#it just brought unwanted attention to her body after her death

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 10 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 (here)

You’re sure it didn’t take a second after Alastor heard the introduction to immediately grab Kat with his many black tendrils that appeared under Kat’s feet. Her high-pitch screams made you cover your ears and and squeeze your eyes shut. At your discomfort, Alastor had a tendril wrapped around her mouth

You watched while Alastor had that raging murderous smile on his face while his eyes turned back. He threw Kat from building to building, never letting go and giving her a moment to recover. You timed a good 10 minutes before you placed a hand on Alastor’s arm to snap him out of his rage

It was considerate of him to not personally deal with her because you were still near and you two were out in the open so anything could happen. Normally, he would have torn her limb from limb and chomped down on her flesh like a piece of meat. Now this was a new method of torture

At your touch, Alastor’s head snapped to you. You pointed to a spot on the side of your head and told him Kat was marked by Vox’s servant symbol, meaning the contract she was mentioning had been one with Vox. Alastor’s grin widened even more and gave one final throw into the ground, creating a crater before releasing her from his hold

Kat gasped and groaned, trying to get up but fell back down. Slowly, she crawled her way out of the crater and ended up at your feet. You watched her with distain and pity. You honestly can’t understand why she’d take Vox’s deal, she was taken advantage of, possibility due to her having just arrived in Hell at the time and didn’t know the importance of a soul contract

“How dare you die…” Kat hissed, his hands clenched to fists. “You have no idea what I went through after that f**king stunt you pulled!”

“I’m assuming you meant you stealing My Darling’s work as your own?” Alastor glared sharply at Kat.

Kat laughed, “Hahahahaha! What kind of lies did you feed him?” She pointed a finger at you, “This f**ker let me! The b*tch was happy to write for me! I take the credit cause you don’t want the attention, remember?”

Your eyes narrowed. That’s what you told yourself all those time. You told yourself it was fine because you didn’t like all this publicity and attention. Yet the fact that you felt anger towards it meant you didn’t want to give your work to another. At least not when all this was given to someone like her

Honestly, how can she blame her later misfortune on your death? She was your best friend, shouldn’t she feel something about it? Anything? Even the slighty sadness before all this?

You gripped onto Alastor’s hand, feeling a headache and dizziness growing. You whispered that you wanted to go home

Alastor understood and with a final slap at the poor excuse of a friend across the face with his end of the cane, Alastor brought you two back to your shared room. Alastor asked if you needed anything but you merely said you needed some time alone

“If you require anything, Love. Just call me.”

“...”

Back at the crater, before Kat could recover from the blow or curse. She was swiftly pinned to the ground by the neck, a situation that was all too familiar. Sharp blade like needles stabbed into her hands and knees. Dread filled every fiber of her body as she tried to get out of the hold she’s under but her body was frozen in fear

Just like before

“Aww, The Dear Writer left so quickly… What a thoughtful bodyguard too. Nothing less will be fitting for the Dear.” The new figure cooed, their shoes applied more force on Kat’s neck, grinding her into the ground. “Don’t you agree, Faker?”

“How did you find me?” Kat shivered against the hold. “Ce— Ahhhhh!”

“Ah ah~ I think it’s only right that I have a new name down here, I’m Nemesis now.” The demon chuckled, “Not hard considering your new boss is quite infamous around the city. What with all the technology he sells, you appearing on TV was just an easy guess. Though my services aren’t required when you have this.”

Kat screamed when a sharp blade pierced into the place where Vox’s contract mark was implanted. 

Nemesis’ lips curved into a twisted smile as they continued to slowly torture the screaming female. “So where can I find the Dear Writer?”

“Hazbin… Hotel…”

“Many thanks.” Nemesis’ tail pulled out the blades without warning one by one, their ear flickering at the screams while they pulled out their phone. They grinned, pressing on something, “I think you were in the spotlight of fame a bit too long down here. Let’s return you to the nothing you are.”

Over the past few days, you’ve been working non-stop making all those TVs and speakers that you promised Vox. While doing so, you tried not using your pages and used your quill to write in the air like Lucifer suggested, it took some time since the mechanism was more complex than what you tried before. Though it offer as good exercise for you

Smoothly, you somehow managed to slowly not use your quill as well and changed to using your finger to scribble words in the air before flicking at it to summon your written object. That took way more energy that you can manage because the word required energy then the conjuration required even more energy

But you managed because you needed something to distract yourself from the recent train of events and emotional burn out

Alastor’s been trying to get you to pause in your work and relax. You ignore it all together and continued, even when Alastor pulled you away and into his arms, you were motionless and repeated told him to let go so you could work. All he could do was continue to provide you with meals and reminders to rest since you were practicing and needed energy to continue

At least that got you to pull away from work. The light in your eyes was soft and dimmed, but it was better than when you were first on the verge of breaking down like a broken doll

Like before, Charlie and the others asked about you from Alastor when he was cooking your meals. It was like the time when you first arrived in the hotel, that was when you were doing it of your own volitation with Alastor as your excuse. Now, it was because you were helping the hotel and got unwanted attention

When all of Vox’s devices were being ddelivered by Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk with a hypnotic resistance charm casted on them by you, you covered yourself in a blanket and drowned yourself in music

You were exhausted physically and mentally, you wanted to push yourself even more but you knew Alastor would be against it all the way and you don’t want to push him to do forceful thing just to make you see reason. You know Alastor would feel worse than you do because of his love and devotion towards you

At the thought of that, you feel even worse that you were treating Alastor do badly. Even worse, he’s seeing this pathetic side of you. What if he leaves you? What if he thinks you’re not worth it? What if—

A familiar rhythemic knocking on your door brought you out of your thoughts. Alastor’s muffle voice came through, “Beloved.” That nickname that melted your worries and comforted you, “I think there’s someone you should meet.”

You wondered who Alastor would just let into your room, even the hotel members didn’t get that luxury and that includes Niffty because Alastor handles the maintainance of your room all on his own. You trust Alastor, “Sure, come on in.”

The door opened and someone you’re unfamiliar with rushed in while Alastor stood guard at the door after closing it shut and locking it. “I’m Nemesis, I’m a big big fan of your work! Completely obsessed really! Oh my god! Or is it oh my Lucifer now? Anyways! It’s so good to finally meet you in the flesh! Well, not flesh flesh, but this afterlife is like another life, so~”

“Nemesis. As in like revenge? Enacting retribution?” You blinked at the name, it reminds you of Alastor’s since his meant tormentor, avenger, and persecutor. 

They got real close to your face as their smile spread, “Woah, truly the mind of a writer. You got my name reference.�� They straightened up as they shrugged, “Other people, oops, demons only got that it’s Greek and hard to remember. Urgh, no class at all. They remember you by title too! Can you guess mine?”

Your eyebrow raised in confusion, you don’t know why this demon, Nemesis, was this causal with you. Though you figured that they had a talk with Alastor beforehand, that’s why Alastor even allowed them to be in here and talking with you. Even with close promixity

You observed Nemesis as they wanted. They were a snow leopard type of demon, with the fluffy ears on top of their head and tail behind them swishing like that of a cat’s. But you can’t tell whether it was just because it was their favourite animal, something they’re interested, or death related. Maybe something that they hate too, there was a sick irony in Hell

Your eyes traveled down to the row of white stielett-type weapons on their sides, they looked like giant dagger-sized needles but to you, they looked more like a pen. When Nemesis noticed your gaze, they took one from each side and started demonstrating to you how it was used like a performance

“The Dancing Needle.” Your lips moved and words came out before you knew it. At Nemesis’ frozen state and Alastor’s shocked face, you covered your mouth. “S—”

“How did you know?” Nemesis raved with shock, “You only observed too!”

You looked away, “It was nothing…”

Nemesis shook their head, “No way! It was amazing! If only I realized earlier…”

“Realized what?”

“That you’re the real author of that best selling novel that got so much attention.”

Nemesis went on to tell you. In the living world, they were Cecil and the editor for Karolina

During then, Cecil as an editor fell in love with the novels that Karolina had written. By some miracle, Cecil was given the chance to work as Karolina’s editor in the future and somewhat manager and caretaker since authors needed someone to ground them and since both were female, it was perfect

Over the years, Cecil noticed that Karolina was always attending public events and activities to boost popularity. It was normal, but to Cecil, it was weird that Karolina never actually sat down and written anything or researched for ideas. There was no burnout or ridiculous sleep schedules to follow and adapt to just to write a novel

Yet the requested writings were always provided and they were nearly to perfection, with minor grammar and some careless mis-spelling probably due to tiredness or being in the moment. It was an editor’s dream to work for someone like this. An author that’s famous and lively, and mostly punctual so nothing was forced or rushed to complete and do

But Cecil noticed the odd teachings and advices that Karolina would give to other people. There was nothing solid about it, it was all either the same old same old or just plain out weird to say. She had no accounts to retell, no personal examples to list. Yet she never asked Cecil for help

There was an interesting meeting that Karolina would always do. Whenever a deadline was near, Karolina would visit a friend of hers. Cecil thought it was for comfort and causal chatting at first, but every time she returns, there was more to tell on interviews and talk shows

To Cecil, it felt like someone was providing for Karolina

And Cecil was right. After the death of that friend, Karolina seemingly lost creativity and motivation. She lied on news channel that the novel was written for that friend to get through depression, she lied and painted herself as a caring and loving friend that wanted what’s best for that friend

Isn’t it odd that Karolina continues to sign contracts and appearances on screen regarding the novel? Some people requested for some detail clarification, but she denied them and said it was all secrets saved for her friend

Her friend this, her friend that. Everything was her friend, every excuse was her friend. So Cecil did some digging

Back when the first novel of the series was released, there was a buzz of a copycat that tried to steal Karolina’s work but failed. Cecil got her hands on that copy and read through it, the writing style was identicial to the later volumes that was published, the ideas that were cut off in this copy was in the later volumes

Cecil checked the statistics and comments, the first book had plotholes here and there, some even said it feels like things were missing here and there. But overall, it was still a good story. So there was a push to continue sequel to the first novel

Pages all dropped to the floor at the realization. That friend… That friend that Karolina was caring for… That friend had to be the real author of the books. It all made sense! Cecil searched online and found that that friend died, not by accident or sickness. No… Suicide…

An unfathomable rage and need for justice overtook Cecil and she was determined to see that Karolina suffers a slow and painful down. It was hard to pull it off, but somehow it was managed

Cecil pinned Karolina down with pens and cutters, then used daggers to stab all over her body without hitting any vitals. Cecil sliced words into her skin, ‘copycat’, ‘faker’, ‘liar’, ‘abuser’, and ‘murderer’. Then, Cecil decapitated Karolina’s head off of her body

Courtmeeting was given to Cecil where she used her chance to reveal it all. Who was the real author and who was the fake. Who was in the victim and who was the perpetator. Cecil announced that she is aware and admit that she done wrong, but if she could do it again, she would

The death sentence was passed down

Nemesis kneeled on their knees, looking up at you, tears flowing. “You suffered so much and no one knew or cared. Now they do, I’m included.” They held one of your hand, “So don’t knock yourself down, My Writer.”

Alastor took your other hand, placing a kiss on it, “We will deal with all your troubles so you can relax~ My Beloved.”

You can’t help but chuckled with a carefree closed-eye smile, “Oh you two…” But then your eyes snapped open and eyed the two, then focused on Nemesis. “Oh… There’s two of them now…”

Alastor and Nemesis eyed each other and smiled widely. “Whatever do you mean?”

Note: And that's the end of this arc~ Okay okay, I heard you guys loud and clear. No end yet cause you guys are willing to wait and read more. I'm taking a break from this series for a while to do other ones. But what do you think of this one?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka @lucifers-silhouette @an-idyllic-novelist @cyannese-rose @type-ink @saccharine-nectarine

[coeurdalene]

looking for some light

masterlist | ao3

summary: he tells raleigh, “i want to come back from this mission, ‘cause i quite like my life.” he means, there’s still so much i want to do, so much i have to do. (aka chuck wants to make it through this goddamn war so he can finally live a normal life, even if he doesn’t really know what that means.)

pairing: chuck hansen x reader

warning(s): character death (sorry), swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence.

word count: 3.86k

a/n: i meant to have this finished by the ten year anniversary of the movie but uh… anyways, here it is now! this is my love letter to chuck hansen and also a projection of my want for a beach house.

The universe gifts Chuck an unwanted Christmas present in the form of a memorandum. He swears under his breath when you trudge into the Mission Control Center that morning with a dejected frown on your face and shove the crisp paper into his hands. His eyes fall on the letterhead, embossed with the familiar spread-winged eagle, and he already knows what it contains. He’d been expecting it for months. He resists the urge to scream, to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it at the trash bin with every ounce of remaining strength in his body. He doesn’t envy you when you announce the bad news to everyone else, fulfilling your final duty as Sydney’s Chief LOCCENT Officer.

Days later, not even twenty-four hours after the Shatterdome decommissioning and right at the beginning of the new year, the universe offers him—and the rest of Sydney—another unwanted gift.

Mutavore is an ugly thing. Nearly ninety meters tall and weighing over two thousand tons, it’s hunched over as if struggling to support its own weight, blade-like plates protruding from its head and back.

“I don’t care how many eyes it has,” he says after you read out its classification and measurements, “I’m gonna kick its ass.”

(Six. It has six eyes. Just because he doesn’t care doesn’t mean he won’t pay attention.)

The category four Kaiju plows through the coastal wall like a knife cutting through warm butter and tramps into Sydney Harbour, stopping only to raise its head and let out a guttural screech, as if barging through a metal barrier hadn't been enough to announce its presence. He wonders how many millions of dollars have now been reduced to rubble at the bottom of the bay and how many weeks were spent welding together beams that took only a few seconds to destroy. 

Then, its beady eyes—all six of them—focus on Striker Eureka and her brass knuckles glinting in the sun. It screeches again before charging headfirst into Striker’s swinging fist.

Mutavore dies as quickly as it breached the wall, lying motionless in the bay, blood-soaked missiles lodged in its chest and Kaiju blue staining the water. 

“That’s Striker Eureka’s tenth kill to date. It’s a new record,” he boasts to the reporter in the aftermath. He ignores the questions about the decommissioning and brushes off the look his father gives him. Don’t get too cocky, he looks like he wants to say.

When they return to the Shatterdome, the J-Tech crew cleans Striker, polishing her knuckles and wiping Kaiju remains from the Conn-Pod. Chuck takes a long hot shower. Then, the move to Hong Kong begins.

The Anchorage Shatterdome—the cold and stalwart Icebox—had been the first to close. He remembers how you had stared blankly at the official PPDC statement for hours while he watched the newscaster on the television read it out loud. The Marshal had been on the broadcast, too, brought on for further questioning. When the anchor asked about the future of the Jaeger Program, he had assured her that, as long as the Kaiju kept coming, the Jaegers would keep fighting. Chuck had laughed dryly at that. The dwindling funding from the U.N. would say otherwise and whispers of better opportunities at the wall hung in the air, getting louder with every passing day.

The closure of the Icebox set off a string of shutdowns: Lima and Tokyo later that month, Panama City in November, Vladivostok and Los Angeles a few weeks after. The clock was ticking and it was only a matter of time before that damned memorandum arrived in Sydney, his fate dictated by its contents.

His beloved Sydney Shatterdome closes at the turn of the year, leaving behind its only remaining sibling in Hong Kong. What had once been a robust network of PPDC hubs was now reduced to one. 

And the clock continues to tick. 

“We don’t need a stupid wall,” Chuck declares on the flight to Hong Kong, glaring at the news broadcast replaying footage of the Sydney attack. “We need better pilots.”

He’d expressed the same sentiment to the reporter who interviewed him after Mutavore’s attack, too, blaming the fall of the Jaeger program on the mediocrity of those involved. He isn’t sure if it’s that simple—you had explained something to him about politics and funding and morale, government nonsense he didn’t understand—but he sure as hell knows that the Jaegers would be winning if pilots stopped letting the Kaiju kick their asses.

“Have some respect,” his father chides. “Every pilot has fought tooth and nail to protect the people they love.”

And perhaps that’s the truth—it sure is for him. His days consist of sore muscles from training, never getting enough sleep, and always anticipating another fight. He does it for his father, who has been a soldier for as long as he can remember. For his mother, whose untimely death lingers in the back of his mind every time he sets his eyes on a Kaiju. For you, who frequently pulls all-nighters and agonizes over details to make sure the Shatterdome stays running. And for Max, of course. (Silly little dog probably has no idea what a Kaiju is.)

So, yeah, perhaps it is the truth. But it doesn’t change the fact that they only have eight months left of funding, or that the U.N. thinks a wall will fare better than a Jaeger.

“We won’t be getting more pilots. All we can do is work with what we still have,” you chime in, pulling Chuck out of his thoughts. “But, on the bright side, our remaining pilots are some of the best in program history.”

“Including me?” he smirks. You laugh, cheerful and bright, punching his arm lightly. Max shifts in his sleep at the sudden noise. His father gives him that look again. Don’t get too cocky.

He spends the rest of the flight listening to you read briefing notes on “Operation Pitfall,” the Marshal’s shiny new plan to end the war by detonating a bomb at the throat of the Breach. Somehow, the PPDC had procured a thermonuclear warhead from the Russians, entrusting Striker Eureka to carry it while the remaining Jaegers played defense. 

Chuck is cynical about this plan. They had already tried (and failed) to drop things into the Breach. A bomb would only bounce back at them and kill anything in range.

He quips sarcastically if the Marshal had thought of that. You respond only by flipping through the file again for an explanation. He knows you won’t find one. 

As he steps off the plane and onto the landing pad, he’s met with a grinning Tendo Choi shouting over the patter of heavy rain, “Welcome to Hong Kong!”

The man, wearing a grey suit jacket too wide around the shoulders shakes their hands in greeting before ushering them out of the rain and into the Shatterdome. Chuck sidesteps some J-Techs as he enters, surveying his surroundings.

He had been much younger the last time he visited Hong Kong and much less invested in all the inner workings of the PPDC. He remembers mechanics and pilots shouting and running about, dirt and scuff marks on the floor, and his father reminding him to keep a tight grip on Max’s leash. It had felt unfamiliar then, but he realizes now that it isn’t too different from Sydney. Same high ceiling, same metal catwalks, and almost the same arsenal of Jaegers towering over him. It’s a little older, a little grittier, and a little more worn down, but no longer foreign. 

He spots Cherno Alpha in one of the bays, its stalwart form hunkering and heavy. The Kaidanovskys stand at its feet, engaged in conversation. Crimson Typhoon stands opposite it, brilliant red and regal. J-Techs gather around her three arms, inspecting and cleaning the rotating saw blades. 

“Striker arrived a few minutes before you did,” Tendo gestures to the shiny silver Jaeger standing in the far bay, metal glinting under the bright lights of the hangar. “The crew is getting her settled in.”

Then, Chuck’s eyes fall on the fourth and final Jaeger. That last he had heard of Gipsy Danger was that she had been decommissioned, damaged beyond repair from a mission gone wrong. But here she stands—untarnished metallic blue, left arm intact, and definitely not lying forgotten in Oblivion Bay.

“What’s that old rustbucket doing here?” he leers, very aware that there isn’t a single speck of rust on her.

“She looks brand new,” you remark. 

“She is, sorta,” Tendo replies, “We’ve been fixing her up: a new fluid synapse system, new engine blocks, and a new hull. She’ll be holding the defensive perimeter for you in Operation Pitfall, along with Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon.”

“Does she have pilots?” you inquire.

“Not yet,” Tendo grins. “But she will.”

Chuck hopes that these pilots won’t be incompetent idiots, whoever they might be.

The peaceful moments are rare, but cherished and so welcomed. In these instances, he lets his guard down, breathes deeply, and allows himself to think of anything other than training or fighting.

One of his favorites is somewhere in between Striker’s fourth and fifth kills: a lazy afternoon in bed with your back against the headboard and his head in your lap, sunlight streaming in through the windows with your fingers carding lightly through his hair.

“After this war is over,” he declares, imagining a life without the chaos and destruction that comes with being a Jaeger pilot, “we’ll buy a nice house in the suburbs where we’ll live blissfully for the rest of our lives.”

“The suburbs are nice,” you contend, “but how about a beach house on the Gold Coast? Or Port Douglas?”

He chuckles at that, picturing what living by the ocean without the fear of a Kaiju attack would be like. He would spend his mornings engulfed in the soothing murmur of the sea, gazing out at the unbroken horizon. His afternoons basking in the warmth of the sun, feet buried in the soft sand. His evenings surrounded by music and your melodious laughter, trying not to step on your toes while you lead him through a dance in your living room.

Quiet, he thinks. Serene. The only unrest would be the waves at high tide or the gulls swooping down to steal his food.

“Wherever you want, as long as it’s you and me. And Max. Right, bud?” he grins at the bulldog lying at the foot of the bed. Max lets out a little grunt. Chuck takes that as a sign of agreement.

“Sounds lovely,” you reply, your hand moving to rest against his cheek. He turns his head to kiss your palm, heart soaring at the way you smile softly down at him.

All Chuck knows about Raleigh Becket is that he quit the Jaeger Program. That information alone is enough for him to dislike the guy. He doesn’t trust some washed-up pilot to run defense for him while he carries a 2400-pound bomb on the back of his Jaeger. Doesn’t care that his father fought alongside the guy in Manila or that he single-handedly piloted his Jaeger back to shore. Doesn’t bother to hold back a grimace when Raleigh tells him that he’d been working on the wall for the past five years.

“If you slow me down, I'm gonna drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit,” he hisses at him in the mess hall. He ignores the way his father watches him with disapproval as he stalks away.

His bad mood turns worse when Mako Mori is named Raleigh’s copilot. 

He has known Mako for years. They had grown up in Shatterdomes together, met a few times when the Marshal had brought her to Sydney, and briefly bonded over their love of dogs. He’s close enough to her to know that she can fight well and that she has one of the best simulator scores he’s ever seen. (Better than his, although he’d never admit that.) But, she has no experience in a Jaeger and no understanding of what a drift is actually like, which, in his eyes, makes her no better than Raleigh. He isn’t surprised when they’re both out of alignment during their test run, your concerned tone alerting the rest of LOCCENT of the deviation, or when Mako begins chasing the RABIT, raising apprehensive murmurs from the crowd of onlookers. Or when it ends in Tendo pulling the plug on Gipsy’s power.

“Worse mistakes have happened,” Tendo sighs as Gipsy’s plasma cannon goes offline. Chuck scowls. There is no space for even a single mistake in the plan to attack the Breach, especially amateur ones like chasing RABITs. He knows that the Marshal understands this, too.

Later, as he paces in the Marshal’s office, still brimming with anger from Raleigh and Mako’s failure of a test run, he snaps, “He's a has-been. She’s a rookie. I don’t want them protecting my bomb run. sir.”

His father stands across the room, arms crossed and mouth set tightly in a frown. In the corner, you and Tendo are huddled over a tablet, discussing the drift results in hushed voices. The Marshal warns him to watch his tone. Chuck rolls his eyes in response and thinks to himself, He knows I’m right.

He finds Raleigh and Mako standing silently in the hall outside after his father kicks him out of the room. He rounds on the former, seething and jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest, “I want to come back from this mission, ‘cause I quite like my life.”

He turns to Mako, sneering and spitting out some distasteful things, ignoring the feeling that he’ll regret it later. 

When Raleigh’s fist makes contact with his jaw, Chuck sees red.

On bad nights, he wakes up in a cold sweat, plagued by nightmares of being painfully ripped to shreds by sharp claws and teeth. Some nights he wakes up angry, frustrated with himself after overanalyzing his fights. Other nights, he relives the moment when he found out about his mother’s death, shaking with body-wracking sobs and shuddering with each intake of breath. But you hold him through it, your soothing hands on his back and comforting words in his ear. He focuses on your voice, steady and calm, and syncs his breathing with yours.

“You’re okay,” you murmur. “They’re just nightmares. You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he repeats.

On bad nights, you confess your fear that the war will never end, or that you’ll burn out before it does. Some nights, you feel that you’re not doing enough, that you need to get back to work even though it’s past midnight. Other nights, you worry that you’ll spend your entire life fighting, that you’ll never be able to rest. But he holds you through it, his calloused fingers on your cheeks wiping away your tears. You focus on his touch, firm and resolute, and rest your hands on top of his.

“It’s okay,” you contend, voice shaky but certain. “I have you. This is enough.”

“This is enough,” he repeats.

Yet, he can’t help but want more. He wants the beach house instead of the cold metal walls of the Shatterdome. Wants to wake up to the sun, your smile, and Max’s whining for food instead of doomsday alarms and Kaiju attacks. Wants you to be able to sleep in for once. Wants to spend his days sunbathing and learning to surf instead of training in combat drills and preparing for another attack. Wants to give you some peace, and to find some of his own.

He tells Raleigh, “I want to come back from this mission, ‘cause I quite like my life.”

He means, There’s still so much I want to do, so much I have to do.

Chuck has only felt true fear a few times in his life. Standing on top of his disabled Jaeger with only a flare gun in his hands is one of them. In the moment, he tells himself that he isn’t afraid, that a double event isn’t any different from any other Kaiju attack, and that Striker will come back online in just a second. The adrenaline coursing through his veins overpowers the feeling of impending doom anyway. But, later, as he reflects on the feeling of relief that had washed over when Gipsy’s fog lights enveloped him, he admits that he had been scared shitless. And, he admits (only to himself) that he’s thankful for Raleigh and Mako, even if they’re has-beens or rookies.

