#ignore the oc tag please let us dream

[needlepine]

Jaxtonpaw is my new favorite warriors character

Y’all hear some copies of Ivypool’s Heart shipped with a chunk of 30 pages missing? That’s bc they removed Jaxtonpaw 😔😔😔 Too worried he would be a fan favorite and overshadow Ivypool

#justiceforjaxtonpaw

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER TWO

02 : SHOPPING (1/2)

CHPT. SUM. : life isn't easy in the Black Family household, you need to get out, you also need a new wand. Sirius does too as well as a few other things; time to go shopping.

LENGTH : 5.8k

TAGS. : hurt/comfort ; tantrums ; fluff ; sirius needs a hug ; regulus needs a hug ; original walburga can eat shit ; orion can eat shit too ; reader being an amazing mother ; walburga deserves to get bullied ; floo powder travels ; diagon alley shopping time~ ; stupid wands ; arson ; goblin OC ; sirius being a sneaky baby ; regulus follows in his older brother's footsteps ; misbehaving things ; Ollivander cameo~ ; please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes for now, this wasn't really proofread (╥﹏╥) i'll go back over things later on!

← PREV. | 01 : ARRIVAL | SERIES M.LIST

7th August 1971 

It didn’t take you long to uncover the upsetting affairs of the ever proud Black Family. 

There was nothing to be proud of. It sickened you to witness the blatant disdain Orion had for his own two sons, neglecting them by leaving for work early and returning only to lock himself up in his home office. The bastard even overlooked his sons when he was present at home on the weekends and the few words he spoke when addressing them dripped with cruelty and ignorance. The only positive thing you could take from his absence, however, is the fact that the boys didn’t have to tolerate his silent callousness for long periods of time. 

But that meant seeing the effects of Walburga’s despicable conditioning of the two boys, which was far worse. 

It was clear that Regulus wanted to be favoured and compiled to his mother’s whims, desperately seeking her approval. Whenever his small, pale hands reached out for you, no matter how miniscule, you accepted with open arms and a warm smile. His precious look of surprise, and shy happiness at your unexpected acceptance, never failed to make your heart shatter, even more so that his reaction never seemed to let up. 

Before every apology, before every small request, before every word he breathed in your direction, there was an evident hesitance, a slight fear in his motions that made him freeze up for a moment. It was a consistent action that you hoped, with time, would disappear for good. You love having Regulus for your son but you don’t want him to do things just because you said so. In your previous life and before your dreams were shattered, the one thing you looked forward to about having children was the development of their own personality, the becoming of their own individual person. That’s what you want for Regulus, and Sirius too. But you know that Regulus was the main son who was deprived of that pleasure in the original timeline so you wanted to give him that extra bit of care. It was your responsibility, now, to give him that happiness.   

Sirius was the same. He wanted approval too, you could see it so very clearly in his piercing grey eyes – it’s an innocence he shares with his younger brother. There’s a glimmer of hope in his grey pools, hidden behind the need to protect Regulus and the mix of anger and sadness fostered by the horrendous parents he had the ill-fate of having. You want to bring down those walls but you know it’ll take some time. Nevertheless, you clung onto the hope present in his eyes and used it to cultivate your firm resolution, like a garden to the foundation of a new life and a new future. It was needed, especially when Sirius lashed out, his fury, dangerously ablaze like a forest fire set on destroying everything in its wake. 

It was no secret that the original Walburga expected nothing but excellence from her only two sons, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that she had hired private tutors for them leading up to their official education in Hogwarts. They were to study French, Etiquette, Literature, Cursive/Calligraphy, Maths and all of the wizarding basics. All taught by private tutors that delivered material like stale bread on a plate and leaving them with the terribly tedious assignments in the most ridiculous amounts. You understood why Sirius worked himself up to such a tantrum. However, he was not setting a good example for his younger brother, who clung onto the long flowing skirt of your black dress and pressed himself against your legs for comfort. 

Tenderly, you combed your fingers through Regulus’ neatly permed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp while the two of you waited for Sirius to lose energy and simmer down enough for you to finally get a word in. It only took a few minutes but Sirius was soon left heavily panting, his expulsion of rage gone but still evident in his harsh glare and aggressive stance.

 Silence took over the room as you continued to hold his gaze, determined to handle the situation calmly but firmly and without any interruptions – you hope to God that your amateur imperturbable charm worked on the door of the room; it was the weekend, meaning that Orion was at home and he wouldn’t take too kindly to his equally hateful wife being screamed at by his disobedient son.

“...it’s not fair…” Sirius grumbles under his breath, pouting defiantly as his small hands ball up into clenched fists by his sides. 

“I know it’s not fair, Sirius,”

“Then—!” Sirius cuts himself off when you raise a brow at him, your mouth pressed into a tight, thin line. 

Some part of you understands why Sirius would lash out so aggressively; he was practically drowning under the workload he was set by his individual tutors, drowning under the expectations the original Walburga had set on him and he didn’t know how to express his frustrations. Along the way, you’re sure he’s bottled up his emotions and tried to get on with things, evident by the littered chaos of papers at his feet, marked by his neat handwriting. Such beautiful handwriting for such a young and troubled boy. With his deadline fast approaching and his assignments piled up to his ears, Sirius lashed out in the violent and wrathful way he’s been exposed to since birth. You want to be soft and comply with his demands but you know that’ll foster bad habits in him. Conceding now will only teach him that it’s okay to become violent when he’s frustrated and that it’ll work to help him get what he wants. But that is a false reality. And you will not perpetuate the illusion for him.  

He’s your son now, he’s your responsibility and you’re going to teach him well. So you stand firm but composed. You’re setting an example. It isn’t until you sense the fear of what may happen slowly seeping into Sirius’ much smaller frame, that you step forward and take action. 

In your slow approach, Sirius flinches and snaps his eyes tightly shut. His clenched fists slowly come up to shield his chest as his shoulders tense despite the visible shiver that runs up his frame.

A small voice calls out behind you, “Mother–”

“Regulus, this is between me and your brother. Please don’t interfere,” Regulus bites his lip into silence but watches on with fearful eyes. He wants to step in and hold his brother close, the same way Sirius has done to help comfort him many times before but, no matter how strong his will, Regulus didn’t move. Why? Was it the fear or… was it something else?  

Once close enough, you kneel down and gently grasp Sirius’ small shoulders. You try not to wince when he falters from your touch and tries to withdraw but your grip keeps him securely in place. Inhaling deeply and slowly, you begin to speak in a stable voice and with strength. It’s best to start from the beginning. 

“Sirius…” you wait until he meets your eyes, hesitant and afraid but stubbornly brave, “what’s wrong?” he sends you a look of exasperation, you can read him easily ‘why are you asking him that when he’s been screaming at you about it?’, “I will not listen or engage in any conversation with you if you ever speak to me that way,” you set the boundary and pause to make sure he processes your words clearly before continuing, “I will only listen if you talk to me like a normal person, if you just scream at me like that then I can’t help you,” 

Sirius wants to scoff at your words; how could he possibly trust you to help him if you’ve never been worthy of his trust? But he glimpses the image of his worried, younger brother over your shoulder and bites down on his sharp tongue. Regulus has grown a small but reluctant trust for you ever since the day you fainted. It was naive of him but Sirius could never fault his younger brother for anything. He’s always been the one with the softer heart between them so it was natural for Regulus to be more trusting. Deep down, Sirius wants to have that same level of give within him too. 

But it was hard. It’s hard to trust…

…that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, however. One prolonged look at his brother was all he needed to have the courage to put that trust forward. 

“It’s unfair,” he repeats, clearly this time.

“What’s not fair?” you prompt, your features softening along with your tone as Sirius wills himself to continue. You haven’t lashed out at him yet, you haven’t even threatened to launch a curse at him, that was a good sign. 

“All this work…” he gestures to the scattered papers he had thrown to the floor in defiance. Now, he looks towards them in shame and quickly diverts his gaze from the mess. 

“I see,” you hum as he looks onto you with eyes of wonderment, unable to comprehend that you were taking in his complaint so graciously – he isn’t used to this type of gentleness but he likes it…  “I’m sorry you’re under so much pressure to do this much work,” Sirius holds his breath as hope builds up within him, its light is radiant but he tries to ignore it, “I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you–”

“––I tried to do well!” Sirius defends, his eyes desperately searching your own for some form of understanding. It was your warm smile that eased his panicked heart… in some sense, he’s beginning to understand his younger brother; his mother looks far prettier when she’s smiling. 

“I know,” you cup his face with one hand and lovingly caress the skin of his cheek with your thumb, “you’ve worked so hard. Thank you for trying, Sirius,” you watch tears pool at his eyes and coo comfortingly as you bring him into your arms and tuck his face into your shoulder, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I promise to talk to your tutors about the workload,” your gentle assurance and unfaltering promise eases his worries and Sirius allows himself to melt into your embrace. You’ve never called him that before. And never in such a loving or warm tone. It makes his heart feel lighter and his breath stutters in disbelief. 

Can he keep you like this? He wants you to be like this forever. 

Sirius doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up in your kind embrace but he’s brought back to his senses when he hears shuffling and quickly feels his younger brother being brought into the hug too. Lighthearted and optimistic about the world’s goodness, Sirius brings an arm around his brother, who reciprocates his actions, and the three of you stay there, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. This is nice. 

“Regulus,” Sirius feels his brother stiffen up beside him, but only for a moment, it almost goes unnoticed before Regulus tucks himself further into your arms, “I’m sorry for the burden of work on you too,” 

“I-It’s okay, mother,” alas, his younger brother is too forgiving but Sirius knows it’s a trait that he loves his brother for. 

“Do you like the amount of work you’re doing?” you question, doing your best to keep your tone neutral and only slightly peaking in curiosity. 

Regulus pauses for a moment, contemplating his answer, “I wouldn’t mind less work…”

His answer makes you laugh, the sound feathery and light, it makes the two brothers stare at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. They’ve never heard their mother laugh before. It was obscure and strange but a pleasant sound, something that they want to hear more often from you. 

“Then it’s settled, I’ll be having a word with your tutors,” the two boys release a sigh of relief and you feel Sirius melt a little more into your arms, “so you can leave your work alone for next week entirely,” their shock doesn’t go unnoticed but you continue, “I’m so proud of both of you for working so hard,” you didn’t want to rush things but you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly and gently and with all the love you could muster, you lean forward and press a kiss to Sirius’ forehead and then do the same to Regulus. 

They were stunned into silence as a pink hue rose to their cheeks, their wide, unbelieving eyes staring up at you in the most precious way. They look so adorable; you want to capture this image of them in a photo to keep forever. You can practically hear their racing hearts trying to beat out of their chests as their eyes swim with a child-like astonishment and wonder. They’re just two precious little boys who deserved better than the miserable, tragic fate J.K fucking Rowling wrote for them. And you were going to stop at nothing to make sure their futures were happy. 

Warm with happiness, your soft smile remains as you gently usher the two into the living room to settle down and relax for the evening. However, the little bubble of merriment you had cultivated with the two boys was promptly ruptured by the sour, disgruntled face you happened upon as soon as you opened the door.

Tucking the boys’ suddenly tense frames into the folds of your skirt, you address the intruder, “Orion–” 

“What was all that racket?” he demanded, his voice booming and frightening enough for Regulus to begin shaking faintly against you. It made anger spike in your chest but, thankfully, Sirius was there to reach out and immediately begin comforting his younger brother. You made sure to keep the boys out of Orion’s gaze but it was no use, “Sirius! I know it was you! HOW DARE—!”

“We’ve already settled the issue so there’s no need to talk about it further!” you interrupt through clenched teeth, chest puffed out angrily as you hold the boys’ tense but trembling figures into your legs, hoping to calm them as best as you can. Curse that imperturbable charm! And curse that stupid wand! You haven’t been able to cast a single, functioning spell with it and your excitement for the world of magic had quickly dwindled into abhorrence, stemming solely from the stubbornly disobedient wand, “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do so excuse us!” 

You hurriedly lead the boys away from Orion and to the living room as Orion snarls, outraged at being dismissed so flippantly but confused over your sudden change in demeanour. For now, he settles on observing the changes no matter how subtle and returns back to his office. 

“THAT WAND ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT IT’S TRUE MASTER!” Walburga screams in your head and instantly makes you clutch your temple in distress. Settled in the living room sofas, Sirius and Regulus observe you with worry. Walburga doesn’t seem to know any other way of communicating than screaming and it has led to multiple black outs and fainting spells. It also meant that you kept having to drink the same disgusting healing potion over and over again and you were sick of it!

Seeing the same symptoms again, the two boys fidget in their seats, wondering what to do to help, “Are you okay mother?” Regulus asks as you muster a small smile. 

“I’ll be alright, Regulus, thank you,” your response isn’t enough to convince Sirius and he whispers something in his younger brother’s ear as you set to deal with the annoying bitch stuck in your head. 

‘Shut up you insufferable bitch, is inducing a headache your only talent?’ Your words and foul language make her sputter pathetically and it makes you laugh under your breath. Your moment of joy and satisfaction is short lived, however, as Regulus summons Kreacher just as you fall into darkness once more. 

The fucking bitch… 

8th August 1971

Because of that evil bitch stuck in your head, you had to ingest another phial-full of that horrendous healing potion. Not only that but the stupid wand still isn’t working for you. 

“How can I survive this hell hole if I can’t even use magic?” you grumble into the open air as the evil bitch cackles resembled the sputtering and coughing of a broken-down car, mixed with the discordance of an off-tune violin, erratic, grating and screeching. 

‘Can you shut up?!’ you shout in your head, already fuming, ‘Your laugh sounds like it could kill someone! No wonder you’re so miserable and your only sons hate you!’ that finally got her to shut up and you could think clearly again. Even though the situation was annoying, It made you snicker. Being able to bully Walburga into silence made those awful healing potions worth it. You’d drink a hundred healing potions if it meant delivering justice for you two boys. 

Now that she’s silent, you observe your desk. Thankfully, you also had your ownhome office. The previous Walburga had a planner specific for Sirius and Regulus’ studying plans, diet and calendars full of ‘X’s with small notes beside them on disobedience and the subsequent punishments. It was sickening and you wanted to burn the thing but you resisted. If you want to act convincingly in front of Orion and plan slyly, you need to know as much about the original Walburga as possible so you keep all her planners, journals and  scraps of paper intact. You’ll study their contents thoroughly in due time. You still have some major planning to do and you need to note down important dates to keep track of before you forget them. The start you’ve made has been decent, however, you know you need to rely on magic at some points and you wouldn’t be able to succeed in the current state of your wand. And it isn’t as though you weren’t able to cast magic; the first time you tried to cast a simple spell – the well-renowned ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ – you had set the flowers in the vase on fire.  

You need an excuse to go out. As the Patriach of the Black family, Orion had the key to the Gringotts Black Family vault so you can’t just go out haphazardly. You also weren’t comfortable with leaving the boys home alone so you need them to come with you if you can. 

With a sigh, you slump into the rigid desk chair and set about occupying yourself with mundane tasks. Perhaps if you indulge yourself in other, simple activities, you can come up with something creative. Stacking your messily scrawled notations of future plans, you begin to rummage through the desk drawers for a stapler or paper clip but come up unproductive. Nothing. Did wizards and witches not use basic stationary?... They had magic, yes, but surely… 

Your internal ramblings come to an abrupt stop when you spot a famed crest sitting above a deep red seal. The crest features four familiar beasts, a lion, a badger, a raven and a serpent; at the very centre was an ostentatious ‘H’ — it’s a letter from Hogwarts. And you were just beginning to suspect its potential contents. The seal has already been broken and the letter slips out easily. 

Words on the page read with nostalgia, it was as if you were watching the first Harry Potter film all over again and cheering at Harry’s liberation from his toxic aunt, uncle and cousin.  

‘Dear Sirius Black,’ it reads and your heart stutters in both excitement and anxiety, ‘We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.’

“Term starts on September 1st,” your eyes snapt to the desk calendar, which had automatically crossed off the days. It’s a little early but that just means you’ll beat the academic year rush. With a smile, you take out the separate list of necessary school supplies and pair it with a small list of your own. 

Perfect, you have your reason. 

9th August 1971 

Before travelling by floo, Kreacher came up to you and cast a simple dirt-repellent spell on you and your two sons. You were grateful for his foresight and thanked him graciously for doing so. Much like all the times before, your unexpected kindness makes the grumpy house elf falter clumsily but adorably as Regulus grins at your side and Sirius huffs with an exaggerated pout on his lips. He’s still ever so stubborn about the house elf but you’ve observed how Regulus has put in the effort to push the two together. You join in the gentle prodding through leading by example, treating Kreacher kindly and with respect. Bit by bit, Sirius has been following yours and Regulus’ lead. He’s not fully there but you smile at the little progress he’s made. It’s only been a few days after all and the results are optimistic, it makes your heart flutter and you look forward to the future with brighter eyes. Sirius had been buzzing with silent excitement all morning and Regulus was quick to join his older brother’s enthusiasm when you informed him that he was welcome to come and join you. 

You set off to travel by floo first so you can wait for the boys on the other side and so they’re not on their own not for too long. “Diagon Alley,” you announce clearly and without a shake of nervousness in your voice, only feverish anticipation. In moments, you’re engulfed by green flames. The world whirls around you in a dizzying blur of colours and sounds, the sensation both exhilarating and disorienting.

Unlike Harry and the Weasleys, you appear out of the subsequent fireplace without a spec of dirt on you and smile as you stumble out to await your two sons. The adrenaline rush of it all makes your fingers tingle and your head feel light headed but your smile only brightens. You still can’t believe you’re really here, sometimes.

Sirius came next and then Regulus. However, despite their earlier excitement, it appears as though their spirits were dampened just before travelling. Now, they stand before you with pouting lips and downcast eyes. 

“What’s wrong boys?” you ask softly, kneeling down to their level, it was purely out of instinct now. You meet them at their comfort as an equal rather than the other way around. It usually does the trick of consoling them enough to speak to you but this time is different. Their lips are tightly sealed. 

“We’re okay,” Sirius says in a tone that makes it seem as if he was trying to convince himself that. You want to press further but relent with a nod. It would be better for you to let them talk at their own time. Hopefully, being outside with so many charming shops dotted around, they’ll ease up and smile again. Pressing a brief kiss to their temples, you lead them out to the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. 

The street was bustling with magic and mystery as you observe the scene with bright eyes. The atmosphere of the wizarding alley didn’t compare to the movie adaptations. It was much more charming and wondrous to observe in real life. And wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic as it was depicted to you. However, that may be due to the fact that you hadn’t left the school shopping too late and so the streets weren’t as congested as when Harry went school shopping for the first time. Nevertheless, your heart didn’t stop pounding in elation as you held hands with your two sons and set forth to your first destination.  

“Our first stop is at a very important place, okay?” on either side of you, Sirius and Regulus nod, still silent as you lead them through the streets. The air was thick with the scent of potion ingredients and freshly baked treats from the nearby shops, a symphony of sounds and smells, it was a little overwhelming but you couldn’t complain, the tenor of the climate was still very addictive.

As if summoning your first destination, your eyes were drawn to the towering structure of Gringotts, the goblins' bank. Its grandeur was a stark contrast to the quaint shops lining the street, making it stand out like a uniquely different gem amongst a cluster of little treasures. 

You walk forward with purpose now but still keep your strides short for the boys. Looking down you observe how they take in the environment around them, dressed like little princes with perfectly permed hair and glittering diamond eyes. Sirius had familiarised himself with the routine of the day, the first stop would be Gringotts to withdraw money to buy all of his school supplies, the second stop would be to retrieve his wand and after that, it would just be a matter of going down the list. It was a different plan to the usual fixed outline his parents were strict to follow in usual outings. Sirius would have been more enthusiastic if his father hadn’t forcibly pulled him and Regulus aside after you’d first disappeared by floo. 

