#listen i know i took liberties here but i honestly just listened to the whole album in a craze and this was the result

[serpentsurrealism]

Portals was really good and kinda made me black out, tbh.

[indigosunsetao3]

Hey! Sorry I'm not sure if you're taking requests but there's this trend on tiktok where people are calling their boyfriends their husband and I thought it would be cute to see 141s reaction to the same🥰

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGey2YkXT/

Feel free to take creative liberties otherwise there's no pressure at all to do it! :)

I am definitely taking requests! It's fun to get different prompt/ideas and figuring out to make them work.

This is too cute! I was going to just do a list-type answer but then one thing turned into another and I had all sorts of scenarios running through my mind while at work. So, I took a little creative liberty. Some of them are acknowledging the trend, others are situational conversations.

Hope you enjoy! And you know I had to put Alex in 😘

Alex

It was the second time in a month that a stupid pipe burst. That’s what you got for insisting on buying a fixer upper in the coldest winter the area had seen in years. You had managed to get the water cut off before it completely flooded the whole downstairs then set about cleaning up the mess.

Alex had arrived to find you a frazzled mess as you mopped up the water when your phone rang. The plumber. Alex quickly handed you the phone before he went about mopping. The plumber couldn’t be there today, earliest it would be was Monday. You couldn’t be home that day.

Looking at Alex, who could hear the call, he nodded and mouthed he could be there.

“I won’t be here, but my husband will,” you say. It’s a slip of the tongue. Alex and you didn’t even live together yet but just calling him a boyfriend seemed so minuscule compared to how you felt.

Alex had instantly stopped mopping and watched you curiously. The plumber continued talking but you barely heard what he said. You could feel the burning red of embarrassment on your cheeks as you watched Alex's face for his reaction. This was not a conversation you were ready for. You had wanted to talk to him about it, soon, but not today.

“Right, okay. Yes, his name is Alex, I’ll send you his number,” you assure the man as you continue to stare at Alex. Alex had gone back to mopping but you saw the stupid happy grin on his face as he worked and a hint of a red tinge to his cheeks. Hanging up you set your phone on the counter and take a deep breath.

“Listen I didn’t mean,” you start but Alex leans the mop against the fridge and steps toward you, his feet splashing in the water a bit.

"Oh, I think you did mean it," he answers grabbing your hips. "And here I was thinking I was just your boy toy for home improvement."

"Hush," you answer still feeling the tingle of the blush that had gone up to your ears.

Gaz

Gaz insisted that you still do your monthly book club even though you protest, preferring to spend time with him. Him being home was a luxury and you had honestly started the online club as a way to pass lonely days counting down his return.

Leaning down you read the chat as people start joining. You grin at the number of people you managed to amass in the past few weeks. The beauty of online was anyone from anywhere could join. You had a few people from other countries even and always tried to set the meeting times to be accommodating for all.

After you all start talking and chatting about the book Gaz flops comfortably on the couch next to you handing you a glass of wine. He hadn't read the book but he was still interested in what you were doing so he peers at the screen, the side of his face visible to everyone for a fraction of a second.

It sends the chat into a tizzy. Everyone knew you had a significant other but they had never seen him. The comments are flying which makes you laugh before pointing a few out to Gaz who grins.

“They’re dying to know who you are,” you venture looking over at him. “Comfortable saying hello to my friends?” You raise your eyebrows and Gaz pauses before straightening his shirt in an exaggerated manner, preening himself. He nods and you turn the camera to face him so you are out of screen.

“Everyone this is Kyle,” you say grinning before tacking on, “my husband.” It was a joke, something you had seen people doing online as a trend.

It got his attention though. His eyes flick up to yours as the sounds of the chat pinging start going off tenfold. He's ignoring what people are saying, verbal and written, as his eyes rake over your face while you casually sip your wine staring back at him.

“My deepest apologies,” Kyle says after a moment as looks back at the camera while undoing the top button of his polo. “But I’m going to have to cut our session a little short. My wife,” he emphasizes the word as his eyes lock on yours, “and I have something to tend to.” He doesn’t give them a chance to respond before he snaps the laptop shut and all but chucks it on the recliner.

He’s on you in a moment, pinning you down into the couch as you giggle. “Husband?” He grins and you swear you see him glance at your empty ring finger.

Ghost

Simon wasn't a fan of pictures of himself if his face was visible. He has loads of you though, his camera roll was just random shots of you mixed in with work items and stupid memes from his team. But you barely had any casual pictures of him in return. The pictures were always of you holding hands, or you pressed up against his chest with his arms around you. He didn't mind taking pictures that way, always holding his pose for you until you got it just to your standards after the first or fifty tries. Photography made you happy and even if he was a bit self-conscious about it, he fed your hobby.

The few times you could get a picture of his face with his approval he always had his mask on, only his striking eyes were visible as he stared at you. It was fine, you understood why, but you missed looking at his face when he was gone.

So while you are at a local cafe, safely tucked into a back corner, and he takes off his mask you dare to snap a picture. His hood is up, the lower half of his face obscured by the cup but you could still see his light blond stubble on his jaw. The slight crook of his nose where it had been broken and not set properly years ago. Even a small glimpse of the corner of his lips which were a natural pink that made you envious.

"Love," Simon says quietly as he looks at you from over the cup.

"I'm sorry. The light in here was too good to pass up," you sigh and scroll to delete it, savoring it for a second as your thumb hovers over the trashcan icon. "I miss looking at my husband when you're gone," you explain as you hit the button and watch the picture wipe away.

"Husband?" Simon asks quietly as he sets down his cup and carefully pulls his hood forward a bit to make sure his profile is covered.

You don't answer as you look back up at him and set your phone on the table between you. Instead, you grab your own cup and stare right back at him. It was a joke you had seen online, see how your boyfriend reacts to the official title. You didn't expect much from it, maybe a laugh or a joke in response but he doesn't do either.

He instead reaches out to nudge your phone back toward your hand and cock his head to the side a bit. Then he smiles, a genuine heartfelt smile that sets your heart fluttering.

"Go on then," he says nodding his head at the phone. "One picture, just for you. From your husband," he smirks as you fumble for the camera in a rush.

Price

You snuck out of bed early that morning, having to creep quietly out of the room because John was such a light sleeper. It was his birthday and you were determined to give him some sort of a surprise. He always made sure your day was special, always took care of you, so it was your turn.

Shushing the dogs you set about making breakfast, careful to not bang the pans too loud, and diving for the kettle as it starts to whistle. It was a simple dish of eggs and bacon with hot tea, but John loved anything hot and homecooked. You had to shove the dogs outside before walking back up the stairs balancing everything carefully before hipping open the door.

"Damn it," you mutter as you see him half sitting up in bed smiling at you. "How long have you been up?"

"Mmm, since you tripped over your slippers," he answers with a small chuckle at your face. You thought you had gotten away with it, he hadn't even twitched as you cussed and caught yourself on the dresser. "You were so determined I didn't want to ruin it," he grins.

"One day I'll surprise my husband," you say with a sigh before setting his tea on the nightstand and the breakfast in his lap. He doesn't answer, doesn't move, as he looks at you. It seems you managed to surprise him after all as his eyebrows climb up toward his messy bed tousled hair.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have," you start back peddling. "It's just a joke my friends told me to try. It's all over social media, they did it with their boyfriends and thought it was funny." You explain as he slides the plate off his lap and sets it on the nightstand next to his tea.

"Do you think it's a joke?" He asks tilting his head to the side a bit, watching you get flustered and trip over your words. He's grinning now though as he crosses his arms over his bare chest waiting for you to get yourself out of your rambling.

"I mean the trend is a joke," you start, "but I mean if," you were making a mess of this.

"Sweetheart, I was ready to marry you after our second date. I am your husband, even if I haven't managed to get you down that aisle yet." He smiles and tugs you toward him as you attempt to reconcile how a simple joke had John confessing he'd had marriage on the brain for almost a year.

Soap

Another conference for work. At least this time you were able to bring Johnny along. You had forced your boss to agree to let you bring him even if it was only supposed to be for spouses. You told him it was either Johnny came or you wouldn't be there. You’d be damned if you were missing Soap’s short leave to sit in a stuffy room full of men praising their own egos ignoring you because you were a woman.

“Am I fancy enough to be here?” Johnny asks, a teasing smirk on his face. He was in a button down and slacks with a tie to match your cocktail dress for dinner.

“Plenty fancy,” you answer back smiling as you take his extended elbow. “Let’s get this over with,” you huff as you step on the elevator. A networking dinner with other people that were in your field and while it was better having Johnny here it was still not your favorite thing to do.

Johnny gently leaves you to go grab drinks while you stake out an empty table. It's not deserted for long before one of your coworkers stands right next to you at the high top giving you a once over. You had managed to avoid him all day but he had managed to spot you alone and swoop in out of nowhere.

“Who’s the guy?” He asks as he eyes Johnny at the bar striking up a genial conversation with the bartender. You really couldn’t take Johnny anywhere without him making friends. “I thought we were only allowed to bring spouses,” he tacks on. You had been fighting off Mark's advances for months, as politely as possible, but you'd had enough.

“John,” you answer coolly as you set your purse on the standing cocktail table. He didn’t get to call him Johnny. “And who says he isn’t my spouse?” You ask raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t your spouse, you weren’t even formally engaged, but to you Johnny was the one anyway.

“Says the lack of any ring,” he says pointing to your hand. He never took no for an answer, ignored you when you said you had a boyfriend. He was persistent and creepy but it was ending tonight.

“John,” you say as Johnny walks over to your other side with a beer and your vodka soda. He knows something is up, his eyebrow quirks at the use of the formality of his name. “I’d like you to meet Mark,” you gesture to him emphasizing the name because Johnny had heard all about him.

“Mark, meet my husband,” you say boldly.

If Johnny was shocked he didn’t let on. He just gently places a hand on your lower back before setting his beer down and extending the other to Mark to shake his hand. You can see him squeeze a bit too hard despite being jovial and kind. The conversation remains casual and a bit forced after that before Mark excuses himself.

Johnny doesn’t say anything about how you introduce him to everyone as your husband, just exchanges pleasantries in return. But you notice his hand never leaves your body in one way or another and he’s been grinning to himself the whole evening. Cutting his eyes to you with a shine to them every time you say husband and even stepping in himself to introduce himself as your husband to a few people.

“Husband, lass?” He asks once he gets you alone in the elevator.

“Sorry,” you mutter kicking off your heels to which he extends a hand to take them without you asking. “Mark just won't get the hint and I,” he cuts you off crowding you into the corner as the lift steadily rises.

“Don’t apologize,” he grins tilting your head up. “I like how it sounds.”

[infinitestagearchive]

POSTED 30.10.2023

❝ … and that's when things get even crazier. ❞

❝ if you haven't heard by now — how? what rock do you live under? — the former CEOs of Infinite Stage Entertainment are being sued by their ex-employees for abuse, mistreatment, and even sexual misconduct. in this video, we are delving into the dark history of ISE and its CEOs, the details of the lawsuit, and what this might mean for the future of ISE and the industry as a whole. ❞

❝ so, let's start by talking about ISE. the company was founded in 2006 by husband-and-wife duo Cho Hosung and Han Sooyin. Sooyin is a former idol, who was a part of girl group Liberty Girls in 1992. the group only lasted two years before disbanding, but this is when Sooyin met Hosung, who back then was working as the assistant to the manager of Liberty Girls. the two became flirtatious quickly, and only two years later they got engaged. Hosung had always been a hard worker, and by the time that he and Sooyin got married he'd worked his way up to becoming chief financial officer of the company. he was a big deal! more than that, though, he seemed like a total wife-guy. the public adored their relationship, and when Hosung announced he would be starting his own entertainment company in his wife's honor, they loved him even more! but clearly, behind the scenes, the relationship wasn't all that lovely. ❞

❝ it wasn't easy for the couple. despite their fame and the publicity surrounding their relationship and the start of the company, for some reason they never managed to produce idols that attracted big enough audiences. look, if you have nothing else going on today, go listen to some old ISE songs! they're kind of bangers. personally, I think we all owe it to Sang Minji to listen to her debut album, it's literally so good … but that's neither here nor there. the company only really began finding success in 2016 with the debut of girl group Sugar, which, honestly, is probably where all of the problems started. ❞

❝ now that we have some backstory, it's time to get into the lawsuit. all of this really started with the infamous twitter thread back in 2020, when a user compiled a bunch of 'evidence' to claim that ISE was abusing its idols. a lot of fans back then thought it was just speculation and coincidence, but some people took it seriously enough to keep the rumors alive. even years before that fans had been worried over the idols of ISE, with both Sugar and S-Division taking extended breaks after supposed health concerns, and of course following the infamous Atlas meltdown of 2020. for those of you who are blissfully unaware; when S-Division had their goodbye stage for their EP 'The Loneliest' Atlas started crying midway through the performance, which eventually devolved into a complete breakdown after which he had to be ushered off the stage by his fellow members as well as some staff. really, fans had more than enough material to suspect that something wasn't quite right with the idols at ISE. though, nothing would really happen until the late summer of 2023. ❞

❝ on august 15 of 2023 it was announced that activities at ISE would be put on hold effective immediately, following the announcement that an internal investigation would take place. this investigation looked into the legitimacy of anonymous claims made from internal sources about unsafe working environments and a supposed abuse of power from high-ranking employees. basically, some workers had enough and started sending anonymous complaints to the board of directors … who are like, the big, big, bosses. almost a full month later, on september fifth, the company releases another official statement to say that Hosung and Sooyin were 'stepping down' — so, you know, they were given the boot — and that they would be replaced by new CEO Sun Jihoon, who also brought in a bunch of new staff, including COO Nam Eunwoo. now, Eunwoo seemed immediately really close with Sugar's leader Hyejin, but aside from sparking a few dating rumors, fans seemed mostly happy that the new leadership seemed to get along with the idols, and that everyone would get a chance to heal and move on. ❞

❝ … and that's when things get even crazier. ❞

❝ just this week a harassment and misconduct suit was filed against former ISE CEO Cho Hosung, in which several current and former idols of the company accuse Hosung of not only knowing but perpetuating a whole bunch of things. all of this is alleged, of course, but it's honestly too crazy to not be true and — look, the document detailing all of the claims is public access and it's bonkers, but I'll summarize it for you guys. basically, there was an unsafe atmosphere at the company, which Hosung was the main perpetrator of. one part of the suit details the fact that — as we suspected! — trainees were often physically reprimanded, deprived of food, and pitted against each other to further the hostile atmosphere. even when they debuted, idols were kept on strict diets and overworked to the point of sometimes fainting. the suit calls out Sooyin as well, claiming that she personally caused idols and trainees to be pitted against each other, with one anonymous source even detailing the time they were told directly by Sooyin that, quote, everyone will compare you to [this other idol], and you're never going to live up to those expectations if you keep being lazy … girl what?! all of that is horrible, but it somehow gets so much worse. huge trigger warning for like, sexual harassment and abuse and Hosung being a fuckhead. ❞

" Hyejin — who by the way is one of the few plaintiffs who is actually named in the suit, like the girlboss she is — has also come out with allegations of sexual misconduct. she stated that Hosung coerced her into a sexual relationship at the end of 2011, when Hyejin was only nineteen years old and had been a trainee at ISE for close to five years. she claimed that originally he only asked her to come by his office during her breaks under the guise of ��catching up’, but soon he began initiating physical contact and Hyejin says that when she tried to say no Hosung implied that she would not have a future as an idol if she did not reciprocate his advances. this went on until december of 2015, after which Hyejin claims that she continued to feel unsafe at the company, which eventually led to her worsening mental state and the hiatus of Sugar in 2021. ❞

❝ so, what now? ❞

❝ some other people named in the suit include Honey from Limitless, who claims that she was forced into uncomfortable positions during her bullying scandal to the point where she felt extremely dehumanized, Max from S-Division who alleges a long-standing culture of physical abuse that he personally witnessed, and ex-Nightvision member and producer Connor Seong, who claims that ISE has a history of employing and protecting known abusers. ❞

❝ this entire lawsuit is absolutely just the beginning, and I totally think more people are going to come forward now that these big names have. I also hope Hosung — and Sooyin! — go to jail for forever and never get near the idol industry again. but that’s just like … my personal opinion. what do you guys think? let me know in the comments below, and I’ll talk to you later! ❞

[mc-lukanette]

Luka ducked under a branch as he traversed the thick forest, looking around at the assorted flowers he passed by. As much as music was "his thing," he took the occasional delight in gardening and finding flowers that went unloved by the way the forest had grown. He'd take them home, plant them back on the Liberty, and give them the care they needed. There was also the bonus that he got to listen to the ambiance of the forest, potentially deriving a new song or two from what he saw or heard.

He was going deeper than usual on this particular occasion. It was inevitable, as with each flower he took he'd have to go further to find another on future visits.

At the rate things were going though, he was starting to get worried about losing his way. He supposed that maybe it would make for a fun story when he finally did get back - how he could've starved or been mauled by a wild animal - but then he realized that he was starting to take on Juleka's morbid sense of humor and cut off that thought at its roots.

Luka continued to survey the area, a few birds flying by and chirping out a tune. The mushrooms became more plentiful and almost seemed to glow as the forest grew thicker and dimmer by extension. He only stopped when a flash of pink caught his eyes, drawing him to the sight of a cute pink flower coming out of the ground. He walked over and crouched down to take a closer look, intrigued by how it seemed to stand out amongst everything else. The grass below had flecks of blue and looked faintly different from the other grass surrounding it.

Naturally, it didn't fit with his criteria for a flower he'd take home - it was healthy and thriving in the forest as it was - but he could still appreciate it. Then—

"W-wait!" a tiny voice cried out. "Don't pick that one!"

Luka looked up in confusion, a blur of pink coming out to speed towards him. He recoiled at first, bringing an arm up to shield himself, but he wasn't actually harmed in any way. Rather, the blur stopped in place in front of the flower, coming into focus as a tiny girl appearing at around his own age, and with what he could only describe as fairy wings on her back.

"That's the one I was born in!" she protested, arms spread in defense of the flower.

He blinked, his face unable to decide between surprised and confused. "A-ah... sorry?"

"M-mm." She wrung her hands together sheepishly. "I'll find you another one just like this, okay? Or at least close!"

He was still processing the whole tiny fairy girl thing, honestly.

"...Oh," he said suddenly, finally realizing what he'd said. "No, that's alright. I wasn't actually going to pick it."

"You—you weren't?" She blinked, her body language slowly relaxing.

"I was just looking at it," he assured, unconsciously relaxing along with her. "The only flowers I take care of are the ones that aren't doing as well."

"You won't find those here," she told him. "This is fairy territory."

Fairy territory. Alright then. "Sorry, I didn't mean to trespass."

"Um, it's okay. You're not supposed to know about fairies anyway."

There was a pause. The fairy girl squinted, eyes darting around as if mental gears were turning in her head.

"...Wait." She blushed, hands slapping her cheeks in surprise. "You're not supposed to know about me!"

"I—"

"You didn't see me!" She flew up to his face, pointing at him insistently. "And you can't tell anyone about me either, which you can't anyway because you didn't see me!"

He raised his hands in defense. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Like you said, I shouldn't be here anyway." To prove his point, he pushed himself up and turned around to head back the way he came.

However, he immediately noticed a problem. He looked around, scanning the forest around him and trying to remember the way he came. He could recall where he'd walked in from in comparison to the flower he saw, but then he remembered how much he'd wandered around blindly when coming into the forest. He had no one to blame but himself for it as well, having gotten too engrossed in the forest's sound.

"What's wrong?" the fairy asked from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, hesitantly admitting, "I... think I might be lost."

She stared at him, then the way he came. He suspected that she might've seen him walking by before he'd spotted her flower.

"Well..." She hummed. "I-I could show you? And I'll find you a flower on the way."

"Is that okay?" He faintly wondered if even she knew the way.

She let out a whine. "I already showed myself to you anyway when I didn't have to. I might as well help."

She fluttered up to him and he followed behind when she led him. It was fascinating, watching her fly underneath the branch that he'd had to duck under before. She was small enough to fit comfortably in both of his hands if he held her, and despite her clear awkwardness, she didn't seem to mind being close to him. If she did actually know how to leave the forest, he wondered if she had even been to his city before. It certainly made her more interesting given the claim that humans weren't supposed to know about fairies.

Regardless, he was grateful to her and wanted to be polite. "By the way, thanks for helping me, miss."

She stalled, perhaps not expecting him to speak up. Tossing him a shy smile, she replied, "You're welcome. Um, and it's Marinette."

He grinned. "Luka."

"Luka? Hm." She continued flying along, curiosity in her voice. "S-so, you said that you take flowers? Where?"

"I take them back to the houseboat to take care of them."

"Houseboat? Do you mean..." She slowed briefly to hover at his side. "literally?"

"Yeah. It's a house I live in that stays on the water."

Marinette's wings flapped a little quicker at that. "Oh. Huh." She steepled her fingers in thought, looking up innocently. "I've never seen one."

Luka chuckled to himself, thinking that she wasn't very good at hiding how she felt. Feeling a little bold, he offered, "You can come with me to see it if you want."

"I can?" she blurted out, speeding forward to stare at his face, then hurriedly added, "I-I mean—!"

He smiled at the way her face heated up.

"O-oh look!" she gasped, pointing off into the distance. "A flower! This way!"

She flew off, nearly plowing face-first into a branch but skillfully dodging it at the last second. He walked after her happily, imagining that he might get a "yes" by the end of the day.

It didn’t take long for the potential flowers to stop becoming the appeal of the forest for him.

[ladybugout-au]

Dear. GOD. After seeing Furious Fu, I would honestly love to see LBO!Marinette just chewing out Su-Han for all his canon-to-fic BULLSHIT. Like, I know you’ve already got a plan to incorporate Feast into LBO, which I’m super excited for, so this asshole showing up with all his nonsense after the new Team Miraculous is set, hell maybe even after they’ve already retrieved the Butterfly and the Peacock, and watching Marinette (and possibly Fu since he has the memories to stand up for himself) tear this dude a new one would really be the cherry on top of an already awesome fic. Sorry to rant in your inbox lol but the new episode just made me so. ANGRY.

