#i was happy to receive corrections because this is what will allow me to leap forward

[diteach]

Hmm I really wish I didn't cry as a default reaction to feeling stronger than usual emotions and feelings :/

[mileyjassie]

"Paint me"

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader

Genre: Suggestive & Fluff

Word count: 3.4K

Synopsis: You're enjoying your time painting in your room and he's enjoying seeing you doing it, but, now he wants the attention to himself, so he asks you to paint on his skin.

I just want you to love me like I'm one of your creations.

Paint me.

See me.

Feel me.

Tranquility you felt the moment you sat down, worries always forbidden to show up, in the room where you slept every night there was nothing but soft music not too loud and paints kept in boxes next to your tall stool, a big white canvas with few color strokes being created with the sketches.

You took turns between brushes trying to find what was most essential for each detail, mixing colors that covered the tip of your fingers and consequently soiled the material of the brushes.

You could repeat the usual, right? You asked yourself, not noticing very much the boy's restrained but unquiet presence.

That's when you realized it, you came back to reality in a blink of eye.

So silent, observant and obedient he remained, sitting on the edge of your bed, shoulders slightly raised, his intense gaze lurking over you and your habit of forgetting where you were.

"Are you out of creativity?... Why did you stop?" He asked kind of low key, pressing his hands on the covers when your eyes met.

You shook your head, pretending to need to do some retouching, turning your face back to him.

"Are you bored? I noticed you're anxious... you were looking at me so intensely, I ended up noticing... do you need anything?..."

His eyes fled, embarrassed almost automatically, swallowing hard as his lips parted in a natural impulse of not knowing how to respond.

"I need to ..." he replied quietly, making you slightly intrigued.

You tipped your head, wanting his eyes back.

"What do you need?"

"You ..." he murmured again, giving the look you were waiting to return to you. You closed your hands in weak fists instinctively, to hide the effect of his masked intentions on you.

His voice shook, taking his words back quickly.

"I want you to pay attention on me..." He corrected himself, removing his palms from the covers to shyly join them together. "I'm feeling lonely... Please, give me attention."

You were quiet for a few seconds, completely absorbing the sounds that played one after the other, all calm and relaxing.

The room was cozy because it was recently air-conditioned, the thin curtains that hid the glass doors on the balcony allowed the rose-pink light to pass through, making the room look soft.

"What do you want me to do?"

His extremely dark eyes reflected an immediate gleam, looking hopeful and a little anxious, he got up without much euphoria, going towards another stool, placing it in front of you, next to the canvas on which you were trying to draw.

You both held on the smile as you started a closer conversation for the first time of the day, having his knees touching yours.

Taeyong opened his mouth slightly, inhaling before proceeding.

"I miss you, I confess," he said, leaving his palms flat on his thighs. "Even tho, I still don't want you to stop painting, because I know you like it a lot, as well as I like to see it."

You clutched your brushes in your hands, longing for his words more happily than when you were painting lifeless colors in a scenario not yet invented.

"Put your painting aside. Use me, I want to be your canvas. Paint on me, draw on my skin." Taeyong asked with conviction, a sincere desire that brought warmth to your cheeks.

His hands came off his thighs, spread open in front of you, asking for the initiative.

You looked at his palms, wanting to touch them before they return to his lap, but Taeyong didn't do that, didn't take them away from you.

You slid your gaze to his impenetrable eyes again, seeing the patience he always kept for you.

You held his hand, noticing an almost imperceptible smile on his face, he seemed pleased to be able to be there, to feel the cool, white paint cooling his clean, smooth palm.

"What are you going to draw?..." he murmured amused, bringing an intimate air that until that moment you tried to avoid.

"Let's find out..." You teased without malice, already knowing what forms to use to draw the little waves of the sea that would soon be completed when his other hand been ended.

Songs that played softly at a medium volume previously tranquilized the quiet moment, but then made your proximity a little awkward.

Taeyong looked at your face whenever he let his curious eyes leave his palms, his eyes weighing and making his presence be felt in a way that you could not avoid for a long time.

It was not a weird embarrassment, but it did bring a little shyness, both pretending not to show knowledge about the tension that the suggestively romantic music had created in the room.

Taeyong sometimes brushed his thumb lightly over yours, pulling out a quick smile at one time or another, hiding a timid and small smile when you slid your fingers over his wrist.

You were almost finished painting in his other hand when his knees approached your thighs, one on the inside and the other on the outside, sitting closer.

You looked up at the boy's face, looking him watch you closely.

"Tell me it's not over yet..." he said quietly, waiting for the answer, you nodded, giving him a "yes", watching his eyebrows squeeze over his upset eyes.

Before saying anything, Taeyong had already looked at his hands again, waiting for you to finish painting the blue waves that completed when his palms came together side by side, softening his previously "frustrated" expression.

When you took the brush from his palms, the two of them were placed face up on your knees, his face approached yours, chin lifting slightly when his eyes relaxed.

"My hands are not the only part of my body that you can paint." He smirked, inviting you tantalizingly to touch his face.

You took your fingers to his forehead, brushing the bangs off his face, combing it back, his dark eyebrows showing, his entire face uncovered and clean for any drawing you wished to make.

"What do you want me to draw on you?..."

His eyes closed slowly, leaning a little closer, just enough to feel your breath against his face. He waited like that for an instant, meeting your lips with his, sealing a long kiss.

His mouth detached from yours, his deep voice responding calmly. "Do what you want, I just want you to paint my face with care, just as if I were one of your canvases..."

He smiled gently, pretending to give you one more kiss, leaving the proximity again. You disapproved his attitude, hearing his low laugh echo and his hands turn to run the fingers down the sides of your thighs, murmuring an apology.

"Don't screw up my drawings..." You asked quietly, receiving a positive wave from him, his palms avoiding touching your legs, still letting his long fingers rest on the spot.

You slid your index finger across his lower lip, ignoring the leap from one of his eyebrows to give a short kiss on his chin, looking for a thin brush, reaching for your palette to bathe the tip of the instrument in green paint, tracing a thin, slightly curved line below the scar mark under his eye.

Taeyong noticed the place of choice, looking a little surprised and curious, his eyes twinkling in awe at something he didn't know yet, but that was enough to make him happy.

"Is it going to be a rose?... I know it is." He smiled short, following with his eyes from the paints to the hand going back to his face.

You stated with a nod, a small, proud smile rising on your face at the boy's satisfaction. You dyed that deep and simple space in red, making other small stems on his face, completing them with small flowers of colors that balanced in their own tones on that skin slightly ablush by the light that came into the room, changing tones without haste when passing of minutes.

Taeyong smiled softly, closing his eyes as he lifted his chin a little, helping you by letting the brush go down his jaw, allowing you to continue drawing lost leaves that "fell" from the flowers made on his face.

"You're looking beautiful..." You dared to praise him, gaining confidence with each new trace created in his almost golden-pink skin, as if this new canvas gradually became more and more yours.

The curve of his mouth marked a roguish smile, then he made a sound in the back of his throat, answering your comment with that sly grunt.

You looked at his neck, touching the sides with your fingertips and leaving wet kisses in the clean spaces between the still wet streaks of red, orange and pink petals on his jugular, receiving long purrs, his head tipping back to receive more of the attention he was getting.

"Before continuing..." He murmured slowly, lowering his head to point at his own lips. "Kiss me some more..." He asked accommodated, waiting for you to approach.

You looked at his mouth, leaning in to obey him, clenching your fists so you wouldn't stain him with your dirty fingers, receiving a small disapproving grunt in the middle of the kiss, his tongue meeting yours when his fingers came out of your thighs to grab your fingers carefully, staining the bottom of his cheek and down below the jaw with the trail of your multicolored fingerprints.

You mumbled any meaningless word, burning on your cheeks, deciding to leave your hands on his jaw as it pleased him more, and consequently you too. His gesture was more than tempting, it was significantly attractive.

You murmured weakly again, hoping he would choose when the kiss should end, he murmured back, slowly shaking his head negatively, holding your wrists.

You pulled away, ending the kiss with a little sound of your lips leaving his. Taeyong leaned minimally to go after the contact he had lost, his astonished eyes finding yours.

"Do you want to finish already?..." You asked the distant-minded boy, waiting for his negative nod. "I still want to paint."

"But I don't want to stop doing this..." He held your hands around his neck, the paint already dry and not bothering him to be so careful.

"I will not stop doing what you want." You removed the strands of his hair that fell on his face again, stroking his brow. "Be a little more patient and I won't stop you anymore."

"You'll have to be good for me." He demanded with innocent eyes, enjoying the caresses on his eyebrows.

"I will be. Just as you're being now for me." You ran your fingers down the side of his face, brushing your thumbs over his ears, outlining the pink area.

You were surprised by a quick kiss followed by another, after that he behaved on his tall wooden stool, brushing his knees against your thighs.

"What part of my body do you want to paint this time?..." His eyes went back to being intense, watching you confident enough to raise his eyebrows slightly, biting his lower lip for an instant in a malicious smile.

You laughed with what he did, letting a barely noticeable smile grow on your face, dropping your fingers to the collar of his white, partially unbuttoned shirt.

Taeyong watched you unbutton a few more buttons, looking anxious for every part of his skin that appeared more.

You slid the white fabric down his shoulders, making the folded bar remain a few inches below.

"You look extremely sexy now." You confessed for him to hear your thoughts in a good tone, his hands came together, his shoulders shrunk very little. "I know you like having me drawing flowers all over your face and neck, Taeyong... You must be feeling very handsome right now..." You painted the cold violet ink on his collarbone in order to continue drawing in his body what made you feel good. "Isn't?" You looked up, wanting your answer.

"I-I am." He stammered, losing that seductive look that teased you, just looking like a victim of your comments.

"Why do you like it so much?..." You asked, pretending to be intrigued by a secret he was keeping from you. "Your ears must be warm for a reason..."

"I feel like you want me more." He whispered, swallowing when you kissed the space between his collarbones. "I feel more attractive..."

"You're right."

He looked at you quickly, wanting to hear some confession he didn't expect.

"I didn't think you could be more beautiful than you already are" You made a brief path of violets, like a crown of petals, standing up when you were done "But look at you" You pulled the air between your teeth, amazed by the sight you were having.

You went to your desk, looking for a camera that rested there next to other materials, returning and finding his embarrassed eyes, taking a picture of the work of art that you had sat in front of you.

"Can I keep this with me?" You asked in a sly tone, approaching when he took a long time to answer, but ended up nodding positively. "You're lovely. " You plunged your fingers through his hair, combing his bangs back, pulling a few strands lightly to get a pleasant expression on his face in return. "Can I take some more? Will you let me?..." You mumbled close to his ear, earning an obedient nod and a low growl, capturing more than satisfied pictures of his face, neck and collarbone, taking the opportunity to take pictures of the entire boy, since the drawings were not what completely enchanted you.

You lifted his chin, grabbing a few more bunch of hair, softening his scalp while giving him one more lazy, sticky kiss.

"Let's go to the floor." You whispered against his lips, pulling away.

Taeyong watched you walk away from him, his pupils running from you to the floor, maybe a little nervous, maybe a little confused, you could never really know what he was feeling.

He stood up, approaching without haste.

"I thought you still wanted to paint..."

You approached after hearing precipitated deductions from him, pulling him without force by the clothes, kissing the naked part of his chest.

"Sit down, my love, we're not stopping." You held his shoulders, making him bend down to his knees, raising your eyebrows when you found his concentrated expression, a blush appearing on his face. "Are you enjoying this?" You tipped your head, grabbing him by the hair.

"What are you going to do?..." He ignored your question in a low tone after a brief gasp, causing you to smile at his submissive position.

You raised the camera, also ignoring his question. "Do a shell with your hands." You asked, just seeing his eyebrows squeezing. "Ask me for something, beg for something..." Taeyong didn't answer, but did exactly what you asked, creating an innocent face, a clear provocation of a wolf dressed in lambskin.

You captured the photo just the way you wanted of the drawing that was lasting, offering him a deal. "I'm going to sit on your hips, Taeyong... I'm going to take that golden ink I have and make laurels on your shoulders..." You walked over to the painting next to you, taking the small container with the golden liquid, returning to the boy on his knees. "If you groan while I rub myself against you, you'll have to let me take as many pictures of your body as I want. The way I want to."

His lips left unanswered, him searching in your face for whatever was your intentions with this game.

"If I don't... groan..." He moved his fingers up the sides of your legs, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs, bringing you close to him. "What will you give me?"

You stroked his ear, analyzing each earring he wore.

"What do you want, Taeyong?..."

His long fingers found your wrists, taking you down, making you sit on his lap.

"Start." He said at last, dragging his nose into your neck, taking the camera out of your hand.

You slid your fingers down his shoulder, painting the skin a little after the curve of his neck, feeling his already heavy breath touch against your skin.

His hands landed on your waist, waiting for any movement, letting his head lie against you when he realized you weren't going to move, letting out a disapproving grunt. "Don't be unfair to me." He caught his breath instantly, feeling your closeness when your hips rubbed slowly against his.

It was good, yes, it was all very good.

His skin was exposed, the drawings painted gently on his face, neck and collarbone. The golden leaves making the way to his shoulder shine. The colors of the sunset toning his figure. The marks of your colored fingers staining his jaw. The good feeling that was being created between the intimate contact over the clothes.

His sigh woke you up.

When you realized, you had stopped painting him and were almost hugging the man who was holding you tightly in you rhythmic hips.

You removed his face hidden from your chest, watching his teeth tighten on his lower lip, his eyes glued to yours, his lower lip freeing itself from his teeth and turning red automatically, making a little pout because of the pressing of your hips, provocation that almost convinced you to give on his pout a kiss if you didn’t know he had done it out of pleasure.

His sighs and little gasps became louder and more daring, and he knew he was catching up with you, it was on purpose, and you couldn't even penalize him for it. "Honey, have you given up yet?..." He smiled rogue, tilting his head to the side, showing his shoulder that was still clean.

You groaned, stopping little by little, almost making him moan over it. "As you wish." You whispered, holding his scruff to keep his head in place, using the other hand to finish the golden laurels, even though that hand was a little more difficult to use.

"You don't have to stop..." he whispered.

"I didn't stop." You whispered back, continuing the long and slow movements.

You received pecks on your collarbone, going up to your jaw, one of his hands coming out of your hips to touch the wrist of your hand in his neck, making you feel the cold wetness of his hand melting in your wrist, seeing it blue.

Before you could said anything, Taeyong took your hand, leading it to the golden paint container on the floor and, then taking it to his breastplate, messing from under his collarbones to the middle of his chest with your gold fingers.

You blushed hard as you watched him do it, getting his hands wet on your cheeks, his palms marking you in blue, pulling your face up to his, sliding his tongue across your lips, trying to start another kiss as he rubbed against you.

You were in silent, feeling his moist fingers gently squeeze your face in order to caress you, his bold kiss making you both a little more euphoric. You stopped moving, hoping to see how far he would go alone, yielding to his need for closeness and leaving only a button stuck to his shirt, lying against his body until his back was on the floor.

Your breaths met excessively until the kiss ended, so you rested your palms on the floor, pulling the skin of his neck between your lips, listening to him hiss with the hickey.

"You ruined my drawing..." You lamented in his ear, giving him another hickey below his ear.

"It was never the intention, my love..." He murmured softly, stopping moving his hips because of yours. You placed your hands on his belly, slightly raising the piece of cloth that was still connected by a single button, moving away from his neck to continue the movements.

His head fell back, his hair dancing and changing direction as he smiled with his lip stuck between his teeth, eyes closed and eyebrows serene.

You watched his expressions in silence, moving your clean hand from his stomach to his chest, reaching his neck, wrapping your warm fingers around his throat without force. Taeyong narrowed his eyes with furrowed eyebrows, then squeezed them tightly, letting out a spontaneous groan when the stimulation down the hips became faster and stronger.

Taeyong gasped in surprise, looking for you with an almost plaintive look.

"Don't look at me like that..." You asked with pity, taking your hand from his neck, having it immediately held by him, him trying to keep it in place.

"Don't do this to me..." He murmured hoarsely, propping himself up on his elbows, asking for a kiss you didn't deny giving him.

"You need to give me what you promised, my love." You said, getting up from his lap, taking a few steps back to watch him better. "Stay like that, will you?" You took the camera back, seeing him embarrassed. "You're not doing anything more than posing for me... You know that, right?"

Taeyong stated with a nod, partly sheepish, partly intimidating, his eyes changing his mood in a snap of fingers. He raised his knee, leaning on one arm, resting his palm between his thighs, hiding the volume in his pants with his forearm.

You moved halfway between his knees, spreading his legs apart. "Get your arm out of there." Taeyong raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, propping himself up on his elbows again, tilting his head to the side.

"Just hurry up with this..." He said teasingly, softening his expression when he brushed his foot on your ankle. "We have a lot more to do."

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Seven

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 2.6k author note :: ofc the reader would still be considered to be a duchess which is why it’s duchess!reader but i guess there’s just more themes of war and titans etc than i expected. so i guess it’s also cadet!reader ?? i promise i have a plan OK! T___T. anyways i hope that’s alright and not very confusing the original premise very much still stands!! :D also i promise levi gets better maybe soon who knows... → click here for the next part ! 

It's understandable why she's noticeably alarmed by the shift in behaviour, the concept of Levi showing any inclination towards caring about you is foreign to the both of you.

"The Duke has also been asking me and Mikasa the most peculiar questions too."

You blink. "What sorts of questions?"

"Ones concerning your past" She begins and your curiosity piques. "Asked if you ever mentioned anything about your old life. Basic information, I don't understand why he would ask now."

"He asked about me?" You question incredulously. This is surreal.

Bobbing her head up and down you stare closely at her trying to figure out if she's serious and she passes your test with flying colours.

You don't know if you should be nervous or afraid, perhaps he shifted back to his loving self for a while? Thousands of explanations surge past you but you can't pinpoint what exactly could have caused him to ask such questions. As far as you know, he's never been interested in you unless a transaction has been involved. That's all it's been since he snapped out of the spell. A purely transactional relationship.

Sasha places a firm hand on your shoulder "Talk to him, figure out what's going on." Her suggestion makes you shudder, frankly you're fearful around him after the events of yesterday night.

Whatever sick and twisted mind game he's playing at you won't let yourself become prisoner to it.

"No," You shake your head simply. "This is another one of his stealthy tactics, I won't give into it out of desperation."

"All the more reason to question where his morals lay." Sasha is persistent. The anxiety is burning itself into your body and it's tough to disregard its presence.

If there's one thing you have learnt in your lifetime it's to put trust in as little people as possible. You have your confidants and are dedicated to keeping your friendships with them. Sasha and Mikasa are loyal at heart and their steadfast nature is incomparable. But, they are anomalies. As much as you would like to admit that there are many diamonds similar to those two you can't.

It's rare to find reliable individuals in this harsh reality full of wealth, jealousy and power hungry survival. Levi, is a man you refuse to put even an ounce of trust into.

Putting any faith in him is hazardous. His unflappable demeanour, self-control, the knack he has for long-winded and gradual manipulation. Distant, bitter and calculating. You think he wouldn't care less if you were to drop dead this instant. In reality you aren't a human being to him, simply a problem out of the very many he already has. So why the sudden interest? Why? What is it he's after this time?

You've signed your life away to this empire under the ruse of becoming an informant. You're risking your life for him. What more does he want to coax out of you?

Those are the thoughts that scuttle past you as you pace in one of the very many hallways within the estate. Your initial destination had been his office but you retreat. For now you choose to withdraw from a battle of words. You aren't prepared.

But life has a way of never letting you pick when you encounter him.

The sound of footsteps behind you is a blunt indicator he's near but you let your naivety pray it's simply a maid. "Cadet." And there he is. Snarling behind your ear, breath blazing.

Cadet?

He must be able to tell you don't recognise the name which rolls off his tongue, especially when the two of you aren't in a professional setting, its placement is odd.

"What? Do you think you're worthy of a better term?" He's taunting you, disgusted that you're dense enough to think you're deserving of any other title.

Arms clasped behind his back he takes a long stride forward, you take a step back in response, he steps forward again and you move in the opposite direction again.

"I'm not used to it that's all. I know I am no Duchess."

His raspy voice creeps into your ear "Get used to it. You are my subordinate, don't assume this is a level playing field."

"Do you hop into all of your cadet's beds very often Sir?"

The question comes out of nowhere and as soon as the words have left your lips you slap your palms over your mouth taken aback just by how easy it is for the impulsive side of your brain to defy him.

"Really?" He asks darkly, and when you narrow your eyes in bewilderment, he coughs, clearing his throat to begin again. "Are you willing to bring this up right now?"

He's as close as ever now, if he moves an inch closer his nose will brush against yours, it suddenly feels difficult to breathe but you swallow the struggle away still unsure if you can force yourself to reply to his question. Is there a right or wrong answer?

For once, you choose to be selfish and put your interests before anyone else's even if that means risking your safety in the process. You just want to understand for once how his brain works.

Balling your fists into two you manage to squeak out what you've been holding back "Do you pry into the personal life of each and every one of your cadets or does that special rule only seem to apply to me?"

"Do you give all of your cadets random days off?"

"Do you-"

He grabs the back of your ponytail with his gloved hands, his skin isn't directly touching yours but the firm grip he has on you doesn't stop your cheeks from flooding with warmth. Fumbling around you're about to scream when he pulls at your hair again jestingly, his other arm moves to securely hold you keeping you stuck in the position you're in.

"Levi." You squirm around awkwardly trying to escape his grasp but he doesn't find this at all amusing.

"Captain." His firm correction catches you off guard.

"Sorry. Captain." Your throat is dry as you croak out the short reply.

Straightening your back you try to shake off the hold he has on your hair but he only tugs your head backwards warning you. Your bare neck is exposed and his eyes slip to your half done buttons. Rolling his eyes he knows if it were any other male member of the corps even the oh so respectable and mature Erwin Smith who caught you like this they would fantasize about how you look underneath that flimsy button up. It's now slipping down one of your shoulders.

Moving the arm that has been holding you down he jerks the fabric back up your shoulder.

"I was under that spell of yours. You're naive to think there's any other reason." He returns venomously, his voice is dripping in poison determined to exterminate any of the attitude you've shown him in the past two minutes.

"Why all the questions about my personal life? I was informed you interrogated a few of my friends."

He tugs at your hair again, you tilt backwards. "What do you hope to get out of this? Find out I have some sort of secret feelings for you?"

In the blink of an eye your bubble has been burst, deep down you did hope that was what this was about. It's not that you would like for him to love you, you wouldn't mind it but, if he loves you your safety is guaranteed that's all that matters. That's what you tell yourself. You don't miss the old him no you don't.

The colour drains from your face when you hear what he has to say afterwards.

"Adorable." His tone is spiked in mockery. "How fond you are of me, but I have no interest in the likes of you."

Heart leaping to your throat the simmering rejection settles.

"And. If you must know, you were given a day off today because Hange insisted every cadet have a day of rest before we all relocate to the training facility's dorms." You curse yourself, the transfer had slipped your mind completely.

"Got it? Fucking prissy princess." The expletive makes you wince.

Then he's silent, it's deafening and bizarrely you find his silence all the more daunting and menacing than when he speaks.

Wrestling yourself out of the grasp he has on your hair is your next move but he loosens his grip without being told to.

Levi allows for you to retreat with no further arguments.

And just like that the rare day off goes past as quick as it happens.

You learn that ignoring Levi is your best bet at living a peaceful life within the walls of this Kingdom. Follow the orders he gives you and you almost always guarantee your own safety. Living. Even if it isn't a happy life you are aware there will be some pleasant moments. Living to experience those moments is the only motivation you have.

Erwin has said you would benefit from working with the rest of the cadets more often. It stops them from questioning why you receive personal training - after all they are unaware of the deal stricken up between you and Levi, it's understandable for the influx of questions.

You don't mind, after all training with Mikasa by your side for most of your days sounds more appealing in the long term. It usually gets lonely and tedious being alone. The prospect of being around the other cadets appeals to you too. You haven't actually had the opportunity to speak to very many of them and a few new members have apparently joined the ranks as of today.

Curiosity is kicking in, everyone is mumbling about the new cadets joining the squadron. You count as one of the new additions you suppose, there's no other explanation for why everyone whispers and murmurs as you stroll into the crowded training area with Mikasa by your side.

"Isn't she the one who banged her head?" muffled chuckles are heard but you pay no mind to the expected response, they'll soon be done talking about you when the next person in line embarrasses them self in your place. Levi's sharp tongue has conditioned you to pay no mind to the commentary of the other cadets. Nobody seems to be able to humiliate you in his fashion.

Mikasa doesn't take the same approach as you when greeted by the unwelcoming whispers, instead she whips her head in the direction of the insults, it looks as if she's thinking about careening one of her steel blades at the group just to instill some respect into them but the simple jerk of her body facing them is enough to make them rotate away in panic and curve the topic of discussion elsewhere.

She mutters something unclear under her breath, you would ask her to repeat her sentence but you're sure all she's done is call the boys infantile and stupid for the way they conduct themselves.

Everyone is introducing themselves and you familiarize yourself with some faces. Krista, the human embodiment of a dainty flower, she's as sweet as honey, A brunette ruffles her hair, she seems close to Krista, she doesn't even bother to introduce herself until she tells her too. Ymir, is her name.

Next you acquaint yourself with Connie, he's friendly and more than happy to converse with you, a breathe of fresh air from the cramped nature of the gossiping group from before.

Everything is going smoothly but then you feel a shoulder slink over your arm, it's not Mikasa it doesn't feel like her.

"You know Jean?" Connie is obviously very surprised.

That's when your eyes bulge out of your sockets in complete and utter shock at the slim chances of this possibility ever occurring, of all the people in all of the places, you just so happen to encounter Jean Kirstein again. He's a wildcard that's for sure.

It doesn't even cross your mind to think he could easily rat you out and ask why a noble woman such as yourself is here of all places. In fact, that concern is at the back of your mind far from your attention. You simply smile, happy to see a familiar face. You barely know him personally but from your last encounter you've been able to discern that he's welcoming and sociable.

He's incredibly friendly patting your head and completely bombarding you with questions "I would have never expected someone like you to show up." If it were anyone else you would have taken it as an insult but he's genuinely curious what brings you here, that much is obvious by his tone.

"Likewise Kirstein, I suppose we live in a small world."

You purposefully choose to not reveal much, you don't know who you can and can't trust.

He seems to catch on because he doesn't follow up on his inquiry. Instead he and Connie ask what part of Paradis you're from, what your parents do, all sorts. You're so engrossed in making up a somewhat believable story you don't even realize Kirstein's arm is still slung over your shoulder.

It's only until Hange yells "ATTENTION!" at the front of the training grounds do your notice the close proximity between you and your fellow cadet.

Slowly edging away from him you're swiftly able to detach yourself with no disturbances.

Hange is introducing themself, hands flailing in all directions and eyes wide describing how their additional role is investigating titans, they say if you're lucky enough maybe one day you'll be able to help with one of their secretive experiments. A towering blonde brute nearby whispers that Hange is eccentric and odd, a few others say it's surprising they're a superior.

Sensibly, you bury the frustration you feel down your throat, but God would you love if those childish fools kept their false opinions to themselves.

Erwin and Levi exchange looks probably deciding who speaks afterwards, it seem begrudgingly Levi agrees to take the stand.

The training ground abruptly falls silent.

Levi taking a step forward surveys the area and not once does he bother looking at you.

"Rules." His voice rumbles. "Which you all must follow." His gaze unusually centers in on Jean, you bear witness to how his form begins to tremble. Just one look from the Captain and he's about to dissolve.

The majority of his rules are basic and can easily be predicted, "You are expected to help with the cleaning. If your personal hygiene is that of a pig you may as well walk yourself out of the door now." His silver eyes are stabbing into the front row, most likely because Eren is there. He's apparently missed cleaning duty for two weeks now, it's miraculous how he's escaped unscathed.

After Levi is done wordlessly threatening Eren he rubs his hands together expectantly. Lips quirking up into one of his sharp cut-throat smiles he stares right at Jean. After a moment of silence he speaks with clarity. "No dating between cadets is permitted. No fucking either, sorry to disappoint Kirstein."

Metallic eyes are piercing into his wobbly form again and all of the cadets burst into a rupture of giggles. You too are about to join them. Truthfully, it is laughable that his notorious womanizing reputation is known even to the Captains.

But before you're able to laugh your breathe falters, you can practically feel jagged daggers twisting and digging into you. Quickly before he swiftly looks away you’re able to note Levi's eyes deliberately flick up in your direction, gaze boring into you, it burns.

