#more variety in eye colour for white haired men please

[arom-antix]

My feral little man

[a-killer-obsession]

Congratulations on the follower milestones! I can't believe how quickly you went from 250 to 300!

giving two options so you can pick whichever inspires you more, and so I don't spend 3 hours trying to pick between the prompts when it's already 3:30am

gender neutral or he/him for AFAB reader if possible

F13 (FZ13 if that's more comfortable) or W17

please and thank you <3

Laid Bear

Prompt: Mink Reader + First Time Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, virgin!bepo, naturally a bit omegaversey since they're bears, oral (giving and receiving), masturbation, p in v sex, breeding kink, cockwarming WC: 3.8k

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

You could smell him before you could see him, that special scent unique to predator type minks, the scent that played to your instincts the most and made your nose twitch, ears perking up under your hoodie, tail wagging excitedly under your skirt against your better judgement. It was just as well you were seated in a corner booth, hiding away at the edge of the derelict bar where you hoped nobody would bother you. It'd been a long time since you'd smelt another mink, even longer since you'd left home to explore the world. You'd begun this journey with the goal in mind of finding your ancestral homeland, having been born far away from the mythical Zou, which at this point you weren't even sure existed as none of the minks you encountered seemed to know anything about it. Not that you'd met a great deal of them, they seemed rare even in the New World, which is why it always got you so excited to catch their scent.

You had no doubt they could smell you too, and you hoped they would be friendly, and handsome, they certainly smelt like a fertile male. You had no doubt they could smell you too, but you let out pheromones of your own anyway, advertising yourself as a fertile female predator mink. Specifically, you were a grizzly bear, but the type of mink that looked more like a human hybrid than a bipedal animal, as females of your kind often were. Your skin was a deep rich brown to match your hair, your nose was a cute little button at the end of a shallow muzzle, and you had two cute little fuzzy ears on your head, usually hidden by a hat or hoodie. You also had sharp claws and a fluffy tail, forcing you to wear fluffy skirts with petticoats to hide it. When your ears were visible, the skirts made you look like you were just a very dedicated lolita with a preference for bear themed outfits, which to be fair did make you look very cute.

The main door to the bar opened and your eyes were wide with curiosity, a tall man with a fluffy white hat and large sword resting on his shoulder entering first, scanning the room carefully. You caught a mischievous grin on his face as he caught your eye, turning to his companions yet to enter and whispering something you couldn't hear over the noise of the bar even with your very sensitive ears. Two men in white boiler suits entered behind him, pulling someone along with them, a fluffy white paw in each hand as they dragged in a large polar bear mink, of the more bipedal animal variety. You'd never even met another bear type mink outside of your parents, and your thighs pressed together unconsciously as he stood at his full height and scanned the room, at least seven feet tall and impressive even from across the room. He looked shy though, the claws at the tips of his index fingers tapping together as his friends released his paws, his fluffy ears flattened against his head as he caught your eye and blushed, the pink visible through his white fur. It made you blush in response, and you pulled down your hoodie, letting him see your own ears, almost identical to his, save for the colour. His ears perked as he saw yours, realising you were also a bear mink, a sweet smile forming on his face that told you perhaps you were the first he'd met as well.

The man with the sword pointed in your direction, and the men in boiler suits set to work forcing the mink towards you, one of them pulling on his arm while the other pushed him. He was wearing a matching boiler suit but in orange, and you noticed now the matching smiling icons embroidered on the suits, a jolly roger perhaps? Looking at the man with the sword again he did look vaguely familiar, perhaps you'd seen him on a bounty poster, you'd never been good at remembering human faces. They seemed friendly enough though, so pirates or not you didn't let it bother you. He approached you first, giving you a friendly smile before helping the other men push the hesitant polar bear into the booth seat opposite you, the bear letting out a nervous little whine that made you giggle, your giggle making him blush further.

“This is Bepo,” the man said, gesturing to the bear, “he's a little shy but I think you'll enjoy his company. And you are?”

“[Y/n],” you offered your hand, and he gave it a firm shake before turning to the bear, leaning with his arm against the bear's shoulder, giving him a reassuring slap on his chest. “Bepo, this is [y/n]. Just like we talked about, okay? Just be yourself, we'll be on the other side of the bar if you need us, but do your best to be brave”

He gave you another kind smile before he and the other two men left, the one with a funny hat that looked like a whale giving Bepo a playful smack on the shoulder before the three of them took up residence in a booth on the opposite side of the bar, making you feel a little like teenagers on a chaperoned date. Bepo was clicking his index claws together, looking anywhere except at you, so you took it upon yourself to get up and move to his side of the seating, forcing him to shuffle over. This wasn't your first time with another mink, you'd laid with a few humans as well, but he was giving off a nervous energy that told you he was just a sweet little virgin, and you wondered if he'd ever even kissed. You decided you would need to take the lead here, if you wanted to get a taste of the bear who was letting off such an alluring scent. He probably didn't even know how good he smelled.

“Hi there, big guy,” you smiled, “what's got a big strong bear like you so nervous? Little ol me? I won't bite, unless you want me to.” The suggestive comment made him squeak, and you couldn't help but let out a playful giggle, the sound music to his ears, making them twitch.

“Sorry,” he said shyly, his voice a lot higher pitched than you expected, “I've never met another mink, not since I was a kid… this is all very new to me”

“Really? That's quite surprising, I thought you were a pirate,” you hummed, “surely you see all kinds of people in your travels”

“I like to stay on the ship,” he replied quietly, “people make me nervous”

“That's okay sweetheart, I understand that. The hairless minks are so very strange, aren't they?” You smiled, “I'm very glad you ventured off the ship today then, what convinced your handsome self to make an exception?”

He blushed heavily at the compliment, his eyes flicking to you for just a moment before returning to anywhere else as he sunk into his chair. “I could… I could smell you from the ship. You smelled so pretty…”

“Do I live up to my scent, sweet thing?” You purred, running a claw under his chin and forcing him to look at you, “you're so very handsome, you certainly live up to your scent. Do you think I'm pretty?”

“Y-yes,” he mumbled, you could hear his heart racing in his chest, “you are… so very beautiful”

“I can feel your friend's eyes burning the back of my head,” you hummed, letting your hand fall and resting it against his thick leg. He jumped a little at the motion, looking down at your hand and back up at you, a cloud of arousal wafting from him in his scent at the small touch. “I have a room upstairs, you wanna come hang out? Have some tea?”

He looked past you to his presumably captain, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up, before turning back to give you a shy nod. You stood and took his paw in yours, and you could hear the cheers of his friends over the crowd as you led him upstairs. You held his hand all the way to the room, it was shaky in yours, you could tell how nervous he was, the poor sweetheart. At the very least you hoped he would be more comfortable away from the crowd sipping some soothing tea, and you wanted a chance to talk to him better without having to shout over all the drunk voices.

The bed bowed and creaked under his weight as you led him to sit on it, not having any other good seating options, while you made him some tea with the small kitchenette. It was really just a cabinet and mini fridge with a tray of complimentary teas and coffee, and a small box of milk, the water in your jug fetched earlier from your small attached bathroom. “Milk and sugar?” You hummed.

“Ah- just two sugars, sorry,” he replied.

“No need to apologise, my sweet,” you smiled as you stirred in sugar and brought him the tea. He immediately took a sip, scalding his tongue and sticking it out to cool it, making you giggle. You could see his eyes light up at the sound, and he gave you a shy smile that made your heart flutter as you sipped your own tea, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him. “So, you said you knew minks when you were a kid though, right? Do you know Zou?”

“I was born there,” he replied, making you excitedly discard your tea on the side table and raise yourself on your knees to pull at the clothing over his shoulder.

“What's it like? Is it paradise for minks like the legends say? Are there lots of minks there? Can you take me there?” You shouted in quick succession, making the poor bear flinch. “Ah, sorry!” You let yourself fall back to sit on the balls of your feet, “Got a little carried away…”

“I don't really remember it much,” he replied sadly, “I left when I was eight to find my brother, it's been so long”

“Is it true it's on the back of an elephant?” You asked curiously.

“It is!” He smiled, happy he could at least answer one question.

“That's so cool!” Your eyes were practically glittering.

“I take it you were not born there then?” He asked, sipping more tea.

“No, my parents never explained what they were doing away from Zou, but I've been searching for it ever since they died,” you hummed. Your hand fell idly to his thigh, stroking it without thinking as your mind was deep in thought. You didn't even realise you were doing it till he made a little squeak, arousal hitting your sensitive nose, though his body was notably tense and stiff. “Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, removing your hand, “I won't touch you if you don't want me too. I guess I get a little handsy at times”

“Most minks are like that, I think,” he replied, “I was wondering if… ah, no, I don't think I can say it, sorry…”

“You're so cute,” you smiled, “do you want me to touch you, Bepo? I can, if you want me to. I'd like to. You're very handsome, and you smell nice”

The blush on Bepo's face was back as he gave a quiet nod, your hand quickly returning to his thigh. “Perhaps we would be more comfortable without our clothes, I for one feel like my tail is being squished”

“Oh, okay,” he agreed innocently. The two of you stood and undressed yourselves, and you stretched pleasantly as you were freed of the suffocating clothing, twitching your tail happily. Minks didn't really need clothing, you had a thin layer of fur over most of your body, only really hairless at the centre of your torso from your belly up to your neck and face, and also your inner thighs. Your nipples were covered by fur, your genitals tucked away between your legs just like a human female, while male minks like Bepo had a sheath that hid their genitals. As a less human-like mink, Bepo's entire body was covered in thick fur, visible now that he let his boiler suit pool on the floor. Without clothing you both looked far more like bears, and you smiled fondly at him.

The thing with minks was that they were far more intune to their instincts than a human, especially the instincts of the animal they were modelled after. This was especially true of minks during mating, though with experience they were able to get more control over their instincts. Bepo lacked any experience, from what you could tell, which meant he would be entirely at the whims of his instincts if you wished to mate with him. This worked in your favour, being that grizzly bears and polar bears sometimes got together in the wild, the mating rituals of each species being relatively similar. You stepped towards him and brushed your muzzle against his neck, nipping at it to signal your interest, before fleeing playfully to the other side of the room. You could hear his heavy foot falls as he chased you, successfully having activated the more feral part of his brain and initiating the play that was the bear equivalent of foreplay. It would be a difficult balance, weighing what his instincts wanted versus what would make the more human part of him feel good, but it was a challenge you were more than interested in pursuing.

He caught you as you scrambled across the bed, pinning you down as you turned to face him. Your muzzle met his and you kissed him hard, his mouth immediately opening so you could chase his tongue with yours, feeling his cock unsheathing against your stomach. You reached down between your bodies and wrapped your hand around it, rubbing your thumb over the head to collect his precum and using it as lubrication to stroke him. His head fell against your shoulder, making excited barks and chuffs as you stroked him. Like many minks, he had a sort of hybrid cock; long and supported by a bone like a polar bear, but thicker and with a more bulbous head like a human. If you were a human female he would be far too large for you, his cock proportional to his massive body, but with your bear anatomy you were well suited to take him, though it would be quite a delicious stretch.

You were a little surprised in truth at how quickly he had unsheathed for you, he was certainly eager to mate, the air now thick with your joint arousal, making your noses twitch as you both made little growls. You nuzzled and chewed on his neck, making him whine, and you pushed a hand against his chest to indicate you wanted him to roll off you. He laid back against the mattress, his chest heaving, and you kissed him hard again as you straddled his thick legs, running your tongue over his sharp teeth and smoothing the appendage against his.

“Is this okay Bepo?” You asked him, lowering yourself down the bed until you were laying between his legs, your breath brushing against his cock as you stroked it, “can I taste you? You smell so nice, I'd like to taste you”

“Ah- yes-” he whined, covering his face shyly but watching you with one eye that peeked between his fingers. You giggled at his adorable shyness and ran your tongue up the long length of his cock, still stroking the base with your hand as you took the tip in your mouth. His tongue was clicking to indicate his pleasure as you bobbed your head, mixed with little whines as his paw came to rest against the back of your head, not putting any pressure but playing occasionally with your ears and scratching at the base of them, at the sensitive spot only those with ears like yours knew about.

You couldn't hope to take all of his cock in your mouth, but what you managed was more than enough for him anyway, the hot warm feeling of your mouth around him being entirely unfamiliar and making him squirm cutely. “Ah- ah- [y/n],” Bepo whined, “I feel strange- hnng-”

“Let go, Bepo, cum for me,” you said sweetly, the bear immediately mewling as thick cum dripped from his cock, which you eagerly lapped up, letting the rest spurt directly into your mouth. He was panting hard as you let him go with a pop, licking cum from your hand and running your tongue over your muzzle to clean it.

“That- that was incredible,” he huffed, “can I make you feel like that?”

“You can,” you grinned mischievously, “come put your head between my legs, I'll guide you”

Shyness entirely lost as he became dedicated to making you feel good too, he quickly repositioned himself, the two of you finding a comfortable position that accommodated his large body by seating yourself at the edge of the bed while he knelt in front of you on the floor. He looked up at you eagerly from between your legs, and you pet his head lovingly, scratching behind his ears the same way he had for you. He stuck out his dark tinted tongue and ran it up your thigh, before using his large paws to hold your legs open, claws threatening to pierce but he was careful to not let them. Your own hand came between your legs, spreading your labia for him to see, playing with your clit and occasionally dipping a finger inside yourself. Your scent was driving him wild as you masturbated for him, so close to his nose, and he couldn't help but press his muzzle against your cunt and take a deep inhale, chuffing as your slick coated his nose and caught in his fur before his tongue came out again to take a wide swipe from asshole to mound.

“There you go,” you praised as his licks became more focused, lapping at the dripping honey at your entrance and rolling his tongue over your clit, “that feels nice Bepo. Your tongue feels so nice and rough against my pussy, why don't you suck on the bump part a little?”

You moaned as he enthusiastically followed your guidance, focusing harsh sucks and flicks of his tongue against your clit while your hands buried in the thick fur on top of his head. “So good,” you moaned, “you can- hnng- you can put your tongue inside me if you want”

His eyes were dark and hungry as he looked up at you, tongue dragging down to where he'd seen you finger yourself and pushing the wet appendage in, ignoring the resistance as he bullied the thick muscle inside you. You screamed but the way you held his head against your cunt told him it wasn't a pained scream, so he started licking at your inner walls, chuffing and growling deep in his chest as he drank up all of your slick greedily, making messy and inexperienced motions until he accidentally brushed against your g-spot and felt your entire body tense. He zeroed in on it instinctively, making you moan and writhe as he abused it with his tongue, until you pulled his fur hard and came without warning on his tongue. His eyes widened as he felt the gushing release and he lapped it up greedily, making you squirm at the overstimulation, unable to keep yourself upright anymore as you twitched helplessly against the bed until he was satisfied he'd drunk up everything you had to offer.

His instincts were in full play now, and you could smell his precum as his cock unsheathed again, standing tall over you in a way that made you shiver at just how big he was. He looked entirely the dangerous predator that he was, that shy little polar bear you met earlier now entirely gone. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you rolled over and put your ass in the air, tail twitching invitingly. He wasted no time in draping himself over your back, nipping at your neck and making deep growls that vibrated through your chest as he gripped your thighs and rut his hips towards you. As soon as his cock made contact with your dripping pussy he was burying himself to the hilt, the air knocked out of you as he immediately began a merciless pace as his instincts clawed at him to breed you.

He continued to nuzzle and nip at you as he slammed into your much smaller body, your pussy stinging from the sudden stretch before it melted to pure pleasure, moaning and clawing at the sheets below you, making tears in the fabric and mattress; you definitely weren't getting your deposit back. Fucking worth it though, as the polar bear slammed into you on pure instinct, his motions sloppy and aggressive with no real goal other than cumming inside you. He didn't even register as your cunt clamped down around him and you went silent from the intense pleasure as you came hard on his cock, letting out a long relieved moan as your body relaxed again, Bepo still slamming into you relentlessly and overstimulating you. All you could do was whine helplessly as he used your body, until his claws sunk into your hips, blood drops matting the fur as he stilled inside you, teeth breezing against your shoulder as he huffed and filled you with his seed.

It took a lot of gentle convincing to get him to roll to his side instead of crushing you, his cock still inside you, the bone keeping him erect and plugging you to keep is cum deep inside your cunt as he slowly came back to reality. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” he mumbled against your back, breath tickling your fur. “I can't- I don't wanna-”

“It's okay, my sweet snowbear,” you took his paw and curled your fingers between his digits, holding it against your chest, your abdomen visibly bulging from his cock still deep inside you. “You don't have to move, you're just doing what your instincts want you to. It's always like this the first few times for minks, just do what feels right, kay?”

“Okay, sorry,” he mumbled, nuzzling against your back, “did I do good?”

“Yes baby, you did good,” you smiled, bringing his paw to your mouth to kiss it. “So good,” you purred, a contented chuffing coming from the bear behind you.

[atotc-weekly]

Book the First—Recalled to Life

[X] Chapter IV. The Preparation

When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of the forenoon, the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened the coach-door as his custom was. He did it with some flourish of ceremony, for a mail journey from London in winter was an achievement to congratulate an adventurous traveller upon.

By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left be congratulated: for the two others had been set down at their respective roadside destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach, with its damp and dirty straw, its disagreeable smell, and its obscurity, was rather like a larger dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out of it in chains of straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddy legs, was rather like a larger sort of dog.

“There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?”

“Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair. The tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon, sir. Bed, sir?”

“I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber.”

“And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if you please. Show Concord! Gentleman’s valise and hot water to Concord. Pull off gentleman’s boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire, sir.) Fetch barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!”

The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by the mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up from head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of the Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to go into it, all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently, another drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were all loitering by accident at various points of the road between the Concord and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formally dressed in a brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very well kept, with large square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passed along on his way to his breakfast.

The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentleman in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he sat, with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still, that he might have been sitting for his portrait.

Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and a loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waist-coat, as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and evanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass. His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A face habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted up under the quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that it must have cost their owner, in years gone by, some pains to drill to the composed and reserved expression of Tellson’s Bank. He had a healthy colour in his cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson’s Bank were principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on.

Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait, Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast roused him, and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it:

“I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come here at any time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may only ask for a gentleman from Tellson’s Bank. Please to let me know.”

“Yes, sir. Tellson’s Bank in London, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemen in their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris, sir. A vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company’s House.”

“Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one.”

“Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself, I think, sir?”

“Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we—since I—came last from France.”

“Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people’s time here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir.”

“I believe so.”

“But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen years ago?”

“You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far from the truth.”

“Indeed, sir!”

Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from the table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left, dropped into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guest while he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower. According to the immemorial usage of waiters in all ages.

When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a stroll on the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine ostrich. The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and brought the coast down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong a piscatory flavour that one might have supposed sick fish went up to be dipped in it, as sick people went down to be dipped in the sea. A little fishing was done in the port, and a quantity of strolling about by night, and looking seaward: particularly at those times when the tide made, and was near flood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever, sometimes unaccountably realised large fortunes, and it was remarkable that nobody in the neighbourhood could endure a lamplighter.

As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had been at intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen, became again charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry’s thoughts seemed to cloud too. When it was dark, and he sat before the coffee-room fire, awaiting his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast, his mind was busily digging, digging, digging, in the live red coals.

A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work. Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last glassful of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has got to the end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow street, and rumbled into the inn-yard.

He set down his glass untouched. “This is Mam’selle!” said he.

In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that Miss Manette had arrived from London, and would be happy to see the gentleman from Tellson’s.

“So soon?”

Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and required none then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman from Tellson’s immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience.

The gentleman from Tellson’s had nothing left for it but to empty his glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxen wig at the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette’s apartment. It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with black horsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiled and oiled, until the two tall candles on the table in the middle of the room were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if they were buried, in deep graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected from them until they were dug out.

The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, picking his way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed Miss Manette to be, for the moment, in some adjacent room, until, having got past the two tall candles, he saw standing to receive him by the table between them and the fire, a young lady of not more than seventeen, in a riding-cloak, and still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As his eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden hair, a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth it was), of lifting and knitting itself into an expression that was not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright fixed attention, though it included all the four expressions—as his eyes rested on these things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very Channel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran high. The likeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital procession of negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the feminine gender—and he made his formal bow to Miss Manette.

“Pray take a seat, sir.” In a very clear and pleasant young voice; a little foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed.

“I kiss your hand, miss,” said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of an earlier date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat.

“I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me that some intelligence—or discovery—”

“The word is not material, miss; either word will do.”

“—respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never saw—so long dead—”

Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the hospital procession of negro cupids. As if they had any help for anybody in their absurd baskets!

“—rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there to communicate with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatched to Paris for the purpose.”

“Myself.”

“As I was prepared to hear, sir.”

She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he was than she. He made her another bow.

“I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by those who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself, during the journey, under that worthy gentleman’s protection. The gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to beg the favour of his waiting for me here.”

“I was happy,” said Mr. Lorry, “to be entrusted with the charge. I shall be more happy to execute it.”

“Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details of the business, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising nature. I have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a strong and eager interest to know what they are.”

“Naturally,” said Mr. Lorry. “Yes—I—”

After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the ears, “It is very difficult to begin.”

He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young forehead lifted itself into that singular expression—but it was pretty and characteristic, besides being singular—and she raised her hand, as if with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing shadow.

“Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?”

“Am I not?” Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them outwards with an argumentative smile.

Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the line of which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the expression deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the chair by which she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her as she mused, and the moment she raised her eyes again, went on:

“In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than address you as a young English lady, Miss Manette?”

“If you please, sir.”

“Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge to acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don’t heed me any more than if I was a speaking machine—truly, I am not much else. I will, with your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of our customers.”

“Story!”

He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when he added, in a hurry, “Yes, customers; in the banking business we usually call our connection our customers. He was a French gentleman; a scientific gentleman; a man of great acquirements—a Doctor.”

“Not of Beauvais?”

“Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowing him there. Our relations were business relations, but confidential. I was at that time in our French House, and had been—oh! twenty years.”

“At that time—I may ask, at what time, sir?”

“I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married—an English lady—and I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairs of many other French gentlemen and French families, were entirely in Tellson’s hands. In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee of one kind or other for scores of our customers. These are mere business relations, miss; there is no friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing like sentiment. I have passed from one to another, in the course of my business life, just as I pass from one of our customers to another in the course of my business day; in short, I have no feelings; I am a mere machine. To go on—”

“But this is my father’s story, sir; and I begin to think”—the curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him—“that when I was left an orphan through my mother’s surviving my father only two years, it was you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you.”

Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advanced to take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He then conducted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holding the chair-back with his left hand, and using his right by turns to rub his chin, pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stood looking down into her face while she sat looking up into his.

“Miss Manette, it was I. And you will see how truly I spoke of myself just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all the relations I hold with my fellow-creatures are mere business relations, when you reflect that I have never seen you since. No; you have been the ward of Tellson’s House since, and I have been busy with the other business of Tellson’s House since. Feelings! I have no time for them, no chance of them. I pass my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniary Mangle.”

After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr. Lorry flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (which was most unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shining surface was before), and resumed his former attitude.

“So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of your regretted father. Now comes the difference. If your father had not died when he did—Don’t be frightened! How you start!”

She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.

“Pray,” said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped him in so violent a tremble: “pray control your agitation—a matter of business. As I was saying—”

Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew:

“As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he had suddenly and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away; if it had not been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, though no art could trace him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot who could exercise a privilege that I in my own time have known the boldest people afraid to speak of in a whisper, across the water there; for instance, the privilege of filling up blank forms for the consignment of any one to the oblivion of a prison for any length of time; if his wife had implored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for any tidings of him, and all quite in vain;—then the history of your father would have been the history of this unfortunate gentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais.”

“I entreat you to tell me more, sir.”

“I will. I am going to. You can bear it?”

“I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this moment.”

“You speak collectedly, and you—are collected. That’s good!” (Though his manner was less satisfied than his words.) “A matter of business. Regard it as a matter of business—business that must be done. Now if this doctor’s wife, though a lady of great courage and spirit, had suffered so intensely from this cause before her little child was born—”

“The little child was a daughter, sir.”

“A daughter. A-a-matter of business—don’t be distressed. Miss, if the poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little child was born, that she came to the determination of sparing the poor child the inheritance of any part of the agony she had known the pains of, by rearing her in the belief that her father was dead—No, don’t kneel! In Heaven’s name why should you kneel to me!”

“For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!”

“A—a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact business if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so much more at my ease about your state of mind.”

Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.

“That’s right, that’s right. Courage! Business! You have business before you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with you. And when she died—I believe broken-hearted—having never slackened her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years.”

As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have been already tinged with grey.

“You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new discovery, of money, or of any other property; but—”

He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror.

“But he has been—been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best. Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort.”

A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream,

“I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost—not him!”

Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. “There, there, there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side.”

She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, “I have been free, I have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!”

“Only one thing more,” said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a wholesome means of enforcing her attention: “he has been found under another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, anywhere or in any way, and to remove him—for a while at all events—out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson’s, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, ‘Recalled to Life;’ which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn’t notice a word! Miss Manette!”

Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called out loudly for assistance without moving.

A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observed to be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in some extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure too, or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of the inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from the poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and sending him flying back against the nearest wall.

(“I really think this must be a man!” was Mr. Lorry’s breathless reflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.)

“Why, look at you all!” bawled this figure, addressing the inn servants. “Why don’t you go and fetch things, instead of standing there staring at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don’t you go and fetch things? I’ll let you know, if you don’t bring smelling-salts, cold water, and vinegar, quick, I will.”

There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she softly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and gentleness: calling her “my precious!” and “my bird!” and spreading her golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care.

“And you in brown!” she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry; “couldn’t you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her to death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do you call that being a Banker?”

Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler sympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn servants under the mysterious penalty of “letting them know” something not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her charge by a regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her drooping head upon her shoulder.

“I hope she will do well now,” said Mr. Lorry.

“No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!”

“I hope,” said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and humility, “that you accompany Miss Manette to France?”

“A likely thing, too!” replied the strong woman. “If it was ever intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence would have cast my lot in an island?”

This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to consider it.

[renaissanceclassics]

A Tale of Two Cities - Book 1: Part 4

In 45 parts.

The Preparation

CHAPTER IV. The Preparation

When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of the forenoon, the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened the coach-door as his custom was. He did it with some flourish of ceremony, for a mail journey from London in winter was an achievement to congratulate an adventurous traveller upon.

By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left be congratulated: for the two others had been set down at their respective roadside destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach, with its damp and dirty straw, its disagreeable smell, and its obscurity, was rather like a larger dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out of it in chains of straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddy legs, was rather like a larger sort of dog.

“There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?”

“Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair. The tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon, sir. Bed, sir?”

“I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber.”

“And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if you please. Show Concord! Gentleman’s valise and hot water to Concord. Pull off gentleman’s boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire, sir.) Fetch barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!”

The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by the mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up from head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of the Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to go into it, all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently, another drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were all loitering by accident at various points of the road between the Concord and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formally dressed in a brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very well kept, with large square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passed along on his way to his breakfast.

The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentleman in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he sat, with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still, that he might have been sitting for his portrait.

Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and a loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waist-coat, as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and evanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass. His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A face habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted up under the quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that it must have cost their owner, in years gone by, some pains to drill to the composed and reserved expression of Tellson’s Bank. He had a healthy colour in his cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson’s Bank were principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on.

Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait, Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast roused him, and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it:

“I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come here at any time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may only ask for a gentleman from Tellson’s Bank. Please to let me know.”

“Yes, sir. Tellson’s Bank in London, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemen in their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris, sir. A vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company’s House.”

“Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one.”

“Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself, I think, sir?”

“Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we—since I—came last from France.”

“Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people’s time here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir.”

“I believe so.”

“But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen years ago?”

“You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far from the truth.”

“Indeed, sir!”

Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from the table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left, dropped into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guest while he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower. According to the immemorial usage of waiters in all ages.

When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a stroll on the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine ostrich. The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and brought the coast down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong a piscatory flavour that one might have supposed sick fish went up to be dipped in it, as sick people went down to be dipped in the sea. A little fishing was done in the port, and a quantity of strolling about by night, and looking seaward: particularly at those times when the tide made, and was near flood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever, sometimes unaccountably realised large fortunes, and it was remarkable that nobody in the neighbourhood could endure a lamplighter.

As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had been at intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen, became again charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry’s thoughts seemed to cloud too. When it was dark, and he sat before the coffee-room fire, awaiting his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast, his mind was busily digging, digging, digging, in the live red coals.

