#the sad tiny bells is stuck in my head

[jellysaidshit]

Все что ты хочешь, тебе приносят

На блюдечке с голубой каёмочкой

Но, так вечно, поверь, не будет

Все переменчиво, слышь пёс.

@missminho I had to tag you yk din din din didin din din

[eternalguk]

All Yours || jjk. (M)

Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep.

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Your love for Jungkook was a quiet emotion. He was the oxygen you needed to breathe. In his kisses, you found sincerity. In his embrace, you discovered your heartbeat. And in his love, you found your eternal home.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, slice of life au, comfort au, boyfriend!jk & teacher!reader, pwp (teeny tiny angst, fluff & smut)

↠ Word count : 6.3k

↠ Warnings : allusions to sadness / anxiety, oc hating her job, oc is an overthinker, brief mention of taehyung, unprotected sex, female oral, fingering, breast play, making out, reader squirts, pet names, softdom!jk, praise kink and they’re both just hopelessly in love with e/o.

↠ A/n : hi everyone, it’s nice to meet you 🤍 here is a soft Jungkook fic that I have written as a form of closure for something. I hope you enjoy this short musing and can also find comfort from this. Your feedback is always appreciated and I would love to get to know you! Happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : Chariot - Jacob Lee.

Work.

The word itself sent a chill down your spine and made your throat feel stuck. What field of work does your job fall into, you wondered as you stepped outside the building.

Am I a babysitter? A therapist? A cleaner? An administrator? A parent? Everyday, as you walk towards your car, the same thoughts fill your brain as you keep your eyes from closing.

A teacher.

All those jobs fell into one category and that was being a teacher.

You loved your job, you really did. But it was finally beginning to catch up to you and burn you out. 

As you put your students’ exercise books into your car, your phone rings. A sigh escapes your lips as you curse whoever is calling you at the moment your brain is shutting down.

A small smile forms on your face as you read the caller id. 

Jungkook.

You answer immediately, your tense body visibly relaxing.

“Jagi? Hello?”

You listen to his voice, eyes beginning to tear up as you realise how much you’ve missed him.

“Guk!” you say brightly, hoping to mask the tiredness laced all round you.

“You’ve not replied all day, I’ve been waiting!” He begins. You already know what’s coming next.

“I told you to message me at break, lunch and to leave as soon as the bell rings for the end of the day. You’ve stayed behind again!”

“Mhmm”

“Do I need to come collect you myself? Keep the car at home, huh?” He scolds, but you know his intentions simply mean well for you. What did you do to deserve a loving boyfriend like him?

“I’m sitting into the car now to head home; I’ll be back in no time. I was on detention duty.” You reply, skin crawling at the remembrance of you waiting for the students to leave.

“Be quick babe, I’ll get your food ready.”

“Okay, my love.” You smile again, counting down the minutes until you see your boyfriend.

“Love you,” he whispers. You imagine the grin playing on his lips.

“Love you more,” you respond, switching your car on as he cuts the call.

Comfort. Delight. Jungkook.

As you step through the threshold of your home, a sense of warmth and comfort immediately envelops you. The cosy ambiance welcomes you like an old friend, with soft lighting casting gentle glows across the hallway. The scent of freshly made cookies mingles with the familiar aroma of your favourite scented candles, creating an atmosphere of tranquillity.

He truly knows how to bring a smile to your face.

Every corner is adorned with personal touches, from cherished photographs of you and Jungkook, to carefully selected décor that reflects your unique styles. As you move through the space, you can't help but feel grateful for the haven you have created with Jungkook, where you both have cultivated a sanctuary that feels like an extension of yourselves.

Here, amidst the walls that hold your shared memories and the echoes of your laughter, you have crafted the perfect safe space where you can be yourselves, finding solace and serenity in one another's presence.

Smiling, you head into your main living space, waiting to see the only person who puts your busy mind at ease.

Jungkook stands with his back to you. Bam, your playful dog, next to him.

You admire Jungkook staring out the window, lost in the rhythmic percussion of the rain that briskly falls outside. His eyes are steady to each drop, face aglow with the orange rays that spill from the lamp before him. His lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that he is enjoying his thoughts, whatever they may be. You move closer to him, hoping he’d feel your presence, yet you stay quiet, allowing him to stay lost in the moment a little while longer.

“You got home fast?” A quiet whisper breaks the silence as a hand reaches out to you, beckoning you to come closer. Nuzzling into your boyfriend, you reply a quick, “mhm,” before reaching up to peck his cheek and resting your own against his bare shoulder.

“And you’re half-naked?” You tease, brushing your nose against his soft skin. Jungkook had evidently just showered, his typical body lotion filling your nose. You’d always tell him how you dislike his lotion, and so he’d use exactly that one.

“That’s what love is,” he’d always say.

“Long day?”

“Long week,” you sigh, removing your shoes at the same time and dropping your bag. You mentally thank the fact that you missed the rain by a millisecond. Having soaked clothes and books would’ve definitely made your day worse.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jungkook prompts, his husky voice already washing you with calmness. You shake your head, “no,” simply wanting to relish in the comforting ambience that occupied your home.

Minutes pass as you both watch the March rain. The day really had slipped away into a moment of time, as if it had never really been yours in the first place.

“And here is your lasagna, my love. Made by yours truly.” Jungkook smiles, placing a bowl of warmth before you.

As Jungkook places the steaming bowl of lasagna in front of you, its aroma fills the air. He settles across from you, a grin playing on his lips, but you notice there’s no bowl for himself.

"Where's yours?" you inquire, already sensing the answer.

With a nonchalant shrug, Jungkook replies, "Already had mine." 

You roll your eyes, a playful scowl crossing your face. "That's one thing I hate about you," you jest, though there's a hint of annoyance in your tone.

He chuckles, undeterred. "It's not like I can't eat again." With that, he rises to retrieve a modest portion of lasagna for himself.

As you both dig into the savoury dish made by your boyfriend, conversation flows effortlessly. "Shall I ask about work?" Jungkook inquires, breaking the comfortable silence.

You sigh, swirling your fork in the layers of cheese and pasta. "I'm really considering handing in my notice," you confess, contemplating a change to a quieter job.

Jungkook nods understandingly, his eyes reflecting empathy. "You could do with a break," he agrees, his voice gentle. "You know, my dad really liked those jewellery designs you sketched. Come work with us. Plus, I’ll get to see more of you," he adds with a playful smirk.

You laugh, shaking your head. "You just want to fulfil your dreams of office sex," you tease, with a fondness in your tone.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, don't call me out so soon," he retorts with a smirk, winking at you.

Shifting the conversation, you inquire about his own work, wondering if he felt more settled today with his dad.

“Yeah, I'm enjoying the creative freedom,” Jungkook replies, a sense of satisfaction evident in his voice. You knew he had troubles voicing his ideas, but with encouragement from you, he finally felt confident enough to show his father.

Curious about his recent photography bookings, you ask about any upcoming weddings.

Jungkook's face lights up with a grin. "Yes, Sunmi recommended me to a friend," he reveals proudly.

The joy you felt knowing Jungkook was still able to balance his passion with work was something inexplicable.

"We need to invite her and Namjoon over for lunch," you suggest, already picturing the lively gathering.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Jungkook nods as you both continue to savour the lasagna and each other's company, content in the warmth of shared moments and future plans.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Jungkook clears his throat, drawing your attention. "Guess who reached out to me earlier today," he announces, a hint of excitement, but shock in his voice.

Curiosity piqued, you inquire, "Who?"

Jungkook's eyes light up as he responds, "Taehyung hyung." 

You offer a polite smile. "Ah, that's nice," you remark, though a subtle tension settles over you.

"He's back in town next weekend with, you know who," Jungkook continues, sensing your unease but pressing on gently.

Your grip tightens slightly on your utensils, but you nod, silently signalling for him to continue.

"He wanted to see us," Jungkook reveals. "I said I'll check with you."

Before you can even apologise for your hesitation, Jungkook reaches over, gently clasping your hand. "Never apologise," he insists, his voice firm yet comforting. "We'll do whatever makes you feel comfortable."

You exhale softly, grateful for his understanding. "I really don't mind him," you confess, your words tinged with resignation. "It's been years, and I've moved on. But being in his presence brings everything back, and I don't feel happy with that."

Jungkook nods in understanding, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it," he reassures, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Feeling a wave of gratitude, you offer a small smile before suggesting, "I'll wash the dishes."

Jungkook nods, his expression softening. "I'll go edit some photos," he offers, rising from his seat.

With a silent understanding, you both retreat to your respective tasks, the air filled with unspoken reassurances and a shared commitment to each other's comfort.

Jungkook hoists you onto the counter effortlessly, gently slotting himself between your parted legs. With a quick peck to your lips, he reaches behind you to grab your cleanser, pumping it twice into his hands.

“I’ll put on some soft music, light a candle,” he begins, lathering the cleanser between his fingertips before doing his best to apply it to your face, “and then I’ll cuddle you until you fall asleep.” 

You simply nod, the sight of Jungkook concentrating on not getting the cleaner in your hair distracting you. 

“Why do you do this for me?” You whisper, genuine curiosity taking over you as you come to terms with just how delicately Jungkook has tended to you not just today, but everyday. Everyday for the past 6 years. The feeling felt foreign but comforting all at the same time.

You weren’t used to someone taking care of you, and as Jungkook dampens a face towel to smoothly remove the product from your face, you realise once again how lucky you are to have him.

“Because you deserve this, angel.” He pauses, grabbing a cotton pad and your almost finished toner. “You deserve to know that you’re also a priority.”

You melt at his words, leaning forward to gingerly press a kiss against his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

You aid Jungkook in finishing your skincare routine which he confidently completes. An intimate silence envelops you and Jungkook thankfully doesn’t pierce it. You didn’t quite feel like speaking right now, your mind being loud enough. 

What would it be like to see Taehyung? Should you say yes? Should you say no? It’s not fair on Jungkook. It’s not fair on you.

“Stop thinking about seeing hyung, Jagi.” Jungkook scolds, offering you a cheeky smile at the same time.

“I hope you know that there’s no fee-”

“I know; I trust you.”

“But-”

“And you trust me.” 

He swiftly lifts you from the counter, and you cling to him like a koala as he carries you to your bedroom. Upon entering, a gentle breeze hits your bare legs which makes you cling to Jungkook stronger, eliciting a small chuckle from the man.

Softly, he lies you on the mattress before joining you underneath the crisp duvet.

“Sing to me,” you whisper as Jungkook pulls you onto his bare chest. You nuzzle into him, basking in the warmth he holds.

“I was thinking something else,” he whispers and he moves you closer.

“And what would that be, Mr. Jeon?” You feign innocence, knowing exactly what is brewing in Jungkook’s mind.

“I’ll just show you, soon-to-be Mrs. Jeon.” He smirks, leaning forward to peck a kiss on your lips.

As the moonlight streamed through the lace curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow, you couldn't contain the flutter of excitement in your heart. The thought of marrying Jungkook filled you with a warmth that spread from the tips of your toes to the depths of your soul.

You imagined the way his eyes would sparkle with joy as you exchanged vows, and the gentle touch of his hand reassuring yours. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that your love was the greatest adventure of all.

“Hey, dreamer. Wakey wakey.” Jungkook laughs, shaking you out of your daydreams.

Dreamer.

A few years ago you wouldn’t have ever imagined having another nickname, but here you were, loving this one the most. Where does time go?

“Jungkook, my love?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Show me, please.”

With that,  Jungkook cups your cheek and moves forward to rub your noses together as his long, slender thumb caresses your blushed cheek.

In the room that is now twilight and shadow, Jungkook lies close enough for you to breathe in his alluring scent. His arms wrap around your back, and in one gentle pull, he is hovering above you, and your skin touches his. You feel his hand in your hair, how he loves the softness, watching it tumble as he releases it. His hand then moves down from your cheekbones to your lips.

“Kiss me, Y/N.” Jungkook requests with his husky voice and you don’t need to be told twice, reaching upwards to sync your lips together. The two of you move like partners in a dance that is written in your DNA. Your bodies fit together as if you were made just for this, to fall into one another, to feel this natural rhythm. 

Jungkook’s hands are all over you with a vehement urgency, removing the black vest top you had worn to bed. You pull back to admire him, moving his hair out of the way so you can see his beautiful eyes. With a laugh, he brings his face closer to yours, rubbing your noses together, letting your giggles echo inside his safety cocoon. You lock eyes for just a moment, just enough for you to feel safe with one another.

“My prettiest angel.” he whispers in your ear.

And then the heated kissing starts again.

Jungkook showers you with kisses, each one different from the last. He pulls you closer to him by your waist as he lets his hands roam your body freely. Jungkook bends down, brushing his lips gingerly over your cheek.

Despite it being a light touch, he still manages to send euphoric sensations through your nerves, making you shiver. The control this man has over you through the subtlest forms of love, is something you still cannot encapsulate.

“If you want us to stop, tell me now.”

You remain silent as he brushes his lips against your temple.

“Or now.” he mutters as he traces the line of your cheekbone with his index finger.

“Or-”

You reach up to interrupt him, pulling him down to collide your lips together, the rest of his words lost against your mouth. Jungkook kisses you gently, carefully as if you were made of porcelain and would break easily. And that’s exactly what you love about Jungkook.. how tender he is with you. How he always makes sure you’re comfortable enough to proceed.

You knot your fist in his hair, pulling Jungkook against you harder. After waiting for so long, a gentle kiss was not going to satisfy your needs. He groans softly, low in his throat, and his arms circle you, gathering you closer against him all whilst beginning to remove the remaining articles of unnecessary clothing that adorn the two of you.

Jungkook’s tongue licks a long stripe down your neck as his fingertips are whisked away in your hair. He holds the back of your head gently in place as he decorates your skin with deep purple stains of ardent worship, as though you’re his canvas. You hug him close to your throat and your naked breasts rest against his bare chest as you grind yourself up against him. Jungkook cups your face, bringing you to face the deep pink hues of his swollen lips as he presses a searing kiss that has you groaning into his mouth. Jungkook indulgently hums into the kiss, the sheets becoming messier as he leans forward, moving himself against you.

You mouth at him sensually as he tightens his grip on your torso, being sure to dote on each part of your skin he roams. He traces his finger down your chest, his lips following shortly after as he cherishes each inch of your skin. He stops at your breasts, breathing deeply on the already hardened nipples. You tug at his soft tresses as he groans against your nipples, before he begins kissing from the valley of your breasts.

“God, I love your tits.” He sighs out as he shifts towards your nipple, taking the hardened peak into his hot mouth. You arch against him, moaning pleasurably as you massage his scalp. It had been so long since you and Jungkook had time to be this close… this intimate.

Hearing you moan so audibly has Jungkook smirking against your soft skin, your reaction spurring him on. The way he was prodding at your nipple with his sinful tongue had you so utterly lost in his ministrations. He was sure to fondle your neglected breast, bringing his hand up to knead it. The pressure of his skillful tongue and the softness of his palm had you sighing out in bliss. Your moans filled the dimly lit room as you writhed underneath the man providing you with utmost pleasure, realising that this is just the beginning of his ministrations.

You pull Jungkook back against your lips, crashing them together once again. His slightly rough stubble rubbed against your skin in the most delicious way, far from uncomfortable. Jungkook cinched you further into him as he felt the silken strands of your hair. Stopping the soft assault against your mouth, he pulled back.

“I love you Jagi. I really do.”

You stared back at him, swollen lips, messy hair and watery eyes. Jungkook looked down at you through heavy lidded eyes, eagerly needing a response.

“I love you more, baby.” You whisper as you reach up to press a kiss between his brows. Your pussy clenches as your eyes are drawn down to his thick erection. The heat in your gut is only gushing more. You hear Jungkook click his tongue as he palms at himself in order to distract you from it.

You reach forward to grab, but Jungkook stops you before you can even do so. A simple shake of his head gives you the answer you were certainly not looking for. He can’t help but feel proud knowing that despite you both being together for so long, despite you both being in this position frequently, you still always managed to become amazed by the size of his length and what he could do with it.

But today? Today the air around you both is filled with a sense of shyness. It most definitely isn’t the first time for you both, but you’re so nervous you’d never know it. There’s something about Jungkook that lights you up from the inside. And something about you which melts all of Jungkook’s confidence to nothing at all. Touching him is like being handed the holy grail. Almost as if your heart is mended each time you are together even though you never knew it was broken.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s again and your heartbeat increases. He stares at you with deep respect and adoration, it almost hurts. No one had ever paid this much attention to you before Jungkook. No one had loved you like this. No one had celebrated you in this manner. Jungkook changed that. He stayed with you in your quietness and kissed the scars you hid from others. He is your greatest and rarest treasure. A blessing that brought you inner peace.

Jungkook’s hand that lies on your waist gradually makes its way down to your hip, stopping at the very border of it. 

“If I may?” He reaches forward and whispers before nibbling on your ear.

You nod and that was all the consent Jungkook needed. He has you far too riled up for you to even consider stopping his ministrations. 

“I’m going to show you how much I love you.” He pauses. “Going to show my angel how happy she makes me.” He breathed out.

“Guk-”

His actions interrupt you as he leans forward to suck on the sweet spot right behind your ear. You inhale sharply and he uses this opportunity to trail his hand down further. Jungkook himself may have been shy, but his doings were far from it. You felt yourself heat up as his fingers reached your nether lips, caressing the soft and soaked area.

“Always so wet for me, aren’t you, Y/N?”

The use of your name had you clenching your pussy, which wasn’t missed by Jungkook. He smirks against the temple of your head, mentally giving himself a pat on the back. 

“Is my baby feeling shy?” He playfully teases as he faintly  brushes over your clit, refusing any direct contact with the place you need him the most. Jungkook’s other hand grabbed the back of your thigh, bringing it to rest at his waist, granting him the further access he needs. He presses himself closer to you, gently rubbing over your clit. His touch ignites something deep in your senses, you grind into his hand wanting more.

“I don’t want to play too much today.” He simply voices as he pulls his hand away. You whine underneath him, dissatisfied at the loss of his hands. Jungkook’s quick to make that disappear as he lifts your thighs over his shoulders, letting them rest there delicately. You slightly relax, knowing what’s coming next. 

Jungkook slides to rest on his lean stomach as he begins to kiss from your ankle upwards, his hand always just a little higher than the gentle kisses he presses everywhere. You feel your back arch in anticipation knowing where his sinful mouth will reach soon. Your head rocks back as he inches towards your core, ready to moan his name as he devours you wholly.

Jungkook breathes against your soaked folds making you quiver with arousal. He massages the inside of your thighs, attempting to calm your nerves. “Always so pretty for me.” He praises before reaching forward to press a kiss against your clit, making you shudder with  sensitivity. 

“You’ve missed this, haven’t you my love? Missed having my tongue all over your messy cunt? He asks as you run your fingers through his dark locks, tightening the grip on his scalp. You arch your hips into his eager mouth, striving to gain some form of contact. 

“Please.. Jungkook, please.” You breathlessly moan out, patience being a virtue you can no longer abide by. Jungkook gives in to your pleading, knowing that he too, needs to have a taste. Needs to subdue the longing of being deep within you.

Jungkook uses the tip of his tongue to lightly trace your nether lips. You squirm underneath him, moaning his name needily as you try to chase more of his tongue. Jungkook feels turned on seeing you lost in the clouds of ecstasy despite him doing so little. 

“Guk… please, I need more.” You impatiently whine, trying to provoke further action. And so he does. He finally accepts that he’s perhaps tortured you a little too long now. “If it’s too much, princess, be sure to tell me.” is all he musters as he licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He allows himself to latch onto your quivering cunt, sucking on your labia and making out with it to his heart’s content. 

He buries himself further as he skims with his lips, gathering all your wetness on his tongue as you mewl at the orgasmic sensations he provides. He grants you no mercy as he uses his masterful tongue to eat you up. Jungkook had missed this deeply. Missed seeing you lost in the throes of pleasure with not a single care in the world.

You buck your hips closer to his face, begging for more through your actions. Jungkook flattens his tongue against your cunt, sucking greedily on the pulsing bud, groaning at the sweet flavour he had so dearly missed. 

“Oh god, Jungkook please. I- I need more!” You give up trying to be quiet, chasing your high being your main priority at the moment.

“Baby wants more?” Jungkook smirks against you before he repeatedly licks up your slit, lapping at you shamelessly. Jungkook takes you by surprise as he sinks two of his long fingers into your leaking pussy. He curls them at the right spot and you whimper out loudly, gripping his hair tighter, not even considering the pain it could cause him.

��Jungkook.. Kook.. You can’t just..” You attempt to mutter out, but the excitement of reaching your high overtakes you and you moan his name instead. He pushes them in and out of you fast and hard whilst teasingly slurping at your juices. You know Jungkook is keen to make you come, and he knows he’s reaching his goal by the way your brows furrow and how you haven’t stopped biting your lips.

“Almost there.. aren’t you, angel?”

“Mmm, Guk, please. Please!” You have no clue what you’re begging for, crying out lustily. 

“My baby is so gorgeous. So beautiful for me. My good girl.” Jungkook coos at you, the praises making you need more. Jungkook closes his lips around your clit and sucks it hard as his fingers relentlessly fuck into you. You arch and attempt to push his fingers out. Jungkook understands what you need without words and withdraws them from deep within, instead harshly rubbing at your clit in regular motions, watching you squirt on his tongue and gush all over the sheets.

You mewl distinctly as Jungkook groans at the sight of the mess in front of him. You’re panting hard as he encourages you to continue releasing all your cum. 

“All of this for me, jagi? Come on, show me how much more there is. Show me how good I make you feel.” 

You gasp and twitch from the oversensitivity of Jungkook’s ministrations as he rushes to hover above you, pressing gentle kisses to your face and wiping the tears which had formed.  Jungkook praises you and you don’t fail to blush at his devotion, feeling a sense of pride wash over yourself as he repeatedly refers to you as his good girl. 

“Thank you.” you mutter as you reach to latch your lips onto Jungkook’s, him shaking his head no as he brushes the drenched tendrils of hair from your face. A gentle smile adorns his face as he whispers back an “Always” making you feel flustered all over again. You notice Jungkook looking a little too calm and peer down once again at his painfully hard cock. 

“Let me jus-”

Once again, Jungkook interrupts you as he grabs your hand, stopping it from reaching its desired destination.

“Not today, jagi. I don’t need your hand today.”

“Hmm?” You mutter, confusion written over your face. 

“I just…”

“You just?”

“I just want to make love to my princess.” Jungkook whispers against your lips as he presses his hard length against your soaked core, casting it against your slickness making you whine again. 

Jungkook kisses you so gently, so tenderly, you feel the grand amount of love he has for you through the simple movements of his lips against yours. The two of you continue to make out languidly, the moonlight spilling from your sheer curtains illuminating your surroundings, making it all the more intimate. All the more magical.

He leans forward pressing careful kisses to your bare shoulder up to your ear. 

“I want to make love to you, Y/N. I want to show you how loved you are.”

You bring your dainty hands to rest against his bare chest as he moves to rub your noses together. 

“I want to feel you, Jungkook. I need you.”

And that small whisper is all Jungkook needs as he wraps your legs around his waist and lines himself up against your entrance. Jungkook glances down at where your bodies are soon to connect and smiles as he prods your wet and desperate flesh with his tip. 

“Is this okay, jagi?” He delicately inquires, the warmth in his eyes making it evident that he only wants to provide you with utter comfort and nothing else. “Mhm.” You answer as you move your hands towards the nape of his neck, interlacing them.

Jungkook steadies his hand on your pillow as he pushes himself into your wetness, groaning pleasurably. You arch into him, familiarising yourself with his thickness, the feeling still somehow being foreign. The two of you curse as Jungkook nestles his cock into you, your tightness spurring him on further.

“I’ve missed this.” Jungkook moans out loudly as he softly moves forward to settle into you. “I’ve missed the way your walls clench around me.” You whimper at his words and the delicious stretch, your chest rising as you anticipate his next measure. Jungkook gently pulls out of you, only to penetrate you deeper as he hits your cervix. 

“I want to love you. Softly. Slowly. Take my time and worship you the way you deserve..” He groans as he glides himself out of you once again, your pooling wetness allowing him to drag himself at ease despite the tightness. You are already filled to the brim, the feeling of home apparent to you both.

“I want to kiss every inch of your perfect body. Love you the way you love me, my love.” 

You moan at his confession, tears threatening to spill as the thickness of Jungkook’s cock stretches you out flawlessly. You clench around him tighter which makes Jungkook moan, reaching forward to kiss you harder. 

You whine into his mouth, urging him to move.

And so he does.

Jungkook sets a steady and sensuous pace, pressing his hips into you keenly as he moves in and out of you in a languid manner. He presses sweet kisses to your lips and cheeks, breathing deeply as he softly fucks your dripping pussy. Jungkook looks at you with all the tenderness he could gather, moving his hand to slide at the base of your spine, pulling you further onto his cock. Jungkook presses your foreheads together as he continues his tender thrusts. 

“I love you so much, so much it hurts.”

Jungkook’s precious words shelter you. Protect you. Make you feel whole. They tend to your hidden wounds, caressing over them in the most soft manner. Your heart flutters at his confession, making you wrap your legs around him tighter as you rut against him trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts. The slightly harsh rocking of Jungkook’s hips provided your clit with the relief it needed. Your cum was already pooling beneath you as he kissed the tears of his passion away from your eyes. Jungkook takes your hand, resting it against your head, entwining your nimble fingers with his own. The slight breeze from the air outside and the warmness your room was providing was the perfect mix, making you feel all the more loved. All the more safe with him. 

Your mouths were leaving sloppy kisses wherever they could reach, your sweaty bodies entangled together and your breasts suffused with red from Jungkook’s earlier doings. The both of you felt divine, the wetness all around you being your greatest evidence. The two of you were so lost in one another, so infatuated by each other’s presence, you don’t even realise the mess you had created. You squeezed Jungkook’s hand as he picked up the speed of his thrusts, ensuring to provide you with the ease you needed. 

“I love this.. God, I fucking love the way you make me feel. The way you love me.” You spill, making Jungkook penetrate you deeper. Words were hard to muster and so you refrain from speaking further, simply letting your begging moans inform him how good he makes you feel. How heavenly he makes you feel with every precise thrust.

You don’t need to communicate, Jungkook’s hard and animalistic groans echoing inside your little bedroom are enough on both of your behalfs. He pulls out lightly, before grinding deeper as he presses his taut body against your smaller self, provoking you towards another orgasm. You claw at his back, wanting him closer and so he tightens his hold against you, kissing at your neck as he whispers sweet nothings and innocent promises into your sensitive ears. His rhythmic hips not halting their pace, sensually drawing you towards your end. 

“You’re doing so well for me baby, such a good girl.” And you know he means each and every encouragement that leaves his lips, a reflection of the pure love he feels for you. You thread your fingers through his hair as he sinks himself into you again, hitting against your g-spot, making your legs quiver and him grunting at the feeling of your wetness pooling on his cock. 

Your moans become louder and Jungkook recognises that you need more friction, bringing his hand down to rub against your clit. The sweet pressure as he perfectly thrusts into you has you curling your toes, the feeling of him stretching you wide and making you more wet was exactly all you needed right now. “Almost done, I promise. My baby is so perfect. isn’t she?” He hummed against the temple of your head. 

“Jungkook.” You moan in utter euphoria as he picks up his pace, slamming into you with  completely new force, ensuring he syncs with the thumbing against your clit. Jungkook begins to move harsher, ramming into you hard, hitting each pleasurable spot whilst holding your body down with his strong yet soft hands. 

His actions contrast with the softness of his kisses and the integrity of the loving praises he showers you with. His eyes never once leave you, watching you bite your lips, watching your eyes become more watery, watching the sweat begin to form at your baby hairs.

Jungkook swears he has never seen a sight so gorgeous, so breathtaking. You reach to cup his cheek, telling him repeatedly how much you love him and he gently nods at you, a shy smile breaking out on his face while his pace inside you never changes. 

Your hands find Jungkook’s toned back once again, scratching down it as you feel your insides constrict, the coil threatening to break as Jungkook’s pelvis and skin hits against yours repeatedly. You melt into his body as you seek the comfort Jungkook provides you with his sweet, blissful love. You both moan in sync and mirror each other's expressions as you internally thank the heavens above for the love that has been graced upon you. 