‘Don’t even think about dirtying the Black family name while outside. If I even hear a single word of your misbehaviour, it’ll be an entire day spent in the vault!’

His father’s threatening words echoed menacingly in his head, his mind like an empty cave except for the haunting remarks that bounced off its despondent walls. The only way for his father to hear of any misbehaving is if his mother told on them but… Sirius chances a brief glance up at you, only to be met by your kind smile. Quick as lightning, Sirius looks away with a clench of his hand around yours. His mother isn’t like that now, though…right?

As the three of you pass windows displaying cauldrons, brooms, and a myriad of magical trinkets, Sirius’ mind raced with possibilities. What spells would he learn? Who would he meet? And would he make good friends with them? What house would he be sorted into?  He hopes not Slytherin, it was what his entire family had been sorted into but he doesn’t want to be like them – never like them. Would he be able to play Quidditch, his mother always used to say that it was too violent and rambunctious of a sport to be associated with. Will he like his teachers? Will he enjoy his classes? The future was a mysterious, unopened book, and Sirius, although slightly hesitant, still bound to expectations, was ready to turn the first page.

As you step through the towering bronze doors of Gringotts, a shiver of awe runs down your spine. The splendour of the entrance hall was breathtaking, with gleaming marble floors and towering pillars that seemed to reach up into the heavens – as opulent a building should be that holds secure a multitude of treasures and ancient artefacts whilst being guarded by a ferocious dragon. 

Goblins, sharp-eyed and meticulous, worked behind large, ornate desks – tall and domineering. Their long, dexterous fingers moved swiftly as they counted coins and scribbled in large ledgers, busy but happily so when surrounded by so much gold. The air was filled with the clinks of coins and the soft murmur of transactions, bank-speak, typical and not too far from the banks of ‘muggles’. High above, the cavernous ceiling was illuminated by shimmering crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over everything, fitting for the amount of gold glittering beneath it. It was a complimentary union, one that oozed lavishness. Even the air smelled rich and you wondered if gold dust was dancing in it too. The atmosphere was one of ancient power and impenetrable security, safe and anchored. As you walked further in, you could feel the weight of centuries of wizarding history envelope you, it was unmistakably a place where secrets and fortunes were both hidden and revealed. 

Approaching a vacant desk, you steady your breath and quickly recite your introduction in your head before elegantly performing it. You first drop into a low but graceful bow and repeat your greeting from memory, “Greetings Master Goblin, may your gold prosper and your enemies fail against your blade, I am Madam Black,” with bated breath, you wait for his reply, hoping that uttering your family name was enough. 

“Madame Black, I am Filgus. What can I do for you today?” the goblin hid his surprise well. It was unusual to receive such a polite and formal greeting from the Matriarch of the infamous Black family. The surprise was pleasant but also carried with it a fair share of warning. Odd behaviour never bode well. Filgus was determined to not let anything pass, his pride as a Goblin demanded it be so.  

“I would like to withdraw from the family vault,” you explain and hand over the key Orion had 

“Very well,” Filgus accepts the key and moves to dismount his desk, “follow me to the carts,” you’re immediately reminded of the movie scene, where the speed and twisting passage of the cart made Hagrid sick, even as a half giant. 

“Is it safe for the children?” you fret instinctively. Maternal instincts, a previously dormant part of your nature now expressed in the most spontaneous but opportune ways. 

Filgus snarls in offence but bites his tongue as best he could, “I assure you Madame Black that Gringotts is one of the safest establishments to exist in the wizarding world,” 

Not wanting to offend the goblin further, you nod with some hesitancy and keep your boys close. The fact that you worried for them made their little hearts flutter as their cheeks heated into a delicate pink hue. It was unusual for them to experience such care and worry but it still made them feel good. Turning to each other, they observe their identical reactions and bite their lips to keep from grinning too widely. 

The journey to the vault was as winding and twisting as you remembered in the films. It was equal parts frightening and thrilling. The experience was exactly like that of a rollercoaster but without as strict of a regard to safety. If only the path was better lit, maybe that would have made the journey a little more pleasant. 

“Here we are,” Filgus announces, stepping off the cart and politely asking for the lamp. You oblige and slowly follow him out of the cart, steadying yourself before you help Sirius and Regulus out too, “your key, Madam Black?” Filgus sets about opening your vault door as you turn to the boys and check their welfare. 

“Are you alright, my darlings?” you ask in a soft whisper, kneeling before them. 

In all honesty, Sirius had enjoyed the ride down, the twists and turns and perilous speed made his head spin in the most delightful sense but he’s grown to like you worrying for him more than that temporary thrill. So, with a pitiful look on his face, he shakes his head ‘no’ and slowly begins to stretch his arms open. 

“It was scary…” Sirius whispers, taking advantage of the cold underground temperature to make his voice shake in ‘fear’.

“Oh darling,” you coo softly and bring him into your arms, “it’s okay, you’re okay,” Sirius smiles into your shoulder and allows himself to cling onto you like he’s always secretly dreamed of doing. This feeling of safety and security was one he didn’t ever want to let go of. Over your shoulder, Regulus gapes at the affectionate scene and, although it goes against his moral code of lying, he musters up the sly courage his older brother so easily displayed. 

“M-me too, mother,” Regulus calls for your attention in a bashful whisper, “I was scared too,” your kind, understanding smile eases his nerves Regulus jumps into your arms as soon as you open up to accommodate his small frame. 

This didn’t count as misbehaving, right? Only they knew whether or not they were truly scared or not…

The bell above the door tinkled softly, happily announcing your arrival as you pushed open the creaky, unassuming entrance into Ollivander’s, the most renowned wand shop in all of Diagon Alley. It made you giddy just thinking about getting to meet the whimsical shop owner and wand artisan. 

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and magic, a combination that seemed to tickle the very edges of your senses. Your fingers itched to grasp at wand, your nose scrunched up at the pleasantly ancient scent permeating the air and your eyes surveyed the room with an eager gleam. The shop was narrow and cramped, yet it felt infinitely deep, with towering shelves that stretched up into the shadows. Each floor to ceiling shelving unit was crammed with thousands of slender boxes, their organisation questionable but fitting for such an antiquated establishment. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a mystical glow over everything. The walls seemed to whisper secrets of ancient trees and magical cores, each wand holding the promise of a unique bond, waiting to be discovered and pledged to its chosen master. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could hear Sirius’ heart pounding with the thrilling but nervous realisation that among the wondrous collection of boxes, one held a wand that was meant solely for him. It would be special and unequalled to anything else – an incomparable affiliation

Mr. Ollivander, with his pale, incisive eyes emerged from the shadows like a wisp of memory, his movements as silent and fluid as a ghost, a jolly ghost supporting a fanciful smile. His gaze takes in your sons, to which he gives a thoughtful hum before fixing his stare onto you.

“Madame Black…” Mr. Ollivander observes you with open curiosity, peaking the interest of your two boys, their diamond grey eyes watching the interaction silently and with overflowing intrigue, “having trouble with your wand?” his quick deduction makes your breath hitch and your shoulders tense. The impish gleam in his eyes almost going unnoticed by you, “it’s very peculiar for a wand that has already chosen its master to change its mind, especially from a wand that’s so loyal,” he ponders aloud as Sirius and Regulus inch closer to your sides, clinging onto the fabric of your dress skirt as they heed Ollivander’s nebulous words with a hint of caution, “curious, very curious indeed... I could only think of one reason, an abstruse but entirely possible reason for such a contingency in a world of magic…” Ollivander leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes, his own dancing about in their search, for what, you don’t have a clue. But it feels as though he can see into your soul, the flicker in his eyes detecting the presence of another. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief but laughs merrily, easing the tension built up in the air, “not one, but two, I see…” 

Your heart shudders in your chest. Did he know? 

NEXT. | 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : i would like to say that i was planning to delay this chapter update for a day or two since i was an absolute muppet to myself and decided to switch up events in the plot and oc introductions last minute but, thanks to @urmomw4ntsme (amazing username btw (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )) and their message about being excited for the update, i was lovingly and innocently pushed into getting the update out on time ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻) so thank you, my darling haha! i appreciate your perfectly timed, kind message. i hope you darlings enjoyed the read and forgive me for splitting this chapter up into 2 parts - i suppose i planned for too much in one chapter hehe~

TAGLIST : @katdahlali @skepvids @agent-tempest @timhalamet @lovelybaka @cherrysxuya @ttulipwritezz @ireallywannasleep127 @cloudlst @fortheeeefics @younmey @googie-jeon @unstablereader @cassie6392 @kneelforloki @enamoredwithbella @arcanumofthestars @bookworm124 @sonics-atelier @yours-truly-maya @honkravenous @theunwcnted @venuseuripedis @fredsbetch @iciel @anuncalledbridge @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @veryberryjelly @th3-st4r-gur1 @sousydive @delusional-4-fake-people @linaax

[mysticreigns2]

Burnin' for you (cyborg series 4)

Roman reigns x Esme (OC)

Cyborg series masterlist

👾warnings: smut (I might have gotten a little carried away!! Sorry not sorry!!), fluff, touch of angst, not proofread!

👾 Tag List: @mzv11 @acknowledge-reigns @romanreignshairdresser @my-roman-empiree @wrestlingprincess80 @zillasvilla @southerngirl41 @mandeelemons @romanthereigns

👾Banner is made by me. Do NOT repost my fics without my permission! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

👾if you wish to be tagged in my future fics please let me know. MINORS DNI!!!

👾word count: 1454

In the middle of the pouring down rain, a young woman walked soaked to the bone. Her hair dripped with the tears that fell from the sky. She'd been stranded by a date that she thought was going well. He had taken her to a restaurant in the middle of no where which should have been her first red flag, but she decided to give him a chance and ignore her intuition.

Cars one after the other passed by, teasing her relief from the sheer mass of water that was collecting on the side of the road. She had no idea where she was or how she was going to get home since the rain had destroyed her phone, her only connection with the outside world.

The rain hid the tears falling from her once bright eyes. She could only hope a stranger with a kind heart would stop and pick her up. In a moment that seemed like fate had smiled upon her a truck pulled over, the passenger door opening by itself 'thats quant' she thought to herself. Looking into see who was the driver, hoping it was someone she recognized, she saw the man from earlier, laughing at her. A sinister smile on his face. She backed up towards the corner field behind her "no you can't be who picks me up!"

Esme shot up in bed, the nightmare had gone on further this time. She looked over at the couch to see Roman in his usual spot, shut down for the night so he could recharge. She got up and walked over to him "Roman!" She said, hearing his circuits fire up. That was something that after 15 years she still wasn't use to "hello Esme!" He smiled, his smile fading when he saw her face "what's wrong beautiful? Did you have the nightmare again?" He asked, pulling her into his lap. Esme nodded her head "it got further this time. I saw his face!"

Roman rubbed her back soothingly, hoping he could calm her. She laid her head on his shoulder, relaxing into his arms. 15 years ago if someone had told her a cyborg would be her comfort, she would have said they were crazy, but Roman was always who she went to when she was upset. Danny wasn't that person and hadn't been for a long time, far beyond the 15 years that Esme and Roman had been together.

"hey, it's ok baby! I'm right here!" He cooed, hoping his words would soothe her.

"I'm scared! What if the dream gets more vivid? It's been doing that each time I have it!" She said, a mix of fear and anger on her face "what if it's a priminition?"

Roman chuckled "baby where are you gonna find any corn fields in space?"

Esme laughed, realizing how strange it must have sounded to be scared over a corn field. Roman smiled, kissing her forehead "there's that smile I love to see!"

"It does sound pretty silly doesn't it?" She said, a smile still on her face. He always knew how to make her forget all her problems.

The night light they had installed for Elana shined in the room, illuminating esme's face. Roman was still in awe that this beautiful woman chose him over all the others she could have had, both cyborg and human. He moved her hair out of her face "you're absolutely beautiful!" He smiled, leaning in to kiss her. Even after all these years she still was the most beautiful woman to him, even With all the stretch marks from her being pregnant, the wrinkles forming by the crease of her eyes. His woman was perfect!

Esme moved so she was straddling him, her thick thighs on either side of his, kissing his neck, a deep groan escaping him as she lightly scratched her teeth over his skin. She'd started wearing just a t shirt and panties to bed after Roman didn't shut down one night and snuck under the covers to devour her pussy, leading to a night of passion she'd never thought was possible, with human or cyborg. Less clothing made it easier for him to surprise her like that. Tonight she'd only had on an oversized t shirt.

"naughty girl!" He growled, running his hand along her slick folds "already so wet for me!" His finger rubbed circles on her clit, making her groan into his ear. He loves the sound of her feeling the pleasure he gave her. The little whimpers and sighs she made drove him absolutely crazy with want!

"Watch me lick you off my fingers!" He demanded, pulling her away from his neck. He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean "you taste so damn good baby!" He growled.

Esme pulled her lower lip between her teeth, a smile hiding underneath "I love that little growl you do!"

"oh yeah?" He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes "so what if I do this?" He said, leaning forward to her ear "what if I bend you over this couch, slide my cock inside you and make the whole ship know my name?" His voice was husky and sent shivers down esme's spine.

"stand up! Bend over the couch!" He commanded, way hing her every move. Esme leaned over the arm of the couch, sticking her ass in the air. Roman ran his hand over the curve of her ass, a loud smack echoed in the room when his large hand swatted her ass, the sting exciting Esme even more "please!!" Esme begged.

He snaked his hand into her hair, pulling her head back, swatting her ass again with his other hand, rubbing it as she jolted "please what baby girl? What do you want?" He groaned, rubbing the tip of his throbbing cock against her pussy.

"please just fuck me!!" Esme begged, shaking her ass against him, trying to create friction.

"well since you asked so nicely!" He growled, pushing himself inside her, both of them letting out groans of pleasure "you always did fit me so well!" Roman groaned, grabbing her hips. Esme bounced her hips against him "hmmm, that's my good girl! Fuck yourself! Uhn! Fuck yes!" He held onto her hips to steady her, watching her use him for her own pleasure. He ran his hands along her back, lifting the shirt she still has on "how are you still so soft?!" He groaned.

"Please! Fuck me!" Esme groaned "I need-" she stopped when she felt him thrust into her, arching her back.

"You always did take me so well! Uhn! Fuck!" Romans groans and esme's whimpers became a melody in the room, a song of ecstasy. HE snakes his hand up her back and into her hair, pulling her head backwards, making Esme's mouth fall open "you look so damn sexy when you're cock drunk!" He groaned "flip over, I wanna watch my cock go into you!"

Esme flipped over on the arm of the couch, her legs falling open for him "better yet, I wanna taste you again!" He groaned, kneeling in front of her, her feet on his shoulders.

"so fucking wet for me!" He growled, flicking his tongue against her swollen clit. Esme through her head back, her back arching over the arm of the couch. Her hands running through his hair, gripping it tighter "so fucking delicious!" He groaned against her.

"please! I need you!" Esme groaned. Roman pulled away, the night light they'd had put in illuminating her juices on his beard. It drove Esme crazy with need "please! I need to feel you!"

Esme's groans and pleas ripped away the last bit of Roman's control, he buried himself deep inside her, the growls that escaped from his lips made Esme's pussy clench. She looked down to see his cock disappear inside her, re emerging covered in her juices "put your leg over my shoulder baby girl!" He groaned, lifting her leg, the new position allowing him to hit her spot even better "fuck! I'm so damn deep!"

Esme's legs shook "I can feel you're close baby! Be a good girl and let go for me!" He groaned, his thrusts getting harder, sending Esme over the edge "uhn! That's my good girl! Uhn!! Fucking milk my cyborg cock!"

Her pussy suckled him in like it didn't want to let him go, pulling his orgasm out of him. He collapsed on her stomach, both of them trying to catch their breath. He kissed her stomach, soft groans escaping his lips.

Small giggles escaped Esme "you are always so incredible!" She smiled at him.

He leaned forward to kiss her lips, smiling back "Baby girl I only burn for you!"

[rel124c41]

WALT DISNEY WORMDOG I. jade leech/oc

please contact your local doctor if you are experiencing the following symptoms: prophetic dreams, the feeling that someone is calling from across the water and from across the wave, midnight visitors, scars from sand, new friendships, black blood coming out your ears but NOT your nose, inhuman strength, canine teeth on your throat, & the philosophy that we should move on from our past and never let it hold us back from the possibilities of tomorrow.

a/n: a midnight conversation after jamil’s overblot

tags: blood and injury, oc is from the x reader called ‘the look on your face’, & established relationship

word count: 1996

“Hot, hot, hot, hot.”

“So you’ve griped.”

“Hot, hot, hot, hot.”

“Really, I would have never imagined.”

Panting like a mutt, molten lava on his draped tongue, the Ramshackle Prefect turns around to the vice-housewarden who has been following him like a duckling. He tries to mold his expression into something serious, something vexed. It is like trying to push melting ice-cream back into a sphere.

So, features wilting right back into that heat-stricken expression, the Ramshackle Prefect marches right back on to his destination. If Octavinelle’s vice wants to play his part as a mosquito in this Sahara-esque dorm, let Jade have his fun. There is something Marion needs to do.

For the first time in three days, his hand finally breaks contact with his sword’s handle.

White calluses on his tan hand are as prominent as fresh tattoo ink. The indents and intricate carvings have meshed themselves into his hand. You could mistake them for his palm’s natural creases if not for the single column of sigils upon feather-patterned horse-hoof pommel hilt. Damascus steel meets cobblestone.

Marion’s knees? They punch the cobblestone ground with an angry passion. Collapsing, he grips the edge of Scarabia’s pure gold fountain and ducks his head underwater.

An amused smile appears on Jade’s face. How truly unusual. Closing the distance, the eel-mer decides to take his own little respite too. After a battle and party, one should make time to unwind. Sitting on the edge of gold, Jade stretches out his legs and leans his head back to observe Marion’s nape. “You know, if you were so dehydrated, I’m certain Kalim could have assuaged your plight by making you a personal rain-cloud.”

It takes a while until Marion resurfaces. When he does, rivulets of water jump in shooting-star-leaps over the tips of his ebony hair. He runs a hand through the wet mop. It is considerably less hair than he had when entering Scarabia four days ago; before winter break, his hair was shoulder length and now it is chin length.

Through the stubborn strands that curtain his face, Marion groans , “This place is even hotter than Savanaclaw. Ugh, how is that even possible?”

“Did you not hear my suggestion?”

“Hmm?” Marion has taken to dipping his battered hands into the crystal clear water. The water’s weightlessness feels heavenly,

“I said, why not ask for the help of Kalim’s Unique Magic or perhaps a dip in the oasis?”

It is a relatively easy question to answer, but Marion reflects on the situation. How he had waited until he was sure Grim was dead to the world, stomach full of sleep-inducing food, and double-checked Ace and Deuce’s rooms. Stood outside Scarabia’s vice’s bedroom, trying to listen through the door’s cracks if Jamil’s measured breaths were from real sleep or a facade. Then, a lighthouse yellow eye bloomed in the comfortable dark Marion had been stalking in and Marion allowed him to follow.

The only reason he is able to relax now is because Jade said: (“I slipped something in the tea.”

“You did?” Marion asks, pulling back from the guest room Deuce is slumbering in. “What was it?”

“A heavy sedative. Something from the fungi kingdom that I doubt even Jamil could recognize the taste of. Come, let’s go.”) And that had assured him everyone would be comatose in a deep dream. So, after ignoring it for so long, Marion is able to treat his consistent, four day long heatstroke.