He holds you closer that night and knows that you’ve already picked up on all the details of his uneasy expression. Still, he musters up the strength to confess aloud, “I thought we were gonna die.”

You’re silent, responding only by rubbing your hand across his back and hugging him a little tighter. The heavy weight of his lingering fear sits in his chest as he continues, “Dad had injured his arm, our comms were out, Cherno and Crimson were gone, and there was a fucking Kaiju ready to swallow us whole. Shooting that flare at it made it even more pissed off.”

“Not your best idea,” you remark playfully. “You’d think all that training to prepare you for situations like this would help you keep calm and think of something rational to do.”

“It was Dad’s idea, not mine,” he shrugs.

“Well, I’m glad the flare managed to keep it occupied long enough for Gipsy to get there,” you reply, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “And I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Me, too,” he sighs, the weight in his chest lightening slightly.

When he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of the war ending and a house overlooking the shore.

If, a year ago, you had told Chuck that he would be piloting a Jaeger with the Marshal Stacker Pentecost, he would have laughed in your face and asked why the Marshal wasn’t off doing better things (like convincing world leaders to keep funding the Jaeger Program or figuring out ways to increase pilot recruitment). And, if you had told him that he would hear the phrase “there’s a third signature emerging from the Breach,” he would have rolled his eyes and declared the situation impossible. (“I’d still kick its ass, though,” he would have probably said.)

Yet, here he is, strapped into Striker with the Marshal as his copilot, only three hundred meters from the Breach, watching a category five Kaiju materialize in front of him. He feels his stomach drop as he lays eyes on Slattern’s angular head and the sharp spike protruding from its chest. When it roars, the water around them ripples, and the ground beneath shakes. He barely has any time to think before the massive beast rears its head and charges, swinging its heavy leathery tail directly at them. 

The hit knocks Striker off her feet and sends her crashing into a nearby hydrothermal vent. He winces and swears, body aching and head beginning to throb as streams of water push and jostle the Jaeger. Slattern prepares to charge again just as Striker regains her footing and he easily falls into a fighting stance along with the Marshal, fists clenched and ready to strike. This time, when it attacks, they’re ready—dealing out swift punches that send the Kaiju reeling.

He isn’t sure how much of it is the Marshal and how much of it is himself, but the exhilaration that rushes through him as one of Striker’s sting blades slices across Slattern’s throat reinvigorates him. The other blade cuts into its arms, blue blood spilling from deep gashes. It screeches, and he expects it to rush at them again, but it swims away, blood trailing eerily in the water.

He takes the moment of respite to breathe, and to survey the damage. The harsh red light of the many, many warning messages flashes across his vision. He fiddles with some controls, watches as the Marshal does the same, and sighs heavily when neither of their attempts fixes anything. He resigns himself to hoping that Striker can hold on a little longer. She had gotten him this far, surely she could see him through to the end of this war—and to the beginning of his life at peace.

But–

“The attack jammed the bomb release,” he notices. “We’ll have to manually override–”

A yell from LOCCENT cuts him off. Chuck’s stomach drops even further when he hears someone say, “Striker, you have two Kaiju converging on you fast!”

He curses loudly and immediately knows, There’s no time for a manual override.

The Marshal is on the intercom before Chuck can even begin to formulate a plan, shouting to Raleigh and Mako. 

“You know exactly what you have to do,” he declares. “Gipsy is nuclear, take her to the Breach.”

“What can we do, sir?” Chuck asks, bracing for the hit.

“We can clear a path,” the Marshal answers firmly, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “for the lady.”

Even without the drift connecting their thoughts, Chuck understands.

“Well, my father always said, ‘If you have a shot, you take it,’” he remarks, knowing that, on the other end, his father is listening with pride. Chuck can admit that he was an arrogant dickhead with no respect for any of the pilots around him and that he never bothered to hide his resentment for his old man, never gave him a reason to like the man his son had become. Yet, he knows—and has always known—that his father is proud of him. (He is proud of his father, too, for what it’s worth.)

In the final moments, his thoughts drift to you: swathed in blankets and gathered in his arms on cold winter nights, perched on the seat of a stationary bike and reading reports while keeping him company in the gym, wrapped in his brown leather jacket with Max’s leash in your hand while accompanying him for walks around the Shatterdome. He recalls your bright laughter when he’d crack stupid jokes, your serious voice you’d use only over the intercom, and the mischievous glint in your eyes when you’d pretend you hadn’t given Max extra treats.

“I love you,” he had said before entering the Conn-Pod, so quietly that only you could hear him, holding you tightly and kissing away your concerned frown. The warmth of your hands against his cheeks had lingered as he had stepped away.

“I love you,” he says now, loud enough for you to hear him over all the noise, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking away the tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry we’ll never get that beach house.”

“But, I had you,” he says. “It was enough.”

When the bomb detonates, he’s surrounded by blinding light and a deafening boom. And, finally, peace.

In his dreams, he can’t tell where he is, only that Max is sitting at his feet, his father is somewhere in the distance, and you’re next to him with your hand in his, fingers intertwined.

[charcoalhawk]

Don’t listen to a word I say, the screams all sound the same

Wulf lives his life in missed moments, and then, he doesn’t live in any moment at all.

Content warning: death, murder

Title is from Little talks by Of Monsters and Men

Wulf knows he had a real name, once. Even mean people like the butcher who always overcharged mama had a name, but Wulf can’t remember his anymore.

But mama had always called him her little wulf, and during their special nights every month when they all moved on all fours and howled at the moon, he sometimes wished he could always be one.

He wasn’t even two hands old when he lost mama and his siblings to That Man. He had broken into their little home in the woods and hit mama so horribly on the head that she never got up again. He and his siblings had tried to run, but two loud bangs had them collapsing from where they were running beside him.

The only reason he survived was because he did the one thing mama told him to never do. That Man had caught him as he was trying to shake his sister Rosè awake, yelling horrible words as he shook Wulf. And in that moment Wulf had been so overcome with rage he disobeyed the most important rule.

He’d managed to twist and sink his tiny teeth into That Man’s arm, biting down as hard as he could.

That Man had screamed and hit Wulf, but it must not have been too hard because he woke up just as the sun was setting.

That Man’s body was lying a few feet away, face frozen in a horrible scream and body stiffer than frozen wood.

He had left That Man there to rot for what he had done, then very carefully carried his siblings back to their house.

It took him three whole days to dig a hole big enough for his family, but when he finally finished it he carefully brought them all down and arranged them like he cuddles piles they would have after every full moon.

After filling the hole he searched the whole forest until he found the three perfect rocks. And carefully rolled them to lie over where his family was buried.

For a long time no one else comes to their house. Wulf keeps it as clean as he can in honor of his mama, and the forest provides enough so he doesn’t starve.

No one from town ever comes out to look for him or even for his mama, something that both makes Wulf’s heart ache yet he’s immensely grateful for.

The seasons shift and Wulf grows and settles into his quiet life. The most he ever sees of other people is when the leaves shift and deer run aplenty. Then he’ll catch the occasional howl of hunting dogs or the bang that always brings back horrible memories.

Those are the few months he dreads the full moon, because the forest is never quiet, and he fears catching any kind of unwanted attention.

But all good things must come to an end. It's a warm spring night, with the full moon round and heavy overhead, when Wulf hears a cry shatter the calm of the night and sends birds fleeing into the sky in droves.

Although he knows nothing good will come of it, his curiosity drives him to find the source of that horrid sound. As he draws closer the cloying scent of blood begins to overwhelm all other senses.

He ends up finding them in a clearing. A young boy is hunched over a crumpled figure, as blood slowly covers the forest floor around them.

Wulf pokes his head out of the foliage, trying to get a better look. A gleam of metal directs him to the weapon lying next to the two, as a picture starts to form in Wulf’s mind.

In this form he can’t speak, but maybe he can get the boy to follow him and he can bring the older man over his back. He thinks he remembers the path to town, mama made sure he remembered where deer-tree was, because it meant you were getting too close to town on your own.

Plan made, Wulf huffs loudly to alert the boy so as not to surprise him. It works almost too well, and the boy yelps when he locks eyes with Wulf.

“Oh- oh please don’t eat me señor wolf, an-and you can’t have my dad either!”

Wulf shakes his head at that, why would he ever eat a skinny human when there’s so many deer around.

“Oh! Uh, you, you understand me?”

Wulf nods his head rapidly, then makes a point to gesture at the downed man then at his side.

“You’ll help? Oh thank you thank you!”

With the boy now understanding that Wulf means him no harm he moves more confidently into the clearing, the moon illuminating his midnight fur. Maybe after this he can invite the boy and who he assumes is the boy’s father to his home. Maybe he could even go back into the village and start getting the good meat from the butcher and he wouldn’t get overcharged and-

BANG

It takes a second for the pain to hit, but then Wulf collapses where he stood, a burning line of fire shooting though his entire body, radiating from his side.

“Glad I- I always keep a silver spare.”

It’s the older man, barely sitting up, clutching that weapon like a lifeline.

“But dad! He- he was just trying to help! Why did you shoot him!”

The boy is by his side, pressing an already bloody hand into the wound.

“It’s a monster, son. And you would do well to remember that. Now, help me up, we need to go report this to the bishop.”

“But if we don't help him he’s gonna die!”

“Bah. It’s better than it deserves. Now help me up now or so help me god you can go join it!”

The boy rests one last hand on Wulf’s injured side, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll come back, I’ll bring bandages and I’ll-!”

The bigger man rips the boy away, crushing grip tight against the boy’s slight frame. He shoves the boy ahead, away from Wulf.

Wulf whines and pants as the minutes drift by. The wound had slowly ebbed from a burning inferno into shooting pain with each breath. He can feel the moon begin to set around him, taking away its cool light and leaving Wulf cold and empty.

As the sun begins to rise Wulf swears he can feel other breaths around him, a rough tongue working out the knots in his fur. It reminds him of peaceful nights with his family, and as the sun rises, Wulf’s breaths slow.

With his eyes closed, it feels like his family is still curled around him.

[theriverspath]

Ineffable May 2024, Day 16: 1827

Rating: Mature. CONTENT WARNINGS:  Interrupted SA of a show character involving an unwanted kiss, proof of previous physical assault on an original character, death of the assailant.

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Did you read the content warnings? Please do so, and keep yourself safe if necessary. Story below the cut.

“We can get a room in a proper boarding house, not like the last one.” - Elspeth, to Wee Morag. Good Omens, S2E3

Elspeth drug herself up the dark, narrow, rickety stairs that led from the boarding house’s ground floor to the one that housed the room she shared with Morag. Her hands hurt, her back hurt, even her eyes ached. The pair had been cooped up in their room all day, stitching together pieces of white linen into men’s shirts. Between the two of them, the work barely paid enough for the room, and sometimes not even enough for that. Food money was a luxury, and one they didn’t have as often as they should.

But as the sun went down, Morag’s stomach let out a grumble so loud that Elspeth had heard it from her chair. And even though the obviously hungry young woman had protested, Elspeth insisted on venturing out to see if she could find a street vendor with something cheap.*

With the small meal safely stowed away in one of the large pockets hidden in her skirts, she’d made her way back home. Halfway up the stairs, Elspeth realized she was hearing voices. A man and a woman, and the woman didn’t sound happy. Wait - was that Morag? What was she doing out on the landing? Body aches forgotten, Elspeth picked up her pace and slid her hand into the pocket that didn’t carry their meager supper. It found her cosh: a short stick covered in leather. The bulb on one end contained a stone, and the weight of it felt familiar and comforting in her grip. She kept it hidden in the pocket as she crested the stairs.

There was Morag, her back against the wall next to their door. A shirtless man stood directly in front of her, one of his elbows propped against the wall next to her head. Elspeth recognized him as one of Cora’s regulars. The walls of this building were thin and hollow, and it wasn’t long after they moved in that Morag and Elspeth deduced what the woman next door did to earn a living. Other than the occasional rhythmic noise, Cora had turned out to be an easy enough neighbor. And, they hadn’t had any trouble out of the men. Until tonight, that is.

As Elspeth approached, he lifted the other hand and tucked a stray strand of Morag’s hair behind her ear. In the glow of the candle nub that Morag clutched, Elspeth saw her flinch at the touch.

“Making a new friend?” Both Morag and the man jumped at the sound of Elspeth’s voice. His head bobbed as it whipped around to face her. His surprise turned to a sneer of delight.

“Well, 'allo. Come to join the fun? I was just invitin’ the lass here into yon chamber for a wee tipple. For sure you’d be welcome, too.” The whiskey on his breath nearly knocked Elspeth over. His nod towards Cora’s open door told her exactly what type of fun he had in mind.

“And I was thanking him for the thoughtful offer, but I’m just waiting for you to return before retiring for the night. Because I’m having one of my headaches.” Morag’s voice was even, patient, as if she were explaining something to a confused child. But, Elspeth saw the panic in her eyes and knew the excuse was a lie. Her words brought the man's attention back to her.

“Oh, I ken a way to rid ye of pain.” Before either Morag or Elspeth had time to process what he meant, his mouth was on Morag’s. Elspeth heard the dull thunk as the force of it knocked the woman’s head back against the wall. There was a squeal of frightened surprise, and then the hiss of fire on flesh. Morag had dashed the candle against the man’s face, plunging the stairwell into near darkness.

Elspeth was already lunging at him, her hand out of her pocket and brandishing her home-made weapon, when he let out an enraged roar. There was another cry from Morag, and the dim light from Cora’s room silhouetted the man dragging her by her hair towards it. Elspeth struck, hitting the man above an ear. He instantly crumpled, landing with a thump half inside the doorway. Elspeth gave him no thought and turned to Morag, looking for any sign of injury.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Morag shook her head, her eyes glued to the still form at their feet. There was a moan from further inside the room. An oil lamp illuminated enough of the chamber to show Cora sprawled across her bed, clothed in her underthings. She began to move slowly, propping herself up into a sitting position. As her loose hair fell away from her face, Elspeth could see a darkening bruise already spreading across her lower jaw.

“I think you’ve killed him.” Morag’s words were a whisper.

“Good.” Cora’s reply was clear. “Save me the trouble of calling in a favor.” The woman rose, a little unsteady on her feet, and walked the few steps to the door. She nudged the man with her foot. When he didn’t respond, she kicked him. Hard. Satisfied, she turned and walked back toward the bed. It made a familiar-sounding squeak as she sat down. Her words were a little less steady when she spoke again.

“You’d better bring him all the way in before someone sees him. It’s a miracle half the house didn’t come running at that yell.” Elspeth managed to drag the body onto what little floor space the room offered. Morag shut the door behind them.

“You’ll hang for this, Elspeth. What are we going to do?” Morag was hugging her shawl around her shoulders. She’d made no move to fix the mess the man had made of her hair. Elspeth’s knees began to shake as she stepped over to Morag’s side. She fished the sausage roll she’d bought what felt like years ago out of her pocket and tore it in half. She handed half to Morag, who seemed to take a bite on automatic. When she thought about doing the same, her stomach rolled. Instead, she tossed her half to Cora. The other woman nodded her thanks.

“We’re going to make a little money off him, is what. Then find another place to stay before his pals come looking for him.” Elspeth scrunched her eyebrows in confusion at Cora’s words.

“How are we going to make money off a corpse?”

“I’ve got a fella who knows one of those doctors that buys bodies to cut up. He don’t ask too many questions about where they come from, neither. If we let him know about this one, he’ll give us a cut of the take.”

“No, we can’t. It’s not right. There’s got to be another way. Does he have family to bury him?” Morag shook her head, looking increasingly uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed.

“I’m not askin’. I’m tellin’ you what I’m going to do. If you don’t like it, you can leave. But if you help, you’ll at least get some carryin’ money to take with you. Because trust me, you don’t want to be here if that family of his you’re so concerned about gets wind you had anything to do with him disappearin’.”

“Where is he? I’ll go fetch him.” Elspeth spoke up before Morag had another chance to insist against the plan.

“He’s at the White Hart, most likely.” Cora filled Elspeth in on who he was, how to recognize him, and what to say when she found him. A quick squeeze of an arm around Morag, and Elspeth was ready to go. As she put her hand on the doorknob, though, Cora stopped her.

“Wait. Wear his clothes. If you swan in lookin’ like a lass by your lonesome, you’ll attract too much attention. But, I’d rekkin you could pass for a lad in his older brother’s things.” Elspeth had no desire to wear the clothes of a dead man, especially not this man. But, she saw the sense in it. A minute later, she was slipping the cosh into the jacket pocket and piling her hair into the hat. After that, she was out into the night.

------

It turned out that even helping to disguise and haul a dead body to the good doctor’s surgery didn’t earn much of “the take.” Not enough for a new room, anyway. But she’d learned a lot in those hours, and fully intended to make the next take entirely hers. 

......

*She’d found a scrawny man with a tray full of what could possibly called sausages in things that were perhaps buns. She didn’t ask what they were made of and was able to bargain the price down a bit, though the man protested that even at full price he was “cuttin’ his own throat.”

prompt list

[altairtalisman]

Kau's Bio

"Travelling's a tried and true way to find yourself!"

More details on Kau is under the cut

Name: Kausar "Kau" Ayad

Age: 1193

Height: 159 cm

Birthday: 14 Primna 829 (Alfabr)

Orientation: Genderqueer Omnisexual

Pronouns: They/Them

Species: Ifrit

Country of Birth: Underworld

Likes: Jewellery, baklava, vegetable soup, meeting new people

Dislikes: Meat, alcohol, confrontations

Hobbies: Playing the piano, dancing, travelling

Personality: Playful but avoids confrontations to the best of their ability, is also a surprisingly good judge of character

Style: Eye-catching clothes that allows them to be always at the centre at attention as well as an Underworld magma scarf draped around the elbows

Status: Alive

Abilities: Knows how to wield double-headed spears and able to conjure small fireballs as they please. At full power, they're able to conjure larger fireballs and manipulate them as they please

Background: Growing up in the Underworld, they were made aware of the different ranks demons fell under and the single explicit rule of not killing demons ranked higher than them. This suited Kausar just fine as they knew that unlike their brother, who could easily overwhelm the highest ranking demons, they were unable to hold a candle to those higher than them

They spent centuries travelling across the Underworld, with occasional visits to the mortal plane. In 1566, Nasir had gotten into trouble with a demon of the highest rank. He wanted to pursue the matter, but Kausar advised him otherwise, fearing that their family would be harmed in the crossfire. Thankfully for them, Nasir listened and moved on with his life

However in 1568, news of the highest ranked demon slaughtering Nasir's lower ranked patrons spread across the Underworld. This culminated in the potter hunting and brutally killing her by ripping her head off from her body, much to the shock of everyone but the Ayads as no one had expected someone of Nasir's rank to be able to easily overwhelm a demon of the highest rank

Instead of being put to death, he was exiled to the mortal realm above the Underworld. Even so, the Ayads' reputation plummeted and demons became wary towards them, fearing that they would suddenly go on a rampage similar to Nasir. Kausar, recognising that they would be watched wherever they go, decided to leave the Underworld and travel the mortal world as extensively as possible

Their travels brought them to Kruzagné in 1806, where they encountered Frieda. Interested in the sylph, they approached aer who in turn, expressed fascination towards the ifrit. At aer request, Kausar taught her how to play the piano, then the keyboard. Frieda then asked if ae could accompany Kausar in their travels, the latter seeing no reason to refuse

They eventually made their way to Selvraddur, where they decided to busk near the harbour as they were running low on money. At some point, Frieda had noticed that a fishing vessel had caught Ragnar and asked Kausar about it. They responded that merfolk were considered a delicacy amongst humans and that the world adopted a survival of the fittest mindset to begin with, while also hoping that the sylph would leave the merman to his fate in order to avoid confrontation

Unfortunately for them, Frieda didn't feel comfortable knowing that Ragnar would be eaten by humans and expressed interest in buying him to the owners of the fishing vessel. The owners called aer bluff as they knew that ae couldn’t possibly have money shortly after arriving in Selvaddur, prompting aer to physically retaliate by blasting the fishing vessel into bits which horrified Kausar

Shortly after freeing Ragnar from the fishing net that trapped him, Frieda and Kausar parted ways as the ifrit believed that travelling with aer would drag them into more unwanted confrontations. They continued to travel across Ratein, forming a friendship with the Fourteenth Dullahan in mid-19th Century

Overtime, Kausar felt tired and decided to set up base in Teqaejan for a few years. They had a chance meeting with their brother, who surprised them as they didn't expect Nasir to adapt to the mortal plane well. Their decision to rest in Teqaejan motivated their brother to settle down in the country and hold a permanent job, which led to him being discovered by Hana years later

Kausar left Teqaejan in 1900, and resumed travelling across Ratein with the intent on visiting the Celestial Plane one day even though the celestials they met during their travels repeatedly told them that the Celestial Plane can't be perceived by non-celestials

Full Power:

[seitmai]

Macrinus grasps your shoulders and angles you towards him "I cannot yet deliver you the general's head but I hope you'll accept a consolation prize." The words barely leave Macrinus’s lips before Hanno’s response rings out, as cold and flat as stone. "I have no need of her."

Bein reduced to a price and possession thay can be gifted just to then be unwanted, that stings 💔

"I have brought her all the way here," He continues, growing a little more insistent. "If not you, I’ll have to gift her to another. Or perhaps the men can share her.”

Macrinus is so manipulating, choosing his words to get Hanno’s gears turning..

You thought you knew fear when your husband was killed as the general's army razed your city, but that’s a distant thing to what you feel now. Before you can stop it, a low, terrified sound slips from your lips. It breaks through the tightly held mask of composure you've tried to keep in place.

🥺🥺🥺

Hanno drops the wooden sword in his hand and shifts his grip to your waist. He spins you to face forward and marches you ahead of him. You’re too numb to resist, paralyzed by the overwhelming terror flooding your every nerve. It’s only when you catch sight of the iron gate of his cell that a flicker of resistance surges through your body. You dig your heels into the dirt and twist in his grasp. He doesn’t even flinch as you try to pull away; his body simply shifts with yours, pushing you forward. “Please,” you beg. “Do not do this.” “Stop,” he commands, but he doesn’t sound angry, just tired. 

This is so heartbreaking, for both of them. They are both in this situation that they really don't wanna be in but it's a matter of life and death

You can see the confusion flicker in his eyes, quickly followed by something else. His voice comes out sharp, incredulous even. "The kitchen?" “I do not understand what is happening,” you say. The words tumble out before you can stop them. “No one has told me anything. I was dressed and brought here.” A great swell of emotion sweeps through you and a weak, tearful sound escapes from your throat. Hanno’s expression shifts. He steps back slightly, his grip loosening just enough to give you some space, but still firm enough to remind you that you’re not free to move. For the first time since this encounter began, there’s a crack in his composure, a flicker of guilt; perhaps even a trace of pity. 

It's the moment he realizes they are more or less in the same predicament 🥺💔

"They took me from my husband," you whisper through the tears, your voice barely audible. "My home." Your shaking hands grasp at the delicate golden chains draped around your neck and you tug at them desperately. The metal bends under your fingers, straining, until with a sharp snap, the delicate link breaks. “Now they have reduced me to…to….this.”

It's such a sad moment, she can rip the physical manifestations of the chackle off, but not the real ones...🥲

“We have both known too much loss at the hand of Rome,” he begins. “But I promise you, I will shield you from what I can.” “Why?” The question slips out before you take it back. What did he want from you if not service? What kindness is there left in the world for a slave?

She is so broken and hopeless 💔😭

When his attention returns to you he lifts a hand as if he means to touch you. It hovers just a breath away from your cheek before he drops it. “But I can help you.” You don’t know if you can trust Hanno, but his promise feels like a bridge between the wreckage of your life and whatever might lie beyond this moment of darkness. You want to believe him. You want to hope.  It’s all that’s left to you now.

They both have suffered and lost so much, it probably was fate for them to met and have each other to console and trust after their similar experiences 🥺❤️

Ab Initio

Summary: Terrified and alone, you find comfort in an unlikely place - Rome’s mightiest Gladiator. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader  Word Count: 2K Rating: Mature. Heavy angst with references to spousal death and SA. Author Note: This is a follow up to Post tenebras lux but in reality it is more of a prologue to that story. I intended to write an epilogue for the story, but I opened my google doc and this happened instead.  Thank you to @ryebecca and @aliensupastar for their beta help. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Everything about this place assaults your senses. The air is thick and stifling, heavy with the sour tang of blood, mixing with the acrid stench of the Gladiators' sweat and leather armor. It clings to your skin just like the weight of their eyes. You try to disappear into the folds of your dress, but there's no hiding from the way their stares strip you bare with every passing second. 

You stumble in the unfamiliar sandals, the soft leather soles slick against the cold stone beneath you as Viggo pulls you along. No one has explained your presence here or told you what is to happen. One moment, you were in the kitchen and the next you were dragged into a bath that smelled of lavender and honey, your skin scrubbed raw by the hands of women who wouldn’t meet your eyes. They oiled you, perfumed you, and dressed you in intricate and lavish clothes more befitting of a Roman bride than a slave.

Macrinus marches ahead of you, the edges of his expensive robes dragging through the dust of the ground. He hasn’t even spared you a second look, beyond the brief, cursory inspection when he first laid eyes on you where he declared that you would do.

"Hanno," Macrinus calls out, capturing the attention of one of the Gladiators in the training yard. 