A series of ‘I love yous’ and ‘You’re all mine’ are heard from the two of you as Jungkook paints your insides white. You feel his cock pulsing as he fills you to the very brim, eliciting a distinct whimper out of you. You leak your wetness all over yours and Jungkook’s legs as he rests his head against your shoulder, telling you that you’ve done well through kisses on your warm skin. Jungkook pushes into you harder as if he wants you both to be one just a little longer. As if he wants to melt into you completely. You run your fingers through his damp hair as he finally stills.

“You always feel so amazing.” Jungkook chuckles, evoking a giggle out of you. He slips his softening cock out you carefully, being sure not to hurt you. You wince slightly at the loss of close contact, wanting to experience this all again. Jungkook pecks your lips before moving to rest next to you, splaying his hand against your stomach and resting his chin on your shoulder.

He had moved from Busan to Seoul. Travelled from America to Europe. Europe to Asia. He had felt safe, secure and content wherever he went. Yet the feeling of home, the feeling of evermore was only ever found with you.

“You’re mine.” You softly whisper.

“I’m all yours.”

The room is now silent, the only noise being heard is the deep panting coming from the both of you and the rain that patters against your window. Cleaning your surroundings and yourselves is far from your mind, Jungkook’s presence and warmth being the only aftercare you need. You wrap your arm around him and nuzzle into his neck as he pulls you closer, straightening what he can of your tousled hair. The breeze from the outside world cools you both down, bringing in a sense of balance; the wisdom to move yet at a steady pace. 

You and Jungkook both have your eyes closed, calming down from your highs whilst resting in one another’s embrace. You feel yourself finally drifting away to dreamland in the presence of your safe place. The beginning of this new spring day was like a love song, one that morphed from a melancholy slowness to a happier and more uplifting tune.

The two of you are relaxed, as the early spring breeze brings for you a sense of hope. An awakening magic inhabits the room, a sensation of an old-spirit rekindling and seeking to knit together all that is good. 

Feeling at peace in the arms of your lover, you know you are safe. Jungkook presses you against himself firmly and before you slip away to a more tranquil mindset, you feel a sweet kiss being placed on your forehead and you know that you are in a flower meadow with Jungkook, surrounded by the colour of his love for you. The thousands of petals representing the thoughts he had. Feeling at ease, you settle well into him.  Every muscle’s tension, lost to the calm ripened air. 

You are home. 

You always are, when you’re with him.

And there we go. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback and comments are always appreciated <3

Until next time,

🤍

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-One

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: More angst, but of the wolfy-variety!

Notes: I know I said two chapters before Jasper, but I had to fit this one in which is why I’m posting out of my normal window. Trust the process when it comes to why I did what I did this chapter lol and if you don’t spot it, everything will be fine (famous last words). Honestly I think I’m just healing inner me with how I wish conversations should’ve happened in the movie lol

Word Count: 2401

Series Masterlist

• March 8th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

Time starts to pass by a little easier with Quil, the quiet isn’t as deafening even when there’s a comfortable silence. I think the same could be said for Quil, since all of his Rez friends have gone AWOL.

Our days are usually spent under blankets on my couch, watching movies and just being present for each other. Plus, there’s not much to do in this tiny ass town anyways.

“Heard anything?” I ask him tentatively, hopefully.

He shakes his head solemnly in response, eyes never leaving the tv. The fact that he doesn’t even want to talk about Jake or Embry twists a new little knife in my gut.

“I’m okay, Y/n/n.” The grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes and I hate it.

“It’s okay to miss them, I know it’s hard to be stuck with just me now-”

“Don’t.” He reaches over to grab my ankle since I’m facing him on the couch and drags it to his lap, “You’re here and they’re not. I was friends with them longer and they ditched me for other dudes. I’m where I want to be.”

“You don’t have to hold it all in, I’m familiar with that feeling.” I nudge his hand with my socked foot to get him to look at me. “What good am I if I don’t therapize you too?”

“That would insinuate I do anything for you, you won’t talk about him.” His gaze levels on me and I’m caught red handed.

“There’s not much to it, I-I loved him and he’s gone. End of story.” I pick at the loose strings on my blanket, the topic hard for me to meet his eyes.

“There’s everything to it.” He squeezes my foot, “Not end of story, you deserve to vent just as much as I do. You don’t need to feel guilty for grieving him, heartache is a real bitch.”

“Heartache is a bitch, huh?” I huff a laugh as I try to breathe through the tears that want to spring up.

“Y/n, I’m the loneliest guy on the planet. In the male friends department and the girlfriend department, don’t make fun of me.” His lighthearted tone trying and failing to make light of his situation.

“We’re just fucked, aren’t we?” His brown eyes meet mine as we commiserate in our collective sadness.

His head drops back against the back of the couch, “Beyond comprehension, my dear Y/n/n.”

• March 11th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

My finger hovers over a text to Quil, asking him to come over, when I get a call from my other best friend.

“Bells, hey-”

“I need backup.” Her request draws me up short. “I’m going to the Rez-I need to see Jacob.”

“Bella, he’s with Sam now-”

“I don’t care anymore, you in?” She presses.

“I was in the second you called, I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Good, because I’m almost there.” Hanging up the phone, I grab a jacket and my shoes.

So much for the first day of Spring Break, might as well start it off with a bang.

•March 11th, 2006 • Quileute Indian Reservation•

Reader

Bella slid to a stop in Jacob’s driveway and both of us hopped out, memories of bike-building settling like a weight in my stomach. It wasn’t even that long ago and I miss it, I miss Jacob.

Bella knocks on the glass pane of his front door and Billy Black answers, “Bella?”

“I need to see him.”

“He-,” glancing between us briefly, “he’s not in.” The lie blatantly obvious.

“I’m sorry,” Bella pushes past his wheelchair and inside the house, “I really need to see him.”

I remain awkwardly on the front porch, torn between not wanting to intrude or following my friend.

“Bella!” Billy’s warning is ineffective as she storms to Jacob’s room.

Just when the situation couldn’t possibly get worse, I spot four shirtless figures emerging from the forest by the house, Sam’s group.

I hear the back door open and shut and I just know it’s Bella.

I sprint around the house to catch up to her, “Bella!” But my warning falls on deaf ears, she’s on a warpath for the boys. “Shit.” I mutter under my breath.

Stomping up to the tallest - Sam, “What did you do?” She pushes his chest, hard. “What did you do, huh? What did you do to him?!”

“Hey - watch it!” The other two guys plus Embry shout as they step up around their leader.

“Easy.” The word is more of a growl than anything and it causes the hair on the back of my neck to rise.

If this comes to a fight, we’re fucked.

“He didn’t want this!” Her desperation pulls at my heart.

“What did we do? What did he do? What did he tell you?” The questions from the guy to Sam’s right are rapid-fire, his anger clearly volatile.

“He tells me nothing, because he’s scared of you!”

The same guy barks out a laugh, clearly he finds her concern for Jacob silly.

“Bella, let’s go home-” but my plead immediately goes unheard because she throws a fucking right hook for the guys face, son of a bitch.

“Too late now.” Another guy jokes, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Bella, get back!” Sam orders, trying to diffuse the situation as this guy begins to shake.

I grab her arm and we slowly start to retreat for her truck, too scared to turn and take our eyes off of the angry male.

“Bella…” I whisper, unsure of what to do.

“Paul! Calm down now.” The authority in Sam’s voice rings through the backyard, but it’s too late somehow.

The shaking and heavy breathing from Paul leads to a transformation that snatches my breath from my body - a wolf. And not just any wolf, a wolf from the fucking meadow. A wolf that saved us from Laraunt, now standing before us where Paul was.

Where Paul was.

Paul is a wolf. A really big one at that - a really big angry one.

Anger directed at Bella and by association, me. The death grip I have on her fucking arm has to be painful, but the menacing look in his eyes shocks me to my bones.

Bella moves before I do, using my tight grip on her to yank me into action with her as she makes for Jacob’s house.

“Bella! Y/n!” Jake yells, clearing the back porch railing in one leap, sprinting for us.

“Run! Jake, run!” Bella screams back at him, but he charges towards us anyways.

He jumps last minute before he reaches us and I trip trying to follow his path with my eyes before-

Before he turns into a fucking wolf too.

Jacob Black, our best friend, is a wolf? I mean, vampires are definitely a thing, but wolves?

Squaring off with Paul, both the russet-colored wolf and the silver-grey wolf launch for each other. Snapping and snarling as they roll into the woods, my heart painfully thumps in my chest, Jacob.

“Hey, take the girls back to Emily’s place.” Sam orders Embry and the last remaining male, both of them jogging over to us.

“I guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” They joke, ushering us up and towards Bella’s truck.

They’re wolves, Sam’s gaggle of Rez boys are fucking wolves. Jacob is one of them and so is Embry, what about Quil? Is this why they’ve ditched him, ditched us? Wolves can’t be friends with humans? What do I even tell him, or should I tell him anything?

My mind is racing a million miles an hour in the span of seconds with questions I desperately need answers to.

Embry holds open the passenger side door to Bella’s truck with a smile and I walk right past his invitation to climb in the bed with the newly acquainted Jared.

“Y/n, that’s not safe-”

“I’ll be fine.” I don’t even spare a glance at him with my monotone answer, I’m mad at him for how he’s treating Quil.

Jared raises his eyebrows and quirks a grin. “Feisty, I like it.”

Embry huffs as he shuts the door behind Bella and rounds the truck for the driver’s side, “Don’t encourage her, man.”

• March 11th, 2006 • Uley Residence •

Reader

“Hey I think we should go back and see if Jacob’s okay.” Bella rolls down her window as the rest of us hop out of her truck.

“I hope Paul sinks some teeth in him, serves him right.” Jared quips to Embry.

“No way! Jacob’s a natural, you see him phase on the fly? I got five that says Paul doesn’t even touch him.” Embry argues, “C’mon in Bella! We won’t bite.”

“Speak for yourself.” Jared jokes and I shove him as we turn to walk inside.

“Oh hey, about Emily - Sam’s fiancé? Don’t stare, it bugs Sam.” Embry warns both of us before following Jared.

“Why would we stare?” Bella asks and I shrug, just as confused.

“You guys hungry? Like I have to ask.” The female in the kitchen asks the boys, laughing at what must be an inside joke. “Who’s this?” She asks after turning around, glancing between us.

“Bella Swan and Y/n Y/l/n.” Jared answers her.

“Hmm… So, you’re the vampire girl-well, girls.” I instantly admire her easy-going vibe, diving straight in to acknowledge the elephant in the room to get it over with.

“So you’re the wolf girl?” Bella asks in return, accepting her olive branch.

“Guess so,” smiling to herself, she picks up the largest platter I’ve ever seen of muffins, “Well, I’m engaged to one.” Snatching both Embry and Jared’s hands as they reach- “Save some for your brothers! And ladies first, muffin?” It’s comical, the way she mothers them.

“Thank you, Emily.” I smile at her and sit across from Jared, the muffin still warm from the oven.

“Leave it to Jacob to find a way around Sam’s gag order.” Emily scoffs, not surprised.

“Umm, he didn’t… Say anything to us.” Glancing at me, Bella explains.

“That’s a wolf thing, alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want ‘em to or not. Oh and check it out - we can hear each other’s thoughts.” Embry brags and I gape, this is all fucking wild.

“Would you shut up! These are trade secrets - damnit, these chicks run with vampires!” Jared’s frustration is lighthearted as he admonishes Embry for giving away some of their abilities.

“Can’t really run with vampires,” Emily and I chuckle at the boys not quite catching on, “Because they’re fast.”

“Yeah? Well we’re faster. Freaked out yet?”

“You’re not the first monsters we’ve met.”

“Jake’s right, you’re good with weird.” Sam nods at us, beelining for Emily as soon as he steps in the door. He presses kisses to her lips and then all over her face, causing her to giggle. The obvious display of affection carving out my heart just a little bit more - looking away I set my muffin down, no longer hungry.

Pushing and shoving each other, Paul and Jacob finally show - unhurt and brotherly even. They just beat the shit out of each other and they’re tighter than ever? Boys.

“Sorry.” Paul apologizes and flashes what has to be his signature smile at both of us.

I catch Jacob jerking his head towards the door and Bella follows, probably off to explain this whole entire shit show. I turn my gaze to Embry and level a glare on my former friend, waiting for him to say something.

“You going to let me explain? Or are you going to look at me like you’d like to castrate me until Bella gets back?” Embry stares right back, munching on another muffin.

“Jared?” I look at him sweetly and he grins, “take me home?”

Embry stands so quick and his chair teeters dangerously on two legs for a moment. “Y/n.” His tone is hard, done with this game.

“Embry.” I match him back.

He walks out the front door and it drags me from my own chair, this blowout long overdue.

“You know now and you’re still fucking mad at me?” He turns, leaning against Bella’s truck and folding his arms.

“I don’t even know where to start, Embry!” I yell at him exasperated. “You ditched us, you ditched your longest running best friend-”

“I had no choice!”

“He’s struggling-”

“I’m struggling!” His eyes are wild and his hands have a slight shake, “Cutting everyone out has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done! I can’t tell anyone, can’t see anyone, can’t do what I want to do anymore! I belong to this Reservation, to this pack, to Sam now. He says jump, I ask how high. He says keep your mouth shut, I cut everyone out. It’s how it has to be.”

“Embry, that’s no way to live.” My heart breaks for his situation.

“It’s in my blood and not something I can opt out of, Y/n/n. Besides, they’re my brothers now and they need me as much as I need them.”

I surge forward to hug him, “I’m still mad at you for Quil.”

“I missed you too.” I hear his grin as I hug him tight. “You can’t tell him though.”

Immediately I retreat, “What?”

“It’s a tribe secret, the pack is sacred and must be protected.”

“He wouldn’t done anything to endanger-”

“It doesn’t matter, anyone on the outside has to stay on the outside. It’s not like I don’t want to, he’s my best fucking friend. But he doesn’t have a need-to-know.”

“Embry-”

“I can’t argue with you about this, please drop it.” His wide eyes plead with me and I surrender.

“Okay, okay. Consider it dropped.” I mime like I’m locking my lips closed and I toss the invisible key over my shoulder.

“Good,” throwing an arm over my shoulder, he leads me back inside, “Now you can hang with the big dogs.”

“Okay I’m going to need you to not make stupid jokes about this situation.” But I laugh anyways, I miss this - him.

I smile to myself, happy to finally have people back in my life that I thought were gone for good. I still feel the massive hole in my chest, but the pain is on the back burner for now.

At least until I’m alone again.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

[sunnywindow]

Jellyfish mermaid concept

Floyd Leech x Reader

Just a little concept I had floating in head about childhood "friends" concept with Floyd!!

---

You were staring at the water's surface above you. Usually, you'd be out right now, floating aimlessly, following food..

The surface called you, pulling at your heart like it was tied to a string

Each breath you took felt like it took you closer and closer to food, nourishment, enrichment; and each exhale likewise plunged you kilometers back to the bottom of the sea.

You heard words drifting past without ever registering them, lost like those leaves in the wind you've read about. You felt the current pulling you further up to the surface.

There was laughter and giggling in the forefront; there was murmuring a little ways off. And somewhere deep and dark in the nursery, there was crying.

But at the surface of the water, there was food. And your stomach gnawed at you desperately. Loneliness tried its hand at weakly scratching its way out. Sadness pulled you up helplessly, stripping you of your autonomy. Emptiness ate at you from your stomach, to your eyeballs, to your fingertips.

On the outside, the laughter got louder, as did the giggling. As for the hunger, it grew exponentially more loud and demanding by the second.

Loneliness ripped you up into tiny little ribbons. Sadness’ grip on your wrist was beginning to bruise. Emptiness almost eating you whole.

And then you heard a scream from a few meters away.

Its pitch was as thin as a needle, as sharp as a knife. Shrill and long and precise and piercing you straight from one ear to the other. The laughter stopped, as did the giggling, and the murmuring. You barely noticed that the far away crying had long been silenced from something a while ago.

Food compelled you to look down.

You had scarcely registered the small fish stuck in between your tentacles. Its eyes were wide and white and all but bulging out of their sockets. It looked you in the eyes, with desperation, pleading; something you couldn't quite catch nor see nor recognize in your hunger. 

Regardless, it was food, and you ate it.

No longer alone, your stomach settled. No longer sad, you descended back to the class area. No longer empty, you were whole. You were complete.

And then another sharp screech pierced you from the sides once more, making you flinch and hiss at the noise. Screaming, crying, weeping, screeching, yelling, all and everything; all at once.

“Teacher! He ate a student!!”

“.....Hh-”

“Teacher! She did something bad again!”

“Oh my!”

“Eek!!”

“Whatever..”

And then you heard wicked laughter. Sinful, irreverent laughter. It rang like a bell through the belltower that was your classroom area.

As the voice chortled, and crowed, and roared in hideous, selfish pleasure, it's owner gasped desperately for air.

It was as if he was fighting to breathe, or as if his gills couldn't work and he was seizing uncontrollably; with heinous laughter being a symptom.

The laughter grew louder, the tears grew louder, as did the yelling, and the pointing of fingers. What in the ocean was going on?

Two eels swam up to you later that day. Or perhaps night. It was too dark to tell. 

Their eyes shone gold, one each, on opposite eyes. With blue hair and blueish tails, they slinked through the water, cloaked with darkness, as a predator would stalk its prey.

They looked familiar, and yet something in the way they existed screamed at you “danger, danger, danger”.

“Sssaw that little stunt you pulled, kid,” said one of the golden eyes. 

Neither of them could be much older than you were, and you could hear youth and inexperience bleed into the slippery eel’s voice.

The other golden eye chuckled politely. “It caused quite the shock, you know.”

Their voices grew closer, as did the shine in their eyes.

“Made that little girl cry.”

 It felt like they slithered closer to your eyes, so that they’d pluck them out; to your fingertips, to shove their fingernails up your own.

“The poor child. You ate her friend.”

Closer and closer with teeth sharp as knives, beared and ready to shred you apart into their next meal. 

Stay away, stay away, stay away.

“My, how cold, pushing us away Like that. Right, Floyd?”

Danger, danger, danger.

“Yep.” The predator-boy popped the ‘p’ sound as if popping an egg open. His crescent moon grin was pointed with sharp edges. “Kinda makes ya curious when they try to run away like that. Huh, Jade?”

“...Sh..” Your voice was cracky, having gone unused for months. You gulped and hoped they cracked whatever confidence the predators had.

“Woah!” It did not. “The lil’ jellyfish has a backbone, after all! Sick. Whatsit gonna say.”

You glared at the expressive eyes. It glinted the most immediate danger between the two pairs. “..Shove off.”

“Ehh, we just wanna play!” You could feel him in the water elbow his brother lightly. “Right, Jade?”

“Of course, Floyd.”

“Yeah,” said the ‘Floyd’ predator. His eyes pierced your own, and you could have sworn they’d gone blind and useless. “Just a liitle game we call Mutiny.”

“What’s your name, lil’ jelly?”

“..(Y/N).”

“Woah, fancy. I'm Floyd, an’ ‘ats Jade.”

“Good to meet you.” He extended his sharp talon of a hand. You didn't shake it.

“Pshh, (Y/N)'s got spunk. Okay. Cool.”

[chaoskirin]

Things About Owning a Parrot

I researched for intensely before bringing her home. The next day I was STILL overwhelmed. But suddenly I had this little dust bunny to take care of:

She BITES. She bites when she doesn't get her way. She bites when she's scared. She sometimes bites just to test boundaries.

I have been removing the newspaper every 3-5 days and replacing it. Last night I decided to scrub the tray. Now, she's a tiny bird, so her poops don't make it through the paper. I just wanted to do it. This is a glazed steel tray, and the area under where she eats (where she poops the most) is corroded. How much shit must have sat there (and for how long) to cause that? This poor girl was neglected, and she's still a sweetheart. :( I don't blame her former owner, because said owner was a child. But this is a plea to not purchase animals to teach a child responsibility. The animal will always suffer.

Similarly, she did not know how to play with toys. Since she currently spends most of her time in the cage hanging from the bars, it was clear she didn't know how to entertain herself, because no one ever taught her how. She is learning, with small toys which she chews when she's with me, and I've now caught her starting to explore and chew on her toys in the cage when she's on her own.

She WANTS to learn. It took her a while to learn how to learn, if that makes sense. She was never trained. But now she's ON FIRE. Once she realized that behaviors earned rewards, man, she DOES BEHAVIORS. She tries things to see what earns her treats. She can already differentiate between "touch target" and "touch toy." She knows "step up" and "step down." She knows when I say "no biting" that I'm unhappy with what she's doing. She's learning that chewing on my fingers hurts.

Preening her is an amazing bonding experience. She trusts me to remove the pin feather sheathes on her head and neck. Sometimes I mess up (because she's very tiny) and she gives me a quick "don't" look and we go back to it.

I know she was surrendered for screaming. The day I brought her home, she would scream every time she couldn't see me. She would scream for a solid hour, or longer. I knew how to train this out of her, but it involved intense patience and the willingness to be stuck in any given room in my house until she stopped. I've been stuck in my bedroom (OK), the bathroom (less OK) and in my garage (god dammit.) As soon as there's a few seconds of quiet, I come back. She had an extinction burst about a week in and I was literally stuck in my bedroom for almost two hours. When she's quiet and I come back, she gets praise and a handful of treats, which I always carry with me through the house. Now that she understands screaming won't get her what she wants, I'm teaching her how to ring a bell if she wants my attention. She's doing very well. She still screams when I leave, but only for a couple seconds. This is acceptable. I can't believe this natural action cost her a home.

I. LOVE. This creature. I can't even describe how much, or how proud of her I am, or how sometimes I want to cry thinking about how awesome she is, and how she's mine. When I'm home, I want her with me all the time. I'm sad when I have to put her to bed. I NEVER WANTED A PARROT. They are wild animals and tend to suffer in homes. I was so sure I'd fail at this. But she fucking chose me, and I'm so glad she did. I can't imagine life without her.

[coldfanbou]

Date Night

So this was the lewd thoughts fic for the week; while looking at them all, I found a simple one asking for Eunha, and I felt like writing her, so I went with it. It's a softer fic, nothing rough.

Length: 2K

Eunha x Mreader

Eunha bounced from one foot to the other as she skipped down the corridor of the carnival games. Her head turned from side to side as she glanced at the various games. Occasionally she glances back at you to ensure you're still following, "Hey! Come on! I don't want to walk by myself.”

"You're going too fast, Eunha."

Turning on her heel, she stuck her tongue out at you, "You're just too slow." Eunha's smile came through as she laughed. She fanned herself as you got closer to her. Reaching her hand out, you took it as you began to walk together. Her thumb ran over yours. "Don't you want to play one of these games? Look at all the prizes you could win." She said as she waved her arm around, pointing at all sorts of stuffed animals that hung around.

"You just want me to win you something." You respond, pinching her cheek.

"Maybe," she laughed. The setting sun bathed her in golden light, her long legs shining. The pink shorts she had chosen to wear with her matching top made her stand out in the crowd. Cute as a button, you stared at her for what seemed like ages. "Do I have something on my face?" She asked, bringing you back to reality.

"Nope, I just thought you looked really cute." 

Eunha lightly shoves you, "Ah, you're just trying to get lucky tonight, aren't you?"

"I'm not; I just couldn't come up with a smooth line."

"Sure," she says as she rolls her eyes. Continuing down the row of games, Eunha spots a carny shooting bubbles from a gun. "Oh!" Eunha points her finger at the man. "Can you get that for me? It shoots out bubbles!" The game behind the man was a ladder climb. You would have to make your way up a rope ladder tied at one point on either end and ring the bell.

"Why don't you try it first?"

"You know I'm just going to fall; I can barely keep my balance standing up."

You sigh, "Eunha, you're exaggerating."

"Please?" Eunha pouts and tries to cry crocodile tears as she violently shakes your hand. 

"No, Eunha."

Her tiny fists pound against your chest, "You're a big meanie!"

You relent, "Fine; I'll do it."

"Yay!" Eunha's sad expression immediately changes as she bounces up and down, excited that you'll win it for her. Walking up to the man, he presents the challenge to you, and you ask the price to try and pay it. Readying yourself, the carny holds the rope ladder while you mount it. As you move forward, he lets go, and it immediately becomes difficult to balance. Most of your energy is spent trying to balance and you can only make it halfway before you're sent flying off to the side. As you turn to look at Eunha, you hear, "Boo!" She has her thumb down and taunts you until you glare at her. "I mean, good try, sweetie! You get it next time!" 

You pay the man for another attempt, then another, and another. On the fifth try, you're slowly moving forward, moving opposite limbs simultaneously to keep your balance. Climbing closer to the end, you can taste victory and start to move faster. It nearly ends your run as the ladder becomes shaky. You slow down and make steady and sure movements clambering up the ladder and ringing the bell. "You did it!" You hear Eunha yell as you drop off the ladder. Making your way back, you're given a few options for a prize but you choose the bubble gun and hand it to Eunha. She immediately shoots you with it, sending a flurry of bubbles your way. 

"Eunha!" As you yell, Eunha starts running away, laughing the entire time. You chase after her, catching up quickly. You pick her up bridal style, and she squeals.

"Ah! Put me down!" Eunha kicks her feet softly as she begs you to put her down. Seeing an open bench, you walk over and take a seat with Eunha sitting on your lap. Your hands are wrapped around her waist, not letting her escape. While Eunha enjoys shooting out bubbles from her gun, you try to catch your breath. Her giggles bring a smile to your face as she enjoys herself.

"You owe me for that, you know."

Eunha turns around halfway and kisses you. "There!" 

"You owe me a lot more than a kiss, Eunha." She gives you another kiss in response, looking at you with an innocent expression. As she returns to her previous position, you feel her ass press against you more as she starts to grind against you.

"I'll make sure you get everything back and more." She says. Stuck in a situation where you can't do anything to her without drawing attention, you sit there feeling your cock become erect as Eunha continues to grind against you. "Are you enjoying this?" 

"You know I could enjoy it much more if I could do something."

"Guess you just have to wait until we get home won't you?" She said in a teasing voice. Having had enough and not wanting to let this go on longer, you pick Eunha up and carry her to the car. She cries, "I don't want to leave yet!" And kicks her feet. Eunha pouts as you place her in the car and begin to drive home. "This isn't fair."

"You got to tease me the whole time, Eunha. I'm going to have my own fun now." Placing one hand on her thigh, you give it a rough squeeze. You hear Eunha accidentally let out a slight moan. "You can't wait either, can you?"

"Can too!" She responds as she punches your arm. You glance at her face and see her slightly scrunched skin around her nose. She looked like an angry bunny to you.

You laugh, "You're so cute when you make that face."

"Am not! I, I-I'm super scary when I'm angry." Eunha said while holding her fist to your face.

 "You're a little rabbit Eunha. Just cute."

"Hm!" Eunha huffs as she turns away from you. You poke Eunha's sides, causing her body to jerk when you do. "Stop that!" She says as she swats your hand away.

"Don't be so mad, Eunha; we'll be home in a few minutes. I'll even let you take charge."

She grabs onto your shirt, "Really?! You mean it?" 

"Yeah, I'll let you take charge." Eunha pumps her fist and taps her feet on the car floor until you get home. She rushes to open the door and drags you into the apartment. The offer of letting her be the dominant one works wonders. As you make your way to the bedroom, you pull Eunha into a kiss; hands on her waist, you tug at her shorts. You both strip each other of your clothes. You stare at Eunha's body as each article of clothing disappears. As her shirt comes off, you look at her shoulders, slowly moving your eyes downwards to her modest breasts, still cupped by her lacy bra, and then to her soft and smooth tummy. Your erection becomes stiff as you continue to marvel at Eunha's body. As her shorts come off, you glance at her wide hips and shapely thighs.

 A light smack from Eunha catches your attention, "You're staring too much. It's embarrassing."

"I'm sorry, you're just so beautiful." Eunha stands on the tips of her feet to give you another kiss. 

Her soft lips meet yours before pulling away quickly, "thanks." Eunha pushes you onto the bed before stripping off her bra and panties to reveal her pink nipples and clean-shaven pussy. Climbing on top of you, she makes sure to trap your cock between her thighs; your cock is firmly between her legs rubbing up against her lips. Staring at you, she lifts her ass into the air before dropping it back down. 