In the lounge room of the Liberty, everyone jumped as they heard a noise from up above deck, as if something heavy had fallen or been dropped. Marinette briefly pulled away from Luka’s hold, staring up at the ceiling and wondering aloud, “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Juleka admitted, exchanging concerned looks with Rose.

“That definitely wasn’t Mom,” Luka noted with a tilt of his head.

Pounding footsteps followed, making it clear that a person had clearly gotten on the houseboat without the gangplank being there.

Nino jolted on alert, turning to Duusu with a hushed whisper. “Hide!”

“All of you,” Kagami began, standing up and looking around vaguely at every kwami. “get out of sight.”

The kwami, breaking out of their trance after the brief scare, scattered in every direction to find their own individual hiding places, some choosing to hide with their respective holder and others preferring to hide behind or inside objects. Ivan went into his usual protective mode, wrapping an arm around Mylene while she clung to him.

Marinette stood up, rushing over to the table and picking up the Miracle Box to stow it away. She looked around, then dashed for the microwave and stored the box inside.

She shut the door just in time for the intruder to descend from the staircase: an old man, dressed in Chinese garb and carrying a strange mystical-looking staff. He had a stern expression, his brows knitted together as he scanned the room like none of them were even there. He raised his staff, his gaze eventually locking on the microwave the Marinette was standing near.

Without a word, he pushed Marinette aside, earning an offended, “Excuse me—hey!” from her as he grabbed the microwave door and tugged it. When that did little more than jostle the microwave itself, he tried blindly tampering with the buttons to no avail.

Marinette slapped his wrist away, standing with all her pride as guardian as she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

He glared at her in response. “Young lady, I demand you open your magical sealing chamber and return what’s rightfully mine!”

She blanked, the words catching her completely off-guard. This guy thought their microwave was a magical sealing chamber?

In response, Marinette gave a brief glance to the others, who were all looking back at her with equally puzzled expressions, any tension from before completely gone.

An unspoken question echoed throughout the room: Is he for real?

Before Marinette could ask any further, Tikki emerged from her hiding spot, flying over and explaining, “Marinette, I know who this is! This is great master Su-Han, the guardian of the Miracle Box!”

Marinette raised a brow skeptically. “But I’m the guardian?”

“He was responsible for the box before the incident that Master Fu caused,” she corrected.

Su-Han looked down at Marinette condescendingly. “So you are the current holder of the box.”

“That’s right,” she confirmed unapologetically. She gave a side-glance to Luka and the others, seeing that they were prepared to stand up and fight for her, but she gave a subtle gesture to let them know that it wasn’t necessary. Resolving to deal with Su-Han herself, she faced him again. “How did you find us?”

He held out his staff, the jewel on it mere centimeters from her face. “Guardian scepters are equipped with compasses that can find their Miracle Box at any given time.”

“In case you lose it?” Marinette blurted out, but didn’t apologize or try to take it back.

“Insolent!” Su-Han gasped. “You are not even a proper guardian. I can tell that this box hasn’t even been properly passed down to you!”

“Because Master Fu gave it to me,” she explained, “and we agreed that he should keep his memories.”

“Fu?” Su-Han echoed. “You mean Wang Fu? Chicken legs?”

Is this guy five? Marinette wondered.

Orikko popped out from their hiding place, waving a paw at Su-Han as if in warning. “I take offense to that!”

Su-Han glared at Orikko at the comment, and Orikko quickly ducked back down. Turning his attention back to Marinette, he continued, “Wang Fu is a student who wasn’t even able to fast for a day, nor do a thousand finger-pushups. He was never a rightful guardian, and he failed to fulfill the hope we’d seen in him.”

“Master Fu may have made mistakes, but he’s done his best to make up for all of them!” she argued. “He protected the box for over one hundred years and it’s because of his choices that our team was able to defeat Hawk Moth!”

“Team?” Su-Han asked, his face scrunching up as if he were piecing something together.

“Yes!”

Marinette gestured to her boyfriend and friends for emphasis. Luka, Ivan, Kagami, and Juleka stood while Rose and Nino pinched and stretched their shirts to show off their respective miraculouses.

“Children?” Su-Han gaped. Glaring at Marinette, as if she had personally given out the miraculouses herself, he declared, “Children are never meant to hold miraculouses, especially from the first and most powerful Miracle Box! Kwami are extremely powerful, cosmic creatures!”

A voice piped up from across the room. “Y-you say that, but—!”

Marinette and Su-Han turned to look at Nooroo, who had peeked out from behind Rose’s shoulder. He breathed up, seeming to gain some confidence, then floated out to the center of the room.

“They saved me and Duusu from the hands of evil! We would still be in Gabriel’s clutches if not for them!”

“What?” Su-Han asked. Just when Marinette thought they might be getting somewhere, he turned back to her and accused, “The peacock and butterfly were lost?!”

“Fu lost them when he was escaping the temple,” Marinette explained, a mixture between unphased and annoyed at the man’s outbursts, “but we got them back and everything’s okay now.”

Luka chimed in from his place near the couch, “Marinette has been an incredible leader, as both Ladybug and the guardian.”

She smiled at him in thanks, but Su-Han was clearly focused on anything but the positives.

“Ladybug? You’re even wearing a miraculous?! Guardians aren’t meant to hold miraculouses!” he said, throwing his arms out for effect.

“What—why?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Instead of answering her, Su-Han pulled out a book, shoving it pointedly towards her with the cover facing downwards in his palm. “Let me remind you of a few important rules you’ve violated.” He flipped through a few pages, then pointed at one of them. “Rule fourteen: Kwami must not live outside of the box.” He flipped through a few more. “Rule fifty-two: Guardians must never lose a miraculous. “He flipped to a page near the end. “Rule one hundred and thirty-three: Guardians must never, under any circumstances, wear a miraculous.”

“Master Fu wore a miraculous,” she argued, having never heard of any such rule from him.

“And that proves exactly what I’m talking about!” Su-Han retorted. “Neither you nor Fu are capable guardians because neither of you have respected the rules of the order!”

“...”

When Marinette initially imagined the Order of the Guardians and the people who ran it, this was not what she’d pictured. She had pictured zen and calm, not belligerent and immovable. She was reminded vaguely of her grandfather when she first met him, and that wasn’t a good thing.

She tossed another gaze at everyone, who gave her the same look and nod in response: let him have it.

“Young lady, I’ll repeat myself once,” Su-Han warned. “Return the Miracle Box and the miraculouses to me before--”

Marinette grabbed the book out of his hand, shut it with a satisfying “clap,” then set it back in his hand. “No.“

“What did you say?” he asked, aghast that she would speak to him that way.

“I said no.” Marinette advanced on him, the sheer force of her presence making him take a step back. “Now let me remind you about everything you must’ve missed this whole time.”

She raised a finger at him, raising additional fingers as she went on. “One: You intruded on my boyfriend’s house without any sort of permission. If you’d actually called out to us, we might’ve actually been willing to come out and listen to what you had to say. Two: You wouldn’t have even been able to be here in the first place if not for me using Miraculous Ladybug after our team took down Feast, which you weren’t able to do. Three: We aren’t children, we’re teenagers, and the fact that you can’t tell the difference or bother learning what technology is shows that I shouldn’t trust you with the Miracle Box even if you had a right to it. Four: You didn’t bother to listen and blamed me for losing miraculouses when it was you and your order who didn’t keep an eye on a poor boy who didn’t want to be there. Five, last but not least: I say the kwami are allowed out of the Miracle Box because I am the guardian. You and your order have been gone for over one hundred years and you can’t go making demands after I brought you back. You told me rules I didn’t even know about and didn’t explain why you have those rules in the first place. The kwami are my friends and they have feelings and I’m not going to shut them in a box because you told me to.”

Silence filled the room, no one saying a word and Su-Han’s face contorting between shock and outrage.

Marinette took a step back, standing at the ready and gesturing to herself. “So if you want the Miracle Box, you’re going to have to go through us first.”

She tossed a look at her team, all of them doing a synchronized, confrontational motion to face Su-Han.

“Tikki!”

“Plagg!”

“Wayzz!”

“Pollen!”

“Trixx!”

“Nooroo!”

“Duusu!”

They then shouted in unison, “Transform me!”

Several individual flashes meshed together, overtaking the room and then fading to leave several heroes behind, their weapons equipped for battle.

Su-Han looked amongst them, a flicker in his eyes that hinted that he knew he would be outmatched, but also wasn’t willing to admit it. He retreated a few steps back, hands out to show that he was prepared to defend himself.

It was at that moment that Ladybug heard and noticed movement from behind him, realization striking and a smile overtaking her face. Pulling back from her fighting pose, she placed a hand on her hip and stated confidently, “Captain Anarka will escort you out.”

He looked confused, and he was only able to let out a, “What—?” before a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Su-Han wasn’t even able to turn around before he was pulled backward, a jewelry-adorned fist decking him in the face and sending him flying into the staircase. His scepter fell to the floor and he could only gape at the woman standing there, cracking her knuckles while he was sprawled out on the stairs with all air having been knocked out of him.

“A trespasser on my ship, eh?” Anarka asked, a grin on her face but her eyes glinting with malice. “I don’t take kindly to ship rats who threaten my crew and think they’re too good to walk the plank.”

Su-Han hurried to get up, only for Anarka to grab him by his shirt and haul him up the stairs, a rapid shuffling noise following as Ladybug went over and shut the door.

A few seconds passed and the atmosphere shifted to peace, everyone mutually releasing their transformations and relaxing. Marinette smiled reassuringly at everyone, letting them know that things were okay, but then jumped as she heard a resounding, “Marinette!”

The kwami all emerged from their hiding places, Marinette having no time to react as they all charged at her, their tiny bodies clinging affectionately to whatever they could grab of her.

“You’re amazing!”

“Thank you so much!”

“You stood up for us!”

“You’re the best guardian ever!”

Marinette gasped, finding it hard to move without disturbing any of them. Trying hard not to laugh, she protested, “Aha—hey! Stop, you’re all tickling me!”

She blushed, looking over at her teammates who were only staring at her with pride, which just made the pink on her cheeks turn red. “This is so embarrassing!”

Once the kwami had their fill of thanking her, they finally obeyed and flew away, each giving her smiles of approval. She covered her face with a hand, waiting for the shyness to die down, then noticed the guardian scepter out of the corner of her eye, still lying on the ground.

She approached, touching the scepter at first to make sure it was safe, then properly picking it up and letting it stand next to her. She tapped the gem on top, eyeing the compass that Su-Han had been talking to her about, then followed its direction back to the microwave. She walked over, opening it up, then took out the Miracle Box and held it in her free hand.

Looking back and forth between the two clearly ancient objects, she couldn’t help chuckling. “They don’t really suit me.”

Her friends giggled in response, Luka in particular shooting her a warm smile and approaching. One of his hands went to the scepter and the other went to rest on the Miracle Box.

“I think you make them work, actually,” he replied.

Marinette beamed at him, thoroughly warmed by the compliment. It didn’t feel like that long ago when her support was lacking and defeating Hawk Moth seemed like a pipe dream.

Now, holding the Miracle Box and scepter in her hands, she didn’t know why she’d ever doubted herself.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Then, looking at the Su-Han-less room, she gave a shrug and walked back with Luka to the couch. “So, where were we?”

[bvccy]

Hi!!! Hope you're doing great

Can I please have a mix between number 2 from the soft and 8 from the dark one

Thanks, lost of love ❤❤❤

Thank you so much, nonnie! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant to post yesterday but it wasn’t done. Also, the 8th dark prompt was requested just before you sent in this one, so that is filled separately here.

I tried to do the mix you asked for, and I took the liberty of writing this with Bucky (specifically 40s!BB), and I hope that it’s ok. It’s a bit of a more specific story, actually, that I’d wanted to write for a while. I also did a kind of first for me, because it involves Steve x reader as a backdrop 😂 Anyway.

Lots of love to you too, my dear! 💗💗💗

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky x Reader • preserum!Steve x Reader — PROMPT: Asteria - gazing at one’s object of affection, from afar + Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

It had taken long enough, and sometimes it seemed like it would never happen, but he finally found Steve a girlfriend — or rather, his girlfriend found him one. Dottie had exhausted several of her close friends and most acquaintances, but she knew how tired Bucky was of seeing his friend mope around, feeling like a third wheel, getting into trouble to pass the time. And honestly she liked Steve too, just not like that — but, wonder-worker that she was, Dottie found a girl that did.

She agreed to come on a double-date one night, and she and Stevie hit it right off. It was the first time Bucky met her too, and he didn't think much of the girl. Small, shy, not quite sickly-looking but not far from it, shoes a bit scuffed, clothes a bit too big for her and smelling of plain soap — in a word: perfect. She was perfect for his sickly, skinny friend who nobody else wanted, and by the looks of things, nobody had wanted her either because she seemed to have no idea what to do around a dance hall. As they were returning home that night, he even heard her confess to Steve that she had never been to one before.

They went out on two more dates, all four of them, within as many weeks. Bucky loved to dance, and Dottie too, but Steve and his girl weren't so fond of tripping over their feet and being laughed at. So they sat together at the table like a pair of broken toys, sharing an ice cream sundae, swinging shoulder-to-shoulder with the music when they liked the tune. Bucky waved at them when their eyes met, and they waved back and cheered at his dancefloor performance, but that happened less and less as they got caught up in each other. Steve would start to sketch things on the napkins while they chatted: the band, the sea of dancers, the fancy chandeliers, and eventually her.

"She said nobody's ever drawn her picture before," his friend said dreamily as they walked back, after they wished a good night to the girls. "Can you believe that?"

"Sure can…"

"She almost didn't let me do it. But she's so pretty, Buck."

"Mhm, nice girl."

"I mean yeah, she's no Dottie, but… I don't know, there's just somethin' I like so much about her… I guess her eyes, the way they look when she's smiling, or how her hair looks when the sun shines on it…"

"Get a load a' you," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder in a playful grip that moved his friend's whole body. "One dame's sweet on you, and all of a sudden you're Romeo."

"At least I'm not a punk like you," Steve teased, slipping from his grasp.

"You know what I like best about her?"

"What?" he asked, with a hint of jealousy.

But Bucky smirked without a care. "How she keeps you out of trouble."

It had, indeed, been a while since Steve got in an alley brawl, and by their fifth date his last few bruises healed. He'd almost gotten into one by a cotton candy stand at Coney Island, but his girl was there to pull him back.

"Stevie, leave him alone…"

"You heard what he said?!"

"Who cares," she sighed, clinging to his arm and throwing the other man a hateful look. "Come on, didn't you want to win me that stuffed teddy bear?"

"Better listen to your girl, pal."

"Oh go find a sty to wallow in," she hissed.

"I ought'a smack some manners into you, you two-bit broad!"

"I'd worry about my own manners if I were you, buddy." Bucky slipped between them, coming from behind, standing now close enough to punch the guy if things got heated. But, seeing himself outnumbered, the other man cursed them and left. Just then, Dottie finally caught up.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

Bucky turned around, and was met by the heart-melting sight of Steve and his girl holding each other, her hands on his cheeks as she quietly chastised him, but loving enough that it made him smile and giggle. She closed it with a kiss to his cheek that made the boy blush, and a kittenish rub of their noses together.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

It was around the time they went to see a movie together that Bucky's joy for Steve turned into something else. They sat in the back while some musical played, and through the flashing lights and the corner of his eye, he could see his friend with his sweetheart holding hands on top of her lap throughout the whole performance. Meanwhile Dottie kept rubbing up against him, sometimes leaning her head on his shoulder, daring in the darker scenes to kiss his neck, but when she tried to get more of his attention —

"Buckyyy, what's wrong?"

— he shook her off. Hearing his name spoken by her voice suddenly felt disappointing.

He caught himself staring more and more, and not just when they went out together. Sometimes, the girl came by and spent some time with Steve, looking at his newer sketches, trying her hand too — oh and how disgusting they looked, Steve taking advantage of the situation to sit behind, and wrap his arms around her, and whisper in her ear. The pair greeted him cheerfully when he stepped through the living room and caught them, and he grinned back at them as he took a glass of milk, but all his appetite was gone.

And when they walked together through the park, and he saw them holding hands again… When Steve dug for some change to get her an ice cream, and they giggled stupidly as they made a mess of sharing it… When she fell asleep by his side one night at the dance hall, and Stevie woke her up with a tickle down her cheek, and she shivered and murmured like a bird and hid her face in his unworthy shoulder…

"Why don't you ever wanna dance, doll?" he asked as they were fetching drinks.

"Not much good at it, I guess," she shrugged. "The fast ones make me dizzy and I always trip."

"I can teach you. It'll work out great! Stevie teaches you to draw, I teach you how to dance… What do you say?"

The girl seemed to think, but shook her head. "Hmmm… No, not right now. Thanks," she smiled politely. "Besides, what would Stevie do meanwhile?"

She told him no just for the sake of keeping his scrawny little friend company, and Bucky had never felt more insulted — not that she wouldn't dance with him, although that hurt enough, but that he couldn't remember the last dame that gave something up just to stick with him, or got into fights for him, or kissed his wounds away, or held his hand in hers with no ulterior motive, and he'd found a girl that did that, and he wasted her on Steve.

So what if she was a little on the smaller side? So what if her dresses didn't fit right? So what if she came down with the cold at every change of season? He put up with it for Steve and he wasn't half as charming. The girl, instead, looked very delicate, more feminine in her own way, like when she braced her fingers on a table as she talked and mindlessly swung back and forth, animated in whatever she was saying, and her digits bent in such a childish way he feared they'd break, and it only made him want to kiss them. Or when she took her shoes off when she came to their apartment and he could catch a hint of shapely ankle, just perfect for his grip, or a peachy pink instep small enough to fit his palm. And when she fell asleep on their couch that one time and Bucky saw her all curled up, and noticed the arch of her hips and the cinch of her waist and pictured how good it would feel to hold them, and angle them upward, and…

Slowly, he started to appreciate some of what his friend had said that night, because she did have lovely eyes, and hair that looked so soft and warm, and her scent, unburdened by perfume, was sweet and girlish, and her lips looked kissable, and her wrists and knees and ankles too…

"Going out again, tonight?" he asked as the blond boy fixed himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, she wants to try this new place we —"

"Alright, alright…" sighed Bucky, already sick of hearing more. "So, that's all you're gonna do?"

"Well… yeah."

And then he voiced an evil thought. "Don't you ever want to… you know?"

"Y-you think we should?" Steve asked, turning away from his pallid reflection.

Bucky sat sprawled across the couch, and shrugged. "If she really likes you, she'd be up for it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Buck."

"No? Ok," he nodded. "After all, what do I know?"

The aftermath of this particular advice was a draught of dates for poor ol' Steve, because just like Bucky had expected, the girl shrinked at the suggestion and couldn't stand to see him. For a while.

"Can you believe it, Buck?!"

"Yeah…"

"She'll see me again!"

"That's great, Stevie."

"What's wrong? You're lookin' real dour today."

Bucky knew he shouldn't. "I just…" He knew that it was wrong. "Look, it's great that she's forgiven you, but you gotta be realistic about this, pal." He had been happy for Steve at one point, long ago.

"What do you mean?"

But that was before he saw just how much love a girl could give, and realised he'd never felt it.

"Just don't delude yourself this is anything more than what it looks like, ok? She's only forgiven you because she knows nobody else will have her."

"That's mean, Buck."

"Yeah, well… I'm just looking out for you. You're my best friend, you know that. I don't want you getting hurt." It stuck in his throat to say it, but the bitterness stuck more.

And after Steve went to bed that night, Bucky took out the box of candy and the pricey perfume he had bought for her, threw them in the trash, and firmly promised to himself to never wait too long again.

But as he learned a bit later on, when they went back to double-dates, he might not have had a chance at all, because there was an unwitting element of truth to this cruel tirade.

"I can't exactly blame you, honey," Dottie consoled her as they stood in line for the ladies room, not knowing Bucky was just behind the thin divider leading to the men's. "If he does something like that again, I know this other fella —"

"Oh no, Dot, please… We're fine now. He explained things and… he's really sweet, I think he just had a moment of —"

"But just let me introduce you to Jim, see if you don't like him better."

"I… I don't know."

"He's a real charmer," Dottie grinned, "and he has these big, broad hands, jaw like an anvil. He just broke it off with Marcie cause she was a flirt."

He didn't hear anything next, but the girl must've shook her head cause Dottie asked, "You're sure?" and "Really? Well, if you change your mind…"

"Thanks, Dot," she lightly laughed.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn though, it's not like he's that far out your league. You just need to fix your hair a little bit and get a better brand of powder."

"It's not that easy."

"It's all it took me to get Bucky on my arm. That, and a better set of heels," she laughed.

"Yeah but you've always been pretty, Dot. Like, really pretty, and you know it. I guess some girls are for the James Barnes of this world, and some are the for the Steves."

She giggled as she said it, with not a hint of anger or resentment, and that's what stung the worst.

Bucky arranged to go see a late night movie with Dottie after that, while Steve and his girl went back to the apartment to listen to a boxing match on the radio and have some cherry sodas. Dottie went ahead to buy the tickets while Bucky walked them home, and after wishing him good night, she went upstairs to set things up. Steve was meant to go to the store and buy the drinks, but he stayed to chat with his friend a while.

"I can get some eggs and milk as well while I'm at it," he offered, swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Sure."

"Or do we have enough for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Go ahead and buy them, pal," Bucky smiled, pretending to be less tired than he felt.

"Ok. And what about — darn!"

"What is it?"

"I just realized, I forgot to give her the keys," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket and holding them out. "I gotta get to the store, can you go up and give them to her?"

"Er, why don't —"

"You know I always trip on the stairs when I'm in hurry, Buck, they haven't changed the lightbulb yet. Don't make me do it."