The man he beckons is tall and commanding, his body a perfect balance of strength and leanness that's a testament to hard-won power rather than sheer bulk. His hair is a mass of curly brown locks that match his rugged beard, but it's his eyes — those deep, dark-set blue eyes — that are the most compelling thing about him. They miss nothing, taking in everything with a subtle, calculating sharpness. When he looks at you, it's not just a glance, it's an assessing, cataloging look.  

Macrinus grasps your shoulders and angles you towards him "I cannot yet deliver you the general's head but I hope you'll accept a consolation prize."

The words barely leave Macrinus’s lips before Hanno’s response rings out, as cold and flat as stone. "I have no need of her."

“Come now," Macrinus presses, voice laced with a light, almost teasing amusement, but something darker lurks beneath that veneer of geniality. "She’s here, and she’s yours if you want her."

Hanno just stares back, and Macrinus sighs. 

"I have brought her all the way here," He continues, growing a little more insistent. "If not you, I’ll have to gift her to another. Or perhaps the men can share her.”

You thought you knew fear when your husband was killed as the general's army razed your city, but that’s a distant thing to what you feel now. Before you can stop it, a low, terrified sound slips from your lips. It breaks through the tightly held mask of composure you've tried to keep in place. Hanno’s attention snaps back to you in an instant. There’s something about how he looks at you that’s more measured than before, that makes your stomach churn. There's no compassion or kindness there, only a cold calculation. He looks at you like your discomfort is part of some game or unseen test.

You try to steady your breath, but the terror lingering in your chest is a living thing, crawling beneath your skin. It feels impossible to breathe. Macrinus watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction, but Hanno remains silent, his gaze never leaving you.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks. "Very well. I will take her."

Macrinus claps his hands in approval, a sharp sound that cuts through the tense silence. "I told you when we first met that a slave dreams not of freedom, but of his own slaves," he says with a chuckle. "You are not so different, Hanno of Numidia."

Your new master hums, but says nothing else. A push from behind sends you stumbling forward, closer to him. Your heart races and panic surges through you as you instinctively try to pull away, but Hanno is too quick. His grip tightens around your wrist, the roughness of his calloused skin pressing against yours, warm and solid, despite the coolness in the air of the yard.

"Is that all?" he asks. He doesn’t sound particularly interested, just... expectant.

“Yes, yes, go enjoy your hard won prize,” Macrinus encourages with a knowing grin. 

Hanno drops the wooden sword in his hand and shifts his grip to your waist. He spins you to face forward and marches you ahead of him. You’re too numb to resist, paralyzed by the overwhelming terror flooding your every nerve. It’s only when you catch sight of the iron gate of his cell that a flicker of resistance surges through your body. You dig your heels into the dirt and twist in his grasp. He doesn’t even flinch as you try to pull away; his body simply shifts with yours, pushing you forward.

“Please,” you beg. “Do not do this.”

“Stop,” he commands, but he doesn’t sound angry, just tired. 

A scream claws its way up your throat but before the sound can carry, Hanno’s hand is there, pressing over your mouth. As he forces you against the stone wall, his body pressing you into the unforgiving surface, the hand not covering your mouth swiftly moves to the back of your head. His fingers splay wide, cradling your skull before it can slam into the cold stone. The gentleness of the gesture is startling and at odds with the force of his body pinning you against the wall. For a brief moment, his touch feels oddly tender, careful even, like he’s worried about hurting you.

"Easy," Hanno murmurs. “I will not hurt you, but you must calm.” His grip tightens slightly, just enough to make sure you feel his presence, and then he asks, his voice more serious, "Can you do that? Nod if you understand.”

After a moment of stunned silence, you nod.

His shoulders drop and the hand that’s been pressed over your mouth loosens a little, though his fingers still linger. “Good,” he praises and you blink, tears escaping the corner of your eyes. “If I remove my hand will you scream?” He asks.

You shake your head and the weight from your lips disappears. You take in a shuddering breath.

“Who are you?” He questions. “A concubine?”

The word stings, like a slap. You almost choke on them, but you gather enough strength to shake your head. "No. I-I work in the kitchen.”

You can see the confusion flicker in his eyes, quickly followed by something else. His voice comes out sharp, incredulous even. "The kitchen?"

“I do not understand what is happening,” you say. The words tumble out before you can stop them. “No one has told me anything. I was dressed and brought here.” A great swell of emotion sweeps through you and a weak, tearful sound escapes from your throat.

Hanno’s expression shifts. He steps back slightly, his grip loosening just enough to give you some space, but still firm enough to remind you that you’re not free to move. For the first time since this encounter began, there’s a crack in his composure, a flicker of guilt; perhaps even a trace of pity. 

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he says, tilting his head to capture your attention. “I have no desire for you.”

No desire for you? The phrase is meant to comfort you, but all it does is add another layer of confusion to the mess of emotions churning inside. You can’t bring yourself to ask the question burning in your mind: Why, then? Why bring me here, if not for that?

“I will not hurt you,” he assures you again, before releasing your wrist. “But I cannot send you back. I cannot be sure Macrinus won’t punish you if I do.”

“Punish me?” You question. “I-I have done nothing wrong.” The sob that follows is involuntary, a sound so broken it seems to come from somewhere deep, primal. Like an unmoored boat caught in a violent storm, your emotions spin out of control, and everything you suppressed since you were brought to the arena tumbles out. 

"They took me from my husband," you whisper through the tears, your voice barely audible. "My home." Your shaking hands grasp at the delicate golden chains draped around your neck and you tug at them desperately. The metal bends under your fingers, straining, until with a sharp snap, the delicate link breaks. 

“Now they have reduced me to…to….this.”

You reach for the heavy jewels that hang from your ears next. They feel like anchors, pulling you deeper into a place that isn’t yours. With a final, desperate yank, you rip them free and they fall with a dull clink. Tears blur your vision, and you barely register Hanno’s movement as he steps closer. His presence is a sharp contrast to the turmoil inside you — steady, solid, unyielding. You expect him to dismiss your anguish and remind you of your place, but instead, he surprises you.

“I am sorry,” he says sincerely. “I am sorry they have taken so much from you, as they have from me. My wife.” He twists the thin golden ring on his pinky, a shudder passing through his body before he continues speaking. “My city. The only home I knew.”

His unexpected tenderness sweeps away the jagged edges of your panic, and you sink to your knees, exhausted. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, smearing the carefully applied kohl. Hanno shifts closer, and when you pull your hands from your face, you’re unsurprised to find him kneeling in front of you.

“We have both known too much loss at the hand of Rome,” he begins. “But I promise you, I will shield you from what I can.”

“Why?” The question slips out before you take it back. What did he want from you if not service? What kindness is there left in the world for a slave?

His gaze shifts, hardening, and you can almost feel the change in him before the words come. “I am tired of fighting. Of inflicting pain, all in the name of Rome."  He exhales and looks up at the sliver of sunlight that creeps through the bars of his window. “And perhaps because I could not save her,” he admits, his voice faltering. 

When his attention returns to you he lifts a hand as if he means to touch you. It hovers just a breath away from your cheek before he drops it. “But I can help you.” 

The vulnerability in his admission surprises you. You don’t know what to say nor how to react, but Hanno requires neither. He simply offers you his hand and pulls you to your feet when you accept. You let him guide you to sit on the cot, looking up at him tearfully.

“We should remain here for a while. The others will expect me to…” he trails off and you nod. 

He settles himself on the opposite end of the bed and rests his elbows heavily on his knees, hanging his head forward. In the dim light, you can see how the lines of exhaustion etched into his face are deeper than you noticed before. What you can see of his arms and chest are a constellation of scars and bruises. Some are old and faded while others are fresh and raw. Each is a testament to the violence and suffering he's carried with him.

You look at your own hands, roughened in their own way from work over the years but compared to him, your body feels unmarked by anything significant. It seems impossible that you bear no scars, no visible traces of the grief and pain that consume you. 

You don’t know if you can trust Hanno, but his promise feels like a bridge between the wreckage of your life and whatever might lie beyond this moment of darkness. You want to believe him. You want to hope. 

It’s all that’s left to you now.

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on Lucius and requests for drabbles with his character

[stainedkept]

YELENA BELOVA

Codename: White Widow Age: 25 Gender: Female Nationality: Russian Occupation: Assassin Faceclaim: Florence Pugh

Her life began in OHIO. It was the birthplace of countless happy memories. It was her childhood home. Her first memories were of her mother ( MELINA ), father ( ALEXEI ), and sister. It was a good life. It didn't matter that the other kids in the neighborhood celebrated holidays throughout the year instead of all on one day. It didn't matter that the other kids got presents with stuff inside the boxes. She had Natasha NATALIA. Her big sister. She would play with her all the time, and she was the coolest.

And then they went on their big adventure.

THE RED ROOM was nothing like Ohio. Her family was gone. She was alone and scared. The place was too big and cold. There were so many girls and so many of them didn't make it. But she did. It was scary, at first, how good she was at doing what they told her to do. But that fear did not last. In order to survive, she let them mold her into what they wanted her to be. It helped that her first assignments were all horrible people. People like DREYKOV. Everything felt natural by the time her assignments were not so terrible. She was really good at being a KILLER.

And then her sister escaped. Unlike all the other WIDOWS who had tried to flee, her sister didn't end up dead. She waited for her sister to come back for her. She hadn't seen Natalia since their father's horrible adventure, but she knew her sister wouldn't leave her behind. She wouldn't abandon her.

Then the Red Room took control of her body. It soon became hard to tell what actions were hers and which belonged to the stranger that controlled her. Everything all blurred together. Until she got a face full of RED DUST and she was finally free.

Determined to stay free, she sent the vials of red dust to her sister. Her sister was an AVENGER now. The world's mightiest heroes could bring Dreykov and the Red Room down. Instead, her sister brought the vials right back. After a fight that she was definitely going to win and running from TASKMASTER and other widows, she agreed to help her sister kill Dreykov.

Their path to bringing down the Red Room led to a reunion with both her father and mother. Her world shattered when she learned that her childhood, her family, had all been FAKE. Everyone had known...except her. Hurt by this revelation, left excused herself from the FAMILY REUNION to process this news with a bottle of vodka. Unfortunately, she didn't get much time to drown her new wound in vodka. The Red Room had caught up with them and Yelena, along with the rest of her family, was captured.

But she didn't stay captured long. With the help of her fake family, she helped her sister kill Dreykov and bring the Red Room crashing down. Of course, the Red Room falling from the sky attracted a lot of unwanted attention. When her sister insisted on staying behind, Yelena gave Natalia her VEST. Yelena then left with her parents, the newly freed widows, and Taskmaster.

Yelena stayed in touch with her sister while she worked with her father and mother to track down and free widows. It was during one of her missions in 2018 that she SNAPPED out of existence. Five years later, she BLIPPED back into existence in the newly renovated bathroom of the widow she had come to free. Ana, the widow she had come to free but was already free (a weird story) explained what had happened and that the year was now 2023. But despite all that, the worst news came when she asked about her sister.

Her sister was dead. But she can't be dead. She needs her. This isn't right. They had only just found each other again.

Putting her mission on saving widows on hold, she went to work for VALENTINA ALLEGRA DE FONTAINE. It was through Valentina that she learned who had been responsible for her sister's death. In 2024, she went to NEW YORK to find and kill CLINT BARTON. Her first attempt to kill him was foiled by both KATE BISHOP and MAYA LOPEZ. Yelena then went to Bishop's apartment where she made MACARONI AND CHEESE while she waited for Bishop to return. They had a very fun conversation that ended with Yelena warning Bishop not to get in her way.

Yelena found out who had hired her to kill Barton. She sent Kate Bishop a video of her mom ELEANOR BISHOP talking with WILSON FISK. Then she infiltrated a Christmas party to reach Clint Barton and kill him. Her second attempt was delayed by Kate Bishop again. She fought Bishop, agreed to get drinks with her sometime in the future, and proceeded on with her plan to kill Barton. Once Barton was alone, she fought him. However, during their fight, Barton tried to convince her that what she had been told was a lie. She did not believe him until he whistled the secret WHISTLE she shared with her sister. Realizing that Barton was telling the truth, she abandoned her mission to kill him and left.

Yelena continues to take on jobs that utilizes her specialized skill set. She also continues to help free more widows.

[jedistranger]

[Seeks you out on the battlefield of Troy bc you are a fierce woman warrior killing many Greek soldiers] [slays you] no aha don't die ur so sexy and I'm falling in love with you (:

[pherelesytsia]

Love and War

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Din arrives at the Razor Crest after an unsuccessful hunt and is met by his wife and the child.

Warning: Fluff, no conversation, just love and adoration

Word Count: 0.8k

a/n:. Requests are open!!!

Requested by Anonymous.

The wind was icy, knocking against the cold exterior of the ship, but no one opened the heavy door. Deep traces the Mandalorian left in the knee-deep snow. Fresh snow fell. In the far west, a large forest of dark wood spread, spread out and ended in the far land. Mist arose. Doors opened. Like an unwanted guest, Din harshly banished the cold, closed the door, and made it impossible for the falling flakes to enter the ship ever again. His steps were heavy, walked ungracefully and cursed loudly, knew tomorrow he would need to set out again.

The burden fell from his shoulders. The barely noticeable light burned, but he saw in the darkness, found his way into the cockpit with his closed eyes and stopped abruptly, noticing the unfamiliar silence prevailing. He sensed nothing, looked around, searched for Y/N, was sure she had taken her place on his seat next to hers, but even the child's laughter did not fill the ship, letting him know they were well.

Her name wanted to cross Djin's lips, but he was silent, scanning the surroundings and tensed, looking for her but finding her nor the child on the ground playing neither nor flying in the air, floating like a bloated creature of the ocean.

Like a wanderer, the Mandalorian walked through the Razor Crest. He removed the gloves from his hands, stretched his fingers, was blind to the healed wounds spreading out on the skin in uneven patterns. His roughened fingers slid up to his head and removed the helmet he swore never to take off and smiled as he remembered the promise he had made to his wife. Deeply Din exhaled, feeling his muscles tense. Tears of the sky danced down his heavy armour, collided loudly with the smooth ground.

A soft snore brought Din out of his thoughts and looked up, focused on the open door leading into the small bedroom he shared with Y/N and the child. No fear filled the Mandalorian, knowing the woman who called the ship her home could defend herself and being more than sure the child would protect his mother. Low the Mandalorian cursed, knew his wife was save, shook his head, no longer listening to the voice in his head trying to convince him of something else but he paid no attention to it as he strolled forward, not noticing his right hand resting on the weapon at his side.

Her ears were deaf to the nearly silent steps. Deeply, Y/N sucked in air. Fast, she searched with her right hand for the weapon resting on the pillow of her husband she had been travelling with for several years, but before she could fire, bring death upon the intruder, Y/N recognised the pair of eyes settling on her in the darkness. The book she had been reading lay on her lap, leaning against the wall, waiting patiently for her husband to return, unable to sleep, unwilling, wanting to be sure that when he entered the ship, he would be all right and not harmed, would tend his wounds if needed.

The first thing Y/N realised was that he wasn’t wearing his helmet only clad in armour. His loving eyes settled on her, his façade crackled, was no longer a hunter, was a lover, a man and most importantly a father.

Y/N couldn’t understand how he could have entered the ship without her noticing, was too deep in the labyrinth of words of the old book laying on her lap covered by the long blanket protecting her from the coldness of the night. The Mandalorian's skilled eyes noticed how the terror in her body vanished, saw her shoulders fall again, and how the fear slowly disappearing from her gaze. His heart collided with his chest, seeing the child sleeping peacefully on the pillow next to Y/N, oblivious to his father's arrival, seeing the book filled with stories beside her. Pride spread through his chest, seeing the rise of her belly. Gently her thumb glided over the thin fabric of the long shirt, reassuring the unborn child that nothing had happened. Din stepped closer to the bed. The armour had fallen like lonely snow. The man lowered himself on the edge of the bed, let go of his shoes and settled back and lowered himself next to his wife on the bed. Din laughed low, faced Y/N and caressed her delicate features, touched her cheek with his roughened thumb and let it wander across her skin and stopped on her stomach with a growing smile on his lips. Y/N eyes went on a journey, searched for wounds or deep cuts, discolouration on his skin, but she found nothing to be concerned about. Clasping the blanket his wife placed it on his lap and leaned into this touch, let her free hand rest on his firm chest, right above his heart, felt the organ beating calmly.

[camillafanfiction]

Love changes everything - Chapter 4

Camilla had her hands pushed down deep into the pockets of her coat. The wind was terribly cold and the fog didn’t help much either on that typical British Sunday noon. Several leaves flew up from the muddy ground and landed right in the big puddle that almost filled the whole farm track. The fresh air made Camilla feel alive, even the few raindrops that landed on her face didn’t bother her. It was nice to be outside and to dwell on her thoughts. Her parents had left on Saturday around noon and as glad as she had been for their company and support as relieved had she been when she’d had a few moments on her own without the phone ringing or someone talking to her. However, when Charles had arrived with Trevor she had been grateful for his company and for Trevor’s support.

Gracefully, Charles pushed the pram past the vast puddle without waking or stirring Tom. He was glad Camilla had allowed him to come and to support her. Andrew’s death had not only stirred her to an - understandably - unknown extent, but it had also brought unwanted press attention to Camilla. Andrew’s heroic deed and his tragic death had made it to every front page in the country and the BBC as well as ITN had broadcast several specials and had even asked Camilla and her family for interviews. Charles knew from his own experiences just how foul and evil the press could be, but trying to pressure a poor, young widow into an interview seemed particularly cruel to Charles. It was good he was there to protect her and it was good that they had Trevor on their page.

Trevor had asked Camilla for her wishes for the funeral and had then led discussions with the Home Office, The Ministry of Defence and the Blues and Royals who all seemed particularly interested in playing a special role during the funeral. There had even been requests for a live broadcast of the whole thing, but Camilla had declined it, though her parents-in-law, whom she had of course consoled, seemed to be rather keen on it. The funeral would take place next Friday at Guards Chapel, Wellington Barracks, the church near Buckingham Palace that belonged to Andrew’s regiment, where Camilla and Andrew had also tied the knot. Together with Trevor, Charles and, of course, her and Andrew’s family they had decided on whom to invite. Camilla wasn’t sure how to feel about all the fuss that was made about the whole thing. It felt strange to have not only the Home Secretary and the Secretary of State for Defence present, but also several members of Charles’ family including The Duke of Edinburgh, The Queen Mother, The Princess Royal and The Dukes of Gloucester and Kent.

“Thank you for coming down here.” Camilla said into their comfortable silence. “Thank you for bringing Trevor and for looking after me and Tom. Especially Tom. I didn’t know what to do without you.” It was probably wrong, but for a moment she rested her head on Charles’s shoulders while walking and pressed slightly against his body. She really couldn’t have done without Charles and especially his secretary’s expertise. Though she didn’t want to, she spent a lot of time crying when she came to realise that she was a widow with a baby and that she would be alone for all of her life now.

Charles smiled. “It’s a matter of course, da-”. He bit his tongue. Camilla had told him off this morning again and he didn’t want to cause her any anger or fall in disgrace. He wanted her. She was his life, had been from the very first day. Charles was sure that once the funeral was over and once she had really grasped her husband’s death she would be willing to rekindle their relationship. She would remember the love she had for him. Maybe she needed some time and maybe he should be more patient. Andrew’s death had changed everything and Charles had already made concrete plans in his mind. Plans that he wouldn’t tell Camilla now, but that he kept on dreaming about.

“It’s not.”, Camilla contradicted, shaking her head. “You’re really quite extraordinary.” A little smile crossed her face. “So, how long will you be able to stay? I’m going to make us some dinner once we’re back at Bolehyde.” It was nice to focus on things she’d normally do, it helped her to ease the pain and grief.

“I need to be back in London only by Tuesday noon. Granny and I will be attending a fundraising dinner later that day.”, Charles explained before slightly tilting his head to the side. “May I stay?” He wanted to tell her that he intended on staying forever, but she would just laugh and scold him.

“If you behave yourself…”, Camilla shrugged, somewhat of a smile upon her face. On one hand she was glad about the familiar comfort he offered her, on the other hand she also wished for time alone and feared that Charles could misinterpret her every word and deed. And also, one tiny part of her secretly enjoyed his courting, his attention, his love.

X

Once Tom was fed and asleep and dinner was over, Camilla flopped down on the sofa. She was too exhausted to do the dishes though Charles had kindly offered to help. Instead she lit a cigarette and stared at the family portrait that stood on the mantelpiece. It had been taken only two months ago. Andrew had a proud smile on his face and held Tom with one arm, the other posessively wrapped around Camilla. It felt like yesterday, yet like another life. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough of these today?”, Charles asked as he sat down next to her and crinkled his nose. He was, of course, used to be surrounded by smoking people, but he never particularly liked it. “Milla?”, he asked again as she didn’t respond. Only then he realised that she was caught by the family picture on the mantelpiece. Strange, mixed feelings ran through his mind and body and he wasn’t quite able to comprehend them. “I’ll get myself a drink.”, he muttered to himself, got up and walked over to the wooden drinking cabinet where he poured himself a double brandy. Camilla looked like she could need one, too, so he poured another one. Sitting down again he placed his arm softly around Camilla. “Why don’t you try one of these instead?” 

Camilla stirred from her thoughts and after a confused moment she came to the conclusion that, actually, a brandy sounded like a good idea. Especially with another cigarette… “Down the hatch!”, she declared then and emptied the glass at once, leaving Charles in surprise.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to drink a double brandy.”, he uttered half in shock, half in a strange kind of admiration. It was not the first time he had seen Camilla skolling an alcoholic drink, she had once famously won a drinking contest against Uncle Dickie. But this was different.

“Isn’t it?”, she raised an eyebrow and shrugged her shoulders before she lit another cigarette.

“Do you want another one?” Charles asked. He had well noticed the bitter undertone in Camilla’s voice and didn’t like it. 

Once again Camilla raised an eyebrow, she had an impish smirk on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She giggled when Charles looked at her with a somewhat bemused expression on his face. “Now, go and get me another one. I promise I’ll drink it how one’s supposed to drink it.”

With a small sigh Charles got up to get her another double brandy. He felt like Camilla tried to put on a show, something she had never done prior to her wedding to Andrew. Did she think she had to behave a certain way to please him? It felt utterly wrong to Charles. He wanted her to behave naturally around him - like she had always done. “With me…” Charles bit his lip, he should really be quiet. But he just couldn’t. “You know, I don’t expect you to behave a certain way or to do certain things.” He sat down again, handing her the glass. She had her lips pressed tightly and was looking down on the floor as he continued: “Look, let me put it this way: with me, you're always number one, and there isn't even a number two.” 

There was a moment of silence. Camilla had heard his words and she appreciated them, she really did. But couldn’t Charles give her some space? Could he not understand that her mind was filled with hundreds of things that were anything but a romantical involvement with him? Could he not understand that she had lost her husband just a few days ago and that her world was upside down? Camilla knew he meant well, but it was all too much. It was all too difficult for her still confused mind. “Charles, please…”, she replied in an unusual koy manner. “Don’t.” Maybe one day her heart would be free and open again, but not now. Camilla knew only too well that, should she ever start a relationship with Charles again, it would not lead anywhere. She had no intention of becoming The Prince of Wales’s widowed mistress. She bit her lip. “I am very fond of you, Charles, really. But, please, give me time.” Camilla tried to smile as she stroked over his left cheek.

Suddenly, Charles bent his head forward and she, unintendetly, drew herself to him at the same moment, her lips half open like a young, fresh flower.

“Yes,” he whispered into her lips, without really kissing her. “There’s all the time in the world.”

[h0neypjm]

Confident 02 | jjk

↳ Summary: After giving Jungkook the best suck of his life he’s left wondering if what you said was true. Was it really your first time? ‘Cause Jungkook thinks you might’ve lied.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, college au, fuckboy! jk, our fav cheeky virgin reader!

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word count: 8.8k

↳ Warnings: swearing, mentions of past toxic relationship, mentions of being pressured into sex, mentions of body image, mentions of stds, Jungkook being very confused, no smut in this part

↳ a/n: here it is !!! thank you for all the love for the first part, i hope you enjoy this part ! please feel free to leave any feedback <3 

↳ Series: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Previously...

“She said it's her first time.” He pauses, looking up at his friends' concerned faces. “I think she might’ve lied.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jungkook groans, cradling his head before banging it on the table. The utensils on the table rattle and clang, bringing unwanted attention to his mini breakdown. Taehyung is quick to place his hand under Jungkook's forehead just as he goes in for another blow. “Ok, Jungkook- Jungkook!” Jimin giggles beside him. “Fucking stop, people are staring.”

Jungkook pauses and subtly peeks out of his long bangs, checking to see that Taehyung’s words were indeed true. He breathes out and sits up in his chair, fixing his shirt to play off that he wasn’t just having a mental meltdown.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “soooo are you gonna talk now, cause’ I have a horrible headache and you’re really not helping.”

Jungkook nods opening his mouth to speak. “Alright so uh, I met a girl last night and-”

“I thought you went home?” Taehyung shoves Jimin’s shoulder and Jungkook glares, “yeah, well that clearly didn’t happen.” He rubs his temples, “could you do me a favour and let me speak first, and then you can ask the questions. Ok?”

The two boys nod, settling into their seats as Jungkook delves back into his story.

