Earlier you had been ansty, pushing his hands away as they kept  traveling to your lower belly. Though, his intentions were far naughtier then what was playing in your mind. But you were afraid he would finally figure it out.

Five minutes

Five minutes was all it took before Tayhung paused the movie again and sat up in panic. “Oh my god,” He mumbled before turning to face you, eyes wide in horror and shook. “Babe I’m going to be a dad.”

You laughed, squishing his cheeks in between the palm of your hands. “Yeah I know, I thought I made that pretty clear a few minutes ago.” You teased as his eyes raced from your face and down to your midsection.

“I know but I was thinking about how we had sex last night and now I’m scared. Like what if we hurt the baby, what if I hurt the baby.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. You’re fine Tae, just play the movie.” You patted his cheeks lightly before getting up and walking into the kitchen, “do you want popcorn?”

He stood up and quickly made his way to the kitchen, leaning his forearms against the counter, watching as you placed the bag of popcorn into the microwave. “How can you be so calm about this, how do we know the babies okay? We need to call the doctor now and book an appointment.”

“Stop worrying, I’m sure baby is fine, but you can ask the doctor in a week during my first ultrasound.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, now do you want popcorn or not?”

“That’s a stupid question, I always want popcorn.”

[damn-stark]

The Trouble ch.7

A/N- sorry it’s taken so long to post but I plan on finishing this now, so expect more frequent posts. :)

Warning- angst, talks of death, ptsd, blood, light fluff

Pairing- Jesse x fem!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

——

You could still see it, as clear as day. You could still hear the sound of the gunshots, and the sound of his body thumping the ground.

That’s the only memory you could see now. The memory of Jesse's face contorted into that single painful memory of his death. Everytime you tried to recall a happy and blissful moment, he appeared with his bloody face and the wound that killed him.

As much as you tried to forget, his death haunted your dreams and your mind every waking hour. It wasn’t as bad as it was in the first couple of months after you returned home, but you still couldn’t be the same. You could never be the same. No one who went and came back with you was the same.

Sometimes...you could even see him appear to you…it was so strangely vivid, it seemed like he was actually with you. But you knew he wasn’t, he couldn’t be.

“Y/N, hey kiddo….” You look over your shoulder and notice Tommy welcomed himself inside the house.

You weren’t even aware when he walked inside, or if he even knocked. He most likely did, you just didn’t hear. Albeit sometimes out of instinct, he just walked inside the house; it happened once when Maria was home, she didn’t say anything though, he was the only one embarrassed.

“...I thought you’d be holed up in here,” he continued as he set down the tupperware filled with food.

You turn off the sink and completely turn around to face him, leaning back on the counter and shrugging nonchalantly. “I was just going to go out, you just caught me in here before I could.”

Tommy rests his hand on the counter across from you and releases an airy chuckle. “Right, with which friends may I ask? Maria says you’ve lost them all.”

Your eyes flicker away from him and you scoff as you nod slowly. “They lost me...man,” tears fill your eyes and you feign a grin, “..they...lost me.” You clear your throat and raise your head, letting out a quiet sigh and changing the mood before the tension rose. “Anyway, what’s with the surprise visit? I thought we were meeting for patrol later this week?”

“Well,” Tommy says as he shrugs and averts your gaze. “Just thought you might like the visit.”

You cross your arms over your chest and nod stiffly, smiling softly and then clicking your tongue. “Sure did. But,” you begin to say as you narrow your gaze on him, noticing he looked strange; his stiffened posture, his perplexed expression beginning to show itself on his face. It was hard to tell, he hid his true intentions well, but you saw the truth. “...you’re not here just to visit are you?”

Tommy stands up straight and drops his head to shake it without having to face you. “No,” he mutters before he moves his hand to search the pocket hidden inside his jacket, slowly scrummaging through it to pretend he was looking for something, when in reality he only had one thing, a folded up map. “I wanted to show you this.” He puts the map on the countertop and unfolds it on the surface to flatten it out and show a part of some state, he doesn’t reveal it right away, he instead just waves you over and waits for you.

However you don’t move right away, first you let your eyes scan the wrinkled paper, noticing the marks and the city names. You didn’t recognize the cities so you didn't instantly catch what his intentions were—it could be just some city he needed some supply from, some part of the state where he wanted to visit for some reason, you truly didn’t know. If you were being completely honest you didn’t want to know. Something was telling you to not press further. But you did.

After a couple seconds of hesitation you walk up beside him and take a better look at the map he was showing you.

“First of all, before I get to explaining, I want you to know that I’m not asking anything of you, you don’t owe me anything, okay?” Tommy explains as he turns his head to look at you, waiting in silence for you to assure him. “You understand that?”

“Yeah,” you nod hesitantly. “I understand...why?” You lift your eyes from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s up?”

“Well,” he swallows thickly. “Recently this guy who’s heard my story, shared to me that while he was moving through California…..” he pauses and looks back at the map, waving his hand around as he chooses to continue. “He traded with a woman that he described was built like an ox.”

“Okay,” you nod, feeling the explanation he gave instantly matched with the women that also plagued your mind, knowing that he was referring to no one else but her.

“He said she was traveling with a kid with scars across his face.” Tommy proceeded to then shift the map around, pointing to a part of land by the ocean. “He said they were living along the coast in a beached sailboat. Right here.” Tommy says as he points to the specific location. “That’s gotta be her.”

Your eyes flicker up to him as you let silence take over for a few minutes as you tried to collect your thoughts, as you tried to process the news and what he was really asking of you.

“Is this…” you ask slowly as your eyes remain away from him. “About Joel?”

“No,” Tommy instantly answers, “not for you anyway...this is about Jesse.”

“I see,” you nod as you step back, feeling your throat begin to burn and your eyes begin to cloud with tears. “I see.”

And it’s at the sound of his name that you see him appear close to Tommy.

Jesse looked so real, so insanely real that it really seemed like he was there listening to Tommy with you. But that was the point, right? The game your mind tortured you with.

The only thing that distinguished him from actually seeming real was that he appeared to you how he was when he died; with the bullet that punctured his face, and the blood that poured from it. Otherwise you’d have a hard time actually believing he wasn’t real, otherwise you’d always be looking at his illusion your mind created, unlike how you were now, you couldn’t even fathom looking at him for more than a second before you looked away in horror.

Tommy noticed that reaction but he didn’t hold back. He was too mad to do so.

“I went to Ellie about Joel, but she let me down.”

“What?” You gasp as you snap your head up to look at him. “You went to Ellie? Why would you do that?” You demand with anger beginning to lace through your voice.

“Because she promised she’d do something about her.” Tommy remarked, making you shake your head and blink in disbelief.

“But why would you break that peace she’s trying to find? That’s why she and Dina moved.” You snap. “Why would you go to her with this?”

“That peace she’s trying to find his bullshit,” Tommy scoffs as he grabs the map and begins to fold it. “You know that.”

“That doesn’t matter!” You interject furiously, “why would you go to her?”

“Because she needs to do something about Abby, just like you do too. Are you really going to let her get away with killing jesse?” Tommy counters, instantly making you stiffen and feel your breath hitch at the sound of his comment. You wanted to talk back, but you were struck with disbelief and grief to manage to muster anything out.

All that you could show was the pain on your face, in your tear filled eyes. Tommy noticed that and hesitated, he stepped back and wanted to try and apologize, but he waited too long. Maria walked in and didn’t want an explanation, she recognized the pain on your face that she saw everyday since you returned. She, unlike Tommy, knew more of what you were struggling with and she wasn’t going to allow someone to just worsen the pain. Not even Tommy.

“What do you think you’re doing Tommy?” She demanded after she also took note of the map in his hand.

“Just came here to talk to her,” Tommy said as he hid the truth. “That’s all.”

“Well,” Maria scoffed, “then that’s enough for today. Get out.”

Said man didn’t argue, he stopped under the kitchen doorway to add one last thing to you. “Think about it y/n, you know I’m right. And then go talk to her. Do what’s right.”

You slowly look up at him and catch a brief sight of the anger burning on his face before he turns and limps out of the house, leaving you a scrambled mess and only causing you to see him again. It was brief, but you saw Jesse's dead figure under the doorway right before Maria broke you from your stupor and didn’t hesitate to embrace you, trying to comfort your withered soul. But not succeeding. Not like the times before.

——

“I’m giving you ten minutes.” Jesse informs you as he leans by the tree trunk a few feet away. “You better have your eyes closed already.”

“I’m already asleep,” you add sarcastically, “you just keep talking to me so.”

Jesse scoffs and keeps talking to you even after he gives you a time limit to take a very short nap. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste here if we want to catch up to Ellie and Dina.”

You pull the small blanket over your head and sigh. “If only we did have time. I’d love to stay here. It’s very pretty.”

You hear Jesse's feet shift and you imagine he was now looking at you over his shoulder, but you couldn’t know with your back turned his way. All the indication you had to know that he was still listening was the fact that he responded without thinking of his answer. “After we find them on our way back home, we could get “lost” and just arrive a few weeks after them.”

You open your eyes, but you don’t turn to face him, you keep yourself facing the forest you stopped in to rest and smile as you continue to play along. “They’d be worried.”

“Yeah, but we’ll go back, we’ll just be a few days, or weeks late.”

“You’re right,” you say as you turn back and close your eyes again. “And we won’t tell them that we just wanted to spend time together.”

“No,” Jesse agrees, “it’ll stay between us.”

“Sounds good,” you finish with a content sigh and a giddy smile. Jesse doesn’t answer, but you didn’t need him to know he agreed with you. You were content with the quiet comment he made a few minutes after the comfortable silence.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

——

“Goodnight...Jesse.”

You shift around in your bed and face the ceiling, wiping the tears off your cheeks and watching as the sun slowly begins to peek inside the room, slowly reflecting the soft light on the ceiling. You had gotten a few hours of sleep, but not so much, not as much as you would before. And well it seemed that Tommy’s words kept you up. You just couldn’t stop thinking of the fact that he had gone to Ellie, that he had tried to put salt over the wound.

You just couldn’t help but think of what she was doing. It had been months since you heard news of Abby, since anyone heard news of her, and it’s not like you or anyone else expected it, that part of everyone’s life was supposed to be over. That meant no chasing revenge schemes.

Yet here Tommy was, wanting people to chase after a woman he couldn’t. Knowing that he shouldn’t put such a heavy burden on anyone, knowing that you wouldn't do it, you weren’t that person….however that’s why he didn’t come to you first, that’s why he went to Ellie, because he had hoped she would.

Only you hoped she wouldn't….she went through so much, she has a happy life, a good family. Joel wouldn't want her to throw that away, not for some revenge plan that could end up with her dying this time—you hoped she knew that. You wished Tommy would realize that.

Yet...something told you she didn’t….shit—you let out a deep sigh while you sit up and swing your legs over the bed to quickly slide off. You hesitated continuing for a bit, but you needed to do this, you needed to talk to her.

No more holing up in your house, no more avoiding.

——

“This is it.” You mutter under your breath as you stop in front of the porch, looking away from the land that surrounds the house and looking at the house. “No more avoiding.” You draw out a small breath and walk up the stairs to make it to the front door, hesitating again but this time with your knuckles hovering over the door. Your eyes slide to your fist, and you’re tempted to pull it away and just walk back home since no one seemed to know you were here.

But, no. You needed to remind yourself that you were here for a reason. So you let your hand go and knock on the door and wait. And it actually didn’t take long before you spotted someone peeking out the creaked door, before they spread the door open and revealed their face.

“Y/N, hi,” Dina greets you with a very faint smile and swollen eyes. “What a surprise.” She steps forward and wraps you in a hug, seeming to use all the strength she could muster to keep you close.

“I know,” you smile as you return the embrace. “I’m sorry, it’s just been….hard,” you sigh, letting her be the first one to pull away after some minutes. “How’s JJ?”

“Good,” she assures you as she steps to the side. “Come in.”

You do so slowly to take in the nicely decorated space you’ve seen so far.

“He’s just sleeping,” Dina continues as she walks further into her house, while you come to stop in the living room and keep searching, this time for Ellie; “water? Tea?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” You assure her while you watch her peek her head out the kitchen. “Thanks. Uh, Dina, where’s Ellie?”

Suddenly at the sound of her name you see Dina stiffen once she’s out of the kitchen, she drops her gaze and shakes her head before she continues to walk and join you in the living room. “She’s...not here.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you take a step towards her to press for a clearer answer. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she left.”

“What?” You queried ere as you blink in disbelief, for the first few seconds not getting why. Not until it hit you. That’s when you let out a deep sigh and dropped your own gaze. “I’m guessing this had something to do with Tommy.”

“Something like that.” Dina scoffs.

You nod slowly in comprehension and clench your fists, choosing to share what happened to you too. “Yeah,” you scoff, “he came to me too. I came here to tell her not to go, to remind her that...Joel wouldn't want that for her.” You look up and see Dina was now closer to you, her eyes were watery and her frown was deeply formed. “But I’m late.”

“You know nothing would’ve changed her mind,” Dina shares as her voice quivers. “She’s stubborn.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I know. But at least then I could’ve tried something else.”

Dina stays quiet for a moment while her eyes search your face, her own seeming to come to a realization. “Don’t do it, y/n. Don’t go after her.”

“I,” you pause and think to yourself; you didn’t even think of doing so at this ínstant, the intention didn’t cross your mind. But it was beginning to slowly break through your mind, you suppose she got that impression before you did. Now it’s the only thing you could think of.

You exhale deeply and your impulse answers for you. “My friends' problems are my problems."

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @protect-lev , @expecto-nox, @vintage-and-hypnotic , @kokomaesadie , @0j-b0, @itsyellow , @minheoly @traceylader

[theartofdreaming1]

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 25-27 are below the cut.

heart

The imagery that really caught my attention this time was Peeta pointing out the changes in the moon to Katniss: The only indication of the passage of time lies in the heavens, the subtle shift of the moon. So Peeta begins pointing it out to me, insisting I acknowledge its progress and sometimes, for just a moment I feel a flicker of hope before the agony of the night engulfs me again. - So for one, we see another example of Peeta focusing on the small details in life (which I’ve previously hypothesized to being an important element in his recovery from his hijacking) as well as Peeta being the one to give Katniss hope, even if it’s just for a brief moment. Also, it’s a nice parallel to Katniss looking at the moon and desperately wishing for it to be “her moon” back in chapter 23. As a nocturnal person, I also love watching the moon from my living room window🌙

mind

Hmmh, I don’t think that Katniss and Peeta’s win was predetermined - although I do believe that by introducing the romantic angle, they significantly improved their odds. A Career winning the Games is not really that special and exciting, since it happens so often (although Careers generally satisfy that excitement for violence/blood/gore, that plenty of Capitol people seem to share). As a volunteer from District 12, who achieved an extremely good training score and proved herself to be very capable in the arena already, Katniss definitely had an edge by playing into the classic underdog story, which offered another exciting “narrative” for the Capitolites to follow - that, coupled (heh) with the romance angle Peeta introduced? Katniss (and Peeta) definitely had the entertainment (and excitement through novelty) factor on their side. Ironically, Cato’s chances of winning were not as good as he expected, precisely because he was playing it by the book.

soul

Poor Peeta (and Katniss), it hurts that their relationship was in such a rocky place by the end of the book. Especially those weeks right after the end of Book 1, when there were still cameras around District 12 and they had to pretend while hurting must have sucked big time🥺

Chapter 25

Ugh, the muttations are just so unsettling... *shudder*

Honestly, I’m just so impressed by Peeta’s presence of mind to draw that X on Cato’s hand, after he had just most of his calf ripped off, only to be grabbed and put in a headlock by Cato! He and Katniss work insanely well under pressure

God, Cato’s death is just so gruesome and awful... In the end, his “gift” from the Feast doesn’t help him win at all, but instead ends up prolonging his suffering a cruel amount... I wonder if in general these “gifts” come with a string attached (aside from the expected danger of trying to get them, I mean) - because the Gamemakers also intend for Katniss’s “gift” (medicine for Peeta) to force an even more cruel outcome on her - saving him from blood poisoning only to be forced into killing him herself... 🤔

I’m not sure if this is exactly medical protocol, but I’m terrified that if he drifts off he’ll never wake again. “Are you cold?” he asks. He unzips his jacket and I press against him as he fastens it around me. - Katniss is terrified of the idea of Peeta dying; at the same time, Peeta worries about her freezing - I can’t with these two 😩

Peeta begins to doze off now, and each time he does, I find myself yelling his name louder and louder because if he goes and dies on me now, I know I’ll go completely insane. He’s fighting it, probably more for me than for him - Katniss can’t lose any more people she cares about 😢; on a different note, Peeta fighting his unconsciousness “probably more for [Katniss] than for him” points out one of the crucial elements Katniss brings into Peeta’s life - she is that someone for whom he will fight - including for his own life and well-being - even when it feels easier to give up... Having that person in your life that keeps you going can make all the difference - if Katniss hadn’t had Prim and promised her “to really, really try” to win (and later also made Rue the same promise), I’m not sure she would have made it this far; it’s the thought of Prim anxiously watching her after Rue’s death, that forces Katniss to keep going, to not give in to despair after that particular traumatic event - Peeta, on the other hand, didn’t really have that kind of person in his life, as he will point out on the beach in CF (and Katniss acknowledges herself that the only person who will be devasted if Peeta dies is her)... that is not to say that neither Katniss nor Peeta aren’t fighters on their own - but it helps to have someone that inspires you to not give up

the adrenaline pumping through my body would never allow me to follow him, so I can’t let him go. I just can’t. - We’ll see the mirrored version of this by the end of Mockinjay 

Pity, not vengeance, sends my arrow flying into [Cato’s] skull. - Another act of rebellion, technically (sure, this can be spun as Katniss killing Cato so she and Peeta may win - before Peeta dies from blood loss - but we know better - Katniss’s motivation was compassion for her supposed enemy)

We inch down to the tail of the horn and fall to the ground. If the stiffness in my limbs is this bad, how can Peeta even move? - Peeta is tough as nails, yo!

Before I am even aware of my actions, my bow is loaded with the arrow pointed straight at his heart [...] I drop my weapons and take a step back, my face burning in what can only be shame. “No,” he says. “Do it.” [...] “I can’t,” I say, “I won’t.” - In spite of her initial reflex, Katniss chooses Peeta/ chooses not to kill him; it’s a recurring theme in their relationship (despite her wariness of others, she chooses to open up to Peeta eventually; although she vowed to never marry and have children, she’ll choose to have a family with Peeta); also, my psychology-brain just noticed how this moment illustrates how harmful thoughts/impulses don’t have to determine your actions and are not an indicator of who you are - it’s about what you choose to do

“You’re not leaving me here alone,” I say. Because if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this areny trying to think my way out. - Again, makes me think of MJ; also, I think that from this point onwards, Katniss and Peeta are officially linked together forever; the bond they forged during this traumatic experience will connect them to each other until the day they die

“On the count of three?” Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. “The count of three,” he says. - My heart😭

Chapter 26

... while our muscles are immobile, nothing is preventing the blood from draining out of Peeta’s leg. Sure enough, the minute the door closes behind us and the current stops, he slumps to the floor unconscious  [...] Through the glass, I see the doctors working feverishly on Peeta, their brows creased in concentration [...] I’m not sure, but I think his heart stops twice. - Peeta was in such a bad shape by the end of the Games; I’m still kinda salty that the movie really glossed over this fact :/

... they’re taking Peeta but leaving me behind the door. I start hurling myself against the glass, shrieking and I think I just catch a glimpse of pink hair - it must be Effie, it has to be Effie coming to my rescue - when the needle jabs me from behind. - Oh geez, in Catching Fire Katniss will also get sedated in a hovercraft because she’s upset about being separated from Peeta 😢 (also, Katniss thinking that Effie is coming to her rescue 😭)

While she [Lavinia, the avox] adjusts my pillows, I risk one question. I say it out loud, as clearly as my rusty voice will allow, so nothing will seem secretive. “Did Peeta make it?” She gives me a nod, and as she slips a spoon into my hand, I feel the pressure of friendship. - Katniss is so considerate of Lavinia’s situation, and Lavinia’s giving her a gesture of comfort and support; they’ve never been able to have a proper conversation (Katniss doesn’t even know Lavinia’s name), but still they managed to build up such a bond - compassion certainly is a strong thing to behold 😭 (and this whole scene is just through and through about compassion, with Katniss asking how Peeta is doing!)

Home! Prim and my mother! Gale! Even the thought of Prim’s scruffy old cat makes me smile. Soon I will be home! - Katniss is so excited to see her home and her loved ones again

I want to get out of this bed. To see Peeta and Cinna - Aww, the two people she grew closest to over the course of the past weeks (Haymitch will be added to that list in just a smidge)

Or do I hear a man’s voice yelling? Not in the Capitol accent, but in the rougher cadences of home. And I can’t help having a vague, comforting feeling that someone is looking out for me. - Thank God for Haymitch! 

And behind one of them [doors] must be Peeta. Now that I’m conscious and moving, I’m growing more and more anxious about him [...] “Peeta!” I call out, since there’s no one to ask - Katniss is sick with worry over Peeta; romantic feelings or not, she cares so fricking much for him by now!

I run for them [Effie, Haymitch, and Cinna] and surprise even myself when I launch into Haymitch’s arms first. When he whispers in my ear, “Nice job, sweetheart,” it doesn’t sound sarcastic. - These reunion scenes are so intense and heartwarming! And then Katniss asks about Portia and Peeta because their presence would make this scene complete 

when I asks for seconds, I’m refused. “No, no, no. They don’t want it all coming back up on the stage,” says Octavia, but she secretly slips me an extra roll under the table to let me know she’s on my side - It’s moments like these that help humanize Katniss’s prep team - they might be shallow, they might be completely oblivious and ignorant, but they aren’t that bad [of course, the prep team chattering about their mundane lives while talking about the event that ended with the deaths of 22 children shortly after, leaves a bad taste in our mouths]

I immediately notice the padding over my breasts, adding curves that hunger has stolen from my body. My hands go to my chest and I frown. “I know,” says Cinna before I can object. “But the Gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise.” - God, the idea that the Gamemakers wanted to give a boob job to an unconscious, malnourished 16-year-old girl makes me sick 🤢 (Also, what’s the flipping deal about boobs?! As a pretty flat-chested gal, I’ve always been annoyed that there are barely any bras my cup size that are not push-up ones; I’m not self-conscious about it, so stop making me pretend that I’m bustier than I actually am!)