You feel guilty but don’t know what it is you’ve done to produce such a hostile response.

Nevertheless, you can feel his scrutiny impale you.

[curly-bangtan]

A Drop of Heaven II: Doll

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Seokjin x reader, some Taehyung x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: blood drinking, mentions of abuse, obv blood and gore, kind subtle baby girl fetish?? oc has trust issues

Word count: 9k

A/N: This took me so much effort to write for some reason… SIGH I feel like it’s shit and disappointing cos it contains filler info that’s necessary for plot building. As for the lack of _smut_ (which ik is what y’all filthy animals are here for), I promise the next chapter will make up for it!!

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

“Here you go.”

The clang of the white floral-embossed porcelain dish against the glass surface of the dining table sounds particularly crisp to you ear. The fresh pungent seafood smell infiltrating your nostrils, strong and unmistakable, answering your gurgling stomach.

“Lobster truffle tagliatelle.”

You stare, gobsmacked, at the melon-sized plate of pasta placed in front of you. It’s been so long, so long, since you��ve had a remotely satiating meal. Eyes and mouth watering from the delicious scent, you almost don’t know where to start digging in.

“T-Thank you.” You remember to say, though it comes out as a stammer. The corner of Seokjin’s pursed lips turn up slightly, enough for it to count as a smile.

Fork in your hand trembling in excitement, you impale a large chunk of fresh juicy lobster and twirl a good portion of pasta around it. When the flavour touches your tongue, a grenade of bliss detonates in your mouth, flooding up to awaken the pockets of happiness in your mind that have laid dormant for a while. You can’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes almost indecently.

You stop mid-groan when you remember your whereabouts and present company.

“This is amazing. Thank you for cooking for me.” Clearing your throat, you thank Seokjin again. As you glance up at him, you notice the blush creeping on not his cheeks, but his ears. In any other circumstances, you would find it endearing.

“You’re welcome, it’s my pleasure.” He has a habit of not meeting your eye when he speaks to you, it hasn’t taken you even a day to notice, as his attention currently fixes on a particularly large blotch of oil stain on his cooking apron. “I… enjoy cooking.”

.

After the happenings yesterday, the taste of Namjoon’s blood still tingling the buds of your tongue, you have been trying to steer your mind away from him. You had learnt that vampires sleep during the day, while staying active at night. It had been Monday morning when Namjoon left you in the room after… that thing, and you haven’t seen him emerge from his room since, not even in the evening when he was supposed to be awake.

Good, you don’t want to even remotely think about that. Or him.

You hope you won’t have to encounter him again for the rest of the week now that your day with him is over. That sire bond magic… The memory of the carnal compulsion throbbing in your head and chest makes you shiver.

Is that going to happen with all of them? Because if so, you don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity.

So for the rest of the day yesterday, in the absence of your sire to dictate you around in his obnoxiously stern voice, you took it upon yourself to explore the manor and try find out more about this predicament you’re caged in. You made it not ten steps out your room in the eerie candle lit hallway when you stumbled across Hoseok. No, stumbling across is perhaps not the correct term. You have a feeling he had been lurking around, waiting for you.

In your weak-willed confuzzled state from the fixing of the sire bond, you could all but refuse to let him take you on a grand tour around the maze of a mansion the seven of them inhabit. Hoseok had leaped at your response, so enthusiastic, resembling a child receiving a brand new toy he had been begging his parents for.

Despite his constant unfailing smile, there is something quite uncanny about the red-haired vampire. If you look at him for long enough, you can spot the smallest spark of madness behind the glaze of his eyes.

Still, regardless of your hunch, you allowed him to tug on your freshly healed wrist after him. Last time you defied Namjoon, that happened. You didn’t dare to seek the repercussions of challenging another vampire, especially one appearing as eccentric as Hoseok.

Stunning is perhaps too little a word to describe this estate - this is a place of fairytales. Two stories high, a garden the size of a park, a swimming pool to supplement the natural rock pools and ponds, a fertile greenhouse, a library fit for royalty, an underground gym next door to the cinematic movie room… Almost all the facilities one would find in a town located under a single roof. On the second floor are the seven bedrooms, and though Hoseok didn’t take you into any of them, he explained that they are all ensuite and connected to another private room.

“It’s called the Feed room, where the Feed of each vampire resides. The room you were in earlier was Namjoon-hyung’s, his bedroom which he doesn’t allow his Feeds in is through the door opposite the bed.” The door through which he had fled, you had noted in your head. “We don’t normally enter each other’s Feed rooms - it’s disrespectful, invasion of an extremely intimate space.”

No wonder Namjoon had been so displeased with Jimin.

“I guess how it will work now that all seven of us are sharing you,” Hoseok continued. A muscle in your throat twitched at ‘sharing you’. “Is that at the end of every day at midnight, you will rotate to the next Feed room where whoever awaits you. Kinda like… speed dating, but with feeding, and minus the speed ‘cause it lasts a whole day, and also it’s a perpetual weekly cycle.” He let out a sudden burst of laughter, as if he had said something funny, but you found no humour in the situation.

A perpetual weekly cycle. For the rest of your life. Rotating between seven vampires every single day.

The malignant lump in your throat grows, suffocating you.

Hoseok paid no heed to your lacklustre reaction at his supposed joke, instead threw an arm around you and guided you down the corridor. You didn’t run into anyone else in the duration of the tour, no doubt because it was the middle of the day which meant the vampires were all fast asleep.

You wished you ran into someone, anyone, even Namjoon. The sole company of Hoseok was making you uneasy. His overt eagerness towards you, almost like a pet dog, threw you off your axes. Every time he reached out to touch you in some way, though it’s always a harmless friendly gesture, you suppress the instinct to move away.

He appears a very simple man, genuinely happy all the time, child-like cheerfulness, very easy going. But that is all the more reason to fear him. He can act like this with you now, as if you are his friend, yet will also show no mercy in drinking your blood. You still remember how fanatically impatient to feed on you he had been, practically pouncing at your collarbone once given the green light from his leader.

This gemini personality makes you unwilling to trust him one bit, regardless of his kind comical display.

As Hoseok dropped you off back at Namjoon’s Feed room to catch some rest himself, you wonder how he dared to leave you alone unattended. Surely you could sneak out while they’re all asleep and make your great escape.

You had sat at the edge of your bed plotting, deep in contemplation of whether to leave right now before it’s too late, or to earn their trust first. But what would they do if they ever found you again? Surely not kill you, they need you alive for your blood. Surely they won’t hurt you that much either, would they? But then there is also the problem of where to go. You have no home, no family apart from your uncle whose fate remains unknown, no money, no life to return to. What’s the point of escaping then? At least here, you serve a purpose, have a roof over your head and food cooked for you.

Though the harder you thought, the more a heavy exhaustion fell over you. Your daily routine would now have to be synchronised with these vampires, you would have to sleep during the day so you could be awake for them to feed on at night.

You fell asleep wondering whether it was the sire bond lulling you to slumber, among other things in you that it has control over which you do not know of yet.

.

“You enjoy cooking?” You ask curiously after chewing your enormous bite. “So vampires eat regular human food too?”

Seokjin pulls out the chair in front of you at the clothed banquet table and takes a seat. “Well, not really. I guess it’s just me. I find cooking kind of therapeutic and calming in a way, and even though it doesn’t satisfy my hunger, I might as well eat what I’ve cooked rather than let it go to waste. The taste took some time to get used to, human food tasted so strange at first, but I’ve learnt how to appreciate it now… You know?” As he speaks, his finger traces the gold embroidery on the black tablecloth. You oddly want him to look up and meet your eye, but he doesn’t.

You decide that you like Seokjin.

He possesses a soft, shy, delicate quality to him, and unlike anyone else you can tell with certainty that it isn’t a deceitful facade. He is almost very… normal. Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, you can believe to be vampires. Whereas with Seokjin, you can’t seem to comprehend.

“Well, you’re a great chef.” It is intriguing, peculiar, how he shows such interest in something as mundane as cooking. He has an eternity to live, yet he chooses to explore the food of mortals as his hobby. But judging by the way you had watched him cook, you suppose culinary skill is more of an art to him. You don’t know why you find that rather cute.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, finally glancing up to check your face only to quickly look back down at his hands when your eyes meet.

When the clock struck twelve at midnight, marking the start of a new day - Tuesday, your day with Seokjin, you woke up with a clearer mind. You would stay here, at least for a while longer, get a feel of this lifestyle, perhaps learn some of their secrets first before making the decision of whether to run away.

You hadn’t bother letting Namjoon know as you made your way to Seokjin’s Feed room. The place is significantly different from Namjoon’s; clean, creamy white, and a gold wardrobe full of laced garments. Very feminine. A note sitting on the pristine dresser wrote:

Good evening.

Please dress in the attire I’ve selected for you found in the wardrobe. If you have any problems, you are welcome to knock on my door to seek help.

- Seokjin

Already, you had taken a preference to him at that point. He seems polite, respectful, the opposite of Namjoon’s imposing rules.

“Why don’t you have some of the pasta? Not hungry?” You smooth over the crease of your ivory dress. It is very finely made, you don’t require an expert eye to be able to recognise; not only this but every piece of clothing in his closet for you. Where did they get all this money?

“Um, I…”

When his sentence fizzles out, you realise your mistake. Your ‘hungry’ is different from his ‘hungry’. He eats food for pleasure, not out of hunger; his thirst is only satisfied through drinking blood, of course. You feel stupid.

“Or… Thirsty?” Placing your silver fork down leaning against the plate, you wipe your mouth with a napkin.

Seokjin physically goes rigid, more so than before. “N-No, I’m fine.” The fabric of the tablecloth bunches up under his fist before he lets it loose. His lips are pursed tensely, rounding his spotless cheeks.

Somehow you aren’t convinced; he hadn’t said it with much conviction. But why conceal his thirst? For once, a part of you wishes for him to feed on you. Seokjin may be your only amicable ally in this house, your only way out even. Bridging the gap between the two of you could be of more use in the future than what you can imagine currently. Furthermore, despite yourself, you feel a sort of empathy towards him. No, maybe empathy isn’t the right word; it’s more like you see a potential of a friendship between the two of you, and you would like to understand him better.

The difference in your mood when you are with him compared to the others is quite drastic, you’ve noticed. You don’t feel bitter or defiant like with Namjoon, hesitant and timid like with Jimin, nor fearful and subdued like with Hoseok. You are at ease, his presence almost calms you though you can’t quite put your finger on the root of it. Perhaps it is because he is the only person thus far who you sense complete genuinity and even guilt from.

But you don’t push it. If he doesn’t insist on feeding, then he has his reasons. It just adds to his intrigue.

A silence falls over the both of you, with you preoccupied with your meal, which you don’t know whether to call it your lunch or dinner see as it is currently the middle of the night. Seokjin gathers himself and straightens, watching you devour his signature dish. He had woken up at the crack of dusk, just as the sunlight was trickling away into evening, to buy the lobster fresh from his well-acquainted vendor by the pier. It is always a nuisance to try to go unnoticed outside; he much prefers staying at home and avoiding the curious breed that is mankind. But he wanted to not only make you feel welcome, but also to impress you. Though you don’t need to know that.

Seokjin is sure your night with Namjoon could not have been a pleasant one. He has scolded his younger brother many-a-times before about being more lenient with his Feeds, but he is a stubborn self-righteous man. Seokjin knows he shouldn’t have but he couldn’t help but listen in on your argument with him, he blames it on the heightened hearing. Though, Namjoon’s Feed room quickly went very silent apart from a few whimpers, which he presumed was because he resorted to feeding to suppress you.

“So… I know this must not be great for you, it usually takes Feeds a while to accept and get used to their new life, but how are you coping with every?” You are surprised to find him meeting your eye and instigating such conversation. He knows he is shy, yet he is trying. At this rate, you will grow fond of him.

“Well.” You unconsciously pat your bloated belly, unaccustomed to having a full stomach; no matter how much you want to finish this glorious plate of pasta, you physically don’t think you can take another bite. “I think ‘not great’ is a slight understatement.” When he winces, you quickly retract your sour tone. “It’s just… a lot to take in. It is overwhelming, really, to be almost plucked out and inserted into a completely different world like I’m some character in a game. The whole supernatural magic thing, the sire bond, the blood drinking. I’m still trying to process it.”

“Of course, I understand that. Trust me, if I could have it any other way, I would.” There is a hint of melancholy in his voice, and his eyes seem to drift to a distant past that you wish to see too. “I guess it doesn’t help that we are all very different vampires fundamentally, with completely different methods of action.”

“Yes, I mean I have spent one day with Namjoon, and only have just briefly spoken to you, Jimin and Hoseok so I can hardly pass a solid judgement, but I can already sense your dissimilarities.”

“How was Namjoon by the way? Harsh, I imagine?” His gaze travels to your wrists, which you note he has been doing subconsciously quite often. Is it out of thirst? Or is it out of concern on whether you were mistreated?

“Namjoon-” Your heart lurches just from saying his name, and the coil that has loosened itself since the last time you thought about your debauchery begins to wind again. “Yeah, harsh.”

“You will have to forgive him. He is… particular about his ways, very set on regulations and discipline. To him, there is a very well-defined line between Feed, and everyone else. Though the rest of us are usually at least friendly with ours, he has always kept it a strict predator-prey relationship with his Feeds. He does not speak to them if not needed, does not see them unless it is to feed, does not allow himself to even converse with them lest they overstep the boundaries he sets. It is an obsolete way to live, as a vampire, yet flexibility and adaptability are not words that agree with Namjoon’s fundaments.”

That explains so much about Namjoon as a person. Perhaps he fears attachment and intimacy with one that he is supposed to view as no more than food.

“Right.” You ponder aloud, perplexed. “I guess I could understand that perspective. Tell me more, about all of you.” This insight into their characters is not only fascinating but is also such useful information, whoever you need to use it against in the future.

Seokjin hesitates, as if unsure he whether he is at liberty to reveal more. But to your relief, he continues.

“Yoongi, you really need to be careful with. I shouldn’t speak ill of him as his brother, but his methods with his Feed are… extremely questionable. A Feed usually lasts us a decade or more; Yoongi can drain his Feeds to death in weeks, even after healing them. The problem isn’t his thirst nor his self-control, it is his lack of empathy, his cruelty. The way he treats his Feeds are… inhumane. We aren’t human but we at least try to act civil, yet Yoongi embraces our nature as demons in its entirety. He doesn’t even try to act like he is more than the monsters we are. He is a sadist, loves to inflict pain, to crush pretty things in his fist...”

Your breath hitches. You had sensed his darkness from the moment you laid your eyes on him when you woke up to them surrounding your bed. He drains his Feeds in weeks? There is no way you’ll survive Yoongi alone, never mind all seven of them.

“And what day am I with him again?” Staring at your half empty plate, you feel your blood draining from your head. Even his own brother admits that he is a monster, you can’t begin to imagine what he will actually be like with you.

“Wednesday, tomorrow.”

It’s like being shoved down a great chasm. The pure dread dripping like acid down your throat as your heart sinks.

You thought Namjoon was bad, but somehow the thought of being bossed around by him sounds extremely pleasant compared to being with Yoongi. And you are going to be alone in his Feed room as well... With no one to stop him to hurt you however he wants… Surely someone will step in if he takes it too far right? Surely, now that they are sharing a Feed? Please?

Flashbacks to your uncle’s fist connecting to your temple flare in your mind, the way he would smile every time he drew blood as if it were some sort of achievement. But you’ve been tortured before. You’ve had it all.

Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared.

You’ve had it all.

You’ve suffered and survived. You can suffer and survive again.

When Seokjin notices the slight trembling at your throat, how your eyes are frozen and glazed over as if in a trance, he quickly says, “Look, don’t worry, Y/N. If he takes anything too far, seriously harms you in anyway, let me know and I will make him stop.”

You blink at Seokjin. And wonder quietly how someone as soft-spoken and gentle as him could command a devilish psychopath. You appreciate the offer, you trust his kindness, you just don’t believe he would be capable of stopping his brother from doing what he wishes if Yoongi with you is as he described.

“Why is he like this..?” Why are there men like him and your uncle? And why can you never escape them?

“He…” Seokjin sighs. “Yoongi was not always like this. We have lived for a really long time, have been through a lot of misery that we all cope with in our own ways. The Yoongi I knew two millennia ago is still in this husk of a man, deep down. He thinks detaching from his emotions, creating this evil persona of himself is the only way he can continue living for eternity. We’ve all tried to help him, trust me, we have. It’s heartbreaking to see someone you love-”

His voice catches in his throat, and you glance up at his face, beautifully contorted in such a candor pain, plump bottom lip jutted out. You pity him. It is torturous to love a monster, worse for immortals.

“I understand it must be.” You quietly say, unsure of how to console him. These vampires, the complexity and depth of their issues are nothing you can ever relate to. You can offer no advice except your sympathy.

You try not to think about how your encounter with Yoongi, the creature so sick and twisted that it broke his brothers’ hearts, is tomorrow. You hate him already.

Desperate to wipe off the sorrow in Seokjin’s features that constricts your heart, you swiftly change the topic. “Tell me about your other brothers. Hoseok? Jimin? Taehyung?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen, as if awoken from deep thought, a redness tinting his face as if embarrassed from the vulnerability he accidentally displayed. “Right.” After clearing throat, his voice resumes its stability. “I guess you should also be careful around Hoseok; he is rather wild and unpredictable, sort of takes everything with a dash of humour, but is also the one with the worst self-control out of us all. He’s impatient and childish, hasn’t really seem to have grown out of his teenage mentality even after two thousand years.”

Just as you predicted. You gulp. This is an improvement from Yoongi, but so is everything. Is that really the standard you’re measuring against now? Seokjin sees the concern in your expression.

“But-” he quickly says, “his intentions are never malicious in any form. I can’t stress enough that he is really just a child at heart who wants to find light in every situation, so don’t let his moods scare you.”

“He does seem… rather odd.” Borderline lunatic, but that would be too rude to call him to his brother. Maybe you are being rude and quick to judge. When did you become like this?

To your surprise, Seokjin lets out a chuckle. You watch his eyes crease in genuine humour, a sight that makes you smile without reason. “Yes, he is very odd. But you will grow to appreciate or even like his personality. Truly brightens your day.”

Oh? You can’t say you believe him. So far, with the exception of Seokjin maybe, you don’t trust any of these vampires. You don’t see yourself ever letting your guard down around them in the future.

“Now Jimin, he wears his heart on his sleeve - very affectionate and loving with his Feeds, almost the polar opposite from Yoongi. He only sires females, and more times than not he falls in love with them. Actually, forget more times than not, I mean every time.”

That both surprises and doesn’t surprise you. It surprises you because it means that tenderness he had shown towards you had not been false afterall. Yet it doesn’t surprise you because in your heart you had believed him when he said he values and respects you, and those emotive eyes of his cannot lie.

Does this also means he will fall in love with you?

You don’t know how to feel. It is oxymoronic to you, for his prey to also be his lover. But what scares you is that, if the sire bond had caused such a drastic change in the dynamic between you and Namjoon, you can only imagine how strongly it will hit a romantic dreamer like Jimin.

And you. Will you fall in love with him too?

“That surely isn’t wise; he must get devastated when his Feeds… pass away.” You ask, and Seokjin’s shrug conveys the same lack of understanding for his brother’s ways as you.

“His coping mechanism is to find a new Feed to fall in love with as quick as possible, find someone to replace that void in his heart. I can sympathise with the appeal of love, we have lived for so long, it gets lonely for someone as affectionate as Jimin who always seeks another half.” At the word lonely, your eyes meet, and for a second you swear you can feel Seokjin resonating with the feeling.

You get the urge to reach out to hold his hand across the table and tell him that he isn’t alone now, though you don’t know why. But you just stare at his creamy unblemished skin and reply, “Oh.”

It shocks you, the urge of emotions you sometimes feel for this man before you, despite knowing him for not a week. You truly, truly want to comfort him. He seems so pure, so undeserving of the title of a vampire. Confusion whirls in your mind.

“As for Taehyung. Oh, Taehyung…” Seokjin sighs in a way that instantly makes you even more interested in the boy he speaks of. “He has many layers to him that will slowly be peeled to reveal a heart of gold, but first you need to endure his mystery and mischief. He may appear unreadable and confusing at first - he’s always had this strange duality to him, but in the end he forms such deep bonds with his Feeds. He is very picky when selecting his Feed, it takes him the longest time to choose one as his taste buds are peculiar and he always assesses the person as a whole rather than settling for any blood.

“He likes to spoil them with riches, designer clothes, sparkling diamonds, anything they desire. Feeds are more like friends then food to him, perhaps on the other extreme from Namjoon. Not only this, he is kind to all of our Feeds too. Him and Jimin often like to share or swap Feeds, as long as one of them doesn’t get to jealous and possessive. He hides his compassion behind his rascal playfulness, but really, he grieves the loss of his Feeds the most out of us all.”

In the blur of your memory, you remember Taehyung as the blonde devilishly handsome boy who was the first to dig his fangs into you. You had been so susceptible to his charm, had leaned into his touch because you had wanted him. Now Seokjin is telling you that this boy is a deeply emotional being who treasures his Feeds as companions?

Should you perhaps not place so much trust in Seokjin? Afterall his opinion on his brothers will of course be biased. Or maybe it is your own judgement that you should doubt. You had been quick to decide on how you view these vampires with the prejudice that they are uncivilised beasts. Yet their complexities have been proven time and time again, shedding the misconceptions you had doled them in your head.

You shall reserve your judgement from now on.

“Also, he will probably ask you to be his muse.”

“Muse…?”

“Yes, Taehyung loves to paint.” Seokjin smiles down at the patterns of the tablecloth to himself with a glimmer of pride for his brother’s artistry.

“Talking about me behind my back, hyung?” A rich voice appears behind you so abruptly that you jump out of your seat, startled, your chair falling back loudly. The clang echoes up the tall walls of the dining room.

Before you can look back, you hear the newcomer effortlessly pick up the fallen chair and push it towards you until its cushioned edge hits the pits of your knees. You smell him before you see him, a fresh almost fruity scent.

“Careful there, Y/N. Can’t contain your excitement to see me?” As he whispers in your ear, an ice cold shiver runs down the course of your back, his breath tingling your skin like teasing fingers.

When you finally get the chance to fully take in his appearance, your legs almost give in and plop right down onto the chair. Some people are so stunning that every time you look at them feels like the first time, their beauty never ceases to strike at you, rendering you completely defenseless. You want to say the culprit is his eyes, but then you see the glorious arch of his nose, and Michaelangelo-painted lips. If Seokjin’s beauty is an iridescence flawlessly-round pearl, Taehyung would be the sharp vibrant amethyst glittering like an undiscovered galaxy.

His tongue swipes out to wet his lips. Something inside you screams.

“Taehyung-ah, it’s impolite to lurk around, and especially rude to intrude on a conversation that does not involve you.” Seokjin chastises, standing up as well to mirror your stance. Suddenly, he sounds quite authoritative, not dictating like Namjoon, but stern, imperious. Unlike his timid tone with you previously.

“Sorry, hyung.” Taehyung expels a childish puff of air through his nostrils and puckers his lips. “Just wanted to see our dear angel over here.”

He stares at you with such an overt desire, almost lewly, that you feel something crawl beneath your skin. You take a step back closer to the table and turn to face Seokjin, if only to save your senses from imploding.

“You may wait your turn to get to know her, like everyone else.” The older vampire states, and though irritation should be ticking his handsome visage, you find a softness in its place.

And once again, you catch a glimpse of the extensive love and tenderness Seokjin feels for his brothers despite their behaviour and his role to keep them in line as the eldest.

“I know, I know.” Taehyung doesn’t step towards you despite noticing the distance you’ve placed. From his tight jaw, you can tell that patience is perhaps not his strong suit. It is straining him. “Only wanted to say hi.” He grumbles, still pouting.

This boyish mannerism is a guise, you remind yourself, masking the sophisticated soul Seokjin was describing. But why? You don’t understand all these impostures they like to put up. Why must they exhaust themselves by constantly playing games of Hide and Seek?

“Well there you go. Y/N and I will get going now, Taehyung.” Seokjin strides around the long dining table to reach your side. As he approaches, you watch his broad shoulders swing from side to side, an irony against his gentle personality.

“Shouldn’t you wash the dishes first, hyung? Can’t leave dirty plates lying around.”

Humour does not find Seokjin’s face, but it does yours. This Taehyung is a daring one to test his brother like this. You glance over to find the same mirth glinting in his ocean blue eyes. You look back at your feet to stifle a giggle.

“I-” He lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine, I will do them right now, don’t you worry. Y/N,” you face him as he address you, and three feet away, his skin looks just as porcelain clear, “why don’t you meet me in my Feed room?”

“I’ll escort her.” Taehyung quickly chimes in.

You hear a noise of protest before you are whisked away by a large palm on the small of your back. When you turn your head back, you see Seokjin shaking his in disapproval and pushing his hair back to reveal the pale curve of his forehead. The action flusters you for some reason.

But then you are keenly aware of the vampire beside you, guiding you out the room towards the grand staircase. The pounding of your heart grows heavier, nervous, scared even. As you peek up at him, Taehyung meets your eye, that serpentine tongue sliding out again. Matching his meandering pace, the both of you walk up the stairs wordlessly. The polished rail happily meets his fingertips as he slides them along the bannister. Your mind scrambles to anticipate what he’ll do next.

At the penultimate step, he makes an abrupt halt. You take your final step onto the landing before your legs know to cease motion as well. And with one wrong turn of you foot, you make the mistake of spinning towards him.

With the height leverage, you are at eye level with each other. Nose to nose, breath to breath. You twisted so quickly out of surprise for his sudden stop that he has to catch you by your waist to prevent you from toppling onto him.

Satan...

It has to be black magic cloaking this boy because you find yourself being sucked into him no matter how lethal he appears.

“Sweet angel.” He takes in your face as if you are a work of art, and now your heart is racing. Because the way he looks at you is the way so many girls dream and dream to be regarded by beautiful men like him with even just an inkling of the longing in his eyes.

“I have turned this world upside down looking for you, you have no idea…” Slender fingers snake to the back of your hips, shooting a flaming arrow up your spine until it is tingling your scalp. You notice the subtle difference in his tone from before, more gentle, less fanatic. “And now I’ve found you. So please understand and forgive my forwardness, I really cannot contain my need for you.”

All you can do is blink at him.

“Uh…” The flattery that his words imbues in you sits in your stomach, tumbling your insides into a tight knot. The feeling of being wanted, needed...

Taehyung lightly tugs on your waist until your hips are touching. When he leans into you, you hold your breath, frozen, watching his lips near yours. But rather than meeting your own lips, they skim past the corner of your mouth, the sensation sending a hot pulse down to your core. His mouth puckers at your cheek, kissing it with a delicacy that you don’t expect from him.

You can’t tell whether the drop of your heart is from relief or disappointment that he didn’t kiss you.

If anyone had tried such an intimate gesture with you, especially a stranger you hardly know, you would’ve kicked them in the shin, or at least yell and pull away. But for some reason, you revel in the smoothness if his lips on your skin, like a cool silken handkerchief brushing against your face.

You lean in, feet digging into the wooden floor to ground yourself. Your fingers toy with the fabric of your dress to remind yourself that this is real.

His lips travel to your ear, breath tickling the sensitive microscopic hairs on your face. “You don’t have to be shy with me, okay?” His voice tunnels into your ear, like a hand reaching into you and tying up your lungs. “You don’t have to pretend not to yearn for me.”

It is a bold assumption he is making, but it is also a true one.

You do yearn for him, in more ways than you can comprehend. The fibres that make up your being goes against the logic in your brain that tells you to hate this blood-sucking demon. But the sire bond hasn’t even been set between you two yet, has it?

Taehyung takes his last step up the staircase to arrive beside you, hands not quite leaving your hips but rather falls loosely to your side. Incapable of uttering a word, you allow him to lead you along the U-shaped corridor, passing door to door that only differ by the gold initials engraved in the dark mahogany wood. Until you arrive before one with SJ - Feed carved.

“Thank you for walking me.” You say although it’s more him who is grateful for the opportunity to spend time with you.

“It’s my greatest pleasure, of course.” Dipping his head, you catch a glimpse of the most dashing of smiles that allows the tip of his fang to peak through. Are they permanently unsheathed?

In the silence that follows, you wonder about the other vampires, their current whereabouts, whether they can hear your conversation with Taehyung. It is eerily quiet, and this house is large enough for your voice to echo. Can they all overhear Taehyung’s brave advances towards you? Can Seokjin?