As to the response to Jade’s inquiry, it is: “Didn’t like the idea of taking my eyes off them.”

It had been Grim that texted Ace and Deuce for a rescue; Marion had been opposed firmly. Just as he had been opposed to the help of Azul Ashengrotto and his two, taller shadows.

“Hm,” Jade responds softly. He turns his burning gaze off to the side, towards the nebulous ebon that coats and suctions onto the exterior of Scarabian architecture. “Could’ve asked for my help.”

“Could’ve but didn’t,” Marion agrees as he rises to his feet. Completely ignorant that Jade is vexed.

He has still not taken off his steel-toed boots since this morning and it is now approaching midnight. Physicality rules heavily over sentimentality. An overblot for breakfast and lunch with a party for dinner and dessert. What a painfully busy day.

“Should’ve.” It seems Jade has gotten his fill of appreciating the building designs. Gold and olive-brown try to make an imposing dissect at green eyes but it falls short. It is really hard to ever look at the Ramshackle Prefect with any animosity.

Sand-dollar hued laces are pulled apart as Marion balances his foot on the fountain’s edge. He wiggles his foot out his boot and unfurls his white sock.

“Are you upset or suggesting something for the future? I think the only other hot dorm might be Ignihyde, but it's temperamentally hot and I manage fine there.” It is almost amusing to Jade how sincere that question is – almost. Jade watches as Marion hooks his other foot on the fountain’s edge, undoing the laces. He is just about to answer when Marion gets his left boot off. His white sock is soaked red.

“Huh, odd.”

Jade quirks an eyebrow at Marion’s monotone exclamation – if you could even call it an exclamation. Like two people waiting for the circus’s curtain to rise, they watch in tandem as the sanguinary-dyed sock is removed. Blood sticks to Marion’s thumbs, pulling it off. The sight causes both Marion’s and Jade’s eyes to pulse with interest.

“You know, I concur. Odd.”

“I didn’t even feel anything.”

“I would say that’s incomprehensible, but with your dance battle with Jamil and then the literal one with Ace and Deuce … I have no reason but to believe you.”

“Wonder if it happened because of the stone pillar.”

“Who knows. Wiggle it,” Jade instructs with barely contained, dangerous intrigue.

Marion tries to, but it is fruitless. His big toe is bent to the side with all the harsh angles of a broken stick. The best image to compare it to is the end of a hockey staff, one ridge turn away from being straight. In the red, you can see a tiny, snowy mountain cap of white which is the bone peeking out. The rest of his toes move just fine though.

“No use,” Marion declares, staring at his open fracture. By now, the blood that has not been absorbed into the sock starts to make dimes of red on gold.

With a pat to the fountain, Jade wordlessly instructs Marion to sit. A breath later, he hovers over the protruding wound with his magic pen, getting to work on a healing spell. As violet shimmers and skin rearranges itself, they go quiet with different ordeals on their mind.

It is just odd, the rawest definition of the word, that Jamil’s Unique Magic had not robbed Marion of his sword. Jamil had certainly tried as Marion remembers: “Why don’t you two stay here at Scarabia for winter vacation? Prefect, let me handle your sword; you can relax here.”

Under the hypnotist’s spell, Snake Whisper, he had followed each instruction down to the tiny word of relaxation, but his grip had never faltered from his sword.

I’m not immune to magic or overblots, Ramshackle Prefect thinks as he watches his big toe reverse and mend, but I didn’t once release my sword. If anything, he and his claymore glued themselves together after Jamil’s words for three whole days. Acting completely in reverse of what the magic-laced instruction was.

He treads his right leg back and forth in the fountain’s water, contemplative. It is in the past though, so perhaps it is fine to let it go. He sends a pensive look over his shoulder to his claymore, laying by the fountain, and decides it does not matter anymore. It will never phase him again unless the future calls for it to.

“You run so much hotter than everyone else,” Jade says as he places a hand over Marion’s neck. He knows there are no scent glands in humans but he still possessively lets his own scent diffuse into brown skin. Infects the pore with the sweat of himself, infects the already infected bloodstream.

“Mmmh, you remember when I head-butted Jamil twice during the fight?”

“I recall.”

“I did it because I was so dizzy from the heat. Needed to restart my vision and mind. The first was a test; the second one was intentional.”

“You have such a crude and amusing way of doing things.”

“Thank you. Not sure how you can stand this heat though. I think I’m melting,” Marion whines, leaning into Jade’s embrace.

“Being cold-blooded comes with a particular adaptability.

“How’s the Coral Sea?

“Rather cold and desolate.”

“That sounds great,” Marion moans, enthralled with the idea of pitch black, chilly landscape. “Take me there?”

“One day.”

The conversation lulls and Marion dips his now fixed foot into the fountain. His muscular arms hold the edge of the fountain behind him; the scars on his left arm made from Leona’s Unique Magic stretch with his deep breath. Scars travel down that arm like kintsugi pottery, lightning cracks of sand-hued wounds on a dark canvas.

It is a while of just basking in company before Jade breaks it.

“Why did you not let me or Floyd fight?”

Marion’s eyebrows raise curiously. “During the overblot, you remember, when you kicked both me and Floyd fifty feet away from the fight?” The smile on Jade’s face is predatory and wide, gleaming with all his acute enamels. Ah, that’s vexed!

“Hm, I just felt like I had it in the bag, was too in the moment to need help.”

“Yet you allowed Kalim to assist you,” Jade leans forward, showing more of his teeth.

Is it so bad that he wants to be the only one of the Ramshackle’s arsenal? The first character … the main of the player … selected in the game as Idia would say, right?

Rolling his options on his tongue like a piece of gum, Marion looks up at the squirting arches of the fountain. Water leaps in this beautiful, jetting motion. Everything about this place is a little hypnotic.

“You really want to know?” Jade’s expression gives away the answer clear as day.

Leaning close, he whispers, “you smell the best when you’re fighting for your life. Would’ve distracted me.”

Jade’s heart gives a dangerous lunge in his chest, overjoyed. Smiling, he glides his hand up until he is pinching the chin of the Ramshackle Prefect, puppeting him so his spine has to hunch yet his neck has to tilt up. Such a malleable clay structure for Jade to mold; something he will dip his fingers into only to discover there are blades hidden in the clay like razors in Halloween candy. What a treat, caramel and blood. Waiting to taste just about anything, Jade leans amorous … but —

Marion pulls back. “Nice try,” he congratulates, smiling at the frown on the vice-housewarden’s face.

“Don’t humans kiss at least after a life threatening situation? Even when wired on adrenaline earlier, you stubbornly refused.”

“Not this human. C’mon. I’m cooled down; let’s raid the kitchen.”

There is much more to discuss about Jamil’s overblot; about what is going to happen in the future; about them and their relationship. It is best to be done with petite interludes made by chowing down on some good food.

Ah, he supposes the taste of stolen food might be as appetizing as metaphorical caramel and blood. Marion always knows how to get his attention — the pinnacle distraction for the eel-mer has always been cooking. So, Jade puts his hand in the outstretched, scarred one.

“I’ll try later.”

“I know,” Marion says. He presses a kiss to the wrist of Jade’s hand that was just holding his magic pen and reversing his wound. “Let’s go steal some shit.”

[the-silver-chronicles]

5 Songs and 3 Outfits

Tagged by @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @voidika @onehornedbeast @inafieldofdaisies and @strafethesesinners

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @softtidesworld @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @turbo-virgins @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @corvosattano @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @afarcryfrommymain @megraen @minilev @starsandskies @deputyash @deputy-morgan-malone @dephellseed @derelictheretic @chazz-anova @snake-in-the-garden @cloudofbutterflies92 @florbelles @foofygoldfish @fourlittleseedlings @gaeadene @henbased @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @skoll-sun-eater @shallow-gravy @thewanderer-000 @titiagls @trashcatsnark @vampireninjabunnies-blog @shellibisshe @wrathfulrook and @aceghosts + anyone else who wants to join.

RULES: Post 5 songs associated with your OC(s), followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

Gathered Silva Omar, Kamski Neon and Ernesto Stallone for this one. Read under the cut:

SILVA OMAR (FAR CRY 5)

Dream -Bishop Briggs

"I wanna break down where your heart gets So torn it's almost breaking mine I wanna lay here, lost and bitter So long, I feel like I could die I wanna tell you what my truth is But it's buried down inside."

Last One Standing - Skylar Grey ft. Polo G, Mozzy, & Eminem

"Now you see me standing in the lights But you never saw my sacrifice Or all the nights I had to struggle to survive Had to lose it all to win the fight I had to fall so many times Now I'm the last one standing."

Safe And Sound - Capital Cities

"I could lift you up I could show you what you wanna see Take you where you wanna be You could be my luck Even if the sky is fallin' down I know that we'll be safe and sound."

Heat Waves - Glass Animals

"I just wanna know what you're dreaming of When you sleep and smile so comfortable I just wish that I could give you that That love that's perfectly unsad Sometimes all I think about is you Late nights in the middle of June Heat waves been fakin' me out Heat waves been fakin' me out."

Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye ft. Kimbra

"Now and then, I think of all the times you screwed me over But had me believing it was always something that I'd done But I don't wanna live that way Reading into every word you say You said you could let it go And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know."

Note: The women in the images below are not Silva's faceclaim and I unfortunately could not remove them. I had done my best at removing their features but if you notice a difference between the women and Silva's faceclaim, please ignore it and focus on the clothing instead. Thank you for your understanding.

Below is Silva's dress which she pretty much only wears at home, a longer version of the deputy uniform, and her casual clothing (plus that of which she wears during the Reaping). Yeah, she doesn't like to show off a lot of skin.

Another note: These are not the right colors.

KAMSKI NEON (FAR CRY 5)

[No Faceclaim Acquired Yet]

Enemy - Imagine Dragons ft. J.I.D

"Oh, the misery Everybody wants to be my enemy Spare the sympathy Everybody wants to be my enemy Look out for yourself!"

Whatever It Takes - Imagine Dragons

"Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top I'm ready for whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes."

Some Nights - Fun.

"Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck Some nights I call it a draw Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle Some nights I wish they'd just fall off But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh."

All The Stars - Kendrick Lamar ft. SZA

"Tell me what you gon' do to me Confrontation aint nothing new to me You could bring a bullet Bring a sword Bring a morgue But you can't bring the truth to me Fuck you and all your expectations I don't even want your congratulations I recognize your false confidence and calculated promises All in your conversation I hate people that feel entitled Look at me crazy cause I aint invite you Oh you important? You the moral to the story? You endorsing? Motherfucker I don't even like you Corrupted mans heart with a gift Thats how you find out who you dealing with."

Spirits - The Strumbellas

"I got guns in my head and they won't go Spirits in my head and they won't go I got guns in my head and they won't go Spirits in my head and they won't go But the gun still rattles The gun still rattles, oh."

Kamski's clothing mostly consists of a worn doctors uniform, however he does use a pedestrian disguise with a mask if he's going to do something illegal or a regular casual clothing (in the habit of dressing up for winter and refuses to break habit even in the worst of Summer) when going to do legal groceries.

ERNESTO STALLONE (FAR CRY 5)

[No Faceclaim Acquired Yet]

Bad Feeling - Jagwar Twin

"They say! Everything's perfect here And the sun is shining Hey! Hey! Everything's perfect here There's nobody crying Oompa loompa doompety do I got a bad feeling about you Oompa loompa I don't know, dude I got a bad feeling about you."

Hot Girl Bummer (slowed + reverb) - blackbear

"Fuck you, and you, and you I hate your friends and they hate me too. I'm through, I'm through, I'm through."

I'm A Wanted Man - Royal Deluxe

"They didn't know it when they turned me loose I shot the sheriff and I slipped the noose The law ain't never been a friend of mine I'd kill again to keep from doing time You should never ever trust my kind I'm a wanted man I got blood on my hands Do you understand? I'm a wanted man."

Bad - Royale Deluxe

"I'm bad As bad can be So bad That it's hard to believe Oh what they say about me I'm bad, I'm bad As bad can be I'm bad Take a look and see So bad That it's hard to believe I don't care what they say about me."

Bloodshot - Sam Tinnesz

"I'll take another hit to the backbone I'm picking up the heat Like an atom bomb No time on the clock It's a bloodshot 3, 2, 1 You got me bloodshot Maybe I'm a good guy Standing on the wrong side Maybe I'm a sweetheart Trying to make my own scars Don't know what it looks like Just know what it feels like Scared to let it outside Scared of what I just might find."

Stallone doesn't have that much change in clothing besides two changes in his dark blue Courser Guard/gunslinger uniform and his disguised Chosen clothing (for when he infiltrates Eden's Gate).

[i-have-dots-in-my-brain]

ayup mates, its me (that one fucking guy that shows up in your fever dreams to offer you garlic bread then fucks off into the void) (i think you need to get a therapist btw)

Call me dots or dot (not correct but when saying something belongs to me you use "dot's". idk why don't ask me)

My cara page (for art): https://cara.app/ihavedotsinmybrain

They/them she/her it/its ( welcome to the mad lab we do experiments with the funny goofy hjinks with the genders here)

TAG GUIDE : my art (self explanatory), dot's thoughts (mad ramblings) (extra note, there are two versions of dot's thoughts, the other one is with the phone version of ' so you can go look for that if you wanna see me posting from outside the comfort of my room and computer), dot’s travel journal (me on holiday), my persona (obviously just my persona) *prone to updates

dumbass who likes to draw ocs and shit. (posts like there is no tomorrow but also like i have all the time in the world) (oc x canon stuff also) (some fanart ig)

if you wanna find my (mostly serious) art, check out @dots-in-my-head (send me asks and dms on this blog) also i have started putting fandom stuff there too so if you want to get my fandom doodles you can look to there as well

still questioning sexuality but currently aro/ace? (idk i'm not in a rush lol) (i WILL dabble in the arts of questioning me sexuality on internet if you got problems with that shoo)

my loveley husband (@octoxxt, pls ignore this blog dude its embarrassing)

why do you need to know my age, ‘you a cop?

will not draw smut or NSFW bcs i will start howling with racous laughter and melt. (i don;t even read smut in fic dude what do expect me to be able to draw im a cartoonish obviously anime style inspired semi-realism but not really shitty doodle artist you put your hopes too high if you think i can draw a dick without making it look like a piece of middle school desk graffiti)

i've got a bit of a dirty mouth but everything is pretty vanilla . (i make edgy dumb jokes sometimes, but it's not my actual personality peace 'n love on planet earth okay) (any time i say i wanna kms IT IS A JOKE) (most of my posts are /srs i will mark it if its a joke i know the pain of not knowing if it was a funny joke or not i gotchu other autistic peeps)

please talk to me god i am lonely (i am serious about this i love it when people rb and scream in the tags it genuinely makes my day) (send me asks send measkssendmeaskssendmeasks—)

Absolute art machine(whether the art is good or not is a big question that i am not ready to answer) makes shitty animations sometimes idk.

Uses lol too much. Chinese, knows mandarin (translate the random messages for maximum brain damage) i don't know simplified but i do know traditional (please talk to me i need to practice my chinese reading skills) am i a furry? idk but if you're mad about it you can fuck right off (i have a couple ocs and my darling fursona)

am currently inbetween fandoms, fandoms i am (kind of) active in are hetalia, scp, dnd, genshin, pjo, bg3, apothecary diaries, jrwi riptide and csm (list is prone to updating because fandom is my support system) (you wont see my art for most of them but the brainworms are there and sometimes i let them take over)

old fandoms or the fandoms i lurk in (i visit them often): eddsworld, demon slayer, pokemon, vocaloid and wof. (also prone to updates as i remember stuff)

note : i am still in school and have a life outside the internet so stuff will be delayed (which is why i am only kind of active) (i go missing sometimes i am not dead life is just lifing for me)

Do not say anything about how cringe I am I know trust me (it’s a coping mechanism lol)

if you're concerned, you're very right to be. I am very incoherent (most of my life updates have actually devolved into cries for help, please talk to me)

also if you don't like my art or ships just leave(any critique about anything i make shoots a bazooka straight into my heart and behind the screen i crumble into a cartoonish pile of ashes and bones as i stare at the screen blurred by tears) (unless I ask for critique then i brought this on myself and i’ll walk it off don't worry)

(Both of my personas)

My flags (might be updated)

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 23

WELCOME TO PART 3!! AHHHH I'm so excited that we've finally reached the actual hobbit storyline. It's been almost 3 months since I uploaded the last chapter, but I've made it worth it by returning with a double chapter package, so I hope you're around this weekend for when I post chapter 24! Enjoy! <3

Summary: When two girls fell into Middle Earth, excited at the prospects of living through their all time favourite novel, they find things are not as they seem. Something is watching them, as if they're being dared to reveal their secrets. How will they survive the challenges of the journey, dealing with the darkness that follows them, alongside certain two princes who are fascinated at everything they do, and a brooding, grumpy king who begins to suspect that they aren't telling the whole truth.

Where were they from, really? They did take the rabbit hole down, after all.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 4542

Warnings: Swearing.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

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Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 22 // Chapter 23 // Chapter 24 >

Part 3: Chapter 23 -

The Shaquille O’Neal of Improvisation.

Oneirataxia (Definition): The inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality.

(Noun / Origin: Derived from the Greek word 'oneiros', meaning dream and 'taxis' meaning arrangement / one-er-tax-ea)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Monday, 25th April 2941 of the Third Age (Monday, 5th Thrimidge, 1341 in Shire-reckoning)

Our eyes widened, a silence falling over the both of us as we stilled. Staring at each other, we remained frozen like statues, listening for the words we had been desperately anticipating for the past 19 months.

And just like that, our prayers were answered.

“What do you mean?” Grumbled an oh-so familiar voice, and I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?” The two of us practically scrambled onto our hands and knees, hovering our ears near the bush to catch every word. “Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning, or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

I leant up on my knees, ignoring the sharp sting of a random thistle that Bilbo had forgotten to meticulously weed out. Grasping Kay’s shoulder, I held my breath, preparing for what was about to be revealed in front of us. Something we had been waiting an eternity for.

Slowly raising my head, my eyes immediately locked onto the tip of a pointy, grey hat, and I felt my heart drop to my stomach in nerves and excitement as I rose up further, the hat entering my view inch by inch until it revealed the person wearing it beneath.

Kay grasped my wrist that was still latched onto her shoulder, and I felt myself practically shaking as Gandalf the Grey himself finally came into view. I was almost back in my living room, watching the original scene play out, the shot from the TV coincidentally lining up with the view that was in front of me.

My eyes darted between Bilbo and the tall wizard in front of him, and I felt a tiny bit of relief at the sight of someone taller than me for once. But that didn’t last much longer as the initial shock silenced my spinning mind, taking in the two once-fictional characters with rigorous intensity. Kay and I refused to budge an inch, determined to catch and absorb every second of this moment and keep it seared into our minds for the rest of eternity.

Eyes as wide as owls, our gazes flicked to Bilbo as he squinted up at Gandalf.

“All of them at once, I suppose?” he muttered, waving his wooden pipe around slightly to emphasise.

At this point I could practically hear the soundtrack, the happy Shire tune shifting to one of uncertainty. Gandalf’s expression morphed slightly as he grasped his staff with both hands. Furrowing his brows at the hobbit, he regarded him with a disapproving look, a grumbling hum of unsatisfaction escaping his throat as Bilbo continued to stare up at him in bewilderment.

A moment of silence passed as the two continued their glaring contest, until Bilbo’s usual lack of patience for odd manners got the better of him and broke the quiet.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” He sputtered out, blinking profusely as if that would help him grasp the situation.