“I thought it’d be something more... sophisticated-looking,” I say. “I thought Peeta would like this better,” he [Cinna] answers carefully. Peeta? No, it’s not about Peeta. It’s about the Capitol and the Gamemakers and the audience. Although I do not yet understand Cinna’s design, it’s a reminder the Games are not quite finished. - Ugh, that sinking feeling when Katniss and the reader realize that the Games are still not over... Sidenote: Peeta flirted up a storm with grimy, bloodied Katniss and complimented her when she wore Cinna’s first, absolutely badass costume (”You should wear flames more often”)... Katniss’s girlish outfit  has nothing to do with Peeta and she knows it... Cinna could have dressed Katniss up in a trash bag and Peeta would have been smitten - although a trash bag by Cinna would probably still look pretty good ;)

“How about a hug for luck?” Okay, that’s an odd request from Haymitch but, after all we are victors. Maybe a hug for luck is in order. - Aww, Katniss actually wouldn’t have minded giving Haymitch a hug just because - sadly, this is about survival tips instead :/

But what was it Haymitch said when I asked it he had told Peeta the situation? That he had to pretend to be desperately in love? “Don’t have to. He’s already there.” Already thinking ahead of me in the Games again and well aware of the danger we’re in? Or... already desperately in love? I don’t know. I haven’t even begun to separate out my feelings about Peeta. It’s too complicated. - Poor Katniss... she didn’t have the time and peace of mind to sort out her feelings regarding Peeta before they all got tied up and muddled with her need for survival. Now she’ll be having an even harder time trying to untangle that mess :(

Chapter 27

Then there’s Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms [...] He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He’s kissing me and all the time I’m thinking, Do you know? Do you know how much danger we’re in? After about ten minutes of this, Caesar Flickerman taps on his choulder to continue the show, and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him. - Man, their reunion here always gets me - it would be so fricking good if Katniss didn’t have to worry about their potential doom 😒😔 - she barely has time to just be happy to see Peeta alive and well before slipping back into survival mode while Peeta is just genuinely thrilled to have her in his arms, completely unaware of the pressure and immediate danger Katniss experiences in this moment... It hurts so bad

I’m with Katniss - How did the previous victors endure rewatching those horrible moments from the Games?! I guess because they had to, but oof... I think I’d just completely shut down, blocking out the footage shown, ugh

But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her [Rue] in flowers. Right. Because even that smacks of rebellion. - In such a callous and cruel place as Panem, any act of compassion can be regarded as rebellion, it’s crazy. In a place filled with apathy, hedonism, greed, and cruelty, the most radical things you can exhibit are love, kindness, and respect!

A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta’s name as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it’s my best moment all night. - Again, another instance where Katniss’s genuine feelings/reactions to Peeta are get muddled with her need for survival

The one thing I never do is let go of Peeta’s hand. - irrevocably linked with each other

Despite Haymitch’s running interference, I’m determined to see Peeta privately. - Katniss just wants to have an honest and open talk with Peeta 😢 (I get where Haymitch is coming from, and maybe in this instance it’s the right call, but we’ll see a similar situation in the beginning of CF when Haymitch advises Katniss not to tell Peeta about President Snow’s visit and that time, it doesn’t go so well...)

Then Peeta’s there looking handsome in red and white - for someone who isn’t sure whether she’s into him or not, Katniss sure mentions how good Peeta’s looking a lot 😏

“Well, there’s just this and we go home. Then he can’t watch us all the time,” says Peeta. - 👀👀 Peeta is so thirsty here; reminds me of when he pulled Katniss close to him in the cave before they set out to hunt... He clearly believes she’s also “already there” regarding their relationship; he’s never this “suggestive” (can’t think of a better word right now) with her once she lets him know that she doesn’t really know how she feels about him - I feel a sort of shiver run through me and there’s no time to analyze why - Katniss totally isn’t averse to what Peeta’s suggesting here, either (though there’s probably also a healthy amount of fear mixed in with the thrill of being wanted - letting people in can be terrifying)

I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?” I turn in to him. “Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.” And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh. - It’s me; I’m people 🙋🏼‍♀️ (also, the “turn in to him”?!?!! it just suggests such a closeness, I can’t-)

Katniss burying her face in Peeta’s shirt when she’s afraid she might cry learning that he lost his leg 🥺 (how awful it must be to be constantly on display while you’re dealing with your private feelings, ugh)

“... The moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind... hm?” [...] It seems to call for a big, dramatic speech, but all I get out is one almost inaudible sentences. “I don’t know, I just... couldn’t bear the thought of... being without him.” - It might not be a super eloquent way to put what she was supposed to say, but this way, Katniss is being perfectly honest (and frankly, if she’d had the chance to properly process her feelings, she would have been able to voice this sentiment with less hesitation)

I go back to my room to collect a few things and find there’s nothing to take but the mockingjay pin Madge gave me. Someone returned it to my room after the Games. - For one, Katniss didn’t think of that pin (again), but also - was the pin returned to her simply because it’s standard procedure or did someone (like Plutarch, for example) arrange for Katniss to get the pin back, to keep her connection to this symbol going?

I stare in the mirror as I try to remember who I am and who I am not. - Poor Katniss! She’s been through so much, experienced so many traumatic events in short succession recently (aside from the trauma she already had), already had problems defining her identity beyond sheer survival, and now the Capitol also keeps pushing an identity onto her and a romantic relationship, when she hadn’t even had the chance to figure out how she felt about that yet

“... Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn’t make it worse,” I say. “Coaching you? But not me,” says Peeta. “He knew you were smart enough to get it right,” I say. “I didn’t know there was anything to get right,” says Peeta. - Oh boy. It’s always so painful to see Peeta realize that he’s been completely out of the loop; again, we’ll see how Katniss and Haymitch adopt a similar strategy in the beginning of CF: banking on Peeta’s good social skills and eloquence and keeping him in the dark. In a way, it’s a sort of compliment they pay to Peeta for being good with people, but, by not telling him, they are also using him for their purpose (which is motivated by caring for and wanting to protect Peeta, but still). Peeta is right to be upset about it - he has always been very clear about not wanting to be used as a piece in anyone’s games, really. And, as we will see later in CF, they are way more effective as a team when they are open and honest with each other.

“It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding on to my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming. “Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable. - It’s just so goddamn painful😢 They’ve both been done so dirty by that forced star-crossed lovers of Distrct 12 routine. (Sidenote: I appreciate that Peeta actually gives Katniss the chance to explain herself here - still, it’s too much to deal with on the spot so I can understand why Katniss ended up dropping the ball, even though it’s frustrating to read.)

That it’s not good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? - Oh Katniss, you certainly are skipping a couple of steps here; I’m pretty sure there are some options in between dating and being married with kids you could look into. Also, she’s just assuming that this is what Peeta wants, but she doesn’t know that at all - As someone who also has this stupid habit of imagining how whole conversations could possibly transpire and then resigning myself to the hypothetical outcome of said imagined conversation instead of actually having them: Don’t do that. ‘Never assume - it makes an ASS out of U and ME.’ 

I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’ t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding it tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go. - Ma babies! They are both so hurt and both just want to be with each other 😭 But they’ll need some time apart, to figure things out before they can do that.

[yarbz]

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

 ━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

[hskrealm]

protection. (m)

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (y’all i literally typed min yoongi instead of jungkook THIS IS NOT HIS STORY I CAN’T GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD)

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: it’s called protection but there is none lol, soft cuddly jk, thunderstorms, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), kind of domestic, just something sweet since all i write is intense fucking

summary: your boyfriend acts as your distraction during a thunderstorm.

notes: inspired by the thunderstorm that happened here two days ago, and an anon who asked for a soft nsfw one shot w/ jk.

“Oh, damn.”

You flinched as another lightning bolt struck the ground with so much intensity that it looked as if the sun were out for a few seconds.

You knew this particular bolt would bring some pretty heavy thunder with it, especially since it took about fifteen seconds for the actual sound to follow the lighting.

“It’s getting pretty bad out there, isn’t it?” Jungkook asked, flicking his eyes up past his phone to rake over your figure for a few moments.

“Yeah...” You confirmed wearily, feeling sick to your stomach as the rain began to fall harder outside.

It was cool in the house, the lights were flickering a bit, and a small amount of rain managed to get inside. The atmosphere was stuffy, and it felt like some sort of opening to a bad horror movie, which you were not here for.

For your boyfriend, though, this was a walk in the park. He didn’t mind stormy weather at all, and often preferred to fall asleep with the thunder blasting past the music in his headphones.

He twisted his lips up in a frown as you brought your knees up further into your chest, slowly enclosing them within your arms as you kept your gaze at the wall in front of you, occasionally taking a glance outside if you heard or saw something you really didn’t like.

“Why do you even bother looking out there if you know it’s going to scare you more?” Jungkook asked, setting his phone down on the arm of the couch as he relaxed his posture and spread his legs a bit.

“I’m not scared,” You immediately responded, cursing under your breath at the unexpected jolt your body did when the lights began to flicker again, “I just like to check to make sure I’m not gonna die.”

Jungkook snickered and shook his head at your defiance, although he found it adorable that you were afraid of a little bad weather.

He didn’t mind, though. It was during times like this he could pull you into his lap and throw his arms around you without your complaining about making him uncomfortable for sitting on him for a long period of time.

“Come on, baby.” He smiled a bit as you turned your head in his direction, patting his crotch area gently with one hand while beckoning you over with the pointer finger of the other.

You shook your head, and Jungkook raised an eyebrow. You said no to him often when he asked you to sit on his lap, but you always ended up there anyway. Either by your own will, or a small bit of coercing.

“Don’t wanna?” Jungkook asked simply, relaxing his posture against the couch and throwing his arms over the sides of it. You shook your head once more, and he nodded once.

“Alright. It’s your call.” He shrugged, closing his eyes with a pleased smile as the thunder began to come down so roughly that it caused a few objects in the room to shake.

You fiddled with your fingers and took another glance over at Jungkook, envying him for thriving off of moments like this.

Now that you thought about it, his lap was always warm and inviting, and would it really hurt for you to...keep him warm? That’s all you were doing. This was for him, not for you.

You cleared your throat with fake confidence, which immediately caught Jungkook’s attention. He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at you expectantly.

“You know what, since you asked me so nicely—“ A continuous string of thunder sounded for a few seconds, and you shot Jungkook a worried glance before the lights went out.

You shot up off of the couch immediately and ran toward your boyfriend, feeling around for his torso before you slowly sat yourself on top of him.

He laughed as you curled up into his chest, your body trembling as the small amount of heat that was in the room left as soon as the power cut.

“What was that about me asking so nicely?” Jungkook asked with a small hum, sitting upright so he could pull you further into him. The muscles of his arms did do an amazing job of keeping you calm, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“Why do you live off of my fear?” You mumbled into his chest, your hands lightly pressed against his shoulders as he settled his arms around your waist.

“I don’t live off of your fear.” Jungkook’s voice cracked slightly toward the end of his sentence, and you shot your head up to look at him.

Although you had to squint to see it, you could make out the uncomfortable expression on his face as he swallowed thickly.

“This is why I don’t sit on your lap, Kook.” You sighed, wondering why he didn’t tell you he was uncomfortable. You placed your hands on either side of his thighs to pull yourself off of him, but he pulled you right back down, so harshly that it knocked the breath out of you momentarily.

“Sit there, and stay still.” He warned, but why would you listen to that?

You wiggled around a bit, as much as you could before Jungkook got a death grip on your hips. You couldn’t believe it when you felt the boner in his sweats pressing against your inner thigh.

“Please don’t tell me you’re hard right now.” You asked, tone monotonous as you stared blankly at him. He probably couldn’t see your face, but you were sure that your voice change would show your disappointment.

“How could I not be hard when a pretty girl is sitting on my lap?” You could almost hear the shrug in his voice. You lowered your head down into your hands and sighed heavily.

“You’re horny because I’m afraid?” You wanted to laugh a bit at the situation.

“So, you are afraid!” Jungkook quickly tried to switch the topic. You lifted your head.

“That’s not the point here.” He smirked. You’d probably roll your eyes if you could see it.

“I just made it the point.”

“Jungkook—“ He cut you off, holding you tight against his chest as he stood up, flinging you playfully onto the couch so you were lying on your back.

He pulled your (his) shirt up to reveal your breasts, nipples already hard due to the lack of warmth in the room.

He licked his lips and latched his mouth onto one of them, twisting the other between his thumb and pointer fingers gently.

You moaned, back arching off of the couch. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do when he picked you up, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He have your other nipple the same treatment with his tongue, biting gently at the sensitive little nub.

He placed a kiss between your breasts, moving his way down your upper body as he moved backward a bit to make room for himself between your legs.

He began to nip and lick at your thighs, and your legs began to shake as he breathed gently against your clothed core.

“I can-“ one kiss to your thigh, “-think of something-“ and another, “-that’ll distract you for a bit.” One final kiss, this time right over your pulsing cunt. You hissed.

“Starts with h, and ends with d.” Jungkook teased, hooking his fingers into the sides of your panties as he tugged then down your thighs slowly, not bothering to pull them off completely.

“Husband?” You joked, and Jungkook smiled against your pussy lips, the small action sending your stomach into a frenzy.

“Not quite. Good guess, but you’re about a month or two ahead of the game.” He kissed the hood of your clit gently, before wrapping his pretty lips around your bundle of nerves and sucking it gently into his mouth.

You moaned weakly, sliding your hands into his hair as he placed his large hands against your inner thighs, spreading you gently so he could enjoy more of you.

You and Jungkook talked of marriage often, but hearing him openly admit that he was planning to ask you to spend the rest of your days with him sometime soon made this entire experience all the more arousing.

You gasped as he replaced his tongue with his thumb, gently circling your clit with practice as he took a few licks toward your tight, wet hole.

Jungkook knew your body so well that he didn’t even need to see to make you a whining mess.

He delved his strong muscle inside of you, growling quietly against your cunt as you squeezed against his tongue.

He always played around a bit when he was given the pleasure of tasting you, and this time was no different. He’d flick his tongue wildly inside of your pussy, draining your body of every ounce of that delicious juice you had to offer him, or he could take it slow, and bring you to your peak steadily.

He opted to drive you to the brink of insanity today, so he fucked you open with his tongue while rubbing frenzied circles against your clit.

You were too quiet for his liking, so he slapped gently at your clit to bring you back to your senses.

“Feels so good,” You praised him with a small stutter, dropping your hands down to your sides. Jungkook quickly took them into his much larger ones, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pulled you closer toward your orgasm.

Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly as Jungkook brought his attention back to your aching clit, catching you by surprise as he began to switch between teasing the nub and collecting the sweetness that pooled at your entrance.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum soon,” You warned, and Jungkook smiled.

He began to trace patterns against your clit, your moans turning into pathetic whimpers as you teetered on the edge.

With one final graze of his teeth against your clit, you clamped your thighs around his head, and Jungkook gripped your hands tighter as he tasted your release on his tongue.

He stimulated you through your high, waiting until you released his head from between your legs before pulling away.

While you caught your breath, he tugged down his sweats and slid your panties down to your ankles, gently lifting your feet as he threw the ruined garment to the ground.

He sat down on the couch, reaching over to you to pull you up onto your knees.

“Come on, come sit on my cock.” He cooed, and you spread yourself over the tip of his length as he gripped your hips to control the pace at which you slid down onto him.

“Ride you?” You asked breathlessly, and he shook his head and pulled you into his chest, just as he did earlier. Your eyelids began to sag.

“Just sit, sweetheart.” You nodded, squinting once the lights began to flicker a few times before they turned on.

“Lights are back.” You mumbled sleepily. Jungkook laughed, and you smiled as you felt the vibration in your chest.

“I see.” He ran a hand up and down your back soothingly.

“I’m tired.” Jungkook hummed.

“Get some rest then.”

“Love you.” You were beginning to drift off, but not before you heard,

“I love you too.”

tag list! let me know if you want to be on it. (you could send me a message, an ask, or just comment under this fic)

@bitchyaus @dontaskshhhhh @taesluttt @1-in-abillion @designjet @peachy-bhun @patpus @koracynthia120 @safi4x @lcnycto @someonewhowannadielol @dreamingsmile @rinastylesworld @fan-ati--c @sincemalik @bts-bay-bee @cestlaviecia @jeonjungkookiiee @bunny-kix03

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Company Upgrade Dates (Eng Translation)

🍒This post contains detailed spoilers for dates unreleased in English servers!🍒

I accidentally skipped the first set of Season 2 dates, the “Company Upgrade” Collection, thinking they were just Rumours & Secrets:

These dates are important as a starting point for future S2 dates! They are mostly in bullet-point form, but all plot points and important dialogue are covered ❤️

⚡️ Shaw’s Way Home Date (归��之约) ⚡️

MC arrives at Loveland City airport after a business trip and receives a text from Shaw stating that he’d be picking her up 

(even though she didn’t give him any details of her flight)

He appears, in all his glory, on a skateboard

Shaw picks up her luggage and also shows genuine concern for her work and how tired she looks

MC: I can carry it myself.

As soon as I stretch out my hand, Shaw spins the luggage around in a circle so I can’t reach it.

Shaw: If you carry it yourself, I wouldn’t have any purpose for coming here.

DELICIOUS BANTER

MC: Oh right, why did you think of picking me up?

Shaw: It was along on the way. Or I did it on a whim. Whatever reason you like.

MC: ...

Even after a week of not seeing him, this brat’s words are still as annoying.

MORE DELICIOUS BANTER

MC: Don’t you have class in the afternoon today?

Shaw: There’s class, but I skipped it.

MC: It’s not good to skip classes.

Shaw: It isn’t good, so I informed the teacher beforehand.

MC: Eh? What did you say?

Shaw: I said that I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in a month, so I want to pick her up.

MC: What...!?

Hearing this, my heartbeat goes into a frenzy.

Shaw: You really believed me?

Shaw asks MC to cook him dinner as thanks for travelling the great distance to pick her up

They return home by subway, but it’s incredibly packed

Shaw pulls her to a corner

My back leans against the wall of the train carriage. Standing in front of me, Shaw places a hand on the wall beside me, separate me from the crowd.

MC: What are you doing?

Shaw: Can’t you see?

He lifts his other hand and places it onto the wall of the train carriage, encircling me with this pose, which is reminiscent of a hug. He creates an empty corner in the crowded train. 

She falls asleep, and he holds onto her shoulders so she doesn’t sway

Shaw: Hey. We’re going to miss the stop. If you don’t wake up soon, I’ll have to carry you back.

MC: !!

After they leave the train:

MC: I didn’t think I’d actually fall asleep.

I turn and sneak a glance at Shaw’s side profile. He senses my gaze and meets my eyes.

Shaw: Not only that. You even drooled.  

MC: N-no way...

I hurriedly look at his shoulders, but can’t see any traces of dampness. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

MC: Is it very fun to lie to me?

Shaw: It’s your fault for having such interesting reactions.

At home, Shaw wolfs down her cooking. It turns out he was busy and didn’t have lunch T^T

He even helps tidy and wash the dishes for her

Afterwards, she finds him in the balcony and asks what he has been busy with

Shaw brushes them off as “unimportant things”

MC suddenly says she wants to hear him play the bass

Shaw re-enters the house and brings out an erhu instead (since MC doesn’t have a bass)

Shaw makes the erhu play her name and a “you are stupid”

MC: Why are you scolding me?

I suddenly feel a little gloomy, but he continues playing a few notes. Even though my mind hasn’t figured it out yet, my heart beat speeds up.

Shaw: Do you understand?

Shaw puts down the musical instrument and crosses the handrail over to me.

The dim light from behind the curtains is reflected in his eyes, as though filled with unwavering momentum.

Shaw: You have a really slow reaction.

Accompanying his ridicule, what enters my ears is the rumble of thunder from the clear sky.

Shaw straightens up, and his corners of his mouth hook upwards.

Shaw: It’s going to rain.

-

Shaw’s Call: here

-

🌻 Kiro’s Show Date (戏中之约) 🌻

This date basically shows how MC and Kiro share a very light-hearted relationship, where he likes teasing her

MC is at the scene of Kiro’s filming location, and comments on how realistic the effects are

Kiro is filming a gunfight, and the atmosphere is very tense

The famous Kiro Pointing A Gun At Himself™ scene occurs as part of the filming

Kiro: Since we can only pick between one of us, take my life, and you’ll be safe. It’s nothing worth being surprised over. There’s only one person who I’m willing to exchange my life for. So, tell me your answer.

There is mockery and paranoia in his eyes, but not a trace of fear.

It’s as though he already knows the other party’s choice... even if his bet is wrong, he will continue enjoying this game.

Even if death is what awaits him at the end.

Director: OK, cut!

Kiro’s seamless performance garners applause from the audience

After that, Kiro and MC head to an open air restaurant

Kiro what choice MC would make if she were the protagonist of the show and one of them has to die

MC: I’ll change the script, so the both of us can live.

Kiro keeps teasing her e.g. eating her half-eaten biscuit

She suddenly hears a loud sound, and she grabs Kiro’s hand

There are a series of explosions below as part of the special effects from the filming site

Kiro: Even though almost everything you saw today was artificial, you can remember the me of right now. The me in front of you is the real me.

I turn back to Kiro, who looks at me at the same time. His fingers are on the back of my hand. The temperature and touch are extremely real.

And the memories belonging to us will always remain in this real moment.

-

Kiro’s Call: here

-

🌹 Victor’s Secret Date (隐秘之约) 🌹

MC wakes up and finds herself in an unknown underground facility. From the unknown voices in the beginning, it’s clear she wasn’t the target of the kidnap

Victor is with her too, and they briefly go through what happened beforehand: MC and Victor were on their way to the carpark at around 7pm after going through a report

The doors aren’t locked, and they aren’t tied up

Victor: I’ll give you five minutes to adjust your state of mind.

His sentence, which came out of nowhere, startles me slightly.

