#moved the sofa beds - put the bedsheets away - moved their chairs back to their desks - made some tea and my sisters hot water bottle

[amischiefofmuses]

.

[themidnight-ghost]

I should tell you

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, are you dating Joanne Davidson?”

“Boss, I honestly don’t see an issue...” Kate trailed off as Ted massaged his temples.

“You don’t see an issue? She swears at her superiors, has affairs with her staff, shot an officer twice in the chest, set up a plot to kill you and replied with ‘no comment’ to almost every bloody question.”

The euphoria Kate Fleming felt around Joanne Davidson was extravagant. Even now, when they lie in bed together trying to come down from their high, Kate still felt energised. The DI rolled over to face her girlfriend, with the bedsheets pulled up to her neck and subtly smiled.

Kate ran her left hand through Jo’s hair and cupped her cheek with the other, “Morning, boss.”

Jo opened her eyes and grinned when she met Kate’s, “You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“I want to,” Kate replied honestly.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” Jo simply said as she moved forward to kiss her girlfriend tenderly. No one would have expected that Kate Fleming and Jo Davidson would become a thing. Especially after Jo’s arrest. Heck, they didn’t even know if Jo would survive prison! Jo paused their kiss, and Kate looked unexpectedly at the DI, “You should probably tell Steve and Ted.”

The moment was ruined.

Kate tensed as she sat up, pulling the duvet with her and laughing when she pulled too hard, so Jo was left bare, “What?”

“I said-'' Davidson smirked as she deliberately rolled onto Kate’s chest, making her blush, “You should tell Steve and Ted. You may not be related, but they’re your friends.”

“What if I don’t want to tell Steve?” Kate challenged with a whisper, not looking away from Jo's eyes.

“You can look at my tits, Kate. I don't mind.”

“JO!” Kate profusely blushed and shoved her ex-boss to the side,

Jo snickered and leant back into the DI for a cuddle, “It isn’t like you haven’t seen them before.”

“But seriously,” Kate hummed when she went back to being serious, “Steve will support it; I know he will. But Ted? I don’t want to tell. He might not like it.”

“But he threw confetti at that proposing gay couple?”

“That’s different. Not only am I his colleague, but I’m also dating a woman who committed multiple offences to the law and it’ll be awkward, especially in a work setting.”

“Yeah, I still feel a little guilty for that,” Jo confessed.

“You shouldn’t. It was shitty, but you did it because Pilkinton had a gun to your head and somehow made things right, but,” Kate hesitated and wrapped an arm around Jo’s torso, “that still doesn’t change what happened.”

“Steve’s your best friend, and from what I can tell, you’ve known Ted for a good while.” Jo gently kissed Kate’s jaw before shuffling away, allowing the DI to go downstairs.

“I might.” Kate smiled as she grabbed her underwear and a towel from the floor, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kate.”

Both women had been dating for a significant amount of time. Their story started when Jo broke up with Farida, and the two started getting close. After that, there had been a series of unofficial dates, secret glances, handholding, confessions and a memorable car getaway. Kate was embarrassed that it took her so long to come to terms with her feelings.

The night when Kate shot Pilkinton was definitely memorable but for all the wrong reasons. Kate couldn’t care less that she’d shot an officer; the only thing she cared about was saving Jo and getting them far away from town. She was looking forward to a life of peace without bent coppers lurking around corners and getting married to the woman she loved. That being said, Kate didn’t confess her love until Jo was in prison.

Finally arriving at work, Kate scanned her ID and headed straight for Ted’s office.

“Morning, Kate.” Hastings didn’t look up from his computer.

Tapping her on the shoulder, Steve approached with two cups of coffee from behind, “The Gaffer thinks he’s found something worth looking at.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? What’s it relating to?”

“Our friend, Jo Davidson.”

Kate’s heart dropped to the floor. Was it bad? Who was she kidding? Of course, it was going to be bad.

“I don’t want to make any sudden moves,” Ted admired his coffee, “Let’s just wait it out.”

Steve knew that Kate had some sort of soft spot for Jo. He didn’t know the details of their relationship but was aware they were close,

“Has she mentioned anything to you since she was released?”

Kate shook her head.

“Strange.” Hastings began, “I was quite hoping we’d seen the last of her. The poor girl’s been through enough as it is.”

Kate picked her fingernails, and her stomach churned over, “Can I confess something?”

“Of course…” Hastings folded his arms and leaned across the desk, gesturing for Kate to take a seat.

“Do you want me out?” DI Arnott hesitated.

“It’s alright, Steve. I need to tell both of you anyway.”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” A beat, “romantically.”

The confession slipped out, and jumping the first hurdle was surprisingly easy, but unfortunately, it wasn’t as straightforward as that.

The Gaffer corrected his posture, and Steve cocked his head, “Oh? For how long?”

“About 4 months.”

Steve looked slightly hurt, “And you never told me?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Kate replied sheepishly.

Steve and Ted weren’t blood-related, but Kate still viewed them as her family. One of Kate’s strongest memories was when Steve slept on her sofa bed every night after her husband left.

“What’s his name?”

Another hurdle appeared that Kate had to somehow jump over - the gay hurdle. Until she met Jo, Kate never imagined herself to be bisexual. The haircut had always been misleading until now.

“He’s a she.” Kate wouldn’t say she was scared of her boss, but she certainly valued his approval and Catholic beliefs.

Ted paused to think this over before leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes, and smiling. The smile grew, and a flower of hope blossomed in the DI’s chest. Steve was grinning at both reactions and patted Kate reassuringly on the shoulder.

“I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to tell us,” Steve spoke for them.

“Does this mean you’re okay with this?” Kate didn’t know why she needed an answer, but she would feel even better with confirmation.

“It’s your life, of course, we are! Now, who is she?”

“Okay, okay”, Kate could burst with excitement! Even though they didn’t know it was Jo, Kate could still describe her lover in perfect detail. “She has short, dark brown hair, which has a subtle wave at the end. She is pretty pale, so in the sun, her freckles come out, but you won’t see them unless you’re super close! Her cheeks are always red because she is somehow always blushing!” Kate continued to gush, “Her eyes are brown, and her favourite colour is blue! She was also a police officer-”

“You told them yet?” Jo Davidson leaned in the doorway with a giant grin plastered on her face, “or are you just going to keep describing my facial features?”

Silence.

Jo stopped as she realised what she’d said.

Kate looked between Jo, Steve and Ted. She loved her ex-boss, but she really needs to learn to read a situation.

Steve and Ted simultaneously looked between Kate and Jo. Their brains slowly put the puzzle together in an organised fashion. The hair, the skin, the blush, the eyes and finally, the favourite colour.

The history hurdle.

The grinding of Ted’s chair against the floor wasn’t enough to pierce the tension between the group. Kate ushered her girlfriend into the office, closing the door, taking her hand and cautiously walking over to Steve and Ted.

“Jo, this is Steve. Steve, this is Jo.” Kate introduced them, and Jo waved shily. “Jo, this is Ted, Ted this is-”

“I know who Jo Davidson is.” Ted’s voice was a deadly monotone. “How did you even get in?”

“I walked through the door.” The awkwardness had obviously got to the former SIO, who proceeded to bite her lip as she glanced around the room, eyeing the wall with great curiosity.

“Davidson.” Jo’s head snapped back to the situation as Hastings addressed her. “Are you dating one of my officers?”

“Well-” Jo didn’t know what to say, and thankfully, Ted didn’t want to hear it.

“Katherine Laura Fleming.” Kate flinched at the use of her full name.

“Your middle name is Laura?” Jo tentatively asked before Ted shut her off. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, are you dating Joanne Davidson?”

“Boss, I honestly don’t see an issue...” Kate trailed off as the Gaffer rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t see an issue?” Ted tried hard to keep his composure, “She swears at her superiors, has affairs with her staff, shot an officer twice in the chest, set up a plot to kill you and replied with ‘no comment’ to almost every bloody question.”

“She also commanded multiple armed officers, is super observant, tactically agile, Scottish and be honest: we all know I was the one who shot Ryan Pilkinton.”

Steve sniggered. “I just can’t believe you both.”

“After everything, she's done? I don’t know if I should be impressed or appalled.” Ted corrected.

“You’re not mad?” Kate pushed,

“I'm not mad, but I’m seriously debating whether I should fire you for stupidity. You said it’s been going on for 2 or 3 months, but when did it even start?”

“Jo and I have been shagging on the sly for months.” Jo snickered at Kate’s comment, “But for me, it started in the getaway car and when Jo went to prison. I always felt different about her, but it only hit me when I thought I’d lose her for good.”

Kate’s sentence pulled on Jo’s heartstrings as she remembered the recent events. Throughout her short time in prison and working on Operation Lighthouse, Kate had been her friend and colleague. She cared for Jo more than anyone else in her life and Kate was the only person to make an effort and ask about her day. Overwhelmed, the smaller woman buried her head in Kate’s shoulder, forgetting all about the angry Ted Hastings. Kate kissed Jo’s forehead and smiled fondly down at her.

Both Steve and Ted thought they knew exactly how Jo Davidson worked, especially after interviewing Farida they pictured her as a manipulative, self-centred psychopath. The recent interview didn’t exactly change their opinions either. But this was different. It wasn’t normal for anyone to see Jo vulnerable, but it looked easy when she was with Kate. Jo relaxed, her shoulders dropped, breathing steady, eyes shut with a gentle smile. And in the years Steve had known Kate, he had never seen her blush as much as she did now or look at someone with so much compassion and… love?

“Just so you know, we don’t care that you’re gay, mate. And we shouldn’t care who you date either. I think it was just a shock for Hastings here.” Steve patted his boss on the back.

“It was a shock to me too.” Jo finally addressed the room, “I thought I was done. Mentally, physically and romantically.”

“I should apologise for my words,” Ted replied sheepishly, “I have nothing against anyone, but as you can tell, I’m still a little prickly.”

Jo awkwardly picked down the skin on her fingers, “I don’t blame you, sir.” It was still a little awkward between the trio, and Ted was determined to settle things, “I didn’t get a chance to mention it, but I’m impressed with your knowledge of the law, especially in that interview.”

Kate proudly squeezed Jo’s arm, “Thank you.”

“Unfortunately,” Ted continued, “I can’t let you back on the force-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that: I’m done with police work altogether.” Jo looked fondly at Kate, “I just want to focus on my life and what I have left.”

“Wise words.” Steve nodded, “Can I get anyone another coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

“Same here.”

Steve headed towards the door, gesturing Kate to follow.

“Is it wise to leave them there alone?” Kate jogged after her colleague.

Steve grinned, “Let them talk about rules for a while; I’d rather know all about this new development!” he playfully nudged Kate’s arm and jumped for joy when they were at the coffee machine and out of sight.

“You gonna calm down now?” Kate chucked before looking serious, “By the way, what did you find out about Jo? Should I be worried?”

“Go no! There was a small break in around your apartment. We checked the security cameras and noticed Jo Davidson walking past and holding hands with…” Steve dragged out the answer before pointing to DI Fleming, “you.” Kate turned pale as Steve continued, “I had my suspicions, and we intended to mention it today, see if we could get a reaction. Guess I didn’t even have to try, mate.”

☁️ First ever Flemson fic, fist time watching Line of Duty - that ending was NOT IT (expect a 4000 word alternate ending fic soon) if you read this, thank you x ☁️

[to-star-lake]

re: untitled [ pt. 1 ]

pairing | jjk x reader genre | ceo!jk, arranged marriage word count | 5.4k pt. 2, pt. 3, end

“Do you really have to leave?” Taehyung whispered against your skin, his lips pouting and caressing your bare shoulder. “It’s not like he’s waiting up for you.”

You scoffed, scooting to the edge of his bed, picking up your t-shirt from the floor and sliding it over your head. “It’s not him, it’s Namjoon and the goddamn board of directors,” you said, standing up and shimmying into your jeans that were hanging off the armchair beside the bed. “Acting like he’s our guardian or something, that guy really pisses me off with all the curfews and rules,” you mumbled, making your way over to the desk and picking up your purse. 

Taehyung sighed and you looked over to see him sitting up against the pillows rubbing his eyes. “I don’t get it, why doesn’t Jungkook do something about that fool sitting up in his office calling the shots, he acts like he doesn’t give a shit about the company.” 

You rolled your eyes, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “It’s cus he doesn’t give a shit about the company, I’m the one in every single board meeting and strategy meeting and business development meeting.” 

You picked your coat up from the back of the desk chair and walked over to sit down on the mattress beside Taehyung. He leaned forward, giving you a kiss, taking your left hand in his. When he pulled away you saw him look down at your hand in his, his fingers brushing over the shimmering diamond on a silver band on your finger. 

“It’d be nice to see you in the daytime once in a while, you know,” he said softly, leaning his head against your shoulder. You sighed and tried to muster a smile, lifting his face and giving him a peck on the corner of his mouth. 

“I’ll see you in the office, k?” 

Those are the last words you always say to him before you walk out of his apartment, down the elevator, and out to the garage where your car is parked. And you always thought about him on your drive home. About how if maybe circumstances were different, you might love him, and could actually be with him. You caught your gaze shifting to the diamond on your ring finger, glittering from the lights of the city flashing by as you drove downtown to the steel and glass highrise and the penthouse where you lived. 

“Miss Y/N, you’re cutting it close tonight,” Johnny, the valet teased as you pulled up in front of your building, getting out from the driver’s side of your car, tossing him the keys. 

“I set an alarm this time,” you quipped back, pushing through the glass doors into the marble lobby of your building, noticing the security guards at the front desk exchange nervous glances as you walked into the elevator. It rose above 48 floors and the doors opened with a ding to the penthouse suite, and you heard a shrill screech coming from the end of the hallway. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook?!” the voice shrieked, and the sound was followed by a half naked girl, running towards you into the open elevator doors, holding a silk sheet around her chest, a loud revving sound following closely behind. You ducked out of the elevator, and saw a 2-foot long toy tonka truck was chasing her at full speed. Turning, you saw Jungkook at the end of the hallway, wearing nothing but his briefs, the controller in one hand, the other clutching his stomach in laughter. 

“You’re no fun!” he shouted down the hall. 

“You’re fucking insane!” the girl yelled back as the elevator doors closed on her and the toy truck hit the doors at full speed with a thunk, pieces of its hood shattering across the floor and leaving a dent in the bronze elevator doors. 

You rolled your eyes, walking down the hallway towards the open door to the penthouse you shared with the man child in briefs, who slid down to the floor, still laughing. You walked past him without a word, making your way across the marble foyer, straight to the mahogany liquor cabinet beside the large sofas in the living room. Taking the top off of one of the crystal decanters, you poured yourself a drink and heard Jungkook’s footsteps behind you. He reached out and grabbed the decanter from your hand, taking a swig and plopped down onto the velvet ligne roset sofa. 

“Nice hickeys, what is this guy, 15 years old?” Jungkook scoffed as you took off your coat, revealing the trail of purple and blue marks along your neck and collarbone. Already irritated, you were about to snap when you heard the elevator doors ding and looking out into the hallway, you saw Namjoon step out. 

“I just saw a woman wrapped in a bedsheet fuming and stomping out of the building, I can assume that was your work?” Namjoon walked into the living room, stopping in front of Jungkook, whose body is leaned lazily into the sofa, taking another swig. You laughed audibly at this remark but Namjoon turned, also noticing the hickeys on your skin. 