Gandalf’s expression and stance hardly changed as he replied. “That remains to be seen.” He half-muttered, his cryptic wording confusing the poor hobbit further. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.” He explained slowly, and we waited patiently for Bilbo’s reply. That was, until Gandalf’s piercing eyes snapped over to where our heads were peeking over the bush, sending a jolt up our spines. “And it’s been rather difficult to find anyone.” He exclaimed, voice raising slightly, almost causing us to cower.

Bilbo continued to squint up at Gandalf, his pipe dropping from his half-open mouth as his brain caught up with what was said. Soon enough, he noticed Gandalf’s gaze had wandered elsewhere, and he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on us. “An – an adventure?” He guffawed, turning back to Gandalf, and his toned shifted to a rather snarky one. “Now, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures.” Desperate to do something that would get himself further from the wizard and closer to us, he stood up from the bench and stepped over to the letterbox. “Nasty, disturbing –” He reached inside, grasping the letters. “– uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them.” He exclaimed before shoving his pipe between his teeth, absentmindedly sorting through the letters and envelopes in his hands as he made some odd noises to try and convince the wizard his interests were elsewhere. He spared Gandalf a brief glance – though it was more of a glare – and noticed the wizard’s eyes were still on us, observing without saying a word. Stepping in front in an attempt to block his view, Bilbo stuck his thumb behind his braces, opened his mouth to continue, but hesitated, instead giving a curt “Good morning.”, and quickly turned towards the door, where he motioned stiffly with his arm for us to follow suit.

Kay and I glanced hesitantly at each other, before rising to our full heights. I found myself unable to move, continuing to stare at the robed figure stood tall at the tiny gate as he returned it with his own scrutinising and wholly unsettling gaze. Though it barely lasted a second as his gaze shifted to one of frustration as he looked over at Bilbo’s retreating figure.

“To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son,” he called out, raising his voice. “as if I were selling buttons at the door.”

Bilbo’s head swivelled round, his body following not long after with a startled look upon his face. “Beg your pardon?” he sputtered.

Gandalf let out a huff, switching his staff to rest in one hand as he spoke. “You’ve changed,” he breathed, a reprimanding tone of disappointment underlining his words. “and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed, leaning forward slightly as he seemed to properly take in the wizard’s appearance for the first time. “I’m sorry do I know you?”

I felt quite awkward, standing by the door fiddling with my hands whilst witnessing the exchange, watching with bated breath as Bilbo desperately tried to end the conversation, then also for one to say something that would set the other off. And if my guesses were correct, that was going to happen relatively soon.

At this point Gandalf’s demeanour had shifted from quiet, obvious frustration to one of exasperated amusement. “ Well, you know my name, although you don’t remember I belong to it. I’m Gandalf!” He practically cried. “And Gandalf means…” he gave the hobbit a small but endearing smile. “..me!”

Recognition flashed across Bilbo’s face as his eyes flickered over the tall wizard, and a smile slowly grew on his face. “Not… Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks! I remember those! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!” He emphasised with a few friendly jabs of his finger. “Hah! Old Took used to have them on Mid-Summer’s Eve!”

From where he was stood almost next to me, I watched as he paused, looking Gandalf up and down. Realising what he was about to say next, I side-eyed him with a warning glare, but he took no notice, his attention far too fixated on the wizard.

“I had no idea you were still in business.” He regarded with a frown, and I let out a small sigh of disappointment. Looking off into the distance for a moment to spare myself the second-hand embarrassment of the exchange to come, I glanced back at Gandalf, only to find he had been staring at me the whole time. My eyes widened, and I suddenly found the grass under my feet extremely interesting.

Feeling the burning intensity of Gandalf’s eyes shift elsewhere, I looked back up to find him giving Bilbo a rather scathing look. “And where else should I be?” He demanded, giving the hobbit a small fright with his tone.

Bilbo stiffened. “Well…” he sputtered, blabbering a few more half-words as he gestured around him with his pipe awkwardly, eyes wide. Trailing off, he decided to instead stuff the pipe back in his mouth, finishing his sheepish parade of sounds with a loud clearing of his throat, taking a deep heave from the smoke.

“Well, I’m pleased to find you remember something about me,” Gandalf regarded with another sigh. “even if it’s only my fireworks.” His expression shifted as swiftly as he passed his staff between his hands. “Well then, that’s decided. It will be very good for you all!” he exclaimed with a grin, wagging his finger at us and the rapidly paling hobbit. “And most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.” He concluded with a small, amused bow of his head.

“Wait, us-?!”  I exclaimed, almost stepping forwards in shock.

“– Inform the who? What? No! No, no!” Bilbo interrupted my sudden exclamation, storming back up the steps to the circular door. “We do not want any adventures here, thank you!” he cried, jabbing at the ground with a thunderous look. “Not today! I suggest you try somewhere over the hill, or across the water!” He continued, waving his finger in every direction that would take the old man far away from his home. Grasping the golden door knob, he swung around, about to yell something else, before deciding to end his tirade early. “Good morning!” He half-cried, and he stormed into the house.

Apart from the usual sounds of the birds and rustling leaves, silence blanketed the front steps of Bag End. Kay and I were leaning forwards slightly, having bent over to watch the hobbit storm through the doorway. However, the noise of someone clearing their throat had the two of us shooting up, straightening our backs as we turned to the wizard still stood expectantly by the gate.

“And here I was wondering about the day I would come across the two of you.” He proclaimed, settling where he stood as he finally spoke to us.

As if waking from a trance, I let out a loud “HUH?”. All Kay could do was lightly whack me on the shoulder as Gandalf blinked in surprise.

“Though…” he trailed off, flickering his grey-blue eyes between us. “You are not entirely what I expected.”

It was Kay’s turn to act confused as she made an odd noise in the back of her throat, and Gandalf swiftly went to reply.

“You look at me as if I am as familiar as an old cousin, yet I only recognise you by your faces alone.” He began, changing the subject. We only got more confused.

“Have you seen us walking around or something?” I blurted whilst my face scrunched in bafflement. Unconsciously, I took a glance around, as if I was about to spot a hiding place that the wizard could have sprung out of.

“No, no.” He chortled, taking his time to admire the scenery around him with a fond eye. “I haven’t been here in quite some time, I’m afraid. But it seems you both have certainly settled in.” He gestured up and down at us. “The last time I experienced a dream where you were present, you were wearing some awfully odd clothes.” We both glanced with wide eyes at each other, and Gandalf raised a brow. “Sometimes you were here, other times in a very strange place – otherworldly, in my opinion.”

All I could do was stare. There was a weird mix of emotions floating around inside me – a mixture of shock, excitement and suspicion. The latter not so much, because this was Gandalf we were talking about here. Except for the dream part, that weirded me out a little. In the end I barely managed a small shrug. I was at a loss for words.

Though that was broken when Kay piped up next to me. “… Youuu could say that.” She replied with a few light nods. Suddenly her face contorted to one of alarm. “Wait, you dreamt about us?!?!”

At this reveal, Gandalf narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here? If I may ask.” He interrogated firmly, avoiding Kay’s question.

I took a moment to consider my next words – and figured only the truth was the best way. “…Honestly? We could ask you the same thing.” I answered, albeit the nervousness in my voice was quite prominent as I wondering if I had done the right thing. “We didn’t really have a choice, nor did we know this would happen. We just, you know, appeared out the blue from the sky.”

“Out of the blue?” Gandalf repeated amusedly, then glanced up at the cerulean sky. “Quite literally, I take it.” He hummed, and gestured to the door with his staff. “Does he know?”

“He does.” I replied, nodding firmly. “We figured it would be a bit unfair hiding things from the one person who kept us alive and has looked after us this whole time. We kinda owe him our lives.”

Nodding with a low hum, Gandalf seemed satisfied. “And what do you know?”

That caught us off guard.

“What do you mean?” Kay questioned, puzzled but wary.

He tilted his head as he looked at us. “You know who I am, despite us having never met in person. And I am yet to reveal what this journey entails, yet you seem calm and I dare say prepared for this. And along with the vague visions that were conjured as I dreamt, I am therefore led to believe,” He levelled us with a look. “that you may know more than you let on.”

My mouth bobbed open and shut, not to similar to a fish as I absorbed the reality of Gandalf’s statement. ‘He knows.’ Was all my mind managed to conjure. ‘Of course he knows, he’s Gandalf, for Christ’s sake!’

Blinking, a moment passed as I attempted to get a word out, until my throat decided to conjure the oddest sounds as I tried to put together the words. “Mmmmmmmnnyyeeeaaaaahummmhaaawwww-HURK!!!” Kay had elbowed me in the ribs – hard.

“The answer isn’t hum and haw, though we may have an overall idea.” Kay stated as I keeled over with a groan. “But we can’t say much without our throats literally closing up.”

Gandalf squinted at her, his free hand reaching up to absentmindedly stroke at his beard. “You cannot say a word?”

“Barely.” I wheezed with a cough, attempting to straighten up despite the protests of my now-sore ribs. “I mean, we’ve managed to say a few things, but most of the time we can say it as long as we don’t think about it too much – if we prepare to tell anyone, it seems to alert something that doesn’t want us saying anything that might change things. But it’s really random and hard to explain without it sounding like there’s a thousand plot holes.” My mouth was moving a mile a minute as the words tumbled out.

At this point I was practically ready to tell Gandalf everything, the words explaining my theories having been ready to spill out of my mouth for months.

“We keep seeing things.” I carried on without a thought, almost relieved at the fact that I could tell someone who had the ability to possibly understand whatever the hell we were saying. “Getting chased by weird creatures, I threw a pillow at a literal shadow creature – that’s appearing more often than not lately – an-and I just want to know what’s going on.” I pleaded, shoulders slumped as I felt the exhaustion of dealing with the last year and a half’s events catch up with me.

The wizard stared. “Intriguing.” He muttered. “You truly haven’t got a clue?”

“No!” I groaned, the frustration of everything flowing over. “And we want to find out why.”

He continued to stroke his beard with a low grumble. “I must say, this is something I cannot leave behind.” He stated, seemingly almost speaking to himself. “But whether I’ll be allowed to take you both with me to figure out why, is an answer we must leave until tomorrow.” He explained with a pointed look, that I thought I somewhat understood.

From deep within Bag End, Kay and I heard our names echo throughout, reaching our ears to the still-open front door. Cringing slightly, we both looked inside at the sound of footsteps drawing closer.

“Well I must be off.” Gandalf announced, and we turned back to watch him readjust the front top of his robe slightly, before gripping his staff. “We’ll see what happens soon enough.” He suggested cryptically, before Bilbo’s frustrated face appeared at the other end of the hallway.

Desperate, I quickly spun towards the wizard. “Can we come?” I breathed, the words escaping quicker than I could think. “We’re not useless despite what they’ll think! There’s a lot we could bring to the table if you just give us a chance?” I pleaded.

Hissing our names, the hobbit strode forward, grasping the door as he hurriedly beckoned us in whilst regarding the wizard with a wary but thunderous look. The wizard paid him no mind, deeply furrowing his brows as he regarded my words with a suspicious glint in his eye.

“We shall see.” Was all I got in response before a raging hobbit seethed my name, Kay already having retreated to his side.

Seeing that this was a battle that wasn’t going to be won, I reluctantly followed, disappointedly glancing at Gandalf before turning our backs. Bilbo called out about the wizard coming for dinner some other time – the two of us figured he was barely aware that he was doing so, and with that, the green door swiftly slammed shut. Bilbo fumbled with the bolt as he slid it into place with a snap. Finally achieving so, he turned to rest his back against the wood, eyes closing with a relieved sigh whilst he leant his head back.

A moment of silence passed, the hobbit settling as he seemed to be in the clear, until a muffled scraping noise near his feet filled the quiet hallway. Moment disturbed, Bilbo’s eyes immediately snapped back open, the tenseness straightening his spine once again. He jerked away from the door, almost like he had been prodded with a hot iron, as he stared down at the source of the jarring noise.

Ears wiggling slightly, he leant over, his back to us, before he shot back up with a furious glimmer morphing over his features. Storming over to the small circular window to the right of the door, he stood up on his toes, peering through the panes to try and catch a glimpse of the assailant.

He got his answer soon enough, when the silhouette of Gandalf sprang into view, casting a shadow into the hobbit hole. Stumbling back in surprise, Bilbo was caught in the arms of Kay before he would send himself sprawling onto the floor. All three of us stared at the window, a hush washing over us as we peered at the distorted image of Gandalf’s face as his gaze glowered through the glass. His eye twitched once, and with a flurry of robes, he vanished from view.

Scrambling to his feet, Bilbo dashed into the parlour over to the larger window, the two of us following suit, bending over to squish our heads together as we all tried to peer out at the wizards retreating back. His humming flowed through the air as he leant down to swing the miniature gate open, strolling down the path with a happy tune, until the edge of his cloak and the point of his hat disappeared round the bend.

I backed up until the ceiling was high enough, and stood to my full height, the events of the last five minutes hitting me full force as I stared blankly at the chandelier hanging in front of my face. Kay was the same, and we watched as Bilbo stared at the windowsill, scrunch his nose up with a loud sniff, then storm off into the kitchen without a word.

As soon as he disappeared, I practically deflated. With a roll of her shoulders and a few clicks of her back, Kay shuffled over to the armchairs that sat by the unlit fireplace, flopping down on it with a loud huff.

“I think I need to lie down.” She half muttered with a groan, barely glancing up at me as I collapsed on the chair opposite. “I cant believe we just met Gandalf.”

Nodding, I remained silent, staring at the small fraying threads of the rug beneath my feet as my mind raced through what just happened. I felt Kay’s eyes on me at my lack of an answer.

“What is it?” She questioned, and I figured she had seen my face cringing at the floor.

Glancing up at her, my eyes filled with worry. “Do you think he heard those weird noises I made?” I asked apprehensively.

She deadpanned. “Yes.” She stated. “I’m pretty sure the most prominent thing he’ll remember from our first meeting is you attempting to sound like every animal on Old McDonald’s farm.”

I groaned loudly, my whole body cringing as I brought my knees up, shoving my face into them as I slapped at my head.

“I mean, you could always Obliviate him once you learn how to?” She offered jokingly.

“I can’t do thatttt.” I whined, voice muffled as I shoved my face further into my knees, not caring if the pressure would leave my face red for the next few minutes. “What if the Middle Earth equivalent of Jesus appears and puts me in Jesus-prison for accidentally completely wiping the memories of one of their mini-gods??”

Kay huffed, unable to contain her laughter as she chucked a cushion at me, the object bouncing off the top of my head as I raised it, watching the projectile ricochet onto the floor.

Hair ruffled and sticking about after being assaulted by the cushion, I squinted with bleary eyes at Kay as weird shapes danced in my vision after being pressed to the bones of my knees. A thought came to mind, and I opened my mouth, before the thuds of large feet sounded through the wooden floor, Bilbo storming through the archway from the kitchen not a moment later.

“…nd what on Earth did I ask him to tea for!” he muttered to himself as he stared at the floor, flushed cheeks puffed out slightly as he chowed down on a seed-cake. Stopping in the middle of the room in front of us, he scoured the room, not acknowledging us in the slightest as he twisted and turned on the spot.

Darting his eyes across our forms, he flinched slightly as he seemed to only then notice our presence, before continuing on his search.

“You haven’t seen my Engagement Tablet anywhere, have you?” He asked, headspace still elsewhere as he marched into the entrance hall. “I need to write everything down before I forget.”

“Can’t you just use the calendar?” I called out, leaning over the arm of my chair as I tried to spot the hobbit behind me. My eyes landed on him, observing as he stopped in his tracks to swivel towards the calendar we had him nail to the wall when we had found it just this morning.

He flailed a bit, raising his arm up and down whilst pointing a finger at it, scanning the paper rapidly before shaking his head distractedly. “No, no.” He muttered, turning away to stride back into the parlour whilst taking another ferocious bite out of the seedcake. “All plans are on my tablet, I need my tablet.” He rambled to himself as he entered the kitchen. Coming to a stop in front of the straw basket that he was yet to empty, he let out a grunt. “Oh, for Yavanna’s sake I forgot the fish! Forget it I’ll go tomorrow. My head’s far too full to run into that damned wizard again.”

Once again, Bilbo frantically disappeared as he ranted to himself, going further this time – presumably to his bedroom, where the sounds of rustling, thuds of things being dropped and drawers being pulled open vibrated through the walls, along with frustrated complaints about Gandalf thrown about as he continued his search.

Kay and I looked at each other, and a moment passed between us, before we scrambled to our feet. Stumbling into the middle of the room, I tried not to trip over the cushion that still laid on the floor. Facing Kay, we both nodded at each other, and swiftly vanished to our respective bedrooms.

Swinging the door shut behind me, I grabbed the last few remains of my belongings that I had left out as to not rouse any suspicion from Bilbo as to why it looked like we were spontaneously moving out. Hauling out the large backpack that I had shoved to the back of my wardrobe, I swung it onto the floor, unclasped the straps and lifted the lid open, loosening the leather drawstring holding the opening together wide enough for me to fit down the steps that looked like they led into the floor.

Once fully opened, I clambered to my feet, and began pulling the clothes the bag had been hidden behind from the hangers, their wooden edges clattering against the back panel of the wardrobe they swung against as I speedily pulled each piece from them, before chucking it all into the awaiting entrance of my bag.

After hearing the thump of the final piece hit the bottom of the steps, I proceeded to scour my room, pulling open drawers and using my wand to light up the underneath of any furniture that something could have rolled or been stored under.

Satisfied that everything had been packed, I climbed down into the bag, hopping over the pile of clothes and random objects that had been thrown on top. The next thirty minutes was spent reorganising, making sure everything had its place.

Just as I was about to hang up the last skirt I had laying around, I jumped slightly at the sound of my name being called. Peering out of the tiny hallway leading to the two tiny rooms, I looked up to see Kay, who signalled with a thumbs-up that she was done and ready.

Giving everything a once-over, I returned the thumbs-up with my own, and held my hands out, catching the bag she chucked down, storing it in the corner of the main room for tomorrow.

Clambering up the ladder and out onto the floor, I sealed my own bag back up, before shoving it back into the corner of my now-barren wardrobe. With a final scan, I turned to Kay, and let out a breath as I gave her a nod. We were ready for tomorrow.

And honestly? I was fucking terrified.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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< Chapter 22 // Chapter 23 // Chapter 24 >

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[runningfrom2am]

achilles heel - VI: i. cheated. too.

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, violence, fighting, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 3.2k

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requests (temporarily closed)

February 3rd, 2019

Rafe and Grace didn't lose contact again after that, he wasn't about to let that happen. She did still go to class, but he missed that smile he'd seen on Sunday- that side of her that was so carefree, so happy. He hadn't expected that vandalizing Nate's car would cure her heartbreak, but part of him hoped it would. He discovered that he would do anything to help, and he spent his free time throughout the week either texting her or thinking of what to do the next time they hung out. They didn't have plans, but he couldn't wait. And for once, he was almost completely free on a Saturday, so now is as good a time as any.

R: gracie, any plans today?

He sends the text and goes back to making lunch, trying to ignore how nervous it made him. It wasn't a risky text by any means, what was he scared of? Her saying she's busy? It's not a date, he knows that. It's just friends hanging out to keep her from spiraling back into a pit of depression, he didn't want to let that happen.

G: Just the usual, I'm trying to get some reading done but it's hard to focus

G: how about you?

Rafe's phone buzzes twice on the counter as the messages come in and he quickly grabs it, abandoning his sandwich-making efforts.

R: same

R: I'm thinking about going to the driving range later, want to come?

G: golfing? by yourself?

R: not if you come with me?