Looking at his expressionless face, I suddenly realise something and laugh.

Victor: What are you laughing at?

MC: Are you... concerned about me?

Victor: ...instead of asking unrelated questions, spend your time on something useful. You still have 4 minutes and 8 seconds.

Victor gets her to check the area right outside the door. When she returns, Victor tells her to stay close to him, and grabs on to her

He reveals that he can no longer see

Despite his temporary blindness, he’s very calm

He speculates that the reason why they’re here is to keep Victor away from an auction taking place the day after they got kidnapped (which is the present moment)

Victor hands her his cuffs, which are actually electronic transceivers

MC: Boss, actually... you can give me a direct order to bring you out of here. This place looks like an abandoned experiment site, so...

I leave the remaining speculations in my heart. The people who threw us here... did they do it just to prevent Victor from participating in the auction?

We’re surrounded by darkness. I hold the electronic transceiver to find the exit.

Victor follows behind me, sometimes pointing out the correct direction.

MC: Victor, are you sure you really can’t see? Is this just a test for me...

Victor: ...you’re the one who is testing me. Do you want to get hit and become even more stupid?

He gently pulls me to his side, preventing me from turning around and hitting the wall in front.

Victor: After walking for such a long time, you still don’t know the approximate distance?

MC: Right now, I think you might be able to make it in time for the auction.

Victor: Being optimistic is good, but...

Suddenly, they hear someone walking around and shouting extremely loudly

Victor uses his palms to cover MC’s ears <3

MC musters her courage, stops herself from trembling, and finds a place for them to hide

Right now, there’s no time to figure out who this person is. No matter what, I can’t let Victor get hurt here.

I promised him once before.

The sound of the footsteps eventually disappear

MC: You weren’t worried that I’d accidentally bring us to that insane person?

Pulling Victor into a dark corner, I do my best to adjust my breathing, and force my voice not to tremble.

Victor: Since I said that I’d trust you, I wouldn’t doubt you.

Victor guesses that the people who brought them here aren’t out for their lives, or they wouldn’t be allowed to roam freely

MC then wonders why they had to blind Victor, and points out that the man just now seemed deranged. She guesses that it’s a result of simply being in the underground facility. Someone wanted him to know about the existence of the facility, but not give further details

MC: I have a question, but I’m not sure if I should bring it up.

Victor: There will be Arab merchants bringing new reagents to the auction. They contain certain special elements.

MC: I haven’t even asked.

Victor: Was my answer wrong?

I smile secretly, lowering my eyes to look at our overlapping hands.

MC: You answered wrongly. I wanted to say that even the dignified CEO of LFG can get kidnapped in such a confusing manner, and even get his eyes hurt.

Victor: If you want to obtain a precious prey, you need to prepare a cherished bait.

MC: Could it be...

Victor: That auction is also a bait.

At 7pm, there’s a signal from the electronic transceiver, and they leave the underground facility

Security reaches the scene, and Goldman comes rushing over

Victor sends a few men to the facility to investigate

Victor asks MC to follow him, and it’s clear that he doesn’t want anyone to know of his temporary blindness

MC watches as Victor successfully clips on his seatbelt:

Victor: I’m able to feel it.

MC: ...I wasn’t looking at you!

MC wonders where they’re heading to since they’re late for the auction. Victor tells her that they’re going to a winery

When she looks at the rearview mirror, she sees that the place they were at has caught on fire

MC: Did you already sense that something was amiss with the auction?

Victor: Mm. That Arab merchant is just a guise. Behind him is a private arms organisation. They used the Arab merchant just to gauge the interest level for their reagent.

MC: Didn’t you say it was an auction you needed to attend?

Victor: They just wanted to ensure good faith.

MC: And there’s no need now?

Victor: Now, there is a different way to show my sincerity.

Once they reach the winery, Victor hands MC a gun

Victor: Can I continue trusting you?

MC: You have no other choice.

In the winery, the merchant tries to push the reagent to Victor

Merchant: Does CEO Victor have doubts regarding the efficacy of the medicine? It has already gone through tests, and it can...

Victor: I need to doubt medicine that causes mental breakdowns when injected?

Merchant: ...

Victor: I’m not interested in your medicine. The thing I want is your newly mined ore field. All of it. I don’t need technical staff.

Merchant: CEO Victor’s transaction seems to be overly greedy.

Victor: I’ve said it before - I’m uninterested in your defective products. Apart from LFG, no other company can meet your capital needs.

Merchant: Aren’t you being too confident? The world is pretty big. Maybe the STF can give us similar support.

Victor: In that case, you better ensure your safety and leave Loveland City before obtaining their support. One thing LFG doesn’t lack is business partners. Meeting you personally is enough to express my sincerity.

The transaction is completed

They head to LFG, and Victor tells her to drive back

BRACE YOURSELF FOR A CUTE SCENE:

MC: Victor, I’ll send you upstairs.

Victor: No need.

MC: Your eyes...

Victor: I’ll handle it, don’t worry. You did very well today. I owe you a favour.

Victor doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He opens the car door and heads towards the main entrance of LFG.

I release a secret sigh and hastily leave the car to walk to his side.

MC: That’s the side entrance. The side entrance of LFG doesn’t open at night.

Victor: ...do you know LFG better than I do?

Switching his direction, he walks confidently towards the railing near the main entrance.

I hurriedly grab onto his sleeve in order to make this brave man stop.

The night has softened his cold edges. His shoulders are straight. Ever since what happened with his eyes, he hasn’t uttered a single word of frustration.

Perhaps he’d never say such words.

Sensing my quietness, Victor lets out a soft sigh. He turns his head slightly, then closes his eyes in resignation.

Victor: Since you want to be responsible, take responsibility till the end. Before my day lights up, don’t think of leaving.

-

Victor’s Call: here

-

🦋 Lucien’s Bondage Date (束缚之约) 🦋

MC receives a call from the newest member of Black Swan. He proudly proclaims that he has caught a “big fish” who has agreed to provide important information only if MC personally goes to the interrogation room

She receives a photo of the “big fish” - it’s Lucien.

And she knows something is amiss because Lucien isn’t someone who would get caught so easily

When she reaches the interrogation room, Lucien is tied up and injured

Even so...

His smile and posture are not those of a caged prisoner. Instead, it’s as though he’s waiting in the dark for his prey to enter a trap...

A successful hunter.

Lucien: What’s wrong? You’re not happy to see me like this? Just now, someone mentioned that... I’m a surprise prepared for you.

I clench my teeth hard, and exert more strength as I grip the iron cage.

MC: ...are you okay?

Lucien: Are you showing concern for me?

MC: I just want to know what exactly you’re planning.

Lucien: I don’t quite understand Miss MC’s meaning. Shouldn’t you tell me what you’re planing to do with me, since you were the one who made me like this?

MC: You...

MC clarifies that she didn’t know Lucien would be brought here

Lucien keeps toying with her so she snaps

MC: Professor Lucien, I think you can clearly see the situation before you. Right now, you are a “guest” invited by Black Swan. If you want to get out, you have to prove your worth. If you don’t give us something of equivalent value, we won’t let you leave.

Lucien: Equivalent value... you make sense. In that case, what do you want then? Perhaps with more specific questions, I can give you more satisfactory answers.

MC: ...I’m not a student who’s asking you questions!

Lucien: My student would never be so fierce towards me. I’m already like this, and you still don’t believe my sincerity? I’ve thought of a piece of secret information you may be interested in. This matter involves Black Swan and core members of the STF, and it’s a secret I’ve been keeping.

MC: Lucien, are you being serious?

Lucien: It would be revealed sooner of later. Knowing it earlier could be of some help to you. If you want to know, come closer to me.

I freeze involuntarily, casting a glance at the single-sided glass separating us from the surveillance room.

Lucien: As a representative of Black Swan, shouldn’t you show me some good faith if you want the information?

She goes closer to him, but he keeps toying with her e.g. telling her that he’s cold so she should come closer to warm him up. Finally, he speaks.

Lucien: Actually, I have an arrangement with someone in Black Swan.

MC: What you mean by “arrangement”? An agent you planted?

Lucien: If you put it that way, I can't deny it. A person I planned on bringing along with me when I left this place. It’s just that back then, the timing wasn’t ripe yet.

MC: After you left, did you remain in contact with the person who kept you informed about the organisation’s internal affairs?

Lucien: Yes.

MC: ...who is it?

I stare at Lucien, my heart beating rapidly. I can’t tell if my emotions can be called anger or something else.

Lucien’s eyes continue to sparkle. He arches the corners of his mouth, as though in a good mood.

That layer of suppressed anger dissipates, and I suddenly realise something.

MC: ...Lucien, don’t speak nonsense.

Lucien: I never lie. You should know that clearly.  

MC: You...

Lucien: That person is a female.

MC knows that every word and action is being watched by the people in the surveillance room

Lucien: We’ve known each other for a long time. After leaving the organisation... she has been the one taking the initiative to look for me most of the time.

MC: Nonsense! You’re just-

Lucien: Of course, I miss her a lot. Perhaps there is a tacit understanding between us. Whenever I miss her, she will appear.

MC: But the relationship between the two of you is simply sharing the benefits of exchanging information, am I right?

Lucien: ...is that so? It sounds like there isn’t a relationship at all. Did you know? Sometimes, feelings are part of a beneficial exchange. Many people simply don’t realise it, and lose out in the process. With this thought in mind, perhaps those people are the ultimate winners.

At this point, the STF barges in. Lucien frees himself from the ropes.

Lucien: I wasn’t speaking nonsense. I do have someone I want to take with me.

I feel a tightening on my wrists and I exclaim in surprise. Both my hands have been gently bound in front of me, bringing with it a silky touch.

Lucien: Now, can I take you away?

MC: ...that’s not possible.

I look him in the eyes. In the darkness, the rotating red lights occasionally flash across his face, looking blurry and dangerous.

MC: I’ve said it before. It’s all right if you choose to walk down another path, because I’ll walk the remaining half of this path on your behalf. I’ll prove to you that the decision we made at the beginning was not wrong.

Lucien ...I got it.

At this moment, I seem to understand the true loneliness in this man’s eyes than ever before. At the same time, I feel as though I’m the person he has lied to the most in the world.

Lucien: In that case, sleep for a while...

Realising what he’s about to do, I try to escape.

Lucien’s palm has already covered my eyes, the warmth reminiscent of a cloud which has been under the sun for a long time.

MC: Lucien... you're lying to me again.

Lucien: What?

MC: You...

His voice trembles in my ear. In my hazy state, I don’t know if I said the words in my heart.

He lied so that I would enter this cold iron cell and warm him up.

But his hands are burning hot, as though the temperature had been stored for a long time, reserving it for the lady who has gotten frozen in order to find him.

MC: Lucien, you don’t... feel cold at all, right?

~

When MC awakes, she’s at home. She feels an itch on her wrist and sees rope marks

She receives a notification on her phone telling her that the underground interrogation room has been sealed by the STF, but there aren’t any traces left of what happened yesterday

The interrogation materials have also been wiped

The doorbell rings, and it’s Lucien

MC: Are you Mr Advisor, or Professor Lucien?

Lucien: Right now, I’m just a neighbour who is inviting you for dinner. Will you do me the honour?

MC: Mm... I happen to be a little hungry.

Lucien smiles. When he takes my hand, his eyes fall on the ribbon tied to my wrist.

Lucien: Is this... a new ornament?

...oh no, I forgot to take it off last night.

Looking at his expression, which clearly shows that he knows what’s going on, I nod and pretend nothing happened.

MC: Even I don’t know where it came from. Come to think of it, could it have been you?

I ask Lucien, lifting my head while changing my shoes at the entrance.

He smiles, his warm fingertips gliding across my wrist. He chuckles lightly while unravelling the delicate knot.

Lucien: Next time, I’ll tie it a little more tightly.

-

Lucien’s Call: here

-

💔 Gavin’s Stray Date (迷途之约) 💔

MC is in a hut on a cliff by the sea looking for someone

She spots a familiar figure 👀

She tries to sneak away because she doesn’t want trouble, but the wind lifts her off the ground and brings her over to Gavin

Gavin: Care to explain?

Gavin lifts his head and arches his brows slightly. Both hands are crossed in front of his chest as he watches me hover in the air.

MC: I... was just preparing for a future photoshoot.

While he tries to catch her in a lie, he uses his Evol to gradually make her hover above the ocean...

MC: You... this is against the rules!

Gavin: I’ve always used my own methods to resolve issues.

MC tries to suppress her trembling, and reaches out to maintain her balance. She then realises that the air currents around her are controlled very well to ensure she doesn’t fall - Gavin is just trying to scare her

She calms down and relaxes her posture, even smiling at him

Gavin: [sighs] You’re not afraid?

He closes his eyes and sighs softly, bringing me closer to the cliff. He still doesn’t put me down.

MC: I said it before - I’m not afraid of you. So, you can’t scare me.

Gavin: What relation do you have with that person?

MC: Does STF’s mission have something to do with that person?

Gavin: This has nothing to do with you.

MC: In that case, my answer also has nothing to do with you.

His fingertips tremble and he looks straight at me. I sit on the air current and clench my fists, staring back at him.

MC: Gavin, I also have things I want to use my own methods to resolve. He has taken something he shouldn’t have. I’m not sure about the rest of it, and I don’t want to know.

The strength of the air current gradually becomes weaker. I try to maintain my balance, but Gavin suddenly holds me gently.

With one hand, he grabs my wrist. With the other, he brushes my back so I can stand on the ground steadily.

He must have stood here for a long time - he smells of the ocean breeze.

Gavin takes half a step back. This wordless hug was so brief that it almost feels like a hallucination.

Gavin: He has always been on the STF’s wanted list. For three years.

~

A few days later, MC uses intelligence from the STF to look for the man

Under the cover of the sprinkler system of the hotel, she looks for the USB drive in the man’s room

Gavin suddenly breaks the window and enters the room

The first thing he does is to scan the room for a fire... and only after he sees there isn’t any, he rushes to MC (does this mean he still has a phobia of fire?? 😭)

Just when you think this isn’t painful enough:

After pressing the off button, he casually wipes off the water droplets from his forehead and fringe. When his hair curls up in the air, it actually looks pretty cute.

That strawberry hairband and resigned expression suddenly flash before my eyes.

A curtain of water clouds my vision. I blink repeatedly, forcing myself to focus on the present.

[Note: It’s a reference to Gavin’s Prank Date]

While they talk, they discover that it was neither STF nor MC who set off the fire alarm. The man had escaped with the help of somebody else

Gavin puts a jacket over MC and carries her out of the window

MC asks if they can work together, but Gavin says:

Gavin: That’s not the way I work. The thing you’re looking for is unrelated to Black Swan, so I won’t look into it. But this doesn’t mean it’d be the same next time.

When he reaches the ground, he holds me in his arms and walks to the ambulance, blocking me from the sight of onlookers.

Gavin: She suffered some injuries just now. Bring her to the hospital.

After speaking, he lifts the jacket that’s covering my face, and leans close to my ear.

Gavin: Don’t involve yourself in this matter again.

~

Later, MC leaves the hospital, hugging Gavin’s jacket. She’s at the port.

A few minutes ago, she received a call telling her that the man plans to leave Loveland City through the port that night

It’s also revealed that the man betrayed Black Swan

Suddenly thinking of something, she calls Gavin, who already knows of the man’s plans to leave Loveland City

MC voices her suspicions that the person helping the man isn’t simply helping him escape out of kindness. From her investigations, the man hasn’t kept in contact with anyone after leaving Black Swan three years ago

Gavin says he’d head to the port, but MC says there isn’t enough time

Gavin: I know what you’re thinking. You don’t have to worry about these things. All you have to do is keep yourself safe, and leave the rest of it to me.

MC persuades him to direct her so she can find him quickly, since STF would need some time to arrive

MC: Gavin, you have to trust me. Trust me, all right?

Gavin: You have to promise.

MC: I promise nothing will happen to me, and that I have my ways of protecting myself. And I also trust that you’d give me the correct judgments.

I’m no longer that person who only knows how to let you stand in front of me. This time, I’ll stand beside you, and will not back down.

MC: Gavin, I’m at the unloading zone.

The lights from the cold machine are reflected in his eyes. Beneath his palm is the entire port.

He forces himself to lean against the chair instead of immediately rushing to the girl’s side.

Gavin: In 50 metres, there are two people at two o'clock. The target is moving towards Area C. There’s no rush. Your speed is faster than him.

MC: That’s a shuttle bus I “borrowed”.

Hearing the girl’s slightly satisfied tone, he can’t help but let out a secret smile.

Gavin: [softly laughs] Turn right.

MC: Did you just laugh...

Gavin: No.

MC: Don’t think you can lie just because I can’t see you.

Gavin: ...

MC: I guessed correctly, right? If it’s you, you’d definitely say something along the lines of “I won’t lie to you”.

Gavin: Didn’t you lie to me in front of the hut?

MC: ...

Gavin: Turn left in front. He’s stopped.

MC: I don’t have a choice sometimes...

The girl sounds as though she’s been wronged. Her voice goes round and round, worming into the tip of his heart, and gently prodding it twice.

Gavin: I...

MC: Gavin! I think I see him!

I hide behind a container secretly, watching as the man looks around furtively, as though waiting for someone.

A red dot appears on his back, and trails upwards.

MC: !!!

I rush forward quickly, throwing two black objects in the direction where the red light came from.

In the dense smoke screen, the man sees that things are amiss, and whips out a detonator from the pocket of his coat.

A massive explosion sounds. I grip the man’s collar tightly, but am held in a warm embrace the very next second.

MC: Gavin?!

Gavin: Did you really think I’d let you come here alone?

~

Gavin: So this is your way of protecting yours-

Comical ribbons fall lightly on the top of Gavin’s head, hanging in front of his left eye. 

His bright amber eyes blink. Gavin turns his head to look at the sky full of coloured ribbons. 

A gigantic inflatable man holds a banner with the word “surprise”, and it sways in the wind. 

The man freezes in place while holding onto the detonator, looking as though he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

MC: I knew early on that there’d be something “special” here. How is it? I said I had my ways. Unexpected, right? 

Gavin lifts his hand, gently removing the ribbon next to my ear. He fails to suppress a smile. 

Gavin: Unexpected. But we’ll talk about this later. 

He stands up, looking coldly at the man cowering in the corner. 

Gavin: MC, turn around. 

MC: Okay...

I listen to Gavin and turn around obediently. The moon hides behind the clouds, as though carrying a sense of pity. 

Soon after, Gavin receives news that the sniper has been brought under control.

After explaining how the sniper was caught, Gavin places something on the top of her head - it’s the USB she’s been searching for

MC: Even though I really didn't do anything bad, you’re just giving it to me directly? You don’t need to check it? 

Gavin: I’m taking it away if you keep asking. 

MC: I won’t ask, I won’t ask. 

However, MC has another question - how did Gavin appear at the scene when he should have been in STF’s command room? 

Gavin doesn’t give her a straightforward answer

Gavin: I was at the control system, but I could also come here. That’s it.

[And then Papergames cuts me deep by playing Gavin’s S1 bgm out of nowhere...]

At this moment, sirens blare in the distance. The special reinforcements have arrived.

I dig into my bag and realise my car keys are missing.

 A bunch of bright keys slide in the air and fall into my palm.

MC: I even thought you’d detain me for an investigation.

Gavin: Aren’t you...

He pauses, and he retracts the words on his lips. After a long time, he speaks slowly.

Gavin: You didn’t do anything bad, right? 

Gavin turns his head to the side. The crescent moon hides his eyes in the night. 

Gavin: Didn't you ask me to trust you? 

His voice is very light. It’s so light that once the words leave his lips, they are immediately swallowed up by the night wind. 

MC: What? 

Gavin: You’re still not leaving? Do you really want me to detain you? 

I purse my lips at him, then grip the car keys as I run in the direction of the car park Gavin told me about. I suddenly think of something, and turn around. 

MC: Isn’t it very convenient to work with me? If you keep rejecting me, you’ll lose out. I suggest you consider it properly next time. 

Gavin: All right, I’ll consider it. The next time you face danger, you don’t need to rush into it alone. It’s quite silly. 

MC: You...

Gavin: You can call my name.

-

Do you know why this hurts so much? Because he’s unintentionally referencing his very first date - the Relieving Date:

-

Gavin’s call: here

-

🌸 MOMENTS 🌸

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: I even feel like I'm staging it.

Gavin: Having your car break down doesn’t count.

[Note: I translated “staging it” from “碰瓷”, which refers to how some drivers manoeuvre unsuspecting motorists into crashes in order to make false insurance claims.]

-

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: I didn’t think my car would break down outside the STF entrance, causing trouble for you again.

Gavin: It’s okay, it’s no effort at all.

-

Gavin’s Post: Another coincidence?

MC: My engine might have its own ideas... but thank you for your wind in helping me move the car.

Gavin: Ahem, it’s just safer that way. 

[daretosnoop]

Chapter 6: Partners

Chapter 5

Henry had struggled to work for the rest of the evening. Nancy’s words got stuck into his head. He always knew what he had with Summer was, well, it wasn’t right—but every relationship had its own sense of balance. Maybe, this was just his and Summer’s? But, he had been quick to isolate Summer as someone he was close to. Why? He was always desperate to please Summer and found happiness whenever it would work. Summer’s smiles and laughs were rare, but they were worth it. But was she his friend? What even is a friend when you’re an adult?

Nancy seemed to sense his displeasure with their conversation. She’d tried to bring him into her investigation, but Henry declined. She then tried to suggest playing a game, but Henry declined that too. So she left him alone, and now Henry could hear her laughing with Renee as they ate dinner. One half of him wanted to join in on their conversation. What could be so funny that Renee was laughing? Henry never saw her so much as smile when it was just the two of them. Later, Nancy came in to inform him of the dinner plate they left aside for him. She tried again to engage Henry in some activity, but gave up when she saw Henry’s face. Her badgering, it reminded him of Ned. He’d also chased after Henry, insisting that Henry joined him for lunch or for a study session. Ned was the only classmate that was close in age to Henry. His friendliness and age gave Henry no excuse to avoid spending time with him, but he did—because Summer told him to. And now he was denying Nancy’s friendship, but Summer wasn’t here.