“And you,” he began, holding up his phone, open to a dark and blurry paparazzi photo of you leaving Taehyung’s building next to a photo of you and Jungkook at an art function last month under the headline ‘Marriage or Merger? Billionaire Couple’s Sham Relationship.’ 

You rolled your eyes at this, taking another sip of your drink. 

“This is on page six,” Namjoon pressed on, pushing the phone closer to you, making you flinch and swat it away. “You need to be more discreet.” 

Jungkook chuckled from the couch, gulping down a few more swigs from the decanter. “And who knows how many paps got photos of that amateur’s work on her neck,” he snickered. 

“You’re the one chasing a naked girl around with a fucking toy truck,” you were becoming more irritated by the second. 

“Both of you shut up,” Namjoon raised his hand to his face, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Alright, you,” he said, pointing at Jungkook. “No more chicks in the penthouse, ok, I can’t keep paying your valets and doormen to keep this quiet. And Y/N,” he turned to you. “No more going to Taehyung’s house, and from now on both of you,” he shook his hand back and forth between you and Jungkook. “Both of you go to a goddamn hotel for your torrid affairs like normal, bored heirs alright? And do me a favor and do not arrive or leave with your flings. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” 

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down before continuing. “Now we have a board meeting tomorrow morning at 10, you’ll both be there, right.” 

“Obviously,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, annoyed at the insinuation. 

“I’m not asking,” Namjoon said, turning and walking out of the apartment.

“What’s got his knickers in a twist,” Jungkook said, drinking down the rest of the bottle before tossing it to the opposite end of the couch. 

You rolled your eyes and crossed the foyer to the other end of the penthouse where your bedroom was. You were pulling your t-shirt over your head when you heard Jungkook’s footsteps. 

“You need to stop seeing that asshole,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, drunk and slurring his words. 

“Fuck you,” you scoffed, sliding your jeans off and tossing them where you dropped your t-shirt and walked into your bathroom, turning the water on in the ivory tub. 

“I’m telling you to stop seeing him,” he raised his voice, walking up behind you, grabbing your forearm. You whipped around, twisting your arm from his grasp. 

“I don’t say shit about all the girls you have coming in and out of here, so stay out of my life.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, “I’d stay out of your life except we’re supposed to be fucking married here,” he held up his hand, pushing the silver band on his ring finger at your face. “We’re supposed to run the company together and you’re fucking the CFO.” 

You unhooked your bralette and slid out of your underwear and climbed into the half filled tub. “And you’re fucking, oh wait, I’m sorry, who is it this week? And don’t act like you give a shit about the company.” 

Jungkook put his hands on his hips, exasperated and averting his gaze from your naked body in the water. He took a deep breath and turned to leave. “It doesn’t matter who I’m seeing, they’re nobody. You’re fucking the CFO. If you fuck this up, he’s gonna fuck us over, don’t think for a second that asshole won’t.” He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. 

You felt your anger boiling over and reached for the nearest thing you could get your hands on, a loofah, and threw it against the door. 

“Fuck,” you said under your breath, brushing your hair back and dipping under the hot water. 

You were angry because you knew he was right. And you’d thought about it many times, what could happen if things turn sour between you and Taehyung. But you were so glad to spend time with anyone other than your arranged marriage husband that you didn’t even question it. But despite your anger, you could admit it was possible you were being more reckless than he was. 

It was the end of summer last year and you were in the bedroom of your apartment, packing your bags to begin your first graduate school semester when your parents called, letting you know they were in the city and asked you to have dinner. 

You remembered arriving in the restaurant and when the hostess led you back to a private dining room with gilded wallpaper and dimly lit by a crystal chandelier, you saw that it wasn’t just your parents. You weren’t particularly surprised by this, your parents had been taking you out to functions and dinners with their various business partners your whole life. The Jeons had been friends of the family for a long time and you greeted them cordially before sitting down. 

The conversation was light, which contrasted a stark and obvious tension in the air which you felt immediately that never lifted. Your parents had just begun to tell you about their plans to retire very soon and move to the chateau on Lake Como when the door to the private room burst open and the Jeons’ youngest son stumbled in. 

You’d known Jungkook since you were children, and you weren’t particularly fond of him. You remember him always causing trouble, and was a rowdy, mischievous kid, who followed you around at events and parties, tugging at your hair or smearing food on your clothes when you weren’t looking. You remember his older brother constantly chasing him to sit him down on a couch or chair in time out for misbehaving, and he would jump up and run away into more trouble the minute his brother turned his back. 

It’s been quite some time since the last time you saw him. During his last years in middle school, he’d gotten expelled from the prestigious private academy his parents worked hard to get him into, so they sent him away to boarding school. You hadn’t seen each other since you were 15. 

He’d grown so tall, you thought. His dark hair, which you remembered his mother always kept properly groomed had grown long, strands of it falling over his eyes. You watched him slide languidly into a chair beside his mom, removing his sunglasses and tossing them onto the table. It was 8 PM at night. His father coughed audibly upon seeing his mother’s distressed expression. 

“‘Sup, creators,” were his first and only words that evening. 

Your parents commented amicably on how much he’s grown and asked him seemingly innocuous questions like how was Cambridge, how was his big South America excursion with his friends, and his mother answered for him. You stared at him in awe, at how little he could care to behave in any acceptable way in front of his parents and their business partners. He didn’t lift his face to look at you once. 

A number of agonizingly long and uncomfortable silences passed when your father finally said, “Well, I’m sure the both of you are wondering why we’ve asked you out to dinner tonight.” 

That was the lead-in to both sets of parents informing the two of you that they were planning a merger. And a merging of their two enterprises would be on a scale that the industry hadn’t seen in a long time. But they were getting old, they said, and wanted to retire and do some traveling. Your mother wants to tend to a garden, and Jungkook’s father spoke extensively about the books he wanted to write. 

So they were handing the company over to the two of you. 

And not only that, that the two of you would marry, and that this had been the plan for a very long time. 

You felt your eyes growing wider in shock by the minute but there was something holding you back from blurting out all the things you wanted to say to your parents in that moment, like a heavy rock in the bottom of your stomach weighing you down. You kept glancing over at Jungkook, who sat in the same lazy posture in his chair, pushing his food around mindlessly on his plate with a fork, the same blank expression on his face, while you were panicking. 

You parted ways with Jungkook that evening without so much as a single word addressing each other. His mother asked for your phone number and gave you his in exchange before they left. You expressed your grievances in full to your parents that night. They did not listen. 

The wedding was one month later at your family’s chateau on Lake Como. It was a small, private ceremony, but your mother made sure there were enough photographers and journalists there to cover the event for publicity. The only words you and Jungkook exchanged on that day were your vows, which were carefully crafted by the company’s publicist. 

That night both your families left the two of you alone in the chateau. This was following a lively dinner with close family friends who were invited and flew out to stay in Lake Como for the weekend on private flights. You were not intimately familiar with any of them, and as far as you could tell, neither was Jungkook. 

You studied him carefully that day, nervous, but also resolved that even if the marriage is a sham, you wanted to make sure the two companies’ merger went through properly and that you would do your level best to run the enterprise with him. Despite the arranged marriage, you knew this company was your parents’ legacy, and you would not let it fail in your hands, and certainly not Jungkook’s. 

After everyone left that night, you sat at the boudoir nervously in the silk slip you wore under the custom gown your mother spent weeks with the designers in the Saint Laurent atelier crafting. The doors to the bedroom opened, and you turned to see Jungkook walk in. He had changed out of his tuxedo and into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head. 

He stood in the center of the room looking down at his shoes for a few moments and you were about to break the silence when he looked up at you and said, “Let’s go for a drive.” 

Those were the first words he spoke to you directly of his choosing. And that was the first time his eyes met yours with any substance. 

You threw on a coat and followed him out of the residence to the white Maserati gran turismo parked on the gravel lot in front of the house. A long and quiet car ride later, he pulled the car to a vantage point at the side of the road. He got out and walked to the overlook, climbing over the stone ledge and taking a seat. You followed suit. 

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments and the stillness of the chilly night air fell upon you. He took a deep breath and turned his head, and your eyes met his, for the first time in earnest. His dark irises shone in the moonlight and they gazed into yours placidly and he said, “What do you want to do?” 

It was a simple question, but both of you were well aware of the gravity of their meaning. What he meant was, ‘What do you want to do about this marriage?’

You looked out onto the lake and thought for a few moments. 

“We will be the picture perfect corporate couple in front of everyone,” you began. You saw him nodding gently in your periphery. You turned to face him, taking a long breath in before saying, “But we will stay out of each other’s personal lives. Let’s not pretend like we actually have any feelings for each other. And I have no illusions about you actually wanting any part of this merger or running the enterprise. But I will not let you waste and wreck this empire our parents worked their whole life to build, so you will stay out of it.” 

You saw his eyes grow wide in incredulity at your words for a brief moment before he turned away and took a deep breath. “Going to be kind of difficult to stay out of it since the general counsel wrote into the terms of the merger that you and I hold equal shares in the merged enterprise and you will be CEO and I will be president of the company.” 

“You’re just a figurehead to represent your father,” you scoffed at his remark, though you were surprised that he actually seems to have read the terms of the merger. “Stay out of the operations. I will run this company.” 

He stood up, smirking. “So that’s it then?” he asked in a mocking tone. 

“That’s it.” 

Both of you were silent on the drive back to the chateau, but you noticed his hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles white under his skin, and he drove far past the speed limit. Of course he’s like this, you thought, a child throwing a tantrum and can’t control his emotions. 

You got out of the car but he didn’t, instead, rolling down the passenger side window and calling out to you, “I trust you can find your own way home? I’m sure you can use the jet at your will, Miss CEO,” his mocking tone continued. 

“Where are you going?” you asked, an annoyance and frustration building in the pit of your stomach which you were certain would persist every day of your marriage. 

He shrugged, “I hear Portofino’s lovely this time of year. Or maybe I’ll take a flight out to Majorca. I don’t really know, honestly, since I now have all this unexpected free time from not having a run a company or participate in a marriage.” And with that, the tires of the car screeched from the gravel lot and you stood on the steps of the residence, mouth open in awe at this display while the engine roared down the road and disappeared into the night. 

The entire last year of your marriage and partnership was like this. While you attended strategy meetings with your c-suite and reported earnings to the shareholders, Jungkook was galavanting around Europe, Asia, and rumors of his numerous affairs were well documented by the press. He would show up at random to meetings and events, undoubtedly dragged back from some wild binge by Namjoon, who was appointed acting president by the board when Jungkook’s behavior was finally deemed too erratic. 

Initially you were overwhelmed by the amount of work you had to take on in the absence of the business partner you were supposed to have. Part of you considered calling Jungkook, and asking him to return to help you run the business. But your pride wouldn’t allow that. And the longer his erratic behavior drew on, the more your anger grew until it grew to the point of apathy. And it was then that you found a new partner in Taehyung, the company’s newly appointed CFO. He was calm, collected, brilliant, and more than anything, understood you and the business. He was someone you could confide in. 

---

It was 10:55 AM and you had just concluded the last discussion item on the agenda for this month’s board meeting when the glass doors to the conference room flew open and Jungkook sauntered in, plopping down into one of the chairs along the room’s periphery. 

“Ah, Jungkook, good of you to join us,” Namjoon commented, looking around nervously at all the shareholders around the table exchanging concerned glances. 

He took the sunglasses off his face, “What did I miss?” he asked but didn’t mean. 

“Only everything,” you muttered under your breath as you slammed your laptop shut, but somehow Jungkook did manage to hear your remark. 

“Oh that’s alright, I’m sure Miya would be happy to uh, debrief me after this,” he chuckled, looking over at the secretary seated in the opposite corner, fully blushing at his comment.

“Oook, well, this was a productive meeting everyone, thank you for coming in today, we’ll meet again next month!” Namjoon stood, laughing nervously, clasping his hands together and quickly dismissing everyone before they could think too much on what Jungkook just said. 

“That fucking asshat,” you dropped our laptop onto the desk in Taehyung’s office and he looked up at you his hands raised in surprise at your entrance. You slammed the door behind you, brushing your hair back with both hands in frustration, pacing. 

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen in his hand, “I take it he actually did show up to the board meeting?” 

“Barely,” you muttered, still pacing. 

He laughed softly, but sat up quickly, and gestured for you to look at something. You looked over across the open office floor to Seokjin, the company’s in-house counsel’s office where Taehyung was pointing, and saw Jungkook taking a seat while Seokjin brought over a stack of papers, which Jungkook proceeded to flip through and sign. 

“What the fuck is he doing?” you asked, trying not to stare. 

“I don’t know,” Taehyung responded, equally curious, but less concerned than you were. “I have never seen him have a single conversation with Seokjin, what could he possibly be working on?” 

You scoffed, “Maybe he’s finally being served for harassment in the office.” Taehyung chuckled at your quip, but you were only making a joke to suppress and hide your concerns. You watched as Jungkook shook Seokjin’s hand and left his office. You waited, pacing for a few minutes before rushing out of Taehyung’s office, making a beeline to Seokjin. 

“Y/N! Oh, what a surprise, I wasn’t expecting-” Seokjin jumped in his chair, his glasses falling crooked on his face when you blew in through his office doors. You sat down in the chair across from him and crossed your arms. 

“Well, I uh, this is great timing, because I was actually just about to come to your office,” he tripped over his words in nervousness. “I uh, I need you to take a look at this, please,” he pushed a stack of papers over to you and you could tell from the manila binding it was the same ones Jungkook was just signing. 

“What is this?” you asked, flipping through the pages of legalise. 

“Well, uh, Jungkook just brought in three new defense contracts,” Seokjin replied. You froze mid-motion and stared up at him. 

This couldn’t be true. 

“What?”

“Jungkook brought in three new defense contracts,” Seokjin repeated, enunciating his words. 

“I heard you, I mean how?” you said, impatiently flipping through the pages of the contract, eyes wide at the fact that Jungkook has actually somehow brought in new business for the company. 

“I’m not sure, uh, you’d have to speak with Jimin over in business development for the details on how they executed the contracts, I’m sorry, I just write the terms, protect us from liability, um-” he looked at you nervously, knowing full well he wasn’t answering your real question. “But Jungkook asked me to present you with a plan,” 

“A plan?” you scoffed, looking at the numbers in the contract. 

“Yes, uh,” Seokjin took the pile of papers from you and slid you a folder with more papers. 

“Ok,” he took an anxious breath in, “So, Jungkook wants to give you his shares. And actually today’s board meeting is the final meeting with six of the 11 board members. In the last couple of months Jungkook bought their shares, which made up about 45% of the total enterprise shares. He wants to give you that 45% he acquired, along with his 10%, which, added to your own 10% would give you 65%, making you the majority shareholder of the enterprise, you just have to sign here,” he motioned towards the dotted line at the bottom of the page and held out a pen to you. 

You sat frozen for a moment before standing up, shaking your head and pacing. 

“Y/N?” Seokjin asked anxiously. 

“Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me he was buying out our shareholders?” 

“Well, I, I can’t speak for the shareholders themselves, but I was told this was need to know only..”

You were in shock, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “So you’re telling me he went around buying out our shareholders to acquire a majority of the company, just to give it to me.” 