“I guess this is my least favourite part of our journey - parting.” Taehyung brushes a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. Then the mischief returns to his voice as he suddenly lunges and nibbles on your earlobe, fangs deliberately missing your flesh. “From now on, you will find yourself looking forward to our time together. I promise you, Saturday will soon become your favourite day of the week.”

Then he’s gone.

This vampire speed is beginning to get on your nerves. How dare they always take advantage of this ability to flee at the most convenient times?

Though it’s not like you would’ve been able to muster a response anyway. Taehyung has a talent in extracting all function from your brain.

You enter Seokjin’s Feed room and slump against the door. Truly exhausted from the interaction with such an unpredictable, intoxicating being. You actually begin to miss the older vampire, the comfort and security he provides.

It is interesting, though, how Seokjin has chosen a whole wardrobe of clothes for you. He hadn’t been insistent on you wearing them, but it’s not like there has been any provided alternative to the white-pink paletted, almost lolita-styled outfits either. You pad over the closet and swing the doors wide open from the gold knob. Today you had picked one of the plainer, more neutral white dresses, devoid of any lace unlike almost every article of clothing in this wardrobe.

So Seokjin likes lace, huh?

You pull open the underwear drawer, hand running through the rows of neatly folded panties. You imagine how flustered he must have been while folding these, and smile to yourself. Your fingers encountered a larger piece of undergarment. Hooking it out, the fabric falls open, revealing an ivory lace bodysuit dangling from your finger.

Yet what makes your eyes bulge are the suspender straps that hang from the bottom.

Oh.

Why has he chosen…

Oh?

You feel a strange sense of perversion as you line it against your body and look into the mirror. Does he wish for you to wear this? Surely not the shy Seokjin you were speaking to?

But then you look around the room and notice a very blatant preference that he has. Gold-rimmed white bed frame, pink-accented white sheets, pearl-embellished white curtains. The entire room is washed over with a pure, almost infantile aesthetic.

And when it clicks in your head, you recognise how obviously this corresponds with and reflects Seokjin’s clean appearance and virtuous nature.

Hesitant, you shed your dress and try on the body suit. To your amazement, its sheer material fits you like a second skin, hugging your body at your hips and bosom espeically. You inhale in wonder at your own reflection, marvelling how good you look in this garment.

Never have you worn anything that has made you feel remotely as sensual, as titillating.

Your appearance is an oxymoron; you look so innocent with the little bows and floral web, yet so provocative with the neckline revealing your cleavage and ass completely exposed by the thong cutting. A wave of cold hits you, and your nipples respond.

The door behind you opens.

In the mirror, your eyes meet Seokjin’s as he immediately freezes at the sight of you, one foot stepped into the room. And for a horrifying moment, your heart plunging down to earth’s core, your reflections just stare at each other. Utterly mortified.

There’s a glint in his eyes that stirs something in your stomach.

“Shit!” You shriek when you regain your awareness of the situation. Seokjin swiftly slams the door shut as he exits the room, yelling a stuttering apology from outside. You quickly dig out a pale pink sweatshirt and matching joggers, the most concealing outfit you can find, and throw it over yourself.

Your face is burning. You don’t know how you can face him again after he’s seen you in that... that sheer lacy lingerie...

A knock sounds from the door, slow and hesitant. “Um, are you… dressed?” His voice wavers.

You wait a second to get yourself together before answering, “yes.”

When he enters this time, both your eyes are fixed on the wooden floor. Seokjin’s ears are bright red, almost as vibrant as his pursed lips. His own heart is hammering, the image of you dressed in that bodysuit refusing to leave his mind. He is scolding himself for even allowing such a thing to happen. Has he no manners? How could he just barge into a lady’s room like that unannounced?

Awkwardness brews between you two until he manages to gather his voice. “I’m truly so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think you’d be-” His breath hitches. “I-I should have knocked. I’m sorry.”

You glance up at him, cheeks still aflame, to find him frowning at his feet, so clearly screaming at himself in his head. So you say, “It’s fine. It was an accident, you didn’t know.”

Sitting yourself onto the end of the bed, you watch him stay standing by the closed door, motionless still. There is now a tension in the air, like the wall of privacy that separates you two has been breached.

“Um… You don’t have to… stand all the way there, you know?” You say to him, hoping to ease his discomfort. Hell, he seems more uncomfortable than you do.

Seokjin looks up, nods nervously and sits a meter away from you on the bed. You almost see the clockworks ticking in his brain, trying to find the words to say to you to lessen the weird atmosphere.

“I didn’t expect you this soon.” You mutter, also trying to find a way to communicate that it’s okay.

“I washed up quickly.” The image of Seokjin doing the dishes in vampire speed in fear of Taehyung trying anything on you actually spreads your lips into a grin. Your unexpected amusement surprises him, and he finds himself smiling as well.

When you look at each other, the tension begins to ebb away, the both of you starting to find humour in this stupid situation. You heart warms, and you decide in this moment that, yes, you want to grow closer with Seokjin. You haven’t had any sort of companion in a while, your sister the only exception, and though you have gotten accustomed to the solidarity, you often find yourself craving for someone who understands you, who’s always there to talk to you.

And thus far he has been nothing if not open and honest with you. Answering your questions, helping you ease into this new life.

“I want to ask you about your sixth brother.”

Seokjin blinks at you. “Jungkook?”

“Ah right, that’s his name.” There are seven vampires in this house, yet you have only really encountered six of them. That time when you had first woken up on that bed, only six of them had fed on you. You thought you had seen someone lurking in the corner of the room, yet in your delirious overwhelmed state, you hadn’t paid much attention. You haven’t met him since. “Where is he? How come I haven’t seen him at all?”

The sigh you get in response percolates your intrigue. “Jungkook doesn’t feed.”

You think you’ve misheard him at first. “Sorry?”

“Jungkook doesn’t feed.” He states with such certitude. “He drinks from blood bags only. Sundays will be your day off; I don’t suppose you’ll see much of him even then, I guess you’d be able to do whatever you wish on his days.”

Your gratitude is overshadowed by your curiosity. Why would he, a vampire, choose to drink stale blood when there is a fresh option? “Wait, how come?”

Another one of those strained sighs, like he is frustrated with his brother for being this way, but not quite. “It… isn’t really my place to tell his story. He used to feed, but all you need to know is that now he doesn’t want to anymore.”

You take this as a sign to not prod on this matter anymore, you shall seek answers elsewhere at some point. But now you’re immensely interested. What kind of story is it that he isn’t permitted to tell?

“I understand.” You nod, feigning apathy.

He seems relieved by your reply, no longer having to tread carefully around a sensitive matter. But then you ask-

“What about you, Seokjin?” His name still feels foreign on your lips, the syllables not quite coming naturally to you yet. “We’ve spoken about all your brothers, so what about you?”

Taken aback by your forwardness, he stares at you slightly dumbfounded. “I… There’s nothing much about me.”

From his eyes, you see that he isn’t lying deliberately, yet you don’t believe him. He himself just doesn’t realise his own peculiarities perhaps.

“Oh? Surely there’s something.” You glance at the wide distance across the bed between where you are sitting. You want to inch closer, it feels odd to sit so far from someone you’re speaking to.

“I mean, I like to cook, to read, to keep the house in order I guess…” His eyes trail to his knees, returning to the bashful state he was in. You don’t expect too much. You’ve just met, he isn’t going to pour his heart out to you upon your request. If he had asked you the same question, you would’ve shrivelled up into a raisin and not be able to answer either.

You’ll go about it in a different way then.

“That’s fair. But I wonder why you haven’t fed on me yet.” You cringe at your own words because it almost sounds like you are asking him to. “Isn’t the whole point of… all of this... for you guys to feed on me?”

Again, he stares at you, perplexed and kind of surprised.

“I mean… I just- Wait why do you want me to feed on you?”

“I never said that.” It’s your turn to be ruffled, your voice comes out higher pitched than you would like. “I was just wondering, like, what is my purpose if you’re not going to do what you’re keeping me here for? I just don’t understand…”

You hope he doesn’t think you do want him to feed on you. Because you don’t. You don’t.

“I just…” He sighs again. Seokjin is apparently a sigher. “I try to keep feeding to the minimal.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like the idea of it.”

A vampire is telling you he doesn’t ‘like the idea of’ drinking blood, especially the celestial blood you possess. You would’ve scoffed if it were anyone else.

“You mean, like Jungkook?” You take greater care now as you speak, not wanting to prickle any nerve. His whole demeanour has softened, reduced even. When you lean closer, hovering over the space between you, he gets startled.

“Not really, well, kind of but…” You wait patiently for him to formulate his next words, pitying his difficulty in doing so. One second. Ten seconds. Twenty. “I just hate it.

“I’ve always hated it. I hate how I have to inflict pain onto someone in order to feel satiated. I hate how good I feel when drinking someone’s blood, so good that I can’t even register their cries for help. I hate the guilt afterwards that just festers in my mind the more I look at my Feed. Everything about it is so wrong. I still remember the first time I fed one someone, how I cried and hid for days afterwards at the beast I’ve become. The others can do it so easily, so remorselessly and naturally, and I wish I could be like them but I can’t. And the worst part of it is that I’m stuck with myself for eternity, with no escape from this never-ending thirst. I hate being a vampire.”

The weight of his words land blows in your heart. Never did you even remotely expect his underlying motive to be self-loathing, and now you see clearly from his perspective. You remember the guilt flashing in his eyes when they had all fed on you days ago. To have the necessity of living be everything that you stand against must be so agonising. When you look at him again, you see him through a different lense. You understand his reservations, his sighs and stutters.

You also note how he said ‘the beast I’ve become’. Become. They were once not vampires. And that makes it more tragic because you can imagine how he misses that life.

You don’t know what else to do other than to throw your arms around him. You have never been a person of much affection, especially after how the past few years have worn you down and stripped you of anyone dear. Yet at this moment, you can think of no better way you express your sympathy and rapport.

Seokjin tips back from the impact of your embrace, looks down at your face buried in his side. He’s frozen, shocked by your action, blushed from your touch.

“You don’t hurt me.” You pull away before he has the chance to hold you back, and his chest cinches at the missed opportunity. “I’ve been hurt before. You don’t hurt me.” His beautiful features contorts in confusion, nose scrunches.

Slowly, you bring your arm up towards him as you scoot to close the distance. “Here. Just feed.”

If there’s one vampire you’d willingly let feed on you, it is the one before you right now, who had broken down crying at his first taste of blood.

“N-No!” He looks at you, bewildered, yet still so so handsome.

“Even if you don’t, someone else will. Don’t starve yourself just to save me from the pain. I’m well-acquainted with it now, trust me.”

Seokjin glares at your wrist, at your silky untainted skin, scars hidden away and buried much deeper beneath the surface. Inhale, exhale. Contemplating. Fibre by fibre caving into his temptations. He knows he has to feed sooner or later. Maybe it’s best that it’s sooner, so his appetite is less severe and the damage he inflicts is kept to the minimal.

His delicate fingers come to support your hand as he brings it close to his nose and takes a long sniff. Eyes widening, he drops your arm in an instant.

“Come on, stop worrying.” You persist.

“No, it’s not that. Give me your other wrist, this one smells like Namjoon.” It’s your turn to stop breathing. Why did he have to say his name? Now you are reminded of the way he kissed you so desperately, and how your body sang in lust for him when that sireship formed despite the protest of your logic.

But at the same time, something in your core flutters at his comment. As if Seokjin had felt an ounce of territoriality, like he doesn’t want to touch anything that his brother has.

Wordlessly you pass him your right wrist. Your eyes meet as he opens his mouth, allowing his fangs to extend. Then the familiar blackness starts to overtake his irises, dark veins running around his eyes. “Look away.” Something in his voice cracks you heart, the shame.

“No. It’s okay, Seokjin.” With the hand that isn’t held in his, you carefully cup his face to face yours, thumb softly brushing the pulsing protrusions of vessels. The darkness in his eyes holds no true darkness at all though, you see through it. He can’t and won’t hurt you. There isn’t a single drop of fear inside you. Trust.

“I’m sorry.” And with that he sinks his teeth into you.

You brace yourself for the wrenching pain, yet in its place is a violent bloom of emotion. You feel. You feel so much. You feel everything he is feeling, the guilt, the disgust, the desire to be anything but what he is. You keep feeling and feeling.

Your mind feels as though it is melting into Seokjin’s, and your eyes shut from the violence of this godly force, attempting to make sense of it all. There is a roaring in your head yet the room is silent. The bond is forming, intangible molecule by intangible molecule. The pounding in your chest mirrors his own as he takes small suppressed gulps. His essence tickles your own, much like his tongue lapping your skin.

Why isn’t this hurting?

At this thought, you begin to feel a stinging at your wrist, as if the pain is slowly being summoned my your awareness. You try not to think about it, open your eyes and try to distract yourself with the pink tussocks of his hair that have somehow found its way through your fingers. You wonder if he’s feeling the same powerful binding as you are. The way he is hunched over your wrist right now, like a little timid kitten…

Then you notice that you legs are somehow over his lap. When did this happen? Yet you don’t move them off.

Your wrist is now starting to burn, the pain growing and growing by the second. But it is almost as if he could sense this because he pulls away at the right moment before it could hurt more.

He doesn’t look at you at first, turned away, the back of his hand dabbing at his mouth. When he does look at you, his eyes have returned to their human form, glassy warm brown, filled with the same turmoil that is tangling you. Lips tinted with your red.

You want to ask if the sire bond is always this violent, this overwhelming.

Instead you kiss him.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh  @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine

❦

25/10/2019

© Copyright 2019

[noocturnalchild]

SEALED IN MARBLE  Chapter V A little Devil and an Invitation

“Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, -“

You recited the bible, blowing a slow breath on the white crevice you shaped on the curve of a marbled nostril, while looking at him, playful.

“…and the man became a living creature.” He completed, refined priest, always ready to reply with verses.

You had established a fragile familiarity throughout the last few sessions with “Vicente”. Slowly exploring each other’s character, both moths drawn to the flame of your attraction to each other but too cautious to burn your fragile wings if you let it consume you.

You gave him an admirative look, that faded slowly to suspicious as he averted his eyes again.

“You seem to know your bible, sir” you laughed.

“Pious man, I see” you added when your model didn’t reply, a frown gracing his beautiful brows, it was maddening. The sight in front of you was maddening, his muscular, graceful shape sitting on a rock, white linen cloth loosely thrown on his manhood, barely covering his thighs as light danced on his skin, seemed to kiss his flesh warmly.

“You seem equally  knowledgeable –“

You puffed a mocking laugh, that earned you a deeper frown.

“I have my special reasons…“ you simply said, careful not to give away too much too soon.

“Would you enlighten an ignorant man?” Francisco was outdoing himself, he who had never had a private conversation with a lady before, let alone with a young beautiful one, that seemed to not waste a chance of displaying a plump cleavage for his eyes, more and more emboldened, despite his miserable self.

You stilled, brought your pointed chisel to your lip, faking thought.

“Who was Adam to you, my dear Vicente? I’m always interested in knowing my models’ point of view” you lied.

Francisco blushed, trying to focus. He didn’t have to think too much, as his idea was already shaped, solid as stone.

“The first man, father of all men, and… the first sinner” He added, the weight of his faults hidden under his detached tone.

“hum” you smiled.

“Adam was a thinker, the first thinker.”  You resumed your work, carefully curling the point of your tool in the insides of the marble crevice.

Francisco was silent for a moment as he assessed your reply. He definitely knew that he was in the presence of an unconventional woman, but now he was starting to believe that that woman was also… a skeptical?

“Would you, please, …give me more insight…?” he narrowed his eyes, and shifted in his position, investigating, forgetting his purpose.

“Gladly” you smiled brightly, cleaning your hands on your work dress, making it slide higher up your legs, and Francisco’s eyes fell instantly on the newly exposed flesh, and he suppressed a gulp.

Now that you shared your secret with him, you went through your sessions lighthearted and unveiled.

You couldn’t wear all the silk and lace and satin you wanted him to see, but you made sure to be garbed in your work dress, the one you wore when alone in your atelier, a light one, leaving the first buttons of your corset open, revealing the fresh swell of your breasts. You did your hair so that it cascaded sensually on your shoulders, rebel strands caressing your face. You didn’t forget to wear perfume, a hint too much? Maybe, you shrugged when you saw your reflection in the mirror, a radiant smile gracing your lips this time.

“Do you think Adam ate the apple without doing a little bit of thinking? Just because Eve tempted him, used her charms on him?” –you rolled your eyes at the thought— “Or maybe he wanted company just because he woke up one day and felt lonely?” You spoke low, in a tone of confidence, and you noticed with delight how Francisco’s ears heated.

Francisco’s heart looped in his stomach. The woman was blasphemous. How dare she? How dare she question the bible’s telling? How dare she, above all, be so confident and poised about it? Anger heated in his blood for a moment, as his jaw worked a pointed answer, but he then softened. Was it sadness that invaded him suddenly? Or was it compassion? Francisco felt something warmer, maybe weaker than sadness and stronger than compassion, stronger than his anger with you, was it longing? A feeling between wanting and not wanting? He schooled his face, judged better not to dwell on it.

Silence lingered.

“Why did you let me?” He questioned at last, betraying his train of thoughts, nonetheless.

“Let you?” You didn’t expect this question. It took you aback, avoiding the former subject.

“Yes, you let me. I can’t believe it was an accident. What I mean… is that you succeeded to keep your secret away from the world for… years? How many people did you receive in here? During all this time?” His tone betrayed a hint of distrust that he corrected quickly “They… any one could have known, but I saw you, you are a real master of disguise.” he smiled. And then, when he noticed your unease, he pushed gently; “Clarissa? Tell me”. His voice deepened and softened as these last words left his lips, and something in you trembled and burned, very deep.

his voice.

“You are not like them.” You swallowed, faking composure.

“How could you know.. “

If only you knew.

“I wanted to take a risk… I guess. I was tired…” You started shyly. “No… I… I wanted you to be different.” you smiled a little and looked at him with confidence as you exhaled a deep breath. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, mirroring your expression, amazed by your sincerity.

Yes, you wanted him to be different. You wanted to give him a chance, and give a chance to yourself. You had been in love before, and you had been loved, or at least, that’s what you thought. You were so much younger and naive. You fell in the arms of a treacherous lover, older than you, Captain of the Guards, a beautiful but so arrogant a man, volatile and cunning. He fogged your head with deceitful words and promises just to toss you away like dirt once he took your innocence and all the love you could give. He left you broken and blank and even if your good-natured heart learned to live and laugh again, it could never feel the gentle tug of that sweet heady feeling, that special sensation deep in your heart and core with any other man. You took lovers after him, just played the game and never allowed any feeling to seep into your cracked soul again. They were all artists, they shared pleasurable time with you and entertained amicable relations with you even when it was over, and you were thankful for the easy and diverting life you were leading, well, until he knocked at your door…

To you, “Vicente” seemed unlike anyone. He looked noble, with a sober character, a stoicism in his manners that you missed in men of your company. Maybe too conventional, to your dismay, but smart and educated. You wanted to know everything about his life. You couldn’t imagine a man like him being a simple servant all his life.

Maybe he lied, you thought.

Why didn’t you think of it earlier? Some of your models presented themselves under false names to protect their privacy, it was common practice.  Some were noblemen and women, sons and daughters of rich notable people of the city, and even when they hid their identity, you ended up knowing. Miguel being the little nosy devil he was, he would go and bring you information you never asked for.  This time, though, Miguel didn’t seem interested in helping you at all. He just hummed, uninterested.  Vicente seemed just like any other servant to him, and he was indeed one, absolutely nothing worth digging for, boring. You found his lack of enthusiasm for the new comer unlike himself, but you just believed him, there was no reason he would lie to you, after all.

*

“Dear god! you look like a brothel madam!“ Miguel exclaimed earlier that morning, incapable of holding his laugh, while you were preparing yourself in front of your mirror.

“You devil! You spying?! Come here!” you laughed back, caught him by his collar, tussling his hair as both of you lost balance and rolled together on the floor.

“I’m so happy, Miguel” you sighed once you regained your breath.

“So am I, my Clarissa” he snuggled his skinny frame into yours and sighed, before looking you in the eyes, a worried shadow covering his eyes “But please… be careful”

You frowned.

“Look who’s giving me advice, my little spy” you pinched his chin. You brushed away the worried expression that didn’t leave his face at your pleasantry, deeming it to his knowledge of your past mistakes.

“Clarissa?” Miguel asked at your door gate as you resumed arranging your hair.

“Hum?” you beamed at him

“Nothing, er…maybe I should go and buy some butter? We are still receiving tomorrow evening?”

“Yes, yes, of course”

And like that, he left in a hurry and you heard his light footsteps running down the granite staircase.

Miguel’s heart was racing as he waited in front of your front door. Of course, he was going to buy butter for tomorrow’s dinner, but before that, he had one thing to do.

Francisco saw Miguel’s familiar silhouette waiting for something, or someone, in front of the atelier’s door. The boy had a habit to stroll around, busy chasing after birds and frogs; Francisco smiled, ready to greet him, but Miguel didn’t seem to return the courtesy. Instead, his eyes sparkled with something severe as he puffed his frail chest.

“Miguel!” Francisco started, stretching one big hand to pat the boy’s hair, but Miguel recoiled from his touch, frowning.

“Why are you still lying to her?” He shouted, voice barely that of a teen, but the words were enough to freeze the blood in Francisco’s veins.

Francisco’s heart leaped in his chest as his hands gripped the gate’s cool iron to ground him.

“Wha…”

“You know what I am talking about here, I know.” Miguel stood his ground.

“What do you know boy?” Francisco couldn’t let a boy intimidate him, so he straightened, full length facing the little being, but Miguel didn’t seem to flinch. Francisco couldn’t help but admire his courage.

“I see how you look at her! and I know you are lying to her! so if you can’t be with her, why are you still coming? Why are you here?”

“You don’t know anything, what are you even trying to tell me?”

“I know you secrets, priest!”

Garupe’s hands were sweating now, barely standing as he felt his whole life going down a black vortex. He must do something. Anything. He grabbed the boy’s sleeve and pulled him to a corner down the road.

Miguel started to yell but Garupe’s big hand blocked his mouth as the other hand kept him in an iron grip.

“Shhh! Miguel, listen to me, I will not hurt you, listen to me!” But the boy tried to bite the priest’s hand, that only tightened on his small face.

“Leehht mmm goh! Mmmmghh”

“Miguel! listen! I don’t want to harm you, and I don’t want to harm her, especially not her” Francisco desperately tried to explain, and Miguel seemed to see some truth in the priest’s eyes, because his taut muscles suddenly loosened up, pressure leaving them as calm regained him, ready to listen to whatever the priest wanted him to know.

He saw how you and Garupe were dancing around each other. He knew about your growing affection for him and he discerned the heated looks he was giving you when you didn’t pay attention… and the looks you were giving him, him paying attention or not. He was knowledgeable of your feelings, knowing you well. What he couldn’t know, were the intentions of “Vicente”, and he was resolved to clear out the matter with him, now.

Being his nosy self, he followed Francisco. The newcomer couldn’t escape Miguel’s tradition after all. As the priest regained his church, he was none the wiser of the small shadow following behind, feather light steps in the blemished darkness of the first hours of dawn.

Miguel lived with that knowledge for weeks, battling with himself over whether he should tell you or not. Smart as he was, he calculated the risks and implications of such discovery. He kept silent, relatively reassured by the fact that you would never take a step and unveil yourself for any of your models. Never, he was sure, even when he saw you visibly falling for that one, every day growing obsessed, not even trying to hide it from him. But now he was panicking. You might be falling into a big trap, you were unaware of it, but he knew, and he was more than determined to protect you, with all his small, punny self.

Miguel took in a deep breath, as Francisco let go of his mouth.

“What are your intentions? Priest?”

It didn’t go unnoticed, the manner he spoke the word “priest”, pejorative and disdainful. Garupe tried to ignore his frustration and anger, as he narrated the complete story to a round eyed Miguel.

They were both sitting on a nearby bench now, Miguel twisting a leaf between his skinny fingers.

“So… how do I know you are telling the truth? How can I be sure this is not a scheme of the church? To bring my master down? Because that’s what it seems to me!”

“No. No, no, no, no, a scheme?” Garupe panicked. From where Miguel fished such mature ideas, would never stop to amaze him. “The church has nothing to do in this matter! It’s me. It’s just me, and I’m a simple priest, no one else is involved. I swear to God…. to you, no one else knows your master’s identity besides me, and you. And no one ever will. Priest’s word”

To that Miguel laughed, a boyish toothy laugh.

“Priest’s word”

“What is that so funny now, boy” impatience was clear in his tone.

“For a priest, you seem fairly enamored” Miguel smirked, mischief sparkling in his beautiful green eyes.

Francisco blushed violently. He couldn’t believe the way he was being played by a child. He gulped, trying to school his expression into something… respectable.

“If helping you cousin is the reason of you being here, then why are you courting my master, treacherous priest?!” Miguel continued without letting Graupe place a word.

“ Cour… I am not! Watch your language b-“

“Yes! You are!” Miguel stared, and Francisco stared back. Several seconds passed and Garupe wondered if he was entering a staring contest with a boy.

“Do you love her?” Miguel asked, soft. Francisco had never seen deeper eyes on a boy’s face.

Did he? Francisco didn’t know yet. What he knew is how his body reacted in your presence, how warmth spread through him whenever he was with you. He wasn’t familiar with this kind of feelings, how was he supposed to answer? Was it love? Or attraction? Or just mere lust? He couldn’t know. He was ignorant of the heart’s matters.

“Would you tell her?” He asked back, as the tacit answer sank deep between them.

“Not if you will. Priests don’t take wives, I know that even if you want to, you can not. Don’t break her heart. Tell her.”

“ I will.” Garupe sighed.

“ Promise me” Miguel insisted

“ I will! when it’s appropriate, I will”

To that, Miguel stood up, stretched his arms, and in an unexpected movement, he stepped on the priest’s foot and run away.

“Fuu- Holy Graal!” Garupe shouted in pain.

“I will keep an eye on you! Priest!” Miguel shouted back, as his lean legs hurtled down the street.

Francisco replayed that encounter in his head while he was dressing after the session came to an end, lost in his thoughts as you approached him.

Your hopes were that he would accept your invitation for the dinner you were holding the next day, and you were determined to get a positive answer.

“Vicente” You spoke softly as your fingers traced lightly his still naked back, making him gasp. You were destroying the little restrain he tried to preserve lately with you. Those little touches, now and then, always coming when never expected, making blood rush to inappropriate places of his body. Were you a witch?

He remembered the promise he made to Miguel.

He stepped back, in an effort to impose some distance between your bodies, when every inch of him wanted just the opposite thing. To surrender, to give in, to let your touch linger and wait for you to take more. But he couldn’t and Miguel’s words weren’t the sole reason. How many times had he tried to remind himself that he was a man of God? He seemed to forget who he was every time he stepped into your little corner of heaven. It was something about the silence, the peace of the garden, the gentle splash of the fountain water and the quiet concentration in your beautiful face, while you worked your marble.

Your face fell a little at his obvious rebuff. You had been growing impatient. You had tried all your tricks to make the shy man open up to you, and even if you had been given positive indications in the way he looked at you, you couldn’t get him to act on it. You thought that it would be the matter of a session or two before you could make him yours, but the man was stubborn, for god knows which reasons! Piety? For he wasn’t married, as he told you… But now that you started to suspect he was lying to you, you couldn’t be sure anymore. But what pious man would pose naked, and for a woman?!

That tall mystery of a man was driving you crazy, making you none the less more determined to break the ice of his fortress.

“So I am giving a dinner tomorrow evening” You tried your softest tone “…and I thought, since you are in the confidence of my secret now, that you might be interested in sharing my little company”

He turned to face you, confusion visible on his gorgeous features, or was it fear?

“You will love them. They are a small group of artists, you can only be pleased by their company” You added, hope slowly fading to embarrassment as you saw his head shake in refusal.

“Clarissa, you know that I am not a free man. My master will not allow me more time than he already has” He tried to sound convincing, and for the most part, he wasn’t lying. He couldn’t honor your invitation, even if he really wanted to, if only just to spend some leisure time with you. But seeing your countenance now, God, he wanted to try, he couldn’t stand the look of disappointment and sadness you gave him.