"Fine, I'll go."

"I owe you big."

"You always do," he grinned, and took the keys from him.

Steve made off for the corner store, while Bucky started the long slow climb upstairs. It was completely dark inside at that hour, and the few candles some neighbours left to light the way had all gone out.

"Stevie, is that you?" he heard her call, standing right outside their door.

He kept one hand against the wall and walked his way toward her, stopping as he heard her whisper, "I think I lost the keys."

Blindly, she moved her hand forward, coming right across his chest. He felt her jolt at the unexpected contact, then burst into a giggle. Bucky could already feel the fanning of her breath right at the level of his chin. With an unseen smile, he took her hand, and placed the keys within it.

"Oh," she laughed. "You had them."

As her hand closed around them his own moved up her shoulder, fingers threading around her hair, and as he touched her jaw he felt her tilting slightly upward, shivering under the feeling.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He felt the warming tickle of her breath as he leaned close until, through the pitch black, he touched his lips to hers. Bucky did it lightly, just a little, just enough to taste and sip a kind of love he'd never really had. She stood surprised but took his kiss, and he felt her smiling into it, even beginning to kiss back just as he was parting from her.

"Your lips are softer than before," she giggled, in a sweet but altogether crushing way that made Bucky's heart beat stronger. "Stevie?"

Her hand moved through the air to touch him but felt nothing anymore, and down the stairs the heavy steps echoed, moving downward and away.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

[yourmcu]

Mesmerized

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax​ said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 1,388

A/n: sorry it took a while! I really hope this turned out ok I’m so nervous lmfaosdkdk

Warnings: none

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

Natasha’s outside the compound by the landing zone, taking light sips on her beer occasionally. The Avengers are having some sort of gathering or low-key party inside to celebrate their victory against Thanos a while back.

They never really had time to gather everybody just after the battle, but Tony contacted everybody for this special night. Natasha just wants to take a break from the games and conversations for a minute.

Speaking of conversations, she rolls her eyes at the thought about something Steve said. Because the tables have turned; if she was the one bugging Steve to date a few years back, he's now bombarding her with names of single people they knew, one of them being Bucky.

“He wouldn’t mind going out to dinner with you sometime.” Steve suggested. But Natasha knows the Winter Soldier and herself are better off as friends.

Natasha gets up when after the guardian’s ship lands smoothly against the grass meters away from her. She moves a few strands of her hair from her face to get a clear view of Thor striding out of the ship as soon as the door opens, along with the other guardians.

“Ah, Romanoff!” The god of thunder grins, patting her on the back. She’s never seen him this happy. Probably because it's all thanks to him the whole universe was free from mad titans – at least for now. “How’s life? Oh, yes, I’d like to introduce you to my friends here… of course you already know rabbit, and tree…”

Greetings and hand shaking fills the friendly atmosphere for a moment. Then you finally catch up with them, nudging Thor’s side and thrusting the large barrel of Asgardian ale into his arms.

“You must be the Black Widow,” you breathe out and offer a warm smile to the redhead, your hand outstretches. “Thor’s told me awesome stories about you guys. Y/N, by the way.”

Natasha nods, slightly breathless like you are but because of... well, you. She returns a smile and introduces herself as well.

“Everything’s pretty tech-y now, s’mazing.” You muse, entering the compound side by side with Natasha. The rest are walking in front of you, chatting among themselves. “I missed this planet.”

She glances sideways at you, “when’s your last visit?”

You chuckle. “I honestly don’t remember when but, it was a brief visit to my hometown and everything looked old fashioned, I think these huge compact disks were all the rage that time, vines- no, not vines-“

“Vinyl records?” Natasha raises an eyebrow, smiling. You laugh, which she finds adorable, and nod. “You and Quill are related, then?” She proceeds to ask since you look like a normal human, no antennas or any odd space stuff you could’ve inherited.

“Oh, no, we’re both half human though,” you shrug. “What about you? Tell me about yourself.”

She hesitates to tell a bit of her story at first but you seem nice and - accepting, like you’d never judge her. But she does leave out a few parts for another conversation.

Natasha retreats over to Steve who is behind the bar counter when you receive a big hug from Peter and Tony greets you with a “How’s it going, fireball?” and a pat on the back. She figures you want to meet the others, so she sits down across the super soldier to steal glances at you from afar. 

“Finally, I was starting to think he wasn’t gonna show - hey!” Steve raises his champagne at Thor and he does the same gesture before hurrying after Bruce. “Is it just me or did Groot get taller?”

You're still joking around with Tony, pretending to hit the still-bandaged wound on his chest, Rhodey laughs along, then Wanda offers you a cocktail and you accept it, thanking her.

Steve’s now going on about Wakanda, also sharing the stories from T’Challa. Natasha’s barely listening but occasionally hum and nod.

“Nat, if you don’t close your mouth you’re going to drool.” He laughs lightheartedly, averting his gaze from her to you. “I guess we have a winner, then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Natasha gets up to grab another beer from the cooler. Steve continues to laugh, having a stupid grin on his face. “Oh c’mon, what’s her name?”

Even saying your name she feels out of breath. There's no point in pretending she isn’t into you now. “This isn’t normal. I just met her tonight and I shouldn’t be feeling this way.”

“You’re infatuated, it’s-”

“Hi,” you sit on a stool across from the two avengers, holding an open pack of marshmallows. Natasha lamely excuses herself to fetch a bottle opener. Steve straightens up and extends a hand which you take. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m-”

“Y/N.” Steve says. “Natasha’s been telling me about you.”

“I just thought you seemed nice,” she quickly recovers but her heart is still pounding.

You raise an eyebrow at her and giggle. “I’m flattered. You’re not so bad yourself, Natasha.” It’s true, you think she ‘seemed nice’ too. Sure she sounded so badass when Thor tells you stories but tonight she looks so cozy with her sweater and her hair braided to one side.

“Being surrounded with people like you guys is great but now I just feel like a party trick.” You take out a marshmallow while scanning the room (Steve is now playing pool with Sam, you notice, and you're alone with the redhead).

“What do you mean?”

You hold the marshmallow between your fingertips, igniting it out of nowhere for a second so it roasts just right, then pop it in your mouth. “Pretty useless, right?”

“Maybe if you only used it for something like that, but no,” Natasha smiles softly. “Fire conjuring, bit scary if you ask me. What if you randomly lit something up?”

“I was born with it. I remember having to wear gloves all the time as a child when I first set a houseplant to flames,” you both laugh. “I’m in full control of it now though.”

“S’that why Tony calls you ‘fireball’?”

You let out a laugh again. “Yeah. Or he might’ve forgot my actual name.”

“Y/N! I took the liberty of putting your stuff in the room you’ll be sleeping at.” Thor butts in, grinning from ear to ear, patting you on the head.

“Oh, right. Thanks buddy.”

“You’re welcome!”

Natasha turns to you, “you’re staying?” In her head she's coming up with ways on how to talk to you again once the party’s over and you return to space with the guardians. This just makes it a whole lot easier to get to know you even better.

“Yup, Thor is too. We both agreed on staying for a few weeks to catch up on stuff.” You reply. “I might actually turn in now, ‘think those cocktails are kicking in...”

“I’ll walk with you.” She says without giving it much thought but you nod and smile appreciatively.

“Perfect. It’s the guestroom beside your room.” Thor claps his hands together and walks away.

-----

“Can I ask you a question?”

You zip your bag and hum before looking up at her.

Natasha's leaning on your doorframe, hesitating. Is she going to fast? Is it too soon to ask? She fiddles with her hands, “do you have any plans tomorrow?”

This is fine. If you say yes or say no then decline her next question, she’ll just forget any of this happened.

“I don’t - well, I think Thor wanted to go out for breakfast but that’s it. Why?”

“Do you... maybe wanna go out?” Natasha asks silently, looking at anywhere but you. “To, you know, catch you up on some of the things you missed. Only if you want to, no pressure.”

But your eyes light up at her words. You kind of expected it, she was showing signs that she likes you all night. And you actually made the Black Widow nervous. “Natasha, I’d love to.”

“Oh,” she sighs in relief, feeling the beat of her heart return to a normal pace. “Well I’ll - I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You walk over to her and place a hand on her arm, then lean over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Good night.”

[roger-that-cap]

all the flowers will bloom

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: honestly nothing, really! well, i’m busting out this chapter once again, before i go into work so there are most likely typos!!

background: so this is inspired by the myth and stuff, but there are for sure some differences!! the world of mythology is so so intricate and it’s hard to get everything down and accurate- so i took the liberty to not LMAO

word count: 3.1k

You remembered having a slightly rebellious phase that lasted maybe ten years. It wasn’t long at all in the grand scheme of things, and the things that you did were simply things that people with normal parents did. The type of parents who weren’t afraid of their children being stolen from them. One time, you remembered sneaking into a forest where nymphs you didn’t know were, and they loved you on sight, without even knowing who you were. An even more grand escape involved a human celebration, the solstice to be exact, and a man with sea green eyes. He was taken by you, and for a minute, you remembered being taken by him. You were loved by everyone who knew you, and by those who only met you briefly, even the older gods. 

  So why had you not heard of anyone coming to get you? It had only been a few hours, but you knew that your mother had already gone crazy. She had some kind of danger meter when it came to you, and you were surprised that she hadn't sensed the fact that you were scared and somewhere unfamiliar yet. You used to hate the danger meter that always seemed to know when you were up to being the young soul you were, but now you were counting on that bothersome danger meter. 

   Hades had been kind enough to show you to where you would be staying herself. You expected a ghost or some sort of half dead spirit to give you a tour of the place, the one place  you were never supposed to be, but she did it herself. She was rather monotonous, and she sounded like she would rather be counting the souls in her domain one at a time, but she did it. The short tour ended with the door slamming in your face after you told her that your mother would be searching for you, and then there you were. 

 There were no windows in your room, and you weren’t even sure that you wanted any in the first place. The windows in your home showed beautiful mountains and valleys and there was even a meadow, but the Underworld was nowhere near as beautiful to you. You missed your colors, you missed singing to the flowers and coaxing soil into being healthy enough to grow crops. It hadn’t even been a full day, and you were facing from withdrawals. And you were too scared to even address the fact that you could still smell the death, and that you could still feel it lingering around you even after the Lady of the Dead cast whatever spell that she did. 

  It felt like you were being sucked from the life that was always naturally within you, and it was terrifying. 

 The room was just as dark and dismal as the rest of the Underworld, or, at least what you had seen of it. It was depressing and gloomy, and it made you feel like a prisoner. With every passing second, you regretted not listening to your mother. You sat on the stiff bed, your eyes welling with tears as the extent of what happened started to sink in. Your hands shook as you wiped your cheeks, even though the action was useless against the new army of tears that were marching down your face, rounding the curve and clinging to your skin. 

You knew what was happening. You replenished the tree. You fixed it, and with fixing the historical tree that you should have known about, you ultimately and unintentionally signed your life away, consenting to being stolen down into the Underworld until you could fix the entire Elysian Garden. You thought it was an impossible feat, and if by the grace of all the Olympian Gods you did succeed, it would be years before you finished. A sob escaped your throat and you turned to lay on your stomach, sobbing into the pillow that was less than comfortable. 

You were going to be dead before you even got a look at flowers again. 

§§

Before you even realized that you fell asleep, you were being woken up by the feeling of death grasping at you, tickling every hair on your body. You rolled to the side to catch your breath on the hard bed and let yourself cry again, the pitiful noises so loud that you didn’t even hear anyone approaching you. 

 Two hands grabbed you and turned you on your back, and you coughed weakly at the ceiling. “It should work,” you heard a voice mutter, and then there was a warm palm right on your throat, the other above your sternum as you tried to catch your breath. All you could focus on was the warmth, the sheer warmth that you expected to find nowhere in the realm of the dead. As your airways unclogged, you turned to the side and hacked again, breathed in and out a few times, and then turned to look towards the person who saved you. 

  She looked different. Somehow, she looked even more intimidating in the all black clothing she was wearing. It was a far cry from a dress, and closer to the suits that you saw humans wear. She was staring down at you with her calculating and cold eyes, examining you and surely judging. You made your own judgement. “Why are you so warm?” 

 Her hard expression faltered. “What?”

You narrowed your eyes at her, forgetting for a moment that she was as old as dirt and that she could easily take your breath away without any effort. “How are your hands so warm?” you got utter silence from her, and you knew that she was cursing at you in her head. “You’re dead.” 

 There was the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face. “I’m not dead. I’m a god, I don’t die.”

You didn’t think you could, either, but you had been at Death’s door twice already within twenty four hours. “How are you the Goddess of Death and the Underworld if you’re not dead?” 

“Are you not the Goddess of Agriculture?” She asked, one of her brows arched. “Then why are you not a stalk of corn?” 

 You shook your head. “That’s not the same.” 

She gave you a look. “It certainly is.” 

“How are you ruling over a group of people without ever knowing how it feels to be the way that they are?” You asked. 

 “You do not know how it feels to be a flower, yet you make them grow.” She reasoned, and you shook your head adamnely. “I do not have to be able to die to know how someone feels. I have witnessed it for years and years.”

“But I do know how it feels to be a flower,” you corrected, voice soft as you began to slip onto the mindset you got when your bare feet touched the grass. “I feel every living thing near me, all the time. I can feel the energy that comes from flowers. I can feel the way they drink up the sun and the rain, and the way they weave their roots into the ground. I can feel seedlings sprouting from the soil, and I can feel buds coming alive to show petals. I know how it feels to be a flower, and a tree, and a shard of grass, and a stalk of corn. That’s why I do so well with them.” 

  It was silent between the two of you as you got an eyeful of her, and she did the same to you. You found  yourself staring into her eyes, and you noticed that they held more color than Bucky’s seas. Her eyes might have been the most colorful thing in the kingdom she ruled. She blinked, and you stopped your staring. “Will you bring that same confidence to my garden?”  

“I do not know if I can fix something so dead.” 

“My tree had been dead for thousands upon thousands of years, and you made it bloom again.” 

“It wasn’t surrounded by death,” you pointed out, and she crossed her arms. “I mean, well, it was, but not like everything down here is. This place drains me.”

“It will until you accept that you’re here,” she said, and you scowled at her. “You will wake up in pain until you understand that you’re here. It’s a side effect of dying.” 

  Your heart raced in your throat. “Dying?” 

“You’re not dead, not yet.” When you gave her a horrified look, she smirked. “A human would be dead the second they arrived, but because you’re a god, it will work slowly for you.”

  “Are you saying that I have a literal deadline?” You asked, voice wavering slightly as you tried to be brave while thinking about all the ways you could possibly get the godforsaken garden to grow, and as fast as possible. If you didn’t see your mother again in one piece, there would be hell to pay. She would find a way to resurrect you to kill you all over again. 

 “As long as you let me take the death out of your system, you’ll live long enough to fix my garden.” 

You figured that was what her touch was doing to you. You remembered someone touching your throat after you fell, and you knew it was her. She took the death out of you, but it still hovered over your skin, anxious to get back inside of you and eat you whole. It knew just as much as you did that you had no business being there. At least, not alive. 

You knew that the likelihood of you being able to fix the garden was slim to none. Part of you wanted to say no to save yourself from the humiliation of pushing yourself. You were supposed to be an expert at growth, some even said you were better at growing than your mother. She focused on the big picture, getting out as many crops as possible and sometimes forgetting quality, but you took your time. She was more powerful than you by miles and miles, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe you could do it. You were going to have to, if you wanted to leave. “Has anyone else ever tried to grow your garden?” 

 The Goddess of the Underworld was so silent that you thought she didn’t hear you, but when you looked over at her, she was staring right at you with her undead eyes, an unreadable look on her face. “One.”

  You nodded and looked at your hands, and the flowers that were hanging on to life by a thread. You shook your head and sighed, and then sighed again. “I would like to see what I’m working with.” 

     §§

Hades walked quickly, but her steps lacked urgency. She walked with her head held high without even knowing it, and her steps were so loud that it cleared every dark and bare hall that they echoed in. Her subjects held the image of her with respect, and you saw every single one of them at least bow their heads to her. She kept her eyes forward, never once looking back at you to check that you were following. She stepped into an elevator-like contraption and looked forward once you stepped in the space next to her, and looked at the buttons on it. 

“This is… fancy.” 

“Did you think there were stairs to every single level?” She asked, and you pursed your lips. “That’s a lot of walking.” Her finger hovered over a button, number two, and then you realized that you were on the middle ground, the third level. “You aren’t to go on any of the levels but the third by yourself, do you understand?” 

 You held back your scowl at being told what to do. “Why not?” 

“The first level is the entrance to my kingdom. There are plenty of wailing souls and rivers that no living thing should ever see. It would give you quite the shock.” Your brows shot up. You didn’t expect for her to give you a reason, and maybe it was because your mother never really gave you any good ones. “The second level, which is where we’re going, is for the best of humanity. It’s full of honorable humans and demigods. That level is called Elysium.” 

You knew of that level. Everyone who had swooned and fawned over Achilles made sure that Hades put him in Elysium after he died, where he would be with all of the other warriors and scholars. Even your mother favored the young man, but it wasn’t enough to get her to beg to Hades. You were starting to irrationally fear that nothing was going to be enough to get her to beg the woman, maybe not even you. 

“The third layer is the Asphodel Meadows. There's not many things left that make it a meadow, but it’s for the typical human. It was designed for people who haven’t done wrong nor good, the ones who didn’t particularly make a mark on the world and those around them in a good or bad way.” 

“I’d bet a few people I used to know are there now,” you said softly, and she looked over at you with a confused look on her face. You shrugged at her, thinking that she was judging your human friends  for not doing any spectacular deeds in their short lifetimes.  “My friends, I think they may be there now.” 

“You make friends with humans?” 

“I make friends with anyone and anything,” you said. “If they allow me to.” 

She stared at you for a long moment, and then started to talk again before finally pressing the button. “The fourth level is nothing more than a thick layer between the third and the fifth, which is Tartarus. You know that.” You did. You knew that only the worst of people, and the Titans, resided there. Humans who killed for fun or did major harm went to Tartarus, the lowest level of the Underworld, and the most torturous.  “Never attempt to go into the fifth level.”

You didn’t want to. No one wanted to see Tartarus with their own eyes, and hear what no doubt was screams and sounds of pain and anguish. It was a world full of punishment for horrific crimes, and it was no place for someone like you to be. She surely didn’t have to tell you twice. 

“Where’s your dog?” You blurted, and she gave you a mildly annoyed look as she waited for you to elaborate. “You have a three-headed dog.” 

She breathed in through her nose and rolled her eyes at you, but you were looking at her face closely enough to see that a small smile was threatening the corners of her mouth. “Cerberus is destructive. He guards the gates of the Underworld, which means you will probably never meet him.” 

“Oh.” You couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing such an unusual and rumored to be humongous dog was enticing, but you didn’t want to see souls getting carted off while screaming, either. The doors opened, and she stepped put first, once again not even worrying about if you were following her. The second that you stepped out of the closure of the four walls, you were met with something that you never thought you would see in the Underworld. 

  There were remnants of colors all around, like there was once a beautiful set up that could have rivaled the above ground. You saw dead ivy crawling on walls of the cave-like walls, and you could feel the crunch of dead grass beneath your feet. Death was swirling all around you, and even though you felt sick, you couldn’t help but push that feeling aside for curiosity. You could almost picture everything in your mind. This place was without a doubt, once very alive. 

  “How did it use to be so alive?” You whispered, mostly talking to yourself as you forgot that the Goddess of the Underworld was standing feet from you, watching you take everything in. “It used to be gorgeous, I can feel it.” Your frown quirked upwards just a bit as you stepped forward and then went downwards again once you felt a familiar yet faint feeling, and once you touched a leaf with your pointer finger, you were slammed with it. “This… my mother did this.” Your head whipped towards Hades, who was watching you with a bored expression. “This is my mother’s work, that’s why it felt so familiar. She was here?”

“She’s the one who made this garden, young god.” When your face went slack, she smirked. “Not out of the kindness of her heart, I will admit. Steve made her.” 

“Why?” 

“Because even the dead deserve something beautiful to look at.” When you started to open your mouth, she held a delicate yet strong hand up, halting your lips from moving. “I know what the above grounders think about us. It’s called the afterlife for a reason, you know. These are people down here, regardless of whether you want to believe it or not. So, yes, they deserve something as simple as a meadow.” 

You let her words sink in and echo softly against the walls as you stared at the dead plants, struggling to hold onto the last bits of your mother’s energy that still lingered. “Did they die because she left them?” 

Hades frowned. “They died because she killed them.” 

You shook your head adamantly, quickly denying her claim. “My mother doesn’t harm land. She never has, and she never would.”

“What makes you so sure that she’s not spiteful and hateful towards me that she wouldn't do that?” 

“My mother-”

“Is a harsh woman. She is as punishing as she is gracious, and you know that. Your mother and I never liked each other, and it only got worse as the years went on.”

You knew that your mother’s hatred for the goddess before you ran deep. You doubted that it was deep enough for your mother to harm the earth, but you never knew. Hell, you never knew that your mother had ever even been to the Underworld.  “I don’t think I’ll be able to revive what my own mother has destroyed,” you admitted. “She’s much stronger than me. If she really did kill it like you said she did, then I don’t think I’m powerful enough to reverse it.” 

A staring competition happened right there between the two of you, her eyes the same calculated look as always and yours holding the one that pleaded for understanding, for release. “You’d better figure it out, flower girl. Preferably before your mother decides to wage a war for you.” 

 The goddess turned to walk away, and when you caught sight of her back, your lips opened before you could even stop them. “What’s your real name?” 

  She stopped in her tracks without turning around, but you saw the tension grow in her back. “Why?” 

“I’m not going to call you by the name that the humans do,” you said, not even bothering to contain the scoff you wanted to give. “I try to call everyone by the names that they have given themselves.” That, and the name was meant to be scary. It was supposed to intimidate and incite fear into people, and you weren’t scared of her. She showed no side of herself that made you think that she was anything like your mother said she was. 