Seokjin nodded nervously. 

“You don’t find this suspicious? He’s bringing in new contracts, he’s buying out shareholders?” 

“Well, there is one stipulation,” Seokjin pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and leaned over the stack of papers, flipping to a specific page. “Jungkook is asking that 5% of annual earnings be dedicated to a new R&D department.” 

“What?” you asked, walking over to look at the page Seokjin was referencing. 

“What does he want a research and development team for?” you were fully perplexed. 

“I’m not sure, maybe he’s trying to work on some things for the defense contracts, I’m not clear on all the details. Again, Jimin could tell you more, or you could ask Jungkook directly..” he stopped, realizing you were glaring at him. “Uh, in any case, the numbers look good, I was going to run them by Taehyung after I got your ok. The R&D will cut into 5% but the new contracts will bring about a 12% growth in revenue so it’s all offset with a good profit.” 

You scoffed, falling into the chair, shaking your head. “Go, get the financials verified,” you said, waving Seokjin off and he sloppily gathered the papers and stumbled out of his office over towards Taehyung’s. 

You stood slowly, and walked in a daze down the hall to your own office, barely registering your secretary trying to tell you something before you turned the knob to the door and walked in and saw Jungkook standing behind your desk, looking out the windows at the city view. He turned when he heard you walk in. 

“Have you talked to Seokjin?”

You took a deep breath in, trying your best to control your tone but failing, “Sure, let’s just get right down to it. What the fuck are you doing buying out our shareholders?” 

He smiled and you couldn’t tell for the life of you if it was genuine or mocking. “I thought you’d be pleased to become the majority stakeholder.” 

You slammed your laptop down on the desk, your anger and impatience growing and you stared in annoyance at him, standing in front of you in a suit and tie, feigning legitimacy. “Why the fuck would I be pleased about that? How the hell did you land those defense contracts?” 

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his perfectly creased slacks and moved closer to you, close enough you could feel his breath on your skin. He lowered his voice and the sound resonated through the air as he spoke. 

“I don’t want to argue and I shouldn’t have to explain myself. You’ve been running the show long enough to know why I’m doing this. Those contracts will bring us 12% revenue growth, and the R&D will give us tax exemptions to put even more in our bottom line. I’m making you the majority stakeholder of the company because you should be the one running the enterprise, not Namjoon and his board of clowns. Let me work on the R&D and the defense contracts, and you can fully own this company. It was never our parents’ intention for us to report to some gaggle of stakeholders dicking around, raking in our money, and if it was, they’re idiots.” 

He walked over to the door of your office, turning the knob and opening the door, and you stood frozen at your desk. 

“Sign the papers, Y/N.” And with that, you heard the doors shut behind you. 

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Away for a Moment

Here’s a smattering of feelings. It’s self indulgent af and sad. So yeah. No specific race or gender of reader. 

Calum didn’t think missing you would hurt this much. 

Find Part 2 Here

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You weren't gone gone. Calum could pick up the phone, tap on your last message to him and pull up your number. He could call. He could lay in bed with the phone pressed up to his ear and wait for your voice to float in through the other line. It would be easy, so damn easy. 

But he knows if he did you wouldn't be able to answer right away. It's barely evening. The sun has just started to caress the horizon through his windows. But you hadn't sent another message to let him know that you had gotten back to your apartment from training. Calum figures that maybe you spent a few extra hours out to get some work done and doesn't want to disturb you.

It's just not the same anymore without you. His bed isn't full like it used to be without you. His kitchen isn't full of music and dancing, and cooing at Duke like it used to be without you. And it's entirely selfish Calum knows the way his fingers ache to craddle your face and the way he wants to tell you to stay with him.

Staying with him would make him miss you less. Staying with him would ensure that the house never feels empty. But having you stay doesn't ensure your dreams. Staying with him means a very real possibility that all the opportunities that you had worked so hard to find would pass you by. Calum can't ask you to stay, but he wishes he had spent more time memorizing the way your shampoo smells fresh from a wash. He wishes he had recorded more of your breakfast concerts.

Still working hard or hardly working? Calum hits send on the text, sitting up on the bed. Everything in him wants you to come bursting back through that door. Everything in him wants to kiss your lips one more time and savor the taste of your fruity gum--a habit you picked up to replace the nervous nail biting.

Everything in him wants his goddamn phone to buzz. But it doesn't.

Calum pads into the music room and office. Duke's still on the couch and Calum's not sure when the old man wondered into the room or why Duke hadn't traveled away from the couch just yet. As he gets closer to the couch, Calum sees what Duke's curled up on--your sweatshirt from your alma mater. The one you couldn't find as you were unpacking boxes and sorting out your closet.

Calum reassured you that you had packed up most of your clothes and that it would turn up eventually. Attempting to move anywhere in a weekend always seemed better in theory, but when training got moved up--you had to get into high gear. Packed to the hilt in his SUV, Calum and you set out for a cross state trip. It was only a few states over. Only put you an hour ahead of him. He could pick you up or you could take the train or a plane for cheap back to LA.

He had already planned to visit you. He said it jokingly to you, but he had cleared his schedule for early October to come visit just for a weekend. He planned that for most of it, you'd be holed up studying or grading papers, but at least for a few hours in the small blimp in time the two of you could sight see and just get fucking lost for once without worry.

Calum snaps a picture of his old man curled up on your old sweatshirt and sends it. I found where that sweatshirt went. I think I'm going to have a hard time convincing him to let me ship it you.

Calum settles onto the rolling chair, staring at Duke and out the window beyond. How could he miss you so fast? It was only a week. Just a week ago he was rearranging sofas and building bookshelves and unfolding your clothes while you put them all on hangers. Just a week ago you were navigating him to the Wal-Mart, Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Best Buy, Burger King, Chipotle, and Chilis laughing as you confused your right and left for the millionth time.

Just a week ago when you tapped on the wrong Wal-Mart because it was the first one that Maps showed you. Just a week ago the two of you were laughing, curled up under your new bedsheets. "You're gonna leave me for two years, and I can't believe it," he whispered. You had fallen asleep, the fan in the corner of your bedroom blowing a constant stream of cooler air onto the both of you.

And how could Calum say that he couldn’t believe you were leaving him when he left you all the fucking time? How much of a fucking hypocrite could he be to say that? 

He tried to reason with himself. Even though Calum left, he always knew he’d be coming back to you. He knew you’d always be there. And now, his home is across state lines. His house doesn’t feel like his house anymore because he had built a home in you and now you’re not here anymore. This physical building doesn’t really mean jack shit to him anymore with you. And sure it was only two years; it was only two years in total that you’d be away from him. And sure the degree was practically paid for, and sure, Calum couldn’t keep you from chasing your dreams. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss you while you were out there soaring. 

Was this how his mum felt when he left at sixteen? Did she have a strange bubbling mixture of sadness and pride? Because that’s surely what’s brewing in the pit of Calum’s stomach. That mixture is what makes his fingertips ache. 

There’s still no new message from you. Calum drops his phone to the desk with a clatter, burying his face into the palms of his hands. “God, I should’ve moved with them,” he mutters into the open air. 

The two of you had this conversation a thousand times over. You didn’t want him to move because what would the other guys to music wise while Calum was with you? And what about Duke? And would Calum sell his house or keep it while renting something else for those two years? Your life was a little easier to uproot, since you knew you’d be coming back. This is just a step into the world that you wanted and you didn’t know where it was going to take you from there, but Calum couldn’t be his life on pause.

It’s like bile in his throat. The way the tears are stinging his eyes and his throat starts to burn. The tears are silent. Just the upturn of his lips and the sting of hot and salty water down his cheeks. The amount of things that can change a week are unbelievable and Calum’s not sure how he’s going to make it another eleven months and three weeks. 

His shoulders shake. The heels of his palms don’t do a damn thing to hold back the tears. You’re not gone. He can pick up his phone, tap onto the last message he sent you and pull up your number. He can call. He can sit in this office chair with the phone pressed to his ear and wait for your voice to float in through the other line. 

Calum’s phone finally shakes, it buzzes for a long interval, stops, and then starts again. He’s quick to wipe his hands onto his sweatpants and flip over the device. He taps to answer the call and his phone chimes, the video of you bouncing down a sidewalk fills the screen. “Hey, Cal. Sorry, I hung back to chat with some other student teachers. I think I could shit a brick right now. But I hear a certain old man’s hogging my favorite sweatshirt.”

Calum sniffles, wiping underneath his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah, that would be Baby Grandpa snuggling up with it.” He’s relieved to see you, to hear the chirp in your voice when previously you cried into your dinner just a week before moving because of the nerves and anxiety. 

Calum’s praying his voice isn’t too croaky, that it doesn’t give him away. But he knows it well. And when your pinched brows and concerned flooded eyes land onto the screen, Calum knows you know. 

“Babe, you alright? Looks like you’ve been crying?”

“I’m-yeah, no, I’m okay. I’m happy to see you.” If he can change the subject he doesn’t have to explain why he keeps sniffling. He doesn’t have to explain why his eyes are no doubt red. 

“Angel, please don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.” The white cord of your headphones bounce and he can hears your harsh exhales. And it only reminds him that you’re not here. 

“I miss you.” It’s just one sentence; it’s only three words. But it makes his chest feel like it’s been punched in. It feels like someone’s pulling his spine out through his diaphragm. 

You pause, taking in his red eyes and the wobble of his chin. And you know. You know he didn’t want to admit it, but there was no way to hold it in anymore. “I’m sorry, Calum. I miss you too. I miss Duke. I miss you grumbling that I’m too happy at seven in the morning.”

Calum exhales a little, a small bit of laughter following after it. “Breakfast sucks with you. And I know this is what you have to do for yourself. I can’t stress how proud I am of you for doing this. But fuck, I didn’t realize it’d be this hard.”

People pass you by. Calum can hear them, the muffled parts of their conversation coming through your mic. You are so far away and it’s killing him. Two years. Two years of the two of you building up a relationship in tiny corners and through handwritten letters and stolen kisses and in text messages. Two years and you had cracked the defenses Calum had and he didn’t want to let you go. 

“I’m coming back, my love. There’s weekend trips and school breaks.” 

You get it though. There was a year where Calum was just gone. He was bouncing between time zones and when he did come back home he was prepping for the next leg of a tour, the next leg of promotion, the next part of something. And it’s so hard to create a new routine initially. It’s hard to regulate who you are on your own. 

“I feel like a hypocrite. Because I left. I don’t know. I feel untethered.”

You nod. “I understand that. It’s an adjustment, a huge one. It’s okay to feel a little unraveled.”

“And I don’t want to add onto your stress. I know it’s not easy.” 

“I’m here for you. You know that. Who’s answered your calls at 2 am before?” Calum doesn’t respond. Can’t as another wave of emotion rocks his core and he rolls his lips over his teeth to swallow back down the emotion. “And who do you think is going to be there to answer your call again at 2 in the morning? Or 3? Or 6 in the morning? At noon? At 6:37 in the evening? It’s gonna be me no matter what.”

Calum reclines his head into the cushion of the seat. It’s always been you. You’ve always been there when he needed it. And even if you are miles away, you still responded. You still called back. 

“Thanks,” Calum says. His chin still wobbles. He blinks back the rest of the tears. “So tell me about it. What did you do today? We can talk after you have some food.”

The world continues on about you. More people pass you by and you watch Calum. His eyes are still painted red. But his voice doesn’t break like before. It’s a bit of a breeze so you settle onto the bench for the bus even though you can hear it coming down the street. A strong breeze creates static in your mic for a moment before your voice comes in clearer. 

“We went over one of the assignments in depth that we have to teach. Met some other student teachers. I talked to my faculty mentor about my course schedule and work schedule and they said that I probably should let myself go easy this first semester.”

“So you did drop a class?”

You nod at Calum’s question. The bus rolls to a stop in front of you, but you don’t look up from your phone. “I did. I was scared to because I really wanted to take that class. But I heard it’s also offered in the spring, so I enrolled for it then.”

“Is it with a different professor? Or the same one?”

“Different one.”

The conversation flows until your bus comes back around again and you know you have to take it this time. But you keep Calum on the line. And he’s just watching, with his elbows on the desk and his head supported by his palms, he watches you. And it’s nothing glamorous as the bus rattles and shakes. Your phone lays in your lap, cradled in your hands. Occasionally, you glance down to cross your eyes and stick out your tongue at him and he hums his laughter. 

It’s the little things. Like watching the way your head reclines into the window or how you just know when to pull for your stop. And as you walk down blocks and stop to wave at a dog as the owner jogs past. And Calum knows he’s not there with you. He knows that you’re not walking up to his door, but maybe all he needs are the little things with you. 

“What’s for dinner?” he asks as you step into your apartment. 

“Literally it might be hotdogs because I’m mentally exhausted.”

“You need a veggie too.”

You laugh, keys hitting the counter. “I won’t forget a veggie. I’ll call you back in a bit, yeah? After I eat and get some homework done.”

“Okay. Can that be a daily thing? Just so I know you get back home safely.” It’s soft as he asks, unsure if it makes hims sound overbearing or not. 

“Sure. Once I get my schedule set, I’ll let you know and we can do that. Make sure to send me more pics of Duke though, since know he owns my sweatshirt now.”

Calum stares down at the black screen. You’ve long hung up, no doubts scarfing down the hotdogs you mentioned. And while the ache has subsided, Calum still feels you in every inch of him. He feels the yearning. The sun’s slipped behind the horizon, the last feathers of light won’t last long. And before Calum’s thinking his fingers are slipping over the frets. He bent over the bass, thinking maybe, just maybe the notes will make sense of the feelings in his gut. 

Your phone chimes, pushing rubrics and sticky notes to the side, you pick it up. A notification from instagram, from Calum. The video’s completely dark and it’s just him bent over the instrument as its throaty cries swell. Post you blues, it reads. The caption is tiny, almost missable if you’re not careful. But you see it. If you had any other choice, you wouldn’t have left. If it wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t have left. 

I love you. Even across miles and interstates and timezones, I love you. 

Calum wants to tattoo the text message to his eyelids, so when he goes to sleep at night or when he closes his eyes to keep form crying, he can see that you’re not gone, just away from a moment. 

______

@5-secondsofcolor bc my Sunshine asked me to tag her so she could read it after shleeps. 

[starryseo]

mayhem. [2/3] | seo changbin

pairing ↠ changbin x gn!reader genre ↠ more chaotic roommates interactions; humour + fluff wc ↠ 2994 summary ↠ one of changbin’s many talents is getting revenge. warnings ↠ swearing, suggestive remarks a/n ↠ need me a man like bin :(

read: mess (part one) | MAYHEM | purify (part three)

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You’re pretty sure you could hear Changbin cackling outside your door before it was even seven in the morning. As soon as your shrill alarm sounded, he kicked open your door, screaming, “Wake up, bitch!”

You drowned out his constant wake up, wake up, wake the fuck up, baby by rolling over and burying yourself under your duvet. The alarm was adding to the unholy cacophony happening on the other side of your safety blanket and you prayed for some escape plan to come to mind, but Spiderman wasn’t swooping in any time soon to save you. You doubt he’d be able to stop Changbin in this mood, anyway. Alas, you mentally prepared your dying words, praising everyone you’ve ever met except your screeching devil of a roommate and Jisung who you know spilled coffee on your previously-white shoes despite his vehement denial. You know. 