G: I don't know how to golf but I promise I'll be a good spectator

R: you'll just make me look like a pro 😎

G: 😐😐

R: i'll pick you up at 2?

G: See you then, Tiger Woods &lt;3

Grace was surprised when Rafe showed up with a truck instead of his bike, but it would make sense if he had to bring his own clubs. The weather was nice that day, there were hardly any clouds in the sky but it was still crisp enough out for Grace to wear a sweater without the intentions of taking it off again until she got home.

By the time they arrived at the driving range, there was a decent amount of people there. With minimal snow and mostly friendly weather, a lot of people golfed year round in North Carolina, and Rafe was no exception.

He jumps out of the truck after parking to grab his clubs, and Grace grabbed her tote bag and slung it over her shoulder before following after him.

"You ever been here before?" Rafe asks, golf bag over his shoulder as they walk up to the entrance.

Grace shakes her head, looking out to the green and all the yard markers scattered over the lawn. "I think Nate came here sometimes. He likes golfing."

"Well, welcome, then." Rafe replies, holding the door for her and ignoring her second comment about her ex.

"Thanks, I'm excited." She smiles in response, passing him to enter but waiting for him to talk to the employee at the counter.

"Welcome in! What can I do for y'all today?" The young girl asks, Grace following her friend up while he places his clubs down and leans against the counter.

"Hey, yeah, can I get two twenty baskets please? And a club for her?" Rafe asks, Grace quickly shaking her head as the employee is already turning to grab the supplies he asked for. "What? You don't want to try?" He turns his attention to Grace now, slightly laughing.

"No, I'm not a golfer." Grace smiles nervously, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her palms.

The girl working pauses, looking between the two of them. "No then?"

"Nah, I'll take 'em. She might change her mind." Rafe insists, winking in Grace's direction before taking the baskets and club, handing it over to Grace.

Rafe paid, and then the girl buzzed open the door out to the driving platform for them to enter. Down at the end there was three open spots in a row, and Rafe lead Grace down all the way to the edge so they weren't surrounded on all sides by other people.

Grace placed down the one basket she carried over for Rafe, and sat down in a chair against the wall, ready to watch.

"C'mon, Gracie, you're not even gonna try?" Rafe chuckles, watching her as he's in the process of pulling out his club.

Grace shakes her head, smiling up at him. "I'm more than content to watch. Thank you, though."

"You'll change your mind- I know you will." He says, a smug grin crossing over his face.

Grace rolls her eyes fondly, then watched as Rafe tee'd up to make his first swing. Grace doesn't know much about golf, but she could see the confidence in Rafe's posture and his subsequent swing, and the way the muscles in his arms flexed and made his veins prominent. The ball flew off onto the green and landed somewhere she didn't see- her eyes were trained on him.

"Good hit!" Grace smiles, clapping for him and crossing her legs.

"Thank you." Rafe turns to her, taking a dramatic bow which makes her laugh. "Alright, your turn." He's already placing another ball on the tee.

"No!" Grace's laugh continues, shaking her head.

"What if I fumbled a few times first?"

"No, then people will definitely be watching." Grace giggles.

"Oh, come on. No one cares. You gotta start somewhere." Rafe pleads.

"Are you just going to bug me until I agree to try?"

"Yes ma'am." He nods in response, leaning on his club now.

"Okay, just one." Grace relents, standing up and placing her bag on the ground.

"That's what I like to hear!" Rafe grins, taking a step back as she grabs her driver, smaller than his so she can actually reach the ball from a decent distance. "Just, uh, try not to out-do me, that would be kind of a hit to my ego."

"Ha, ha, Rafe." Grace replies sarcastically, smile glued to her cheeks as she rolls her eyes, awkwardly adjusting the grip in her hands.

"Need help?" He offers, making an effort to not laugh at her obvious discomfort. Not that the laughter would come from a place of maliciousness, but just that she looks really cute. It would make him a little more comfortable if he could, but he's not sure which is worse; making her feel embarrassed, or having to explain himself.

"Maybe, yeah..." She agrees hesitantly, and he's already reaching out to adjust her hands.

"So just hold it like this..." He explains, placing her fingers in the right places. "And stand with your legs shoulder width apart." Rafe steps over next to her now to demonstrate in a way she can easily reflect. "Yeah, like that, then, line up, pull your elbow back and up like this-" He explains, holding an imaginary club and lifting his arms back, before swinging them down and forward, making a popping sound with his lips and then pretending to watch the ball fly with a hand over his eyebrows. "Got it?"

"I think so." Grace smiles, nodding slightly and looking down at the white ball again, lining up as Rafe takes a step back.

"Don't forget to imagine it's Nate's dick." Rafe adds.

"Rafe!" Grace laughs, turning to him and relaxing her posture again.

"No, you're right- sorry." He raises his hands. "That would make it like, a lot smaller and harder to hit."

"Oh, god- don't." Grace laughs as she looks away, an embarrassed pink flush coating her cheeks.

"Am I right?" Rafe teases her, his sole intentions being in making her glance at him with that slightly embarrassed but extremely genuine smile again.

"Rafe, I'm not telling you." She insists, trying to line up again.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I'll hit you with this- how about that instead?" Grace turns to him, and yes, there it is. She's threatening him, sure, but not seriously, and if that's what it takes for her to look at him like that, he'd take the risk of being hit with a golf club every time.

"Okay, yup. Subject dropped." He agrees, smiling back at her. He just can't help it.

"Thank you..." Grace mutters, head shaking fondly at him. She's grateful now that she can talk about Nate without crying, but maybe that's just the Rafe effect.

After a moment of silence and a deep breath, she swings and misses- chipping the club onto the turf just next to the tee. "Oh- oops!"

"Just warming up?" Rafe chuckles, sitting down in the seat she previously occupied.

"Yeah, that was a practice swing. I've got it now." Grace agrees, lining up again. "Pressures on now for real."

"You're good." Rafe reminds her, trying not to stare too intensely. If she could feel his eyes boring into her skin she might mess it up again, so instead he sticks to her clothes, and the way her blue sweater is so clearly oversized but somehow fits her just right, tucked into the waistband of her jeans.

She swings while he's distracted, actually making contact with the ball this time. It wasn't a perfect hit, it flew off to the side but not very far. "I did it!" She grins, turning immediately to Rafe to see his reaction.

"Hey, not bad, Gracie!" He smiles, standing up again and reaching out instinctively to run his hand over her shoulder. "You're a natural."

"Okay, that's a bit dramatic." Grace laughs.

"Few more swings and you'll be perfect. Trust me." Rafe smiles, grabbing another ball for her.

They take turns for a while, and Grace only misses several more times before she actually gets the hang of it.

She's lining up again, feeling confident now as she stares down at the ball, swaying her hips back and forth to adjust her stance. Rafe, once again is watching with a proud smile on his face, arms crossed as he stands a few feet away. He happens to look up when he hears the buzzer for the gate open, a group of boys filing in. Standard, of course, and nothing to take note of until he recognizes one of them as Nate. Not only that, but Nate with his arm draped over a girls shoulder as she laughed at something he said. No doubt in Rafe's mind that it wasn't funny.

He had to get Grace out of here before she saw him. She swings which draws his attention again, and he's quickly gathering their stuff. "Hey, uh, I'm pretty hungry. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, actually, I could go for a coffee." Grace nods, turning to him and he's already holding her bag out to her. "Thanks.." She chuckles, dropping it back over her shoulder and grabbing a basket before turning towards the way they came in.

"Just go around that way." Rafe stops her, standing in front of her and taking the basket from her hands. "I'll drop off our stuff and meet you at the truck in a few, yeah?"

"Are you sure? I can come with you, you'll have a handful." Grace says, reaching out for the basket again.

"I'm sure. Just go around that way." He nods, pointing behind her to the emergency exit.

"Oh, okay. I'll meet you outside." Grace agrees, smiling at him thankfully before turning and taking the other exit which, thankfully, wasn't far.

Rafe turns as soon as the door shuts behind her, dropping the basket on the ground and picking up his club again.

He's pacing quickly over to where the boys and Nate's arm candy decided to set up, scowl clear as day on his face. "Nate!" He calls out as he gets closer, only allowing a moment for Nate to recognize him before he's tossing the driver into his left hand and swinging with his right, connecting his fist directly with that jerks nose.

Everyone in the immediate vicinity gasps as Rafe shakes out his fist, already cramping from the tension and impact. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" The girl asks, immediately reaching out for Nate who pushes her off.

"Don't touch me." He mutters, wiping his nose with his wrist, blood staining the crisp folded edges of the sleeve.

Rafe is staring at him as all his friends look between the two of them in shock. "I knew it was you who fucked with my car. I fucking knew it!" Nate says, raising his voice now as he glared at Rafe, staring him up and down.

"Maybe it was someone else who can see how much of a shitbag you are, have you ever considered that?" Rafe spits at him. "I bet you haven't, actually, because the only thing you can literally think about is yourself. You're a selfish prick."

"No, I know it was you." Nate shakes his head, scoffing. "What did I even do? You're the one who she cheated on me with! I'm innocent in this, not that either of you can get that through your thick skulls to realize that I am the one who was wronged."

"I've never touched her." Rafe says through gritted teeth. "If you knew her or cared about her you would have believed that when it came from her."

"Bullshit." Nate replies. "Anyway, tell your new girlfriend that we're even now."

"What does that mean?" Rafe ticks his jaw at this, knuckles white as they're wrapped around the grip of his golf club.

Nate laughs, shaking his head. "God, of course I'd have to spell it out for you..." He mutters. "Okay, fine. Tell her I... Cheated... Too." He says it slowly, mockingly, and Rafe sees red.

Before he processes anything, he's swinging the club at the boy in front of him, taking him down and then swinging again as he stands over him. He's quickly shoved back this time, dropping the club and catching a glimpse of one of the employees coming out to intervene just has he feels something hit his face. He's quick to pick up the club and run back, looking over his shoulder as he approaches his bag. He grabs it, throwing it over his shoulder and bolting out the emergency exit after Grace.

Grace is standing by the truck, reading a book she had in her bag, thinking to herself that she's glad she brought it just in case when she looks up at the sound of feet pounding into pavement. Rafe is running towards her, looking frantically over his shoulder.

"Rafe? What happened?" She asks, brow furrowed as she quickly closes her book. He throws his stuff in the bed of the truck and heads to the door.

"Hurry, just get in." He never intended to lash out on Nate like that, in all honestly he didn't even expect to throw the first punch- but that asshole made it impossible for him to resist.

"Are you okay? Oh my god, you're bleeding!" Grace exclaims, looking away from him to dig through her bag.

"I'm fine, I'm good." Rafe says, backing out of the parking spot and driving off quickly.

"No, no, it looks bad. Pull over somewhere." Grace tells him, pulling a couple napkins out of her bag and reaching out to hold them up to the cut on his jaw.

"I'm fine." Rafe says again, turning his head away. "I'll get you home and I'll deal with it."

Grace sighs, dropping her hands down again.

For the whole drive back to campus, it was silent. Grace didn't know what to say, despite having several questions, and Rafe didn't know how to say he was sorry or even explain what happened at all. He knew she wouldn't like it.

They pull up to the dorms and she gets out, grabbing her bag again and staring at him expectantly. "Get out."

"No, no I've got to-"

"Rafe, get out and come with me. We've got a first aid kit in our bathroom."

Rafe knows from the look on her face to not argue, sighing to himself and turning off the truck before getting out and following her upstairs.

She quickly uses her keycard to open the door, and pushes it open wide to let Rafe in with her. "Hey, Grace! How was your-" Her roommate starts to ask, stopping as she lays eyes on Rafe. "Oh! Holy shit, are you okay?"

"Olivia, this is Rafe." She introduces her quickly before Rafe can once again insist that he's fine. "Is the first aid kit still in the bathroom?"

"Yeah, I haven't touched it." Olivia stammers, looking shocked now.

"Thanks." Grace nods at her, dragging Rafe down the hall and into the bathroom by his hand. The way her palm is stretched around his is tense, he wished it didn't have to be that way.

She shuts the door behind them, digging around for the kit and pulling it out and opening it quickly. "I don't think you'll need stitches." She tells him, unwrapping gauze and alcohol wipes.

"I'm sorry." Rafe mumbles, surprised even to hear it from himself.

Grace pauses, looking up at him. Her eyes are soft again, she looks like herself, though the crease in her forehead has morphed from one of worry to one of confusion. "What? Don't be sorry."

"I am." Rafe replies, avoiding eye contact with her now.

"Well... What happened?" She asked, hesitantly continuing what she was doing.

"I, uh, Nate came in, and then I just-" Rafe explains and winces as Grace wipes off his cheek with a clean cloth. "I don't know... I didn't mean to, I guess."

"Is he okay?" Grace asks quietly.

"He'll be fine." Rafe clenches his jaw and she just nods a little bit. "Why do you even care?"

"He's a person, Rafe." She replies, delicately as possible trying to clean up the wound. "I mean, I know he hurt me, but that was superficial. I've loved him for years. I'd never want to see him in pain. But it happens, I suppose."

Rafe chews on the inside of his cheek as she talks. "You still love him?"

"Of course." She mumbles, almost embarrassed. "For now. One day that will change, I know that, but it's difficult to move on from the only love you've ever known."

"I'm sorry." Rafe says again. "I... I didn't know, I didn't mean to, I just wanted to try and talk some sense into him but he was with another girl and-"

"It's okay." Grace gives him a small smile. "Just... don't make a habit out of beating up my ex boyfriend, yeah?"

"One and done." Rafe promises, relaxed immensely by the forgiveness on her face.

"Thank you." She grins to herself, grabbing the alcohol wipe and brushing it over the area. "It's stopped bleeding, which is good. Now that it's cleaned up it doesn't look too bad."

"You should see the other guy." Rafe jokes, a slight tinge of pain in his tone as the alcohol gets into the cut.

"Oh, I'm sure." Grace chuckles, shaking her head. "Can I be honest with you for a sec? And you have to promise you'll never tell a soul."

"Of course." Rafe nods, smile fading as he's not sure what she'll say.

"You were kinda right." Grace blushes, giggling as she places a bandage over his cheek. From the confused expression on his face, she knows she'll have to explain. "It's... It's kinda small, I think." She whispers, face red now.

Rafe laughs, dropping his head back. "I knew it! I could just tell. And I knew you wouldn't have been embarrassed like that if I wasn't right."

"Shh, okay- never tell anyone." Grace giggles, holding a finger up to her lips. "I didn't tell you that, okay?"

"Nope, I didn't hear a thing." Rafe says, mock zipping his lips at that as he smiles down at the girl in front of him.

taglist: @newbooksmell777, @tahliac11, @slut4drudy, @madelynie, @angelw33dz, @whore-4-drewstarkey , @winterrrnight, @sadfury, @bookishbabyyy , @madelynie , @totalswag , @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr , @hxnnah-397 , @s-we-e-t-t-ea , @saccharinesammie , @redhead1180 , @chenslucy

[rebelwrites]

Winner Takes It All || Four Like The Lioness You Are

Charles Leclerc x Valentina Hendrix (OC)

Winner Takes It All Masterlist

Summary: When everything is going right there’s always gotta be something to cause the world come crashing down

Warnings: Heartache that’s all I’m saying

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Nothing had sunk in yet, the trip to Italy felt like a complete dream. It was like I was floating on cloud nine and nothing could bring me down. Little did I know that within the next thirty minutes everything was going to change and my whole world would come crashing down.

Wandering into the kitchen I was instantly greeted with the smell of Mum’s cooking, causing my mouth to start watering. The counters were filled with all sorts of goodies, I couldn’t help myself as I reached for a slice of garlic but I was rewarded with a clip around the ear.

“Lascia stare il cibo, bambina. Leave the food alone, child” she scolded, placing her hands on my shoulders, ushering me out of the kitchen. “Vai a infastidire tuo padre e Pierre e vattene dalla mia cucina finché non ti chiamo. Go bother your father and Pierre and get out of my kitchen until I call you.”

Rolling my eyes at her I left her to it knowing better to get under her feet when she was cooking. Wandering into the living room I plonked myself on the sofa next to Pierre. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, the TV was switched off and I could practically cut the tension with a knife.

“Someone better tell me what is going on?” I huffed, leaning forward resting my elbows on my knees.

“Nothing is going on.” Dad mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Yeah because you and P are sat in silence, and if looks could kill Dad then you would be six fucking feet under.” I never spoke to Dad like this but this time I needed to. “Now can someone please explain to me why Mum is cooking an absolute feast and why you two look like someone has just shat in your cornflakes.”

The three of us sat there in silence for another 10 minutes until Dad finally broke the silence. He pushed himself to his feet taking a few short strides across the living room sitting next to me on the sofa, taking my hand in his.

“Sai quanto ti vogliamo bene. You know how much we love you.” he said softly, Cocking my brow at him silently telling him to continue. “We will be spending Christmas in Monaco this year rather than Italy.”

Knitting my brows together I tried to figure out why that would cause so much tension, I was trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Monaco was a gorgeous country and we spent many Christmases there.

That's when it hit me, the reason why we would be spending Christmas in Monaco and the reason I flew home the following day after my meeting at Alpha Tauri was because we weren't staying there for Christmas this year. Instantly I felt my blood run cold, as my eyes filled with tears. Whenever we spent Christmas in Monaco we always used to spend it with the Leclerc’s.

“Please tell me this is a joke?” I choked out, trying to hold back the sobs. I couldn’t spend two weeks with him, under the same roof, breathing the same air, there would be no escape for me. “Dad, please.” I whimpered. “Please tell me you are joking.”

I was greeted with silence.

“Fanculo a questo. Fuck this.” I spat, snatching my hand away from my dad, I couldn’t stay in this room any longer. Not with this bombshell that he has just dropped on me. “There is no way I am going to be spending Christmas in that house with him. I had the next couple of months at least to get myself ready to see him again and now you have arranged to spend Christmas with them.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I stormed out of the living room, ignoring the calls from mum as I barged through the kitchen letting the back door slam behind me.

Leaning against the bonnet of the mustang I took a deep breath letting the bitter air fill my lungs as I fiddled with the sleeves of my Alpha Tauri hoodie. My eyes stung from the unshed tears, I couldn’t believe what I had been told. I didn't think anything could sour the news of me getting in F1 but my Dad had to drop the bombshell before dinner.

How did he think this was a good idea, they saw how broken I was after Charles walked out. My head was spinning. How could I go from such a high to feeling like shit in a matter of seconds.

Running my fingers over the key to the mustang I let out another shaky breath, roughly wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. I knew I wasn’t in any state to drive but I needed to clear my head and there was only one way I knew how to. Unlocking the car I slid into the driver’s seat, letting the engine of the beast roar into life. I ran my hands around the steering wheel before resting my forehead against the cool leather. Pierre came running out of the house quicker than he had ever ran before. I guess he knew me too well.

Before I could process what was happening he was sitting in the passenger seat, resting his hand over mine.

“You know this isn’t the right thing to do?” He said softly.

“Then tell me what is?” I snapped, dipping the clutch as I slammed the car into first gear, speeding out of the driveway. “Tell me why my own Dad thinks that spending Christmas with the whole Leclerc family is the best thing to do.”

I could feel the tears burning my eyes once again as I sped down the road not caring about the speed limit.

“Nugget, please.” Pierre whispered, panic evident in his voice. “This isn’t the way to go about things. If you get clocked by the police you can kiss your career goodbye before it’s even begun.”

His words tipped me over the edge and I couldn’t help the sobs that escaped my lips, tears were streaming down my cheeks causing my vision to blur. Blinking back the tears the best I could, I pulled over at the side of the road, turning my hazards on.

Ragging my seat belt off I covered my face with my hands letting out a painful scream.