A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work. Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last glassful of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has got to the end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow street, and rumbled into the inn-yard.

He set down his glass untouched. “This is Mam’selle!” said he.

In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that Miss Manette had arrived from London, and would be happy to see the gentleman from Tellson’s.

“So soon?”

Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and required none then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman from Tellson’s immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience.

The gentleman from Tellson’s had nothing left for it but to empty his glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxen wig at the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette’s apartment. It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with black horsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiled and oiled, until the two tall candles on the table in the middle of the room were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if they were buried, in deep graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected from them until they were dug out.

The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, picking his way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed Miss Manette to be, for the moment, in some adjacent room, until, having got past the two tall candles, he saw standing to receive him by the table between them and the fire, a young lady of not more than seventeen, in a riding-cloak, and still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As his eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden hair, a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth it was), of rifting and knitting itself into an expression that was not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright fixed attention, though it included all the four expressions—as his eyes rested on these things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very Channel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran high. The likeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital procession of negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the feminine gender—and he made his formal bow to Miss Manette.

“Pray take a seat, sir.” In a very clear and pleasant young voice; a little foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed.

“I kiss your hand, miss,” said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of an earlier date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat.

“I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me that some intelligence—or discovery—”

“The word is not material, miss; either word will do.”

“—respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never saw—so long dead—”

Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the hospital procession of negro cupids. As if they had any help for anybody in their absurd baskets!

“—rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there to communicate with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatched to Paris for the purpose.”

“Myself.”

“As I was prepared to hear, sir.”

She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he was than she. He made her another bow.

“I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by those who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself, during the journey, under that worthy gentleman’s protection. The gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to beg the favour of his waiting for me here.”

“I was happy,” said Mr. Lorry, “to be entrusted with the charge. I shall be more happy to execute it.”

“Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details of the business, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising nature. I have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a strong and eager interest to know what they are.”

“Naturally,” said Mr. Lorry. “Yes—I—”

After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the ears, “It is very difficult to begin.”

He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young forehead lifted itself into that singular expression—but it was pretty and characteristic, besides being singular—and she raised her hand, as if with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing shadow.

“Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?”

“Am I not?” Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them outwards with an argumentative smile.

Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the line of which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the expression deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the chair by which she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her as she mused, and the moment she raised her eyes again, went on:

“In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than address you as a young English lady, Miss Manette?”

“If you please, sir.”

“Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge to acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don’t heed me any more than if I was a speaking machine—truly, I am not much else. I will, with your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of our customers.”

“Story!”

He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when he added, in a hurry, “Yes, customers; in the banking business we usually call our connection our customers. He was a French gentleman; a scientific gentleman; a man of great acquirements—a Doctor.”

“Not of Beauvais?”

“Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowing him there. Our relations were business relations, but confidential. I was at that time in our French House, and had been—oh! twenty years.”

“At that time—I may ask, at what time, sir?”

“I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married—an English lady—and I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairs of many other French gentlemen and French families, were entirely in Tellson’s hands. In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee of one kind or other for scores of our customers. These are mere business relations, miss; there is no friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing like sentiment. I have passed from one to another, in the course of my business life, just as I pass from one of our customers to another in the course of my business day; in short, I have no feelings; I am a mere machine. To go on—”

“But this is my father’s story, sir; and I begin to think”—the curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him—“that when I was left an orphan through my mother’s surviving my father only two years, it was you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you.”

Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advanced to take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He then conducted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holding the chair-back with his left hand, and using his right by turns to rub his chin, pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stood looking down into her face while she sat looking up into his.

“Miss Manette, it was I. And you will see how truly I spoke of myself just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all the relations I hold with my fellow-creatures are mere business relations, when you reflect that I have never seen you since. No; you have been the ward of Tellson’s House since, and I have been busy with the other business of Tellson’s House since. Feelings! I have no time for them, no chance of them. I pass my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniary Mangle.”

After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr. Lorry flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (which was most unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shining surface was before), and resumed his former attitude.

“So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of your regretted father. Now comes the difference. If your father had not died when he did—Don’t be frightened! How you start!”

She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.

“Pray,” said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped him in so violent a tremble: “pray control your agitation—a matter of business. As I was saying—”

Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew:

“As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he had suddenly and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away; if it had not been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, though no art could trace him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot who could exercise a privilege that I in my own time have known the boldest people afraid to speak of in a whisper, across the water there; for instance, the privilege of filling up blank forms for the consignment of any one to the oblivion of a prison for any length of time; if his wife had implored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for any tidings of him, and all quite in vain;—then the history of your father would have been the history of this unfortunate gentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais.”

“I entreat you to tell me more, sir.”

“I will. I am going to. You can bear it?”

“I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this moment.”

“You speak collectedly, and you—are collected. That’s good!” (Though his manner was less satisfied than his words.) “A matter of business. Regard it as a matter of business—business that must be done. Now if this doctor’s wife, though a lady of great courage and spirit, had suffered so intensely from this cause before her little child was born—”

“The little child was a daughter, sir.”

“A daughter. A-a-matter of business—don’t be distressed. Miss, if the poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little child was born, that she came to the determination of sparing the poor child the inheritance of any part of the agony she had known the pains of, by rearing her in the belief that her father was dead—No, don’t kneel! In Heaven’s name why should you kneel to me!”

“For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!”

“A—a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact business if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so much more at my ease about your state of mind.”

Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.

“That’s right, that’s right. Courage! Business! You have business before you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with you. And when she died—I believe broken-hearted—having never slackened her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years.”

As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have been already tinged with grey.

“You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new discovery, of money, or of any other property; but—”

He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror.

“But he has been—been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best. Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort.”

A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream,

“I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost—not him!”

Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. “There, there, there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side.”

She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, “I have been free, I have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!”

“Only one thing more,” said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a wholesome means of enforcing her attention: “he has been found under another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, anywhere or in any way, and to remove him—for a while at all events—out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson’s, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, ‘Recalled to Life;’ which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn’t notice a word! Miss Manette!”

Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called out loudly for assistance without moving.

A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observed to be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in some extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure too, or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of the inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from the poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and sending him flying back against the nearest wall.

(“I really think this must be a man!” was Mr. Lorry’s breathless reflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.)

“Why, look at you all!” bawled this figure, addressing the inn servants. “Why don’t you go and fetch things, instead of standing there staring at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don’t you go and fetch things? I’ll let you know, if you don’t bring smelling-salts, cold water, and vinegar, quick, I will.”

There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she softly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and gentleness: calling her “my precious!” and “my bird!” and spreading her golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care.

“And you in brown!” she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry; “couldn’t you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her to death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do you call that being a Banker?”

Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler sympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn servants under the mysterious penalty of “letting them know” something not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her charge by a regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her drooping head upon her shoulder.

“I hope she will do well now,” said Mr. Lorry.

“No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!”

“I hope,” said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and humility, “that you accompany Miss Manette to France?”

“A likely thing, too!” replied the strong woman. “If it was ever intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence would have cast my lot in an island?”

This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to consider it.

[wondersofdreaming]

Sex on Fire

Co-written with @radaofrivia​

Characters: AU Captain Syverson - Gynaecologist, dr. Syverson x female reader

Word count: 4.522

Warnings: NSFW! Smut, so smutty. Gamahuche. Licking. Bodily liquids. Fingering. Sucking. Hair pulling. Begging. And I’m out of whatever else there is, but I’m sure there’s more - let me know and I’ll add them XD

Author’s note: This story was co-written with the always gorgeous and incredible @radaofrivia​! She is the Brain to my Pinky! The Barney Rubble to my Fred Flinstone! My goddess Saga and my muse Erato! My drinking buddy and who will stay up till 4am with me to finish this story.

Please go enjoy her stories here:

Rada’s Masterlist

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

*Edit: The title was decided before I realised that it is a song by Kings of Leon. These two have nothing in common except for the title.

MY MASTERLIST

Sex on Fire Masterlist

Feedback is appreciated.

(Credit to original gif owner - if this is yours please contact me so I can give you proper credit)

The grey concrete building stood tall in front of you. You leaned your head back to see the top, but it was nearly impossible. All you could see were windows leading into the sky. A doorman in a black uniform stood by the entrance, watching whoever went in and out. He nodded his head with a stoic look in a greeting.

The lobby looked more welcoming than the outside building. There was a fireplace with three sofas surrounding it and a coffee table stacked with magazines. A few women were already sitting there, gossiping about the new dapper doctor that had rented the entire top floor.

You rolled your eyes and went over to the reception. A man stood to greet you with a smile, but he was talking to someone in his headset, which only took a few seconds before he hung up.

“I am sorry about that, how may I help you, miss?” he asked.

“I’m here for an appointment with dr. Syverson,” you said a little nervously.

“Ah, yes. I have a form you need to fill out,” he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, “The elevators are just right over there. Take it all the way to the 52nd floor. Another receptionist will be there to guide you further.”

You accepted the paper and went for the elevators. A chill went down your spine as the cold air from the air condition hit you. You pressed the button for dr. Syverson’s floor. An orchestral song started playing over the speakers. It wasn’t until you listened closely to the lyrics that you noticed it was ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica.

You closed your eyes, swaying to the beat of the soft drums. Lars Ulrich had been your celebrity crush as a teen, and you still listened to their older songs when you had a bad day.

The elevator doors opened with a loud ‘ding!’, pulling you out of your trance. Another receptionist stood at the opposite side. She looked up from the computer and smiled.

“Welcome to dr. Syverson’s clinic. Do you need help filling out the paper?” she asked nicely. You quickly scanned what you needed to scribble down. It was mostly your personal information and history of health.

“No, I think I can manage, thank you,” you smiled back.

“You can take a seat in the sofas, and when you’re done just fold it and put it in the mailbox, dr. Syverson will call you in, shortly,” she motioned to a black mailbox by the elevators that you had missed when walking past it.

You nodded and went for the sofas. The room was warm and comfortable with green plants everywhere. The sand-coloured leather sofas were softer than you expected as you sank down. You filled out the form and put it in the box.

Instead of sitting back down, you decided to walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a look at the impressive view of the city. Your eyes widened at how far you could see, all the way to the ocean, and if you squinted your eyes, you might have been able to see your apartment building, even the bar you had often been frequenting lately.

Dr. Syverson walked out of his office. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling a bit sore from having sat down reading his patients’ charts all afternoon. Now he just needed to check on his last appointment, before he could go home and enjoy an ice-cold beer.

His receptionist was packing her stuff, sending him a kind smile. The perks of working with his sister were that she didn’t try to seduce him, or leave her underwear in his white coat pocket like some of his patients tended to do.

He smiled back and looked around the room. His gaze landing on you. His first thoughts were not ‘oh there’s my patient’, no, his mind went straight to ‘YOWZA!’.

“Last patient for today, Luc. I’ll be leaving now, see you tomorrow,” he heard his sister say to him. She smacked his arm to get his attention. He was pulled back to reality, saying goodbye to her before walking towards you, changing his mindset from dirty to professional.

You gasped when a flock of seagulls flew by, making you take a step back and hit a wall. Except the wall had arms that grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor.

“Whoah, careful there, miss,” a deep rough voice said. You looked up and saw a man with a trimmed beard, a soft smile on his lips, and a mischievous look in his cerulean eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out. You quickly remove yourself from his arms, first now noticing that he was wearing the white coat signalling he was dr. Syverson. And if that didn’t kick your brain in gear, then the name tag on his chest should do it. Dr. Lucas P. Syverson.

“It’s all good. This way, please,” he made sure you followed him to his office. The wall colour changed to a more soothing beige colour and was adorned with colourful paintings. You didn’t notice what they depicted before you stepped closer to one. It was of naked human bodies in various forms and shapes, very fitting for a gynaecologist’s office.

He had various books about his profession, but a few stood out to you. One had a peach on the cover and was written by dr. Syverson himself. You were impressed but wondered about the peach until you saw the title that made you blush deeply.

“How to eat a peach for dummies.”

He motioned for you to sit in the armchair, while he plopped down on the opposite one. He grabbed a chart from his desk and a pen.

“I’ve had a look at your medical history, and the…” Dr. Syverson looked down on the chart, “three gynaecologists that you have been referred to have written that you are in a state of good health. Well, we’ll see about that, I’m not too keen on some of these doctors you’ve had appointments with. They’re as old as Methuselah.”

You let out a peal of laughter. The joke having put you at ease with the doctor, who was smiling as you calmed down from your fit of giggles.

You were a little bit shocked by this doctor. Dr. Syverson was nothing like how you had imagined him. He couldn’t be over 40, with the extended educational schooling he would have had to go through. You remembered having read somewhere that it took at least 12 years to become a gynaecologist.

“Oh my gosh, they were. Another thing they had in common was that they would take a “quick” peek, not caring that I was screaming in pain, and then tell me that I’m healthy as a horse.”

Dr. Syverson sat back; his brow pushed together. You could practically hear the gears turning behind his forehead. He ran a hand through his beard, which made you notice that he wasn’t wearing a ring. If he wasn’t your doctor, you might have asked him on a date. Had you only met him at a bar instead of his office, and not being his patient. Damn it.

“There is definitely an issue we need to figure out here. I want you to know, miss that I plan on solving this mystery. Please, tell me in your own words what you think is wrong?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but all the sentences you thought of were too embarrassing to say out loud.

“Miss, you can say anything here. Nothing leaves these four walls, I promise you,” dr. Syverson tried to make you feel more comfortable with him with his gorgeous smile. His presence alone was putting you at ease. How did he do it?

“It burns when I’m penetrated,” you confessed.

“Penetrated how? During intercourse or masturbation?”

“I haven’t had sex since this happened. I can barely stuff two fingers in there,” you blurted, turning tomato red, confessing something so private to a total stranger, but it felt great to finally say it out loud, like a heavy stone being lifted from your shoulders.

“How about I take a look? Let me see with my own eyes that you’re ‘healthy as a horse’,” he quoted the old men, making you giggle. “You can leave your trousers and underwear on the bench, and have a seat on the table. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The dashing doctor left the room while you removed your clothing. Feeling a little self-conscious, as you walked over to the gynaecologist table with the stirrups and sat between them, trying to cover your private parts with your shirt.

Dr. Syverson came back soon with a variety of scented candles in his arms.

“The smell of something nice usually helps my patients to relax a little,” he explained. He held them up for you to choose.

“This one,” you smiled and handed him the one called Ocean Mist.

“Nice choice, that one is my favourite,” the doctor grinned. He set the lit candle on his desk. The scent of a sandy beach and salty ocean soon filled the room. The doctor pulled the ultrasound machine towards you. You leaned back on the table inhaling deeply, willing your abdominal muscles to relax. The sounds of a guitar reached your ears. You watched as he set a portable speaker on the small table next to you.

“I hope you don’t mind a little music,” he said, smiling, while he put on a pair of bright orange gloves.

“I love Metallica, so please keep it flowing.”

“Can you guess the song I’m playing? Put your legs up here for me,” he patted the stirrups.

You lifted your legs, intensely listening to the instrumental version of the song.

“Is it ‘The Unforgiven’?” you asked.

“Correct, you’re good. This is going to be a little bit cold,” he squirted a large amount of gel on the ultrasound wand. He slowly inserted the rod inside you, pushing ever so gently. “How long have you listened to Metallica?”

You winced at the invasion but tried to keep your muscles from tightening around the smooth object. You didn’t see the set jaw on the gorgeous looking doctor. Your sweet scent was tickling his nose and making his mouth salivate by the thought of tasting you.

“Since I was a teenager. I’ve been to at least one concert per tour they’ve done,” you groaned in pain.

“I’m sorry, your right ovary is a little difficult to find. You’re doing great. Your left ovary is the epitome of health. Are you on any kind of birth control?” he asked casually, trying his best to make you feel safe around him.

“N… no… I…” your voice broke, and tears started streaming down your cheeks. Doctor Lucas quickly removed the wand, cleaned it and sat down next to you.

“It’s okay. Let it all out,” he told you softly. Concern for your well being was painted on his chiselled face.

“It’s just that… I haven’t had sex for years, YEARS doc. No man wants a broken woman, especially not a woman that cannot be penetrated without her screaming in pain.”

You babbled so much you forgot that you were in a gynaecologist’s office and not at a psychologist.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt all that out,” you started to blush a crimson red.

Lucas fought hard not to pull you into his arms. His protective instincts were on high alert; he wanted to make you feel safe, make you feel loved. He was cursing the bastards who had hurt you. To him, women were the stronger sex, had to endure more pain than men. Women are precious, made to birth life, made to give love and be loved.

“It’s quite alright. You’ve had a rough time,” he patted your arm, the safest place to touch you and went to get up. “I’m going to feel around to see if there’s something I’ve missed with the ultrasound. What other bands do you listen to?”

You watched as doctor Syverson slapped on another pair of gloves and squirted a smaller amount of gel on his finger, on his long thick finger. You were practically drooling by watching him prepare to examine you.

“Eh… I listen to a little bit of everything,” you said. You laid back down and draped an arm over your eyes. Watching the handsome doctor working was becoming too much for you. He was stirring feelings inside you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, and not in this form or quantity. You had taken a look at his well-proportioned ass when he walked out earlier, and his black trousers did very little to hide his hefty package.

“I’m sorry, but, again, this is going to be a little cold. What was the last song you listened to?” he warned.

It was an erotic scene, watching him standing between your legs, one hand on your belly, while the other was about to enter your most sacred place. You felt him enter. A soft moan escaped your lips.

Lucas’ ears perked. He hadn’t expected to hear that sound coming from your full lips. Had he heard correctly? The little vibration from you sent a jolt straight to the beast he was trying to keep dormant. This wasn’t the first time a woman had moaned while he examined them, but you were different. Another sweet sound reached his ears. You were so responsive to his touch, so open, so reactive. His mind was racing, but one word kept popping up, more.

You had forgotten how to speak, how to form sentences, how to communicate. You could only feel.

“Miss?”

“Hmm?”

“The last song? You listened to,” he didn’t mean to sound so tense, but he had to distract himself, his treacherous mind, he needed to keep the small-talk going, to break the silence. He wanted to kick himself in the balls for thinking about you, while he was fingers deep inside you. His compassionate instinct was winning over his lust.

Stop it, Lucas! You’re a professional. You cannot mess up! You CAN NOT fuck this up! She needs your help. Lord, give me strength.

“Oh...” you murmured, coming back from whatever universe he had sent you to with his finger technique, “Ehm, before the Metallica song in the elevator, I listened to ‘What’s Your Country Song’ by Thomas Rhett.”

“That’s a great song. I like country music.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you as a country kinda g… GOD!!!” you gasped as he curled his finger, touching the spot.

You released a louder sinful sound, a sound that hadn’t left your lips in a very long time. Lucas watched as your chest was heaving, gasping for air. The room was suddenly suffocating him. He felt like he was burning up from the inside. His breath was hitched, and he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Why did you have to sound like desire itself?

“Does it hurt when I do this?” he asked, his voice lowering an octave and reduced to a velvety whisper. He hooked his finger once more, listening intensely to the sounds escaping you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back in your head. You lifted your hips, moving your pelvis closer, needing more friction, needing to feel him deeper inside you.

Fuck!

He was watching you, vehemently. A fire was burning deep in his groin, heck even his eyes were flaming. His shoulders moved fastly up and down as he was heaving in the air through his parted lips, he needed oxygen, he needed to control himself. He was scolding himself for feeling like a horny teenager.

“This is… wrong,” he said in a panic. He moved his hand away from you. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist in a fierce grip.

“Please…” you begged, “please don’t stop. I… I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Please, Lucas… I need you… I need you to finish this.”

He could hear the need in your voice. He could smell your arousal. You were clawing your nails into his skin. The look in your eyes was clear that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. The same eyes were shining with unshed tears, begging him for release, and the sound of his name from your lips was making him so close to breaking his resolve.

“I… can’t… you’re my patient,” he groaned, his forehead showing the concerned lines of wrinkles, which made him look even more desirable.

“Can’t you make an exception? Just this once? Please...”

Lucas ran a gloved hand through his short-cropped hair. He turned away from you, needing support for his shaky legs he leaned against the back of his office chair. He was thinking about it, really thinking about it.

“Please, doll. Don’t test me. I’m standing on the edge, and I’m this close to jumping in with both feet. I can lose my career, and I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”

You watched as his shoulders sank. You moved off the examination table, pulling the hem of your shirt down to try to cover your nakedness.

“I’m sorry, dr. Syverson. I… I didn’t mean to put you in such a precarious situation,” your voice was small. Your gaze firmly on the wooden floor beneath your feet, you felt so ashamed to have tried to seduce your gynaecologist, who was only trying to help you. Lucas turned around to the sound of your voice breaking, and a little saddened that you started calling him his title again. Your cheeks flushed, your arms wrapped around yourself. You gathered the courage to move towards your clothes.

“Damn it!” he cursed. He moved towards you with the speed of lightning before you could take a single step. His large muscular frame wrapped around you, your head was laying on his chest, listening to the racing of his heartbeat.

“Say ‘you’re fired’,” he ordered, his voice husky and commanding like some kind of army captain, but it was also desperate. Desperate for you not to leave him. Craving your touch. Desiring, longing, yearning, lusting for you. 

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed his words. He heard you gasp as you realised what he was saying.

“Dr. Syverson… you’re fired,” you whispered seductively, although a little shaky too. You watched as the sweet and calm doctor changed before your very eyes.

He clashed his lips with yours in a hungry kiss. He was starving; his only thought was to taste you that was his only goal. Your scent had been making him insane; famished was more correctly described.

While holding you in his arms, he made you move backwards until your bum found the end of the exam table.

His kisses were desperate, and so were you. Your heart felt as if it was about to beat out of your chest. Your breathing was shallow. It was going to happen; it was really going to happen.

He lifted you up and made you sit on the exam table. He parted your legs and went to stand between them. He cupped your face between his warm palms, leaning down to kiss you again. He kissed your jaw and all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Please, don’t regret this,” he whispered and went to touch his forehead against yours.

“I want it, even more than you do,” you answered breathlessly.

With your consent, there was no turning back now.

He devoured your mouth while his hands roamed all over your body. He unbuttoned your blouse while you shoved his white coat to the floor. You pulled at his button-up, buttons were flying everywhere. He shoved your shirt down your shoulders and off your arms before he threw it somewhere behind him. You ran your hands up and down his hairy chest, wanting to feel all of him, not the doctor, but the fine specimen of a man that he was.

He removed your bra with a flick of his fingers. Slowly revealing your breast to him. Your nipples two hard buds, waiting for his mouth to suck, lick, bite, whatever he wanted to do.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His voice was desperate, so filled with lust, but also something oh so sweet.

Lucas moved his lips down your collar bone. Feasting on your breast, nibbling at your skin, before he finally went to town with your nipples. With the first touch of his tongue on your left breast, while he pinched the right, you let out a loud guttural sound. Just him playing with your bosom was about to send you over the edge. The coil in your belly was so close to snapping.

“More… Please, Lucas, more,” you whimpered, pushing his head to the place where you needed his mouth the most, right between your thighs.

You heard him chuckle. He gently pushed you down, making sure you were comfortable before he hooked your legs over his shoulders for better access to your glistening desire.

“Fuck…” you mewled. The sight of the mountain man between your legs, the growing bulge in his dark trousers was so erotic you were about to combust. Your sex was on fire.

“Your body is divine, bug. It was made to be worshipped. I want to make the pain go away,” he said softly.

You didn’t get to say a word as his tongue ran along the seam of your wetness, making you shutter from the first contact. His tongue was wide and long, his mouth blowing hot air as he sucked your lower lips gently.

That tongue of his was everywhere, inside you, lavishing you, adoring every centimetre of your flushed skin. You lifted your head to watch him working you into a frenzy, right as he sucked his index finger into his mouth, coating the digit with his saliva.

The pleasure that he was giving you was overwhelming. The moment he pushed his finger inside your womanhood, was like nothing you had felt before. His finger was warm, and it was a whole different feeling than when he was gloved. His tongue darted out to play with the glistening pearl hiding between your lips, sucking in his finger. Your wetness allowed his movements to be smooth and easy, in and out, and he found that spot that made you howl in ecstasy.

“Luc… I’m… I’m so close… FUCK!”

The coil broke, snatched, ripped apart. You weren’t pushed over the edge, you were shoved, hard, and the pleasuring waves kept coming and coming. It felt as if your orgasm was never-ending. You never wanted to come down from that high. It was addictive.

You released your hold of Sy’s head from your thighs, not having noticed you had trapped him. You were panting hard, trying to catch your breath after the tsunami of an orgasm the doctor had given you.

Lucas’ palm covered your cheek, wiping the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“Did I hurt you, doll?” his face scrunched in concern.

You shook your head, no.

“No… that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.”

The smile on Lucas’ face was breathtaking. He was beaming with pride. You watched as he leaned back, noticing he was still wearing his trousers. The apparent bulge in his abdominal area looked painful.

You moved to sit up, motioning for him to stand.

“I want to return the favour,” you told him, unzipping his trousers. You were gentle, as the tent grew more extensive, the more you released his manhood from its confinement. You helped him out of his black boxer briefs and came face to face with the finest cock you had ever laid eyes on. You were drooling, licking your lips, dying to taste him.

“You don’t have to, angel,” he groaned as your tongue darted out to taste the precum leaking from the tip, hearing him growl, a sound coming from deep inside him.

“Please let me, Sy,” you pleaded, taking his length in your hand. You looked up to see Lucas nodding slowly. He groaned in acceptance.

You ran your tongue over your palm to lubricate it. Lucas’ eyes widened to the size of teacups. His cock jolting in excitement, his heart skipping a beat at the erotic scene happening right before him.

One hand touched his hips, moving to the small of his back, to have a grip on his ass, pushing him closer to your face. He filled your hand beautifully with his hardness, yet he was still soft to the touch of your palm. You started moving your hand up, slowly, hearing his gasp was turning you on even more than you already were. You smeared the clear precum around the glans with your thumb. Delicately wrapping your mouth around him. Your lips were stretched to max capacity, a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you had to be careful not to lock your jaws, but then again you had a doctor right in front of you if the situation should happen.

You languidly moved his member further into your warm mouth, coating him with your saliva. Your tongue gliding over the tip. Lucas released a low moan that sent vibrations through his body. He lifted his face towards the ceiling. Your hand left his ass, moving down his thighs, tickling the backside of his knee, before travelling up the inside of his thigh and gently cupping his balls.

“Fuuuuuuck…” he guttered. You sucked the part that could fit in your mouth in synchronicity with your hand’s movement. He felt the tightening deep within his testicles. The hitching in his breath notified you of his coming release. You led his hands to your scalp, letting his fingers fisting your hair, before giving him a sultry look with his cock in your mouth.

He was grunting hard as he set the pace, while you did your best to keep up with him. Moving his hips, chasing his release inside your mouth. You relaxed your throat, letting him take over. You wanted so much to please him. 

“Fuck, sunshine… I’m so close,” he growled.

“Come in my mouth,” you uttered. It was like something within him snapped the minute you voiced the words. He moved faster, harder, rougher. Until you felt the first spurts of his seed hitting your palate. You swallowed everything he spilt and then licked him clean.

Sy fumbled with his office chair as he sat down with a satisfied hum and pulled you to sit on his lap.

“That was amazing,” he smiled at you, kissing the tip of your nose, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and lastly a lingering kiss on your reddened lips.

“Glad you approve,” you grinned back, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“About those books,” you pointed towards the books you had peeked at earlier.

“Theses I had to write for med school.”

“Tell me about them while you rest for round two.”

[lunnybunny12]

Sandor Clegane X Reader (Your secret sworn shield)

Thank you to @1ofjokersgoons for the request

A/N: here you go hope you enjoy it. This my mind to all kinds of places so sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted.

Master list

Word count: 1,787

Warnings: Swearing, fighting

Your nose burned in the frigid air, and you squinted against the sun reflecting off of the armed men around you.

The cold wasn't something you were used to. Hells, you'd only ever seen snow twice in your life and you weren't exactly fond of it then either. Thankfully It was the summer when your father roped your family into his campaign across Westeros.

"You can always ride with your Mother of you're cold, princess, " Your father said in a mocking tone as he rode beside you.

"I'd rather lose a hand to frostbite," You chuckled, adjusting your position on the saddle.

You were the eldest of the Baratheon brood and the jewel of Roberts eye. Unlike your siblings, there was no mistaking you were your fathers daughter. You had the looks and grace of your mother, yes, but you also had the attitude, appetite for fighting and signature brown/black hair of a Baratheon.