A soft moan escapes both of you, "That's nice, Eunha,"

Eunha presses a finger to your lips, "Shh, just enjoy this." She raises her hips again before dropping them back down. Her slow movements draw the most out of her soft thighs. As Eunha continues, you feel her nectar wet your cock as it glides between her legs. You both continue moaning; the cool air hits the head of your cock whenever Eunha's hips meet yours. You feel yourself coming closer to your climax, your moans growing louder. "Cum for me," Eunha moans. "I'm close too; I want to know I made you cum with my thighs. Cum for me." Eunha picks up her pace; you can feel her sweet nectar drip onto your cock as she cums. You let go as well, cumming into the air only for it to land on Eunha's ass. Eunha lays her head on your chest as you both catch your breath. "Did you like it?"

 You meet Eunha's gaze, gathering cum from her ass and bringing it to her face; you say, "I don't know. What do you think?" 

Eunha gently holds your wrist and brings your fingers closer, taking them into her mouth. Her tongue runs along your fingers before she pulls back. "Ah! Tasty."

You pat her head, "That felt great, Eunha.

"You know what? You can take over from here. I'm tired."

You laugh in response, "Tired already?"

"It was a lot of hard work!" She says with a frown. 

"Alright, Eunha," You roll over, forcing Eunha onto her back. You spread her legs and rub your cock against her folds. 

"Put it in, please." She begged. "Don't tease me," She cries as you continue to rub against her. As you press your cock against her entrance, you push forward and feel her pussy give you a warm welcome. Your cock fits inside snuggly, causing you to groan. Eunha gasps as she feels your cock fill her. "You're so big, be gentle."

"Of course, Eunha." You push deeper into Eunha, feeling your cock spread apart her walls. Moans fill the room as you both enjoy the sensation caused by the other's body. Eunha squeezes you with her thighs before wrapping her legs around you.

Eunha wraps her arms around you and pulls you into a kiss. "Stay inside me from now on," she whispers to you. You thrust into Eunha. Each one is slow and powerful; you watch Eunha's tits bounce with every thrust. You bend over and take one of her nipples in your mouth. "Ah, wait," despite saying that, Eunha holds you to her chest. Your tongue swirls around her nipple before flicking it. She moans your name as you continue to thrust. You slowly pick up the pace; Eunha's back arcs as she begins to reach her orgasm. Her arms and legs grow tighter around you as she buries her head in your shoulder, "I'm going to cum! I'm going to." Eunha lets out a loud moan as she orgasms. Despite her orgasm, you continued thrusting, reaching for your own. "Wait a second! I'm going to cum again if you keep doing that." 

"I'm so close to Eunha; just hold on." Your thrusts become crazed as your balls tighten and your cock throbs within Eunha. "Eunha, I'm going to cum."

"Cum inside me; it's safe," she moans. You speed up until you impale Eunha with your last thrust. You pour your cum into Eunha's pussy, filling her to the brim. Eunha shakes and shivers as she cums again, your moans filling the room. Eunha hasn't let go of you yet, even after your orgasms have passed.

"You can let me go now, Eunha."

"I don't want to; I want to keep you inside." Eunha's arms become tighter around you. "Let's stay like this until tomorrow morning."

You sigh. "Alright, Eunha. Let's sleep like this, then." You roll over so Eunha lies on top of your chest. 

Eunha moves up to kiss you. "Good night, baby."

"Sweet dreams Eunha."

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Drawn To You - AU Steve Rogers x OC

warnings: strangers to lovers, art shop owner Steve, pure fluffy holiday winter vibes

word count: 6.9k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1296614293-drawn-to-you-noelle

Masterlist

Hurrying down a crowded Brooklyn sidewalk, Noelle checked her phone. 7:50, the time read. She huffed and continued her trek, trying her best to balance bags and a coffee while she continued her holiday shopping. The last stop on her mental checklist closed at 8 and if she didn't stop in now, Noelle was worried she never would. 

Flakes of snow melted onto Noelle's cheeks as she approached an old brick apartment building with large windows on its first floor, glowing lights warming the store within. She looked up at the familiar storefront, one that she passed every day while she was on her way to work. This time of year is usually about giving to others, but Noelle thought with the last bit of her hard earned paycheck, it couldn't hurt to do a little something for herself too. 

The wooden door was heavy, creaking loudly as she had to use much of her small frame to push it open. The words "Rogers and Son's Art Supply" shone in the lights, the swirling bronze script proudly declaring the name of the owner. Noelle was sad to say she had lived in Brooklyn her entire life and never ventured a trip inside. A little bell above the door rang, announcing her presence to a bored-looking guy working behind the counter. His dark head popped up from his hand as he flipped through a book, icy blue eyes almost rolling back as he checked his watch.

"Good evening," he said with a little more sarcasm than she expected as she stood in the entranceway. "Welcome to Rogers. Lemme know if you need anything." 

“Thank you,” was all Noelle could say as she slowly entered the cute art store. 

She was overwhelmed by the many art supplies and the beautiful creations hanging on the wall. She didn’t know where to start; she usually wasn’t the creative kind but around the holidays, life in her little one-room apartment could get lonely, so she decided to start a new hobby for herself. 

As she went through the tiny aisle, her eyes stopped on a painting of a decaying snowflake. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the man behind the counter said and she turned her head to look at him, but before she could say anything, he continued, “It’s inspired by the poem Winter by Walter de la Mare.”

“But the North sighed low, Snow, snow, more snow! That’s my favorite poem,” Noelle smiled softly at the worker. 

“Mine too, that’s why I painted it.” A new voice echoed through the empty shop as he stepped in from the back room.

Noelle turned around and was met with another pair of dazzling blue eyes. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a warm smile. Noelle's knees knocked together and she let out a soft exhale as the stranger's smile got bigger.

"Y-- you painted this?"

"He painted it, but it was my idea," his dark-haired co-worker called as he opened a box with an X-ACTO knife. 

The blonde man rolled his eyes. 

"I have to apologize for Bucky, he's our resident asshole."

"Language, Steven!" Bucky called as Noelle burst into laughter. "You can't talk like that in front of customers!"

"I can when I'm making fun of you!" Steven called. He turned back to Noelle with a flirtatious smirk. "It's actually Steve."

"Noelle," she whispered as she stuck out her hand. Steve grasped it gently and shook it. He had a strong grip, but not too overwhelming. She blushed harder and her eyes flitted toward Bucky, who was trying to hold back a smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Noelle," Steve replied. "That's a beautiful name."

Sucking in a deep breath, Noelle returned her eyes to the painting in front of her. She didn't know how to answer that question. It was rare that she ever did something for herself, but picking up a new hobby seemed like the right place to start the new year ahead. It was the perfect time to jump two feet into the deep end of something she's never done before. 

"I don't know, to be honest" She let out a breathy chuckle. "I think I want to start painting or sketching or something, but I don't know where to start" 

"Well lucky for you, I can help with that" Steve smiled broadly. 

Something was calming about his presence that made Noelle feel as though she could trust him. Sure it was just art supplies, but there was just something about his smile and the way he moved about the shop that convinced her he actually cared about what he was talking about. 

"First things first, What's your experience level?" Steve asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She felt her cheeks burn at the question, "Uh, well, I've never really done any real art. Not since grade school," she admitted, feeling embarrassed.

Steve nodded, his face thoughtful, "Alright, alright - were you wanting to paint? Draw?"

Noelle hesitated, she hadn't thought about what she wanted to do before she stepped into the shop, and now she felt flustered in the face of this charming, and handsome man.

"Uh... What do you recommend for a beginner?"

Steve pressed a hand to her upper arm, his fingers curling against her jacket to pull her gently down the row of art supplies. She followed him, carefully so her boots didn't slip against the flooring only to stop as he knelt down on a bottom shelf. 

"We put these together around Christmas," He pulled out a small crate of supplies, rambling on as he pushed things around to show her, "mostly for parents that have no idea what to buy their teenagers but I think you'll find what you're looking for in me...here. Looking for in here," he looked up at her through thick lashes with his endless ocean eyes and his voice trailed off. His rosy lips parted slightly like he wanted to say more but the words had gotten stuck. 

She suddenly felt very warm and very self-conscious about herself, Noelle tugged at the sleeve around her wrist.

Steve cleared his throat and stood, hovering over her small frame with the box held against his stomach, "let me show you," he scratched his beard with his fingers nervously before sliding himself past her in the direction of the front counter.

Noelle followed closely behind him and took several deep breaths to try and calm down her nerves. He walked around the counter and placed the box on the counter and began to take some of the supplies out.

“These pencils here are really good for beginners who are wanting to do some sketches. The numbers and letters here on the side indicate the hardness or softness of the lead. This box has a good mix of them.” Steve said pointing to the box with a soft smile. Noelle stepped forward towards the counter to look at the supplies he has laid out on it. 

“And what kind of paper should I get? Sorry if that’s a silly question” She asked nervously.

“Well.. that would depend on the type of drawing you’re planning on doing. For example, will you be just sketching or wanting to do some watercolor painting after, because those would be different kinds of paper.” Steve replied. Noelle looked at him with a confused and nervous look 

on her face. She really had no clue what her plan was for her little art project.

She breathed out a small laugh, shaking her head as she grasped the package of pencils her fingers gently grazing his. A swarm of butterflies erupted in her stomach, her hand once again lingering just a little too long before taking it away from the warmth of his own. 

"I think I'm already in over my head," Noelle admitted, ignoring the way his eyes felt like tiny bursts of fireworks as they trailed along her features. 

Finally, he smiled, ignoring the soft snicker once again coming from behind them as Bucky began stocking the shelves, "tell you what, we'll start you with a basic sketchbook and if you decide to move further into watercolor or oil-based pencils, we can re-evaluate your paper situation then." He offered a chuckle leaving his lips as he rounded the counter again. 

Noelle nodded, "there are oil-based pencils?" She asked, feeling even more dimwitted than the second she walked into the door. But instead of making her feel dumb, he just smiled again. 

"We'll work you up to those."

She hummed in acknowledgment as she looked around the small shop, shelves packed high from floor to ceiling with anything and everything art-related you could think of. Certain parts of the store were newer, with pristine shelves and plastic-wrapped paints and brushes. But others were definitely much older, resembling more of a high school art closet than a store for shopping. Noelle wanted to know more, about art, about the cute little store, and now definitely more about the tall, broad blonde in front of her. 

She opened her mouth to get his attention, but the tinkling of the bell above the door beat her to it. His head turned towards the front as Bucky appeared breathless from around the corner. 

"Hey, Steve, hate to break this up, but Mrs. Carter is here and you know old ladies creep me out," Bucky whispered frantically, and Noelle bit back a giggle at his wide-eyed expression. 

Steve looked at her apologetically before stepping past them both. His fingers skimmed her elbow as he went by and even through the heavy fabric of her coat, she knew his touch would be warm. 

"Don't go anywhere, okay?" Steve murmured and she nodded, earning a squeeze to her arm that made her heart race. 

Her eyes were fixed on the muscles in his back as he walked quickly to the front of the shop and Noelle briefly wondered if it were possible to just bite through her bottom lip entirely.

She watched Steve talking to the old lady, as she felt someone getting closer to her left. 

“She creeps me out.” She looked at Bucky, who crossed his arms in front of his chest as he looked toward Steve and Mrs. Carter.

“Why?” She asked him. 

Mrs. Carter seemed like a nice old grandma, she thought, even though her smile looked like she bit into something sour and her eyes made Noelle shiver, but...yeah, okay. Bucky was right. This woman was creepy.

Bucky looked at Noelle as if it was obvious why he thought that she was a creep. 

“I just don’t like her. Tries to charm me up with her dry homemade pecan cookies and almost kills me with them. Put cinnamon in there even though she knows very well I’m allergic to cinnamon. All because she wants to get rid of me to have Steve for herself. Stupid little-“

“Oh look. These pencils are also available in pink.” Noelle tried to stop Bucky before he could say something else.

As Bucky glanced to the shelf Noelle was pointing at, Steve hollered from his place by the door, “Hey Buck, do you think you could help Mrs. Carter grab new paints for her niece, Sharon?” 

Bucky went to protest, but seeing the look on his friend’s face he realized why Steve wanted to pawn Mrs. Carter off onto him. 

“Sure pal,” Bucky said as he shoved off the counter. 

Noelle continued to look interested in the line of pink pencils until Steve had come back to the counter. 

“Sorry about that. Now, where were we?” Steve smiled at her as the sound of Bucky and Mrs. Carter’s conversation grew fainter as they moved deeper into the store.

“You were about to show me sketchbooks,” Noelle returned his smile, “and I really do appreciate your help.”

“It’s my pleasure, believe me,” Steve replied and Noelle didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked downwards appraisingly before lifting back to her face.

“Try this one,” he said reaching underneath the counter and producing a black hard-back book. “It’s good quality but not so expensive that you’ll be afraid to make a start. The paper’s got a great texture too, see?”

He flipped open the book and reached out for Noelle’s hand, running her fingers over the page.

"Umm Ye- Yeah," Noelle stammered through her response to him, the way his eyes sparkled underneath his long lashes was mesmerizing. Distracting and captivating her.

He gave her a gentle smile as she felt his hand slip from hers as he walked them to a table while she tried to quell the feeling of disappointment that started to build in her chest when their hands separated.

"Come on, sit." He told as he pulled a chair for her to sit on, placing himself behind the chair as he pushed it in closer to the table for her and leaned over her slightly. The scent of his cologne and his close proximity to her was a dizzying combination, she almost missed his next words.

"I'll show you how easy it is to start." He breathed next to her, making butterflies erupt in her belly at how soft spoken and gentle he was. She nodded.

Steve reached ahead of her, flipping the book open to the first page, and picked up the pencil.

"You want me to show you, or can you follow my directions?" He asked, his voice seeming to drop an octave as he turned to her.

Noelle's voice caught in her throat. He was so close, his breath warm on her cheek.

"Can you show-" She started to say, just as Bucky popped up behind them.

"Mrs. Carter is done - you want me to lock up - uh..." He trailed off as Steve turned away from her.

"You know what - I'll handle closing up on my own tonight. You're clearly busy."

The sound of Bucky closing the shop was muted in the background as Steve, wrapped his hand around hers and slowly guided the pencil along the page. The lights dimmed above them and the shop seemed to hum in the silence between them. 

"Why the sudden interest in art?" His voice was warm against the quiet as he asked her, his breath hot against her neck as the carefully showed her how to buff out the line. 

Noelle chewed on her lip, trying to focus on anything but how her hand felt cupped in his, "I guess I just feel uninspired. Life sucks, and winter makes me so sad."

"Maybe you just aren't looking hard enough," He looked over at her, surprised by their proximity, and smiled softly. "Christmas lights, sledding in the park, family..." he trailed off. 

She pressed her boots to the floor to keep from fidgeting under his gaze, "you have to find the beauty in it. Look past the grey tones and find the warmth," he let go of the pencil and her hand, letting her guide it herself. "Look, all by yourself," he cooed as she curved another line into the paper and the warmth he spoke of suddenly blossomed in her chest. "There has to be something about winter you love," he said.

She thought about it, rolling her tongue against the inside of her mouth. She looked up at him, their noses almost touching and his eyes illuminated by the dim lights above their heads, "the snow. But only the fluffy stuff, before the cars turn it to dirt."

Steve hummed at her response. “When it is light and fluffy and the only marks are the ones you are making.” He replied

“Yeah exactly, I find it peaceful and quiet” she replied.

“Well, I think you might have just found your inspiration” Steve replied with a kind and warm smile.

Noelle looked up at him, his eyes glinting under the warm lights bringing out the flecks of amber and gold woven through the ocean blue. A blush started to creep up her neck as she shifted in the seat slightly, her bottom lip finding a home between her teeth. 

He was gorgeous and kind and every ounce of him oozed what she guessed home would feel like. It didn't help that the spiciness of his cologne was now going to be a permanent memory. 

Realizing that she'd been staring way too long, she cleared her throat, glancing down at the uneven lines on the page, "What--uh, what do you find inspiration in this time of year?" She smiled, "What keeps Steve happy in the winter?"

Steve laughed softly, hand coming up to guide Noelle’s into a gentle arch, then crossing over into a new line. “Oh, the usual, friends and family, the shared love everyone seems to have, and of course, when a beautiful woman comes into the store looking to start her journey into art.”

Noelle flushed a deep red, heart beating faster as her hand shook beneath his, lines wavering on the page. 

“That happen often?” she asked, unable to help to show a slight insecurity.

Steve clicked his teeth, shaking his head as he fixed her with a teasing look. 

"Sadly, no, " Steve said. "Usually the cutest thing in here is Bucky so you are a huge improvement."

Noelle laughed loudly, an eye crinkling laugh that earned her a blinding smile from Steve. He kept watching her as she took a deep breath, composing her face. Her face started to burn as she realized he was still staring at her with a softness that she can't remember getting from anyone before. 

"What?" Noelle asked with a smaller giggle, looking back down at the dark smudges on the paper from her hand. 

"Nothin'. You have a nice laugh," Steve replied bashfully, a hint of Brooklyn accent slipping through as a dusty blush covered his cheeks. Noelle was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make him blush further. God, he was gorgeous.

“Thank you…I think I…” Noelle paused, thinking about telling him what she felt, that she could get lost in his ocean eyes; how beautiful his smile was. But something held her back. She played with the hem of her sweater and pressed her lips into a thin line as Steve waited for her to continue.

“What?” Steve asked softly, looking up into her eyes and brushing his hand over hers, calming her nerves. 

Why was she nervous all of a sudden? It’s not like she had never spoken to an attractive man before. But the way Steve was touching her, how warm his hand on hers felt, made her melt. 

“It’s- it’s stupid,” she laughed.

“I bet it’s not. Tell me,” his voice was calm and soft, making her all warm inside.

Noelle continued to play with her sweater as she spoke, “It’s just… It’s been a long time since someone has said anything like that to me. I moved here to get away from a toxic relationship and I just haven’t had anyone as nice and attentive as you have been today. I just don’t know why you would act that way toward me.” 

Steve shifted in his seat to look at Noelle. Grabbing her chin gently, he lifted her head till their eyes met. He smiled and she felt herself beginning to melt, her cheeks heating up and her palms clammy. 

"Well, I like to think I can read people pretty well, and you seem kind and sweet, and you put up with my idiot friend." They both laughed and Steve drew in a breath. "And you've been glowing since the second you walked in here." He leaned in close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face and Noelle bit down on her bottom lip. He chuckled softly. "And you look really pretty when you do that."

"Do what?" She asked.

"Bite your lip." He swallowed. "Makes me think about... never mind."

Her hand drifted upward, fingers wrapping around his wrist. She could feel the hair tie he kept around it. Despite barely knowing this man, she wanted to hear every single thought in his head.

"Finish the sentence."

His eyes searched hers, bright and shining. Her face was so hot that she thought she might faint for a second.

"Can I kiss you, angel?" 

"Yes." 

Steve leaned in, softly pressing his lips against hers. Noelle melted into him and his hand slid up to cup her cheek. She could feel his thumb gliding along her cheekbone and whimpered at the softness of his touch.

Sparks were flying behind her eyelids, the kiss was the best thing that ever happened to her since she moved to New York. There were no words enough to describe the softness of his lips on top of hers, how perfectly their lips fit each other, and how his hand was holding her face so gently.

He pulled back hesitantly from her, lips slowly leaving hers while she resisted the urge to chase after them.

"Uhh... I'm sorry if that was too forward-" 

"No!" She interrupted him, lowering her voice after startling both herself and him, adding softly "No. It was.. it was perfect."

Noelle buried her fingers into the beard on his jaw and smiled up at him, "You know," she licked her lip just trying to hold on to how he tasted, "I came here in to spend the last fifty dollars in my bank account on something that would spark a feeling."

Steve's chest shook as a soft, warm laugh cascaded from him as he wrapped a finger through her belt loop to hold her close to him, "And?"

"Now, I think I got more than I bargained for," she laughed. 

"Look," he spun her in his arms, and the art shop spun with her until her back pressed against his chest so she could see the front window. The sun was gone from the sky but the street lights illuminate the thick, fluffy snowflakes that blanketed Brooklyn, "fresh snow, what do you say we find your muse?" 

"I'd say how fast can you get your coat on?" She laughed, feeling him loosen his hold on her. She closed her eyes and touched her fingers to her lips, holding on to the memory of their kiss. She turned, slowly coming back to earth, and searched the empty store for him but he was gone by the time she store herself from the snowfall.

"Steve?" Her voice fluttered through the aisles as she stood, brows furrowed searching for him and already missing his warmth. 

"One second!" She heard his voice carry through the canvases and shelves. After another few seconds of silence and Bucky huffing behind the counter, Steve came around the corner, his cheeks red and out of breath. 

Noelle laughed, "you run a marathon back there?" 

A smirk cracked over his features and his eyes crinkled as he stepped towards her, "only to get back to you." He murmured, leaning into her before taking her hand and leading her toward the door.

They stepped out into the cold air, making fresh tracks in the freshly fallen snow. Noelle breathed in deeply, inhaling the crisp clean scent before breathing out a cloud of air. Smiling, she turned to Steve, finding him already staring at her with a soft smile on his face. He held his hand out to her silently, almost shyly, and she took it carefully, hand feeling small in his large, warm grip. 

After walking quietly for a few moments, appreciating the beauty before them, Noelle started to shiver. She tried to hide it but Steve pulled them to a stop outside a coffee shop. 

“Wanna pop in here and warm up for a bit?” he asked, and Noelle nodded quickly, nose and cheeks pink with the cold.

The heat of the cozy cafe was worth nearly freezing to death on the short walk down. Steve held Noelle's hand as he ordered them both. She barely heard him ask her what she wanted, spitting out a robotic answer as she gazed up at his impossibly blue eyes with a silly smile on her face. 

"You still with me, sugar?" He leaned down to murmur in her ear while she watched the perky barista whip up their coffees. 

"You couldn't get rid of me now if you tried," she replied with a smirk, gripping his arm tighter as he laughed, throwing his head back.

“Two hot chocolates for Steve,” the barista said in a voice as smooth as honey. Noelle couldn’t tell if she was trying to act seductively or if that was just her personality, but either way, it made Noelle feel self-conscious. 

She looked at the floor, letting Steve’s hand go, and moved to a table by the window. 

“Good job picking a table. We can still watch the snow fall and keep exploring your muse.” Steve said as he sat down, not aware of the invasive thoughts running through Noelle’s mind. 

Noelle muttered a thank you as she took a drink, looking out the window. 

“You okay, Noelle?” Steve’s voice was soft and concerned.

"Yeah." She forced a smile. "I'm good."

He leaned over and tried to catch her eye, smiling at her.

"Are you sure?"

She bit her lip and then instantly remembered what it made him want to do back at the shop. It made her nervous. It had been a long time since she'd had someone take the time to get to know her like this and to be as sweet as Steve was. Maybe she didn't deserve it, maybe she wasn't worthy of it. Her eyes misted with tears and she tried to blink them away. Shit.

Steve reached out his hand and covered hers. His skin was warm and soft. 

"Whatever it is, Noelle, you don't have to carry it by yourself."

She laughed and looked over at him as she flicked away a tear.

"Who taught you to be so sweet?"

"My ma," he replied. "She also told me to never abandon a pretty girl when she looked sad. We don't have to talk about whatever's going on, we can just sit and watch the snow if you want."

Sucking in a deep breath, Noelle shook her head once and pressed her lips into a thin line. "Well, your mom sounds pretty great" She cleared her throat and took a sip of her hot chocolate. 

The conversation was treading into dangerous territory that Noelle didn't want to get into. Not this time. Despite her distaste for the holiday season, she always tried her best for her friends and family to at least try and be cheerful. But Steve was somehow bringing out her real feelings for this time of year. In the short time, she'd known him, there were already things she would tell him in a heartbeat. But her trust in people had gotten her in trouble before, and Noelle knew she had to keep it in check this time. 

"She was" He breathed out a laugh. "She's actually the one that convinced me to pursue art... If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be where I am today. And I wouldn't be sitting at my favorite coffee shop with one of the prettiest girls who's ever walked into my shop"

Her insecurities were bubbling up inside her, denying every claim he made about her since she walked into his shop. Her own past experience formed a dark cloud over what could be something wonderful.

Her ex-boyfriend always made her feel less than enough, bringing her down over every little thing and pointing out flaws that she didn't even see before, to the point where now all she saw were those flaws.

"Noelle?" Steve's calm voice pulled her from her toxic thoughts into the present, she felt a tear slip down her cheek before she wiped it off quickly, "are you okay? Did I say something to upset you?" He lowered his eyes trying to catch hers as she hid her face in her hands and took a deep breath. 

"No," she murmured as she lifted her eyes to meet his concerned blues, "I'm sorry. I'm - I'm not used to this.." his brows furrowed in confusion, making her take another trembling breath before continuing; "Jake - my ex, he didn't - uhh.. he wasn't the best."

"He clearly didn't look hard enough," Steve smiled, reaching out to brush a rogue tear from her jawline as it threatened to fall to the table. His thumb lingered on her skin, rubbing gently. 

"For what?" Noelle leaned into his touch, confused and growing more nervous with every passing moment. 

"The stars," Steve smiled, "right there, behind the sadness in those beautiful brown eyes, they twinkle. Just begging to be counted."

She sucked in a breath to hide the sob lodged in her throat, involuntarily leaning into his thumb as if trying to steal his warmth. She couldn't do this. Her eyes slid close almost regretting going into the shop today. 

"Noelle," he whispered, bringing her eyes back to his as they opened, his brows softened from the concerned look and the corners of his mouth upturned, "you deserve to have someone make you feel the way you've made me feel today and if you'd let me... I'd love to see you again tomorrow." 

She stared back at him for a moment, the butterflies, the warmth, the anxiety pit in her stomach all crashing in on her at once. Noelle shook her head, pulling back from his touch as she stood, "I--I'm really sorry," She stuttered, her voice barely over a whisper, "I can't do this." 

Before she could watch the light in his eyes fade and his face fall, she turned fisting her hands into balls at her side to hold her steady as she rushed out onto the street, hearing him call her name after her.

Noelle ignored him, running back down the street, past the shop until she was at her car, tears flooding her eyes as she threw herself in it. She bent her head over the steering wheel and cried, overwhelmed by everything and just needing to let it out, the good and the bad. 

When she finally wiped her eyes clear, Noelle drove home, only then remembering she’d left her bag of art supplies on the table next to Steve. 

She spent the night going back and forth between wanting to see Steve again and never wanting to speak to another man ever. When she woke up the next day, she had made up her mind to at least go back and get what she’d paid for.

The entire trip back to the art shop Noelle felt like she couldn't take a deep breath, anxiety coursing through her the more she thought about what she was actually doing. The sidewalk was much clearer as she approached, piles of snow pushed up against the sides of the building and the curb of the street. Her breath poured out in thick fog from the cold and she hesitated to pull the door handle open. 

What if Steve was angry with her?

 What if he told her to get out?

 Would he do something like that? 

She didn't think he was the kind of guy to treat a girl that way, but she thought Jake was a much better man when she first met him, and look how that turned out. 

"You know those only work if you pull, right?" 

Bucky's raspy voice from behind her made Noelle nearly shoot into space, her heart hammering as she spun around to face him. His cheeks were red from the cold and he was gripping a snow shovel, bits of ice and slush hanging from the bottom. 

"I was...I just-" she stammered, gesturing towards the inside of the shop. 

"I know what you're here for and it sure as hell isn't art supplies," Bucky laughed, before growing serious again. "He's in the back, has been all day." 

Noelle nodded and sighed deeply before turning back to the door. As she stepped into the warmth inside, Bucky called her name softly. When she looked back, his hands were in his pockets and he looked down at his shoes, pushing pieces of ice around with the tip of his boot. 

"Steve is a really good guy and I don't just say that because he pays me way more than I deserve," he huffed out. "But he is also my best friend and I'll tell you in my experience, I haven't seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you. And I've never seen him look as fucking sad as he did last night." 

Tears welled up in Noelle's eyes as she swallowed down the lump in her throat. 

"He really, really likes you, Noelle," Bucky continued. "I just wanted you to know that." 