After Henry spoke to Summer, she’d gone quiet. Not a text or phone call. He’d text her how was her day, what she was up to, but Summer either didn’t respond or just sent some emoji. Henry tried to call her once, but she didn’t pick up. So he left her alone. Now, sitting on his bed, he scrolled through past messages, wondering if he said something to hurt her, or if she didn’t like him anymore and refused to talk to him. God, please don’t let come to that. Nancy’s words filtered in again, One of you will tire of the other and end the relationship. Henry moved a hand through his hair and tossed his phone to the side. He was just tired.

There was a rustling in the wall and as Henry looked up, he saw the wall move! The Whispers rushed in and filled his mind with indecipherable words. The wall swung open like a door and out stepped Nancy, looking surprised. Before he could speak, before he could even think of speaking, Nancy’s face turned into a smile.

“Henry!” she said, excitement bursting from her voice. “You won’t believe what I’ve found out”.

“The door to Narnia it seems,” was all Henry managed to utter out. Immediately he chastised himself for being too harsh, but Nancy just laughed.

“Looks like it, right? No, I found your uncle’s study. His secret study”.

What?

Nancy read his expression. “Ya, I know,” she said and dragged him out of the bed and into the study. “This is just something you gotta see for yourself. Prepare yourself, I got more discoveries coming”.

Stumbling after Nancy, Henry’s jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him. There was dust and dirt everywhere. The room looked like shambles, a storage room. Nancy burst forth into an explanation of what she found out about his uncle and Dr. Buford. They were in some krewe called the Jolly Rogers. She told him that she learned that Bruno had acquired a skull.

“He believes it’s the true genuine Whisperer skull,” she said with animated eyes and her hands waved about as she described the case the skull was in. “We found it at Zeke’s, but Henry that’s not all, look at this photograph,” she passed him a photo of what looked like a younger Bruno Bolet and skeleton people?

“See,” she said pointing to the skull people. “That’s the same skull man I saw when I entered the house. I’m sure your uncle used to be one of them. Renee mentioned that she saw them too, but I guess she didn’t know your uncle was in a krewe. And look,” she passed him a calendar book. “There’s a date set for 4 days from now. Your uncle was planning to go to some place exactly near where Bess and I are staying. Do you know what this all means, Henry?” She looked at him eagerly.

It was too much, way too much to handle, and he honestly did not know what it all meant.

“You were right?” he guessed in a weak voice. “My uncle was in a cult”.

“Well, kind of, I guess,” Nancy said, then she shook her head and pulled out her phone. She showed him the photos of the note from the person Bruno purchased the skull and the case the skull was stored in.

“It means that Bruno was hiding the skull!”

“But, why?”

With Henry’s question, Nancy immediately sobered and stood a bit away from Henry. She looked at him hesitantly.

“Henry, do you hear voices sometimes?”

Henry stiffened at her question, an act Nancy noticed.

“You do,” she said softly. “So, it’s true. My god, it’s true”.

“What’s true?” Henry cried out, frustrated with being kept in the dark.

Nancy didn’t say anything. She just handed him a book and told him to read it. She then moved away towards the skee ball machine and tinkered with it. Realizing that she was not going to explain herself, Henry opened the book and read his uncle’s letter. When he finished, he shut the book and tossed it on the table. He then leaned over his legs and laced his hand behind his neck. I’m not losing it. I’m not losing it. I’m not losing it. He was losing it. It was too much. His uncle was asking for too much, and Henry didn’t even like him. Why should he do anything his uncle wanted? Just finish the damn accounts and go! Summer’s right, don’t waste time on a person who gave you nothing and just—he stopped his thought and a smile forced itself out. His life was a riot.

He looked up and noticed that Nancy had her back to him, still giving him privacy. She had her trench coat on again. What’s she planning now? A feeling came over Henry. He didn’t know why, didn’t even want to know why. All he knew in that moment was that he wanted to join her on the investigation. He hated his uncle, was angry with him. But he could not shout at the dead—though they made their voices plenty heard. Speaking of which, it seemed that the entire Bolet family was one certificate of prestige away from being locked up in an asylum. It didn’t surprise Henry to learn about being able to hear ghosts. No point in being scared in the everyday occurrence. The Whispers, now ghosts, fell into a quiet murmur when Henry read the journal, as if they were anxious to how he would react. Alright, I’m here, he thought. What do you guys need? It seemed to work because they hummed about in his mind. Henry laughed to himself. Here he was, consoling the dead.

Henry got up, stuffed his hands into his dress pant and shuffled over to Nancy.

“So now what?” He asked when she didn’t start talking.

“Well,” she started slowly. “It depends on what you want. This case is not really mine anymore”.

Henry stared hard at Nancy. She returned his gaze.

“So I’m guessing you know what I did”.

“I’m guessing you needed the money for Summer?”

“Any questions?”

“Not really, you’re in the clear now that I know you can’t be the skeleton man”.

“You suspected me?” Henry asked and raised his eyebrows.

“Of course,” Nancy said smugly. She picked up a ball and rolled it across the skee ball runway.

“So my family are ghost whisperers. There’s an actual skull whisperer, and my uncle wants me to have it because it will give me some knowledge?”

Nancy rolled another two balls before she answered.

“No Henry,” her voice was deep and reflected her somber face. “There’s more”.

“There’s something more important than the supernatural existing?”

His question broke a smile across Nancy’s face and she exhaled a laugh through her nose. She threw another two balls and then turned to look at Henry.

“Your uncle was probably murdered”.

“Excuse me?”

Nancy tossed a ball up into the air and caught it. She repeated the action as she spoke.

“I looked into the skull. It’s reputed to give people immortality, and it had a history of all its owners being murdered. I asked a reliable source about the skull. Turns out she had previously spoken to your uncle, and she believes that your uncle’s death might have been planned”.

“My uncle died of a heart attack”.

“Yes, but there were two people nearby when it happened. Renee and Gilbert”.

“Are you saying that they killed my uncle?”

Nancy shrugged and rolled the ball she played catch with down the ramp.

“Who knows Henry”.

“So there’s a chance he might not have been murdered?”

Nancy made a face at that and Henry realized she was dead serious. Now he understood why she placed the choice in his hands. An investigation into murder, without any police help— it was all based on a hunch, her hunch. They could also end up dead. He realized she was asking him whether he even wanted to investigate into his uncle’s death. He smiled softly and crossed his arms.

“So? What’s our next move?” he asked again. This time he wore a fond, if exasperated, expression on his face.

Nancy gave him a sly grin and rolled the last skee ball she had. “Now, we look for the skull”.

She brought Henry over to the cupboard that stood against the wall and explained that Bruno had hid twenty-five eyes around. Apparently they led to the skull. She even showed him the clues he gave for some of the eyes. As she explained, Henry couldn’t help scoffing at the ridiculousness of it all. There were ghosts. He heard them. He was not insane. His uncle might have been murdered. They were looking for a skull. He was a thief, and Nancy was a bad girlfriend. What on earth was about to get unburied? He didn’t know, and for once, he wanted to find out.

 “Don’t you think it’s a bit cuckoo to assume that we’re supposed to be looking for eyes?” Henry asked as they stood in front of a grandfather clock. “I mean, what if eyes were some kind of key or clue to a key?”

Nancy moved her head from side-to-side, indicating that she thought the same.

“Did your uncle have an obsession with eyes?”

“No. He was a dentist”.

“Right. He chose the wrong occupation”.

“He did have a glass eye though,” Henry added, remembering the first time he saw his uncle’s glass eye. It was the first thing he noticed about his uncle when he came to pick Henry up from foster care. After his parents died, there was a short gap between the funeral and coming to the manor during which Henry stayed in foster care. When his uncle came for him, all Henry noticed was that one eye did not follow him. He always regretted the face he must have shown to his uncle. It was a bad first impression, not to mention the insensitivity, and even though uncle Bruno gave no indication that Henry’s reaction bothered him, Henry always wondered whether his reaction impacted their relationship.

“Of course he had a glass eye,” Nancy said and they shared and amused look.

“So,” Henry said, gazing back at the clock with hands on his hips. “What do we do here?”

“Well,” Nancy began as she shuffled through the journal. There were three entries for the first puzzle. Each contained a short story and nothing more.

“I’m guessing the stories tell us something on what we should do with the clock”.

Nancy read the first story aloud.

At exactly midday the teacher said to his class, “what time will it be when three hours have passed”. Let’s pretend it’s that time and move ahead two hours more. And from there let’s say that it’s nine hours before. If, six hours before then we’d made note of the time, what time would it be if we’d moved ahead nine? His students wrote down 6 numbers in all. Then went back to their daydreams of things big and small.

“Makes no sense,” Henry remarked.

“Hold on, hold on,” Nancy reread the story and traced certain words. “Do you see here,” she said pointing to numeric words. “The story is weird, but it has words that indicate numbers. See here, midday becomes twelve. Three hours pass, so from 12 we move three hours. Then we move ahead another two hours”.

“And so we should get 12—3—5—8—2—11,” Henry finished and started to move the hour hand in that order. The gears of the clock whirred to life and from the cuckoo bird door emerged a glass eye. Tentatively, Henry reached for it. It was cool to the touch. He turned towards Nancy and saw that she had opened her bag for him. He placed the eye in and they looked at the next story.

“I’m guessing we just repeat what we did before,” Nancy said before launching into the second story. They pulled out two more sets of numbers and two more eyes.

“Three out of twenty-five so far”.

“No,” Henry said. “Four out of twenty-five”.

Nancy looked perplexed and then it hit her. “The eye in the desk drawer!”

Now it was Henry’s turn to look at her perplexed. “How do you know about that one?”

“Well, I snooped around your desk—“

“You snooped around uncle Bruno’s desk?” Henry exclaimed.

Nancy shrugged and Henry gave way to a burst of chuckles.

“You really are the real deal Nancy”.

“What can I say, nothing gets in between me and a mystery”.

 They shuffled over to the desk and Henry opened the drawer and detached the glass eye from its keychain. Nancy flipped through the journal and looked around the room.

“There’re a few eyeballs here,” she said and moved towards the bookcase with tooth stands. Henry followed after her and peered into the book she held up.

“Your uncle logged some of the work he did. I’m guessing it somehow relates to this bookcase”.

“This seems like a violation of patient confidentiality,” Henry remarked and Nancy grinned.

“Probably”.  

Nancy looked at Henry.

“Your ghosts say anything?”

Henry raised an eyebrow, “Don’t think I can just call them to me and ask questions. I’m not a necromancer”.

“Have you tried?”

“Not really,” Henry looked uncomfortable.

“Hey, if you’re unsure or haven’t gotten used to there being ghosts, then don’t force yourself”. Saying so, Nancy linked her arm around Henry’s and dragged him towards the living room.

“I wanted to know your opinion on something”. She opened the door to the secret passage and brought Henry towards the lens.

“There’s a lens here that zooms in on a book. Know anything about it?”

Henry peered through the lens and saw the book Nancy was talking about. Nothing came to mind and he shook his head. He then realized something.

“Is this were you overhead my conversation with Summer?”

Nancy nodded and Henry gave a deep sigh and moved out towards the living room. He saw the Bolet family portraits and moved towards them. He recognized his parents, but it saddened him when he realized that this portrait and his last memory of them barely differed. He didn’t see his uncle, or at least, he didn’t recognize him. Then again, aside from his parents, Henry could not name any of the family members on the wall. He looked at his father. So you had the same ability I do. What would you have taught me?

Henry closed his eyes and tried to get a feel to see if there were any ghosts about. All he felt was the emptiness surrounding him. Embarrassment flooded in and he opened his eyes, turned around and saw he was all alone.

 Nancy knew it was best to leave Henry alone while he stared at his family portraits. Old families tended to have walls filled with portraits. She remembered when she went to Blackmoor manor in England and met a young girl who felt alone in a manor filled with unfamiliar and intangible faces.

When she turned around to give Henry privacy, she caught Renee slipping up the stairs. Curious, she slowly followed Renee up to her room. Renee had left her room door open just a crack. Nancy slipped to the floor and peered through the cracks. Renee was sitting on her bed with a book and had an assortment of bottles and other knickknacks all around her. She lifted different potions up to her nose and took in a deep breath. She then opened her pouch necklace and put in pinches of stuff into the pouch. Then, she packed everything up and went to bed. Nancy started to back away when, out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw the rocking chair move and the doll turn towards her. Nancy felt chills run down her neck and she backed away, rushed down the stairs and crashed into Henry.

[hailbop1701]

25 Days of FicMas

December 17th prompt: Christmas shopping with a stranger (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2,154

Toy Shop Terror

Okay so this one is much lighter and fluffier than yesterday's prompt! They're not really together when shopping but this is what I came up with! I hope y'all like it!

-H❤🖖

Leonard McCoy ran a hand through his hair frantically; he was in the corner of a crowded toy store on Christmas eve looking for the “Harry Potter” section. Leonard marveled at how people were going completely insane over something their child will most likely play with for a week or two. Shaking his head he bobbed and weaved through the mass of angry, hurried customers keeping an eye for the isle he needed. Spotting the large sign Leonard ducked into the aisle to find it torn apart, “oh these poor workers,” he muttered eyes wide. Toys and merchandise lay scattered over the almost barren shelves and littered the floor. Stepping over large cardboard boxes that once held said merchandise Leonard groaned in frustration, “damnit!” he cursed, voice a deep growl. A loud shriek made him quickly lookup; he saw a pretty young woman stumble into the aisle clutching onto a stuffed panda bear like it was a lifeline, “same to you pal!” you shouted flipping off the man that shoved you out of the way. The gesture was reciprocated. Scowling you examined the bear carefully, searching for rips or tears. When you felt it was in okay condition you finally looked up to see him there with an amused expression on his face. “Some people,” you chuckled nervously, waving the bear around. You took note of the shelves Leonard was standing in front of and winced sympathetically. “Oh, Harry Potter that's tough, I’m sorry,” you grimaced at the state of things; Leonard huffed in agreement, “my daughter has been begging for the books for a while and I’ve been looking everywhere for the box set,” he muttered hand going through his already messed up hair again. 

“Well I wish you the best of luck, god knows you’re gonna need it,” you said with a dry laugh. You looked around, clearing your throat you bit your lip, “have uh you seen the electronic section?” Leonard raised an eyebrow and pointed a thumb toward the back of the store, his own look of sympathy crossing his face. “Fuck, okay. Stupid drone is gonna be the death of me. Good luck and may the odds ever be in your favor, wait wrong series…” you trailed off scrunching up your face in thought. Leonard couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics; giving him a cheeky smile you gave him a two-fingered salute and dove back into the crowd.  ‘What a strange woman,’ he thought with a crooked smile.

Sighing Leonard looked back at the barren shelves with slumped shoulders, “Maybe I should look for something else,” he murmured almost missing the sound of his phone ringing. Pulling the object Leonard looked at the caller ID, “I can’t talk now Jim,” he answered pressing a finger to his opposite ear. A faint voice whined from the other end of the call, “no I haven’t found it yet and I honestly don’t think I will. I knew I should have just ordered it off of-no, and no you can’t, that’s-I don’t care. Jim as your best friend I advise you that hitting on my sister is bad for your health," Leonard hung up the call and swiftly inserted himself into the crowd of shoppers. 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

You bit your lip as you precariously balanced on some empty shelves hoping to peek over the throng of people. Your hunt for the drone your nephew had been begging for all year was nowhere to be found. Scanning over the crowd with a deep scowl on your face something caught your eye, a much older looking woman clutched three distinct green boxes to her chest. “Oh not today Brenda,” you growled the image of the cute forlorn father popping into your mind. You smirked at the thought of the guy, ‘I’m allowed. He had no ring…' your mind wandered as you pushed and shoved your way through shoppers. Scooping up an opened ‘Nerf Gun’ you cocked it and fired. The foam bullets bounced off of the woman’s head causing her to turn every which way. She screamed startled when one stuck itself to her coke bottle glasses. While she was distracted you slipped past sneakily grabbing one of the boxes from her stack. “Manager!” you heard her howl, glancing over your shoulder you grinned as no one bothered to give her a second glance. Whistling you tossed the plastic gun into a bin and held the box of books to your chest with the panda bear for your baby niece hanging from your fingers. “Now where is Mr. cute butt at…” you hummed thoughtfully. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the store, McCoy stared at a mass of stuffed animals and to his complete amazement, a pristine box holding a remote control drone sat amongst the bears, unicorns, and oddly enough poop pillows. Blinking he picked up the box, his mind drifting back to you. “Hold on to that tight man, last one!” an employee called to him as he passed. Holding the box closer Leonard eyed the people watching with envy as he walked by, “Alright darlin’ maybe I didn’t get what I came here for but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer,” he drawled searching for you in every aisle. Not looking where he was going he slammed into something small, it squeaked indignantly and he quickly grabbed the person steadying them. “Hey!” you both exclaimed with wide smiles. 

You held up the Harry Potter box set proudly and Leonard practically sagged in relief, “did you-how-” he laughed in shock. You chuckled looking mildly guilty, “don’t ask and you won’t be implicated,” you whispered which made Leonard raise a single eyebrow. Instead of commenting, he held up the drone you were searching for, making you squeal in delight. You bounced on your feet as you exchanged items, “Thank you!” you gasped looking at the drone eyes sparkling, “My nephew is gonna die!” thinking for a second you held out your hand, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” 

Leonard couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he grasped your tiny hand in his much bigger one, “Leonard McCoy, at your service ma’am.” he replied smoothly. Happening to glance over Leonard’s shoulder you spotted the ‘Harry Potter’ hoarder from earlier nerf bullet still stuck to her glasses. Blanching you clutched onto Leonards’s hand tighter before turning around and running off pulling the confused man behind you, “move it McCoy unless you want to give up the books!” you yelped shoving people out of the way. Leonard was suddenly ahead of you now pulling you easily through the hoard of people toward the check out area. You stumbled a few times with him being a bit taller and faster than you, “whoa cowboy!” 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

“I can’t believe you did that to get this,” Leonard barked out laughing, his shoulders shook as he sat across from you. You snickered munching on a french fry, “she had like three. I did her a favor those books were like a hundred and fifty a pop,” you muttered picking up your soda glass. Leonard smirked, “believe me darlin’ I know,” he huffed with a shake of his head. “Your daughter is lucky to have a dad like you,” you beamed at him picking up another fry from the basket you both were sharing. “I mean not many parents would be in a toy store on Christmas eve,” you said with a smirk. Leonard looked out the window of the little diner you had ducked into. Red tinted his cheeks and the tops of his ears, he shrugged after a minute, “She’s my world, there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for her,” he said looking back at you. He grabbed a french fry, “You visiting Georgia for the Holidays?” he inquired popping the potato into his mouth. Taking a sip of soda you nodded, “Yeah though not for long. I’ll be moving here pretty soon,” you grinned. “Oh really, where are you comin’ from?” Leonard asked eyes lighting up thrilled at the prospect of you living in Georgia, “Seattle, I’m a paramedic,” you said with a smile. 

The conversation flowed easily; jumping from topic to topic. Leonard talked about how he was a doctor at Atlanta General and then you told him about the adventures from your profession. It would have flowed endlessly but the waitress walked over to your table saying that they were closing up soon; she smiled prettily at Leonard hoping he would take notice but he simply gave her a polite smile and paid for the meal. 

Once the bill was paid and a generous tip was left Leonard helped you into your jacket. He grabbed both your bags and he shot down your protests. Walking to the door you were about to open it when he beat you to it. “And they said chivalry is dead,” you murmured with a crooked smile. “Sweetheart my momma would kill me if I didn’t treat you like a lady,” McCoy flirted as he walked you to your car. "Your mom is a smart woman," you chuckled. You took the shopping bags from Leonard and stowed them away into the trunk of your rental, turning you held out your hand “Lemme see your phone,” you giggled when he gave a confused look. He wordlessly handed it to you and watched as you added your number to his contact information. Taking a picture of yourself you saved it as one of his favorites before giving it back. “There now you can get ahold of me, you know in case you need help getting the Hunger Games or something. Though I don’t think the Brenda's of the world would appreciate it,” you grinned. Leonard snorted a laugh as he pocketed his phone again, “Okay Katniss,” he sassed opening your car door. Your grin grew bigger, “Doctor I am impressed,” you gasped placing a hand over your heart dramatically. McCoy’s laugh echoed across the almost empty parking lot; getting in the car you shut the door and started the engine quickly so you could roll down the window. “Well my girl likes books so I’ve been kept up to date on her latest favorites,” he said leaning down resting his forearm just above the window. “She sounds like an amazing girl,” you whispered with a soft smile, Leonard’s dark hazel eyes twinkled in the street light you were parked under. “She truly is,” he murmured back. The air became thick and full of something you couldn’t place, Leonard cleared his throat leaning back. “You should get going, your family is going to worry,” he sighed not wanting to see you go. Your smile turned sad, “Yeah my brother will have a fit,” you agreed, glaring at the car's dash clock. You said your "Goodbyes" and you were soon on your way back to your brother’s home with a lot of things on your mind; a handsome doctor being one of them. 

The very next day you sat on your bedroom floor with a slew of presents waiting to be wrapped. Grumbling to yourself you struggled and fought with the wrapping paper, “Fold damnit!” you growled, voice muffled by the disposable tape dispenser in between your teeth. Your phone began to vibrate on the floor causing it to skitter in place, cursing you held the paper in place with one hand while the other grabbed the device. “H’lo,” your voice was muffled again. Rolling your eyes at your own stupidity you spat out the tape and tried again, “hello?” there was a deep chuckle from the other end. “(Y/N) it’s Leonard,” you sat up straighter a smile spreading across your face. “Len hey!” you greeted voice light, “I was wondering what your plans are for New Year’s Eve?” Leonard asked sounding nervous. ‘My god he’s adorable,’ you thought dreamily, “I’m not doing much just packing to head back to Seattle so I can then pack again to head back here,” you chuckled and facepalmed due to your ‘lameness,’ 

“I was uh- wonderin’ if you’d like to spend the day with me?” he asked making you scream internally, “Yeah I would love to,” you said hoping to not sound desperate. You heard a whispered voice in the background, “awesome Bones!” it said encouragingly. You bit your lip to keep from snickering. “I- uh that’s great! I’ll message you the details in a little bit!” Leonard said clearly smiling. “Daddy, can you help me with my braid?” the voice of a little girl hit your ear.  ‘That must be Joanna,’ your heart warmed, “I have to go but I’ll talk to you soon,” Leonard promised lowly making you chuckle. “Okay Len, talk to you then,” you set your phone down and took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to really like it here,” you murmured to the butterflies fluttering around in your chest and stomach. 