“Alright so anyways, I saw this girl and like, I haven’t ever seen her before? She was literally perfect”. He exhales looking at nothing at particular as he continues. “Gorgeous face, prettiest lips and oh! speaking of her lips, God the way she sucked-”

Despite what Jungkook said earlier, Taehyung feels the need to intervene. “Ok as much as I love a good suck myself, I need you to stop here, we don’t need the graphics.” Jimin nods in agreement even though it’s clear he’s not paying an ounce of attention. Jungkook smirks at the memory, but it soon drops as he remembers one tiny detail. He places his hands on the table, total seriousness etched onto his face. “But here’s the kicker, she said it was her first time.”

Confusion. 

“So did you or did you not take her virginity?”Jungkook crosses his arms. “No, after that she just up and left.” “Wait, fuck”, Jungkook suddenly realises, “I didn’t even make her cum”, he groans and Taehyung bursts into laughter. This finally garners Jimin’s attention, his dazed eyes squinting. “Who’s the girl?” Jungkook sighs, “if you were listening before you would’ve heard me say that I don’t know her.” Jimin leans forward,“well can you at least describe her? I pretty much know everyone who attended the party”

Jungkook doesn’t have to think that hard. “She was wearing this plaid skirt and like a white top-” Jimin’s eyes widen, “Holy shit, Y/N?! Man, Jin’s gonna kill you.” This makes Jungkook pause, thoughts running back to the text he had received from Jin. “Wait, they’re not a thing are they?” Jimin chokes, “God no, they’ve been family friends since like forever, Jin’s practically her protective older brother.”

That explained his text earlier. Jungkook furrows his brows, more questions beginning to arise and spill out of his mouth. “How come I’ve never met her and if she’s a virgin, then how- how did-”, Taehyung cuts in, “dude she’s done other things before.” More confusion. “And how would you know that?” Taehyung smirks, shrugging as he gets up out of his chair. “I'm gonna get a drink, Jimin, you want anything?” God, his head is spinning. “Sure, you know my usual.”

It was the way Taehyung spoke too casually, like your lifestyle choices were common knowledge. How the fuck hasn’t he met you, yet his friends seem to be well acquainted with your existence? “What the fuck was that look?” He focuses on Taehyung from where he orders his drinks. “Did you see it Jimin? Kinda sus.”

Jimin remains nonchalant, blowing a strand of hair out of his sight before answering one of Jungkook’s urgent queries. “Jin never introduced you to her because well…” He looks Jungkook up and down with an unimpressed look. “You would get your grimy hands on her immediately. And Then after that, It’s like she never existed ” Jungkook opens his mouth, rebuttal on the tip of his tongue. “Don’t argue with me boy, the second you met her, you already wanted her on your dick, did you not?”

Jungkook is shocked to say the least, jaw hanging open as Taehyung makes his way back to the table, drinks in hand. “Oh God, what did you tell him?” Jungkook slams his fist on the table, yet again grabbing the attention of people around them. “That is not true! I have standards, and what about you two. You guys are just as bad.” He points accusingly at the bruises peeking out of Taehyung’s loose shirt, “Look at Tae! Those hickies are probably a combination of the three girls he fucked last week!”

Jimin doesn’t want to get kicked out of the cafe, so he attempts to calm down a soon to be raging Jungkook. “Look, to put it nicely, you’re a heartbreaker, you lead girls on whereas Tae and I actually tell people we’re not interested in anything more than a hookup.”

Jungkook seems to understand where he’s coming from. He can admit, he does have quite the reputation if the amount of times he’s been slapped in the face says anything. But now, with this newfound information, he can also admit that you’ve certainly intrigued him, that was for sure.

Jungkook wants to see you again.

Not for a rump in the sheets, but rather a friendly conversation. 

It was just his luck that he had heard through the grapevine that you had been invited to one of Jin’s small pool party get togethers. If Jungkook was being honest, he’s quite excited to be within your vicinity again but he knows he needs to keep his cool. Especially after the series of death threats and slaps on the neck from Jin. He shudders at the memory.

And so, Jungkook prepares himself more than he usually does. He wants to do it right this time. No flirty teasing, just friendly innocent conversation. He makes sure to carefully pick out the right swim shorts that display the thickness of his thighs. Not for any sexual gain, more so to show off the hours spent at the gym in hopes that maybe he can get you to become more interested in him as he is to you. He sounds desperate, and he’s sure you’re not that materialistic, but he has this nagging want to impress you somehow. He huffs and does a few pushups, for extra measure of course.

He’s not sure as to why his brain decided to make him act this way. You’re more or less a stranger to him. However, when Jungkook begins his short journey to Jin’s house he really lets himself think, which usually isn't a good idea. 

Jungkook doesn’t know you, but you’ve definitely left an imprint in his mind which makes you all the more fascinating. It’s news to him that you seem to be very close to his small circle of friends which is probably thanks to your deeply rooted friendship with Jin. That new piece of information had been bugging him since the day he met up with Taehyung and Jimin. Surely his reputation couldn’t be the only reason why you’ve never met him. Right?

Parking his car in Jin’s enormous driveway, he makes his way up to the grand front door. Sometimes he wishes he could live a life like Jin. He grew up being fed with a silver spoon his whole life. Having everything paid for instead of rolling in the miseries of college student debt.

Once Jungkook makes his way into the large house, he sets down the drinks he had brought onto the kitchen counter and watches his best friends goof around and enjoy the summer sun with a warm grin. He chuckles quietly when Jin pushes Jimin and his perfectly styled hair into the pool. Jimin screams a slur of curses while Jin quickly runs beside a sleeping Yoongi for protection.

Slipping out of his loose oversized shirt, Jungkook scans the entirety of Jin’s backyard, looking for the face that has been haunting him since that fateful night. She’s not here. He reexamines the pool seeing nothing but the chaotic mess of his favourite people, and he sighs. Just as he prepares to step out into the blazing sun, the sound of his stomach growling stops him in his tracks. 

Thinking about you made him nervous. So nervous that his stomach couldn’t bear the thought of breakfast. However, after the realisation that you hadn’t arrived just yet, makes him do a full one eighty, long strides taking him to Jin’s expensive fridge.

His head is already deep into the fridge when he hears the sound of the sliding door opening, revealing a dripping Jin with a small scowl on his face. It seems Jimin finally got his revenge. “I’m starving you got any leftovers?” Jungkook queries, his head popping out from the cool air of the fridge.

Jin grabs a fresh towel and whacks it against Jungkook’s naked back. “What’s the point of even asking when you’re already going through my damn fridge!” Jungkook flashes Jin an innocent grin and glows when he discovers a small bowl of Chinese takeout. 

It very quickly dawns on Jungkook that in order to enjoy a nice warm meal, he would need to heat it up. His stomach all but roars, not used to the lack of food in its system and Jungkook wants to cry. He wants to cry and it's not from the angry hunger pains, but rather something extremely laughable. He has to use a fucking microwave. 

You’re running late, there’s sweat running down your brow and you feel like your arms will fall off any second. The weight of snacks and alcohol you had brought making you stagger as you finally enter Jin’s enormous home.

The one and only thing that’s on your mind is the refreshing feeling of slipping into Jin’s pool while sipping on an iced beverage. This motivates you enough to put all the strength left in your exhausted being to speedily walk into the kitchen and throw everything onto the counter. 

“AHH FUCK!” You flinch at the sudden scream, hugging your body protectively. Jungkook slowly pops out from behind the other side of the counter, his doe eyes big and wide. “You fucking scared me Jesus!” He exclaims, running a hand through sweaty bangs.

The air had escaped your lungs long before you could utter your next sentence as the sight before you has you freezing. There he was, Jeon Jungkook in all his glory. Tanned skin and taut muscle sculpted by the Gods. You didn’t mean to stare, but how could you not! Your eyes had a mind of their own. He’s glorious, every single part of him, and you’re not even afraid to admit it. Your eyes are quick to eat him up, tracing the art staining the whole of his right arm and you wonder what every swirl of ink means to him.

Jungkook coughs awkwardly, going in to scratch at his neck. You imagined he would tease you about your obvious ogling, but it never came. Strange. “Why were you hiding?” You ask, dropping your gaze from his body in order to arrange the snacks into neat piles, using it as an excuse to slowly step closer to him. “Oh! Uh-”, he scratches his head, looking down at his feet before jumping five feet into the air, a startled gasp leaving his lips when the timer of the microwave goes off. 

You burst into laughter and Jungkook flushes in embarrassment. Jin had told you about Jungkook’s embarrassing fear of microwaves but you never thought you would see it first hand. You hold in the laughs that tickle your throat and try to settle him down by lightly touching his shoulder. He flinches at your touch.

“Are you okay?” You’re really close to him now. Your chest is practically pressed up against his and Jungkook gulps. How was it possible that you could look even more stunning than the last time he saw you? Your cheeks are glowing from the soft golden rays of the afternoon sun and the way you look up at him, your soft smile curling makes his head spin.

“Yeah, I’m good”, he breaks eye contact in embarrassment. “Sorry, just uh, microwaves are scary you know?” You giggle up at him. Is this really Jungkook? The Jungkook you’ve seen flaunting a new girl every week just to abruptly break her heart when he can’t promise anything more than sex? 

You’re not complaining, he’s quite adorable like this.

You’re not too sure why his personality has the sudden switch up. It could possibly be the fact that he’s with his closest friends and doesn’t feel the need to put up his playboy persona. Although, the way he blushes when he looks at you plays a different story. Do you make him nervous? Surely not, if the memories of that heated night are anything to go by.

“So uh, are you gonna head into the pool?” His empty stomach is long forgotten as he gestures to the large backyard, you nod up at him excitedly. It’s then Jin decides to bust back into the kitchen, a stern gaze set on his face. “Y/N, can I speak with you for a minute?” Jungkook cautiously takes a step away from you, your bodies no longer close to each other and you notice this with a small frown.

“Yeah, sure”, you relent walking over to Jin who places a protective arm around your shoulders. Unknowingly to you, Jin traps Jungkook down with a hard stare and signals Jungkook to go outside, to which he accepts with a nod.

“I know what you’re gonna say, and no I do not see him like that”, you cross your arms defensively. Jin sighs, “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again.” He places his hands on your shoulders, full lecture mode on. “Let’s face it, you’re a hopeless romantic, I can’t trust that you won’t do something stupid, but you and Jungkook… You’re both important friends of mine and-” 

You’ve heard his overprotective brotherly speech plenty of times, “I know, and I’m so thankful that you’re looking out for me. I just don’t see the harm in befriending him, you’ve never let me speak to him before.” Jin releases his hold on your shoulders to fix the mess of his wet hair, “and there's a reason for that.”

Why was he so damn hard-headed. Jin loves Jungkook like he loves his family. It just didn't make any sense to you that Jin could approve of their friendship but when it comes to you, he completely shields you away from any interactions with the so called playboy. 

“When are you going to stop protecting me from boys?” Jin senses your frustration immediately. “I may be younger than you, but I’m also an adult just like you. An adult that can make her own choices.” You exhale slowly, “You’ve let me befriend your whole group and they’ve been nothing but wonderful to me, I don’t see the wrong in getting to know Jungkook.” 

Jin lets his guard down. You do have a point, maybe he was being a little too overprotective. He gives you a soft smile, you look away. 

“You’re right, I am in no position to dictate your decisions and who you choose to hang around with, it was wrong of me to treat you like that. Jin looks out into the pool, watching Jungkook tackle Taehyung. “I’m sorry I was a bit too harsh, Jungkook’s a good kid, he just got into the wrong crowd at first. Although, you gotta promise to tell me if he hurts you, cause he knows I’ll beat his ass.” 

You laugh accepting his apology, “are you sure about that? He’s a literal muscle pig.” You both begin to make your way outside and Jin shoves you slightly, “hey! You know I’m right.” Jin shakes his head and brings you into a comforting hug. “Yeah, yeah whatever.” He rolls his eyes, you beam up at him and together you walk out into the warm sunlight.

It hadn’t even been a second since you stepped outside, and already Yoongi’s long term girlfriend, Jieun is squealing your way. “Y/N! I’m so happy you're finally here, the amount of testosterone out here was starting to make me feel faint.” You giggle at her exasperated tone, pulling her into a tight hug. 

Nonchalantly you peel off your flowy sundress, it’s stickiness from your sweat making you cringe. “I missed you last week, why didn’t you come to class?” Jiuen pouts, “I'm sorry bub, I somehow caught a cold, but I trust you have some notes for me.” 

The way Jieun flutters her lashes at you innocently forces a roll from your eyes. Slathering sunscreen onto your arms, you reprimand her, “I swear you’re only using me for my notes, you literally never listen in class! Can you get my back please?”

She hums while you turn around, her small hands kneading sunscreen from your shoulder bones to the small dip in your back. Jieun continues to blabber on about the joys of life, not even checking if you’re listening to a single word she says. Instead your eyes are zeroed in on a certain someone.

Your staring is blatantly obvious but you don’t care. It’s only when Taehyung spots your burning gaze with a small smirk does he signal Jungkook to turn around to meet your flirty grin.  

Holy shit

The sun does a real great job of highlighting the gorgeous curves of your body adorned in quite possibly the smallest baby blue bikini he’s seen on a woman. Your breasts practically spill out of the tiny triangle cups and the pretty colour compliments your skin beautifully. 

Whilst Jungkook can admit you have one of the hottest bodies he’s seen in a while, his eyes surprisingly don't linger on your delicious curves for too long. Instead, he finds himself utterly enamoured by the way your eyes crinkle slightly when you smile prettily at him, your cheeks glowing with it. 

It suddenly dawns on him that you are the first girl that has truly enchanted him, and no, your ridiculously gorgeous body had little to do with it. 

Jungkook does not mind this change one bit. 

So, instead of staring at you like a gaping goldfish, he matches your flirtatious body language with a boyish grin and a small wave. His previous nerves dissipating only to be replaced by confidence and polished charm. He doesn’t want to scare you off with his sudden look of epiphany just yet, but the new unfamiliar feeling you give him is surely doing exactly that.

“My, my, Yoongi wasn’t lying.” Jieun stifles a giggle when she notices how Jungkook’s attention has steered towards you and only you. You’re quick to turn around, brows furrowed. “What are you on about?” 

“Oh you know… You and Jungkook”

You grimace, tired of the repeated topic of conversation. “Just because I sucked his dick once does not mean we're a thing” 

“Oh really? He’s asked me an awful lot of questions about you I was beginning to think otherwise”

“Wait, really?”

Jieun has the widest cheshire grin plastered on her face, it's starting to look quite unsettling.

“Really.”

You’re thoroughly shocked to say the least. You thought your fast, fleeting blowjob, sort of, was nothing special. A usual escapade to get his daily fill. Ordinary. Unmemorable.

However, it seems to be quite the opposite.

Jieun grabs your hand and swings it back and forth, exactly like a mother would do, although she’s merely two years older than you. “I know Jin’s been up your ass about Jungkook and frankly I don’t blame him he’s still a little shit from time to time but, he’s actually quite fun to be around and honestly I think his playboy tendencies seemed to dial down a bit since he met us.” The two of you giggle quietly amongst each other, quick feet making your way closer to the pool to avoid the scorching pavement.

Your toes are the first to dip into the pool and you practically moan at the cold water melting away the blistering haze that sticks onto your skin. The water is icy at your waist and you love it. “So my advice would be not to worry about him, instead it's his little army of plastic bimbos that you should watch out for.” 

“Ahh, internalised misogyny. We love to see it.” 

Jieun acknowledges you with a hum as the two of you float around the calming abyss. She then swims closer to you, nodding her head into the direction of a lonely Jungkook, who lazily stares at your alluring form. “I think your loverboy over there wants to talk to you.”

Jieun swims away before you can protest, leaving you to face the handsome man before you. His eyes are round and docile, yet his stare is tantalising, it pulls you in as if he’s slowly reeling you in with a rope. 

The water delicately ripples around your body when you approach him and you internally sigh in awe at the striking features of his stunning face. You want to use this opportunity to finally get to know him, and perhaps form a new friendship. 

You take note of the lack of Jin’s hawk-like eyes or for better the lack of any eyes on the two of you. You’re alone, huddled into one of the far corners of the pool, your conversation private, just for two pairs of ears. 

You open your mouth to speak, “So-”

“I-”

An uncomfortable silence stills the air and you both halt your words to giggle quietly amongst yourselves. God, this is awkward. 

“You go first”, You offer, tucking a wet strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook follows the subtle movement of your fingers before taking a deep breath. 

“I feel like we should discuss the elephant in the room”

You're stunned. “Huh?”

“You know… That Friday night?”

Of course you knew what he was referring too, yet you wondered why as you honestly didn’t think that night had much impact on the man. 

With a raised brow you ask, “What about it?”

“I’ve just had a lot of... thoughts”

You scratch your head feeling puzzled. You’re sure Jungkook has had better blowjobs in his lifetime. Hell, Jungkook did most of the work that night. “Do you usually discuss the past hookups you have, or am I just lucky today?”

You’re teasing him, nevertheless Jungkook tilts his head back towards the sky. All he wants is clarification, only this conversation is heading down an awkward path, so he decides to spit out what’s been bothering him for the past few days.

“Okay listen, I know this is odd to say, but ever since that night, It’s like I can’t get you out of my head.”

Your ego inflates at his statement and you smirk. You knew you could suck dick well, but according to Jungkook you seem to have quite the talent.

You smile proudly, “damn, look at me go, I can’t believe I have the campus playboy wrapped around my finger.”

Jungkook scoffs, both in annoyance and embarrassment because shit, he could have worded that differently, now he sounds like the clingy girls he fucks.

“Yeah, yeah let’s not pretend like I was the only one enjoying myself here. Weren’t you the one practically begging to be touched?” 

You’re amused. “Weren’t you the one who couldn’t make me cum. Yet came from their own handjob?”

Jungkook tongues his cheek and looks away. The way you speak so casually intimidates him. No girl has ever spoken to him this way, in fact, Jungkook’s the one who usually likes to tease. He can slowly feel the creeping heat alighting his cheeks and God does he hope you don’t notice.

You patiently wait for Jungkook’s reply, a sly grin adorned on your pretty face. However, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, rather he frowns and immaturely splashes water at your face. 

“Jungkook!” You sputter, wiping at your face to rid of the chlorine in your eyes. “What the fuck was that for?”

He shrugs, “sorry my hand must’ve slipped”

You don’t take that for an answer, your petty nature crawling out as you splash him back harder than he had done. “Hand slipped, my ass.”

You cross your arms smugly, a small laugh blossoming out of your mouth when Jungkook cutely rubs at his eyes. 

It’s after a minute when you realise Jungkook hasn’t stopped furiously rubbing his eyes. The circular motions of his hand move so intensely that it begins to look painful and irritating. “Fuck, it stings”, he exclaims in agony.

Shit, you inwardly curse, gently touching his wrist, concern lacing your features because you didn’t think getting chlorinated water in one's eye would sting that much. You analyse his facial expressions closely and you wince at the redness surrounding his eyes from his harsh rubbing. 

On the contrary, Jungkook knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s competitive and won’t back down from a fight, even if it’s just fun banter, so he continues his little scheme just for the fun of it and hides his small grin under his large hands.

You’re now slightly panicked, “fuck, Jungkook I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit the water that hard I-”

Jungkook cracks.

Ever so slowly, he peeps his eyes out at you and watches with a mischievous smirk as your face morphs from alarmed to annoyed in less than a millisecond.

You tighten your grip on his wrist and attempt to slap his hard chest with your free hand, however Jungkook’s reflexes are fast and he grasps your hand tightly, a teasing glint in his eye. 

“You little shit-”

All of a sudden a loud holler is heard from the front door, rousing a relaxed Jin out of his chair as he sprints while simultaneously yelling at the ruckus being made. It’s then a stampede of both familiar and unfamiliar faces come crashing in. Some jump straight into the pool to cool off from the blazing sun while others rush to the table of assorted alcohol, desperate to get an ounce of it in their system.

Word seemed to go around about Jin’s supposed small get-together unbelievably fast, causing the once tranquil Kim Seokjin into a raging volcano. 

You’re pressed right up against Jungkook’s solid chest and he surprisingly pays you no mind, even though your perky tits are deliciously pushed up perfectly against his body. Jungkook’s eyes are not settled on them, rather he pays close attention to the amount of people dangerously plunging into the pool at a fast rate.

Jungkook protectively hugs your shoulders to shield you from the rowdy party goers who definitely do not understand the definition of personal space. Your heart swells when he then delicately places your head in the crook of his neck and wraps an arm around your fairly exposed body, essentially guarding you from frantic wet limbs and ignorant individuals.

You feel comfortable and safe, so comfortable that you wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while if it weren’t for the throng of college students delving into the cooling water. 

Jin’s house begins to fill with unexpected guests very quickly and you wonder how Jin is handling the situation. You suppose not very well when you see him whipping people with towels, red ears making an appearance and his booming voice following him.

Jungkook wants to get out and he’s sure you feel the same way which is why he smoothly slots his hand into your own, long fingers wrapping around your hand to carefully pull you through the growing crowd of people in the pool.

Whilst pushing past a variety of college students you are met with many stares, even worse, numerous envious eyes and whispers of possible gossip. You try your best to avoid their gazes, the hard stares reminding you of the last time Jungkook held your hand to push through groups of people. 

Water drips down the curves of your body and lands in little pools around you when you step out of the pool. At this point you’ve garnered even more turning heads that examine every inch of your skin closely. Their stares itch your skin and you feel akin to an animal kept in a zoo enclosure, curious eyes breaking down your confidence, you want to hide. 

You usually like to pride yourself on your confidence because you know you’re hot and you know your worth. It had taken many failed relationships to build up your self love and nourish the scars and memories of questioning if you’re good enough. 

You fight on and squeeze Jungkook’s hand, mostly for some sort of reassurance. It shocks you when he astonishingly squeezes back and softly rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. It’s almost as if he knows how you’re feeling. 

You glance up at him shyly. Jungkook keeps his eyes straight ahead. He smiles a different kind of smile than the one he had directed to you a few hours ago. His lips are in a permanent smug smirk. His usual playboy smile. He flashes it at everyone as if he’s asking for their approval and even goes in to high-five a few people who are unrecognisable to you. You soon realise that this is what Jungkook thrives on. People, validation and his notorious reputation he’s created for himself.

Jungkook lights up at the presence of crowds, flirty smiles and people calling his name, whereas you want to crawl into your skin and run away because from the perspective of outsiders it looks like you’re just another one of Jungkook’s flings that will soon be forgotten by next week.

Well, you hope you won’t turn out to be one of them.

At last you find yourself away from the heart of the party, your dress in hand but your body still wet nonetheless. Jungkook is in the same state as yourself, droplets of water dribbling from his dark hair and onto the timber flooring. He leans into your ear, “I’ll go get us some towels, stay here.”

He’s gone before you can reply, making small conversation when he passes by various people, his boisterous laugh echoing down the halls. 

You’re alone now, and defenceless at that. There’s not many people you know here, besides the few odd people you share a class with and some sleazy frat boys that hold a similar reputation to Jungkook. You want to find Jieun so you can hug her or maybe ask her if she can take you home, but she is nowhere to be found.

Fuck, You remember leaving your bag on the kitchen table, unsupervised with many personal belongings stowed away inside. Using your dress to cover the most of your exposed skin like a blanket, you stride over to the kitchen and sigh in relief when you find your bag untouched and in perfect condition.

Snatching up your bag, you grab your phone and immediately text Jieun to find out where the fuck she’s hiding, but there’s a part of you that knows she’s probably fucking Yoongi somewhere. Traitor.

Jungkook finds you to be in a completely different part of the house than where he asked you, one towel wrapped around his neck and the other draped over his arm. You haven’t noticed him yet, your frantic fingers texting a treacherous Jieun, “princess, didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

You’re startled. Switching your phone off you stick your arm out, waiting for Jungkook to pass you the towel but he doesn't. Jungkook gently pushes your shoulders so that you turn away from him and carefully wraps the towel around your body like a cape. You hold the edges of the fabric to help him hug the towel around yourself, keeping it tighter to your body.

Your voice is quiet, “thank you.”

Jungkook leans down to meet your face, “What was that?”

Even though Jungkook had been in the pool longer than you, his cologne still sticks to his skin and you kind of want to breathe more of it in, but that would be weird.

“Oh, I said thank you.”

You’re close to him again, although this time he towers over you with a look almost identical to a predator meeting its prey.

Jungkook’s eyes flirt around your face and descend. He shamelessly drinks up the swell of your breasts and whatever skin is visible amidst the fluffy towel around you. It’s strange. You had noticed Jungkook doing the exact same thing when you were alone with him. The difference though was that his looks were cursory as if he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Now, It's like a new persona had taken over him and he was ready to pounce at any sign of a green light. 

He’s stuck in a trance, fuckboy tinted glasses fogging his vision.

You force out a giggle and playfully shove his shoulder, “my eyes are up here, you know.” 

His reply comes lighting fast, he’s definitely been in this position before. “I know, just admiring them.”

Jungkook wants to hit himself the second his reply spewed out of his mouth. He desperately wants to reassure your unimpressed (though also very cute) face, because goddammit he wanted to be respectful. Jungkook knows he has a tendency to slip into a new personality when the right amount of people hyped him. Call it being two faced, he knows it's one of his fatal flaws. 

“I'm sorry.” 

He says it genuinely. 

Jungkook only just got to properly meet you, he doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression! He can admit, your first ever official meeting (moreso hookup) wasn’t ideal, yet the way Jin dragged him through the mud undoubtedly made him understand that you weren’t the type of woman that should ever undergo the treatment he puts his hookups through. Scratch that, any woman shouldn’t be treated the way Jungkook treats them.