With a curt nod, Noelle turned back and stepped into the store, leaving Bucky to continue clearing the sidewalk for other customers and pedestrians. She walked tentatively through the familiar shelves before stopping by a doorway at the far corner. A dark blue curtain hung over the opening and she could hear soft music filtering out, music that Noelle had only ever heard at her grandparents. It made her smile and gave her the confidence to open the door, chasing that comforting feeling she knew could only come from one man.

Noelle stepped into the backroom to find one wall lined with boxes of new orders, a kitchenette with a teapot sitting on the stovetop, and a console record player that was sending Bing Crosby's White Christmas into the space. Noelle's eyes shifted to the small table tucked in the back corner. There sat Steve with his back to the doorway, dressed in a green cable knit sweater, bent over a sketchbook scribbling away. 

Noelle shifted her weight causing the floorboards to creak, and Steve turned to see what caused the noise. His movement gave her a glance at his project. A portrait of a young woman with long, brown hair with snowflakes starting to stick it. 

"Hi," she breathed.

"Hey." His eyes were rimmed red and he had soft pink splotches beneath them that made them a little bluer. His chest looked hollowed out, shoulders slumped, like someone had carved out his heart. She did that. "You came back."

Her heart leaped into her throat and she felt it twist in her chest as guilt consumed her like a wave. She shouldn't have run out last night. She barely slept thinking about how hurt he looked. 

"Yeah," she whispered. "I, uh..."

"Noelle, I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I wasn't--"

"No," she replied, holding out her hand. "I was-- I've just... got a lot of, uh..." She laughed as Steve watched her with caution, as though he was terrified to hear the next words that came out of her mouth. 

His body leaned away and he held up the sketchbook like a shield, trying to make it look like he was pulling it toward his body. The small gesture made her want to cry and she could feel her chin trembling before the sting of more tears came. 

She sighed.

"Steve, I'm just really sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I've got all of this baggage and I didn't give you a fair chance. You're a great guy, and you're funny and sweet, and... I just came to apologize. You don't have to accept it or even like me, but--"

He stood up and walked toward her with heavy steps. She resisted the urge to back away as she looked up at him. Steve held out the sketchbook and let her really see the drawing, the beautiful details, the softness of her features. She sniffled, the tears making her vision blurry.

"What's this?"

"I just want you to see what I see when I look at you," he whispered.

The breath caught in Noelle's throat as her eyes traced the features of the drawing. It was more beautiful than any other drawing she'd seen in the shop. His attention to detail, and the way he captured a certain sparkle in her eye that she hadn't seen before. It looked just like her, but she'd never seen herself look like that before. Steve had captured a side of her that Noelle was sure she'd hidden away forever. 

"It's beautiful, Steve..." She whispered, and sniffed, a wave of his cologne washing over her scenes and bringing back that sense of comfort she had felt the night before. 

"You're beautiful, Noelle" Steve stated, dropping the sketchbook and bringing up his free hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear before tucking two fingers under her chin and bringing her gaze up to meet his. "You don't have to apologize to me for leaving last night, it's okay. I would never want you to feel like I was forcing you into something" 

A small smile broke onto her lips, as her eyes traced over Steve's. "You're not forcing anything... I came here because I needed to see you again and explain and... Ask if we could maybe try again" She asked, placing her hand softly onto his chest, curling her fingers into the knit fabric. 

"Miss Noelle, are you asking me out on a date?" Steve smirked.

Shyly, Noelle bit her lip as she felt heat creep up her cheeks from the way he looked at her, his eyes clear as the summer sky as they ran over her face in a way that she almost felt like a caress. His low voice woke the butterflies in her belly and she forgot how to breathe for a moment.

She nodded hesitantly, "Yes... If you're willing to give me a chance." 

He held her gaze as he leaned down, his face slowly coming closer until his eyes were all that Noelle could see. His warmth enveloped her, and her hand tightened on his soft sweater.

"It would be my greatest pleasure, Noelle," his soft response was almost spoken like a secret, quietly between their lips that were a few inches apart. "I'm glad you're giving me a chance." He finished.

"I should be the one saying that," she whispered, "I was so scared to come back here, but I knew I had to." 

Steve's warm smile spread across perfect lips as his forehead rested against her own, "I'm really happy that you did," he replied, his hands gently cupping her face as his thumb ran along her cheekbone before tracing over her bottom lip. 

Her heart thundered in her chest, beating against her ribcage as he studied her their lips barely touching and the heat from his breath sending a wave of goosebumps down her spine. 

"Steve," she whispered again as his tongue darted out, wetting his lips and briefly tapping hers. 

The corner of his mouth upturned as she became putty in his hands and he finally leaned in, the anticipation almost too much as he kissed her. Slowly at first and so sweet, her teeth ached. 

Her fingers tangled into the fabric of his sweater to pull him closer to herself. Even if their date failed, she never wanted to forget the way he tasted. But something deep inside of her made her feel like that wasn't going to be the case and she'd get to revel in the way he tasted like coffee and almonds with a hint of chocolate. 

A whimper escaped from between the two of them, both getting carried away and sucked into each other. Steve finally pulled back, his lips bitten pink and puffy, hers undoubtedly looking the same and suddenly missing the feel of his beard against her skin. 

"Can I take you out tonight?" he asked through breaths, "we'll eat overpriced Italian, all the garlic bread and wine we want." A gorgeous smile spread over his features making her laugh. 

"That sounds...amazing." Noelle breathed as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her the way no one has held her in a long time. Tears threatened the corners of her eyes once more, but she fought them back. 

A grunt sounded from behind the curtain followed by a crash as both their heads followed the sound. 

"I'm really sorry to interrupt whatever is happening back there," Bucky's voice boomed through the shop, "But I could really use some help out here lover boy!" 

Noelle erupted into giggles feeling Steve take a deep breath and close his eyes, "I love my friend, I love my friend, I love my friend." He chanted before glancing down at her, "I'm sorry sweetness, rain check on this?" 

"Pick me up at 7 and we'll call it even." She grinned, making him laugh. The sound flowed around her and it was then that she realized she wanted to hear that sound for all of the days to come.

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Dhampirs of the Sword Coast - Chapter 5. Give me the fucking book, Asmodea!

Alethaine Ancunin tries to retrieve the stolen spellbook from a very partular warlock.

Asmodea belongs to @vixstarria ! It was fun to write her, but hey, Ossie isn't going anywhere from this story!

Read on AO3

Link for Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Part 4

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

The List of Chapters

Masterlist

Headcanons

Alethaine (High Elf/Necromancer) - age 25. Astarion's daughter. Lawful Neutral.

Theris (Tiefling/Bard) - age 27. Chaotic Neutral.

Asmodea (Half-Elf/Warlock) - the owner of the traveling cabaret.

Elren Goldenroot (High Elf/Ranger) - age 24. One day he will become the High King of Elves and Alethaine's husband but in the meantime he is just a young elf with sad wet eyes.

13 years ago

10-year-old Alethaine watches the necromancer closely. 

The necromancer, Nris, watches her in return.

“So?” He asks, “I am going to teach you some basics, then I’ll head off.”

Alethaine nods. She feels guilty but can’t explain why. Three weeks ago, she accidentally resurrected a dead kitten and now she feels inferior, sick, and cursed. Necromancy is a dark art, and people are afraid of it. 

Will they be afraid of her too?

“Astarion was ‘oh so kind’ to save me from the devils but I didn’t expect him to be a fucking lawyer and force me into a pact with you. And now I am stuck as your… teacher,” Nris spits.

Alethaine doesn’t like him. The man, only fifty years of age, is obese, bald, has trembling hands, and is definitely not that powerful. In addition, he definitely has something against elves.

“Dad made a pact with you,” Alethaine corrects.

“Him? Oh no!” Nris laughs. “Astarion made it specifically clear that he CAN’T release me of my duties unless you want him to! And if it weren’t enough, you are just a tiny, pre-pubescent girl who I wouldn’t remotely allow to make important decisions!”

Alethaine feels like she is about to cry. Why is this wizard so rude to her? She didn’t do anything wrong!

But before she starts sniffing, her mother, Tiriel, enters the basement to see who her husband has brought home.

Astarion follows her but remains on the stairs.

Tiriel watches Nris.

Nris watches Tiriel.

And then…

“YOU FUCKING MORON!!!” Tiriel grabs the wizard and punches him to the floor. Alethaine squeaks.

“Wait… who are you?” Nris mutters, scrambling around the room to hide from the raging barbarian.

“I AM THE ADVENTURER YOU REFUSED TO PAY!!! Year 1476, rings any bells?!”

“Oh fuck…” Nris whispers. “I am so sorry, I will repay you! How much was it? 20? 30?”

“Ninety gold! Astarion! How much would it be with interest?!” Tiriel demands.

“Well,” Astarion does some mental math. “It was 46 years ago, so I would say 600.”

“What kind of math is this?” Nris objects. Tiriel puts her knee on his ribcage.

“You are going to work as my daughter’s teacher till you fucking pay it.”

“Teachers are not paid that well!”

“Good, so my daughter will have a teacher for a very long time!” Tiriel finally lets him go and turns to Alethaine. “Kitten, he is all yours until you get all the knowledge out of that bald head of his!”

Present day

The Travelling Cabaret of the Last and First Days occupies a significant part of the area and reeks of some insane fey magic.

Alethaine tried to take the spellbook back from the half-elf, but the woman playfully casted Frostbite and disappeared. 

And now they are stuck here.

“What is written down there?” Theris points at the other sentence right below the name of the cabaret. “I suspect it’s not the exact elven translation.”

Alethaine reads the name of the place and snorts.

“What does it mean?” The fourteen-year-old human boy Mierni demands. “In Elven!”

Alethaine decides it’s worth a laugh.

“‘For the first f*ing time!**

Only two goddamn days a year!

Where the hell do they come from? F*** if we know…

The F***ing Shitshow Circus**

Mind-blowing bullsh*t magic tricks!

Clowns that make you wanna punch a wall!

Soul-crushingly awful performances!

You'll hate yourself for wasting your time and money!’  Ah, it’s actually funnier in Elven”

Ulsha covers Mierni’s ears. “Alethaine, he is fourteen!”

“So what? All my human friends  became free workforce by nine and were married at fifteen!”

“I don't know what place you grew up but in cities, a fourteen-year-old is a kid!”

“Hm,” Theris adds. “I did not think the elven language could be that vulgar.”

Alethaine sighs tiredly. “Theris. Elven is complicated and multidimensional. It’s both about epic poetry about ancient heroes and vulgar attempts to fuck someone's brain out. Learn it, you will like it.”

“I am sorry, I am a hell-touched individual. Me and feywild shit are planes away from each other,” Theris contemplates. “Wait! I’ve changed my mind! How to say ‘You are a dirty orc’?”

“Ci orch ‘waur,” Alethaine translates heading toward the gates.

“Are you kidding?!” Ulsha bellows. 

The gates are closed and a tired ticket seller sits in his small boot. His hat covers the bearded face and the human reeks of cheap whiskey.

“We are closed, m’lady Asmodea told me to not let anyone in,” the man grumbles. “Go away!”

His voice sounds familiar to Alethaine.

No, what are the odds?

“You, idiots!” He screams when Alethaine snatches his wizard hat. “Oh no…”

Theris looks at the ticket seller. Then he looks at Alethaine. “You know each other, don’t you?”

“Mae govannen,” Alethaine says. “Teacher Nris!”

“Oh no, no…” Nris tries to run but stumbles. “Not your fucking family again! Your mother let me go! What do you want from me? I don't have anything left! I am … bound.”

“Well, first of all, I don’t remember letting you go,” Alethaine says. “Mum threw you out of the house one day, I didn't have a say in it!”

“Because you, you stupid girl, didn’t want to learn anything!” Nris yells. “Yes! When I realized I was still bound by your father and you, I tried to set myself free! And… well… made another pact.”

“Are you an idiot?” Alethaine enquiries.

“Idiot, yes,” Nris admits. “Asmodea is a warlock and her fey patron decided it would be hilarious to see which pact is stronger. So I am still bound to you and now I am also bound to this fucked up warlock and her fucked circus!”

Theris exchanges a glance with Alethaine. “Tell him to let us in.”

“Yes, Nris, let us in.”

“I am not your servant, I was supposed to teach you!”

Alethaine bares her fangs. “And how about me telling my dad that you mistreat me? I am very good at getting what I want from him, he can never say no to me.”

“Alethaine, I lived with you for two years. Don’t play this ‘vampires’ princess’ farce with me. I perfectly know that your parents would punish you.”

“So what?” Alethaine doesn’t give up. “I can go to my dad now and say, ‘Oh I got a job to retrieve an item and that asshole of a teacher doesn’t let me.’”

Nris sighs. “Alright! But you release me after this! You break the pact and I forget your family like the nightmare you all are!”

Nris approaches the gate and opens the.

“Just go straight to the main tent, she is there. But if I were you, I wouldn’t do that.”

Alethaine enters the cabaret, or rather, the fucking circus. 

“Mierni stop!” Ulsha yells but the little wizard has already disappeared after noticing half-naked dancers resting near the stage. “Gale will kill me.”

“You know, you would catch him if you used your vampiric reaction,” Theris points out.

“I will never break my oath!” She frowns and disappears among the tents.

Alethaine quickly notices the bigger tent and moves to grab the tiefling’s hand, but he has already disappeared, too enchanted by a huge stall filled with some suspicious powder. Theris presses his nose against what looks like a huge glass snowball. 

“Mierni, close your eyes!” Ulsha yells in the distance.

“But I wanna look!” Mierni protests.

Alethaine decides not to waste any more time. Besides, she will probably do things better alone.

Alethaine pulls the curtain back and steps into the dark tent. At the wooden table sits the red-haired half-elf Nris had called Asmodea. She rests her head on the surface, holding an unfinished bottle of fire ale. 

“Oh, guests! I told that moron of a necromancer that he has to guard the gates. I am not in the mood.” She adds a word in elven that means “drinking hard till your mind goes blank for a few days in a row.”

“Well, according to the pact my dad made for me, Nris has to follow my orders until I decide he doesn't,” Alethaine lies, hoping that that contact really does work this way. “My name is Alethaine.”

Asmodea watches Alethaine closely. The dhampir feels an uneasy sensation when someone probes her mind.

“Stay away from my head!” Alethaine screams.

Asmodea chuckles.

“Oh, interesting. The dhampir.” Asmodea finishes the bottle and throws it into a pile of glass behind her. “And what does a creature of the dark want from me?”

“The spellbook,” Alethaine says. “The spellbook you stole from me? After… I’d stolen it from the ogres.”

“Gladly.”

“Really?”

“Unfortunately there are forces beyond me,” the half elf laughs. 

Alethaine sits in front of her.

“You need something, don't you? I can help!”

Asmodea turns her head as if someone else were present in the room. She cringes and shakes her head.

“Listen, kid. Honestly? This book is a mess. I doubt I can learn anything from it. But, there are things I can't control. The spellbook will stay here. Just use your natural charm to persuade the quest giver to pay you for the unfinished work. What?! Just give me a break. No, I am not giving her work? Look at her, she looks like she’s been starved!”

Alethaine concentrates on the magic in the tent. 

“What did your… patron say?”

“The Fuckface said that we can give you the spellbook if you finish the vampire who seduces my dancers. I wouldn’t agree if I were you. I suspect the little fella on my shoulder just wants to have fun.”

“But I will get the book?” Alethaine inquiries.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Can I sign some papers with you?” 

Before Asmodea answers, Theris appears out of nowhere covered in pink powder and small pieces of glass.

“I leave you for one second,” he hisses. “And you are already getting into the warlock-ish pyramid scheme.”

“I just want to be sure she won’t fuck us up.”

“She is a warlock, she will fuck us up either way!”

Asmodea puts her legs on the table. “I can perfectly hear you both. And I also heard glass shattering.”

“It wasn’t me and It was already broken!” Theris tries to pull Alethaine out of the tent. 

Asmodea clicks her fingers, making the entrance disappear. 

“Sit,” she orders. Asmodea doesn’t sound drunk or deranged anymore. “I have a proposition.”

Theris flips her his two middle fingers. “Last time I was proposed to by an older woman, I lost my virginity!”

Alethaine pushes Theris away and sits in front of the warlock. 

“So? What is your deal?”

“Kill the vampire. Or at least, scare them enough to let my dancers go. I will pay you. Hope it will be enough to let me keep the spellbook. And I wouldn’t do anything stupid. My pact has lasted for over half a century, and you are just little kids.”

Theris opens his mouth but shuts up, accepting his destiny. 

“300,” Alethaine demands.

“250.”

“270 and you can keep the necromancer.”

“I would gladly use him as bait for vampires. 260.”

“Deal, but he isn't afraid of them,” Alethaine points out.

Theris gets impatient. “Shall we go? I don’t want to find myself chained to a bed like last time. And…” He suddenly gets serious. “I am sorry for that glass ball. I got excited.”

“That’s ok,” Asmodea asks. “We all do stupid things.” She clicks her fingers, re-creating the entrance. Theris steps outside. “Lovely fellow. I think I could find a better job for him rather than prancing in the dirt looking for treasures. Alethaine, this is your name, right. Would you like a tarot card reading?”

The dhampir shrugs. 

“Do I have to sell my soul to you?”

“I suspect you don't have one. I just like doing card reading.”

“Alright. Tell me about my future. Distant one.”

Asmodea retrieves the magic deck and scatters it on the surface of the table. “Pick a card.”

Alethaine abides. And take the first card.

“The Tower,” Asmodea comments. “The end of all hopes. Take another. The Judgement. Monsters will follow you, Alethaine.”

Alethaone shivers but keeps picking cards as if her hand had a mind of its own.

Seven of Wands.

Eight of Swords.

Three of Swords.

Ten of swords.

And then – The King of Swords, Two of Cups, and Ace of Pentacles.

Asmodea looks perplexed.

“Interesting combination.”

“What does it mean?”

Asmodea rubs her nose.

“It means that you will have a lot of hardships, little Dhampir. You will suffer. For a long period of time. Heartbreak and loss,” Asmodea points at Three of Swords and Eight of Swords. “Unable to control your life,” the warlock takes the Tower. “You will lose faith in everything, including yourself.” 

Alethaine feels tears pricking her eyes. Asmodea points at the Judgement and Seven of Wands. “Something bad, something scary and dangerous will arise in your lifetime and you will have to fight it to survive.”

“And?” Alethaine asks. “Will it end? Will I be… happy?”

Asmodea looks at the rest of the cards and smiles. “The King of Swords.”

“Will I defeat some monsters?”

“You will meet this King of Swords. He is waiting for you in the darkness. Two of Cups – it means that you will be together and together you will defeat all the monsters you’ve encountered.” Asmodea takes the last card. “Ace of Pentacles means you will greet the new beginning. Hand in hand.”

Alethaine frowns. She’s never been interested in any form of relationship. “The King of Swords? Like, a literal king?”

“Maybe, who knows. Maybe this person will be like a king to you. Maybe to everyone. But to meet this … whoever they are… You will face the hells.”

Alethaine stands up. She feels the night coming and, should they hunt a vampire, now is the time. 

Asmodea takes a new bottle of ale. “Have a good fight.”

Alethaine leaves the tent and goes searching for her friends.

The King of Swords, she thinks, what a dumb idea. Cards are all trickery and bullshit!

**

The same day, the Greenfields. 

An elderly half-elf, once a renowned adventurer and now just a poor farmer, sits on a bench and listens to his human wife's complaints.

“Leth! Please! Tell him not to go! He will get killed in some swamps and we won't even know!” Rayna sits close to him. “He is an elf, what is it for him to wait for 30, 40 years! When we both die, he can go wherever!”

Leth sighs.

“We can’t stop him.”

“Just ask! Please! My heart aches every time I think about what dangers lurk out there!”

Leth puts the pipe out and enters his house. Well, at least he will try!

“Elren!” The half-elf calls his nephew. “Are you here?”

“Yes, I am in the barn!” He immediately answers. “Is anything wrong?”

Leth finds Elren preparing the traveling sack. The twenty-four-year-old elf, barely an adult, wears his new trousers and shirt. His golden hair, a gift from his Sun Elven ancestors, is loose and his blue eyes, inherited from Moon Elves, are focused on his traveling kit.

“Your aunt worries that you are leaving.”

Elren stands up. Even though he is an elf, he's as tall as Leth. 

“I… I will be fine… I just… I really wanna go. Otherwise I think I will… hang myself in this barn like my mother did.” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but Leth brought the boy up ever since he was two.

Leth sighs. “Be careful, out there, alright, kid? And if you feel anything wrong, come back. I love you as much as my own daughters and not only because I gave your mother my word that I would look after you.”

Elren grimaces. “I will be careful, don’t worry!”

Leth looks under his own feet and contemplates.

When the Goldenroots, Elren’s paternal clan, were massacred, his mother managed to save only one thing. The only thing the poor elven orphan has got from his ancestors, the only thing that connects him to his blood and nature.

Rilyamacil, The Sword of Stars.

No, Leth decides. Not now. There is something wrong with that thing and Elren has enough to bear without being given an artifact of unknown properties.

“Go to Neverwinter,” Leth says. “Find my guild and tell them you are my nephew. If they ask how I am doing, tell them I am rich and fat and have a lot of sons.”

Elren laughs.

“I am not a good liar.”

“I don’t ask you to lie. It will take you months to get there even with your elven trance and fast sylvan legs. Just persuade yourself that it is so.” Leth hugs Elren. “I will miss you.”

“I will miss you too, Uncle Leth.”

The embrace is interrupted by the loud voices of three girls, Leth’s daughters. They are 21, 19, and 17 but each of them is more mature than their older elven cousin.

“We made you a gift,” the oldest says.

“Even though you are such a bad brother for leaving us,” the youngest adds and receives a slap from the middle one. Then, she unfolds a green cloak decorated with elven symbols.

Elren touches the fabric.

“Where did you get it from?” he asks, barely hiding his awe.

“I bought the elven fabric,” the oldest says.

“I made the cloak,” the middle one continues.

“And I found the protective symbols elves use to adorn their clothes,” the youngest finishes.

“Thank you!” Elren smiles and hugs his cousins. Then he puts on the cloak.

Now he looks like a traveling elf who accidently got stuck among humans.

And he is, Leth thinks. No matter how much he is loved and cared for, he will always be a stranger. The girls will soon wither and die. Their descendants will become ash and bones.

And Elren will still look the same, walking the roads of Faerun. 

… At dawn Elren, wearing his new cloak and carrying the traveling sack and the bow, waves his human family goodbye. 

Leth forces his wife and daughters back before any of them try to run for Elren and gaslight him into staying.

“He will be fine,” the half-elf says to the crying woman. “He can stand up for himself. At least, he will have to come back one day for his sword!”

Elven dictionary

Mae govannen (Sindarin) - Well met!

Ci orch ‘waur (Sindarin) - You are a dirty orc!

--

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[pepperycar]

“Failed him?” Chapter 7: check-up and at last food!

“I’ve called the doctor.” Pauline said as she left “shouldn’t be long now.” She finished. Their Grandad gave a grateful nod and closed the door behind her. Now it was just the family, Peach, DK and Toad. “Whoa whoa!” Said Tony pulling the nearly empty jug from Luigi’s face “don’t drown your self now after all that!” He laughed, Luigi took a few gasping breaths before leaning back slightly, Uncle Arthur and his Mom let him go limp against them while Tony placed the cheese toastie on a plate then the table. They helped Luigi sit down as they heard a voice behind the door “should be just up here, the sad residents!” A childlike voice laughed. They opened the door revealing Lumalee floating next to a Doctor. “Lumalee!” Peach said surprised “oh no not this guy...” said Tony “Your-uh pet star is quite cynical..” said the doctor as Luigi went to take a bite. Peach nodded nearly smiling as the doctor walked in “I wouldn’t do that!” Said the doctor putting his hands infront of Luigi’s so he couldn’t eat. “I Would!” Tony Said nearly yelling “the poor boy hasn’t eaten in three days!” “I know, that’s why it’s dangerous.” Said the Doctor pulling a stethoscope, thermometer and some other medical equipment out of a small bag. “Consuming food after days without eating can send a persons body into shock!” He spat the last word to show how serious he was. His Dad pulled Luigi’s chair out a bit so the doctor could get a better look at him. He checked his ears, mouth and nose before checking his eyes, they were dull and tired but now had a slither of light in them. He grabbed Luigi’s face and arms, silently poking the burn marks . “Can you feel this?” Asked the Doctor, Luigi nodded “good, no nerve damage then!” He stuck the thermometer into Luigi’s mouth as he rubbed some cream onto the wounds, he took the thermometer ‘92:’ “hmmm okay.” Said the Doctor putting on the ear pieces of the stethoscope, pressing the bell to his chest ‘Ba-bump....’ Ba-bump....’ Ba-bump....’ Ba-bump....’ “hmm.... about 58 bpm” he said sounding a bit annoyed “it’s a little slow, so I guess we’ll have to try the food..” he said pulling the cheese toastie to him, Luigi took a tiny bite after a few minutes the doctor gave him the okay to eat a bit more, holding the stethoscope on him the entire time. By Luigi’s third bite his heart rate shot up to about 72 bpm. When he finally finished eating, Luigi was shaking but only slightly, the Doctor held his wrist and counted “87 bpm” Said the Doctor sounding satisfied. “His body temperatures a bit low so just keep him warm and if his temperature elavates to over ‘100’ then cool him down as best you can. Take it slow with food and be extra careful with sleep, have someone always on hand just in case. Give him plenty of fluids and of course some TLC.” The doctor checked his bag making sure everything was in place before getting up and heading for the door. he checked his watch “best I can do is come back in two days to come over and check on him, if anything worrying happens before then, bring him in as soon as you can and feel free to ring me for advice!” He said now out the door, his dad nodded closing the door while his Mom was writing down everything the Doctor had said “well someone keeping an eye on him shouldn’t be to hard!” Tony laughed “after all he’s got-“ a realisation then hit him “Oh my god, MARIO!” The family jumped as if bit by a wild animal, Toad, Peach And DK stared wide eyed. Uncle Arthur went to open the living room door when as if right on cue Mario walked through, rubbing his eyes, red and puffy from crying “I’m just going out.” He started with a broken voice “I promise I’ll be back soon, you all-understand....” he looked up to see Luigi at the table. Luigi smiled as he shakily got up from the table. Madelyn helped walk him over until he was comfortable enough to walk on his own. The family and Peach’s group parted for them like they were royalty. When Luigi got to Mario, Mario stumbled backwards, Arthur instinctively holding an arm out behind him. Mario finally spoke “No.... no you’re...” -To be continued.

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

[jebblyphishes]

(He/Him s/o) Fizz and Asmodeus with an s/o that's half the size of Fizz ❤

Aaah!! Thanks for the request!

This ended up cuter than I wanted it to and is probably more SFW than I have ever done before but I imagined Ozzie keeping S/O in his pocket and Fizz calling them his 'pocket rocket'

- Fizzarolli is no stranger to seeing smaller imps and demons than him. Even before the robotic limbs, he had been taller than most of his kind, and that's why he doesn't understand what it is about his S/O that makes him want to cuddle them.

Maybe it was when the other drunkenly tried to use his extended leg as a stripper pole?

- Asmodeus never really has to worry too much about stepping on Fizzarolli; the imp was good at bouncing around and avoiding getting stepped on... unless that's what he was in the mood for. Most of the time, Fizzarolli lived on his shoulders or 'accessorised' the Lust Demon.

Their new S/O; now, he was a cause for concern. He was so small, and Asmodeus adored small things, but what if he broke him?

- They both constantly pick S/O up. They just love carrying him around. Even if he squirms and hisses, S/O could be sitting minding their own business, and Fizzarolli will pick him up, take the seat and sit S/O on his lap. Mechanical arms looping two or three times around them. His head resting on top of their's if he was feeling particularly like a bastard.

- Asmodeus mostly picks him up so that they don't end up under a heeled boot. S/O just about reached the spurs on his shoes... but he also fit so well in Asmodeus's fluffy cleavage.

- Misplacing their S/O.

Had he slipped down into Asmodeus's jacket? Was he buried under the sheets of the massive bed they shared? Had Asmodeus rolled over onto him?!

So much anxiety!

S/O turning up with Hellbucks and watching as the two panic search for him... he literally told them he was going out for Satan's sake!

- Fizarolli constantly reminding them of how short they are.

