#this one is dedicated to the man who had a table in his honour on the hiking trail

[dusk-blue-stormclouds]

[songsofadelaide]

"Hey, Platoon Leader, are you guys trying to be the next Shinomiyas?"

You looked up from your plate of food and gave Kafka an incredulous look from across your shared table. "...What?"

The older officer raised his hands in defence when he caught the strange look on your face. "O-Oh, you know! The Director General and his wife, the former Captain of the Second Division. They were a power couple. I just thought you guys were similar is all..."

"Kafka-san, you better clarify whatever it is you're saying," you chuckled at his statement. "Though I definitely do not mind being compared to the Second Division Captain Shinomiya Hikari, the gods rest her soul. She was brilliant, after all! A shining example to so many young women, myself included. We could have stood to learn a thing or two from her..."

It was a tragedy, you thought. The Director General had always been a serious man, but the unexpected death of his wife made him all the more. And now that Kafka mentioned it, the weight of the idea rested even heavier on your mind. The higher you two rise in the ranks, the more will be expected of you. The more numbered Kaiju appear, the more you will have to set out in their field.

The higher the danger risk, the more skilled personnel will have to be deployed. And seeing how the top brass acknowledged your fiancé's most recent accomplishment— subduing and neutralising Kaiju No. 10— the likelihood of him being assigned even more dangerous missions will only increase—

"You think the Vice Captain would consider growing out a beard too when he becomes Director General? Like Director General Shinomiya. I mean you did mention once that his old man was grizzled and all..." Kafka asked aloud as he helped himself to his lunch.

???

His question was so left-field that you couldn't help the laughter that escaped your stomach. "Pfft— What?! Kafka-san, wh— Hahaha!"

"I-I'm serious, though, Platoon Leader?! A beard would make him even more menacing!"

"Haha! N-No, okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for bursting out laughing like that! I-It's just— Soshiro grows stubbles at an alarming rate and he always shaves because he hates being told he'd look like his father with a beard," you said, nearly breathless and tears prickling your eyes. You continued to speak as you calmed down, the seriousness of your expression prompting your lunchmate to pause his meal. "I might not be able to achieve Captain Shinomiya's legendary level of coolness or renown, but I think as long as I continue accomplishing orders, that's good enough for me."

Arriving at your table not long after your fit of laughter were the Vice Captain and another recruit— one who happened to hear your conversation right from the start.

"I—" Kikoru started, her plate slightly trembling in her hands as you met her earnest gaze. "I think you're just as cool as Captain Shinomiya, Platoon Leader! More importantly, I'd like f-for you and Vice Captain Hoshina to always be safe while in the battlefield so you can both live long and fulfilling lives! Th..."

The kind her mother never got to live.

Soshiro took his place next to you as Kafka gestured for them to sit at your shared table.

"Thank you, Kikoru-chan. I am honoured you think so highly of me. If there's anyone feels the loss our amazing Captain Shinomiya the most, that would be you," you said as you reached for the younger girl's shaking fist from across the table, giving her a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. "If Soshiro and I ever do become the Defense Force's next power couple, I can only hope we have a child as talented and dedicated as you are."

"That's assumin' we're actually still a couple," Soshiro quipped. "I could hear you laughin' at Kafka's joke from across the building. Whatever did he tell you that was so funny, sweetness?"

"Kafka-san here was just saying how cool you would look grizzled with a beard all over your handsome, handsome mug," you shot back at him as you gently gripped his chin to force him to face you. "But don't worry, sweetness, I like you just the way you are now."

Kikoru's hands flew to her mouth as her face suddenly flushed. H-How lovey-dovey of them!

"You're already plenty menacing with that sly look of yours," you continued, before slapping the table so hard that it surprised both Kafka and Kikoru, who were staring in awe at just how affectionate their superiors were being. "Now eat, eat, eat up, our little fledgelings! Eating right, getting enough sleep, and exercising are key to living long! Let's not miss out on even one of those!"

Soshiro smiled as you ate your fill along with your favourite new recruits, though he'd never hear you say that out loud. Being a power couple never appealed to him because all that mattered to him were saving lives and staying alive— to be able to live in the future you were all so earnestly fighting for.

I suppose having someone to proudly stand next to isn't such a bad idea.

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - Damned

Summary - A love between a Kingsguard and the late king's sister defies expectations. When loyalty, family, and a child on the way are thrown into the chaos, they must navigate the line between love and honour, with heartbreaking consequences that could shatter them both.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Mild language

Word count - 2126

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

We stood on opposite sides of the war, but no force, not even the tides of battle or the weight of oaths, could sever the bond of love that tethered us.

A Kingsguard's life is defined by sacrifice. When a man swears the oath, it is known: no wife, no children, no family. His sword belongs to the king, his life dedicated to duty.

But when the king's youngest sister—the one woman who held his heart in her hands—made a request, the ironclad rules of the Kingsguard were bent.

I asked for an exception, and the exception was granted.

For me, the unthinkable became possible: a love that should have been forbidden was made real.

Yet, bending the rules of power always comes at a cost.

When the king's commands were defied, and the man I fought to keep by my side wronged the heir to the throne, it felt as though my very soul had been torn apart.

I was left standing in the shadows of two worlds: one where love and loyalty battled for supremacy, and another where betrayal gnawed at my heart.

"Are we to believe the wife of the usurper's Hand still remains loyal to our cause?" a lord muttered from across the hall, his voice thick with suspicion.

He meant for his words to drift through the gathering like a snake, unnoticed by me, but they never did.

I had become all too accustomed to the sharp whispers, the sidelong glances that followed me wherever I went. They haunted me like a ghost.

I leaned back in my chair, allowing my eyes to close for a moment.

My hand instinctively rested on the slight swell of my belly, feeling the flutter of the life growing inside me.

My child. His child.

That small movement, a reminder of the love we had fought so hard for, gave me strength.

I opened my eyes and fixed the lord with a cold stare.

"If you have something to say, my lord," I hissed, the venom in my voice barely contained, "then I suggest you repeat it—louder this time."

The room stilled. Every head turned in my direction.

I could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on me, as heavy and suffocating as dragonfire. I was tired of the whispers, tired of the endless questioning of my loyalty.

Since the night my brother, the king, had died, I had stood firm beside my niece, Rhaenyra. And still, after all my sacrifices, all my blood spilt in her name, I was treated like a traitor.

The lord's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer as he met my gaze.

"We have all seen where your loyalties lie, princess," he sneered, the title spat from his lips like a curse, his voice dripping with contempt.

His eyes raked over me, pausing on the swell of my belly.

"You carry the child of a traitor—the very man who helped bring ruin to this realm. You dare sit among us and speak of loyalty? How can we trust anything you say when you've shared the bed of the usurper's Hand?"

His words struck me like a lash, each one meant to humiliate, to undermine not just my loyalty but my very honour.

The room buzzed with an uneasy silence, every eye fixed on me as if waiting for my response, for my downfall.

My heart pounded in my chest, fury swelling inside me like a storm ready to break. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I fought to keep my voice steady, even as rage and grief warred within me.

I leaned forward, my hands gripping the edge of the table, my eyes narrowing as they locked onto his.

"I fought for this cause," I said, my voice low but laced with a fire I could no longer contain, "before you even knew what loyalty meant. I bled for this family. My love for him does not mean I have turned my back on my blood. It means I know the weight of sacrifice, a weight you could never understand."

The lord scoffed, his arrogance rising as he leaned back in his chair, the sneer never leaving his face.

"You expect us to believe that?" he said, louder this time, his voice rising with the confidence of a man who thought himself untouchable.

"When your belly swells with the bastard of our enemy? How long until you betray us as he did? How long until you turn your back on your family to protect your lover and his bastard child?"

His words landed like blows, each one designed to strip away what little protection I had left. My blood boiled.

Bastard.

The word echoed in my mind, not just for the child I carried, but for what he sought to reduce me to—a woman whose worth was judged only by the man she loved, whose loyalty was questioned simply because of the life growing inside her.

"You think you can stand here and speak of loyalty?" the lord continued, his voice dripping with venom.

"When you've already chosen a side in this war by opening your legs to the enemy? You've betrayed your blood already, princess. It's only a matter of time before you do it again."

The insult landed like a dagger to the chest, but I did not flinch, though I felt the sharp sting of his words burn inside me.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, drawing blood.

But I refused to break in front of him. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Rhaenyra's voice cut through the tension like a sharpened blade.

"Enough!" she commanded, rising from her seat with the regal authority of a queen.

Her eyes blazed as she looked down at the lord. "Do not forget who she is. She is my aunt, the blood of my blood. She has stood by my side when many of you have not."

Silence fell over the room as everyone turned to the queen.

The lord, though cowed by Rhaenyra's fierce defence, still dared to press on. "But my queen," he stammered, "the rumours—"

"Rumors?" Jacaerys, Rhaenyra's eldest son, stepped forward, his young face set in stone. "Is that what we base our alliances on now? Idle gossip?"

He glanced around the room, daring anyone to disagree. "My great-aunt has proven her loyalty time and time again. Anyone who questions that is a fool."

The room shifted uncomfortably, but the tension did not break. It pressed down on me like an iron weight.

I could feel the eyes of the court still watching me, still filled with doubt.

It was always the same, no matter what I did. No matter how many times I fought for Rhaenyra, no matter how many battles I won in her name, there were always whispers. Always doubt.

I could feel the anger rising in me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me.

"I don't need to justify myself to any of you," I snapped, pushing my chair back and standing.

My voice shook with the fury that had been building within me for weeks. "I have given everything for this family, and still, you look at me like I'm the enemy. Perhaps it is you who should be questioned!"

My eyes flicked to the lord, who shrank back slightly under my glare.

Without waiting for a response, I stormed from the room. The murmurs of the lords followed me down the corridors of Dragonstone, but I didn't care.

I needed to get out. I needed air, space, something other than the suffocating judgment that seemed to cling to every wall of this cursed castle.

My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anger and heartbreak swirling inside me.

I didn't stop until I reached the dragon pit, where Silverwing awaited me. Her silvery scales glinted in the fading light of the evening, her large eyes following my every movement.

She sensed my turmoil and let out a low growl as I approached, her massive head dipping to meet my hand.

I stroked her snout, feeling the warmth of her breath wash over me, somewhat soothing my frayed nerves.

"Come, beautiful girl," I whispered, climbing into the saddle. "I need to get away from here."

With a powerful beat of her wings, Silverwing took to the skies, carrying me far from Dragonstone, far from the judgment and the whispers that followed me everywhere I went.

The wind whipped through my hair as we soared over the darkening sea.

For a brief moment, I felt free, the weight of the world slipping away as we flew higher and higher.

I urged her toward the coast, toward the secluded beach where I had always found peace when the world became too much.

When we landed, I slid down from the saddle, breathing in the cool, salty air.

The beach was deserted, the waves crashing against the shore in a steady rhythm. I closed my eyes and let the sound calm my racing heart.

But then, I felt it—a presence. I opened my eyes and saw him.

Criston Cole stood at the edge of the shore, his back to me, but I would have known him anywhere.

The man I loved. The man who had shattered my heart.

As if sensing my gaze, he turned to face me.

His dark hair was longer than I remembered, his face more worn, but his eyes—those same eyes that had once looked at me with such tenderness—now held something darker, something colder.

We stood there, neither of us speaking for a long moment. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the silence between us.

Finally, Criston broke the silence. "How is... our child?" he asked, his voice low, almost strained.

His words were like a dagger to the heart. My hand instinctively went to my belly, where our child grew, a reminder of everything we had lost.

"Exactly as you left us," I said, the bitterness in my voice unmistakable.

He winced, but he didn't look away. "I didn't leave," he said quietly. "You did. You left me."

"Left you?" I exploded, my voice trembling with anger and pain. "What choice did I have, Criston? After what you did—after you betrayed everything, everyone—how could I stay? You chose your path the moment you turned your back on me, on our family."

Criston's face twisted in pain, his voice rising. "I did what I had to do. I never wanted to lose you. I never wanted any of this. But I had no choice!"

I gestured toward the empty beach around us. "You broke your oaths, you broke my trust, and still, you expect me to have stayed?"

In another life, we might have stood on this very shore, laughing as our child toddled along the sand, the wind lifting their dark curls like their father's.

That life was gone now—crushed beneath the weight of treason and broken oaths.

His face twisted with a mix of regret and anger. "You were the one who asked for the exception. You were the one who defied the king. You knew the risk we were taking. I never wanted it to come to this."