When your warmth was violently ripped away from you, leaving you quaking and exposed to Changbin’s icy wrath, you curled up, covering your ears with your hands because the asshole still hadn’t shut up.

He pulled your hands away easily - completely undeterred by your resistance - only to lean in close, and then closer, to whisper, “Rise and shine, fucker.”

You were not above pleading for your life - fully prepared to sell your soul, or even sacrifice someone (the devil probably wouldn’t accept Jisung, so Hyunjin would have to do) - but Changbin was ruthless and dead-set on making this your worst day. He had to avenge himself. Redeem his dignity. His manhood was at stake here, goddamnit.

After finally turning your alarm off, you turned back to Changbin who had thrown open your curtains. You hissed when the light hit your eyes, not at all prepared for the sun to scorch your eyes. Anguished, you grabbed onto your blanket once more, burying yourself under its momentary comfort. Instead of tugging away your cover like you expected, Changbin hauled himself on top of your bed, shaking your body this way and that, poking and prodding and pinching until you threw your duvet away and groaned, “Fuck off!”

He was straddling your legs, holding onto the top of your duvet so you couldn’t cover yourself again. You were so tempted to knee him where it would really hurt but, with the devious state he was in, he’d probably feed off of the pain and pay it back tenfold. Masochistic asshole.

He waited for your groans to stop before he jumped off your bed. “If you’re not out in 10 seconds, I will pour water on you.”

He sang a countdown, too much glee in his voice, and you let yourself mentally plan his murder in the five seconds it took for you to stand up. Usually, these ploys would have you huffing laughter - your phone’s storage was overflowing with videos of waking up Chan in increasingly annoying ways (pouring water, slathering butter, swiping jam on him) - but being on the receiving end of his schemes didn’t seem like fun. No more tricks on poor Chan. No more.

He nodded when you were up, saying “Follow me” before marching out of your room. Reluctantly, you trudged behind him and, when your heavy-footed dragging irked him too much, he grabbed your arm, and hurried his pace, running to your impending demise.

You have no idea how early he woke up to clean the living room but it was spotless. All rubbish from yesterday was tidied away, the blankets were neatly folded over the sofa and the tv was dusted? Despite your current situation, you were very proud that your work yesterday paid off: Changbin had finally learnt how to clean up a place. Now you could fairly assign chores (because right now he was in charge of food and that either involved inviting Woojin over to cook, or getting takeout).

“Wow,” you drawled, admiring how tidy the table was, “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Yeah, no thanks to your lazy ass,” he replied quickly, grabbing the same apron you had made him wear. “Dress up, babe.”

Hurriedly, you put it on, hating the way he smirked after. You crossed your arms, grumbling under your breath about how much you can’t stand this 4’2 piece of crap.

“At least read it,” he nodded to the apron, “I made an upgrade.”

You uncrossed your arms, looking down to see Changbin’s shitty handwriting scrawled over the clothing. You squinted, trying to decipher the words, but Changbin’s writing was barely legible upright, you hadn’t mastered reading it upside yet. “What’s it say?”

You looked up to see him merrily snapping away pictures of you. The asshole. You crossed your arms over again, glaring at him as he laughed. “Too late for that,” he let out another snicker, “this one’s my favourite.” He turned his phone to show you a picture of you looking straight at the camera, eyes narrowed and lips pursed because he had taken it as soon as you realised what he was doing.

“If you do everything I say, I won’t send it to the others.”

“Bitch.”

“According to the apron, you’re my bitch, actually.”

He started off easy enough - the calm before the storm, you reckon - telling you to make breakfast first. You contemplated making something fancy, cook up eggs and hash browns - maybe bribe him into easing off such a deadly payment, but he wouldn’t sway, so you settled with pouring cereal for the two of you.

You made sure to put extra milk in his so it would go soggy more quickly.

When breakfast was done, he watched you wash the dishes, sitting himself on the counter; he had the audacity to video call Felix as you cleaned up. Facing the phone towards you, you blatantly ignored Felix and Changbin’s laughter. “C’mon, y/n, at least say hi to him!”

“Yeah, y/n! How are you this fine morning? Lovely day, don’t you think?”

“Why the fuck are you even awake?” you grumbled, rubbing the soapy sponge around the bowl extra hard, imagining it wasn’t Changbin’s stupid face.

Felix shrugged, not that you could see, before replying, “Was bored.”

“Oh, oh! Show him your clothes!”

“Yeah, show me your clothes!” Felix perked up, “What’re you wearing?”

You turned away further from him, but Changbin was persistently nudging your side with his foot. “Nothing,” you grumbled, flicking soapy water on Changbin and he sputtered, viciously rubbing his face when nasty droplets fell there.

“Okay, you’re clearly not wearing nothing,” Felix huffed, “unless you’re not wearing trousers? I can’t see there, Changbin move your phone!”

“No! What the hell, ‘Lix, obviously I’m wearing trousers!”

“For now,” Changbin added, and he snickered when you glared at him, “I’m kidding, relax.”

“Sure you are,” Felix muttered, rolling his eyes. “So, what’s up with the clothes, then?”

“Chanbin’s an asshole is what’s up,” you said, finally done with washing the dishes. You faced the phone - better to get the mockery over and done with now - and you watched as Felix’s face contorted into a tight smile before the dam burst and his laughter was booming through the speakers. You groaned when he showed Jisung - who actually stopped playing PS4 just to see what was so amazing - and the asshole joined in on the laughter. A great start to the morning, really.

In between laughter, Felix asked, “how much for the apron?”

Just your dignity you replied as Changbin yelled, “not for sale!”

“I’ll take it!”

When you entered your bedroom with Changbin, you were appalled with yourself. His room - well, prior to yesterday - was infinitely worse than your own still, but yours wasn’t far off. Clothes were precariously hanging off your desk chair, textbooks were scattered in all four corners of your room, to-go cups and bottles were peeking out from under your bed. It was dreadful, put lightly.

“Alright, dumbass, I’ll get bin bags, you start picking shit up.”

“How about I get the bin bags and you pick things up?” you asked, already crouching to pick up empty food wrappers, knowing his answer. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he left.

He came a few moments later with the black bags, ripping one off and holding it open for you to dump what you had gathered in. You went around your room, throwing your rubbish into the bag. Changbin, strangely, was helping you, too, kicking bottles and takeaway boxes closer to the bag so you could bin it. He even cleared out your bin, and you paused in your clean-up as he put a new bin bag in. He scoffed when he caught you staring silently, “M’not helping you out anymore, now.” He rolled his eyes at your pout, standing by the door, “Hurry up, this shit ain’t cleaning itself.”

Once the floor was cleared of all rubbish, Changbin told you to take your bedsheets off. He left to throw the bags away and returned with clean sheets - neon covers that he bought as a gift because he knew the bright colours would be an eyesore in the morning - and you sighed when he put them on the bed.

You took your time removing the dirty covers, and Changbin huffed at your pace, whining, “Hurry up, you’re no fun!”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it once - then twice because you called him a little bitch - before he took off the pillow cover and tossed it over his shoulder. He also started taking off the bed sheet and you couldn’t help but stop, just watching the way he actually helped you out. Again. When he saw you stop, he grabbed your pillow again, moving to hit you, but you quickly pulled away your half of the bed sheet. “I’m done, I’m done!”

After replacing the old sheets - by yourself, because Changbin had already helped you too much - you began clearing your desk. You busied yourself with sorting out old papers and notebooks, things you’d keep and things you’d bin, humming along to the music that Changbin had put on. Your back was to him, but the sound of things shuffling about eventually coaxed you into turning around to look at Changbin.

For the third time that day, you stopped. He was cleaning? Again? He was moving things on your bedside table, wiping the wood down before putting the objects back. He was even thoroughly dusting away your lamp.

Enough was enough.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What you should be doing too,” he answered swiftly, not even looking up as he finished his work, “I’m getting the vacuum.”

He left promptly after, leaving you awe-struck. This couldn’t possibly be the same Changbin you had known for years, right? There was no way this was the same Seo Changbin that had sat on Hyunjin for 2 straight hours for absolutely no reason, the same Changbin that ate an expired cake, threw it up on Chan, then continued eating it. No way. Some alien must have cloned him overnight, or maybe shapeshifters were real, who knew? The only thing you knew for sure was that that wasn’t Changbin.

When he returned with the vacuum and proceeded to plug it in and start cleaning that side of the room, you were convinced something traumatic must have happened to the real Changbin overnight. But you had heard nothing from his room last night, so what the hell was going on?

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, jumping up and pointing at him. Your shriek had Changbin hurriedly turning off the vacuum, facing you with a raised brow. “You’re possessed!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Cut the shit, demon, I’ve watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, I see through your lies.”

“What? Can you just hurry up?”

“Not until you let me exorcise you.”

“You wanna exercise together? I have some ideas-” The lewd smirk he shot your way had you immediately cringing.

“Exorcise,” you emphasised - because if Changbin was going to sell his soul to anyone, you wouldn’t rule out a sex demon, “But I take it back. You might be a nicer roommate than Bin.”

“Okay first of all, rude. I’m an amazing roommate,” he started, shaking the vacuum in hand to prove his point, “and secondly, if I was a demon - which I am neither confirming, nor denying - why would I let you exorcise me?”

“To throw me off?” You shrugged. So, the sex demon had more brain cells than Changbin, you gathered. He was already shaping up to be a better roommate than Changbin (who you were definitely not going to miss), maybe you could use his new smarts to your advantage. “How good are you at computer science?”

“I do physics?”

“Why does that sound like a question?”

“Because why not?”

“Stop answering my questions with questions!”

“Or what?”

Maybe he wasn’t possessed, because he was still an asshole. Maybe consecutive days of cleaning were really getting to him.

You hadn’t cleared Changbin of being a demon just yet, but your room was significantly tidier. The floor was vacuumed, desk was dusted; Changbin had even managed to scrub away at a coffee stain on your floor - the mark had been there for so long, this accomplishment practically confirmed your demon theory.

You admired your now-spotless room, the cleaning was surprisingly therapeutic and you were thankful Changbin had made the day enjoyable. You thought, for sure, this would be a day in hell because your roommate was never one to miss a chance to get revenge on someone. And, after what you had done to him - or, well, made him do - you thought you were a goner. But Changbin didn’t hide your phone and your laptop was safely on your desk. He had blackmailed you with absolutely nothing, yet you did his bidding. He was definitely a demon.

After a quick retreat to the bathroom where you messaged your friends to save you from this demon, you joined Changbin in the living room.

You: a demon has taken over bin and im probably next, see yall in hell

Felix: get freaky w the demon before u die 

You: why the fuCk would i do that??? 

You: also, no bc it’s in bin’s body so ew 🤢🤮

Felix: oh fuck even better im omw 😫😫

He was relaxing on the sofa, sprawled over the furniture, but he had left enough room for you at the end. When you sat, he placed his feet in your lap, snuggling further into his blanket burrito.

“I put pizza in the oven, should be done in 10. Wanna pick a film?”

“Yeah,” you drawled, picking the remote up from atop his chest, “you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Think your dusty ass room is getting to me,” he replied, scrunching his nose and sniffing, “why do you keep asking?”

“Because you helped me clean today. I thought I’d be dead - or at least begging for it - by the end of today.”

“I can have you begging for-”

“Oh my God, stop.” You interrupted whatever crude remark the sex demon was conjuring. “You’re definitely not okay.”

“I’m fine. I helped you because I know you’ve been busy, okay? Now stop asking stupid shit, stop with your demonic bullshit. Y’know I’m not actually possessed, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” - no, you didn’t - “but, like, are you sure? No fever, or headaches?”

Changbin being considerate was a rare occasion - unlikely, yet possible - but to err on the side of caution, you needed to disprove your demon theory. You reached over to check his temperature and he shuffled away as best as he could despite being wrapped up like a demonic little gift. Like a present from the devil himself - how kind.

“For the hundredth time, I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” you shrugged, facing the tv to find a film, “how do you feel about a horror film?”

“Fucking impartial,” he groaned, “and now I’ve got a headache!”

“Can demons get ill?”

“I wouldn’t fucking know!”

“Oh, so this is your first possession?”

“Dear God-”

“Isn’t that blasphemous?”

He sighed.

You were happily eating away at your pizza, watching a romcom - the demon was already feeding off of Changbin’s lifeform, you weren’t going to fuel its fire with scary shit - when several knocks sounded at the door.

You looked to Changbin and he turned to you, both of you shrugging. He faced the tv again and you put the volume higher to drown out the knocking. You hadn’t invited anyone over, so they weren’t your problem and this love triangle was much more interesting.

When someone on the other side of the door started shrieking - not saying anything coherent, literally just screaming all high-pitched and deafening - you groaned, pausing the film.

You threw open the door, the what the hell- dying on your lips when you say all of your friends at the door. Felix was still screeching until Seungmin whacked his stomach. You all simultaneously winced as Felix was winded, bending over in pain, letting out a weak ouch.

“Is that pizza?” Jisung asked, sniffing the air, “It is! Lemme in-”

“Shut up,” Chan nudged him away, before immediately moving into your home, “We’re here to help.”

You stepped back - not even bothering to try stopping 8 grown men from entering, “Help with…?”

“That monstrosity,” Hyunjin replied, pointing to Changbin who had sat up, still wrapped up tightly.

“For fucks sake, y/n. Seriously?” Changbin yelled, emerging from his safety roll. “I’m not a fucking demon!”

“That’s exactly what a demon would say,” Jisung retorted without skipping a beat.

“That’s what I said!” You replied, shutting the door behind them.

“Alright,” Chan clapped, and you all readied yourself, Changbin rolling his eyes and looking as exasperated as ever, “Grab him.”

[namjoonchronicles]

are you done yet? | nj

↳ GENRE fluff, domestic, slight crack attempts of me being funny

↳ WORDS 3.1k

After hours and hours and hours of working and running errands with only your left hand, Namjoon was pestering you to show your right and refused to open jars unless you did as told.

“Fine!” You roared, “Don’t freak out or anything...”

You pulled your right hand out from behind, hesitantly, inch by inch and then all out at once. He tips his eyes towards it, and slowly drags them back to your face that had turned away from him, avoiding all contact.

“H—“ “I was feeling a little upset and I wanted to get one because it looks pretty so I got one,” you explained, ready to cry because you thought he’d be mad. You know he won’t but, it was not like you to be spontaneous. However, ever since you've known Namjoon you have done questionable spontaneous shit like midnight drives to the next district or walking into a stranger’s wedding and pretending like you know them just to get food. Being in love with Namjoon has thrown your sanity out the window.

“You got henna?” He almost mumbles the words out. Seated on the floor, leaning against the wall facing the kitchen where you were. “Do you hate it?” You purse your lips, breaking out into a pout, big doe eyes looking back at him. Inhaling, he chest rises and falls, lips shaped into an O, and he contemplates, “The last time you got those was for our engagement and then on our wedding and first night together...”

“Yes,” you squeaked sadly and retracting your hand back, hiding it again, “It’s been awhile since I had it done. I just don’t feel pretty these past few months and I thought, I want it on me because then maybe I’ll feel better...”