"While you're down there~"

"What?! I'm not even on my knees... I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Bwah! You want me to lay down so you can reach or get you a stool?!"

- S/O getting revenge by making sad faces and grabby hands at Asmodeus, "Fizzy's being meaaan!"

Almost always followed by a giant hand scooping him up to a fluffy chest that rumbled as Asmodeus scolded Fizzarolli. All the while, S/O is looking down smugly with his tongue stuck out at the Jester.

- Did I mention cuddles and snuggling?

Bundling him up and holding him for hours. Face nuzzles from Fizzarolli and gentle fingertip pets from Asmodeus.

- Both looking fondly on when S/O goes feral on a guest who did not pass the vibe test at the club.

"Awww, look at his tiny claws go!"

"Go for the ankles! Yeah! And now piss on him!!"

- S/O unknowingly giving Fizzarolli so much comfort when he lets him wrap around them like a cocoon.

They both curl up on Asmodeus's chest. Sometimes they'll tag team and nuzzle and love and kiss his faces all over. Sometimes they just fall asleep listening to the Prince hum a tune. Asmodeus has to hold in his coos at how damn small and cute they are!

- Fizzarolli got him a bell to wear so that they can find him at all times.

That bell was later heard rattling around in Fizzarolli's ass whilst Asmodeus tried to get S/O to stop pouting angrily at them.

- No one else is allowed to tease S/O for being small. Not unless they like being on fire or stepped on by two very protective boyfriends.

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 2

Prompt: PJ finds his way into Lemm’s shop and begins ruminating about all the different relics with surprising accuracy and knowledge (much to Lemm’s annoyance and confusion)

By @werewolforeos

Lemm was alone, as usual. He dusted off the king’s idols so the illustrious stone regained its shine. He froze as the door to his ‘shop’ creaked, and the bell jingled- please don’t be another caffeine-wanting bug, he thought, turning around to greet the customer.

The masked bug was taller than he was, though not by much- most of its height came from its horns, eight tall spikes resembling a crown. Yet despite this regal feature, it dressed in a fool’s clothes- Lemm could almost imagine the bells attached to the cape’s ends, which luckily were absent. And all its clothes shone with a deep crimson.

“How can I help you?” Lemm muttered, eyeing the stranger’s staff. “Oh, mind that shelf, would you?”

“Oh! A friendly face in these caverns! My, my! What an unexpected surprise!” The bug replied with a too-jolly attitude. Lemm decided he did not like this bug. “Why, I was merely exploring this city- it’s quite hectic outside, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lemm replied. “My shop here is safe, at least. It’s quite calm up here. Have you seen those husks?”

“Yes, yes. Quite the sad fate they have been left with- blinded by those unsightly orange lumps, yet stuck in their daily rituals all the same.” The stranger brought up his hands to his face, in a mocking display of shock. “Oh, heavens! We have yet to introduce ourselves to each other!”

Lemm rolled his eyes. “Name’s Lemm. Don’t have much else to say on that matter, but what’s yours, stranger?”

“Ah- they call me Jester, back up there. You have a nice name, Lemm!” A shiver went up Lemm’s spine as Jester spoke his name- he ignored it, it’s probably just the breeze. “So, Lemm! What do you do up here? It’s quite the nice shop~!” said the Jester, picking up a wanderer’s journal.

“Ah- hands off, please. The knowledge stored on these antiques is priceless.” Lemm tapped Jester on the hands. “I buy these relics of this old kingdom, for the sake of history and preservation. I’ve got many journals to decipher- so if you don’t mind, unless you have any relics for me…?”

“Ah, no, I do not have anything you might be interested in. Though,” the Jester mused, “Perhaps I might be able to assist in deciphering the script? It seems familiar to me.”

Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tell you what, if you can decipher a full journal, I might part with it once I’ve copied it down somewhere.” “That sounds like a challenge to me~! Challenge accepted, shopkeep.”

Lemm gave the Jester a journal he’d deciphered already, to test how well he knew the old script of Hallownest. Putting his finger to the script, the Jester seemed lost in thought, as though looking at an old memory. “This is a passage about those blue cocoons, is it not? They call it Lifeblood.” Lemm blinked.

“That is… correct. But, could you translate the whole passage? I’m curious as to what your skills are.”

“The swirling blue liquid relieves pain, but if too much is taken at once, the Lifeblood seems to take over. We must carefully ration the amount given to the hospitals. Signed… Lurien, the Watcher.”

...That was, way too fast. “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Another.” Lemm trades the journal in the Jester’s hands for another.

“The circus was in town today,” the Jester reads aloud, “and I got to see Marissa’s show! Her voice is so soothing- it reminds me of my dreams.” Lemm was silent. This is ridiculous.

“Hm? Did I make a mistake?”

“Oh, no. I was lost in thought about- these signs here,” Lemm lies. “I hadn’t yet translated this passage, and had not seen this combination written as one word yet.”

“Oh! You’re looking at ‘plague’ there, shopkeep.” Cogs whirred as Lemm processed this information- these journals talk about many things, how did this Jester decipher these so quickly? And does he know things Lemm does not?

“These icons next to each other- ‘sick’ and ‘many’. Many sick make a plague, no?”

“Yes, yes. That does make sense. And here…”

“That’s a shopping list,” the Jester waved it away. “Honeydew, boofly meat, it seems as though this one was quite rich. Though it’s not that important,” he claims, “as those letters from the Watcher you’ve got there seem much more interesting to me.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, everything he’s said has been correct. Even the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to. Just who is this bug, exactly?

The Jester strided over to Lemm’s undeciphered journals, focusing on a specific grouping. “I hereby request the addition of a chamber for Lexi, my butler, inside my Spire. He wishes to stay as he works, and…” Jester pauses as he grabs the next passage. “I believe it would be a good idea to have him with me as I prepare for slumber. Hm, a little fruity, aren’t we, Watcher?”

Lemm just stood there, dumbfounded. “Er. I. Okay.” This is a lot more information than I expected to get in five minutes. Ignoring him, the Jester continued to rummage through the relics, stumbling across a stray king’s idol.

“Hey! Those were ordered to date and time!”

“And now they are not. Is there any issue there? If it is, you can always order them again.”

Lemm definitely did not like this bug. “Excuse me? You waltz into my shop, damage my collection, and strut about like you own the place with your knowledge of the signs used in Hallownest’s prime. Who do you think you are?” “That is irrelevant. I do wonder… where did you find this statuette?”

“A wanderer comes by every so often with many relics, and cleans out my geo stash. I mean- that’s irrelevant. Why do you care?”

Holding the idol at an arm’s length, the Jester tilted his head, studying the way it was sculpted. “This one was found in the resting grounds. I can smell the lavender,” he muses. “I’m surprised they had one of these there- the moths didn’t take kindly to that King. I suppose that’s understandable, given what he did to them.”

“Moths?”

“Yes, yes. Quite a long time ago, they lived in the lands Hallownest was built upon. Did you never get an education?”

Lemm blinks. “Well, I had school, but-”

“Shopkeep, this is something all bugs used to know. Did they scrap it out of the history books? ...Of course he would, that King would do anything for validation. I’m sure the guilt is eating him up from the inside.”

“Jester. The king is dead. Has been for a while. Have you not seen the state of decay this kingdom is in?”

“Ah, no. That Wyrm is still alive somewhere- I’m sure of it.” The Jester moved back to the door, holding his staff in one hand, and journals in the other three. “I do wonder,” he muttered under his breath,”why are these so familiar? Ah, Lemm, was it? Would you mind if I took these outside?”

Before Lemm could express indignance, the door opened once more- standing in it a drenched wanderer, who often stopped by to supply Lemm with his many relics. The pale white mask they donned looked up at the crimson Jester, an unreadable expression behind it. The wanderer gripped the handle of their nail- sharpened, coiled, pure. They recognized the Jester, and they did not particularly like him, Lemm thought. At least Lemm wasn’t alone in disliking his clown schtick. That being said, the Jester still held some relics- if a fight broke out, they could get damaged. Lemm quietly pried open the hands of the Jester.

“Ohoho! We meet again, little one! Do tell me about your excursions down here, won’t you?” The Jester was met with silent scorn. The shop was rife with tension, though the Jester seemed oblivious to it.

“Er, pardon me, but mayhaps you two should take this… outside.”

The wanderer stared at the Jester for another moment, before breaking their gaze away, and briskly walking towards Lemm. They rummaged in their pockets, producing another pair of journals, a Hallownest seal, and an arcane egg. The Jester giggled, the wanderer quickly turning their head towards him, and then sprinting back into the endless rain of the City of Tears before Lemm could give the wanderer the geo they were due.

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By @couch-cat

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By @arandoskeleartist

(audio file working on being uploaded)

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By @uncurdled-bean-curd

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By @the-trans-anon

Lemm was going to have a stroke.

He’d been having a perfectly fine day going through his relics without any annoyances running around, when a strange bug he’d never seen before entered his shop. The bug didn’t seem to have any relics to share, saying he was just exploring, and had been about to leave when he noticed one of Lemm’s king idols.

“What’s that?” The bug asked, reaching for the idol.

Lemm quickly yanked it out of his reach, not thrilled with the idea of someone manhandling his relics. “It’s an idol of the Pale King. The King himself was rarely seen so the bugs of Hallownest worshiped these in his stead.”

“Lies!” Before he could blink, the bug had grabbed the idol and jumped back towards the door. He held the idol up above their head, admiring it.

“Clearly it’s a tiny statue of me! Can you not see the resemblance?” He asked, looking towards Lemm and pressing the idol against his mask, eyes alight with mirth.

Lemm was about to snap at the bug to give him back the idol for gods sake it’s a historical artifact not a toy- when he too started to notice the similarities between the idol and the strange bug. Both had similar horns rising up as a crown, though the bug’s horns were much more curved than the King’s, and their masks looked nearly identical save for the black lines running down the bug’s face. The main difference was their clothing, with most of the King’s imagery in white and the bug’s clothes in a bright, fiery red. The more he looked, the more clear their uncanny resemblance became.

“...Are you related to the Pale King?” Lemm asked, feeling a headache start to form.

The bug looked confused, then put down the idol. “ Ah no, I’m afraid I simply jest my friend. Though we have similar names, I have never heard of your “Pale King” before. Though I have to say,” He looked back at the idol “your king was quite the looker.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have similar names? What’s your name?!”  

The bug looked about ready to answer, before he froze and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, my apologies my friend. It appears the Master is in need of me.”

“The Master??!”

“May we meet again.” The strange bug bowed, and raced out of the shop.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave who does that!? Come back here!” Lemm ran after the bug, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” He sighed, before deciding to look around for any sign of the bug. That bug had to have some kind of connection with the King, and like hell he was going to pass up a chance to get information about the reclusive Pale King. He needed to talk to that bug.

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By @lesiasmadness

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By @redcynder1234

Lemm angrily grumbled at the tiny hands that dragged him halfway across the kingdom. He had tried to fight the smaller vessel off back in the city of tears. When they had suddenly barged into his little relic shop, seeming urgent as he tried to drag the grumpy old bug out of his shop. Lemm had tried to wave them away, but the smaller bug had quite a lot of determination to show them something then and there, at least no husks dare tread in their path as they traveled. The infection may be gone for sure, but husks of former bugs sometimes still lingered around, it was nerve wracking for sure, but lemm was safe in his shop where he could get lost in his work for hours on end. However now with the little shadow dragging him out of the safety of his home, He was a little on edge.

Finally as it seemed the little ghost had dragged them to their location they pointed upwards. Looking up, lemm grumbled seeing an old rusty chain leading up an old well. “Absolutely not.” He growled out. Even as the small vessel flapped their monarch wings to start and climb the chain. Hearing his response however they stopped and looked down before pulling out something from their cloak. One hand on the chain they waved a king's idol in the air. “Yes you’ve been waving that thing at me through this entire journey! I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me halfway across hallownest.” He barked angrily. If only the little vessel could speak. He assumed they couldn't speak a few visits back as they sold old trinkets at his shop but lemm never could be sure. It really felt like they were speaking sometimes.

The vessel seemed to wave and point it up desperately before disappearing up the well. “Ey! Little squirt! Come back here!” He barked up the shaft angrily. However when no shadow came to retrieve him he just grumbled angrily. “Stupid, familiar looking…” Lemm mumbled under his breath as he climbed up the chain. If his curiosity about what they wanted wasn't so persistent he would have turned straight back around and headed back to the city of tears. Plus, kings idols were a rare find and he wanted to get his hands on as many as he could.

As he scrambled over the ledge of the well, his old carapace not liking the climb in the slightest, he looked around. He remembered hearing about the town of dirtmouth. By its size alone lemm could tell the town must have been a lively and successful one before the infection's grip controlled and destroyed the place. It was sad, maybe to anyone other than lemm at the moment. Grumpy and tired he saw the cloaked vessel padding towards two pinky almost red tinted tents. “Little pest… just doing to leave me behind!” He barked angrily as he followed after the vessel. Nothing left to do this far into this journey but to follow the little gremlin. Plus, in case there were any more infected lingering about, he rather have another soul that could fight them off then be left to fend them off himself. He only knew how to work with small pliers and knives, not nails and needles.

The vessel seemed to be approaching a small crowd that had formed outside the tents. They had been there before the two entered town, but lemm could already tell from a distance they were all… scared? More weary if anything. As he got closer the little ghost had turned, waving the small king's idol wildly while pointing through the crowd. “Give me that.” He snapped while snatching the king's brand from their hands. “I swear if you really wanted to sell it to me you could have done it in the city of tears, instead of dragging me halfway across the kingdom!” He snapped angrily. Making sure it hadn’t been damaged he fetched a bag of geo from under his cloak and dropped it without even looking at the vessel. “You're lucky I'm not taking half of that for dragging me her- OW.” He barked when ghost suddenly yanked his beard. “I swear-“ he growled as he looked down, wavinging the vessel's hand away from his beard. However the vessel was glaring into his soul and pointing. Angrily he huffed and looked up, before his eyes widened. Huh? That was impossible!?!

Looking down at the idol in his hands he looked up. The normal silver cloak was gone, replaced with red jester clothes. His crown of thorns was bent in such a painful looking way it almost made lemm cringe at the thought; and yet as lemm held up the king's idol he could see the similarities. Far too close similarities to be a coincidence. However there was no way the king of hallownest was some low-life jester doing gags and tricks to please the normal class's eye. Especially to a dead kingdom. Yet thinking this could be the king's brother was almost laughable. The king was a wyrm if the small amount of text he deciphered was true. And wyrms were giant beasts that could kill anything in its path. Then who was this look-a-like in front of them? That must be why the vessel had dragged them here, they may be curious themselves but since lemm was such a history nut he would know more. Could have still told him that before dragging him here.

As the jester bowed and the small crowd nervously clapped. Seeming to be more doing it to please someone then actually liking the show. He paused as the jester disappeared back into the pink tents. He knew the vessel was still standing beside them, watching the relic keeper curiously. Lemm knew he shouldn't enter the tent and ask such a question, but so many questions could be solved about this kingdom if this stupid look-a-like statue was this strange jester. The pale king hidden right under everyone's noses. Yet it still felt wrong in some way but he couldn't figure out why.

Lemm didn't understand what caused him to head towards the menacing face-looking tents; but he headed inside their pink tinted curtains. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the tent to be almost pitch black except for small lanterns hanging up around the place. He expected at least a little of the outside world's lights to cut through the fabric. Sure it wasn't bright already in dirtmouth, but the sheets had looked almost see through before, now they looked like solid walls keeping the relic keeper inside. A shiver ran down his back as he almost instantly regretted his decision. He was a relic seeker, not an explorer that went out and actually found the relics to study. However it was a bit too late to turn back now.

Walking down the hallway he saw another bug standing there. Playing a spooky tone upon the accordion in their hands. Lemm wished he could have just snuck around the bug but they noticed him before he got too close. “Mrmm… Sorry, but the master does not want visitors at the moment...” Lemm gulped softly. “Actually I am uh… here to see your jester I believe. I wanted to praise them for the wonderful show.” The lie came out of his mouth a bit smoother than he intended. Yet it seemed the other paused before nodding forward. “Mrmm… Continue then… but do not linger.” they simply stated. Lemm quickly nodded and passed by, making sure the king's idol was safely out of sight from the other bug's eyes. Once passed he calmed down a bit. The hallway led to a pretty large room, silken ropes hanging from just about everywhere above his head. Somewhere tied together, some were almost touching the ground. They were so long, but lemm had to admit it was a pretty sight. Something white suddenly appeared from above, it was the jester alright, carefully twisted around the silken fabric. Was he dancing? It kinda appeared like it. “H-hello?” lemm wasn't one for conversation but it felt a little awkward just watching the other. The other quickly looked down, a mask upon the other's face made the relic seeker shiver. However the others voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he expected it to be. “Ah! Greetings down there, what brings you to the grimm kin’s tent.” He called down. Carefully sliding down the silken ropes to hang upside down in front of the relic seeker. Lemm nervously took a step back before stealing himself. “I wanted to ask you a question.” The jester tilted his head curiously. Carefully righting himself and wrapping his legs around the silken ropes to keep himself suspended in mid hair.

“Oh?” He hummed curiously “What question do you have for a little jester like me?” he spoke. Lemm gulped nervously before speaking. “Do… were… I….” how does he just ask someone if they were a king?! “Were you a king before?” He blurted out in her strange panic. The jester seemed to pause before bursting out laughing. Lemm huffed even if he knew how stupid that must of just sounded. “I’m serious!” He barked out, feeling a bit flustered. As the jester calmed he wiped a single tear that had formed in the mask's eye. “A funny joke for sure little bug, but there would be no way that I could be a king. I would probably put buzzsaws and little traps as far as the eye could see.” he snickered to himself as he joked, but lemm just huffed. “I am serious-” he barked again but the jester interrupted him “Then your answer is obviously no my small bug.” he chuckled “I could never be a king of something.” He chuckled. “Either way, I don't think you should be back here. If the master finds out you're here he may be quite mad.” The pale jester said with another chuckle. Lemm huffed angrily. “You look like the ruler that used to rule here--” “--That's enough.” the jester spoke with a huff. “I understand a joke but pushing it makes it unfunny.” the other huffed.

Lemm growled. “I’m not joking! I already said that.” he barked “You look like the king of his land, look-!” He held up the king idol that he had hidden in his cloak. The jester paused. If lemm continued to speak he didn't hear it, He focused on the idol in there hand. It made the jester feel strange, like there was something scratching at the back of their head but just couldn't figure out what was causing it. Like a memory long compressed and lost to time. Maybe it was better that they were suppressed but…. Flashes of memories went through his head. Bright white images with blurred faces. Hissing he took a step back before his head cleaned and something warm brushed his shoulder. Looking up he noticed grimm standing over him, his eyes seemed kind and light hearted but the jester could sense the small bit of anger in them.

The jester watched Grimm calmly lead the other outside the tents. Their words didn't fully register to him however as the two left. The strange symbol still was imprinted in his mind but the memories that had come along with them were gone. Strange, but it may be better for such things to stay hidden in his memory, but the jester was still curious. When grimm appeared beside him again through a burst of red smoke he seemed calm, but his red eyes shined in worry. “Ah yes I'm ok.” he chuckled nervously. “Just got a bit of a headache.” he said “What a strange bug.” he spoke, looking towards the entrance to the tent. Grimm only softly hummed “Indeed… Come, we have plenty still to do while we're here.” The jester paused before nodding, following grimm back into the tent.

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By @darkautodraws 

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By @daikoski​ 

The Pale Jester always had a knack for dancing.

—Or perhaps, certain kinds of it.

He’d discovered one time when indulging on a slower song from Brumm, that he had a knack for ballroom dancing of all things! But such a thing isn’t commonplace for his kind of performance, no, he much prefers storytelling accompanied with a fun little jig of sorts. Ballroom dancing—especially with the audience he tends to have—seems to be something a little too formal and delicate.

Which is why he finds himself taking on the endeavor of trusting seemingly delicate, flowing silks with the entirety of himself. Ahh, yes, that of aerial dancing! He notes them as seemingly delicate, as they’re more than capable of securing far more weight than originally thought, but also... he’s very sharp.

—Of course, he’s not so clumsy now to go and let his claws tear straight through the silk now, nor would he allow the plates of his body to catch on it either. Not like that one time, when he had first been trying to pitch the choreography to this performance...

Now that had been something. The clicking tear of threads being pulled apart and the swoop of his stomach as he plummeted before quickly catching himself with his tail, something of a boisterous, abrupt laugh escaping him.

“You’re not trying to escape from a web, are you? Try not to cut yourself down little Fool!” Divine had jeered affectionately, and he could have easily preened from the spark of laughter that ignited the rest of the Troupe before lowering himself.

(... he also most certainly tries to pad the sharp ridges of his body a little more ever since that incident, but that’s besides the point.)

Ah, but that’s beside the point. Such a joyous thing it is, to inspire such a reaction in others, even if it’s from a

slipup like that. Perhaps it’s even better when it is. (Aer all, the Jester in fact would like to think he uses his foolishness to endear

himself to others, not dolt around.)

The tent is empty as of now, though that’s no concern. The Grimmkin will flood the audience the moment he does so much as enter the stage—no, he’s searching for the more unfamiliar-yet-not guests to come in, if at all. Perhaps the little wanderer, the shadow? Or maybe even one of the town folks bold enough to come by? Oh, or the princess warrior! Though her kind are truly experts in silk, and he finds himself unsure of how she’ll take his performance. (It is due to her influence that he felt himself particularly inclined to this song and dance aer all.)

Ah, he should probably do some last checks on the rigging, make sure they’re steady and all that. That, and check on his costume, too.

“C’mon Jester, don’t tell me your talons are going all stiff on ya!” comes the snicker of a Grimmkin trying to goad him on, and he laughs, before launching into a sprightly comical bow, tail flicking. Actually, he feels as nimble as possible, thank you very much!

“Of course not, dear friend! I’m simply waiting to greet our beloved guests—” and speak and she will come, the familiar rubied-red cloak catches his eye, and he immediately pats and dismisses the ‘kin to greet the spider. “And here one comes now!”

“Hello, hello! Welcome, Little Hornet—” there’s a bit of distaste that shines through her expression at his thoughtless nickname, and he would reel it in had he not

already said it, instead opting to tuck the information away for next time, “—you’re just in time for this next performance! Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable!”

She’s ushered to her seat, which is something on the front rows amongst the many grimmkin. Idly he notes that neither of her siblings are attending, though he has no complaints.

This one’s less of a personal performance and more for all the Troupe to see, so he won’t be able to converse with her until aer. She comes here most oen to ask questions, aer all. A no-nonsense type of bug she is, and it’s only customary he’ll allow such aer a performance, and she seems to know the same. Nonetheless, he bites back a bark of amusement at the way she glowers at the chatty Grimmkin, a little bit crowded as it is.

Lights snap on, beaming bright and warm, and the show begins.

Distantly, he can hear the beginning notes of Brumm’s accordion, and ah, what a perfect guide he always is! The familiar haunting call sends a thrill through the Jester, and it’s with that he begins his performance.

He wonders briefly if aerial silk dancing has ever been seen within Hallownest. Perhaps so, perhaps not; he only learned due to the Troupe aer all, and Grimm hadn’t really shared where he had learned such an art either...

The whisper of silk that he coils around his hand is taut, strong and secure the more he loops it. It’s with quick, tight motions and a graceful swoop that he suspends himself right upside down, sharp mandibles pulling back into a pleased smile from behind his mask. That was a satisfying maneuver.

There’s a split second of concern regarding his costume—the fabric of his wings just do not seem to be cooperating this time around, but alas, it simply feels right to have them there!

The more he spends within the air, the more inclined, the more fond he becomes in fitting such an image. It feels even better when the silks are pulled and he’s practically in arms reach to the ceiling.

Though the Jester isn’t quite sure how to describe it; a certain kind of fun exhilaration, a familiar twinge in his chest at being lied to such a height—he’d first noticed it through the use of mere ropes and cranks, to trapezing and other such elevated storytelling (Ha! Perhaps if he finds more joyous stories to share, he could workshop that into a joke to tell Hornet...) to now dancing with aerial silks.

He lets himself be guided and pulled along, to sway and twirl with the call of the music and the warmth of the Heart with practiced ease and elegance. But of course; he’s more than prepared for this, and with each swoop and dip his smile widens more and more.

When the curtains close and all the Grimmkin have seen fit to disappear off to do whatever it is their hearts desire, the Jester remains lingering on the stage. To clean up mainly, but it is to keep a keen eye on the nimble princess as well. He watches as she simply hops up and makes her way down towards him, and he perks up in attention.

There’s some attempt at niceties, just polite, pleasant conversation on his part, to which she kind of shuts down aer a moment.

“Why the new performance?” Ahh, so some curiosity was piqued!

The Jester hums thoughtfully, letting the silks hold his weight up as he rocks too far back on his legs. It brushes whisper-so against him.

“Perhaps for no specific reason in particular, other than to further expand my capabilities as a jester!” He somewhat not-answers.

She doesn’t respond, instead opting to give him a very narrow eyed look, suspicion and more, and he feels compelled to continue.

“Well, perhaps not nothing. Hypothetically... if this old soul noticed a certain spiderling’s interest in acrobatics—and this is hypothetical, of course!” Hands up in the air as if in surrender yet jestful, he laughs, “and wished to, say, partake in something similar in an attempt to perhaps bond with her...?”

A pause and a beat. “Had it been to your liking, young one?”

He lets the words linger in the air, before dropping his hands down to tug at the silks once more. He wishes to be honest, so even though he feels... uncertain, telling her that, he doesn’t regret it.

Hornet’s expression does... something. It’s tiny—miniscule, even, and perhaps had it been anyone else but him, that faint little tell might have gone unseen. but he does see it, and he recognizes it quickly as some sort of conflicted emotion, a tension that he’s brought upon her.

It seems she very much teeters on something colder, fists gripping at the edge of her cloak before she almost quietly ekes out, “It had been fine.”

The Jester brightens up—why, from such a grumpy young princess like her, that could very well be the highest praise!

...Though it’s best he does not push further, nor goad her on either. Enjoyable their dances can be (with such strong, violent intent from her too!) he’s already finished his own performance, and she’s certainly due to rest sometime soon, nor would he want to upset her more in the first place.

And much to his surprise, she continues, “Such as... that part when you had dropped suddenly... I thought you were certain to fall and crack your mask in half.” Something of a surprised chuckle is pulled from him, and he hums. “Where you were supported by only one silk. It looked... dire.”

It’s vague enough that he can’t really pinpoint what part of the act she was talking about, but it brings forth words to his tongue, but just which ones?

Yes, just what was that phrase... right!

“That part! I was practically hanging by a thread, was I not?”

(So, he hadn’t been able to workshop that ‘elevated’ joke in time... but such is the way!)

By the Heart... he could consider this another job well-done, couldn’t he? No snapping, harsh remarks on the little spiderlings end, no such invasive shenanigans from any of the other grimmkin—the mischief they could get up to!

“It most certainly felt as though I had been too. These silks simply do not part when you want them to! I very nearly cocooned myself at one point!” He muses. A quick

recovery he always is, but it is still such a wrenching moment when there’s even the slightest miss of a cue.

“Tell me, I’ve never had the honour to learn or witness the art of silk in action. I can consider my act something akin to it, though it’s quite incomparable to that of a spider, and I find myself curious! Are there ever such... shenanigans like that?”

Perhaps it’s his curiosity as a now-performer, to find enjoyment in the silliness and mistakes along the way; a perfect performance starts from somewhere aer all, and he finds himself wishing to know more. Hornet probably knows what he’s doing—making good use of that ‘bonding attempt’ that he so mentioned earlier, and...

Is it in poor taste to joke around like this? She is one of the few weavers le... he wonders oandedly, when Hornet lets out something that sounds like a scoff-laugh.

“You would be surprised. Although we in particular favoured silk to be used in tapestries and story keeping rather than dance, it wouldn’t be... uncommon for a mishap to happen in a more verbose storytelling. Such as a silk shroud meant to mimic the silhouette of a corpse creeper ending up on the audience rather than the speaker themself...”

She does not specify if the one accidentally tossing a silken hunter on their audience is her, from her early days of practicing weaving, or anyone else... but she does look a little more relaxed, even if by a pinch. (And if he looked ever closer, maybe even a little embarrassed? It’s tiny, and far off, but maybe...)