You're now fully covered under the towel, not a sliver of skin on display. You don’t know if his apology was genuine. “It’s ok I guess, I expected nothing less from you anyways.”

“Right.” He’s messed up.

You clear your throat, “I’m gonna go get changed, maybe look for Jieun unless-”

Jungkook finishes your sentence, “-she’s fucking Yoongi.”

You exhale, “yeah.”

“Jeon Jungkook!”

The voice makes you halt at its familiar tone. Jungkook doesn’t notice your growing panic as he too freezes in his spot. 

No, it can’t be.

The world plays in slow motion when he walks into your line of vision. His assertive stride, smug smile and sharp eyes.

Jeong Suho.

His name explodes inside of you like a blistering fire yet your heart feels ice cold. He is the very man you have spent weeks trying to avoid and even more trying to get out of your head.

The world plays at a normal speed when he approaches Jungkook. Their facial expressions are the same, the way they greet each other is the same. They’re practically the same breed of fuckboy, born from the same mother.

“Been awhile since I’ve seen you around.”

Jeong Suho was a person that Jungkook didn’t really mind, In fact there was a point in Jungkook’s life where he would’ve considered Suho to be one of his closest friends. They were two peas in a pod freshmen year of college. Never giving a fuck about their education and always present for any opportunity to get completely wasted with as many girls they could possibly seduce. Nowadays, Jungkook would rather keep his distance from him.

On the contrary, you were one of the many girls that had fallen deeply for Suho’s alluring charm. You fell so hard, you thought that maybe just maybe there was a possibility that you could secure a future with him. Obviously that was not the case.

You thank your lucky stars that Jungkook was there to distract Suho while you make your haste escape. All you need to do now is somehow locate an unoccupied bathroom, preferably without having to walk in on someone getting it on, and then you could get the hell out of there.

You must admit, you look quite ridiculous right now. Navy blue towel wrapped tightly around your body, your small head peeking through. You could probably pass as some form of E.T cosplay right now. You don’t care if you look rude, pushing and shoving whoever stands in your way. You only have one goal and you’re so so close to succeeding-

“Wait, Y/N! Is that you?”

Fuck.

Do you run? Maybe duck behind some poor innocent student looking for a good time? You huff, you're already sticking out like a sore thumb, there’s no use in trying to hide when the enemy has already spotted you. Even worse Jungkook motions you over with a wide gleaming smile. If only he knew how much you’re dreading this interaction.

Grudgingly, you walk over, looking like an irritated gremlin with your towel still firmly secured around you. Jungkook makes matters worse by pushing the towel off your head, releasing your scruffy ball of hair. You grimace. 

“I didn’t know you knew Y/N?”

Suho sends a smirk your way. You however, glower.

“Yeah we go way back, don’t we baby?”

You force a tight lipped smile, howbeit you look as if you have a mild case of constipation. 

“Sure.” It comes out rough through gritted teeth.

Suho notes your frustration, a sly grin carving onto his punchable face. He turns towards Jungkook, seemingly blocking you from their conversation, yet you know Suho wants you to hear what he has to say.

“You know it’s a shame. Y/N’s gorgeous, ten outta ten body, knows how to put it to good use, however she never let me fuck her. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Jungkook stays silent for a minute, eyeing your shaking fists and angry eyebrows. Jungkook may be dumb, but he sure knows how to read a room, thus leading him to the conclusion that your relationship with Suho isn’t something you’re very fond of and that he should probably get you out of here.

“Uhhh no, that’s not weird at all actually. What I think is weird is the fact that you think you have this sick claim on every girl you’ve defiled and even worse, you’ve always had this strange need to chase after every virgin you see like some perverted cherry picker. Yeah, that’s weird.”

Suho laughs right in his face, spit grossly tickling his skin. “That’s rich coming from you Jeon, weren't you quite the cherry picker in your freshman days, no?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he expected from this conversation. It definitely wasn’t this.

It's obvious that Jungkook isn’t a saint, he really fucking far from it. Although, one thing's for sure, it’s his absolute hatred for the way his brain was wired in his freshman year of college. Yes, Jungkook still remains as one of the standing campus fuckboys but he’s gained a few more brain cells since then. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to retort, only to be met with Suho’s back as he turns his attention towards you.

“Y/N, darling if I were you i’d make a run for it, ya know keep your chastity intact or whatever.” His smile is saccharine sweet, though his words are sickly sour.

The months of pent up anger stored within your being bubbles and overflows like a bad science experiment. You’ve quickly decided that now’s that time to expose the shitty excuse of a man, and quite frankly you don’t care that you have an audience. Actually, an audience would make this all the better.

Your finger is strong, pointing accusingly at his broad chest. “You know what you stupid motherfucker? Don’t waltz in here with that dumb smile of yours when you know you have some disgusting cheesy infection growing down there.”

Suho’s eyes widen slightly. It was no secret he was a walking STD, just about infecting every girl that was naive enough to sit on his dick. 

Everyone at the party has definitely stopped to listen to what you have to say. You even spot Jin from the corner of your eye sending you a proud smile. “And while we're on the topic of cheese, Learn how to wash your fucking dick!”

You don’t let him have a moment to speak, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and pulling him out of the house.

A few people applaud, some girls praise you on your way out. You give them no mind, you’ve had enough for tonight.   

Jungkook starts his car, no questions asked. It’s obvious to him that there’s bad blood between you and Suho. What you don’t know is that Jungkook can also relate. 

Technically there was no bad blood between them, moreso the hurtful memories and manipulation Suho put him through. To put it simply, Suho was probably the worst influence Jungkook could ever have as a vunerable freshman. 

The crunch of gravel and soft melodies that spill out of Jungkook’s radio converse with eachother and fill the defeaning silence that sits between you and Jungkook. 

Jungkook doesn’t even know where he’s going, he just drives. 

Every so often he checks up on you from the corner of his eye. Your knees stick tightly together and point away from him. Your fingers curl and uncurl, leaving cresent moons in your skin. And to finish it off, your face remains still, hostility completely washing over your features. If Jungkook didn’t know any better he would think you’d jump out of his car and make a run for it at the chance of him stopping the car.

It’s seven sniffles later when Jungkook decides he knows where he should take you.

The night sky is clear and the stars burn brightly to accompany the full round moon. It’s the perfect setting for release and maybe a screaming session if you’re up for it.

Jungkook makes a stop behind a forest of tall trees and a dirt path. You sit up immediately. 

“Where are we?” Your eyes are rimmed with tears, “I want to go home.”

Jungkook shuts the engine off, “you never told me where you live.”

“Well you never asked!”

Maybe you shouldn’t have yelled because from the looks of it, Jungkook just wants to help you out and clearly you’re not being the friendliest right now. 

You curl back into yourself, “sorry”, another sniffle.

Jungkook brings your fists into his hands and warmly opens them up. You refuse to look at him, it doesn’t deter Jungkook one bit.

Tenderly he brings a finger under your chin, gradually bringing your eyes up to his. Jungkook takes his time with you, careful to not set you off until you’re face to face with his warm eyes. 

“I brought you here because it’s apparent we both need let out some pent up steam.” He drags his fingers delicately across the curve of your chin and back into his lap. His touch is fleeting, you miss it already. “I just thought you may want to vent or just shout out into the void, it’s up to you.” You nod, fully trusting Jungkook’s intentions. “And at any time you feel like going home just say the word and I’ll take you there, okay?” 

Your heart swells in adoration at his caring nature, though you can’t help but wonder how he can have such a sudden change in personality depending on where he is and who he’s with. It’s unnerving. 

Jungkook clicks his seatbelt off and heads out the car, “put your dress back on princess, I’ll be out here waiting for you.” You mutter your confirmation and do as he asks.

The cool summer air kisses your skin and runs through your hair as you step out of the car. Jungkook is already by your side dressed in an oversize hoodie with another in his hand as well as a fuzzy blanket. 

Jungkook steps closer to you, holding the hem of his hoodie to slip over your body. Without a second thought you raise your hands causing Jungkook to chuckle at how cute you look dwarfed in his clothes.

The same cologne you smelled on his skin earlier lingers on every fibre of fabric around you. His scent is everywhere, swirling around your head, instantly calming down your anxieties. You smile at him, “Lead the way Jungkook.”

Jungkook leads you up a small hill and you notice the trees opening up to display a lush field of grass. However, the sight before you leaves you in absolute wonder. You stand completely still and take it all in. 

The night sky is dark but the city below illuminates is beautifully. Your gaze bounces over all the buildings, skyscrapers and their dazzling bright lights. It’s peaceful up here, you decide as you take a glimpse of the hundreds of tall structures looking so tiny, so ant-like.

Jungkook is settled behind you, his legs comfortably folded underneath himself. He remembers what it was like the first time he saw the view, which is why he doesn’t blame your stunned silence and glazed eyes. 

“How did you find this place?”

You find your way towards Jungkook and plant yourself right beside him. “I don’t know, I was just driving aimlessly one night and found it, It’s nice right.”

You hum, “it’s beautiful.”

Jungkook murmurs in agreement as you lie down on the woolly blanket beneath you. The stars twinkle and glimmer amongst the deep blue sky, creating a serene experience. You shut your eyes.

“I hate him.”

Jungkook looks down at you, you don’t see him though. “Suho?”

“Yeah”, you exhale deeply, “I can’t believe I had to see him again.”

Although Jungkook knows you can’t see him, he swivels his body around to face you properly. “Did you guys date or something?”

You scoff, “pffft you know Suho doesn’t date anyone.” You open your eyes, meeting a pair of round docile ones. You continue, “Suho was the first guy who every gave me an ounce of attention. Before him guys never looked my way. Jungkook remains silent, letting you pour out what’s on your mind.

“Suho had me fooled, I thought I was special to him, thought he saw something in me that was different from the others. Turns out that was his game after all”

You speak so animatedly, your hands wave around in the air, your eyebrows scrunch when the memories come back to you. “It’s stupid really, how I used to gush to him about finding the one person in the universe that was created just for me. I guess he used this as my weak point.” 

Inhale, exhale. 

“He made me believe he was that special person for me, used it as an excuse to pressure me into sex.” A tear rolls down the side of your face, falling perfectly in a straight line. “I almost gave in, but something just felt so wrong. Every time I said no he would call me terrible names, tell me that no one would want me if I never gave them what they wanted. And I believed him.”

Another tear escapes your wet orbs, Jungkook is there to wipe it this time.

“I broke it off after I found out he fucked my roommate and gave her some disease.” You chuckle, “I guess I’m lucky I never let him fuck me huh?” 

Jungkook’s heart breaks at your saddened eyes and the way Suho treated you, he sweeps a stray hair out of you face. “I think you dodged a bullet there princess, what he did to you was pure evil, no one, and especially you don’t deserve that”

You sit up, wiping remaining tears and thanking him as you go, “It’s your turn now.” You pat his thigh, “tell me why Suho got you so riled up tonight.”

Jungkook shuffles in his spot, “It’s actually kind of similar to you.”

You gasp sarcastically, “no way he pressured you into sex too?”

He laughs, eyes squeezing shut, “No, no, nothing like that.”

You lean closer to Jungkook, giving him the same attention he had given you. “My father left when my mother found out she was pregnant with me, so growing up I had no male figure present in my life. My mother stopped at nothing to give me that to the point that almost every week I’d wake up and see a new man drinking out of my favourite mug. I didn’t mind it because I was only a child and some part of me always hoped they would stay, but they never did.”

“My mom was a hopeless romantic. She held so much sentimental and idealistic views on love that it stuck to me. She always told me that there was someone special out there just for me.” You smile at the similar belief, Jungkook sighs. 

“Cut to college, Suho was the first friend I made. I had no experience with girls whatsoever, and I still held on to my mother’s faith. Whenever I talked to Suho about it he would always shut me down or make fun of me.”

“He told me that all my feelings are bullshit, and that I only felt that way because I’ve never hooked up with anyone before. Next thing I knew we were going to parties every week getting absolutely shitfaced and fucking every girl I laid eyes on.”

You nod, listening intently. “And tonight, he hit a nerve. What he said made me realise that I’m just as bad as him. He moulded me into this person and now I have a reputation.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop, “he broke my concept of love before I even got to experience it.”

You never knew Jungkook was in a place like this. You always thought he was like Suho, built to break hearts and show no emotion when it came to love. Jungkook was nothing like that. His heart was truly big, desperately longing for someone.

Placing your hand on top of his own you comfort him as best as you can, “oh, Jungkook, trust me when I tell you this, the love in your heart is not broken. Think about it, most people you’ve met have been through college right?” He nods, “there are so many other people out there that you’ve never met, soon you’ll be able to find that someone and learn how to love. I know you present yourself as this emotionless playboy, but once you let that part of you go it’ll feel so freeing.”

Jungkook stares deeply into your eyes, he’s so thankful that he decided to bring you here, he can’t contain his happiness. 

“Can I like, hug you?” Jungkook asks shyly. You smile, and it’s so big and bright Jungkook might as well be staring at the sun. Before he knows it, you’re tackling him into the most wholesome hug he’s ever had. You’re warm and you smell like vanilla, It feels like home.

“Get up”, he says abruptly, extending his arm to pull up your confused self.

“What-”, Jungkook cuts you off, “have you ever just let yourself scream?”

Jungkook has intertwined your hands together, and your heart pounds at the realisation of how well they fit together. “Well, no but I assume that’s what we’re about to do right now.”

He pulls you closer to the edge of the small hill, the view of the city sparkles right in front of you. “On the count of three, one- two- three!”

You scream, you let it all out and God does it feel refreshing.

The two of you sound utterly insane, but none you give a single fuck. You scream until your lungs burn and your throat itches you to stop.

The volume of both of your voices ring out into the night sky only for the moon, stars and yourselves. The night is still young but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way.

With you he lets go of everything, all the past mistakes, all the hurt because at this moment he feels like he could fly, soar into the clouds. 

He feels infinite.

Taglist <3 

@zibermuda @uskookie @jeonscandies @melaninkpops @apollukee @hollowtree10 @liliskies @madygswich @pjmochii @eggbutnotyolk @gyukult @yukiehyukie @purplepearl07 (couldn’t tag) @tae165 @youurkryptonite @94ser0da @french-myfries @zippytheshark37 (couldn’t tag) @we8joon @tearvantae​ @emrysts @inspinkyring​​

[yoongsisbae]

Handshakes of a Lifetime - Chapter 6

BTS soulmate AU. OT7 x reader / Taehyung x reader focused in this chapter, slight Jungkook x reader and Namjoon x reader

Usually by the time I finish a chapter, I will have a nice chunk of the next chapter done, when I finished chapter 5 I had TWO SENTENCES FOR THIS CHAPTER cries, ugh this was a journey lol but I had fun along the way :). Also, I wanted to shoutout @missseoulite I remember having a really bad day when I saw your sweet comment about being eager for the new chap and just knowing someone cared enough to wish me safety and care about my well being, well it meant a lot to me, so this chapter is dedicated to you my dear!!!! <3

Word count: 10.3k

Warnings: death, mention of a suicide, if you’re like me and don’t like to think about being old this chapter might trigger an existential crisis lol, cheating, men being sexist, angst but also fluffiness, sex with Taehyung, breeding kink, a character calls you and Tae children but you are two very grown adults I just wanted to make that super duper clear.

---

“I want to try, I think it would be worth it, you’ll be worth it.”

‘Why did he have to say that,’ you wince, looking over at the idol. He is beautiful, way out of your league, above you in every way, and he’s looking back at you like his whole world hangs in the balance. How could you reject him now. You groan.

You stand up. You place your palm in front of his face, your fingers splayed out, you can see his wide excited eyes in the gaps between them. You look at him expectantly. Taehyung nods, places his palm to yours, interlocking your fingers together.

Your heart thumps wildly as darkness fills the room. You open your eyes once you hear the familiar voice of your husband call out to you, “No need to fret anymore, my beloved. I’m here now.” Taehyung’s hand covers your old and frail fingers. You lie in your bed, body tired and weathered from all the years you’ve spent on this earth.

Your eyes roam over the room, taking in all the faces of your beautiful children and grandchildren. The pain in your tired joints fades as you focus on the man you’ve only grown to love more in all the years you’ve been together. It’s because of him you’ve lived a fulfilled life full of love. With him by your side you’re ready now.

You look up from your crouched position, the flowers you’ve picked lie fresh and pretty in your basket. You look to the dirt path where a man is running towards you. ‘What is a man doing here of all places?’ you think.

He comes to a stop once he sees you, hands on his knees as he gasps for breath. He looks young and beautiful, though his robes are askew and torn and his face glistens as sweat drips from his chin. You almost decide to ignore him and go back to your duties until you notice the red lines that peak from the uncovered parts of his torso. The cuts look painful. You hesitate, “Do you need some assistance?”

“Don’t mind me, fair maiden,” his breathing is still heavy as he speaks. He looks around, taking in his surroundings. ‘What is he looking for?’ you wonder. You can tell he is trying to hide his panic, but it comes through in his tense movements and jittery eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Four men on horse approach you. You notice they are soldiers by the gold plates that cover their body. You hold the flower basket a little tighter to your chest. The first soldier speaks, “Have you seen a man come through this way?”

“You’re the only men I’ve seen for days.”

You feel their lewd stares on you, your stomach churns from the unwanted attention. One soldier dismounts his horse and stalks closer to you. “A pretty little thing like you wouldn’t dare lie to us?” he questions.

“I swear on goddess Athena.” You stand still and look to the ground as he invades your space. The soldier brings a calloused hand to your chin to make you look at him, his companions snickering at your discomfort.

“For days? You must be lonely, poor sweet thing you are.” The other soldiers dismount and circle you. You try to keep your face neutral from the disgust you feel as their eyes rake over your body.

“It is as I said,” your eyes shift to the marble walls of the temple behind you. “I would not lie in Athena’s name, I am protected by her watch.” You emphasize your last words, keeping your limbs close and suppressing your instincts to fight and draw this encounter out any longer than need be.

The men look over to the temple and begin to move closer to the entrance. You follow after them, dropping your basket and letting the flowers scatter into the dirt in your haste.

“No men shall enter, unless you want to face the wrath of the goddess herself,” you yell from behind them. The men laugh. You find the courage to pull at the leader’s armour to cease his advancing. “You will be cursed if you go in there, sir!”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide as he hides underneath the blanket you’ve covered him in. He removes his hand from the temple’s wall, and brings his knees up and off the floor, trying to touch as little as possible of his surroundings.

The men scoff at your words, the leader shoves you away but does not advance any closer. You’ve taken up enough of their time, and they need to find this criminal before The Queen bestows her own kind of punishment upon them.

“Be careful, girl. There is a dangerous man fleeing prosecution, pray to your Goddess we find him before you do.” You find their warning quite ironic as you watch the leader kick your basket. You assume in an attempt to be intimidating, but in your opinion it makes him look more like a petulant child, your brow ticks in annoyance.

Only when they are completely out of your sight do you let go of the breath you were holding. You run into the temple, crashing into the stranger as he runs out.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, his hands grabbing onto you to keep you from falling. Electricity zips through you as you both break away stunned. You rub at your arms to take away your goosebumps. The stranger lowers the hand that clutched at his chest, his wide eyes looking at you in question.

“Is it true? A curse is the last thing I need right now!” he laments. You giggle. The soldiers called this man dangerous?

“The rules say no man is to enter, yes.” His horrified expression makes you laugh even more. “But...they are more like guidelines,” you assure him. “Enough temple priestesses have brought their fair share of men back and nothing too sinister has happened yet, by the gods.”

It does little to lessen his worry. He looks at you skeptically. “I thought Athena’s priestesses were supposed to stay virginal in honor of the goddess’s protection.”

“Oh,” you offer him a smile, “that is her protection. It is perception that protects us.”

You eye the man, his features are sharp, striking; almost intimidating; but his aura is quite soft. “...protects us from men. In this world there are very few true heroes, I’m afraid most only live inside songs.”

He looks at you in understanding. “My apologies, you had to deal with those soldiers alone. I couldn’t do anything to defend you.” He winces at the thought, “For you to have shielded me instead, I thank you.” He offers you a deep bow and you feel butterflies dance in your chest.

“Can I ask as to why you’re running?”

He looks to the direction he came, unable to meet your eyes. “Ahh, well...I am in poor favor with The Queen.”

Your eyes widen, you’ve heard rumors of her beauty even in the remoteness of your area, and even more of her kingdom’s hedonism. The man in front of you is truly beautiful. He could be one of her lovers, you think, he most definitely looks the part. His robes though now disheveled are of expensive fabric and show off his lean body, and the way he holds himself you can’t imagine him to be a common worker. “So, you and The Queen, I see...”

“Oh! It’s not what you think...I’m a mere poet. I sing to The Queen and her Court, but she suddenly wanted more of me than I am willing to offer. I-I rejected her.”

Your eyes widen again. “That was most unwise.”

He smiles, his eyes cast down. “I can bear the weight of my faults. I plan to leave to another province.”

“You’ll rather leave your home? But it is The Queen!”

“As you can see, there is punishment in denying The Queen of her desires.”

You’re astonished. “I can’t imagine being with her to be so horrible you’d choose to run instead, give up all you’ve acquired?”

“I rather give myself to someone for love.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken at his words, ‘so idealistic.’ You’ve never encountered an individual with such delicate presence, a trait you find most unconventional. A smile pulls at one of the corners of your mouth, “Aphrodite must favor you.”

Taehyung laughs, his eyes softening, “Thank you again, someone must favor me to put you in my path.” His warm dark eyes hold your gaze. “I mustn’t stay too long…”

“Yes, of course! Well then…” You falter in your farewell. He struggles with the decision to leave. Taehyung knows he must, The Queen’s soldiers could come riding through again at any moment, and he doesn’t want to think of the punishment they would bestow upon you if they learned of your lies, so why can’t he seem to let go of your company?

He notices the trampled flowers littered on the ground around you, the colorful petals lay beautiful and ruined, a fate he worries will become yours if he doesn’t make haste. He picks up an unbroken blossom. “Thank you again.” He places the flower in your palms, a warmth spreads over you through your fingertips as you hold your breath in reverence. His thumbs stroke your fingers gently, and then he nods at you one last time and moves to run again. You feel a pressure building in your throat, unready to bid him farewell, and you don’t understand why this man whom you’ve just met is affecting you so. His kindness and his gentleness makes your body yearn to learn more. What can you do, he’s a stranger and not yours to keep, you must let him go.

His flower stays cradled in your hands, you feel your chest tighten more and more with each step he takes that brings another stretch of distance between your bodies. Your limbs itch to move. What should you do? It is what you want to do that makes you so afraid. You silently ask Athena for guidance. It is only when he turns past the treeline and out of sight that you can’t take it any longer.

You run into the temple. You race to your small quarters, and gather anything you deem valuable, not very much. Pushing down the thoughts that tell you you’re acting crazed and without reason, you fasten your belongings to your body. You race out of the temple's entrance and crash once again into a body that jolts your nerve endings with an undeniable energy. You stare into his eyes once more, the man you saved. He looks down at you, eyes wide with surprise but full of mirth.

A horse carries you and Taehyung farther North. You travel in comfortable silence, as your hands rest snugly around his waist. After riding with him for so long, you are no longer shy to hold him, accustomed to being pressed up against his back. You listen to the steady rhythm of horse hooves against the earth. It is peaceful and you find yourself smiling against Taehyung’s back.

The bright lush green landscape turns dark and threatening as the two of you ride past an abandoned village. The wooden wreckage smolders still. You gasp at the sight, so many homes lost. Taehyung taps the horse’s body with his foot to quicken its step.

“Stop!” You yell at Taehyung once you notice a shift amongst the rubble. You jump off before he properly stops his stead, running towards the wreckage to confirm what you thought you had witnessed.

Taehyung runs after you, warning you to be careful. Once you reposition a large plank of wood, you gasp at what you see. There’s a bleeding old woman pinned underneath, still alive. You call for Taehyung’s help, the both of you pulling her as delicately as you can manage from beneath the rubble.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive, it’s a miracle by The Gods.” Taehyung holds the old woman’s hand as you run to the horse to fetch a canteen of water.

“Oh, a miracle yes,” the old woman coughs out, “fate has blessed me after much burden.”

You work to clean her skin of dried blood and ash, offering her water to drink. “What can we do to help?”

“My walking stick, it is most important.” Her eyes stay closed shut in pain, as she gestures to the place you’ve pulled her from. Taehyung rummages around until he pulls an item from the wreckage, an impressive staff decorated with gold markings and a large green gem adorned at its apex.

The old woman offers Taehyung her gratitude, feeling much more at ease she opens her eyes to look at the pair of you. You stare into the old woman’s clouded grey eyes in surprise.

“Thank you child, but hurry, the rain will wash the flames away, but will halt your journey for the day.” Taehyung looks upwards at the old woman’s words, white clouds are traveling across the bright clear blue sky.

You can’t leave the blind woman alone after everything she’s been through. “If it’s going to rain, please let us take you to the next village for shelter.” She nods and walks staff in hand towards Taehyung’s horse.

“Only a bit further, we will make it before it rains,” the old blind woman promises. Sounds of thunder echo faintly in the background. The sun is no longer out, hidden behind dark grey storm clouds. You shiver and rub the exposed skin of your arms for comfort next to Taehyung as the two of you walk next to his horse. He grasps your hand and pulls you closer to him. He radiates warmth. You never know how to react to his kind gestures. You look up at him and meet his gaze, sending him a shy smile. He rubs his thumb on your knuckles, smiling brightly back. If his intentions were to make you warm, he succeeded, your heart feels full.