  She turned around slowly, her face expressionless and she looked you right in your eyes in a few moments of silence. “I renamed myself Natasha.”

  Natasha. For a split second, you wondered where she got the name from. Did it come to her in a vision? Did she read it in a book somewhere? Did she take it from a human she admired? Did she even spend time admiring humans? “Then I will call you that.” 

“You can call me whatever you want to,” she sighed out, turning on her heel again to stalk away from you. 

“You didn’t even ask my name,” you called out, heart racing slightly at the idea of benign left alone in the Underworld, outside of the protection of the room that you had woken up in. 

  “I know enough about you to last me many lifetimes, Persephone.” 

“I-it’s Y/N,” you muttered, but the doors to the elevator shut right on your words, and then you were left alone.   

****

taglist: @teenwonder @saamwilscn @messuhp @username23345 @dontmindmejustreading @bitchuwish @blackxwidowsxwife @anxiousgoldengirl @russianredassassin @dailyavengering @blackluthxr @coxmicbabygirl @alytavzla sorry if i missed anyone!!! you can ask to be removed or added at any time!

[kaz11283]

46. “I’m in love…shit” with Loki. If you are still wanting requests. No pressure your stuff is amazing!

46) I'm In Love....Shit

I think I'm in Love

Summary: you and Loki spend some time together, later while talking to Thor in their mothers garden Loki comes to realize that he is absolutly in love with you.

Announcement: I havent been very with it these past few days and I feel like I have been slacking in a way. I have been so busy that by the time I finally get home and I am able to relax a pass out because I am so tired. I am trying to get better at this though and I am trykng ro work out a schedule for Fire and Ice maybe set a day of the week for that and just do requests durimg the rest of the week. I love you all and thank you so much for the love that you guys give me!!! 💚💚💚💚

~~~~~

"Darling! It was absolutly hilarious." Loki laughted looking down at you.

"It was not and you know that very well Loki!" You said reaching up pulling a twig from your hair. You and Loki had decided to go out and ride since it was a pretty spring day and there was nothing else to do.

"Come here and let me help you." He pulled you to a stop so that he could help pull leaves and twigs from your hair. "You should have held on tighter." He smiled pulling the last of it from yojr hair.

"You should mot have slapped her tonmake her run off, Mr. Mischief." You said playfully smacking him on the arm.

"Watch yourself my dove." He warned stalking over to you.

"Oh what are you going to do about it Mr. Trickster?" You laughed pulling up you dress so you could take a few steps back. "This whole prowling thing doesnt intimidate me like it does your other fair maidens." You laughed loudly. He stopped and stared at you.

"My Lady y/n for you to think there are other besides you I would rather spend my time with." He placed a hand on his heart. "Why, you are absolutly right." He took off after you while you squealed with delight and ran away.

You ran from him up one of the paths that lead between the orchard and the castle walls. There were hidding spots all through there were the two of you use to hid when you were younger, the tall bushes being the perfect hidding spot to keep out of view from him. As you two chased and played you didnt realize there were two others observing.

Thor and Frigga warches from the balcony of her quarters as the sounds of screaming and laughing rose to them.

"How long do you think it will take for them to realize how in love they truly are?" Thor turned to his mother.

"Son, they have been doing this same song and dance now since before they were teenagers. Sometimes it takes a while for somethingblike that to become obvious." She answered leaning onto the rail.

"It is very obvious to others." Thor was happy that Loki had you but he knew that his brother wanted more he could tell by the way his eyes would light up when you were around.

"Though it is obvious to us it may not be as obvious to them. They are simply best friends that spend every hour of every day together." She sighed. She had taken you in and had let you start training with the other ladies working on how to be a princess.

"I dont understand allmother why I should start these. I am not fit to be a princess." You stated after your first class.

"But one day you will be. You may even rule over the kingdom." She said with a knowing smile.

"Thor, call for your brother please, it is time to start preparing for the banquet tonight." She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave a final look down to the garden where you and Loki where laughing loudly after he had caught you.

"Yes mother." Thor walked off.

"Loki! Mother wanted to let you know its time to start gettkng ready for tonight." Thor yelled through the garden trying to find the two of you.

"Ah, Lady Y/N, will You be joining the festivities tonight?" Thor bowed to you.

"Yes, I do hope you save a dance for me, will you Thor?" I asked smiling up at the blonde prince.

"As long as Loki doesn't stab me for it, I would love nothing more Lady Y/n." He took your hand and kissed the top of it.

"I shall see you both later." You curtsied and walked away.

"Brother," Thor smiled placing a hand on his brothers shoulder. "Does my eyes deceive me or could you possibly have a crush on Lady y/n?"

Loki moaned looking at Thor. "For the thousandth time, I do not have a crush on her. She is my best friend, someone I can talk to. Vent to when everything in the castle is just to much."

"Then I guess it would not bother you to bad to know that Fandral has asked if she would be attending tonight." This caused Loki to stumble slightly. "Said that if she wasnt escourted by anyone he could possibly have a chance to 'get to know her tonight'."

"Y/n wouldnt give that oaf the time of day much less attend anything with him. She has more class than that i dare say." Loki rolled his eyes.

"Well he hasnt asked her yet. Saod he figured he would wait till tonight and just meet her there. Said he couldnt wait to see just how pretty she looked." Thor gave Loki a sode ways glance and smirked.

"She can do so much better than him. She has better taste in book, though I doubt that he can even read," he tutted, "more grace, she is a wonderful listener, and he cant even dance that well." Loki stopped in front of his chamber doors.

"Loki, is that jealousy that i am sensing from you?" Thor raised an eye brow.

"By Norns, no Thor. It is not. I simply worry that she will be stuck with him the rest of the night and not be able to get away from him." He opened his door and walked inside his room. His heart was pounding, he did feel jealous. He was jealous that the time he would normally be spending with you would be spent with someone else. The only smart thing for him to do was to get ready and meet you.at your quarters so that he could escort you there and keep Fandral away from you. Of course time wouldnt work in his favor that night.

When you had arrived at your chambers you noticed a box with a note on top of it with Thors messy handwriting.

Lady y/n, I decided to take the liberty and pick out a simple dress for you for tonight. Though I realize that you must already have one but when I had seen this one I knew that i had to get it for you. I know the one you chose must be just as beautiful as you are i would greatfully appreciate it if youncould wear this one.

You rolled your eyes at thw thought of Thor picking out a dress for you, red and gold, he is by no means quarting you butnhe would do that type of thing just to get under Loki s skin.

When you opened the box the first thing you noticed was a beautiful golden chain that you assumed would go around your head, with an emerald that would sit lightly between your eyes. You removed more of the paper and noticed the dark green hues from the dress, when you pulled it from the box you noticed that the skirt hit midthight and the sleeves had cuts in them the material hanging from your shoulders to the ground. Next to the box was yet another note feom Thor.

Just go with it and lets see how you like it, the matching shoes are shoved under your bed. Dont worry thank me later by dancing with me.

You could see his face in your mind, picture him winking at you. You would surly kill him for this, or at least step on his feet.

After you finished pulling your hair half up and half down with a few braids falling from the side and finished your makeup you took a deep breath and stepped out of the door. You didnt understand why you were nervous but you were, its wasnt like you had never wore green before but this time it was different, this time there was nothing but green. It looked as if you were trying to say something.

You had always liked Loki, you has been friends since you were kids. Loki was your best friend, he was kind, caring, giving, compassionate in things that he truly cared about. You could talk to him about anything and he would listen, what you loved more than anything isnthat when he was with you all of his guards were down, you were the only one that got to see that side of him. You knew in your head though that he would see it as a compliment from his best friend as he sanced the night away with numerous other girls vying for his attention.

"You look....lovely?" Fendrel glanced at you as you walked into the dinning hall. "Might I be lucky to have a dance before you are snagged away by one of the princes?"

"Of course you may." You smiled holding your hand out to him. "You have always been a good lead Fandrel."

He took you spinning you onto the dance floor were some couples parted to make room for the two of you. He placed his hand on your lower back and pulled you closer to him. "You are quite a beautiful woman Lady Y/n, any man is lucky to be able to spin you around the floor." You blushed looking away from him, as you scaned the room you noticed Thor and Loki quietly talking to themselves. Loki looked handsome in his royal outfit, black and gold elegantly intertwining woth each other causing the emerald green to pop and to being ojt his eyes.

"Honestly brother, if she had planned on coming with him why did she have to wear my color? She knows by now what that stated." Loki rolled his eyes looking back to you and Fandral twirling around the dance floor.

"Maybe she didnt think much about it. You do realize that it is simply a color? There are many others here wearing it also." Thor said grabbing two glasses of wine and handing one to Loki.

"You truly are an idiot if you that she just so happened to pick out something like that, that just so happened to be my color. She wanted to make a statement." He handed his glass back to Thor and walked down the few steps leading to where you were dancing not noticing the small smile on Thors face.

"You know you are just as mischievous as your brother." Frigga came to stand beside him causing him to jump.

"Mother, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you dont son, just be careful, you could possibly be playong with fire on this one. Once they find out it was you setting this all up there no telling what they might do." Thors face dropped at the thought of the two of you teaming up aginst him.

~~~~~~~

ANNOUNCEMENT: OK Annon, I havent put the "I think I'm in love" prompt in this one because in all honesty this one I got carried away on and it was getting so long! I am making a part 2 and will add the link in once I am finished with it, i may actually have time today or tonight to start on it. Thank you so so much for the request and I love that it actually took me away and I didnt even realize how much I had wrote until I looked at it this morning! Keep an eye out for part 2 coming soon!!!

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[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Bitter Pill to Swallow

Chapter 5 (Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1)

Thank you as always to @tvserie-s-world for the lovely screencaps 💕

It had been five days since they'd set sail for England, and safe to say tensions were starting to fray. Valerie was lucky to be bunking with Harry, but even they'd had a few disagreements.

"If you don't quit your snoring I'm gonna strap you to the bow to scare off the sharks," he'd sworn one early morning, tying his shirt buttons roughly.

"My snoring?" Valerie replied incredulously, "I'm surprised you can hear me snoring over the droning of your own."

She was playing a game of fish with George when the fight of the day broke out. She'd been laughing at his master plan to snag an English dame when they'd overheard Bill Guarnere talking shit. Valerie looked up in alarm when she noticed Lieb jumping down from his bunk and getting up in Bill's face. She sighed and jumped down herself, intending to step in between them and prevent any fists from flying.

"Hey, hey," she shouted, pulling Lieb back behind her "break it up you two, and watch your damm mouth Gonnorhea. Quit talking shit about Jews, you know where we're going and who we're fighting so why don't you show some goddamn respect. " She put a hand on Lieb's shoulder to steer him back towards his bunk. "Don't listen to him Lieb, he's just being an idiot."

As they moved away they heard Bill grumbling something about 'goddamn woman must be on the rag," and Valerie saw red. She dropped her hand from Lieb's shoulder and marched back towards Bill.

"You wanna say that again to my face Guarnere?" snapped Valerie, "who do you think you are saying things like that about a ranking officer?"

Don was desperately trying to pull Bill away, warning him to cut it out before he gets himself in more trouble. A hush settled in the immediate area surrounding them, everyone afraid to intervene but too nosy to look away.

"I said what I said," Bill snarled, pulling his arm out of Don's and clenching his jaw. Valerie narrowed her eyes at him and glared coldly.

"I'm gonna give you one more chance to take that back Guarnere," Valerie warned, crossing her arms. She felt Lieb step up beside her protectively, and even though she didn't need it she was eternally grateful for him in that moment. He had her back, and he wanted her to know it.

"I ain't taking nothing back, I said what I said," he insisted, ignoring Don's contined pleas for him to back down.

Valerie narrowed her eyes at Bill, her fingers clenching against her crossed arms and her face reddening. Beside her, Lieb was clenching his fists so hard she was sure they'd split open at the knuckles.

"You really don't know when to shut your damn mouth do you?" Snapped Lieb, stepping forward and raising his fist for another go at Bill. But Valerie threw her arm across his chest and stopped him, shaking her head and silently trying to tell him that she could deal with this herself. He huffed but stepped back beside her, continuing to glare harshly at Bill.

"Well you know what gonorrhea," Valerie hissed coldly, stepping up to him "next time why don't you say that to my fists huh? Because you are sorely mistaken if you don't think I could punch you so hard you'd be seeing Lady Liberty dancing the jive."

Bill was about to respond when they were interrupted by a stern voice.

"What's going on here?" Asked Lieutenant Winters, who'd appeared behind Valerie without her noticing. She took a few deep breaths before turning on her toes to face him.

"Nothin' for you to worry about Lieutenant Winters," she replied. He glanced between her and Bill sceptically, his eyebrows furrowing as he assessed the situation.

"Well," he said evenly, "whatever fight was going on here that you don't want me to know about, break it up. We've got a lot of training and work to do once we get to England so use these next five days wisely and take all the rest you can get."

The men who'd gathered on the floor dispersed hastily with a few 'yes sir's'. With one final lingering glare, Bill and Valerie turned away from each other and went their separate ways. She was about to follow Lieb up to his bunk when a tap on her shoulder stopped her.

"Could I talk to you up on deck Lieutenant?" He asked tightly. Val stared him down for a moment before nodding her agreement and following him up the steps and onto the breezy deck.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?" She asked after a few beats of awkward silence. His shoulders tensed and he looked out over the ocean for a few seconds before speaking.

"Lieutenant Landry, I don't want you to think I'm criticising you but..."

Look," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest, "whatever it is you gotta say to me jus' get on with it."

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face roughly. "I really don't want to fight fight you so please, don't get all offended about this," he paused in his speech and took a deep breath before continuing, "you're a ranking officer Landry, you cant just go around threatening your NCO's, or any of the men for that matter. It's completely out of line."

"Out of line?," she hissed, narrowing her eyes, her temper immediately flaring at his accusing tone, "Guarnere was out of line makin' comments about Jews and then disrespectin' me. So I think I had every right to say what I said, an' I'd say it again too. You weren't even there, you have no idea what happened before you turned up."

"Then tell me," he sighed, "tell me what happened and I'll go down there and deal with Bill right this minute."

"I just told you, he was making comments about Jews and then he disrespected me," she explained tersely, "And I don't need you to go down there and deal with it. I was dealin' with it jus' fine until you showed up." She couldn't believe he was standing there reprimanding her, nor that he wanted to play the white knight and go deal with the situation for her. She had been handling the situation and herself just fine before he showed up.

"I understand that Guarnere is difficult, and I have no doubt he was running his mouth and deserved a reprimand," Winters groaned, "but you still shouldn't have spoken to him like that, especially in front of the rest of the men. You should have officially reprimanded him in a calm way like a ranking officer should."

He was questioning her capabilities as an officer. He honestly believed that she couldn't behave like an officer should. They'd never been friends, hell, they couldn't even have a conversation, but she'd always grudgingly respected that he was a good officer. She'd never once doubted his capabilities as a leader.

In a deep buried part of her, though she'd never admit it, his words stung. His doubts of her capabilites hurt. She had a level of respect for him that obviously he didn't have for her. She'd thought that despite all the tension between them, she could at least count on the fact that he'd respect her position as a Lieutenant. Clearly she'd been wrong.

"Oh, so you doubt my capabilities as an officer is that it?" She snapped defensively, "and for your information, you missed the part where I very calmly told him to take back what he said. You're making a whole lot of assumptions based on the tiny part of the conversation you saw, but I can't say I'm surprised. You've obviously never respected my place in Easy and now the truth of your thoughts has finally come out."

Dick shook his head and ran his tongue over his teeth, his jaw tensing slightly. "That's not what I meant and you know it, stop putting words in my mouth. You're quite possibly the most impossible person I've ever met." He placed his hands on his hips and looked out over the sea once more. "I never said I didn't respect your position as a Lieutenant, I just meant you should have reprimanded Guarnere more calmly."

His patronising was just making her more mad. He really had the nerve to stand there and act like he was better than her when he couldn't possibly understand the situation. "You implied I didn't behave like a proper officer, so please do tell me what you actually meant when you said that because I'd just love to know."

"I didn't mean it like that, so I'm sorry if that's how it came across to you," he huffed, trying to keep his emotions in check, "Just don't talk to your subordinates like that anymore, alright? We've got more than enough to worry about without fights between the officers and the enlisted." He turned to leave without waiting for her to respond any further.

She watched him walk away from her, her simmering temper roiling. Why that sanctimonious prat. She'd just love to see what he would have done if he were in her shoes.

"You know what Winters," she shouted at his retreating back, unable to stop herself from getting in the last word, "I'd like to see you spend a day in my shoes and keep your goddamn cool." Now that she'd started she couldn't stop, all of her frustrated feelings pouring out of her now she'd opened the floodgates a crack.

"I'd like to see you stand there while Guarnere mocks you and says you're just an angry woman on the rag and not get mad. So don't you stand there and patronise me about propriety. Because you know what, if you could actually manage to keep your cool in that situation I'd reckon you were a goddamn saint."

She stormed past his frozen form and marched out the door without a backwards glance, slamming it harshly behind her. Now then, let him stew on that for awhile. She pointedly ignored the twinge of hurt she felt at his words, furiously tampering it down and smothering it with her anger as she marched back to her cabin.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber

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[justimajin]

Whac-A-Headstone

Pairing: Game Owner Jungkook x Employee Reader 

Genre: Fluff & Humour

 ↳ (10k) BTS Village AU 

Summary: Working at the arcade can be downright miserable and it doesn't help that your boss isn't, well, the brightest lightbulb in the world. Add to this his extremely dramatic and prideful ways, you're left wondering why you even choose to work at the place anymore. You fortunately receive the answer in the form of Richman V one day, who has been eyeing your boss's pride and joy for quite some time.

Warnings: pg13 rating, some major spoilers for BTS Run ep. 120-121 (watch them before reading this), everyone in this fic literally has no chill (WHAT!?) 

A pair of two small feet come to a stop.

Across from the road are multiple posters and signs, from large cardboard cutouts to cliche and cheesy slogans scribbled on paper. There’s a string of colourful lights hanging from above, ranging from a neon yellow to a dark blue. It’s extremely noisy, but the boy’s feet tread closer, round eyes enamoured from the over the top appearance. 

The door is cautiously pushed open, the sound of his feet slowly shuffling against rough carpet echoing. 

The boy’s eyes widen, peering around in puzzlement. 

The shop appears nowhere near what its display offers. The walls are painted with a hue of dull beige, and there’s no intriguing lights with huge signs compelling him forward. Instead, there’s a large bookcase that he barely acknowledges, alongside a set of bright machines that remind him of its exterior. 

As if in a trance, his attention is drawn away instantly and he doesn’t hesitate to stumble across one of the machines, eagerly eyeing it down. After struggling to sit on one of the high stools, an innocent smile spreads across his lips once he eyes the multiple colourful controls within his reach. He presses a button in curiosity, but the screen in front of him doesn’t change. 

His smile drops into a pout, and he attempts again, only to be met with the same result. He then presses multiple buttons, frustration only building up at the blank screen. 

A shadow lurks behind him. 

“Hey kid.” He jolts, spinning around instantly. “You have to pay to play games here.” 

The boy stares like he can’t comprehend those words, his eyes big and naive. You cross your arms, a scowl lining your lips and expression void of any amusement. 

His shoulders deflate and the corners of his mouth downturn with disappointment. You continue to stare at him, gaze not wavering. 

A long exasperated sigh leaves your lips and your eyes quickly survey the empty arcade around you. Taking a step forward, you rummage through the pockets of your uniform pants and out emerges a shining coin that has the boy’s eyes lighting up. 

The coin slots into the machine and you turn around to face him, features still impassive. 

“You owe me for this one.” You mumble underneath your breath, but he simply retaliates with a gigantic smile on his face. 

The game immediately turns on as the boy begins playing, eyes eagerly sweeping across the bright screen as his fingers hurriedly tap against the multiple buttons. You watch from afar, the corner of your mouth lifting into an amused half-smile.

The sound of loud footsteps echos through the walls. 

An annoyed exhale leaves your lips and it isn’t long before the back door is being ripped open, a young man emerging within seconds. You’re unfortunately painfully aware of who he is and it’s probably high time to clarify who you exactly work for. 

Jeon Jungkook ‒ or simply your boss, if you actually took the liberty to address him as one ‒ is the person in charge of your employment. You’ve been working for him longer than you imagine and as you eye him from the corner of your eye, you can only contemplate how you’ve managed to even stick around for so long. 

He pushes the big glasses on the rim of his nose back with his fingers, his eyes wide and practically boiling with vigor. He’s dressed in his usual attire, a button up shirt with a subdued green print on it and tight fitted black trousers. There’s a jarring amount of gel in his hair that only seems to increase with time and if anything, he looks more like some kind of mafia boss running an organization rather than the owner of an arcade. 

His gaze is targeted on you, barely acknowledging the child that was excitedly playing one of his games and who is now staring between the two of you with wide eyes. You presume the boy is having the same thoughts running through his head that everyone has when they meet Jungkook, and it could be summed up with simply calling him a‒

“Y/N!” He abruptly yells, a muscle in his eye already twitching, “I heard one of the machines being turned on?!” 

A nutcase. 

You work for an absolute nutcase. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how arcades work, you know? The machine has to be on for you to play an‒” 

“You know what I mean!” Jungkook snaps, waving off your sarcasm. 

“Oh.” You say, pointing towards the boy, “The kid wanted to play a game, so he paid for it and now he’s playing it.” 

“Actually…” The boy suddenly speaks up, voice quiet and hesitant, “The nice lady paid so I could play.” 

His eyes sparkle, like he holds you in high regard. Although he warmly smiles acknowledging your kind deed, your eye twitches and you mentally make a note to never to help out a child in your lifetime ever again. 

Turning around, your eyes meet Jungkook’s and he’s fuming. 

You internally sigh, already aware of what’s to come. 