"And yet, it did," I said, my voice quieter now, trembling with the weight of our past.

"We both made choices, Criston. But you made your choice when you stood beside that man—when you turned your back on everything we had."

He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine, filled with the same conflict that had haunted me since the day I left him. "I never stopped caring for you... for our child."

His eyes softened a flash of the man I once knew. "I never wanted to betray you," he said quietly. "But I was never free. Not truly. We were always pawns in someone else's game."

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to let him see my weakness.

"Caring for us means nothing when you stand with my enemies. You can't have it both ways, Criston. You made your choice, and now you must live with it."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I turned my back on him, looking out at the crashing waves.

For a moment, I thought I felt his hand reach out for me, but then it fell away, and the space between us grew wider than ever.

Once, his hands held me as if I were something precious, a jewel stolen from the hands of fate itself. But now, even the air between us felt sharp, cutting, like a wound too deep to heal.

Finally, I climbed back onto Silverwing, not bothering to look back.

The air grew colder as we ascended, but it was nothing compared to the icy distance that now stretched between us.

A/n - These are lowkey my fav type of one-shots to write because I refuse to let someone forgive so easily for something outrageous like how you gonna forgive the man who basc said fuck you, your morals and everything you stand for 😭

[qilingxiong]

碎鏡

My Qiaofang fic 《原諒我可好》 was originally the ending to a slightly longer draft, before I edited/cut it down and it became its own oneshot. However, I still like what didn't make it in, and Qiao Wanmian's perspective was a joy to write. So here is everything that happened before, as an extra (but can be read on its own).

Qiao Wanmian learns, days after the fact (again), that a man is dead, disappeared from the world (again), and as she feels the last ten years of her life warp, rush past, reset (back to the start, back to the end) the world fractures into sharp glass.

Qiao-guniang, are you all right? makes its way around the shards, the sound cut too harsh in its gentleness. Menzhu, do you want us to keep looking for him?

Qiao-nvxia, I'm sure he's still alive.

Qiao-guniang, he came back last time. He wouldn't leave you.

(For the second time, no one says.)

Days turn into weeks, turn into a month, strung together by a symphony of demand, of advice, of people who remember a heartbroken maiden mourning her destined, and no one beyond that.

Menzhu—

Qiao-nvxia—

Qiao-guniang—

Qiao Wanmian—

"Enough," she says, and for not the first time, she understands why Li Xiangyi wanted to run.

And so finally, Qiao Wanmian does too.

~*~

Here is the measure of Qiao Wanmian's life:

She is almost thirty, and two betrotheds have come and gone. She has spent half her lifetime dedicated to a sect, defining its name and its honour, but pride though it is, her name does not exist outside of it. Qiao Wanmian of Sigumen, as she hears it echoed in the streets.

And more than that, because the names of heroes will not, cannot die? Qiao Wanmian, Li Xiangyi's beloved.

What is it like, she wonders, watching a trio of girls walk through a market in a small town, sword wrapped in cloth for anonymity, to be someone who loves with the freedom of leaving it behind? What is it like, to exist and nothing more, as someone other than a widow who was never a wife?

What is it like for the world to look at oneself and see a person, not a story, perfect in her sculpted tragedy?

And somehow, somehow she finds the answer after two months of wandering. Or rather he finds Qiao Wanmian, seated at an inn toward the south, blue silk and silver stepping out of a storm and through the door for too-wide eyes to find her own.

"Qiao-guniang," Fang Duobing breathes. When Qiao Wanmian looks at him, all of twenty years old and too young to lose a first love, she knows that before him stands a shattered world too.

"Join me?" she says to that, and signals for another jar of wine.

~*~

Fang Duobing is an interesting one, Qiao Wanmian thinks, several hours later, studying him by the relief of candlelight. His hair sweeps over his shoulder, dark river with a few strands fallen loose, as he slumps forward to brace his arms on the table. He's staring downward as he props his chin up by one hand, the other fidgeting with his sleeve. "How long do you think it'll take to find him?"

Maudlin, he is. He hasn't had the years to build up a tolerance for wine, although Qiao Wanmian cannot say she's been sober this evening. The warmth to her face is from more than the inn torches.

How did Li Lianhua talk to this boy, when he was in this state? What was lie, what was truth, and for how long? Did it feel like this, where Qiao Wanmian knows the answer to Fang Duobing's words, but cannot let it escape her tongue?

"I don't know," she settles for instead, a soft lie to cushion the truth. "It might take a month. It might take years."

"It won't be years," Fang Duobing murmurs. The strings of beads in his hair rustle as he tilts his head to look at her. "We both already waited ten. I'll find him sooner than that."

Xiangyi, Qiao Wanmian thinks, thinks of the last ten years gone by without lighting lanterns for the dead. You always chose the ones who could never give up, didn't you?

"Good luck," she says softly, nearly a whisper, and takes a slow swallow of wine. The jar is nearly empty.

Silence unspools, punctuated by the flicker of the lights. Fang Duobing unstops the next jar of wine and brings it to his lips, neck a graceful curve in the lean of his head back, accented by the line of his jaw. He's grown into his features, for all the room he still has left to mature. If the jianghu hadn't called his name, he would have made a handsome aristocrat in the imperial court.

Is that what else Li Lianhua saw in Fang Duobing, for him to take on a companion after ten years of solitude? Qiao Wanmian wonders briefly, in the split moment before Fang Duobing glances at her again, then somewhere in the distance, darting away too quickly to count as an idle movement. "Something to say, Fang-gongzi?"

Fang Duobing closes his eyes, in a moment's thought. When he opens them, it is to lean closer, close enough that Qiao Wanmian can feel the shape of his breath. Perhaps this dearth of respectable distance, if anyone cares, can be excused by a wine-fuelled lapse in judgment. She chooses to let it be so.

"How did you survive this the last time?" Fang Duobing asks, less question and more plea. Qiao Wanmian can see now that it's been on his mind all evening, desperation forcing his tongue.

His eyes are dark now. He looks lost.

And before she can respond, "I'm asking because you were also someone who knew him."

Oh.

Qiao Wanmian doesn't deserve to have the word zhiji alongside her name. Not when it comes to Li Xiangyi. But she knows what Fang Duobing is searching for, and so she holds it out, that lifeline of kindred recognition.

Thousands mourned the loss of a legend. They both mourned the death of a man.

When her hand moves toward Fang Duobing, half by some instinct, half by impulse, he leans into the touch, letting himself be tugged up by his chin to face her.

"I don't have a good answer for you," she says, and there's no lie for this that will fare any less painful than the truth. "You'll get through one day hoping he'll be there waiting at the end, and he won't be, but you'll go to sleep so that maybe he'll find you in the next. He won't. But if it means you see tomorrow, then you have to keep hoping, until someday, you've found something new to wake up for."

It all comes out in a rush, and it surprises Qiao Wanmian by the honesty of it, so much so that her last words are too quiet by contrast. "That's how people like us keep living."

Fang Duobing's eyes are too bright. She brushes one gemstone of a fallen tear away with her thumb.

"You did this alone?" he says, and Qiao Wanmian recognizes the tremble to those words.

A wandering swordsman with a blade can fight any demon that throws itself at him. Fear, though, has ten thousand different ways to find you.

"You won't have to."

A promise, she realizes a moment too late, but she's already made it. These words were for him alone. Something else takes over Fang Duobing's expression: relief, like the first blossom of spring after a bleak winter.

He's too young for this to be his life.

And of Qiao Wanmian? What does Fang Duobing think? She waits, drawing away from him, the comfort of another's warmth gone.

His words are too soft in his mouth, gaze too earnest. "I know you haven't said anything about yourself all night, but you don't have to either, you know."

It feels like an arrow let fly.

Qiao Wanmian is left helpless by its wound, staring in the half-dark at a boy too sweet for her, willing to break her fall while he doesn't know how to land himself, and, and—

Something inside her breaks.

~*~

When she reaches for him, anything of him, drowned in the shadows by the doors to his room— waist, collar, mouth— he lets her.

[knoxvillesjackass]

I’m thinking of them doing a Jackass special like “the roast of Johnny Knoxville” and it’s reader’s turn to go up and roast and Johnny can’t help but get turned on hearing her rip him apart, like he didn’t realise he was into it - so of course they have to fuck

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

i kinda made the reader a big tease in this, cause i thought it would be funny! hope you enjoy!

You were anything but ready, it felt like. Your hands were shaking and you had anxiously begun drawing doodles on your speech notes, which you'd come to regret later.

You could hear Wee-Man going at it, and the audience was clearly enjoying it, fits of laughter audible, even backstage.

As Comedy Central often did, a roast was being held to honour a celebrity. Johnny had been chosen as the celeb, and his jackass friends, other colleagues, and you, of course, were in the lineup to do a roast speech dedicated to Johnny.

You'd worked long and hard to make the speech make sense, and even after sleepless nights of worrying, you still weren't sure about the quality of the speech

All of the jackass guys and his other comedian friends were naturals at it, the whole public-speaking thing, but it frightened you.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we'll have a short commercial break and the next person to do a speech will be none other than Y/N, Johnny's wife!"

You were practically shitting bricks, and Johnny could tell when he walked backstage.

"Hey, baby," he smiled and approached you with a smile, which quickly dropped when he saw the state you were in.

"What's wrong, baby? Talk to me," Johnny said and cupped your face. "Can we sit down somewhere?" You sighed and Johnny nodded.

He grabbed your hand and led you into a small room with some chairs and a table.

Johnny sat down on the chair and patted his lab, signalling for you to come and sit, which you did.

You threw your legs over his and cuddled into his body, your long silky dress sliding across the floor.

"Talk to me, hmm?" Johnny hummed and planted a long-lasting kiss on your forehead.

"I'm so nervous, I hate talking in front of this many people," you sighed and hid your face in the crook of his neck.

"I know you do, but you know me better than anyone else. You can always make up some shit, and I'll be the only person to know if it's right or wrong," Johnny comforted you and you smiled.

Johnny looked amazing. With his nicely tailored suit, not to mention the red converse. He looked great, and you were only really realising it at that moment.

"You look hot, PJ," you smiled and bit your lip.

No, no, no. Please don't, out of all times, make this the time for you to get randomly horny, you thought.

But you couldn't help it. Your husband looked so good and maybe it could be good for your nerves.

"Don't start with it now, Y/N," Johnny warned you.

You shrugged innocently and smiled, "what?"

"You know what, and it can't happen here or now," Johnny said and tried to gently push you off his lap, but you repositioned yourself even closer to his crotch.

"For my nerves," you pouted and batted your eyelashes. Johnny threw his head back and sighed. "You know I can't say no when you do tha-"

Your faces were so close and with one, you broke the space by connecting your lips with Johnny's.

He moaned into the kiss, knowing as well as you, that there was not much time left before the commercial break would end. But he didn't pull away, and when you started straddling the fine fabric over his cock, he pulled you in and began kissing you back passionately.

"Mmmh, you look so fucking good, doll," Johnny commented and let his hands wander around your body, which he loved so much.

"Can you please fuck me, hard?" You asked Johnny, who broke the kiss when, conveniently, a production manager yelled from the hallway.

"Five minutes left, people! Knoxville, where are you?"

"Obviously, I can't," Johnny grumbled and you whined like a little child, slightly jumping up and down in his lap, only increasing the boner that was starting to form. "But, Jooohnnyy," you pleaded and kissed his cheek, beginning to undo his tie, but Johnny finally got a hold of himself.

He grabbed you and lifted you from his lap, standing up and looking down, a massive boner clearly poking out in his pants.

You giggled but covered your mouth when Johnny glared at you.

"Congratulations, babe. Now I have to go on national television with a boner," he said, genuinely irritated at you, and the situation as a whole.

If he had a choice, he would pin you against a wall and fuck the living daylights out of you, but the production manager's yells only became louder and more desperate.

"PJ, I'm sorry," you giggled and tried to wrap your arms around his neck, but he stepped away and pushed you slightly.

"Don't touch me right now, Y/N," Johnny warned you. He knew that any physical touch from you, would only make his lust even worse, and he couldn't hide his crotch in any way.

You put your hands up in defence and tried your very best not to laugh,

"Johnny Knoxville!" The production manager yelled again, this time flinging the door open to the room.

"You're both on in two minutes," he ushered you both out of the room and backstage, where you got your microphones fixed.

"After the show, you're fucking in for it," Johnny hissed through gritted teeth and you smiled excitedly.

"I can't wait!" You said as Johnny walked on stage and the crowd began cheering.