(For some reason, he has a feeling he would have been too. Just a little bit.)

Hornet is about to speak more, unprompted (much to his delight), when she halts. One beat, two beats, and then looks at him.

“...you’ve never learned?” It's a small enough question that he nearly misses it. So like a whisper, edged with a sharp venomous hiss, and when the Jester is able to recollect himself from the sudden shock, he’s tuned back in only to see her cold regard and the turn of her back, needle gripped tighter, for she never goes anywhere without it.

“So now you’re curious.”

...Pardon?

He doesn’t give the reaction she wants, if the (hurt? angry?) scoff she gives at his bewilderment is not enough of a tell, then it’s the way she rolls her eyes before looking askance.

“...I will be taking my leave now.” She mutters something more about ‘he never learned about the weavers’ ... ‘not even of their culture?’ but the last bits of it are lost as she disappears from sight completely.

...

That... had not gone well? Or did it? It most certainly feels as though it did, but now their conversation has been cut short without him being able to give so much as a farewell. But he lets her leave. Not that he would stop her, especially knowing she’ll stop by sometime again, but he simply... watches.

She had been upset, in the beginning, and then the end. Upset at him. (Isn’t the first time.) (That’s one, aching pain in his chest today.)

...

The curtains have fallen, and as of now it’s time he recuperates for the next performance.

...That, or dust off that lantern of his to go and gather more flames for the Heart. The Troupe Master had allowed him to forgo such responsibilities in favour of honing his aerial dance aer all. Even with permission, he can feel the faint call of the flames, the flicker-spark as they burn deep within the depths of this poor, dilapidated kingdom.

(Or is it the call of the Heart pulling him away from his encounter with Hornet?)

(The enthralling change in attention is enough to jarr him just a little bit out of his thoughts, though he’s unsure if that’s what he wants or not. Distraction or focus?)

Deliberately, he redirects his thoughts to the spiderling, to their interactions.

...As a whole, it seems today has le him with very different emotions.

She had been testy at first, as always, but it seemed like he managed to converse pleasantly for her, even for just an exchange. And then she’s up and gone in not a moment later.

...There was an uncertain edge to her, when he had told her of his reasons for practicing such dance. The faintest scrunch of her fangs, as if trapped between pulling back into a snarling hiss or an uncertain smile. Or that if she did feel hostile, it was as though she was in polite company and couldn’t afford to be as such.

(And he knows very well that she does not quite see him as polite company, so why does she refrain as such other than habit?)

She was never one to hide her distaste towards him, but that had been something... different. What, he isn’t sure, but... odd, for such a small detail to stick out to him like that.

Ah, haha! But of course he recognized such a tell, not when he has the exact same quirk! Conflicted between strict decorum and honesty, where he’d much rather be honest and forthright than needlessly tense, as he’s so oen teased by his beloved—!

—His... beloved? No name follows that, and although it would be a complete term of endearment

as is, it doesn’t... feel complete. His beloved... one who knows him, knows his face despite the mask upon it

now...? His...

...Odd.

(...Here’s another chest pang.)

There’s a harsh little wheeze of a sour note, and the Jester perks up to see Brumm approaching, fiddling with the instrument before kicking into a slower, soer melody. He hadn’t realized he'd been standing there still, center of the stage, still with hands entangled in the silks, still very much not cleaning up or resting.

“Hello there, friend!” He greets, receiving only a nod in response and a curious look.

“Mrmm... Did something happen? Had it not gone well?” Straight to the point as always, too...

“I...” he falters, and for a second he feels terribly improper for such an obvious display of weakness, before continuing, “I do believe it couldn’t have gone any better!”

And it’s true! There isn’t much in his opinion that could be improved other than the few minute details, but of course, he is always striving to grow! Simply, everything had felt so right, he has no current complaints for himself!

Which is why... how odd it is that he feels so... down. This is by far one of his best performances yet, but that encounter with Hornet... it leaves him feeling tense. She had, while not the main reason he wished to learn such a dance, had been an influential part of it at least...

Because he cares for her like a... like a daughter. (Though that feels a touch too much, considering the fact she is the princess-protector of this fallen kingdom, and how terrible it is that she is to bear the responsibilities of the once so revered king...)

...So maybe a niece instead?

(Perhaps niece would work better—he can’t go and become too fond of the come and goers who eventually leave, just as how the Troupe will part from these ruins eventually too. But alongside that, there was an amusing term he had learned a few kingdoms back from a grub who had claimed him as their... ‘cool uncle’ in feeling!)

(Truthfully, he had never really learned the semantics of family lines like that—never needed to anyways. Taking up the mantle as a Jester of no-one but the

Troupe leaves him snapping up little bits of information from the many different places they’ve visited.)

(And here he is, subconsciously trying to claim a familial title for himself when he’s the last person someone would want as family.)

...

“I had believed perhaps this would be a more successful performance than my usual song and dance.” he admits, jovial tone a little lacking, far less overplayed than it usually is.

“Though I haven’t the faintest idea why... I thought perhaps it would make her happier that I do something she could potentially partake in. Aer all, I had never........”

Sharp words echo in his mind. ‘You've never?’

..........He had never what? The same phrase worms itself way into his mind again, this time from his own tongue. The things he has never done, but... what? Why is it that he feels inclined, feels like he needs, with all of his foolish heart, to make up for something he isn't aware of? Of strings le undone, of time he had owed but had never given...

There’s something tugging at him faintly, trying to unmoor itself from the deepest parts of his mind yet shrouded in the familiar, now comforting mist of blazing warmth and flame. He tries to prod at the thought a little further, before the feeling escapes him.

(Or perhaps the flame that so carefully protects his mind, so caringly had swept it up, crisping it with its bright beauty and letting it smolder into ashes so that these vague thoughts may no longer cling to him.)

He had never......

......Well, he’s never done many things! What he does now though is what’s more important than ever, and if he so desires to try and chip at all the ‘nevers’, what better way to do it than travelling with the dear Troupe?

Unconsciously, he tugs at the hanging silks. Something to fiddle with if anything.

(His head feels foggy again, chest tight. That’s three aching pains today. Or more? He can’t tell.)

Then there’s the low voice of his dear friend, and the Jester tunes into what Brumm is saying. “...Have you shown Master your new performance?” He doesn’t see, or rather, he can’t see the solemn looks of the musician, can only hear the little ‘hrmm...’ that vibrates from his voicebox.

The song he’s playing comes to an end, and he draws the last note out, long and mournful.

“Ah, but of course. Though I must say I haven’t performed it for him officially other than in practice—it would do me well to hone my skills further! You don't suppose he's free currently?” Brumm is offering a distraction, he’s aware, but nonetheless, he wouldn’t turn down a moment with the Troupe Master when he’s been nothing but kind during pain days like this.

“He should be. I shall inform him then.” He inclines his head. “...Take care.”

Brumm bids him a gentle farewell, soon disappearing into the depths of the tent and leaving the Jester to his thoughts.

So.

...Thrice. Thrice, that those aching pains have visited him within this same hour, and he frowns. Thrice, and he doesn’t have an inkling as to how and where they could have come and gone, nothing but a lingering phantom sensation in his chest.

(He had talked about it with Brumm one time, when they were both musing over the ambiguity of their characters; life before the Troupe, faded and gone, just as with everyone else. Life with the Troupe, all that they’ve known, but a satisfactory life it is.)

Where little weird memory aches aren’t impossible, or even uncommon, but are well taken care of. Soothed even, by the Heart.

Ah yes, the Heart. It’s taken the entire Troupe under its care, hasn’t it? They’re all here with the gied masks that brands them as one with the Heart, they’re here for a reason.

And the comfort that so fills him is something overwhelming, bright and unrelenting, such is the way of a flame within the dark. It washes over the last of the tugging memory pains, and he lets it. Lets it singe and smolder, lets it drape its curtain of red over his mind, so that the ache in his chest will disappear.

All of the lingering worries, all the doubts are held alo by a bare thread— —and the Heart snips through it with ease, and the Fool is at peace.

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

By @cloudcryptid

[istanleyff7]

TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scene 1-4

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2- Aerith Scenes 1 - 4

A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter)

Scene 1

Aerith Gainsborough was on Shinra Ferry No. 8, and like her friends, she was wearing a Shinra's military uniform. It was her first time on the sea, as well as on a ship. The ferry connecting Junon and Costa De Sol was unexpectedly lavish. Enticed by curiosity, she looked around the ferry. However, the wealthy passengers were not welcoming towards troopers. Driven away by the cold stares, she arrived at the bottom ferry's cargo hold. The goods and luggage were all over the place. Someone was already there.

"Hey, I heard this on the deck a while ago..."

It was Tifa Lockhart, clad in Shinra's equipment. One won't expect it based on her tender smile, but she's an excellent martial artist. She is a reliable companion, equipped with her unstoppable punches, diverse kicks and jumping power. It hasn't been long since they met. However, Aerith believed that the bonds that were fostered by overcoming critical situations were genuine.

"When you feel that you're becoming seasick, it seems that it's good to chat as a distraction."

"I see. Tifa, are you feeling sick?"

"Nahhh, I'm good."

"Me, too."

The conversation ended there. Soon after, Aerith noticed that Tifa wanted to speak. She's reserved at times.

"You wanna talk? Let's talk."

"I'd like to hear about you this time."

"Me?"

"I'm a good listener. You see, I am always doing so at the bar."

She straightened her posture and pretended to polish a glass.

"Hello, it's your first time here, isn't it. Where are you from?"

"Wow."

Aerith was in admiration.

"Do you live around here?"

"Nope. I live in the slums of Sector 5."

"I see. Sector 5 seems pretty lively too. Were you born there too?"

"Well...." Aerith hesitates to say. "It's probably hard to explain."

Tifa immediately sensed it. She had already spoken about her being an Ancient and about her being the last surviving one.

"Sorry, I've gone too far."

"Oh, not at all." Aerith denies it immediately.

"I was just a little taken back. There isn't anyone who says that they want to hear it, nor is there anyone I thought of telling. Well, you wanna hear it? You wanna hear it?"

"If it's alright with you."

"I'm good! I'm good!"

Scene 2

Ifalna, Aerith's mother, was the final pure-blooded descendant of the Ancients as both of her parents were Ancients. She was under the protection of Shinra. To collaborate with the various studies concerning the Ancients, she lived on the upper floors of the Shinra building for a long time. Except for having the freedom to go outside, she had a room that provided almost everything. Aerith lived with her mother, but she couldn't remember the day when she first entered that room. Her first memory was in that room too. As everyone around was adults, the only person she could call a friend was Ronnie, the son of Ifalna's caretaker, Mariel, who brought him along. He was two years older than her.

It was the year 1992. Aerith was seven years old. Her head was suddenly flooded with images. She saw not only landscapes and people that she had never seen before, but also the figures of animals and monsters too. Aerith's Ancient powers were awakened. The inexperienced Aerith could not only control these images, but she also could not ignore them. She painted on papers, painted on the walls and showed it to anyone who wanted to see them. She thought that by doing so, these mysterious "visions" would disappear.

Scene 3

"I understand now that up till then, I was a hostage, and to protect me, my mother had no choice but to obey Hojo. But because Hojo also knew that I inherited the powers of the Ancients, he was overjoyed. Because he discovered a successor, he started doing terrible things to my mother, which he hadn't done until then. And just like that, my mother's health began to break down..."

Scene 4

Because of Hojo and his fellow staff, Ifalna's “working” hours increased. She was made to work for Hojo's studies every day from morning till evening. She was weak every day, and she could not walk on her own. There were also times when Hojo's staff pushed her back into the room in a wheelchair. At that time, Fuzz Hicks appeared and was dressed in a lab coat. Out of all the staff that Aerith knew, Fuzz had the largest physique. His eyes, nose and mouth were huge too. He was a very trustworthy figure who easily carried Ifalna with his massive arms. 

When Fuzz came over, Ifalna begged him for medicine. She had a sad, sweet voice. Aerith did not say anything, but she did not like her mother whenever she made that kind of voice. She wanted her to be cured soon if she was ill.

“Fuzz, please…”

Aerith was almost sure that Fuzz knew it. He turned his back against the surveillance camera. He left a small bottle of medicine and a syringe, reminding her to keep it a secret from the other staff, and then he left. Ifalna used it on herself. Aerith could not see her mother sticking the needle in her arm, usually hiding in the sofa's shadow. 

Aerith has little memory of the calendar dates of events regarding her childhood. It was one night when she was seven years old. She snuggled under her mother's bed as usual. It was a habit she had since she knew she was being monitored. She covered herself entirely with a blanket.

"Aerith. Want to go on an adventure?" Ifalna whispered from the other side of the blanket.

“What will we be doing?” She had a longing and a fear towards the outside world.

"I miss it."

Aerith did not understand what her mother was feeling. However, she sensed that tears were mixed in with her voice. 

Aerith did not want to see her mother's face and got out from her blanket. Ifalna covered her face with her arm. The sleeves of her loose sleepwear were turned inside out. She had plenty of painful injection marks.

"If we head out, will you be okay, Mummy? You’re not going to take any more injections?"

“Yes. I think that will be so.”

"Well, let's go. But, I wonder if we can do it. The cameras are watching."

"Fuzz will help us out."

"Why will Fuzz help us out?"

There was a brief pause.

"Because he's a good person"

↞↠

Ifalna was taken out of the room as usual and returned in the evening. Fuzz was pushing the wheelchair.

"Yo Aerith," said Fuzz with his deep voice.

"The preparations are in order. I have prepared a secret house in the Sector 3 slums. You will also have a room. It's small, but we'll be leaving here."

He only told her that, and he left the room.

The emergency bell rang in the morning. Hurried by Ifalna, Aerith changed her clothes. It was clothes she had never seen before.

"Fuzz prepared these for us," Ifalna informed as she also wore her new clothes.

"Let's go."

"We will be seen."

"Don’t think like that."

Ifalna opened the door.

"It can't be. The lock is open. Why?"

The mother did not reply, took a deep breath and dashed out to the corridor. There was not a single person there. The bell signalling a crisis rang into their ears. 

"Experimental monsters are on the loose. Staff from the Science Department evacuate to a safe location," the public announcement monotonously announced.

"That's rough."

Aerith was frightened. However, Ifalna ascertained the direction and walked. She was hobbling. Her condition was good only when she opened the door. Aerith took her hand and kept up with her.

They turned at the first corner of the corridor. No staff were seen, and there were also no signs of wandering monsters. Ifalna rushed over to a wagon carrying cleaning tools; a large metal box attached with tiny wheels, with a long brush and mop, stuck into it. She slid her hand on the side of the wagon, and a part slid open. It was empty. There were supposed to be various cleaning agents and tools in there. The shelves and dividers were also removed. 

"We will be hiding in here. I'll head in first."

Ifalna bent her body and slipped into the box.

"Come, Aerith."

Invited by her voice, Aerith went inside. Ifalna pulled her knees towards herself to make space for her daughter. The petite Aerith quickly got in.

"We are going to be here for some time, so find yourself a comfortable position."

"Okay. This position is good."

"Got it."

After Ifalna closed the door, the wagon became pitch black. The public announcement remained unchanged and announced the experimental monsters’ escape. Before long, there was an indication that someone was nearby. The wagon vibrated lightly.

"It's me."

"I'm leaving it to you, Fuzz."

"We'll get going."

The wagon started to run.

"No matter what happens, do not make any noise."

"I'll be making a turn."

"It's an elevator. We will be transferring elevators several times."

From time to time, Fuzz could be heard. While in the elevator, Aerith became nauseous.

"Mummy, I don't feel good."

"It will be over soon."

When the free-falling feeling with the wagon was over, it started running again. As Fuzz mentioned, he will be transferring elevators several times.

"We're in a parking lot."

A different and unpleasant odour, unlike before, crept into the wagon.

"I'll be stopping soon. There'll be a truck, so hurry up and hop onto its cargo bed. I'll assist the both of you."

There was likely a change in the ground surface. A rattling sound came out from the wagon as it ran. The wagon soon stopped, and the door came open.

"Well then, hurry on."

Aerith was pulled out by the large hand that went into the wagon. He held Aerith up and placed her on the cargo bed as though she was an object.

"Move inside," Fuzz said as he also lightly placed Ifalna on the cargo bed.

"There are a few wooden crates. The innermost one is empty, so hide in it. Don't forget to close the lid. My cousin will be driving the truck. After arriving at the train station, the crate will be loaded onto the freight carrier. The cargo will eventually arrive at the Sector 4 slums station, so wait for me there."

"In the box?" Ifalna asked.

"Nope. I think you both will end up waiting for me somewhere at the station. I have a friend there, so follow her instructions. I've written the details in this letter," Fuzz said as he folded the paper and passed it to Ifalna.

"Where are you going, Fuzz?" Aerith asked.

"I'm heading back up to pretend to search for the both of you. If I get caught, it's going to cost me more than my neck."

The car horn sounded, and feelings of anxiety rushed in.

"Well, later then. There is food and water in the crate."

"How long do we have to wait for you to come?"

"At worst, till the last train," Fuzz said as he kissed the back of Ifalna's hand. Aerith was surprised and looked at Fuzz and her mother one after another.

"Fuzz, thank you."

The truck moved off before Ifalna could finish her words.

↞↠

The mother and daughter crawled on all fours on the swaying cargo bed and moved to the back. There were five wooden crates, one size larger than the cleaning tool wagon. After Ifalna found the empty box, she opened the lid and placed Aerith inside.

"Smelly..."

After leaving the room, they smelled various odours, but this was unbearable.

"Endure endure. We'll get used to it soon," Ifalna uttered as she also entered the crate. 

Aerith did not overlook the frown on Ifalna's face.

"You think it stinks too, Mummy!"

Ifalna stuck out her tongue, and after gazing at each other, they laughed.

Aerith noticed the paper bag at the bottom of the crate. There was also a portable torchlight, a pouch of dried fruits and nuts, a hard bread and a water bottle when she looked inside it. There was a thin envelope, so she peeked inside and found that there was money in it.

"I have to close the lid."

After struggling to close the lid, the crate went pitch black.

"Next, uh ... let's read the letter."

In the dark, there was a dry sound of Ifalna unfolding the paper.

"Aerith, may you shine at this for me?"

"Okay."

She had difficulty operating it, but Aerith found the switch and turned on the torchlight. In the cutout of the darkness, her mother's pale face was there, and sweat was oozing out from her forehead.

"Mummy, are you alright?"

"I'll be reading it, so remember this too, Aerith."

It seems that she does not intend to reply to her question.

"Okay."

“The plate on which the Shinra Building is built and the slums are connected by rail. This crate will be carried into the freight train as it is. After the train runs for a while, the inside of the crate will glow red, and it will be glowing several times. But you don't have to worry about it, and do not mind it."

“What does this mean?”

"Fuzz... He thinks I don't know anything, and he is right about that."

"I'm scared."

"He wrote not to worry, let's believe him."

"Okay..."

"After a while, you will realise that the railroad tracks will be running on ground level rather than at a descent. You will soon hear the train stoppage announcement. Once you hear it, get out of the box. Next, stand by the doorway at the width of the carriage. The last stop is the Sector 4 Slums Station. The door will open when you arrive. Give the money in the envelope to the person who opened the door. It's a reward. Rest assured that she is a friend of mine, and follow her instructions and wait until I pick you both up..."

Ifalna violently coughed before she could read it to the end. It was a long-lasting cough. She turned her head away and covered her mouth with her arm.

"The light... turn it off..." Ifalna said so and violently coughed again.

↞↠

The truck eventually came to a stop. The truck bed shook, along with the rattling sound of the cargo hitting each other. They sensed people in the vicinity. The unloading began. The handling work was rough, and the crate was even thrown down to its' side.The mother and child endured through the shaking and pain in the crate. Ifalna embraced Aerith in her arms and held her daughter's leaking voice with her palm. 

"We got to press on."

Silence came. They were relieved in that brief moment, then the loading operation on the freight train started.

"This is going to the Sector 4 Slums."

After hearing the muffled voice of a man, the box started to move. Again, the crate was handled recklessly. They used their hands, feet, and back to anchor their bodies down and clenched their teeth.

Shortly after that, the loading came to an end. There was a heavy, loud sound as the freight car door closed. After the train started running, it began to make a periodically repeating rattling noise. Eventually, the rhythmic sound becomes pleasant. Aerith dozed off and was half asleep. She woke up suddenly and looked at her mother's face. Ifalna's profile, dimly lit by the torch that was left on, was as beautiful as usual. In her line of sight, she noticed Ifalna smiling. Aerith was relieved, and she closed her eyes again. She finally slept.

In her dream, Aerith was painting.

When she woke up, Ifalna was coughing violently again.

"Are you alright, Mummy?"

"Yup... Give me a moment," 

Her voice got hoarse. Soon after adjusting her breathing —

"It looks like the descent stopped some time ago. The red lights are over too, so perhaps we'll be arriving soon?

"Ehhhh!? I wanted to see the red lights!"

"You said you were scared of it."

Ifalna laughed.

"I want to see it even if I'm scared."

At that moment, the inside of the crate was tainted red. The two were surprised and looked at each other.

"It turned red!"

"Yup! It turned red."

"I wasn't scared at all."

"Hey, Aerith. Let's eat something. We don't know when we'll be able to eat next."

Ifalna tore up the bread in the bag into pieces, handed it to Aerith, and ripped open the pouch of dried fruits.

"I wonder if this is like a picnic."

Aerith stuck the bread on her cheek.

"What's a picnic?" Ifalna asked. 

After Aerith swallowed the bread —

"I heard from Ronnie. People would take along food, head out, walk a lot and eat. It seems that they don't eat anything sometimes. But Ronnie has never been to one before."

"Hmm. I really don't know, but walking seems to be fun."

Under the dim light shone from the portable torchlight placed on the floor, Ifalna offered her the remaining bread.

"Aren't you eating, Mummy?"

"I've already eaten. I ate it while you were sleeping with your mouth open."

She thought it was a lie. However, Aerith inflated her cheeks and showed her anger.

The train slowed down, and Ifalna coughed violently again.  She shook her shoulders violently to hold down the cough.

"I'm really okay."

"Alright."

Aerith felt even more worried as she was reminded again that her mother was ok.

"Next station,... Four Slums. Sector Fo... lums," a muffled voice could be heard. It's the train stoppage announcement.

"Let's get out of the crate, shall we?"

They flipped the lid up. Ifalna comes out first and pulls Aerith up. Although the train was slowing down, the train carriage was rattling and shaking. 

"This is fun!"

Aerith planted both her feet down to keep her balance. Ifalna held on to the crate to support herself.

“Aerith”

“Yup.”

“Never forget that feeling, okay?”

“Which feeling?”

“The feeling that you’ll enjoy anything.”

“Hmmm, I understand.”

“Hey hey, Aerith, look at this.” Ifalna pointed to the label on the crate which they were in.

"What's written on it?"

"From Shinra Company to Shinra Company. To be stored at Sector 4 Station. Dangerous goods. It is strictly prohibited to open it en-route..."

"We are dangerous goods?"

"That's rude."

Ifalna laughed, and the train slowed down again to a stop. Aerith lost her balance and clung to her mother as she almost fell over. 

"Stay silent for a moment, Aerith. Leave this to me."

She looked up at her mother to see what she meant. She wasn't smiling anymore.

It was a young woman who opened the door. She had a pouty face and wore loose-fitting overalls. Her whole body was covered in dirt.

"Are you a friend of Fuzz?" Ifalna asked.

She nodded her head.

"Here you go. It's the reward."

Ifalna held out the envelope.

"I told him I didn't need it..."

“But…”

In the end, the lady snatched the envelope and pushed it into her back pocket.

"Get off. Quickly."

The carriage floor was well above the ground, a height that anyone would need help with. However, the lady was keeping watch of the surrounding people.

"Okay. I'll head down first."

Ifalna disappeared from Aerith's line of sight as she had jumped off. A painful moan could be heard.

"Mummy!"

"Hurry up," the lady's sharp voice pierced through their ears.

Ifalna apologised as she stood up, looking back at Aerith and reached out to her with both hands. Aerith was worried whether the woman in dirty clothing would get angry again, so she hurriedly jumped on her mother's body.That force caused Ifalna to stumble. She almost fell over while holding onto Aerith but managed to get her balance after taking a few steps.

"It's already chaotic at the top. Hide in the container yard until Fuzz picks you up," The woman pointed to a place stacked up with a lot of containers. 

"When the sun sets, consignees will enter and exit the yard, so don't be discovered. That would be a pain."

"How much longer until the sun goes down?" Ifalna asked.

"In about four hours."

The woman tried to leave, but Ifalna called out to stop her and asked, "Which direction is Sector 3 in?"

The woman pointed out the direction with her chin, and as though she was escaping from them, she headed back to work.

"Mummy, let's hide quickly?"

"Yup. Let's do so."

The woman looked back once she reached the end of the train carriage and pointed towards the container yard. She was probably telling them to head over quickly.

"Aerith."

Ifalna held out her hand.

"From here on out, it's a real adventure. Let's go."

Ifalna held Aerith's hand.

"Mummy, why is your hand hot?"

"It's because I'm excited."

Ifalna laughed, and they started walking towards the rear of the carriage they had just got off. The carriage they were riding on was at the end. When they went around the carriage and crossed over the rail, they could see the station building. The woman from earlier disappeared into the station building. They saw some others in uniforms that looked like railway workers.

"Mummy, where are we going!?"

Aerith was extremely worried. However, her mother did not say a word. Instead, she held her hand firmly and started walking. They headed towards the wire mesh fence that was directly in front of them. There were a lot of people coming and going on the road over there.

"Mum!?"

"Let's climb over this fence."

"Ehhhh?"

The fence was about two metres tall.

"I can't."

"But we have to. Otherwise the adventure will be over."

In the end, they clung to the fence.

"Well, let's have fun!" Ifalna uttered.

Passers-by across the wired fence saw them, but nobody stopped walking.

"First, grab a high spot on the wired fence with both hands, and then put the toes of your left foot into the wired fence."

"Ohhh."

Aerith was confused, but she managed to be in the same position as her mother.

“Next, apply some strength to your hands and put your right toe into the fence.”

“Okay.”

"Once you can do that, move your right hand to grab the fence higher up. Then, also move your left hand to grab at the same height."

"Ah, I got it! Next will be my legs."

Aerith felt that she understood how to climb the wired fence.

"Mummy, look!"

While making a rattling noise, she climbed the fence in a blink of an eye.

"Nicely done, Aerith. Now from there, climb over."

"Hey! Get down from there!" came a piercing, angry voice.

Aerith saw a station employee running over.

"Mummy!"

Ifalna saw the station employee.

"Aerith, quickly get going!"

"You too, Mummy!"

Ifalna started climbing the wired fence. She was frustratingly slow.

"Hey!"

The station employee was getting close. The scene gathered the eyes of passers-by. At that moment...

"Hey! Hurry up!"

They looked over. A tall adult male was reaching out his hand. Aerith was confused. He was probably an acquaintance of her mother, but that should not be the case.

"Hey! Let's go!"

Before Aerith knew it, Ifalna got up to the same height and got over the fence. The station staff extended his hand out, but he barely could not reach her. Finally, Ifalna got over to the other side, reached out and grabbed the chest area of Aerith's clothes and pulled firmly. Aerith could not help but lose her balance and almost fell headfirst outwards of the fence. However, a pair of solid hands supported Aerith.

"You alright?" the man asked Ifalna while lowering Aerith to the ground. 

However, Ifalna was coughing harshly and could not answer.

"Riding without a ticket is a serious crime!"

The station employee also started to climb the fence.

"It’s a serious crime which too many people commit, and you can't catch those culprits."

"Thank... you," Ifalna finally answered.

"You're welcome."

The man then struck the fingers of the station employee, who was grabbing the wired fence, with his fist. The station staff screamed away from the wired fence.

"Shinra bastard, damn y'all!"

After hailing abuse at the station employee, the man walked away as if nothing had happened. The station employee was panting heavily and glared at the man.

"Which direction is Sector 3 in?" Ifalna abruptly asked the station employee.

Not only the station employee but Aerith was also surprised at this.

"Who would teach you!" the station employee's angry voice froze Aerith's legs.