" And father please don't call me princess. You know how much I hate it,"

"Ah but that's the issue young lady, you ARE a princess and I want you to act like one. When we're at home you can come on hunts and roam about all you like, but not here. At Winterfell you need to put on those dresses you hate so much and you will watch your tongue in front of the Starks. Am I clear?"

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Your father had been saying this for the past week in not no nice ways but you understood full well why. One reason being that he was the only one you'd listen to. The second was that since you were born a girl, the Iron throne could never be yours. Your place as the eldest princess was to be wedded off to whomever your father deemed worthy of you, and thankfully (since the king held you in such high regard) that day was long overdue.

"Fine... But I want Clegane."

"The Hound? What need do you have of him?"

"If you want me to be a lady I will, but if I get attacked I can't protect myself properly while wearing heels and a bloody corset. I need a shield."

Another chuckle left your father. This time it wasn't out of cheer it was more in amusement.

"Ay you have the mind of a Lannister"

"One of the few good things that family gave me," you smiled.

When you got to Winterfell later that day it was a relief, to say the least. As much as you enjoyed the outdoors and hunting around the red keep, the warmth the castle provided was a godsend. It seemed like everyone from the north had arrived to catch a glimpse of your family but it's not like it was hard to miss. Your mother and siblings wore the bold Lannister red and their heir shone as brightly as the gold they mined. Your uncle Jamie in the white armour of the kings guard and you in the Baratheon colours, sat on your horse, taking it all in.

As you were getting ready for the feast a knock was heard on your chamber door. An audible gasp was heard from your chamber made then they saw the hound lumber into the room and holt at seeing you.

You were stood there in a long, (Favourite colour) dress with long sleeves and a matching cloak. Your hair had been styled the northern way, simple yet elegant. The southern styles were too fiddly for your taste.

"Ladies, you are dismissed" you said.

The women immediately scurried out of the door and shut it behind them with a heavy thunk. You smiled as you watched the man search the room for any threats or anyone that could eavesdrop. When he deemed it safe he was the one that spoke first.

"You wanted me, you got me. For the whole week"

"You're making it sound like a bad thing, my love"

"It is if I can't keep my hands off of you" he growled and pulled your hips to kiss you roughly.

You were 10 when Joffrey was born and he was more of a disappointment to you than anything else. He was brash, rude, inconsiderate, boorish, egotistical and above all a coward. If someone. When he was younger hed always be at your heels, annoying you to no end and constantly tried to get you in trouble (The keyword being tried) and since Sandor's purpose was to protect the future king, he was with you too. You ended up becoming his babysitter and whenever you were training the boy would shout and say nasty thing to make you lose your concentration. One day you had, had enough of his heckles and asked him to spar with you. However, instead of being a man and doing it himself, he sent his dog to do it for him.

"Clegane isn't always going to be with you little brother and neither will anyone else if you don't lose that sour attitude. So be a man, and spar with me yourself."

It was the way you said it that shook Clegane. He expected you to lose your rag or just leave the training area all together but instead, you talked like you would a scared child. Calm and collected yet firm. As expected Joffery took the challenge, lost and then whined about it like the boy he was.

You parted from the kiss with a cheeky grin as you held his neck in your hands, making him shiver.

"You've controlled yourself before Sandor, and you can do it again,"

"You put far too much trust in me Princess"

"No Sandor I put all of my trust in you. and don't call me princess."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days had passed since the feast and you didn't like who you pretended to be. You didn't like the dress or hair or corset but it kept your parents off of your scent for a while. A couple of times you were able to sneak off with Sandor and do your own thing and since you were there to keep up appearances, you weren't missed.

One evening as you were walking across the courtyard, you heard a scuffle coming from behind the stables. You were met with a fully stocked armoury and training area. The walls were lined with a variety of weapons, from knives and slingshots to swards and axes. You reached your gloved hand towards a sword a sudden voice made you jump.

"Be careful, your grace. They're sharp"

It was one of the Stark boys. He was on the older side, about the same age as you may be a tad bit younger. Admittedly you'd been too caught up in being with Sandor that you hadn't taken the time to know your hosts.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you, your grace,"

"Don't worry about it... um... sorry I'm so bad with names" You said to the black-haired boy.

"Robb Stark, your grace," He answered kissing your hand.

A deep growl came from behind you, and an amused smile crossed your face. Sandor knew full well the boy was just being polite but he felt protective of you regardless.

"and please be careful around the swords they are sharp. We can't have a lady hurting her self,"

The tone Robb used was like he was talking to a child that couldn't tell the difference between a knife and a toothpick. Sandor picked up on it too. He knew what you were going to do before you did.

From what the boy had said he wasn't aware of your training, nor your personality in general and a fake, sheepish, smile spread across your face.

"Well I have had a little bit of training in how to fight but since I came to Winterfell I've forgotten most of it... you look like you know a few things do you mind catching me up?" You said, acting naive and from the look Robb gave you, it worked like a charm.

Robb agreed to "help" you and took you into the training area. He introduced you to Theon Greyjoy and his half brother Jon Snow.

Sandor watched as you continued your act with an almost invisible smile. Whenever you were in the Red Keep you were a completely different person, you were you but god's did he find that facade entertaining.

By that point, Rob had shown you how to hold a sword, jab and do a couple of swings and before you knew it you were going to spar.

"Are you ready, your grace?"

"I'm a little scared" you answered in fake concern.

"Don't worry your highness, I'll take it easy on you"

You could hear the boys chuckle in the corner of the arena and you knew they were laughing at you... or at least Greyjoy was. Sandor had taken it upon himself to stand by the pair and tell them to hush and watch the show.

The second Robb called "go" you swiped his legs out from under him, knocking him flat on his ass.

"Oh sorry," you snickered "I did tell you I had some training didn't I?"

The Stark stood up and brushed himself off. "Its alright princess, let's go again shall we?"

Almost immediately he lunged at you again, that time you blocked his sword with yours and then knocked him down.

Round after round Robb lost and each time your smile grew.  By the tenth round, Robb had finished "Taking it easy" on you and you were completely fine with that, If he wanted to hurt you he would have done it already. It was all in good fun and after one more knockdown, Robb yielded.

"Nice skills Stark, your father should be proud" You said as you walked up to him and extended your hand to pull him up.

With a smirk, he grabbed your hand. "Likewise your majesty. Although you could have told me before I made a fool of myself"

"Aww and wheres the fun in that?" You said handing the boy the practice sword. "Its been a pleasure Lord Stark that was quite entertaining, but I must bid you good night."

As you walked to the exit of the arena you saw Theon and Jon looking at you gobsmacked.

"Have a good evening Gentlemen." you bowed to the 3 of them and they bowed back.

Many, hot, steamy, lustful kisses were exchanged that night. Not out of jealousy or anger or hatred, but out of pure infatuation. After a particularly long kiss, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Do you know what you did today?"

"No."

"You made me fall in love with you,"

[eclipsedpascal]

You Deserve This

Andy Dolan x Female Reader

GIF by @kissxmedeadly !!

“The reader asking Andy about his kiddo (let's pretend is a lil boy 🤣) and him being very emotional about it and the reader who truly loves him conforts him 😭❤️” - anon

Please read the warnings!!

Warnings: use of drugs (weed), smut, oral (female receiving), slight public sex, slight angst, mentions of rehab, mentions of suicidal thoughts, a lil bit of crying and VERY slight Eden spoilers, but thats only if you don't want to know anything AT ALL, so basically none? idk lmao:)

Notes: hi! So this is my first Andy fic, I wrote it very quickly last night after a sudden burst of inspiration and it doesn't make too much sense, also it’s kinda cheesy? I don't think I've ever written anything this angsty or soft before, but i’m trying to be more in touch w my emotions nd this is my way of doing that, so hopefully i'll do more things like this soon:) also if you’re interested, the title is one of my favourite songs by Men I Trust that I just thought fit Andy well.

Word count: 1.8k

●●●●●●●●

The warm, dancing breeze washed over your skin, plucking up your many goosebumps and blowing the rainbow coloured sea of petals that decorated the large garden from left to right. The bittersweet mix of their fragrances and Andy’s blunt rushed to you and filled your scrunched up, wrinkled nose as you let out a loud laugh. The vibrant expanse of fluffy grass felt close to a mattress underneath you, cradling your form whilst you laid amongst the greenery and watched Andy ghost a deep inhale of the blunt he had balanced precariously between two fingers. He flopped his arm across the gap between you and offered you another toke, the dopey smile spread over his features making you laugh even more.

“What’s so funny? Hmm?” He questioned you jokingly, rolling onto his forearms and bringing his face to hover just above yours as you brought the blunt to your lips. You couldn't hold in your laughter, your drug hazed state and the breeze that pushed his brown curls to tickle your blushing skin only exaggerating your amusement further as you choked out clouds of smoke.

“What??” He joined in laughing, finding humour in his own confusion and finding your laugh infectious. His lips found your own in a sudden yet gentle kiss which you gladly embraced, still not managing to fully compose yourself as you giggled into his open mouth.

You did your best to pull back from the kiss, but were reminded you didn't really have anywhere to go when you felt a blade of grass flutter against your ear. “It’s just.. your smile.” You rested your blunt carrying hand on his cheek as you spoke, feeling your heart swell when he pulled an overdramatic expression of insult at your reply.

“What’s so wrong with my smile?!” He half faked offence, not understanding what you could possibly find so amusing about it as you giggled more and more. “What’s wrong with it?- is it my lips? ‘They not good enough for you baby?” His thick accent aided his voice, making him sound even more attractive than he already was as he joked with you.

“Noo! it definitely wasn’t your lips, cause I love those.” You gripped his locks a little firmer, biting your lip as his stare changed from one of curiosity to one of want.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned back down and kissed you again, but this time rougher, the weed made you feel as if his lips were slowly melting into your own as it sent strong signals of lust through your body. He put all his weight on one arm, lifting the other and groping your waist with it whilst simultaneously moving to trail wet kisses down your neck.

His touches were deep, yet executed so delicately it convinced you if he was any rougher, you might just break. He opened the buttons of the flowing shirt you wore; one you had stolen out of his wardrobe that morning. He moved his head further down your chest to your stomach, mouth racing in slow motion to reach you were he wanted to most.

Forgetting to explain why you found his smile so funny in the first place, your high carried your thoughts closer towards how incredible his mouth felt on your skin, making you lean into his touch and let out a few small mewls.

As he reached your panty line, he tapped your hip, signalling for you to lift them so he could take your shorts off. He slid them off your legs in a quick, smooth motion that had them landing on a nearby lavender bush. The garden had quite a large variety of blossoming shrubbery and many clusters of beautiful flowers, it was probably down to the bi-weekly gardeners Andy had hired. You had known they were expensive and after spending so much time like this, lazing around, surrounded by the expensive home’s nature, you were beginning to understand why he had hired them.

You returned your gaze from the dangling shorts, back to the man nestled between your bare thighs. His beard was scratching at your skin in the best way possible as he laid small kisses over the thin fabric that covered your cunt. His hot breathe felt like fire as you wriggled and squirmed below him, just wanting some kind of contact from him.

He used two fingers to peel your panties to the side, groaning at the site of your glistening folds before kissing your clit gently. His tongue started swiping across your cunt slowly, taking all the time in the world to make you feel as good as he knew he could. You moaned loudly, grabbing at his hair once more as he sucked on you deeply.

“Mr Dolan?” You were interrupted by a throat clearing before hearing a man speak; one of Andy’s many servants you guessed. They had never seemed to leave the two of you alone whilst you had been staying there. No matter how big his home was, you always seemed to find another at every corner.

Andy looked up to the man with question and annoyance, raising an eyebrow at him as he wished for him to just hurry up and leave so the two of you could continue with your escapades. “It’s the phone for you Mr Dolan. Your son.”

Andy quickly rose from his place below you, his mind abandoning all thought of the act he was just partaking in as he jogged past the glass doors of his home, wanting only to speak to the young boy.

You sat up slightly, doing up a few buttons of your shirt and laying your crossed legs to the side of you as you held yourself up with your arm. You watched him as he scrambled into the house after his servant, little red marks from where he had been lying in the grass next to you were noticeably imprinted on the skin of his left arm, the one he had been leaning on, and his open shirt was flowing behind him with the speed he was moving.

You looked down to the flowers on front of you, picking a single daisy that bore tinted, pink tips on the end of each slim, white petal, twirling the stem around between two of your fingers as you listened to the breeze pick up. You could feel the mood of the air change as he left, the wind feeling more cold an irritating than once before as you pondered the call Andy was having.

You knew how desperate he had been to speak to his son again. It had been months since he had spoken to him without his ex-wife being the messenger. He missed him more than he knew to describe.

His recent divorce had been what had fuelled him to return home to Eden; hoping to find solace in the paradise he knew so well after feeling as if he had lost himself entirely. Spending too many years constantly playing other people had taken more of a toll on him than he had realised, that was until he was sent to rehab. After getting out, he felt as if staying in Eden was the only way for him to climb out of the dark hole he had managed to find himself in. Unfortunately, this journey of finding himself had meant making the decision to leave his son behind in Los Angles. Something he didn't like to speak on much.

When you had first met him in rehab however, he had been extremely open about his life, telling you how anger was the only emotion he could really feel anymore. Explaining that if he wasn’t at least the slightest amount intoxicated, he didn't think he couldn't go on with living; especially after the recent downfall of his career being showcased for the entire world to see. It was dark stuff, but you understood each other. That’s a big part of what made you grow so close.

You picked off petal after petal from the daisy, watching its beauty fade with each pluck and letting each one slowly blow into the breeze, creating a tragic stream as they blew away from you and down to the not so far off shoreline. As you plucked the last petal, you admired the daisy, still glowing with pollen and beaming in the sunlight despite have lost so many important parts of it. You stuck it into your shirt pocket and fell back down to lay on the grass as you waited for Andy to finish his call.

It had been maybe ten minutes you were lying with your eyes closed, enjoying the heat that beamed down from the clear, Australian sky when you finally heard the slow footsteps that you knew to be Andy’s, pattering along the grass. You shot up from where you lay to see the dopey-smiled man who had left you in the garden just fifteen minutes before, only to be faced with a red-eyed, teary one.

“Andy what happened? Are you okay?” He fell down onto the grass besides you, staring at you but completely wordless. You felt as if you could see into his soul. He was feeling so many emotions he hadn’t even been able to grasp at in so long. It was overwhelming him and you knew it. You reached out to stroke is cheek, concern running through you for the man that you had grown to love so dearly over the past few months.

He looked up “She’s gonna let me see him. T-They’re coming over next month.” A tear fell from his face as he smiled harder than you had ever seen him smile before. He was finally going to see his son after all these long months and you couldn’t have been any happier for him.

“Really?! That’s amazing, oh my god!” You moved forwards, wrapping your arms over his large shoulders and squeezing him in a hug so full of love it was palpable. “You really got to speak to him this time?” You questioned him once more before pulling away from his grasp, thinking back to the many times his ex-wife had promised he could speak with the boy but decided at the last minute he wouldn’t get to.

“Yeah!.. he uhh,” He took in a shaky breath, chuckling with joy as he recalled hearing the young boy’s voice so filled with excitement and energy over the phone. “He said he couldn't wait to meet you! You know, when I told him about you.” He stumbled over his words, running a hand through his hair as he shook with nerves, doing his best to calm himself.

In that moment, you felt your love for him soar higher than it ever had before. You were so proud of the progress he had made, and you knew his son would be too. “And I cant wait to meet him either.” You rested your forehead against his, the two of you enjoying a stand still and bathing in the happiness you both felt in the beautiful moment. The sound of the ever present breeze occupied your ears as the laughter emitting from two of you joined it, echoing a song throughout the garden that wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.

●●●●●●●●

Thank you sm for reading!!🥺💗

Tags: @celestialrequiem @ntxoza @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakescoven @ritualmichael @ghostangels @fernfiction @ferndolan @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @kitty4860 @lavenderahs @michaellangdonstanaccount @9layerdevilfoodcake @chicaluna2410 @plymptxn-reborn I've just tagged anyone who I thought might be interested as per usual, but if you would to be removed feel free to let me know!! you can also lemme know if you would like to be added to the tag list too:)

[funtimebunnyblog]

Let's all raise a glass to you, Surey! 🥰😇❤ Please enjoy!

The Pillarmen go out to a Bar with you! 🍻

(Under the cut for length...)

Kars:

• Kars isn't really a person to go out to drink.

• If anything, he prefers to enjoy a drink or two at Home and unwind with a book or in a bath.

• However, if you want to take him out on the town he doesn't refuse you, even though he's not the biggest fan of bars or nightclubs and the crowds of people that come with it.

• If this was something that made you happy, than he supposed it would all be worthwhile to let you enjoy yourself.

• When going out to a bar or a club, those are the nights he dons his dark coat and hat (despite how you may plan to dress for the evening) and walks arm in arm with you down the street to the place of your choice.

• You better had pick a good one because he's not a man to hop from place to place in one night. He makes it very clear that it's here and then Home.

• The majority of the night he prefers to sit quietly at the bar or at a booth in the far corner, silently nursing a glass of vodka or red wine.

• He'll let you dance and socialize and enjoy yourself all you want but don't expect him to do the same.

• Kars will also monitor how much you're drinking and don't think he won't cut you off if he's deemed you've had enough.

• For your safety, he keeps his eyes on you at all times as he doesn't exactly trust these kinds of establishments and he knows how truly disgusting Humans can be if given the chance.

• It's no surprise he has absolutely no tolerance for riff raff or drunks should they happen to be around.

• Anyone who's sober (or anyone with a brain for that matter) wouldn't dare to bother him, simply by the powerful and inhuman aura he emits just sitting there.

• Once on a night out, a drunk man who was entertaining himself by going around and poking people made the mistake of staggering up to Kars where he sat, reaching out and tapping him right on the nose.

• Surprisingly very calm about it, Kars watched him stumble away laughing with little more than a glare before rising to his feet. The song had suddenly changed in that moment and couples were dancing to some upbeat music, Kars left his glass behind at the bar and approached you on the dance floor.

• It shocked you to say the least when Kars approached and took your hand and asked for a dance to which you happily obliged.

• This was a little odd for Kars to want to dance in public but you didn't think to question it.

• As the dance floor crowded and people danced away the drunk man made his rounds again, laughing as he went around and tapped people on the nose, pinched their cheek or flicked them on the chin. Kars had his eyes set on him the entire time he danced, waiting with all the patience in the world.

• The unsuspecting man passed bye Kars one more time and the altercation was fast. Very fast. So very momentary even you didn't see it happen.

• Kars spun you around with one hand and with the other he curled his fist and punched the drunk man straight under his chin, knocking him to the floor, completely unconscious.

• Kars continued to dance with you like nothing at all happened as people suddenly took notice, crowding around the floored drunk questioningly.

• "Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder, lips pursed and the very definition of unbothered. Not a soul (not even you) suspected a thing. "It would seem he's had too much to drink."

• In Kars' opinion, that was more merciful than the man deserved.

• On the nights where you're drunk, you can bet that he's grumbling the entirety of the time dragging you Home.

• Listening to you giggle and chatter on without a care in the world, slurring your words and relying on him to keep upright might've warmed his heart if he wasn't aware of the complete mess you would be in the morning.

• Kars isn't one to baby you when you're hungover either.

• You did this to yourself and he did warn you not to drink so much afterall.

• But he's not cruel to you when you're hungover. He'll smoothe your hair and rub your back if you happen to get sick. He'll also make you drink plenty of water and he'll let you rest as long as you need to.

• As long as you had fun and keep enjoying these little nights out he doesn't mind all the displeasing parts that come with it. Your happiness is truly what matters to him in the end.

Esidisi:

• Quite the opposite of Kars, Esidisi LOVES going out on the town for a couple of drinks with you.

• In fact, he's got a number of favourite places around to pick but he'll always ask you for your approval when making the decision.

• Chances are, when you and him are such frequent Bar goers together, EVERYONE at your favourite spots will know you!

• Esidisi sometimes likes to go the extra mile for the occasion and throw on something sexy but still casual. Long sleeved, colourful shirts halfway unbuttoned and some jewelry always does the trick for him.

• The most memorable nights for you both is when there's a new place opened up in town and the two of you go to check it out, meet some new people and maybe dance a little.

• It's probably safe to say that Esidisi's favourite thing to do is mess with any drunks that happen to be around.

• He'll sit at the bar as you drink and socialize with some of your friends, surrounded by a bunch of tipsy Humans, using his powers to do the oddest tricks for money.

• The crowd goes absolutely wild no matter how many times they see him make a glass of cold beer boil using just his hand.

• Chances are, Esidisi might end up being more drunk than you the majority of these nights because of his entertaining nature.

• "You can't possibly drink that whole glass in one go." The Bartender frowned at the Pillarman skeptically after he had made that outrageous claim. "It's not possible."

• Esidisi could only grin at him as he put the glass to his lips. Without another word he threw back his head, sucking down the cold, inky Beer in one massive gulp; foam and all.

• The Bartender (now not so skeptical) and the man sitting to Esidisi's left, who had been nursing his 2nd glass of the same stuff for about 10 minutes now, could only stare at him, awestruck.

• "Aw Hell," he gaped. "I'd pay 20$ to see that again!"

• 20$ was put down and another glass gone within seconds; just the same as the first. A crowd began to draw around the bar and the massive man seated there.

• 40$, 80$, 150$, 300$ bets were laid out on the counter and Esidisi rightfully collected ALL of it as he just kept drinking, each glass gone in a single gulp.

• Needless to say, you're gonna be screwed if you're drunk yourself on nights like that because stuffing a Pillarman whose drank his body weight in alcohol into a Cab to try and get him Home isn't an easy job.

• Most especially when said drunkard Pillarman keeps insisting he's NOT drunk, whines he doesn't wanna go Home yet and keeps trying to go back inside.

• When Esidisi is hungover the next day it's not a treat either. Be prepared for WHINING.

• However, if you happen to be the hungover one he's probably one of the best caregivers you could ask for.

• He'll chuckle as he gives you some ibuprofen and water, telling you all about the great time you both had (if you happen to have forgotten) and how you took your drinks like an absolute champ.

• Needless to say, he's always down for a night out at a bar with you.

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu was a little on the inexperienced side when it came down to drinking or going to places like bars.

• Overtime with you however, he grows more accustomed to the concept of both.

• When you take him out to a bar for a couple of drinks he doesn't really dress up for the occasion unless you tell him to. He prefers to just put on a clean white T-shirt, sweatpants and maybe a hoodie.

• You'll have to order his drink for him on the first few nights out together because he honestly doesn't know what he likes or what to have.

• The variety of alcohol (let alone the amount of brands under a single kind) was a little overwhelming to him.

• "--and what will you have?" "Um... beer?" "What kind, sir?" "..... um.... beer?"

• He's happy to let you drink and socialize if you wish to but he'll be a little lost if you leave him alone at the bar with his drink and a bunch of strangers to go to the washroom.

• Surprisingly however, it isn't hard for him to make some friends when that happens.

• With nothing else to do, he'll be watching whatever sports game is happening on one of the many TV's as he sips away at his drink.

• The game doesn't really interest him (he doesn't even understand the point of it) but he picks up on the habit of cheering when other people in the bar cheer and celebrate for their team.

• Because of that, other men and sportsfans alike will just flock to Wamuu under the impression he's a fellow sportsfanatic (or maybe even a sports player himself due to his massive size).

• By the time you come back, he's surrounded by a gaggle of sportsfans all cheering and highfiving Wamuu, patting him on the back, punching his shoulder and offering him plenty more to drink.

• He just shrugs at you when he catches your confused gaze from across the bar as he's not really sure what's going on either.

• Though he's content to let you drink and enjoy yourself, he knows very well when you've had quite enough to drink. He will straight up pick you up and carry you Home if need be.

• "Kisssh me, Wammmmuu." You half-giggled, sluggishly trying to pull yourself more upright to give his absolutely delectable looking lips the smooching you so wanted to as he closed the door of your apartment behind him.

• The Warrior sighed, patting your head. "Oh beloved, I am most honored you want to but you're drunk, it's not right..." he told you gently, carrying you all the way to your bedroom to lay you down despite any protests you might make.

• After giving you plenty of water and tucking you in (you at least get a goodnight kiss on the head), he'll keep an eye on you until the morning and ensure all your needs are met when you're hungover.

• If you ask him, he'll admit that he had fun and has no objections to going out again next weekend.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana isn't exactly the biggest fan of noises or crowds of Humans in one settlement.

• Be prepared for him to crinkle his nose at the thought of going to a bar or a club where all of that happens under one roof.

• After some coaxing however, he'll agree but mostly for your sake.

• He wants to see you happy and he knows that nights out for some fun and social interaction was healthy for Humans.

• Besides, he also saw this as an opportunity to study Humans and try to understand their behavior a little better.

• Santana will throw on some street clothes and follow you wherever you want to go that night; whether its near or far, big or small.

• When going to a bar he's more interested in the food there rather than the drink.

• In fact; you'll come to find that he LOVES Bar food.

• The waitress will barely turn her back for a second before the basket of nachos she just delivered him has suddenly ceased to exist and he's asking for more.

• With an appetite like that, the Bar staff asks him if he wants to try their challenge of eating a HUGE meal under a set amount of time. If he wins he gets the meal free and all the drinks you order tonight free, his next meal here free and his picture on the Bars wall of fame.

• He only agrees to the challenge because he likes the sound of free food.

• The food comes and Santana makes it on the wall of fame easily in record time. The Owner of the place is absolutely gobsmacked with the fact that Santana scarfed down an ENTIRE 10 pound burger in less than 2 minutes.

• Santana will stare at the menu of drinks for the longest time, mouthing out the names of drinks and brands curiously. He'll want you to explain him what everything is but he honestly won't know what he'll like.

• He absolutely doesn't like beer. Not at all.

• The first sip of the first glass given to him was promptly spit out. Santana's mouth twisted into a bitter knot, pushing the glass FAR away and shaking his head frantically to try and rid of the disgusting yeasty film left on his tongue.

• You'll have to order him something more appealing in taste if you want him to drink at all.

• You'll find that he comes to enjoy a more sweet and fruity tropical drink like a Piña colada.

• "How is it?" You ask, a smile tugging at your mouth when you notice a little gleam in his eye as he put the colourful drink to his lips. He definitely looked less miserable than he had a moment ago.

• "Hmm," a little pink tongue darted out to swipe along his upper lip, his thumb fiddling with the tiny umbrella sitting on the ridge of the glass. "sweet. Pleasing."

• Because of his newfound love for the sweet tropical tasting booze you might have to monitor how much he has to be on the safe side as you weren't sure whether Santana would handle intoxication well.

• However, if you decide to let go and have one too many Santana will put his arm around you and firmly tell you it's time to go Home.

• He doesn't really know the first thing about the care and feeding of a hungover Human but he'll do anything you ask of him.

• You need water? He's got two bottles ready for you. Head hurt? He'll sprint to the store for Ibuprofen for you. The sunlight in the window bothering you? He'll cover that window using his own body if he has to.

• You might just be surprised when he asks you if you and him could go to another bar soon for more good food and a couple more drinks...

[mintvender]

UTOPIA [ 7 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning : Suggestive Content

Word Count: 9.8k

A/n: Finally finished this chapter. This chapter marks the end of the first era where the main ensemble finally unite. However, this is also the start of something else. Tell me what you think, 🌿.

Masterlist

Humming a quiet melody, you felt the air around you stirred. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of the flow around you, patiently waiting for a response. Expectedly, your question was not answered.

Nevertheless, you knew better than to give up your standing and continue to participate in this wordless battle. After all, as a member of the Crimson branch, it would hurt your pride to lose to such a miscellaneous game.

Slowly but surely, the air around you both began to constrict, seemingly trapping you in its borders. However, instead of surrendering to either of your guys’ unmoving selves, none made a move in anything close to failure and instead, waited.

Such a manipulator.

Seconds steadily merge into minutes, and before you know it, you are left with a quarter of an hour before having to head back. Looking at the entrance of the alley, it had seemed that the sun was already setting. Turning around to meet Raven’s eyes, you let out a smirk before pushing yourself off the walls.

“ If you don’t have anything to say then I guess there is no other purpose being here,” you taunted, heading towards the bustling street.

Purposely exaggerating your steps to enhance the sound of your shoes colliding with the floor, you confidently walk the opposite way, not glancing back. However, before you can bathe under the colourful lanterns, an arm slid around yours, pulling you back into the darkness.