Namjoon kept silent. He didn’t know what went through your mind half of the time but he would kill to get a look inside. Seeing how you moved away from his sight, in small unassured strides, the back of your head and the ballerina bun you made of your hair, makes him feel twice smaller than he really is.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to put the wet laundry in the dryer and start folding clothes...” you muttered to your chest, one hand over the other, scratching your elbows and walking away with your head down as if you’ve disappointed someone. It was a 5 second decision. You fret to yourself, knees digging on the floor by the machine as you load the wet laundry in the dryer as you told him. Pouting even harder because he could have at least said they look pretty.

I thought it was pretty, you mumbled to yourself.

Namjoon peeks at you from the door frame, hiding like he’s got a crush to hide. The view of your bum by the machine stirring explicit images in his head. Heat whirling in his groin and remembering how those hands travelled down the valley of his chest certainly didn’t help. It got him scratching his nails on the door paint and softly calling out your name.

He blinks repeatedly, batting his eyelashes while you hummed back, uninterestedly.

He bites his lips now, “After laundry, are you busy?”

“I have to vacuum your studio, there’s crumbs everywhere from Taehyung’s visit the other day...” you load everything and pick up the basket to place them by the bathroom door in your bedroom.

“And probably change the bedsheet, why?” You asked glancing over your shoulder at your sheepish husband. He’s acting very strange. Following you around like a lost puppy. Even when you had a phone call, and the vacuum buzzing on, he’s literally an arm’s length away.

The satisfaction of hearing all those crumbs being sucked into the vacuum is honestly everything. Namjoon helps you out by lifting the sofas and removing the chair while the nozzle dives into places you can’t reach. At the same time, your mother is on the phone asking if it’s possible to book a hall two months in advance. That was an easy question.

“For wedding halls, Namjoon booked them a year before,” you looked at him for confirmation and he stands up straight, pressing his lips together, dimples on display, eyes fidgeting out of nerves as if he was caught red handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He nods at your words.

The call ends after a quick gossip on your cousin who almost cut off a wedding because she’s fallen in love with someone else. More on that later. Namjoon, on the other hand had been pestering you with one question on repeat,

“Are you done yet?” After you wiped the windows. “Are you done yet?” After you knock a nail to hang the painting he bought. “Are you done yet?” After you dust the TV cabinet with a duster. “Are you done yet?” After you dry your hands washing the plates.

And now, as you try to write your monthly schedule, he peeks from the duvet of the unmade bed,

“Are you—“ “—I swear to God if you ask me one more time if I’m done yet, I’m going to fucking scream.”

He pouts and retracts back into the blanket.

“I want woohoo...” he yelps from under the covers. “Excuse me?” you shot, spinning away in your chair from the calendar that’s on your desk to your husband that hiding under the duvet asking what you thought you heard. “Woohoo!” He cries and curled into a bowl while yelping, “The last time you got henna on your hand was on our first night and I have a corrupted mind now I have a stiffie because of your pretty hands so please woohoo before I lose my fucking mind!”

You didn’t know he was going to get worked up by that. He didn’t show any signs of vulnerability. Or fixation to it. Or were you disregarding his lingering stares that you felt throughout the afternoon because you just didn’t feel attractive enough. You were silent for too long that it drew Namjoon peeking one eye through the duvet. He is so shy, the shell of his ear is turning red.

“You’re so pretty... And everytime you hold my hand, I feel like I’m gonna cry. Because we both know that you don’t let just anybody hold your hands. And we both know that it was not like that at all in the beginning when you flinch at every physical touch I initiated. I still don’t know how we got married...”

He was right. He was so right.

Marriage didn’t come easy. It almost didn’t happen. When the day comes, both of you were so busy catering to guests. Making sure everyone feels cozy and getting the food delivered on time. Maybe you should have hired an event manager but truth be told, you wanted complete control. Namjoon’s only area of control was the bookings, financials and desserts. You thought it was fitting because he was more of a sweet tooth than you. Setting the namecards, and translating back and forth in your native language and his, to make sure everybody knows where they’re supposed to be had made both of you tired beyond belief. The constant questions and curious eyes were bouncing back and forth with language barriers. Namjoon sat plopped on the dining platform, by the stairs, with lunch for both of you and your families later. You joining him and passing him a bottled water.

“It’s like BBMAs all over again...” he lulled. You covered his hand with your own and gave it a firm squeeze. Because what else can you say in that situation? Your assurance comes in physical touches. And it took Namjoon by a subtle surprise. He moves his hand and thumbed your knuckle with a faint smile on his face.

“Remember back then, no matter what, you wouldn’t let me hold these?” He chuckles softly through his nose. “And I let you settle with a pinky hold because that was as much as physical affection I was comfortable with? Yes, like how can I forget the most awkward hand holding of all time?” You leaned closer to him, resting your head on his broad shoulders. “We’ve evolved...” you heard him say.

And how true was that. Falling in love with Namjoon felt like coming home. Like all the puzzle pieces has come to life and found themselves. And the stars are transfixed, conspiring this to happen. Namjoon felt like coming home. A home, away from home.

“I can’t help thinking that we’re forgetting something really important...” you swim in the touches that are his and the warmth that envelopes you from within when Taehyung suddenly knocks on the wooden frame, to say,

“Uhh guys?? The actual wedding?”

“Fuck.” You cursed and immediately after, Namjoon comments, “I knew this was going to happen.”

With an exasperated sigh from the end of the hall, was best man, Yoongi, beginning with, “Let’s get these two idiots so we could be home, earning a glare from his wife, “I could be home.”

It was Jungkook running to rescue.

Jimin trips over air to pass Joon the wedding ring. Bloodshot eyes and twitching eyebrows.

With utmost concern and brotherly love, Namjoon asks, “You okay?”

The younger lad didn’t nod or blink and possibly wasn’t breathing when he muttered out, “Yes. I’ve had 23 cups of coffee and no sleep since you told me to pick this up.” Drilling stares into the wedding ring as he held them out for Namjoon to take.

“That was a week ago,” Namjoon furrowed his brows. Jimin’s lips were drying, lids twitching and caffeine wasping around the air he’s in.

Jungkook barges in through the groom’s dressing room with colors drained out his face and limbs to grumble out loud, “...if I have to hear one more dad joke from Seokjin hyung, I'm shoving the microphone down my throat.”

Everyone is urging Namjoon to hurry up. There are four boys surrounding him, making sure his belts and vests are in place, hair neat and blazers ready by the racks for the wedding. But quick is quick enough, it seems, from all the fatigue expressions and impatient sighs escaping his close friend’s lips. What else could go wrong, right?

Taehyung fits his head through the door gap and blinked rapidly while everyone fussed all over Namjoon, the groom. If you need another confirmation because everyone's in their suit and ready to be wed off, he stammers the words out, “so uhhh, you know how it feels to grab air in a cookie jar that it just traumatizes you so you don't look at any cookie jar the same way?”

Jungkook frowns at him and paying no more than 2 seconds of a glance over him, “What are you going on about...”

“Which brand.” Hoseok sprung his head up from tying Namjoon’s laces. Taehyung mentions the brand and momentarily coos over his favourite biscuit by the brand and totally forgetting why he was here in the first place.

Yoongi fixing Namjoon’s belt, gets increasingly impatient with all the chit chat so he goes, “What cookie jar. I asked you to find the bride.”

“Oh yeah! I’m getting there. So uhh i went to fetch her and I opened the door and she wasn’t there,” Taehyung tattles, gave his brothers a lopsided smile, rocking his body back and forth like a toddler.  

Everyone thunders, “WHAT?!”

Namjoon shakes his head, tucking his shirt in, “oH HELL NAW NOT TODAY...”

Taehyung resumes, “That’s an hour ago actually. I’m too scared to look again.”

Jungkook mutters curses under his breath like a disappointed father of the bride. As they all scurried out in their best suits, vests and whatnot, they passed by Seokjin who is entertaining the guests, standing on the altar as the appointed emcee. Well, last minute appointed emcee.

Seokjin covering the microphone and hissing Jungkook’s name. Urgency blares through his face as his ears turning red at the silence and awkward cough from the audience. He growls through his gritted teeth, and grinding jaws,

“What the fuck is going on.”

“We’re looking for the bride.” Jungkook begins to chew his lips and the insides of his cheeks till it made dimples out on display. He is anxious and he couldn’t hide it.

“Where the FUCK is she!” Seokjin thundered in hushes.

“We don’t know. Try to tell more jokes and keep them entertained while we look,” Hoseok spoke in haste.

“I’m running out of dad jokes!” Seokjin groaned.

“You. Can. Do. It. Fighting!” Jimin brings two balled fists and puffed his cheeks with cutesy while he could feel Seokjin would rather dig a hole underneath him right now to be buried in. Maybe recite his own eulogy while he’s at it.

Everyone spreads out. Jungkook’s long legs lunges out the wide field. Wearing a frown on his handsome and delectable face. Hoseok looking through every door in the hall and calling your name before each room, even stumbled upon a couple playing hooky in one. Namjoon and Yoongi searched the cafeterias and dining hall, both wearing anxiety on their sculptured faces. Taehyung is supposed to be following Jungkook but he got distracted by a pretty flower and took a picture of it. Okay, let’s be real, several pictures of it. Heck a damn gallery. And Jimin being the only one who claps and laughs at Seokjin’s jokes, falling back in his chair with tears in his eyes. While Seokjin... well, he’s managing.

By then, Yoongi’s wife begins tapping wildly on her phone into the chatroom they share, because she might have an idea on where you could and might be.

Mrs. Min: Guys I think she’s tending to Hammsi, I’ll lead her away once I found her and she’s reassured him... Yoongi: Hammsi? Her cactus? Her echeveria succulents? Mrs. Min: He’s very important to her... Namjoon: Isksjskdjdkkdksjs Namjoon: Am I not important to her???

Namjoon is (furiously) typing... Taehyung is typing...

Namjoon: really? Tending her first boyfriend on our wedding day Taehyung: I chime in bc i saw joon’s chin out from across the fountain view Taehyung: whats happening people Taehyung: oh

Mrs. Min was right. You were watering the little cactus, affectionately named Harmssi.

“I’ve neglected you haven’t I...” you were pouring water on Harmssi, “No I don’t love you less than I love him, don’t say such things. He has his bonsais.”

It was then Namjoon’s rib got nudged by his friends. Then he got pushed into the little nursery by the hall, forced to coax his wife out her affairs with her cactus.

“I can’t believe she’s late for our wedding because she’s talking to Hammssi,” Namjoon straightens his vest and neatens his hair. As if he needed to. “Take it out on the honeymoon,” Yoongi hissed from behind him and went to hiding when you turned around. Namjoon slapped a smile as if he was there alone all along. He waves the boys away and they scurried. Except Taehyung. Who had to be dragged away.

“Hey booboo,” Namjoon starts with a pet name, hoping you haven't changed your mind about marrying him. “I’m sorry, I’m stalling the wedding am I?” You placed Hammssi on his little stone, avoiding eye contact with Namjoon. “Wha—No! We’re totally fine, they can wait a few more minutes,” Namjoon adds a nervous cackle at the end hoping he hasn’t fucked it up yet. “It’s just,” you paused, thumbing your echeveria leaves and that one tiny sprout still growing, “Hammssi had been with me for so long and he’s heard many stories about you and all the things we did... like he’s my best friend whom I check on and greet every morning and the one I say goodnight to before I sleep, and it just dawned on me that how things are going to change now.”

Namjoon’s palpitating heart begins to soften when he’s heard your reasons on being here instead of the altar. You were always stuck with one sided love for so long that you begin to be afraid of falling. You poured your heart and soul to little potted green friends because they never disappoint. Like humans do.

And it made sense to him because that’s what he felt too. To his bonsais. Nurturing is love too, you know.

“Apart from giving kisses to actual lips, and someone who can verbally speak back to you, nothing much is going to change. It doesn’t have to...” Namjoon trudges forward in small lunges, hands behind his back, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I’m all in, and I’m afraid,” you watched your hand being held in his and he presses kisses on each of your knuckles while screwing his eyes shut. “What if one day you decide that I’m not good enough? What if one day you wake up and realised you don’t love me anymore? What do I do then? Where do I go with all this love?” “You come home...” he said, in murmurs, eyes glancing down at you, as he towers over your entire height, “And you remind me that we’re each other’s home. You yank me by the arms and you show me that I belong to you.”

The henna on your hand that he traces sensually, and stamped a lingering kiss on, that simple gesture signifies his ultimate devotion to you. With this kiss, he surrendered.

“Can we please get married now? If I had to deal with another year of complete abstinence I’m going to lose my mind.”

Present day, six years of marriage and nothing changes. He runs his fingers through his luscious locks of hair, sweaty forehead and slick chest, leaning against the headboard while you drew random shapes round and round his perky nipples.

“I told you we didn’t have to change the sheets yet,” he sighs, head fell thud on the wood behind him and a kiss on your hair. Your henna fits well on his clawed, naked chest with some bruises blossoming as the time ticks by.

“You think they’re pretty?” You held your hand out so you both could see the designs. “They’re pretty because you wore them, remember that...” he takes them and zooms his face to your nails next, “Have they always been that long?” “Yeah, if I shortened them more, it’ll bleed... why?”

“RIP my skin then, I guess...” he mewls.

The first thing he said on the night you spent together after the wedding, that still lingers in your head when you took more than 2 minutes to take out a block. You are probably the only girl in the world that at your horniest hours, chose to play Jenga on your first night with your fully wedded husband. Namjoon was resting on his stomach while you played your turn, getting bored out of waiting,

“Are you done yet?” “Nope... okay now I am.”

Namjoon knocks those Jenga tower down to the floor cold, and

“Whoops.” “You did that on purpose!” “Guess I gotta make out with you now. What a tragedy.” He crawls on all four, in your lap, sneering above you.

We’re definitely done, now.

.

.

.

copyright (c) 2019 namjoonchronicles, do not repost -- I know I haven’t been writing a lot, and thank you for being this patience... this story was birthed by a conversation I had with @ayixha a while ago. I had lots of bad days now, and this conversation made me smile and thought of sharing them with you lovely friends

[chuffyfan87]

Temptation. Part B.

"No! I mean, we both know it shouldn't have happened. But it did. We can't change that. You were in my arms and, I couldn't help myself, I got tempted."

"You got tempted? So that's all I am to you is it - a temptation?" She folded her arms and glared at him.

"In that dress? Yes!" He snapped back, gesturing in the direction of where the majority of her clothes still lay scattered on his bedroom floor.

"Oh so it's my fault you couldn't keep your hands to yourself is it?" She demanded.

"Oh bugger off with the innocent routine Duffy, you were straight in there the second I kissed you!"

"Oh fuck you Charlie!"

"You already did that. Twice!" He shot back, smirking.

"Urgh!" She got up from the bed and staggered across the room to pick up her clothes. "You are such an arrogant arsehole Charlie Fairhead!"

He threw up his hands. "Alright, look, I'm sorry. That was a cheap shot. Will you just sit back down so we can talk properly?"

"Why? So you can tell me how I make things so hard for you?"

"Well if that's what you're after then get back into bed and I'll give you another demonstration!" He suggested, grinning at her devilishly.

"In your dreams Charlie!"

"Oh you feature pretty heavily in those already and after last night, well..." He looked her up and down. She was stood wearing just his shirt, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. He shifted on the bed, she was really turning him on.