He reached out, he didn’t think of anything but brushing off the sadness on your face as his hand cupped your cheek, thumb gently caressing the soft skin there, and you leaned into the touch. You missed his hands, the warmth they spread in you. It was different, the feeling of them on your face, and you wondered how they would feel in different places, more intimate places. You sighed as your eyes fluttered shut and he spoke.

“I am going to try, no promises, child”

You smiled at the nickname this time.

[thebiasrekkers]

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 01: Strength of Silence

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: series | historical!au | fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | tragedy

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,964

Tag List: @luxekook​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @stillcopingxx​, @taevkimchi​, @aroseforyoongi​, @vivpurple7​, @happilystrongthroughthedark​, @sw33tnight​, @nikkitane​, 

AN: Sorry this has taken so long for me to get out. With all the madness happening in the world, I just needed a break and decided to throw myself into just writing. I’ve received so much love on the prologue for this series so I’m happy to present you all with the first chapter. It’s a hefty time jump, but who doesn’t like one of those, am I right? If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Silence is a great source of strength.” - Lao Tzu

23 Years Later

Yoongi sat on the edge of a large rock, his eyes peering out over the deep grays and blues of the wide mountainous landscape. Summer mornings were his favorite and while he knew he could get an extra hour or two of sleep, seeing the sun rise above the mountain tops always filled him with a new vigor. There was just something about greeting the day that allowed him to truly feel alive. He could never fully explain it.

A soft whimper issued beside him and he craned his neck to look at the gray and black wolf seated at his feet. Pulling the sprig of barley from his mouth, Yoongi reached down to pet the wolf’s head and it panted happily in response; its thick tail swinging back and forth at the attention it received from its master. It made a small noise from pleasure, the sound of its panting intensifying little by little with each pet.

Chuckling, he scratched the canine between its ears. “You’re so needy, San-ah,” he teased, watching the wolf stand on all fours as he peered his pale blue eyes up at him. “You’ve got to be the luckiest fool in the entire kingdom of Joseon.”

The wolf barked happily, spinning in place, and then plopped his rump back down on the grass. This caused Yoongi to laugh loudly and he waved the barley sprig at the wolf’s nose. 

Growing up in the countryside, it wasn’t uncommon for wolves to linger around in the forests and mountains. But for a young cub to get abandoned during the Winter was more than Yoongi could stand. After begging his father to let him take the small wolf pup home, promising to take care of him, the two of them were inseparable. The other villagers were concerned with Yoongi raising a predator. But after being at his side for the last four years, the village came to appreciate San and often showered him with the same amount of affection as he did; if not more.

Yoongi could safely say that San was his best friend in the world. 

The wolf leaped up, pressing his large paws into Yoongi’s lap and began licking his face. San’s tongue caressed over the scar tissue on the right side of his face and he gently shoved the animal away. His fingers pressed over the scar, tracing the pads up from his cheek all the way above his eyebrow. Sighing, he tossed the barley sprig away and motioned for San to follow him just as the morning sun crested over the mountains. 

“Let’s head back,” he said, reaching down behind the rock to pick up the large wooden pail of spring water, “you know how the old man gets when he doesn’t have his morning tea.”

Again, San barked, before tearing off ahead of him to sniff out the trail. Yoongi could navigate his way through the forest and mountains with his eyes closed, but his companion always insisted on being careful. He’d barely made it twenty paces before the wolf returned and walked patiently at his side. 

The trek through the forest and down the mountain path was short, but only because Yoongi knew it so well. San barreled down the expansive green hill just as his father appeared from the doorway, a large axe draped over his shoulders. Yoongi rushed down the hill with hurried steps, cradling the wooden bucket in his arms so he wouldn’t accidentally spill the water in his haste.

“Father!” Yoongi called, to which the broad-shouldered and bronze-skinned man lifted his head just as he finished petting San’s back. “I can take care of that!” 

The lower half of his father’s face was covered in facial hair; always well-groomed. His dark eyes, while usually intimidating, always held a certain degree of warmth in them when he looked at Yoongi. Instead of answering him, he simply straightened his posture and proceeded to head toward the side of their modest home to proceed cutting wood for the fire.

Sighing, Yoongi gave up trying to convince his father to let him take care of the more laborious chores again. Instead, he shooed San into the house and started preparing breakfast. It didn’t take Yoongi long to see they were missing quite a few things from the food storage that would need to be replaced soon. Namely eggs, meat, and a few key vegetables.

“I’ll just have to do what I can,” he murmured as he began washing the barley in a small basin. Yoongi frowned. This wouldn’t be an issue if we lived closer to the village.

It wasn’t the first time he bitterly thought of how inconveniently far away they lived from the rest of the world. Yoongi only could go as far as the local village and that was a task and a half trying to convince his father to let him do even just that. When his father left every few years for days at a time to visit the Capital, Yoongi was forced to stay behind. He’d never been to the Crown City, not once. But he wanted to, insisting that he could get better books and even practice a trade or go to school. He could start working to take care of the household for a change.

Every time the matter was brought up, however, his father scowled and forbade him from thinking or speaking such foolishness. But to Yoongi, it wasn’t foolish. He believed he was trying to do his best by his father in wanting to take care of him. What father wouldn’t want that for their son? Why did he have to grow up differently from everyone else?

What little education he received was all self-taught. He kept most of his studies a secret, not wanting to anger or worry his father. But he knew that he would eventually have to marry and raise a family. Since his father didn’t want to pass along his knowledge, he had little choice but to strike out on his own and do what he could. His father wouldn’t be around forever and he couldn’t expect to spend his youth idling around.

The one thing his father did teach him, much to Yoongi’s persistence, was the ability to fight. 

A humble breakfast was completed and the two of them ate in relative silence. He watched his father sneak a few pieces of meat to San and the wolf lovingly spread itself across his lap. Yoongi shoved rice into his mouth in annoyance, chewing loudly but knowing that it wouldn’t actually bother either of them into paying him any attention.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to stop doing that?” Yoongi asked mid-chew. “He’s spoiled now because of you.”

His father leaned back and released a hearty chuckle that never failed to warm Yoongi’s heart. “Did I? I can’t recall.”

He scoffed, grabbing some of the spinach out of one of the wooden bowls. “Of course you can’t.” 

His eyes caught the scars on his father’s arms as he rubbed his hands lovingly over San’s fur. They were sword scars. Yoongi knew this, even if his father never told him so. Training him in martial arts was a clear enough indication that his father must have been a seasoned warrior in his younger years. The harshness of his training regiment was proof enough for Yoongi.

Min Dojin. 

His father never spoke much about his past, or even about Yoongi’s mother. After a childish tantrum, he came to accept that his mother must have died sometime after he was born. Those were the words that the villagers passed on and they never pitied Yoongi. It wasn’t because they were heartless. It was just a factor of life in their country. If anything, he was fortunate to still have his father, freeing him from the shackle of being branded an orphan. 

But on lonely nights, Yoongi missed the warmth of a mother’s embrace. Something he wasn’t familiar with, but felt that it was a distant memory that refused to fade from his mind. 

“There’s some money in the lock box if you need anything,” his father said suddenly, slicing through his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing that his father already cleared the dishes away. Had he spaced out that much? Scrambling to his feet, he tried to follow after his father and nearly tripped over San circling in between his legs. 

“Are you leaving for the Capital?”

A frown touched his father’s features. “Yes.”

Yoongi felt his brows furrow. He knew how much his father despised going to the Crown City and never understood why. Even though he offered to run his father’s errands for him, he was denied every opportunity to travel that far from home. It clearly wasn’t for his own safety. Yoongi could more than take care of himself. But he didn’t have the heart to accuse his own father of keeping anything from him.

“How long will you be gone this time?”

“Two weeks.”

Again, he blinked. This time from surprise. “T-That long?!” His eyes followed after his father as he began gathering his traveling satchel and walking cane. “You’re going to leave me here alone?”

His father chuckled as he turned and raised his brows at his son. “You have San.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned. “You’re just so funny, Father.”

He laughed again. “Kali promised she would come by to check on you if you needed anything.”

“Kali-ssi?” A soft warmth touched his cheeks at the mention of Kali and he quickly averted his gaze. Yoongi cleared his throat loudly as he placed a hand on the back of his neck. “She needn’t bother.”

He could see his father’s cheeky grin without even having to look at it. “I asked her to.” Yoongi whipped his head around to peer into his father’s eyes. “She said she had some interesting stories to share with you.” His grin widened a measure. “And maybe a gift or two?”

Yoongi slid his fingers through his cropped bangs, tugging at them for a measure. “I see,” was all he said as he rubbed his hair between his thumb and forefinger. 

With a grunt, his father shouldered his satchel more comfortably and made his way toward the entrance of their home. San followed after him but stopped at the entryway, his tail wagging as he uttered a guttural whine from his throat. Yoongi watched his father lean down to pet the wolf between his ears, his eyes lifting to meet his own.

“If anything happens--”

“I know,” Yoongi replied softly, “take everything in the lock box and abandon the house.” He sighed. “Have a safe journey.”

He felt his father’s large hand fall onto his shoulder and for a moment, all they did was share a silent look. His father’s smile looked noticeably more solemn than usual. He patted Yoongi’s shoulder, then turned and made his way toward the edge of the forest. San barked after him before bolting off to chase a cluster of butterflies. Yoongi waited until his father disappeared from view before retreating back into the house. 

No matter how hard he tried, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten with worry.

Yoon sat perched in one of the large magnolia trees in his palace garden. He cradled his plum colored crown in his arms, the rich cobalt of his silk robes reflecting from the sunlight. The silver dragons embroidered in his clothing seemed to shimmer against the morning light and he sighed as he peered through the tree’s canopy. Eunuchs and maidservants alike were running around through his palace courtyard and he remained silent - purposely ignoring their screaming pleas for him to come out from hiding.

He scoffed, sliding his hands behind his head as he leaned back further into the trunk of the tree. No one’s hiding, he thought bitterly, you’re all just too incompetent to find me.

“Cheo-ha,” came a sharp whisper from above him, causing Yoon to sit up abruptly. 

“Who’s there?” he called back quietly, glancing every so often down to make sure none of his attendants heard him. “Reveal yourself!”

A long plaited braid suddenly dangled from above as he saw his younger sister’s face flashing an upside down smile. His frown deepened, not sure what her intentions were but Yoon knew he wanted nothing to do with them. She made a satisfied noise before dropping down hard into his lap. Yoon grunted, his arms flailing to both keep his balance and to maintain a hold of his crown. The princess plucked it easily from the air, preventing it from falling.

“You shouldn’t be so careless with your things, Crown Prince,” she said while smiling up at him. 

“It’s none of your concern,” Yoon snapped, attempting to snatch it back from her but she stretched her arms up and away from him. He threw her a harsh glare. “Saeryung-ah…” His tone dropped in a clear warning.

Saeryung pouted before she sighed. “Fine. You’re always no fun.” She motioned for him to lean forward a bit. “Let me put it back on for you.”

“Do as you like,” he said, leaning forward so she could replace the crown over his platinum blonde hair. Once it was situated comfortably, he peered at her as she continued to pout, kicking her legs up and down while still in his lap. “Why are you here, Saeryung-ah? Don’t you have lessons to attend to with your teacher?”

The princess puffed out one of her cheeks defiantly while folding her arms across her chest in a completely unbecoming fashion for female royals. “I’ve already memorized The Book of Filial Piety!”

Yoon sighed. “There are other books that you need to study from.” He reached out and pet his sister’s head and she turned to look at him. “Being a princess isn’t just a title. You have other responsibilities.”

“Not nearly as many as you do, Orabeoni.” 

The term caught Yoon off guard and he could only blink in stunned silence at her. The Princess must have realized her slipup because she quickly covered her mouth and gasped sharply. However, instead of chastising her, Yoon poked at her nose. Ever since he became Crown Prince, his studies and responsibilities steadily increased. His father was still able to rule the country, but there were disturbing rumors in the palace walls that spoke of his failing health. If that were the truth, then it would only be a matter of time before he was left to ascend to the throne.

Saeryung wouldn’t have any more opportunities to call him “big brother” when that day came.

“Forgive me, Crown Prince! I didn’t mean--”

“It’s fine, Saeryung-ah,” Yoon replied in a soothing tone as he petted her head again, “until I’m King, you can call me your Orabeoni.”

Her apologetic expression melted into one of pure joy. He smirked, then narrowed his eyes and pointed at her nose. She crossed her eyes at the sudden gesture.

“But you can only call me such when it is just the two of us. Understood?”

She nodded happily and was about to hug him when sudden outcries reached them from below.

“Seja Cheo-ha! Gongju-nim!”

“You both must come down from there at once!”

“We will be in terrible trouble if His Majesty finds out we were not at your sides!”

The two of them gazed down at their attendants frantically shifting below them. Rolling his eyes, Yoon scooped up his sister into his arms. Gasping slightly, she clung to his neck as he shifted to a standing position in the tree. His attendants continued to move about fearfully, screaming for him to be careful. He bit back a growl before leaping from the tree and into the air. His robes fluttered around him and he landed easily on the ground, setting his sister down and her servants were immediately at her side to straighten out her hair and robes.

“Princess, you shouldn’t be climbing trees like that!” her maid fussed as she finished tidying up Saeryung’s appearance. “Her Majesty, the Queen, would be appalled if she discovered it.”

Namgil, Yoon’s eunuch, appeared at his side and also adjusted his royal robes. He waited patiently for him to finish, not really listening to the slew of things flying from his attendant’s mouth. However, one particular sentence stood out and caused Yoon to pause, craning his neck to look straight into Namgil’s face.

“What did you say?” he asked, raising a curious brow.

The eunuch bowed his head low, unsure if he’d offended the Crown Prince or not. “Your Majesty requests your presence in his study.”

Yoon was suspicious. His father never called for him in his personal study. Let alone in the middle of the day. The King was fully aware of his itinerary for the afternoon. Yoon was scheduled for martial arts training and riding lessons. Was he supposed to rush through whatever matter his father wanted to speak with him about and make his instructors wait? 

If Father is in his study, then it’s a personal matter, Yoon surmised, sighing as he clasped his hands behind his back, which is surprising all by itself.

Narrowing his eyes, he gestured for Namgil to lead the way. He took two steps forward and paused to look around. “...where’s Bidam?”

Just as confused as he was, Namgil spun his body in every direction before groaning. “Curse that Bidam! Leaving the Crown Prince’s side for even a moment!”

Leaves rustled to his right and Yoon quickly pivoted on his back heel to avoid whatever was aimed for him. A sharp whistle tore through the air and he dipped down, his knee crashing to the grass as his shoulders tensed. He was on high alert now after two attacks were propelled in his direction. There would not be a third attempt while he was unarmed.

Namgil screamed after him as Yoon dashed toward the edge of the steps leading to his palace. Reaching underneath the wooden floor panels, he slid a sword from the sheath with one clean motion just as another object hurled itself directly at his head. Lifting the blade up, he blocked the object and felt the handle rattle between his fingers. Something landed at his feet and Yoon recognized it as a throwing knife. Smirking, the Crown Prince took a breath and swept the blade across his body.

Focus, he told himself, you know that he’s here. You just have to pinpoint his location.

The heavy thud of his own heart ached inside of Yoon’s chest. A bead of sweat formed on his brow and he was keenly aware that Namgil and the servants fled the scene. Probably to go fetch the Royal Guard. It was so unnecessary. He wasn’t defenseless. He’d made damn sure of that. 

Yoon licked his lips, the flutter of sparrow wings the signal he needed. Launching from his position, he roared at a nearby cluster of bushes. Seconds before he swept his blade down over the hedge, a body leaped from behind. Metal clashed against metal as sword blades made contact. Yoon felt his crown shift on his head before falling to the ground, revealing his pale hair in the morning sunlight. His muscles tensed when the sword clashed against his blade, forcing his boots to skid along the ground and he was now face to face with his assailant.

He grinned. “There you are, Bidam-ah.” Yoon’s voice was slightly strained from the force pushing against him.

Bidam, his bodyguard, grinned back at him. His dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, his thick brows lifting teasingly as he continued to push all of his weight behind his sword. “Good Morning, Seja Cheo-ha,” he said, sweat falling from his temple, “you’re a little slow this morning. Is your mind elsewhere, Your Highness?”

Yoon scoffed, taking a step forward and forcing Bidam to take one back. “My mind is always elsewhere. Haven’t you realized that by now?” 

He swung his leg out to kick Bidam but his bodyguard predicted this. He watched as Bidam backward somersaulted into the air. Just when Yoon was going to unleash his counterattack, several sets of feet thundered into his palace garden. He lowered his stance and Bidam immediately sheathed his sword as the Queen and her attendants rushed inside, followed swiftly by the Royal Guard. Yoon bit back a groan at the fearful expression etched over his mother’s features.

“Seja!” she cried, all but running to him. “Are you alright, my Prince?!” He stood patiently as she looked over his entire body to make sure that he was, in fact, free of injuries. “I feared the worst!”

A small measure of guilt welled up inside of Yoon’s heart. He wished his mother would stop needlessly worrying over him. “I am fine , Mother. I was training with Bidam.” He cast a casual smirk to Bidam who met his gaze briefly before lowering his head. “Right, Bidam-ah?”

Bidam immediately fell to one knee, one arm crossing his chest as he pounded his fist into his collar. “Forgive me for stirring up chaos in the Palace, Your Majesty.”

The Queen’s shoulders visibly sank and her attendants were at her side to keep her from losing her balance. Namgil retrieved the prince’s crown and handed it back to him. He held it out to his mother who took it in her trembling hands as she watched Yoon lower himself at the Queen’s feet. Some of the servants gasped and whispered to each other and the Prince continued to stare at the patch of grass around the hems of his mother’s robes.

Hearing her sigh, she gently set his crown back atop his head, her gentle hands framing his face. She lifted his head so that he was now staring up at her. “It is good to train your body and mind, My Prince, but please be careful. You are the future father of this nation. If your body is harmed, your people are harmed. When your people are sick, you are sick. Do you understand, Seja?”

“Yes, Mother. I understand.” Standing to his full height, he let his mother take his hands into hers. Her fingers caressed over his knuckles. 

“Your Father was asking for you, wasn’t he?” The Queen looped her arm through his. “Would you allow your mother to accompany you?”

“Of course,” Yoon said with a wide flourish of his arm, “but I thought you were scheduled to have tea with the Queen Dowager and the princesses?”

The Queen hummed and nodded as they moved through the gardens of his palace and out over the bridge leading to the main palace. “I can take the time to escort the Crown Prince to his own destination.” 

Yoon’s entourage walked alongside his mother’s and they all chatted together in polite levels so as to not disturb the Queen and Crown Prince’s conversation. The days were peaceful, but mostly in part to how well-guarded the Palace was from the chaos of the outside world. But Yoon was no fool. Ming was growing restless because of Japanese opposition. It would only be a matter of time before Japan would attempt its invasion of Joseon in order to sink their claws into Ming.

He wondered if his father had any contingencies in place if such a thing were to actually transpire.

Arriving at the main palace gates, the Queen released Yoon’s arm and smiled. “Enjoy your time with your father, Seja.”

Yoon bowed, as did the rest of his servants. “Be well, Eomma Mama.” He waited until his mother and attendants were out of sight before turning back to face the main gate. “Let’s go.”

[youarejesting]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words.2 (JK x JM)

Rating: All Pairing: Deaf!Jungkook x Dancer!Jimin Genre: Friends, admirition, trials, hurt and comfort, angst. Words: 1.6k

Summary: Jungkook was born unable to hear the world around him. He likes his silent solitude and can’t understand why he is being forced to go on outings with his support worker Hoseok. Did he not understand Jungkook can’t hear? So dance lessons aren’t exactly it. Or are they?

[Part 1]

Hoseok pulled up in the designated parking space five inside Jungkook’s apartment block. Jungkook grabbed his bag and followed Hoseok up the single flight of stairs and to his door with the same number. Hoseok put in the code, he hadn’t let any other support worker know his passcode for the door, but, Hoseok was the exception, he was more like a friend albeit annoying sometimes. 

Hoseok didn’t seem put out by Jungkooks quiet demeanor, it seemed the boisterous carer was used to and understood his unhappy ways after forced outings. Jungkook slumped onto the couch which seemed to have a permanent dip and mold of Jungkook’s posterior from years of sitting.

Hoseok placed down his bag and keys and made Jungkook a nice cold glass of juice. There were little things that Jungkook enjoyed, he liked comic books, he liked working out and he liked eating delicious food. He did not enjoy music, movies, dancing, or anything he couldn’t understand because he couldn’t hear.

Hoseok turned to him and Jungkook knew there was something he wanted to ask. With an inaudible sigh, Jungkook placed down the cup and began talking with his hands.

‘What is it?’ Jungkook tried to show as little irritation in his movements as he could, but the cautious atmosphere was not making him at ease.

‘Did you enjoy today?’ Hoseok asked curiously, Jungkook could see his shoulders were squared up ready for Jungkook’s nonverbal argument. Perhaps Jungkook had been too hard on the poor guy, all he ever wanted was to help Jungkook live a good and happy life.

Jungkook could admit he was a bit of a pain in the neck, he didn’t make Hoseok’s job easy. Jungkook thought about the day trying to think of something that wasn’t telling Hoseok he was an idiot for taking him to a dance class knowing he can’t dance or hear the music.

‘The dancer was really good.’ He thought he might as well talk about a part of the day he liked, ‘It was a bit stupid to take me to a place where I can’t participate or succeed in, so maybe next time we can think about something else to do.’

Hoseok was shocked Jungkook had barely shared more than a sentence with Hoseok since they had met. It was kind of comical how all the new support workers try their hardest to talk to him and when they realize he isn’t exactly nice they usually change to another client.

‘What is something you would like to do?’ Hoseok signed enthusiastically and Jungkook let out a small exhale of amusement. 

‘We could work out, or box’ Jungkook grinned and Hoseok nodded getting up and heading across the room to Jungkook’s spare room turned gym.

Jungkook looked at Hoseok’s back for a moment, the older gentleman had cared for him for three years now and refused to let Jungkook get his way all the time. He had an athletic build and was a formidable opponent to Jungkook. Maybe that’s why Jungkook kept him around, he didn’t try to force Jungkook to be happy. He just didn’t let him be miserable.

Hoseok turned to steal Jungkook's attention once more and signed the next few words with a grin. ‘If you beat me in a boxing match, you get to choose the next outing?’

Jungkook felt his eyes light up. There was nothing Jungkook loved more than a challenge. He had no care for choosing an outing or going out in general. But, Jungkook was pumped up and ready to win.

~

The smell of sweat was unbearable. For someone who couldn’t hear, his sense of smell was surely working overtime in the small makeshift gym. Hoseok laughed but the sound was lost on Jungkook who watched with a smile, he thought people looked absolutely idiotic when they laughed just open mouths and sometimes shaking shoulders. 

As he peeled off his shirt Jungkook stared at his muscles in the mirror, he didn’t feel lesser than anyone when he was this strong. He felt like he could take on the world but others thought he was in need of assistance. This may be because his parents were rich and worried about him not leaving the house called for support workers to take care of him. 

Hoseok prepared dinner and served Jungkook before picking up his bag and keys and signing his goodbye. ‘I can’t remember if it’s me again tomorrow, or if it’s Namjoon, I will have to check but either way, have a good night’

Jungkook rolled his eyes and Hoseok laughed again clapping his hands, ‘Don’t be like that, I know you like hanging out with Namjoon. He is your favorite.’

‘Yeah, but the man needs a carer himself, he is the reason I own plastic dinnerware.’ Jungkook's smile broke through and Hoseok pointed at him and spoke.

“Good night Jungkook,” Jungkook shut the door behind him and sighed, he didn’t really like seeing people speak, it frustrated him that he couldn’t have it that easy an almost universal language and he was reduced to flailing his arms to communicate and only select few could understand what he was saying.

After dinner Jungkook went for a long shower, he washed his hair enjoying the feeling of the warm water falling onto his aching muscles. Relaxation spread like a sheet over his bare skin, bringing with it waves of tiredness. It was time for Jungkook to go to bed, he took out his phone and tried to read himself into a deep sleep.

It was three pages in that Jungkook realized he hadn’t obtained any of the information in the book. He had instead been thoroughly invested in the memories replaying in his head, the dancer known as Park Jimin spinning and leaping behind his eyelids and it became impossible to forget about him. 

Jungkook decided to search for the name ‘PARK JIMIN’. He did just that, scolding his phone for all caps but even when he changed it he scolded the dancer for having a common unisex name. It would be impossible to find him like this. Standing from the bed he found the pamphlet from his jacket and opened it flipping it to the back and copying the website address into his search engine. He found nothing about the dancer but, he found the street address, it was only ten minutes from his apartment. He was unable to think more on the matter as he fell into a heavy sleep.

~

Jungkook woke with a sudden urge to pee, he quickly rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He washed his hands and headed back to bed seeing the flash on his phone signaling he had received a message.

It was sent from Namjoon at eight saying he was running late and would be there in half an hour. Jungkook sighed, the man lost more than time, how someone like Namjoon was in charge of someone, Jungkook would never know. 

He swiped out of the message and saw the address for the dance studio and underneath was their hours. On Thursdays, they opened early at eight and finished late.

There was a brief pause before Jungkook was fully dressed and scrambling out the door before Namjoon could stop him. He followed the directions on his map and waited at the stoplights until he was allowed to go. He followed all precautions, proving himself capable to walk a few blocks down the road.

When he arrived, Jungkook walked in, he walked past the receptionist and down the hall until he arrived at the same room the young man had been in the day before, but when he opened the door, the room was empty. 

Jungkook felt a bit foolish, coming here just expecting a man he saw once to be there again. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned a little startled, a bright smile greeting him. It was the man, it was Park Jimin the dancer he had been truly awestruck by.

He was saying something but Jungkook was distracted by the young man's plump lips and pretty eyes, the way his hair was pulled back in a tiny ponytail showing off the clean undercut. Jungkook shuffled and signed his confusion and Jimin smiled writing on his phone.

You are back again? Would you like to join my class?

Jungkook nodded and followed him inside, he sat at the back of the classroom as Jimin took off his jacket and track pants revealing black tight pants with a lace wrap around his waist Jungkook had only seen female dancers wear and a flowy pink shirt. 

Jimin stretched himself across the floor and Jungkook felt lost in his movements. He laced up some pink ballet shoes with ribbons and grinned, throwing Jungkook a wink, before turning to the door.

Flushing Jungkook followed Jimin’s gaze and watched about eight young girls flutter into the room, they were wearing pretty pink leotards with tutu’s and they all sat on the floor waiting. A few more young girls entered their mothers slowly sauntered afterward chatting amongst themselves and sitting on the chairs next to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s lip reading was very good, he watched Jimin greet the young girls and smiled handing them each a wand and a pair of wings which he adorned himself and he went through each step slowly. 

While the girls were practicing, Jimin pulled Jungkook to his feet and began showing him the correct positions of his feet and Jungkook blushed as Jimin tilted Jungkook’s chin up telling him to look straight ahead.

One of the ladies must have said something because Jimin looked behind Jungkook and said “He is a friend of mine, he is interested in dancing but I don’t think he can hear” he explained, “He is cute isn’t he?”

Jungkook’s lip-reading must have been wrong, Jimin wouldn’t have said that.

[acc3ssdenied]

BRUISED | 03

SUMMARY: You don’t know what you expect when your best friend and her boyfriend invite you to one of his friend’s parties. But, it certainly wasn’t for you to be at an underground boxing venue the next day and for you to be thrown into a world that you had no idea existed

PAIRING: boxer!jungkook x reader

GENRE: non idol au, boxer!jungkook, badboy!jungkook, tattoo!jungkook, angst, fluff, smut

WARNING: explicit language, honestly this is pure chaos i don’t know what i was on when i wrote it but please enjoy :)

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

A/N: i really love the whole jungkook with tattoos and him being a boxer/ badboy so I have decided to write my own! this will have updates alternating with mélomanie most likely but, i also have to keep up with my wattpad schedule. please tell me what you think and ask if you would like to be added to the tag list <3

TAG LIST:  @singulari-taes @lil-bai-of-sunshine @diab1a @bts-trash24 ​ @rubydotexe @ryulite @dammit-jjk @bbyboihongjoong  @bunnyboyjjk​ @taehyungiev13 @scvkjinrecs @milkandminie @screamingshoes @mygscafe @kimvantaee @pleasantpeachstudent @fivesecondsofsarang​ @frenchki​ @gukksluv

CHAPTER THREE

What was wrong with you? How could you allow your opinion of him to change so quickly? You only had one answer: he smiled. That night, he smiled at you genuinely for the first time and he actually looked his age. You had asked Chaeyoung more about him after that night as you couldn’t sleep and it turned out you were the same age; not that anyone could tell as he looked at least 25 most of the time. Jeon Jungkook was most likely going to ruin you. You knew it and frankly, you were ready to embrace it. If you were to die at the hands of his doe eyes and childlike laugh, you would die happy. You needed to calm down; here you were, barely acquaintances with him, but you were ready to die at his hands. Chaeyoung shared the same opinion.