"Very well. Pardon us for our rudeness." Ifalna calmly apologised to the station employee 

She then took Aerith's hand and left the station. When they looked back, the station employee was glaring at them. However, he was soon hidden in the flow of passers-by.

"Ahhh, that was heart-wrenching."

Ifalna coughed. When Aerith looked up, she saw the radiant face of her mother.

↞↠

There was no sign of anyone chasing them. The mother and daughter were moving away from the Sector Four Slums Station. Looking up, they could see the underside of the steel city. They were overwhelmed by the orderly combination of the steel-framed plate. Many people lived on it, there was the Shinra Building, and they were way high up on it. The scale was too large for Aerith to picture it well.

"Aerith, if you just look up, you'll fall."

"Okay."

Indeed,  none of the surrounding commuters were looking up. It's a natural sight for slum dwellers. From time to time, Aerith could hear mysterious noises. She could also hear angry voices. And as expected, nobody cares.

"Mummy, who was the person that helped us at the station?"

"I think he's someone who hates Shinra. It seems that there are many of these kinds of people in the slums."

"How do you know about the slum, Mummy?"

"I asked a lot of people. For a day like this."

"Even on how to climb a wired fence?"

"Yup. If Professor Hojo weren't around, everyone would talk to me a lot."

"Actually, everyone is a nice person."

"I wonder. Everyone sympathised and cared for me, but no one helped me out. The truly good people are those that not only say that they'll help but also act on it."

"I wonder what Fuzz is doing."

Aerith waited for a while, but her mother didn't answer.

"Hey, Aerith, I want to rest for a bit. Shall we go over there?"

Ifalna pointed towards a small plaza in front of them. They saw several benches.

↞↠ You’re on page 24/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel.  Next Scenes: Scenes 5-9 Back to Content Page (click/tap here)

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[timetravesty]

Take Me To the Heart Fair Pt.2

(Please enjoy! In addition, I'll be starting another series along with writing the parent AU which is definitely not over yet! I like to call it the future AU, but it can also be seen like a Queen B book 3, so that will be released soon.)

Warnings: Cursing

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

“I’ll call every night, okay?” Bea said, pressing a kiss to Clove’s head as the little girl hugged her hard.

“I’ll bring you something back from Quebec, something really exciting.” Bea mumbled as Clove nodded, holding Mr. Tuna in a death grip as she watched Bea stand up just as Poppy rushed in to hug her.

“I’ll try to see if I can get my trip to end sooner.” Bea whispered in Poppy’s ear as she hugged her. Poppy leaned back to press a kiss to Bea’s lips which she reciprocated before pulling away and pressing a kiss on Poppy’s cheek.

“I love you.” Bea said as she pressed one last kiss to Poppy’s lips and then moved away to grab her bag.

“Okay you two. Be good. Clove, listen to your mommy and Poppy,” She cupped the woman’s cheek, letting her thumb trace her soft skin before dropping her hand. “I’ll see you in three weeks.” She said as she grabbed her suitcase and waved goodbye. Poppy and Clove waved goodbye as well until Bea closed the door, leaving Poppy and Clove alone in their house.

Poppy watched the door for a minute, before Clove sniffed. She turned towards her daughter who looked up at Poppy. She was frowning softly as Poppy reached to pick her up.

“It’s okay darling.” Poppy mumbled, pressing a kiss to Clove’s cheek as she took her to the kitchen. “Let’s get you ready for school.”

An hour and a half of silence, Poppy parked in front of Thatcher-Heart, helping Clove out of the car and setting her down. It had been some time since Bea last took such a long work trip. They typically only lasted a few days or even a week max. The last trip she took that was longer than a week was when Clove was a baby.

Clove looked down sadly at the floor just as Sally, Clove’s classmate, came around the corner and looked at her.

“What's wrong with you?” Sally asked as Clove mumbled to herself, kicking her tiny shoe around the ground.

“My mama had to go on a trip without me.” Clove said as she frowned. Sally looked sad too until she took hold of Clove’s hand and smiled wide.

“Hey, your mom will come back! We can do something for her till then!” Sally said as Clove cocked her head.

“What do you mean?”

“We can make her something for you to give her! It’s arts and crafts day!” Sally said happily as Clove perked up.

“...Okay.” Clove turned towards Poppy and hugged her as Poppy leaned down.

“I’ll be here to pick you up at 4. I love you.” Poppy said, kissing Clove’s head as she smiled.

“Bye mommy.” Clove ran off with her classmate a second later, just as the school bell began to ring and Poppy looked down at her watch.

She wasn’t due at the office for the next hour, meaning she had some time to kill. Walking back to her car, Poppy spotted a lone figure standing next to the vehicle, a large sun hat over her eyes as Poppy’s expression shifted.

“Persephone McDermot, what brings you here to darken my morning?” Poppy asked as she walked closer. Persephone looked at Poppy before ducking her head down and rolling her eyes.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Persephone said as Poppy let out a short laugh.

“You are insane if you think I would ever want to have a conversation with you once again. Maybe when the world ends in hellfire.” Poppy said, reaching for her car handle as Persephone stopped her hand. Poppy pulled back quickly, holding her hand to her chest as if Persephone had burned her.

“Never touch me again Persephone if you want to keep that monster claw of yours.” Poppy hissed as Persephone rolled her eyes so far back Poppy thought they would get stuck there.

“Look she-devil, I don’t want to talk to you either, but I have something that you might find extremely helpful so long as you help me out.” Persephone said in a hushed tone as Poppy watched the woman. From the bags under her eyes, she didn’t look like she had gotten a good night's sleep in a while. Persephone fidgeted as she looked at Poppy, wringing her hands as Poppy sighed. She quickly thought of Bea who would most likely want Poppy to talk to Persephone so Poppy did the unthinkable.

She opened her car door and gestured at Persephone. “Let’s…Let’s go somewhere else besides the school parking lot.” She stated, tone a little cold as she got in her car and Persephone followed. When she entered, her hat hit the wall of the car and almost poked Poppy in the eye.

“Take off your stupid hat though. I refuse to die in a car crash with you.” Poppy said as Persephone complied, taking off her hat as Poppy drove out of the parking lot and into the New York Streets.

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

Poppy never would have expected to be sitting opposite of Persephone Dalton in a small café with a cup of coffee in front of both of them, but the world was crazy and most likely would end in hellfire. Persephone hadn’t stopped fidgeting the whole ride and Poppy would have yelled at the girl if she wasn’t curious about what she wanted.

“Well?” Poppy asked, gesturing at Persephone who looked around cautiously. She hadn’t seen the woman since the dinner from hell and Poppy considered this situation too soon. “Persephone, hurry up and spit it out.” Poppy spat as the woman took a deep breath.

“...Someone’s blackmailing me.” She said as Poppy raised a brow, taking her coffee cup and swirling the contents.

“About what? Honestly, I don’t think anything could be more embarrassing than marrying into the McDermot family.” Poppy said as Persephone growled. She banged her fist on the table as Poppy straightened up. She wasn’t expecting that.

“It doesn’t matter, but I can’t have it spread to the other parents at Thatcher, or to Principal Stills.” Persephone hissed as Poppy smirked.

“What could they be blackmailing you about Persy? Surely everyone knows you’ve had multiple surgeries before. I hardly think anyone cares about it anymore.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it?” Poppy asked, setting her cup down and leaning closer. “Is it about your open relationship with your husband? Believe me, none of the mothers will be rushing to steal your husband. They can barely stand to be around their own.”

Persephone banged her fist against the table again. “Shut the hell up Poppy!” She hissed again as Poppy glared at her.

“Stop hitting the table if you want my help. Besides, what could you give me to even consider helping you?”

Persephone blinked slowly before sighing. She reached into her purse and pulled out her assigned booth number. “I’ll withdraw from the Heart Fair booth and the PTA running.” She said as Poppy’s eyes widened.

“Hmm, this secret must be something worth hiding if you’re giving up your claim to a title so quickly…” Poppy mumbled as Persephone rolled her eyes.

“The PTA isn’t even a big deal.” Persephone lied, crossing her arms over her chest as Poppy huffed.

“You’re right, it’s actually a huge deal, which means this secret is a big deal too. Maybe one that could even get you thrown out of Thatcher.”

Persephone didn’t answer, only glancing at her coffee cup and then looking back up. “Do we have a deal? I’ll withdraw from the fair and you’ll help me get rid of my blackmailer?”

Poppy clicked her tongue, leaning closer to Persephone and smiling wickedly. “Not quite Sephy. I want to know what they’re blackmailing you with.”

“No.” Persephone said quickly as Poppy backed away, grabbing her bag and standing up.

“Then good luck, blackmails a bitch.” Poppy smiled, slowly walking away from the table while counting in her head. Three seconds later, Persephone called out.

“Okay! Okay fine!” She yelled at Poppy’s back as Poppy turned back around. She went back to the table as Persephone looked back around the café. It was empty this late in the morning as only a couple of employees walked around.

“...it’s about Erin and… Leroy.” Persephone said under her breath as Poppy perked up.

“Erin… she’s Liam’s daughter. The person blackmailing me suspects that Erin isn’t a McDermot and is threatening to spread that claim amongst the parents at Thatcher.” Persephone said as Poppy raised a critical brow.

“Liam Gill from Belvoire? Oh Persy…” Poppy said, her tone not at all comforting and more judgmental.

“Look, it was a one time thing and I can’t have it getting out. I know your mother decided to screw around and stuff, but the McDermots… they despise me and they’ll use anything to kick me out of the family. They’ll make Erin get a DNA test and then we’re ruined.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to use their son to hide your infidelity.” Poppy suggested as Persephone rolled her eyes.

“I’ve done everything to keep it a secret, but I received a text a few days ago and… they’ve threatened to expose it at the Heart Fair. They have no evidence, trust me, but…gossip spreads like wildfire at Thatcher.” Poppy finally straightened up, the gears in her head working as Persephone continued. If the Heart Fair was ruined with this kind of information… that would be awful for Poppy and for Principal Stills who would have to deal with the wrath of the McDermot family, one of the more prominent families in New York.

“What do they want from you?”

“I have no fucking idea. They won’t respond to texts, I’ve tried to bribe them, nothing!” Persephone complained as Poppy tilted her head.

“And what makes you so sure I’m not blackmailing you?” Poppy asked as Persephone scoffed.

“You were the first person I thought of, but then I remembered your little conscious who hovers over your shoulder on a daily basis.” Poppy bristled.

“Bea’s out of town right now. Who's to say I couldn’t do anything I wanted with you Persephone, just like at Belvoire.”

“Well, you’ll have to answer to her when she gets back and something tells me… you don’t take risks like that anymore.” Persephone fired back as Poppy snapped her mouth shut. She was… unfortunately right.

“Fine, it’s not me, but how many enemies have you accumulated over the years to make them want to blackmail you?” Poppy asked as Persephone placed her head in her hands, blonde locks falling on the table.

“I don’t know. I have no idea who would do this to me…” Persephone groaned as Poppy rolled her eyes.

“Maybe stopping this victim act is the first step. I’m sure there are several things that anyone could use against you and barely have a motive. Could it be Liam?”

Persephone sighed into her palms, not bothering to look up as her voice softened. “No, he wanted nothing to do with Erin when I told him I was pregnant. He’s in the Caribbean right now, not even caring about his daughter.”

Poppy actually felt a little bad at that. When she had first contacted Art Nakamura after learning Piers wasn’t her real father, Poppy would have been devastated if he didn’t want anything to do with her. In ways, she could relate to this situation.

Poppy shut those thoughts down. In no way, shape, or form would she ever relate to Persephone Dalton. Holding out her hand, Poppy cleared her throat.

“Give me your phone and let me see your texts.” Poppy said as Persephone reluctantly complied. Scrolling through the list of contacts and a considerably long list of DTFs, Poppy hit the blackmailer's text conversation. Most of the texts were from Persephone who was cursing wildly through the keyboard where the blue bubble sat on top with only a few words.

Poppy figured the number used was probably from a burner phone, meaning it was too difficult to trace and most likely long gone by now. Sliding the phone back to Persephone, Poppy clicked her tongue, crossing her legs as she looked at Persephone.

“I’m going to need you to think long and hard about anyone who might have a motive against you Persephone. I can’t trace a burner phone and it’s been years since I last saw you. Who do you know that could have the biggest motive of getting you kicked out of the McDermot family?”

Persephone took a moment to think, before blinking hard and pursuing her lips. “Claudia Pentworth.” Persephone stated as Poppy hummed to herself.

“The artist? Bea likes her work.” Poppy said as Persephone shook her head.

“Before I met Leroy, he was dating someone, this Claudia girl for a couple of months. She was the complete opposite of me, in reality, she was a lot like Bea. Exudes confidence and was charming to the point it was nauseous. It didn’t work out cause…”

Persephone shook her shoulders in horror for a second before looking at Poppy straight in the eyes. “They were dating in secret cause they were actually fourth cousins. The Pentworths and the McDermots had a long family history which made Leroy and Claudia related.”

Poppy reeled back in horror before she regained composure. Only in old, rich families.

“Ew, alright, so this Claudia woman, why would she hate you?” Persephone flicked a leaf off of their table, looking off distantly.

“I… may have exposed their relationship at one of the McDermot gatherings. I was close with Leroy’s sister so I was invited. When his father had a few words with Leroy, I swooped in.”

“And deceived the poor man no doubt.” Poppy added, crossing her arms. If she wasn’t so horrified by that knowledge, Poppy would have been impressed at the tactfulness of Persephone.

“Anyway, we saw each other a few years later when Erin was a baby and Claudia… she was furious.” Poppy nodded, grabbing her phone and pulling up nearby art exhibits.

“You’re lucky Persephone.” Poppy said, standing from her chair and placing a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Bea’s out of town and Clove is having a sleepover, meaning I’m free to help you with your… situation.”

Poppy texted Persephone an address and slid her phone back in her bag. “I’ll meet you here on Friday night, dress appropriately and I’ll handle the tickets. You probably couldn’t afford them since your fortune is swimming in a drained pool.”

Persephone scoffed before reading the address. “Are you going to confront Claudia at her own art gallery?” Persephone asked as Poppy smiled.

“When dealing with a blackmailer, I find the best tactic is to face the bastard head on. Watch and learn Persy, you’ll be back to your deceptive lifestyle soon.” With that, Poppy walked off leaving Persephone silently combusting in her wake.

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

“The end.” Bea said through the computer screen as Clove yawned sleepily. Poppy closed the book and set it on the bedside table as Clove stretched a little before looking back at the computer screen.

“Mama, I’ve got a sleepover tomorrow!” Clove exclaimed as Bea smiled. From the screen, Poppy could see heavy bags under Bea’s eyes as the girl rubbed them sleepily. Even though the time zones weren’t very different, she was probably working late into the night without Poppy reminding her to come to bed.

“Remember to brush your teeth before bed and to call mommy to say goodnight.” Bea told Clove who nodded enthusiastically. Bea grinned before pressing a kiss to her palm and pressing it to the screen. “I love you Clover, sleep tight.” Clove replicated the action as Poppy leaned to press a kiss to Clove’s head, before turning off her light and leaving the room with the computer in hand.

When in the master bedroom, Poppy set the computer on the bed as Bea stretched on the screen. “And how is my beautiful wife?” Bea asked as she leaned forward looking at Poppy with sleepy eyes.

“I’ve been better. I’ve got something to tell you…” Poppy rested on the bed, leaning closer to the screen as she recapped her afternoon with Persephone a couple of days ago.

“Holy shit, Erin is Liam’s kid?” Bea exclaimed, threading a hand through her brown locks as Poppy nodded.

“Yes, not the most surprising turn of events, but Persephone is worried her infidelity will leak to Thatcher’s parents.”

“Which means the McDermots will cause a scene and Principal Stills will have a PR nightmare.” Bea added as Poppy nodded again.

“And our chances at the Heart Fair will be ruined.” Poppy finished the thought as she sighed heavily. She rested her head on the palm of her hand as Bea looked thoughtful through the computer screen. It had only been a few days since Bea left and Poppy was already missing having her around. That was a shocking change compared to how she felt at Belvoire.

“So, you’re going to actually help Persephone with her blackmailer? Do you even have a lead?”

“One.” Poppy said, slipping off the bed and walking into her closet as Bea stayed on the screen. “Apparently, Persephone’s husband had a secret lover. Claudia Pentworth.” Bea coughed loudly from the computer as Poppy came back into the room holding two cocktail dresses.

“Claudia Pentworth?” Bea asked as she adjusted the collar on her white shirt. “The artist?”

“The one and only…” Poppy mumbled as she laid the dresses down on the bed and stared at them critically. On one side, a gorgeous dark green off-the-shoulder column dress and on the other, a dark red maroon cut. “Claudia and Leroy apparently were dating in secret due to their… family relations.” Poppy said as she looked at Bea who stared wide eyed.

“They were related?!” Bea asked as Poppy nodded, smiling subtly at her wife.

“They still are, but apparently the McDermots weren’t a fan. Persephone swooped in and stopped their relationship.”

“This is like a really complicated episode of a t.v show or something.” Bea murmured as Poppy chuckled.

“Besides all of that, Persephone and I are going to attend the local cocktail party hosted at the Pentworth gallery tomorrow. I’ll confront Claudia, threaten her or whatever, and then Persephone is off of my back and out of the Heart Fair.” Poppy said as she picked up a dress and showed it off to Bea through the computer.

“Help me pick something to wear?” Poppy asked as Bea’s eyes almost bulged out of her head as she whistled under her breath.

“Wait, what if Claudia isn’t the blackmailer?” Bea asked as Poppy held up the other dress as well.

“Well, she has the most motive. Persephone said that Leroy really liked her. She also said Claudia was like you in ways.” Poppy added as she looked at Bea who looked a little more nervous.

“...Really? Wow.” She said as she looked at the dresses Poppy held up.

“Have you ever met Claudia Pentworth?”

Bea shrugged. “I visited a couple of art shows when I was living alone and sometimes I would see her. She was nice.” Bea said as she pointed to the dark red dress.

“I like that one.” Bea smirked as Poppy bit her lip. The topic change was obvious, but Poppy wasn’t going to pry.

“Me too.” She said as she held the dress up in front of the floor length mirror. “Overall, this is a good distraction from the Heart Fair.” Poppy said as she set the dress down and turned back to Bea.

“I’ve got a few more themes to try out, but I think a photoshoot with the shelter animals would be the perfect idea for the Heart fair.” Bea perked up, watching Poppy as she tilted her head.

“Hey, I think that’s actually a pretty cool idea. Kids love dressing up.” Bea said as Poppy smiled.

“I have to sort everything out, but I think my camera crew can pull it off.” Poppy admitted as Bea gave her a thumbs up. Dropping her hands, Bea stared at Poppy through the screen as she smiled at her wife.

“Wow, I’ve only been gone for a couple of days and you’ve already come up with an idea for the Heart fair, made an alliance with Persephone, and arranged a whole sleepover for Clove, which is no easy task.”

“I wouldn't say this is an alliance, Persephone has something I want and she apparently has never dealt with a blackmailer before.”

“Well, not all of us can be special.” Poppy flipped Bea off as the girl laughed before stretching into another yawn.

“Okay, it’s late and I have to wake up extra early to oversee the design tomorrow. Keep me updated?” Bea asked as Poppy nodded.

“I will, remember to eat breakfast though.” Poppy said as Bea smirked, whispering under her breath so Poppy couldn’t hear.

“Remember to not kill Persephone tomorrow.” Bea mumbled as Poppy squinted her eyes playfully.

“What was that?”

“I said,'' Remember to give Clove a big kiss for me!” Bea retaliated as Poppy rolled her eyes.

“I love you Bea.” Poppy said as Bea chuckled.

“Love you too. Sleep well!” A second later, the conversation ended and the screen went black as Poppy shut the computer. She took the dark green dress back to her closet and prepped her bath. Tomorrow was surely going to be an interesting day.

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

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Poppy asked as she stepped out of her car and faced Persephone who stood by her white corvette.

“What? What’s wrong with my dress?” She asked, glancing down at her light blue cocktail dress that looked rather old on the young woman.

“Well, you look like you’re part of the waitstaff.” Poppy commented as she smoothed down her red dress. Grabbing her small black purse, Poppy checked her messages. A few from Bea and a couple from Sally’s mother telling Poppy that she had picked up Clove from school. Poppy typed a quick reply before pocketing her phone and turning back to Persephone.

“Have you gotten any more texts from your blackmailer?” Poppy asked as Persephone shook her head.

“No, it’s driving me crazy!”

Poppy rolled her eyes, gesturing for Persephone to move towards the venue. “Well, we’ll get answers tonight. Watch and learn Persy.”

“Stop calling me that.” Persephone hissed as Poppy walked past her and up to the bouncer in front of the art gallery. Poppy handed the man two silver tickets as he nodded and pushed open the door.

Inside, a stark white room with black tile and walls lined with artwork came into view. Some of the pieces were on full display on the floor while others were tucked away in corners as Poppy and Persephone walked in. Poppy glanced around, noticing all of the waiters walking around with drinks and other appetizers as the room was crowded with people. Most of them probably able to buy at least two 3 million dollar paintings.

Persephone glanced around nervously as Poppy rolled her eyes again, looking down at the woman. She had a feeling she would be doing that for most of the night. “Stop fidgeting Persephone.” Poppy warned as she grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters.

“Now.” Poppy scanned the crowd. “Which one is Claudia?” Persephone took a second to look around before gesturing to a woman far off in the crowd talking to a few people.

“Her, the one radiating charm.” Persephone scoffed, following a waiter with a few drinks as Poppy took a second to study the woman.

She wasn’t particularly tall, maybe 5’5, but there was no denying she was stunning. A gorgeous black and white cocktail dress hugged her curves as she laughed at a comment from the crowd of men around her. She looked…sparkly if that was a possible description for a person. Wavy black hair and gorgeous blue eyes, it was hard to believe she was related to Leroy McDermot in any way.

Poppy took a second to stare a little longer before walking towards the crowd, towards Claudia. Claudia laughed once more until she noticed Poppy, eyes narrowing dangerously before adopting a radiant smile.

“Poppy Min-Hughes? Gracing my gallery?” She asked as the crowd parted for Poppy to enter.

“I see my reputation precedes me.” Poppy smiled, a hint of venom in her smile as Claudia drank from her glass.

“Of course, elite recognizes elite darling.” Claudia laughed as the crowd laughed with her. Poppy fought the urge to roll her eyes, observing the paintings surrounding Claudia.

“These pieces are stunning Ms. Pentworth. What inspired you?” Poppy asked, trying to butter the woman up. If Poppy knew anything about artists, they were complete hams.

Claudia grinned, turning to look at her art as the crowd did too, as if under some thrall. “Please, call me Claudia and obviously, life inspires my work. The colors, the energy.” She gestured at a particular painting, one where the canvas was filled with blue waves while the other side depicted a harsh desert storm. “The combinations of nature and life give the best inspiration.” Claudia smiled as Poppy nodded.

She…wasn’t a fan of the style, but she knew she couldn’t say that if she had any hopes of actually speaking privately with Claudia. “Tell me Claudia, what can a woman do to have a private discussion with the artists of such paintings?” Poppy asked slyly as Claudia grinned into her glass.

“Supporting the cause will always aid the artist’s journey.” She spoke before waving goodbye and leaving Poppy and a crowd of her fans, alone.

Persephone slid up to Poppy a minute later, chewing on an appetizer as Poppy scoffed, taking another glass from a waiter.

“Well, you didn’t seem to have much luck with her.” Persephone said, watching Claudia from the sidelines. It seems she hadn’t spotted the now blonde Persephone yet.

“Yes, but it’s nothing money can't solve. Waiter?” Poppy flagged down a waiter, whispering in his ear before taking off towards the staircase, instructing Persephone to follow.

If the waiter did his job, he should be instructing Claudia that Poppy had just put down a ten million offer for all the paintings belonging to Pentworth, but a discussion was necessary before the transaction.

Poppy took a seat in one of the private lofts upstairs, a few couches and a soft melody booming from the speakers as Persephone took a seat on the same couch but ways away. They waited for a good few minutes before the click of heels followed and Claudia entered the room.

Her eyes immediately darted to Persephone who may or may not have shrunk in her seat before Claudia smiled.

“Persephone Dalton, what a surprise?” Claudia said, walking into the room and taking an elegant seat on the opposite couch.

“Claudia, you’re looking well.” Persephone said as Claudia nodded, crossing her long legs.

“Hmm, I suppose I am doing better thanks to your companion here.” Claudia glanced at Poppy who had remained perfectly silent, only watching Claudia.

“Tell me, do you actually have interest in my art or is this some type of confrontation? Troubles again Persephone?” Poppy bit her tongue as she glanced at Persephone. It seemed Claudia despised Persephone as much as Poppy did.

“Put a cork in it Claudia. You know nothing about-” Poppy cut her off with a sharp hand as she gestured to Claudia.

“Persephone, this isn’t a sparring match. We’re having a civil conversation with Claudia.” Claudia raised a sharp brow as she looked at Poppy.

“Well well, I should have guessed the elusive Poppy Min-Hughes would be the voice of reason within this duo. What do you two want?”

“Tell me Claudia, are you a fan of ruining people’s lives?” Persephone asked as Poppy rolled her eyes. She was obviously dealing with an amateur.

“Ruining people's lives? That honor goes to you Persephone.”

“Please, it was disgusting that you and Leroy were even dating in the first place. You’re cousins for crying out loud.” Persephone hissed as Claudia cleared her throat.

“Persephone, you really think my grudge on you was because of what you did to Leroy and I at the McDermot gathering? You’re more stupid than I took you for.”

“I am going to rip-”

“Persephone, shut up.” Poppy said as she glared at the woman before turning to look at Claudia.

“Do you know why we're here?” Poppy asked as Claudia shrugged.

“I assume it’s because of your illegitimate daughter.” Claudia said as Persephone gasped.

“So you are the blackmailer?! You evil, conniving, bitch!” Persephone yelled as Poppy clenched her fists.

“Persephone, shut the hell up for once in your life!” Poppy yelled back at the woman who finally piped down slightly. “Claudia, we can handle this civilly. What do you want from Persephone?”

Claudia stifled a laugh, covering her beautiful features with her hand as she glanced at Persephone. “You think I would waste energy on you and your pathetic family? Please Persephone, Leroy was only a stepping stone to get closer to the McDermots. Even if we are related, they despise my family and I despise theirs. I couldn't care less about your daughter or your lousy husband. I only wanted an opening to one of their galleries and now… I have my own.”

“You’re a liar! Leroy said-”

“Leroy is delusional and likes to imagine he’s something desirable. In all honesty, you helped me by getting rid of him quicker than I expected.” Poppy hummed to herself. If she wasn’t bent on getting Persephone kicked out of the Heart fair, she definitely would be rooting for Claudia.

“I don’t care who your daughter’s father is, but you should know that everyone in the McDermots is very curious. You don’t enter one of the richest families in New York and expect to deceive every family member. Some advice, your supposed blackmailer is most likely someone within that twisted group.”

Persephone finally fell silent as Poppy took a deep breath. “I think we have all the information we need.” Claudia smiled as Poppy looked at Persephone who looked seconds away from a mental breakdown.

“Claudia, it was… interesting to meet you.” Poppy said as she moved to stand as Claudia smirked.

“The same to you, Poppy. Tell me, how is your adorable wife?” She asked as Poppy bristled.

“...You know Bea?”

“Hmm, a few art galleries years ago. Stunning woman.” Claudia said as Poppy narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, does she still do that thing with her tongue?” Claudia asked as she stood as well just as Poppy’s temper snapped.

“How dare you-” She almost lunged for Claudia when four security guards rushed into the room. Two taking Poppy and the other two taking Persephone who weakly struggled.

“Listen her ladies, you interrupt my gallery and take up my time for some messed up reasons that I can’t help but feel offended by. Consider yourselves banned.” Claudia smiled as the security guards moved to push Poppy and Persephone out of the room.

“You snake!” Persephone hissed as Poppy pushed the guards off her.

“Get your hands off of me.” She hissed as Poppy glared at Claudia.

“Here’s some more advice for you two, maybe don’t give away all of your secrets to someone you just met. I could make a pretty penny off of Persephone’s information alone, but I’ll be nice, just this once…” She waved goodbye as the guards moved to push Poppy and Persephone out of the gallery and into the street where the rain had just begun to pour.