Quick to hide your growing smirk, you let yourself be dragged back deep within the alley. Turning around, you look down at the piercing eyes, staring menacingly into your own.

“ Stop joking around,” Raven warned.

“ Answer my question then,” you insisted, “ Why have you called me?”

Even with the mask, you could tell that she was rolling her eyes at your ridiculous question. Reaching into her long sleeve, Raven took out a thin envelope and shoved it into your arms.

“ The Master wanted to give this to you.”

Looking at her knowingly, you flick the tab open, reaching in to get the paper. Pulling the paper out, you motioned her to bring the lantern closer. You both peered through the content of the letter, processing the intentions that have been conveyed. Looking into each others’ eyes, silently having a conversation.

After a while, you both synchronously nodded, agreeing on the best solution.

Standing straight up, you carefully tuck the letter into your inner sleeve. You patted the spot a few times to test its stability as you mindlessly listened to Raven’s plan.

“ You do know that it is better to do it now than later right?”

Stopping what you were doing, you clench your hands repeatedly while staring at the ground. Letting out a tired sigh, you tussled through your hair in frustration, making obvious attempts to ignore her question.

“ You kno—“

“ I know!” You growled, biting your inner cheeks. “ I… need time to adapt to this current life. After that… I will tell them.”

Without looking at her, you could already define her expression of knowingness. Even so, you ignored it, too caught up with your thoughts and forceful emotions.

Letting out a loud sigh, “ Mind joining me for a drink?”

Looking into Raven’s eyes, you could almost spot specks of whites and yellows swirling into her magnificent midnight black orbs. Despite how gorgeous they were, you knew that they held nothing more than pity and sympathy; ones that aimed at you— your decisions specifically.

Once again, you both held eye contact for however long before Raven broke it with a gentle shake of her head. She nodded, quietly accepting your invitation, stepping away from you.

Following her lead, you nodded, tightening your grasp on your own mask, in which you had taken off unconsciously during the discussion.

Fingers running through the surface, you admire each stroke that has been carved into the wood. Unlike Raven’s who was smothered in shades of black and grey, yours was painted in a variety of red and gold. In another way, it showcases the difference between your animal and hers.

Each member of the clan is subjected to form their alias based on their branch and their ones that resonate with them.

For example, your branch— the crimson branch is categorized as a physical branch, people who focus on close combat. As a result, all the members within the branch are named after predators of all kinds, except birds. Raven, who belonged to the Gold branch, specializing in long-distance attacks, are thus named after various avians. With that, the Azures are categorized to different strategic pieces and theories, while the Veridian branch are varieties of poisons, and the Titanium branch, are all the raw materials used for craftsmanship.

Bringing the mask to your face, you quickly fasten it, lifting your hair to hide the knot under it. You started heading out of the alley, Raven following right after you and into the clusters of light.

As you both walked through the noisy crowd, you glanced around at the assorted shades of lanterns that are hanged throughout the district, most in deep, bright shades of red, confirming that you were indeed in the epicentre of the red district.

The red district was a very interesting place that attracts a wide audience— for the many different reasons that are available. Some people come here to do business— both legal and illegally, while some search for companions—for the reasons you won’t go into. Anyways, in your guys’ case, it was the former. Now for whether it’s legal or illegal? You didn’t exactly know.

Along the way, you randomly chose a cozy-looking winery in the depth of the district, one that wasn’t filled with too many lustful people.

This particular winery was unlike many others. Instead of drenching in the odour of alcohol, the winery quickly filled your senses with a delicate and flowery scent. Curiosity hitting you like a brick wall, you glanced around to try and find where the scent was coming from.

“ Welcome, precious guests,” a velvety voice greeted.

Perking your head up at the voice, your head naturally followed the direction. Immediately after looking up, you were faced with a figure adorned in pieces of red. Unexpectedly, the voice owner’s face was beyond any noble ladies in the capital, with a sharp yet captivating gaze, and perfect proportions. To say the least, she was flawless.

Seeing your guys’ silence, the lady let out a smile.

“ Please, follow me,” she said, leading you into a quiet corner, invisible to most people.

You nodded in gratitude, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs.

“ What would you like?”

Looking contemplated, Raven asked, “ What do you specialize in?”

Eyes sparkling in excitement at Raven’s word, the lady clasped her hand together before clearing her throat, “ Finally! The Silvering Winery specializes in mixed drinks.”

Raising your eyebrow, curious of the reason for her being so excited, you asked, “ Don’t people come here for that since it’s your specialty?”

Reacting to your question, the lady huffed out a sigh, her eyebrows crunching up in frustration. “ Of course not! All we have coming are old, drunken men who know nothing more than jugs of those tasteless alcohol! With our location, even if so hidden, people still manage to find it. No one ever asks for mixed drinks… until now at least.”

You smiled, taking interest in her talk, “ Any recommendations you have?”

Tapping her chin carefully, the lady took her time to think as she scanned over the both of you. “ Mhmm, how about this? I’ll create drinks based on what I get from each of you.”

Raven hummed in agreement while you nodded in interest,“ Please… Mmm...Is there perhaps a name we could possibly address you?”

Plushed lips curling up to a smile, she answered, �� Please call me… Lisa.”

“ Sounds foreign.”

Lisa nodded, “ I’m from the west.”

Smiling at her words, you introduced, “ Please call me Phoenix.”

“ Raven.”

“ Then we’ll be in your care, Lisa.”

Turning around, Lisa headed off to what seemed to be the kitchen, “ Don’t worry, I never disappoint my customers.”

You waited for the retrieving figure to enter the kitchen before setting your eyes back to the decor of the place. The whole venue was covered in wood, planks attached to the floor while chunkier pieces are used to form tables. Smaller pieces of wood are spotted splattered across the walls and the tops of the very many seats. On your guys’ table, a tray sat there, holding a plate of sweets accompanied by two wooden cups, filled to the brim with scorching hot herbal tea.

Reaching over to grab yours, Raven following right after, you both enjoyed the taste of the herbs in silence. Letting the bitter taste coat your skin, you hummed in satisfaction as the warmth spread through your body, seeping into your core.

Unlike your usual mask where it covers your entire face, this one only covered half of it, thus making it much more convenient to use during these situations.

“ It’s been a while since we’ve had a normal conversation.”

Humming in interest, Raven continued to sip her tea.

“ How have you been?”

“ ...I’ve been good. Just the usual stuff, nothing new.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you reach over to grab a piece of sweet.

“ How have you been?”

Biting into the dessert, you munch on it while thinking over the question. “ It’s been hectic. This year has been a little … overwhelming.”

By the perked-up eyebrows, you could tell that she was interested in your wording but seeing how she had no intentions of mentioning it, you also dismissed the minor detail.

“ The Master had given you such a significant mission, it’s no wonder it would be so tiring.”

Tightening your lip to form a small smile, you nodded in agreement, your head bouncing with the force. “ In the beginning, I often wondered why the Master has assigned me to be leading this mission when there are clearly more suitable people than me.”

“ Who?”

Looking down to your own cup, you stared into the reflection of yourself painted on the layer of liquid. “ … For starters, you.”

Chuckling at your response, Raven eyed your slightly sunken form. “ Me? I have no interest in this type of mission. In fact, I’m quite glad that you were assigned to it. This way, at least, I have some reassurance that the mission is more likely to succeed.”

Refusing to look at her, you smiled in acknowledgement, the happiness unable to reach your eyes.

Seeing your sullen state, Raven reached out her hand to grasp yours, comfortably stroking over your knuckles.

“ You will do fine. In fact, you’ve done so much more than what that bastard has ever achieved in his entire life.”

Wincing at Raven’s profanity, you cracked out a smile.

“ You’re lucky he’s dead, if not…” you spaced out, slicing your finger across your neck to continue your sentence.

Raven smiled at your joke. “ You’re part of the Crimson branch, Y/n, a predator that stands out among the rest,” Raven reminded you, “ I know that this is weighing a great deal of pressure on you but know that we are always here to assist you.”

“ ...You’re really bittersweet, Raven.”

Blinking calmly at your comment, Raven replied, “ Of course.”

Feeling the conversation fade away, you both followed the flow, quietly minding each other’s interest.

“ What’s with the atmosphere here?” Lisa announced, entering the scene, carrying the beverages on a tray. “ Now, now. Don’t be too sullen. Let me cheer you up with these drinks,” she proudly proclaimed.

Looking at the drinks that she had placed in front of you, your eyes glimmered in interest. Picking the cup up, you brought it closer to you, inspecting the contents within the cup.

“ What is this?” You asked, sniffing the aroma that was escaping.

Resting her arms on her hips, she explained, “ With Raven’s, I decided to go with a simple drink. A combination of our winery’s signature wine and rice wine have been added to highlight a clean yet edgy taste. Swan Knife”

Raven nodded, lips curling up in satisfaction. Picking up her cup, she slowly bring it to her lips, taking small gulps to savor the taste. “ Swan Knife? Mhmm, it fits.”

“ Of course.”

“ What about mine?”

Clapping her hand in excitement, Lisa giddily answered, “ Yours was a combination of the winery’s freshest batch and an old brandy imported from the west. I topped the drink off with a little citrusy tang to highlight the harmony of the senses. Overall, you will experience the sharp, bitter, and tangy sensation in one mouthful. Bittersweet Kiss.”

Taking in a deep breath, you mentally cringed at the name while Raven openly smirked at the coincidence. “ Sounds like a roller coaster,” you hummed, taking your gulp.

Closing your eyes, you let the taste of the alcohol cover every crevice of your mouth, confirming what Lisa said to be true.

“ Interesting,” you said, “ Definitely worth your praise.”

Preening at your praise, she happily thanked you.

Using the tea to cleanse your palate, you repeatedly go back and force between the two beverages.

“ Why don’t you join us, Lisa?” Raven offered.

Shaking her head, she gave out a sad expression, “ I’m afraid that won’t be possible. My other customers are waiting.”

Taking a quick look around, you couldn’t spot any other customer except for yourself and Raven. However, as if on cue, the door was slammed open, revealing a bunch of drunken men, toppling over each other to try and enter the space.

“ LISA! Give me the usual!”

Rolling her eyes at the male, she quickly covered it with a smile, bowing in greeting at you before heading over to the other customers.

“ She seemed like an interesting fellow,” you noted before going back to your drink.

“... Has the Master been demanding?”

Stopping yourself at the question, you bite your lip in confliction. “ In some aspects, yes, he is. But I still don’t understand what we are getting out from these missions.”

Raven swirl her drink in a circular motion. “ The Master is planning something big.”

You snorted, “ Of course he is. He wouldn't assign me this mission for some petty excuses. You...you know something right?”

Confirming your theory at her refusal to look you in the eye, you nodded in understanding. “ You don’t need to tell me. I understand.”

“ No, it’s not because I don’t want to tell you but it’s … complicated. But what I can definitely guarantee you is that the Master is planning something that you will never expect.”

Staring at her features, you slowly studied the face that you’ve known for years. Suddenly, you came up with a surprise connection, one you didn’t expect to come nor become real.

“ If I look at you now, you hold some resemblance with someone I know,” you nonchalantly commented.

Stiffening at your sudden observation, Raven fidget with the cup in her hand as you stared her down, trying to identify who it was.

“ Who?” She meekly asked.

“... H— No i think I’ve mistaken you with someone else,” you covered up.

There’s no way that this is a coincidence. I’m just overthinking it.

Subtly shutting her eyes at your response, it was obvious that Raven didn’t wholeheartedly believe your words but ignored it either way.

“ I heard that you started adopting consorts, and changed the initial plan.”

“ … I did unconsciously recruit a few more consorts aside from Taehyung, and did manage to alter some part of the plan. However, I promised that it’s nothing major. The plan is progressing relatively smoothly.”

Chuckling at yoru panicked voice, she assured you, “ It’s fine. There’s no need to panic, I was just asking… Are they good people?”

Unconsciously smiling at the thought, you hesitantly nodded. “ They’re interesting people. Certainly unique in their own little ways.”

“ You know that you attract many people to your ways, right?”

Snorting at her response, you cheekily grinned. “ Good or bad, I wonder.”

Raven looked at you knowingly, before smugly looking at the decor around you, not wanting to give out a verbal response. Raising your eyebrows at her antiques, you also took your stride in looking around.

On instinct, you looked over at the opened doors to be met with a background of the dark sky, illuminated by lanterns. Hastily standing up, you bided Raven goodbye, “ Looks like it’s my time to go now. When you have the time, make sure to stop at my place.”

Going to the door, you almost couldn’t catch Raven’s greetings. Feeling a small smile adorned your face, you quickly exited the winery and back into the streets.

Looking at your previous spot, Raven mindlessly sipped her drink.

“ They’re certainly an interesting one, aren’t they?” Lisa pipped in.

Raven smiled, “ Definitely.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Once again in the crowds of the festival, you hurriedly dodge through the drunkens, careful to not hit the vulnerables. Smiling every so often to showcase your politeness, your feet quickly carried you to the opposite end and eventually to a left turn.

Letting out a deep sigh, you were thankful for getting out of the mess in one piece. Just being in the place gets you to have flashbacks about previous experiences.

You slowed down your pace, making sure to not look any stranger than what already meets the eyes. . Unlike the previous district who was filled with energy, this place is quite tranquil considering it is a more major district of the capital.

Eyes constantly scanning the area, you felt yourself stopped at a particular parlour. Approaching the stall, you took your time admiring the items that were put on for sale.

Grazing over the various accessories, you smiled at how detailed the carvings are. Feeling your finger twitch at a certain ornament, you brought it closer for inspection. Hooking the look around your finger, you twirl it around to test its stability.

Not bad.

“ Owner, are there any other colors or designs for this?”

Clasping her hand in excitement, the owner hurriedly displayed the other designs available.

Eyes sparkling in interest, you inspect ones that caught your sight but couldn’t decide on which one to buy. Seeing your uncertainty, the owner said, “ If you don’t mind me asking but who is it you plan on giving it to?”

Looking up to look at her eyes that had started to droop from old age, you politely smiled. “ I am planning to buy it for a… a friend.”

Raising her eyebrows at your reply, the owner took a moment to look over at the collection, “ Is there anything in particular that stands out about them?”

“ … sunshine.”

Looking back and forth between you and the collection before she boldly handed you an ornament. Graciously accepting the ornament, you take a second to inspect the item.

“ This norigae* is sewn from one of the most popular materials this year. Even though the threads are sewn together, similar to a rope, it is very soft yet also extremely steady. The customer had said that your friend holds similarity to the sun so I thought that the golden color would suit them.”

Nodding at her observance, you happily accepted her advice. “ Thank you. I will take this one.”

Returning the ornament back to her, you looked down again at the accessories before spotting a few that had caught your eyes.

“ Owner, please also pack these up for me,” you said, pointing at a few items, “ Here is the money. Keep the change.”

Bowing at her in gratitude, you accepted the wooden box containing your goods before heading to the tea house. On the way, you once again tuck the box in your sleeves in case of any ill intentions roaming around.

Resuming your previous pace, you continue to scavenge around the district while on your way back to the tea house. Amidst the way, you noticed an inconsistent pattern of people that were accumulating in front of a store nearby, coincidentally blocking your path.

I must be aligned with crowds today, you sighed.

After standing in the same spot for a few moments, you begrudgingly put on a brave face and courageously walk toward the crowd, hoping to not be pulled to pieces.

Taking a deep breath at a particular hard jab, you desperately sucked in the warm, moist air around you, trying to not groan too loudly. Tightening your stomach in an attempt to make yourself seem smaller, you try your best to push through the crowd of people.

Hissing at a young lady that had bumped into you, stepping on your toe in the process, you suddenly found yourself stuck in the center, with no available escape route.

Sighing at your unfortunate situation, regretting your decision, you were suddenly aware of the admiring gazes that wee being pulled. Looking around in curiosity, you wondered why everyone was looking so intrigued … until you heard the strings of the gayageum* being plucked.

Ears on alert at the melody that was being played, you turned your head in the direction, your feet unconsciously headed towards the music until you were just behind a few other bypassers.

Once you had registered what was happening, your eyes widened in surprise at the main highlight of the performance.

Hoseok.

There he was, your Noble Consort, was at the center, seemingly carrying all the major parts of the piece, giving no care to the crowd that had surrounded him. Eyes closed, Hoseok let himself go and simply followed the flow of the music, in a complete trance where the only thing that existed was himself and the melody.

Robes fluttering along with his movement, Hoseok continue to move with th music, seemingly becoming one with the melody.

Speechless at the scene that is happening in front of you, you stared at his dancing figure in complete silence, completely forgetting where you are, too focus on Hoseok, himself. It also seemed that you were too involved in the performance that you, also gave no care to your surroundings.

Eyes staring at Hoseok, at his every movement— twirls, turns, and jumps, you engulfed yourself to enjoy the performance, deciding to put away your questions for later.

Slowly, one song after another ended yet Hoseok still kept dancing while you kept your eyes glued on him. No matter how many times you were pushed around, or the constant change in neighbours, you still remained in your spot only snapping out of your daze at a particular hard push.

Eyes glaring at the intruding figure, you shake your head to clear up your mind. Noticing at the slow change in melody indicating that the song was about to end, you looked at Hoseok one last time before turning around and returning to your tracks, this time making sure to not go off it.

At least I know I’m not the only one who’s late.

As you calmly walk through the street, the scene that had unfolded in front of your eyes kept coming back. Hoseok’s smooth yet sharp moves, soft yet powerful gestures, and how he managed to control the air around him made you more curious about him.

Who exactly are you?

Silently entering the tea house, you were too deep into your thought that you had even dismissed the greetings of the servants and instead just followed their lead to your previous spot.

“ Give me a serving of the sweets to go,” you mindless order.

Leaning back against the chair, you glanced down the window, searching for Hoseok’s incoming figure. However, you soon find out that he wasn’t going to come anytime soon. Even after receiving your sweets, Hoseok still did not come.

Placing the money down on the table, you grabbed the sweets and left the establishment and instead settled for the outside stairs to wait for him. Feeling your skin itch in agitation, you feel your anxiety increase as the minute goes by.

Where is he?

Feeling your mood getting increasingly worse, you accidentally growled at a man that accidentally touched you. Apologizing was a hazy memory when you were in this current state yet you still find yourself waiting, somehow not finding the need to go and find him yourself. However, in all of foolishness, Hoseok is bound to get at least a few of your lectures.

Finally, after the moon was halfway on its route, a familiar figure finally appeared. Letting out a breath that you didn’t know existed, you ruffled your hair in both relief and frustration; both emotions aiming at him.

“ Where have you been?”

Flinching at your cold tone, Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Instead, he opted to look down at the floor, in shame.

“ Did you realize what time it is?” You asked, “ When did we agree to meet?”

Once again, you were met with absolute silence. At this time, most of the stores and parlours had closed with only a few lanterns available to illuminate the street.

However, unlike the calm and tranquil the cool night should bring you, you felt a wave of frustration engulf you. In the back of your mind, you thanked your abilities to heal the wounds in time. Because without it, the wound would have already reopened with how hard you were clenching your arm.

Aside from your blazing eyes and your tense grasp on your sword, Hoseok couldn’t find any other evidence of your anger. However, even without any evidence, he knew that you were letting out anything but positive energy.

“ Whatever, we’ll talk about this at a later date,” you said, drawing a shaky sigh before presenting your arm, “ Let’s go.”

Looking at your arm, Hoseok hesitantly holds onto it before letting himself be dragged by you.

The silence presented during your guys’ walk was what Hoseok had expected when he accepted your invitation. However, he also understood the reason for why such a tense sensation was presented and was not naturally there.

As you approached the palace gates, you let go of Hoseok’s hand, reaching into your sleeve to take out your hopae*. When the guard spotted your tag, he immediately opened the gate, letting you both in. Before going in, you reached over to Hoseok to entangle your hand with his, not saying anything at his surprised expression. Thankfully, Hoseok also followed the flow and didn’t comment on your actions.

During the way to the Noble Consort’s courtyard, an eunuch had run over, offering to help guide you but was answered by a denial. Instead, you took the lantern from his hands and dismissed him.

Once you both were finally in front of Hoseok’s courtyard, you finally let go of his hand. Hoseok, who was about to bow to you, stopped when he saw you reach into your sleeve, seemingly looking for something.

Unlatching the rope that had secured the box, you quickly took out the norigae that you previously brought. Throwing it over to Hoseok’s direction, you turned around and began to walk to your courtyard, not looking at his reaction.

“ A souvenir from me. If it’s not to your fancy, throw it away.”

Hastily catching the item that you had disposed into his hands, he confusingly looked at it before realizing what it was. Grazing over the norigae fondly, Hoseok carefully untangled the knots. Grasping the ornament tightly, he felt his lips turn upward at your gestures. Bringing it close to his chest, he looked at your disappearing figure, attentively.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Within the next month of the announcement, news of the arrival of the new consorts began to enter the palace, and eventually, reaching the court. The ministers and officials were overjoyed at the news, happy that they were still sending over the candidates despite your announcement.

Unlike others who were happy about the consorts’ arrival, Taehyung was still soured over the news, as well as your choice.

Despite Taehyung’s obvious disapproval, it was customary for you to at least spend a night with each consort in the first week, especially if they were from a different country.

On your first night of the three, you met your first choice from the piles of possible candidates.

Sato Chungho, was a righteous man who had an outstanding record and an ambition in politics. He was so intrigued by it that you had spent the entire night talking about the subject.

“ Politics, you say?” You asked curiously as you propped your chin on your hand.

Chungho enthusiastically nodded, eyes trained on your every movement. “ Yes, your majesty.”

You hummed, “ Why are you suddenly bringing this up?”

Looking down at his hands, Chungho fidgets with the fabric of his attire. “ I had heard that your majesty is well versed in this field. Since I have met you, I … I knew that love would never be able to blossom between the two of u—”

“ Why would you say that?” You interrupted, eyes peering down at him in interest.

“ You might not know this, your majesty but you have been a very popular topic in Shihoma. Previously, we all had known about how terrible the Corea’s monarch was but since your arrival, everyone couldn’t help but be intrigued by how you managed to take him down. More importantly, the way you handled this Consort Selection both showcases your dominance and how you’re not afraid to flaunt it. Many would have to think twice about doing this, especially for a country that has yet to establish a good reputation.”

“ Then wouldn’t my actions be considered to be reckless. If you think about it, won’t it be easy for other countries to fight ours since it’s so vulnerable right now?”

Chungho shakes his head, “ It would be unlikely because most people know that most of the soldiers had gone to your side before and during the rebellion. You didn’t lose that many soldiers so attacking you is not a minor matter.”

Raising your eyebrows at his answer, you nodded your head. “ Then what would you like?”

“ I would like…” Chungho gulped, “ to learn more about politics under you.”

A potential.

Cracking a smile at his uncertainty, you stand up from your seat. Waving your hands to signal him to come over, you invited, “ Come. Play a game of go with me.”

With that, Chungho giddily accepted your invitation and both of you found yourself spending the entire night indulged in all the games you had available.

On the second night, things turned out to be more interesting with the second consort.

“ Chin-Hae means the truth and a vast ocean, correct?” You had asked.

“ Yes, your majesty.”

“ And you’re a son of a merchant?”

“ Yes, your majesty.”

Scanning at him from top to the bottom, and bottom to top, you couldn’t decipher the unsettled feeling that is blooming within your chest. You have been caught up in many situations where there is a sense of familiarity despite being strangers. And this is one of those situations.

“ You look familiar.”

“ I am afraid that we have never meet until today,” he said, “ However, you might have find my demeanour similar to some of the envoys that are currently residing in the palace.”

“ … you’re from Xin May yet you behave like the Ecenyths, you must have travelled quite a bit.”

“ As a merchant’s child, I have started travelling since I could even remember. However, I did spent a reasonable amount of time in Ecenyth.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “ Tell me the stories of the land you have visited.”

“ Where would you like to hear first, your majesty?”

“ … Xin May,” you decided, “ Tell me the culture, people, myths, legends. Anything of interest to your home country.”

Chin-Hae smiled, “ Yes, your majesty.”

As a result, you spent the entire night listening to the various stories from Chin-Hae; from the land’s culture to personal experiences and connection, Chin-Hae had told it in such an interesting manner that it captivated you every step of the way. He truly is a merchant.

I wonder if Seokjin is also good at storytelling.

On the third and final night, you were beyond exhausted with being deprived of sleep for two days straight and the constant piles that were presented on your desk. Thus, you didn’t have as much energy as usual and hoped that today will be like the other two.

Turns out, the third time was really the charm since it was completely different from the rest.

Entering your bedroom, you wanted nothing more than to fall onto the bed and travel to dreamland. Feet dragging your slouched body to the familiarity of your bed, you were suddenly hit with the realization of the slight change in the room’s placement.

Sobering up at the thought of an intrusion, you glared at every change in your normally simple chamber, feeling the irritation in you double. Aside from the difference in decor, the usual scent of lavender that would caress your skin was replaced with an overpowering scent of perfume. Feeling a headache reappearing, you sluggishly walked towards your bed only to be met with a big clump covered by a thin, transparent fabric.

The person must have noticed your speechless demeanour when they let out soft, high-pitched giggles. Normally, you would have define the noise as angelic but with your non-sobered state, fondness was not on top of the list.

Harshly grabbing the fabric, you forcefully tugged it off the figure and threw it to the floor. Looking into the bright yet hazy black orbs, you find yourself not knowing what to do.

“ Greetings to your majesty.”

Squinting your eyes in an attempt to find familiarity in the person in front to you but unable to do so, you find yourself speechless of what to say nor do. Suddenly, you realized that he was the one who you have chosen randomly, a person that you didn’t even bother knowing the name of.

Turning the other way, guiltily, you refused to look into the person’s eye, ashamed as what you did that day. However, the person seated on your bed took your action as an attempt to distance yourself away from him. As a result, he sneakily reach out his hand to touch your clenched ones.

Shivering at the chilling skin that had enveloped into your warmer ones, you looked at him, waiting to see what he would do.

As if knowing what you were hinting, the person took the opportunity to pull you to him, successfully setting you seated next to him.

Taking a deep breath, you could define the different fragrances that he was using.

Rose, with a light note of chamomile, citrus, lavender? No, what is it?    

Confused at what you were smelling, you didn’t notice the roaming hands that were venturing your body until it travelled to your thigh. In a moment of panic, you pushed him away from you, shocking him in the process.

“ You… what’s your name?”

Yet to recover from the sudden shove, the male hastily replied, “ P-park Jimin, your majesty.”

Awkwardly nodding at his answer, you make sure to raise your hands, signalling that you meant no harm. “ I apologize, Jimin-ssi. There was so much work that I seemed to forget your name,” you said, shuffling away.

You knew that lying was bad in this situation but you also knew that saying that he was chosen in a matter of luck was worse. In other terms, he was lucky to be picked and wasn’t picked based on his capabilities unlike the other two.

There’s no way that I’ll tell him that.

Once again, using the opening of you drifting off, Jimin approached you, hands delicately running up your legs, eyes glimmering with mischief and flirtatiousness.

Speechless at what he was doing, you could only stare as he continued to venture across the span of your skin. Gently prying his hands off you, you push Jimin away. This time, on alert for any of his upcoming initiatives.

“ So tell me about yourself,” you said, brushing off what had just happened.

Staring at you confusingly, Jimin’s finger twitches in agitation. “ Why are you doing this?”

“ What do you mean?” You asked, scrunching up your nose.

“ Why are you asking these questions when you already know the answer?” He asked, eyes hiding behind his bangs.

“ I apologize, it seems that I have offended you. These past few days have been so busy that I haven't had the time to go over your profile yet.”

“ You didn’t even have the time to look into me?” He murmured, eyes locked on the velvet sheets.

You waved your hand in a hurry, protesting. “ Of course not. I sincerely apologize. I truly didn’t have the time to do so.”

Part of it was true while the other wasn’t being told. Yes, you have been extremely busy that you didn’t have any spare time and would go to sleep straight away after you return to your courtyard. However, you also did pick Jimin randomly, thus not having the fresh opportunity to look at his portrait.

You were really regretting your decisions of following the ministers’ miscellaneous plans.

Picking his head up, you propped them on top of your hand, directly looking into his own. Seeing his stunned expression because of your initiatives was something unexpectedly amusing; plushed lips puckered out to form a pout, a crimson shade that is spreading along the span of his cheeks, and eyes widen in such a manner that you almost couldn’t stop yourself from cooing about his cuteness.

Regretting at not seeing his painted portrait, you wonder if the artist managed to capture his beauty.