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

@spenceneedsahug

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Five: The One with the Tour

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2476

    Scott Harvey was a manipulative man. He knew how to get what he wanted when he wanted and was never one to take no for an answer. He'd do whatever it took to ensure he had people wrapped around his finger so that he could snap his fingers and have what he desired in his hands at a moment’s notice. And Lily fell for that. She became the next in a long line of women who were eating out of the palm of his hand, all because he promised her the world. He promised her security, happiness, and peace. Instead, she got fear, chaos, and emotional trauma. The exact thing she was terrified of. He used her anxiety against her, used the fragility of her mind to keep her trapped in his web like a fly.

She was sort of thankful for Mary. she was a sweet woman, the two got along and were pretty amicable. Lily knew if she needed anything, Mary would help out, and vice versa. Because you can have a messy marriage, but keep a healthy relationship with the wrecking ball that destroyed the thin wall that still stood. Lily was grateful for Mary because she was able to open the blonde’s eyes to see what was going on. The web of lies that Scott had caught Lily in, like a spider, finding its next meal.

And every time she saw him, saw that sideways smile and forehead creases, all of the emotions he caused caught up to Lily in a ball, and took up camp in the middle of her throat, rendering her speechless for the majority of their brief conversations. Which is where we pick up, in the hallway of Scott and Mary's apartment building, Scott holding his daughter, Leila, in his arms. something Lily didn't believe she had ever seen her ex do with their son.

"Traffic was insane...sorry I'm a little late." Lily mumbled, her broken eyes darting everywhere, in an attempt to keep them from making contact with the deep-set hazel of Scott’s iris'.

"Don't apologize. I'll never complain about spending a bit longer with Hunter." Scott said, his voice still as soft as a marshmallow. Lily couldn't help but wince ever so gently as it floated into her ears, sending a rush of adrenaline and nerves to her heart, picking up its pace.

"Mom!" a young boy’s voice called before bursting past the older man, almost knocking down his mother, gripping onto her waist.

"Hey kiddo," Lily smiled, hand running through the blonde locks atop of her son’s head, smiling gently as he hid his face into her side. turning her attention back to Scott, she gave a weak smile, "Thanks for letting me pick him up early. my parents are coming down for dinner."

“No problem. Say hi to Abel and Alicia for me," Scott smiled, causing a shiver to run down Lily's spine. The idea of saying that Scott said hi made Lily sick to her stomach. Her parents despised the father of their grandson, for good reason. As far as the Osborne parents were concerned, Scott was a dead man, "See ya, buddy."

Saying a quick goodbye, Lily and Hunter found themselves back in the car as quickly as the conversation that just happened. Hunter was quiet at first, waiting for Lily to regain her composure for the second time that day. Her forehead rested on the leather of her steering wheel, deep breaths escaping her lips as her fingers wrapped around the wheel. A few moments later, Lily relaxed back into her seat, turning on the car.

"So Grandma and Grandpa are coming over?" Hunter asked, breaking the comfortable silence the mother and son had going on, "When did you find out?"

Lily tried her best to repress the smile the threatened to explode onto her face. She loved giving Hunter surprises. With everything the boy has been through, being able to see his face light up when he's faced with something unexpected was the only high she'd ever need. It was rare to see such extreme emotion out of Hunter, and let alone something as raw as the joy he gets with surprises. And this one that she had planned, it would go down in history. He would be talking about it for ages to come, for the rest of his life even. That's what Lily wanted, for him to create perfect childhood memories he'd be able to tell his kids in the future. To gather them up around the table at Christmas and pass stories around about how he and Grandma spent a day with Earth’s mightiest heroes and got to see where they worked. That was the goal of a parent, to make their child's days as memorable as they could.

"Oh the other day they mentioned it, but nothing was ever confirmed. I got a text this morning from Grandma about it," Lily hummed nonchalantly as she pulled out of the Brooklyn apartment complex, and turned onto the busy roads.

Connecting his phone to the Apple car play that came with the vehicle, Hunter spoke again, "That'll be nice. I know you miss seeing them sometimes. Long Island is so far away from Manhattan, why did you move away?"

Lily's smile grew wide, the dimple in her cheek creating a cavern of happiness at her son’s words. He was as intuitive as they come, and as observant as all get out. Truly, Lily believed herself to be one of the luckiest mothers in the world to be blessed with an angel-like Hunter. He was pure of heart and as sharp as a whip. He always picked up on Lily's microaggressions, and all of the small mannerisms she showed while in certain moods. She was never sure how he became as smart as he did, but doctors insisted it was because of her intelligence. That it carried on down to her son, and how he reflected her as a child. And Lily lived a loving and wonderful childhood, so hopefully, that too would relay to her son.

Reaching over to ruffle his hair, Lily let out a gentle sigh, "Well Hunter, I moved out here to the city with Auntie Gen when I graduated high school. I got into Columbia University, which was my dream school. So I came out here to study, while Aunt Gen was over in NYU, studying business. I moved out here for the opportunity, and I'm glad I did because you were the result."

Hunter let out a small noise as he acknowledged the story that his mother just shared while scanning Spotify for the best playlist. The two loved the eighties and nineties, so he settled on a premade group of songs from that era. The bass boomed throughout the car as the two began to belt out the lyrics to Billie Jean by Michael Jackson. It was moments like these when Lily felt most content. Just her and Hunter, living their best lives together as they sang to oldies but goodies. Being able to see his eyes light up whenever they passed a cool-looking building or when they saw a cute dog or one that looked like Joey. Her favourite moment though, the cream of the crop is when he sings. Though not a professional, he always looked so at ease while letting his voice dance through the car.

About twenty minutes into the drive, he caught on though, "This isn't the way home. Where are we going?" his voice rang, turning down the volume of the Lionel Richie.

She had to think quickly. If he noticed the slightest of hesitation in Lily's speech, the surprise would be blown, and he wouldn't be surprised when they didn't stop at home. So, she did what she thought would throw him off the most, "We've gotta hit a grocery store on the way home. Aunt Gen needs something for the cafe and this is the only place that sells it near here. Is that okay kiddo?"

Nodding, he turned the music back up. This meant that he believed what she said. If he didn't, he'd press on further. Interrogating Lily until he got the truth out of her. He would make a hell of a lawyer in the future, due to the strange ability he had of getting into people’s minds. He was like Scott in that way, but different at the same time. He never used it to manipulate, or use people, but to find out the truth. Get the answers. learn. That was Hunter’s goal, not to make people the puppets in his little game. he was curious, that was all.

Shortly after the small conversation between the two introverts, Lily took the turn that would lead them straight to the compound. Her aged eyes glanced towards the world that sat in her passenger seat. He hadn't noticed yet, and Lily was thankful. It would be more exhilarating if he didn't realize until they went up to the door. Knocking on the door and having someone like Captain America answer? Now that was something that Lily would love to witness. To see her son's heart swell at the sight of one of his heroes answering the door. She could only imagine what he would say, and couldn't seem to fathom how he would react.

Pulling into the parking lot, Lily stopped the car and turned it off, capturing Hunters’ attention. He sat up in his seat and glanced out the window, a confused yet intrigued look masking his typical stoic facial expression. Stepping out of the car, Lily gestured with her left hand to follow her up towards the doors. Hesitantly, Hunter followed along, his shoes making gentle noises on the rocks and pebbles below his feet.

"Where are we?" he questioned, hand slipping into the fragile one of his mothers, "and why are your hands always so cold?"

Lily remained silent, simply walking up the stairs of the compound. Her neck craned to look down at the bewildered boy, who couldn't help but swivel his head around in an attempt to recognize his surroundings. But the only time he would have ever seen this place was maybe in pictures, so Lily was sure that she had gotten the surprise in the bag. That she was able to dupe the boy that could rarely ever be surprised. Now that would be an accomplishment.

Lily's free hand reached up and knocked on the grey doors in front of them, pursing and nibbling on her lips in an attempt to hide the mischievous and prideful grin that threatened to give away the present. She had been looking forward to this moment the entire car ride, hardly being able to contain the excitement that rushed through her veins at the idea of her son’s wildest dreams coming true. Well, his wildest dream would be to become an Avenger or any sort of superhero. But a mother could only do so much.

Voices rang out behind the door before it was swung open to reveal Sam Wilson. The man who had originally offered to take the eleven-year-old boy on a tour of the place, "Lily! you made it, was starting to get worried you two would bail on us," he teased, chocolate brown eyes readjusting to look down at the blonde boy beside Lily, "Hey Hunter, nice to see you again."

Her son’s hand had slipped out of her own, which caught Lily's attention. she looked down at him and felt her heart swell about a million times bigger than it already was. His smile reached ear to ear, cheeks growing to a rosy red and his pupils dilated to eleven. He seemed frozen, stuck to his one position on the porch step of the Avengers compound. Her frail hand tapped the boy on the back, urging him to respond and walk into the building.

"He's a tad awestruck it seems," Lily chuckled, taking his small hand into her own and walking past the threshold of the home, "It took me a bit to find this place."

"Privacy is key for us," a voice rang out from a bit away. Lily's eyes averted towards the sound and she spotted Captain America. The Captain America. Steve Rogers. Every girl’s dream man. He was even more gorgeous in person, and Lily couldn't help but feel choked up as she looked at him. The way his chest looked as though it was going to burst through the fabric of his shirt, or how she could see his sky blue eyes from eight meters away, "Glad you guys could make it. Picked a perfect day, everyone’s around."

"Why don't I take Hunter down through the compound so he can get the full tour," Sam grinned down at the beaming boy, "Will you be joining us, Ms. Osborne?"

Oh no. If she went, her mind wouldn't be able to handle it. The idea of walking around with her son in a place like this was already overwhelming. Feeling as though she should be able to do more to give him the luxury life he so badly deserved. Making him feel as though he was the king of the world. Not to mention, the entire place itself was a lot to take in. And with her anxiety already running high today, it would be better for Lily's mind and heart to wait out in the car or something. Plus, Hunter was with the Falcon, she had no worries.

"It's okay, you two go have fun, I'll wait in the car," Lily said, a tight smile pulling at the sides of her lips as she ran a thumb across her son’s chin, nodding for him to follow the superhero. And as if he was in a trance, Hunter followed Sam like a zombie, or may a dog following a treat. Either would work in this scenario.

"Oh no don't go wait in your car, come sit with us. I'm sure Bucky wouldn't mind seeing you again after your run-in yesterday," Steve smiled, making Lily's knees feel like they had miraculously turned into jello, "He's making blueberry pancakes for a part of the team."

Lily's mouth ran dry. Blueberry pancakes. Just like the ones she had gotten the day prior. The ones he had asked her about. Her cheeks grew hot as a magenta colour blush forced itself onto them, giving away the embarrassment and intrigue she had. It couldn't have been anything. He was just making blueberry pancakes. That's normal. It was an average thing for people to do. Especially when you've got nothing else to do. right?

"He knew you may have been coming, that's why he made them." Steve whispered as he offered his arm for Lily, beginning to lead her towards the kitchen.

So he did make them on purpose.

[antihero-writings]

The Offspring of a Dream

Fandom: Bloodborne

Fic Summary: Why does the Doll call you “good”?

Notes: 

Obviously the lore in this game is very hidden and up for interpretation, so this fic in part has to do with my personal interpretation of things, so please keep that in mind! I know there's a theory about the Doll being a Great One/Avatar out there (haven't read up about it much through), but currently I find there's something rather beautiful about the Doll truly just being a doll, who is genuinely kind, and just trying to help us out, because the game has little to no other characters like that. I also know whether or not we are "good" is definitely up for great debate, but I'm the kind of person who likes to see/read redemption into everything, so this is just my rather optimistic interpretation of events.

Also, I don't necessarily ship the Hunter and the Doll, but I do think it's a cute ship and enjoy content for it...So you're free to interpret the internal monologue as platonic or romantic, whichever you prefer.

This is one of the only times I've used second person, so go easy on me...I chose second person because I didn't find third or first nearly as compelling for it.

I'd really really appreciate it if you could leave a comment!! They seriously do make my week, and give me the motivation to keep writing!!

I also have another Bloodborne fic about Vicar Amelia's transformation, I'd love it if you could check that out too!! Links in a reblog!!

The Offspring of a Dream: 

“New Hunter”

“Mister Hunter”

“Hunter”

“A Hunter!”

“Moon-Scented Hunter”

“Miss Hunter!”

“Good Hunter of the Church,

"have you seen the thread of light?”

“Welcome home,

Good Hunter.

What is it you desire?”—

No name.

Not a greeting, nor title.

No adjectives or addendums like ‘holy’ or ‘accursed,’ ‘beast,’ or ‘man.’ Not a crow, or a wolf, or an avenger, or a knight. Nor a roar of what you hunted.

A lonely hunter without a name, or a word.

Just a hunter, who may or may not be good.

And it was a doll, a doll who had a dreamer, but was equally lonely—

Is this all in my mind? Did I dream her up?

It was this Doll who said you were good, every time you arrived in the dream, always ready to turn your desires, the echoes of a scourge, into strength.

She said it faithfully, and it was not easy to recognize when she said it, it wasn’t a greeting, or a title.

It was a prayer.

Because she had watched a thousand “good hunters” walk through the dream, and a thousand fall. A thousand keep her company, a thousand ask for her to make them stronger with the echoes of their killing. A thousand become drunk with blood, trapped in a very different dream, that some might call nightmare. And a thousand become something other than a hunter…something other than good.

A thousand graves.

Graves for the ones who woke up.

So with a title she prayed to the moon that this one—this one—would be good.

That’s all she needed. That’s all any of them ever needed; one good man.

The title ‘hunter’ was meant to be synonymous with good. A force of holiness to purge the impurity. …But their name became equivalent with evil. Or maybe it was from the very start.

The spreading corruption burned.

Before the blood parched their lips and ravaged their bones. After. At the end of the day, we’re all human. At the end of the day, we’re all beasts.

Born of the blood… undone by the blood…

So she—inhuman, human—she prayed that one day there would be a hunter who could fight the monsters and not become one. That the blood wouldn’t burn and coil and wrap its tendrils around them, twist them inside out, and make them something more than just a “good hunter”…and so much less. She cast goodness over you, as if reminding you not to give in to the beast. Not to give in to your humanity. Reminding you that though you were a hunter, though you were drenched in blood, with heart full of holes, and brain full of eyes, you could still be good.

She put her hands together and she prayed. She prayed, and she helped you on your journey, she channeled death into strength, she whispered, and she tended to frail, living flowers, and feeble, dying, old men, and she cried.

Any god-fearing man, not burdened with an overabundance of naiveté, would know that dolls don’t whisper. They don’t ask if you love them. They don’t move. They can’t help. They don’t pray. And they definitely don’t cry.

Dolls sit lifeless on the floors of children’s nurseries, and the abandoned workshops of bitter, maniacal, old men.

Is this just a dream? Will I know you when I wake?

What’s waking worth without you?

If the gods don’t love me I still promise to love you.

You watched human hands twist into claws, skin into fur, faces into tentacles, tongues into snakes, and eyes into eyes, and wondered if perhaps this doll, with her porcelain skin and hair, with her tears and prayer, if she was more human than the rest. This doll—who asked about gods and love, who cared for you, who hoped even the worst hunters might be worth something in another, better world—was more human than the offspring of an old, forgotten town. More human than we, who are born and die by the blood.

How was she born, and how would she die? What caused her to breathe, to come alive? Was it just our minds, some ill-gotten, internal eyes? Was something so primitive as hope or love? Or was it the twisted will of some faceless moon without a man in it?

Is it just me?

Is it my mind?

Tell me she’s more than children’s toys, and old men’s dreams.

Tell me she’s real.

Could something made of metal and mechanics, and the puppet strings of our own minds die?

Do dreams die when we wake up?

Or, in the end when men are all either monsters or gods, would she stand in the wreckage, the only real, awake thing left…the only thing left that’s still human?

When men become gods, do our creations become human?

She watched them fall. She watched them reach for bare threads of guiding moonlight with human hands, and howl at the same moon with a wolf’s cry, and she still had enough hope left in her to call you “good hunter.” To believe that you would be different.

Did she say this to everyone? Did she hope every time? Or was it just you? And which meant more? If she hoped despite just how many had failed, or if she saw something different within you alone?

Here you stood, steeped in the blood of beasts. Ugly thing. Killer. Cold and merciless.

And she called you good.

Did that mean she saw the blood, and the murder, and thought it was good? Or that she looked past all that and saw the good still?

How could she, a doll, an echo herself, know what it meant to be good?

Perhaps she was made by someone who had seen a world with good left in it. Or a world which was evil, but in which there was someone like her, who encompassed all the good in the world to him.

Perhaps that’s what she was to you too. The good. The human left. Without her you may never keep fighting. You had no one else, after all. Your friends were either mad, or intoxicated, or destined to die, or destined for…worse.

Is she just a trick of the moonlight?

She was the embodiment of hope.

You tried to be good. For her. For the world. They all did. But most became drunk on blood, or knowledge, and lost themselves along the way.

What is it you desire?

It always starts good. Goals, on paper, always seem so noble. In practice, so bloodthirsty.

Laurence made a church. A force of holiness and healing. And he turned the city into a madhouse, a cage for monsters.

Wilhelm made a school. A place of mindfulness and learning. And he dabbled in rituals to hide the moon.

The old hunters thought stealing a child wouldn’t incite the wrath of its mother.

They all thought the world could be saved, that the plague could end through quarantine or amputation.

When they cut off the diseased heads the blood only spread. When they stayed in their houses they went insane instead.

The world needed more than a simple fix to return to being “good.”

The hunters thought they were fighting for a noble cause. They thought they were all good…and they turned into the very beasts they fought, awaiting another hunter to spill their blood, and start the cycle again.

The hunters only did what they could; keep killing. That was all they knew to do to get rid of the the beasts in this brick forest.

They needed a hunter who would break the cycle. Do more than just kill and give in to the call of the blood. Who would seek the paleblood, and end this dreadful night.

Transcend the hunt.

But how to eclipse the chase when evolution without courage is the name of ruin?

A hunter who would look beyond today’s night, today’s hunt, today’s beasts. Beyond the blood. Resist its seduction. A hunter who could learn where all this started, find it. And do what hunters do best:

Kill it.

—(For sometimes death is freedom, at least when it’s a dream)—

Seek the paleblood. Hunt the great ones.

—(And sometimes waking up is far worse.)

The formless blood wanted to have a child. Perhaps he thought he was giving those he chose a gift of a sort. Only horror followed.

Every great one loses its child.

One particular woman, long ago, held the name of this broken town. Perhaps it was only fitting that the child of blood and name was born in voice alone.

This child’s formless cries echoed through more than the nightmare; through the waking world—(if you had enough eyes, at least)—calling you to comfort it, to silence it.

Could everyone in the town hear it? Is that what drove them mad? Listening to a child’s endless cries, with no hope of comforting it?

Many had tried to contact it. Some tried to become gods…and misplaced their minds in the process. But you found it. Knowing it was not to be exalted, but destroyed.

You were a hunter after all.

So you killed the only thing keeping it alive, the thing desperately trying to play a lullaby and sing it to sleep.

You yourself played a tiny music box for it, from the beginning of it all—that belonged to a family ravaged by the blood, the hunt, which held a song about love and loss—just to hear it laugh, before the nightmare let out it last.

Cords of thirds. Cords of three.

One from the child of voice. One from the child of night. One from the child stolen long ago, sitting in an old, abandoned workshop.

A workshop alive now only in hunters’ dreams.

You could have left your own nightmare long ago. You could have woken from this dream and believed the world was not so dark, not so strange, not so fascinating.

But this wasn’t the only nightmare you had to liberate.

There was another, another for which all not-so-good hunters were destined—(and thus you too if the Doll’s prayers were in vain). They sent you there with a piece of a drunken man before you yourself became, inevitably, intoxicated, in this bloody bar, so that you could, perhaps navigate sleeping minds with your sanity in tact.

We, the offspring of an old, forgotten secret. Destined and bound by the chase.

So our forefathers sinned?

Ludwig thought he was holy, fighting for a noble cause, and he stood, accursed, in a bath of the blood he spilled, trampling the ghosts of those he killed.

Is it possible there exist moonlight in even the darkest nights?

When we reach for the thread of light, none of us ever want to know what it truly is. Hope can be so vicious that way.

The church turned their eyes from their hands.

All too often, when men try to become gods—or something akin—they become monsters. There's a reason the moon is out of our reach.

Laurence thought the blood would heal. That the gods wouldn’t mind a little thievery. He thought they could keep their humanity in tact, as long as they prayed hard enough.

And he watched the world burn. Watched his hope turn his universe into a waking, walking nightmare. And he burned in his own broken Neverland, ever searching for his own lost, rotted humanity.

Maria, beloved apprentice Maria—

…Is that you, my dear Doll?

Who was there from the beginning. Who vowed to forsake the blood—including her own. Maria, so sickened by her actions, who threw the hunt down a well. Who vowed to in death to be the hunt’s secret keeper, and sat, alone, a lonely princess at the top of the clock tower, alive by the puppet strings of a nightmare—

She sacrificed herself, her values, to purge you from the plague of wild curiosity.

A corpse should be left well enough alone.

And at last, behind time, was a quaint, sad, little village, that lay dripping with secrets, ransacked for its eyes.

A quaint little village where it all started. Where the sky wept, and sun collapsed in on itself, and the great lake held too soft and depraved a secret.

Every great one loses its child…but this one lost his mother.

A quaint little village where a sympathetic mother fell from the stars. Where her child was ripped from her, dissected for parts, by the very people you once thought were good.

The wrath of an angry god is to be feared. But the wrath of a sympathetic god is far worse.