As the silence once again stretched out between them her anger began to fade and her fingers fiddled awkwardly with the hem of the shirt. "I should go home..." She mumbled.

"Um... Yeh... But... I could make us some coffee while you get dressed. There's a new toothbrush in the cabinet and some clean towels. You're welcome to use the shower if you want." He shrugged, looking nervous and unsure of himself.

She smiled. "Thank you Charlie." She left the bedroom.

As the door closed, he rested his head back against the pillows, closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He got up from the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. Coffee and aspirin would help. Coffee would sober him up and aspirin would dull the ceaseless banging in his head. His thoughts strayed back to Duffy. She deserved him at least trying to act like a gentleman. He opened the door and heard the sounds of the shower. Immediately his mind began to conjour up images of her naked and washing herself in his shower. His jeans felt uncomfortably tight as he hardened with desire. He sighed. It seemed that being a gentleman was going to be very tough indeed!

He wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. He filled the kettle and put some bread in the toaster before grabbing a glass of water from the sink. He drank it straight down and felt a little better for it. He then refilled his glass and took another one out the cupboard and filled it for Duffy to drink. He swallowed two aspirins and left the packet on the side before pouring the coffees and buttering the toast. He went through to the lounge to see what mess they had left it in the night before. He was pleasantly surprised that all that needed tidying away was the empty takeaway containers. As he picked them up he heard her footsteps on the stairs. "There's coffee, toast and aspirin on the side in the kitchen so help yourself. I'm just tidying up."

"Sounds like we both had the same idea. I just finished cleaning upstairs." She looked sheepish as they walked back through to the kitchen together. "I'm really sorry about that! I don't normally throw up, it's only when I mix my drinks. Promise me you won't let me do that next time."

"I'll try not to but I can't promise you'll listen." He laughed briefly and then his brain realised what she'd said. Next time? What did she mean by that? Next time they went out as friends or did she mean something more?

"I do sometimes." She replied quietly, glancing up at him over the rim of her coffee mug.

He turned away nervously and busied himself putting the takeaway containers in the bin. He was confused, why was she sending him such mixed messages? Not 20 minutes ago she had been shouting at him and calling him names. Now she was talking vaguely of "next time"s and giving him the sort of looks that caused his insides to go all funny. He swallowed nervously and glanced over at her. She was sat at the table staring absentmindedly out the kitchen window. She'd changed back into the dress she'd been wearing the previous evening. It was a fairly simple black dress which came to just above the knee when she was standing. When she was sitting, however, it rose halfway up her thigh. He'd always thought she had great legs so any outfit that showed them off was a winner with him. They'd been the first thing he'd noticed about her when he'd been introduced to her in Ewart's office almost 4 years ago now. The sound of her clearing her throat brought him swiftly back to the present.

Duffy had turned to look at him and saw he was a million miles away. "You OK?" She asked, a slightly amused look on her face.

He blushed. "Sorry, daydreaming." He sat down next to her. He noticed her hand was resting on the table next to his coffee. As he reached over he brushed his fingers against her hand before lifting the mug and taking a quick drink. He noticed she hadn't moved her hand away so as he placed the mug back down on the table he decided to risk taking hold of it. They sat quietly eating their toast, neither looking at the other, both pretending not to notice their joined hands on the table. As he finished the last bite of his toast, Charlie turned towards Duffy and, as she looked up at him, he reached over and tucked a stray strand of her damp hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek. He looked into her eyes and decided to make a bold move. What was the worst that could happen? Well, she could slap his face but he was pretty certain that wouldn't happen. He lent forward and gently kissed her.

He moved back slightly to gauge her reaction. She smiled and pulled him back towards her. The kiss quickly deepened and he felt her hand on his thigh. His mind was reeling trying to process everything. Last night they'd had an easy excuse, they'd been drunk and emotional. They'd simply sought comfort in each other's arms and that had led to them accidently having sex. Well the first time anyway. The second time had been driven by pure drunken lust. Now it was the next day and they were more sober and yet once again he found himself making out with his best friend. Did this mean she felt the same way about him as he did about her?

The kiss ended and Charlie rested his forehead against Duffy's, stroking his fingertips over her cheek. "I'd really like you to stay."

She smiled softly. "I'd like that too but I might be a little overdressed for a quiet day hanging out around the house." She giggled.

"I'm sure I can find you something more comfortable to change into."

"I'm not wearing a bedsheet all day Charlie!" She smirked.

"Well I was gunna suggest you could borrow something of mine but..."

"You are terrible Charlie!"

"You suggested it." He countered. He sat back and finished the last of his coffee. "Right, let's find you something else to wear, shall we?"

Charlie stood up and held out his hand to Duffy. Rising from her chair, she slipped her hand into his and they climbed the stairs once more. Arriving back in the bedroom, Charlie went over to the chest of drawers and dug out a pair of joggers, a t-shirt and a pair of socks. He held them out towards her. "Hopefully these won't drown you too much." He said. "I'm gunna get a shower and shave. Feel free to, um..." He shrugged. "Well, I won't be long." He turned and left the room.

Duffy quickly changed into the clothes he'd given her. Luckily the joggers had a drawstring waist or they would have fallen down. She sat on the bed and looked around. Up until last night she'd never been in his room before. She got up and wandered over to his desk. She noticed the top drawer was slightly open. She knew she shouldn't peek but it was really tempting. She carefully slid the drawer open. The first thing she spotted was a bottle of aftershave. She picked it up and, closing her eyes, inhaled deeply. It was a familiar, comforting smell. The smell of him. As she breathed in the scent she could almost imagine he was in the room with her, his arms encircling her, his presence a calming oil soothing the troubled waters of her soul. She resisted the urge to spray some on his t-shirt that she was wearing, instead placing the bottle back in the drawer.

She turned as she heard the door open once more. Charlie walked back into the room, a towel tied around his waist. His hair was tousled as he dried it off with a towel in his hands. Water droplets still clung to the hairs on his chest. Duffy blushed as she bit her bottom lip and averted her eyes, trying to ignore the warm sensation that ran through her body.

Noticing her reaction, Charlie spoke, his eyes looking anywhere but at her. "I, um, forgot to take some clean clothes through with me." Trying to break the awkward tension, he cleared his throat. "Why don't you go pick a film for us to watch? Hopefully you'll be able to find something you like. I'll be down in a few minutes."

When Charlie arrived downstairs he found Duffy on the sofa snuggled up under a blanket, the TV on and the box for Raiders of the Lost Ark on the coffee table. She shuffled over to allow him to sit down next to her.

"I never had you down as an Indiana Jones fan Duffy."

She shrugged. "Its got Harrison Ford in it, what's not to like?"

He rolled his eyes at her, shaking his head as he pressed play on the remote. They sat in comfortable silence watching the film for several minutes before Charlie spoke, his eyes never leaving the screen. "They're making a third movie in this series. I heard it's going to come out next year."

"Oh really?"

"Yeh, they've signed up Sean Connery to be in it too apparently. I'd quite like to go see it when it comes out at the cinema."

"I wouldn't mind seeing it at the cinema too. I bet the action sequences look pretty spectacular on a huge screen."

"Yeh, they really do. So much better than on the TV." He began to play with the edge of the blanket, suddenly nervous. "We could, um, go together if you like?"

A small smile appeared on her face. "Yeh, I'd really like that."

Charlie shifted his arm to drape it around her shoulders, a large smile lighting up his features as he felt her snuggle into his side and lay her head against his chest. He lightly kissed the top of her head and went back to watching the film.

As the credits rolled he looked down to see that Duffy had fallen asleep. He was hesitant to disturb her but then his stomach began to rumble with hunger. He glanced over at the clock, it was just after 4pm. Time to make something to eat before getting ready for work that evening. He lightly nudged her shoulder.

"Duffy... Hey, sleepyhead, time to wake up or you'll be going to work hungry."

She began to stir, her eyes flickering open. She looked over at the TV as she stretched. "Oh did I miss the end?"

He shook his head indulgently at her and laughed as he got up from the sofa, reaching out his hand to help her up also. As they wandered through to the kitchen Duffy asked, "So what's for dinner then?"

[clan-fuildarach]

dissipation

it’s time for the battle! robin and emiliano team up to beat rezann, but rezann has a few tricks up his sleeve. rúth and tiber each have a horrifying vision of the future that forces luke to Do Something Reckless. delta and neven have a Moment 

also somebody dies idk 

~

The command centre mounted on the first cannon still smelled faintly of toxic smoke. The blackened patch on the sofa had been impossible to get rid of and the ceiling and walls bore smudgy black marks. Rezann ran a finger along the stained back of the sofa, picking up a dark smear on his fingertip that burned like weak acid. He ignored it; his regeneration would kick in momentarily and fix any damage. Unfortunately, the memory of all the time he'd wasted on the creature known as Reginald was not nearly as ephemeral.

Zaer didn't comment on the stains. He sat opposite, sipping from a glass of wine, his gaze fixed on the distant citadel. The chunks of pink crystal floated serenely over the city, bathed in morning light.

“Well, well,” Zaer said, a sly grin crawling over his face. “You're preoccupied today, Commander. Bad night's rest?”

“What do I have to be preoccupied about?” Rezann said in a low tone.

“I could think of a few things,” Zaer said, swirling the wine in his glass and taking an appreciative sip. “Such as, for example, the army outside the city gates?”

The dark mass of Robin's troops had assembled the night before. To the surprise of no one, she'd rejected Rezann's terms and made it quite clear that she was prepared to fight. But her army was smaller than his, and less well-equipped. He had no reason to be worried.

And yet.

“I'll be finished with them by this afternoon,” Rezann said dismissively.

“I wish you the best of luck,” Zaer said. “I'll of course take my leave before any actual fighting breaks out, but you should see me again this evening. You'll need my merchants to recuperate.” He knocked back his glass and rose to his feet. “I'm getting too old for this wartime business.”

“My sympathies,” Rezann said, his eyes on the citadel.

“That's a rather hollow sentiment, coming from someone who doesn't age,” Zaer said cheerfully, moving to let himself out of the command centre. “Anyway, maybe one day soon you'll be seeing my son Andrei here in my place. He's a little impetuous, but he has charm, unlike the other two.”

“Join me for dinner later,” Rezann said. “Rebuilding the citadel will require some detailed planning.”

Zaer waved in acknowledgement over his shoulder, already out of the room. Once he was gone, and the metal door had swung shut in his wake, the third occupant of the room spoke.

“You know as well as I do that those city walls are impenetrable,” the creature said, seeming to un-peel itself from the shadows at the back of the room. “I could help you breach them, of course...”

It was a tempting offer, but then again every offer the creature made was tempting in some way. Rezann was used to it. He shook his head.

“Suit yourself.”

The creature vanished as someone pounded on the door from the outside. “Commander!” a voice said.

Rezann rose to open the door. The soldier outside saluted briefly before giving his report.

“A large number of troops have just uncloaked themselves in the east, sir. They're gathering behind us.”

“Under what banner?”

“Court Dorchadas, sir.”

That gave him pause. Rezann leant out of the door and face east, into the rising sun. Sure enough, a mass of dragons had camped out a scant two hundred metres from the rear-most troops of Rezann's own army. Black and gold banners streamed in the air.

With a jolt, Rezann realised that he'd been far too distracted by Robin's challenge. He hadn't kept tabs on Court Dorchadas and now he didn't know if the army had come to aid him or attack him. Surely Fain was still part of the Court? She was loyal to him.

But if that was the case, why had she not told him she was coming?

“Let Laete know that we’ll need Zeiya after all,” he said. 

~

The Cú na Mara had been placed in dry dock for repairs. It was odd to sit on the edge of the deck and not see water beneath. Luke had been writing for hours now, drafting yet another healing spell at Fiach's request for John. In the distance, the streets of Hydriop were bright and busy, the morning markets flooded with shoppers. Most of Clan Fuil Darach had gone down to buy repair materials for the ship, but the healers were still on full-time duty.

Stifling a yawn, Luke flipped over the sheet and wrote on the back of the spell tag. With spells as complex and intense as these, the heat released by the spell could burn the patient. To ward against that, extra scripts had to be added on the side of the paper that came into contact with the patient that would dissipate the heat.

The morning sun grazed their face, warm and unspeakably welcome after a night spent at John's bedside.

They took up the finished stack of spell tags, then, regretfully turning their back on the sun, headed for the ship's surgery. Zeta was already there, nodding off over his desk. John sat upright in the single narrow bed, carefully reading over yet more spells.

“You've made a glyph error here, darling,” John said, his voice muffled by the bandages that covered most of his skin.

“Huh?” Zeta said sleepily. “Oh... I'll fix it.” Seeing Luke, his shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank the gods you're here. I'm spent.”

Luke waved him out, then set about pinning their spell-tags to John's bandages. His mismatched pink and yellow eyes gleamed from a slit in the bandage, tracking Luke's movements with suspicion.

“Sit still,” Luke said sharply, as John tried to read the tag attached to his sternum. “I'm not Zeta, I don't make mistakes.”

This elicited a thin giggle from John. “Says the dragon whose mistakes are literally written across their face.”

“Do you or do you not want these painkillers?”

With a stifled sigh, John nodded and sat still. “I like your new look, though,” he said charitably, his unsettling gaze skimming over the new, discoloured patches that had begun to bloom on Luke's exposed skin.

“Can't say the feeling's mutual,” Luke said, carefully unwrapping the bandage from John's hand to check on the status of the strange, hardened patches of pink and yellow scar tissue that had appeared following John's near-death experience. Touching the scars was almost like touching a live electric current; Luke withdrew with a hiss of pain.

“Sorry,” John said. “I can't regulate my energy so well any more.”

Shouts sounded outside. Luke glanced around just in time to see the door bounce open and fall off its hinges. Standing there, breathing hard, was Rúth. Black shade mist surrounded them like a stormcloud. Aside from a strategically-held bedsheet, they were naked, exactly how Luke had left them the evening before.

“R-”

“Luke!”

Zeta appeared behind Rúth, trying to pull them away from the infirmary. Rúth didn't even seem to notice him.

“You have to help him!” they said loudly. “He's – he is going to die, he needs help-”

“Who needs help?” Luke said, abandoning John.

“Delta,” Rúth said, knocking Zeta aside with an irritable shove. “He is there – and the army – there's a monster, I saw it.”

Luke knew better than to doubt Rúth. But before anything else could be said, a new voice rose through the air.

“Healer! I need a healer!”

Rúth glanced over their shoulder and quickly stood aside, allowing Rich into the infirmary (which was starting to become very cramped indeed). In Rich's arms was Tiberius, who lay as if dead, aside from the odd seizure-like tremor that gripped his limbs and tail.

“Please,” Rich said, his voice rusty from disuse. “I don't know what's wrong with him, he was getting ready for the wedding and then he just fell...”

“Put him in the chair,” Luke said. As Rich carefully set Tiberius down in the chair by the desk, Luke conducted a quick examination. All seemed fine, but Tiberius' eyes were moving rapidly beneath his eyelids, as if he was dreaming.

“Luke,” Rúth said urgently. “We have to go-”

“Wait,” Luke said, pausing for a moment to recollect themself. John was staring, Rich was on the verge of tears, Zeta was cursing, and it was all far too loud and distracting.