“I really don’t get why you’re so…” she paused to think of the right phrase, leaning against your kitchen counter as she watched you finish making your coffees, “Worked up over this. I mean, apologising was the decent thing to do - so obviously he did it.” She hadn’t been there the previous week so was interested to find out your version of events.

Looking down at your coffee, you frowned, “I-I don’t-” you stumbled over your words, left hand coming up to scratch behind your ear in confusion, “You’re right, I guess. He’s just not what I expected.” The put-out expression on your face made Chaeyoung pause her thoughtful staring to move around the counter.

She leant her head against your shoulder, “Jungkook’s a nice guy when you get to know him but, he’s really quite introverted and can come off as cold. If he had no interest in you, he wouldn’t have made the effort.” Honestly, she wasn’t lying to make you feel better about yourself, she was relaying what Hoseok had said to her over a phone call that morning. But, the bright smile that lit up your features still made her pleased with herself.

Biting your lip slightly, you nodded and downed your coffee. Frowning slightly, you turned to her and asked, “Why are we drinking coffee at one in the afternoon?” As soon as she had arrived, you had begun to make them out of habit but, there really wasn’t any need for them.

Chaeyoung chuckled, reaching around to pinch your side, “Because, you’re a creature of habit with zero common sense.” There was a teasing smile on her face and you let out an offended sound, pinching her in the same manner as she had done to you. The two of you returned to your previous state of petty seven-year-olds who couldn’t share the last cookie and a battle ensued in the kitchen. It was far too fun for you to actually acknowledge that she was one hundred per cent correct in her comment. 

Clicking your tongue, as you tried to straighten your jacket that had become wrinkled in the fight, you mumbled, “Maybe.” You folded your arms over your chest, trying to hide the smile on your face as you watched her pat down the frizz that had formed on her hair.

She stuck her tongue out at you teasingly, mimicking you in a childish voice, “Maybe.” You flipped her off, walking over to the coat rack by the door and pulling your jacket on. Chaeyoung pulled her phone out, checking her texts from Hoseok and the others, “Hobi’s outside and the others have a table at the restaurant.” Nodding, you ran over to where you had left your keys before shoving them into your pocket and leading her to the elevator.

“It’s only a five-minute drive from?” You asked, worrying over whether the three of you were going to be obnoxiously late. Thankfully, your best friend nodded and you breathed out a sigh of relief just as the elevator arrived at the bottom floor.

As always, you could feel Hoseok’s presence before you could see him, the bass of the rap music he played resonating through the ground beneath you. Chaeyoung only scoffed, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend as he wound the window down and blew her a kiss dramatically. You feigned gagging, pausing to lean over and pretend to retch over the pavement, causing you to receive Hoseok’s middle finger.

“Always a delight, Hobi,” you drawled, sliding into the back seat which you had claimed as your designated seat when you first sat in the car, “Always a delight.” He pulled away from the curb, turning onto the main road as he looked at you through the rearview mirror, eyes covered by blue-tinted sunglasses.

Hoseok placed his hand over his chest dramatically, the other one controlling the wheel as he turned right, eyes flickering over to his wing mirror momentarily. A wry smirk played on his lips as he said, “I aim to please,” in a ridiculous and exaggerated posh accent. Chaeyoung muffled her laughter with her palm, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being able to cause any form of joy with his horrendous jokes. You slammed your head back into the headrest, a loud sigh leaving your mouth.

Just as you were about to demand how long you would be, he swiftly turned into the car park and pulled into a parking space right in front of the restaurant. Almost as soon as he had stopped moving, you jumped out of the car; your desire to be fed beating out any want for safety you had previously claimed. The couple decided to take their sweet time - probably in the hopes of you starving to death. Honestly, did they need to hold hands to walk inside?

You bounced on the balls of your feet, scowling at them impatiently as they strolled over to you. Chaeyoung gave you a sly smirk as they finally reached the door, almost as though she knew exactly what you were thinking. Mentally, you noted to buy that voodoo doll you had seen on amazon the night prior. 

It wasn’t hard to spot the group, Seokjin was already lecturing Taehyung loud enough for heads to have turned throughout the restaurant. Rolling your eyes at the typical behaviour, you tucked your hands into your pockets and made your way over to the large booth that took up a large portion of the back corner. Yoongi was the first to spot you, comically leaping up and climbing over Jimin to prance over to you in a manner that was completely out of character. The group watched him with incredulous eyes as he enveloped you in a tight hug, acting as though he had not seen Hoseok and Chaeyoung when he linked your arms together and dragged you over to the booth. 

“Move it, Jimin. I’m sitting beside my queen today.” Namjoon choked on the diet coke that he had been drinking peacefully. Pouting at you in a puppy-like manner, Jimin moved closer to Seokjin to leave enough room for you and Yoongi to sit on the end of the bench. Pulling up two chairs, Hoseok and Chaeyoung sat adjacent to you, their hands already entwining themselves in a disgustingly cute manner. It was then that you looked up, your eyes automatically meeting the Bambi-like ones that you dreaded seeing. You averted your eyes quickly, a pink flush appearing on your cheeks as you made a show of searching through the menu in front of you.

Taehyung sipped from his diet coke, giving you a boxy smile as he leant on the palms of his hands, “You three took your sweet time.” Hoseok and Chaeyoung exchanged a knowing glance, already anticipating the rant that you were about to go on.

You slammed the menu closed, the plastic slapping against the marble of the counter as your head snapped to give the couple an accusing glare, “Well,” you said slowly, jabbing your finger in their direction, “If these two didn’t live with the only purpose to separate me from my one true love, food, we would have been more than on time.” Scowling, you crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and made a point of turning away from them.

A dramatic gasp came from your right, Yoongi looking down at you with a feigned look of despair, “I thought that I was your only love, my queen?” Namjoon groaned quietly, sinking into the corner as though he could disappear into it and never return. He wasn’t so lucky.

You placed your hand over your heart, a solemn expression on your face that you swore deserved an oscar. “I dreaded the day where you would learn of my betrayal,” you flung your hand out exaggeratedly as you channelled your inner Shakespeare, “But, I couldn’t resist the temptation that it held over me,” you sniffed, casting your eyes into the middle distance, “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me, my king?”

Stubbornly, Yoongi turned away and reached for his glass of water, taking the straw and placing droplets under his eyes to feign tears. Internally, you cursed; how could you allow him to outdo your performance. He turned back to you, answering in a choked-up voice, “Anything for you, my queen.” 

The group had been staring at you in mortification, noticing the attention your scene had gathered from other guests. Jungkook’s chin had slid down to be cupped by his hands as he mouthed ‘what the fuck’ to himself in confusion. Before anyone could ask you what had caused both of you to turn the booth into an improv class, the waiter came to the table.

Unfortunately for you, his eyes seemed to be glued to you as you urgently lunged for the menu, having forgotten your order during your dramatics. You cursed yourself under your breath rapidly, settling on the American-style pancakes and bacon. Breakfast foods were superior and you would fight anyone who disagreed. You supposed the waiter was attractive in a way, he would have been more so if he could have stopped himself from leering at you.

“My name’s Mark, I’ll be your waiter today.” He started taking the orders, going around the table as his gaze never strayed far from your unknowing frame - you and Taehyung were having a silent argument about the validity of breakfast foods during the day, you were winning of course. Eventually, he reached you, the slimy smirk on his face deepening as he met your blank gaze. “And what can I get for you, beautiful?”

You coughed slightly, looking down at your menu with an alarmed gaze. Jesus, he was straight forward. “Um, I’ll have the American-style pancakes, please?” For some reason, you phrased it as a question and you cursed at yourself, you looked vulnerable.

Mark was blocking your view of Chaeyoung, meaning you couldn’t share your usual glance of disgust. He leaned further towards you and you silently wished the booth could have been bigger so you could press yourself further against Yoongi. Damn, what type of K-Drama did he think he was in. A bad one, you decided as he spoke again, “Is there,” he paused, eyeing you suggestively, “Anything else you would like?” Unfortunately for him, neither he nor his number was listed on your menu.

Frowning innocently, you flipped back through the pages of the menu and glanced down at the drinks list, “Could I have an iced Americano as well, please?” Blinking up at him with confused wide eyes, as you closed the menu with a hint of finality.

The waiter managed to hide his taken-aback expression, to his credit, “Sure,” he said. You then decided that he must have been a cockroach in his previous life because he just kept coming back for more. “Is there anything else you like the look of in here?” He winked at you. Internally, you were cursing him out in as many languages as you knew but, your violence was pacified by your desire to be fed and that couldn’t be fulfilled if you were removed from the restaurant for deboning your waiter.

You made a show of pouting down at the menu, “I mean,” you hummed thoughtfully, tilting your head in a lost manner, “There’s nothing else on the menu.” You paused for a moment before turning back to him with a bright smile, feeling triumph run through you as his smirk widened. “Do you know what shade the paint is? I’ve been meaning to redecorate my bedroom and that colour is just perfect.” On your right, you felt Yoongi clutch onto your arm as he tried to stop himself from howling right in the waiter’s face. Taehyung did no such thing, already giggling into Namjoon’s shoulder as the elder covered his mouth.

The waiter cleared his throat, averting his eyes as his face fell into a slight grimace, “Um,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I’m not sure but, I could ask my manager?” He offered, noting the bright and hopeful smile on your face. If he wasn’t an unprofessional prick you might have felt sorry for him but, alas, he was so you felt no guilt in bringing back your inner Shakespeare for his embarrassment.

“That’s perfect,” you said in a sickly sweet voice, “Thank you so much.” You didn’t let your, disgustingly, bright smile fade until he had scurried back into the kitchen. For the second time in that afternoon, you slammed your head back into the headrest as you blew out a loud breath. 

Yoongi let go of your arm and burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, resting his forehead against the cool marble of the table as Jimin almost collapsed onto his back. You could have sworn that you didn’t agree to lunch with a pack of wolves. Once he had calmed down, Yoongi turned back to your, resting his hand on your shoulder, “That was god tier behaviour,” he turned to the rest of the group with an adamant expression on his face, “I want Y/N’s expression carved onto my headstone.” Taehyung nodded his head in agreement.

Seokjin laughed, a sound coming out of his mouth similar to that of a windshield-wiper, “I thought Jeon was going to cave his skull in if he didn’t stop.” A tense silence fell over the table, you chose to ignore it and take a long sip of the iced Americano that had arrived during their hysterics. The sweet taste of coffee did nothing to block out the sounds of Seokjin complaining, “Don’t threaten me, I’m your hyung - show me some respect!” You could only assume that Jungkook had insinuated that he was going to murder the older man. How unfortunate.

“I thought you were going to ruin his life,” Taehyung said, a hint of laughter still tainting his voice as he jabbed his finger to Jungkook, who was sat on his right, “Like you did to Kook.” A small sound of protest left the younger’s mouth, his bottom lip jutting out slightly that made his face far too vulnerable to have a body with so many tattoos.

You giggled slightly, shooting a small smile towards Jungkook as you feigned a thoughtful look, “I was but, last time I did that I was arrested for murder.” The group shared a wary laugh, knowing you were joking but also slightly doubting it. “I’m joking,” you reassured, taking another sip of your drink, “I spent a night in a dirty jail cell for assault and was banned from all chains of Panda Express for life.” Namjoon and Seokjin blinked at you in surprise, not actually expecting for you to come out with something like that.

On the other hand, Taehyung and Yoongi shared aghast expressions and pressed their hand over their hearts as though they had been shot through the chest, “You can never go into Panda Express again?” You nodded slowly, not quite understanding why they were so horrified, “Is life really worth living without that?” Taehyung said, voice dripping with despair as he reached forward to take your hand in his own.

Your strange moment was interrupted by Mark, as well as another waiter’s, return. “Here are your American-style pancakes,” he said, smirking at your slightly as he allowed his hand to linger on your plate much longer than it should have, “I hope you enjoy.” You nodded stiffly, counting down the seconds until he would disappear.

As much as the restaurant’s service was a bit horrific, they made extraordinary looking pancakes. You would have devoured them on the spot, had you not noticed the folded napkin tucked beneath the edge of the plate. At least you knew why he was so fixated on your plate. Scoffing quietly, you reached for the napkin and gently unfolded it. Typical. ‘Mauve’ was so not a paint shade and you would most definitely not be contacting his mobile number for any further information.

“I didn’t order desperation on the side of my pancakes,” you muttered, scowling at the napkin as you tossed it to the middle of the table. You noticed the smile on Jungkook’s face, he tried to hide it by focusing on the pizza in front of him. A giggle escaped your mouth and he looked up to meet your gaze, his eyes round as he gave you a small smile. For the first time since the group had entered the restaurant, the booth was silent. It was only interrupted by a loud sneeze coming from in front of you. You looked up, seeing Jungkook covering his nose and mouth with the napkin that Mark had given to you.

A small chuckle left your mouth and you glanced to your left, immediately spotting the crestfallen expression on the waiter’s face. Tragic. It must have been an accident, he couldn’t have known what was on the napkin and intentionally grabbed it when he sneezed. Despite knowing this, it didn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips for the rest of the meal.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

A/N: this is shorter than it usually is but it’s for sure more of a filler chapter :// i know i haven’t updated in a while and I’m sorry for that <3 my mental health at the moment is almost nearing rock bottom so its a lot harder to write for me but I’m doing my best. please feel free to send me asks because i love talking to you all and please ask me if you would like to be added to the tag list :) Also if anyone could please tell me why my tag list never works on mobile it would be greatly appreciated i think it’s something to do with the html coding but idrk how it works. i’ve restated the ones that don’t work but if you’ve been tagged twice please tell me so i can remove it

@bunnyboyjjk @taehyungiev13 @scvkjinrecs @milkandminie @mygscafe @screamingshoes @kimvantaee @pleasantpeachstudent @fivesecondsofsarang @frenchki

[inspired-by-the-music]

Chapter 16: The Weight

Kyuhyun’s POV

During our search for a house, Ae-Young became enchanted by one whose upper floor had a room whose entire wall was a window. 

Standing in the golden sunlight that bathed the room, she squinted and dreamed aloud: “This would make a beautiful study! You can put your desk here, and I can pin my photographs here, and we can share a bookcase and put it along his wall, and— do you still play the piano?”

“Yes,” I replied, eager to participate.

“Then we can put your piano in the corner!”

Maybe pianos don’t belong in studies, but I instantly committed to her vision, flattered beyond comprehension that she could think so vividly about life with me. 

I stepped forward into the sunshine and asked, “So this is the house you want?”

She looked anywhere but at me as if worried that I would read her desires plainly in her eyes. “Well, that depends,” she stalled. She sounded very much like her father when she asked, “How much does it cost again?”

“Don’t mind that.” It had become a habit of mine to dismiss her concerns, preferring instead to handle them myself. I gestured around the room. “If this is what you want, this is what you’ll get.”

A smile played briefly on her pink-stained lips as she hummed, “How romantic,” but she tried to bite it back as she asked, “but as your bride-to-be, shouldn’t I be concerned about our finances?”

Even if I hadn’t been flustered by the reminder that our wedding was quickly approaching, I wouldn’t have understood why she craved all of the adult burdens I tried to liberate her from. Why can’t she be content to let this be my concern?

I eyed her contemplatively before deciding, “I don’t think you should be concerned about anything.”

Still grinning, she delicately swatted at my arm. “Get real, Kyuhyun! At least tell me if this place is within the budget!”

My eyebrows rose. “What budget?” I joked. After receiving her laughter, I promised, “I wouldn’t have brought you anywhere out of the budget. I wouldn’t do anything that could disappoint you like that.”

She believed me, so she admitted, “This is the place I want.” Turning away from the sun to face me, she added the condition: “But only if you want it too.”

So it was determined that we would, after the wedding, move into the house with the glass wall. 

In those following weeks, our time was split evenly between moving our belongings into the house and planning the ceremony. We were together so often, the longing for her wasn’t as suffocating as it had been. As we united to decide what would make our house a home, it was easy to believe that we were in love. It was too natural to forget that this had been a weighted agreement— that she was with me to please her father and not to satisfy her own passions— until she reminded me of the reality of our situation. 

Her phone rang while we set to placing our books in the bookcase we spent all morning assembling. It’s still ringing in my ears— that vaguely melancholic piano ringtone— because it was the only time her phone rang when she was with me and because I was surprised that she could like such a sad song. 

She didn’t race from my side to answer it. Once scanning the screen, she said, “I don’t recognize the number,” and she dumped it back into her purse. 

When it rang again just moments later, I encouraged her to answer it. “Don’t worry,” I said, “I won’t eavesdrop or anything.” To free her from my gaze, I turned back to the bookcase.

“I mean,” she allowed it to keep ringing, “I don’t mind if you— oh, wait— that was kind of a joke.”

I thought she would answer the call in the hall or in one of the other rooms, but when I snuck a glance at her, I watched as she leaped into the rolling chair we bought for my desk, spun a few times, and answered with a radiant, “Hello?”

I was supposed to keep shoveling books into the bookcase— or at least that’s what I thought I should be doing— but I stopped at hearing how her voice brightened. What could make her sound like that?

As if seeing her smile would help me understand, I turned to her, but the breath was squeezed out of me by a tight embrace around my waist. 

“I—”

Why couldn’t I speak? A lack of air? Stunned by the surprise affection? Was it too difficult to speak through my smile? 

Somehow, I asked, “Good news?”

“The best news,” she corrected, looking up at me and clinging still tightly. “That was my favorite photography professor from college. He was always so cool— he has been traveling the whole world since he graduated from college to take pictures of literally everything under the sun. He’s been hired to take promotional pictures for a Broadway production, and because he remembered that I said I discovered my passion for photography on Broadway when I took those pictures for you, he said I just have to be his assistant!”

It was what she had been hoping for: an opportunity to practice her craft in a creative environment that working part-time for the local news just couldn’t provide. As her dream became reality, she was so radiant that I couldn’t think anything other than I’m happy too. 

“Well, you’re going to do it, right?” At last, I held her. Without pausing for an answer, I continued, “While you’re there, find time to try this restaurant called— well, actually, I forget the name, but I’ll look it up for you. And— what’s wrong?”

Her brilliance waned. She had gone silent. Her smile weighed into a frown as her gaze wandered down behind closed eyelids. Her hold around me weakened. 

She answered, “My father— he won’t like me going abroad with a male teacher. Especially not since—”

It was as if her voice fractured just for me— as if she somehow knew that hearing it aloud would shatter me further. I understood without her finishing the sentence. It was as I feared all along: this promise to me kept her from chasing the adventures that would fulfill her. It didn’t matter that I was just happy to be someone she thought of— the person she came to at the end of days— the expectation that she should be tied to me was too heavy a burden. 

And how could I ask her to carry it for my sake? How could I have spent so many days entertaining the delusion that we could be happy together forever like some fairytale when she had not yet been allowed the opportunity to grow and experience the world’s wonders that were waiting for her, calling for her, longing for her just as I did? What selfishness possessed me?

Heavy with the guilt of having ever been concerned with anything other than her best interest, I still couldn’t let her go. I said in an unwavering voice, “You shouldn’t let golden opportunities pass because you’re afraid.” Then, crumbling at the edges, I added, “I— I’ll talk to your father, and we—” I couldn’t say we will part ways. “I— well, no matter what— no matter where you go, I — um— I’ll be here.”

She smiled in what could only be gratitude and let me go. I could feel where she had held me. I still tingled at her touch as the weight fully settled around my shoulders, pulling me down, down. 

Let me forget how I went to her father to sever our ties— how he wouldn’t understand why the job on Broadway mattered so much— how I could only free Ae-Young by saying that, after all this time together, she was still too young to be my wife, too inexperienced, too clumsy with her emotions—

Let me forget that he asked, eyes not wide with shock but hooded as if in mourning, “Are you sure you won’t regret it?”

Let me forget that I already regretted it. The only doubt that I was doing the right thing presented as selfish knotting in my stomach. I couldn’t lie— I couldn’t say no, I won’t regret it. The only way to answer was with a solemn, “I’m sorry.”

But don’t let me forget a moment of those days we spent together. Even if it should make me a hollow shell of a person whose eyes are trained too intently on an unattainable dream past, don’t let me forget that I was once by her side. 

[dailyaudiobible]

09/15/2020 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 19:1-21:17, Galatians 2:1-16, Psalms 59:1-17, Proverbs 23:13-14

Today is the 15th day of September welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is…it's great to be here with you today as we continue this journey, the journey of this week and the journey of a lifetime through the Scriptures day by day step-by-step. And, so, glad that we can be together, glad that we get this time together, glad that I can be here in the rolling hills of Tennessee and you can be wherever on this big blue planet that you are and that we can still be together. And it's not just me and you. It's all of us. We’re all in this together on this journey. And, so, what a joy, what a privilege, what an honor, what a miracle even. Like what a crazy thing is this that we live on this earth and something exists called the Internet and it allows us to be together like this. So, feeling grateful today. But let's dive in. We’re reading from the English Standard Version this week. We’re in the book of Isaiah in the Old Testament and we've just gotten going in the letter to the Galatians in the New. So, today Isaiah chapters 19, 20 and 21.

Commentary:

Okay. So, today is a bit of a context day as we move further into the letters of Paul and specifically into this letter to the Galatians because although there's really important theological things to be said in the book of Galatians that inform our understanding of our faith, the context for why these things were said in the first place is actually really super-duper important and we’ve touched on some of this in the other of Paul's letters, and we touched on this a little bit yesterday when we were just getting going into the…the letter to the Galatians.  But basically, today we kind of get Paul's testimony about how his…how the gospel had come to him in the first place. And, so, I guess it's…I guess it's important to note that Paul's version of how that happened in Galatians is a little bit different than how it's portrayed, for example, in the book of acts, but this is in Paul's own hand. This is his own testimony. And we have this Damascus Road experience where a bright light send him to the ground, right, and he can't see and it’s Jesus talking to him and he’s on his way to persecute the church. And that holds true throughout all of the testimonies of Paul's conversion but Paul says in Galatians that he…he wasn't really influenced by the people in Jerusalem, like he had essentially been living into the faith for 17 years, for more than 17 years and that he had not received the truth of the gospel from any person, that he received it as a revelation from Jesus. He'd only met Cephas or Peter once and I mean that was like 14 years ago. And the only other like important leader in the Jerusalem church Jesus ever met was or that Paul ever met was Jesus brother James. So, Paul's claiming that the gospel he's preaching is a direct revelation from Jesus himself. This creates some problems, especially the Jew / Gentile problem that we…we have talked about it on a number of occasions. So, I don't need to go back into it again. We probably understand that territory but in Galatians today we hear about people sneaking into this spy on…on the meetings that Paul's having and these are Judaizers, these are people who believe that…that you have to convert to Judaism in order to follow Christ. In order to be a disciple of Christ you have the first follow the Jewish religion. Paul is obviously adamantly against that notion. And it seems from the Scriptures that God was doing a new thing because the Holy Spirit was coming upon the Gentiles. And, so, that's how they finally had to agree, like “we’re not making a decision here. God has already made the decision. We just have to support what God is doing.” This is a big deal because in so many ways it kinda renders Judaism obsolete. Paul is saying the law the Torah is fulfilled, the old covenant is done, a new covenant has been ratified through the blood of Christ, we are living in a different time under different circumstances, we’re going forward in a different new direction that God is leading. I mean it's hard to take that leap. It's a huge leap of faith, especially if you're a Jewish person who has only known it one way. To take that leap is difficult. To understand that Christ fulfills the obligations of the law and that through Him so can we. That's good news, but it's difficult news to embrace. So, that's like the theological or spiritual thing but it's…it's deeper than that. Like Jews and Gentiles did not like party together at all. They…they weren't social in any real way. Jews were separatists. They were thought of as strange by the rest of the Empire and they wore it as a badge of honor, to be separated, to be set apart as holy. So, a Jewish person looked at a Gentile person, a Roman, essentially as an occupier, as their oppressors, the people that were marginalizing them, the people that were pushing them to the outskirts of society. So, it would be difficult for them to just open their arms and embrace the people that they felt were oppressing them. It would be hard for them to have any sort of meaningful relationship because there is inherent prejudice there, right? There’s inherent fear of those with the privilege of being a Roman citizen. Like, they could do things that would be detrimental to the Hebrew community if they all got together to be happy together and then something goes sideways. And, so, Paul in his letter to the Galatians is basically like, “I had to even confront Peter, the apostle Peter, like the one who got out of the boat and walked on the water to Jesus even though he went underwater.” Like Paul's confronting him because he…he's not being consistent. He’s coming around Gentile believers in churches and fellowshipping with them and having really open community with them until people in the Jerusalem church are around and then he's being all separatist and all ‘follow the law’ and…and…and not being hospitable. So, we’re seeing…we’re seeing the tensions that existed as the faith began to grow and flourish. We’re seeing what was going on here through these letters. And we can wonder like, “why such…it just doesn't…like now 2000 years later we’re mostly Gentiles. Like some of these things don't seem like that big of a deal. Like it all got settled somewhere along the line and here we are.” But these kinds of tensions still exist. They just have different iterations, there just from different perspectives, but they still exist. And why is Paul being so defensive? Like, what's he after? Ultimately, well, first of all he’s defending the revelation of Jesus Christ that he received. This is what he believes. This is what he is convinced of. This is what he will die for…and he does. He did die for it. But beyond that it's freedom. He, as a Pharisee, had done everything he could possibly do to live up to a relationship, like to get himself in a position to have the knowledge and awareness and relationship with God. And no matter how hard he tried he failed. And then Jesus is raised from the dead and reveals himself to him and he begins to realize we’re free, we’re free from all of that. Like there’s a whole new thing going on. Freedom is given to us, spiritual freedom to be in direct contact and in relationship with God. This is a big deal. This isn't going to happen the ritual and adherence to some sort of ethics or law. Christ has done it all and restored us to God, and now we can call God Father, Abba. We can enter His presence. This a big deal. This is his conviction. Like I said just a second ago, then that renders that whole culture the…under Torah, the whole culture, the way the whole thing was set up becomes somewhat obsolete. And that's a difficult controversy. This is why people want to kill Paul. This is why Paul ultimately gets killed. This is also ultimately why we believe what we believe as Christians, that freedom has been given to us, that we have been…been made right, we have been justified because we have faith in Christ and freedom comes from that. Freedom, that a set of rules, even if we could live up to them can’t provide. So, this gives us some context. They were wrestling, which explains why we often are wrestling. Ironically, we’re wrestling over freedom. And in the coming days as we move through Galatians, we’re gonna get a good glimpse of that. And as we continue through the letters of Paul, some of like…some of the stuff is unbelievable when we are told what Christ has done, and who we are, and what that means. But those are in the days ahead.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You that we can look into it and we can see an honest view of the struggle. We…all we have to do is just look around in the world and see that there is an honest struggle continually going on in some direction and what we are grateful for is that You are the sovereign God, You are the Lord of all, no matter what we think. No matter what we think You are the most-high God, and You will have Your way. And our desire is to be in the middle of that, what You are doing in us and in this world. And, so, we open ourselves to You, Holy Spirit. We open ourselves to Your leadership, to Your comfort, to Your correction, to Your guidance. Come and do what You’ve promised. Lead us into all truth we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey DAB family this is Allie from Oregon. Hey, I’m just calling to ask for prayer for all of the communities around the Pacific Northwest and California area that are currently being affected by fire or the threat of fire. Just ask that YTou would, Lord that you would help provide peace and provide safety to the families that are in jeopardy or the families that are already lost their homes as well as for all of the first responders, firefighters, volunteers that are coming together to help with this. It’s been…it’s been a long week and I know that there’s a lot of people that have lost their homes or their homes are in jeopardy. So, we just pray for peace and through all of this that Your will be done and that You would cause people to come together. And Lord I also pray for work in progress. I know he called as well for California and we lift California up as well, that You would just touch them and bring these fires to an end. Thanks guys.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible family this is Kelsey from Washington state and I am new to Daily Audio Bible but I’m so thankful to have this opportunity to listen and hear God’s word together. Thank you, Brian. Right now I’m sitting on our back porch looking up at the sky and it’s a little bit hazy with smoke from all the wildfires but I wanted to call in to ask for prayer for a family that I know who has been deeply impacted and is going through tragedy due to the wildfires here in Washington. I want to lift up Jacob, Jamie, the Highland family who, you know, they’re in the hospital in critical condition right now and they lost their little one-year-old, Arielle to the fire’s here in Washington. And please just pray for their recovery, pray for, you know, this long journey that they have ahead and for just comfort from the Lord, you know, in relation to the loss of their son. He was beautiful. And also, for I…I…heard also that Jamie is pregnant and for this baby and just protection and protection from…for both of them from infection because their bodies have…have severe third-degree burns. Thank you so much, your prayer’s means so much. God bless you all. Thank you.