Funnily enough, your nerves were practically gone, but it seemed that Johnny was more nervous than you now.

-

“Dating Johnny is like dating Irving Zisman. He’s a terrible dancer, loves beer and likes for things to be thrown under the bridge,” you said and the room erupted in laughter.

You had been shredding him to pieces for minutes. Every word poured out of your mouth and flew into the large room, filling it with laughter.

Johnny laughed, although an ounce of bitterness hung in his smile.

You were the last one to speak, of course. You were the most important person in Johnny’s life, and it only seemed right to put you last as a way of ending the whole show with a bang.

"Right before this show, Johnny and I had some fun backstage-"

People started cheering but fear slowly spread across Johnny's face

"But we all know that Johnny can only get it up when he's either within a mile's radius of a bull or when his friends are talking dirty to him, so-"

Everyone laughed, but Johnny gave you a warning look and shook his head lightly.

"We, tonight, have the possibility to use one of our newest inventions. The boner radar!" You said, improvising completely. "That was, of course, a joke," you giggled along with everyone.

“Baby, Johnny, you’re the butter to my bread and the top to my bottom…Or the other way around?” You winked at the crowd and chuckled.

"My dear jackass, I love you every day and despite the bulls and the crocodiles and the skateboards, I'm still proud of you every day."

That concluded your speech and you bowed quickly to the crowd before hurrying towards Johnny. He kept on sitting down and only stood up when you were in front of him and hid his still very apparent erection from the audience.

"Did I do okay?" You asked and kissed his cheek softly.

"If I wasn't fucking pissed at you, I would say you killed it," Johnny mumbled, bitter-sweet as he hugged you back.

"That's alright by me," you shrugged and clapped along with everyone else as the show had come to an end.

-

Talking to Steve-O was never a disappointment for you, and standing backstage, you laughed out loud as he told crazy tales of his times with the Wildboyz crew.

Everyone was enjoying some drinks, all close friends of Johnny's gathered.

"Have you seen Johnny, actually?" You asked Steve-O when you looked around and realised that Johnny was nowhere to be seen.

"Nah, I haven't," Steve-O said, only just reaching the highlight of his story. "I think, that I'm actually gonna go to the toilet. Excuse me," you smiled at Steve-O, who pouted and waved you goodbye.

You then began your journey of trying to find Johnny. You looked outside, in the smoker's lounge and the bar, but the man had simply disappeared. That was until you reached the men's toilets.

You heard some noises, moaning noises and immediately identified them as moans of Johnny.

You walked in and looked at the stall doors, finally finding the one.

It was clear that he was jerking off, no doubt. His low grunts and the occasional high-pitched whimper made it very clear.

"Johnny?" You asked and knocked on the door, an elated sigh coming from inside the stall as the door was unlocked and pushed open.

Johnny sat on the toilet, his hard cock in his hand, and a hopeless expression on his face.

"Listen, doll, you need to help me now, okay?"

Johnny's voice was desperate and for once in forever, you felt like you had control.

"With what, Johnny?" You asked and smiled, very aware of what he needed help with.

"Quit being a smartass, yeah?"

His tone made you uncomfortable because he was genuinely really pissed at you and you were starting to feel bad.

"You'll help me now, and I won't hear any complaints of any sort from you, understood?" Johnny asked. You couldn't really do anything else than just nod and gulp.

"Good girl, get on your knees," Johnny ordered you and so you did. He sat on the toilet seat still and grabbed your wavy locks, assembling them into a low bun at the back of your head, tying it up with a hair tie from his pocket, that he always kept exactly for this situation.

You rested your elbows on his knees and grabbed a hold of his hard cock.

The tip was angry red and the shaft was veiny and thick.

You began pumping very softly and indeed slowly, focusing on Johnny's face.

He suddenly opened his eyes and cupped your face harshly. "Don't even think about it right now," he warned you and you hid a smile.

He was so desperate, so frustrated and needy, it was almost comedic to watch.

You did feel bad, so you sped up your movements, Johnny huffing out a breath as your pumps become quicker and more advanced.

Johnny moaned and grasped your hair harshly, finally feeling the sweet release he'd been craving for hours.

You brought your lips down to the tip and rubbed your spit as lubrication, all over his shaft.

Johnny's skin was hot to the touch and droplets of sweat were forming on his forehead. He bit down on his lower lip and whimpered softly.

You ran your tongue over the tip before taking him fully in your mouth. Johnny sucked in a few sharp breaths and rubbed your cheek.

Using your hand to stroke what your mouth can't reach as your head bops up and down, tracing the veins of his shaft while doing so.

Your pace quickened and it did not take much for Johnny to climax as his hips stuttered and his thighs flexed under your touch. He became a babbling mess, whispering all types of praise for you as you swallowed his load.

You got up from your crouched position, standing up while Johnny stayed in his sitting position.

You smirked and slowly removed the thin straps of your long dress, letting it slide off your body and fall on the floor. You stood in only your panties and high heels, and Johnny let out a small wow as he looked your body up and down.

You smirked and grabbed Johnny's hands, leading them to your lacy underwear, signalling for him to pull them down, which he did hastily,

Johnny bit his lip and looked down at your cunt, sliding a warm hand between your thighs, massaging your slit with two fingers.

He made sure to look at you the whole time, focusing on your expressions.

You grabbed a hold of Johnny's shoulders for balance as you closed your eyes and whimpered loudly when Johnny's slid two fingers into your already wet opening.

With great self-control and the need for Johnny's cock inside of you, you grabbed Johnny's hand and removed it from your cunt, lowering yourself down on his lap, his cock at your opening.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpered into the crook of his neck as he lowered you down his shaft.

You began to bounce, although there was a slightly painful sensation, the size of his cock never seizing to surprise you.

Johnny was deep, deep inside of you and his hands on your hips only made it better as he forced you down deeper than you ever could go,

"You're so fucking tight, my baby," Johnny groaned and planted his head against your breasts. Your moans echoed through the toilets, but you didn't care.

Johnny's cock twitched with every sound of your moan and he was getting close.

You pulled back a bit, looking down at him as his climax thundered over his entire body. Johnny's chest was heaving heavily and his abdomen was tightening exceptionally hard as he gulps for air.

“God, you’re so fucking good to me," Johnny groaned as he continued to help you near your climax, which you reached soon after.

You were practically shaking on top of him, throwing your head back and arching your back, a series of loud moans and whimpers leaving your lips. Johnny watched you with pride and kissed your neck softly.

"Don't ever give me a hard-on right before going on television ever again, okay?" Johnny asked although it was definitely an order.

"I'll try," you winked and pulled up your dress, leaving Johnny with a sense of relief for once that day.

[tinietaehyun]

Forsaken [VII]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader]

[Series] [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader [Ft. Sorcerer!Soobin]

Genres: Royal!au, fantasy, enemies to lovers, supernatural, angst, fluff, romance, action.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of anxiety, academic pressure, arguments, jealousy.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Summary: With Prince Choi having backed you into a corner, you feel as though you were trapped inside a golden birdcage. Perhaps, marrying the twisted prince was your one way out, without having to cause disastrous consequences?

Though in the middle of your crisis, you hear a demanding knock on your door; you knew who it was. Taehyun was not going to let anything slide, not whilst he was still alive. After all, this young sorcerer was the person who once came face to face with epitome of betrayal himself.

The sunlight beams through the grandiose windows of the hallway as the two sorcerers converse seriously, both adorning their cloaks. Soobin peers at the blonde haired man with a deep frown, “I…I can’t believe it.”

Taehyun bitterly hums, “I couldn’t either at the time. But after having so much time to think, it made sense why he did that. Not that it was right; but I was lying to myself when I couldn’t see the signs at the time. I knew internally he was jealous and I relished it.” Soobin regards Taehyun blankly.

The two men had engaged in a serious conversation in which Soobin pestered Taehyun to explain what happened all these years. He was appalled to find out the cause for Taehyun and his father’s exile. He couldn’t believe it, how was his father capable of such an act? No way! Trying to assassinate the king and the pregnant queen?

Even he could see, that his father would never do such a thing; he knew Taehyun’s father (regardless of how vain and strict he was), was a man of principle, of morals. Nothing made sense, how could the Royal Court of Fortuna fall for such a clear attempt to frame two powerful sorcerers; Taehyun was but a young child at the time!

“I’m speechless. I…” Soobin breathes out wide-eyed. Taehyun mutters grumpily, slightly regretting his choice to tell him about what had happened. Taehyun always had a hard time trusting anyone ever since the events of his past occurred. But with the way Soobin was begging, believing he had offended him, Taehyun felt as though divulging a little couldn’t hurt. Nothing could happen anyway; what’s done was done.

Soobin was a close friend of Taehyun’s back at the prestigious Sorcerer’s Tower. He was training as an apprentice there alongside himself, Yeonjun and a few others. Whilst the others were mere characters of the background, excluding himself and Yeonjun, the only other sorcerer of note was Soobin.

He had potential, but just needed time. He was a sweet boy, dedicated to his craft and quiet as a child, preferring to observe rather than speak. He was often referred to as the weakest of the friendship trio.

Soobin questions, “Does…the Princess know about this?” Taehyun shakes his head, “I don’t wish to burden her with my past, Soobin. I don’t need my baggage weighing her down. She already has enough issues as is. Maybe if she’s curious enough, perhaps.”

Soobin says, “You know, I’d never have thought Yeonjun to be that way. He always told me he admired you. That he was honoured to have such a talented sorcerer to call his ‘best friend.” Taehyun’s gaze darkens, “What an utter load of shit.” Soobin dryly muses, “I suppose I have always been rather naive. I didn’t think he was lying.”

“You are,” Taehyun cuts in with a smirk, “I remember tricking you into thinking me and Yeonjun snapped your wand in half in an argument.” Soobin grimaces, “No, no don’t remind me. I was on the verge of tears.” Taehyun snickers, “I had only hid your wand under your table, but you believed me. You didn’t even ask to see the supposed broken wand.”

Soobin’s cupid lips form a pout, “You’re starting to sound like old yourself again.” Taehyun hums composing himself immediately, “I guess meeting an old friend does that to you. Oh yes, you didn’t even cry, all you said was ‘that’s okay, it’s fine, really,‘ whilst trying not to hold back your tears.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Okay, okay I get it, I was and still am a little gullible, a bit naive.” Taehyun snorts amusingly.

The two men stand in a comfortable silence; their previous tensioned atmosphere lightens. Both their minds rush with reminiscent memories of their childhood. Taehyun murmurs, “Shame, you left so early on.” Soobin releases a breathy chuckle, “Yes, I suppose. But I don’t regret it. I’ve been given a lot of good opportunities here in Luna. I want to expand the use of sorcery in Luna, kind of like the way your father did in Fortuna.” Taehyun frowns.

“Prince Beomgyu believes there’s a lot of potential for sorcery and magic here, that we could rival Fortuna if we play our cards right. He’s been so supportive of me and the apprentices. The royal sorcerer here has also treated me well. I’m bound to become the next royal sorcerer for sure!” Soobin exclaims with a bright smile. Taehyun's lips twitch, “I always knew you had potential, you just needed the right motivation and environment. It’s…it’s good to hear that Soobin.”

The words hit Soobin and his heart aches. Soobin shares, “You know, I was always envious of both of you, I both admired your ability and natural affinity for sorcery. I admired Yeonjun‘a charisma, charm and his wand techniques, his ability to carry out any new spell within the first try with ease.” Taehyun listens intently.

“You, on the other hand, were in a completely different league. The son of the Royal Sorcerer, the pioneer of Fortuna’s Sorcery Legacy. No wonder Yeonjun was jealous of you, even if he didn’t show it. Hell, I was jealous. I think everyone in the damn class was.” Taehyun scowls, “Jealousy is fine, but that doesn’t mean being a backstabbing piece of shit.”

Soobin snorts, “True, but the way you handled your mana, your wand techniques, your ability to memorise hundreds upon hundreds of spells and enchantments. I could never understand.”

Taehyun remains quiet; he never did have to think too hard about it. He could sympathise with Soobin’s perspective. Soobin never once hurt him or showed any signs of harmful jealousy.

“Thank you,” Taehyun utters lowly, “You’ve improved. I can tell, you’re confident in your abilities, I can sense it.”

Soobin smiles genuinely, “I worked hard here. I remembered your advice, your father’s advice. You even gave me some of your notes to take with me when you heard I was moving.” Taehyun says nothing; feeling a dull ache in his chest. The past always seems to somehow catch up to him in the most convoluted of ways.