And the wrath of a mother is a lasting curse.

Death is freedom, at least in a dream. But when waking up is far worse, we rewrite the past within our dreams.

This was an orphans dream, pulling the hunt into a nightmare, as he waited to be freed from reality, as he waited for a hunter to rewrite the sins of their ancestors.

As he waited for a good man.

And the spirit thanked you. And the hunt thanked you.

And the Doll thanked you, for a shackle she never even knew was there had been lifted. She thanked you on behalf of the first hunter, for he slept a little sounder.

But there was one last dream that needed slaying:

Your own.

You could have woken long ago. You could have forsaken it all for the sunrise, and left someone else to find the answers, left someone else to be good.

It would have been nice to believe the world made sense.

It would have been nice to believe the dark side of the moon wasn’t made of blood and bones, haunting a poor, old man.

Few dreams offer you the choice to die before the bad part starts—(or perhaps simply to put an end to all the ‘bad parts’ you’ve gone through, to negate the possibility of more). But you would not bow to a happy, false reality.

Neither would you allow yourself to be taken captive by the nameless presence of the moon, made to perpetuate this hunt endlessly.

You understood the word “hunter” was never synonymous with good. They lost that title before the hunt even started. They lost that title when a little orphan was stolen from his mother.

You understood at last. It was her. Maria. The one who threw her weapon down the well in protest. She—(or at least, a version of her)—stood by your side, trying to guide you back all this time. Trying to guide you back to the beginning, where perhaps her sins could be atoned for. Where perhaps there could be good still.

So in a lonely field full of flowers, it was not you who were released from the dream.

You had enough eyes to see and slay the presence of the moon, who had orchestrated this all.

We’re all just puppets of the moon.

…But a cord of three strands is not so easily broken.

So in the end you neither woke nor dreamed, but saw the world as it was—though through newborn eyes. A child of the hunt. A child of the dream. Not destined to create a nightmare…but perhaps a better reality.

When the Doll picked up your small body, she smiled at last. She knew you’d succeeded, for this was unlike any hunter’s death, or transformation, she knew. She knew you’d atoned for the sins of your predecessors. She knew you’d freed the children, the nightmares, and the men.

And she called you “good hunter” still. For she knew the gods listened to her prayers after all. She knew that though you were a hunter no more—

You were certainly good.

[connan-l]

Skeletal Doll

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationship: Michel Bollinger & Morgana, slight Michel/Giselle in the background

Summary: Michel had met her as a soulless skeleton, hated her as a witch, saved her as a girl — so of course he would do his possible to keep helping her even a thousand years later.

Content Warnings: Death mention and depiction of a corpse, slight trauma, vague allusions to child abuse and Michel and Morgana’s pasts.

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: Michel and Morgana’s friendship means the world to me.

Takes place post-canon/Reincarnation, so spoilers for all the games.

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That place always smelled like death.

Whenever he would cross over the chapel, climb up those long, interminable stairs and open the door leading to the room on top of the tower, a suffocating odor of dust and mold and dried blood would flare up his nostrils.

To be honest, he didn’t really know what “death” smelt like, but if it had a smell it certainly would be this one.

This should be repelling — something that would make anyone run away with a grimace, but for some reason, it had the exact opposite on him. It drew him in.

The skeleton — the corpse — that rested there, immobile, at the bottom of the room had an unusual alluring attraction to it. An attraction that couldn’t help but makes him comes here regularly, once every few days.

He knew there was something deeply unhealthy about this routine he had created. Climbing a tower to spend time with a skeleton was deranged, creepy. Mad. In his darkest hours, he thought with irony that maybe his family had been right about his lack of sanity, after all.

Whenever he would go down the stairs and stir away from the tower, his stomach would turn and an urge to threw up would overwhelm him. He felt disgusting and unsightly. Taking comfort in the corpse of an abandoned mansion, how depraved was that?

And it was not a positive kind of comfort, either.

Even so, he still stepped forward towards the dead body. He stared at it in silence for a long time, then after some hesitation slowly sat next to it.

When he was a child, his mother would often gift him dolls. Pretty, girly little things, that were certainly made by skilled artisans and must’ve been quite expansive. He had played a bit with them when he was really young, but once he started growing up he began to actively hate them and to hid them away in their house, to his mother’s chagrin. He couldn’t help but think she seemed to love these dolls a lot more than he ever did.

At some point, he started to wonder what girls even found alluring to these — if he were to be honest, they looked more creepy than pretty to him. Those were miniature little girls who stared at you with glassy, vacant eyes without moving, without flinching no matter what happened to them. They were just like dead bodies.

He had came to hate dolls over the years, and yet, now almost an adult, he found himself playing with one, except the difference was that this one was a real dead body.

The skeleton wasn’t really all that different from a doll to him, he thought cynically. It wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, wouldn’t flinch no matter what he would do to it. He played make believe with it, talking to it as if it could answer, embracing it as if it could understand his pain and loneliness.

He could pretend pitying the poor thing, look down on it for being more pitiful than him, and found some kind of sick comfort in it.

It was both his plaything and his companion, and the only thing in this manor that could bring him some sort of peace and solace.

Slowly, he extended his arm and brushed the dirty bones with his fingertips. They looked so frail, so feeble, that he thought he could break them just by doing so. Yet, when he reached out to the fleshless hand and hold it in his tightly, the bone stayed solid and firm.

It was cold, and lifeless, and rough. The doll didn’t flinch at his contact, like always.

He knew this was miserable and pitiful and creepy and insane.

But at this point he was just as broken and dead as this skeleton, and in the end it did not matter.

So he kept holding the bony hand in silence.

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Michel woke up with a start. Beads of sweat ran down his face, his messy hair clung to his skin disagreeably, and his chest struggled to get back a normal breathing.

In his upset, half-asleep state, his first reflex was to look around him, his eyes searching for Giselle — but she was just next to him, sound asleep, just like she had been when he first went to bed.

In the past year they had been together, he had noticed Giselle was a pretty heavy sleeper, unlike him. She never seemed to wake up in the middle of the night, or to have nightmares, for that matter. A part of him wondered if she slept so much to get back at all those centuries she had spent without experiencing tiredness.

Either way, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now. He looked at the clock on his bedside, which indicated ‘02:17’ of a faint red light, and sighed. He gently kissed his fiancée on the forehead, then got out of the bed as silently as he could so as to not wake her up.

His legs were still trembling when he stumbled into the kitchen, the emotions of his nightmare fresh in his mind. Now that he was awake, he couldn’t really remember what the dream had been about — his past life, definitely, but which part of it precisely was unclear… Usually it was those miserable months he spent suffering Aimée’s abuse, or his brothers’ betrayal, or the way his corpse had been crucified. Sometimes all of those blended in together and he couldn’t make any difference between the events anymore.

Having memories of his past life was odd — sometimes they felt like fibers of his imagination, something so far away he made it up himself and could almost forget it at any moment, and at other times it felt so vivid that it was almost like he was back there again. Dreams were when he had the most palpable experiences, almost as if he revived those moments in real time, but nowadays they weren’t all that frequent and happened rarely. He wondered if Giselle or Morgana felt the same too, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

His mind still a fuzzy mess, he grabbed a mug and turned on the machine coffee, which purred softly as it started to work. The sound felt reassuring somehow, grounding him in reality and reminding him he was in the 21 th century and not lost in a cursed mansion in the middle ages. When his coffee was finally ready, he felt the need to get some fresh air, so he snatched a vest and his mug and headed towards the door.

Michel stepped into the building’s courtyard and breathed the cold air of the night. The sky was still dark outside, but he couldn’t distinguish any stars, as per usual in Paris. That was something he missed from the mansion — being able to see a beautiful, black starry sky, which was impossible here in such a big, polluted city. He hadn’t cared at all about the sky or the stars during the ten years he’d been locked inside the cursed house, but when Giselle arrived this changed, and from times to times she would drag him outside in the middle of the night so they could watch the stars together. Michel had found this annoying at first, but little by little he’d started to secretly enjoy it, though he never admitted as such to her. So he was sad this was a habit they couldn’t reproduce here in their new home.

As a sad smile rose up on his lips, he was about to take a sip of his hot coffee when suddenly he caught sight of something moving. His first thought was that it must be a stray cat or a dog, but quickly his imagination began working and he got worried. What if it was a thief? Or worse, what if the building was actually haunted and it was a ghost? Honestly, among the worst parts of having his past memories returned to him was that now he knew that stuff like ghosts and curses were real, and so sometimes he couldn’t help but be a little paranoid. He certainly had his fair share of bad spirits for the next hundreds of centuries.

Michel quickly surveyed the area, then tried to look for something to defend himself with — unfortunately the only tool he could find was an old broom Giselle must’ve forgotten here the day before. It certainly wouldn’t be very effective against an actual threat, but it was better than nothing, so he grabbed it tightly, slowly advanced towards where he heard the noise while brandishing his made-up weapon… and then a scream resounded.

There, he didn’t see a criminal or some supernatural creature… but just a young girl who looked at him with two wide golden eyes.

“M-Morgana?”

“Oh my God! Were you going to hit me with this thing?”

The girl stared at him with disbelieved eyes which quickly morphed into a glare, as Michel stood there with the broom still up in the air.

“I-I thought you were a thief!” Or a ghost — but that, he wasn’t going to tell her. He shook his head and quickly put down the broom. “A-Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” the girl replied dryly.

“Morgana. You’re pacing in the courtyard at two A.M.”

“So what? Is that illegal now or something?”

“No, but most people don’t do that. Most people sleep at two A.M.”

“Well, clearly, you’re not sleeping either.”

Well, she had a point, he supposed. But he wasn’t that much of an obtuse fool to not notice this was a way to try to deflect the conversation and put the matter on him.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Why is that the conclusion you’re jumping to?” Morgana replied defensively, but somehow, Michel instantly knew he was right.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently.

“I did not have a bad dream. Good grief, do you even listen to people when they talk?”

She sighed in an annoyed way, then began to play with one of her long red lock with her finger. Her hair was let down and she was still in her nightgown — a strange sight to Michel, as he wasn’t used to see her without her braids like that. It made her seems a bit more vulnerable than usual somehow, an understanding he had caught her at a bad time he chooses to be considerate enough to not press the topic any further — he knew well enough that trying to make her talk would only close her off even more, anyway.

“Well, I had a bad dream.”

Morgana arched an eyebrow. “I’d guessed as much. And?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at Morgana’s cold indifference. “Usually when people tell you they had a nightmare, you ask if they’re all right and what the bad dream was about, you know.”

The girl eyed him from head to toe, then crossed her arms. “You seems fine. And I am not interested in knowing what your dream was about.”

Michel smiled wryly. “As expected of you.”

“I have always thought it was stupid to ask someone what their bad dream is about. They said ‘talking about it make you feel better,’ but it’s a lie, I have never felt better after talking about a nightmare. It is not going to erase it not matter what, so why bother?”

“Is that why you don’t want to talk about yours?”

Morgana narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to though, Michel already knew what she was thinking.

“It’s not the first time you wake up in the middle of the night because of one either, right?”

“And how would you know that? Are you stalking me?”

“No, I have ears, and I do notice you seem to make quite some noise while the sun isn’t up yet.”

Morgana seemed a little surprised at that. She probably didn’t know Michel was aware of her nocturnal walks — and to be fair, it did took him a lot of time before noticing them, given she was as discreet as a cat. It was only when he himself had sleep troubles he would remark that his neighbor wasn’t as asleep as she should be.

“Well,” the girl said after regaining her composure. “Again, I’m not the only one, am I?”

“That’s true, but I am not trying to hide it.”

“Me neither. That’s just none of your business to start with. Also, are you really not trying to hide it? I wonder if Giselle knows about these, hmm?”

Michel frowned, as the provocative voice tone of the teenager in front of him started to get under his skin. “She does know, actually.”

“Oh really? Then you don’t mind me asking her tomorrow?”

His frown deepened and he had to muster all he could to not glare at her. Most of the time, the three of them were getting along perfectly fine, but if Michel were to push Morgana a little too much about a topic she didn’t like, she would resort to some of her manipulative tactics from when she was a witch. Michel wondered sometimes if she did it in purpose or if it was just a habit hard to kill for her. Either way, he still didn’t appreciate her doing this, at all.

“In case you weren’t aware, after everything that happened I swore to not keep any secrets to Giselle anymore. You can ask her if you want, but I already told her all about my nightmares, so I’d rather you’d stop threatening this kind of underhanded blackmail, would you?”

“Then stop putting your nose in my business, and when I told you I have no bad dreams then that mean I have no bad dreams.”

She glared at him coldly, then turned around and disappeared inside the building, before almost slapping the door behind her.

Michel winced and let himself fall on the bench in front of the house, before staring at the sky with exhaustion. Morgana could be so annoying, but still he hadn’t meant to anger her — he genuinely was worried about her, and had thought that there was maybe a way he could soothe her nightmares. That certainly wasn’t healthy to wake up in the middle of the night so often.

He took a sip of his coffee — which was now lukewarm — and kept gazing at the pure black sky, trying to find any glimpses of some stars or of the moon.

But he couldn’t find any.

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“—and then she told me I didn’t need it! Can you believe that? How on earth does that makes any sense?”

“Hmm.”

Giselle was spacing around in the living room agitatedly while Michel stared outside the window and nodded vaguely to every sentences she uttered without actually understanding their meanings. He wasn’t sure what his fiancée was upset about — and he knew that he should listen to her, but somehow her words couldn’t manage to pierce through his thick skull that was currently engulfed by other worries.

“I mean, I like to think I’m a rather patient person, but there are still some limits, you know? What am I supposed to do now?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, Michel. Are you listening to me?”

“Mmhmm…”

“Michel, this morning I went out and killed your father so that we could eat him for dinner. Does that sounds good enough to you?”

“Hmm, perfect.”

Giselle suddenly placarded her hands on the table brusquely, almost knocking over the water pitcher and glasses that were on it. Michel jumped and practically fell off from his chair, before blinking with incredulity at the frustrated woman in front of him.

“I’ve been talking to you for at least half an hour!” She exclaimed, offended. “Did you even realize I was here at all?”

“Y-Yeah, of course… Sorry, I was… lost in thoughts.”

“Well, obviously,” Giselle said dryly before crossing her arms. “May I ask what’s worrying you so much that you’d dare to ignore your beautiful, lovely future wife?”

Michel smiled a little in an apologetic way, but thankfully Giselle didn’t seem all that angry. Maybe screaming in the void about what had frustrated her had been enough to soothe her mind, even with her partner not paying attention to her at all.

“Really, I’m sorry,” he added. “I was just… well, I didn’t sleep well last night, you know, so…”

Giselle hummed pensively, then took a seat at the table and sat in front of Michel, her face now serious.

“Another bad dream?”

Michel sighed and nodded vaguely, his gaze falling once again outside the window next to him.

“What was it about?” Giselle continued gently.

“I don’t really remember it… It felt too blurry and far away… I just know it wasn’t a good one. But that’s not actually the thing that’s bothering me right now, not really.”

Giselle arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It’s Morgana.”

She narrowed her eyes at this, and her expression became unreadable. Michel wondered if that meant she had been expecting it, or if that was something else entirely.

For all the time they’d known each other, Giselle still felt like a mystery to him sometimes.

What he had told Morgana yesterday had been the truth — in the past year they’d been together, he had always tried his best to be as open with her as possible, even with things he’d rather keep to himself.

He just didn’t feel like Giselle tried her best to do the same in return. In fact, it felt like she would often actively shut him down and tried to hide things from him.

But that wasn’t an issue that mattered right now.

“I came across her last night after I woke up from my nightmare. You know how I told you I noticed she often wandered around in the middle of the night?”

“Yes. Well, her having nightmares wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I tried to talk to her then, but she just ended up getting angry at me.”

“Not surprising here either. Is that what’s bothering you?”

Michel sighed. “It might not be surprising, but that’s still worrying me. I wish she could be… more open about her problems, at least with me.”

“She might have said she wanted to move on with her life, but you can’t expect her to suddenly act like a whole new person. It’s only natural for her to want to keep some things to herself.”

Giselle’s jade eyes shined of an odd glow as she said this, and her mouth formed a tight line. Michel couldn’t help but vaguely wonder if she was talking about herself more than Morgana, but quickly chased the thought away.

“I’m aware, but still…”

“Well, if it bothers you that much, just go apologize to her the next time you see her and try asking her more subtly. Just don’t pressure her, or she’ll shut down completely again. She trusts you more than anyone, Michel, so I’m sure she’ll talk to you when she feels like it.”

Giselle smiled at him — the same kind smile that always managed to make his heart beat a little faster — and he slowly felt the knot in his stomach untangle itself. It was amazing how just a simple chat with her managed to instantly make him feel better.

“You’re right, I’ll do that,” he said while returning her smile. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe next time do the same thing with me when I’m angrily complaining about clients.”

Michel grimaced. “Uh, right… Sorry about that.”

Giselle giggled and winked at him. “I forgive you. I still feel better now that I got to yell in to the void, even if you didn’t listen to a single word!”

Michel smiled again as he watched her head towards the kitchen, then heaved a sigh. He might also feel a bit better now, but Morgana still preoccupied his thoughts. He felt that he’d be unable to accomplish anything until he was able to see her again, so he decided to go talk to her as soon as possible.

Morgana was still at school at this hour, but her classes should end in two or three few hours. Michel didn’t know her exact schedule, but she generally came back around four or five in the afternoon. He could just wait for her here, but somehow he felt unable to stay put while doing nothing, so he had the strange impulse to go get her to her high school directly.

He didn’t realize how bad of an idea it was until he reached the building and saw the groups of teens hanging out all around. Michel had pretty much only bad memories of his high school years. He had been an awkward, introverted and solitary kid uncomfortable in his own skin — and this added to his growing body and newfound gender identity had created a lot of issues both at home and at school. His parents were thankfully decent people in this era, so there was no abuse, disownment or forced confinement involved, but it didn’t mean it had been easy for them to understand and adapt themselves to the situation. And that was without even including the weird dreams and flashback that sometimes plagued him from his past life, which at the time, without his full memories, he had no idea what this had been all about and was quite disturbing. Yeah, it had not been a fun period at all for him.

So somehow, setting foot once again near a high school and hearing some teenagers’ laughters and teasing revived some dreadful recollections and anxieties he hadn’t felt in about a decade, and it instantly made him feel like wanting to turn around and run away.

Don’t be ridiculous, he started to tell himself. You’re a twenty-eight year old grown ass man, why would you feel anxious approaching a bunch of high school kids?

He took a big inspiration, then got closer to the school’s gate with firm steps. He felt some the kids’ eyes fell on him questioningly, probably wondering what this weird, tall white-haired dude they’d never seen before was doing at a high school, and Michel couldn’t really blame them. Still, he tried his best to ignore them and his gaze darted left and right, desperately looking for some familiar red braids that would pop up at a corner. He kind of had the sensation of being like a father waiting to pick up his kid at the school’s gates, except Morgana wasn’t his kid and she wasn’t an elementary school child so it just felt doubly ridiculous and embarrassing.

He waited patiently for five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes. After twenty and still seeing no trace of the girl he was looking for, he started to question whether Morgana was actually finishing much later today. Or worst, maybe she had finished earlier and had already left. Michel bit his lip, and looked around at the group of high schoolers. At this point, he really couldn’t feel dumber than he already was, so he decided he might as well try to ask.

Trying to bury his nervousness about having to talk to some teenagers — except for Morgana, he hadn’t talked to one in years — he slowly approached the nearest group, constituted of two girls and three boys. The kids stopped chatting as soon as they realized the weird white-haired man wanted to talk to them, and they exchanged a confused glance with each others.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” Michel started, and he hated how awkward he sounded. “Would you happen to know a girl named Morgana? She’s short, with long red braided hair, and she kind of always have a glare that make her seems like she wants to kill you.”

At first, the kids’ faces scrunched up in bafflement, but one of the girls’ face lit up in understanding.

“Oh yeah. She’s in my class.”

Michel sighed in relief, then continued: “So are your classes finished already? Do you know where she is?”

The girl, Morgana’s classmate, tugged at one of her blonde locks while staring at Michel suspiciously. “We finished an hour ago, yeah… but, uh, who are you?”

“I’m—”

Michel opened his mouth, then realized suddenly he wasn’t sure what to answer. Her friend? He certainly was, but it sounded off to answer this somehow. Her landlord? True, but here again it didn’t sound like a good answer. The poor guy who found himself dragged into her thousand years revenge scheme against his will? Yeah, right.

“—her uncle,” he finally concluded. Right, that’ll do it for now. “I was supposed to meet her after she was finished, but…”

“Uncle?” One of the boys repeated in a joking tone. “Wow, so that weirdo isn’t some kind of cursed ghost and has an actual family? Ow!”

“Shut up, you’re not funny,” the blonde girl curtly replied while elbowing him in the ribs.

Michel looked at them and arched an eyebrow. “Are you friends with her?”

The boy chuckled. “Friends? No, we just see her from time to time.”

“She’s alone most of the time,” Morgana’s classmate added, shrugging. “I’ve never seen her hang out with anyone here. It’s not like we didn’t try to include her when she first came here, but… she either refused or ignored us. So, well, we left her alone.”

She added this in an annoyed tone, which meant Morgana’s cold behavior had slightly peeved her. Michel smiled wryly at this. It wasn’t really a surprise, as this was something he had kind of suspected already. Morgana never told them anything about her school life, but knowing her it wasn’t hard to guess she wasn’t especially looking for friends at her school. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but be a bit sad about this. As someone who had also been pretty much friendless during high school, he hoped Morgana would’ve been able to get at least a normal teenage life this time around.

“Either way, if you’re looking for her you won’t find her here. She left a while ago already,” the blonde girl continued.

“I see… Would you know where she went?”

The classmate winced. “Well, I’m not really sure, but… if I have to give it a guess, she’s probably at the graveyard again."

Michel kind of felt his brain shut down. "G-Graveyard...?"

He heard some of the boys snickering again, but they didn’t add anything when their friend shot them a glare.