“Y/N, how could you do such a thing?!” He dramatically says, pressing a hand against his temples, “To take away from the money I could have had….just how? How?!” 

“I was bored.” You honestly retort, unfazed in the slightest as you shrug, “And our only customer was a kid, besides‒” 

You raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at Jungkook, “Are you losing money or something? Why are you so worried about one kid that I paid for?” A spark resides in your eyes, “Is the business shutting down?” 

Jungkook gasps, like you’ve offended his whole entire being. “What?! NO!” He shakes his head, “H-How could you even suggest something like that?!” 

He leans against one of the machines, tightly wrapping his arms around it. You roll your eyes, watching him have a semi-crisis over the fact that you suggested his business is going down the drain. 

“I’ll never give my business up!” He yells it out like it’s a statement he wants even the neighbors to hear. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing, boss.” You retort as you slide over an extra lollipop to the kid that you were saving for later. He beams at you and you smile, but then Jungkook complains you aren’t listening to him enough and you let out a sigh, turning around to coax him. 

***

After playing a couple of rounds on the machine before it shuts down, the boy bids you both a goodbye and sincere thank you. You tell him not to forget to bring some coins next time with a mumble and his eyes light up, followed by a very cute nod. 

Closing the door behind him as he leaves, you spin around with a lengthy sigh. Digging into the pockets of your uniform, you yank out your phone and begin to scroll through the contents with tired eyes. The entire store is empty, save for you and the supposed boss of yours that you presume is lurking around somewhere. 

The sound of a loud ding startles you, phone nearly slipping onto the ground. Your eyes are wide and on alert, sweeping around the vacant room. 

“Aha! TAKE THIS!” There’s a loud thud that echoes through the room, and your eyes instantly narrow. You tuck away your phone, shuffling your hands in your pockets and nonchalantly walking towards the source of the sound. 

Although puzzlement strikes you first, it quickly morphs into amusement as you reach the doorframe. Jungkook stands before the whac-a-mole machine, practically slamming the hammer against the poor plastic mole pieces in an effort to increase his score. 

Which is nearing a hundred and fifty by the way, the highest score one can achieve in the game. 

Your brows knit together as he keeps striking the popping moles, only for the machine to brightly light up seconds later with large digital letters saying WINNER in red across the board. 

“I DID IT!” He suddenly shouts, spinning around and spotting you instantly, “Y/N, I beat my own record!” 

You cross your arms, “Congrats.” 

There’s a spark of smugness in his expression as he crosses his arms, cockly staring at you, “Looks like my score is officially unbeatable now.” 

Although you know it’s practically bait that he’s throwing out, your lips move faster than you can register. 

“It’s still beatable.” His irises light up in an instant and you want to curse at yourself for falling into the trap, but the look of challenge in his eyes is enough to spark your own fuel, “I can beat it.” 

“Oh, really?” Jungkook questions, offering up the hammer, “Let’s see you try.” 

You grab it from his hold without hesitation, gesture for him to turn on the machine. It lights up within seconds and with a deep breath, you brace yourself as much as possible. 

The moles pop up within seconds, your eyes darting and flickering all over the platform. The hammer in your hands is soaring, hitting as fast as possible as quickly as possible. At one point, your hands mismatch and you catch an empty one, something that makes Jungkook snort but only increases your competitive streak even more. 

Sweat has begun to fester at your temples, but you pay it no mind once the last mole is hit and your eyes are glued to the scoreboard. In giant bulging letters, your score is displayed before you. 

5 points away from Jungkook’s score. 

You can already hear the cheers of ecstasy leaving his voice, or the daunting smugness leaking from the words that he’s aching to sprout in your direction. But when you turn, there’s this annoying magnified smile plastered onto his face that’s somehow even worse. 

You let out a huff and before Jungkook can start running all over the place in excitement like a child, a knock sounds from the door. 

You straighten up immediately, raising a brow. 

Customers don’t usually knock. 

“Were you expecting someone?” You immediately wonder. A groan leaves Jungkook and he mutters underneath his breath, something along the lines of ‘this guy again’. 

Dragging himself to the door to answer, your features contort into surprise once it’s yanked open. 

A young man stands before you, his arms crossed behind his back and gaze scrutinizing. He’s dressed far too fancy for an arcade, a fine white collared shirt with a black tie and vest that hug his body. His bronze locks are long and perfectly curl at the front, but their rich appearance is muted from his piercing eyes, which at the moment are gawking all around your workplace. 

Jungkook is first to speak up, clearly annoyed with the stranger’s prolonged ogling antics. 

“Hey!” The stranger immediately turns to him, “Are you going to keep staring at my game room or are you going to say something?” 

He stares at Jungkook, completely unfazed and apathetic to his loud exterior. It throws you off for a moment, wondering if there was even someone aside from you that possessed the ability to do so. 

His words are sharp and discrete, straight to the point. “I want to buy it.” He tilts to his head slightly to the side, “Have you made up your mind yet?” 

Your head snaps in Jungkook’s direction at the inquiry, appallment crossing all over your features. Jungkook looks like he’s ready to explode at any minute, hands balling up into fists. 

He mimics the stranger’s tone, gritting the words out, “It’s not for sale.” 

“I think there should be enough space to rearrange the front.” The man continues to speak as if he didn’t hear Jungkook, “These will have to be destroyed in order for a counter to be placed.” 

He’s examining the machines already, frowning at their appearance and that’s when Jungkook ticks. Pacing forward, he wraps his hand around the stranger’s arm and begins to drag him out, even as he continues to survey the area like a thousand thoughts were running through his mind. 

“Okay, now that’s really nice.” Jungkook cheekily says, but you can still hear the lingering anger in his voice, “How about you go redesign the neighbor's place? I hear they have a hairstylist who loves to gossip so it’d be nice for the two of you to chit-chat.” 

The posh man looks composed and you’re beginning to question if he was potentially holding onto a facade to not be able to hear Jungkook. It’s not long before he’s politely escorted out the door, with Jungkook practically lunging for the opportunity to shut the door behind him. 

He spins around, pressing his back against it as a sigh of relief leaves his lips. You can only stare at him in confusion as silence lingers, eventually breaking it with your own inquiries. 

“What just happened?” 

Jungkook’s wide eyes snap up, like he had completely forgotten you were in the room with him. 

“Oh that,” A strained chuckle leaves him, “He’s been coming around here often, usually in the early mornings when you’re not around.” 

He sits down on a chair that’s in front of the cash register, continuing to explain, “That’s Richman V, the guy nearly owns every property here in BTS Village.” 

Jungkook continues to meekly laugh, but it only serves to draw out concern from you. “So...what? He wants to buy the arcade?” 

“Well, uh,” He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah…” 

A deep frown settles on your features as you stare at Jungkook, who’s smile seems to be fading by the moment. 

“And like…” You begin, trying to wrap your head around the situation, “What? Are you going to sell it and hand it over or something?” 

You’re the one laughing now, staring at him in amusement. Jungkook’s smile is completely gone, his eyes fixated on the ground. 

“And what if I just did?” 

For a moment, you could have sworn he was joking. But Jungkook’s tone is completely different ‒ voice having dropped a couple of octaves with no hints of humour present. 

It only drills in deeper when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a certain glint of anguish residing in there that you haven’t quite seen before. 

You struggle to come up with words, “Y-You can’t be serious…” 

“And what if I am?” Jungkook rests his hand against his cheek, leaning against the front counter. A sigh leaves him and your brows contort together, lips pressing together into a firm line. 

You scoff, “B-But I would be unemployed....” 

Jungkook’s gaze is fixated on the counter as he shrugs, “Then just find another job.” 

“It wouldn’t be the same!” 

His head snaps up, lips falling agape with the sudden outburst. You immediately avert your eyes, letting out an awkward cough. 

In the midst of the silence, you ponder again, “Have you made up your mind then...? To sell it?” 

“Sort of.” Jungkook mumbles, gaze drifting to the ground, “The game room hasn’t been doing too well financially and even though Richman V is kind of annoying....I’ve been thinking about his offer.” 

Your eyes narrow at him. 

His tone sounds like he’s already been defeated without a full fight, giving in without any resistance. 

The boss you know would have to be physically dragged out of this arcade, his loud protests probably being capable of deafening those that want to take away his prize possession. 

“Wait, just like that?” For once, you’re the one that’s more upset, “You love this place.”

His features twist, “Well yeah, but‒” 

“This is coming from you, the same person that tried having a disco day at the arcade to attract customers and forced me to wear a rainbow coloured wig with roller skates because ‘it goes with the flow’ and ‘the entire vibe would be ruined’ if i didn’t!” 

Jungkook stares at you wide-eyed and you scoff in disbelief, gaze connecting with the bookcase stationed in the corner of the room, “At one point, we even hauled in that giant thing together when you were convinced that the youngsters are ‘reading too much these days’ and that we’ll lose popularity to a hair salon next door that was giving out free magazines in their waiting room!” 

“You seem to remember a lot of the things I’ve done....”

“I’m not done!” You wave a finger at him, ignoring his astonished expression and continuing with your rant, “There was even a time when you used me to distribute flyers and made me shout that ‘there’s no place I would want to work at beside Jeon’s arcade’, which by the way, is pretty much the opposite of how I feel!” 

Jungkook lets out a snort at that, to which you direct an angry glare in his direction. Your rambles continue as he fondly watches you, somehow managing to spur up a spark of hope that was diminishing by the minute inside him. 

“So you’re telling me that the same person that was responsible for all that is willingly going to give up his arcade?” You plant your hands on your waist, raising a challenging eyebrow at him, “Are you sure you’re my boss?” 

“You’re right.” Jungkook honestly confesses, “This place means a lot to the both of us and we can’t let it head down under because some posh guy wants to own it.” 

He raises up a fist, looking more determined as ever, “I’m not letting anyone take it from me without a fight.” 

You cross your arms, a smirk rising on your lips. 

“Now that’s the boss I know.” 

“Jungkook, this is stupid.” You protest, the icy breeze from outside already nipping at your skin. Your boss spins around on his heels, his determination still overflowing. 

“How is having some faith stupid?” 

“It’s stupid when you drag me out at 7 in the morning without a coat to make a damn wish.” You bite back, barely able to feel your toes as you walk behind him through the village. 

“I don’t feel cold.” He proudly announces. 

“You’re shivering.” You point out, his chattering teeth and quivering form already being a dead giveaway thanks to his need in retaining his weird get-up out of the arcade. 

“Shivering? That’s nonsense, I don’t feel the c-c-cold.” You let out a sigh, unraveling your scarf in the midst of his protests. Instead of handing it to him, you toss it over his head and he whirls around, frowning at you. 

“Take it.” You mumble, not noticing him eventually wrapping it around himself as if it was desperate to retain some heat. You walk ahead of him, halting your steps and glancing around confused. 

“So where’s this headstone you’ve been obsessing about?” 

Jungkook squints, “It should be somewhere her‒OH!” 

You whip around, watching Jungkook jog over to a small landmark at the side of the trail. Treading cautiously after him, you notice a structure made up of granite, appearing like a round ball that was placed on a stick. 

You tilt your head, “This is the ARMY headstone?” 

“It protects the entire village!” Jungkook chides, “Don’t you know that?” 

“Yeah, yeah, it protects us and we protect it in return.” You wave away it’s history. Unlike others the stone simply just existed for you, not being as ‘special’ or ‘glorious’ as it was for the other villagers. 

“We need to make a wish to save the arcade.” He firmly states, eyeing you for an answer. You let out a sigh, eventually mumbling out the words in the most monotone voice. 

“Please save our arcade.” You turn to Jungkook, “There, happy?” 

There’s a smug smile on Jungkook’s lips and you scoff, glancing around as he makes his wish. Your eyes roam around the expanses of the village, landing on an individual scurrying around with bright teal hair and dressed in a uniform. 

Your eyes instantly light up, “Namjoon!” 

He notices you right away, jogging over in an instant. 

“Y/N?” He says astonished, “I haven’t seen you around in a while, how have you been?” 

“Ah, just the usual.” You shrug, “I’m always at the game room these days.” 

A laugh slips from him and you smile, but you don’t notice the gaze Jungkook throws in your direction. 

“Find any new auditions recently?” 

“Ah no, I’m still trying though.” He professes, “I’ve been saving up in case I actually manage to get one.” 

“You’ll find one soon, I’m sure of it.” 

Namjoon sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, a dust of pink on his cheeks, “You know...there’s this new movie playing in the theatre….”

He rummages through his pockets, pulling out two tickets. “I’ve heard really good things about it.” 

Your eyes spark, reaching out for them, “Oh, that would be so ni‒” 

The tickets are instantly snatched away from you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“That does sound lovely!” Jungkook smiles, “Thanks for the tickets RM!” 

Namjoon glances between the two of you, “O-Oh…” He meekly laughs, “I-I hope you guys enjoy….” 

He takes a step back, waving at you. “Guess I’ll see you around then Y/N....” 

You watch his fading back in dismay, barely able to say goodbye to him as he rushes away. 

The moment he’s gone, you spin around and glare at Jungkook. “What the hell?! I wanted to go with him!” 

“Too late.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, “Now you have me~” 

A deep frown settles on your features, “Perfect. Just perfect.” You shake your head, “Not only do I have to see my boss at work, but now I have to go watch a movie with him.” 

“I know right?” Jungkook leans forward, “Who is this boss of yours by the way? He sounds like an incredible person.” 

“Oh, he’s great ‒ great at being annoying.” You huff as Jungkook laughs at your silly taunt, practically skipping behind you as you return back to the arcade. 

In the midst of your banter though, you don’t notice the particular pattern Jungkook’s shoes leave in the soil. 

***

Upon returning, you and Jungkook get to work right away. 

“What about a slogan?” You suggest, “Something that catches people’s eye and gets stuck in their minds?” 

Jungkook places a contemplating finger against his mouth. It’s not long before his fingers are snapping, a bright glint sparking up in his eyes. 

“Jeon’s arcade is the best.” His pupils are wide and there’s a giant grin spread on his features, but it clashes with your muted expression. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Jeon’s arcade is the best…?” 

He snaps his fingers again, shaking his head, “It’s great, I’m telling you. It’ll catch on within days.” 

A dreary sigh leaves your lips, “How about something less...prideful?” Your eyes twinkle, “Like come down to Jeon’s arcade for a brand new experience?” 

Jungkook scrunches up his nose, “That sounds awful.” 

“It’s better than declaring you have the best arcade.” You mumble. 

“It is the best arcade!” He pursues his lips, before finally muttering in defeat, “And technically the only one here…”

You’re about to suggest that maybe rearranging things in the game room would help for better promotion, but the lights begin to flicker.

“Wha‒” You’re unable to finish your sentence, the entire room plunging into complete darkness. 

“Jungkook?” You question in concern, carefully shuffling your feet around. There’s a slight movement that brushes by your arm, your head spinning instantly. 

“I think it’s a power outage.” He confirms, and you can hear the soles of his feet pacing around the room, “Let me see if I can find the backup generator…” 

You hear some scrambling and shuffling around, until it’s accompanied by a loud thud and a sharp “ow!”. 

“Are you okay?” You ponder, only receiving a dismay groan from him. 

“I’m fine, but why is your voice coming from the machines?” 

You blink, “Because that’s where I’m standing?” 

“What?” Jungkook says in disbelief, “I could have sworn‒” 

In an instant, light floods the room. Your eyes are rounded as they finally peer around, noticing Jungkook at the other end of the room with his eyelids screwed shut and holding onto his foot. 

His lids flutter open, taken aback with your appearance. A sudden thump resonates against the floorboard. 

You and Jungkook can only stare at each other petrified at the sound of feet moving about while both of you remain stationary. 

Swallowing down his unease, Jungkook places a finger on his lips, gesturing for you not to let out a peep. He carefully steps forward, keeping the silence in the room intact to peer over at the counter. 

A man suddenly pops his head out, a pout resting on his plush lips. 

Jungkook staggers back, placing a hand against his racing heart. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

The man tilts his head to the side, looking down and then dusting himself off. There’s a black beret sitting on his head, a white-collared shirt overlapping with two suspenders that connect to his brown trousers. He continues to pout, eyes glancing around the counter until they stop on a circular object. 

“Ah, there it is!” He excitedly whispers, wrapping his fingers around the large magnifying glass. Jungkook’s eye twitches, strutting up and grabbing onto the man’s shoulder. 

“Hey! I asked what you’re doing here!” 

He frowns, “Are you always this rude to people?” 

Jungkook scoffs, but you interject, voice confused. 

“Jin?” 

His eyes snap up to you, “Oh, hi Y/N.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Investigating.” He immediately says, raising his magnifying glass. He begins walking around the room, a curious look to his eyes. “How long have the two of you been here?” 

“Since the power went out.” You answer. 

“Fascinating.” He continues his stroll, only faltering when Jungkook pulls at one of his suspenders from behind. 

He appears annoyed from the former barely acknowledging him. “Why are you in my arcade trying to investigate, Jin?!” 

Jin spins around, smacking his instrument against Jungkook’s head. 

“Ow!” 

“That’s Detective Jin to you, Mister.” He shakes his head in dismay, “Seriously, where have your manners gone, Kook?”

He glances at Jungkook, “And to answer your prior question, there’s been a recent crime in BTS Village. I’m here to solve it.” 

“A crime?” You cross your arms, “What makes you think the arcade has anything to do with it?” 

“Well, it’s not so much the arcade that has something to do with it…” He suddenly twirls around, pointing his giant magnifying glass at Jungkook who looks baffled, “But someone that might play a hand in the crime.”

You peer over his shoulder, noticing him narrowing in on Jungkook’s eye as the latter stiffens. 

A scoff leaves your lips, “You’re drawing an absurd conclusion.” 

“Oh really, Y/N?” He spins around, nearly whipping you in the face with the glass, “Perhaps you were at the crime scene too then?” 

He begins scrutinizing you, and you uncomfortably shift from the glass being pointed at your eye this time. 

Jungkook huffs, straightening up his clothes. “Don’t you use that magnifying glass to see how big your mouth is half the time?” 

Jin raises his head, suddenly feeling offended. A snort leaves you, further fueling his dismay. 

“Trying to use a personal connection on a detective now, are we?” 

Jungkook plants his hands on his hips, “Well, this detective showed up at my arcade out of nowhere and is interrogating the hell out of me and my employee without any proof.” 

Jin smiles, “Proof! Of course!” 

He moves at the speed of wind, racing around the game room as you and Jungkook hurriedly trail after him. He stops right at the front, a small shoe rack capturing his interest immediately. 

He starts tossing them aside one by one. 

“Hey, stop!” Jungkook scrambles to catch them before they land on the ground, “Those are expensive!” 

“Timberlands?” Jin questions, eyeing one certain beige pair before tossing it away too, “You need better taste, kid.” 

Jungkook practically shoots out his arm in efforts to catch it, but it slips from his grasp and you dive forward, grasping onto it instantly. 

“This is ridiculous.” You huff, “Jungkook hasn’t done anything, Jin.” 

He hums, rising onto his feet. “Is that so, Y/N? Then how about you explain this?” 

Whirling around, he points towards the base of one of Jungkook’s slippers, the same ones he hastily put on when he pushed for you to come with him to the headstone. 

You narrow your eyes, not grasping onto his dramatic revelation, “It’s a slipper. You know, people use them for their feet…?” 

“Not just any slipper!” Jin waves it in the air, far too close to your face as you grimace, “But evidence! Evidence that was at the crime scene during the time of the crime!” 

He pulls out a photograph, showing a footprint that matches up to the shoe, “Someone knocked over and broke our precious ARMY headstone and that person is standing right in front of me!” 

Jungkook looks as much at a loss of words as you do. You can’t deny that Jin is wrong, the picture in his hands and the slipper looking similar. The problem is you know what events transpired, having been with Jungkook as he pushed you to make a wish before speaking with Namjoon. 

There’s no way he could have done anything. 

“I-I…” Jungkook begins. 

“You did it! Mystery solved.” 

“What?” You snap, stalking up to Jin, “This is prosperous, you need more evidence than just a footprint!” 

“Oh? Is that denial I hear?” Jin cheekily questions, cupping his ear and leaning closer to you. Your lips settle into a firm line, teeth gritting. 

“Not denial, but facts.” You place a hand against Jungkook’s shoulder, “I was with Jungkook when the footprint was made and I know he’s innocent.” 

“A counteract argument!” Jin says in excitement, “Fascinating!” 

You let out a groan, “Jungkook is innocent, Jin.” 

“I am.” He hurriedly says, hoping it would do something to diminish the detective’s accusations. Jin’s eyes sink down, puzzlement crossing his features. 

He keenly eyes you, voice no longer childish, “He’s going to be the prime suspect.” 

“He’s innocent.” You press forward again, causing the detective to stare at you for a moment before letting out a long exhale. 

“Prime suspect.” Jin announces again, pretending to write down on an imaginary clipboard. His voice morphs, spiking up in volume, “I won’t stop until I catch who it is! Even if it’s you!” 

The door is yanked open and Jin struts out, closing it on his way. You let out a relieved sigh, pressing a hand against your temples. 

Jungkook being a prime suspect means that Jin doesn’t have the power to turn him in and he’s given you some time to figure out things as well. 

He hasn’t taken his suspicions away, but at least he’s given you some leeway. 

Jungkook’s desperate eyes connect with yours and you know what you have to do. 

Your boss is innocent, and you’re going to prove it. 

A loud bell dings as the door is shoved open, a huff leaving your lips. The shop is close to being semi-busy, a couple of customers planted down in seats and facing elongated decorated mirrors. Save for a couple of heads that turn in your direction, your eyes rake around. 

Your brows are furrowed, a crease forming in between them. 

A flash of white whizzes by your sight, your hand instantly snapping out and grabbing onto their collar. 

A scream leaves the man’s lips, his eyes wide and petrified. They lock immediately onto yours and within seconds he’s slipping away from your hold, trying to make a run for it. 

His voice screeches as he runs around the salon with a pair of scissors, “The culprit is here! The culprit is here!” 