Smiling gently at your gestures, Jimin blinks continuously to try and seduce you.

Smirking at his antiques, you followed whatever he was luring you into before trapping him under your body. Arms placed on either side of him, Jimin bravely looked at you, eyebrows raised in a suggestive manner.

Lowering yourself until you were barely above him, you whispered into his ear, “ What do you think you’re doing.”

Feeling an unfamiliar sensation blooming within his core, Jimin unhurriedly replied, “ Whatever your majesty wants to do, I will follow.”

Smirking at his response, you continue to tease him by grazing your finger lightly across his skin, similar to what he had done to you. Seeing him squirm at the feeling was definitely a sight to see; amidst your teasing, you could even see a slight change in demeanour for a moment before it was covered by the previous thin layer of lust.

How interesting.

“ Oh really?”

Shivering at the moisture of your breath, Jimin couldn’t help but anticipate what was about to happen. However, his fantasize was cut short when he was no longer pinned down, the previous pressure dissipating into the air.

Pulling away from Jimin, you turned around, starting to take off your robe. “ You may stay here if you wish. We can talk about whatever but nothing related to what we just did.”

“ … So you just wanted to tease me?”

Clenching your fist at his question, you shakily replied, “ I apologize. I… I wanted to find out something.”

Jimin bit his lip, eyes glaring at your back. “ And that gives you the need to tease me? You may be my master, your majesty. But I am still a human who has feelings.”

“ … I apologize.”

“ Apologies, apologies,” Jimin huffed out, “ If you don’t want me here then I will leave.”

Standing up, Jimin takes the fabric, previously thrown to the floor and wrapped it around himself. Walking past you, Jimin didn’t look at you and instead focused on the door. Pushing the doors open, Jimin was about to leave but was suddenly pulled back.

Gasping at the pulling force, Jimin staggered backwards into your chest. “ I did say that I would let you leave but I didn’t agree to you leaving while in such a foul mood.”

Now, against your chest, you and Jimin were at the same height, none towering over the other but within your presence, Jimin found himself cowering under your watchful eyes.

“ W-what do you want now?”

“ I want to apologize to you,” you said, “ What do you want me to do?”

Turning around to look into your eyes, Jimin undoubtedly could sense your genuinity. Still trapped in your embrace, Jimin took his time to think and weigh the possible outcomes.  

“ You would do whatever I say?”

“ If it’s reasonable, yes. I would do anything.”

Taking into consideration of your words, Jimin giddily thought up of various options. “ Then… give me jewelry as compensation.”

“ Jewelry? What do you want specifically?”

“ Anything that shows your favour in me. Things that would make people envy my position by your side.”

You nodded, agreeing with his terms. “ I will have something prepared for you by tomorrow and sent to your courtyard. For now…”

Looking over at your drawers, eyes sparkling up at the idea. Unlatching your arms around Jimin, you walked up to your drawers. Pulling a small drawer, you gingerly searched around before pulling a certain item out.

Returning to where you previously were, you gestured for him to turn around. You carefully placed the accessories against his skin, encasing the knot to secure the necklace in place. “ Keep this as a promise that I will fulfill my role.”

Grasping the pendant, Jimin looked over the design in awe before cracking a smile.

Seeing his smile, you commented, “ I see that you ar—“

“ Acceptable,” Jimin arrogantly said.

“ I’m glad,” you said, walking towards the table, pouring yourself a cup of tea, “ Let’s have a proper conversation now, shall we?”

Rolling his eyes at your comment, Jimin clenched the fabric wrapped around him before heading towards the table, taking a seat opposite of you.

“ Now, what can I know about you, Jimin-ssi.”

“ You don’t need to be that formal. Please call me Jimin.”

You smiled, “ Gladly.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ Now tell me about the Scavenge Disaster.”

Hastily going through the notes that he had memorized yesterday, Jungkook clumsily replied, “ The Scavenged Disaster was a breakout of droughts in the southern regions forcing many to go get refuge in other places?”

“ Continue.”

“ Mhmm.. the Sca—”

“ Say it with more confidence,” Taehyung interrupted.

Shooting him a glare, you scrunched up your eyebrows in frustration. Opening your mouth, you were about to say something when Taehyung continued to interrupt you.

“ How can you not remember the basics?” He degraded once he saw the hesitation that still lingered in Jungkook’s eyes.

Eyes widening at his words, you shouted, “ Royal Consort! Be careful with your words!”

Rolling his eyes at your word, Taehyung leaned back against his seat and focused on Jungkook, waving his hand for him to continue.

Shaking your head, you roughly slumped down into your seat, ignoring the stare that Jungkook was giving you.

Swallowing all the tension down, Jungkook went back to what he has been doing, now, even more agitated.

From the start of today’s lesson, the intensity of the air in the room was at an abnormal level. You all have noticed the change but no one put in the effort to address it.

“ When did this occur?”

“ Ten years before the previous dynasty ended.”

“ How old were you then?”

“ I was… ten at that time.”

“ I heard that you were constantly out of the palace,” you said, “ Must have been hard for you.” Nonchalantly looking down at the papers on the table, you didn’t caught Taehyung’s soured gaze.

“ Ten? You’re barely an adult now. Must have been a little brat,” Taehyung commented.

Sighing, you tiredly looked over at him, “ Brat? Look at you right now. You’re the brattiest yet.”

Taehyung scowled at your comment, “ Whatever. What has this lesson turned into? A personal bonding time for the two of you? Forget it, we’re done for today. I’m not in the mood for it.”

“ Jungkook you may go,” you dismissed him, letting out an exhausted sigh, and rubbed your tensed eyebrows. Seeing Taehyung also standing up, you were quick to confront him, “ You, dear Royal Consort, is staying until I tell you otherwise.”

Turning around, Taehyung looked at you with raised eyebrows, challenging you. “ You can’t control me.”

“ As long as I have the crown, there is nothing I can’t get my hands onto, including you.”

Huffing at your comment, Taehyung slumped down into his seat, not looking at you.

“ Why are you like this?” You asked, frustrated.

“ Why are you asking me? Ask yourself!” He yelled out, disbelief clearly adorned on his face.

“ What did I do?”

“ You took in three other consorts!”

“ I was forced to!”

“ You’re the owner of this land, no one can control you.” He said, using your comment as payback.

You chewed on your cheek at your words getting backfired. “ It's a minor problem, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“ Minor problem? Sure it is. So incredibly small that it caused chaos in the imperial court, agitating all the ministers.”

“ If you’re worried about them interrupting ou—”

“ I don’t care about the plan. What if they fancy you!” He retorted, pouting at his own words.

Eyebrows raised at Taehyung’s tantrum, you unconsciously lean back to enjoy the show.

“ You’re worried that they will gain power if they have my favour?”

“ That too,” Taehyung muttered.

“ Don’t worry. Chung-ho and Chin-Hae aren’t in the mindset of settling down,” you reassured, “ Chung-ho is too busy with his interest in politics while Chin-Hae will be travelling.”

During your guys’ little talk, you had personally promised to give Chin-Hae the privilege to exit the palace at will in return for little souvenirs that he will bring back. This may sound immature but you have plans for those items.

“ You guys are on first-name-basis now? Whatever, whatever, whatever... Then what about the third one?” He asked.

You tilted your head confusingly, not able to hear what he just said. “ What did you say?”

Taehyung looked at you, eyes piercing into your own. “ I asked about the third one. Jimin was it?”

“ Jimin?” You pulled out, chewing on your head as you remember what had happened on your guys’ first meeting. “ I don’t know.”

Taehyung pouted, “ Then there is still a possibility!”

“ If you don’t trust my words then go see for yourself.”

At your words, Taehyung turned around and walked out. “ I will.”

I will see for myself what you all have.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

A week later, Taehyung upholds his promise by arranging an informal afternoon tea meetup with the rest of the harem. He definitely needed to see how these consorts are faring.

Seated in the middle of the round table where every person that comes and goes is in his vision field, Taehyung patiently waited for all the guests to arrive.

Slowly, the Blue Pearl garden started to get crowded by people, surrounding the table situated under the gazebo.

On his left, seated the Imperial Consort, the only consort that he, the Royal Consort has to show some face to.

It is best said that the relationship between the Imperial Consort and himself is not the best but it’s also not the worst.

We just don’t align, is what he would like to say.

Maybe in another situation, he and the Imperial Consort can find a common ground but in a harem, he is barely able to keep it under his control without the interference of another party. As a result, if’s they can’t be acquaintances then being neutrals would do.

Naturally, the farther they are to the host, the inferior their status is, meaning that when those new consorts arrive, they will be on the opposite side of him. More specifically, facing him directly on this round table.

On his right, there sat the eldest Noble Consort, who was all too busy with looking at the surrounding to spare him no mind.

I must agree to what Y/N had said. Childlike yet witty.

Perking up at another incoming group, Taehyung smiled in greeting. “ Ah, Consort Sato, welcome. Take a seat next to Noble Consort Jung.”

Bowing down in greetings, Chungho smiled at Taehyung’s words. “ Greetings to the Royal Consort, Imperial Consort Min, and Noble Consort Jung,” he said before heading towards the seat next to Hoseok’s

At least this kid knows manners.

Taehyung smiled in satisfaction, “ Good. I like you.”

“ I’m honoured to be in your favour.”

“ The Consort Yang has arrived!” The eunuch outside announced.

Turning his attention towards the entrance, Taehyung gently nodded in greetings, already not liking the person with a tacky smile.

Unlike Chungho, who was dressed in the imperial hanbok, expected of a concubine’s status; and behaved in a way much like so. Chin-Hae, instead wore the clothes of his homeland, and put on a disgustingly confident smile.

Normally, Taehyung would have overlooked this as he is also interested in ways one can express themselves through fashion but when that person is his rival, he simply can’t overlook it.

Like understanding what he was trying to convey, a maid by his side stood up. “ Consort Wang sure is unique.”

Instead of being offended, Chin-Hae beamed at her words.

Seeing his expression, Taehyung also smiled in amusement. “ Take a seat, Consort Yang.”

Interesting.

“ I heard that Xin May is a really energetic country.”

“ The epicenter for festivals and entertainment,” Taehyung piped in, casually.

“ It really is. I would say that I am forced to attend at least a dozen festivals every year. And that doesn’t even account to the ones specific to each region.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Hoseok leaned forward in curiosity. “ That must really be eventful.”

“ Sounds like you were busy.”

“ I really wasn’t. Besides, I would trade time for the smallest chance of getting to attend. Unfortunately, my father is trying to train me to inherit the business. Days fill with work and politics is too much for me to cope, however...” Chin-Hae denied, sighing at the thought of the constant work piles.

Blinking at his words, Hoseok commented, “ Right, I heard that Consort Sato is interested in politics from your majesty. Is it true?”

Looking up from his hands, Consort Sato bashfully nodded. “ I have been interested in politics since childhood but was never allowed to have any information on it.”

“ You enjoy politics? Such a unique hobby.”

Taehyung opened his mouth, preparing to say something when he was suddenly interrupted with an announcement.

“ Consort Park has arrived!”

Raising his eyebrows at the incoming figure, Taehyung propped his head on top of his hand.

Now, this is a sight to see.

Compared to the rest, Jimin’s attire was overly done. From the expensive materials that were used, to the intricate designs that were sew onto the fabric, one could definitely tell that he was born noble.

With every step, the bells of his bracelet could be heard jingling as Jimin draws closer to the gazebo. Putting on a confident smile, Jimin did a slight bow in greetings, hands clasped over his chest.

“ Consort Park certainly is prepared,” Chin-Hae commented, astonished at his attire.

“ I thank the Consort Yang for the compliment.”

Taehyung bitterly smiled at the act, feeling his slowly adrenaline rise.

“ Please take a seat, Consort Park. The sun is already in its third quarter and the event has yet to start. Without any further interrupti—”

“ Apologies, apologies, Royal Consort. I had to do some work and forgot the time. I didn’t miss out on anything major, did I?” A booming voice exclaimed, racing from the entrance to where they were.

Taehyung scowled at the familiar voice, eyes glaring at the rushed figure.

“ Merchant of the South,” Hoseok greeted.

Like who Hoseok had said, the steps of Seokjin grew closer to the gazebo, face brightened up at the sight in front of him. Stopping meters away from the entrance, Seokjin bent down to a bow in greeting. “ Greetings to the Consorts.”

“ I was not aware that you were invited.”

“ Apologies, I immediately rushed over the moment I heard that you were holding tea time.”

You knew that you were not invited and yet…, Taehyung rolled mentally rolled his eyes before looking to the side, silently motioning for the arrangements to be done.

Nodding at his signal, the person focused on the preparations, no longer caring at the stares he was receiving.

“ Seems like you knew that you were not invited,” Yoongi straightforwardly pointed out, “ Why are you here then?”

Motioning the maid to go get another chair, Hoseok added, “ Are you here to greet the new consorts?”

“ Partially. I was getting curious at the uprising of the new trio and wanted to go see for myself.”

Unlike others, Jimin reacted at the comment by clenching his jaded fist. Staring like I’m an animal, how daring.

Looking around, Jimin noticed how no one was fazed by Seokjin’s words, secretly stunned at how nonchalantly all of them are until his eyes met with Yoongi’s. Flusteredly looking away, Jimin made a move to smooth out his attire, fidgeting with the fabric along the way.

“ Apologies, only those who have been given permission to attend can do so,” Taehyung's eyes narrowed Seokjin’s figure, “ Besides, I believe the envoy has much better things to attend to than some measly tea event.”

The merchant shook his head in disapproval, “ Attending this event is also part of my duties. The emperor has specifically ordered me to visit the consorts frequently to build a better relationship with them… Also, it had seemed that I was not the only one that came without being invited.” After that, Seokjin’s eyes automatically set its attention on the person behind the table of herbs.

The host smiled, grabbing his wooden fan on the table before flicking it open, gently oscillating it, “ Hmm?... Ah, care to answer that by yourself?”

Setting down the equipment, Namjoon unhurriedly waited for all the boiled water to drain from the pot before gently placing it on the tray. Motioning the maids to bring it, Namjoon made his way to the centre table, smiling all the way. Stopping a couple of steps behind Taehyung, Namjoon clasped his left hand over his right and bowed, “ I apologize for not greeting you, Consorts… Envoy of Ecenyth. Thanks to the Royal Consort, I have the honour of concocting all the drinks that will be served.”

Scanning up and down, Jimin observed Namjoon’s manners, picking up the Royal Consort’s obvious favour towards him. So he is on his side, or maybe… Jimin smiled at the thought which skillfully got hidden by a tea cup placed in front of him.

“ Concocting? Sounds like this will have many benefits.”

“ Of course, Noble Consort Jung. It wouldn’t be right of me to not prepare a nutritious drink,” Namjoon explained.

Hoseok only smiled but made no attempt to reach out for the cup. “ Please sit down, envoy. Why not have a cup of tea while you are here?” He offered once he realized Seokjin was still standing.

Smiling gratefully, Seokjin quietly slipped on to the seat that was just delivered.

Scanning around, Taehyung noted how not a single person had consumed the tea. “ Why aren’t you tasting it? This variety is quite fragrant and won’t be as nutritious if taken cold,” Taehyung commented, letting out a teasing smile, “ Perhaps you all are afraid that it is poisoned?”

Feeling the people around him tensed at his blunt words, Taehyung picked up his own cup before taking a sip from it, flipping it over to show he had finished it. “ See? Now, drink up.”

Sighing at Taehyung’s words, Yoongi deadpanned at how appetizing and easy it was to step into his trap. How annoying, he thought, glancing at Namjoon before staring into his own. Yoongi gracefully lifted the cup to his nasal, taking in a whiff of its scent. Placing the porcelain edge against his lips, Yoongi carefully took a sip. “ Not poisoned.”

Making eye contact with Hoseok, Yoongi subtly nodded, confirming what he previously said was true. Relying on his words, Hoseok also took a sip and smiled at the pleasant taste. “ Such a smooth taste.”

Taehyung smiled, at least we work considerably well together.

“ I’m glad that this tea has satisfied you.”

“ Move on to the next course,” Taehyung ordered, “ I hope you all haven’t ate anything today.”

At his command, the surrounding servants were put to work. Skilfully replacing the dishes placed on the tables with new ones, one can see the obvious change in style.

“ The decorations have changed,” Chin-Hae commented, looking at the sight in front of him in amazement.

Giggling at his comment, Taehyung nodded. “ Of course. Now that we are waiting on the next course, allow me to explain today's concept,” taehyung started, picking up the previous course’s cup, “ With each change in course, a new course will be bestowed based on a designated season. The previous was spring, this time will be summer, eventually becoming autumn and winter.”

Eyes sparkling at Taehyung’s voice, Jimin couldn’t help but clasp an exaggerated gesture over his petite face in awe. “ Such consideration the Royal Consort has put in.”

Taehyung nodded his head in gratitude, continuing to swing his fan back and forth.

“ Unlike spring, summer is considerably heavier so the Royal Consort has highlighted the use of fruits?” Hoseok asked.

“ Correct. Do you know the reason why?”

“ Because summer has the largest spectrum in terms of fruits.”

Snorting at his words, Taehyung said, “ Of course, envoy. However, aside from the taste, there is another factor to why I have put it here.”

“ Why?” Chungho asked, curious.

“ It’s because fresh fruits symbolises vitality, youth, abundance… and fertility,” Taehyung smiled. “Either way, isn’t it the perfect description of the Nurturing Solstice?”

Blushing at the Royal Consort’s indications, Jimin couldn't help but wonder what his life will now be like.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ They were talking about the Nurturing Solstice?” You asked, “ Taehyung must have had a fun time.”

Compared to the past, the current Nurturing solstice is quite watered down. Previously, the Nurturing Solstice did not only mark the start of a new harvest season but also the start of something more humanly— something more mature.

“ Yes, the new consorts were blushing at the Royal Consort’s openness.”

“ Let him have his fun. Cooping up in the palace isn’t good for anyone,” you said, “ Right, make sure to keep an eye on the new consorts, especially Chin-Hae.”

Clenching his hands, Chin-Hwa clumsily bowed at you tonal command, “ yes, your majesty.”

Glancing at his posture from your spot, you observed how uncomposed he became. Sighing, you leaned against the window frame, gazing out of the window. “ The sky is darkening.”

“ Yes, you majesty. It is estimated that the storm will go on for at least three days.”

You hummed at his reply, “ As expected… an abrupt change is about to occur.”

Tilting his head at your sudden comment, Chin-Hwa shot you a confused glance.

Dismissing his stare, you continue to stare at the sky.

It’s just that I don’t know how though.

~MintVender ( 19/05/21 )

Definitions:

Norigae - a traditional korean accessory that is usually hung at the waist at a person. It acts as a fashion item as well as a good-luck charm to bring youth and wealth to the person.

Gayageum -  a Korean board zieuter, with 12 silk strings, and 12 movable bridges. Made from paulownia wood, he zither is about 160cm(62 inches) long and 30cm(12 inches) wide.

Hopae - an identification tag that carries the bearer’s name, place of birth, status, residence during the Joseon dynasty.

[vemuabhi]

Disney Romance - Mermaid Mullan! - 200 followers special

Thankyou for requesting Bas!!! ( @basilisa-scorpii​ ) I was a bit nervous writing this! As you are one of my favorites and are so talented. Actually i too didn’t watch many movies. Only those 10 that I mentioned. My friend was in disbelief when I told her that I didn’t watch frozen. Apparently it was a big deal for her as he almost watched every Disney princess movie.

So, its my first fic writing for the 200 followers! Please read it without having any high expectations. I may not reach them.

Pairing : Zoro X Mermaid! Reader

Word count : 3.6K (Sorry, the concept was so interesting and I couldn’t stop)

Warnings : A long ass fic written by me, read at your own risk. CRINGE ALERT!, has magic, bad action scenes, happy ending or else I’ll cry, a lost marimo.

“Tsk… Lucky mermaids. They just get to go and play while I have to learn these stupid spells”, you opened the new book of spells, which had a brown cover and was very heavy. The cover had a design of a mermaid.

You started to read the spells. Being born in the clan of spells mermaid, you always thought that you were one of those unlucky mermaids who can’t just play with the fishes. You were a very young mermaid and didn’t understand the importance of them.

Growing up, these spells always helped to escape from so many troubles. You could even go to the land using these spells. Hiding your scales and turing your tail into legs.

One fine day in the ocean, while you were making preparations to go to the land, a white-haired half – octopus approached you. ‘Not again’, you sighed.

“What now Ursula? I need to leave”, Without hiding your irritation, you asked her.

“Y/N going to the land again? Why won’t you use my help? I’ll turn you into a human then you don’t have to rely on your powers and get weak every time”, she said as she twirled around you.

There are many powers that can be mastered in the spell book and your main power being in Teleporting but you did learn many other spells, including turning your tail into legs. But every thing has a counter action. The more demanding the spell, the more of a toll it pays on your body by making you weak, leading to even death. Taking your real mermaid form and taking rest in the ocean can help you regain your power.

“The princess asked me for legs and I gave her what she needed”

“The princess? Why did she ask you for legs?”

“Love, she was in love with a man, are you also in love?”

“No and I’d never do that for a silly thing as Love”

“But, you are going to Land using your powers. Aren’t you tired of it dear”

You sighed at how she never gave up on you. “Why? So that you can take my spell book or my family sapphire stone?”, your eyebrow raised with annoyance. She gulped and tried to open her mouth to say something but too late. You weren’t interested in listening to her so you snapped your fingers and Teleported to land.

You didn’t like to teleport when people were talking but you didn’t want to listen to her toxic convincing again. Like hell you needed her powers. You’d rather lose your powers then to give her your spell book or the sapphire stone, which was now, in the necklace you were wearing. It was also called as the second chance.

You went to the small house mostly made of stones. It was just had 2 rooms. You opened the box which you found in the ruined ship and wore the male clothes which were in it. After coming to the land you observed that, most of the men would be creepy when you were wearing women clothing, which lead you to throw those men away. When you wore men clothing, no one glanced at you. And you didn’t get the chance to waste your powers. So you preferred to be dressed as a man.

You took the gold coin which was actually the last one you had in the box. ‘I need to find a way to stock these’, you thought as you started to make your way into the town. Apparently, these people got super mad at you when you ate and tried to leave. They called this… money? If you remember correctly.

At first it was pure curiosity what the Land was of. But after being addicted to the food here, you couldn’t help but to come back regularly. While in the sea all it was available was sea weed and raw food. It was good but it wasn’t even comparable with the food on land. The humans had some tasty food called fruits. And they were of different varieties like mango, orange, apple, berries etc. Oh, how delicious the meat was, when it was cooked. So, you kept coming here using your powers. The food was worth it!

You headed towards the place where the old humans make food, you were their favorite customer as you always gave them a gold coin every time you visited. They were poor and the gold you gave them, helped them to even get out of the debts. You reached the place and started to eat while some people quarreled. But you didn’t care. All you looked at was the food before you. You were always given a small size powerless trident and a small sword with it. You didn’t know why they were used.

“HEY IDIOT! ARE YOU THE ONE WHO ALWAYS GIVES GOLD COINS? GIVE THEM TO ME”, someone shouted but you were too busy in eating.

“Sir please, leave our customer. That man is being very kind to us old people”, pleaded the old man but he didn’t care.

“You jerk! Why the hell are you ignoring me?”, some one slammed their hand on your table making your apple almost fall down. ‘Unforgiveable’

You glared at the man beside you as he grabbed you by the collar and pulled you up, just before he punched you, you snapped your fingers and he froze in his place. He couldn’t move. You clenched your fist and punched him in the face making him fly across the room.

Everyone stopped doing what they were doing and looked at you in disbelief. The person you punched was a strong guy who always took peoples valuables. A green haired soldier was totally stunned. ‘A person this strong was in a small town like this’, he thought. He went towards the person who was trashed by you and noticed that he was knocked out. ‘It seemed a bit different but, that guy can help a lot’, he thought. The soldier turned around to look at you but you were already leaving.

Placing the money which was required to pay on the desk, the green haired man ran in your direction. “Hey dude!! Wait a minute!”, he called to you. But you were busily eating the apple which had the pretty red colour.

‘I need to get more of these golden coins. Maybe the ship which crashed in the western side has some of these’, making plans on how to get more of these, you walked towards the shore.

You then felt a hand on your shoulder which made you to stop. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes met with black orb. The man had green hair and a scar on one of his eyes. He was muscular and well built. He had three golden coloured earrings on one of his ears.

“Hey dude! I wanna talk to you”, he said removing his hand from your shoulder. You took a bite of your apple and turned towards him. You raised one of your eye brow at him as you folded your arms.

“I am so amazed that a powerful man like you is in this small town. Actually, seeing you fight that rogue, I wanted to ask you if you’d come to the war and be a soldier, like me”, he said with a proud smile.

After listening to the weird man, You turned around and started to walk towards the shore. His smile curved into an awkward one as you walked away. “HEY!! I’m NOT DONE! LISTEN TO ME ONCE”, trying to stop you he shouted again. But as his attempts failed, he ran again and stood before you blocking your way. You glared at him because of it.

“Listen to me. I mean no harm. I’m Zoro, a solider of the Straw Hat army”, he introduced himself as he took your hand and shook it. ‘What… What a weird man’, you thought looking at him.

“You see, we want to use all the help needed to destroy the beard Kingdom. So, come with us and be a soldier of the Straw hat army”, he said.

“Why do I need to fight for your army. I don’t wanna involve in these fights”, you said sternly, speaking for the first time to the man.

“Why not? Just join us. We are fighting on the good side. We wanna give freedom to the people of beard Kingdom”, he inhaled and continued, “If you join I’ll make sure you get good food and 500 pure gold coins”. He was really determined to win the war and also claimed that he wanted to free some people.

You could get the gold coins from many ruined ships, but the way he looked at you with determination to win in eyes you couldn’t help but to sigh. “Let’s meet here tomorrow at exactly at dawn”, with that you continued to walk towards the shore.

“I never caught your name”

“Its Y/N”, you say without turning around but smirked. He was the first human you ever told your name to.

His eye clearly lit up and he grinned as he said, “I’ll waiting, Y/N”. He didn’t notice that his heart definitely did skip a beat then.

Swimming deep into the ocean, you reached your house with in 10 minutes. Before sleeping, you took the spell book and started to refer it again even though you’ve read it multiple times. You still had 12 hours till dawn and it’s be sufficient amount of time till you regain your energy.

As the first rays of sun hit the country, Zoro looked at how beautiful the sea looked. He was mesmerized by its beauty.

“Hey”, you almost startled him. 

“What the… when did you come here? How did I not notice?”, he said with confusion in his eyes.

“Lets go now”

“Ye…Yeah. Let’s go”, he said leading you forward. ‘This person is hiding something’, he thought

“Hey”, you call him as he turned to look at you.

“Why are you going towards the sea?”, as soon as you said that, his cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

“Don’t tell me you don’t even know the rout-”

“I know!”, he said interrupting you and opening the map. You peaked at the map and then looked at him. He was sweating.

“Give, just give it to me”, you took the map and continued, “So where is the location”

“Here”, he pointed towards a white surface on the map. “If we go quickly-”, you tooe his hand in yours and closed your eyes, “We can reach in maybe 5 days”, he ended as you snapped your fingers. He just looks at the place before him. Your eyes open wide upon seeing the white substance in front of you. Your hands hug you as the place was very cool but you were truly in awe by the view.

But Zoro was actually speechless. “What? How? Why? When? Its not even been 5 seconds”, he screamed and continued, “What are you actually? Are you using some sort of Magic?”, he then sneezed.

“I used a spell. Now don’t make a fuss about it. Anyone can do it”, you replied

“NO ONE CAN DO IT!”, he screamed again only for you to ignore.

“What is this white substance”, you asked him as you slowly crouch down and touch it. It was soft and very cold, Making your hand numb. But you were amazed by it.

“Its snow. Don’t do that, your hands will become numb”, he said and took your hands in his and started to rub them. You heart skipped a beat and you didn’t know why.

“Lets go. I think, I know the way from here”, he said and pulled you up with him. With your hands still in his he walked forward. Even though your knees felt weak, you kept walking. He talked about the prince and how great he was.

After 10 minutes, you both saw some men with weapons in the area. With one swift motion, Zoro attacked them and knocked them out. You were actually surprised. You didn’t even notice when he left your side and attacked them. He held three swords at a time. You never saw a person so perfectly using three swords. Oh god, he looked like a demon. He pulled the clothes from those men and handed you one. “Wear this sweater. I don’t want you to get sick”

You wore it and it felt really warm all of a sudden.