How was I meant to survive two weeks living in the same house at Charles, no doubt she would be there as well.

“Come on, swap seats.” Pierre said softly, squeezing my thigh.

“What am I going to do P?” I sobbed, trying to stop my hands from shaking. I thought I was well on the way to being over Charles but the last couple of days proved I wasn’t.

“Tu vas aller à Monaco et montrer au garçon ce qu'il manque. You are going to go to Monaco and show the boy what he is missing.” Pierre hummed, pulling my hands away from my face, holding them in his. “Tu gardes la tête haute, comme la lionne que tu es. You hold your head high, like the lioness that you are.”

Charles’ POV

For the last couple of hours there had been a weird tension in the house, it started once Becky turned up tail between her legs saying how sorry she was about trying to ruin christmas. It was like a broken record, I knew I should have ended the relationship it had been four years now but I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to put Valentina in a position where her career would be on the line. She was doing amazing at Formula W, she was a champion in the making and one day she would be racing on the track with me. Well if they ever let women into F1.

But I wasn’t going to be the one to destroy anything for her, even if it meant dealing with the devil herself. Valli’s happiness meant more to me than my own.

“Enrico, c'est une excellente nouvelle. Enrico, this is great news.” Mum smiled, pressing the phone against her ear as she walked past the living room.

This immediately gained my attention, why was she on the phone to Valentina’s dad? Pushing myself up to my feet I quickly followed her to the kitchen, taking a seat at the large table.

Yes I was being nosey but I didn’t care.

“Bon vol, à vous tous. Have a good flight, to all of you.” Mum beamed, before ending the call, busying herself with the coffee machine.

“Why were you on the phone to Valli’s dad?” I asked, causing her to turn around. The smile on her face was wide and full of mischief.

She didn’t say anything but she ushered me into the living room where Arthur and Lorenzo had now joined Becky. They all had a knowing smirk on their face as I perched on the arm of the sofa.

“Quelqu'un peut me dire ce qui se passe? Can someone tell me what's going on?” I huffed, narrowing my eyes at my mum who looked like she was going to burst with excitement.

“We have guests for Christmas this year, they fly out tonight and land early hours tomorrow morning.” she beamed, taking a couple of steps across the living room placing her hand on my shoulder. “It has been a while since we were all together under one roof.”

“Who?”

“Valentina and her parents.”

And just like that I felt my world come crashing down around me.

@chibsytelford @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @stillbreathin @angywritesstuff @miamedyu @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @micks-afterglow @livo67 @buendiabebeta @pleasedontfollowinlost @ferrarifwendvale @hungryhungarian @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @sunf1owerrq @queenslife @panicforspec @inesramoss30 @justme2042 @liv67 @sessgjarg @derpinathebrave @idkiwantchocolatee @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @alynoa @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @organasith

[tunabesimpin]

🐟 Welcome to Tuna's Lair! 🐟

Tuna's the name art is my game! I just be simpin! I mostly create content for Twisted Wonderland here! But I’m happy to do stuff related to all of these: [ Twisted Wonderland, Splatoon, Genshin Impact, ProSekai, Uma Musume, Obey Me ]

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Introduction

For those who don't know me!!! Welcome to my (mostly twst) simp page! My name is Tuna! I'm 23, ace and nonbinary. You can use any pronouns for me, however I most prefer They/Them! I have severe anxiety and ADHD so I hope you will be patient with me and let me know if I become too chatty or overstep lines! My hobbies include creating art, listening to music, playing games and sometimes streaming. (If you'd like to check out my streams go here -> Parsnops WARNING MATURE CONTENT!) I'm not the best at interacting with others due to my anxiety, but I enjoy talking whether it be with close friends or shoving my ideas into the void of tumblr. I love simping for art, writings, music and all sorts of different medias! I love to hear/ see/ read and learn about everything yall make! I usually do art in my free time, but sometimes I like to play silly horror survival games, farm sims, and rhythm games. I've been doing art for around 7 - 8 years. I hope one day to work off my art, but I don't expect that anytime soon.

Anyways here are my favs from different medias! TWST - Floyd, Jade, Azul, Rook Lilia, Kalim, Ruggie Splatoon - Pearl, Marina, Frye, Callie Genshin - Klee (main #1), Alhaitham (Main #2), Tighnari, Fischel Prosekai - all of Wonderland X Showtime, Kanade, & Shiho Uma Musume - Gold Ship, Special Week, Silence Suzuka, Twin Turbo Obey Me - Beelzebub & Barbatos UtaPri - Natsuki Shinomiya

Games I like to play! TWST, Obey Me, ProSekai, Bang Dream, Splatoon 3, Phasmophobia, Fallout New Vegas, Devour, Minecraft, Sonic Adventure 1 & 2

Anyways thanks for getting to know me! One warning! Please do not ask insensitive questions or try to leave hate/ be extremely rude. I'm just going to block you as I really don't have time or the mentality for it. Its very hard to get on my bad side, but once you are, there's no coming back ok? I'm just trying to have fun here ^v^!

[carnivorousdoe]

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐮𝐫𝐥 ◞✧

spell out your url using song titles that can describe your muse, then tag as many people as there are letters in your url.

tagged by my sweeties — @etheirys & @emahriel ♡

since there are quite a lot of letters in my url I will instead be going off of my muse’s / oc’s name, ‘fèidh’.

F — Fight Them Soft. - “Soon they will be here to take me away from my home. I will use my garden army to hide you all from them.”

È — Eat Your Young (Bekon’s Choral Version). - “You can’t buy this finesse. Let me see the heat get to you.”

I — I Invoke Cursed Winds.

D — The Dreaming. - “See the light ram through the gaps in the land. You find them in the road. See the light bounce off the rocks to the sand.”

H — Haunted House. - “Now I’m the fog forever in full collaboration with the weather. I’m not free at all.”

(If you wish to do this to please feel free to take from this post !! and likewise if you don’t wish to but I’ve tagged you, please just ignore me ahh): @hylorien, @zordem, @mercymaker, @underdark-dreams & @oyasumikaiju

[dalishious]

Frequently Asked Questions

“How might I be able to find a post or previous response on the question I have, before asking?”

If it is a lore question, try checking out my meta masterlist first!

My second recommendation would be to try searching for a tagged character, quest, or topic; for example, “Merrill”, “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts”, “Qunari”, etc. I try my best to keep this blog as organized as possible.

You can then try searching outside of just the tags; for example, “divine”, “masks”, “dream”, etc.

If you are still unable to find anything, then please feel free to send a message!

“Who are your canon protagonists?”

Da'Renan Mahariel

Dalia Hawke

Amaris Lavellan

“What order should I read the Dragon Age novels and comics?”

Here is my guide.

“Can you recommend some fanfiction to me?”

I do not read a lot of Dragon Age fanfiction, so no, I’m not a very good person to ask.

“Can you recommend some more blogs to me?”

Sorry, I do not do blog recommendations. I get anxious about it.

“Do you know if there is a mod for…”

Here are some tips for finding mods on the Nexus:

Try vague and different search terms or character names

Use the website’s “Refine Results” features to browse by category

Use the website’s “Refine Results” features to search for words contained in the mod description

The Dragon Age nexus mod sites:

Dragon Age: Origins Nexus

Dragon Age: II Nexus

Dragon Age: Inquisition Nexus

“Why do you hate cishet people?” / “Why do you hate white people?”

I do not, unless someone is being a jerk about it.

“Why do you dislike Cullen?”

This question is so common I now have a master list, which you can read here.

“Why do you care so much about people preferring to whitewash Alistair and Fiona? He’s a knightly prince so of course Alistair can’t have a brown mother!!1!”

I’m a biracial person who can’t help but be a little personally insulted by the lengths people will go to trying to claim Alistair is white, and their reasons behind it. Here are a few key posts on this subject. If you ask a question about this and it’s not something I’ve already said, I am just going to send you to these posts rather than repeat it all over again for the billionth time.

Yes, Fiona is Alistair’s mother

And yes, there is reason to believe she isn’t white beyond just Alistair’s skin in DA:O

Because he sure didn’t get his skin from Maric’s side of the family

“But he’s not even that tan” (ignoring that skin colour is not even the only measure of who is white or not)

Alistair was whitewashed to hell and back from DA:O to DA:I

And no, there is no exaggeration because it isn’t necessary

And no it is not just the taint

Or because he spends more time inside

Because he wasn’t just a white guy with a tan to begin with

Or whatever reason you can think of other than holding BioWare responsible for their actions

It is BioWare choosing to change this fictional character’s skin colour from light brown to pale as fuck, because that is what BioWare does

Reasons People Don’t Like Biracial Alistair and Brown Fiona

And the kind of people I have experience with saying he’s white…

…are 99% of the time assholes

“How do you feel about white people having nonwhite OCs?”

I personally feel fine with people having OCs not of their race/ethnicity, as long as they are respectful and put work into it. But I also understand why so many people would prefer it to just not be a thing at all, with good reason, and do not want my own opinion to be used to invalidate someone else’s. You can read more in the links included in this ask.

“Why do you care so much about drama/discourse? Why can’t you just let people enjoy the series? Why does it matter?”

Because when the “discourse” is a group of bigots defending their bigotry, when people “just enjoying the series” comes at the expense of other people, “ignore it and it will go away” has a 0% success rate at changing anything.

“If you hate the games so much, why do you play them?”

I do not hate the games. I am just aware that you can enjoy something while also critiquing the parts you wish were better. It is really not that difficult a concept, you know?

[danigrayextendeduniverse]

This blog is a work in progress!

Hello! My name is Dani Gray, and welcome to the Dani Gray Extended Universe! What's the Dani Gray Extended Universe, or the DGEU? Well, it's basically where I put all my OCs and AUs for those OCs—I'm a writer with a lot of ideas, a lot of creativity, but I also like reusing OCs rather than making new ones (I make new OCs as well but I have a select few who are near and dear to my heart).

As this blog is fairly new, I'm still working on setting it up and introducing my characters (and also my main universe). I will be adding a list of some of my primary/most recurring characters underneath the read more below, but it'll be fairly underdeveloped. In the meantime, here's a few facts about me and a brief DNI:

Name: Dani Gray

Pronouns: Any neopronouns

DNI: racists, queerphobes, MAPs/pedophiles, roleplay blogs (asking a question is fine, but I don't use this blog to roleplay)

I reserve the right to block anyone and to ignore asks that I find inappropriate or that I don’t want to answer.

I'm a Tumblr veteran (been here for... a while) but I still struggle with what tags I should use when it comes to original content, so if you have any tips please let me know!

Recurring characters in the DGEU

Daniel Nation: Probably my first official OC who wasn't created for a fandom. The main character in my original story, he's got a lot of development and has been through so many changes. I'm absolutely enamored by him, he's my bestest boy.

Diana Bullock: Daniel's best friend and a general manic pixie dream girl (though that's not the role she plays). Was created around the same time as Daniel, they should not be separated by any means.

Cameron Scale: Daniel's partner! This character has definitely gone through a lot of changes, but the basic rundown for them is that they're a deaf activist.

Amanda Skies: Diana's girlfriend. Still being developed, she was originally supposed to be a mean girl and an antagonist. Not sure when her story changed, but very Amity Blight from The Owl House coded (though she was created way before The Owl House was even a show).

Adam Nation: Daniel's biological father who was originally supposed to die when Daniel was very young. Not sure when or why he came back to life, but his presence as a character definitely changed the direction of Daniel's story. A good father in every aspect, he's a school counselor.

Vincent Strange: Daniel's father and Adam's longest romantic partner. Not gonna lie, a lot of his inspiration came from Doctor Strange (hence the name and also a lot of his backstory). He's a surgeon, debating if I want to put him through an accident like in the Doctor Strange canon. In some universes he does have an accident, but in the main story he doesn't.

Indrid Cold: Surprisingly not the Mothman nor inspired by the character from TAZ: Ammesty (though I do love that podcast). Daniel's father and a late addition to Adam and Vincent's relationship, though the three of them have been friends for a long time. Indrid works as a museum tour guide and is very autistic about it. He's a silly, goofy daddy who loves Daniel to smithereens and cried on Daniel's first day of school.

Evelyn Kamiyama: Wasn't originally going to add her because she's not that recurring, but I love her too much to leave her out. Plus, she was very involved in Daniel's upbringing. Daniel's surrogate mother and the owner of a sushi restaurant. Absolute badass of a woman who takes no shit. Has a complicated relationship with her family but doesn't let that get in the way of how she treats Daniel. Also she and Adam are fuck buddies.

[bibaybe]

Find the Word Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag, @wordspin-shares!

Search your WIPs and post a snippet with the words given to you.

My words were dream, morning, air, room and reason.

dream - from a snippet of things in the dark, my stranger things fic - couldn’t find dream by itself, but daydream counts to me

but the sound of steve and ginny laughing behind them kind of ruins that idea because there’s no way raya’s daydream would include them.

morning - from a snippet of sun-hi’s fic, my all of us are dead oc

That can’t be him, even if the zombie is wearing the same red jacket he was wearing this morning and has the same mole above his right eye and oh god, oh god no please-

air - from a different snippet of sun-hi’s fic

He throws his hands in the air. “That’s all you have to say? You’ve been an actual bitch to me for over a year because Dae-su is stupid?”

room - from a different snippet of sun-hi’s fic (can you tell who my current muse is?)

“Goddammit, Wu-jin, I’m hungry!” She chokes out, throat tightening at the admission. He freezes - the entire room stops breathing, she can hear the silence. “Just let me out, please.”

reason - from a snippet of quinn’s fic, my high school musical: the musical: the series oc

But there’s gotta be a reason he asked to stay at her house tonight, especially when it’d make more sense to stay at Big Red’s or, at the very least, someone he knows better.

tagging @waterloou, @nolanhollogay, @richitozier, @veetlegeuse, @praetoravila, @valdrinors and anyone else who wants to participate! feel free to ignore if you want too tho!

[mymelodyisme]

A friend and I were driving out late at night. It was dark and our only company was the music that was blaring from the car radio. We were a reasonable distance from our home out on surprisingly open land, but circled the area at least 8 times because a suspicious vehicle was following behind very closely, but never advanced close enough to determine a driver. When we least expected it, the car was gone and we were finally able to go home. We drove into the garage belonging to a large polished wooden modern home. My friend got out of the car and was setting stuff aside that she must have gotten from a trip. I felt watched, and paranoid. I looked towards the house door and found a void of darkness keeping my gaze. I called out to my oblivious friend insisting that someone or something was watching us from beyond the door, but as she turned to meet my worries, the door was shut as if it hadn’t been opened since we’d left. She dismissed my worries and continued to adjust the area reminding me that I can’t lounge in the car forever. So I got out, and immediately turned to face the door, afraid that those few seconds without a thought might have let something slip by. Half right, I noticed the door was open again and the darkness watched once more. Finding myself scared, and confused, I pleaded with my friend to face the door again just to ease my worry. One again, she did and it was as it had been the first time she looked.

After settling down inside, excusing the previous moments for a delirious fear of exhaustion, my friend and I made our way into the kitchen to make a light snack before greeting our beds. Tomorrow was to be an important day that family would be coming over and we would have to wake early. As my friend made our snack, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. A woman and an unidentifiable body, fighting, coming closer and closer to us. I jumped to my feet and looked to my friend, who seemed unbothered by the spectacle. Frantic, I asked her if she is seeing what is happening before our eyes. Before I could hear her reply the woman tosses the other’s body to the floor and pulls out a syringe quickly injecting it into the body. I rush towards them taking the syringe out with my bare hands, unable to properly comprehend the situation. Suddenly I’m startled again by the gentle hand of my friend who asks if I am alright, and, perhaps, I should just go to bed then. I look back at my hands, no one lies before me. The body, the strange woman, and the syringe vanished as though they were never there at all.

The next day my friend was no where to be found. My family had come over for a visit. The first to arrive was my aunt who sat me down alongside my sisters at a picnic table resting in the backyard. She pointed up to a building located atop the hill that overlooked our home and began to tell the story of how she and my mom had joined the local scouting group as kids. She reminisced about one special day in particular that was especially fond. As she began to explain that they attended the welcoming ceremony, a sudden change in atmosphere was brought to my attention. The building that sat on the hill no longer looked worn and aged, but new and lively displaying a long painted welcome sign. My aunts words echoed softly in the distance as children began to exit the building bustling with laughter and joy. Exiting joined by a crowd of your girls was the exact copy of my aunt when she was younger. There was no denying that it was her, but how could she be beside me, a middle-aged woman, and there, a child no older than 14. I turn to my aunt, the crowds growing larger with children and proud parents alike atop the hill, she begins to laugh as she describes that my mother was a victim of a horrible joke of fate that day. My mother, the younger sister, walked out of the building that day wearing large circular frames and glops of purple paint all over her person after having been in a quick incident before the ceremony began and way to late to fix the damage that had been done. Quickly, I look back to the hill to see the exact moment my mother walks out with the other children, covered in purple paint and quite unhappy with her predicament, all while my aunt’s laughter rung in the background of my thoughts.

I sat up that night watching television on the air mattress situated in the living room. Cartoons, both realistic and firmly animated merged into one show, similar to The Amazing World of Gumball, I figured. My sister sat up from the couch she had been resting on and look at the television then at me. She asked what I was laughing at and stares back at the television. I apologize for disturbing her and point that the show I was watching was unusual and yet very funny and invite her to watch with me. She looks back to me incredibly confused and insists that there’s nothing happening on the television because it’s not on. I look at it and see from my point of view that it is very much on, in fact, it illuminated her face each time she turned. She shakes her head and insists that I must be half asleep or something because it is definitely not on. And, as if almost instantly, the room darkens, and the television is shut off without so much as a movement from either of us, not that she was aware of it.

My two other sisters and I drove up to a large campus. It was clean and had a very dull look about it. Nearly everything was white, gray, or black with very few hints of blue shining through on the metal railings that led up to the campus cafeteria. My sisters were beginning their first day of high school and their first day within this new school respectively. I, on the other hand, was beginning my first day as a new staff member on the campus. Because the three of us had never set foot on this campus before, we were reasonably confused on where it was we were supposed to be headed. Situated around the cafeteria were large circular stone tables crowded by students who seemed to know exactly where they where and why. We chose to question the smallest group in the vicinity. A taller young man sat in the center of one of the tables leaning back having a conversation with a crowd of 5 other students. As if they sensed our arrival, the students parted creating a clear path towards the one who sat above them. Not very impressive up close but surprisingly confident, the young man tells us exactly where we need to go and how to get there. We thank him and go about getting prepared for the first class. Within no time at all, we are all ushered to a large amphitheater at the center of the school. It’s made clear that this is some sort of welcoming assembly for new students and staff. While listening to the principal lecture on about the pride and accomplishments of the school, I get this strong depressive feeling that not is all that it seems. Before I could understand what is happening, right behind the principal, as he speaks highly of the institute, flames roar high as night begins to set. Cloaked figures stand tall illuminated by the flames before them revealing them to be various staff members of the school. At the center of their affair stands the principal himself donning the same black robes mirroring the same self that speaks to the crowded room of students and staff. As the active version of the man speaks glories, his alternative self commits heinous crimes, screams fill the room almost loud enough to drown out his real voice. It is then I finally understand what it is that I am seeing. This plague that had bewitched my very senses disallowing my brain to decipher vision from reality is no longer a nonsensical misfortune. I realize that I have somehow acquired the ability to view both past and present simultaneously as they occur within the same liminal space. For whatever reason I was blessed with this curse, it is my burden and my reason of being that I must now put an end to what occurs in the darkness and flames of this school and its organization. I repeat to myself this very thought as the principal confides that I, unexplainably special, was chosen for a greater purpose and introduces me to the Society of Shadows.