The showcase sends his customers into a frenzy, voices spiking up into the mayhem and a handful staring at you in horror. 

“Hey, Chatterbox!” You scoff, “Come back here!” 

You chase after him as he wails, bumping back and forth into his clients with no regard. You eventually grab a hold of his shoulder, a squeal leaving his mouth. 

“NO!!” He cries, “Spare me, please!” 

He tussles around within your grasp, “Hoseok!” 

Abruptly freezing, he stares at you from behind his giant glasses, “Y-Yes?” 

“I need to talk to you.” You profess, noticing the way his scissors are still held up in defense, as if they possessed enough of an ability to scare you away. 

The sound of shutter snaps your attention away, your head whipping around to see a particular lens pointed towards you. It’s pulled down, a man with keen cat-like eyes and a resting pout examining its contents. 

“Picture of the culprit.” His deep voice hums, seemingly satisfied. You tug away the camera from his hold, still keeping a tight grasp on Hoseok before he flies away from you. 

“For ARMY sake‒” You scowl, noticing the apparent ‘frightening’ angle of you in the picture. Shoving it back at him, you hiss, “Delete it now, Yoongi.” 

His eyes narrow, clearly not enthusiastic with the suggestion. You glare right back at him, suddenly realizing why you don’t swing by Hoseok’s salon or his photography shop often. 

With a sigh, Yoongi deletes it and you let go of Hoseok, crossing your arms. 

You hold up a finger, “First off, I’m not the culprit, and neither is Jungkook. Let’s get that straight from the start.” Hoseok opens his mouth like he wants to interrupt, “I’ll take questions at the end.” 

He closes his mouth, a ㅅ shape taking over. “Second off, I’m here because I want to know who the true culprit is.” You take a step forward, eyeing Hoseok, “And I think the local gossiper can give me the details I want.” 

Hoseok’s eyes are wider than before, his hands fumbling around with his scissors. Although he doesn’t care to admit it, you know the village folk feel extremely comfortable around him, willing to spill out all their secrets and desires with no mind over the naive and tender boy’s head. 

Even to the point of professing some oh so good reasoning about a particular headstone. 

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, clutching onto his camera, “How do we know you’re not trying to cover up your own tracks from the crime?” 

Hoseok’s irises sway from you to him, growing only larger in size. You shake your head with a sigh, aware of the latter’s protectiveness towards his childhood friend. 

“Because the crime was committed during a power outage….while me and Jungkook were at the arcade…..” 

The truth sounded a lot better in your head. You can see Yoongi’s gears turning, his gaze becoming more and more scrutinizing. 

To your surprise, he suddenly clears his throat, taking a step back. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“What?” He raises a brow, “Do you want me not to trust you?” 

“No.” You deadpan, “I just thought you would ask more questions.” 

Yoongi shrugs, “You barely pay any attention to the headstone in the first place. Plus Jungkook isn’t the type to break something he’s been making wishes to since being a kid.” 

You blink, astonished with the analysis. Yoongi turns to Hoseok, nodding his head as the latter hesitantly begins to speak up. 

“T-There’s a rumour…” He whispers, causing the two of you to lean in, “I-I didn’t mean to spread it! I-I just thought it was interesting and my clients like to hear stories of the village while I-I’m cutting their hair‒” 

“What is it, Hoseok?” Yoongi wonders as you hum. 

His pupils oscillate on the ground, hands fumbling with his scissors. 

“Treasure.” He heaves, glancing up at the two of you, “There’s a rumour of the headstone housing treasure.” 

He tilts his head to the right. 

The giant magnifying glass in his hand follows the direction, inflating the image of the remains from the headstone by tenfold. 

Planting one of his hands on his hips, the other comes forth to stroke his invisible beard. His legs swing, about to turn back to head towards the arcade again. 

“Find anything yet?” 

A scream escapes him. 

Jungkook stands before him, covering his ears as Jin places a hand against his racing heart. 

“You frightened me!” Jin scolds, narrowing his eyes, “What are you doing here?!” 

Jungkook frowns, “I’m not the culprit.” 

“Sure, that’s what they all say!” Jin begins walking down the trail near the headstone as Jungkook closely follows behind. 

“So….” 

“What?” 

“Did you find anything yet?” He questions hopefully, doe eyes twinkling at his elder. The man before him sighs, aiming his glass piece at the trail before him. 

He suddenly crouches down, scrutinizing another footprint. 

“I’m not telling you anything, Kook.” 

“But why!” He practically whines, childishly clinging onto Jin’s arm, “Come on, you’ve known me since I was a kid. Does this look like the face of someone that would break the headstone?” 

He gestures to himself as Jin stares, purposely widening his eyes and putting on a pout. 

Jin smacks the back of his tool against his head, causing Jungkook to wince. “Stop getting cute with me.” 

Jungkook’s eyes sway, “I-I’m not getting cute….” 

“Uh-huh.” Jin reminisces, looking around the headstone carefully again. There’s a furrow between his brows as he picks up a chuck of the stone, bringing it up to examine. 

“Find anything?” 

The stone piece nearly slips from Jin’s fingers as Jungkook peers over his shoulder wide-eyed, appearing more like a naive child than the owner of an arcade.  

“Will you stop doing that?!” Jin scolds, growing irritated by the moment with Jungkook’s interventions. The latter pouts, desperation leaking into his irises. 

“Then tell me something.” At Jin’s withering gaze, Jungkook pulls out all sorts of cuteness he wouldn’t be caught doing in daylight, “Please.” 

Jin rolls his eyes, sight landing right on top of the headstone. 

“Blue Village..…” 

It’s so incredibly faint, but Jungkook’s ears catch onto it right away. 

“What?” 

“Blue Village.” Jin says louder this time, his brow twitching. Clearing his throat, he lowers his voice again, “I think someone from Blue Village did it.” 

Jungkook’s eyes are instantly enlarging, features contorting into a sudden epiphany. 

“Now leave me alone!” Jin says, pushing him away, “I have mysteries to solve!” 

Jungkook nods in an instant, a smile curving on his lips at the new piece of information. 

It’s not long before you’re pacing towards the arcade, surprised to see Jungkook already there and buzzing with energy. His eyes light up with your presence, lips moving immediately. 

“Treasure!” 

“Blue Village!” 

You stare at each other for a moment, confused with the notion. “Wait, Blue Village? What about them?” 

“Jin says that someone from Blue Village might be responsible.” Jungkook explains, scrunching his brows together, “What do you mean by treasure?” 

“Hoseok told me that there’s treasure underneath the headstone.” Your eyes sparkle, “That means someone who needs money probably broke it.” 

Jungkook grimaces, “Shoot.” 

“What?” 

“I need money.” He honestly states. Your features twist up with the fact, acknowledging that your tidbit on the situation wouldn’t work well in his favour. 

Shaking the thoughts away, you pursue more information, “Who do you think did it?” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond to you, instead he stares outside the arcade’s glass exterior. Puzzled, you turn around to see what he’s staring at, only to see a young boy dressed in a yellow shirt and blue overalls walking by. 

He appears to be within his own world, a dreamy smile curving up on his cheeks and a colourful lollipop in his hand. His eyes instantly connect with yours, crinkling up into half moons as he waves over to you and Jungkook. 

You return his gesture with a smile, but Jungkook had a sneering look in his stare. 

“I hate that guy.” He spits out, drawing out perplexment from you. 

“What?” You spin around, pointing to the oblivious boy. “Leader Jimin?” 

Jungkook hums and you shake your head, watching an angelic smile take over the boy’s features. “How could you possibly hate him?” 

Suddenly, something sparks within his eyes. He turns to you, determination spiking his gaze. 

“He’s the one that broke the headstone.” 

You let out an exhale of dismay, “He didn’t.” 

“He’s from Blue Village.” Jungkook says, as if all the clues finally made sense, “No one know where he came from or what his background is. It makes perfect sense!” 

“You’re starting to make up conclusions like Jin now.” 

“He could use the money!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I heard that he’s been living at the village doctor’s house and pays rent!” 

At your look of disbelief, he smirks, “Rent gets expensive, Y/N. Don’t you know that?” 

“He’s innocent.” You protest, shaking away his accusations, “He’s a happy person that just wandered into our village one day. He looks like he can’t even hurt a fly!” 

At the moment, Jimin lets out a giggle, one of the village kids smiling brightly up at him. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes, a hum leaving him. 

“Wait, you’re right.”

“See‒?” 

Jungkook deadpans, “He’s an idiot.” 

“He is not an idiot.” You’re about to list more reasons as to why, but you notice Jimin walking away to ‘lead’ the children behind him, not realizing that one of them has stolen his lollipop and the rest are trying to fight the child for it. 

He breaks out in a daze of giggles, happy to be their leader. 

Your features scrunch up, “Okay, maybe he is, but‒” 

Jungkook smirks like you have no option but to agree with him. Before you have the chance to prove him wrong, there’s a knock outside the arcade door. 

A trail of goosebumps spike up on your arm, the look of annoyance on Jungkook’s features telling you enough of who's at the door. 

However, this time there’s no intrigue, just a simple big white label possessively planting against the wall. 

“I heard you’re not doing so well financially,” Richman V states, “This arcade should be mine soon.” 

Jungkook’s jaw drops at the man’s blatant actions, orbs following him around as he continues to plaster his labels all over his precious arcade. 

You beat him at the chance to intervene. 

“This arcade isn’t yours.” You tug at his sleeve, only for Richman V to spin around and plant a label smack against your forehead. 

“Everything I label, I possess.” He interjects, “This arcade will be mine, and so will everything that comes along with it.” 

He passes by you and begins sticking on more labels. You huff, ripping off the label and smacking it onto a nearby wall. “I am not going to work for you.” 

“Yes, you are.” He states, like it shouldn’t even be in question. “You work in this arcade. The arcade will belong to me. Your services will be mine.” A smile curves on his lips, “You should be happy. I’ll at least be a proficient boss.” 

Your eye twitches and Jungkook looks like he wants to interject, but you scramble around, locating a pen. 

Taking one of his possessive labels, you scratch out his name and scribble on Jungkook’s before sticking it back onto one of the machines. 

“You can’t take this arcade because it doesn’t belong to you.” You huff, grasping his attention. “And I already have a great boss, thank you very much.” 

Jungkook blinks wide-eyed as Richman V stares at you, clearly annoyed with your meddling. Turning around, he leans closer, looking at you eye to eye. 

“I own every property in BTS Village, and this arcade won’t be an exception.” 

Without another word, he leaves, a clutter of his labels all over the walls and machines. Your eyes are sharpened, lips twisted with suppressed fury as you pluck off the flimsy pieces of paper that demand its ownership. 

“Who does that guy think he is?” You rant as Jungkook silently watches you, “I mean sure, label all your things. Your toothbrush, your comb, whatever.” 

Kneeling down, you narrow your eyes at the one he’s managed to stick behind the counter before tearing it off, “But a place he doesn’t even own? Talk about really wanting to possess stuff.” 

“Did you mean it…” 

Jungkook’s voice is soft, near quiet. 

You turn around, bafflement crossing you. “Well yeah, he seems like kind of a jerk and wanting to possess an arcade after all he has seems like a petty list of things a person would want to own‒” 

Jungkook shakes his head, stopping your ramble. “Before that. About me being a great boss….” 

You stare at him like a deer in headlights, clearly caught off guard. Freezing in place, you open and close your mouth a couple of times, no words managing to come out. 

Instead, a pink hue dusts over your skin. 

“Well, I...I-I did say that…” You attempt to begin, “And I...well‒” 

“Fascinating.” 

Your eyes snap up at the sound of a third voice, noticing Jin leaning behind the counter as he listens into your conversation. Jungkook immediately swivels around, placing a hand against his racing heart. 

“Can you call or something the next time you show up?!’ He angrily retorts, only for Jin to completely ignore him and step forward. 

He walks straight towards the shoe rack, plucking up the pair of slippers Jungkook wore to the headstone. He drops them with a hum, walking over to the counter again to flip through some paper sheets, something that has Jungkook scrambling forward. 

“Why are you looking at my accounts?!” 

“It all makes sense now.” 

Jin finally speaks up, pointing an accusatory finger towards Jungkook, “YOU DID IT!” 

“I’ve already told you that I’m not the culprit!” 

“Really?!” Jin challenges, “We found your footprint. You’re the one in need of money and tried to get the treasure underneath the headstone.” 

He suddenly glances around, like he was still collecting proof against Jungkook’s case. 

His eyes land onto the battered mallet used for Jungkook’s whac-a-mole machine, raising it in the air. 

“Aha!” He exclaims, “This is what you broke it with!” 

“Actually he broke that mallet because he’s ridiculously competitive and was prepared to win at any cost.” You interject, arms crossed.

“Oh….” 

Jungkook deadpans at Jin’s dwindling resolve, an impassive and unimpressed expression spreading over his features. 

“You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” 

“Of course I do!” Jin protests, grabbing a small book from his back pocket. He vigorously flips through the pages, eyes twinkling, “I told you about Blue Village being involved!” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Leader Jimin did it!” 

You attempt to hush him down, but Jin cocks up a brow, baffled with the suggestion. 

“What? That kid?” Jungkook nods, “Nah, he’s an angel. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

Offense is written all over Jungkook, “Then what am I?!” 

“A greedy game owner!” Jin accuses, only for Jungkook to sigh. 

“I’m innocent, Jin.” He desperately glances in your direction, “Just ask Y/N!” 

“She’s probably plotting with you!!” 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, about to give your two cents on the ridiculousness of the conversation until the sound of small ding resonates through the room. 

A pair of two small feet come to a stop, wide eyes staring at the three individuals in front of him. 

You recognize him immediately as the boy that came to your game room the day you had barren business. 

“Oh, it’s you.” 

Jungkook perks up, “The kid who Y/N paid for!” 

Jin whips around, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook and prepares to write in his book. “Excoriating money from our employee’s now, are we?” 

“I willingly paid for him.” You correct right away, aware that Jin seemed to be on Jungkook’s tail no matter what. Spinning around, you crouch down to view the boy, “What are you doing here?” 

“I saw the headstone marked as a crime scene.” He speaks, peeking around with wide eyes. “I wanted to see the Detective.” 

Jin immediately pushes forward, adjusting his hat and leaning down with his notebook. 

“Do you know anything about how it was broken?” 

The boy nods, “I was on my way to school when I saw two people walking to the headstone. One of them was dressed very fancy and the other one had blue hair.” 

“Richman V and RM!” Jungkook exclaims, only for Jin to hush him down. 

“It’s too early to draw conclusions!” 

Jungkook scoffs, “So drawing conclusions about me without evidence wasn’t too early?!”

“Did he have bronze hair?” You immediately question, and the boy nods, “Was the other one wearing a box office uniform?” 

He nods again, “They were talking to each other but not in a nice way. I think they were fighting.” 

“They were fighting?” Jungkook wonders, staring at you in disbelief. 

“Hold it!” Jin exclaims, moving towards the boy. He points towards you and Jungkook, expression keen, “Did you see these two near the headstone?” 

He places a finger against his chin, a spark lighting up in his eyes, “I did!” 

“AHA‒” 

 “But they were making a wish together when the headstone wasn’t broken.” 

“….oh?” Jin whispers, his pen freezing in place. The boy smiles, gazing at you. 

“I hope your wish came true.” 

You return his smile, “Thanks for coming by, kid.” 

He nods, waving at Jungkook and Jin before you open the door and let him rush home. 

Silence reigns heavy in the arcade room.

Jin eventually clears his throat. 

His voice is considerably quiet, nowhere near the loud and dramatic tone you were accustomed to hearing. 

“It seems like I’ve made a mistake…” 

“Seems like?!” Jungkook angrily shouts, but Jin coxes him right away. 

“Mistakes can happen! Someone can look guilty and end up not being…” 

Jungkook has a “are you serious?” expression and Jin cheekily smiles, before racing towards the door. 

“Oh wow, would you look at the time?? I’ll catch up with you guys later!” The door is shutting close before you can even utter another word, your eyes rolling at the man's catastrophe. 

This just in! 

Famous Property Owner and Dealer Richman V and Box Office Employee RM caught for destroying one of the more treasured possessions of BTS Village! 

Thanks to the testimony of one boy, more eyewitnesses were found and several pieces of evidence led to the duo facing charges. It is said that RM needed the money to attend an audition and had tried to negotiate with Richman V for help near the headstone. Richman V, who was facing the displeasure of not obtaining a particular arcade in the village, wanted to know about the mysterious treasure hidden deep beneath the stone. Sources suggests that two were baffled about the broken headstone and attempted to cover up the accident by‒

“Oh, would you just get to the good part already?!” Jungkook slams his fist against the counter, desperation leaking into his voice. 

You let out a sigh, scrolling through the newspaper until you find the excerpt. Clearing your throat, you mimic your best anchor voice again. 

Initially, Detective Jin from BTS Village had suspicions on a certain game room owner that goes by the name of Jeon Jungkook, but with further investigation done, it was found that he was at the crime scene prior to the incident and was deemed innocent. 

“Well, it’s nice hearing someone say I’m innocent.” Jungkook remarks, leaning against his hand on his cheek. 

The newspaper is yanked down, “I said you were innocent.” 

“Of course you did!” He proclaims, “Why else would you want to turn your innocent boss in?” 

“I can think of a couple of reasons.” You mumble underneath your breath, only for Jungkook to pout. “What?” 

“I’m still broke as hell.” He shifts his attention to his account book on the counter, lazily flipping through the pages. “Business has been better, but I’m still not making enough money.” 

You roll your eyes, aware that business truthfully has been better thanks to your combined efforts and that it would take time for some stable revenue to roll in, as long as Jungkook’s dramatics don’t manage to interfere. 

“Maybe you should hire a different employee instead of me.” You sassily retort, “Let’s see what happens to business then.” 

Jungkook narrows his eyes, “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because you’re ‘losing’ money.” You exaggerate in the same tone he used.  

“Nah, I’m never going to get rid of you.” He softly says, “You always have my back.”

For a moment, you just blink your eyes. Turning around, you’re expecting a cocky smirk on his lips or a teasing raise of his brows.

Instead, you’re met with sincere eyes and a genuine smile, something that nearly has the newspaper in your hands slipping from your hands. 

You slowly open your mouth to respond. 

“Why are the two of you having a staring contest?” 

Both you and Jungkook whip around, watching Jin poke at one of the machines with a frown on his face. 

Jungkook’s jaw drops down, “What are you doing here?!” 

Jin looks at him taken aback, the anger in his voice prevalent. “What? Were you two having a moment or something?” 

You avert your eyes as Jungkook’s brow twitches. 

He shakes his head, a whine escaping him, “Why are you here, Jin?” 

“Oh!” He pipes up, “Are you hiring at the moment by any chance?” 

“What?” 

Jin cheekily smiles, “So my reputation as a detective kind of went sour with this recent case, you know, with suspecting and falsely accusing someone innocent and‒ what are you doing?” 

He’s being effortlessly lifted by Jungkook, before being planted right outside of the arcade. 

Jungkook closes the door shut, sending him a friendly wave with a strained smile as Jin scoffs.

“Oh come on, JK!” 

“Come back when I really am innocent!” He childishly laughs as Jin throws a fit of anger from the display. 

Jungkook glances in your direction almost as if to gauge your reaction to his antics, but you simply smile and shake your head with a roll of your eyes. 

Jungkook snaps his fingers. 

“This entire place should have a makeover!” He springs up from his seat from his revelation, pacing around the room, “We can take out the bookcase and maybe add more machines, we could even paint the walls maybe like a royal blue, put some speakers here‒….” 

You lounge on one of the chairs as you watch your boss continuing his ramble, eyes follow along with the speed of his legs as he practically pounces around the place. 

It’s been a while since the ARMY headstone mystery has been resolved, and aside from helping Detective Jin with getting a job after Jungkook’s refusal of hiring another employee, you’ve come to terms with yourself. 

You have feelings for your boss. It’s plain obvious.  

The problem lies in the fact that you work with him, meaning that no matter what you do and say, he’s naturally inclined to believe that you’re simply doing him a favour as an employee. 

A sigh leaves your lips as you lean back in your chair. 

Jungkook whirls around, childlike excitement sparking in his large doe eyes, “Well?” 

You abruptly blink, realizing that you hadn’t caught onto a single thing he said because you were too caught up in your own head. 

Standing up, you pat his shoulder and walk over to the counter, “Let’s discuss this later.” 

“What?” Jungkook watches your fading form, a crease forming between his brows, “A-Are you sure? You seem to be really out of it these days, Y/N.” 

At the hint of concern in his voice, your eyes widen, “Uh, yeah!” You nervously laugh, “I seriously doubt we’ll figure it all out in one day.” 

Jungkook pursues his lips, “Hm, that’s true.” 

He smiles and you wipe away the sweat from your temples, a relieved exhale leaving you. 

***

You have to confess to him. 

You’ve been thinking about it all night long, and as soon as the sun rose this morning, you were determined to tell Jungkook how you felt about him. You’ve already come up with a bunch of ways to convince him that yes, you like him in case he dips into his notorious denial, and even were prepared for any spouts of panic that might burst out from your dynamic abruptly shifting. 

There’s nothing that can surprise you now. 

Your feet immediately slow down, mouth falling agape. 

In front of you is the arcade, and at the same time, you wonder if you’ve even arrived at the right shop. 

Gone are the large advertising and attention drawing signs, cardboard cutout replaced with navy blue and black speakers. The yellow and blue lights have been replaced with midnight black and white ones, soft music radiating out from the door. 

You continue to stare at it in puzzlement. 

The arcade you knew was loud and bold, noise drowning through into your ears and strobe lights nearly blinding you. 

Cautiously, you open the front door, your surprise simply magnifying with every step you take. 

The walls are coloured with a shade of dark blue, replacing the dull beige completely. The bookshelf has disappeared, replaced with new gaming machines instead of similar ones linked up in a row. 

One of them consists of a brand new whac-a-mole machine, your eyes flickering over the colorful display and shining mallet. 