“Woah!! Its so warm, fells like Magic”, you smile pulling the sweater even closer to you.

“Tsk… you call this magic and call your spell normal. I cant understand you”, he again took your hand in his. “Don’t… Don’t get it wrong. Its only because I brought you here so its my responsibility to keep you safe”. You place your thumb on his wrist and observe that his heart beat was increasing.

“Your heart beat is increasing”, you said making him glare at you.

After walking for a while, you notice a building ahead of you. It was black in colour and had black smoke coming out from it. Suddenly Zoro stops in his tracks.

“Is it the secret base of straw-hat kingdom, you were talking about”, you asked him.

“It’s the secret base of Beard Kingdom that we are searching for past 1 month. Oh my! We found it Y/N”, he said with a smirk on his face. You snapped your fingers and made the black smoke red hoping someone from the straw hat base see it.

“No, you found it. I just waked with you. What type of shit directions you have”

“Hey! That’s not true. I… I actually was planning to search this with you. But whatever we found it!”, he grinned looking at the building.

“Don’t tell me you wanna take them on all by yourse-”

“What are you saying? I have you now! Let’s kill them Y/N”, he said taking his swords and positioning them. He was a demon. But your heart started to race. It was because of this jerk.

“Ok! Lets go”, you said and silently you both infiltrated the base. Knocking out who ever came across your way.

‘Damn it. There are a lot of people here’, you thought as your breathing became heavy and your legs gave out.

“Y/N, you okay?”, Zoro whispered getting close to you.

“I’m fine”, you said. This wasn’t the time to wine and you knew it.

“Thankyou. Its dawn and everyone are mostly sleeping. So lets just finish this off and leave”, he said as he placed his hand behind your waist and in one swift motion he pulled you up. Your heart skipped a beat. AGAIN. ‘This is just like the useless romance novels I read’, you thought. ‘Do I like him by any chance?’

“Lets go”, he said facing the opposite direction that you actually should go.

“We need to go this way”, you said to him as he blushed and walked in the correct direction. ‘Definitely not’, you concluded and continued to trash the soldiers in the way. You were late once and a bullet hit your shoulder. Still you didn’t give up.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to get you treated by our doctor”, Zoro shouted as he slashed another person, who was twice as big as him.

After a while, you knew, you really needed the ocean. Your body was getting weaker. Teleporting to a really far place with another person, being hit by a bullet and continuously knocking out these strong ass soldiers is really getting hectic.

“You did great Y/N, its okay. Leave now, ill take care of the rest!”, Zoro said but you got determined even more to fight.

“What? I don’t take orders, especially from humans. Lets see who gets more knockouts”, you said. Zoro didn’t know if he should be happy that you didn’t give up or be concerned that you called him a human? So were you not one?

Snapping fingers, you teleported Zoro from one enemy to another and sometimes yourself to win over the enemies. Your shoulder was turning into a shade of purple, but you were too busy to notice. He soon got used to your help. “You make one hell of a partner!”, Zoro said looking at you as he stood on a pipe which was approximately 10 feet above you. You smirked as a big sound made you to look at the strong wooden door.

“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE!”, A man with a big beard shouted. You snapped your fingers and Zoro was beside you in a second.

“That’s Beard. We need to destroy him”, Zoro mumbled as he proceeded to run further. You were ready to go with him but your vision completely became black and you fell to the ground.

“Y/N!”, Zoro called out to you but you didn’t wake up. You could hear him. You wanted tell him to escape. Then you heard an explosion.

“BEARD!!! I’LL KICK YOUR ASS!!”, an unfamiliar voice was heard.

“Jeez Luffy! Could you hold your horses?”

“NAMI!!!! I’m Scared!”

“Shut up Ussop! We need to protect the peopl- Ladies! *ahem*”

That was too late. Luffy was already fighting with Beard at this point. With the prince fighting, all Straw hat soldiers started to fight with Beard Army.

“Y/N! Y/N Wake up!! Please wake up!”, Zoro took your body in his arms and shook you trying to wake you up.

‘I want to see you one last time’, you thought before your hearing also faded away.

“Please wake up. Don’t die”, he shook you like crazy.

“Don’t do that Zoro! Let me take a look at the wound”

Handing you over, Zoro clenched his jaw. “Please don’t let him die”, he said and positioned himself.

“ASHURA”, he said and went full demon mode on the Beard Soldiers.

After winning over the Beard army everyone was really relieved. But they didn’t celebrate. Knowing one of their soldier was in a critical position.

The doctor checked your pulse and you weren’t alive. He sighed and got up. Covering you with a blanket, he walked out.

“How is he?”, Zoro asked as soon as the doctor stepped out.

“That was a girl and sadly her pulse stopped”, the doctor replied only for Zoro to grab his collar and ask again. “What did you say? It cant be happening. He i mean She cant die, do something”

“I’ve tried everything, I’m sorry”, the doctor said and Zoro let go of him.

He went inside the room to find you covered with a blanket. He pulled the blanket down to see your face again. He sat beside you and took your hand in his.

“I’m sorry. I made you come here even when you clearly didn’t want to. I am sorry”, he apologized holding your hand tightly. “Is there any spell to bring you back. If there is, I wish you to come back, please get a second chance”

Then he saw the sapphire necklace glow. He was shocked at this. If anyone would’ve told him that magic existed a few days earlier, he’d have brushed it off. But after seeing you, he believes in it.

Just when you felt that you were surrounded with nothing but light, your ocean coloured necklace glowed, as if it was calling you back. You opened your eyes and could see light and also a person with green hair. His face lit with happiness and he hugged you.

“Zo...ro”, you called as he pulled back to look at you.

“Y/N! You are alive!”, he said as he took your hand and kissed it.

“You!! You Human! How could you!”, your cheeks turned pink at his actions.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a girl?”

“I never said that I were a boy”

“You are alive again so I’ll let it slide for now, also that stone and those scales on your cheek”, he said and you snapped your fingers to hide the scales.

“Whatever… I saw that you cried when I died”, you blabbered but it turned out to be true as his cheeks turned red.

“I did not”, he tried to hide his embarrassment but failed. You chuckled at his reaction and he smiled at you.

“EHHH!!!! YOU ARE ALIVE!!!!”, the doctor screamed looking at you then suddenly a weird guy with a straw hat came in beaming with energy.

“SUGOI!!! You are alive! then we all can celebrate on the occasion of you being alive and also winning the war!”, he said coming towards you.

“I guess… Thanks”

“Show me your powers when you get well okay!”, he said as he gave you a wide smile and left.

“Was he the prince Luffy that you are so fond of”, Zoro nodded

“He is the man worthy to become a King. But tell me this, are you a fish?”

“Actually, that’s not totally wrong. I’ll tell you what you need to know. Let’s teleport again after some time.”

The next day.

“Its… Its actually pretty cool. I never thought I’d see a half fish and half human”, Zoro said as he tugged on your tail.

“Ouch! Be careful. The tail can be strong but it is also very sensitive, and can you please start using the word mermaid”, you said splashing water on him.

“So, tell me. How strong are the mermaids? Are they all as strong as you?”, he curiously asked not hiding the intent to fight. You chuckled and started to tell him about the creatures of the ocean. But its just been 3 days since you met him, but you two already had a.... weird connection.

Zoro tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and looked into your eyes. The timing was so perfect. Maybe it was because he was there. You moved closer to kiss him and he also returned it. Maybe the mermaid princess wasn’t totally wrong to choose love…

XOXOXOXO

Thankyou for reading. I warned you with cringe alert in the beginning but if you made it through the end, congratulations!

Comment your feelings down in the comments!

Follow for more sappy content!

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 5

A/N  Know what this fic needs?  More Geillis.  No really, I think you guys are going to like where I’m going with this.   Just bear with me.   Only one more chapter to go after this one, plus an epilogue.   Thanks for coming on the journey with me!  With due credit to Sia, this chapter’s title is Fire, Meet Gasoline.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

Geillis Duncan drove much the way she approached life, which was to say without much regard for rules and at white-knuckle speed.  I gripped her Range Rover’s leather cushion and swallowed any exclamations of dismay as we ricocheted through Edinburgh’s late afternoon traffic.  When we finally slid into an underground parking spot and emerged into the bustling festivity of the Princes Street Christmas Market, I felt the tension of imminent disaster abandon my shoulders.

“Where to first, then?” Geillis asked, looking far too animated by the prospect of accompanying someone while they did their Christmas shopping.

Geillis and I had kept in touch and met for coffee a few times over the past months.  When I explained that I wouldn’t be taking any more cooking classes at Ginger Snap because Jamie was giving me at-home lessons, her reaction was a moonbeam grin.

“Look at ye, wee vixen!  I ne’er wouldha thought ye had it in ya, Claire.  Tho I canna say as I blame ye.”

No matter how much I protested that I was together with Frank and that my relationship with Jamie was purely professional, she refused to believe me.  The ongoing absence of a ring from my left hand didn’t help.

“Now,” Geillis exclaimed once we’d taken in the sights and sounds of the market, “let’s have a keek at yer list.  Where should we start?”

I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app.  As she read, my friend’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“Trouser socks, shoe stays, Moleskine notebook, Rive Gauche...  who are ye shopping for, yer grandparents?”

“No,” I protested.  “The first three are for Frank.  The perfume is for me.”

When I explained that Frank had made a list of the items he would like to give me for Christmas, Geillis grew incensed.

“Ye mean he has ye doin’ his gift buying fer him?  Tha’s the least romantic thing I’ve e’er heard.  Do ye even like Rive Gauche, Claire?  And dinna lie tae me, fer I can read yer feelings all o’er yer face.”

Truthfully, I didn’t much care for the flowery scent.  My personal taste ran more towards woodsy or herbaceous aromas.  But it was Frank’s favourite, and it pleased me to please him.  Or it had.  I was beginning to wonder when it would be my turn to please myself.

“Right,” Geillis interrupted my thoughts.  “Marks and Sparks will do jes fine for yer wee granny list.   And then you and I are going shopping fer yer real gift.”

Geillis was a force to be reckoned with in a retail environment.  She navigated like a guided missile from one department to the next.   Twenty minutes later, we were back on the pavement, which glistened with the colourful reflections of decorations strung above.

“Your car is the other way,” I explained as Geillis turned left.

“Aye, tis, but our destination is right o’er here.  House of Fraser.  See?  Tis practically calling yer name, Claire.”

Inside the venerable old building was an astonishing multi-tiered arcade reaching over five stories to a massive skylit ceiling.  The central space was dominated by a fifteen metre-high Christmas tree (a Fraser fir, of course) and every archway of every arcade was dripping with lights.  The impression was like stepping into a Fabergé egg.

Geillis dragged me, slack-jawed, towards the ladies’ wear section.  Circling the racks like a hawk on the wind, she eyed my body, sizing me up quite literally, then thrust several pieces into my hands.

“Geillis,” I hissed, wary of the sales staff hovering nearby, no doubt smelling an excessive commission in the offing.  “I don’t need a new outfit.  And I certainly don’t need,” I shook the garments in question, “something like this.  Wherever would I wear it?”

“Well, fer starters, ye’d wear it tae dinner t’night.  I dinna wish tae offend ye, Claire, but I canna in good conscience allow ye tae set foot in the Timberyard dressed fer a job interview as a primary school teacher.”

With that she shoved me in the direction of the changing rooms.  Deciding to humour her, I was unbuttoning my top when two lacy bits of nothing came flying over the door.

“Start wi’ these.  And dinna think I willna notice if ye’re no’ wearing them!”

I stripped down to my panties, bemusedly wondering how she knew my exact bra size. 

Upon seeing me exit the dressing room in her choice of clothing, Geillis let out a squeal of delight.   She insisted I rip out the tags and leave the store wearing my new outfit, declaring it was her Christmas gift to me.  

I felt tremendously self-conscious as we walked towards the restaurant.  The aubergine velvet jeans clung to my legs in an unfamiliar way and the black turtleneck, while technically not revealing, hinted at kink with its many heavy zippers and fastenings.  Together with my unruly hair, unstraightened for once, I felt like another woman entirely.  I didn’t recognize her, but I felt like she might be someone I’d like to get to know.

The Timberyard was a modern restaurant in a rugged old warehouse, not far from the farmer’s market I’d visited with Jamie.  We were joined there by several of Geillis’ friends, and we ate, drank and laughed until my sides were sore. 

As I wobbled to the loo, I noticed the bartender following me with an appreciative gaze.  It had been a long time since a man had looked at me that way, and it gave me a guilty thrill.

We left the restaurant just before midnight. I pulled Geillis into an impulsive hug.

“Wha’ was that for, hen?” she asked.

“Nothing.  Everything.  Just, thank you for being you, Geil.”

“Och, tis my pleasure, lass.  I only want tae see ye happy.  Now, what do ye say to a digestif?”

After only a slight protest on my part, the two of us piled into an Uber.  Our destination was another restaurant, this time in a converted whisky warehouse by the harbour in Leith.  It was well past last sitting, but when I mentioned this to Geillis she explained away my concern. 

“I ken the owner, who’s also the chef.  Tis a popular spot fer locals in the restaurant scene tae meet after they close up fer a few drinks afore heading home tae their beds.”

Inside, the walls were rough stone, supported in places by industrial metal beams.  The kitchen was open to the main dining area, and I grinned as I thought of Frank’s strong opinion on the matter.  Near the back of the room, lit by dim naked bulbs and the glow from several open fireplaces, was a huge square table surrounded by nearly twenty chairs upholstered in bright yellow plaid.  Around the table was gathered a motley assortment of men and women, all talking and laughing and sipping on a variety of drinks.  And in their midst, his copper hair shining in the firelight, sat Jamie.

A shout went up from the table as Geillis approached.  I hung back, tugging at the hem of my new turtleneck as though I could stretch it to cover my arse.  Besides Jamie, I recognized Jenny, Angus and Murtagh, but I only had eyes for the big ginger chef.  He sat at one corner, probably in deference to his long legs which were stretched out before him, wrapped in black denim.  A black leather jacket hung over the chair behind him.  He looked dangerous.  It was a very good look for him.

Dragging me by the elbow, Geillis nudged and bumped Angus to one side despite his vulgar protests, then practically pushed me down into the chair directly next to the chef.  With a smug smile of satisfaction, she then retired to the opposite side of the table.

I looked anywhere but directly at Jamie, but I could feel his butane eyes on me.  I was certain he would scorch right through my outer layers and down to where Geillis’ choice in lingerie burned against my tender skin.  The noise from the rest of the table faded away.

“Ye look bonnie t’night, Arsonist.”  His voice was low and gruff and it sent a quickening through my veins.

“Thank you, Jamie. It was Geillis’ Christmas gift to me, and I feel, well... let’s just say it isn’t my usual look.”

“It suits ye, I think.”  He reached out and lightly touched the silver tab of a zipper that ended near my wrist, setting it swinging.  I swallowed and looked frantically around.  Several open bottles of liquor stood nearby. Grabbing the nearest one, I poured myself a generous serving and knocked it back, all in one go.  I tried to steady my breathing.

“Look, Jamie...”

Just then a blond man in chef’s whites called to Jamie from across the table.  An exchange involving a lot of Scottish cursing and an off-colour reference to someone’s lobster pot ensued.  I tried to convince myself I needed to leave.  It was late, I was half-drunk, and whatever I intended to say to Jamie should definitely wait for another moment.  Maybe never.

A hand on my thigh broke my preoccupation.

“Sorry, Arsonist, ye were sayin’ something?”

I wet my lips, frantically trying to recall anything but the feeling of Jamie’s strong fingers, stroking me through the velvet of my jeans.

“I...”

At that moment, the woman on Jamie’s far side broke into song.  The rest of the table cheered and clapped along, and it was impossible to hear anything except the concussive pounding of my heart against my eardrums.

Jamie grabbed my clammy hand.

“Come wi’ me,” he instructed, grabbing our outerwear and pulling me towards the door.  Geillis watched our departure with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

Outside the air was dense and cold, a briny slap after the stuffy warmth of the restaurant.  Jamie obviously had a destination in mind, and we walked hand-in-hand along the cobbled streets for several minutes before finally emerging at the port.  A jetty struck out into the inky sea, and it was there that we ended up.  Besides a few gulls and the winking of a nearby lighthouse, we were all alone.  The sodium street lights caught Jamie’s curls and made them burn.

“Forgive me, Arsonist.  I couldna hear myself think in there.  Tho, come tae think of it, tis no’ much better now.”  Rather than release me, as he spoke Jamie stroked my hand, running calloused fingers over each vein and every knuckle.  I don’t think he even realized he was doing it, but it stole every thought from my head.

“No ring,” he remarked, stroking the finger in question.

“No,” I whispered in response.  

And then it burst out of me, like a tidal wave of feeling that I never saw coming.  I told him everything.  My childhood roaming the globe with my uncle, pre-occupied and rootless, dreaming of stability.  Meeting Frank at Harvard, and realizing that he represented all the things that my life to date had lacked: structure, security, a solid foundation, a home.  And how it took moving to Scotland and coming into contact with a group of near-strangers to make me realize that the price I had paid for that stability was higher than I’d ever imagined.  I’d given up my dream of becoming a doctor. I’d become so lost in Frank’s vision of who I should be that I’d almost lost sight of who I actually was.

By the time the flood of words left me, I was in Jamie’s arms, crying into his leather jacket.  He hushed me with quiet murmurs and languorous stroking of my hair, as one would a child who has woken from a nightmare.

I stepped out of his embrace and rubbed my sleeve across my face.  I must have looked an absolute mess, but he still watched me with those earnest, patient eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I began, “I don’t know what...”

“Claire,” he interrupted.  I’d never before realized just how many consonants were in my given name.  “Ye dinna need tae apologize tae me.  But ye may want tae consider an apology tae yerself.”  At my raised eyebrow, he continued.

“I’m no’ the kind of man tae tell another what they should and shouldna do.  But ye strike me as someone who’s made decisions fer the right reasons, yet ended up in the wrong place.”  Here he paused, as though carefully weighing his words.  “There’s no sin in changin’ yer mind, Arsonist.  Tis very well tae be hungry, so long as ye ken what ye hunger for.”

“And what do you hunger for, James Fraser?”  The provocative words had left my lips before I had the chance to censor them.  His answer came in the form of a blistering look that left no doubt as to its meaning.  Then he gathered himself, banking the fire I’d unconsciously ignited.

“Many things.  Regular, ordinary things, mostly.  My family’s health and happiness.  A faster bike.  My own restaurant.”

“Like Tom’s there?” I asked, gesturing towards the harbour.

“Och, Tom is a braw chef, and worthy o’ every accolade tha’s been showered upon him.  But the hospitality scene in Edinburgh is cut-throat, an’ suitable locations cost a fortune.  Nah, Jenny and I want tae buy back our childhood home in the Highlands.  Tis called Lallybroch, and when our Da passed, our Mam sold it tae her brother.  We’d turn it inta a country inn, wi’ Jenny running the lodging side o’ things and I the dining.  Tha’s the dream anyway,” he ended with a shrug.

I rested my hand on his forearm.  “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Jamie.”

Before he could reply, an enormous yawn burst from my lungs.

“Time tae get ye home tae yer bed, Arsonist,” Jamie grinned.   “Come, I’ll give ye a ride.”

“Wait, haven’t you been drinking?” I inquired as we walked back down the jetty.

“Three years sober,” he explained with no hint of embarrassment.  “I went somewhere pretty dark after my Mam died, an’ it took a near-fatal crash tae scare me straight.”  His eyes squinted in a poor approximation of a wink as he added, “Besides, there are better ways tae chase a rush than in the bottom of a bottle.”

“Such as?” I asked brazenly.

Which was how I found myself on the back on a black motorcycle, my arms twined around Jamie’s waist.  Rather than take me directly home, he steered us north, following the coast.  It was very late, with hardly another vehicle about.  We merged onto the motorway, and Jamie picked up speed.  My thighs tightened around his lean hips, the vibration of the motor beneath us shivering up my spine.  As we emerged beneath the hastate lights of the Queensferry Bridge, I stretched my arms wide, icy air ripping against the sleeves of my jacket.  I laughed, although no-one could hear me.  I yelled, and only the wind yelled back.  I was flying.

***

It was nearly dawn when Jamie pulled up in front of my flat.  My legs thrummed, my eyes were dry with fatigue, and my heart ached, but I felt better than I could ever remember.  I handed Jamie back his spare helmet and shook out my curls.  He watched me in that half-sleepy, half-vigilant way of his that I now recognized as desire.

“I don’t know what I could ever say to thank you, Jamie.”

“Ye needn’t say anything at all, Arsonist.  Nae matter what ye decide, it has been my very great honour tae get tae know you.”

Without another word, he kick-started the engine and drove off into the early morning mist.

“Goodbye,” I whispered to his vanishing shadow.

***

The lamp above the couch was lit, and Frank lay still beneath its glow.  I realized he had fallen asleep waiting for me to come home.  Instead of regret, what I felt in that moment was pity.

The sound of my jacket being unzipped woke him.  He blinked in confusion and then in shock.

“I’m very sorry if you were worried,” I began.

“Worried?  Do you have any idea what time it is?  My God, Claire, I don’t know what to make of you these days.  You’ve never behaved irresponsibly before, and now you’re out at all hours and you’re wearing,” he gestured wildly with his hand at my new outfit which I had, quite honestly, forgotten I was wearing.  “And your hair, Claire!” he finished, as though the manic state of my curls was definitive evidence of my fall from grace.  Despite my exhaustion, I stood tall.

“Frank, we need to talk.”

[sanstropfremir]

episode 9 baby!!! dear lord that was a lot!!

frankly, i'm still in shock that i full on manifested an opera stage, AND it was a rock opera stage at that! plus i got a jazz stage AND a taemin stage??? if they’re pulling out all my favourites now then what on earth are they gonna do in the finale??? this was a very overwhelming crop of stages, i thought i was going to be prepared, but oh no i was not prepared. i'm just going to get right into it because this one is gonna be long and i have many words. i'll discuss in airing order first, and then put my personal rankings for this round at the end.

btob

costume

changsub, you absolute king. spectacular. stunning. incredible. zoot suit riot playing in my brain on repeat. will i finally get the zoot suit revival of my fucking dreams instead of this current drab ill-fitting suit trend? for those who are wondering why in the fuck changsub is dressed like that and what on earth i’m talking about, the specific cut of suit that he’s wearing is called a zoot suit, which were popular in mexican, black and italian american communities in the 30s and 40s, until they were outlawed by the united states war production board as a fabric rationing method as part of the war effort in 1942. there was a huge amount of mob violence surrrounding the wearing of them (there were actual zoot suit riots) as they were direct counter culture fashion to the predominant drab trends of white americans at the time. i'm actually very impressed they got a proper (modernized) cut of zoot suit instead of just putting him in an oversized one; there are actually specific structural differences. the pegged trouser legs, large should pads, and knee length single breasted jacket are key features, and they were often in much more flashy fabrics than a pinstripe, but they get points for effort. i wish they had put all of them in zoot suits but he’s playing the ‘lead’ actor so i will begrudgingly forgive them.

eunkwang those are the stupidest sleeve garters ive ever seen i love them never take them off. they’re like someone decided to repurpose a suspender in the worst way. excellent. i do love that they’ve got three of them in oxford saddle shoes, another great touch.

love the three piece and the fedora* on peniel. it's also in a relatively close period cut; waistcoasts (vests) were generally cut much higher in the neck pre-war, we only start seeing the neckline slide down in the 60s (i think? i don’t remember when exactly). also love to see a proper sleeve and jacket length, it's good practice to have at least a finger’s width of sleeve cuff visible ahead of the jacket sleeve when hanging at rest. also looks like there’s french cuffs on everyone, which is also great.

minhyuk in his slutty lowneck shirt....thank you. in addition to the zoot suit revival i would also like a revival of those ultra low necklines on mens’ shirts from like 2010-2011. i don’t think those are the same boots from the backdoor stage but those are some beautifully cut boots. i also loved the little details of his crewmember look, especially the chunky watch and the string bracelets; those are super realistic, i know so many crew with them and i had several for many years. and who doesn’t love a visible button fly?

none of any of the other costumes are period in any way shape or form but i’m forgiving it because there’s several layers of meta in this stage, and they explicitly based it on la la land, even though we don’t respect la la land in this house. do i wish they had gone more strictly period with at least the jazz club ‘actors’ a little more? absolutely, but i'm not mad about it.

set

again we’ve got a good delineation of the two different ‘stages,’ there’s the club itself in the smaller stage and the soundstage set in the larger space. you can pretty clearly see all the ‘pieces’ of the set on the soundstage, especially the obvious set painting techniques on false prosc frame and the window facade from that first little scene. also the you can see the castors (wheels) on all the setpieces too, which is another nice little versimilitudinous** (triple word score!) touch, as old hollywood movies were made still using theatre stagecraft techniques.

i love how the visual shorthand for ‘this is a set wink wonk’ is just...leaving a ladder on stage. i see it all the time and it's so funny. it doesn’t always make sense because as soon as there’s actors on set the ladders are the first thing cleared because actors cannot be trusted, but yes there are always ladders, so. also psa ladder safety is no joke, please be careful on ladders.

nice streamline of the mnet deco into the club. i’m consistently surprised at how well the designers have been able to mask it or use it to their advantage, because in the normal kingdom stage lighting it is SO obvious and stylistic that it always sticks out.

i'm going to ignore the fact that they implied changsub and miyeon were drinking wine out of martini glasses.

lighting

no complaints, it does its job. everything is visible and super clear. love that the ‘scene’ changes are made through the lighting, it's a really simple and effective device to change atmosphere. purple/blue/amber are the most flattering colours on human skin and that’s why you see it so commonly in stage lighting. also blue/lavendar is the best way to show nighttime/moonlight.

really nice and subtle projection work, especially with the billboard bit and the blue moon sign in the club. despite being obviously meta/’world breaking’ it’s actually very seamless and fits well into the flow of the stage.

sound

i love love love the big band feel in the intro, combined with the piano lead. very duke ellington, as all things should be.

no complaints. i love big band. i love eunkwang’s voice. i have nothing else to say.

staging

i LOVE this movie within a movie within a performance meta nonsense! it's such a fun concept and it is exactly what i wanted ikon’s first round stage to be! i also love to see btob consistently coming up with concepts that are inventive and fun and allow them to showcase their technical performance skills without the aerobics the younger groups are putting themselves through. it provides a really lovely variety and it just goes to show that you can make impressive, dramatic stages without having to be serious or ‘dark.’

i do wish they had leaned into the band director/lead singer with eunkwang a bit more; this could have been a really excellent place for a tap number a la the nicholas brothers or an homage to cab calloway. i know i know this was meant to be la la land themed but la la land is a cheap and whitewashed version of jazz and look me right in the eyes and tell me this isn’t the greatest tap routine of all time. i know i’ve typed this out somewhere before but la la land is just a conglomeration of old hollywood tropes and so stylistically cheap that this would have such a better visual core if they had actually looked back at the real old hollywood musicals like stormy weather. even singing in the rain and an american in paris have such phenomenal visuals and are really beautiful examples of the scope you can pull off with a limited technical capacity and sticking to these old techniques.

now that i'm thinking about it, oh my GOD i would DIE for a lindy hop routine in kpop PLEASE. i know it would never happen because kpop doesn’t like partner dancing and not a single kpop boy has the chops but oh you think fourth gen has too many acrobatics?

this got off track but i think you see my point.