“You know, I always preferred our discussions, just us two, rather than me and Yeonjun,” Soobin admits. Taehyun hums, “Why’s that?”

“At the the time; you were always so rude and blunt about things. I always thought you had a big head on you. But no, you were just being honest, constructively critiquing me, I was an idiot to not see that back then. Only when I was going to leave, after you gave me some of your notes, encouraged me, I knew you were being harsh because you saw potential in me, you wanted to see me succeed alongside you,” Soobin’s eyes glimmer.

Taehyun clears his throat feeling flustered at the onslaught of praise and peers away, “Well, I thought that was obvious. But perhaps, it was a mistake on my part for coming off as so…harsh. I just found it frustrating to see you constantly demeaning yourself.”

Soobin nods slowly, “Despite that, I left,” he frowns, “I’m sorry for leaving you behind. I never expected Yeonjun to be so terrible. I thought you two would be fine.”

Taehyun mutters, “Well, you’re not a fortune teller. I didn’t stop you from leaving because I didn’t want to hold you back. It was clear, you weren’t enjoying the pressure of the Sorcerer’s Tower, being caught between the unspoken rivalry of me and Yeonjun. You did good, Soobin.”

Soobin’s expression softens and he murmurs, “If I had known you’d been exiled…I…I would have came to help, to visit.” Taehyun drawls, “You couldn’t have done anything, it’s fine.”

Soobin stands there solemnly, “For the first time in a long time, I feel like…you’re more in tune with your emotions, Taehyun.” Taehyun affirms, “I know. Years of being alone, isolated and surrounded by mysterious supernatural nature, does that to you. You have a lot of time to think.”

Soobin murmurs, “I’d imagine so. We’ve got to catch up more. You’ve got to describe the Woods of Mors to me. Teach me a few new spells too?”Taehyun muses, “Believe me, I could go all day. Just so happens I have my little spell book, too.”

A sense of calmness permeates through Taehyun; it had felt good to open up a little to someone; the one person from his past who saw him for who he was. Perhaps, this meeting of fate was not so bad.

Soobin’s brows furrow in deep thought, “Huh, I should probably stop writing to Yeonjun.” Taehyun scowls, “You write letters to him?” Soobin huffs, “In my defence, I didn’t know he did all that!” Taehyun scoffs, “Pitiful, you really are so sappy.” Soobin rolls his eyes, “Don’t worry, the letters stop.”

He hums, “I sent letters to you too, you know; addressed to the Sorcerer’s Tower. But after getting no response, I kind of assumed you wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t know you were exiled of course.”

“Well, Yeonjun must have had a fun time tearing them up or throwing them into the fire,” Taehyun mutters unimpressed. Soobin snorts amused, “There goes my hard work recounting my wondrous progress in sorcery.”

The two men chuckle, feeling once more comfortable with each other, a sense of nostalgia permeates the air. “If you need any help around here, don’t hesitate to call on me, okay?” Soobin hums. Taehyun nonchalantly hums, making Soobin smirk, “Yes, yes sure. Whatever.”

The pleasant atmosphere is sliced into as they both spot you rushing down another hallway from afar without sparing them either a glance. Taehyun’s visage morphs into a serious expression; his heart instinctively palpitates. You seemed to be in a hurry?

Following a second later, Beomgyu walks in with a frustrated face. His eyes catch a glance of Soobin and Taehyun immediately switches into a pleasant smile, beginning to walk toward the two. Taehyun’s jaw tightens; he never cared particularly for the Prince. Then again, he never really cared for any royalty. Except you. Wait, he didn’t mean that, what was he saying? Focus!

“Gentlemen, well, is everything sorted? All caught up?” Beomgyu asks brightly. They both lower their heads respectfully as Soobin utters, “Your highness, but of course.”

Beomgyu’s eyes observes Taehyun intently, scanning him once over, “Soobin has told me a little about you, yet you still remain rather a mystery in my eyes.” Soobin gleams, “Don’t worry, your highness, I’ve got a lot more to say. He is incredibly talented.” Taehyun grimaces, peering at Soobin awkwardly, “Perhaps, let’s not do that.”

Beomgyu tilts his head musing, “Hm, y/n must trust you a lot for her to let you remain by her side. She’s always been a cautious individual.”

Taehyun murmurs, “I suppose. How long have you known her?” Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle, “Oh, for a long time, did you know we were once to be betrothed?” Soobin’s eyes light up, “Oh yes, I remember. You sent over quite the array of gifts and the largest bouquet I’ve ever seen, your highness.”

Taehyun stiffens; a surge of irritation courses through him. What made him feel this way? It obviously didn’t go through, but why did the mere idea make him feel so infuriated?

Beomgyu sighs, “A shame really, she was rather fond of me, unlike her father and the royal court.” Beomgyu’s gaze meets Taehyun as his lips form a coy smile, “We found ourselves catching up pleasantly.” Soobin grins, “Good to hear it, your highness! You both make an excellent pair.”

Taehyun snaps his head to Soobin. Soobin asks, “What?” Taehyun mutters, “Nothing, it’s nothing.” A heavy feeling grows in Taehyun’s heart. Why did y/n not say anything about this to him?

Then again, who was he to you? Who were you to him? You weren’t obligated to tell him anything, neither was he to you. So then why did this whole idea of her being alone with this prissy stuck-up prince irk Taehyun so badly?

At the end of the day, Taehyun was not royalty, not a noble whatsoever; so why was he feeling angered? Not like anything was going to occur.

Beomgyu hums; his tone condescending, “I find it fascinating, she chose to trust a complete stranger. Someone like you, with unknown intentions.”

Taehyun's gaze morphs into a glare. What was he trying to imply? Soobin’s smile fades slightly at the tone of voice, “Your highness?” Beomgyu hums amused, “Merely an observation. It was out of desperation of course, that she did so.”

Soobin’s shoulders relax as he asks, “So, what’s the plan, your highness? Was it what we discussed yesterday?” Beomgyu simply nods. Taehyun asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Beomgyu’s eyes have an unrecognisable glint to them and he brushes off Taehyun's remark, “Oh yes; I’ll explain the plan to you in more detail later. I just remembered I have an important task to get back to, I’m already behind schedule. Soobin come with me, I have some other matters, regarding the funding to speak of.” Soobin hurriedly nods walking behind Beomgyu, “See you later Taehyun.” Taehyun doesn’t respond, feeling a surge of anger flood through him.

He mutters to himself, “Who the fuck does he think he is? Stupid fucking prince.” To think Soobin follows behind him like a pitiful puppy dog.

Taehyun’s mind flickers back to you. Oh yes! You’d ran off; his mind was already churning with suspense. Were you okay? He had stormed off earlier too; surely you weren’t upset at him for that, were you? Wait, why did he care what you thought?

His feet move themselves in the direction of the guest wing, in a reluctant search for you. Soon, he finds himself outside of your door and he knocks a few times. A muffled, “Leave me be,” resounds.

Taehyun scoffs, “Not happening. Open up, sweetheart.” He is surprised at your reluctance; surely you weren’t throwing some sort of tantrum were you? Did something happen between you and Beomgyu?

“Let me in, princess,” Taehyun demands; his heart rate increasing. A moment of silence ensues before he hears the soft click of the door opening; revealing you dressed in a new lovely gown befitting your status. Your face looked exhausted, your eyes were glazed over as if you were about to break down into tears. Your bottom lip trembles ever so slightly causing a pang to hit Taehyun’s heart. What the hell?

His harsh gaze softens and Taehyun asks, “Sweetheart?” A sniffle escapes your nose as you turn away walking into the room; he follows after you, closing the door behind him. You were on the very verge of crying. You felt trapped here, in this damn palace. A place you thought would be a safe haven.

You plop yourself down onto the luxuriously oversized rug on the floor where you’ve managed to pile several cushions around you to comfort yourself. Taehyun watches as you get comfortable; a concerned expression painting his features. He knew something was troubling you.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen between you and Beomgyu?” He asks; his tone coming out blunter than expected. You feel your eyes become wet and tears drip down your cheeks. How pathetic you were! Here you were crying; how miserable.

Taehyun huffs walking closer; unfastening his cloak clasp and throwing his cloak aside carelessly onto the bed before moving some of the cushions. You sniffle, “What are you doing?” “Sitting next to you, you pretty fool.”

You whine as he sits himself right next to you; his thigh brushing against yours as he readjusts the cushions back to their positions once he’s settled. He snarks, “There’s a king sized bed here, that you could sulk on, you know.” You hit one of the velvet cushions onto his arm making him scoff.

“You’re crying, why’s that?” He enquires with a tilt of his head; some locks of his hair fall across his piercing eyes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter. Taehyun remarks annoyed, “Tch, it’s certainly not nothing. Let’s skip over the pointless denial. Something’s clearly happened. Unless you don’t want to tell me, then I can just sit here or something. Perform a magic show or something to keep you entertained,” he grimaces.

You snort teary-eyed, “A magic show?” He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well are you going to tell me or what? I don’t want you turning your mind into mush overthinking.” His finger tips glow ever so slightly.

“It’s just the pressure of getting my throne back. Just hurt feelings,” You murmur. Taehyun’s eyes sharply glint, “Lying to me is not going to get you anywhere, princess. Either you can choose to tell me the truth or you’re not obligated to tell me at all.” You flinch at his sharp tone.

More tears escape from your eyes and Taehyun watches you; a sense of awkwardness not knowing how to handle your tears properly.

He wanted you to open up more to him, but didn’t want to force you. He didn’t want you to bawl in front of him either. Taehyun mumbles, “This isn’t like you. It’s strange.” Taehyun knew you were upset; it had to be something to do with Beomgyu!

“It’s Beomgyu. You were upset after catching up with him. It’s obvious,” he utters. You find yourself flinching at his direct statement; he was observant. Taehyun takes note of your reaction confirming his suspicions. It was. What did that bastard do or say to you?

Taehyun’s jaw tightens and gaze sharpens, “What the fuck did he do?” You stammer, “No, no. Calm down.” Taehyun snaps, “What then?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, before beginning to slowly reiterate everything that had previously occurred between you and Beomgyu on your walk together.

Taehyun was the one person who you felt you could maybe trust now. Who knows maybe you were meant to play the fool and get played by everyone around you. You didn’t care, you just needed to vent; it felt good to tell him.

Finishing your recount, you peer at him and see his blank expression. His eyes hold no emotion and he stiffly sits meeting your eyes.

Abruptly, Taehyun goes to get up; an enraged look in his eyes, “That fucking manipulative piece of shit! That fucking bastard, just wait till I-“

Your eyes widen and you scramble forward grabbing his arm with your entire might, “Taehyun! Wait! This is a matter that needs t-to be handled delicately!” You grunt, pulling him back towards you.

“That fucking prince lulled you into a false sense of security, we’re stuck right in right in his trap,” Taehyun seethes. Your eyes widen; you hadn’t seen Taehyun so angry before. Infuriated, he exclaims, “How the fuck are you sitting so calm? All these disgusting royals only ever think of themselves. They don’t see you as a victim of genuine treachery, just a fucking chess piece to be used to further themselves!”

You flinch; he was right. Your eyes water, “I get it, I know okay! That’s just the way the world works!”

Taehyun peers down at you, at the way you cling to his arm, “I know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you truly trusted. It fucking hurts to see it happen to you.” His sudden honesty touches you and your lips tremble, “T-Taehyun.”

“I don’t want you to give up, which is what I did. I accepted my exile. I wish I had died fighting,” he rasps out. His eyes hold intense pain and you tremble. Your fingers dig into his arm as you whimper, “Sit with me. Stay with me. Please don’t be reckless, Taehyun. Please.”

He regards you for a moment in silence. Taehyun asks coldly, “Are you going to agree with his plan to marry you? You’re going to marry yourself to that bastard? Tell me.” You remain silent; you were deep in thought before Taehyun arrived knocking at your door.

In all honesty, you were contemplating the notion. You had to tread carefully. Perhaps, you think, it was easier to sacrifice your own happiness instead of risking the downfall of Fortuna and its people through your foolish brother. Perhaps, choosing the lesser evil of both evils was better than choosing nothing at all.

You didn’t want the nations to erupt in unrest or potential threat of war or breach of the treaty. You were scared of stepping into the world of politics head first. All your actions had repercussions.

You pull him back to attempt to sit him down and he stumbles slightly into a crouch; his face a few inches from yours. He doesn’t move away as he snarks, “You’re contemplating it aren’t you? You’re an idiot. What about love? Why should you sacrifice your own happiness for this shit?”