Hey family this is John the Prodigal. Hey, I’ve got a celebration actually believe that or not and a couple of prayer requests. Number one my son who was on heroin, we went through 25 doctors and finally found a doctor to work with him. Got him on the prescription that they took him off of after seven years cold turkey. He has no knees, blew em�� out skateboarding and he’s in constant pain. So, he turned to heroin. Anyway, he’s in good shape now, he’s happy now, got him turned around and that’s has everything to do with your prayers. I also ask for your…so I said it’s a celebration. I also ask for prayer for…for Jane a friend of mine who’s living in London. She is living in a church there and every night she runs in fear of being stabbed or raped. A good friend of hers was attacked…was shot in an attempted rape there. And, so, I tried to help her out as best I can but I, as you know I am totally broke, but I’ve done what I can. To that end I’d also ask your prayers for me. I’m trying to reinvent myself, rebuild my business, build back and the love of God and with God in my sites instead of me. And, so, my pride is broken. I’ve been humbled. I am a Job and trying to rise again. And with that I’d ask…I’d ask any more prayers for me I feel selfish when I do but I just wanted to let you know that I’m praying for you all and the man who called for the son with muscular dystrophy to people who are divorcing like me yo all those who are suffering and praying with depression. I feel for you all. I’ve got it all and I’ve got your facts. And so does God. So, you make a blessed day. Know I love you, know I pray for you all every day even though I don’t say your names. You’re in my heart. God bless you thank you Brian and Jill. Have a good day. Bye.

Good morning everybody hey this is Annette Allison from Oklahoma City. Get your seatbelt on girl. Hey isn’t the Lord cool? I’ll tell you what he is just amazing. __ inspiring stories of hope here recently that He is just amazing. My son, my stepson who is in the Air Force, his career has been tried to be put down and destroyed by a guy who is just like new in command and trying to make a name for himself and my stepson who’s just as straight as an arrow, I’ll tell you he is such a good good young man. It’s a truly amazing to me. The Lord has just taken this whole situation and turned it for the good and has really shown my stepson what the path of faith really looks like. And I’m just so proud of how he has stayed the course and how the Lord has turned all this around and for good. He even got a promotion and a recommendation out of this. It’s amazing. And my stepson James is doing excellent. He went to a…a little prison camp situation where they teach the kids how to behave basically and has come out smelling like a rose, top of his class, and is working and doing very, very well. I’m so proud of these kids. Anyway, I love you guys. Have a wonderful day. Bye-bye.

This is BB in Florida I’m requesting prayer for my niece Nancy who at the present time is in the hospital battling cancer. The cancer has traveled through her spinal column into her brain and the prognosis that the doctors are giving them is not good. I’m asking for prayers to come against the excruciating pain that she is under with severe headaches and backaches. She has not been able to eat or to keep medicine down. I’m asking that for prayers for the pain management team to find the right combination of medicine for her that they will no longer be chasing the pain, but they will be able to stop the pain completely. She’s been in the hospital now for about two weeks and it’s very hard on the family as only one person can be in her room with her at a time. Just pray, Father God that He would grant this family and all those of her friends, peace and strength, that the doctors would have words of encouragement today for this family. We serve a faithful God and a loving God, and I just pray for His mercy, Your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

Hi this is my first time ever being on this site asking for prayer. I have been actually reading since almost the first of the year and so love this site. And I come to you burdened about my children. I have two sons who are not serving the Lord at all, as far as they could possibly be from the Lord. And it’s such a burden. And I just pray that my brothers and sisters in Christ can uplift my two sons Lee and Austin. And my prayer is that I’ll be able to spend my days worshiping with them and that we can be one in spirit. And I pray for my husband to be strong as a leader so that he will be able to show these sons of ours what needs to be done in order to be a child of God and a man of God. My name is Sherry and I look forward to seeing the results of these prayers. Thank you so much.

Hi everybody this is Stephanie. I’m the Lord’s Chic from Oklahoma. As many of you know my son passed away about three months ago and my mom the year before. I am 55 years old and after decades of being clean I have fallen back into bad habits. It started with food and then it went to tranquilizers and painkillers and diet pills and I’ve had a drink for the first time in literally decades. I picked up a pack of cigarettes last week. I just…anything I can do to make the pain go away but it doesn’t go away. So, I’ve been a Christian for a really long time. My husband has absolutely zero knowledge of all this. So far I’m completely functional with my job and family but I…I need to stop completely. And, so, today is day one. I just really need for you all to pray for me before I completely ruin my career and my family. Nobody knows about this. I have a best friend in Oregon that I’ve confided in, but I mean if they were to pull a tox screen at work would be cooked and my nursing license would be gone. So, you know, some of this is prescription some is not. I just need a lot of prayer please. I need to get back and trust God the way they used to. Thanks.

[cottontail20]

Fairytales Can Come True

Summary: Still grieving Vision’s death, Wanda Maximoff feels entirely awkward and out of place at Tony Stark’s funeral. But then, Morgan Stark approaches asking if Wanda can fix her ‘brother ‘..ScarletVision, one-shot, Endgame fix-it.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026298

Vision was dead.

Wanda Maximoff was thrust back into that painful reality, into the midst of a battle in which she had tried and failed to avenge her lost love, and before the dust had settled on the battlefield, more painful realities had come.

Natasha Romanoff was dead, having sacrificed herself to retrieve the Soul Stone and return them all. Natasha, who had trained her in combat, helped Steve rescue her from the Raft. Helped her learn how to mask her accent, and keep under the radar when they were on the run. Natasha, who had risked her own life to save Wanda's, and make sure she knew that she wasn't alone.. Natasha Romanoff was dead, gone, and Wanda had never had the chance to say goodbye, and thank her for all she had done.

And then, shattering the initial elation at their enemies crumbling to dust, came the news that Tony Stark was dead, too.

Wanda felt horribly out of place at Stark's funeral, surrounded by so many people who loved him, or at least knew him in a way that Wanda had never allowed herself to. For awhile she had stuck close to Sam, and Bucky, the only person who seemed as awkward about being there as she was, and she'd had a nice heart to heart with Clint. But now Bucky and Sam had both gone to see Steve off on his quest to return the Infinity Stones, and Clint, understandably, was occupied with reconnecting with his wife and children. --

This left Wanda standing awkwardly in a corner of Stark's beautiful Lake House, clutching a rapidly cooling mug of tea that had been pressed into her hands by an older woman with a sympathetic face but whose name she couldn't remember (Jane? No, that was Thor's ex.. Janice? Maybe it would come to her), quite some time earlier.

While Natasha's death was a deep personal loss, and the absence of Vision was an enormous gaping wound in a heart that already been shattered too many times, Wanda Maximoff's feelings about the death of Tony Stark were a great deal more complicated. She didn't have the grief-fueled hatred for him that had plagued her in her youth. She knew that Stark wasn't a monster who had taken her parents from her. And, he was at least partly responsible for the creation of Vision, who had become the love of her life. But as much as she knew this, there was a little part of her that couldn't completely let go of his admittedly small role in her parents' deaths. Because of this, Wanda did not feel Tony's loss as keenly or painfully as some of her friends did.

Or at least, not in quite the same way, or more accurately, for the same reason. For a moment, Wanda's eyes fixed on the dark haired little girl tailing her Mother around the House as she received everyone's condolences. Wanda knew how it felt to lose your parents. Morgan Stark still had her Mother, of course- but she was only five, so much younger than Wanda had been when the bomb destroyed her home. No child should have to lose a parent that young.

So, rather than grieving for Tony Stark, about whom her feelings were still hugely complicated, Wanda found herself grieving instead for a fellow daughter who had lost her Father too soon. Becoming lost in these thoughts, her eyes beginning to sting, Wanda didn't immediately notice when said fellow daughter came to stand in front of her. Morgan tugged at her skirt to get her attention.

"Oh, hello" Wanda, slightly surprised, wiped her eyes, set aside her now stone-cold cup of tea and crouched down to the little girl's eye-level so she could speak to her properly. "Your name is Morgan, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh. And you're Maximoff."

"I'm Wanda" Wanda chuckled, "But Maximoff is my last name. How did you know?"

"Daddy told me" Morgan looked around for a moment, as if half expecting her Daddy to appear, and Wanda felt a pang of sympathy for the child. The little girl tilted her head to one side, small hands toying with the hem of her dress. "Can you fix my brother?"

"Your brother?" Wanda's brow furrowed, very confused. So far as she knew, Morgan was an only child. However, her eyes briefly flickered over to Peter Parker, the Spider-Man. Wanda had caught only a brief glimpse of Peter after the battle, but the boy had been inconsolable. He was currently conversing with his Aunt and a teenager with sandy blonde hair whom whom Wanda didn't recognize, though she knew he had been standing near her during the ceremony at the lake.

"Well, he's kinda like a brother, 'cause Daddy helped make him" Morgan continued. Wanda's heart leaped into her throat.

"Is.. Is his name Vision?"

"Yeah! He's in Daddy's shed. You wanna come see?" Morgan held out a hand.

Wanda did, very much. But she was also aware of the questionable morality of following a small child somewhere without their parents knowing where they had gone, so scanned the immediate area for Pepper Potts. It didn't take long, because as it turned out, Pepper was already watching them. She had the red-rimmed eyes of someone who had been crying a lot recently, but managed a small smile, nodding her consent. So, Wanda took Morgan's small hand, letting her lead the way. --

Wanda wasn't sure why she was surprised to find that the shed was not, strictly speaking, just a shed. It had been Tony Stark's, after all. While the building certainly looked like a shed from the outside, inside was a fully functional high-tech lab.

Morgan led Wanda past numerous work tables of half-completed projects that would now never be finished, past numerous robots and gadgets.. and then she spotted the cradle, so similar to the one from which Vision had been born, humming with energy. Wanda let go of Morgan's hand, running to it, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. There, inside the cradle, was Vision. He was still the dull grey color that he had become after Thanos had ripped the Mind Stone from his head, but otherwise, he looked as though he could have been sleeping rather than dead. Both his crushed skull and the gash in his chest had been painstakingly repaired, and someone had gently closed his eyes.

Wanda laid her hand on the cradle, her hearts racing as she summoned the small wisps of red energy to her fingertips. Hope swelled in her chest. She could read.. Something. Vision wasn't all there, but neither was he entirely gone.

"Daddy's been trying to fix Vision for a real long time" Said Morgan, plopping herself down into a small chair not far from where Wanda stood.

"Was he?" Wanda didn't move her hand, but pulled her eyes away from Vision long enough to look around a bit. The area around the cradle was set up differently.. it had a personal touch, more like someone's bedroom than part of a lab. A stack of books Wanda recognized as Vision's sat on a small table beside the cradle, along with a framed photograph of Wanda and a disguised Vision from one of their visits together. The lump in her throat returned, along with a sudden rush of affection for Tony Stark, and an equal rush of guilt for never truly understanding who he was.

"Uh-huh" Morgan continued, swinging her legs. "He fixed all his boo boos, and he talks to him when he's working. I talk to him too, sometimes. But he couldn' wake him up without his magic stone.."

"The Mind Stone.."

"Daddy always said 'It might be different if Maximoff was here'."

"See.." Wanda's eyes drifted back to Vision inside of the cradle. It wasn't difficult to join the dots. Since Wanda's powers came from the Mind Stone, Tony had thought she may be the final piece in the puzzle of restoring Vision.

"You're here now" said Morgan. "So can you fix my brother?"

"I don't know.." Wanda flashed a small smile in Morgan's direction, already growing fond of her. How could she not? The little girl was adorable. "But I'm definitely going to try."

"Yay!"

Wanda chuckled. Then, nervously, she pressed a button to open the cradle. Summoned the scarlet energy to the tips of her fingers once more.

"Morgan, stand back a little, okay? I'm not sure what's going to happen."

"Okay" Morgan slid out of her chair and took a few steps backwards.

With a shaky breath, Wanda bent over the cradle, pressing her glowing hands to the sides of his head. Focused hard, on what was left of Vision, on what she knew of him, her own memories of who he was, all the quirks and foibles he had developed since his birth, focused on the love the two of them had shared.

Color sparked on Vision's skin, the vibrant pinkish-red Wanda had come to know so well. Flickered, as if it was trying to spread, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Vision.. Vision, wake up.." Wanda begged, devoting every ounce of energy she had to this, to him. "Come on, Vizh.. please.. Feel me." And then, because it was the only thing she could think to do, she leaned down and kissed him.

The effect was almost immediate. Color bloomed and spread, dull grey transforming into red, silver, teal, and gold.

"Wow.." Morgan's jaw dropped.

Vision's eyes shot open, and he sat bolt upright, gasping.

"Vision.." Wanda threw her arms around him, happy tears in her eyes. "It's okay.. You're okay.."

"Wanda.." Vision slowly came back to himself, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, drawing her close. "W-What happened? Thanos.."

"He's gone now.. He's gone" Wanda peppered kisses over his face. He was here. He'd come back to her. "He's gone, and you're with me."

"I'm with you.."

"Yeah!" Morgan piped up, jumping for joy, and Vision's surprised eyes moved to the little girl. "Maximoff kissed you and you woke up, just like Sleeping Beauty!"

"Wanda" Wanda corrected her gently, "But yes, he was a bit like sleeping beauty, wasn't he?"

"Uh-huh" Morgan clambered into Vision's lap. "Hi, brother!"

Vision looked at her a moment, his brow crinkling. An almost memory.. A small voice, crayons and a coloring book resting on his cradle..

"Morgan.." Vision's hand ran through the little girl's dark hair, a small smile spreading over his face. "You're Morgan."

Wanda laughed and kissed his cheek, her heart so full.

All too soon, certain painful realities would crash on Vision just as they had crashed upon her. But not yet.

For just a few moments more, they would enjoy their fairytale.

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Ch. 5

New chapter!

Read it here on Ao3

Read it here on Wattpad

CHAPTER 5: FERMATA

Glossary:

Clochette = little bell

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Mood Music: Hallelujah - Brian Crain cover)

It was just another Monday morning in the life of Nathalie Sancoeur. While she wouldn’t necessarily categorize herself as a morning person, she did prefer to wake up extra early to quietly watch the sun rise, her beloved cat Clochette lounging lazily on her lap, as well as enjoy the luxury of being able to get ready for the day at a leisurely pace.

Her daily routine of scrolling through the trending news on her tablet while sluggishly sipping on black coffee was uneventful as usual… until she began going through the Adrien Agreste hashtag, as she always did.

Clochette did not appreciate being violently sprayed with coffee. Nathalie coughed and sputtered, wiping her dripping mouth and nose. She grabbed the nearest available towel (which, as she discovered later, turned out to be not a towel but a pricy dry-clean only sweater) to clean her face and tablet with. Hopping off and looking back with what was surely the cat version of a sneer, Clochette walked away from a very confused Nathalie, who continued to gawk and sputter at the blurry photos of her charge, hand-in-hand with the one and only Ladybug.

Inhaling sharply and leaping out of her chair, Nathalie snatched her phone, first to dial Nadja Chamack’s number, followed by the Agrestes’ lawyer, hoping they could help her minimize the potential damage of this situation.

“Gabriel cannot find out about this,” she muttered to no one in particular, clutching the countertop with a white-knuckle grip.

A couple of hours later, Adrien sat at the Agrestes’ titanic dining room table anxiously poking at his breakfast, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sleep-deprivation from a night full of bad dreams (chronic nightmares were an unfortunate side effect of using his miraculous against its intended use) only amplified the maddening suspense.

Last night he’d been terrified to check the news, fretting that the photos from his date with Ladybug would undoubtedly be leaked onto the internet. There was no way he’d be lucky enough to escape that. He did, however, recall that none of the phones pointed at them had had their flash turned on, and therefore, there was a tiny possibility that the photos hadn’t turned out clear enough to confirm that it really was Ladybug and Adrien in the photos, and not some attention-seeking lookalikes. It was that tiny ray of hope which allowed him to fall into a fitful sleep.

A hope that was dashed when he checked his phone at 3am (having been jolted awake by a particularly vivid night terror). As a result, he spent the next few hours searching for more photos, filing claims and reports all over social media, hoping they would get taken down sometime before anyone he knew could find out, and had gotten no more sleep.

“Good morning, Adrien,” a stern female voice rang suddenly from the other side of the large dining hall.

Adrien suppressed a grimace. “Good morning, Nathalie.”

Nathalie paused, chewed on her lip as she stared at him without blinking, and then continued, “You have Chinese lessons at 6pm tonight as always. You also have an early morning photo shoot tomorrow with a 5am wake-up call, so be sure to set your alarm for the correct time. Your piano recital is this Saturday so don’t forget to get in some extra practice this week.”

Adrien stared back expectantly, wondering when the warning about his behavior and consequences would come. A weighty pause and an air of tension hovered over the two of them, and the lack of conversation turned awkward, so Adrien forced himself to say, "Sure."

Nathalie stared back, trying her best to maintain a professionally cool and nonchalant expression, although Adrien could tell she was struggling to remain her composure. Adrien fretted internally, wringing his hands under the table, wondering if she knew.

Of course she knows, this is Nathalie . But why hasn’t she said anything?!

After several seconds, which felt like he was held at the precipice of a roller coaster and waiting anxiously for the drop, Nathalie finally said, “That is all.” She added a quick, “Have a good day at your shoot,” before walking away briskly.

Adrien consciously had to stop his jaw from dropping.

“Th-thank you, Nathalie!” he managed to blurt out when she’d almost reached the door.

She stopped abruptly and looked back, her eyes full of an emotion he couldn’t place. There was an unspoken understanding floating in the air between them. A solidarity. An odd sort of pact forged through kinship, through a need to survive together as allies under hostile territory.

“You’re welcome,” she replied quietly and exited the room, leaving a very puzzled Adrien behind.

He sank into his chair like a deflating balloon, recovering from the pressure and anxiety of what he’d originally anticipated from this meeting. Any time there was something he’d be getting in trouble for, Nathalie was always kind enough to warn him beforehand. If she hadn’t mentioned anything to him (and he was positive that she knew who he’d been with the night before), it meant that Gabriel hadn’t found out and that she wasn’t going to tell him, since he relied on her to inform him of any news that might interest him.

This wasn’t the first time Nathalie had put her job on the line for Adrien. Why would she continue to risk her job, her position as his father’s confidante and right-hand-man, so to speak, on his behalf? She received nothing tangible from helping him; there wasn’t anything he’d be able to repay her with. No accruing of favors or debts to hold over his head or she would have said something already. Adrien knew she wasn’t happy working for them and yet she’d never resigned. Why was she still here after all the trouble the Agrestes had brought into her life?

Whatever the reason, Adrien was thankful. He let out a large sigh of relief, hoping that some of Ladybug’s legendary luck (which had apparently rubbed off on him last night) would stick around a little bit longer.

After finishing getting ready, Adrien opened the front door and was halfway across the threshold when he heard a stern voice call his name from inside the house. He spun around to see Gabriel, who had just exited his office. Adrien felt an unpleasant chill trickle down his spine, yet tried to keep his expression neutral.

“Good morning, Father,” he called back as casually as he could.

Gabriel approached until they were less than an arm’s length away and stared down at him through his glasses. Despite having almost reached his height, he still felt so large and imposing that Adrien couldn’t help but almost shake when he stood this close even after all these years.

“I could sense you last night,” Gabriel finally spoke. “What happened?”

Adrien felt his limbs freeze up. Of course his father had felt his distress when he’d had his claustrophobic attack he’d had in the closet with Ladybug the night before. To him, being able to detect strong emotions came as natural as breathing by this point.

“Oh, I- uhh... I was watching a horror movie,” he lied as nonchalantly as he could.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and his mouth twisted into a disapproving frown.

Adrien wasn’t sure if he looked convinced or not. He continued, “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’d forgotten how much I disliked scary movies, but I got really into the story and wanted to see what happened.” He forced himself to smile, but was pretty sure he probably just ended up looking like the grimacing face emoji.

Gabriel grunted slightly in acknowledgement. “See that it doesn’t happen again. You were fortunate I was already in bed and reading a book. The emotion from you last night was quite tempting, and I have often pondered whether you would make a more efficient akuma than you are as Chat Noir.”

Suppressing a flinch, Adrien replied dejectedly, “Understood.”

They went their separate ways quietly, having nothing left to say to each other. Adrien walked slowly, desperately attempting to squelch the negative emotions he was currently feeling so as to not alert his father again. A sense of restlessness and desperation had been slowly growing within him for a long while now, and yet he couldn’t place what it was trying to compel him to do. He wanted to disappear, to run far away to the other side of the world and never have to see his house, or even Paris, ever again.

Taking a deep breath, he reined himself in.

I need to calm down. Think, Adrien… Think about something good, think about something nice, think about something that makes you happy. Like puppies, or ice cream. Or...

Or her.

Adrien felt his throat dry up and he gulped down a thick lump. He allowed his mind to drift towards better memories, thinking of Ladybug and her gentle smile; of the way her slender arms felt when they embraced him, so comforting and warm, making him feel completely safe; of how she smelled of fresh spring flowers and rain, and of her sweet voice as she sang the tune he associated with unconditional love and acceptance because of his mother.

Unconsciously touching his cheek, he blushed as he yet again mentally replayed the moment when Ladybug had kissed him the night before and how it made his body feel like it was on fire. He caught himself wishing he would’ve been able to return the kiss, idly wondering how her soft skin would have felt against his lips instead…

His eyes flew open.

What am I saying?!

He shook his head quickly, having finally reached his chauffeur, definitively attempting to ignore the whirlwind of butterflies in his stomach as he entered the car and tried to mentally prepare himself (again) for the day ahead.

(Mood Music: Dance for Me Wallis - Abel Korzeniowski, W.E. Soundtrack

Ladybug ran across the rooftops, agitatedly searching for an elusive candy-themed akuma, whose presence only caused her stomach to growl that much louder.

Why does there have to be an akuma now ? It’s lunchtime!! Why does Hawkmoth want me to be hungry?! I just wanted my sandwich! Well, prepare to feel the wrath of a “hangry” Ladybug, you jerk!!

She swung across buildings casting worried glances down below. Left and right people had been turned into chocolate statues, which posed a major problem as it was a particularly warm day in August, so she didn’t have long before the the statues would begin to melt.

She needed to hurry and find this akuma.

Hearing a thunderous roar, she jumped down onto the pavement and sprinted toward the sound only to find the akumatized person pointing a humongous chocolate cannon at a little girl. Seperated from her parents, the girl screamed and ran, but there was no way she would be able to outrun the much larger man.

“Stop!! Don’t shoot, she’s just a kid!” Ladybug shouted, rushing towards them.

To Ladybug’s surprise, the akuma pointed its canon at the sky and fired. And yet it wasn’t a thick stream of chocolate as she had expected it to be.

“Are you serious?? Chocolate rain?! ” Ladybug huffed incredulously. Finally reaching the little girl, Ladybug pulled her close, spinning her yoyo upwards to shield them like an umbrella. She quipped, “Here’s how we’ll stay dry!”

“Then I’ll make others feel the pain!” the monster bellowed, conjuring up a wave of chocolate to ride on, using a gigantic chocolate bar as a surfboard, and sped towards a shopping center where people were still scrambling to evacuate.

“Hey, get back here!” Ladybug exclaimed, chasing after him. She called back at the little girl, pointing at a fabric store whose owners she knew. “Go inside that building over there with the blue sign! They’ll help you hide!” She watched flicked a glance over her shoulder to make sure the girl was heading to the building, then focused on the akuma.

Ladybug gradually closed the gap between her and the akuma, who was about a couple of blocks away roaring at the crowds. Before Ladybug could reach the akuma, something hit her hard from the side, sweeping her away and shoving her against the side of a building.

Wind knocked out of her and seeing stars, she barely registered what had just happened and struggled weakly to no avail. Thankfully, she’d managed to reflexively protect her neck from whatever hard metal weapon was pinning her down, which she subsequently tried to push away once she noticed its presence, but was too disoriented to succeed.

She groaned, blinking away the fuzziness in her vision and trying to identify her assailant. When she fully opened her eyes, she was met with a pair of bright green, iridescent ones, their unmistakable familiar glow sending a shiver up her spine.

“Chat…?” she rasped, aghast, feeling her stomach drop like an anvil. Staring wide-eyed and having been rendered speechless, her mind was filled with questions, but a single one stood out above all others.

Why?

Ladybug felt stupidly naive now, having let her guard down, foolishly inferring that just because Chat hadn’t shown up yet it might mean that her words had had an impact on him. How presumptuous of her to assume that with a few well meaning gestures she would be able to forge the beginnings of a friendship with someone who had been her enemy for years, how utterly arrogant she’d been.

She had tried so hard to not get her hopes up in regards to where Chat Noir’s allegiance would lie during the next akuma attack. And yet, now that that moment had finally arrived, she still felt woefully unprepared for the amount of hurt she was feeling.

Her chest heaved rapidly and she willed herself to fight back, desperately wanting to punch him, to kick him, to do anything other than to remain frozen under his grasp, and yet she couldn’t summon the strength. She knew she needed to. She had always been able to, putting aside whatever curiosity and worries she’d had about the boy under the mask to do her job. But for some reason this time was different. Had she compromised herself and her own competence in her ill-fated attempt to broker peace between them?

I can’t hurt him. I just can’t.

In the midst of her confusion, she began to plead hoarsely, “Chat, please, I--” But she was interrupted when he placed his fingertips gently on top of her lips. He leaned into her, the subtle yet alluring scent of leather and expensive cologne he always carried with him causing her insides to flutter. The world seemed to have stopped as he pressed up against her, and she could barely hear the commotion around them.

Chat Noir’s cheek lightly brushed against hers and she gasped softly, the confusingly pleasant contact producing goosebumps all over her body. He finally whispered, “The akuma’s in the mixing spoon inside his apron pocket. Watch out for his licorice net gun.”

He lingered for a few extra moments then pulled back, giving her one last indecipherable look, and as quickly as he appeared he was gone. Ladybug stood there, stupefied. All she could do was stare at him vaulting away like a shadow while everything else seemed to move in slow motion.

What the hell just happened?

The incident with the candy akuma was not a one-time occurrence. Chat Noir remained an indirect participant in the next few akuma battles, never staying in one place longer than it took for him to discreetly tackle or corner Ladybug, always making it look like they were fighting, and secretly whisper the location of the akumatized item, some advice or clue, and, on occasion, even a few words of caution.

But Adrien knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever. His father had said little about it but Adrien knew that he had noticed, and his excuses about having previous commitments and lessons to attend, or claiming to be concerned about civilian safety (Gabriel had always disdainfully scoffed at his attempts to protect those in immediate danger) would not hold up much longer. It was only a matter of time before Gabriel became truly suspicious.

All he needed was more time.

Somehow, in the midst of his busy schedule and extracurricular activities, for the last few weeks Adrien had begun to secretly research and study as much material as he could about magical artifacts (scarce as said information was), hoping to find some way where he and his father wouldn’t be at odds with Ladybug anymore, and everything could be solved neatly and without violence.

So far there he hadn’t found anything even remotely useful, and his morale was running low.

And so Adrien found himself underground as he often did, clutching a bouquet of pink carnations and standing by the glass capsule (he refused to call it a casket or coffin) that his mother resided in. Harsh, bright, fluorescent lights illuminated this giant underground chamber, which gave it a cold, clinical atmosphere, almost like a hospital room.

(Mood Music: True Colors - Brooklyn Duo cover)

He stood there for a while, taking in her appearance. Since she'd fallen into a death-like coma, she hadn't aged a single day, looking as radiant and beautiful as ever.

Just like he remembered her.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, tracing a finger over the cool, hard surface, speaking quietly and reverently, as if anything louder than a murmur would somehow cause her discomfort.