Just as Luke began to run through the various spells they could use to wake Tiberius up, the tremors stilled. Tiberius blinked, groaning loudly, and raised a trembling hand to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Wh – Rich?” he said. “What happened? Where's the – there's an army...”

That caught Rúth's attention. They bore down on Tiberius, who flinched back weakly.

“You saw it!” Rúth said. “Yes? The army?”

“Yeah,” Tiberius said slowly. “I saw... something. There was, uh... there were these huge cannons, like the ones we saw in the bay.”

“What else did you see?” John said quietly.

Tiberius swallowed nervously, visibly uncomfortable with everyone staring down at him, but he couldn't seem to stand up. His formal suit was in disarray. “There were three armies,” he said, closing his eyes. “Everyone was fighting, but in the very middle there was a fae and a guardian and I think their fight was more important than the rest.”

“Describe the guardian,” Luke said, before John had a chance to interrogate Tiberius further about pointless details.

“Big,” Tiberius said. “He was young-looking... Light eyes, dark brown skin...” He winced, as if the memory of his vision pained him. “I don't think he was winning. He was bleeding a lot.”

Luke's wide-eyed gaze moved back to Rúth, who nodded to confirm this.

“Thank you, Tiberius,” John said gently. “One last thing. The cannons, were they operational?”

“I don't know? A few exploded. It looked like what you did the other night.” Tiberius shrugged helplessly. “Were you there?”

“It hasn't happened yet,” Rúth said. “You are seeing the future.” They glanced across at Luke and beckoned. “We have to help Delta.”

“And I'd better go too,” John said, which was downright laughable. He could barely sit up unassisted, let alone fly out to gods-knew-where. Not that Luke could fly anywhere, either.

“No, you're staying,” Zeta said firmly.

“Don't be silly, Zeta. I seem to be the only one who can destroy Commander Rezann's artillery, which means I have a responsibility to go there and do it. Also, I've never met a ward I couldn't beat, and I'd like to try again. This time, I'll get it right.”

“Can you fly?” Luke said. “No? Then you're staying.”

“Can you?” John said snidely. “Zeta, you can give us a lift.”

“Fine,” Rúth said, “whatever, we have to go.”

“What about me?” Tiberius said. “My parents are about to get married, I can't leave. They still have to meet Rich!”

“It's fine,” Luke said. “You two stay. Tell the others where we've gone. Zeta, grab some supplies and get ready to take off. John... are you sure you can do this?”

“I may not be able to walk,” John said, “but I can still cast. I've fought for Rezann's side before, this is my chance to make up for that. And, anyway, with you and Zeta with me I'll be fine.”

Zeta didn't look overly pleased at being forcibly drafted into this new service, but he didn't argue. As Rúth ran off to get dressed, he and Luke organised their healing supplies. Fiach was out in the city with Vaska – surely they would be fine on their own.

The group had left Hydriop far behind before the wedding had even started.

~

“Hiii, sweetheart. How's my little girl?”

Thea pressed a tiny hand against the surface of the scrying mirror, disrupting the signal for a moment. Her features swam back into focus a second later. Emiliano sighed happily and held out his hand as if to press it against hers.

It was the first time he'd ever left Dragonhome, and the distance between himself and his family was starting to sting. He'd kept in touch as often as possible, scrying Fallon and Thea and Iriangi to update them about his situation and reassure them that he'd be home soon.

He sat in a hastily-constructed command tent, surrounded by guards who seemed to grow more visibly uncomfortable by the second. He'd spent a lot of time gushing about his daughter to anyone who would listen, and apparently that wasn't appropriate for a battlefield. Or something. He hadn't listened to what they were saying about him – why would he? He was their king. He owned them.

Clangs and shouts filled the air. As he blew a kiss to Thea's image on the scrying mirror, the thunder of a cannon going off momentarily deafened him.

“What was that?” Fallon turned the mirror to face himself.

The ground shook. Emiliano's chair folded; he quickly leapt to his feet, trying to seem unruffled for Fallon's benefit. “Just one of those cannons. Nothing to worry about, they're not pointed at us.”

Fallon frowned. “You are staying away from the actual fighting, aren't you? You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emiliano said, picking up his chair and sitting again. He was wearing armour for the first time since his military training and his sword was ready at his waist, but he wasn't actually allowed into the battle. He had to sit here and wait for it all to blow over, then meet up with Robin.

It made sense, he supposed, to stay away from the fighting. He had no battlefield experience and didn't know how to command troops very well yet. But what little he had seen of the battle looked very exciting indeed.

“So who's winning?” Fallon said. He leant out-of-frame for a moment to catch Thea under the arms and hoist her up onto his lap, so that Emiliano could see them both. She waved at him.

“It's still too early to tell,” Emiliano said. “Robin and I have Rezann pinned between us, but unfortunately we didn't catch him by surprise like we planned.” He shrugged, with a little difficulty under the heavy leather armour. “It's been very-”

The cannons roared again, sending tremors through the earth. Unable to contain his curiosity, Emiliano went to the tent entrance and peered out.

“Your Majesty, please, stay inside,” one of the guards said. “It's not safe.”

“You don't tell me what to do,” Emiliano said, though by then he was shouting over the noise of the battle. “I'll have you hang-”

One of the cannons went off, and this time Emiliano actually saw the fallout. The thunder drowned out his words. The city walls, which had held fast against the assault so far, had started to crack. But that was all. Smoke rose in a thick column from the cannon to the far right. Sparks and flashes of light surrounded the enormous weapon, as Robin's soldiers attempted to put a dent in its magical wards.

“Emiliano?” Fallon's voice said faintly from back inside the tent. The mirror was on the ground, face-down.

He retrieved the mirror. “It's fine, I'm fine...” He blinked hard, trying to wipe away the afterimage of cannon-fire burned into the back of his eyelids. “So how's everything going over there? Heard from Renée at all?”

Fallon glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder, even though the room was clearly empty. 'Renée' was how they had been referring to Rosa. “No,” Fallon said. “But I keep expecting her to come marching in here. We're going to have to let her know about Corin somehow, Emilio.”

“Mm. Maybe we can hold out a little longer,” Emiliano said, a brazenly optimistic note in his voice. He propped the mirror back upright on the table and sat down. “If we can get him back soon enough, she won't be... quite so angry at us...”

He trailed off. A new noise had joined the cacophony outside; a low moaning rumble, louder than all the dragon roars combined. The ground was shaking again, and people were screaming – terrible screams, screams of fear and horror unlike anything Emiliano had ever heard before.

“Emiliano?” Fallon said. “What's that sound?”

Something caught the tent and ripped it away, leaving Emiliano bare to the sky, and the underside of the creature shambling overhead. The mirror shattered on the ground.

For the first time ever, Emiliano found that he literally could not move. Paralysed, rooted to the spot, he could only stare as the creature flicked one of its many paws irritably, unhooking the tent canopy from its enormous claws. The body of an imperial – laughably tiny beside this behemoth – dragged along in its wake, still gasping and struggling but already starting to fuse with the monster's rotting hide. An enormous purple banner streamed from the monster's antlers, wreathed with strange black mist. Thousands of vivid green eyes flashed and glittered in the air around the monster's main head.

The belly plates of its torso were directly above Emiliano's head, blotting out the harsh sunlight. He groped for the hilt of his sword, for comfort more than anything else. His knees threatened to fold. The monster hadn't noticed him yet.

A lesser head whipped around, howling in agony, and drew a breath. Clashing purple and yellow light streamed from cracks in its skin. Then its breath weapon razed the battlefield and the world turned white. Emiliano couldn't run – how could he? There was nowhere to go.

~

“Oh dear gods, what is that?”

The question repeated again and again as Delta shoved his way through the rear line of Robin's army. They'd fallen back into the city, trusting to the cracked walls to keep them safe, but some distant explosion had caught their attention. He finally found a vantage point with a view through the city gates and stared over the crowd, past the no-man's-land, past the melee, past the cannons and purple command tents, past all that, to the enormous thing on the horizon. A vaguely dragon-shaped mountain loomed over the Dorchadas army, too far away to really make out.

“What is it?” Neven said at his side, their ears rammed forward to catch the many-voiced, wheezing moan that washed over the battlefield.

“I don't know,” Delta said. “Some kind of monster?”

The tide of the battle changed rather abruptly. With the Dorchadas troops in disarray and the cannons continuing their unending assault of the city walls, Rezann's side had begun to recoup. They pressed forward, towards the gates.

Delta gripped the handle of his standard-issue glaive, shaking. This wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced – a few battles here and there were nothing compared to this. And seconds later he and Neven were caught in the skirmish by the gate, and there wasn't time to think. Neven fought bare-handed, with only the lightest armour so as not to impede their movements. As Delta hammered a soldier over the head inexpertly with his weapon, Neven blew a hole clean through the chest of a skydancer.

Neven in the midst of battle was almost hypnotic. Graceful, balletic, everything Delta wasn't. But he could take no joy or satisfaction from watching them effortlessly push back their opponents. With every breath he drew he could taste sweat and piss and gunpowder. Multicoloured blood ran down the haft of his glaive and congealed into a brownish mess on his knuckles. His hands were so numb that he doubted his ability to drop his weapon even if he tried. He hadn't suffered any injury more serious than a gash across his face, but under his awkward armour he was battered and bruised to the core.

He just wanted it all to end. It didn't matter to him who won or who lost.

The combatants on Rezann's side fell back again, nursing their wounds. Delta grabbed Neven's hand and dragged them back behind the row of spiked barriers that had been constructed in the street. Gasping, he looked Neven up and down while he caught his breath. They were uninjured, but their palms were very hot to the touch, and they flinched away when Delta tried to examine them.

“It's fine,” they insisted. “I just have not used this much magic in a long time, I'm not... not used to it.” They spread their fingers with a wince, and blood oozed up as their skin cracked.

“You should rest,” Delta said. “We're fine here without you-”

“No,” Neven said.

The moans of the distant monster sounded again, echoing Delta's own emotions. He couldn't hold Neven's hands, so he took their wrists instead and kissed them, mumbling an apology against their skin.

“Delta, what?” they said weakly. “What are you saying?”

“I'm sorry,” he said, a little louder this time. The other soldiers barely cast him a second glance, but he still blushed. “I'm sorry for dragging you out here and getting you involved in all this.”

Neven snorted, a tiny grin appearing on their grimy face. “As if I had no choice,” they said in a tone of gentle admonishment. “If I wanted to leave, nobody would be able to stop me. But I don't! I want to be here. Somebody has to keep you safe, and somebody has to kill Rezann.”

“Yeah, but... it's not like this is an ideal situation,” Delta said.

“Well, no,” Neven said, “but think about it like this. Once the Commander is dead, the world will be better – and we can go home without ever having to worry about somehow meeting him again.”

Delta nodded frantically. “Yes – oh, gods, I just want to go home, Neven. I want to go home.”

Neven had to pull Delta down to their level to kiss him. When they pulled back, he didn't want to let them go.

“Marry me,” he mumbled into their sweaty hair.

“Oh,” Neven said. “I wanted to be the one to ask-”

“Yes!” Delta said, before they'd even finished.

And Neven laughed, which was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. But before anything else could be said, the gates crashed open yet again and Delta and Neven were forced back into the fray.

~

The battlefield was easy enough to find. The magical echoes spanned the entire continent, and all Zeta had to do was follow. Soon enough, the battle itself appeared in the distance, a multi-coloured mess strewn about on the fields around the citadel.

Lost in Zeta's mane, Luke gave John a final once-over. As long as John stayed on Zeta while he cast his runes, then theoretically he would be able to strafe the cannons without once touching the ground, or having to walk unassisted. Luke was saving their paper, so they'd resorted to writing healing scripts directly onto John's bandages, tailoring them to activate if he was injured.

“I'm flattered that you care, sweetheart,” he said, casting a critical eye over the writing on his forearm, “but you needn't worry about me. Worry about your bother instead – I'd be heartbroken if I never saw poor Delta again.”

Luke peered over the side of Zeta's neck. The ground wheeled dizzyingly below, making their stomach turn. Flight hadn't appealed at all to them since becoming a bogsneak, and this was just torture. But even when Zeta flew as level as possible, the fact remained that there was no chance at all that Delta could be located in the tangled mess of fighters below.

A magical missile shot past on the left, burning through Zeta's mane. Luke didn't withdraw, still struggling to parse what was happening below. If not for the banners, it would have been impossible to tell which side was which, and who was fighting who. Rezann's army covered the bulk of the territory, pressing in to the citadel with all cannons trained on the walls. To the east, the scene was a little more confusing, the soldiers scattered, unable to present a unified force. Black and gold pennants hung on the backs of dragons struggling in the dirt to stand and fly, and it looked like-

Suddenly, Zeta veered. The ground rushed up far too fast. A ground which seemed to be moving, which sprouted heads and limbs and wings at odd angles. Which didn't look like the ground at all, actually.

“It's an emperor,” John said, his voice snatched away almost instantly by the howling wind.

Luke tapped Zeta's neck. “Hey! Zeta, pull up!”

“He's not listening, it's pulling him in.” John raised his hands, steam rising from the opalised tissue that the bandages did not cover. “He'll thank me later for this...” And he summoned an arcane rune to his fingertips and pressed it down against Zeta's scales.

Zeta yelped with pain and stalled, his wings thrashing, then seemed to regain his consciousness. He avoided one of the emperor's many wing-tips by a hair's width. It whistled past so close that Luke could smell the decay. The thing stank like a week-old corpse left out in the sun.

A twisting flash of orange, and now Rúth was coming in to land beside Luke and John.

“He is not here!” Rúth called above the noise. “Closer to the city, I think! Inside the gate! But I will have to leave you now.”

Zeta turned, winging his way towards the city as if the shade itself was snapping at his tail-plume.

“What? No,” Luke said sharply. “You have to lead us.”

“I have something else to do,” Rúth said. “But you will be fine! I promise! You will find him. Okay?” They lifted off again, wings spread to catch the wind. “Oh!” they said, just before taking flight, “and tell Delta congratulations from me!”

And then they were gone. Luke resisted the urge to wring the air out of a mixture of fear and frustration. They almost rose to their feet, trying to follow Rúth's progress, but one tiny orange spiral in a crowded sky was not easy to keep track of. Strangely enough, though, as Rúth flew back towards the emperor, several of its heads turned to follow them, as if it knew they were there.

That did not bode well. Luke put it out of their mind – they just had to trust that Rúth would come back alive.

Zeta bore down on the city walls and tried to land, but an invisible barrier surrounding the citadel repelled him. He circled, unable to land.

“What now?” he yelled back at Luke and John. The only space to land was behind the citadel, but that was too far away from the entrance gates. Luke stared down, still trying in vain to catch sight of Delta. There was a furious knot of activity just inside the gates, and no way for Zeta to land there.

“We can find him later,” John said, reading the desperation on Luke's face. “For now just stay here with us while we take out those cannons.” He set a hand on Luke's arm.

One of the cannons flashed and recoiled, and the city walls groaned. Chunks of stone rained down from the formerly-smooth surface. More cracks spread in thin air, glowing faintly as the invisible shield took the brunt of the cannon's force. There – a gap in the barrier, only large enough for a small dragon to pass through. An entrance.

Luke unclipped the makeshift leather harness keeping them firmly attached to Zeta's back. John sighed and rolled his eyes but did not argue as Luke stepped off Zeta's side.