Anger surges through you, “You don’t get it! You don’t understand the pressure of responsibility I feel, whatever step I take has consequences! You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be in my position! I cannot act recklessly just because I am angry!”

Taehyun bitterly muses, “You’re right I don’t get it. I’m just an exiled nobody, right?” You sigh frustrated, “I never said that. You’re so insensitive. Get over yourself, Taehyun.” A manic laugh escapes his lips, “Get over myself? No, you should get over yourself, sweetheart.”

A pang of hurt flashes in his eyes and he seethes, “I’m trying to fucking help you and you’re lashing out at me? Can’t you see I want to help?” He was lashing out at you! You cry out, emotions overwhelming any rationality within you, “Why? Why do you care so much? We barely know each other. If you find me so insufferable-“

Taehyun snaps, “So caring for you now is a mistake?” Your heart feels as though it’s going to tear into two. “No, I-“ you sigh. Perhaps you were wrong to get so defensive. He had no obligation to care about you, to even ask how you were. Taehyun wanted to stay with you to help. You compose yourself.

Shakily, you murmur, “I’m…I’m sorry, Taehyun. I didn’t mean any of that. I just…” Taehyun’s gaze melts for a second as he huffs sitting back down beside you, “Whatever.” A tensioned silence ensues. Guilt consumes you.

You never wished to argue with him. You drawl out fatigued, “Maybe consigning myself to fate is easier. Fighting back only causes more pain.”Taehyun snaps lowly, “Don’t say such stupid shit like that in front of me again.” You glare, “What am I supposed to do then?” Another round of silence occurs as Taehyun’s brain churns its gears.

After a minute or so, he murmurs, “Escape.” You ask confused, “What?” “The palace. Escape the palace. Go on the run?” Taehyun emphasises with a glare. You snap lowly, “Are you insane?” That was an absurd idea!

“We can’t stay here. We’re trapped otherwise. We have to be out of Beomgyu’s sight. We’ll figure it out; we just need to be out of here,” Taehyun takes both of your hands with a determined gaze. “To where?” You ask, peering down at his hands squeezing yours. Taehyun’s eyes shake as he thinks, “The Woods of Mors. Back to my abode. Remember no one in Fortuna knows you’re with me.”

That was indeed right; no one knew that you escaped through the tunnels and then made your way to Luna through the Woods of Mors, even more unlikely that you stumbled upon the exiled sorcerer. Why would they check a place where he was presumed dead?

You glare; your own brain working hard, “What about Beomgyu, genius?” Taehyun scoffs irritated, “Minor details. Yes, Beomgyu and Soobin know I was exiled to the woods. So what? You think they’d expect us to return to Fortuna?”

That’s right! Why would you go back to the place you were trying to be on the run from? The most likely would be they think you’d go to, was another nation or hide out somewhere in Luna.

Taehyun murmurs, “I know there’s no guarantee that they won’t check back in the Woods of Mors. But it’s our best bet; we can’t trust any other nations. If they somehow do find out, we’ll handle it. We’ll get out of it somehow, princess.” His voice is impassioned and you feel guilt; he had more determination and desire than you to win.

His fierce expression is oddly pretty in your eyes. The way he looks at you for a response; a touch of desperation in his eyes. Uneasy, you whimper, “I don’t know…that feels like a bad idea.”

“What choice do we have? Beomgyu betrayed you. You think he’ll just let us leave of our own free will, just because you say, no?” Taehyun scoffs, removing his hands. You huff crossing your arms, “I thought you’d be smarter than this.”

“Marry him then; not-not- that I care or anything,” Taehyun spits out with a huff. You grab another cushion smacking his shoulder making him grunt. His expression is infuriated; your eyes scan over his pretty features. Your heart becomes warm at the sight.

Taehyun peers over at you, meeting your gaze. “What?” You find your lips twitching to form a smile. “You’re really caring, you know that. Getting this angry on my behalf. Don’t deny it.”

A slight hue of embarrassment floods his features as he dismisses you, “What did you expect? I’m not an emotionless brute?”

You snicker, “Mm, I suppose.” The tension between you two eases. You murmur, “If…we succeed,” you notice he’s deep in thought. “If we succeed, I will overturn your exile.” Taehyun’s eyes widen and he mutters, “Don’t make false promises, princess.” You glare, “I mean it.” He snaps his head to gaze at you; your eyes lock onto each other. Taehyun’s eyes glimmer; he looks truly touched.

“So, you have a plan, right?” You ask, peering away solemnly. “Yes, I do. It’s risky. Very risky. Involves my magic and lot of preparation.” Your heart pounds anxiously. “Do you trust me? Trust me to get us out of this?” Taehyun asks seriously. Your gaze melts, “…I do.”

“I won’t betray you. That’d be the last thing I’d do. Because I know the pain of it. So rest easy, sweetheart,” Taehyun murmurs, still not removing his gaze from yours. Your heart feels heavy.

“I know,” you affirm softly. You bite your lip tearing your gaze away from his. Your heart palpitates rapidly; what was this breathless feeling? His eyes flicker down to your lips briefly.

“Sorry,” he mutters awkwardly, “For being so rude earlier.” You find yourself smiling.

You peer back over at him, your eyes drifting down his face and his torso. Your mind drifts back to the hug he gave you yesterday.

“Can I…Can I hug you?” You tentatively request. His eyes widen; a soft hue of red, blossoms of his cheeks ever so subtly. Clearing his throat; he outstretches an arm behind you, “Come here.” You spy his reluctant expression and can’t help but smirk to yourself. He was not so cold; but truly a man with a giant heart.

You nestle into his arms leaning your head against his chest. You’re surprised to hear his heart hammering in his chest. Was he anxious? He rests his other arm around you, muttering, “Take whatever time you need.”

Perhaps that was his way of saying, he didn’t want to let you go out of his arms. Or maybe you were just wishful in your thinking. After all, why would he be interested in you, a noble, a figure he despised?

An odd sense of comfort fills the both of you. You go to thank him for the hug but he seems fine just to hold you. His embrace felt warm; you felt safe. Taehyun peers down at you and notices you looking back up at him with your gorgeous eyes, clinging to him. The sight was incredibly endearing.

Hugs weren’t so bad, Taehyun surmises. He wasn’t much of a verbal comforter. A hug would do for now. For how long? However long you wanted.

You wonder what goes on his mysterious mind; did he have similar thoughts to your own? How you wished to dissect and unravel the many layers of Kang Taehyun. You note he had comforted you all today; he stuck beside you with no intention of any reward.

Yet, you never cared to ask about his past fearing the worst reaction but also focusing on your own predicament.

“You understand my position, being betrayed,” you state. He drawls, “I do, very well in fact.”

“If the Royal Court has unfairly convicted you, I want to fix it. If my family has wronged you, I want to know.” Your genuine words startle Taehyun.

“Taehyun,” you croak out, “I want to know what happened to you and your father.” Perhaps, it was unfair to ask, but you wanted to ease his bottled up emotions. If he could be there for you, you wanted to be there for him too.

“Sweetheart, you’re playing a dangerous game, here,” Taehyun warns with a frown. You whisper, “I know.” You knew you’d get a ‘no.’ He was a man with high walls and stern boundaries.

“Fine,” he utters shakily taking you by surprise. “I think…I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” You stammer, “I’m not forcing you-“

Taehyun gives you the most gentle smile you’ve seen from him, “Relax, sweetheart. I feel ready.” He smirks softly, “Aren’t you curious?” He muses, “Consider my pitiful story, something to fall asleep to.” You scoff, “No way.” You part from him as he leans his back against the end board of the bed.

Shakily, he hums, “Oh, you’re in for a long ride.”

Oh, pretty sorcerer; what was your story?

Taglist: [open]

@royallyjjk @wolfytae-exe @rencarnationofangel @sirenla @matcha-binz @beomies-world @michinri @parkweylyn @wikireads @hanniehaeeeeeee1004 @elara828 @wonioml @onima-chan @moonekth @glossykai @jjunielvrs @beargyuuzz @cathyun @hanstarrs @m3chigo

[fishnets-fingers]

Oh god I'm so exciteddd!!! Don't mind me just warming up in your inbox ;)

[He quietly slips out the bed and heads to the bathroom to change into his running gear.] Wait let me tell you this -- I too got into running this year!! (And I'm not sure how I feel about finally being able to understand where this weird man was coming from in the previous fics)

[He quietly slips out the bed and heads to the bathroom to change into his running gear. ] LAYLA. She was mine before she was his. I said what I said.

[“It’s the AM,” he answers diplomatically. ] JHSFKAHFKJH HE GETS IT

[He relishes this routine;] Still I don't like relating with him so hard when I judged him for this just as much Layla did

[“Can’t wait. I love you.” “I love you too, Lails.” ] Maya you need to ask these assholes not to exclude me next time onwards.

[“I bloody love you, sweet girl.”] SWEET GIRL I MISSED THIS AHHHHHHHH

[To not have to tiptoe around Layla’s housemates, who barely tolerated each other.] I'm ready to hate on them already

[“Of course I am. I’m almost twenty six. You’re twenty seven. We’ve been together for two years now. I’m so in love with you, Layla Sathish. Never stopped for a second since I first laid eyes on you in your Uncle’s house in Apex. Never stopped in the two years we were apart. And I don’t want to waste another second. I want us together. I want to go to bed with you next to me. Kiss you goodbye when we both leave for university. I want to complain about your makeup and skincare taking up all the space in the bathroom cabinet. I want to buy you flowers when I come back home after a run. I want your paints and brushes scattered on the dining table. I want to make space in my closet for your clothes. I want your fingerprints smeared on my laptop screen. Move in with me.” ] Layla needs to move over since I packed my bags first. I don't make the rules.

[like the time she used his coffee grinder to make gunpowder from scratch and he was about ready to rip all his hair off telling her about cross-contamination of the flavour.] I aspire to be this woman.

[He smiles toeing off his shoes as he spots two sets of feet - one tiny and one large - sticking out.] The way I gasped and held my breath bc I thought these two morons had a child and had to read further to confirm that I did know them well enough to know that it wasn't theirs was so real

[“Harry!” The girl screams in delight, crawling haphazardly towards him.] Laya is me, I am Laya

[“A sweet pea for my sweet pea.” He declares, chuckling at the way Laya cheeks tinge with pink and the way she blinks up at him with a shy smile.] AWWWWWWWWW

[When they pull away, she’s breathless, looking up at him with her tired eyes. And he cannot resist pulling her back in for another,] they are so in love I'm literally smiling like a fool

[“Thank you for this,” she picks up the bouquet from her lap and brings it close to her chest. “And all the others.” She presses a quick peck on his lips and they make their out the fort and towards the kitchen.] THANK YOU MAYA (we all say) FOR GIVING US A SWEET SWEET TREAT.

My teeth have rotten, I fear, but I have learned nothing, I fear more. I will consume this fluff everyday if I could I'm so stupid for them it's not even funny.

You'd THINK that it's been so long I wouldn't feel the same about these bastards but I DO AND IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY. Maya you deserve a booker prize for creating these two.

Absolutely honoured to have you read what I write and dedicate your time to writing this! Thank you!

This made me laugh and I really needed this today.

Thank you for loving these characters as much as I do. Maybe this will inspire me to finish this story properly, eh ;)

[spoiler alert: layla's housemates are a problem she single handedly created herself]

[holdmytesseract]

The Joker and the Queen

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: On a visit in Asgard with your parents - the king and queen of Alfheim, you get to know the dreadful news, that you are bound to marry Prince Thor next year. The problem? Your heart belongs to the younger Prince, who eavesdrops on the conversation and decides to act on his feelings...

Warnings: veeeeery suggestive smut/light smut, fluff, drama, bit of mutual pining, Loki thirst, slight angst

Word Count: 3,4k

a/n: This oneshot is dedicated to my lovely friend @fictive-sl0th ! 🥰 Thank you for being such an amazing, wonderful person! 🧡 I hope you like it! ☺️ And I hope you guys enjoy this as well! 😁

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @theaudacitytowrite @lady-rose-moon @aagn360 @fictive-sl0th @mostclevermiss @linaax @peaches1958 @simping-for-marvel

MASTERLIST

A loud creak echoed through the grand throne room of Asgard, as the big, golden doors got opened, allowing a guard to step inside. "My king." The man in the golden armour started. "I am here to bear the news, that your majesties' guests have arrived." Odin nodded; seated upon the throne. "Let them in." "Yes, my king." The guard took a quick bow, then left again to obey the Allfather's orders. "Skarde, get my son." He turned to the guard, standing next to his throne. "We have important things to discuss." Odin spoke, exchanging a look with his wife.