“Y/N?!” A voice suddenly calls out, snapping you out of your awe-filled daze. Turning around, you don’t see your boss in sight. 

“Jungkook?” You call back out, only for the sound of boxes shifting resonating from the back room. 

“Just give me a minute!” 

You hum, picking up the mallet with a smile as you walk closer to the door. 

“What have you done to this place?” 

“You like it?” 

You inspect the instrument in your hand, “Yeah, it looks amazing….” 

His laughter seeps through the door, “That’s great! I just thought the place needed something different, you know? Almost like a re-opening.” 

The corner of your mouth lifts up, “From now on, Jeon’s arcade is a new experience for all!” 

You snort at the slogan, placing the mallet back down on the counter. That’s when your eyes focus onto the small bottle on the counter, the words ‘hair dye’ causing them to enlarge with size. 

As you grab onto it, the back door room opens and Jungkook emerges out, his blonde strands bright and damp with drops of water. 

He beams at you, doe eyes crinkling and a giant smile breaking out onto his features. 

“What do you think?” He eagerly asks, “Doesn’t it help with the new experience in here?” 

The hair dye bottle slips from your hands, no coherent words forming from the tip of your tongue as your mouth drops wide open. Jungkook can only stare in confusion as pink rapidly scatters across your features and it’s in that one sole moment you realize. 

No matter how hard you try, your boss always finds some way to surprise you. 

[sundiscus]

wangxian dragon age au: ficlet

[part of a larger au i’ve mapped out + started drafting, but want to post as snippets for now! i’ve taken many liberties with the worldbuilding, and as such i think most can be inferred with context if you’re unfamiliar with dragon age.

part one now here

this snippet: the meet-ugly, ~1.7k]

✨✨✨

When Lan Wangji wakes up, he isn’t alone.

He doesn’t realize it right away. The first thing he notices is that, this time, there are no shackles. He shifts his hands the slightest bit, enough to confirm they are indeed free. The movement pulls at the little cuts on his fingers and forearms from where the shackles shattered apart, already scabbing over—so he has been unconscious long enough for the magebane to burn out of his system, which he confirms, finding his meridians free and clear. He’s lying on his back, something that feels slightly too soft to be a stone floor under him and something that feels slightly too rough to be a blanket draped over him. An odd green light pulses against his eyelids and the only sound is a muted, continuous hiss, like a distant waterfall. Wherever he is, it isn’t the cell from earlier.

It doesn’t matter. He won’t be here long.

He takes one more slow breath, listening closely. There. To his left, a few paces away, he hears a tiny, cut-off inhale. Now he knows where to aim. His eyes fly open as he launches himself upright, summoning his sword into his raised hand, and—

It’s like expecting the ocean and finding only a puddle. His sword flickers into existence for the barest moment, its glow illuminating a circle of stone walls, a pallet beneath him, and then Lan Wangji’s lungs stutter, pressure squeezing his temples, as if all air has been sucked out of the room. Bichen dissipates and Lan Wangji is left gasping, one hand still raised uselessly in the air.

From the shadows, someone says: “Ah, that’s not going to work.”

Lan Wangji is already looking to the side. He sees only a figure at first, because when his sword disappeared so had the strange, omnipresent green glow. The glow returns now, slowly illuminating a young man curled against the opposite wall, his hair a dark, tangled wave over his shoulders, wrists chained together with thick iron manacles. For a moment his eyes, staring right back at Lan Wangji, are the brightest thing in the room.

“What do you mean?” Lan Wangji demands, finding his voice. “Is there a suppression array?” It must be powerful to choke off his magic so finitely. If he can see it, though, he can figure out how to undo it.

The man wrinkles his nose. “Not exactly. But—ah, ah,” he says as Lan Wangji starts to stand, “don’t move too fast, the blowback from that is going to be pretty harsh.”

Lan Wangji understands almost instantly as a wave of vertigo hits him. His knees buckle before he’s halfway to his feet and he collapses back on the pallet, bracing his weight on his elbow to keep from falling entirely. When his ears stop ringing he can hear his own ragged breathing.

Enough, he thinks, and forces himself to even his breaths. To shift focus. Clearly whatever precautions Wen Chao and his soldiers have taken to secure this room go beyond magebane and a simple suppression array. He won’t be able to escape by sheer force like last time, but this will still be no more than a brief detour on his journey. He will make sure of it.

Yesterday—was it yesterday, now? The chamber has no windows, just the eerie green glow emanating from the walls—Lan Wangji had been traveling with a retinue of junior enchanters to retrieve research texts from the Circle in Hedong, where scholars claimed to have promising studies related to fade rifts. They were nearly there when a raven alighted on Lan Wangji’s shoulder, bearing the message: Siege on Gusu Circle. Reconvene to the north. He’d sent the junior enchanters ahead and turned back before the raven even took flight.

(The note had not mentioned his brother, so his brother must be alive. Rumors were already spreading outward from Gusu as he rode, saying Wen Xu had an archdemon, Wen Xu burned the Gusu library to the ground. They did not say Wen Xu killed Zewu-jun, Wen Xu killed a mage with a glowing hand. So his brother must have escaped. Knowing this did not stop Lan Wangji’s heart from racing as he spurred his horse faster, past refugee settlements and Templar camps, toward the distant gash in the sky.)

And then: a poisoned arrow biting into his arm, his horse crumpling on a hardpacked road outside Lingchuan. The Wen soldiers, ready for him. (Not ready enough, when at least six of their bodies fell before Lan Wangji did.) One day in the first cell, his failed escape attempt.

And now: magicless, trapped in a strange room with a strange, sharp-eyed prisoner watching him struggle to sit upright, the slow crawl of time a physical weight on Lan Wangji’s shoulders.

“Honestly, just ride it out,” the prisoner is saying. He has his chained hands up and open, like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal. “You’ll feel better in about an hour. Maybe less, if you’ve had a good meal recently.”

Lan Wangji’s head spins sickeningly. He ignores it, pushing himself up until he can prop himself against the wall, putting himself eye-level with the prisoner, at least.

“Or sit up anyway, I suppose,” the prisoner says. His voice has a ragged edge, as if it’s scraping its way out of his throat. “Sorry, I’d offer you some water, but I drank it all before I knew I’d have company. What are you doing here, anyway?”

If First Enchanter Lan wants his nephew back, he’ll have to lend us a few books, Wen Chao had mocked from outside the first cell. And if he wants you back with all your limbs attached, he’ll have to throw in trading deeds with the eastern lyrium mines for good measure. Do you think he can deliver that before you die here?

Wen Chao wanted demonic texts, Lan Wangji had guessed, the ones hidden deep within the library. No doubt for some dangerous, power-hungry scheme, and no doubt connected to the rifts. From there, it wasn’t hard to piece together that the attack on the Circle was meant to discover which texts were critical enough to be rescued and transported away, and likely steal them in transit. There are protocols for such events, Lan Wangji knows, and his presence here means the raid was unsuccessful, and he will be used as leverage for a second attempt.

If Wen Chao meant to scare Lan Wangji with his demands, he had only succeeded in doing the opposite. Because if all they want from Lan Wangji’s family are books and deeds, it means they don’t know about his brother yet.

Lan Wangji doesn’t share any of this. “Political prisoner,” is all he says.

“Ahh.” The man nods. “I figured, what with the…” He gestures at his own forehead, chains clinking as he does. “You’re obviously a Lan. Someone will pay well to have you back home.”

“They should not have to pay at all,” Lan Wangji bites out. Something about the prisoner’s casual attitude grates at him. The world outside is quite literally falling apart at the seams, and Lan Wangji doesn’t have time to be used as bait in Wen Chao’s small-minded games.

The prisoner shrugs. “Yeah, but there’s not much choice at the moment, is there? For now you’re stuck here with me. I’m—my name is Wei Ying, by the way. What should I call you, while we wait?”

“Do the Wen soldiers enter this cell often?” Lan Wangji says instead of answering. “Is there a chance of overpowering them?”

A grimace. “Often enough. And no, I’ve tried. They’re stupid, but they’re prepared.”

Lan Wangji casts another glance over the man—Wei Ying—and carefully keeps any skepticism out of his expression. Then he looks around properly for the first time. Wei Ying is right—there’s no visible array on the floor, no glyphs on the circular stone walls. The green glow fades as it climbs the wall, leaving the ceiling cloaked in shadow and dizzying to look at, like an endless tunnel. Disturbingly, there isn’t a visible door, either. There isn’t much of anything but the one straw pallet, a lidded pot against the wall, an empty bowl next to Wei Ying, bone-dry, and Wei Ying himself.

“A Lan,” Wei Ying says when Lan Wangji is silent for long enough, pitched low, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’m surprised Wen Chao would be so bold. He has to know that won’t go over well in the long run, I wonder if his father has any idea? No, he would’ve sent Wen Xu. Maybe Wen Chao thinks that by the time someone comes for you, he’ll have—” Wei Ying cuts himself off. Blinks. “You are real, aren’t you?”

Lan Wangji narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you’re not…” Wei Ying waves a hand at the room around them. “But, ah, why would I dream up a whole Knight-Enchanter? A Lan at that? You felt real enough, when I dragged you onto the pallet, but it’s still hard to tell.” Lan Wangji must have some reaction to that—to knowing this stranger’s hands have been on him, when he was unconscious—because Wei Ying adds, defensive: “What was I supposed to do? They left you on the floor.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t have an answer to that.

Wei Ying tips his head back against the wall. “Well. Your Circle, they have your phylactery, right? They’ll find you. Pay the ransom, or lay siege to Wen Chao’s little fortress here. That would be nice.” He casts his gaze over Lan Wangji again. “Looks like our captors were gentle enough in the meanwhile.”

There’s dried blood tugging at the hair of Lan Wangji’s temple, and he still has the nauseating sense that if he moves too fast he might collapse again. Gentle isn’t how Lan Wangji would describe his treatment so far. But it is also far below the threshold of what he can withstand, so it doesn’t seem like a point worth arguing. “And you?” he hears himself say.

“Uh.” Wei Ying shifts and holds up his shackled hands. “Less gentle, I suppose.”

“I meant—who will be paying your ransom.”

Wei Ying drops his hands into his lap. “Oh. No one.”

“Then,” Lan Wangji says, “why are you here?”

For the first time, Wei Ying flashes a smile. A hooked dagger in the dim light.

“I have something they want.”

[ironwoman359]

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 4

Navigation: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6

Summary:  As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince, side Moxiety and Dukeceit

Content Warnings (overall): arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst Chapter 4 Warnings: possessive behavior, verbal and physical abuse, angst, allusions to abuse and murder 

Word Count: 4067

Read on AO3: here!

A/N: Co-written with @5-falsehoods-phonated​, check out his masterlist here and check out mine here! 

---

“And when I tried to get down, Remus spooked the pony and it bolted, with me still clinging to the saddle for dear life.” 

Virgil snorted, then immediately brought his hand up to cover his smile. 

“You wound me!” Roman said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Eight-year-old me was certain that his life was going to end, and you’re laughing?” 

“I can’t help that the mental image of you dangling off the saddle of a pony and screaming your head off is the funniest thing I’ve seen all week,” Virgil replied. 

“Be nice, Virgil!” Patton scolded, even as he fought back giggles of his own. “I’m sure it was very scary at the time!” 

“You’re telling me,” Roman agreed. “I wouldn’t set foot near the stables for a month.” 

“I can’t believe that after all that you somehow grew up to be a competent rider,” Virgil said. 

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for my older brother Remy. He started taking me with him when he went out on his rides; I felt a lot safer riding double with him than I did by myself.”

“Your brothers sound wonderful,” Patton said, smiling. 

“Oh, they’re the absolute worst,” Roman said. “But also I love them more than anyone.” 

“I hope we’ll get to meet them at the wedding!” 

Roman’s smile went brittle around the edges, and he forced himself to nod. 

“I hope so too,” he said quietly. 

Patton’s brow wrinkled, and Roman knew that look, that was Patton’s “I’m worried about you” look, and as much as he had come to view Patton and Virgil as his friends, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to get into the whole “my twin brother ran away from home to escape noble life and I haven’t seen him in years and might never see him again” topic with them just yet. 

“Well this has been great,” Virgil cut in suddenly. “But it’s getting close to midday; I need to get back to work, and you need to get to your little lunch date.” 

“Excuse you, it is a perfectly professional business meeting!” Roman protested, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Sure it is. That’s why you meet with Logan every single day and always perk up or get this silly smile on your face whenever you mention something that he said, most of which has nothing to do with business.” 

Roman gave Virgil a deadpan look. “Do you really want me to retaliate right now?” he asked, glancing pointedly at Patton. 

Virgil’s cheeks flushed pink, and he waved Roman away. 

“Go on, then!” he said. “Go have your perfectly professional business meeting.” 

“I will!” Roman said primly, but as he stood to leave, he shot Virgil a grateful smile, and Virgil nodded in return. 

After parting with Patton at the house’s entrance, Roman made the short trek down to the library alone. He hadn’t been sure how he would manage living at the Howard Estate at first, but his life had settled into a predictable yet comfortable routine since the engagement banquet. 

Patton brought breakfast to his room every morning, and after Roman insisted several times that he preferred the company, Patton now stayed to eat with him most mornings. After breakfast, Roman changed into his riding clothes and the two headed down to the stables together, where Virgil was waiting for them with Angel. Roman took his morning ride, and Patton and Virgil did whatever it was they liked to do when they were alone together. 

When he returned, Roman helped Virgil groom Angel, and the three of them often fell into easy conversation with one another. At midday, Roman took his lunch in the library with Logan, and he spent the afternoons on his own, exploring the mansion or indulging in his creative hobbies. All in all, his days were mostly pleasant, until dinnertime, of course. 

His nightly dinner with Lord Howard was, to his disappointment, the most boring and uncomfortable part of Roman’s day. It became clear to Roman after a few attempts of engaging with his fiance that Lord Howard wasn’t even slightly interested in talking with him; what he wanted was somebody to talk at. Roman sat, night after night, and listened to the earl rant about frustrating business partners, idiotic city officials, and even tiny annoyances like a scuff on his boot or a fly in his office. It was difficult to not feel like an emotional punching bag, and Roman always left dinner exhausted from playing the polite, doting fiance that Lord Howard expected him to be. 

Roman stepped into the library, and smiled when he saw Logan sitting at a table beneath a window, the afternoon sun casting golden beams of light through his long hair.

At least there were more positives than negatives to living at this estate. 

“Ah, Roman,” Logan said, smiling as he approached. “Excellent timing, I was just beginning to review my weekly report for Lord Howard. Would you care to assist me?”

“Always,” Roman said, sitting down across from him. 

They poured over the receipts and summaries and work orders together, and Roman couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer amount of work that Logan did every single day. 

“Honestly, Logan, you do almost too much for the earl. Especially considering what he pays you.” 

Roman had seen the payroll receipts for all the staff, and he couldn’t help but be a little insulted on the servants’ behalf. One of the ways Lord Howard kept costs down was clearly at the expense of his staff. 

“While I may agree with your sentiment, the fact of the matter is that if I did not do all this, the estate would fall apart,” Logan said. “And regardless of any...personal feelings about his lordship, there are far too many people who depend on him and his estate for me to consider stopping.” 

Logan paused, frowning as he scanned a document, then sighed. 

“For instance, his lordship neglected to sign off on a shipment of new armor to the city guard, despite my reminding him to do so three times in the last week.” 

He scrawled something along the bottom of the document and set it aside, and Roman raised an eyebrow. 

“Was that Lord Howard’s name you just wrote?” 

Logan fiddled with his glasses, and he glanced around the room before answering. “This is...not the first time that his lordship has neglected his duties on what he perceives to be minor issues. I, uh...take the liberty of correcting such oversights for him.”

“You can forge his handwriting?” Roman translated, and Logan nodded sheepishly. “That’s amazing!” 

Logan blinked, looking up at Roman in clear surprise. “I...it is?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Roman exclaimed. “Of course it is...you’re so talented, Logan, really. I’m not exaggerating when I say you’re wasted as a secretary.” 

“Oh...well, thank you, Roman,” Logan said, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. “I must admit, you also have far more potential than his lordship would care to acknowledge.” 

“I’ll get him to see sense soon,” Roman insisted. “Then maybe together, we can make some real changes around here!” 

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Logan said with a sigh. “But I am glad to share your company, at least.”

It was Roman’s turn to blush, but before he could think of a reply, the sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up to see Patton approaching their table. 

“Sorry for interrupting, Kiddos, but I’ve been asked to fetch Roman here and get him ready.” 

“Get me ready?” Roman asked, and Patton nodded. 

“His lordship requests your presence at a business meeting he has in an hour with other estate holders. I’ve been instructed to dress you for the event and bring you to his lordship.” 

Roman forced down the twinge of discomfort in the back of his mind at the earl choosing an outfit for him like he was some sort of doll, and grinned as he got to his feet. 

“You see, Logan?” he said. “This is our chance!”

“If it is a meeting with other nobility, then I’m afraid I won’t be present,” Logan said. “Lord Howard does not wish for...commoners to be present at such negotiations. He instructs me on what measures need to be taken afterwards.”  

“That’ll be the first thing we change then, once I make him see reason,” Roman said. “You’ll see, this is going to be the start of something great!” 

“I hope you are right,” Logan said with a small smile. “Good luck, Roman.” 

“Thank you, Logan,” Roman said as he followed Patton out of the library. 

I’ll certainly need it. 

--- --- ---

Roman fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, shooting a glance over to the earl to make sure he hadn’t noticed. The silky fabric that his pants were made of stuck uncomfortably to his skin and made his legs itch horribly, but he had been in similar attire before and had had plenty of practice in the art of keeping his poise while screaming internally. Thankfully, even though he was seated right next to Lord Howard, he had yet to draw his attention. Howard had been too occupied bragging about his various business exports for most of the meeting to pay much attention to him. 

Even through his discomfort, Roman had been learning a lot about his fiance, dutifully keeping mental notes on everything he heard, from which parts of land he had inherited to which ones he had bought or negotiated into owning. Overseas businesses and local investments both let his power reach farther than one might first suspect, and all that put together was what kept the Howard Estate with its acres of land, sprawling mansion and extensive grounds and highly specialized staff all running smoothly. 

It was a lot to manage, so it made sense that Lord Howard had Logan figure out most of the work and only signed off on the most important things himself. Having someone as competent as Logan run things in the background so the true estate head could make the actual appearances as the business leader was a strategy many nobles used to keep their properties under control. 

Craning his neck to look up at his fiance from his lower seat, Roman furrowed his brow in thought. He wondered just how much Logan did that the earl never saw anything about until he reaped the benefits of it. Sure, Logan was extremely capable, but relying entirely on one person to manage everything seemed a bit foolhardy to Roman.

Tuning back into the conversation, Roman perked up as another lord gestured stiffly at a stack of documents in front of him, smooth calculation clear in his tone of voice. Negotiations were something Roman had always prided himself in handling, and handling well. He had often spoken circles around his own father in their practice debates, and it was rare that Roman participated in a discussion without gaining something in his own favor. 

As neither party at the moment looked particularly stressed, Roman figured with a slight twinge of disappointment that such measures shouldn’t be needed this time. He would have liked to show off just a bit and make Lord Howard see what a useful asset he could actually be in their marriage, but he supposed that could wait until a more appropriate opportunity.

“I have most of the influence in this field anyway. Signing your bit of land over to me now would cause fewer problems for you in the future; especially if I don’t have to take it by force when I’m looking to expand.”  Punctuating his statement with a firm tap to the papers, the opposing lord sat back with a satisfied smirk.

The icy glare Lord Howard fixed him with was enough to wipe the smirk fully off his face, however, and he tilted back slightly as the earl leaned forward to fold his hands smoothly in front of him. 

“I’m not in the habit of signing away what’s rightfully mine, Lord Rilken, Baron of Vilvik.”

Roman flinched slightly at the way he practically spat the other man’s title…a title he shared, and had never once felt insecure about until this very moment. The way he spoke to these men, these people in positions of power, like they were nothing but dirt to be brushed off his own much more impressive riches- it was enough to make Roman want to run all the way back to his own estate and beg for another way, plead to wait for someone else to ask for his hand or to find someone himself. He stiffened in his seat and shook the irrational thoughts away. 

No, this is how one played the game when negotiating important matters. Put up a cold and intimidating front until the other person backed down or bent to your own suggestions. If anything, Lord Howard's act was admirable; it almost immediately shut down any arguments, even if it hardly held any semblance of tact. Realizing this would be a good opportunity to show his skills, Roman leaned forward and placed his own hands on the table in front of him, gaining the attention of the opposing business owners quickly.

“It might prove advantageous to you both to simply form a partnership and share the land and business potential it holds. With as much power as the both of you hold over this branch, you’d be able to expand much faster and reap more benefits than you would if you spent all of your time attempting to take control over the others’ sections.” Pleased with himself, Roman glanced over to Lord Howard, expecting at least to have impressed him since he hadn’t really had the time to explain all that he had been trained in and what he could bring to the estate with their union. 

However, as he met Lord Howard’s eyes, ice ran through his veins. The earl was glaring, staring him down like a particularly resilient bug that he could hardly wait to smash beneath a steel-toed boot. The room went so quiet that Roman could swear that the other nobles were holding their breath, and glancing around in his peripherals, he saw everyone sitting around the table gawking at him as if he’d just committed high treason. Had he really said something so wrong? Was this not what was customary, nay, expected behavior of the soon to be co-owner of the estate? Shrinking down slightly as his ears burned red, he finally lowered his eyes as the earl turned away. Roman heard him take a deep breath before saying in a deliberately controlled voice:

“You must forgive my fiance, he hails from a country estate you see; he isn’t accustomed to the way things work here yet. If you would be so kind as to excuse us for just a moment so that I may explain a few things?” Not waiting for an answer, the earl stood and held out his hand for Roman to take. “If you would step into the hall with me, dearest?”