“Yeah. There’s a small cemetery not far from here. From what I’ve seen, she goes there regularly, at least once a week.” She shrugged. “Gotta admit, it’s not a very common hobby. I think she gets along well with the graveyard caretaker too.”

Michel felt too stunned to say anything. Why on earth would Morgana go to the cemetery? And regularly, on top of that?

The only reason for that would be if someone she used to know was buried there… but Michel knew that both her mother and stepfather were still alive, and that she knew nothing about her birth father. So, her grandparents, maybe? She never talked about them. It was possible, but even so, it seemed a bit off for her to go visit them so frequently given how… distant she had seemed to be with her family.

“Well, uh… I see,” he finally added once more. “Thank you.”

He asked the teens where said graveyard was, and after they gave him directions he waved them good bye and finally left the high school. The place was indeed quite close from here, only about fifteen minutes of walk, right after a little church. Most of Paris’ cemeteries were quite big and carefully taken care of, but this one seemed to be the opposite of this; it was small, appeared badly maintained and almost abandoned, really. Michel stepped inside, and while looking for any trace of red he couldn’t help a shudder to spread through his body. It was desert and quiet, and almost felt like penetrating into some kind of eerie parallel world.

When he walked through the forest of large, gloomy tombs, a wind of nostalgia submerged him. He had only been to a graveyard a rare few times in his life, and the last was probably at least five or so years ago, when he went there with his mother to take care of his grandparents’ tombs. He had already lost all four of them — the last one was when he was three years old, and he had only brief, vague memories of the funerals. Even in his previous life, he had never known any of them either, as they all died long before he was even born — even before Georges was born, actually. Only Didier had known them, but even then he had been so young he had no recollections of them, according to what he had told him.

Lost in his own thoughts, it took him some time before realizing there was something off in his field of view. The place was completely empty, not a soul seemed to breath around, but then a few meters away from there he spotted what looked like a silhouette squatting on the ground. It was shaking and breathing heavily, as if hyperventilating, and curled up very tightly as if they tried to disappear. It would’ve been worrying and Michel would’ve intervened regardless of who this person was, but once he noticed the long burgundy braids falling behind the trembling shoulders his concern went up a notch and he ran towards the curled up girl.

“Morgana!” He exclaimed, his voice filled with panic as he kneeled down next to her and grabbed her shoulder. “Morgana, are you okay?”

However, the girl didn’t react at all to his questions, didn’t even glance at him. It was as if he wasn’t even here. Michel hesitated a moment, then tried to shake her gently and call her name once again — but nothing managed to get a response out of her. Her golden eyes were vacantly staring into the void, as if her soul itself had left her body, and an unpleasant feeling ran down Michel’s spine as the horrifying memory of that instant he had found the young girl dying on top of the tower flashed back into his mind. The sensation of her livid body in his arms felt as vivid as it had back then, and it unconsciously made him tighten his grip on her shoulder.

“Morgana!”

Finally, the girl tensed, and then she turned her head towards him. Her eyes very slowly regained some life and shine.

“You…” She uttered. “Ah…”

Michel wanted to feel relieved he’d managed to get her back, but… something felt off. The way she stared at him — it was like she was seeing a ghost or something. She didn’t seem to be here, even now.

“Morgana? Can you— Are you okay?”

“Um… I— Yes. Yes.”

All while talking, she eyed Michel from head to toe, then drifted her gaze on his hand on her shoulder, as if trying to analyze the situation bit by bit. Then she slowly started to get up, but her legs were trembling and she was clearly struggling to gather her strength, so he grabbed her arm firmly and helped her stand up. He didn’t let go until he was sure she stood steadily on her own two feet. She turned her head towards him, and then Michel thought he was the one hallucinating this time. Because she offered him a small smile, and gently uttered “Thank you,” as if it was the most natural thing in the world and not the most abnormal reaction he had ever seen. Since when Morgana could smile so sweetly and thanked people in such a genuine way?

“Morgana…? Are you okay?” He repeated once again, really doubting his eyes and mental health.

The girl tiled her eyes and looked up curiously at him.

“Yes? I am fine now. Thank you for asking.”

Once again, Michel felt a deep sensation of wrongness overwhelm him, but before he could open his mouth Morgana squinted her eyes and brought her hands to her head, as if her skull was suddenly aching. She stayed that way for a few long seconds, then rubbed her temples and shook her head. Finally she narrowed her eyes at him, and frowned.

“Michel…? What… What are you doing here?”

“What?” He replied, dumbfounded, because he really didn’t see what he could say much more.

“Since when are you here?”

“Since when…? Are you serious?”

Her frown deepened, and she stared at him as he was the one being unreasonable here.

“Of course I am. Have I never been anything but serious?” She asked coldly, and at least Michel was relieved to get back the normal Morgana he was used to. “So what are you doing here? Are you really stalking me after all?”

“Ah… no, um, I was… I wanted to talk to you, and some classmates of yours told me I could find you here… M-More importantly, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” she said annoyingly, in a tone of voice that clearly showed that she wasn’t, in fact, fine at all.

But Michel felt he couldn’t press any further the topic without her snapping at him, and angering her was the last thing he wanted to do. She turned around and started to walk slowly among the tombstones, her feet steady despite the fact she was still trembling a little.

“You wanted to talk to me?” She brutally cut off the silence.

“Yes… I wanted to apologize for yesterday. Um… you were right, it was none of my business, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t. No need to apologize.”

Silence fell back between them again as Michel just kept on following her silently. Morgana didn’t seem to have a destination in mind, she just crossed the graveyards while her eyes wandered aimlessly among the silent, motionless tombs, and he wondered why she might be thinking about.

“Can I ask you a question?” Michel finally asked.

“Since when do you need permission?”

“What… What are you doing here? Did you come to… visit someone?”

“No. I don’t know anyone buried here,” she answered. “In fact, I’ve come to this cemetery for the first time when I moved in at your building.”

“What…? Then… why are you coming here regularly then…?”

Morgana heaved a long sigh, then finally came to a stop. They were in front of a particularly tall, elegant tombstone, which Michel guessed must belong to an old and wealthy family. But it also seemed to not have been maintained for quite some years, which made it seems lonely.

“Maybe that’s going to sound odd,” she finally said after some time. “But I… love graveyards.”

Michel blinked and looked curiously at the young girl next to him. She was staring at the old tombstone in front of them, but no expression crossed her face and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“I’ve loved them ever since I was a child. There was one not far away from my old home, and for as long as I can remember, I would sneak out of the house and go there, take care of the tombs and stuff.” She snorted. “Of course Mother hated it when I was doing that. She thought it was creepy and scolded me about it a lot of times, but I never listened when it came to this.”

Her eyes fell on the ground, and she mindlessly put one of her red locks behind her ear.

“That’s also where I went whenever things got too tough at home. Guess it’s a bit like my secret base. I always feel at peace and safe when I’m here. Dead people are easier to deal with than the living. At least I felt like I was doing something useful for once, by taking care of them. It felt… comfortable.”

She marked a pause, and then added, in a much smaller voice, almost a whisper:

“To be honest… I’ve always felt more at home in cemeteries than in my actual house.”

Michel stayed quiet. It was a very rare moment for Morgana to talk so freely about herself, and he felt that if he were to say something back to her, it would break the instant and make her shut down all over again. Furthermore, it wasn’t like he really know what to answer to what she was confessing to him right now.

“Of course, back then I wasn’t sure why, but now that I remember my past life it makes sense. You know it, don’t you? That when I was still living at the brothel as a child, I made that… makeshift graveyard for all the nameless corpses we found in the slums.”

He didn’t answer, but yes, he was aware of that. He hadn’t witnessed a lot of Morgana’s past, admittedly, but he could still remember that moment when he saw Jacopo’s memories — of that disfigured little girl crouched down in front of those rough graves, taking care of them meticulously.

“Back then, I started doing that because… well, I felt it was my duty, as a saint. These people had no one else, so I couldn’t bear the idea of their souls not being able to reach purgatory. I couldn’t use my blood anymore, so I felt like I had to do something, at least. But, when I think back on it now… this wasn’t really out of selflessness. It’s just it made me feel… better about myself — it made me feel not so useless. In a way, maybe it was really pretty egoistical of me.” She smiled bitterly. “I was pretty pathetic, wasn’t I?”

“You were just a little girl, Morgana,” Michel replied gently. “A severely traumatized little girl, at that. And even if you doing that wasn’t absolutely out of selflessness, I don’t think it is something pathetic at all. In the end you still gave those people a proper burial and took care of them every day, right? I think it is more than worthy of respect.”

Morgana sighed. Michel knew his words probably wouldn’t do much to change her mind, but he still felt the need to say it.

“In any case, doing this became a comforting routine to me,” she said. “I guess it just stayed with me even all those centuries later. And I like doing that.”

Michel took a deep breath, and nodded. “Somehow, that does sound like you,” he simply added with a slight smile. “If you feel comfortable doing so, then that’s good.”

Morgana didn’t reply. Her eyes fell back once again on the tombstone erected in front of them, standing solemnly.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? A lot of things changed in a millennium, but cemeteries are always the same. They’re constant.”

This was certainly true. No matter the time period or culture, humans were always faced with death and grief, and had the need to honor their lost loved ones and gather around a place to think about them.

That was, unless they were bestowed with a particularly cruel fate where no one would bother to give them a proper burial, like it had happened with Morgana a thousand years ago.

Her body and soul had been left abandoned, and that entire cursed mansion had become her graveyard and prison.

None of them uttered a single word, but Michel instinctively got closer to Morgana and gently wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to him.

For a long time, the girl didn’t react, before finally slowly let her head fall on his shoulder.

And for what seemed like an eternity, none of them moved, lulled by the sound of the wind and the company of the dead.

______________________________________________________________

Things went relatively back to normal after this. In the following days, Michel got really busy at work and came back home pretty late, so he didn’t get the time to see Morgana much or have any more conversation with her. He also didn’t get any nightmares, which meant there was no secret night meeting with her either. In fact, the only time he got to really see her was the tomorrow of their graveyard encounter, when she burst out into their apartment angrily and wanted to know why on earth her classmates were now questioning her about her “weird, tall, white-haired uncle.” He tried to justify himself that this was the less odd explanation he could come up with, but then she retorted he should not have come to her high school to begin with — and, well, she actually had a point here. Giselle watched their argument from afar while giggling quietly, and then she teased him about being “Morgana’s weird uncle” for the next few days.

In any case, despite the heartfelt conversation they managed to have at the cemetery the other day, Michel’s worries about her still hadn’t decreased at all, at the contrary. From time to time, he thought about maybe visiting Morgana to her graveyard, but in the end could never bring himself to do so. After all, she had told him herself that this place was like a ‘secret base’ to her, so it felt wrong, somehow, to trespass this place without her consent.

However, these peaceful days came to an end about two weeks later when the phone suddenly rang one afternoon.

Michel was completely focused on writing an important email about an upcoming project to his superior, so it took him some time to realize the ringing, and when he did he caught sight of Giselle heading towards the phone before he could even get up. As her hands were already occupied with what seemed to be a big cardboard — maybe something from the café? — she hurriedly put on the loudspeaker and wedged the receiver between her ear and her shoulder in an elegant movement. Michel had always been in awe by the way she was able to take care of multiple things like that as if it was the most natural thing in the world, whereas in her place he would’ve just let the box fall on the ground.

“Hello?” Giselle asked, her voice politely playful.

“Hello, sorry to bother you,” a courteous, feminine voice resounded faintly from the phone. “Um, I would like to speak to Mr. Michel Bollinger… Are you Mrs. Bollinger?”

Michel frowned slightly upon hearing his name — the person’s informal and serious tone made him wonder if it was something work-related — but Giselle seemed unconcerned and only giggled.

“Um, well, not yet! Why?”

“You are the guardian of a seventeen-year-old girl named Morgana, aren’t you?”

Giselle blinked curiously, a little confused this time.

“Um, well, we do live with a girl like that but we’re not… Wait, what is this about?”

For a short moment, there seemed to be a bit of hesitation, before the person finally answered by saying something that made Giselle’s smile fell from her face.

“This is the police. We got her in custody. Could you please come pick her up at the station?”

______________________________________________________________

Michel had only went to a police station maybe two or three times in his life, always for trivial, unimportant things like retrieve lost objects, so that was why, when he stepped inside the big building and was greeted by a bunch of solemn-looking officers in uniforms, that he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

The woman on the phone hadn’t told them much about what had happened, just that apparently Morgana had gotten into trouble and that she had told them he was her legal guardian, so he was the one who had to come to get her. To be honest, Michel felt a bit annoyed by this and didn’t understand why Morgana had claimed such a thing given he was far from being her guardian, but he certainly couldn’t refuse to help his friend if she had problems.

So he headed towards the reception, trying to make himself as discreet as possible but as usual it wasn’t very effective, as his appearance always attracted looks wherever he went. When he presented himself, the woman at the desk sighed, and with tired eyes she lead him to a nearby room. The moment he opened the door, he heard angry yells fly out at him, and distinguished three persons: a police officer, a middle-aged man, and Morgana.

“Do you realize that this is all your fault to begin with, right?” The man shouted exasperatedly. “You’re the one who assaulted me! Stop playing the victim here!”

“I’m not playing the victim,” Morgana replied coldly with annoyance, before rolling her eyes. “And ‘assaulted’… No need to use such words. You’re oversensitive.”

“Oversensitive?” The man screamed in disbelief. “Are you saying that this—” He showed up his hand that was wrapped up in bandages. “—is me being oversensitive?”

Morgana eyed him, then shrugged. “Well, you still have your hand and it still moves, right? Not sure why you’re making such a big deal about it.”

The man’s face became completely red, and Michel honestly thought he was going to strangle the girl here and there if the cop hadn’t instantly stepped in, putting a strong hand on the guy’s shoulder and separating the two of them.

“All right, please keep your calm, sir… I see that her guardian has finally arrived, so let’s settle this peacefully.”

While saying this, the officer looked up at Michel, and suddenly all the attention was reported on him. A look of relief spread on Morgana’s face upon seeing him, while the middle-aged man’s face hardened and glared at him.

“You certainly took your sweet time! I swear, what kind of father are you, raising such a brat and letting her hang out in a police station for hours?”

“Um… that’s—”

“Well he’s not my father,” Morgana cut in annoyingly, and when she saw the questioning gazes of the two other men she quickly added: “He is my guardian, but we’re not blood related.”

“Well, fine, in any case could you all please sit down?” The cop asked, his voice straining and Michel could tell he had been taking care of this issue for a while now and was starting to get quite frustrated at it.

“Uh, I’m sorry but, we still didn’t explain to me what had happened? What did Morgana do?”

“Why would you instantly assume I’m the one who did something?” Morgana retorted while glaring at Michel.

“Because you are!” The man shouted yet again. “That kid, I swear…! Here’s what happened: your girl stabbed me in the hand!”

Michel had to admit, he was expecting a lot of things when he heard Morgana was at a police station, but this he still wasn’t prepared for that. He frowned in confusion, and threw a questioning glance at the concerned girl, who just sighed as if this was none of her business.

“So, wait,” Michel started, massaging his temples. “She… stabbed you? With a knife? Do you just walk around transporting a knife, Morgana?”

“Okay, first of all, it wasn’t a knife, it was a cutter,” she argued, as if this was a very important detail.

It doesn’t make it any better! Michel almost burst out, but did his best to control his temperament.

“It doesn’t matter what it was!” The man resumed. “I was just walking in the street when I saw she dropped her wallet, so I tried to tell her, but then when I grabbed her arm she suddenly pulled out that thing and stabbed me with it!”

“I thought it was a thief or something, so I panicked.”

“And when you panic you stab people?” Michel interfered.

“Well, that was just a reflex. Seriously, you should not accost young girls like that without warning. It’s your fault this ended up like this, really.”

The man seemed so taken aback by Morgana’s flippancy that he couldn’t even seem to be able to yell at her anymore. He just stared at the girl, eyes and mouth wide open, until Michel let out a sigh.

“Okay, I think I got the situation. I am genuinely sorry for what Morgana did to you. It wasn’t her intention, she’s just a very cautious person—”

“It was absolutely my intention,” Morgana cut him off. “And you don’t need to apologize to that man. I certainly won’t. He’s the one overreacting over nothing.”

“You’re not helping me here!”

The man stared at the both of them, then shook his head as if giving up protesting. “I don’t care about apologies at this point. “But I certainly won’t stand for that. She stabbed me. I want to file a claim and you owes me at the very least the treatment fees.”

“File a claim? Treatment fees? As if I would—”

“That’s understandable,” Michel interrupted in a serious voice. “I’ll make sure to see through that.”

“What? Michel—”

“Just let me take care of this and try not to make matters worse, please.”

Michel’s voice was not severe, but still firm enough to make the girl understand it was best to let him handle the situation from now on. Morgana sighed, then finally after a few moments of hesitation, she nodded, although she clearly wasn’t satisfied with this.

What followed was a very egregious, long hour of trying to salvage the situation somewhat despite Morgana’s icy jabs and the man’s punctual anger. Michel felt much more exhausted at the end of this than at the end of a heavy week full of work. When they finally managed to get out of the police station, his head was still full about the future appointment with his lawyer he’ll have to make and the treatment fees he’ll have to pay.

“You really didn’t need to do that,” Morgana said, and Michel really hoped this was her way of saying ‘thank you’ because he didn’t feel like dealing with any more jaded cynical retorts.

“You’re the one who told them to call me to start with. Actually, why did you say I was your guardian?”

“Well, I didn’t want to at first… but I’m not yet eighteen, and I didn’t want them to call my parents. If my stepfather had showed up, it would have gotten ugly.”

Michel suddenly felt a bit stupid for not having realized this by himself, and softening a little, he sighed. Morgana was pretty secretive about her family situation, but he knew she had a bad relationship with them — so it wasn’t hard to imagine that if her stepfather had been called because she was at a police station it would’ve indeed not ended well.

It truly was a cursed fate that this girl had ended up again with bad, uncaring parents in this era. She deserved to have an actual loving family… In a way, although he still felt a bit annoyed with her for this, he also was kind of happy she had not hesitated to rely on him when she was in trouble.

“All right, fine… Still, what a mess… Now I’ll have to talk to Giselle about all of this and organize our finances, huh…”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do this. I’ll take care of it.”

“And how, exactly? If you don’t want to contact your parents, then I fail to see how you’ll be able to deal with this… Is the association you’re in contact would really take care of something like this?”

“Oh, no, I would never ask them that even if they could help me. I’ll just call Jacopo.”

Michel stopped walking.

“Uh, what?”

“I’ll ask Jacopo to pay and handle this for me.”

“But, you… I thought you hadn’t talked to him since you came back from your trip in Italy?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“And you’re going to call him now just to ask him for money?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… Did you keep in contact with him just to extort him?”

“Is that a problem? He has to be useful for something, at least. Furthermore, he’s pretty rich, you know.”

Michel sighed deeply and put his face in his hands. “You’re impossible… Are you really serious?”

Morgana stopped in her trail brusquely. She turned around to face him, and her eyes suddenly turned cold.

“In case you forgot, I shall remind you it is the man who killed me we are talking about. So no, I have no problem at all in taking some of his money. I believe it is actually a pretty low price to pay for ruining my life. He owes me at least that much, don’t you think? Plus, he’s also the man who indirectly ruined your life too, so I’d say he really do not deserve your pity.”

“I wasn’t pitying him…”

And you had more of a hand in ruining my life than he did, is what he restrained himself from adding. Certainly, Jacopo was basically the cause of the whole mess that had happened in the cursed mansion, but Morgana had still been the one who spent all those years tormenting Michel. She’d been the one who had enslaved Giselle in the mansion until she broke her and destroy her very identity. Even if Morgana had been a victim and that some of her actions were rooted in rightful pain and anger, no one had forced her to do those things.

Michel had forgiven her and had a lot of deep affection for her now, but he still didn’t like the way she sometimes glossed over the very real harm she had done to instead push all the blame on her killers — and specifically on Jacopo.

Still, he didn’t want to have that peculiar argument with her right now, and on top of that… Even if Morgana had never been at the mansion, even if the place had never been cursed, unfortunately Michel’s life would have still likely ended in tragedy… This thought made him pause, though.

He wondered… what would have happened if he had never met Morgana?

If there had been no cursed witch at the mansion? No skeleton to hug and makes him feel better about himself — about his pain and loneliness? No mean spirit to abuse and drain him? How would he have spent those ten years completely alone? How would he have reacted to Iméon and to Giselle without a witch to whispers in his ears?

Things would have been… a bit different, maybe, but in the end it would still have ended up with him being pierced by his brother’s spears.

The biggest difference would have been… that Giselle wouldn’t have become the Maid. They never would have reunited centuries later as lost ghosts in this dark haunted mansion, and maybe they wouldn’t even have reincarnated together in this era at all… But that also meant Giselle wouldn’t have had to suffer during all of those centuries, so wouldn’t have been better…?

Or maybe there would have been no mansion at all, and he would have been sent in exile elsewhere. Maybe he wouldn’t even have met Giselle at all. He had no idea.

What he did know was that if none of that had happened, he wouldn’t be walking next to this young girl right now.

______________________________________________________________

The wind was raspy and the sky gray when he finally reached the cemetery, which made it looks even more gloomy and eerie than last time.

It looked the exact same as it did before, as if he was back a few weeks prior in time. The place was just as abandoned as ever, and it made Michel wonder if anyone even ever bothered to come here. Except for Morgana, that is.

He wouldn’t have bothered to come either, usually, but as strange as it may sound, it was actually Morgana herself who had asked him. He had tried to talk to her yesterday, but she evaded him before slipping “I’ll be at the graveyard again tomorrow after class,” and promptly disappeared. Implying, “You can come to me there to talk to me.” Well, that was how Michel had interpreted it at least, but with Morgana he was never sure of the exact meaning of her words.

“Oh, you’re here.”

He brusquely turned around, and Morgana was there, holding a pretty big watering can in her arms.

“Right in time,” she said. “See this tombstone? I’d need you to water the flowers next to it. I still have to clean those two others in the meantime.”

Michel arched an eyebrow, but didn’t have the time to ask anything that Morgana pushed the heavy can in his hands and headed towards another grave.

“What— Wait, what do you mean?”