It was not a pleasant drop. Fatal, for anyone else. But the wood curse had saved Luke from a fall once, and it could do it a second time. With a nasty, splintering crunch Luke landed on one of the roofs below the barrier. They lay there for a moment, reeling from the pain, then slowly rose to their feet again. Every cell in their body ached, but they'd made it. After that, it was a simply matter of skidding down the side of the steeply-sloped roof and dropping to the street below.

Immediately, they found themself lost in the chaos of soldiers falling back, rushing away from the breach in the city barrier. The houses attached to the wall itself were crumbling now shaking curtains of dust down onto the street.

Luke caught their breath behind one of the spiked roadblocks, their head swimming already from the stink filling the street, the sight of so much blood. They'd never considered themself a squeamish person, but this was something else.

Rezann's soldiers rushed in through the breach in winged and bipedal forms both. The flash and crack of magic echoed around the ruined market square. Cursing their diminutive height, Luke struggled to see over the crowd, but they didn't have to.

A hand landed on their shoulder and a familiar voice gasped, “Luke!”

“Delta!” Luke didn't know whether to hug him or punch him. He looked cut up, but not too badly hurt. At his side was Neven.

Delta didn't let Luke say anything else. He bundled them up in a hug so powerful that it lifted them off their feet and threatened to crack more of their ribs.

“Hey – hands off, you big idiot-” Luke fought their way free, their snarl softened slightly by the audible relief in their voice. “I've come to take you home, come on.”

Delta was already crying, because of course he was. “You're alive,” he said plaintively.

“Yes, and I'd like to stay that way, so can we please get out of here?”

“No,” Delta said. A magical projectile took out a chunk of masonry by his head and he yelped, grabbing Neven and dragging them behind a low wall. Luke followed, their ears aching from the noise of it all.

“What do you mean, no?” Luke said.

“We agreed to fight,” Neven said. “I have to kill Rezann. He'll be here soon.”

“You have to – excuse me?” Luke said, aghast. “Delta, there is an emperor out there. An emperor! We have to leave right now. This whole city's coming down around us. Rezann is the least of our worries right now.”

A deafening siren ripped through the air. Luke flinched, huddling behind Delta as a woman's voice, magically amplified, rang out over the entire battlefield.

“This is an order to all imperial dragons,” she said in ear-splitting tones, “fall back. Flee. Your services are no longer required. Any imperial left on the battlefield will be killed on sight, no matter your allegiance.”

“See!” Luke shouted. “Neven, you've got to understand – that's what they do when there are emperors around! They execute all nearby imperials, it's to prevent a disaster.”

“No!” Delta said. “We'll be fine, Neven, it's not near us.”

But Neven hesitated. They were shaking, now that Luke was close enough to actually examine them. Neven wasn't in good shape, and John wasn't here to snap them out of it if they chose to heed the emperor's call, as Zeta almost had.

“Neven?” Delta said.

The citadel wall shattered. Its grey stone cladding fell back, revealing the pink crystal within that powered the barrier. Crushed crystal fragments scattered over the cobblestones. Neven didn't even seem to react. Neither did they react when a single, short figure crested the pile of rubble, facing the city.

Commander Rezann held a spear loosely at his side. Blood had spattered his bare chest but there was no sign of any injury. He strode into the city as though he owned it – which he did, technically. Soldiers charged at him and he cast them aside almost without effort. A broad open square stood between him and the rest of the city, between him and the group huddled behind the wall.

“I can't...” Neven said weakly. “Delta, I can't... I can't think... I have to leave. Before I hurt anyone. But – he is there...”

“It's fine,” Delta said quickly, “it's fine, you can go. You don't have to stay, it's not safe for you. I'll, um. I guess I have to be the one to fight him. Luke, you can get Nev out of here, right?”

This was not going according to plan. Luke opened their mouth to issue a command that they knew Delta would not follow, then broke off with a sigh. “I'll get them out of the city, but I'm coming back for you.”

“Good, because I'll probably need the healing,” Delta said, peering over the wall. Nobody stood between him and the Commander now. “Oh, wait – before you go, um. Could you marry us?”

“Can I what?”

“Oh, yes,” Neven said. “Please? You are an emissary, yes?”

Rezann was walking at a leisurely pace, but the distance between him and Delta was dwindling. There was no time to argue. Luke grabbed one of Delta's hands and one of Neven's and stood between them.

“There's nothing to bind you with here, so you'll have to imagine it,” Luke said. “Lightweaver forgive me for what is probably an act of blasphemy but here goes...” They drew their fingers through a smear of blood left on the wall and used this impromptu ink to daub an illuminated emblem on the back of Neven's hand and a whirlwind emblem on Delta's. Luke stammered through the ceremony as fast as possible, pronouncing the two of them married under the gaze of the Lightweaver and Windsinger.

“And I now pronounce you-”

The spear whistled through the air and struck the wall, missing Neven by an inch. With a muffled oath Luke grabbed Neven and dragged them away, yelling the final words of the marriage.

“Just go!” Delta said. “I'll – I'll see you later, okay?” And as Luke and Neven fled from the city, Delta faced Rezann and raised his weapon one last time.

~

Clouds whirled dizzyingly below, intertwined with smoke and steam and the twisting shapes of dragons flying. Emiliano stared down at it all, utterly bewildered. Why were they under him? He appeared to be pressed to the ceiling of the world, spread-eagled, unable to move.

He struggled to draw a breath, and that slight movement caused the entire scene to spin and tip onto its side, so that he now was facing sideways, somehow, then up, then down, all without moving at all. It was nauseating, but he couldn't throw up any more than he already had. His front was soaked with bile.

Smoke drifted over the battlefield below him. Someone tapped the side of his face, as if to make sure he was still alive. He growled, weakly, and broke off with a start when he realised that he could not hear his own voice. The vibration was there, but the sound was gone.

An armoured woman leant over him, gesturing angrily. He stared at her, dazed. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a sitting position. Behind her, soundless pink and yellow explosions tore the clouds. The cannons were burning. His head hurt.

The woman waved for his attention, then held up a piece of paper with some magic rune scribbled on it. She set it down on his chest. Immediately, the pain began to dissipate. The sound of the battle returned, but only on one side. Something hot and wet dripped down his neck from both ears.

“Emiliano!” the woman said, the sound of her voice wavering in and out of his hearing. “Hey. Stay with me.”

He knew that voice. “Rosa?” he croaked.

She tipped up her visor, revealing more of her face. “Oh, thank the gods. I don't know what I'd do if one more of my idiot siblings died. Hey. Wake up.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. He hadn't even been aware he was drifting off again, but she had to pull him back upright.

“What happened?” he said. “Why are you here?”

“I'm a merc with Robin's troops,” she said. “I saw the emperor and came to get you.”

“Oh.” He realised, for the first time, that he had been dragged away from the burning, muddy wasteland that the emperor had left in its wake. Rosa had brought him a couple of hundred metres up the side of a hill. The hillside was bizarrely peaceful, wildflowers bowing in the wind while in the distance, the undead monster laid waste to the remainder of the Dorchadas armed forces.

“Can you stand?” Rosa said.

“Uh. Maybe.” He tried his best, but still had to lean heavily against her to get to his feet.

“That explosion must have blown out your inner ears,” Rosa said, almost sounding cheerful. “The tag should work, though. You're getting your colour back.”

“Thanks. Is my ear going to start working again?”

“Your what?”

“My right ear.” He gestured to it. “Not working.”

“I don't know. I had planned on visiting Corin with presents from the Saturnalia, but it looks like I'll be bringing his stupid injured uncle back home instead.”

“Rosa,” he said. “Corin's gone.”

She froze, glancing across at him. “Excuse me?”

“Atropa took him,” Emiliano said.

Rosa met his eyes, then stepped away from him. He fell instantly without her support, unable to find his balance.

“I'm sorry,” he said, using the ground as a guide to sit up again, “I had no way of contacting you. That's why I'm here, we have to beat Rezann to get to Zaer and Atropa.”

She stared hard at him, her eyes utterly cold. For a moment it looked like she would kick him. Then with a muted snarl she turned away, paced in a small circle, then rounded on him again. “You let Atropa take Corin?”

“I wasn't paying attention,” he said. Behind her, the emperor was clawing open one of the cannons, driven out of its mind by the combined thoughts and suffering of all the imperials it had absorbed. Rezann's army couldn't stop it any more. Nothing could.

And then... it stopped. Both Rosa and Emiliano stared as its thrashing and moaning quietened down. Something was going on down there, but Emiliano did not want to get any closer to the monster than he already had.

“We'll talk about this later,” Rosa said. “For now, just – just stay here, okay? Stay out of trouble.”

“Promise,” he said, with a smile that revealed several broken teeth.

“You'd better.” And with that she turned and marched right back to the battlefield, towards the emperor.

~

Several of the emperor's heads turned to follow Rúth, its eyes – hundreds of them, green and two-dimensional, surrounded by mist – flickering, as if it was blinking. It didn't roar or moan or attack. It simply watched.

Rúth wasn't totally sure what they were supposed to do here. All they knew was that they had to do something. Because the thing inside the emperor was as familiar to Rúth as their own face. It was their shade parasite, somehow. Rezann had captured it and put it into an imperial and used it as a weapon against the Court.

The explosions generated by John's rune casting had driven it wild for a few heart-stopping minutes, but once again it had calmed down. It watched Rúth, spellbound.

Unable to keep up their hovering, Rúth touched down on the very tip of the largest head, the bare skull surrounded by mist and eyes. The emperor did not move, observing Rúth with a calm curiosity.

Rúth hesitated for a moment, then copied the emperor. Flat green eyes winked into life in the air around their head. They saw the emperor from several different angles at once.

And they saw themself. If they closed their actual eyes, they saw a long, bony snout directly in front of them, with a bright orange spiral perched on the tip.

They blinked back into their own body, disoriented for a brief moment.

“Will you stop now?” they said. “Yes? You've made enough of a mess already.”

The emperor mantled its wings and grew still.

“Go away,” Rúth said, as firmly as they dared, their body shaking all over. “Leave this place. We don't want you here.”

And the emperor left.

~

Luckily, Delta had managed to remove Rezann's spear from the equation. Unluckily, he had done so by getting it lodged through his shoulder.

As expressionless as ever, Rezann closed in. Delta had no strength to dodge any more, and he wasn't supposed to actually attack until Eladrin showed up, but there was no sign of the skydancer.

Delta hurt all over, and the blood loss was starting to make his head spin. Black spots danced on the edge of his vision. He'd sagged back against the low wall. Rezann drew back his fist. And there, right behind the Commander, several paces away, was Eladrin. Delta didn't have time to verify his identity or condition – if he was there, that meant Delta could fight.

Not that Delta was in any kind of shape to fight back. With his last vestiges of strength he caught Rezann's fist with one hand, but the Commander was far stronger than he looked. Delta's wrist cracked. It still didn't hurt as much as the spear through his shoulder.

He swung blindly with his glaive and Rezann dodged as if fending off a toddler's blow. Delta's knees hit the cobblestones. He couldn't do it, but that was all right. He hadn't expected much success, anyway, but he'd bought Neven and Luke enough time to escape.

The Commander turned away, his dispassionate gaze elsewhere. That wouldn't do. Delta had to distract him as much as possible. So, every muscle screaming in pain, Delta somehow managed to stand again. He caught Rezann's side with the blade of his glaive, slicing a shallow cut across his front.

Rezann barely reacted. He grabbed the shaft of the glaive, tore it out of Delta's lax grip, and used it to knock him down to the ground again. Out of the corner of his eye Delta saw the blade of the glaive spin through the air, ready to impale him where the spear had missed. He closed his eyes, thought about Neven, and waited.

A searing heat grazed the side of his face. The Commander sure was taking his time with that glaive. With a slight frown, Delta opened his eyes and looked up.

Someone stood between him and the Commander, their back to Delta. Someone kind of short, wearing all black, a smoky void where their neck should have been.

The person's head turned all the way around. Delta almost collapsed again.

“Hi, Delta!” the creature said. “Hello! It's me, Reginald! We met before once.”

The point of the glaive passed right through Reginald's back and promptly burst into flames. With a start he glanced down and turned back to face the Commander.

“Fain told me you were dead,” Rezann said, taking a short step back. He raised his fists again.

“She was wrong,” Reginald said. The glaive dropped through his body as if he was completely insubstantial, breaking into burning fragments on the cobblestones.

“But – how?” Rezann said, the first shard of emotion shining through his tone. “You have no fuel source any more, you should be dead.”

“Well,” Reginald said, extending a hand. Poisonous-smelling black smoke threaded through his fingers, “it sounds like you need to expand your definition of living.”

And he tore the skein of smoke straight through Rezann's chest. Flames guttered out from the hideous wound, embers and sparks drifting to the ground.

Rezenn fell to one knee. Delta couldn't help but try to spot Eladrin, hardly daring to hope that the plan would somehow work, despite everything. And yes, there was Eladrin, standing to the right now, behind the Commander, his head bowed and his limbs twitching.

As Rezann struggled to draw a breath, Eladrin collapsed.

“Is he okay?” Reginald said, glancing back at Delta questioningly. “That looks... bad.”

Eladrin was frothing at the mouth now, his hands twisted and his limbs shuddering. A dark stain seemed to unfold in the air around him, lines of strange symbols flickering into life around his head.

And then Eladrin stood up, his movements horribly jerky and unnatural. Even the Commander seemed taken aback.

“I can't believe... you fell for it,” Eladrin said. His voice was low and strained, and there was another voice sounding above his, dissonant and unpleasant to listen to. “You stupid shade animal. You really are... as idiotic as you look...”

Both Rezann and Reginald seemed to recognise the second voice, but Delta had no clue. He sat back against the wall and took the opportunity to rest up while everyone else reacted to this new turn of events.

“I'm not an animal,” Reginald said sharply.

“But you still came, didn't you? Like a dog to its master.” Eladrin's features were all but erased by the black lines extending from the air around him. “You creatures are so easy to play. And now I'm really here, finally.”

Rezann stood up. The wound on his chest was already closing over. Delta would have sobbed if he'd had the strength.

“Talk straight, creature,” Rezann said. “Earlier this morning you offered to help me.”

“Me too,” Reginald said quietly. “You told me to come here to stop the Commander.”

Eladrin – or, rather, the creature possessing Eladrin – gave a laugh that sounded like a sealed tin of angry wasps.

“Because I needed you both together, in one place,” it said. “Two creatures as magically powerful as yourselves in one place? And an emperor? You were practically begging me to come through. But I won't monologue. The two of you are of no more use to me.”

Hard-edged black shadows struck out from Eladrin, impaling the Commander and Reginald at the same time. Rezann died instantly and fell to the ground, but Reginald lingered, flickering in and out of focus around the black spear, as if struggling to escape it. But he couldn't. He stared down at the shadow with a look of faint confusion, then began to dissolve.

Within a couple of seconds, Reginald's shape had broken down into a cloud of smoke. But it continued to break down, the smoke folding in on itself and thinning out until it was nothing at all, until the ember at its very heart finally winked out.

Eladrin turned and walked away.

Delta passed out. He didn't wake until several minutes later, when Luke had already pretty much covered him with spell tags. But when Luke asked him what he had seen, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he had seen.

He just wanted to go home.