Recognizing the order under the request, Roman stood quickly and took Lord Howard’s hand, wincing at how tightly he was gripped and practically dragged out of the room. The door was opened just a bit too forcefully to calm his nerves in the slightest and he watched as Lord Howard seemed to barely refrain from slamming it back closed, instead closing it with deliberate calm before whirling around to face him and jerking his hand out of Roman’s to tower before him.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, you do not speak out of turn in these meetings. You do not speak above me or-”

“But I didn’t! I was only-” Roman didn’t register what the dull smacking sound echoing in his ears and making them ring was until pain bloomed and spread from his lower jaw to his entire cheek. Raising his hand to his face in disbelief, he felt a bit of wetness and looked to see blood on his fingertips. Fear and horror twisted in his gut as he realized one of Lord Howard’s rings must have caught on his cheek and opened a cut. His jaw ached and his teeth felt numb; the blow had been hard enough to rattle them in his skull. Romans looked up and flinched as he saw Howard’s hand still raised to strike should he choose to speak again, and he shrunk in on himself in an attempt to seem too small to expend more energy on.

“You,” The earl spat, “do not speak above me, or make suggestions on my behalf. You are not here to offer up useless opinions that were not asked for or needed. You were brought into that room to sit obediently and look pretty on my arm and that is the full extent that your role will ever be. Have I made myself clear?”

Roman hesitated for just a second too long, and Lord Howard reached down to grip his chin, tipping his head so he had no choice but to look his assailant directly in the eyes. “My dear, I believe I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Biting back a whimper Roman nodded as much as he could with his face trapped in the steely grip. “Yes my lord, I understand perfectly. I apologize for overstepping, it won’t happen again.”

The answer, as demeaning as it had felt to say, seemed to appease the still seething man, and Howard dropped his chin and stepped back with a wolfish smile. 

“Very good, see to it that it doesn’t. Now, I believe we’ve been here long enough. If you’re done blubbering, you may join me.”

Startling a bit at the choice of phrasing, Roman hesitantly reached up to touch his face, wincing as he realized there was more than just blood on his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he carefully wiped the tears away before plastering on a small smile and moving to stand just behind the earl. He was loath to go back into the room like this, humiliation and blood reddening his cheeks, but he didn’t dare speak up for fear of more punishment. As Lord Howard opened the door and moved back to his place at the head of the table, he hardly spared Roman another glance, and Roman had no choice but to meekly follow. 

Sitting down, Roman realized most of the people at the table were staring at him like one would a fresh kill, their expressions a mixture of pity and approval while they averted their eyes. Sinking down even lower as the meeting resumed, he realized this was to be the second part of his punishment. He was to learn and remember his role as Lord Howard’s betrothed and eventual husband. Sit still and look pretty, step a toe out of line and be punished, and make sure everyone in the room knew that the power held over him was just as absolute as the power the earl held over everything else. 

“I’m pleased to know some people still know how to keep common folk in line. Truly, the disrespect-” Roman’s ears rang as someone close by whispered to another just loud enough for him to overhear, making him want to sink down even lower and let the floor swallow him. 

The meeting continued on for what seemed like forever, but unlike before, Roman didn’t absorb a single word of what was said. The voices of the other lords washed over him as he sat as still as he could, hands clenched in his lap to keep them from trembling. When at last Lord Howard stood, Roman almost stood up next to him, but caught himself just in time and sent a questioning glance up at his fiance. 

Lord Howard’s lips curled into a smile, and he held his arm out to Roman in invitation. Roman swallowed down his revulsion and stood, slipping his arm into the earl’s and schooling his face into a pretty smile. Lord Howard covered Roman’s hand with his own, and Roman’s skin burned at the touch. 

“Well gentlemen, this concludes our discussion for the day, I do thank you all for coming.” 

One by one the nobles stood, nodding to Lord Howard as they filed out of the room. Roman’s cheeks heated as several of them swept their eyes over him as they passed, their gazes lingering on the bruise blooming on his face. When at last, every one of them was gone, Lord Howard turned his attention to Roman, all false pleasantries gone from his expression. 

“I trust that after today, any...confusion about your role here has been cleared up?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. 

“Yes, my lord,” Roman whispered, and the earl smiled. 

“Good. Now go clean yourself up. Dinner is at seven o’clock sharp, and I expect you to look presentable.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Roman repeated, and as soon as Lord Howard dropped his arm, he practically bolted from the room. 

He hurried through the corridors of the mansion, head down and eyes stinging. When he finally reached his room, he all but slammed the door behind him, and collapsed to the floor, his shoulders shaking as he released the sob he’d been holding back for the past hour. 

He let himself cry, for how long, he wasn’t sure, not only for the sting on his cheek and the shame that came with it, but for every doubt, every grief, every pain that he’d pushed down and bottled up over the past month.  

After everything he’d been through, everything he’d sacrificed, was this really his fate? Chained forever to a man who only saw him as something to own, to display, to use... 

Roman lifted his head slowly. 

“Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine." 

His father had taught him everything he knew about business, about politics, about matters of the state. He knew how to act with decorum, how to spot an opportunity, and how to charm a room while negotiating, all thanks to his father’s teachings. 

But now, with tears running down his face and a bruise blossoming on his cheek, he remembered another set of lessons. 

Lessons his mother had given him as a teenager, after time had run its course and he was no longer the slightly awkward, gangly kid he had once been. 

“You’ve grown into a handsome young man,” his mother had said to him on his eighteenth birthday. “Your father believes that when you are married, it will be purely for political reasons. You need to know that this may not be the case.” 

Roman had tried to forget the lessons his mother had passed down to him, had told himself that he would never need them...but here he was, sobbing on the floor, the first of what he knew would be many marks on his skin if he didn’t tread carefully. 

Roman learned everything he knew about running an estate from his father, but he learned everything about acting from his mother. Thanks to her, he knew how to conceal his emotions, how to smile when his stomach rolled over and how to sigh when his skin burned. He knew how to mold himself into the perfect husband, because if he did not let himself be molded he would find himself broken before it was too late. 

“Too late for what, mother?” the younger him had asked, eyes wide and horrified, and she’d smiled in a way he’d never seen before. 

“Did I ever tell you the story of how your grandfather died?” 

Roman knew what situations were most likely to result in “accidents,” what weapons were easily concealed and what poisons were difficult to detect. He knew how to pluck a nose hair to bring tears to his eyes and slap his cheeks so they appeared flushed. He knew how to appear calm and collected when he was suffering, and how to appear stricken with grief when all he felt was relief. 

He had been preparing for marriage his whole life...every kind of marriage. And now that he knew the kind of husband that Lord Howard really wanted, he knew exactly what kind of husband he was going to be. 

Even if he wouldn’t be one for very long. 

--- --- ---

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[redrose-arrow]

hi Duncan x halt anon here and you have NO IDEA what you’ve just unleashed (IVE BEEN WANTING TO TALK ABOUT THESE TWO FOR SO LONGN) but you said to go ahead and I will until it gets annoying!!!

ANYWAY so these two are...pretty different, right. But in the books Duncan lets Halt get away with a LOT and genuinely values him & Halt does have at minimum SOME respect for Duncan, bc I don’t think Duncan would tolerate just straight-up disrespect, but their dynamic is “very good friends friends who’ll tease/bully each other” more so than “loyal follower & royal leader”. SO what I’m thinking: after Crowley & Halt rescue him from the castle & they’re on their way to the tournament, Duncan realizes Halt is That Guy From The Ball That Duncan Totally Wasn’t Crushing On From Afar, and he’s like....BUT THEY SAID YOU WERE DEAD so Halt yanks him aside while Crowley’s distracted and is like “SHUT UP ILL TELL YOU LATER.” Duncan won’t tell Crowley or the others even if Halt doesn’t wanna explain but he IS very confused & Halt knows he won’t stop pestering him for an explanation...So he tells Duncan the story, late one night by the campfire, when Crowley is fast asleep. Halt keeps his voice low and he’s kinda reluctant to tell it at first but he gets through it, tells Duncan all about how his own brother resented him for being heir to a throne he never wanted in the first place, how he saw Ferris change and become more distant and manipulative over the years, how he witnessed firsthand how power could corrupt a man (and has the scars to prove it). Duncan asks about his parents, because surely they would’ve recognized the attempts on his life? “They fought too much to notice,” Halt says dismissively. “Even if they didn’t, I was hardly the son they would’ve wanted on the throne—Ferris was more charismatic, more amiable. I was the firstborn but he was their favourite, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to ruin that for them.” And he talks, eventually, about his little sister Caitlyn; the only one who saw what was going on and believed him when he told her, fever-ridden and delirious from a batch of “spoiled shrimp”, that Ferris was trying to kill him. The words come easier when Halt talks about Caitlyn and there’s something like a smile curled on his lips, and Duncan’s heart sorta skips a beat in his chest because Oh Right, I Used To Have A Crush On This Guy And It Turns Out I Still Kinda Do!!!! And then Halt talks about how Pritchard found him and how his mentor is the only one besides his terrible family who knows the truth about him & why he left, and maybe he doesn’t say it outright but he 100% implies that Pritchard is just so important to him. Like “father that I’ve never had, except I did have a father but he sucked and Pritchard was just so much kinder & better” kind of important

I took the liberty of copy-pasting your second ask so that no one else has to wait for the rest :)

"part 2 bc that was getting long,,,, ANYWAY, so Duncan and Halt stay up a bit longer talking—they move away from Ferris’ assassination attempts and just chat about other stuff for a bit. Duncan enjoys having another person to relate to abt the tediousness & honestly? the loneliness of royal life, and Halt honestly doesn’t expect to enjoy talking to someone else this much. The only other person he’s really connected to since coming to Araluen is Crowley, but Crowley is just enough of a bastard for Halt to tolerate (and maybe even like), so it’s a surprise that the other person he can connect with is a straight-laced prince. Also Duncan’s basically like “okay so this guy is an (ex?) crown prince, he’s INSANELY skilled & actually very funny in a deadpan, sarcastic way, AND he’s helping me take back my kingdom from an evil baron....yeah I can get behind this”. So yadda yadda they get through the confrontation with Morgarath at the tournament, and, true to his word, Duncan doesn’t tell any of the others about Halt’s background. At the end of the book when Pritchard is murdered, Duncan hears about it from Baron Arald and he’s like....oh, shit. He tracks down Halt and Crowley, both of whom are appropriately enraged and grieving, and makes proper funeral arrangements for Pritchard & allows them some time off to process their grief. Afterwards he goes to Halt privately, bc now he’s the only one who knows abt Halt’s childhood & he knows Halt lost more than a dear mentor—and Halt’s in his cabin being very short-tempered and snappy with him but Duncan just sits and waits. And eventually the anger kinda drains out of Halt, and he sits down at the table w Duncan and over ale they share stories about man who’d been like a father to Halt; Duncan didn’t know him all that well, but Pritchard had been around the castle enough when Duncan was a child for him to remember some of the chaos the man had caused. Halt tells a tale or two of his own and explains, a lottttt later when he’s drunker than he should be in front of the almost-king, that Pritchard had saved his life—they’d met while Halt was still at the castle and Pritchard had taught him how to swim some months before Ferris tried to drown him. But it was more than that, Halt tells him, it was so much more than that. Pritchard had been a safe haven, had given him refuge, had given him hope when he needed it most. And now he was gone and Halt was just..... he doesn’t finish the sentence but Duncan nods and says “I know”. Because yeah, he does know. And they sit in silence for a while longer, not as an (almost) King and Ranger but as two men who know what it’s like to be alone.

And now they don’t have to be!!! AND THIS ONLY COVERED THE FIRST TEY BOOK I have,,,, so many more things to say about these two but I THINK this has gotten long enough so 💀 I’ll leave this here. Ty for listening to my rant abt medieval middle-aged gays :D (also disclaimer: at this point, I think Duncan would be more or less the only one with some developing romantic feelings. But then again this only covers the first book, so Halt’s own revelation would come later)"

ANON YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING.

Their dynamic is indeed just that. Duncan recognising him out of the blue and Halt having to physically shut him up? Legendary. Duncan feeling his crush return? Amazing.

I never thought about Duncan and Halt relating about royal life but it makes so much sense??? especially just talking about the lessons and the trouble having friends etc etc. The resulting whole no-longer-alone thing has me *this* close to tears. Duncan then tracking down Halt -- he 11/10 w o u l d. Halt being angry and then just almost sobbing while Duncan has no idea wtf he should do but the fact that he's there and he's listening means everything to Halt.

Anon, I have absolute 0 regrets unleashing this. Awfully bold of you to assume that it'll get annoying. You fully got me now, I'm shipping them hard. I'm invested. Please do elaborate whenever you wish. I will gladly listen to more rants about medieval middle-aged gays. Go ahead.

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.14

Chapter Fourteen: Sunflower: Things are really looking up. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2k Warnings: maybe a swear word or two, but really just fluff

series masterlist

A/N: i know i probably sound like a broken record, but thank you for your continuous love and support! i probably wouldn't have finished this fic series if it wasn't for y’all, and now we are almost at the end! after this chapter, there is only the epilogue left omg!!! also, shout out to @ellesgreenaway​ for the song suggestion that titled this chapter! 

-

Spencer’s arms were wrapped tightly around your frame, reminding you without the use of words that he will never let you go again. His hot breath hit the back of your neck. It sent a gentle shiver down your spine causing you to flutter your eyes open. As you adjusted to the bright morning hues, you could feel his heart beating against you and a sleepy smile circled your lips.

There was no better feeling than waking up next to Spencer.

With him by your side, greeting the day was easy. It came slow and relaxed, as if the universe was commanding you to bask in this comfort for just a little while longer.

This is what harmony really felt like.

The second you stirred in your comfortably warm spot, and turned so you could admire the sleeping man next to you, he also opened his eyes. A smile instantly graced his features.

“Good morning, doctor.” You whispered and leaned over to peck his soft lips.

“Hmm... Good morning, how did you sleep?” The handsome doctor asked, his hand travelling to your face and brushing away any signs of sleep. You swayed into his touch like a magnet before replying; “Would you believe me if I said it was the best sleep I’ve had in months?”.

Spencer chuckled airily, his hand still caressing along your cheek. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I definitely am flattered.”

“As you should be, doctor.”

In a split-second, his lips slanted over yours in one of those open-mouthed kisses, tender yet extremely passionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, as he pulled you in as close as it was humanely possible. It always amazed you how your lips fit so perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.

After what felt like a glorious eternity, the brunette doctor slowly drew away. He placed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before rolling onto his back, one arm draped beneath your neck and hand resting on your shoulder.

“What would you like to do today?” Spencer asked, looking up at the ceiling. You contemplated his question for a moment, but before you got a chance to answer, the sound of your phone ringtone caught your attention.

Sitting up, you reached over to the bedside table and quickly answered the incoming call, “Hello?”

“Oh thank god, you’re alive!” Penelope breathed a sigh of relief on the other line. “We were all worried sick! I even stayed with Tara last night just in case you came back here.”

“I’m okay, don't worry guys.” You replied, glancing briefly at Spencer who has since gotten out of bed. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and exited the bedroom to give you some privacy.

“Well, you’ll get a talking to about not calling or texting later. But for now, how did it go? Tell me everything!” She asked and you couldn't help but giggle, “It went well, Pen. Like really well.” You replied.

Garcia squealed. “AHH! I am so happy for you, sugar plum! You and our lovely resident genius are just meant for each other. A match made in heaven!”

The smile gracing your features grew wider by the second. “Yeah, I’m glad it worked out in the end.”

“Like I knew it would! Now, you get back to whatever it is you were doing and I’m going to update Tara with this wonderful news. Should I tell her she needs to start looking for a new roommate?” She teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“Firstly, nothing untoward is happening.” You began, but Garcia was quick to interrupt you,“Riiight... I’m gonna pretend like I believe you, honey. Love you, have a great day and we can catch up on Monday.”

“Love you too, Pen.” You giggled back before the call ended.

Gradually, you scrambled out of bed and with a light bounce to your step, you joined the hazel-eyed doctor in the kitchen - where the smell of freshly brewed coffee overpowered your senses.

“So, how much trouble did you get in?” Spencer teased, as you rested your body weight against the counter next to him.

“Surprisingly, none at all.” You replied with a shrug. “She’s happy for us.”

Spencer glanced at you briefly, a smile circling his lips. “That makes two of us.” He stated in a low tone and you blushed ever so faintly.

“I forgot just how charming you can be, doctor.” You reacted, earning yourself a kind-hearted laugh. The melodic sound caused your heart to flutter, and you proceeded to tilt your head up and attach your lips to his.

The kiss was short and sweet, reminiscent of many you’ve shared previously. When you pulled apart, Spencer handed you a cup of coffee, and the two of you made your way to his couch.

“Have you given any thought as to what you’d like to do today?” He asked before pressing the mug to his mouth and taking a sip.

“Well, we’ve a lot of catching up to do, doctor.” You replied, throwing your legs over his lap. “I honestly wouldn't know where to start.”

“Y/N, we’ve our whole lives to make up for lost time.” He retorted, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought of growing old with him. “Let’s just take today to enjoy each others company. The sun is out, maybe you want to go for a walk? Or we can stay in and watch a movie?” He suggested.

You took a quick sip of your coffee. “We could actually do both of those things today, doctor. And if you’re good, I can even cook us dinner later.”

Spencer smirked. “If I’m good?”

You nodded, a stupid grin plastered across your face.

Truth be told, you had forgotten just how effortless everything was with Spencer. Your mind was continuously flooded with memories of your time with him. Even when you were apart, you’d get bombarded with thoughts of how uncomplicated the most menial tasks were with him. Although those memories didn’t compare to the serenity you were experiencing right now. Nothing compared to living in the moment with him, again.

The day you spent with Spencer had an unsurprising natural flow to it.

The brunette doctor first drove you to Tara’s, so that you could shower and change out of the pyjamas he lent you. While he waited for you to get ready, he enjoyed a conversation with Tara and Penelope. A conversation about the diamond ring he still carried with him everywhere - but that wasn't for you to know.

The four of you enjoyed a nice breakfast before the girls waved you off for the day. Spencer took the liberty of choosing the park for your walk. Hand in hand, the two of you looped around the paths for hours. Hours of laughing, chatting, and reminiscing. Hours of pure unfiltered joy.

Next stop on the unspoken agenda was the grocery store. Arguably one of your favourite places to go to, especially with the handsome doctor. While you picked out what you needed, Spencer guessed the ingredients of each item you placed in the metal cart. It was no surprise he was always correct, but honestly, that almost made the game more fun.

Back at his apartment, he helped you unpack the bags and proclaimed himself your sous chef. You wanted to protest, tell him to sit down and to let you cook alone, but Spencer wasn't having any of it - “My kitchen, my rules.”. The statement earned him an eye roll because you were sure the last person to actually cook anything proper in his kitchen was you, years ago.

With his... assistance, it took about three hours to make a simple recipe. And once you were finished, the kitchen looked as if a tornado had passed through it.

“Looks like we’ve an evening activity lined up.” Spencer joked, analysing the mess around, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“Can’t wait.” A detectable hint of sarcasm in your voice.

The two of you ate in congenial silence - the first one of that day. It didn’t bother either of you, however. If anything the moment proved just how comfortable and at home you felt around one another.

The move to the couch after dinner was effortless. Spencer picked a movie, one you’ve both seen before so you could cuddle up to one another and talk about random topics without worrying about missing the plot.

It wasn’t until Spencer’s phone rang that you realised how disconnected from the outside world you’ve both been all afternoon.

“I’ll grab it for you, doctor.” You quickly jumped up on your feet before Spencer could do anything. You briskly shuffled around the sofa until you reached the coat hanger by the front door. As you searched the pockets of his jacket for the phone, your fingers brushed against something else.

The ringing stopped when you retrieved the item.

“Spencer, what’s this?” You asked, brows furrowed together.

The brunette doctor turned around. His gaze travelled to the small box you were holding up and he swallowed his breath. Shit. He completely forgot that was inside his jacket, which was ironic considering his eidetic memory. Not to mention the fact he’d been carrying it everywhere he went.

Spencer immediately jumped up from his seat. He appeared in front of you in a flash, his hand wrapping around yours and the box.

“This is definitely not how I envisioned this moment. But then again, when it comes to us, nothing ever goes as planned.” Spencer began, looking into your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but ehm, I’ve known I wanted to be the man you marry since before we even started dating. You’re the most patient, caring, loving, and not to mention beautiful person I’ve ever met. I am extremely lucky to have you in my life.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears as Spencer continued, “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. The journey you and I have been on so far is more than your average couple goes on. Which proves that together we are extraordinary.”

He took a deep breath before retrieving the box from your grasp. He slowly got down on one knee and proceeded to open the small box, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. I understand that you may not be ready to take this next step with me yet, therefore this is more of a promise rather than a question.” He licked his lips, fighting back his own happy tears as yours trailed down your face.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me, one day?” Spencer asked and your heart soared at the question.

“Of course, yes. Yes, yes, yes! Yes!” You squealed, holding out your hand. The hazel-eyed doctor didn’t waste any time to put the ring on your finger, a goofy smile visible on his features. He then stood back up and kissed you with all his might, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into his embrace.

“I would marry you in a heartbeat, doctor.” You mumbled against his lips.

Effortlessly lifting you off the ground, Spencer spun you around. The two of you laughing uncontrollably, basking in the love you were both experiencing. Your fingers tangled in his brown hair, as he trailed sloppy kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

“I love you.” Spencer whispered in your ear before pulling back to look at your face, his hazel gaze locking with yours. “I love you too.” You exclaimed in a hushed tone and pecked his lips.

Gently, he lifted your hand to admire how the ring looked on your finger. His lips twirling upwards even more, as if that was even possible. Both of you felt as if you were on cloud nine.

This is what the rest of your life felt like.

I promise I'm the one for you Just let me hold you in these arms tonight

-

A/N: ahhh we’re almost at the very end, i can’t believe it!! as always i’d love to hear your feedback! thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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