---

ateez

costume

these are really sharply cut suits. and the detail work on the beading??? so beautiful. i'm disappointed that they gave me a rock opera stage without the true ridiculousness of rock opera costuming, because they could have pushed this a lot farther if they really wanted. a tragic lack of gay little outfits, seonghwa’s lace choker is just not enough! two favourite suits: hongjoong’s and yunho’s.

that being said i do actually really like these. this stage is actually very modern opera with a kpop twist and i'm a little surprised by that? i continue to be impressed by the ateez team who are clearly doing their research.

i'm absolutely not going back through their stages to check all the choreography but i wonder if you can track all the ‘wound’ placements to places they’ve been ‘hit.’ i wouldn’t put it past them to have put that thought in but also i’m not expecting that much either.

who is this white grim reaper bdsm executioner chain arm man. where did he come from. i have no idea and i love it.

why is honjoong blindfolded. it was such a fast beat, if youre gonna blindfold someone give it a little longer and some more obvious narrative weight!

seonghwa does that quickchange, runs across that massive stage to the smaller set, and gets into places in like 45 seconds. it's not the hardest quickchange in the world but still, under a minute is fast for any quickchange, especially when there’s travel time involved. i think the fastest, most complex quickchange i ever did was in university which was a 50s cocktail dress into a flannel and culottes with a shoe, hair, and jewelry change in 35 seconds. and that took three dressers. quickchanges are always impressive. the added bonus of this review being later is that i can specifically reference that you can see him book it the fuck off stage in the full cam!

cute moment with the backup dancers dressed in costumes from the previous stages. i'm assuming this is a time travel reference? i'll get more into my thoughts on this in the staging section. regardless, love to see that iconic seonghwa moment again.

set

this is such a restricted space! they really pared down their dancing space with those staircases and ....arms? honestly i have NO clue what these are supposed to be. the only thing i can maybe think of is flying buttresses??? but why?? i mean, i'm 90% sure theyre just there for drama and i agree but i do still have questions.

there’s a lot of moving parts in this set? the buttresses, and the upstage centre staircase. i don’t think the staircase is totally automated because i spotted some dancers securing it in place, but it’s still a moving part. i do really like that we get that expanding upwards energy, because it's really tough to get functional level movement in this kind of a performance, mostly because of its length and because it moves so quickly. so seeing the downward vertical movement and then the upward movement was actually a really nice visual contrast that made use of how tall those fucking ceilings are, and the fact that they had less horizontal space. in sort of similar way to sf9’s jealousy stage, using long, narrow vertical lines really makes it feel like a castle space. the interiors of castles, especially the really old ones, are a lot smaller than you think they would be.

i’ve actually seen that type of small house/tent/thing several times in various types of performances before, but i think this is the first time i’ve seen it used as a time travel device (other than in the say my name mv). aesthetically it's a bit incongruent but i dont really mind because i'm used to watching rock operas that look a lot weirder than this.

lighting

there is so much happening. i have NO clue what the projections are doing. i dont hate it though, so that’s a plus? there’s a clear-ish colour arc even if it does get a bit funky in the middle, which is why the projections dont feel as insanely distracting as some of the other stages we’ve seen.

the climax is a perfect example of how to light a busy stage with primarily red but still maintain clarity on the performers. a little bit of red goes a long way; the spark stage from last week would have looked so much better if they had done what the ateez designers did here.

sound

i know it's only ode to joy, but answer already gets my motor running and then i get so gassed by the guitars and then by the time those vocals come in i'm inconsolable. i don’t know why i wasn’t expecting a rock opera stage but i'm so glad i got that surprise because i genuinely love rock operas so much. it's two of the most dramatic genres in music, what more could you possibly want?

staging

the choreo for answer is so goofy that I'm kinda glad this was mostly terrible mnet boom shots. i love it, but you can't deny that it's goofy. i spotted a couple of moves from their other choreos as well?

choreographing dance fights is just as difficult as choreographing real fights and i think they did a fairly good job here. i think it was a solid mix of dance and conflict that erred on the side of dramatic rather than accurate and i prefer that over trying to be ‘realistic.’ i’ve only ever seen one truly realistic fight scene on stage and that was for a deeply naturalist play (boring and a waste of the medium), but the best fight scene i’ve ever seen was in the prague national ballet’s adaptation of kafka’s the trial where three ballet dancers beat the absolute snot out of the main character with the most beautiful leg extensions. that whole show was probably one of the best pieces of dance i’ve ever seen, holy fuck it was so good.

despite how insane the music and the visuals were going, i actually really liked how sedate this was, on the part of ateez’s performance. there was a really sophisticated and resigned energy from them that is very different from what we’ve previously seen and i think that was a pretty admirable risk to take. reaching the top and then throwing away the crown? especially in a competition where every other stage has involved stealing crowns or royalty and there’s a group competing that got here through that very concept? that shows a real maturity, peace of mind, and foresight that i did not at all expect from a bunch of 22 year olds.

here we come to a very interesting comparison. both ateez and tbz are very heavily leaning on previously established group lore. we all know my thoughts on why it isn’t working for tbz, but here’s why i think it is working for ateez: it's because it doesn’t matter to the audience’s understanding of the stage. i had absolutely no fucking clue what was going on the first time i watched this, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the music and all the weird shit they were doing. i totally believed that they understood what was going on. there’s a loose enough established conflict right at the beginning that draws us in, and really it doesn’t matter who they're fighting because they win in the end. the key here is that they’re so earnest. they believe 100% in every move they make on that stage. there’s no winks to camera, there’s not a drop of irony. they really deeply care about the ridiculousness of it all and that’s what makes it work. i sure as fuck dont know what’s going on, but i can see that they do, and i trust that. this is what i meant when i talked about convincing the audience you belong on stage in my stage presence post. i’ve never once believed that juyeon was anything other than an idol. he’s talented and very beautiful and he may occasionally stand on that stage like he owns it but it's always as juyeon. as an idol. but when hongjoong flaps around in that gigantic fur coat i 100% believe he’s a pirate captain. I believe he’s a punk rebel leader. i believe him a resigned king. there’s always a level of irony you have to fight as a performer because we all start from a place of disbelief. acting is not just lying to the audience, it's lying to yourself too. and if you succeed in convincing yourself? well, you’re already halfway to convincing us.

i checked it out because i wanted to see if they did the blindfold how i expected them to and was genuinely surprised by hongjoong’s fancam. the boy is EMOTING even when he knew the camera wasn’t on him; that’s a real dedication to craft.

ok i'm finished talking about this stage, this is over two pages in my document, there’s so many things i have not covered here but that’s fine, i'm quite sure any further thoughts will end up out there at some point.

---

sf9

costume

let’s get it out of the way......crop top. crop top? crop top. crop top.

ok, besides the crop top, i think i might actually like the backup dancer outfits more...? i find mannequin adjacent looks really fascinating and i thought there was a lot more they could have done here in connecting the two thematically. i actually think a change of costume on the boys would have been very interesting, especially because there was a lot of inference and direct reference to changes of colour.

ALL the backup dancers are wearing the same wig and i LOVE that.

special mention zuho’s.....jacket? the right idea but it absolutely should have been one of those extreme french cut bodysuits, you COWARDS. don’t come at me with this ‘male version of venus’ if you don’t have your whole torso out! come on!

set

not sure if this is meant to be a department store, a factory, or a white cube gallery. honestly you could make the case that they’re all the same place anyways. more on this later.

i loved the movator and wish they had used it more! that sequence was so good and they could have done some more interesting repetition sequences to further highlight the ‘sameness’/the breaking of that sameness.

i feel like the set could have been used more as a whole? i would have loved to see some mannequin interactions with those boxes, because all they did was dump colour everywhere.

....why did they feel the need to include the rain bit? i know it's likely because it's in the mv and at the 2018 dream concert taemin does perform move in the rain, but with the standing still and the box walls with the words it just looks like a department store ad. which i...dont think is what they were intending?

lighting

nothing really to say here. it has a similar feel to the mayfly rap stage, which is fine because the lighting for that was good. i could tell what was going on all the time and that’s the most important part. notable standouts are the lips sequence, that's fun use of pop iconography and very effective, and the scanning lasers at the beginning.

the repeating sequence in the edm dance break is actually done pretty simply, it's just what happens when you point a camera that’s livestreaming to a monitor directly at that monitor. it's a very cool effect and it was neat to see it used intentionally, especially with the handheld leds.

actually i also really liked the lightbox tables, those were cool.

sound

the remix was fine for the most part, it was about what i expected it to sound like. i did however greatly dislike that unnecessary edm break in the middle. what was the point of that? it didn’t add anything to the overall sound or arc of the stage because it was SO out of place. there was no connective tissue around it.

oh i was also not a fan of the effect on zuho’s mic. no one else had a discernible vocal effect so it felt a little out of place. also for some reason his cadence and tone right at the end made me think of some of the voices that bo burnam uses for his vocal masque sketches/songs, especially repeat stuff, weirdly? took me right the fuck out of it. i listened to it again after i slept and i’m still getting it, so maybe i’m just going insane so best ignore this part.

staging

loved the mannequin tree, not a clue why it was there.

do actually think this is a successful cover because it does what i was hoping it would, which is take move completely out of the taemin context and put it into an entirely new one. however, i’m really struggling to figure out what exactly that new context is? and what theyre trying to say with it?

obviously they went for a ‘show your own colours/individuality’ vibe, like i said in the set section, where exactly is this supposed to be? from the start i get factory/mechanized environment, which is fine and grand because mannequins and making repetitive motions and products and all that, makes sense. but then there’s stacked shelving type units happening and curtains and that combined with the mannequins give me pretty big department store vibes, which is also fine, because that’s still a comment on commercialization and the mass production of product. but then we get to the movator and the repetitive movements of the dancers say pretty clearly factory, but the lighting and projections are very pop art referential, plus combining that with the white set, just makes me think of an art gallery. so now is this a comment on the commercialization and commidification of contemporary art? are they making a statement about being ‘real’ artists among the others who have lost the critical understanding of why pop art was even a thing in the first place? and then the rain bit at the end literally looks like a department store ad, so are they then making another statement that they still are that packaged product? maybe the episode has more clarity in it but i’m genuinely a bit baffled by what the underlying statement is here.

i suspect it is not as deep as i'm making it, but i did say that i was likely to be hyper critical of this stage AND i am a grad student, so here we are.

---

tbz

costume

ok of all the ‘fourth gen’ style costumes we’ve seen, i actually like these ones more than most. i'm not entirely clear on the theme but i'm assuming it's meant to be post apocalyptic, and i'll take that.

backup dancers in black!!! we’re beyond this!!!

this will be a running theme with this stage, but i’m disappointed these don’t have more depth.

set

compared to every other stage, the set here seems especially plain. there’s so little set dec that it's disappointing. i do like the movement of the pieces themselves combined with the blocking; that first slide underneath the arches was slick and i would have liked to have seen more of that.

yea ok the big snake was cool and also a fairly complex build, but the transitions around it were a bit awkward for my tastes. especially the turn around, why did they even show that at all? you have control over what the audience sees, you can totally not show scenic transitions. skz were super smart about hiding theirs in last week’s episode.

also if you have a bigass puppet like that, i wanna see some more movement from it! it doesn’t have to be complex, we literally just saw a kraken balloon arm wave around aimlessly, but at least there was movement! that snake had a long ass body, why didn’t they at least take a pseudo dragon dance movement with it, that would have been such fun to watch with the iridescent scales. there was a lot of opportunity here!

lighting

i don’t hate it but also.... not a lot to say about it on the whole.

there were two really smart ideas here, the first being the front projection section, which i was SO glad to see! i explained in a previous review, but the projections in kingdom are not actually projections per se, because they’re actually massive led screens. there are two common types of projections in performance, rear projection and front projection. rear projection is when the projector is behind the screen, and front projection is ‘normal’ projection. rear projection can produce a crisper image because you have full control of the light values, because the projector is in a separate room from the performance space. but the downsides are that the projector has to be in a separate room from the performance space. so if you’re short on real estate, it's not ideal. front projection is much more common, because the tech is a lot cheaper and easier to access, especially now, and it requires less real estate because you can ceiling mount about the audience (you can move a projector wherever, this is just the most common spot in commercial theatres). but! in order to get an actually crisp image, you have to be really careful with your light bounce. it’s exactly the same principle as how you kinda can't see a projected screen when you have all the lights turned on, but when you turn them off it's a lot clearer. front projection works best in pitch dark, so when you use it in a theatre you gotta be smart about it. i use front projection a lot in my personal art practice as a singular light source, and that’s what tbz did here in that traveling/snake intro sequence. it’s a really fun technique that they used as a good gimmick because it’s not something we’ve seen before, and you get some great shadow effects because the projector is throwing light directionally at the performers (they have it set up close to the floor, it’s probably on a wheeled cart of some kind). however i did not like the snake intro. a bit too cheesy and out of place, especially because the asset quality didn’t match the rest of landscapes that we have been seeing.

the second smart idea, which is partially also a set and blocking thing but whatever, was that final image of the eclipse within the circle architecture with all the members standing in front of it. it was a great shot and a great ending pose, but it felt like a concept photo. like someone had that image as the idea that they then built the stage around, instead of a narrative first and then imagery after.

sound

this remix had SO much promise! those first two minutes were SO GOOD. i love that dirty discordant strings bit, it's gross and right up my alley. but it really fell off in the back half and i'm sad about that.

staging

i'm sorry tbz but.....what did you actually do differently than exo here? with the exception of the continual game of thrones references? nothing here felt transcendentally different from the original monster. and especially coming RIGHT after sf9’s move, which did go beyond its original context. this feels more like an awards show stage cover than a stage at the level of the others we’ve seen just this episode.

again like with the skz stage, there’s no conflict here. no tension. yes they do a great job covering the dance but it just isn’t enough! this is obviously personal preference and i'm sure lots of people liked the fact that it was uncomplicated, but even just a hint of narrative tension could have pushed this into more engaging territory. and if they didn’t want to do that, i would have loved to see them make up for that with extra visual spectacle. this is the no limits round! ikon is putting a full jungle on stage and these are grey cubes!

i think this is a perfect example of what i talked about at the end of my tbz section in my episode four review; this is a good performance, there are good elements at play and good ideas at their genesis, but the core of the issue is that nothing about this is transformative. all of the ideas here are just exaggerations of the original song. fuck, the snake was even IN the mv! and they didn’t even include the best part which is the lip chains! ive said before and i'll say it again; being a good artist has two steps, the first is understanding the material and its context, and the second is elevating the material from that context and synthesizing something new. tbz are really good at the first step, but terrible at the second.

---

ranking

btob - the cleanest and the most fun of the round. everything i wanted.

sf9 - fun and a good cover, despite being conceptually baffling.

ateez - very extra dramatic nonsense with an unexpected dose of sincerity. and it’s rock opera, of course i love it.

skz - fun, with some good thematic devices but generally lacking in arc. also australian accents, that’s an automatic ding.

tbz - honestly the first two minutes of the remix and the costume are holding this above 6th. it just wasn’t fully formed.

ikon - aesthetically this is a great set design and although i do love the opening and closing moments, everything else scrapes me the wrong way. super personal preference here, i’m not expecting anyone else to agree with me.

i feel like my rankings were probably pretty easy to guess if you’ve been around reading the reviews for long enough. i do have very specific tastes after all. i know sf9 ranked first in the episode but i have no idea what the other slots are. i’ll find out when i watch the episode in a couple of days, but i think yea a first for sf9 is fair. i do think its mostly because it’s a taemin song and you have to do something horrendous in order to fuck up a taemin song, but there is a lot of thought and work that went into that stage.

ok i'm done now, sorry this was later than usual, but i was busier and there were four stages that i had to review. also technical difficulties because tumblr is a garbage platform and nothing works properly. comments/questions/opinions always welcome, i know i didn't expand on a couple of points that i could have so hopefully y'all have some thoughts too!

* the type of hat that ~society~ has told you is a fedora is actually a trilby. what peniel is wearing is a real fedora, i felt the need to correct this unjust hat malignment.

** meaning ‘the appearance of being true or real.’ you do sometimes hear it used by normal people, but it’s more commonly used as a descriptor in film and theatre. it’s also one of the five rules of neoclassical theatre, which are: versimilitude, purity of form, five act structure, decorum, and purpose. the most prominent playwrights from that era are moliere and racine if youre interested in what those look like in an actual text.

[sigynthevictorious]

Vali

I do not write Narfi and Vali as twins so please keep this in mind and I write Vali pre-Ragnarok/Loki's punishment but will write post if discussed

“I am my father’s son, his shadow weighs a tonne”

Name: Vali Lokason (Vah-lee)

Other names: Valka (in female form)

Titles: God of Wrongdoing, Prince of Asgard & Jotunheim (some verses)

Age: 800+ years but appears around 18-21 (will play older/younger if requested)

Gender: Genderfluid

Pronouns: He/She/Them (depending on presentation and mood)

Sexuality: Pansexual/Questioning, (preference for men) & a sub

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Family:

Loki (father)

Sigyn (mother)

Narfi (older brother)

Sleipnir, Fenrir, Jörmungandr, Hel (older half-siblings)

The youngest son of Loki and his wife Sigyn (and the youngest of all Loki’s children), he was raised on Asgard with his mother and older brother Narfi.

Vali is close to all in his family, he is not as bothered about his heritage as Narfi is. Instead taking it in his stride. However, having spent so long trying live up to his father’s expectations Vali sometimes struggles with his own identity, feeling like he is not his own person or a valid member of the family.

Physical:

Eye Colour: Green

Hair: Auburn/ginger, short and curly

Skin: White, lightly freckled. Due to being part Jotun he has Jotnar like skin lines covering his back and part of the front of his chest which look like scars but are smooth to the touch. Modern AU’s they appear as light coloured birthmarks. 

Build: Slim, toned. Ecto-mesomorph

Height: 6ft

About: 

Physically and mentally, Vali is unmistakeably Loki’s son. He is naturally gifted with magic and enjoys travelling the realms. 

He is outspoken and doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He is the life of any party and can usually be found causing some kind of trouble.

Highly skilled with a variety of magic.

Vali freely and frequently experiments with both his gender expression and sexuality

As the youngest in the family he has always had the security of his older siblings and quickly found he could get away with much more than they ever could. He pushes the rules and was an unruly child, something that he never grew out of. Vali is a true free-spirit and does not like to be put in a box.

He is easily distracted, hyperactive, can quickly become over stimulated and suffer sensory overloads, but if often fairly good at grounding himself. 

Prone to alcohol and substance abuse, especially in modern verses. 

Vali is a quick fighter if needed, he would rather use magic but is skilled with a dagger. Prefers close combat fighting styles but would rather remain peaceful.

Doesn’t like killing and will avoid it at all costs, he would rather disarm and subdue any opponents or not fight at all. 

Vali follows a vegetarian diet simply because he doesn’t like the taste nor texture of meat. But he will eat meat if he has to, it is simply a preference rather than a lifestyle.

Advanced healing, speed and strength. 

His biggest, and possibly only, fear is hospitals/doctors/healers of any kind. This is due to him being a fairly sickly child due to being born prematurely so has always associated the profession with pain and/or being taken away from his family

That being said he is also afraid of thunderstorms due to the loud sudden noises

His favourite colour is yellow 💛

He is left handed

The biggest mama's boy you'll ever meet

His favourite animal is a cat

Verses

Modern: Vali studies classical and modern linguistics at university, eventually working as a translator in a museum once he graduates. He is heavily medicated for ADHD, OCD, depression and anxiety though he often ‘self-medicates’ with alcohol and less legal medications. He loves music and can often be found singing and playing his guitar or a piano. 

Valka - If you are interested in writing with Valka please let me know as I have numerous settings and versions for her. 

FC: Joshua Bassett

Valka FC: Larsen Thompson

Headcanons

Aesthetic

Vali inspired playlist

[safebubblebycyg]

a no voldemort au- draco meets the potters + the mauraders:

"what if they all hate me?" draco asked wearily, fiddling with harry's scarf as they approached his parents house. they had decided to take a port key from kings cross to a couple blocks from his house in hopes that the walk would calm draco down. the blonde had decided against going to the manner for christmas, seeing as his mother was the only one there who was worth seeing and she agreed that he should finally meet his boyfriend's family.

"dray, they wont hate you. they see you as family already and they havent even met you yet! plus, im sure the cookies you baked for all of them will persuade any fiber of their being that doesnt like you" harry assured the shorter boy, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as he approached his house. he knocked softly on the door and stood back. they waited for a moment before a familiar head of golden hair came into view.

"harry!" peter pettigrew shouted, welcoming the boy in his arms. the man was short and had a soft belly, but seemed extremely friendly. he had messy golden hair that waved in some places. the sweater he had on was obviously homemade and reminded draco of the ones he and harry had from the weasley's. the man let harry go from his grip and looked at draco, scanning him. his expression faltered for a moment upon seeing his slytherin scarf, but quickly faded back into a grin. "you must be draco! we've been told wonderful things about you! come in, come in!"

the potters home was very warm and inviting compared to malfoy manner. there was a fire in the fireplace and the couch was soft and worn in compared to the hard leather that was in his home. draco glanced around the room and smiled small. he already liked the potters much more than he thought he would.

"wormy," harry spoke as he gently placed his hand on the small of his boyfriend's back, "we're going to go put our trunks in my room, tell everyone we'll be down in a moment" peter nodded at the boys words and heading into the kitchen. harry turned to his love and smiled.

"you have a very nice home, harry," draco spoke in the soft voice that harry fell in love with. draco was a gentle and soft person, he loved that about him. the boy was dressed in pastels as often as he could and always left behind his uniform shoes for those of a pastel colour.

"im glad you like it, you'll be here for two weeks. im also glad that me constantly mentioning how amazing you are in conversations with my family worked. they love you already!" harry beamed before taking dracos hand. "now, c'mon we do have to take our trunks up," and the boys headed up the stairs.

"your bedroom is much more inviting than mine." draco spoke when harry pushed the door open. harry had his room covered in gryffindor banners and quidditch posters. the room itself was a warm gray colour that let all of the bright gryffindor red and gold stand out. harrys bed had plain black and white sheets and a stuffed teddy bear sitting against his pillows. it was perfect.

"that's because your house looks like dementors decorated it, dray," harry laughed, laying his trunk down at the foot of his bed. he took dracos and repeated the action. "now let's get out of this winter gear, yeah?" he hummed, looking at the blonde boy who simply nodded.

"does- does your family mind what i wear?" draco asked timidly. he had opened his trunk and remembered that he had most packed skirts, white jeans, and pastel sweaters. harry wrapped his arms around his precious baby and kissed his neck, nipping at the skin.

"of course not, just dont dress like you've been in azkaban for twelve years and you'll be fine," he muttered, now focused on the soft red mark he was making on draco's neck. the blonde shivered as harry slid his hands under his sweater and started to suck at his neck.

"harry," draco sighed out as he pushed him away, "i dont want to show up to dinner tonight with a hickey please" the raven haired laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. before going back to his open trunk.

"wear the pink skirt with that one sweater you like wearing so much" harry commented as he pulled out his weasley sweater. "and make sure to add on the pink flower crown, it makes you look extra precious" draco blushed at his boyfriend's words as he tugged off his thick green sweater.

"they really wont care that im in a skirt?" he asked as he pulled out the pink skirt from his trunk. harry shook his head lightly, cuffing his blue jeans.

"they seriously won't, love" draco blushed and nodded before changing into the outfit harry suggested. minus the flower crown. he felt that was a bit much for just meeting his family.

"did you pack my white fuzzy socks?" draco asked as he turned to harry. he shook his head yes and tossed them to the blonde. draco sat on the floor to pull them onto his feet and hummed as harry began to brush the gel out of his hair.

"i still dont see why you got a sweater that says something in french. what does it mean?" harry asked, setting the brush aside and pulling a pink flower crown from dracos bag. "and dont think i wouldnt notice you not wearing this" he placed it on top of dracos soft curls and pulled him off the ground.

"it means what it means," draco smiled, looking down at the writing "baise moi" on his sweater. he looked up at harry and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "let's go see your family"

first up was sirius and remus. harry had claimed that they would be easy going. remus was. sirius wasnt.

"dray, this is remus and sirius. hush- yes, professor lupin is also my uncle- moony, padfoot, this is draco" harry introduced. draco held out a shaky hand and smiled at the two men, only recieving one warm smile back. remus had gladly shaken his hand, grinning brightly at him. sirius, on the other hand, had a stone cold look in his eyes as he scanned draco up and down. draco let his hand fall and glanced at harry. remus cleared his throat.

"why dont you go say hello to your parents, harry?" he suggested, watching draco tensely stand under padfoots glare. harry nodded, wrapping his arm protectively around his boyfriend's waist and guiding him to the kitchen.

"there's my boy!" james potter yelled as harry walked into the kitchen. he grinned brightly at his son before turning to the blonde. "you must be mister malfoy, i have to say you have your father's hair, but from what harry has said, you have your mother's heart." he softly smiled at draco and draco gave a gentle grin back.

"how have you two been?" lily asked, gently giving her son's shoulder a squeeze before continuing to work in the kitchen.

"we've been brilliant," harry smiled, running his hand gently against dracos side in an effort to calm him down; he was trembling softly against the raven haired boy.

"that's lovely to hear. draco, harry said you're an excellent baker?" james asked as lily continued around the kitchen. draco shyly nodded.

"i enjoy it yes, but im not sure if excellent is the word i would use, mr. potter. though, i did bake you all cookies as a thank you for letting me into your home.." his voice was soft and shakey, fragile almost, as he spoke. lily turned towards him.

"love, you didnt have to do that! you're always welcome here" her green eyes gleamed as she smiled at the boy who leaned softly into harry. draco muttered a soft 'thank you' and looked down with a blush.

"I HEARD COOKIES" wormtail squealed as he rushed into the kitchen, moony and padfoot not far behind.

"yeah, dray baked some for all of you. honey cranberry for peter, sugar cookies for mom, oatmeal raisin for remus, chocolate chip for dad, and peanut butter for sirius. that was the mysterious owl that you all got a month ago from 'hermione'. draco figured she would be the only person you would believe to write in cursive" harry spoke proudly of his boyfriend, his fingers still running up and down the anxious boy's side.

"yeah, hes a keeper, thank you malf- draco" sirius spoke for the first time since harry had arrived. surprisingly to draco.

"oh- um- of course.." he trailed off, his blush only increasing as he buried his face in harry's neck and wrapped his arms around his waist. harry chuckled softly, kissing the top of the small boys head. he was going to be just fine.

...

"thank you for preparing dinner, mrs. potter," draco spoke softly as he looked up from his plate. the family had just sat for dinner and draco had never seen a meal quite so homely.

"you're quite welcome, draco. and please, its lily" the red head smiled as they all began to eat. draco ate quietly, listening to the conversations at the table. lily, remus, and harry had began talking about his studies and how he wanted to teach at hogwarts one day. james, peter, and sirius began a playful argument on what quidditch team was better.

draco fiddled with his sweater as he nervously listened in on the second conversation. they had become louder and louder and draco was not a fan of loud, heated discussions. he gently closed his eyes before he felt a hand grab his and bring it to sit on top of the table. harry had quickly intertwined their fingers and pressed a kiss to draco's knuckles as he continued with his conversation. draco smiled small and let himself relax at harrys sweet gesture. he always knew how to calm him down.

"i like your outfit," peter commented, smiling at the pastel crown on dracos head. "pink roses are a beautiful flower. the potters grow a wide variety in their back garden actually! if youd like, we can sneak off and go see them?" his voice was gentle and quiet, letting no one else but draco hear him. the blonde smiled and squeezed harry's hand, pressing a kiss to his neck and letting go. harry simply turned and gave him a soft smile and peck on the cheek before returning to his conversation. draco brushed off his skirt before looking at wormtail who smirked and pushed his chair back.

"i gotta go grab something from my trunk, ill be back!" he spoke through his lie clearly and walked off. draco leaned his head on harry's shoulder.

"im gonna go to the bathroom, ill be back" he murmured in his ear before standing and following peter.

the golden haired man had waited for draco at the back door and smiled once he had arrived. he pushed open the door and walked into a beautiful garden filled with flowers.

"oh merlin.." draco whispered with a smile. they had so many flowers that it made the greenhouses at hogwarts look minuscule.

"do you know how to make flower crowns by hand?" peter asked, running his hand over some tulips. draco beamed and nodded. it was one of his favourite things to do. peter grinned. "care to make a couple?"

...

it had been ten minutes later when harry realized that his baby was missing still. he paused completely in his conversation.

"you alright, harry?" remus questioned upon seeing the look on his face.

"draco has been gone an awfully long time," he muttered, standing up. "im gonna go look for-" he was cut off by loud laughing from outside "-him." he finished, walking to his back door and pushing it open, his family following. harry almost melted when he saw his boy. draco was surrounded in flower crowns and was currently making one out of lavender. peter was stacking flower crowns on top of his head and couldnt seem to get past three. everytime the crowns fell off, draco would gently pick them up to make sure they hadnt gotten damaged before setting them back down and continuing to craft another one.

"cookies and flower crowns, huh?" sirius called out, his comment clearly aimed at draco. the two boys heads snapped up. draco blushed and glanced down at the, fifteen maybe, flower crowns that he had made. harry walked over and picked up one made of white tulips.

"merlin, you're absolutely precious" he mumbled, crouching down. draco blushed harder at his boyfriends words and glanced at him. "and you were so worried about them hating you" harry leaned in towards draco, his lips ghosting over the smaller. he pulled away and smirked. "let's bring all these inside, yeah?" harry stood and grabbed a handful of flower crowns and walked back inside. the rest of his family followed and peter picked up some flower crowns as draco carried the rest. harry potter was a tease. and draco malfoy was madly in love with him.