You looked around in awe with a smile on your face. The palace hadn't changed a bit since the last time you were here; almost exactly one year ago. Your father, King Erik Stenson of Alfheim and your mother, Queen Estrid were walking in front of you. You had no idea what this visit on Asgard was about. Probably just one of your father's and Odin's council meetings. Yes... The Allfather and your father were good friends. Personally, you were excited to see the princes again. Especially Loki. You always got along with the Trickster very well, since the first time you met all those years ago and perhaps - yes, perhaps, there was a spark between you and him. The conversations, the bickering, the mutual pining, the dozen times you danced together on several balls. You smiled at that thought, got almost impatient to see him again. You were so in thoughts, that you didn't even notice that you reached the throne room...

"My dear friend, king Erik! My wife and I welcome you, your wife and your daughter in our wonderful palace!" Odin's voice boomed through the room, ripping you out of your thoughts. "Allfather!" Retorted your father. "Thank you. It's an honour to be here." The two men smiled at each other, before Odin stepped down from his throne to greet your mother and you. "Let me escort you to the dining room. I am sure you are hungry after your journey and we have important things to discuss." Your father's gaze shortly travelled to you. "Indeed."

About ten minutes later, you sat at a big, golden dining table, seated beside your mother. Thor, who had just joined the feast, sat opposite you, beside his mother, while Odin and Erik sat at the top of the table. You were happy to see the prince again, of course, exchanged a few bright smiles and words. Thor was a dear friend of yours, but your eyes kept scanning the room for the younger prince.... In vain. Perhaps he was prevented for any reason and therefore couldn't join you? Still, you were curious about what was there so important to discuss. To your luck - or well, rather dismay, you didn't have to wait for long...

"Prince Thor, my dear daughter..." Your father started, taking a sip from his goblet of wine. "You are both the future of our kingdoms. Thor, you are going to be the king of Asgard someday, and Y/N, you are going to be the queen of Alfheim. We all are certain, that the both of you are more than just worthy and able to lead a kingdom. On the contrary... You are going to be great leaders. A king and queen the people can trust and have faith into." Your father ended his small speech with a smile and nodded at Odin, handing over to the Allfather. "The alliance between Asgard and Alfheim is strong, without a doubt - but in order to manifest that strong alliance we all have decided for you two to enter the bond of marriage in near future." You almost choked on the piece of bread at Odin's words. "I b-beg you pardon, w-what?" You asked, completely overwhelmed and shocked - but you already knew the answer to your question, of course. "You are going to marry Thor, sweetheart." Your mother answered, giving you a soft smile and squeezing your hand. "M-Marry Thor?" "Marry Y/N?" Both, you and Thor exclaimed at the same time. Each parent nodded. You exchanged a look with Thor and you could immediately tell, that his eyes spoke the same as yours did. You didn't want that. Neither you, nor Thor. You, because your heart unfortunately belonged to the other prince - the wrong prince and Thor's, well... Last time you were on Asgard, you caught him and Sif kissing in the stables... His heart belonged to somebody else as well. "B-But father, I-" Thor started to protest, but got immediately cut off by Odin. "No buts; no discussion, son. It is decided. You are going to strengthen this alliance by getting married to Y/N." Actually, you wanted to protest as well, but seeing how Odin immediately put Thor in his place, caused to extinguish the small spark of bravery within you, and with a pang in your heart, you realised that this was final. There was no chance in changing the mind of neither your parents, nor Odin and Frigga. You were going to marry Thor. Not the man who had stolen your heart in the first place.

After the big dinner, your mood was clearly marred. "The guards are going to lead you all to your chambers, so you can retreat for the night. Of course, you are free to use the royal baths as well." "That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Frigga." Your mother exchanged a smile with the queen. Royal baths, huh? That sounded exactly like what you desperately needed to clear your head and sort your thoughts. "Mother, I think I am going to take a bath later." "Of course, sweetheart."

Little did you know, that the younger prince had hid behind one of the massive columns and heard every single word of the conversations. Angry tears were streaming down his face, hands balled into fists. First off banished him his father from the dinner - and with that from seeing his dear friend for so many years - and now he had to witness how his brother was handed the privilege to marry you. The news left a deep cut in the prince's heart; sliced open to bleed dry. That was exactly the moment, in which Loki realised that he had positively developed feelings for you. This wasn't just friendship anymore... It was love - hopeless love. Within a heartbeat you had slipped through his fingers, like sand. But Loki wouldn't be Loki, if he was going to just give up without a fight. He couldn't just watch this happen... He had to show you how deep his love for you was - even if it hurt so bittersweet. His ears perked suddenly up, when you mentioned the words 'taking a bath later'. An idea forming in the Trickster's mind immediately. By the norns, he wouldn't let you go so easily...

The sun had already long set, when you tiptoed down the halls, swathed in nothing but a silky, red bathrobe, on your way to the royal baths. At this late hour, nobody else was going to be there, right? You could relax, try to somehow stomach the devastating news you had received only a few hours ago. Slowly opening the big doors with a soft creak, you stepped inside. Immediately, a wave of warmth and the sweet scent of herbals hit you. A mix of pine, cedar and sandalwood. But there was also something earthy, dark and musky. Your brows furrowed. You knew that smell... But where from? Shaking your head to get yourself out of your thoughts, you stepped down the small hallway and crossed the corner, where the main bath was located. It was big. Not as big as a swimming pool, but definitely way bigger than a bathtub. The spacious room was dimly lit, accompanied by a few candles flickering at the edges of the bath, creating a warm and comfortable atmosphere. The big columns, which lined the bath caused the room to look even more noble and literally screamed royalty. Steam lingered in the air, deceiving your eyesight slightly. Without giving the bath another look, you untied the knot of your bathrobe and let it slide down your shoulders and body, leaving you entirely bare. Nobody was here anyway - that's what you thought...

You wasted no second, stepped down the three steps, which led into the warm inviting water. It wasn't that deep. Not made for swimming, but perfect to relax in the water. You glided elegantly through the warm water, before you settled at the left edge; leaning against the marble, but nevertheless comfortable surface. You felt how the warmth of the water immediately started to relax your sore muscles. Just when you were about to close your eyes, you suddenly heard the water around you slosh softly, followed by a voice you only knew too well... "Enjoying the royal baths, my princess?" You almost jumped out of your skin by the sound of Loki's deep, alluring voice. "By the Norns!" You squeaked up, and when your eyes met the younger prince's, who leaned casually in the left corner of the bath, you suddenly remembered with sheer horror, that you were naked. At lighting speed, you covered your breasts with your arms and crossed your legs, hoping that the water would shield at least your most private part. "L-Loki, h-hi, what, uh, what are you d-doing here?" The God had a smug smile on his face, as he chuckled in amusement. "This is a royal bath, my dear - and as far as I can remember, I am a prince, so..." "O-Oh, of course, s-sure, right. I'm s-sorry, I just didn't think anybody would be h-here at this l-late hour." Another deep chuckle. "No need to apologise, princess." Loki said, before he smiled once again. "It's great to see you again, Y/N. It's a shame that we haven't met earlier, but my father has banished me from dinner..." You swallowed; knew exactly why. But you decided to not tell Loki that you knew the reason. You wanted to spare him from the pain. So, instead you smiled. "Likewise, Loki. It's great to see you, too."

It was like you and Loki had never been separated. On an instant, the chemistry between you and him was back. You talked with each other and laughed together. But with the chemistry returning, returned also the spark between you and the raven-haired prince. There was this tension lingering in the air, neither of you could deny. Just to see him and being able to listen to that deep, velvet voice, caused butterflies to erupt in your belly - and not just that. The fact that you both were alone, in a bath, naked, triggered something else inside you... Lust. And with the minutes ticking by, the tension, which lingered in the air, turned slowly but surely into sexual tension...

It was already hard for you to keep your eyes straight and to not let them wander from his chiselled face and mesmerising oceanic eyes down his kissable neck, over his broad shoulders and down his strong pecs, where sparse chest hairs curled themselves perfectly over his chest. Or to his wet raven curls, which framed his face so perfectly. Or Norns forbid, even further south, where the wet porcelain skin of his taunt hips met the water surface. You blinked, as you caught yourself staring at the patch of silky, black hair, which led tantalisingly down his pubic region, starting at his navel. Quickly averting your eyes, you felt the heat creep up on your cheeks, hoping that Loki didn't notice. But oh, of course he had noticed. The left corner of his lips curled upwards into a smug smirk. He knew you were staring - and he enjoyed it. That was the confirmation, that he was not the only one feeling that spark and sexual tension wafting through the air. That was the sign Loki had waited for. Time to put his plan into action. Time to make you his.

Running a hand through his luscious raven curls, you witnessed how the prince suddenly started to move; attempting to stand up. Your eyes widened. Oh Norns, please don't. Please don't. Please don- He did. Loki stood up, rising to his feet. Of course, was the water way too shallow; only reached shortly above his knees. "I'm sorry, darling, but I need to move. My back does not enjoy being caged in the corner for longer." Loki's words merely reached your brain, as you tried feverishly to not look. You directed your eyes everywhere, just not at Loki - but in the end, the deepest, darkest desire within you was stronger... And you looked. Your eyes followed his delicious happy trail, all the way down to his most private part, causing your mouth to water and arousal to flood your veins. Loki's manhood was perfectly framed by a pair of thick, muscular thighs, leading down to his ridiculously long legs. Loki truly was a god – without a doubt. Unfortunately, the delicious sight was blocked by the water once again, when Loki lowered himself back down in the bath; now seated beside you. "Is this alright for you?" "Y-Yes, o-of course. W-Wouldn't want your back to h-hurt." Actually, it wasn't alright for you. Not at all. Loki being this close to you, his shoulder almost touching yours was too much for you to take. The tension was almost cuttable with a knife by now and the more seconds ticked by, the more difficult it got for you to control your body. You wanted Loki - that much was clear. But you couldn't have him. A thing your body didn't accept. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but as soon as Loki's intoxicating scent hit your nostrils, it seemed to be an impossible task. "L-Loki, I-I think y-you-" "Hush, don't speak, darling." The God interrupted you immediately, "Let me do the talking." and turned to face you. That was his chance. "Y/N... We know each other for so long now... Years, decades... The moment we met, there was something between us. A spark, a flame. I know you felt it, too. That spark always returned, whenever I saw you. I never was able to tell what exactly that spark was..." He said in a soft voice, lifting his hand to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, grazing your cheek gently on the way. The touch caused a shiver to run down your spine. "But now I know what it is..." He cupped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, making you look into his stunning eyes. "Love, Y/N... I love you. I always have, for all those years. Forgive me my boldness, but I can't hold back any longer." The God whispered, voice so soft and laced with love. You were so overwhelmed and shocked by his sudden love declaration, that you didn't notice how close Loki actually was - until you felt his soft, warm lips on yours, kissing you ever so gently. Your eyes widened at first, and you really wanted to push him away; tell him that this wasn't right - but you couldn't. You melted into his kiss; your eyes fluttering shut as your lips moved in sync with his. Of course, it didn't just stay at one kiss, even if it should have. Loki's lips were way too intoxicating. Addicting.