[wwilloww]

meeting fate halfway | chapter one

AUTHORS @sugalaritae and @wwilloww 

PAIRING Taehyung x Jungkook ft. Taehyung x OC GENRE vampire au. organized crime au. strangers to lovers. enemies to lovers. lovers to enemies. smut. angst. RATING 18+. mature.  SUMMARY The squeak of the freezer door, the giggles of couples enjoying noodles at the bar, and the hum of the fluorescent lights are all reminders that Taehyung could be doing something else. Could be living the life of his dreams if only society was kinder. If he had made better choices. As strange things begin to appear in his life—a stranger who insists on walking him home each night, and an unknown figure appearing in the shadows and in his dreams—he clings to his handsome and rich boyfriend Sungwon. After all, Sungwon is just a normal man. He's not dark. He's not dangerous. He doesn't have a secret. Right? WC 7.5k WARNINGS AND TAGS protective!jungkook. bodyguard!jungkook. possessiveness. semi-public sex. unprotected sex. threats of violence. supernatural. toxic relationships. possessive talk during sex. dark themes. mentions of drinking blood. creepy figures.

AN i am so incredibly thankful that willow agreed to do this with me! i suggested writing something together on a whim and then it all just fell into place and it's absolutely a dream come true to get to write with one of my favourite fic writers. i'm excited to hear what everyone thinks about our little child! there is so much to come in future chapters and we have basically spent the last few days screaming at each other with ideas. it's glorious. please let us know if there is anything that we got wrong in regards to Korean culture. no amount of research will ever take place of living there and being Korean. - ❤️ harrow

my oh my oh my i feel so thrilled to share this lovely little brain baby with you all! it is a dream to get to work with Harrow and i honestly couldn't ask for a better partner in crime. thank you especially to @hesperantha @sunshinerainbowsbts who lent their orbs to this project! and to all of you: welcome along for the ride!

CHAPTER ONE

Taehyung knows what love is. 

At least, that’s what he’s told Namjoon three times tonight. But as he glares at the blue light of his phone, he can’t ignore the flickering above his head. It won’t stop flickering. Three times every fifteen seconds, like some kind of morse code telling him he’s wrong. A flicker for each resolute “I know it’s love” tossed over the technological ether and into Namjoon’s phone. The sequence is not a coincidence, it’s there for a reason and he’s beginning to doubt his own thoughts. 

Except there's no code in the lights. Just a constant and horrible reminder that Taehyung's life isn't what he wants. Like the way that his ass aches from the hard metal stool he sits on when the store is quiet. 

The shop bell rings, and Taehyung lifts his head. 

The man that left a mark on Taehyung’s collarbone saunters in, the smell of sweet night following him into the convenience store. 

Taehyung can never look away from him, the way that he stares, the way he sees Taehyung. Taehyung had seen men like him before, the kind of man that seems to be dressed head-to-toe in charisma. The kind of man that can switch quickly from comfort to mocking in a second and could make Taehyung get on his knees with a snap of his fingers, except that isn’t Sungwon. Sungwon is surprising, deep,  and Taehyung knows there is more to discover and he aches for the next layer of mystery to be stripped away.

“Babe,” Taehyung grins as Sungwon steps behind the counter and close to him, his head blocking the light and cutting off the code. It gives Taehyung’s brain a break. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” Sungwon chuckles, his gaze flicking down to the phone Taehyung holds in his hands. “Put it away.” 

Taehyung tsks and rolls his eyes, but puts his phone away anyways.

“You could go easy on me,” he says. 

“C’mon, babe,” Sungwon steps closer and slips a finger under Taehyung’s chin and lifts his head gently, his eyes dark as he looks down at Taehyung. He swipes a finger over Taehyung’s frown. “You know I can’t hold you to a different standard than the other employees just because we’re fucking.” 

“Oh? So we’re just fucking?” Taehyung cuts back, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. 

Sungwon grins at Taehyung. “Fucking. And more.” Sungwon says with a wink. 

“What brings you by?” Taehyung secretly hopes he’ll answer that he’s come by for him, but knows that Sungwon never comes by the shop for Taehyung unless he’s showing up for a dick appointment. Which, of course, Taehyung doesn’t mind. Sungwon says he doesn’t mix business and pleasure, but he’s a hypocrite. At least it keeps Taehyung on his toes. And his knees.

The two met when Sungwon bought the convenience store. Taehyung was the slender, young sales clerk, and Sungwon had immediately taken a liking to him, asking him out the first time they met. Taehyung didn’t know where his life was going, but he did know one thing: he could get out. He could travel. So when they met, he was in the process of saving up for a plane ticket to anywhere, and in walzed Sungwoon, jetsetter extraordinaire and businessman. It was easy for Taehyung to quickly agree to the striking and charming man, especially when Sungwon had promised to take him out to Crave, the brand new hip restaurant in Itaewon. Itaewon wasn’t Paris, but it was far enough outside of his world. He had been there before. Had walked in front of the storefronts, each one reminding him of posters hanging on a wall of places he wanted to travel. There but just out of reach. 

Taehyung wasn’t sure why Sungwon had invested in such a shit property with the convenience store, considering how quiet the business always was, tucked down a quiet, unfrequented street. Sungwon always seemed like such a shrewd businessman though, so Taehyung never questioned him. Never questioned the strange packages that started coming through the back door. Never questioned the late night frequent customers who never seemed to buy anything, but always needed to talk to the owner. He had learned long ago that questions only lead him to trouble.

The bell chimes again and Sungwon quickly steps away from Taehyung, brushing his hands together. 

“Back to work,” Sungwon says, maybe a little too loudly and giving no answer to Taehyung’s question of what it was that brought Sungwon by the little shop.

“Right. Boss.” 

“I love you,” Sungwon whispers before heading to the back office. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it still sends a shiver down Taehyung’s spine, the delight of attention, of affection, from a man like Sungwon.

“Love you, too.” It slips off of his tongue easily, like a well-rehearsed line. Like it’s supposed to be there. Right? It’s supposed to be there. 

Taehyung finally gets a look at the person who’s come through the door. It’s one of his regulars, someone who’s been by the shop for months, though he doesn’t know his name. Just knows him by the leather biker pants he’s always wearing and the motorcycle helmet he keeps slung over one arm. Taehyung watches him as he struts inside, twirling the helmet once around—and knocking a display of snacks over. 

“Oh, shit,” the man says, looking at Taehyung. 

This has happened before. This happens all the time. Someone makes a mess, then expects him to clean it up. 

“It happens,” he sighs and makes his way over. 

“Hey—” There’s a hand on him, and Taehyung freezes. He looks down. The man’s tattooed hand is gripped around his bicep, holding firm. “I’ll take care of it. It’s my mess.” 

“It’s in the job description,” Taehyung offers, bending down. “Don’t worry.” 

“I said, I’ll take care of it.” The man’s expression looks so stern, so serious, that Taehyung stops and takes a step back. 

“I mean, if you insist.” 

“I do.” 

And then the man smiles. Taehyung blinks back at him, and hurries back behind the counter. The man’s kindness has taken him off guard. It would have been more normal for him to disregard his mess and leave it for Taehyung to take care of on his own. 

Taehyung retreats to his seat by the register. 

Averting his gaze from the man in the store who seems to keep looking at him, he distracts himself by counting the flickering light again.  

“A bit annoying isn’t it?” the man asks and points up to the light, his eyes going wide as he looks up, his mouth opening just a little. Taehyung can’t help but notice how young the man suddenly looks as he gives a little blink with each flicker like he’s trying to decipher the code himself. Taehyung’s gaze follows and then he shrugs. 

“Yeah.”

The man looks back down and at Taehyung, blinking a few times to clear his sight. Taehyung knows that he’s seeing the bright line, engraved in his vision, just like Taehyung and it must be brighter as he was staring at the light longer than Taehyung was. 

“If you just unscrew it a little but keep it in there it won’t flicker but the bulb beside it will stay lit,” the man says and Taehyung smiles. Twice he’s helped him out without needing to, even though this could only be considered advice, it’s advice that Taehyung thinks he might take. Maybe as soon as Sungwon is gone, he’ll get onto the counter and try it. 

“Just be careful you don’t fall,” the man says as if he’s reading Taehyung’s mind. 

“Oh,” Taehyung says, caught off guard. 

“Might be better if you have someone to help you. Why don’t we do it now?” 

Taehyung glances to the back of the store where Sungwon’s office is. Sungwon wouldn’t like him getting on the counter when a customer could walk in at any moment. But then again, it’s his job to man the store, which includes fixing random bits and pieces here and there. So Taehyung nods, and begins to scramble onto the counter. 

He jolts when a pair of hands come down on his hips. 

“I’ve got you,” the man says. “You won’t fall. Not under my watch.” The man cracks a smile and Taehyung’s cheeks redden. He quickly returns to the job at hand, doing his best not to be blinded by the glaring light above or the thought of the bright smile below. 

“There, done,” Taehyung says. But the man doesn’t take his hands off of Taehyung’s hips. “I’m done,” he repeats. 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

The man almost looks like he’s blushing. 

“Taehyung.” 

The cold voice that echoes from the other side of the shop makes Taehyung stumble. But he’s held up by a strong set of hands and quickly rights himself, brushing down his apron before looking at the source of the voice. Sungwon stands in his office doorway, arms crossed. 

“Meet me in my office.” 

“Fuck, Sungwon,” Taehyung groans, as his lover rams into him. “Right—right there.” 

Taehyung is currently bent over Sungwon’s desk, papers pushed to the side to make room for Taeahyung’s torso. He’s on his elbows, but Sungwon rakes his hand through his hair and presses down, pushing his cheek into the cold surface of the desk. His hands flail to the side, palms spread wide like he’s praying. To what god? Taehyung doesn’t know, just knows the pleasure that flits through his body. 

Sungwon chuckles. “You think you can tell me what to do with you right now? Pretty pet doesn’t understand.” 

Taehyung grits his teeth. It feels so fucking good, and the sharpness of Sungwon’s words goes straight to his head. 

“I got you all pretty and prepped, I’m so gentle with you. When I should be punishing you.” He presses his hips against Taehyung’s ass and grinds into him, earning a groan from the man beneath him. “That’s what you deserve, don’t you? For letting another man touch you like that?” 

“I didn’t—” 

“Shhh,” Sungwon coos, his hand gliding down Taehyung’s back. “I saw it. Saw it with my own eyes. I didn’t think you needed reminding.” 

“Re-reminding—” Taehyung’s words jostle with every thrust. “Of what?” 

“That you’re mine.” 

Taehyung emerges from Sungwon’s office, hair a mess, cheeks aflame, sweat beading on his forehead. He looks thoroughly fucked. He had only been gone for what? Fifteen, twenty minutes? He always seems to lose track of time with Sungwon. But still he wonders if anyone noticed. If anyone listened in while he was being fucked into the desk. 

 The man is sitting at one of the tables in the back. He watches with wide eyes. He stands, and then thinking better of it, sits again. His eyes don’t leave Taehyung’s form. Taehyung wonders if he heard anything. 

“Remember who you belong to,” Sungwon murmurs into Taehyung’s ear before giving his ass a squeeze. 

The man’s eyes flash with unspoken emotion. 

“You,” Taehyung nods, a small smile on his lips. He’s drunk off of the attention, off of the possessive streak that Sungwon so boldly wears. Sungwon who never seems to care what anyone will think of them, the potential danger of having Taehyung in such a public setting. Taehyung feeds off it while a small space in the back of his mind is alert and ready to fight anyone who might say or do something. 

Even now, he wants to look up and challenge the man to say something but instead his eyes are glued to the floor, flickering closed as Sungwon’s words linger against his skin. 

Taehyung returns to his place behind the counter, wiping a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes. His gaze flickers to the man sitting in the corner. He’s slurping on a drink, his mouth wrapped around a straw, but his eyes are locked on Taehyung. 

He thinks he can ignore the regular, thinks he can go about his work. Taehyung doesn't like the way that the customer watches him but there is something written on his face, a moment of discomfort and Taehyung wonders if maybe it's the realization of who he is. Who he is attracted to. The man continues to stare, and it feels like his gaze is boring into the back of Taehyung’s head, feels like he can see right through his brain to the thoughts in his mind, right through the office door to where he was fucked. It itches, the attention, and soon it becomes so much that Taehyung whips around. 

“What?” Taehyung snaps. “What is it?” 

The man swirls his straw around his drink once, then twice before answering. “Why do you let him talk to you like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re some kind of plaything. Some kind of pet.” 

“I’m not his pet.” 

“He basically leads you around on a leash.” 

Taehyung is flabbergasted. 

“And what right do you have to make assumptions like that?” 

The man shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe I know a thing or two about what it means to be tied up with someone.” 

Taehyung frowns. “There’s nothing going on.” He hates lying about his relationship but knows that Sungwon would be furious if he were to spill the details of his private life to a customer. 

“Suit yourself.” 

Taehyung thinks the man will get up and leave after the interaction, but instead, he just sits there, sipping on his drink entirely unbothered. 

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Taehyung asks. 

“Nope.” 

“Great.” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes and flicks his phone back on. Maybe Sungwon will see and pull him back into his office for another “punishment.” 

Weeks have gone by. Taehyung’s eyes dart to the window. The wind presses a smattering of fallen leaves against the glass, and a large one has gotten caught in the door where it flaps and flutters desperately, trying to get free. Taehyung has the urge to open the door, just to see it fly free. 

Sungwon is gone and Taehyung is left to close up. 

“You gotta go,” Taehyung tells the man, who has once more returned to the convenience store. He’s sipping on his fourth or fifth banana milk of the evening. 

“Alright,” the man says, and disposes of his cup. He goes to the door and just stands there. 

Taehyung finishes his closing duties and stares at the man. “What are you doing?” 

“Waiting for you.” 

“Why?” 

“I was gonna offer to walk you home.” He opens the door and holds it for Taehyung. He steps through, and when it closes, locks it up. 

Taehyung is taken aback by the proposition. “No, no, that’s alright.” 

“It’s late. And it’s dark. And you’re a pretty boy—” 

“I’m not a boy.” 

“—Man, sorry,” he corrects himself. “It’s not as safe out there as you’d like to think it is. Just let me walk you home.” 

“What about your bike? Are you just going to leave it here?” he asks, eyes casting down to the helmet that is still in the man’s hands.

“I’ll come back and get it, no big deal.” 

“You don’t know where I live; it could be a long walk.” 

The other man just shrugs. 

Taehyung frowns at him and he’s about to say ‘no’ once more when his gaze focuses on something over the man’s shoulder. At the end of the road, something large and dark looms. It looks like a tall figure, almost human. But there’s something about the way it moves, so fluidly, like it’s walking on air, that sends a chill down Taehyung’s spine. 

Something’s wrong, he knows it right away. 

Without thinking, he reaches out for the man and grips his arm, tighty, his fingers digging into the leather of his jacket. 

“Let’s go.” 

He tugs him in the opposite direction of the figure, his steps quickening. But the man stalls, heavy and unwilling to be pulled at Taehyung’s pace. But then he looks over his shoulder too and something changes in his face. Fear? Possibly but  also something horrible—recognition.

“Alright, let’s go,” the man says, taking Taehyung’s arm and tugging him forward. 

The two walk quickly to the end of the road, where the streetlights resume, painting the streets golden. When Taehyung turns around, the figure is gone. He breathes out, but there’s still an unyielding tightness in his chest. 

“What the hell was that?” 

“Nothing,” the man says, but there’s something in his firm-set gaze that makes Taehyung think he knows exactly what that something was. 

“You know, don’t you?” 

“No.” But his mouth twitches. 

“You’re a bad liar.” 

“Let’s just get you home.” The man takes Taehyung’s arm and begins walking. Taehyung notices that they’re walking in the correct direction of his little apartment, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe the other man is just as eager as Taehyung is to get away from the sighting of the strange figure. 

They walk in silence for some time, before Taehyung realizes that the man still has his arm clutched in his, and he slowly pulls it out to walk by himself. The man looks almost hurt, but he says nothing and they continue on their way. 

“What’s your name?” Taehyung asks finally, breaking the silence. “I’ve seen you around for months and yet I have no idea who you are.”

“Maybe it’s better that way,” the man says, tight lipped. 

“Seriously.?” he asks with a  little laugh, “Mr. Mysterious. Oooh I’m so mysterious,” he laughs. “What’s your name?”

He scratches at his long dark hair before answering. “You can call me Jungkook. Most of my friends call me JK.” 

“I’m Taehyung.” 

“I know.” 

Taehyung looks at him with concern—how does this man know so much about him?—before Jungkook nods down at the glistening silver name badge on his chest. 

“Ah. Right. What do you do, Jungkook?” Taehyung has always wondered this, considering Jungkook showed up at the convenience store at the strangest of hours. 

“This and that.” 

Taehyung laughs. “That’s not an answer.” 

“I uh, well. I help some folks out. With their, um, business. Doing odd ends, bits and pieces. I hardly know what I’ll end up doing each day. I just go where they tell me.” He shrugs. 

“That sounds exciting,” Taehyung sighs. “I wish I had something like that.” 

“What? You don’t dream of being a sales clerk your whole life?” 

Jungkook is joking, but Taehyung still winces. “Ouch.” 

“Oh, come on, you must have dreams,” Jungkook says, nudging him. “Something that you wish you could do. Even if it’s improbable.” 

Taehyung nods, he had dreams once. Thought about getting out of the city he grew up in, seeing the world, having people know his name and face; the problem with dreams is that sometimes they stay dreams. They stay in one’s mind and trap the soul in what ifs and could have beens. Those what ifs and could have beens float through his head as he sits and watches the store. As he watches as couples float in and out of the door. As he stocks shelves and slips past people wearing the brand of watch that he’d wear if he had the life that he wanted. But for that kind of life to become reality, a person needs support, people, community—and that’s just not something that Taehyung has ever known. Never known what it’s like to be told that they believe in him. Until Sungwon walked into his life, took over the shop, and slipped into Taehyung’s bed. He, at least, seemed to inspire something in Taehyung, even if he didn’t have a name for what that was. 

“No, not really,” Taehyung says. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what I’m good at, don’t know what I want to do.” 

“Hm,” Jungkook hums and is quiet for a moment. “So you’re saying at no point no one ever paid you a compliment?” 

Taehyung’s not sure what that has to do with anything, but still, he thinks about it. “Someone once told me I have a good voice. Used to have me sing for her.”

“See, there you go!” Jungkook looks thrilled, and his outpouring of excitement makes Taehyung crack a smile. It’s a nice contrast to his hard-edged biker look. “You’re a born singer.”

“One compliment makes me a born singer?” Taehyung asks with a laugh as he turns to look at Jungkook. The man is already looking back at him with a directness as if he’s not concerned that there are any cracks in the road to trip on. 

“How did the compliment make you feel? How did it feel when she asked you to sing for her?” Jungkook asks before looking away. Taehyung can’t help but feel a poking desire to have the other man’s eyes on him again. His gaze felt good. It  felt warm. He can’t help but compare it to Sungwon. With Sungwon’s eyes on him, he feels like he’s been thrust on stage and blinded by a spotlight. With Jungkook, it feels like a soft summer sun.

He shrugs, “Good, I guess.”

“Just good?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jungkook shakes his head, “You know, some days I think about what else I could be doing and I can’t think of a single thing. Maybe it would be nice to have someone tell me that I’m good at something—something that I was born with. I imagine it would feel like a warm drink on a cold day. Or like they’re wrapping your sadness up in a blanket.” 