“It’s so good to see your face right now. So much has been happening lately.” He sighed, then busied himself, placing the fresh flowers in an ornate vase that sat on the table, throwing away the old bouquet into the wastebasket underneath it. “Father’s kept himself really busy and I hardly ever get to see him, even less than usual. We’re like strangers. Sometimes I feel like the real Gabriel Agreste got abducted by aliens years ago and the one we have now is some nefarious martian doppelganger.” He finished fiddling with the flowers and leaned against the capsule, speaking casually, “I mean, you know how he is, he’s never exactly been a cheery ray of sunshine; he’s always had an ornery side,” he chuckled softly.

“But now he’s…” He groaned with a grimace and rubbed the back of his neck. “Now he’s like... a black hole. Not a single spark or hint of light in him anymore. And he sucks your happiness away if you spend time around him. I’m not sure how Nathalie can deal with him every day. I don’t really understand what’s happened to him after all these years. I mean, I know he misses you, like always. But there’s gotta be something more. And I…” He paused, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I don’t think he’s doing so well. Health-wise, that is.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I walked in on him once a while back as he was having one of his coughing fits and... I saw the blood on the handkerchief. I ran up to him and asked to take him to a doctor but he waved it off, claiming it was just an old stain. And yet, ever since that day, he started using black handkerchiefs instead. He won’t tell me exactly how using his miraculous against Ladybug has been affecting him, but I know this is connected. I don’t know how much longer he can keep this up.” He paused, biting his lip. “I’m really worried about him,” he finally said. He was silent for a few minutes, absentmindedly cleaning a few fingerprints off the glass with his sleeve, trying to keep himself from imagining two caskets side by side.

Never in his life had he felt such heaviness, such sadness, such weariness as the kind he’d experienced this past year. His relationship with his father had deteriorated far worse than he’d ever thought possible. Gabriel’s explosive, violent, and often unpredictable outbursts had everyone around him constantly on edge. And although Adrien would hate to admit it, he was almost afraid of being in his own house. It had gotten to the point where he’d begun wearing a snug leather glove while he slept, so that he would get woken up if Gabriel ever attempted to remove his ring. It hadn’t happened thus far, but one could never be too careful around him nowadays. Something had to change, but he didn’t know what it was.

“Anyway, sorry, enough about that. Ummm,” He changed the subject, scrunching his face deep in thought. “Oh! School starts next week, so that’s pretty exciting! I get to see my friends every day instead of once every few weeks. You’d like them, mom, I know you would,” he rambled excitedly. “I’ve talked about them before. Nino, Alya, and--oh, I think you’d especially like Marinette. She’s a very artsy person, like you are. And she’s super nice. I wish you could meet them all. Someday, maybe...” He smiled sadly, wishing with all his heart that that day actually would come, and yet his hope continued to dwindle

“Oh, and…” Adrien turned his head away briefly and almost winced, like a kid who was about to get grounded. “There’s… someone else I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t know if she counts as a friend yet, but I… I’ve been spending some time with- um, with L-Ladybug,” he stammered. “D-don’t get upset though! I’m just trying to figure out how to help you and not have to fight her. There’s gotta be a way to do both. I just haven’t figured out how yet. I know it would probably be easier to keep doing what Father says and just steal her miraculous, but after all these years it still hasn’t worked and I’m… I don’t...” he trailed off, struggling to find the right words and his hands curling into fists.

Damn it. Why is this so hard?

He let out a big, shuddering sigh, curling in on himself. “I’m tired of fighting, mom. I’m just tired.” He knelt down by his mother’s feet, wearily sagging against the platform and placing a hand on it.

A few minutes passed. Adrien’s thumb stroked the side of her capsule wistfully, imagining how things were many years ago. He would sit on a plush, fluffy rug leaning into his mother’s legs as she tenderly stroked his head while sitting on her favorite sofa, and they would talk for hours.

“I’ve been hanging out with her. With Ladybug, that is,” he finally spoke. “I’ve gotten to know her a little bit. And every time I’m with her, it just hits me that she’s just… a normal girl. A normal girl who’s been granted huge powers, but still, just a girl. She’s not some creepy harpy with fangs who’ll gouge your eyes out with her claws, like Father always made her sound like. She’s…” He smiled fondly, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time that day. “She’s kind of cool, actually. She’s so different from what I ever expected her to be. She’s kind and funny, very friendly, and she’s really prett-- UMM, I mean--” His head shot up, eyes popping wide open. “She’s, uhhh…! She’s pretty neat.” He cleared his throat and fought the urge to unbutton his sweater, since it had suddenly gotten very warm in this large, empty hall.

“Anyway, uh…” He coughed once and continued, “I know I can trust her. I just want us all to get along, and I know she does too.” The side of his mouth quirked upwards and he looked up at Emilie. “It’ll be our little secret, okay?”

He stood and laid his upper half on top of the glass, draping an arm across the capsule and setting his head down upon the cold surface; it was as close to a hug as he was able to get from her.

He looked upon her frozen features with a small smile on his face and said softly, “I love you, Mom. I’ll visit you again soon, okay?”

Adrien made his way down the long platform, finally reaching the exit. He took one last look at the end of the chamber, the bright green of the vegetation in the manmade oasis contrasting starkly against the greys and blacks of the hall’s beams, pillars, and walls. He flicked off the lights and exited, the loud creak of the metal door echoing across the hall, which then became a silent tomb once more.

[upinthestarsx3]

Off Limits (m) Part 1

Professor!reader x College student!Jungkook au

Genre: short series|smut|mostly angst|fluff in future|au

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Language and mature content. I guess I should also warn that I love writing stories with no happy endings.

Summary: You’re fresh out of college having just received your masters degree in Math. You begin working at a nearby college and meet your headstrong student, Jungkook. After a drunk hookup; things get complicated.

A/N: There are some typos; I hate hate hate typos but tumblr won’t let me edit them on mobile; so I will do some editing as soon as I have some time on my laptop.

“You can do this. You’ve waited your entire life for this moment. You can do it.” You whisper to yourself in your bathroom mirror; straightening out your dark pink dress that went down to your knees and checking if your black flats went nicely with it.

Today you would officially be known as professor (y/n). Having just finished your masters degree at 26, you never thought you’d get a job teaching at a college this soon.

“Oh my God, you look like you could be a student.” You whip your head around to see your roommate standing in the doorway with a wide smile on her face.

“Stop it, Gia! I’m nervous enough.” You pout, rubbing your face in frustration, carefully avoiding your eyes; you’d be damned if you had to redo your eye liner for a 5th time today.

“Sorry- it’s just... It’s crazy that my roommate whom just graduated from college herself, is going to be a math professor.” She grins even wider before continuing, “but good luck because everyone hates math. Kick ass today, babes.” And with that, she’s out of the door.

The entire car ride to work was a blur, it was only until you were pulling into the parking lot that you realized you were actually here. With shaking hands, you open up your class schedule and realize your very first lecture started 5 minutes ago.

“Fuck!” You scream, running from your car and into the lecture hall; when you finally enter the room, you practically leap to your desk and face the class, watching 20 pairs of eyes staring back with deep frowns.

“I’m so sorry I’m-“ you begin before being cut off,

“You know that we’re allowed to leave class if a professor is more than 10 minutes late, right?” A student speaks up, angrily. Your eyes find his angry ones and you give a small smile; trying to make a good impression on everyone although you clearly already soiled it.

“Um, I’m sorry. Today is my fi-“

“Are you a student teacher or something.” He speaks up again, the same rude look on his face. Any professor would have probably given him a speech about respect and kicked him out, but you couldn’t. You were the most non-confrontational person on the face of earth, and you begin to think you may have picked the wrong profession.

“I’m not a student teacher. I actually just graduated with a masters so-“

“And did your professors allow you to be late for class?” He spoke up rudely again, this time you felt your fist clench at your sides.

“Jungkook, stop. She looks like she might cry.” You hear the man in the seat next to him say quietly.

You decide against your better judgement to ignore him, skip class introductions all together and get them started on their work.

No matter how cruel it may sound, you were really hoping that this rude guy was super bad at math so that you could give him a taste of his own medicine, but he wasn’t- he was actually amazing at it, and you hated that.

“Okay, so the answer you should’ve gotten for this problem is 38.5! Everyone okay with how I did that or do you guys want me to go over it again?” You ask with a small smile, excited that you were approaching the end of class.

“That’s not the correct answer, professor.” The student you now know as Jungkook speaks up for 10th time today. You turn towards the board and scan through the problem for your mistake, after a few seconds you hear someone move from their seat and you feel them put a hand on your waist to push you aside slightly.

“Right here.” He points, “you multiplied that wrong, professor.” He says, dragging out the last word dramatically.”

You look over at your phone and see the it’s 2 minutes past noon, class is finally over.

Without addressing the problem on the board you plaster on a fake smile and say, “Well, have a good day everyone! Class is over, no homework. I’ll see you at our next class.”

When everyone leaves, you throw yourself onto your chair and lay your head on your desk as you begin to cry. Today had truly been the worst day of your life, you were sure of it.

“He’s like that you know.” You hear someone speak up, and you pick your head up wiping at your face to see Jungkook’s friend picking up his book bag that he apparently forgotten. Then he continued, “Its not you, he’s like that with everyone. His dad’s the president of the school so he does what he wants. Well, see you next class!” Then he’s out of the classroom leaving you with your tears once again.

Somehow you make it home even with tears blocking your vision throughout the drive, you had never been so humiliated. When you walk through your apartment door, your roommate is waiting with for you with a cake in her hands.

“Congratulations again, babe! What took you so long? I had to track your phone to see when you were com-“ she stops at the sight of your red eyes and pout.

“Bad day?” She asks with open arms and you nod and run to her. You were used to Gia comforting you in your times of need; she was like a sister to you. You two met while you both worked as waitresses at the same job and have been inseparable ever since.

“How about this... I’m working tonight at the club, come? Free drinks? If you’re feeling frisky I’ll even let you dance on the pole?” She asks with a smile. You lift your head up and nod, she knew you could never turn down a night out. Free drinks were apart of her job as a dancer, or what some might call, stripping. You make sure to never say that to her face though. You finish getting dressed in a short black dress with black heels to match while your roommate packed her stage outfit in her bag.

Not even an hour into you arrival, you’re already 5 tequila shots ahead of Gia.

“Catch up!” You laugh as you begin slurring your words. Your roommate laughs even louder at your drunk alter ego.

“I can’t, I have to get on stage soon, remember?” She nudges you, still downing one last shot before standing onto her feet.

“Okay, you know slurring is the first sign of your ‘too drunk’ antics so chill out until I’m finished so we can party hard afterwards.” She sings as she walks towards the back to get ready for her stage time.

It’s not long before Gia’s name is announced and she comes out to begin her performance. A crowd begins to form around her and you see several months worth of rent thrown onto the stage. It was definitely busy for a Monday night, that’s for sure. After an hour on stage Gia begins picking up her cash and like usual, she ushers you onto the stage since part of your drunk alter ego was pole dancing.

“How much for a private session?” You hear someone ask, and when you turn with a small smile ready to politely decline, you smile drops as you’re face to face with Jungkook. You hop off of the stage with shock written all over your face.

“What are you doing here?” You gasp with crimson cheeks.

“I’m a 21 year old man, and it’s free drink night at a strip club, why wouldn’t I be here?” He responds with raised eyebrows as though its ridiculous that you even asked.

“How about you? You have the nerve to question me as if you’re not a professor by day and a stripper at night.” He laughs.

“I’m not a stripper. My roommate is..” you reply, as though you even owe him an answer.

“Shame. I really wanted that private session.” He says with a smirk.

“Yah. Well have fun with your friends, let’s keep this little meeting between you and I, okay?” You plead while walking away to find Gia.

“Who was that?” She says with a knowing smirk.

“Nothing. Just some guy.” You respond quickly, although you wanted to tell her it was the same student that embarrassed you only hours ago and he just basically asked you for a lap dance.

“Shots!” She yells, handing them out to you and the other dancers who were now off of their shift. You throw yours back quickly and down 3 more after that before dragging Gia on the dance floor you.

“Let’s dance?” Someone whispers from behind you and you look to Gia to see her wiggle her eyebrows and turn away to dance with someone else. Without turning around to see who the man was, you just lean your back against his chest and the two of you begin dancing.

It started harmless enough, but soon enough he was grinding onto your ass, his hands squeezing each side of your hips so he’s able to pull you against his bulging crotch. You feel his breath hit your neck and his lips drag themselves from your shoulder to the back of your ear as he begins sucking the skin there.

“How about the lap dance now?” He whispers and your eyes fly open, quickly removing his hands and turning around with force to face him. Then you see him, you really see him. His hair is pushed back and it’s a good look on him. His skin is glazed over with a thin layer of sweat and he still managed to smell good. His eyes are hung low and it’s almost as though as speaking to you through them.

“Fuck it.” You assert and begin pulling him towards the back.

When you reach the set of private rooms he pulls you into one of them and he sits patiently on the long couch. You shyly lock the door and turn towards him,

“You have nice thighs.” Your blurt out, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward. He laughed softly before mumbling,

“Maybe you can ride them one day; but for now, give me my lap dance, baby.” his deep voice making you blush. You were thankful that the music on the dance floor made its way to the private rooms.

Walking your way over to him you try to be seductive, and lucky for you, that wasn’t very hard. When you finally reach the waiting man, you sit in his lap, placing a leg on each side of his thighs, but you made no effort to move.

“Apologize.” You demand, taking his wrists into your small hands, making him laugh at your boldness.

“For earlier,” you continue, “apologize. Or no dance.”

“Sorry.” He says as soon as you’re finished. “Really, I am sorry I just-“

“Shut up,” you whisper, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you begin to dance to the music, still holding onto his wrists. Jungkook eyes your curiously as the hold on his wrists tightens and you latch your lips onto his neck. His breathing picks up while you grind on him. The dress you chose to wear is now bunched together right under you chest, leaving your bottom half bare with just a black thong.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, softly shaking his hands to free his wrists from your grasp. You wanted to him to work harder for that, make him struggle a little like he did to you in class today. But you also wanted to feel his touch, as soon as you released his wrists; his hands went down to the button of his jeans and he begins unbuttoning them while keeping his eyes on you, to see if this was okay.

Once they were undone you dragged his jeans to his ankles sat back down on his lap. He let out a deep hiss when you begin rolling your hips again. Without a warning he takes your face in his hands and begins to kiss you. His tongue enters your mouth and he takes over without a fight from you. After kicking the rest of his jeans off, he lifts you and places you down on the couch, his lips still attached to yours. Jungkook leans up for a moments and begins taking the rest of your clothes off. You squeeze your legs shut with a red face and he looks at you with a grin.

“You were dancing on a pole an hour ago and now you wanna play shy?” He questioned. When you don’t answer he shakes his head with a small smile and places a hand on each of your knees, opening your legs easily. He stays there like that for a moment, you begin to feel uncomfortable and bring your hands down to cover your womanhood but he slaps your hands away.

“Don’t hide your pussy from me.” He demands, looking you straight in the eye, holding your gaze until you were first to look away.

“How can I make it up to you?” He speaks up again,

“What?”

“From the way I acted earlier. I want to make it up to you.” He whispers as he hovers over you and begins placing kisses on your neck. You feel him suck the skin there but you don’t bother stopping him. His mouth finds your breast and you watch him slowly suck your nipple until it’s erect, he then moves to the other one to do the same.

“Enough teasing, please just-“

“Just what?” He asks in a mocking tone.

“Just fuck me before I change my mind.” You blush. He doesn’t laugh this time. He throws his boxers off and leans over you once again, pumping his own cock a few times, looking around the room for what you think is a condom.

“Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.” You say nervously, his eyebrows scrunch together and you quickly backtrack, “unless that makes you uncomfortable then-“

“No no. It’s just. I can’t believe I’m this lucky right now.” It’s his turn to blush at his own words.

Wasting no more time he teases your cunt with his manly hood. Pressing it against your clit every once in a while because he loved the way you looked when your arched your back from pleasure. Before you can tell him to hurry, he enters you easily.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He moans. Without giving you a second he begins snapping his hips against yours. The sound of his body hitting yours is almost louder than the music. You close your eyes and squeeze your breasts but you hear him say,

“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.” Between heavy breaths. When you don’t open them right away he stops altogether,

“I said, Look. At. Me.” And with that, your eyes are staring into his and he smiles before he continues moving again. You reach up to grab his shoulders and pull him down with you, leaving kisses and bruises on neck with no care in the world. He wraps his arms around your body as he continuously fucks you. Your moans only increase when you feel his finger on your clit, pressing on it and rubbing it at a fast pace.

“Oh my God, Jungkook. Faster.” You allow your eyes to squeeze shut tightly as you finally reach climax. You lean further into the couch and allow the feeling of euphoria to take over. When you finally look over at Jungkook you see that he’s still hard, but he didn’t bother to complain.

“You didn’t-“

“That’s okay.” He smiles, knowing you were going to mention that it wasn’t fair he didn’t cum.

Instead, you slide off of the couch and onto your knees in front of him. You look up at him and he has a soft smile on his face, opposite from how angry his thick cock looked. You carefully lean in and lick the tip a few times, earning a small gasp from the man above you. With a little more confidence, you take the base of dick in your hand, and put the whole tip in your mouth while your tongue swirled around him. You feel his hand on the back of your head but he just leaves it there for now. You lean down and take more of him into your mouth, lightly gagging around him. When you try to lean up for air he pushes your head back down lightly.

“I’m sorry, but I’m almost there. Please keep going.” He moans with his head lolled backwards in satisfaction. You obey and eagerly bob your head up and down on him, gagging a little more each time you feel him hit the back of your throat.

“Ah fuck. I’m gonna cum.” He moans breathlessly, but you kept your mouth on him, swallowing his cum with no problem.

“Y/N! Where are you? The club is closing!” You hear Gia rumbling drunkly around the back.

“I have to go.” You stand up quickly, looking around for you clothes,

“Already? You don’t wanna grab some late night pizza or something?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Oh I’m not hungry.”

“Then maybe we can take a walk through the park and talk?”

“No Jun-“

“Come home with me, then? Please?” He pleaded, still sitting naked on the couch. You had to admit that this felt intimidate, like it was more than just sex for him.

“I have to get home, Kookie.” You causally reply.

“Kookie? Did you just give me a pet name?” He chuckled, holding up the underwear you had been looking for.

“Sorry- it just seems to go. I’ll call you Jungkook, that was inappropr-“

“No! I mean, I like it. It’s fine.”

“You have a terrible habit of cutting people off do you know that?” You laugh, walking over to him to take your underwear but instead, he holds it opened and tells him to put one foot in, then the next, and finally he pulls them up for you. You don’t bother moving away from him yet, instead, you play with his hair and allow him to wrap his arms around your waist. It’s not until he’s leaving open mouth kisses right above your underwear that you stand back,

“If you keep that up, I’ll never want to leave.”

“That was the plan.” He replied smoothly.

Once you’re dressed you walk towards the door, looking back to see him standing there, as though he’s waiting for something.

“Everything okay? Are you able to make it home alright?” You ask.

“No kiss goodbye?” Ignoring your question from before.

“Jungkook-“

“What happened to Kookie?” He bites back quickly.

“Jungkook, stop. This was fun, okay? Thank you for tonight but-“

“I get it, you don’t have to explain yourself. You’re my professor and I’m your student and this is wrong-“ He continues speaking but you can no longer hear him. It was like you were suddenly slammed back into reality. Had you really jeopardized everything for a drunk night of bliss?

“Stop.” You shake your head. When he doesn’t you scream again, “STOP!” And it makes him jump this time. 

“This!” You motion between the two of you, “Can’t ever happen again. Ever! Understand?” 

He gives up, a defeated look on his face and then a scowl takes over while he replies, “Loud and clear professor.”

A/N: I was looking for a fanfic like this to read last night and I realized there aren't many (I actually couldn't find any) where the reader is the college professor instead of the idol being the professor. You know what they say if you can’t find one to read then write one. Hope you enjoyed. Requests are still opened for reactions and scenarios.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Read my other work here.

[tabletopmayhem]

New Year

“What is it like?” the youngest asks him, still speaking English out of sheer stubbornness.

It is his favorite quality of hers, her refusal to bend or change makes him think she will survive when others fall to the passing of time and centuries. They say that trees that will not bend do not survive storms- but she is not a tree, she is stone.  Adversity will whittle her, but it will only make her more herself.  

Time will be her sculptor.

“What is what like?” he asks the youngest, still mortal, still green.

“To be so subject to the demands of others who you had not even met a month ago,” she replies, flattening one calloused hand on the cold dark window of the car, her eyes gazing out onto the flashing road.  “Again, they come and say it's time to go somewhere else, and you just go.  You just pick up our life and go again.  You let them drag you around like you're on a le-”

“I don't suggest you finish that thought,” he tells her, keeping any hint of a bite from his voice.  She is blunt, especially in English, and he cannot fault her for it.  Others might, but not him.  “You will understand in time.  We go where we are needed.  Right now you are youngest, but one day you will be eldest to the next squire, and people will need you for your particular talents.  And you will go where those talents are needed most.”

“At least California was warm.”

He laughs, tapping a ring on the steering wheel.  The other vehicle before theirs changes lanes, and so he follows, fighting back the urge to go faster.  Kulveer is slow, and methodical.  There is a place for that, a place for everyone.  Each knight brings something of themselves to the whole.

“You are always free to leave, Yara, though it would break my heart,” he says, ignoring the part of himself that denies that he would let her go. It does not matter, because she never would.  She does not change her mind.

“I will not leave unless it is with you, but there is no reason I should have to be happy about it,” she says, and then mutters something under her breath in Portuguese.  Something rude.

“Spanish, please.”

“I don't speak it.”

“Then what have you been doing with yourself for the last six months?” he asks her, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms under her chest.

“Rafael was training me in swords, not Spanish.  And etiquette.  The obsession with cutlery is very European, Angel.”

“Yes,” he sighed, slowing as the other vehicle's tail-lights flashed, Kulveer slowing again to let someone else cut in.  Yes, they had very different ideas of what manners should entail.  He would have sped up, so as to inconvenience less people.  Sir Kulveer, in contrast, being the sort of man who would get the door for you when you were thirty feet away. “Rituals become important as you age, they ground you.  They keep you safe.  Good habits will ensure a long life.”

“Life?”

“Oh now, this is no time for pedantry, Yara.  No, no.  Those who lose their sense of self are the most dangerous of Kindred.  To lose who you are, your humanity...that is the true death.  The death of self.”

“Which makes cutlery important,” she says with that particular mix of deadpan humor and archness that he finds so endearing.

“It does!” he laughs.  “It does indeed.  And all the small quirks that make you...you.  Hobbies, those things that you love, and those you hate. Style, flair, skills, talents.  All of the fragments of yourself that will become magnified and...focused, I suppose is a word.  Over time. They are important, because they hold your sense of self.”

“That sounds like caricatures, not people.”

“It can be both.”

Her faint 'hmm' sounds dubious enough that he is forced to hide a smile.  He watches her sidelong, her eyes calculating and focused inwards.   Thinking. Always thinking, his Yara, which was why he had chosen her.  She was a great deal like him.  Passionate, a creature of action who would goad when good Spina would hold back out of the demands of their cursed blood.

In some ways he pities his knightly brethren of the Spina bloodline.  So hampered by their manners that at times they were driven to inaction.  Yes, that was why they had to leave Portland for Seattle.  A stalemate was in need of breaking.

He would help with that.

“Tell me what you think of them.  Think of what we have just spoken of, and how it applies to our new brethren that you have met.  What is their purpose?  What is their usefulness on the battlefield of politics and society?”

“A test?”

“Everything is a test, Yara.  Especially coming from me.”

“Don't you ever get tired of spending all of your time testing everyone and everything around you?” she asks exasperatedly.  “It's exhausting!”

“How else can you stay in control?  How else can you know when it is time to leap and if those around you will catch you?”

Her small noise of frustration escapes through her nose, and he lets her fall into silence.  It is peaceful on the road, a surprisingly short trek between the two cities.  Seattle is not terribly large, but it seems to be growing, and he had heard they receive a great deal of rain. It would be useful to live somewhere with a lot of rain.  

The minutes tick by with the sound of the windshield wipers and the buzz and thrum of the vehicle and road to fill the ears with a strange mechanical music. Cars are terribly convenient things.  He had never enjoyed horseback riding in the slightest, and this was far more expedient.  It had become so easy to go back home to find his new squires.

Perhaps when Yara was ready to be embraced he would even go on an aeroplane.

This time, though, he would make sure they spoke Spanish.

“Sir Kulveer is very kind.  I think it is an affectation.”

“If an emotion is acted out, even if it is not felt, does that mean it is ingenuine?” he replies, eyes focused on the road.  “The effect is the same.”

“I suppose not. Rafael and I spoke of love often,” Yara says, “and all the facets of it.  All the ways it can exist as a physical thing, even if the emotion is lacking.”

“Is that still what you fear most of all?  Losing love?”

“Not any more. You make me feel loved, and what is more real than that?  You make a choice, and you live your life consistent with it.”

“Just as Kulveer chooses to be kind.”

“I think it makes him a good person to keep things pleasant.  He seems to compensate for the people around him, keeps things on an even keel.”

“He is a peacemaker,”  Angel agrees, pleased with her assessment.  He expected it to be much more biting and uncomplimentary.  “But peace cannot always be the answer.”

“Why not?  Isn't that the goal?  Peace and safety?”

“Sometimes peace is simply placation.  It does not solve problems, it simply delays them.  Things can grow worse when delayed, and  those who sit in the center and refuse to let things resolve because there is no peaceful resolution will be the first to fall.”

“Peace can be inaction, which you are here to counteract.”

“Yes.  Peace can be inaction,” he agrees, smiling to himself at her slow and thoughtful nod.

“Sir Connor spends too much time trying to be charming.”

He laughs at that, sudden and surprised, glancing sidelong at her.  She isn't smiling, but the small helpless shrug of her shoulders speaks volumes.  Of course this would be her reaction.

“You find him unpleasant.”

“He talks too much,” she says, and over his renewed laughter, “it's true! It's offputting.  It makes him feel a little...”

“Desperate, perhaps?”

“Yes, but also no.  I don't know why I feel that way.  It feels disrespectful to think that of a knight.”

“Because, Yara, you have uncovered things you aren't supposed to know, so you have no context,” he tells her, pleased.  “Sir Connor is new to Seattle. He is young, and has been rejected by the Order before.  He is damaged.  What feels desperate to you is simply the nature of a Spina demanding he not be rejected again, especially not with the scars he now bears.  In time, some of it will heal.”

“You shouldn't tell me those things,” she says, glancing sidelong at him.  “Rafael always says you tell me too much.”

“You will know eventually.  I trust you not to overstep your place even with more knowledge than a mortal should have,” he dismisses, scoffing to himself.  “Rafael needs to learn to lead before he criticizes me.”

“Hm.  Yes, I suppose that is it.  He spreads himself too thin, which I think is also what you just said,” she remarks, waiting for his confirming nod before returning it.  “He is trying to make himself useful to not be rejected.  I saw how you and Rafael reacted when Kulveer spoke of his split loyalties.”

“I wouldn't say split, that implies that the things he are loyal to are at odds,” he corrects her easily, “which they are not.  If they were, his blood would will out.  I think he is good for the Order in Seattle, even if they do not feel that way.”

“Why?”

“Keeps them from becoming too closed-off, insular.  A finger on the pulse of more than just their territory.  Seattle is a strange place, split but whole at the same time.  Sir Connor is adapting to his new environment so it does not reject him.  Sir Finn and Sir Connor both have that deep fear of rejection, but where Sir Finn loses his sense of self, Sir Connor retains his.”

“What is the difference between them?”

“Sir Finn tries to change himself to be what other people want, and in the end cannot.  He rejects himself.  That conflict leaves a lasting wound on the soul that cannot heal as long as long as he refuses to see himself for who he is,”  he says, watching her expression as she stares through the windshield, face thoughtfully blank.  “Sir Connor fears the rejection of others, but he knows who he is and accepts himself.  When he changes to match his environment, it is not out of self-hatred, but out of self-preservation.  Adaption, not rejection, do you understand?”

“I thought that vampires could not adapt.”

“It will become more difficult as he ages,” he allows, turning his own attention back to the road, though it's hardly necessary.  “But for now he is part of what they need.  As am I.”

“I want to help, but I know I'm not ready,” she says, frustration in her voice as she leans back in her seat with a creak of leather and a scowl.  “I hate it.”

“I know,” he says with a fond smile, shaking his head, “don't worry.  There will be a part even for you to play.  But, in the meantime, keep learning things you aren't supposed to know, Yara.  Learn how all the pieces move, so that when you are put on the board, you know what moves to make before the game even starts.”