“I don’t think I’ve said anything all that complicated?”

“No, what I mean is— why are you doing this?”

The girl narrowed her eyes at him.

“What? Did you think I just spent all my afternoon looking melancholically at those gravestones? Sorry to disappoint, but generally I actually take care of the place.”

“You… take care of the place?”

“Yes. You know, I clean up, arrange the plants, all that. That’s a small graveyard, but it still actually takes a lot of time.”

Michel felt more and more confused. Indeed, now that he thought about it, it seemed a bit weird that Morgana would spent hours hanging out in a cemetery just walking around the tombstones despite knowing no one buried here. But the idea of her cleaning up the place was even weirder.

“What are you, the graveyard caretaker?”

“No, though I talk to him from time to time.”

“He’s okay with you doing that?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Well, Michel supposed it did remove some work for him, so of course he wouldn’t complain. “But why would you do this?”

She shrugged. “It relaxes me.”

“Taking care of a graveyard relaxes you?”

Morgana turned around without answering and kneeled down in front of a tomb a little further away. Michel sighed, looked at the water can in his hands — which was starting to feel pretty heavy — and decided to do as she said for now. While watering the daffodils and begonias that littered the ground, he threw slight glances at the girl behind him, who was very meticulously concentrated on her task, and that’s when their talk from a few weeks ago came back to him.

Right, Morgana had spend a good chunk of her time as a child taking care of a graveyard in her past life. With this in mind, then her behavior did makes sense. Maybe it’d seems odd from any other person, but Morgana loving to take care of such place wasn’t weird at all.

“You’re holding the can badly. You’re not used to gardening, are you?”

Michel got startled as the girl appeared by his side and grabbed the can, carefully bending it with expert hands.

“I don’t have much occasions to do this,” he admitted.

“Don’t Giselle loves gardening? At least she did back then.”

“She does, but… we’ve never done it together. Plus her family lives in an apartment…”

“Is that so…”

“I didn’t know you loved gardening, though?”

“I don’t really like it. But it’s necessary when taking care of a graveyard.”

Morgana kept arranging the flowers, and Michel’s mind wandered back to the roses Giselle had grown in the mansion, centuries ago. They didn’t have a garden in their current house, only a courtyard, but maybe he could arrange himself to make one… It would surely make her happy.

“Ugh, stop that.”

“S-Stop what?”

“Thinking about doing something ridiculously cheesy for Giselle. I hate when you do that.”

“How do you even know what I was thinking about?”

“Because you always make that stupid, disgusting face whenever you think about her.”

Michel sighed. “Well, do forgive me for being happy while thinking about the woman I love. I’ll try to do it discretely from now on.”

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes, and almost retorted another jaded reply before he just remembered that he had a reason, actually, for coming all the way here today, and it wasn’t just to bicker with Morgana.

“Did you call Jacopo?”

“Yes. He was kinda annoyed, but he’ll pay. I don’t have any worries about it.”

Michel grimaced, guessing she probably did her best to remind him all the horrible things he had done to her to make him feel as guilty as possible. Then again, a part of him couldn’t entirely reprehend her for that, because, like she had said before, it wasn’t much compared to what he had actually did to her. He couldn’t reproach her anger, but at the same time he didn’t like at all this unhealthy relationship she had started in this era with Jacopo. Maybe he’ll have to talk about it with her. Later.

“So, um…” Michel started, then hesitated.

He did come all the way here to talk to her, but now that he was actually there he couldn’t bring himself to find the right words. He was afraid of setting her off if he brought this in the wrong way. As if reading his thoughts, Morgana brusquely stood away from the flowers and turned towards him, brow burrowed.

“Yes?” She pressed on. “Stop beating around the bush and tell me already.”

Michel took a deep breath in, and nodded.

“All right. All right, um… So, I talked with Giselle about this for a bit, and I was wondering…” He paused, and eyed Morgana cautiously. “What would you think about going to see a therapist?”

Ar first, it seemed as if she didn’t understand the question. Then, as it sunk, her shoulders slumped, her mouth formed a tight line and she uttered the following with so much disdain it almost made Michel choke:

“What?”

“I, er… To tell you the truth, that’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while… but the recent events decided me it was, probably, really necessary.”

“What recent events?”

“Do you I really need to remind you your visit at the police station?”

“That has nothing to do with this, and it’s already solved.”

“That’s not the issue. And it’s not the first time something like this happen, either.”

There was the episode that happened the first time he came at this graveyard, and the frequent nightmares, but those weren’t just isolated incidents either. There were moments where Morgana would just stare off into the distance and didn’t seem to… respond to anything. As if she was just cut off from reality. And even without all of this, Michel thought it’d do her a lot of good to see a specialist, even just to talk. However, Morgana visibly thought very differently.

“I’m not crazy,” she dryly cut out, her eyes shooting daggers.

“It’s not about being ‘crazy’,” Michel replied patiently. “It’s about talking to someone about your problems, which you obviously really, really need.”

Her reaction was pretty ironic, Michel thought, given how many times she had tempted him to “just go insane” or to “join her in her madness” during their time at the mansion. But maybe she just didn’t remember that.

“No way,” she continued, her tone sharp. “I’m not going to see a shrink.”

She spat out the last word with so much vitriol Michel actually wondered if a ‘shrink’ had done something to her in the past or something.

“I’m not saying this to piss you off, Morgana,” Michel resumed in a more concerned, serious tone. “It’s because I’m worried about you. A therapist could actually help you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like hell they could. What would I even tell them, anyway? ‘Oh yeah I remember by entire past life where my life was a miserable hell and where I was killed horribly which turned me into a witch and made me curse my killers for centuries.’ How good they’d take that, you think?”

“Obviously, I’m not saying you need to tell every single details… You could start with your modern life, I believe there’s already enough things to work with here.”

“And with what money would I pay that? I certainly can’t ask my parents, and the association already do enough for me.”

“I could take care of that if you want. That’s not a problem.” Or you could extort Jacopo again, he almost said, but he thought it wasn’t a good idea to encourage her in this kind of behavior, even for a joke.

“Oh please, stop acting like you’re my father or something, it’s extremely annoying.”

Michel groaned. Of course he had expected her to react this way, but it didn’t mean it was any less annoying that she just completely refused to listen to him.

“Morgana. You are not okay. You realize that, right?”

“How am I not okay?”

“Oh, I don’t know, to me stabbing some guy’s hand in the street because you ‘freaked out’ is not something a person who’s perfectly okay would do.”

“It was just an accident. It never happened before, and it won’t happen again.”

“But how can you know? Do you really realize how serious what you did is? You’re lucky you ended getting away with it this time, but maybe the next you’ll get in trouble with a much more dangerous person. What would you do then?”

Morgana lifted her head and grinned at him. “I’ll kill them and dispose of their body, obviously. See? That way, no problem.”

Michel stared at her blankly. Morgana stared back.

“I’m joking! Oh my God, you didn’t actually think I’d do that, right?”

“I mean… With you, I can never tell for sure.”

Morgana snorted. “Then what about you? Are you seeing a shrink?”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

Manifestly, Morgana wasn’t expecting this answer at all, because she just stared at him with her eyes wide and her mouth open.

“W-Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been in therapy since I was around fourteen, I think.” As Morgana was still staring at him with a confused look, Michel added, “Ever since I came out as a boy to my parents. They insisted because they… weren’t sure how to deal with this.”

“Oh.”

“And you know what? I thought like you at first, but I think it really helped me in the end. It still does.”

“Well, I’m not you. And again, you’re not my father, you can’t force me to do anything, so the conversation stop there.”

And as if giving more weight to her words, she turned around and started walking towards the back of the graveyard with steady steps. Michel sighed for what was probably the tenth times since he entered this place.

Dealing with Morgana was always a real headache, but he wouldn’t give up on her just yet. He hadn’t given up on her back when she was a cruel witch who had tormented him and Giselle, and he wouldn’t do it now that she was just a stubborn teenage girl.

“Morgana.”

He didn’t even had to grab her hand or to hold her back — the tone of his voice seemed to be enough to make her understand it was important, and she stopped.

“I am not going to force you if you really don’t want to,” he continued, then smiled wryly. “Like you said, I am not your father, and even if I was I still wouldn’t force you.”

This time, it was Morgana who sighed, and he could see her shoulders drop, in what seemed to be more tiredness than annoyance.

“When we met again in this era, you said… that you wanted to take your life back into your hands. Were you lying?”

The girl turned around and glared at him, her gaze shining determinedly.

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you so afraid of living and trying to be happy?” Michel took a step forward, ruby eyes not letting go of the golden ones for a second. “You have a life full of opportunities in front of you, but somehow you prefer to stay stuck in your suffering. Like you did back then.”

Morgana opened her mouth as if wanting to say something, but her lips trembled and no words could get out.

“You’re not locked up in that cursed mansion anymore. You can go wherever you want. Taking care of a graveyard is nice if that makes you happy, but… it’s not by staying with the dead that you’ll take back your life. It’s by being with the living.”

It hurts, sometimes, to look at the girl in front of him. It was a similar sensation as to stare in a mirror and seeing the reflection of a painful past self he had managed to overcome.

A child playing pretend with dead dolls when they were too old for that.

Morgana had done this since she was a little girl, but unlike him she had never let it go. He had left this behind in the past, but she was still desperately clinging to it.

Michel advanced once again, and stopped only a few centimeters away from her. Morgana was small and only barely reaching his chest, and the way she seemed to intensely stare at the ground in this moment made her seem even smaller.

He put both of his hands on her shoulders, making her look up at him, and when her eyes finally crossed his, he smiled softly.

“I love you and want you to be happy, because you deserves it. You don’t have to treat the entire world like it’s your enemy, so let people help you and love you. That’s all I really wanted to tell you.”

Morgana’s eyes widened as if not believing he had actually said this, and Michel had to admit he kind of felt the same. The words were like ashes in his mouth, and he had never been good at being open with people, not even after all those centuries. It was hard and uncomfortable and awkward, but he meant every single one of them, and he hoped Morgana could sense that, too.

Before the girl had the time to recover, he leaned in and gently kissed her forehead affectionately. He didn’t hear her gasp, but he could feel her shock and her body tense through his hands. He pulled away slowly, smiled one last time at her, before turning around.

He didn’t need to face her to know she was completely motionless and inert, but this was in a good kind of way this time.

______________________________________________________________

The odor of death was the thing that remained the most vivid in his dreams.

It wrapped and clung to his sense of smell and made him want to wince and gag. Even after he’d wake up, it would still linger with him, stuck to his skin. He had to really struggle to get it off and to fight the blurry images of the dark tower and of the soulless, dusty skeleton sitting next to him.

The unmoving, unbreathing dead doll.

But the doll wasn’t here when he came back to him, only the warm body of the black-haired woman he was going to marry in a few months. Her chest was slowly moving up and down, her lips ajar and eyelids closed. She was smiling and breathing and living, a far cry from the corpse that had been his only companion for years and years a long, lost time ago, and that was enough to bring him back in the present.

As he had often the habit by now, he stood up and headed in the kitchen, preparing his mug of coffee almost mechanically before getting outside. He noticed with regret as he sat on the courtyard’s bench that still no stars sprinkled the dark sky.

“Seems like meeting down there is starting to become a routine for us.”

There she stood in front of him, the skeletal doll.

But she wasn’t skeletal or unmoving or unbreathing anymore — with her golden eyes and long red hair slightly illuminated by the moon, she looked more like some sort of unworldly nymph.

“Seems like it,” Michel said quietly.

Morgana grimaced slightly in disappointment. “And here I thought I’d manage to pay you back and startle you like you did with me last time. Were you expecting me or something?”

“Something like that, I suppose. Maybe a part of me can always sort of tell your presence, like when we were in the mansion.”

“That’s not possible. You’re joking, right?”

“What do you think?”

Michel smiled mischievously at her, and the girl rolled her eyes, before simply sitting next to him. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

If he closed his eyes, maybe he could feel like he was still that barely adult young man in the tower seeking comfort from a corpse.

“That was kind of unfair, what you did at the cemetery,” Morgana finally said in a soft, quiet voice. “Leaving me all alone behind after saying something ridiculous like that.”

“It wasn’t ridiculous. I meant it.”

“I know. That’s what makes it ridiculous.”

She was staring at her feet now, and while there wasn’t any expression on her face, her voice was barely a murmur. Michel felt that Morgana wanted to talk for once, and it was a rare enough occasion that he kept his mouth shut as much as possible.

“You shouldn’t love me. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?”

“Not after… I don’t know. Everything.”

“Hmm… Could it be some backward way trying to apologize for what you did to me and Giselle? That’s quite something, coming from you. Did you hit your head or something?”

“It’s not. I just don’t get it. I don’t get you. You don’t make sense, that’s all.”

Michel sighed. It didn’t really surprise him. Forgiving Morgana and becoming her friend made sense to him, but it certainly was understandable that it wouldn’t really from her perspective. The sad thought of how a part of her probably would not believe anyone who’d say ‘I love you’ to her regardless of who it was crossed his mind…

“I did felt a lot of ways towards you during these years,” he finally said. “I hated you, and resented you, and pitied you. You did a lot of heinous things to me. But I think I myself did a lot of bad things to you. Though, well… you already know that, don’t you?”

No response came, but he didn’t need any, so he just let his eyes wander at the starless sky.

“My point is, that when I really started to see you as a person, when I really started to emphasize with you and wanted to save you, I’ve stopped resenting you and started loving you. I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, but that’s how it is. I hope you’ll be able to understand it one day.”

Morgana sighed, and also raised up her head. “I… will not make any promise,” she finally said. “But…”

She bit her lips. Looked away.

“But I’ll… I’ll think about it. The shrink.”

And then Michel couldn’t help but chuckle, because in this moment she sounded so much like the stubborn teen girl she was supposed to be and not like the centuries years old cruel, vengeful witch, and it was how things was supposed to be.

“You know, Morgana… some time earlier, I got myself wondering what would have happened if I had never met you.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

“How would that work…?”

“Well, I don’t know… Maybe if you never had died the way you did, and never put a curse on the three men. Maybe if Jacopo had never locked you up in that tower.”

Morgana snorted. “That indeed would have prevented a lot of annoying events, yes. But that would mean counting on the fact that this idiot can possess anything resembling human common sense.”

“Well, regardless… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Hmm… Well, if I had indeed never been killed that way… for starter, the mansion itself would have never been cursed. So maybe you would not even have been sent at that mansion at all. Or maybe you would have, but either way I do not think it would have changed much about what happened there, or changed anything about your death.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

“However, Giselle… would have never become the Maid.”

“Indeed…”

Morgana’s gaze seemed unfocused as she looked into the horizon, and Michel wondered what was going through her head. Maybe she reminisced all those centuries she spent in company of the Maid.

“Maybe… it would have been better for her,” she finally blurted out.

“That’s… also what I thought. But then… that might sound selfish of me, but… if she had never become the Maid and stayed in the mansion, then we likely… would have never been reunited. The both of us getting reincarnated here was principally thanks to your wish.”

“Heh, I’m not so sure about that. That’s going to sound cheesy, but I think your bond was strong enough for you to meet again.”

“Maybe… It’d be nice if it is the case…”

Michel put his gaze inside his cup of coffee, that was probably cold by now.

“But you know… while I do wish Giselle hadn’t gone through so much suffering during her time as the Maid, and that I would do anything to take it back… I still… do not regret meeting you.”

He turned his head towards the young girl sat next to him, and stared straight into her eyes.

“Despite everything, I am still glad to be your friend now.”

Michel smiled gently at her, and put a hand on the top of her head, gently ruffling her red hair. Morgana sighed and rolled her eyes. “I am not a child,” she grumbled, but even so she did nothing to put off his hand. So Michel chuckled, and despite her reluctance, Morgana joined in his laugh soon enough.

Years, decades, centuries ago, she was just a lifeless doll he’d shared an abandoned mansion with — a convenient plaything to make a desperate, broken boy feel less lonely.

And then when she started talking as a witch, she became an annoyance and he wanted nothing but to get rid of her.

But he was glad to not have given up on her in the end, so that he could now see into what kind of woman she would grow into.

And just like he had done an eternity before, he extended his arm and grabbed her hand, holding it gently but firmly.

This time, those were not cold, dusty bones that met his fingers, but warm, smooth skin.

This was not a skeleton sat next to him that he could play pretend with like a doll, but a dear friend he had pitied, hated, resented sympathized with and loved all at once.

[jq37]

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 17 For Candia (Part 2)--Mini Recap

Hey guys. It’s been a bit, huh?

I haven’t been on Tumblr a bunch lately because I’ve been busy as hell irl for a lot of reasons, but I also hate to leave a thing undone, especially when it’s so close to being done. So I decided to provide at least some level of closure for anyone who might have stumbled across these with no access to the ep and really wants to know how the story ends.

Maybe I’ll do a proper recap at some point but, for now, let’s wrap things up.

This episode is basically a series of Boss Fights standing in for the more significant but less interesting final battle going on in which the Rocks Family face off against all the Important NPCs.

Amethar and Joren together waste Grissini, Amethar saying that he might have been good to Jet, but he’s fighting for the wrong side. (Joren goes down but it’s never really resolved whether he survives or not. I feel like he probably did considering Liam’s epilogue.)

Ally gets their obligatory Nat 20 to intimidate Keradin for the rest of the fight by greatly shaking his faith in the Bulb before icing him. Then he sees the Pontifex watching the fight from the wall of the keep and makes a beeline. 

Amethar, likewise, sees Cal running across the castle wall and breaks from his unit to go after him.

Ciabatta shows up and I am reminded in the absolute DOPEST way that Ruby never used her watersteel dagger. “In sweetness there is strength, bitch.” Ciabatta is toast. 

White flags start to go up. 

Liam catches up to the Pontifex, does the insane amounts of damage that’s just like par for the course for him at this point, and drops her, taking St. Citrina’s Book. 

Cal tries to make for a secret tunnel to escape but Cumulus blocks his path. Amethar blocks him off from the other side. “What’s the last part of my title? Say it.” Cal, being forced to kneel by Cumulus, acknowledges his “Unfallen” title (throwing a man w/ the title “the Unfallen” off a roof and not checking to see if he’s dead is the very height or hubris. That’s some, “Not even God can sink this ship” levels of asking for it) and then attacks. Amethar gets 4 attacks back and his last is a Nat 20, activating Payment Day’s special ability: On a Nat 20 against someone who has killed a member of Amethar’s family? That person instantly dies. Boom. Fight is over just like that. Piece of cake. 

With all the Big Bads dead, the fight is more or less over other than logistics. Or at least it would be if Brennan didn’t have some mind games up his sleeves. As the fight is winding down, Ruby and Rina lock eyes and they both know they have a moment to turn the tide in their favor in their little cold war by attacking the other and striking first. Out of game, Brennan makes Siobhan and Emily decide secretly on slips of paper whether they each want to attack or show compassion. It’s a classic prisoner’s dilemma setup. If they both play nice, it’s golden. If they both attack, it’s even. If you play nice and get betrayed, you’re screwed. 

But like...it’s D20. It’s the Game of Thrones season of D20 but it’s still D20. 

They choose compassion, both of them. 

“Saccharina, you’re an astonishing leader, but I can’t be your subject. But please, I would like to be your sister,” Ruby says, and Siobhan keeps her perfect track record of taking me out in every finale. 

Rina has her guys stand down (to Swifty’s dismay). Ruby tells a skeptical Cara to stand down and choose family (which she does, snapped out of her paranoia by Ruby’s brave move).

Brennan’s attempt at PvP thwarted, Amethar swears on the Book of Leaves that he was named Emperor and Primsy--who is here in too for some reason--recognizes the claim. That leaves the recently (forcibly) vacated throne of Castle Candy to Rina. Which is great for her because Liam remembers the wish seed and uses it to just quadruple Candia in size, the absolute madman. 

We get epilogues! Liam becomes Master Gardener (and also casually says that he brought back the Pontifex and Kerradin to jail them which is wild because that’s not a spell that exists in this world--Ally just brute forced it in in the last second in a line so poetic that Brennan was just forced to let it happen). Cumulus takes a break from snapping chicken’s necks. Theo gets laid. Rina and Ruby do the sister thing and Ruby joins the circus for a while. Cinnamon becomes a vegetarian which mellows out his constant hunger. And Amethar enjoys time with his newly expanded family. For the first time in a while, things are looking sweet. 

A Few Notes

I’m going to fight the editor who had me worried about the “family is exposed” clip all season for the exact wrong reason. But also, gold star. Well played.  

Lol at Brennan not even getting his PvP in the GOT season w/ a prisoner’s dilemma. Like, give it up dude. Watch next season start in media res during a fight to the death to force everyones’ hands. 

On the same topic, very funny that the previous episode it was like, “Loyalties tested! Lines drawn!” and then this episode Theo was like, “Come on guys you shoulda just talked to me. I would never betray you.” It’s like he just wanted to have a dramatic moment. 

MVP this ep is Ruby with the watersteel dagger imo. Like everyone had their moment. And Amethar w/ that Nat 20 was dope but you were kind of waiting for that all season. But I totally forgot Ruby had that dagger. I, like, verbally cheered when she pulled it out. 

I haven’t watched the last AP or the behind the scenes special so I don’t know that much about unseen characters besides what I’ve glimpsed on Twitter/Tumblr but Amand Maillard looks very dope. 

I wish we’d gotten to know more about Citrina. Like I get that if you dump these players in a world, they’re gonna wanna take down The Man and often The Man is The Church and the Pontifex *did* need to go but sometimes people are just Good and I dug her (Citrina’s) vibe in the flashback we got.

I can’t believe Siobhan got me with the “Be my sister/Let me be your sister” stuff in back to back seasons. You’d think I would have developed some resistance in the intervening months. Nope! Weak as ever baybee!  

One Final Thing

One of the reasons I’ve been so busy lately is I’ve been working on my podcast*, Absolutely No Adventures, which is dropping in a tiny bit over a month. The trailer drops on Sunday so if you wanna check that out when it’s out, you can follow the show’s Twitter (@noadventurespod)! I’ll also link it here as my pinned post once it’s up. I hope some of y’all check it out! 

*ONE of my podcasts but one announcement at a time.