Taehyung is struck by the sudden profundity of Jungkook’s words. He hadn’t thought that much was going on behind all that leather and tattoos. He thinks about this image and about the compliment and nods: “I think that might be a really good way of putting it. Like it’s filling a part of you that you didn’t think would be filled. Or even noticed.” 

“Exactly,” Jungkook says, his voice excited as he turns to Taehyung and gives him a big, wide eyed smile. “Did hearing something good about you make you want to sing more?” 

Taehyung nods.

“See? Born singer. The compliment isn’t the thing that makes you want to sing. "But it gave the part of you that wanted to sing the attention it was asking for. And that is what makes you born to do it.”

Taehyung is silent as he lets Jungkook’s words settle in his mind. For the first time in a very long time the door leading to his dream unlocks. It doesn’t open. But it unlocks. 

The silence slips comfortably around the two of them and the figure is forgotten. It’s a pleasant silence, one that feels as if Taehyung has known Jungkook forever, and he supposes he has in a way, as Jungkook is a face that he sees every day. It’s not long until they’ve arrived at Taehyung’s apartment, and he’s suddenly nervous that he’s led this stranger to his home because that is what Jungkook is after all—a frequent stranger. So he lies. 

“Well, I’m almost home. About two blocks away. I’ll leave you here.” 

Jungkook looks up at the apartment building, directly at Taehyung’s window, and then shrugs with a smile. “Sure,” he says. 

“Um, thank you. Thank you for walking me home.” 

“Anytime. Anytime you need me—I mean, need my help. Or, you know, a compliment,” Jungkook says. “Don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll have one ready.” 

Fall fades, just as the bright leaves on the trees do. Life seems to go on undisturbed.

Though something is disturbed. Taehyung has begun having nightmares of a strange figure following him through the streets of Seoul. No matter how fast he runs, the figure always stays the same distance away. He wakes up in a sweat. 

It’s the reason why Taehyung doesn’t fight Jungkook off when he offers to walk him home. Some nights they talk about places that Taehyung wants to visit, Jungkook’s dream motorcycle, complaints about their bosses—who often display similar faults. Taehyung surprises himself when he complains about the man who is his boyfriend and boss, and doesn’t feel guilty.  No matter what they talk about, they never quite let the other in, and sometimes they walk in silence.

When the first snow comes, Taehyung is walking home with Jungkook. Jungkook is donned in what Taehyung has come to believe must be some kind of uniform: leather pants and a leather jacket. Despite the cold, his jacket is open, revealing a black turtleneck beneath, and the glint of a silver chain around his neck. Taehyung thinks they must make an odd pairing, what with him in a huge white puffer coat that Sungwon insisted on buying him and a scarf Namjoon knitted wrapped tightly around his throat. 

“Woah, would you look at that,” Jungkook muses, swinging his arm around Taehyung. He tilts his head up and looks directly up into the snow, the way it seems to appear out of the darkness. Taehyung looks down at the arm around him and finds himself smiling. 

“Yeah,” he says, looking at the way Jungkook’s cheeks scrunch up and lines appear at the sides of his eyes when he smiles. “Would you look at that.” 

Snow means his anniversary. Means an entire year spent together. Taehyung thinks that there’s going to be a break to everything. Snow means a clean slate, the change of seasons and memories of good things. The first time that the previous owner introduced Sungwon to Taehyung. The first look, the way that Sungwon looked at Taehyung and gave him a charming smile as he shook his hand. Normally businesses changing hands meant closure and Taehyung needing to find a new job as he had experienced before, but Sungwon, hand wrapped around Taehyung's and making eye contact that made Taehyung feel shy, guaranteed him that nothing would change. Except everything changed, at least for the two of them. 

“Do you ever think about the places that get more snow than we do?” Jungkook asks as they turn the corner onto Taehyung’s street. He still hasn’t told Jungkook that this is his street, they always say goodbye at the same place and Taehyung always waits until Jungkook has turned around and is out of sight to enter his building, worries still flitting through his mind that maybe he shouldn’t let this no-longer-a-stranger too close to him. Sometimes he wonders where Jungkook disappears each night, but he never asks. 

“You mean like the mountains?” 

“No, like other countries where they have snow permanently on the ground for months,” Jungkook says with a far off look as if he’s picturing a specific place. 

“I don’t think I have.” 

“I do, all the time. When I was little my dad used to show me pictures of snow as tall as my waist.” 

Taehyung looks at the other man, it’s the first time that he’s heard about Jungkook’s past and he’s intrigued but almost as quickly as the question was pulled out of nowhere, Jungkook stops and turns to Taehyung. “I love snow,” Jungkook explains before he looks up at the falling flakes. “Have a good night.” And with that he’s gone back the way they traveled. 

Taehyung watches him for a moment and then, instead of entering his building, he gazes up at the sky. Watching as the snow falls down, each flake becoming bigger as they get closer to him. He’s lost in watching them, how mesmerizing they are falling from the sky. How each one appears out of the nothingness of the sky. He hears the sound of a car passing and steps off the road and toward his building, stopping as he smells a strange scent. But it seems too out of place for his mind to recognize what it is. It makes him hesitate and he looks around, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and he tries to  take a deep breath to steady himself but can’t quite find the air to fill his lungs. 

The scent fills his senses, and he can almost taste it on his tongue. It tastes of metal and earth. He knows he's smelled it before, at night, tied inexorably to Jungkook. It's been there all along, since that first night Jungkook walked him home. Now, though, he's alone and it's out of place so he begins to look for its source. Turning his gaze in each direction. Then he sees it—the figure. It stands at the top of the street, a form illuminated by the flickering light of a street lamp. Though he can’t see its face he knows it’s staring directly at him. A shiver runs down his spine and, for a moment, he’s frozen until a voice in his head tells him to run. He does, without thinking. He runs into the lobby of his building and past the group of teenagers that are always gathered playing games until their parents come down and yell at them to go back to their homes. He doesn’t take the elevator, he runs up the stairs instead, and doesn’t breathe until he’s safe behind a locked door in his apartment. 

No matter how many times they’ve met in the swanky bar on the first floor of Sungwon’s apartment complex, Taehyung still feels out of place. Even though he’s been dressed up in the finest clothes by his boyfriend, he still feels like someone will take one look at him and deem him an imposter. 

Taehyung searches the bar for a sign of his boyfriend. His gaze sweeps across couples and small groups dressed to the nines and scattered on plush seating, their faces shrouded by the dark atmosphere. That was something that Taehyung had quickly learned about all these fancy places: they seem to thrive in darkness. 

Maybe it was something about the secrecy of it all.

In the corner, there’s someone that almost looks familiar. A sweep of dark hair. A dance of leather. But the figure disappears into a booth and Taehyung doesn’t think twice about it. 

That’s when he spots Sungwon’s figure, draped over a chair at the bar. He’s smiling his signature smile at the bartender, but then, as if noticing Taehyung’s presence, his gaze shoots directly to his boyfriend. 

Sungwon orders Taehyung’s drink for him, already knowing the younger man’s taste well. But the thing about Sungwon is that as familiar as he is with what Taehyung does and doesn’t like, he always takes a certain pleasure in pushing Taehyung’s tastes further, urging him to try new things, mixing new ingredients into favorite drinks, and watching closely as Taehyung sipped from his glass, eager to know what he thinks. 

 Tonight is no different. 

The drink washes across Taehyung’s tongue, but he’s quick to grimace. 

“Ugh, gosh.” He tries to right his features, put on a smile. “It’s good!” 

Sungwon chuckles. “You don’t like it.” 

“I do!” 

“You don’t. Why don’t you like it?” 

“I don’t know. It tastes off. Like metallic or something. Iron.” 

“Hm,” Sungwon hums. “I usually like that palate.” 

“I guess we can’t agree on everything.”

The candles flicker, lighting up Sungwon’s face with a pattern of dancing light and shadow. Taehyung can’t take his eyes off of him. 

“Get him a new one,” Sungwon directs to the bartender. “Something sweet. Something a little more simple.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

When the new drink comes, Taehyung swirls it around, once, then twice, before lifting his glass. 

“Happy anniversary, babe,” he grins and offers his cocktail to his lover. They clink glasses.

One year together. One year since Sungwon waltzed into that store and swept Taehyung off of his feet. Today, Sungwon had Taehyung sent to a tailor to get a suit fitted just for him. He showered Taehyung with gifts, which made the younger man wonder if he had been able to afford them from the profits from the convenience store or from one of his many other businesses. He never really understood how money worked in Sungwon’s world, just that there was a lot of it. But who was he to complain? 

He feels pampered, luxuriated in the most divine way. 

The bartender sweeps by, breaking Taehyung’s reverie. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Sungwon says. 

“But I haven’t finished my drink,” Taehyung replies. 

“Then bring it with you.” 

Taehyung looks at the expensive crystal glass and back at Sungwon. He grins and the two of them slip out of the bar. 

The couple eats dinner in relative silence in Sungwon’s penthouse, sharing comments about their day and the food. A staff member comes to clear their dinner plates and refills their wine. 

When desert comes, Taehyung reaches his foot beneath the table and glides it up the inside of Sungwon’s thigh. Sungwon closes his eyes and sighs. He puts a hand on Taehyung’s foot before brushing it off of his leg. 

“We need to talk.” 

Taehyung’s breath stills in his throat. Is this it? Is it over? Taehyung worries that he’s done something wrong, that somehow he’s messed up this perfect thing that he’s built with this beautiful man. He wonders if it was the interaction from the other week, when Jungkook—had gotten too close for Sungwon’s comfort. Maybe if Taehyung had been a bit more stand-offiish, or rude towards the man, he wouldn’t have messed this all up.

Or maybe Sungwon has finally learned about his late night walks with Jungkook. Maybe he thinks that this Jungkook means something to him. How is he supposed to explain he’s accepted a stranger’s help because he saw an eerie shadow in the darkness? 

He’ll have to try his best. He doesn’t want to lose Sungwon. 

Sungwon dismisses the staff members for the night, even his bodyguard, and leads Taehyung to the sprawling couch. A fire roars in the hearth, spilling warmth and light towards the two figures. He lets Taehyung sit first, before settling beside him. He rests a hand on his lover’s thigh and pulls him close. 

“There’s a part of me that I’ve never shared with you.” 

“Oh?” Taehyung perks up. Maybe it’s not as bad as he thought. He’s always been eager to get beneath the aura of mystery of the man he calls his boyfriend. And this is it. This is really it. “What is it? You can tell me anything.” 

A smile spreads across Sungwon’s face and Taehyung thinks how absolutely beautiful it is. How soft and wonderful it is, only a matter of time and the closeness that he’s been craving will be there. Sungwon’s truth and self will be laid out on the table instead of Taehyung’s body. 

“Look at you,” Sungwon says, his eyes moving along Taehyung’s face. “So beautiful.” 

Taehyung can feel the heat slip into his cheeks. 

“I wish there was a better way of putting this,” Sungwon pauses and Taehyung can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest with impatience. “How can I explain this to you? How can I make you understand?” Sungwon chuckles, as if sharing an inside joke with himself. 

“I can understand perfectly well,” Taehyung says defensively. This had come up before. Taehyung had never been to college. Sungwon had, and Taehyung often felt that his boyfriend held the difference in education over his head. 

“Of course you can, baby. You know, there are things out in this big, scary world that go beyond our ability for reasonable explanation.” 

“Yeah, sure?” Taehyung responds. He’s not sure where Sungwon is going with this, but then again, Sungwon has always had a flair for the dramatic. 

“There are big, scary things in this big, scary world,” Sungwon says solemnly, glancing between Taehyung’s eyes. “Like me.” 

Taehyung laughs. “What are you talking about? You’re not big and scary! Well maybe not scary.” But Sungwon is looking back at him with a dark look in his eyes, and the laugh quickly stills in his throat. “What are you talking about?” he repeats, this time quieter. 

“You don’t know who I am. What I am.” 

This time Taehyung doesn’t fight him. He just watches on with wide eyes. 

“Some people call me a monster.” 

Taehyung’s brow furrows. A cold shiver runs down his spine. He wants to protest, tell the man who has kissed him, held him and whispered sweet words into his ear that he can’t be a monster; but there’s something sitting there behind the statement. A truth behind the words. Sungwon believes it and it shines in his eyes like a twisted sparkle that makes Taehyung pause before objecting. 

“I have a particular taste.” 

Taehyung looks around the spacious and luxurious penthouse that they’re currently lounging in. An expensive taste? That much is obvious. But Sungwon seems to be alluding to something else, speaking between the lines. 

“Spit it out,” Taehyung says. 

Sungwon shakes his head and smiles a little smile. “The closest we have in Korean is the Kumiho—but that isn’t right. I’m not a fox, nor am I woman.” Sungwon seems to get lost in his head. “I suppose we do have the myth now as the west influences our culture. There are many names for what I am. Vampire might be the closest, though even that is not entirely correct.” 

Taehyung just blinks back at him. He bursts out laughing. “Is this some kind of joke? Some kind of Twilight, Edward impression? Babe, if you wanted to roleplay, you could have just told me.”

Sungwon doesn’t smile back. He grips Taehyung by the shoulders and he stills beneath his hold. 

“I’m not joking here, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung’s gaze flickers between Sungwon’s eyes. There’s something cold, hard, in them, something that Taehyung has only seen in fleeting moments–blips– before. 

“Oh. Oh.” Taehyung’s head spins. “You’re a fucking vampire? What the fuck, Sungwon?”

“Not a vampire—but sure, use that word. I thought you might have overreacted to this information.” Sungwon rolls his eyes and shifts closer to his boyfriend, his hands still on his shoulders. 

“I’m overreacting? I’m overreacting?” Taehyung’s hands flail by his sides, and Sungwon’s hands brush down his arms to still the movement, to calm him, to provide some reassurance, but Taehyung is not reassured. He shakes off Sungwon’s hold and tries to stand but Sungwon pulls him back down. 

“This doesn’t change anything, Taehyung,” Sungwon says, looking deep into his eyes. “Well it changes one thing.” 

“It changes everything, Sungwon,” Taehyung whispers. “It changes everything.” 

“No, really, it only changes one thing.” He waits for Taehyung to say something, but when he doesn’t, he continues. “It changes what you are to me.” 

Taehyung stops squirming. He looks Sungwon in the eye and Sungwon is as serious as day. 

“What I am to you?” Not who, but what. 

Taehyung understands immediately. 

“It’s only natural,” Sungwon grins, and moves closer to Taehyung, pinning him against the armrest of the couch. His hand slides up Taehyung’s thigh. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I met you—how sweet you smell, how delectable.” Sungwon’s tongue ghosts over his lips, like he’s tasting the air. “But of course, I didn’t want you running off like a scared little mouse.” 

“You—you want to eat me?!” Taehyung gasps, pushing against Sungwon’s chest. But he doesn’t budge. Taehyung just squirms in his seat, but he’s pinned down. 

“It sounds so undomesticated when you put it that way. I just want to taste you. I want us to be closer to each other in this way.” 

“Closer?” He doesn’t want to know how much closer they can be, or what kind of closeness Sungwon is talking about. His mind whirls through the possibilities and all of them leave him feeling sick and dizzy. It disgusts him. 

“Of course. In my world , there’s nothing like the bond between a sanguisuge and his pet.” Sungwon had always called Taehyung his pet, but now the word takes on an entirely different meaning, and Taehyung feels a tightness around his neck like there’s an invisible collar that was tied around him the first time Sungwon whispered the term, a whisper that created a leash and has tied Taehyung to him. “There’s a special thing that happens when a man lets his lover feed from him. A kind of bond. Unbreakable. You’d be mine.”

 “Yours?” 

This is what Taehyung has been waiting for since he met Sungwon. That moment of commitment. That promise of ensuring stability. Knowing that someone who cares for him, who can support him, is going to be there for him forever. But no, no, this is all wrong. This isn't how he pictured it. It was supposed to be filled with love and this–this is not love.

Sungwon is staring him down with a raw hunger in his eyes, and his grip on Taehyung is tighter than it’s ever been, so tight Taehyung is sure it will leave a bruise.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Taehyung whispers. 

“I don’t usually wait this long,” Sungwon explains. “But you’re special. You’re different from the others.” 

“The others?” he asks, his voice cracking. 

Sungwon chuckles darkly, brushing Taehyung’s bangs with a long finger, watching as they fall back into place. Taehyung can feel the other man trace a line down his cheek and jaw until he stops, both aware that Sungwon can feel the quickened heartbeat under his finger. Taehyung shudders.“You must know there were others. You don’t think I went my whole life with no one before you?” He laughs, and Taehyung tenses at the sound. “You’re special, but you’re not the only one.” The words ache, despite the fear that’s building like bile in Taehyung’s throat. “But with you—” Sungwon leans close and lets his lips ghost against the column of his lover’s neck. “I wanted to make sure you were ready. That you were willing. It’s not easy being who I am. It’s not pretty being who I am. I needed to know I had your loyalty.”

“My loyalty?” It all sounds like a sick game to Taehyung, who looks back on the previous year with Sungwon with a sense of nausea. All those touches, kisses, words whispered between them in secret in public and then louder and moaned while in private; memories begin to build like a stack of blocks built by a child, ready to fall and crumble at any moment.

As Sungwon’s hand drifts down Taehyung’s torso, going to cup the younger through his pants, a flash of heat spikes through Taehyung’s body and he pushes Sungwon away. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” he cries, standing on shaky legs, but standing nonetheless. “I don’t want to be your fucking adult vampire juice box, Sungwon!” 

Sungwon laughs, a cold and dark sound that sends splinters through Taehyung’s bravery. “Never heard it put that way,” he says before he reaches for the glass of whiskey that he had poured for Taehyung and has sat still on the table.

“That’s what I’ve always liked about you,” he says languidly, his words slipping around the room like the cool liquid slips around the inside of the glass. “You always have such a unique perspective on things. An adult vampire juice box,” he repeats with a chuckle before he holds the glass out for Taehyung with a nod indicating for Taehyung to rejoin him. 

Taehyung stares at the glass as it reflects bits of light from around the room. A quick and horrible taste fills his mouth as he realizes complaints that Sungwon has made about food and drink. Complaints of blandness, of missing flavor. The taste builds to panic as he realizes that Sungwon has been giving him puzzle pieces over the last year, waiting for him to put everything together. 

“I won’t do it! I won’t!” Taehyung backs up, moving towards the door. Sungwon stands and walks calmly towards him, holding his hands out. 

“You’re just in shock. We don’t have to do anything tonight. I know you need some time to adjust, to come to understand—” 

“Fuck adjusting, fuck understanding!” Taehyung cries, shaking his head. He reaches behind him for the door, and presses down on it. It doesn’t budge. He twirls around, tugging desperately on it, to no avail. 

It’s then that a pair of strong hands grabs his shoulders and spins him around, pressing him firmly against the wood of the door. Sungwon slides closer, pressing his body up against Taehyung’s. How is it possible that he looks taller? That the height difference Taehyung always liked now feels terrifying. This is what a mouse must feel like when caught between predator and wall.  

Taehyung is sure that Sungwon is going to hurt him, that he’s going to do something horrible. 

But instead, Sungwon’s hands drift lightly over Taehyung’s waist, his fingers teasing beneath the fabric of his shirt. He can’t help the goosebumps that rise to the surface of his skin. 

“Baby, don’t you know the doors always lock around here?” Sungwon whispers against Taehyung’s neck. “Don’t you know I don’t like my playthings running out on me before I’m done with them?”

“I’ll leave you—” Taehyung stutters out, his breath coming quickly, his hands shaking. “I’ll leave you and you’ll never see me again.” 

“Except you have nowhere to go, little one," Sungwon says, tilting Taehyung's chin up to meet his gaze. "I run this entire city." 

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