...

the two boys laid in harry's bed, curled up against each other, basking in each others warmth.

"now that wasnt so bad, was it dragon?" harry said teasingly. his fingers softly intertwined into dracos curls, running through them.

"yeah, i guess not" the blonde mumbled sleepily, pressing a kiss to harrys shoulder. "thank you for having such a wonderful family" he said, dozing off shortly after.

"thank you for becoming part of it, future mister potter" harry grinned, pressing a kiss to dracos soft hair before falling asleep with a soft grin.

they were happy. and that was all that mattered.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Day 23 : Confession - Satan

“I am very upset to announce you that we will have to prepare for that puny human holiday called “Christmas”. “ Lucifer stated clearly, yet with much disgust in his voice, at lunch where all 8 of us were gathered. “YAY! Finally something fun in this Hell!” I fist-pumped the air, making Lucifer glare at me. “I take it it’s your fault Diavolo came up with this idiocy, right, Katrina?” he asked in a darker voice, but I only smiled innocently at him. “Whatever could you mean, Lucifer, dear? You and Diavolo were the ones to want the exchange program, and thus, the Next Demon Lord thought it wise to make the humans feel at home! I don’t see why you’d blame me?” I giggled, shrugging my shoulders as if I had nothing to do with it. “This just confirms it’s your fault.” he sighed in defeat, as I winked at him. “That just means we’ll have to make the best out of it! Decorating the place, the Christmas Tree, giving gifts, baking and cooking, fireworks-...” I trail of, already making a list with whatever we need to do, but Lucifer put his hands on my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks. “Enough, please stop. One at a time. Since you’re so knowledgeable in the human traditions, I will make you responsible with organisation. From now on, all of you will be listening to Katrina and will do as she commands. Dismissed.” just as he left, a triumphant smirk came on my face. “Well, since there’s 8 of us, we will be paired up in teams of 2, okay? Let’s see...Beel, I would like you and Belphie to get a Christmas Tree and start decorating it in the Ball room. Asmo, could you and Lucifer decorate the place? I trust you the most when it comes to great taste, and besides, after they’re all done, they will come help you out, and when that happens, Asmo is in charge of it. That leaves...Mammon and Levi to cook and bake. I will be giving you simple recipes that you can follow, and more, I will look with Levi for YouTube tutorials to follow. On top of that, everyone needs to give each other presents, so I will make sure to get lots of wrapping paper and ribbons for you. Moreover, I think Diavolo would love it if we would dress him up as Santa, so he could be the one to give the gifts around. I and Satan will go to the human world and gather all the useful items that we will be needing, and we’ll make sure they will arrive here as fast as possible. Is that okay with everyone?” I asked, writing down everything in my agenda. “Aww, Kat, I’m so happy you trust me with such an important task! After this, want to go to a Spa Day with me? We haven’t been in more than 2 weeks!” Asmodeus grinned, satisfied with his task. “Of course we can, Asmo! Our skin has to be as soft and flawless as possible!” I put my hands on my cheek, thinking how great it would be to relax again at the Spa. “Why can’t I be in charge of cooking?” Beel pouted, looking up at me from the table. “Because, dear...You would be eating everything.” I sighed, patting his hair. “Don’t worry, tomorrow is Christmas and you will be able to eat as much as you want. You will love it!” I cheered him up, earning a small smile. “Well then! Now that everything’s settled, I will give each of you the task you have to do. I and Satan will have to go now, but please go inform Lucifer and give him this paper with the tasks too, okay? He won’t be able to complain, since the complain will be directed to Diavolo, which is a big no-no, so you’re all safe.” I gave them a thumbs up, before looking at Satan, who seemed very passive. “Are you ready to go?” I asked with a soft smile on my face. “Sure, let’s go.” he nodded, getting up and following me to the human world, where it was already evening.

The streets, trees and buildings were heavily decorated and the fact that it was night and the beautiful silver Moon was illuminating the city, along with the colourful fairy lights, didn’t stop me from staring in awe at the city.

All around, everyone seemed to be feeling festive and happy since there were only good vibes and smiles on their faces. “This is beautiful...” I gazed at the place as my heart clenched in happiness, raising my hand into the sky, saying a little incantation I learnt in the Celestial realm, making it snow softly, with big and delicate snowflakes. “I didn’t know you could do that.” Satan stated in wonder. “I have a few little tricks up my sleeve from up there. After all...Lucifer wasn’t the only favourite of God. And...I liked my magic.” I winked at him as I started on ahead, guiding him to the huge decoration market that left me as mesmerised as never before (by human standards). “That’s...A lot of decorations and colours. What should we get?” he asked, shocked by the never-ending variety. “We could either settle for a combination of 2 colours for the whole place...Or Choose 2 colours that would match everyone’s colour scheme for their rooms, and choose Diavolo’s colours for most of the place. What do you think?” I looked at him with a pondering face, and after a few seconds, he seemed to agree with the 2nd option. “Okay.Diavolo, definitely Red and Gold. For Lucifer, maybe Red and Black? Mammon...Yellow and White? Levi...Dark blue and Silver? How’s that so far?” I ask, looking up at the different colours of tinsels displayed. “I think that’s fine. Green and Yellow for me, please. I bet Asmodeus would like Pink and Silver, Beelzebub would go for Orange and Yellow and Belphie...Blue and...” Satan began, and as he was thinking, I blurted out “Purple!” “Yeah, that’s nice, I bet he would love it. What about you, Katrina?” he asked, which made me widen my eyes. “Ah, right, I completely forgot about me! Well...I think Light blue and Silver works for me.” I grinned, clapping my hands together in glee. “Sounds like a nice combination. Well then, let’s put the decoration in the shopping carts. Great thing they’re very large...We will need all the space.” he hummed in amusement as we started putting boxes of decorations in the cart, as if we were playing Tetris.

“Well then, now that we’re done with the more difficult part, let’s take everything outside so I can put a spell on them and teleport everything inside the Mansion.” I looked at the carts filled to the brim with decoration boxes as we pushed them outside, in a dark alley where nobody could see us. “Now, then...”

I look left and right to make sure nobody was watching, so I could transform in my demon self, making it easier to use my magic and send everything to the Devildom...But that left me rather exhausted, and I fell on my knees, panting slightly for air.

“Katrina, are you okay?” Satan asked, kneeling down next to me, helping me get up. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. Magic outside Devildom takes more of a toll on me than I realised. But it’s fine, our job is basically done. We can go back now, if you want.” I smiled at him tenderly, thanking him for helping me out. “Lucifer and Asmodeus are there to make sure everything goes well. I’m sure they won’t be missing us for a few hours more.” he let out an amused breath. “It’s not every day when we get to the human realm, so why not explore a bit?” he suggested, motioning for me to hook my hand to his arm, like a gentleman would. “I like what I’m hearing! Oh, I know a nice little vintage tea shop where we could go to. I bet you’ll like it. They always put classical music, and since today is Friday, it’s gonna be Debussy and Tchaikovsky, I’m sure you’re gonna love it!” I exclaimed in a gleeful voice, not noticing the look he was giving me, nor the tender smile.

As we arrived there, we got immediately greeted by the rich aroma of sweet tea and Debussy’s melodies bringing peace into our hearts. We sat down at a table next to the fireplace, and admired the pretty decorations.

“You were right, this place is really...Calming. Worth it after all the chaos from the Devildom. Thank you for bringing me here.” he smiled softly, blushing as he sipped from his tea. “I’m just glad I can enjoy this with someone else. I’m not sure who else would have been able to properly enjoy this experience without ruining it in some way.” I hummed in amusement, holding the cup in both my hands, letting it warm them. “Oh...Claire de Lune...” my eyes widened slightly as my smile curved upwards. “Do you like it?” he asked in a hushed voice. “It’s...My favourite song. I haven’t played it in a long time...” I looked down in reminescence. “I didn’t know you could play the piano.” he raised his eyebrow in curiosity. “I...Haven’t, in a very long while. Didn’t really want any of those normies to find out. You know how they can be. I do play occasionally with Diavolo, though, so I’m not that rusty.” I chuckled thinking of the duets I’ve done with him. “I see. Would you...Play for me, some day?” he asked in an uncharacteristically timid voice, making me smile tenderly at him. “Christmas is all about giving and miracles. When we get home, I promise I will. I really hope you’ll like it!” my smile never faltering.

We enjoyed the peace and melody of the place for just a while longer, before we went back home, to see everyone arguing for some reason, and decorations all over the place, making both I and Satan facepalm.

“Will you SHUT UP?!” Satan’s voice boomed through the room, making everyone halt in place. “It’s his fault!” they all yelled at once, but one look from Satan made them all shut up again. “How did this happen? Lucifer, explain.” I crossed my arms, not ready for all this mess.

Of course, the brothers can’t cooperate and do something right no matter how hard they try, so Beel ended up eating the food, decorations ended up randomly put in all the wrong places, Belphie fell asleep, Asmo became a dictator...But at least the Tree was put where it should be.

“I am very disappointed in all of you. Honestly...You are grown up men, and yet, you behave like little children. Get to your rooms right now, I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” I reprimand all of them, and thankfully, instead of arguing, they all left. “What are you going to do now?” Satan asked, still irked. “You should go to your room too. It will be easier if I take care of things on my own. I will give everyone their decoration since they can at least do that themselves...And when I’m done, I will let the human put the Star on top of the Tree. Thank you for today, Satan, I really appreciate you helping me out today. Goodnight.” I smiled at him, kissing his cheek before waving at him. “Are you sure you don’t need help?” he asked again, but I shook my head. “It’s better this way, trust me.” I winked at him playfully, letting him know I will be okay.

Which...I hope I will.

I transform in my demon form and use magic to arrange everything in its rightful box, and then put them all in front of their rooms, letting them know they can decorate already.

After that, I decorated the Tree and the Ballroom, but it was extremely exhausting and I couldn’t do think I would be able to cook or bake anything for the night. Hopefully, tomorrow I would have time until evening.

I didn’t even realise I fell asleep on the couch, but when I woke up, I noticed a green blanket over me and the smell of gingerbread in the air. I look at my D.D.D. to see that it was afternoon already...I can’t believe I overslept so much...!  Never mind that, I have to hurry and see what’s going on in the kitchen!

Holding the green blanket close to me like a cap, I walk still sleepily in the kitchen, only to gasp in shock as I see Beel, Belphie, Levi and Mammon cooking and baking, and batches of gingerbread figures and cupcakes already done and ready to be eaten. “This is torture...My stomach wants to eat everything at once...” Beel muttered, clutching his stomach. “Whose initiative was it?” I ask, somehow surprising them. “Ah, Kat, you’re awake! We’re sorry about last night...But I see Satan made sure you’re okay.” Mammon sniggered like a schoolgirl, making me raise my eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean?” I as, tilting my head. “That’s Satan’s blanket.” Belphie yawned, pointing at the green fluffy blanket. “O-Oh...Then, I can safely guess he was the one with the initiative, wasn’t he?” I half-smiled, grateful for his kindness. “Yep.” Beel nodded, making Levi smirk. “Satan and Katrina sitting in a tree~!” he began, but I stopped him by bonking his head, not wanting to hear more teasing than needed. “Before you leave, Diavolo said the party in at 8pm, so be ready by then, okay? You know how they can be.” Belphie pointed out once again, and thanking him, I leave to my room to get ready for the party properly and wrap all the gifts neatly, before putting them under the huge Christmas tree.

I put on a black dress with black leather boots, some accessories and left the room, making sure my fire red hair cascaded over my shoulders gracefully. In the Ballroom, and everyone was already there, including the angels and humans.

“Woaw, you’re all looking great! So festive!” I clapped my hands together, grinning widely seeing everything looking so nicely. “Katrina, I was right, you did such an amazing job with this Anti-Christmas!” Diavolo chuckled gleefully, making everyone around sweatdrop. “Diavolo, dear, I’m sure you said it like that on purpose. Honestly, you look great today, but why don’t you try the Anti-Christ Santa suit I gave you?” I wink at him playfully. “This way, you can be the one giving everyone the gifts! You’re the perfect person for that!” I flash him a peace sign, making his laugh boom through the wide room. “Very well, I’ll go change now. Y’all better behave.” his usual cheerful grin sparkled as usual as he patted my head and left. “Now then, is Kitsune ready to put the Star on top of the Tree? I hope you don’t mind, Solomon.” I smile at them, getting closer to the tree. “I...! Well, yes! But how am I gonna reach so far up, the tree is at least 3-4 meters tall!” the little human girl gasped, looking up at the huge tree towering over everyone. “Now, now, Kitsune, don’t be silly.” I giggled at her, letting my demon for take place, my big black wings like the abyss fluttering around me. “Are you ready?” I smirked, extending my arm towards her. “HELL YES!” she shrieked as I picked her up and jumped into the air, close to the peak of the Tree, and the sparkling face she held as she put on the Silver Star was everything I hoped for. “SO COOL!” she cheered up as I let her down, high-fiving each other.

For the rest of the evening, we ate the amazing meal the guys prepare, which were surprisingly amazing, and all was well, people got drunk, as usual...

And when the night was over, I felt refreshed... My heart felt so warm that I went back to the Ballroom, gliding my fingers on the keys of the piano, before siting down and playing Claire de Lune, just like I hoped for. It’s been so long since I’ve played this particular song...That it felt surprisingly nostalgic.

“You play much better than I imagined. I’m impressed.” a low, velvety voice called out from behind me, and upon further inspection, it seemed to be Satan, my favourite blond. “Thank you. Want to stay?” I asked, patting the place next to me. “I would love to.” he smiled, sitting next to me, as I started playing another song. “Say, Katrina, you know more about these human traditions, correct?” he asked, a bit evasively. “I suppose I do. Are you interested in one of them?” I smiled at him, ready to answer. “Asmodeus mentioned this plant that’s hanging from some places.” he continued, and yet, it seemed he was holding back. “Oh, yeah, of course. It’s called Mistletoe. You’re supposed to kiss whoever is with you underneath it. It’s supposed to bring fortune and happiness throughout the year and whatever nice things you can think of.” I shrugged, chuckling softly at the weird traditions humans come up with. “Interesting. Which reminds me...Here. This is my gift for you. What was it Kitsune said...Ah! Yes, Happy Christmas, Katrina.” he blushed slightly, handing me a neatly wrapped green gift with a beautiful golden ribbon. “Awwww, thank you, Satan. I really appreciate it.” I thank him, holding the gift to my chest as I kiss his cheek. “Here, this is my gift for you.” I smile at him tenderly, urging him to unwrap it. “Oh, is this a music box?” he asked, opening the lid, as a figurine with red hair, dressed in black, with black wings spun in circles and the soft tune of Claire the Lune rung peacefully through the air. “I recorded myself playing it. Hope it doesn’t sounds condescending or anything...” I look away timidly, but I was met with a sweet chuckle. “I like it. You play really well, and now I can listen to you playing even when you’re not with me. Thank you.” he kissed my forehead as a thank you, before urging me to unwrap the gift. “Oh...! It’s my favourite book, thank you so much!” I grin, opening the book, only to find a beautiful confession of love written on the front page.

“Thank you for showing me I’m still alive and I can feel other emotions other than wrath, what I’m most known for.

I love you, Katrina.

Satan xx “

“I suppose...Mistletoe would be useful now.” I smiled widely, looking down as I felt my heart beat faster than usual. “Good thing Asmo put some above everything...Including the piano.” he raised my face up so I could look at him, his gorgeous emerald eyes gazing right into my soul. “Guess he is useful once in a while.” I joke breathlessly, as he inched closer to me, pressing his soft lips over mine gently, before putting his hand on the back of my head, deepening the kiss more. “I love you too, Satan. Happy Christmas.” I whispered, putting my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. “I guess Christmas isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.” he smirked in the kiss. “We should do this more often.” I suggest, before leaning my head on his shoulder, enjoying the peace and quiet, combined with the warmth my heart felt and the sweet aroma of Christmas dessert.

[frangipanidownunder]

Fox Mulder’s Guide to Building a Pool: part 2

Read Part 1

A/N This is in answer to an anon prompt: Mulder builds a pool in the yard. It ran away from me so I’ll post it in two parts.

This is set post IWTB and assumes Season 10 didn’t happen. Because it shouldn’t have, am I right? Angsty to start with.

Winter

November rushed headlong into house and yard with blizzards and ice storms and squealing winds under the doors. The pool project remained as frozen as the ground but his brain was always planning. Winter was the end of things, yet, even as he scraped freezing condensation from the inside of the windows, he felt a kind of resurgence. Like his bare, unadorned spirit had rested enough to begin anew. It helped that he spoke to Scully often, random phone calls, text messages with links to articles she’d found on cryptid sightings or arcane deaths. Her emoji use was spot on. Aliens and foxes and ghosts and a solitary blue heart.

Christmas Eve and she sent him a message about a sighting of a ‘gargantuan, hirsute humanoid’ in a Florida forest and after reading it with a sense of comforting familiarity and relieved distance, he googled the meaning of the blue heart. Trust, harmony, peace and loyalty. Reading into emojis had to rank right up there on the Fox Mulder Chart of Weirdness but the idea of it, that she had carefully researched this colour and chosen it as the one to close off her messages to him, took root in his own heart and he felt a burst of that same restless energy that had plagued him for months.

He walked to the back door, chancing a look out. A smirry rain fell, leaving the bare branches oily in the low light. Further around, the pool, sunk below the hard, cold earth was a gaping dark mouth, the concrete bearing the marks of months of bad weather. In one corner, debris from the yard had collected, twigs and small stones, plastic wrapping floating in the grimy pool of melted snow that covered the base.

The sound of her voice as she picked up the call pulled a smile to his lips. She sounded pleased to hear from him. Excited almost.

“Hey.” It was an extended version of her usual greeting. A stretching of the word into something more. His heart skipped. “I know you don’t celebrate, but Happy Christmas, Mulder.”

It would have been typical for him to make some flippant remark about stockings or mistletoe but instead, he raked up the trash in the pool as he wished her season’s greetings and listened to her stories of wrapping gifts for the kids at work and the terribly formal staff dinner where the turkey was overcooked and the hasselbacks were rubbery and she left early so she could pull on her pyjamas and robe and watch It’s a Wonderful Life and then, after a breathy pause, added, that it wasn’t the same on her own.

“What’s that noise?” she asked.

He could have said it was the sound of his heart breaking free of his ribcage but he shook his head at himself and took a deep breath. “Would you believe me if I said I was cleaning the pool?” She laughed and he burst right through her green light. “Did you want to come over, Scully?”

She would very much love to, she said, and he held the phone to his chest while he scraped out the detritus against the side wall one-handed. The first flake of snow landed and he looked up to the silver heavens and whispered a thank-you.

Guilt crept in when he saw a parcel in her hand. “I didn’t get you anything, Scully.” He took her coat, the bag of groceries and the gift and she said she’d forgive him and he grinned at her as he rattled the box until she tutted and snatched it back from him.

“I’ll put it under the tree,” she said but the living room was empty of seasonal decor and she looked down at the gift and her feet and he wondered if he could pull out all the boxes in the attic to retrieve the decorations but she shook her head and laughed through her nose. “Don’t worry about it.” She could still read him like a book.

The intensity of the storm took them by surprise, heaping snow against the window sills and the door and Scully’s car until everything was silent-white and glistening. He poured brandy over ice and she sank into the couch next to him wrapped in a blanket and wearing a resigned smile.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m not due at mom’s until New Year. I was going to be working but that changed, so I have no plans.” She squeezed his knee and there was a glint in her eye that had him almost believing that she’d engineered the weather, just like that Holman guy from years before, but Dana Scully MD was no lovelorn meteorologist. She was the sender of blue heart emojis, the bringer of turkey steaks and farmer’s market vegetables, she was the best present ever, the three wise men and more.

She was also a little tipsy, he thought, eyeing her reddened cheeks and the way she shucked off her boots to tuck her ankles under her ass. He hadn’t seen her so loose for years. He’d spent too long ignoring her that by the time she left she was coiled like wire rope and just as cool to touch.

“If this storm keeps up maybe we can skate on your pool,” she said and giggled, pressing her fingers under her nose.

“You want to rush me to ER with multiple fractures on Christmas morning, Scully?” He swallowed the liquor.

Her face straightened and she cleared her throat. “It will be strange, won’t it, being here tomorrow? Waking up on Christmas morning together. It’s not something we’ve done for…”

“Three years,” he said and let that settle between them before adding, “but I’m looking forward to it.”

“Because it feels like we’ve moved past…all that?”

All that. All that rage and disappointment. All that bitterness and rancour. All that unsaid. Too much said. “Because it feels fated,” he said. And she pulled a face. “Preordained, inexorable.”

“Destined,” she said, leaning forward. “Portentous?”

He chuckled. “That has a negative connotation, like foreshadowed. It’s more ominous than auspicious.”

“I’m going to have to take back that Thesaurus and buy you something else, Mulder.” She nodded to the present on the table.

“I used to be poor,” he said and she quirked her eyebrow. “Then my partner bought me a thesaurus and now I’m impecunious.”

Her snort was half-laugh, half-surprise. “We’re not…”

“I know.”

The next morning dawned clear and Mulder was already awake. Had hardly slept. Like a child at Christmas, he thought wryly, impatient for his gift. Scully wasn’t for unwrapping though. At this stage, he was lucky she was here to decorate his living room. The brightest star. An angel.

She was dressed in his old anorak he’d used years before to clear the yard when they first moved in. It surrounded her like a canoe, pointed hood above her head and falling to almost her ankles. She was dragging something behind her, leaving a thick trail through the snow. Mulder opened the door and she huffed through, revealing her treasure – a small pine tree, dripping melting snow in grey piles on the floor.

He found a box of decorations behind a wall of old books, dusted them off and climbed back down the ladder. She’d made cocoa and found marshmallows from that Mary Poppins bag of hers. She added a dash of brandy with a hair of the dog wink and they made the tree pretty.

Flipping pancakes, he watched her as she sat in the chair near the window, wrapped now in one of his sweaters, pink-stockinged feet crossed. “If you squint through these blinds, Mulder, and use your imagination, of which you received a wild and overly large share, it looks like there’s a snow monster in the pool.”

“Are you still drunk, Scully?” He bent beside her, close enough to see the dark skin on the mole above her lip.

“I am not, look! There. See it? It’s got shifty eyes and a long nose.”

He rubbed at his own features and she jabbed his hand away.

“It’s there. I swear. Come on, I’ll show you.” She shot up and dragged him outside where the cold shrunk his skin around his bones. The sky threatened to unload again and she shivered despite her layers. He slunk an arm around her shoulders and she swayed into him. “There. Look. See?” Her finger pointed but he couldn’t have seen a thing beyond the fact that she was there, right next to him in the dead of winter, gesticulating to a lump of frozen water.

“At least when Frosty the Snowmonster dies, the pool will be quarter full,” he said, holding open the door for her. She dipped under his arm and it felt like old times.

Spring

Blossom hugged the ends of branches, pom-poms of pink dipping on the breeze. The sun was watery-warm and birdsong amplified the hope of the season. He’d tiled the pool himself, enjoying he exact nature of the work. The water delivery contractor was late but the from his vantage point on the front deck, Mulder couldn’t care less. Just for an hour or so, he could afford to do nothing. He told himself he deserved it. He let his eyes slip shut.

“Can’t a girl get a fanfare any more?” Scully was standing at the foot of the steps, casual in blue jeans and a fitted mint-green tee, her hair was pulled back in a scruffy ponytail that usually signified she was about to get messy.

He made trumpet noises and she bowed when she reached the deck. From her tote she took out a bag of pastries. He liked this version of Scully. He liked her very much. This soft, coquettish variety gave him hope like the spring and made him feel lighter.

“I’ll make coffee,” he said and ushered her through with a theatrical wave.

The truck arrived two hours late but that was two hours passed with Scully who spent her time asking questions about the pump and the pool fence requirements and whether he was going to plant a garden and how much she loved the mosaic tile design on the bottom and whether he’d considered a shade sail. She wrinkled her nose and her freckles danced. He had a vision of her sunburnt and cranky.

“I’ll order one before the heat hits,” he said, solemnly.

“Don’t do it just for me,” she said, over the din of the hose being unravelled from the truck.

As though he would do anything for anyone else. He’d spent much of the time since the Father Joe case doing things only for himself. He couldn’t see it then, but his focus had narrowed beyond the scope of voiceless victims, beyond the purview of his domestic responsibilities and from his refreshed perspective, he could see now how Scully had been cut out of his orbit.

“Did you imagine this when we first moved in here?”

“You designing and constructing a pool, sundeck and safety fence? Mulder, when we first moved here you couldn’t have built a house of cards. Remember when the screen door fell off the hinges and you tried to fix it but ended up breaking the drill. You were so angry, a wounded animal fighting off any help. I thought…” she covered her eyes with her hand to watch the water running over the bottom of the pool, steadily rising, filling the void. “I should have left sooner. Maybe you would have rediscovered this…this spirit of yours earlier.”

“You think your leaving prompted me to do all this?”

“Didn’t it?”

“It took more than three years of you not…”

She sucked in a breath and it dawned on him that she was still hurting too. Would it ever stop? Or was the pain destined to be a constant companion to remind them of their failings? Was building a pool really just a diversion from the agony of Scully being gone? Was her position at the hospital just her version of a building project? She was building herself a better life and he was building a pool.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing gently. “For not trying harder.”

The drone of the truck’s motor stuttered to a halt and he looked down at her. She was gazing at the water as it slapped at the sides, settling. “You have nothing to apologise for, Scully. I closed off, shut down, kept you out and then got mad at you when you made a new life.”

“We were both pretty closed off, Mulder. Talking for hours but never saying enough. Remember how we used to spend days on the road and never have to say a thing. We could go for miles in silence. It didn’t bother us then, so when did that change?”

“I think the truth of it is that we were both just talking at each other, trying to get our voices heard, but we didn’t care to listen for fear of actually hearing.”

She raised those brows of hers and smiled. “That’s very deep and heartfelt.”

The truck reversed and he looked down at the water and the moving outline of the blue love heart he’d tiled at the bottom of the pool. “Just like my pool.”

The first time she came over for a swim, she presented him with a new beach towel. It had a fox face on it and she was so proud of herself. She let him splash her and she bombed him and he didn’t want her to leave but he watched her drive away and sat on the verandah for hours after the sun went down.

She phoned to say she was coming over again and that gave him an idea. After all, he owed her two gifts now. So he went online and shopped.

Taking the parcel, she dipped her head in gratitude. “This better not be a beach towel with Big Blue on it, Mulder, or I swear to God…” She ripped the package open scattering paper everywhere. She held it up. It was a one-piece swimsuit the colour of those Caribbean island beaches, azure, the colour of her eyes. She pulled a face, whispering a wow and telling him he shouldn’t have because people might talk.

“Let them talk,” he called out, as she slipped into the house to change. “What else could they say about us that we haven’t heard already, Mrs Spooky.”

When she returned, she was wearing the bathing suit and a knee-length cream sarong. She pulled a wide-brimmed hat out of her bag and went to put it on but he stopped her.

“Just one more thing,” he said, finding the smaller parcel. “This is a very late birthday or really early Christmas present. Take your pick.”

“Another gift? You already got me this suit and I’m wondering if I should really spend the afternoon with a man who buys lingerie for a single woman…”

“It’s lingerie?” His voice was high-pitched because he was genuinely curious and a little sorry about her use of the word single which seemed unnecessary but she grinned wickedly and he breathed out in relief. “Damn. If I’d have known that I would have bought that red lace number…”

“Don’t push your luck, Mulder.”

The small gift was wrapped in silver frosted paper decorated with a gold bow. She opened this one with much more care and when she lifted the lid and saw the silver chain with the blue topaz heart pendant, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s beautiful, Mulder. You shouldn’t have. It’s too much.”

“Trust, harmony, peace and loyalty. Blue hearts. That’s what they mean.”

“Uh-huh.” She turned and he clipped the necklace under the hair. “You’re reading a lot into an emoji.” Was he? Maybe. Did he care? Not much. She turned to face him, stood on tiptoe and kissed him, softly, gently, with love. “But you’ve always looked beyond the obvious. And that’s why I love you.”

Love. Not loved. He took her hand and walked her to the edge. “Ready?”

She didn’t answer but tugged at his wrist and pulled him forward so they both plunged into the deep blue, going down and down.