With your tongues still intertwined, Loki maneuvered his body around, gripping the edge of the bath firmly with his hands, caging you in between the marble surface and his body. His intentions were clear - and you knew that as well. Freeing your lips from his, you placed both your palms on his wet chest, not caring on a sudden, if he saw your bare torso. "L-Loki, we... W-We shouldn't do this... I-I-" You had to cut off your own sentence, in order to take a deep breath - and to suppress the upcoming tears. "I-I love you, too, b-but I can't." You failed; felt how the first tear rolled down your cheek. "I-I have to marry Thor next year, Loki." You saw how Loki swallowed; sadness and anger clouding his eyes, before he hung his head. "I know, Y/N. I know." The God said, voice on the verge of breaking. You were taken aback by his words, clearly surprised. "You... You know?" Loki nodded, lifting his head to face you once again. "I sneaked inside the dining room and hid behind a column. I wanted to know what this is all about. I heard you. Every single word." You had to swallow once more, causing more tears to fall. "But I will not accept it. I will not give away the woman I love. I will not go down without a fight. Y/N, I promise you, we are going to find a way." He gently wiped away your tears with the tip of his thumb. "But that is a task to be done on another day. For now, my queen, please let me love you... Let me make love to you. I know you can feel it, too." You stared in his beautiful orbs for the thousandth time this evening and wanted to protest, say something against it, but Loki didn't let you get that far. Before you could even muster a single word, were his lips locked with yours again. The God's hands wandered from the edge of the bath to your exposed sides. Skilled fingertips caressed the soft skin beneath them, until they reached your hips and swiftly lifted you up and before you could even react, you were seated on Loki's lap, felt his arousal clearly pressing against your belly. Your eyes widened for a short moment, but closed immediately shut again, when you felt his lips sucking on your pulse point. A soft, delicate moan escaped your lips, causing Loki to groan lowly. His hands started to wander again, further south. From your hips to the small of your back, up and down your spine, before they settled on your ass. Loki continued to worship your skin, now kissing down your cleavage, as he lifted your body once again, ready to make sweet, sweet love to you - but you stopped him. Why, you didn't know, because you couldn't deny that you wanted this. Him. Perhaps it was a last desperate try to do what is right, not what felt right. "L-Loki, this... t-this is s-so wrong..." You breathed, as your face contorted in the pleasure Loki was giving you. The God immediately stopped, withdrawing his lips from your skin with a wet pop. "It maybe is, dove... But it feels right, doesn't it? Isn't your heart yearning for this? Isn't your body screaming at you to just give in? Because mine is." Another tear escaped the corner of your eyes, as you nodded. "Y-Yes... Yes. M-Make love to me, Loki..." You whimpered, overwhelmed by the raging pleasure coursing through your veins. "Please..." That was all Loki needed to hear, before he claimed you as his; tumbling down the deep depths of pleasure alongside you.

Later on, you were bathing in the afterglow. A dazzling smile on your face, as you laid in Loki's arms. You felt so safe and warm, knowing that you belonged there. The both of you were still in the water, not caring in the slightest, that your skin became wrinkly. You were drawing lazy circles on his chest with your finger, while both his arms were wrapped securely around you. "I hate to think that if we are fail, you are going to lay in my brother's arms next year." Loki suddenly spoke up. You shook your head. "I won't. You said we are going to find a way and we will. I am going to speak to my mother first. I think - hope, that she is going to understand..." The God nodded, pulling you closer. "That's a good start." "Yeah, think so, too." "After all, you can't choose with whom you fall in love with..." You smiled up at the handsome god. "Exactly. Not my fault that I was supposed to fall for the king, but instead fell for the joker."

[flowercrowngods]

Hey! Was wondering if you'd had any more thoughts on the bard eddie/secret knight steve AU? It was written so beautifully and includes a really interesting aspect of eddie's character that I don't think a lot of people address in steddie fic - namely that he can be quite narrow minded and assume things about people based on very shallow characteristics.But I think he'd grow really well and make genuine amends once confronted so I'd be so interested to see that in your fic!!!

hi first of all, thank you so much 🥺🥰😭 it's kinda wild to me that it stuck with you all this time the way it did!!

and now, a whole entire month after you sent this ask, i can finally tell you (a whole entire month later) that i do have more bard!eddie x knight!steve thoughts!!!!!

i agree that eddie, so hellbent on defending himself, of defying social norms or expectations, and with all his disdain for The Man, would have many instances of stubbornly but ultimately accidentally wounding or offending people. especially steve.

but i also want him to have his eyes so violently and unmistakably opened. i want him to rethink his picture of his knight and of lord harrington. to connect the two visions, to see lord harrington for who he is. he gets his entire world turned upside down after all, and that sucks. but for his words to have brought only pain to the man he thought himself to be in love with??? that is even worse for him. and he feels guilt for the expression on steve's face. he feels dumb and vain and so, so guilty.

one scene i had in mind while writing part one was steve kinda defending eddie's name and honour, not in a grand gesture, but by out-sassing whoever it is that dares to badmouth eddie. and that's what this is about.

again: part 1 is here

shortly after the end of part 1, eddie is asked to play at a banquet in the castle, and he sort of just. doesn't. robin takes his stead while eddie wallows in misery and guilt and tries to find a way to connect the knight and lord harrington in his head, tries to wrap his head around the whole situation and alleviate the guilt he's feeling. so he doesn't play.

jason carver, who is one of the castle guards or maybe just another knight (by rank, not by skill, bc he's more show-off than fighter and certainly not as interested in propriety and such), bad mouths eddie. says, loudly, that he's glad it's not eddie who's playing tonight but rather someone with an actually good voice and talent etc

and then i want eddie to freeze before getting ready to retaliate, but actually it's steve who talks from behind eddie (eddie hadn't seen him come in... not that he was looking or something).

"such vile words from someone who knows neither talent nor skill himself."

and jason flushes red with anger, knowing there's nothing he can say or do against lord harrington who outranks him in both title and popularity. but steve's not done yet.

"you know, carver, i found myself pondering if upon the arrival of eddie you would find yourself starving for his attention again. and here you are indeed, yearning for his words directed at you, aching for his attention, wishing for him to dedicate one of his songs to you, write one in your honour, in fact. unfortunately you have miscalculated, sir carver, for you are too irrelevant for bardic muse, and too much of a coward for heroic tales."

and steve just smiles at him, aloof and challenging, condescending in that way he has; aware that most everyone at the surrounding tables has their attention firmly on jason and himself, directing their attention away from eddie and instead to carver's burning face and the way he's sputtering for a response.

and i want eddie to look at steve with big, big eyes. and steve to turn away without another word, just returning to chrissy or something (or robin, if she's done with her set/not started yet). and eddie is just. breathless. because he's still connecting lord harrington with his knight, but that undoubtedly was lord harrington in all his aloof, sassy, condescending, competent glory, using it to defend eddie's honour.

and now it's eddie who's yearning. and aching. and just. fucking standing there, frozen to the spot. because steve essentially obliterated any further and future attempts of jason's to hurt eddie's name or reputation, or even just look at him wrong.

and eddie doesn't understand because steve is supposed to hate him.

i want eddie to follow him then, ask him why he did that (or make him be stupid, tell him "you didn't have to do that" or "i had that under control")

only for steve to just soften a little, and say, "jason carver wouldn't know talent if it spit in his face. which is not a suggestion."

and eddie, a little beside himself, laughs. smiles. "you think i have talent, lord harrington?"

"i would be both liar and fool to say otherwise. you have a way with words that has yet to be matched."

and eddie flushes, with excitement and guilt alike, because that very same way with words is what hurt lord harrington. eddie's way with words robbed him of living with his own experiences and nightmares for himself. eddie's way with words exposed the knight's suffering to the world.

and yet here he is. admiring. and eddie just stands there, looking at those eyes that shine in the light of candles and torches like they never shone before. and he loses himself in them for a second, because lord harrington holds his gaze, too. he's looking back. and maybe he sees the guilt, the plea for forgiveness, the admiration and adoration and gratitude.

eddie hopes he does. because the words are lodged in his throat as the world around them fades away and there are only the two of them left.

at least, until lord harrington steps closer, eyes still firmly holding eddie's, and eddie's breath hitches, becuase god, he's so close, he's still coming closer, his lips are–

right beside eddie's ear as he says, "you should not look at me like that. word has it the only thing in my cold heart is disdain for all things beautiful. good night, eddie munson."

and then steve is gone again, returned to his friends and admirers, while eddie just feels like he should run. calm his rapid heart and find the nearest quill, because his fingers are itching to write.

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

Yandere! Yeosang Analysis

Disclaimer : In no way am I supporting Yandere behavior or toxic relationships. This is supposed to be just a fic and everyone must read it as a fic.

Warnings : Mentions of Toxic relationships, stalking, murder, sexual punishments, other yandere behavior.

Basic Information

Name : Kang Yeosang

Date of birth : June 15th, 1999

Aggression level : 60%

Obsession level : 90%

Mental instability : 95%

Overall threat : Average

Behavioral analysis

He is voyeuristic Yandere, always in the thirst to show that you're his. Loses complete sense over himself once he sets eyes on you. Will not be aggressive with you, scared that you will leave him. Uses manipulation tricks to make you fall into his trap. That being said, he's a manipulator. Makes you believe he is in extreme need for love and affection. Starts manipulating you more by showing you that he is very mentally drained and is depressed. If you do not fall for his tricks, he turns the table around by blaming you on everything.

You were a famous soloist under JYP Entertainment. You had a lot of fame, but it never got to your head as you were the kindest idol. You couldn't reject or say no to anyone. You were a very sensitive person. You were also known for being the idol with the most clean record.

You were living your best life. For Yeosang too. Kang Yeosang, a simple man who came from one of the richest families, was your biggest fan. It all started when he saw you online, while scrolling through social media. He would lie if he said you didn't attract him. But seeing you so often everywhere made him very curious.

But when he did search you up, and saw a lot more videos of you, he fell in love with you. But he knew his limits, he was just a fan. But he started spending too much money on you, from buying all the versions of all your albums to attending your every single fansign Or concert.

You might have noticed the boy at first but seeing him so constantly all the time, made you happy and honoured to have had such a dedicated fan.

But you were more than shocked, when he joined your company AS YOUR MANAGER. You were shocked to see him but you were nonetheless happy for the change as you finally got someone around your age who would understand you well.

But Yeosang had other plans, he was gonna get you. His past self would have hated to have come to this extent. But he didn't care, he now desires for you. He wanted you very badly.

It had been two months since, Yeosang became your manager. But recently for a week, you had your sub-conscious mind screaming at you that someone was always following you or that someone was always watching you.

You couldn't help but feel like you wanted more security. But not wanting to be nosy, you just told Yeosang about it. Because you trusted the man and hoped he would help you whenever you got into trouble.

But suddenly what if news comes out saying, "Lee Y/n, soloist under JYP Entertainment has gone missing. JYP entertainment is currently doing searches everywhere and investigating Lee Y/n's past whereabouts before the night she went missing"

It sent the kpop industry into dead silence, no one knew about your whereabouts or any traces of where you were. But there was only one person who was last seen with you.

But apparently, it was your male friend who was a week later found dead. Everyone was too stunned about the situation. While on the other part, Yeosang had kept you captive in his basement. When you woke up, you were too shocked to see Yeosang waiting in front of you.

And that's when you knew about his true colours and felt like an idiot to have trusted him that he would save you from danger when he was the danger. But Yeosang was never aggressive with you, he rather shows his vulnerable side to you.

And his reasons felt too real and you couldn't just leave him on his own, and when you did try to escape, Yeosang threatened you by cutting himself.

You had no other choice but to stay with him. Until you started believing him in everything and every line he would say. It made you very weak at your heart making you realise you were falling for him.

You started loving and caring for him. And you never left his side, because he mentally really needed you, but did YOU need him more than he longed for you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn that fucking took too long. Yandere! Yeosang is hard to uncover.

-Jeong Aera

© wooyoungmybelovedhusband [jeongaera]

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 2 - Ephemeral Aurora

Hello! I just wanted to say that I'm a huge fan of your work and uh... I searched you up on the internet and found out you have a very fascinating Forensics blog! I am left speechless by your fantasy work and by the genius experiments you show and explain through detailed videos and pictures! If you would allow me, it would be my highest honour to share a hot beverage with you, as a way of thanking you for your effort and dedication. P.S. : I work in I.T. in the same building as you. I found out yesterday thanks to Molly Hooper.~ James M.

She found this Direct Message on one of her blogs under the name of The_Notorious_JM, an eloquent IT worker who, apparently, had been in the same building as her - And she'd never met him before! Quite certain, it sounded similar to what happened with her and Sherlock, being in association with Lestrade, but not having met for years! My, she wasn't the best at making friends, but when someone so nice goes out of their way to befriend her, she's more than willing to engage! Very excited, yes she was - So excited that she immediately replied to him; The text had been sent the previous week - And what a coincidence, the very night that almost sealed her already doomed fate!

Regardless, she replied to him, setting the time and place for their meeting; A nice breakfast before work, at her favourite vintage cafe she always frequents. As per usual, she dolled herself up very nicely that morning - Nicer than usual, in fact - And she made her way towards the cafe. The weather was unexpectedly lovely for a mundane day in London - It was sunny and warm, just as she loves her days! 