“Are you playing chess now?” she asks, with a sardonic smile of her own.

“It's an easy metaphor.”

“It's a lazy metaphor,” she contradicts, refusing to smile at his laughter. “Chess and cutlery.  Ah, Angel, next you will try to make me learn to play the piano and curtsy.”

“I have heard they take the old-fashioned dress code very seriously.  You may have to wear a dress.  With the hoops and things, who even knows.  All of those frilly underskirts.”

“Dresses,” Yara replies flatly, rolling her eyes and looking out the window, spreading her hand on the glass again.  “Well, as long as you have to wear one too, I suppose I can.”

“I've done worse things for far worse women,” he says cheerfully, and finally makes her smile again.

A comfortable silence falls between them for a time, as they grow closer to their new post.  He did regret having to move her in the midst of her training, but it was fading.  This will be good for her.  Rafael is a good teacher, but not a good example, and Yara needs a better one to learn from. She is too strong to not have a better environment to learn in.  And Rafael?  

Rafael needs a chance to grow and fail so he can become the leader that he must be.

“Año nuevo, vida nueva,” Yara murmurs as they pass a sign welcoming them to Redmond, smile softening at the corners.

“New year, new life,” he agrees with her, glancing sidelong, “I knew you had picked up some Spanish.”

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

He just laughs.

No, Yara has no need to change, just to become more fully herself.  Unlike others, she fears no rejection, not even from him.  Some are rocks, and some are water, some make peace, and some make war; but they are all knights.  Protectors.

She will make a fine one.

[hrharthurkirkland]

For the kiss meme: could you make the prompt 21 with FrUKGerIta? (Poly ships need more love)

Here’s ur poly ship wonders! I love this ship a hell of a lot tbh and yet this is my first time writing it. Poly ships are p hard, especially ones that are 4 people lmao. hope you like it! (will also be posting this on ao3 with the others!) 

Morning sun shone through the closed blinds of Arthur’s room, illuminating just off of his face, leaving him pleasantly warm as he continued to doze through the morning. That was, until someone else bounced onto the bed, hands shaking his shoulders.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Feli’s excited voice sounded, what someone could be so excited for in the morning was a complete mystery.

Arthur groaned in reply, pulling the covers further over himself, “Noo…”

“C’mon! You can’t lay in bed all day lazy pants.”

“Watch me.” He spoke gruffly, eager to get back to that soft dreamlike state on the edge of sleep. A tut came from the Italian before he wormed his way under the covers, arms wrapping around the other’s waist. His head buried into his neck in a firm, yet comfortable hug.

This was preferable, and Arthur felt himself smile a little as he drifted back into the fluff of his pillows. Maybe the only thing better than that dreamy nap was someone to share it with, and Feli was always so warm against him, it was perfect.

That was, until he heard the intake of breath from the Italian. His eyes snapped open just in time for the raspberry to be blown onto his neck. With a cry, he squirmed to try get out of the now vice like grip he was in, but managed only to turn and face that big grin.

“Fine.” He huffed, “I’m awake. What do you want?”

Feli’s amber eyes lit up – if any more than they always were was possible – and he pressed his forehead against the man in his arms, “Don’t be so grumpy.” He teased, nuzzling their noses together, “I was just thinking about some things.”“What things?” Whatever it was, Arthur was already back against the pillows, ready to fall back asleep, maybe trap the Italian in with him if he could.

Those thoughts of just cuddling up peacefully were once again pushed aside when a pair of lips pushed against his own. He didn’t fight it, despite his original confusion, Feli was known for his grand romantic gestures, and today certainly wasn’t any different. The Englishman would allow it, give in to it, and of course kiss back. It was slow, lazy, and long, and when it broke away, Arthur had been so accepting of it, that he tried to follow to continue it.

His eyes opened, met with that gentle amber once again.

“I think your teeth are cute.”

By impulse, Arthur covered his mouth, “What?”

“Your teeth.” Feli giggled, moving to pull back the hand, “You always cover them when you smile… But I like them.”

“They’re crooked…” “They have personality.”

Lips met again, this time the Englishman was more reluctant, thoughts now on one of the many things that bothered him about himself. As pleasant as he might find the distinctly lemony taste Feli had, he couldn’t help but feel self conscious.

“Hm.. I’m sorry.” The Italian muttered, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”“I’m not upset.” Arthur looked up with a sigh, running his hands through that endlessly soft hair,

“I just want you to smile more. Genuinely. When you care so much about how you look, I don’t get to see you how you are naturally, and relaxed. That’s all I want, because I love that. All of you…”

“Is that what you’re up to?”

Feli moved his eyes, looking the Englishman in the face for a moment, searching for meaning, before cracking back into his smile, burying his face into his neck. “If all of you loved yourselves as much as I love you, well…”“We would be a bunch of narcissists.” Arthur chuckled, keeping his arms wrapped tight around him, pressing a kiss into his hair, “Alright then… I’ll smile more for you.”

—

Francis has been on the sofa for most of the morning. Truthfully he wasn’t usually so lazy, but something about this Sunday morning felt like lounging on the sofa with a book in hand felt right – felt comfortable. And yet, so incomprehensibly boring.

Luckily for him, the state of his boredom skipped down the stairs just in time.

“What are you up to, Feli?” He spoke as if he’d just now decided to put his book down, reaching for his tea. He tried to hide the slight sputter as he went to drink it, finding it now had gone cold. He wasn’t amazingly into tea in the first place, but it being cold was – as Arthur would put it – a crime against humanity.

“Looking for you!” The Italian hopped over jumping onto the sofa just in time for the tea to be put down and not spilled over the pair of them. He squirmed up until his was half way up Francis’ body, arms tight around his waist.

Francis broke into a soft smile upon seeing him, laying on his front looking up with those beautiful eyes. He reached down to play with his hair, brushing it out of his face, “Why on earth would you be looking for me? I’m not doing anything interesting.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Feli shook his head, hair flopping back into his face, “I wanted to see you is all.”

“Well that’s very sweet of you.” He hummed.

Feli’s eyes closed, burying his head into the other man’s soft shirt, and he stayed there for a little while, like a contented cat, having his head pet and hair played with, comfortable and warm.

Another figure came down the stairs, this time Arthur, stepping his lazy way down as he rubbed his eyes. He passed the two, receiving not much but an open eye watching him and a slight turn of another head. He reached down, running a hand through Francis’ hair as he passed, grabing the bug of cold tea. “Do you want another?”

“If you would.” Francis replied, leaning back with the hand in his hair, eyes closed to enjoy it best. There was only one thing that would make this moment better.

“Have you seen Ludwig at all?” He mused, eyes opening just a bit, “Hm? Basement I think.” Arthur replied, barely paying attention, “Doing all that… work out stuff. Might join him.” Absentmindedly, he took a sip of the tea in his hand as he spoke, and promptly spat it back into the cup,

“Careful, he might rope you into something.”“Goodie.”

“Can I have some tea too, Artie?” Feli looked up, his legs kicking up behind him, eyes sparkling.

The Englishman gave a smile, finishing his rifle through Francis’ hair and stepped out, “I’ll make some for everyone.”

Once he had left, Feli went back to laying his head down, but now he stayed with his eyes up, looking at the Frenchman with a little smile on his face. A face that showed the promise of mischief. And indeed, when least expected he pushed up that shirt he had been resting against, and started kissing his stomach.

Francis flushed over immediately, goose bumps up his arms, “Feli!” he spoke, hushed and firm, before switching it to an embarrassed chuckle, “Don’t you think that’s a little… inappropriate right now? We could go upstairs or…” “No no.” Feli shook his head, resting it back, admiring how soft that little cushion of flesh was, “I just wanted to let you know I like your belly.”

“M-my..? oh that.” The Frenchman put a hand on his cheek, feeling the heat still rising from it, “I have been getting a little lazier lately.”“You haven’t. Everyone has that. It’s to protect your organs.”

“Well it’s not doing the best job with you around, hm?” Francis teased, reaching down again to play with the Italian’s hair, “It’s not usually this soft.”“It’s because you’ve eaten.”

“I did have a larger breakfast.”

“You had breakfast.” Feli huffed, making his way up so he was resting on the Frenchman’s chest, “You and Arthur are the worst for it. And I thought you loved food, like me!”

Francis had to laugh, pulling him closer up to him, “I suppose you’re right. You always set me right, you know that?”

“As long as you’re happy.” Feli looked up, sneaking a little peck to that stubbly jaw, “That’s all I need.”

“Thank you… You know who I think needs your upbeat attitude right now?” He spoke, tapping the Italian’s nose lightly.

—

Earphones in, music blaring, sweat dripping down his back. Hours Ludwig would spend in this basement, here is where he could think, where he could build. And build he did, testing his strength, keeping himself in shape, it was just nice to be alone like this sometimes and forget for a while that the outside world existed.

He was lifting some small weights when the one thing that could sound over the heavy metal music in his ears came along, and he looked up, eyes wide.

“Catch me!” Feli shouted as he ran towards him.

Panic over took him. This was his work down, but what else was he to do? Let the Italian jump and fall. No, instead he threw the weights down as close to the ground as he could and held out his arms just in time for Feliciano to leap into them, knocking one of the earbuds from the German’s ears.

“Feli.” He breathed out, still out of breath from the work out – and probably the panic of having to catch someone running towards him at top speed, “More warning next time. Please.”“I would have called down the stairs but usually you have the music out loud. You can’t hear me if it’s in your ears!”Ludwig huffed, bouncing the smaller man in his arms. He was heavier than the weights, but still an easy feat. If he was here, though, that meant the work out was over, so he slowly sat back on a bench with a sigh, setting Feli onto his lap. 

“You’ll hurt your ears with music like that.” The Italian pouted, pulling the second earphone out, “Why do you listen to it?”“I like it.”“It’s so angry.”“It helps.”

Feli sat up a little more, reaching up to push the hair out of the German’s face, pressing some kisses into his forehead.

“You’re sweaty.”“Correct.” He couldn’t help but smile as the kisses kept coming, making their way into his hair, “What are you doing?”“Trying to kiss your thoughts.”“Why?”“Because that’s where you’re most self conscious.”

Something in his chest squeezed at his heart. Ludwig felt the need to put a hand to his chest, heat rising in his face, “That is very kind of you…” He smiled, moving so he was eye level and the kisses ceased, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Feli blinked, confusion painting his face.

The stairs creaked as the other two stepped down, each with two mugs in their hands, careful not to spill any as they made their way over. Feli looked at them before turning back to the German he was sitting on, “I’m not self conscious about anything.”

“Everyone’s got something.” Arthur spoke as he set one of the mugs down on the bench, sitting down next to it, “He’s got a point. You do all of these things for us, make us feel good, what about you, Feli?”

“No. don’t think so.”

“Not true, not at all.” Francis sat on the other side, “Don’t make us kiss every inch of you until we find something.”

“Whaat? It’s no fun if you’re just trying to find something I don’t like!”

“Would you prefer somewhere you do like?”“When he’s not on my lap you can continue being horny, Francis.” Ludwig huffed, adjusting the Italian where he was held and taking his hand, “You don’t have to tell us anything.” He muttered, pressing the hand against his lips, “If you’re happy, we’re happy.”

Feliciano smiled, a little giggle coming up from his chest as he fell back onto the sweaty German’s shoulder, “Alright… Where should I start?”

[dusky-dancing]

Formal

Summary: Radiant Garden is holding it's first formal ball to celebrate its restoration, and Kairi and the other Princesses of Heart are guests of honor. The event brings about a reunion that Kairi wasn't sure she was ready for yet.

Rating: T

Genre: Romance

Length: 3788 words

Fluff warning.

The young woman reflecting in Kairi's mirror looked vastly different from any version she'd known of herself. She supposed it was what she got when she let six other princesses and three fairies dress her for her first ball.

The fairies demanded that they make the dress after the princesses decided on a design, and the narrow A-line gown fit her shape perfectly. Its length reached her ankles, and her back was covered only by lace. The sleeves fell softly off of Kairi's shoulders, showing off her collarbone. The light, breathable fabric prevented the dress from feeling fully formal, not to mention it still allowed her to leap and spin to her heart's content.

From the color it was obvious that Flora had the most fun designing the dress, for her dress was almost entirely pink. Not that Kairi complained, it was her favorite color.

Kairi wouldn't have been so self-conscious of her appearance if it weren't for the occasion: the new Radiant Garden's first ball to celebrate its restoration. The committee - Leon, Yuffie, Aerith, Cid, the Gullwings, and Tifa - they had all worked so hard to make this world the beautiful land it was before the Heartless attacked. They deserved all the recognition in the worlds, so people from each corner of the galaxy were invited. Each Princess of Heart agreed, of course, and because Kairi was technically from the world, she felt high expectations.

If anyone was going to be guests of honor at the ball, it should have been the Restoration Committee. Though it was wonderful to see the other Princesses again, the Committee members were the ones who put forth all of the effort that rebuilt Radiant Garden. All Kairi did was train. If anything, she distracted them from restoration efforts.

Still, it wasn't just the occasion that put butterflies in her stomach, but also who would be attending. Each Princess of Heart was to be presented before the court at the start of the ball, so they would each receive a partner of their choosing to escort them. Most of the Princesses' choices were obvious, and as for Kairi, she wasn't much different. The Guardians of Light, a group that Kairi was also a part of, were all attending anyways, so it wasn't too far of a stretch, right? It was a formal event, so they must've sent a formal invitation, asking him to escort her. She cringed at what it might've said.

Worst case scenario:

The honorable Princess Kairi dutifully requests that Sora, chosen wielder of the Keyblade, be her personal escort to the Radiant Garden Restoration Ball.

It would've been worse than asking him to prom. He probably laughed himself to tears at how ridiculous it sounded. Regardless, after months of training and waiting, Kairi's heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him again: his bright smile, his deep blue eyes whose gaze could lift any spirit.

"Kairi?" a voice snapped her back to reality.

She turned to see six pairs of eyes staring at her curiously. Each of the other princesses were adorned in their own beautiful, personally customized gowns. They waited together in a large powder room in the west wing of Radiant Castle, putting the final touches to their ensemble.

"I'm sorry?" Kairi replied.

They giggled. "I asked which earrings you wanted," Aurora said. She held out a small jewelry case lain with various options.

"Were you daydreaming again?" Cinderella asked.

"It's okay to be nervous, you know," Jasmine said.

Again? How often had her mind wandered in the last hour?

"Sorry," she replied, smiling bashfully, "I guess I am a little anxious."

She perused the collection of earrings and settled on a pair with dangling peach sea shells.

"That was quick. Why'd you go with those?" Alice asked.

"I may technically be from Radiant Garden, but my home and my heart will always be with my islands. I want all the worlds to know that." She smiled as she donned them. They made a surprisingly nice accent to her wardrobe.

She turned back to her company and rose from the seat of her vanity. "You all look so amazing!"

"WE look amazing," Belle corrected her, "I wish we could be there to see the look on Sora's face when he sees you."

Kairi began to blush. She was about to defend Sora when a knock came at her door. The guard posted to the hallway outside spoke, "Ladies, Princess Kairi has a visitor."

"Just a moment, and just Kairi is fine," she replied.

"We'll give you some privacy," Cinderella said, and each of the princesses exited into the adjacent dressing room.

Kairi faced the door, "Go ahead and send them in, please."

It opened, and a tall young man entered the room, his shoes tapping against the hardwood floor. His scars from the Dark World were hidden beneath a long, buttoned up dress shirt fit for royalty. Everything about him seemed princely, but his silver hair still hung loose, barely covering his aquamarine eyes. This wasn't just any visitor, this was her best friend. His gaze found her.

"Woah," he muttered.

"Riku!" She exclaimed, hugging him, "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

"Um," he held out his arms at his side, still frozen.

"What's wrong?" She stepped back.

"Uh, nothing. I'm just afraid of ruining your..." he paused, gesturing to her whole self, "everything."

"Oh please," Kairi replied, "I'm still me. What brings you over here?"

He leaned casually against the wall. "Just checking up on you. Figured you might be nervous." He smirked at her.

Kairi twirled her fingers together. "Maybe just a little."

"Relax," he said, "you'll do great, and besides, even if you do mess up, you can always count on Sora to do something more embarrassing."

She laughed. He wasn't wrong entirely, but the thought of Sora only being a mere few halls away from her didn't help her anxiety.

"How's Sora doing?"

He folded his arms, "You'll see in a bit."

She resumed her seat, finding it more difficult to breathe when standing. "You're no help," she pouted at him.

"Just don't think too much about it. Instead of a ball, imagine it's just us hanging out back on the island."

He was right. If she took away all recent events, they were still childhood best friends. She needed to remember where they came from.

"Okay, that helped a little," she mumbled, "thank you, Riku."

He nodded. "I won't take too much of your time. See you soon." He stopped himself before leaving. "Oh and Kairi," he said, "you really do look beautiful."

"So do you," she winked.

He shook his head, laughing as he closed the door behind himself.

Later, as she waited in the hallway of the west wing, Kairi's anxiety worsened. Each of the other princesses looked so calm and collected before they presented themselves. Had they felt nervous too?

Kairi took a deep breath as the guard opened the door to the Main Hall.

And there he was.

He stood on the other side, adorned with a white long-sleeved dress shirt, the full collar extending up his neck. A golden sash draped from his left shoulder to just above his right hip, and stringed golden shoulder pads added width to his frame. Unlike his usual style, he wore blue dress pants that hugged his legs, and his calf-high white boots were actually proportional to the rest of his body. His signature crown necklace hung where a bowtie would have been.

From afar, he almost looked like a different person, but there was no mistaking that hair. She'd hoped that he wouldn't change it for the occasion. Kairi had seen him grow, both physically and emotionally, but in that moment it was more apparent than ever. One thing was certain: he wasn't the same boy that had been napping on the beach years ago.

She was sure that her heart stopped when their eyes met. Sora was never good at hiding his thoughts with expressions, but as much as she wanted to tease him for his wide eyes, she was more concerned with remaining calm and walking a straight line to him. It was only a few steps, yet it felt like miles.

"Hey, Kai," he gave that smile that he always did.

Before she could respond, he pulled her close. She melted into the embrace, dismissing the formality that she'd tried to instill within herself for the past hour after only a few seconds. Unsurprisingly, it was easy for him to have that effect. It may not be conventional, but she no longer cared. Months of separation, and a whole year before that, came pouring forth - time spent worrying about where he was, training for what would come, and wishing to return home.

"I'm glad you're okay," she muffled into his shoulder.

For once, he didn't wear gloves, and the feeling of his calloused hands directly on her skin brought a comfort she didn't think possible. She reached for his back, and a tinge of guilt stung her for not being able to return the favor against the thick fabric of his suit.

He gripped her tighter, his hair tickling her ear, "You thought I wouldn't be?"

He'd grown bold, having never hugged her so tightly before. It brought a giggle out of her. She pushed herself back and took in his full form. He was still Sora, she told herself, and always would be.

"You changed your hair."

His eyes widened slightly as he pulled at the brown spikes, "Y-you don't like it?"

"It suits you," she smiled, and her reassurance softened his face.

Their time alone was cut short when the large double doors before them opened wide. No words were needed as the two faced forwards. He extended his elbow out to her, and she slipped her hand into his arm.

It felt right.

The ballroom was already filled with enough people that the whole town might have been in attendance. She curled her fingers into his arm, grateful that she didn't have to face everyone alone.

The guard at the door announced their arrival. "Presenting Kairi, Princess of Heart hailing from Radiant Garden, and her escort, Sora, Guardian of Light."

She cringed at the formal announcement. She and Sora glanced at one another and stifled a laugh at their respective titles. Though she couldn't deny that their names sounded good together.

When they entered, a crowd of their friends moved to greet them. Kairi had the privilege of seeing Radiant Garden everyday, so she knew they weren't rushing over to greet her. Kairi wasn't the only one who missed Sora.

"Sora, lad, it's good to see you again!" Merlin shook Sora's hand aggressively, "And Kairi, you look stunning as always."

"Good to see you all too," Sora laughed.

One after another, people came to greet Sora. He really could make friends anywhere. Despite all the commotion, he'd kept his arm interlocked with Kairi's. She felt safe, wishing she could cling to him all evening. That dream was interrupted, however, when Tifa pulled him into a hug. The sting of letting go was quickly replaced with amusement at Sora's bashfulness.

Kairi scanned the room for musicians and found a string quartet stationed near the balcony doors. It had been so long since she'd taken the time to listen to music, and she grew eager to hear them play.

"Nice entrance, princess," a familiar voice spoke from behind her. Riku stood in the same attire she'd seen him in before. He'd also chosen not to drop his sarcasm for the ball, it seemed.

"Riku!" Sora shouted.

The two clasped hands and patted each other's backs.

"Who knew Sora could clean up this well," Yuffie smirked.

"It's because he can't," Riku laughed, "atleast not alone."

So Riku hadn't only visited Sora before the party; he'd helped him get ready as well? She wondered if he spilled how nervous she'd been.

"Hey!" Sora's face turned pink, earning a chuckle out of the group.

"Anyways," Sora said with an exaggerated tone, "enough about me. Congrats on completing the restoration, everyone! How does it feel to have your home back?"

"I can't quite describe it," Leon said, "it's good to have a safe home again."

"Well, this is to celebrate all of your hard work," Kairi smiled, "you all deserve a long rest."

The strings began to play, their sound bright and sweet to the ears. Short notes stuck, long ones fluttered, and the urge to dance grew. Kairi soon found herself swaying in place. Some princesses were already twirling to their hearts' delight, either alone or with their partners.

The music was pulling her in. Before her nerves stopped her, Kairi kicked off her shoes and joined them. The others were actual royalty, so they knew more about dancing than she ever could.

The violin broke into a playful fiddle, and Kairi quickened her pace to keep up with it. With every second, more people joined in.

As she turned, she caught Sora smiling at her from the sidelines. Both he and Riku clapped to the music. Her nerves returned, wondering what was going on in Sora's head. She pushed the paranoia down. They were her best friends; she'd done much more embarrassing things in front of them, so there was no need to be nervous. She ran to them and grabbed their arms.

"Come on!" she yelled.

Sora nodded with a laugh, but Riku held his position.

"I don't dance," he said.

"You do now!" Sora shouted.

He took a hold of Riku's other arm, and together he and Kairi pulled him to the center. Hand in hand, they danced in a circle. She and Sora earned a chuckle from Riku as he began to loosen up. Trusting that he wouldn't run back to the wall, they released one another and danced on their own.

She watched Sora, who hadn't needed any coercing. He raised his elbows when he spun and kicked his knees high. She matched his energy and loosened her hips. Her dress was light enough that the bottom lifted with every turn, giving her legs more freedom.

Though they danced solo, she couldn't pull her eyes away from him. He was still the same old Sora, laughing and having fun wherever he could. That time it was him who caught her staring, but it didn't stop him. His smile only brightened.

She twirled one last time as the music came to an end and found herself in his arms. She blushed. He looked down at her, just as surprised and out of breath as she was.

She didn't know if it was just her adrenaline, but her heart told her to close the gap between them and kiss him.

The temptation only made her face more flush, but she resisted. If he had seen her addition to his paopu fruit drawing, then he knew how she felt. And If he still felt the same, then he would say - or do - something. She'd made her move already, it was his turn to make his.

"Kairi," he said, maintaining their distance.

"Mmm," she hummed.

"You, uh," he paused, "you dance really well."

She giggled. It was better than nothing.

"So do you," she smiled, "where'd you learn that?"

"Oh you know," he shrugged, "you pick up alot of things while travelling."

Someone behind them cleared their throat, bringing her back to the reality of where she was. He averted his gaze and dropped his hands.

Everyone continued dancing throughout the evening, but Sora seemed to avoid getting that close to her again. He'd be talkative until music would play, and he'd look away if they caught each other's glances. It frustrated her; all he had to do was ask.

She wouldn't allow herself to be brought down, however. After all, the three of them were together again. She'd even gotten to meet some of Sora's friends from other worlds. Unsurprisingly, there were many of them, including some of the other Princesses' dates.

The party lasted longer than anyone could have expected, but the ballroom slowly emptied throughout the night. The Princesses hugged Kairi goodnight, all having long and dangerous journeys home the next day.

Sleep still felt far from Kairi, but the night had to end eventually. Soon the crowd dwindled down to only a few people. The musicians even began to pack away their instruments.

"Hey Kairi," Riku approached her, "have you seen Sora?"

"He was just-" she glanced all around the room, but couldn't spot him, "I guess I lost him too."

"Knowing him, he's probably sleeping. Could you check the balcony while I look through the castle?"

Kairi nodded and made her way outside. She found Sora leaning against the balcony rails, but he didn't seem like himself. He hunched over the railing, staring into the distance with an absentminded expression. When she approached, he barely even acknowledged her.

"Hey," she smiled and leaned beside him, "ready to call it a night?"

"Um," he looked down at his hands, "not quite yet."

The balcony doors closed behind them. Kairi turned in surprise, only to find Riku standing on the other side. He saluted with a wink and backed away into the castle. The pieces began to fall together in her head. Confused, she searched Sora's expression for answers.

Sora exhaled slowly and faced her, "I realized I was doing a pretty terrible job of being your...you know."

Her heartbeat quickened. Was he trying to say 'date'?

He continued, "But you deserve better than that, so here it goes."

Inside, the music picked back up, slower and more melodious than before.

"Kairi," he held a hand out to her, "will you...dance with me?"

She didn't know what came over her, but tears began to form in her eyes.

Taking his hand, she answered, "Of course."

Her free hand came to a rest on his shoulder, careful not to wrinkle the formal attire. He held her at her waist, the unfamiliar touch sending goosebumps to her arms. He led without further hesitation, and they swayed together against the night air. The quiet strings just beyond the door guided their rhythm.

At first, she counted her steps. She caught herself watching her own feet, nervous that she'd miss and step on him. She looked up to find him doing the same.

"Sora?" she said.

His eyes darted up to hers.

"Thank you."

"What for?" He tilted his head to the side like a puppy.

"This," she smiled, "for coming with me. I know the invitation must've been super formal and cheesy..."

He chuckled, "No, it's okay. I actually thought it was kinda cute."

"Oh," she blushed.

Her shoulders relaxed, and his hand softened against the small of her back. Before she realized it, they were dancing smoothly together. No more feet-staring, no more overthinking, she was just allowing each moment to take her wherever it pleased.

His gaze drifted to the side of her face. "I like your earrings," he smiled.

Her head perked up. In all honesty, she'd forgotten she was wearing them, and no one else had made a comment.

"I don't know what it is," he continued, "I guess they just remind me of the thalassa charm you gave me."

Of everything she'd adorned that night, he'd chosen to point out her seashell earrings, the ones that reminded her of home - their home. They'd all been fighting so hard in order to return, but she remembered that her home wasn't just on the islands.

Sora was her home too, and she'd been feeling homesick for too long. She'd wanted to wait for the right time or for him to say something, but her heart didn't want to wait another second.

She pushed herself up onto her toes and captured his lips with her own.

Time seemed to slow down. She thought her nerves would ease, but the sound of her own heartbeat soon drowned out the music. His lips, though tense with shock, quickly warmed and softened against hers. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him forming a hint of that contagious smile. Just seeing his smile was comforting, but feeling it pressed to her own was heavenly. His hand curled further around her waist.

Slowly, she pulled away and lowered her feet flat onto the ground. He followed her down, resting his forehead against hers. Their dancing had stopped.

It wasn't until then that she fully processed what had happened.

She kissed Sora.

A moment of silence lingered in the night air, and then giggles escaped from them both. He held her hand to his chest, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Each minuscule movement sent shivers down her spine.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I couldn't wait any longer."

"Wait for what?" he clutched her hand tighter.

"For you to show me how you feel," she giggled.

"Oh," he raised an eyebrow, "You mean like this?"

He released her hand and caressed her neck before lowering his lips to hers. His kiss was unlike the last. Instead of timid and brief, he was bold and passionate. Butterflies erupted within her chest. Her empty hand clutched his collar. She didn't care if it wrinkled, she wanted him closer.

In that moment, she disregarded where they were, who might have seen them, and what would happen the next day. Even if they had to go their separate ways again, her promise would always remain true.

Wherever you go, I'm always with you.

He gave her one last gentle kiss before pulling back. "Sorry for keeping you waiting."

She knew from his somber tone that he wasn't just talking about kissing. He'd made a promise to her as well.

I'll come back to you, I promise.

She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart beating away within. She was home, and it was all she wanted.

"It's okay."

There was no need for such formality, anyways.