“This is a farming community. They are a kind people who serve Demeter, the two of you are safe here,” At the old woman’s declarations you and Taehyung look at each other, exchanging unspoken words.

“This is where our paths must diverge. If you continue to follow this road, you’ll find sanctuary for the night, I promise.” Taehyung helps the old blind woman down from his horse. “Thank you again, children. I don’t have anything to offer you in return for your help, but I can give you some words of wisdom.” She smiles kindly at you both.

The old blind woman still holds Taehyung’s hand in hers. She turns his palm upward, her fingers trace the lines of his hand. You watch her curiously. “Ahh, your soul holds so much talent, you’ll find it’s both a blessing and a curse.” You giggle, Taehyung shoots you a look, his lips curving into a half smile. “Ahh, you know of it already. In the future, you’ll have a great choice to make, I can’t choose for you, but as someone who's lived many years and knows how dreadful and gray the world can become, my advice is to choose the path of love.”

“Always,” Taehyung’s eyes cast a look over to you and you feel shy once more under his gaze.

She brings her hand to Taehyung’s face to pat his cheek. “Dear child, too beautiful for your own good. It won’t be easy for you, for either of you, this path before you. Hermes wings have found your heels, you won’t find much rest in this life.” She looks sympathetic as her head turns towards you.

“Much like the universe has brought you to me, I see destiny is not a stranger.” She smiles at you knowingly. You hold your breath as she reaches for your hand, studying your palm alongside Taehyung’s. “Your souls...they have been linked together. I see the red string of fate wrapped tightly around you both.”

You find yourself wanting to believe her. Her words seem heartfelt and true, and you can’t deny her strong aura despite her fragile appearance. You catch Taehyung’s eyes again. Has he been looking at you this entire time? She continues, “This bond you have is quite unbreakable, not even death can cut what tethers you together.” She studies your hand more carefully, “Ahh, peculiar...”

“Do you see something worrisome?” you ask, concerned.

“It is nothing to worry dear, you have much love that surrounds you. Let yourself love. There will be those who will try to keep you apart, but take it from an old old woman, love is a stronger force than even the gods can imagine. It glitters brighter than gold and gives you riches greater than Kings. In the end, you’ll find a way.”

You think of her words all night. You look over to your companion, he sleeps peacefully next to you. Do you love him? Is this love? Is he your destiny? You pray to Athena for answers, but only more questions arise in your mind.

You think to the day you first met him, the memory bringing a smile to your face. You left with him, in the end. It was you who found the courage to ask him to take you with him, on the premise of wanting to see the world while moving to another temple. You expected him to let you down gently, you remember his hesitation still, but instead he had not refused you, and you have been traveling with him ever since. Being with Taehyung filled the holes of loneliness that punctured your existence before meeting. Your world had been small, consisting only within the temple’s walls. Now your world feels infinite, it’s thrilling and terrifying, and at the center of it all is Taehyung, gentle and kind and sincere in his affection.

---

You are jostled from your sleep. Taehyung pulls you gently from your bed, his lips placing tender kisses across your forehead as he pulls you to your feet. “I’m sorry, we have to leave again.”

This is not the first time you've had to run, or the second or third. So you pack the things you cannot part with and say goodbye to the rest.

Taehyung, the beautiful poet with a voice that can capture any audience's attention, has always been able to afford you both a roof and a meal. Taehyung’s performances become the talk of whatever acropolis you find yourself in, and his fame grows until his looks and voice catch the attention of someone too important to ignore. Fame is a wonderful thing until it becomes too much, too demanding, and all too quickly can Taehyung’s admirers turn into attackers, vilifying his every action. When that happens he decides to run, and you follow. You worry if it goes on like this you’ll have no more places left to run to.

You liked this place the most, it pangs your heart to lose your home again, but you know your true home is in Taehyung’s arms. You pack as many mementos of this place as you can carry, and hold the rest of your memories close in your heart.

---

“Like this,” you pull your bow back and look to the trees ahead where three pheasants sit perched. You choose the biggest bird and aim your arrow. You make sure Taehyung is studying your form and then you let the arrow go. The bird squawks sharply before falling to the ground, and the others scatter to the sky.

“See!” you laugh at Taehyung’s astonished face.

“How are you so much better at this than me?” The poet whines as you hand him back his bow and arrow. You laugh again. You and Taehyung have been learning to survive by yourselves through trial and error, more error than not. You’ve never had to hunt for food before, but you quickly found yourself skilled, and you think it’s quite fun. At least when you’re not starving, stomach already full from fresh berries Taehyung had picked for you to share. He had picked you flowers as well. They sit in your hair in an intricate pattern after you complained to him you couldn’t eat flowers. You slowly remove the arrow bag from around your neck, so as not to ruin the halo he so carefully crafted.

“I caught it, so you cook it,” you tease.

He brings your hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “That, my fair maiden, I can do!”

---

It is late and Taehyung has not arrived home. His performance should have been done hours ago. You try not to let your thoughts wander into the dark depths of your worst fears as you settle into a restless unease. Your home is quiet and still, too quiet. You keep your ears focused as you wander around the house.

It goes from quiet to chaos too quickly, you hear shouting in the distance. A hand grabs your mouth before you can scream, you start to kick but strong arms hold you tightly. Taehyung shushes you as he pulls you to the back entrance of your home.

You’re running into the woods with the poet, he pulls you to the ground and holds you beneath him. From the bushes you watch men with swords circle your house. You feel violated as you watch them enter your home. Crashes inside make you flinch in Taehyung's arms. “We’ll go back to fetch our things once they leave,” he shushes you.

The soft warm glow of your house becomes bright, light filling up the night sky as a fire breaks out and the men continue to destroy your home. Taehyung covers your mouth to stifle your cries and holds you close to him, whispering countless apologies. You can only whimper in his arms, your shoulders shake in grief as you watch everything you own go up in flames.

When you first came to this place, you and Taehyung stood out too much for the villagers' liking. You were strangers, you didn’t look like them, and they targeted you constantly for the pettiest of things. But this area was remote so you endured their hateful ways. It didn’t help matters when Taehyung, a much better singer than the locals before him, was offered an audience with the region’s King. Taehyung never made an appearance, letting other singers he befriended attend in his place, hoping to gain some favor with the locals, but it only angered the King. Feeling insulted, he killed the poets. And now, with enemies at both ends, and anger consuming the villagers, Ares wrath scorched your home to the ground.

You’re quiet next to Taehyung. Your feet ache from walking. No horse, no food in days. It’s nightfall and cold, you wear his cloak and shiver still. You walk beside the poet, but he feels oceans away. His usual bright eyes are dull and full of sorrow. You didn’t realize how accustomed you were to his touch until he had stopped. Your body aches to be in his arms, to hold his hand while you walk. You feel loneliness twist around you instead.

It is Taehyung who breaks the silence. He speaks softly, “There is a famous temple of Athena in this city, hopefully we can convince them to let you stay.”

The idea revolts you, pulling at the pit of your stomach. The thought of going back to your old ways, as if it would be a reprieve or something you missed, makes you nauseated.

“No.”

“I thought it would be enough...I-I was naive. I’m truly cursed. I can sing all about love, paint beautiful stories of love’s triumph, but when I cannot give you anything else but my devotion, it’s not enough. I can’t stand to watch you wither away in front of me. You deserve more.”

“The oracle said-”

“What kind of life is this for you?” He stops walking, his voice breaks in his anguish. “I-I’m sorry. I should have never taken you away from safety into this reckless existence. This should have been my burden alone.” Tears fall down his face as he shudders. You reach for him, cup his face in your hands. How can you make him see he’s all you want? He lets you wipe away his tears. You pull his head down to meet yours.

“What kind of life is this? The best life I’ve ever could have wished for. A life full of love. I’d trade everything I have for you.” You brush your lips against his, it stops his tears. His eyes fill with adoration, a blazing intensity that makes your heartbeat quicken.

“Stop this worrying, let’s go.” You grab his hand and pull him along. The silence hangs heavy in the air, the stillness of the night frightens you.

“Sing me a song please.”

“From now on I’ll only sing for you.” Taehyung says his words quietly, but his resolve thunders to the heavens, shaking the course of your lives.

The light of day shines through your open window, it illuminates the thin white fabric pulled over your head and wakes you. The white cloth flitters in the breeze of your bedroom and you catch a peak of the handsome man lying next to you. His dark warm eyes are already open as he watches you stretch your sleepiness away. He lifts his head, pulling the sheet higher, so he can get a better look at you, “Good morning, my beloved.”

Taehyung’s dark hair and tan skin against the glowing white backdrop of your bed sheets makes him look ethereal. You watch him in awe, “Good morning, dear husband.”

Your body feels heavy and rested. Your bare skin is warm against his and the sun heated sheet, the soft fabric pulls over your bodies, everything is so soft and warm.

Taehyung buries his head in your chest, smiling against your skin. “I love you.”

Your fingers play with the curls of his hair. “And I love you.”

Underneath the covers, you create your own little world, away from the responsibilities of your lives, the expectations of the day.

Taehyung runs his lips across your naked chest, kissing, licking, biting all over your body. You giggle at his playful teasing touches. “You’re perfection, so soft and pretty.” He captures your lips in a kiss, moving his mouth against yours slowly as his body rests between your legs. His hands find your waist and pull at your skin as he explores your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your moans.

Your legs wrap around his torso, you can feel him growing against your slick core. Taehyung's fingers find yours and he intertwines them together, pulling your arms above your head. He nibbles on the sensitive skin below your jaw.

“You smell so good,” he moans, “you taste so good.” His low baritone voice sends shivers down your body. You whimper, breathless from his caresses. He thrusts in slowly, rolling his body into you, slow and steady until you’re both feverish from mounting pleasure. “What do you want, my love?”

“Just you, please, I want all of you.”

He rolls you over so your body is on top of him. “You have me forever. Now show me how much you want me.” Your playful lover bites his lower lip, pulling on your hips to make you move against him. Your body moves up and down his length, Taehyung’s moans and devastating lustful looks spur you on to please him.

You roll your hips faster, so close to release. Taehyung notices your frenzied state and grabs your hips to hold you still, thrusting up into you instead. His hard length fills you up so deliciously. His grip on you is searing yet soft, you focus on his body below you, his tight muscles and golden skin. “I-I’m close.”

“Touch yourself for me.”

The room fills with sinful noises as your bodies converge again and again and you cry out in euphoria. Taehyung stills inside you as you reach your high, mesmerized by the way your body twist in pleasure in his arms.

Taehyung lays your trembling body down against the soft sheets of your bed, grinding his hips into you as you continue to pulse around him. “Eyes open, look at me my love.”

You struggle with his command, but hold his gaze as best you can, his physique shines with sweat and his hungry eyes roam over your spent body, the erotic way he looks at you ignites the desire in between your legs once again.

He’s so close to release. Taehyung quickens his pace, making you tighten around him, senses overloaded. You moan, encouraging him to keep going.

“You’ll let me fill you up? Have my baby?” His long fingers find your sensitive nub, applying pressure and making you cry out.

“Y-yes!” You can only feel blinding pleasure as Taehyung thrusts into you deeper.

“How beautiful you’ll be, glowing and pregnant with my baby growing inside of you.” He groans. Your stomach tightens as his cock swells, pressure filling you before you feel yourself snapping again. Taehyung’s own release following, your tightness too much for him to handle.

You hold him close to you as you both work to steady your breathing, “We have to start baking soon,” you softly remind him, “before the market opens.”

Taehyung cuddles closer to you, “It’s okay, they’ll wait for my bread, it is the best in the city.” He grins, kneading at your breasts with his large hands. You laugh, relaxing into his embrace.

“Okay okay, we’ll stay a bit longer.”

Your children gather around you in prayer. You take in a ragged breath. Your bedridden aging body feels heavy. Soft light begins to cloud the edges of your vision as you listen to the wistful voices of your sons and daughters shower you with love. Taehyung's fingers brush against your wrinkled digits.

“My beautiful wife, how I missed you.”

You call out his name. Your eldest daughter soothes you, brushing her hand over your forehead. You thought you would be afraid once teetering on the edge of your own mortality, but with him here, holding you again, fear is unable to reach you. You’re already so full of love.

Taehyung comes into your focus, still beautiful in his old age, still the gentle man you love, he places a feather light kiss on your temple. Relief washes through you, the currents pull the burdens on your soul away, and you feel light, floating between worlds.

“I’ve waited for you,” Taehyung’s deep voice fills your mind, “Are you ready to travel with me again?” You know your answer, innate as the love you felt when you first met him.

You take one final breath, letting go and following Taehyung again.

---

Your eyes flutter open. You’re lying face down on the hotel bed. As your eyes begin to focus, you are met with the singer’s face next to yours. Taehyung is lying on his back next to you, grinning from ear to ear, your fingers are still interlocked by your heads.

“What happened?” you whisper.

“I don’t know, I think we passed out, I woke up right before you opened your eyes.”

He looks at you, still beaming, a boxy smile plastered on his face. You try not to smile back. He shouldn’t be this happy!

“That wasn’t bad. You made it sound bad.” he pouts.

You hum, looking at your still intertwined fingers. You study the smooth skin of your hands, the wrinkles and veins you’d seen now only a fleeting memory. You feel tired.

Taehyung feels like he’s just woken up from a long dream. Memories of last night feel far away, more distant than memories presumably lived centuries ago. He focuses on the only constant, you.

“Do you regret it?”

You let out a deep exhale, you move your hand to trace his cheek, his nose, his eyebrow; he watches you quietly. You flick him on the forehead.

Taehyung yelps, looking quite betrayed by your actions. You smile, and his expression switches easily back to happiness. “It’s okay, you don’t have to admit I’m right,” he teases.

You let out a huff, “Doesn’t it bother you? It should bother you! Why is this happening...it’s exhausting...”

Taehyung wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to his body. “I don’t care why,” he mumbles into your hair. Your breath catches in your throat as he cuddles closer to you.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Your heart pounds. You try to stay calm. “No,” you whisper.

His arms tighten around your frame. His warmth envelopes you, it feels like there’s fire inside you, burning down all your apprehensions.

“So this is how it feels. I thought I understood Jungkook. But this is....” you feel his body vibrate as he laughs to himself. “It’s not something you can put into words, right? I understand what he means, about not wanting to let you go.”

Closing your eyes you can picture yourself being in a different place, a different land, another time, you let yourself relax into Taehyung’s embrace. You can feel his hands caress your body, his long fingers travel to the back of your neck and down your spine and the curve of your back.

“I know I’ve never hugged you, but it feels like I’ve done this a hundred times before. Like you belong with me.” His voice is low in your ears. You try to ignore how you feel, how true his words are, but you can't.

“Right? At least admit that to me, y/n.” He whispers. His fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you even closer.

“Hm?”

“You belong with me.”

“I-” A knock on your door makes you break away from him. Taehyung flops on his back, sighing. You open the door to the youngest and oldest members smiling at you.

“Good morning!” You internally wince at your unusually high voice. Jungkook looks over your shoulder, noticing movement inside your room. He sees Taehyung sitting cross legged on your bed, leaning back on his palms with a grin on his face. Jungkook’s doe eyes go wide as his head turns slowly over to the eldest, who then mirrors his expression. Their surprised faces would be comical to you if you didn’t feel responsible for their reactions.

Everyone’s silence is making your stomach twist into knots. You clear your throat. “I touched his hand, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Unable to meet their eyes, you feel the need to add, “That’s all that happened. So...okay, let’s go!”

---

Everyone is sitting in the penthouse, around the coffee table filled with plates piled high with different breakfast foods. Some are sitting on the floor, some on the couch with plates in their laps. Jin ushers you next to an open spot next to J-Hope and sits on your other side. Taehyung and Jungkook have been quietly talking behind you and find seats in the empty gaps.

“The food here is really good,” Hoseok says in between bites as Jin serves you a plate. He smiles brightly at you. Hoseok wishes he wasn't so apprehensive with you. He aches to get to know you, learn all your quirks, learn about your childhood and what makes you happy so he can shower you with more of it; and what makes you sad so he can make sure you never experience it again. But he's too scared, Hoseok feels too much guilt.

His hair is messy and sticking up in weird angles, you resist the urge to fix it. ‘Just keep your hands to yourself, y/n. He’s not your friend,’ you chant in your head. You look around at the men, cozy and warm in their group. You realize how much of an outsider you are.

“Here,” Jin places a triangle of sweet toast on your already overflowing plate. You eat quietly while the members talk to themselves and check their phones. It feels nice, like a big family dinner on the holidays. You watch Hoseok take a selfie with his phone, a minute later you feel your phone vibrate with a notification.

“You posted to twitter just now?” Hoseok notices the panic in your voice as you magnify the picture to make sure there’s no item or reflection that might incriminate you.

“Err yes, why?” he scoots closer to you to see what you’re doing.

“I just-didn’t think it was that easy.” You scroll quickly through your timeline now that you’ve made sure you’re safe, Jin and Hoseok both moving in your space to stare at your phone much to your dismay and you think it’s time to put it away after the third photo of Namjoon’s toned arms pop up on your feed.

After stuffing yourselves full, the time has come to address the elephant in the room. The members take turns reliving the moments of last night, and in Taehyung’s case this morning, explaining everything so the group could all remain on the same page.

Namjoon should have been upset, once Taehyung shocked the rest of the group by speaking, but being in the same predicament himself, he was not surprised to learn Taehyung sought you out, he had barely slept toying with the idea himself.

You don’t talk much, just confirm certain details. You noticed how the men glossed over the most tragic parts of your visions, and you don’t care to interject. You learned new things as well...

Jimin finding his way back to your farm, only to find it destroyed and you gone, and unable to live with himself after that. You can’t meet each other's eyes when you tell him your own version of events.

Jin wanted to propose, he had picked out a ring, a bright blue gem like the ocean.

Taehyung had convinced you he stopped singing as a bard because he grew to hate it, but he confessed, to your suspicion, that wasn’t the case at all. He promised you he never once regretted his decision.

Hoseok took the job as a DJ because when you were younger you were obsessed with your local station, swooning over the DJ's voice and always calling in to win contests for you and Hoseok. He always had an affinity for music, but mostly he did it for you, to impress you.

Yoongi almost didn’t admit he had never really left your side, how he never stopped protecting you. That had shocked you the most. Your heart screams to comfort him, to comfort all of them.

Jungkook excitedly tells you everything he had planned for your escape, he used his life’s savings to find you and him a new home far away. He tells you how if you both had succeeded you would have been so happy with him.

It felt weird. All these lives inside you itching to burst through, you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. You meet the idol’s eyes sitting next to you, and when he looks at you so tenderly, you wonder who he really sees.

“Yoongi’s life was the coolest.” The quiet rapper keeps his head down, only nodding in acknowledgement at Jimin’s comment.

“Well I liked mine,” Taehyung declares. “Which one was your favorite, y/n?”

“I’m not answering that,” you mutter, growing hot under the sudden attention.

“Hmm I don’t see a connection.” Namjoon hums. “Apart from y/n.”

“Should there be one?”

“I’m assuming nothing strange like this has ever happened to you before?” Namjoon turns to you. You shake your head. “Have you ever had dreams, um, of us?”

“No! I mean-what? No.” You pull the neck of Jungkook’s hoodie over your mouth to hide your embarrassment, with no intention on admitting anything. What does dreaming have to do with this?

Namjoon stays silent in thought. Should he tell the group now?

“I should probably go now.” It’s no longer morning after talking for so long. You have a life to go back to; chores, work. You hope being back in your home will make you feel more like the old you, before everything you thought you knew was turned upside down.

Jungkook stands up, “Why!”

“I have work in the morning? Not everyone is a famous world class musician,” You try to keep your tone light, but you’re bothered.

His lips press into a tight line. “I know, just…”

You have responsibilities, a job to go to tomorrow, you don’t want to entertain the wild fantasies arising in your mind at the way he looks at you so pleadingly to stay. “I can’t stay here all day.” You stand up as well, the members’ eyes dart back and forth between you and Jungkook, like they were watching fighters in a match.

“I don’t want you to leave.” Jungkook blurts out.

You close your eyes and rub at your temples. It’s becoming too hard, to keep pushing these feelings away, you cannot allow yourself to feel things for these men. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What do you want from me?”

Jungkook speaks louder, “Do you not want to be with me?”

“I’m-that’s not-it’s not that simple. You don’t even know me! Do you want to be with me-”

“Yes.”

You let out an incredulous laugh and look around the room, but the men look starkly serious. You focus on the youngest again, raising your voice so everyone can hear you clearly. “I’m a nobody. You don’t know me. Name one thing you know about me other than my name...name my favorite color! If you can name my favorite color I’ll sta-”

Jungkook names your favorite color. His eyes piercing through you. Your breath catches in your throat.

‘How did he-wait...was it her favorite color too?’ Tears well up in your eyes. “...I’m not her.”

Jungkook winces at your words, “You’re right, I don’t know who you are right now. But you are...I know you are...the woman I fell in love with. What are you so afraid of?”

You look down at the ground to your feet. You can only shake your head at him and keep your mouth shut so you don’t start crying in front of them. You feel a hand wrap around yours and you already know who it is. You yank your hand away. If Yoongi is hurt, he doesn’t show it to you.

“I’m sorry, I know my life is difficult, that I’m a ‘famous musician,’ but isn’t it better than a poor stable worker? Can’t you see how meeting you again, this might be, maybe...fate?”

A pained laugh escapes your throat, letting go of the pressure you built up in your forced silence. “Oh my god. This is not happening.” Yes, maybe you can finally admit what happened was real, but what does that change? It’s not like you can run away with him in this life either, the entire world recognizes him now.

Your hands hold your head, your nails dig into your skin to concentrate on anything other than Jungkook’s continuing pleas. It’s just laughable to think this idol is begging you to stay with him. A sick thought invades your mind that maybe you’re doomed to repeat your transgressions. The memory of his bleeding body flashes in your mind, you’re not meant to be with them, how could you be? They’re the most famous singers in the world, yeah, you are afraid.

Jimin tries to calm down the youngest, “Kookie, you can’t force her to stay here…”

Jungkook is beside himself. He feels you slipping through his fingers again, away from him and even if it’s different now, it feels too sickeningly similar.

“Hyung please, you’ve been with non-idols, please talk to her...please!” Jungkook is crying, begging Jin.

A strangled sob escapes your throat at his cries. Hoseok rushes over to you, but you scramble away from his touch. You know you’ll break the second you let him comfort you.

Jin’s heart is breaking; for Jungkook, for you, for himself. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s just afraid as Jungkook of letting you go. Finally Namjoon decides to take control of the situation, the only one with a clear head. “Everyone leave. Now. Y/n deserves her space, and we still have four more days left in this city. Alright go!” The boys pull each other away, holding onto each other for strength, trusting their leader.

Yoongi pats a crying Jungkook on the back, “It’s okay, Joon will convince her.”

---

Your eyes hurt from crying, puffy and dark. You feel pathetic. Your head is pounding, you lean against the car window as you watch the blur of the city go past.

“Here.” Namjoon sits across from you, leaving the middle seat open. He hands you a cell phone.

You hold the sleek new model in your hand, “What is this?”

“It’s a hand phone,” the idol says teasingly.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh. “What is this for?”

“For you, to contact us.” Namjoon shrugs, “If you want to.” You sit in silence as his driver takes you home.

“You haven’t asked to touch my hand. Do you not want to?” You ask, sneaking a glance at the rapper.

“Of course I want to,” he speaks softly. “It’s all I’ve thought about since I saw you. But you’ve gone through a lot. I’ll let you decide if it’s something you want to do, and when you’re ready I’ll be here.”

You bite your lip. “For four more days.”

Namjoon smiles, his dimples on display. “Yes, I’m guessing you didn’t get tickets for the next city?”

“No, I wish. Those fanmeet tickets weren’t exactly cheap.”

Namjoon chuckles softly, “Ahh sorry.”

“Well, I did get a free breakfast with BTS, lucky me,” you hum. He nods, his eyes cast down. You hope he didn’t catch any bitterness in your tone, under any circumstance you would be dying of happiness.

You let the silence envelope you again, as you start to recognize the streets, you’re getting closer to home and to being left alone. You sigh, running your hands over your face, “Oh god, this is a mess.”

“I don’t think it is. I think there’s a reason for everything. And I think there’s a reason why this happened to you. To all of us.”

“What could that reason be?” You ask him genuinely, maybe the genius idol sees something you don’t.

“I don’t know. I do know it’s lonely being an idol. It’s hard to love, to find someone to love you and not break under the constant pressure.”

“I don’t know if I can be that person.”

“Well to me, it sounds like you’ve already been that person.” You want to scoff, but the sincere look in his eyes makes you stop. The GPS signals your arrival home.

The air is heavy as you gather up the strength to leave, “I will message you later, I promise. Just give me some time.”

You watch the expensive van leave your entrance. You couldn’t see through the dark tinted windows, but you had a feeling the idol was watching you, so you held yourself together and waved goodbye.

---

You know you should have just gone inside your home, but you had something to do first, it was driving you mad not knowing. So now you stand in front of a door that’s not your own still in clothes that are not your own. You send a text of your arrival and knock.

“Hi!” You pretend you aren’t exhausted, “I just have to try something-”

He looks at you dumbfounded as you grab his hand and start shaking it. Nothing. ‘Of course, just wonderful.’ You switch to two hands, shaking more forcefully.