Poppy let out a growl as Persephone stomped her foot. “Wow, have any more genius ideas Poppy?!”

“Are you seriously blaming me for this? Maybe you should have handled your blackmailer yourself and I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t have been so headstrong with Claudia.” Poppy turned away from Persephone and looked up at the large art gallery.

“Well, you didn’t help me! I still don’t know who my blackmailer is!” Persephone yelled into the pouring rain as Poppy rolled her eyes.

“I did what I could. You don’t have a lead and I have other things I need to attend to.”

“Like your wife and her screwing around with half the state of New York?! Yea, really important.” Poppy turned on Persephone, sticking up her pointer finger menacingly.

“Persephone, not a word about what happened at the end of that conversation.” Poppy demanded as Persephone took a step back.

“I never should have gone to you for help anyway. I’ll figure this out on my own.” She spat as Poppy took a second to regain her composure, the rain hitting a little harder now and almost splashing on their clothes.

It seemed that Claudia was more conniving than Poppy expected her to be. It also seemed like Bea had kept something that could have been fairly useful a secret. She sighed at the thought before remembering where she stood and who she was with as Persephone continued to mutter curses under her breath. Most likely, her secret was going to get out and that meant… her daughter would know who her birth father was and how he didn’t want anything to do with her. That tugged at Poppy’s heart just a little as she cleared her throat.

Persephone looked into her bag, probably for her car keys as she kept speaking. “You can forget about me dropping out of the Heart Fair too. I’m so going to beat your skinny-” Poppy cut her off with a deep breath.

“Persephone, if the news does get out…” Poppy took a brief second to look at the woman who stopped rummaging in her bag.

“Don’t tell Erin who her father is. Make up another lie if you can, but… don’t tell her about Liam.” Poppy stated as Persephone raised a critical brow.

“Why would it matter to you?” Poppy took a second to watch the rain fall, remembering finding her mother’s letters at her vanity table when she was only eleven.

“Something you will never understand, Persephone, is that there is nothing worse for a child when she knows she’s unwanted.”

Persephone only stared at Poppy before scoffing, throwing her bag over her shoulder and walking out into the parking lot and into the pouring rain.

Poppy watched her leave, watched her get into her car, and drive off as Poppy reached into her own bag, pulling out her phone and Bea’s contact information before dialing her number.

“Baby?” Bea answered when she picked up. “I thought the art gallery lasted till 11.”

“It- it didn’t go as planned.” Poppy said, leaning against one of the large white columns of the building as she imagined what Bea was doing. Probably working on some designs all alone in her hotel room, maybe building with matchsticks or toothpicks.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bea mumbled as Poppy heard the click of can.

“So am I. Tell me, were you going to tell me you slept with Claudia Pentworth?” Bea choked on her drink through the phone as Poppy frowned.

“Ah, that?” Bea asked lightly through the phone as Poppy rolled her eyes.

“Yes that. Did I really have to learn it from her?”

“I’m sorry Pops, I thought she would have forgotten about it. It was years ago and we were both really drunk.”

“So it only happened once?” The line stayed quiet until Bea cleared her throat.

“A few months…”

“A few months Bea?!” Poppy hissed into the phone as Bea gulped.

“It didn’t really work out, she was pretty similar to me actually.”

“That’s not the point Bea. The point is you didn’t tell me you slept with this woman before I went to meet her! I was completely surprised when I found out and it got me kicked out of the art gallery.”

“Babe, I didn’t think it mattered! It was years ago!”

“Yes well, considering she remembers it vividly, might I add, I think I can still be sore to it.”

Bea sighed into the line as Poppy let out a huff. “You should have told me at least.” Poppy said as Bea apologized. In reality, Poppy wasn’t that pissed, but she was going to let Bea suffer for a bit for keeping a secret that Poppy could have used against Claudia.

“I have to get home, but I’ll call you later.” Poppy said as Bea agreed.

“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry I didn’t warn you.” Bea told her as Poppy took a steadying breath.

“It’s… it’s fine. I have other things to focus on right now.” She hung up the phone a second later, staring out into the pouring rain and wondering how she would get to her car without getting everything wet.

A figure approached from the side, causing Poppy to jolt before the stranger held up a large umbrella. “Are you trying to get to your car?” The man asked as he gestured to the parking lot.

“Ah, yes, the rain hasn’t stopped yet.” Poppy replied as the man undid his umbrella and held it over Poppy’s head.

“If you’re in a rush, I can escort you.” He spoke. Poppy glanced at his outfit, he looked like one of the waiters working for the art gallery, dressed in a black vest and white dress shirt. He was much older than most of the other waiters though, probably in his early 50s. Though it was dim under the umbrella, Poppy could see the small wrinkles near the man’s eyes as he stood tall.

“I would appreciate it.” Poppy said as she began to walk into the parking lot with the man holding the umbrella over her.

“You attended the art gallery, yes?” He asked as Poppy nodded, careful to not wet her shoes even more as they approached her car which was parked rather far away.

“Yes, I had some business to attend to. Were you part of the wait staff?”

“Yes, I work for a catering company. I’m on my break.” He smiled softly as Poppy looked at the man. He was rather tall, but seemed like a kind, older, asian man. She had her reservations at first.

“And you decided to offer to take me to my car during your break?” Poppy asked as they finally approached her car, Poppy clicking her car keys as the lights blinked.

“Your dress is very pretty. I wouldn't want it to get wet.” He said as he moved the umbrella further so Poppy could get into her car with no water on her clothes.

She hesitated for a second before sticking out her hand and smiling. “Thank you for your help. My name is Poppy.” She said as the man smiled as well, moving his umbrella to his right hand as he shook Poppy’s hand.

He had large calluses on his palm and tough scars on his fingers as he smiled. “I’m Charlie.” He said as Poppy took a seat in her car.

The man waved goodbye as Poppy did as well, driving away a moment later and leaving the kind man in the rain with his large umbrella. It seemed like the night wasn’t a total bust.

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

“I’ll have your strongest glass.” Bea told the bartender as she leaned on the counter, tossing her phone on the wood and watching the screen. She was waiting for a call from Poppy and decided she probably needed some liquid courage for it.

Should she have told Poppy about Claudia? Maybe.

Should she have warned her just a little? Probably.

It was years ago though. A 24-year old Bea almost finished with her masters in Architecture met a wild and spontaneous girl. It was something different than what she had with Poppy and Bea did all she could back then to forget about Poppy. Claudia offered something new and Bea liked that about her. She liked her art, thought she could go places and she did. She was a famous painter now, but there was always something off about Claudia. The ability to flip like a switch that made Bea’s head spin a little too quickly.

She ended it after a few months, a whirlwind romance in Bea’s eyes and a fleeting one at that. Claudia didn’t take it well, but Bea had also learned before the breakup about her romances with other people, specifically with a powerful family. Had she known it was Leroy McDermot, she would have ended it sooner. Bea wanted nothing to do with that family.

The bartender slid her a drink and Bea downed it in one gulp before bringing the glass back down. Still no news from Poppy and Bea was a bit worried about that. Would she really be that angry with Bea because of this?

That was probably the difference between what Bea did versus what Poppy did in their two years apart. Poppy’s company was off running, slowly growing faster in the industry while Bea was finishing up her schooling. Poppy used those years to create an image for herself while Bea used those years to forget all about Poppy. Funny how out of the several job offers she accepted, she would have to work again with Poppy after all of the months Bea took to get rid of the image of the woman.

Glancing at her ring, Bea smiled to herself as she twisted the band around her finger. It was all worth it in the end though.

The bartender came back, grabbing the glass to pour another as Bea set a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Just leave the bottle.” Bea said as the bartender shrugged, letting Bea pour her own drinks as she swallowed one whole, just to hear a subtle chuckle behind her back.

“Rough night?” The voice asked as Bea turned on her stool, eyes widening as she stared dumbfounded at the raven-haired woman in front of her.

“Ina?”

[1kook]

dreamy

—pjm x (f) reader

summary; You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. warnings; ANGST lol, fwb, reader is very :(( rating; mature (18+) bc tiny smut lol  misc; small smut scene, a happy ending <3 wc; 2.5k

notes; i have to post on #JIMIN’s bday or else i cannot live with myself anyway here’s me trying to fit an entire novella plot line in less than 5k words clap for me except maybe don't bc its not proofread anyway hbd jimin <3

Jimin is a nice guy, but you doubt he’d make a nice boyfriend. He fucks you hard and fast, just as you like, but hardly goes out of his way to sprinkle in any other requests. He’s got a one track mind, doesn’t dwell too long on what you say or how you’re feeling. Doesn’t matter because he’s just supposed to be a fuck buddy, the hot guy you met at a party, so you don’t let it phase you. But, well. Jimin is dreamy.

Sometimes he holds your hand while he eats you out and it sends your thoughts into a frenzy, makes your heart pound a little too fast to brush it off as just arousal. He’s got this gorgeous smile, plush lips framing pearly teeth, and when he flashes it your way, it makes your knees weak. Tells you you’re pretty when he picks you up from class, always holds your hand on the way to his place for your routine fuck. Cute and nice like an angel, but just like an angel, he hardly gives a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own.

He laughs when you ask him to hang out that weekend.

“What, like a date?” he snorts, bare chest glistening from his post-fuck exertion. You're pressed against his side now, circling his pretty brown nipple with your finger. “That’s corny.”

You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. “Yeah, silly right,” you murmur, ear pressed to his heart. It’s calming and soothing, a slow thrum that contrasts with your own racing heart.

He’s not one for dates or for romantic things like that. But neither is he some player, a cheater, a two-timer. You can count the number of times he’s slept with someone who wasn’t you in your weird fuck buddy relationship, and all four of those had been when you first started sleeping together and only when you had been out of town. You’re no saint either, so you try to understand. He was just horny, liked getting his dick wet, and sometimes he couldn’t wait for you. Understandable, you tell yourself, but your heart hurts a little bit when he begins snoring without really answering your question.

See the thing is, you really like Jimin. It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve met, so you’ve had plenty of time to learn all about him. He doesn’t like pancakes for breakfast, prefers them for lunch actually, and laughs when you tell him that’s weird. He’s got this really dorky laugh, something between a bell and a whistle— it depends on the situation. Sometimes, Jimin likes when you play with his hair, and other times he doesn’t. He’s a sweet boy, you know he is, so why won’t he settle down?

You hate to attribute it to some past trauma, some “my girlfriend broke my heart when I was seventeen” mess, but the more time that passes you begin to believe it’s true. Jimin was a tough nut to crack, and the longer this drags on, the longer he ignores your feelings, you begin to doubt you will ever see them fulfilled.

Maybe you should end this now before it’s too late.

You don’t stay for breakfast the next morning, simply kiss him goodbye at the door like always. He’s older than you, about two years, so he doesn’t go to school anymore, just chills at home all weekend. “I’ll see you soon?” he grins, low-lidded eyes tracking the movement of your mouth as you bid him adieu. You never give him a solid response, figure a guy like Jimin will forget about you soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it’s been two weeks and he doesn’t reach out. Yeah it hurts, but it’s better than having confessed to him and losing him all at once. You’d rather this ending than the one where he terribly rejects you, breaks your heart into a million pieces, and throws you away. Still, it hurts.

Jimin was so cool. He was smart and confident, had a snappy sort of attitude that he liked to use now and then. He could be mean in bed, lick your cunt until you cried and call you a stupid girl when he wanted to. But that same tongue had snapped at a guy who was trying to pressure you into bed with him at a party. That first night you met, where you had sillily followed him home after his dashing intervention, you had thought it would be nothing more. Just a fling, just a fuck.

But then he was in your bed and in your head, twinkling eyes and cocky grin trailing after you everyday. He was so pretty and so suave, made you feel good even when he was being mean. But you suppose most cocky men like Jimin are like that. They know they don’t disappoint, even when they’re not really trying.

Jimin doesn’t call or text. You don’t see his car pull up outside your campus anymore. He’s gone and that’s that. You cry a little (see: a lot) and pretend you’re over him. You definitely don’t think about his soft laughter or his hands on your chest. Nope.

So that ends.

Or so you think.

Your friends say you’re mopey and sad, too down for someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend. It’s true, which sucks, but they honor your admittance by taking you out to a bar that night. It’s supposed to be chill and relaxing, just some drinks with the girls to soothe your aching heart. But the name of the bar reminds you of something, of someone you can’t reach anymore, and you don’t even know why. You’ve never been here before, never even knew this place existed. But everything about it brings you back to Jimin, like you’re in his space now, and you’re unsure why.

It reminds you of his laugh, his smile, to the point you swear you can hear it, right beside you, down the bar, to your left—

He waves.

There’s this look he used to give you every time he picked you up from your last class, this mix between adoration and lust that made your skin tingle with excitement. It’s not there now, in fact, it’s replaced with the complete opposite. It’s, like, the meanest look he can muster, something akin to a scowl. He smiles, but it’s so plastic-y and fake, it makes your head hurt. He’s so obviously unimpressed with you, probably because you ghosted him before he could ghost you. Maybe his pride is hurt and looking at you grosses him out. Maybe he just hates you.

Either way, eleven pm rolls around and you’re crying in the bathroom. Your friends are out on the floor having fun and singing karaoke. They think you’ve gone inside because you got your period, because that’s what you’ve told them. You don’t know how to explain that your ex who isn’t really your ex is out there looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. They’ve never even met Jimin. Why? Because he wasn’t your boyfriend. Who meets their friend’s fuck buddy? No one.

You sniffle, press a balled up tissue against your eyes in a feeble attempt to save your makeup. The bar isn’t that small, but neither is it huge. There’s only a few bathrooms in the back, and you’ve been hogging one of them for some time now. Someone knocks on the door, and you don’t even get the chance to ward them off before the crappy knob jingles and the door bursts open.

“Come on,” he grumbles, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta piss—“

He pauses, meets your eye through the mirror in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you blubber, hurriedly washing your hands in an effort to avoid his gaze. Jimin lingers at the door, which has long since fallen shut, and watches you with the eyes of a hawk. Your hands tremble and shake, fumble over the towel dispenser three times before you’re hastily making your escape. “Sorry,” you mutter again, head downcast as you move around him for the door.

Just as it cracks open, the music from outside filtering in, he slams it shut with a flat palm. You flinch, close in on yourself as he steps behind you. “What’re you doing here, doll?” he murmurs, deep yet careful. Tentative. “You don’t like bars.”

You know you don’t like bars. You didn’t know he knew that. “I’m with some friends,” you explain, jump when a hand touches your shoulder. “I— I’ll leave soon.”

A second attempt for the door is thwarted by Jimin. “Don’t,” he startles, breath heavy against your ear. “Don’t leave again…” he sighs, forehead against your shoulder. And then, quietly, “why did you leave me?”

Your heart syncs up with the music outside, thunders in your ears as you purse your lips. You don’t want to talk about it now, don’t want to confess to these emotions that drown you. Especially not when he’ll never understand nor will he ever care. It’s best to leave it as is, you convince yourself, slowly shrugging him off.

“We don’t want the same things,” you reply, eyes burning with the need to cry like a baby. But it’ll weaken your argument, make you look like the sentimental girl you know he won’t like. “It wouldn’t work anyway.”

The hand on your shoulder jerks you around, makes a gasp catch in your throat when he crowds you against the door. He’s got that same glare on from before, the one he had sent you across the bar earlier, and it makes your lower lip tremble when it’s this close. “You never asked me what I wanted,” he hisses.

It is then that you realize it isn't anger or disgust, but frustration that paints his features. It’s pure, unadulterated confusion and distress on his pretty face, furrowed brows and narrowed eyes pointed your way. You don’t know what it means, don’t know what he wants. “I,” you choke, weakly covering your face with your hand before he can see you crumble. “I just wanted you.”

Jimin deflates, steps closer until his body is pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders. “And you have me, doll,” he murmurs, bumps his nose against yours. “Always have.”

You shake your head, choke on a sob that bubbles up your throat. “No, not like that,” you stress, losing yourself in the emotions you spent so much time bottling up. “I wanted more.”

Jimin shushes you, guides your head into the crook of his neck where you paint his skin in dark mascara tears. “Is this about the date?” he sighs, patting your head gently.

“It’s more than just the date,” you cry, fists curling into the material of his shirt until it rumples beyond repair. He doesn’t understand.

Jimin nods, let’s you cry and sob until you’re feeling better and someone else is pounding at the door, yelling at you two to get a proper room. You don’t want a room, you only want his heart. 

He takes you home again, helps you out of your shoes at the door because you’re still sensitive and quiver like a leaf when you walk. His bedroom is familiar, smells like him and his detergent. You miss it so much, want to savor it once more. Something in your gut says this is the last time, this is just Jimin getting one last fuck out of you before he really abandons you.

So you cry when he sits down on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t even said anything, hasn’t even taken his socks off yet, but you’re already a mess.

And of course he’s there to catch you, tugs you between his legs to look up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away your tears. But it’s not your fault that he looks like that right before he’s going to break your heart.

He’s so cool, even when you’re falling apart in his hands. “You don’t want me,” you sniffle, let him guide you onto his lap. “You just want to fuck and that’s it.”

Jimin leans his forehead against yours, warm breath washing over your skin. “I never said that,” he murmurs. “We’ve been over this.”

You huff. “Well you never said you did either,” you snap, rubbing at your eyes.

You cry and cry some more, until your sobs subside and you’re left with the hiccups afterwards. Jimin maneuvers you beside him, lets your hair spill across the sheets as he lays you down. They smell just like him, make your head spin when he kisses your cheek softly. “I want you,” he confesses. “I want this.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, you don’t,” you sniff, but you’re not so sure. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the longest. Hearing him say otherwise sounds weird, even if he’s saying what you want to hear. “You don’t.”

Jimin catches your hand in his, pins it to the mattress. “I want you to be mine,” he adds, swallows your cries of denial with his lips. He kisses softly, and for the first time, it feels like he’s paying attention to you. Not your body or your lust, but your heart. “Had me feeling like shit when you didn’t come back. Like I lost something big.”

You still cry when he kisses down your neck, over your chest. His hands pull your clothes off, carefully like you’re a present for him to unwrap. Those plush lips you love so much drown you in kisses, over your tummy and your mound, until they’re buried between your cunt. “You’re mine,” he husks out, hand entwined with yours.

His eyes are dark from down there, long lashes blinking up at you as he dips his tongue in the places you crave him most. It brings you to a shuddering end, has you whimpering his name into the empty air until your toes are curling and you’re coming against his mouth. Jimin has never shied away from you, and doesn’t know, sits up with a hazy look in his eyes as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Jimin wastes no time undressing, pushes off that sexy jacket until his lithe body is coming into view, thick thighs and lean abdomen. He slides right into you, holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you like never before. It’s slow and sensual, makes you shiver when he says your name in that low register of his. “Don’t leave again,” he whimpers, cock throbbing between your walls. He’s desperate today, ruts like you’ll slip right between his fingertips. It’s funny because you're the same way, clinging onto his shoulders until you’re practically glued together.

You come and so does Jimin. He pants against your ear, feels so warm and heavy on top of you. He doesn’t say much more that night, just plays with your hair. But he asks you on a date, mentions something about a carnival. “Yes,” you respond right away, because, well.

Jimin was dreamy. Maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[fruitcoops]

ok so firstly I love any loops and jules fic but secondly could we have one where jules is having a really tough time (either missing loops/ picked on etc. ) and then we see loops (not coops) surprise him and is just so protective - just sibling fluff that’s it

Oh Jules, I’m sorry I did this to you. What a wonderful prompt, though! I’m always down to write sibling fluff! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for bullying (older kids picking on younger kids)

Contrary to popular belief, Jules didn’t brag about his brother every minute of every day. There was no point, and he wanted to be known for his own talents rather than living in Remus’ shadow for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, some people didn’t seem to understand that.

A balled of lined paper smacked into the back of his head. “Heads up, Loopy!”

Jules threw the ball back; it bounced off the end of the table and hit the ground pathetically. “Nice shot,” Aidan snorted as he passed, bumping his shoulder against Jules’ and making him stumble. Several people laughed. His face burned with embarrassment.

“Yeah, I bet your brother’s really proud of that,” Luke sneered. He was a big kid, far bigger than Jules both in height and muscle even though he was only a couple years older.

“Don’t talk about my brother,” Jules said, much quieter than intended.

Luke raised his eyebrows. “What’re you going do about it, Loopy?”

“Just shut up.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” He leaned across the cafeteria table and Jules fought the urge to back away. “Huh? Your brother? He’s never around.”

“He’s busy.”

“He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He does,” Jules insisted, feeling his throat tighten. “He does, he just doesn’t have time—”

“He’s a celebrity, dude, no wonder he doesn’t want his tagalong brother around.”

It’s not true, Jules told himself. It’s not true. Time and time again, Remus had told him that hockey came second to family, but after months of not seeing him it was starting to feel false. “Shut up.”

Luke shifted in his seat and folded his hands. “Face it, Loopy: your brother’s not around because he’d rather spend time with his cool friends than an annoying little kid.”

“Leave me alone.” Jules’ voice cracked and Luke grinned.

“You’re gonna cry?” he asked, full of false sympathy. “Aw, poor baby.”

“It’s not true.” It was getting harder to believe the words. “He visits whenever he can.”

The lunch bell rang before Luke could retaliate; he ruffled Jules’ hair too hard to be comfortable and left, already laughing with his group of friends. What a dick, Jules thought as he swallowed down the tears.

He made it through the rest of his classes in a daze and walked home on muscle memory. It was a cold day for April, but maybe he could blame his red-rimmed eyes on the wind. Maybe Luke is right, part of him argued. There wasn’t a lot of evidence, but it was enough to make him want to throw up.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” his mother called when he opened the door.

That was the tipping point, the tiny pebble that shattered the cracked glass dam holding back his tears. Jules sobbed once, dropped his backpack on the floor, and ran for the safety of his bedroom. “Jules—” The slam of his door cut his father’s concern short.

He grabbed the family picture off his wall and threw it across the room—there was no glass or frame, only tape, so seeing it flutter to the ground was far less satisfying than he had hoped. Remus had him on his shoulders for the picture; they all looked so happy. Jules sat down on the other side of his bed and buried his face in his arms, letting the emotions he had been holding in for three full hours flood out.

Deep down, he knew Luke was a liar and a bully with nothing better to do than pick on younger kids. That didn’t mean his words hurt any less.

A few minutes later, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Go away!”

There was a brief pause, then another knock.

“Just—just please give me a minute, mom!”

“I’m not mom.” Jules’ heart skipped a beat. “Can I come in?”

You’ve never been around to help me before. Anger reared up in his chest. “No!”

Remus hesitated for a moment. Jules hoped he was shocked, stunned, hurt. “Okay.”

There was a rustling noise; he looked around the foot of the bed to see a shadow in the crack beneath the door. “Are you—what are you doing?”

“Sitting down.”

“Go away.”

“No.”

“Mom, make him go away!”

“What did I do, Jules?” Remus sounded sad. There was none of his usual teasing in his tone. The anger twisted around in Jules and he scrubbed at the tears and snot on his face.

“When did you get here?” He knew he was being rude; his mother would have given him a pursed-lips look if he talked like that to anyone normally.

“A couple hours ago. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s a terrible surprise. Go away.”

“Not until you tell me what I did.”

Jules took a few shallow breaths before answering. “You’re never here. Never.”

“I know. I’m s—”

“I hate you,” he sobbed, bringing his knees tighter to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

There was a long stretch of silence on the other side of the door, but the shadow remained. “That’s fair,” Remus said quietly.

“No, it’s not!” Jules clambered to his feet and stomped over to the door, wrenching it open. “It’s not fair! I shouldn’t hate you, this is your job! You should���you should—”

Remus looked up at him from his crosslegged seat on the carpet. “I should what?”

“You should yell at me. Or make me open the door, or do anything that makes me angry at you.” He sniffled and hugged himself.

“When have I ever yelled at you?”

“The rat. And the water balloons. And when I stole your sticks. And when I froze your underwear.”

Remus winced slightly. “Fair point. I don’t keep yelling once you’re in the room, though, right?”

Jules deflated. “No.”

“So I’m not going to yell at you. Also, your bedroom smells weird, so I don’t want to go in there unless I have to.”

A smile tried forcing its way out and Jules covered it with his best scowl. “My room doesn’t smell weird.”

Remus sniffed the air, then shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Why are you here?”

“Mom said she was getting ice cream.”

Jules perked up. “Did she?”

“No.” Remus held up the car keys. “We can fix that problem, though. Go get your shoes.”

“Can I drive?’

“If you can convince dad, sure.” Remus stood up and mussed his hair; his hand was gentle, though, unlike Luke’s. It was a welcome change.

He grabbed his sneakers from under his bed and hopped down the hall as he pulled them on. “Dad, can I drive?”

His father didn’t even look up from the paper. “When Hell freezes over, buddy.”

“Lyall,” his mother scolded from the kitchen, though her eyes crinkled at the edges. “Remus, remember not to swear around your brother!”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he said, holding the door open for Jules as he shrugged his coat on.

They drove in relative silence, save for the Top Rock Hits of the Eighties cassette that they had each heard half a billion times. Remus pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru and rattled off Jules’ favorite without even having to ask. Somehow, that both soothed him and upset him even more. He handed the cone over carefully, stuck his blizzard in the cupholder, and started driving in the opposite direction of the house.

“Are you kidnapping me?” Jules asked, licking a stray drip of vanilla off the cone.

“I don’t think I can, seeing as we’re related.”

“You can. You don’t have custody.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Why don’t you, Mr. Fancy Degree?”

“This might surprise you, but they don’t exactly cover the intricacies of kidnapping in PT school.”

“Shame.”

Remus made a noise of agreement around the straw of his Blizzard as they rolled to a stop at the red light. “So, are we going to talk?”

“We already are.”

“Dude.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He made a face when a chunk of Oreo got stuck the straw. “If you get that out before the next light, you can have a sip.”

Jules took it and squeezed the thin plastic. “Luke Sanders is an asshole.”

“Language.” The car stopped again and Jules showed off the unblocked straw. “Do continue, though.”

“You’ve hit every red light since we left the house. That’s got to be a curse.” He took a long sip, then handed it across the console. “You like hanging out with me, right?”

“Obviously. You’re, like, my favorite person.” Remus gave him a confused look.

“Okay, cool.” Jules felt his hands start to shake again, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from his ice cream. Just hearing him say that made a tsunami of relief run through him. “Cool.”

“Did Luke Sanders tell you I didn’t?”

“He said a lot of stuff.”

Remus pulled into a parking lot, then took the key out and turned in his seat. “Like what?”

Jules shrugged one shoulder. “That you don’t want to be here.”

“And?” His voice had softened.

“And that it’s my fault, since I’m an annoying little tagalong.” Jules picked at the paper wrapper around his cone and didn’t look up. “He’s got a p—”

“If you say he’s got a point, all your underwear is going in the freezer.” All traces of gentleness were gone from his tone, leaving tightly-controlled fury in its place.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t—” Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t apologize, Jules.”

“You’re upset.”

“Yeah, because some little shit was picking on my brother and I wasn’t there to kick his ass.”

“I can handle it.”

If anything, that seemed to upset him even more. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you told anyone?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to be a tattletale.”

“Jules, there’s a difference between being a tattletale and reporting a bully.” Remus tipped his chin up. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Jules’ lower lip wobbled. “I missed you. I always miss you, but he’s been really awful recently and he keeps saying the same stupid stuff over and over.”

Remus’ nose and cheeks reddened. “I missed you, too. If I could be here all the time, I would.”

“I know it’s not your fault, and I know you’re busy.” He wiped away another tear and tried to pull himself together. “But it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Remus agreed. “It’s not fair that I’m gone nine months out of the year, and it’s not right that people are making fun of you for it. Hang on for a second, okay?”

Jules nodded, still drying his cheeks. Remus got out of the car and jogged to the other side, then opened the passenger door and gestured for him to get out; as soon as his sneakers touched the ground, he was lifted almost a foot into the air. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he managed, burying his face in his brother’s neck.

Remus kissed the side of his head and held him close. “I’m sorry I’m not around more.”

He hooked his chin over Remus’ shoulder. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be here whenever you can? I know that might not be often, but just…when you can.”

He felt Remus’ chest hitch against him. “Always,” he whispered. “Always.”