“What’s going on...” his voice is shaky from the intense movements of your greeting. ‘Why is nothing happening, why is it only them, Ugh, why!’

“Earth to y/n...” why why why why.

He grabs your arms to stop your movements “Hey, are you okay? You never responded to my calls, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you look into his concerned eyes. It feels like eons ago, whatever budding feelings you had for him. Why.

“Do you want to come in?”

“No, I better go.”

“You came all the way over here and you don’t want to tell me how last night went? You meet BTS and now you’re acting all crazy! You didn’t decide to leave me for one of them, did you?” your friend jokes.

“Ah ha aha…”

He raises his eyebrow at you. “I have work tomorrow...I just wanted to see you.” It’s the truth, you’re not lying. “I’m sorry for not responding last night. I’ll see you later?”

He gives you a kiss goodbye. ‘Oh no.’ It all feels so wrong.

---

The first day, you send Jungkook an apology. He sends you a ton of voice memos and selfies, just happy to talk to you again. You respond with light replies, trying not to dig your hole any deeper.

The second day, that night you break down. You send all the boys a simple “hi”. Yoongi, Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon all respond. They send messages about their day. Jin sends you a picture of his food. Yoongi says he misses you. Against your better judgement you tell him you miss him too. Suspiciously, after your reply Jungkook and Taehyung message that they miss you seconds apart from one another. You tell them you miss them too, when Taehyung says he wants to see you, you’re too scared to respond.

The third day you stay busy with work. Hoseok sends you a picture of the sunset, his first message to you, nothing else. You wait until the night comes and send a picture of the moon from your window, and ‘Goodnight. Sweet dreams.’

The fourth day the pressure becomes too much. You hover over the call button all day but you can’t do it. By dinner time, you get a call from Jungkook. You try to swallow down the tears you’ve cried all day and sound cheerful when you answer.

“I just wanted to call before we get on the plane,” he says.

‘It’s too late. No.’ you think. “I’m sorry, tell Namjoon I’m so sorry. I should have seen him before you all left, I should have...”

“Don’t worry y/n. No one blames you.”

“That doesn’t mean what I did was okay. I wanted to see you all again.”

“You did?” The way his voice becomes more cheerful tugs at your heart. “You can make it up to us by talking more. Can I video chat with you later?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, got to go...Bye Beautiful.” He sounds like he’s in a much better mood, you can hear the teasing lilt to his words.

Weeks go by. You keep your promise. It’s easier communicating through the screen of your phone. You can imagine them to be online friends, people who are not famous. Some conversations stay light, some become deeper. They pry information from your life, learning more and more about you, and you feel yourself getting attached to their morning greetings and late night calls. Meanwhile, with family and friends you try to act like everything is normal, keeping this weird new world hidden, but you’re still constantly haunted by your memories with them. Your past lives play through your mind all day long and replace your dreams. Everything else felt so wrong now, so not you anymore, so gray. You feel like a bad friend, a bad daughter, a cheater.

---

Namjoon wakes up, groaning, his body still heavy from sleep. He quickly changes into a pair of slacks and a button down shirt. He chooses a forest green vest to wear, like the plants in his room. He runs pomade in his hair before heading downstairs to get ready for the morning.

He unlocks the door to his bookstore, before he can turn around the door opens with a loud ding. You walk in and make a beeline to the center table. Namjoon laughs, “Back so soon?”

“Of course, I’m so bored! My crops won’t be harvestable for another couple of months. Any other recommendations? I loved your last one.” You smile brightly at the bookstore owner, he’s always so kind to you and doesn’t make you feel like an outsider when you visit. If you could, you would spend all day in his store, talking about the latest novels and picking each other's brains. “Before I forget! For you...” You hand him two jars of homemade jam.

You're his favorite customer. And if Namjoon is being honest, he has a crush on you. He pulls a book from high above a shelf, a pristine copy. “This one, it should keep you busy.” Your eyes sparkle as you take in the large leather bound novel, gold letters adorning it’s spine. “How much?”

“Don’t worry, this one time I’ll take jam as payment.”

“No, that was a present,” you pout.

“Well, then this is a present for you.”

“Sir, if you don’t let me pay, I will throw a fit! I need you to stay in business.” It’s always like this with him, you’ll be damned if he doesn’t let you show him how much you appreciate him.

Namjoon laughs, “Alright alright. Then promise me you’ll come visit as soon as you finish.”

You nod, holding your new purchase close to your heart. He watches you leave, his eyes lingering on your body. You hold onto his book like a prized trophy. It’s another thing he loves about you, the way you treat things with so much care. His eyes still linger on you as you stand outside his shop. He sees a stranger run into you, you stumble back and almost fall, he rushes to the door to help you but stops in his tracks as the man's face comes into focus. “Jimin?”

Namjoon wakes up startled. He runs his hands through his hair, disturbed at what he saw. He’s covered in sweat, inside the cold room of his bedroom. Every night he’s had dreams of you, but this one was different. Should he go talk to someone about it? Who would believe him? He feels like every day he’s slowly getting closer to losing his mind. Today is going to be a long day full of press junkets. He rubs at his eyes trying to forget what he saw, what he felt.

---

Today you decide to call Namjoon. Usually, you’ll wait until one of the members decides to call you, but you had to talk to him before you lost your nerve. He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, I can’t talk for that long, is everything okay?” you can hear how busy it is in the background.

“No it’s my fault! I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, of course you would be busy. Call me when you’re free.”

“No! I have some time, we can talk.” You hear him shuffling to a quieter location.

Are you going to regret this? You take a deep breath. “I want to see you again. I-I don’t want to forget about what happened and go back to my life like everything is normal when it's not. You were right. I’m sorry...I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.” You wait for Namjoon’s response, the silence fills you with anxiety. You would completely understand if he brushes you off now.

“I’ll figure something out. Okay y/n?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

That night Namjoon sends you a series of text messages with instructions. Your eyes go wide over the new information. You look around your home, you know you should feel some sadness, but only excitement bubbles inside you. ‘I guess this is it.’ How are you going to explain this to your family and friends, to your boyfriend? A special internship in South Korea, you guess is how you’ll start.

---Three Months Later---

Namjoon splashes cold water on his face, he looks up into his bathroom mirror and blinks at his reflection. Namjoon’s eyes are not his.

Namjoon wakes up yelling. He falls back into bed, catching his breath. He checks the time. You should be on the plane right now. The idol rapper has always appreciated the wealth he’s accumulated over the years, but he feels especially grateful in this moment, now that he has found himself in a position of power large enough to secure you with a translation job within his own company.

---

A man holds a sign with your name on it. You walk towards him, your suitcase ticking on the airport concrete as it rolls on the ground behind you. You spent the last three months preparing for this, studying over language books every night and saying goodbye to family and friends. Your parents didn’t understand your sudden change of career, but you promised them the pay was better and it wouldn’t be forever. Your boyfriend was not so understanding, especially when you wouldn’t give him any details as to why you’re leaving the county. You and him weren’t even that serious to begin with but the breakup was messy.

You followed the driver’s instructions once he dropped you off in front of a very posh looking complex, entering key codes, up the elevator, down the hall, until you stood in front of the correct numbered door. You use the key he gave you to unlock the large door and walk into a massive apartment. Every member is already inside, waiting for you. You feel relief wash over you, you can’t help but smile at the group. They cheer at your arrival, you notice balloons and a makeshift welcome sign. The mood is definitely much more relaxed from the last time you all gathered together.

“Is this your place?” You ask as Jungkook takes your suitcase.

“No, this is your apartment.”

Your eyes go wide, “This is way too big!”

Taehyung jumps up and gives you a hug. The months you talked made you feel much more comfortable around them, but you still weren’t prepared for the rush of emotions that filled you once in his embrace again.

“It’s the smallest unit in this building,” Yoongi lets you know.

“And I’m guessing I can’t go to another building.”

“Our dorm is in this one,” The youngest member explains.

“How…” You take a deep breath, eyeing Jungkook up and down, “...convenient.” You take a seat with them on the ridiculously huge couch, next to Yoongi and Jin.

You sigh, stretching your sore jet lagged muscles. “Need to go to the bathroom?” Yoongi whispers at you teasingly.

You snort, his words taking you out of your worries. “Funny,” you mutter.

The eldest helps you fill out a stack of forms for your employment while the rest set plates of takeout on the living room table. You eat your first meal in Korea together. Sitting together, laughing together, you feel better than you have in months. It’s that feeling you get when you’ve finally completed a puzzle, placing the last piece in its place. You feel complete.

Taehyung’s words pull you from your thoughts.

“So y/n, when are you gonna hold Joon’s hand?”

“Oh, um…”

“You came all the way to Korea for him, right!” Taehyung teases.

“She doesn’t have to...” Namjoon murmurs.

“Oh c’mon! You can’t tell me you haven’t been going crazy waiting!”

“Yeah, I agree with Tae!” Jimin laughs.

“Do it!” Jungkook cheers.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” The youngest members are chanting at the pair of you. You feel the heat rise in your face. You had planned on it, you wanted to find a way to get Namjoon alone, but now with all the attention on you, you feel apprehensive. You look over to Namjoon who looks equally as embarrassed. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ the thought screams in your head.

It has been months, Namjoon has waited for this moment. Now that he’s being put on the spot, he’s apprehensive. Ever since his bandmates touched you, they have acted differently, it might not be noticeable to anyone around them, but Namjoon noticed. Would he change too? Before he can yell at his bandmates, you stand up and walk over to his seat. “They aren’t going to stop,” You whisper, holding out your hand. He sighs and stands up.

“So?” Jin asks when he notices the lack of reaction from both of you as you grip each other's hands.

“Um, nothing is happening.” You stare at the rapper, but his attention is on the place where your hands meet, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“This doesn’t make sense..” He starts shaking your hand up and down as if that might help, it reminds you of the night he dropped you off, and you know exactly how he feels.

“Maybe it’s because I’m jet lagged or something? We could try again later...” you try to soothe the rapper but you can tell he is growing more and more upset with each passing moment, and your arm feels like it's going to dislodge from your shoulder the more he shakes.

The members have all gone silent.

“Maybe you don’t have a past life together?” Hoseok places his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder to stop his movements. No one expected this.

“No, that’s not-we have to-I know it!” Namjoon tries to stay calm but his voice is full of panic.

“Maybe it had something to do with that time, the planets aligning or something?” Jimin says. Is this your fault? Because you were too scared. What have you done? You’re rethinking everything now, you shouldn’t have come here.

“No.” Namjoon is right, he knows it, “that’s not it...” It doesn’t make sense, he knows there’s a connection between you and him. He lets the confession tumble out of his mouth before he can properly think. “Your name, I knew it! How would I know your name?”

You look at him confused, “What do you mean?”

Namjoon bites his tongue. He lets go of you. He blinks his eyes to get rid of tears threatening to spill. The mood is gone and everyone is silent. You feel horrible. Somehow this is your fault, you know it.

“Joon...” The eldest member calls out to him.

“I-I need some air.” Namjoon breaks away from the group.

“Wait!”

---

OOOOooo you had a whole ass boyfriend and you went and tongued Yoongi, scandalous. Looks like poor Joonie got the spiritual cockblock. Should I explain myself lol or do you like drawing your own conclusions?

Oh! Fun fact, the two sentences were this: Your eyes flutter open, you’re lying face down on the hotel bed. Taehyung is lying on his back next to you, grinning from ear to ear, your fingers are still interlocked by your heads. That’s what I had to go on T_T hah. Anyways let me know what you think <3

[ibijau]

Oh, here's a prompt! Nie Huaisang travels back in time to ensure that Jin Guangyao stays away from the Jin sect. When he gets back, he's disturbed to find that not only is Meng Yao now his stepbrother (or has at least become a very respected disciple of the Nie sect), but is also now engaged to Lan Xichen. Cue screaming and/or fainting. But at least Minjue is still alive, right?

It was surprisingly easy to make it all happen, much to Nie Huaisang's surprise. In stories time travel was always so complicated to orchestrate, with so much to plan for... but Nie Huaisang had just done it, and it seemed to be working well.

His first stop had been to Meng Shi, shortly after the birth of her son. He could have gone back further and prevented her from ever having that son, but... but at the end of the day, he'd been impossibly fond of Meng Yao even if he'd grown to hate Jin Guangyao. The solution, then, had been to visit his mother and make sure she didn't fill her son's head with impossible dreams.

It had taken some money to get Meng Shi out of the brothel for a few days, and she'd been quite suspicious of him at first. But Nie Huaisang had been a gentleman, and she'd warmed up to him a little. She'd even given up on trying to seduce him once he'd explained that while not opposed to feminine charms on occasion, he mostly cut his sleeve. She'd acted quite sorry for him when he'd explained that actually, he'd just gotten out of a long relationship that had ended badly due to some trust issues and a the betrayal of a man they'd believed to be their friend. Meng Shi had shared a few stories as well, some her own, most her colleagues'.

By the time they'd arrived in Lanling, Nie Huaisang had become quite attached to Meng Shi, and decided he might change his plans a little, depending on what would happen in the next few days.

Meng Shi was not happy to meet other women who'd had the dubious pleasure of sharing Jin Guansghan's bed. She was even less happy to talk to them and learn that none of them, not a single one, had ever received money or attention again after he'd left them, not even those who'd had a child. One of them, the servant of a powerful family of merchants, had gone begging at the door of the Jin sect when her three years old daughter had fallen sick with something nobody understood. She'd been sent home under threats of a beating if she ever showed up again, and her daughter had died.

That had been nearly four years earlier. Jin Guangshan hadn't been sect leader yet, but he'd been his father's favourite and most spoiled son, so he would have had the power to do anything he pleased, including sending a doctor to his daughter, or having her brought into Jinlin Tai to make sure no dark spirit was attacking her. He wasn't even engaged to his wife at the time, so it was impossible to use her to excuse his lack of care. And he'd known about the child's sickness, because he'd happened to be passing by when the mother came begging for help. It was he who had ordered she be sent away, annoyed by her crying.

Meng Shi had gone paler and paler as that poor woman told her tale of sorrow, clutching her son tighter against her chest. When Nie Huaisang and her had returned to their inn, she had asked him why he'd wanted her to meet those other women.

“I just don't like what he's doing,” Nie Huaisang replied, a little embarrassed that he hadn't thought she might get curious. It was stupid of him. Meng Yao surely couldn't have gotten his brains from his father after all.

Meng Shi, sitting on her bed, rocked her infant son in her arms in silence for a moment.

“They were all weak,” she said after a while.

“Who?”

“Those other women. They were all weak.”

Nie Huaisang tensed, fearing that she might announce she was cut of another cloth, that she would persevere where they had given up, but Meng Shi only sighed and kissed her son's forehead.

“He picked them so they were young and would have no one to turn to. Servants and prostitutes and unwanted daughters... he picked us so we'd have no one to turn to when he'd abandon us, no one to defend our honour and force him to pay for the children he made us have. Women like us, it's our own fault for getting pregnant in the first place, isn't it?”

Nie Huaisang stared at her, and realised she was right. He'd been so busy collecting names, he hadn't paused to wonder if there had been a pattern to Jin Guangshan's actions.

“Are there any more you want me to meet?” Meng Shi asked.

“No, she was the last one.”

“Then I suppose we'll started heading back to Yunping City tomorrow. I'll have to make new plans for...”

“No, we're not going back,” Nie Huaisang announced, startling her. “It's too unfair if you go back, you deserve better. Both of you deserve better!”

She blinked a few times, and gave him an amused smile, still rocking her baby. She didn't believe him, of course. Nie Huaisang could hardly blame her for that. After her last experience with a cultivator...

But Meng Shi really did deserve better. Nevermind that in a future he hoped to have now prevented, he'd desecrated her body to get back at her son, this was a different thing. Meng Shi was not a bad person. He'd once thought her guilty of ambition at least, but after a couple weeks in her company, he realised she'd just been desperate for a chance to escape her lot in life. He couldn't really hate her for that, even if it had led to such tragedies after her death.

Nie Huaisang liked her now that he'd met her, and he couldn't condemn her and her son to a worse fate than what they'd have known without him.

He needed a plan.

He needed a smart plan.

He had a plan.

“So, I might have lied a little, you're going back to the brothel,” Nie Huaisang said, earning an unimpressed smirk. “But not for long! I'm going to try something but... would you be willing to lie about who sired your son?”

“Why not? At this point, the truth won't get me much.”

“Perfect. Then I'm going to warn my sect that I have fathered a child, and that I'm unable to care for it at the moment. I'll have to write to them but... but I know Nie zongzhu will immediately send for you. He'll probably ask after me, he hasn't seen me in nearly a decade, but I know he won't have forgotten his cousin Nie Xingyu, and he'll do what's right for my son and his mother.”

And there was no risk of the real Nie Xingyu ever returning to ruin that story, Nie Huaisang knew. His father's beloved cousin, who'd become a rogue cultivator after an argument with their grandfather, had actually died a year or two before Nie Mingjue was even born. A Night Hunt accident, one which Nie Huaisang had discovered by chance while investigating some of Jin Guangyao's crimes. But he remembered his father always hoped to see Nie Xingyu return, always speaking so highly of that cousin who had been almost a brother to him.

Nie Huaisang's father would be delighted to meet his cousin's son, and if “Nie Xingyu” asked for it he would buy Meng Shi's contract in a heartbeat. It would only be a matter of convincing sect leader Nie then, and Nie Huaisang wasn't worried about that. His father had kept all the letters his cousin used to send and read them to his sons, so Nie Huaisang was confident he could imitate his prose and handwriting, not to mention he too carried the Nie seal to mark that letter.

At worst, if it didn't work, Nie Huaisang could always find the money somewhere to buy that contract in person and try to find somewhere to leave Meng Shi, but he'd rather know that she and Meng Yao were safe and sound in the Unclean Realm.

Meng Shi, of course, looked unimpressed by his plan. She still thought he was lying, or trying to sell wonders like other men before him so they could share her bed for a reduced fee, or demand more of her than they'd paid for. Nie Huaisang didn't mind. If people's opinions of him mattered, he would have chosen a different way to avenge his brother, wouldn't he?

-

It took nearly a month after Nie Huaisang had brought Meng Shi back to her brother, but one morning, from the room he'd rented across the street, he saw a small group of Nie cultivators go in. His father was among them, and when they excited the building, he was carrying little Meng Yao in his arms and chatting cheerfully with Meng Shi who seemed shocked at this turn of events.

Unseen by her Nie Huaisang smiled, and went to activate the talisman that would take him back to his own time. Hopefully this would have been enough to save Nie Mingjue. And if it hadn't... well, he knew how to travel to the past now.

-

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes. He was in his room, and yet not. This was what used to be his room when he was young, before he became sect leader. A little smaller, a little more private, with a view on a small private garden where he kept his favourite birds. Hisroom, the one he'd always preferred, and had only abandoned in a desperate attempt to be the leader he'd thought his people would need. If he still lived in this room, then it meant Nie Huaisang wasn't sect leader.

Delighted by this apparent victory, Nie Huaisang sprung to his feet and rushed out of the room, only to run head first into someone.

He'd ran into that person enough times that he knew them instantly, even before seeing their face.

“Well someone is in a hurry,” Nie Mingjue said with a laugh.

A laugh.

Nie Mingjue was laughing. Nie Huaisang couldn't even remember the last time he'd heard his brother laugh like this. Not since the Sunshot Campaign, he thought.

“Your cousins haven't arrived yet,” said someone standing just a step behind Nie Mingjue, her voice also full of laughter. “You didn't oversleep, don't worry.”

It took all of Nie Huaisang's willpower to look away from his brother (Nie Mingjue, happy, laughing, healthy) but he managed it, because that other voice was a little too familiar.

It was odd to find Meng Shi in her fifties when just a few hours ago, Nie Huaisang had seen her in her early twenties. Her hair had turned grey, there were wrinkles on her face, and she had exchanged the bold colours she used to wear at the brothel for the muted tones the Nie sect favoured. It suited her. Growing old suited her, if only because she would never have had the chance, had Nie Huaisang not changed her fate.

“I think he's not quite awake yet,” Nie Mingjue teased when Nie Huaisang stared too long, poking his little brother in the shoulder. “But at least I don't have to drag him out of bed. Can I leave the rest to you, auntie?”

Meng Shi smiled, and assured him she'd make sure Nie Huaisang was ready for his cousins' arrival. Nie Mingjue thanked her and left. Nie Huaisang almost ran after him, suddenly needing to touch him, to hug him, to make sure this was real, that he had truly...

“Now it's finally you,” Meng Shi noted, earning a curious glance. “I've realised a few years ago that you looked oddly similar to the man who helped me. Too similar to simply count it as family resemblance. But until today, you didn't look quite right either.”

When Nie Huaisang could only blink at her, she laughed.

“I thought so. I've been wondering for years, but... you did something to change what was meant to happen, didn't you?”

“I did. I wanted... I needed to save certain people.”

“Your brother,” Meng Shi guessed.

Nie Huaisang nodded.

“And my son?”

He nodded again. “Where is he? Is he well? He learned cultivation, right?”

Meng Shi smiled proudly. “He's one of the best in his generation, people keep telling me. He's married now, and living with his husband, but they come visit often. They wanted me to come live with them in the Cloud Recesses, but it's too cold for me over there, and I like the friends I've made here in Qinghe, so I... is something wrong?”

Nie Huaisang nodded, then shook his head. “His husband?”

“A-Yao is married to Lan zongzhu,” she explained. “I would have preferred if he'd married a woman, but Lan zongzhu is a very good husband to him, and they always seem so very happy when they're together. It's all a mother can truly wish for, isn't it? To see her child settled and happy.”

Nie Huaisang said nothing.

He did not run back into his room, didn't hurriedly prepare some ink so he could draw another time travelling talisman and set things right. It was tempting, so tempting. But Nie Huaisang resisted that temptation, and forced himself to smile.

“I'm so happy for them,” he mumbled after a while, and hoped he would learn to mean it.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Worth the World

Spike x Reader

Words: 2459

Summary: On a particularly bad day, the reader can barely bring herself to get out of bed. Spike does his best to comfort his girlfriend without being overbearing. 

Notes: This is inspired by one of my favorite fics ever by @suckmysupernatural. I got this idea when having a depressive episode myself, so I hope you guys enjoy a little comfort fic with one of my favorite vamps. Plus, I’ve never written for Spike before and since I’m getting back into Buffy, I thought this would be the perfect time. (Also, this is entirely based on my own experience, so it might not be everyone’s experience with this kind of thing {but please be nice, I just used a few of the things I felt so it’s all based on my own emotions and insecurities!}) Enjoy!

Warnings: Depression, self-loathing, anxiety (This imagine was really just a way for me to put down my emotions and write something comforting, but I hope you all like it too)

-

You didn’t want to move. You weren’t really sure if you could. Your limbs just felt… heavy. Forcing your legs to move, you slowly swung them over the side of the bed, using all the strength you could muster to sit up straight. 

It wasn’t that something terrible had happened. In fact, the day before had gone pretty well. You’d spent most of it watching movies with Willow and Buffy and, when the sunset, you went on a long evening walk with your boyfriend. There were no deadly forces plotting world domination, no vengeful vamps after you or your friends. Hell, your favorite restaurant was open and you brought home leftovers for breakfast. 

Now, the idea of eating made your stomach turn. You managed to shuffle your way to the kitchen of your apartment, but just stood in front of the counter, leaning on the marble top for support. Just standing there felt like it took every ounce of energy you had. It was almost painful, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You did your best to keep them from falling. You had places to be today, meeting up with the gang and  you didn’t want to worry them with your moping. 

With slow steps, you made your way back to your room to get dressed. Of course, most of your clothes were dirty and you didn’t care enough to wash them. So you threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and put on some shoes, hoping no one would ask about it. You caught your reflection and felt that dark, empty feeling in your chest grow. Pathetic. Your shoulders sagged forward and you blinked away more tears as you watched them well in your eyes. You didn’t have the right to feel like this. How much had Buffy been through and she still greeted every day with a smile. Everything was perfect and yet you were pathetic enough to still want to crawl back into bed. You just hoped that you would feel better by the time you saw everyone. Especially Spike. 

-

You sat with your legs pulled up to your chest. Xander and Willow were debating whether or not using wooden bullets would be a good vamp killer. Buffy was listening in amusement and Giles just looked exasperated, distracting himself by putting books back in their proper place on the shelves. No one said anything about your pajamas. You actually felt kind of invisible, like no one even really knew you were there. It made the empty feeling that much worse. 

“What do you think, Y/N?” 

“Xander, don’t you think that’s a little insensitive?”

“What? It’s not like we’re planning on dusting her boyfriend. Even if he is annoying and evil and-”

“Xander.” Willow said sternly. When you looked up, everyone’s eyes were on you. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.” Your voice held little to no emotion. You were almost too exhausted to feel anything. You just felt hollow. 

“If I shot Spike with a wooden bullet do you think he would, you know,” Xander made a motion with his hands that was meant to simulate a vampire dying. “Just theoretically, of course.” 

Everyone was expecting a witty remark. You and Xander were close and teased each other often, especially about your relationship with Spike. Instead, you just shrugged, your eyes fixating on a spot on the table. 

“Maybe.” 

The group collectively exchanged a look of concern, but didn’t press anything. After all, what reason could there be for you to be upset? They knew that if something had happened with Spike, you would tell them and there weren’t any recent deaths to worry about, so they continued on with their playful conversations about breaking curses and some movie that they had watched recently. It felt like you were intruding- like an unwanted bystander that everyone wished would just disappear. While no one had said anything like that, the thoughts filled your head nonetheless. 

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but you’d never told them. An episode like this hadn’t happened in months so you had hoped they had stopped. Some days you were as happy as you ever had been, but others you felt like a burden. Worthless and pathetic- pitying yourself for no reason at all. 

Spike didn’t even know, even after almost a year of dating. You never dreamed of telling him. Spike was always saying that you were the strong one. You were the one that helped him through every day of his endless living. He got his soul for you. What would he say if he saw you like this? If he knew the doubts and loathing going through your head. He would know that you’re weak and vulnerable and you didn’t want that to happen. 

So you didn’t tell them. You kept all of your thoughts inside of you as they ate away at your mind. On the outside, you just looked tired. Everyone knew that you stayed awake into the late hours because of Spike, so you hoped that’s what they would think. You were tired, but it wasn’t from lack of sleep. It was like your body just wanted to give up. Maybe if you could just wake yourself up, everything would go back to normal. 

Buffy and Willow went out for coffee, so you went with them, hoping the caffeine would be enough to shake you out of this. Instead, it just made you more jumpy and anxious. The cup shook in your hand, but you kept drinking, still hoping that it would give you enough energy to fake it. This, like your out-of-it demeanor, did not go unnoticed. 

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Buffy asked, suddenly stopping her conversation with Willow about shoes. At first, you didn’t realize she was talking to you. You were so focused on the thoughts swarming around in your head, you hadn’t noticed they were both looking at you with concern. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because you’ve been spacing out all morning. What’s going on?” 

“I guess I’m just tired.” You shrugged, grimacing from the effort the small movement took. 

“Are you sure? Did Spike do something stupid, because you know I’ll-”

“Really, Buffy, I’m okay. I think I just need to go home and rest for a while.” You finished the rest of the coffee, feeling your heart beat faster as the anxiety built up in your chest. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?” 

“Okay.” Buffy gave you a skeptical glance and Willow smiled sincerely.

“Feel better, Y/N.” 

“I’ll see you guys later.” You faked the best smile you could before turning away from them. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Willow wondered, watching the way you nervously messed with the hem of your shirt as you walked. Buffy narrowed her eyes and grabbed her bag. 

“I don’t know, but if she won’t talk to us about it, there’s one person she will.” 

“Oh do we have to go there? You know that place gives me the creeps.” Willow whined. Buffy just gave her a look and the two trekked off in search of your sun-hating boyfriend. 

-

You stood in the middle of your living room as the tears slowly started to pour down your cheeks. The coffee must have given you enough energy to cry and now you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you just stood, frozen by the overwhelming emptiness inside you. Pathetic. Useless. Worthless. Everything was swirling around your head, breaking you down further until you had to lean against the window sill to stay standing. 

You could faintly hear something outside your door, but you made no motion to open it. It sounded far away, or maybe you were just blocking it out. All you could hear was your heart pounding, along with the hundreds of doubts rattling in your head. It was until the door burst open that you flinched. 

“First, the slayer comes banging on my crypt, telling me that something’s wrong and then you leave me to break down your door- if I could die, you would have scared me to death. Why didn’t you open the door?” Spike huffed in frustration. You didn’t turn around. Frankly, you hardly noticed he was there. His irritation quickly faded, replaced by worry. “Y/N, love, what is it?” 

You still didn’t respond, keeping your back turned with your hands clinging to the window sill to keep from falling. Spike approached you slowly and you thought you heard his footsteps, but part of you thought you were just imagining him. Why would he come for you? It was the middle of the day and the sun was high in the sky. A rush of guilt washed over you. He came here despite the danger of being burned and you didn’t even have a reason. You’d put him at risk for your own pitiful problems. 

“Darling, why won’t you look at me?” He took another step towards you, but stopped. The sun’s rays created a shield around you, preventing him from pulling you into his arms. “If you could just lower the blinds, that would make this far less awkward.” 

“You d-didn’t need to come here. T-the sun.” You stammered. You wanted to reach for the curtains, but you still couldn’t move your arms without your legs giving out. 

“A little sunlight isn’t going to stop from me from getting to you,” he said sincerely. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him rush to the window, the sound of his skin sizzling in the light made you let go of the ledge. Your legs buckled just as he got the curtains closed. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You had hurt him. All you had to do was reach up and shut out the sunlight and you couldn’t even do that. He burned himself just to reach you. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. It’s alright.” He held you up for a moment before sinking to the floor to hold you in his lap. “I’ve got you love, I’ve got you.” 

“Y-you shouldn’t be here, Spike. I’m not-” You hid your face from his view so he would see the tears. “I’m not worth all of this. There’s something wrong with me. One minute I’m fine and the next I’m like this and I don’t even know why. I don’t have a reason to feel like this. It’s like I’m… broken or something.” 

“You aren’t broken.” Spike said softly, tucking your head under his chin and gently rocking you back and forth. “You’re human.” 

He held you like that for a long while, not saying anything or even moving off of the floor. He didn’t make you look at him until he was sure you had relaxed enough. Putting a finger under your chin, he gently lifted your face to meet his. 

“I’m sorry about all this.” You sniffed, using your sleeve to wipe some of the dampness off your cheeks. 

“I don’t want to hear those worse from you for the rest of the day.” Spike gave you a small smile and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I would trek across deserts wrapped in a blanket if it meant being here with you. Every second is worth it.” Now, he lowered his lips down to yours for a slow, sweet kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining with the soul of a man in love. “To me, love, you’re worth the world.” 

You stared into his eyes and knew that he meant every single word. While it didn’t chase away your doubts or the empty feeling in your chest, it helped you see that this feeling would end. And for now, that was enough. 

“I love you.” You whispered, pulling him closer. He kissed the top of your head. 

“I love you too, darling.” He hooked his arm under your knees and stood, holding you against his chest. “Now, why don’t I get you something to eat and we can spend the day in bed?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“Spike.” You laughed lightly. 

“There,” He beamed, “I knew I could get a smile.” 

He carried you into your room and placed you on your usual side of the bed, laying your fluffiest blanket over top of you. Then he vanished into your kitchen, the sound of your cupboards opening and shutting reminding you that he had no idea where anything was. It almost made you smile. He came back in with a bowl of your favorite cereal, a class of milk, and a thin leather bound journal. 

“What’s that?” You wondered as he climbed into the bed beside you. He handed you the cereal and milk and put his arm around you, pulling you close. 

“Eat your cereal.” He ordered teasingly, opening up to the first page. You tried to look over his shoulder, but he pulled the book away, laughing. “Do you want me to read or not?” 

“What is it?” Your curiosity made your tone amused and playful. You were starting to sound like you again. 

“Well, ever since I got this pesky soul back, I’ve had an unbearable amount of feelings running about in my head, so I figured I could at least put them to good use.” 

“Spike, are they…?” You perked up with excitement. He smiled sheepishly. 

“Poems.” He looked down at seemingly endless pages of his writings and back at you. “They’re mostly about you, of course. I thought, maybe, you’d like to hear them. See if they’d make you feel a little better.” You were almost too awestruck to nod. 

“I’d really like that.” 

With your cereal in hand, you curled up beside him, laying your head back against his shoulder. He read softly and slowly, his gentleness with his words almost lulling you to sleep. The poems were beautiful, forcing you to stay awake if only to hear one more word. Spike felt you relaxed against him as he read and paused his reading to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, and lastly your lips. 

You felt the emptiness for a few more days, but each day, he was by your side, making sure you ate and gave yourself time to breathe. By the time you started to feel normal again, he’d read most of his poems and continued to write more and you were able to go for your evening walks without feeling exhausted. Your friends were more than supportive and helped you through it all while still giving you the space you needed. 

It wasn’t the last time an episode like this happened, but now you always knew that, no matter what, you’d never be alone.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216

[johnnysnostril]

nct 127 as royals [18+]

♔ kingdoms + empires ♖

this has got to be one of my favorite scenarios so far. ive put together a little something for the people who are obsessed with the royal + medieval times. let me know which kingdom or empire you’re in! enjoy, xoxo 

empire of

❅ ELPIDA ❅

colors: yellow + gold

moto: “be delicate like a flower, hopeful like an angel.”

your position: the page ☾❀|❀☽

cares for the royal clothing

assist with dressing the royals

pick out ball gowns and attire for royal dances/weddings

emperor taeyong’s trustee: <<doyoung>>

shields you from witnessing illegal matters

protects you from unexpected dangers

accompanies you to royal fittings

his secret: you are his mistress. he comes to you whenever he’s feeling vulnerable and weak. you’ve been sleeping with the emperor for a few months now and you’re starting to fall in love with him. you want to admit your feelings to him but you know that he’ll never leave the empress just for a page.

sexual desire: <<blindfolding/handcuffing>>

look at you- tied up and blinded. now, i can explore your body without interruptions.

empire of

✤ IRIS ✤

colors: emerald green + white

moto: “listen to the gods- they will never lead you wrong.”

your position: the physician ☤

in charge of the royals health

partake in surgical procedures

assist in healing the wounded knights

emperor taeil’s trustee: <<taeyong>>

supplies you with out of country medicine

shows you how to make potions

provides you with illegal knives to perform difficult surgeries

his secret: emperor taeil is planning on poisoning the empress. with your help, along with his trustee- he is ending his arranged marriage, that he never wanted to be apart of. with her gullible attitude, the empress believes you are no harm. little does she know, that you are the one who will witness her last breath.

sexual desire: <<submission>>

tell daddy how much you love it when he makes you feel helpless.

empire of

ᕯ IPHIOS ᕯ

colors: cream + brown

moto: “show no mercy, show no fear.”

your position: the squire ⚘

apprentice to the knights

witnesses training for battles

eyes and ears of the empire

emperor johnny’s trustee: <<jaehyun>>

teaches you secret death pressure points

reveals all hidden secrets of the knights

shows you secret passage ways through the castle

his secret: he’s cheating on the empress with a queen from another kingdom. somehow, you ended up being his second mistress- landing the position of the squire, by promising to protect his secret from the knights- who are ordered to kill the queen mistress per the empress. although the empress has knowledge of emperor johnny cheating on her, she had no idea about you. and you and emperor johnny will keep it that way.

sexual desire: <<master/slave>>

you follow directions so well, don’t you? master will have his way with you and you’ll behave- like a good little slave, won’t you?

kingdom of

❈ THPHIC ❈

colors: peach + silver

moto: “all that is gold, shall be silver.”

your position: the watchman ✇

watches over the castle

report suspicious behavior

create safety tactics

king yuta’s trustee: <<jungwoo>>

supplies you with foreign bombs

helps you plan stakeouts

provides you with secret information about other kingdoms

his secret: his mother was a servant to his royal father. his blood is not complete royalty. you and jungwoo are the only ones who know his secret- the two of you protect it with your lives. every now and then, you and king yuta will sleep together- as a thank you for keeping his secret.

sexual desire: <<public sex>>

and while everyone is watching, you’d be screaming my name- begging me for more.

kingdom of

✵CHARMOLIPIL ✵

colors: black + burgundy

moto: “never let them see your weak side- show them what they will fear.”

your position: the messenger ∺

relays messages from the king to other kingdoms

witness court trials

bring threatening news to the knights attention

king doyoung’s trustee: <<taeil>>

provides you with weapons that you aren’t licensed to have

helps you falsify information to threaten other kingdoms

supplies you with poison potions

his secret: you witnessed him kill his father so he could take over the kingdom. king doyoung has demanded you be the messenger, running to other kingdoms to let them know that the king is finally dead. he uses you as his secret weapon- having secret late night meeting with you, informing you of your weekly work. as these meeting progress through the months, you start to slowly fall in love with him- letting him know that you’ll do anything to keep his secret and to cover him. the king is slowly catching feelings for you but won’t show his true feelings just yet.

sexual desire: <<threesomes>>

the both of you look so wonderful on your knees. now, please me.

empire of

✾ HALARA ✾

colors: royal blue + plum

moto: “wait for the perfect time, then attack.”

your position: the treasurer ∞

in charge of tax collecting

tracking debit with other empires

monitors the state of the empire

emperor jaehyun’s trustee: <<mark>>

helps you hide stolen money

forges numbers for the books

providing transportation and housing for your escape

his secret: you and emperor jaehyun have been stealing money from the empire. the two of you have convinced the empress that there is a traitor among the castle. emperor jaehyun has planned the escape for the both of you- leaving the empire behind for the empress, as he has fallen deeply in love with you. 

sexual desire: <<erotic spanking/servant play>>

ah- you’ve disobeyed me again, servant. bend over, you know what time it is.

kingdom of

❂ CHRYSEOS ❂

colors: red + violet

moto: “stay gold, always.”

your position: the marshal 〶

ensures that the kingdoms laws are enforced

responsible for securing the kingdoms boarders

organizes patrol and responds to threats

king jungwoo’s trustee: <<haechan>>

protects your illegal work regarding protection of the king

assists you with hiring hitmen for the ones who threaten the king

provides you with handguns/weapons for the knights

his secret: you and king jungwoo have been legally married in another country, for five years. the queen has no idea that she is technically a mistress. you plan to hire a hitman to take out the queen, robbing her of her jewls and kidnap the king- to live your life in your home country; where no one knows of your work with the king. 

sexual desire: <<roleplay>>

you look exquisite in royal clothing, my dear. what would be even more delicious, is you bent over the queens royal chair.

empire of

✥ MERAKI ✥

colors: gold + black

moto: “take everything, forgive no one and leave no trace.”

your position: the spymaster ⌖

observes the empires criminal elements

spies on other kingdoms+empires

uses collected information to protect the king

emperor mark’s trustee: <<yuta>>

supplies you with illegal torture devices

provides you with secret maps to other kingdoms+empires to break into their castles

helps you protect the king

his secret: you are his long lost love. as he was promised to another female at birth, he fell in love with you as a young man. you were brought into the castle by his father who was the emperor, as an orphan child of a passing village. before the emperor’s passing, you promised to watch after the castle and his reigning son. every now and then, you and emperor mark find yourselves in deep love with each other, but you can’t bring yourself to destroy the lee empire with your own desire.

sexual desire: <<face sitting>>

you’d look even more beautiful, straddling my face. i bet that you wouldn’t be able to ride my tongue without making a sound. 

kingdom of

۞ AGAPI ۞

colors: baby blue + gray

moto: “everything in the world is about sex, except sex. sex is about power.”

your role in the castle: the steward ❦

in charge of daily management and supplies needs for the castle and the king

responsible for financial and legal matters concerning the castles estates

represents the king in court, while he is away

king haechan’s trustee: <<johnny>>

covers up your mistakes

protects you from unwanted information being released

prints money illegally and uses it to help you pay for supplies

his secret: king haechan is planning to have the queen assassinated so you can fill her role once she is gone. johnny is the only person who knows that you and the king are sleeping together. although king haechan doesn’t know just yet, you are pregnant with his son-

sexual desire: <<domination and rough sex>>

no one will be able to hear you cry out in this dungeon, my love. but, i do think you need something to occupy that throat of yours.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐈𝐈 ↟ 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞

↠  summary: Overcome with fever, you struggle to separate fact from fiction and after an unwanted visitor meets his end, you finally experience the infamous Blood God.  

↠ fantasy au

↠  pairing: c!Techno x fm!reader

↠  tw: blood, death/killing, gore, reader’s lack of morals, fever dream flashbacks

↠  wc: ~2.3k 

↠  previous chapter ↟ make a request ↟ create the next moodboard 

The wildflowers seemed to grow around you, threading through your fingers and cradling your body as the sun warmed your skin. You stretched your limbs, basking in the sweet rays when your hand was swatted back to your side, capturing your attention.

You turned your head, eyes meeting Dream’s. His green irises were nearly iridescent in the brightness. His blond hair was lighter than when you’d last seen him. Then again, the two of you were covered in grime, on opposite ends of a blade.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, voice calm and optimistic. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You smiled slightly. “I’ve met a man, Dream. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to fall in love with me,” you joshed, turning your head back up to the sun. Spirals of color swirled with the clouds in the sky, mimicking a strange painting.

You could tell Dream was smirking at you. “Bring him with you. I need you back.”

You brushed your fingers against the brittle pages of the book in front of you. The worn spine and faded words brought a small smirk to your lips, knowing full well the book was only in such a state because of how well-loved it had been. It was an old story, one that you’d grown up hearing before being shuffled off to bed with the other children.

There was some kind of red marking in it as if it’d been in a child’s hands before you, which was probably the reason you’d had to stand on a chair to get to it. Of course, this was done behind Techno’s back as he bustled about, finishing up chores and whatnot.

You knew the extent of your injures now: a sprained, almost broken ankle, your side was torn open making Techno recount how many stitches were crisscrossing against your ribs. The pain that was the most troublesome was oddly the gash on your arm, cut open by a branch in the mix of your rush through the snow. Occasionally, your fingers went numb if you twisted your wrist wrong or pressed on the wound, to which Techno would cleverly quip, “Just don’t do that then.”

Techno strolled into your room, leaning against the door frame as he rolled the sleeves of his tunic. You perked an eyebrow in his direction, silently asking what he wanted. “You’ve spiked a fever three times this week. I need to keep an eye on you, but I have some chores to take care of outside,” he stated, approaching your bed.

“It’s the wound on her side,” an unfamiliar voice called, breaking into your dreaming. Your body began to tremble as your fingers absently searched for more blankets. You felt sticky and ill as if at any intense movement, you would surely die.

Coarse fingers brushed against your forehead gently. You recognized Techno almost instantly, even with the tiredness of your body preventing you from opening your eyes. “No, love. We need to get your fever down.”

You swallowed hoarsely. “Creat. I need creat,” you grumbled, reaching for his hands. “There’s some in my bag,” you mumbled, being pulled back to sleep by your exhausted body.

You furrowed your brows, narrowing your eyes as you looked at him. “So?”

“So, you’re coming with me,” he stated, pulling the book out of your grasp and yanking the covers off your frame. You let out a protesting groan as he held his hands out for you. When you didn’t budge, he rolled his eyes, slipping his arms beneath you and pulling you up as if you were nothing more than a sack of flour. You struggled to escape his grasp but to no avail. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder, brat,” he threatened playfully.

You scoffed. “You wouldn’t. I’m injured,” you countered.

He sent you a smug expression. “I said what I said,” he assured. You went limp in his arms as he stepped out of the room, making him chuckle at your dramatics as your body mimicked liquid. “You’re just like Tommy,” he mumbled more to himself than you.

You straightened up, pulling your arm over his shoulder and fitting to his hold. “Who’s Tommy?” You quizzed making him shake his head.

“A story for another time,” he answered simply.

You rolled your eyes slightly, attempting not to blush at the feeling of his hands curling around your body. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” He chuckled at your statement, pushing the door open with his foot. You took note of the set of arrows mounted with a bow beside the door, as if ready to be grabbed in the midst of an attack. The wind and winter hit you like a ton of bricks, the brightness of the sun gleaming off the snow burning your eyes. You weren’t sure how long you’d been inside, but you felt like an alien when presented with the elements again.

You shivered slightly as he put you down on the steps, pulling off his cloak and tucking it around you. You were swimming in the fabric as it pooled around you. You attempted not to dig your nose into its velvet coloring, which was still warm from Techno, his scent swarming around you. He didn’t pay any mind to you as you pressed the soft material against your cheek. “Who’s Dream?” He asked, setting a log up on a large stump before chopping it in half with the ax that was once wedged in the snow.

You looked at him cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

His ruby eyes flashed towards you momentarily. “You mumble about him in your sleep sometimes…” he commented.

You chewed your bottom lip, fighting not to smirk. “You’re watching me sleep now, Techno?”

He chuckled, splitting another log. His arms tensed with each impact; hair combed by the soft wind. “I was making sure the fever didn’t take you, so yes.” His quip made your cheeks heat. “Try not to over-exert yourself.”

When you finally woke up the last time, Techno’s head rested in his arms on the edge of the bed. As soon as you inched your arm to rub one of your eyes, he woke up, eyes peering at you as if you’d explode at any moment.

He stood, pressing his hand against your forehead and sighing in relief. His features seemed softer in the candlelight as he looked over you. “Let me check your wound,” he whispered softly as if trying not to disturb you as he lifted the covers, another sigh leaving his lips. A sign that you were finally close to being out of the woods.

Before you had the opportunity to answer him or swat off another one of his questions with a flirtatious remark, the sound of an approaching horse rider pulled both your attentions toward the woods surrounding the cabin. Techno let the ax fall to his side, eyeing you as if to tell you to keep quiet as a man stepped off the animal, dressed in the King’s armor.

Your heart stilled as your mind raced with attempting to place him. You swore you’d seen him before. Instead of reacting with fear, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stood from the step you were perched on, your legs shaking as you gained your balance. You hated to admit it, but you were still weak from your injuries and the fever.

You leaned against the railing beside the steps as the man approached Techno. Something clicked within you and you realized the reason he was there. Strength pumped through your body suddenly as you inched your way towards Techno. As if he could sense you nearing him, Techno peered over his shoulder. Your haggard appearance and choppy hair served as your shield from the man’s recognition.

The soldier eyed Techno, wetting his lips slightly. “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for someone,” the man began. You settled your hand on Techno’s lower back, reaching for his ax as he let it slip into your hands.

The man nodded to you in a greeting. “I haven’t seen anyone new in these woods,” Techno answered him, voice an octave lower as you made him the barrier between you and the man.

The man narrowed his eyes at Techno, face twisting into a mocking grin. “Well, if you come across her, Councilman Dream’s offering a hefty reward for her return.” Techno nodded slowly at him, attempting not to give you away as you went around the soldier. “From one man to another, I think you’re lying about her whereabouts. I’m sure the authorities would love to know where you are too.”

You heard Techno scoff, crossing his arms. You pursed your lips, getting a better hold on the ax before swinging at the man, severing his head from the rest of his body. Specks of his blood splattered against your face, the man dropping to his knees before sinking into the snow. The hot liquid was a stark contrast to the wind nipping at your cheeks.

Techno’s eyes blared at you, his mouth gaping partially. You wiped a hand across your face, attempting to get rid of the sticky crimson substance. “Blood for the Blood God,” you quipped, lips twisting into a smirk as he remained frozen. His pupils dilated, making you quiver. Suddenly, you felt like you’d disappointed him. “They won’t miss him. Look,” you squatted beside the man’s body, pulling his sleeve up to reveal the mercenary’s mark on his forearm; a crudely etched blood eagle staring back at you. “Plus, his armor is cheap. It’s a remake. He’s one of Dream’s sellswords-“

He cut you off, stepping over the body and grabbing your face in his hands, hoisting you onto your feet as he towered over you. Something animalistic burned in his features, anger dripping from his appearance as his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck. He terrified you, your hands moving to grip onto his wrists for stability. Your sights were glued to his as the two of you breathed heavily, your body coming down from its adrenaline high and his restraining whatever his primal urges were commanding of him.

He pulled you close to him as if he were going to press his lips against yours to elevate whatever was racing through his mind. Your body went limp in his hold before he bore his sharpening teeth. “Go inside,” he commanded, allowing you to slip from his grasp. You sank to your knees before him, his burning eyes ripping from you as he mounted one of his horses and left.

Your mind snapped into reality, tugging you to your feet and running into the house to grab the bow and arrows. You swung your leg over the man’s horse, taking off in the direction Techno went, desperately trying to wipe the man’s blood from your features. You looked for broken sticks and any tracks as the snow thinned until you finally spotted in him in the distance, sliding off his horse with his eyes focused on a deer in front of him.

You put tension on the bowstring, your arrow angling towards the deer. Without hesitation, you let it fly through the air, whistling slightly against the wind before boring into the deer. Techno’s head snapped towards you as you approached. “Rip it apart,” you stated, leaning on the horn of the saddle. The two of you sized each other up, breath forming clouds to mix with the winter air before he heeded your words.

You chewed your nail as you paced in front of the door, psyching yourself up to intrude on Techno. The image of him tearing the deer in half burned into the back of your mind, but you couldn’t help to wonder what he thought of you after you’d killed a man, even if he was a mercenary. You’d faced intimidating rulers without batting an eye, but Techno…

Techno was different.

You knocked lightly, pushing the door open. He looked at you over his shoulder, unbothered as he nodded for you to enter. You tried not to stare at the scars decorating the portion of his back that was sticking out of the tin bathtub. You stepped toward him, sitting on the floor beside him and pressing your shoulder to the other side of the tub so the two of you were facing in opposite directions. You felt like a child awaiting punishment.

“So, the Blood God lives then?” You broke into the silence. It seemed to be inappropriate to joke about now; for the first time since meeting him, you were serious.

Techno allowed a beat of silence to pass between the two of you, making you turned to look at him. His strong shoulders that you’d only dreamed about were on full display as his arms leaned against the edges of the tub, head leaned back slightly as his eyes closed. “Don’t condone my actions next time,” he mumbled, taking you aback. “And allow me to deal with the bloodshed.” He meant to tell you not to kill in defense of him anymore. You’d already explained that the man’s threat was the hairline for you; what swung the ax so harshly.

You swallowed. “You didn’t answer me,” you countered.

He sighed. “Only when provoked.” You drew your legs to your chest, chin resting on your knees. He reached toward you, brushing a finger against your cheek, barely missing your healing wound. The touch was gentle and reassuring as if to consul you silently. “What a pair we are.”