Entering the cafe, she lifted her sunglasses up on her hair ( she always did love how her hair looks, slicked back with those glasses, exposing her lovely features and impeccable make up ) and looked around the tables, looking for the man in cause. He had told her he's quite average and doesn't stand out - A simply tired man in his 30s, black hair and black eyes, dressed in simple and quite boring clothes also - Unfortunately, that hadn't helped much, considering the customers. Thankfully, one man lifted his hand up and smiled like a sweet, bashful dove, and Katrina was simply endeared to sit in front of him. He looked adorable and so kind, this man, and he kept his smile on his face constantly - Though she, of all people, knew not to underestimate how scary people can be, underneath all this social facade.

A gentleman in the right sense, James had gotten to his feet to help her remove her coat, and pull the chair for her - So she was right, the famed British chivalry was NOT dead! Oh, how thrilled she was to witness such gallantry! "Fancy meeting you, Miss Raven." the man spoke; His voice was gentle and rather soothing, Katrina noted. She was highly auditory sensitive, so she naturally leaned towards people with lovely voices that didn't startle or put her on edge. Simply from the calm washing over her with every word he uttered, the lady was content with the idea of making a new friend. "Eh - I'm sorry, I'm not that good with social interactions. It's a miracle I even befriended someone nice like Molly - And that's mostly because she offered to pay for my coffee one day when I forgot my wallet." he chuckled, at little embarrassed.

"oh, yes, Molly is a wonder personified! I, also, would have been friendless in this place, were it not for her being so kind to me when I was hired. We don't meet that often these days, our schedules are conflicting a little, but I always love to take her out to pubs or cafes once in a while." admitting to also being a social failure, the two found themselves unable to stifle their giggles - Were they pathetic? Were they tragic? Were they losers? Perhaps all of them! But it mattered little, in such great company.

"Oh - Forgive my manners, I completely forgot to introduce myself. Name's James, but my colleagues call me Jim. I'm fine with either." the girl smiled dearly at him, and she nodded her head. How she loved this simple fan talk.

"No need for apologies, it's quite alright! It is not your fault we had already gotten absorbed in this engaging conversation." she waved her hand dismissively. "May I call you James? I think it's a beautiful name." he chuckled timidly, looking down, but still nodding in agreement. "Say - Can I ask you something?" he urged her to go ahead. "What do you do in IT? Programming? Accountancy? Hacking?"

"Oh, I - Well, I do some accountancy, yes, but I mostly do programming. I'm not yet allowed to do too much hacking, but it's fine, I'm still learning, so I'm getting there." office work can't always be fun, Kat realised with a little sadness.

"I bet you're bored a lot at work, huh? There's few things that can beat hacking, in this industry, am I right?" James' dark eyes widened with surprise - She was a Forensics Doctor, what did she know about hacking? She couldn't... Or, could she?

"You?" she nodded, wearing the cunning smile of a vixen. "You're a hacker?!" he asked in a hushed tone. "That's wicked!"

"I've always been interested in video games and computers, so this came natural to me. I needed a hobby to pull myself through Med School." her laughter was so charming, crystalline like an angel's lullaby/

"Have you ever done anything fun with it?" he leaned over the table, completely forgetting about his latte. He had to hear more of this little mischief!

"I paid for my holidays abroad." what an innocent princess smile! It hid all the nefarious deeds she's done!

"You're insane! I could never, I -- I'd be too scared to do something like that!" he was flabbergast, yet genuinely impressed. "Say - I have this personal project I've been working on. It's a game based on hacking - Kinda like... A digital escape room? Or - Or, I guess, some puzzles and riddles, you could say? Anyway, it's a thinking game. It's still in it's beta state, but would you be interested in testing it once it's playable?" how in the world could she refuse those beautiful doe eyes of his?

"I would be honoured to! I haven't done anything that fun in so long! I am so excited! I hope it's going to be soon!" she did a little cutesy clap, making the man before her chuckle at her silliness. "Thank you for trusting me so much with your precious project, despite us just meeting for the first time!"

"I can always assume anyone who is Molly's friend is a great person, just like her." aww, wasn't he so adorable~.

"Hey, can I be nosy a little~?" the lady giggled, playing with a strand of her long, blue hair. "You and Molly... You are dating, aren't you?"

"How... How'd you know? Did she say anything to you?" she simply shook her head, smiling enigmatically.

"You're just - You know... I guess you could call it a girly hunch. You're very cute when you mention her name. I just guessed - You're the one who confirmed my theory." the two remained in a glowy silence, smiling at each other dearly, sipping from their coffee.

"I didn't... I didn't realise I was so obvious." his voice went even softer. "I am really like, you know. I'm like to have someone like Molly in my life. She is... She is very kind." 

"Yes, I can completely agree with you. The world is a better place with her around." Katrina placed her hand over his own, squeezing it lightly. "I hope the two of you will have your happily ever after."

"How romantic..." he smiled, nodding in gratitude. "Yes, I - I hope the same also. Thank you, Miss Raven. Thank you - For being such a special friend. I know it may sound pathetic for a man my age, but I've never had anyone being so kind and understanding with me. You, and Molly - I thank you both."

"You have nothing to thank us for - If you weren't a lovely person, neither of us would have bothered with you." with a playful wink, the bluenette chuckled charmingly and leaned back in her seat, ordering another caramel mocha.

"This Sherlock figure - He must be a lucky man." the girl couldn't help but arch an inquiring eyebrow. "Molly spoke about him... A lot." a lot...? Why would she... Oh! Oh... It was only then that it clicked to her - The man Molly has been having a crush on for YEARS and years on end; The gorgeous young man, a genius like no other, handsome, with a masculine jaw and lovely cheekbones, with sharp sky-like eyes and adorable dark curls - And quite possibly, the most dazzling smile in the world - Or so she said; That man... That man WAS Sherlock! And she probably didn't want to say his name, in case she'd make a fool of herself! Goodness - What a coincidence! "Said you'd just meet recently, and he's been praising you for how much you helped with the last case." Sherlock Holmes praised her? In front of the woman who has a massive crush on him? Poor Molly must have been devastated!

"He - He praised me? Truly? I - I'm flattered! That's not something I hear too often." she was surprised, very surprised. "I'm undeserving - Though yes, it was an insane case - Very, very scary, and I'd rather not go through something like that again. I almost died, you see - I was unnervingly close to death. I don't understand why I got entangled in this mess - I'm not smart like Sherlock, I'm just a little intuitive, if anything - So why... Well, I can't tell!" she took out her lace fan from her purse, making a little air for herself. Remembering that whole case and how close she was to death always seemed to make her feel a little suffocated. "I had a lot of fun unveiling the mystery, don't get me wrong - But I'd rather leave Sherlock to unmask the criminals. I don't like being in the line of fire like that."

"That must have been scary. I heard some rumours about it - People talk a lot around the office; And then there's Doctor Watson's blog detailing that case - A study in pink - He called it. The gun, and the two pills - I heard you played that game - How did you know which was the right one?" that nervous smile of hers stirred feelings inside his heart.

"I didn't." she whispered. "I thought the gun was a fake - I've never seen a gun before - So I asked if that was the true way out. The killer said yes, for the others, but not me, I had to play. That's why I thought - Maybe it's not the pills that are poisoned, but the water you had to take them with - So I waited to see if he took his pill with water, and my theory was half-confirmed. I took mine without water also - Bloody awful ordeal - And I was perfectly safe. Whether it was luck or not... I don't want to think about it too much." folding her fan, she tapped it softly to her lips, half-dissociating from reality as she remembered that night.

"That must have been horrible. I hope you're feeling a little better by now." he sounded sympathetic towards her; Before he could say more, however, the girl's phone rang, revealing a most interesting ringtone; The chorus of a Scorpions song, 'Still Loving you'. Fascinating taste in music. "Please, excuse me." she looked at the caller ID; It was an unknown number. "Hello, Sherlock. What is it?"

"How did you know it was me?" came the very man's amused voice. "I never gave you my number."

"You just did." the lady huffed with glee. "Nobody calls me - And I have all my acquaintances' numbers registered in this phone." she explained casually.

"Smart." he noted dully. "We have a date tonight." how could he say something so outrageous, with so much nonchalance?

"Say that again?" she was, in all senses of the word, flabbergast.

"Chinese circus. I'll pick you up at 7." came his explanation. She needn't any more details - This was clearly for a case. A most intriguing case.

"Are we faking, or should I take it as a proper date, then?" perhaps she wasn't even realising, James thought as he was the beautiful woman before him, but as she was speaking of the phone, her fingers were twirling around a velvety strand of blue hair, just like a lovestruck schoolgirl would, speaking with her crush. Fascinating how one's eyes could sparkle, and a smile can become so dazzling; A woman in love with emanating beauty and charm, just like a Goddess of the Sun.

"There's nothing to say it can't be both." he hung up, without allowing room for protest or a continued conversation; Katrina's cheeks were warm, and a huge pinker than usual.

He almost felt bad for interrupting, but he simply had to break her unknown reverie. Their shift was going to start soon, unfortunately for both of them. "Let me guess - Sherlock?" he smiled cheekily at her, almost like an elder brother teasing his little sister.

"Sound deduction, Special Detective M!" she exclaimed all of a sudden. "You won't try to steal our job, will you? First, a hacker, and now, a detective? Ha! What can you not do!"

James simply chuckled, shaking his head. Her theatrical replies amused him greatly. "I'm good, I'm good - I think I'm better at working in the shadows, anyway. I don't consider myself too much of a front guy."

"Oh~!" she made mysterious noises. "M, the Notorious Hacker of London, strikes again! What will he do next - Steal the Queen's Jewels?!"

"I rather like the sound of that - Just like my username! Has a nice ring to it!" he laughed at her silliness. "Perhaps I will do just that! I will stay on the throne, and then - You should see me in a crown!"

"Yes, yes, just that!" she encouraged his villainy. "Then - The Swiss Bank - It's the easiest; Book yourself and Molly a nice honeymoon trip abroad! Maybe the Maldives!"

"The Swiss Bank? You joke! That's too much for me, I'm just a small programming guy who wants to make a game -- I couldn't possibly have the skills for that!" the girl's smirk widened, yet said nothing. "No -- Really? You? Ha! You're far more dangerous than the Notorious Hacker M! Nobody would suspect you!"   "I'll let you figure that out on your own, James. We've got to go clock in soon." the man offered to pay, and before they split ways inside the building, he promised to hand her the USB with the game soon enough.

In the meantime, however, she couldn't help but think - How in the world could a Chinese Circus intertwine with a case worthy of the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes?

Since it was a Chinese Circus, Katrina thought she'd fit in; She had always appreciated the culture - Partially thanks to the introduction into Chinese Imperial dramas that opened this whole new and impressive world for her; In her mind, the hanfu was the prettiest outfit, and although she wouldn't dare wear it on the dirty and wet streets of London, she would be more than honoured to become a Chinese Princess, at least for one day, running through the gardens of the Forbidden City.

For this date, however, she'll choose something a little more tamed, yet still in theme; First, she styled her hair coquettishly yet still appropriate for her age, long and flowing with the wind, yet with some cute flowery accessories pinning two soft braids. She chose a long skirt, pink like a peony and tied tightly to her waist - It was delicately embroidered with the patterns of plum flower branches in blood. The blouse, white with bell sleeves and a small collar, was tucked neatly in the skirt - It, also, had soft petals embroidered across the hems. For once, she had no jewellery, and only sported a small pink purse filled with all necessities. She couldn't wear pot shoes with the troublesome cobbled streets, unfortunately - Though she had a perfect pair of pink and thick mary jane shoes that matched well with her white stockings.

As promised, come 7 o'clock, Katrina heard a knock on her door; She got up from the couch, and she answered. Sherlock was standing tall in front of her. It was the first time he peered into her apartment, and he couldn't help but analyse - He wanted to know more about this genetically successful specimen. 

"If you want to get a glimpse into who I am, how about you come in for a cup of tea? I am sure that would be enough time for you to analyse just about the whole place." she opened the door wider, welcoming him inside.

"Have I really gotten this obvious?" he asked, though he knew the answer. He sat down on the couch in the living room, and waited to be served tea. "Lovely place. Suits your tastes very well." indeed, you wouldn't say this apartment once was identical to his own - In fact, it hardly even looked British at all, were it not for certain elements that couldn't be so easily removed or changed.

"Thank you! I am very happy with this safe haven." she replied, smiling charmingly. "Mrs. Hudson also loves it - She's given me an offer to buy it. Said she'll only give me this offer - So I've been going out of my way to decorate it to my tastes... And save enough money to get the whole thing for myself."

"Great deal indeed." he muttered, straightening up back a little to get a better look at the place - Although, his eyes couldn't help but dart towards the lady who was humming along to the softly-playing melody from the background, and preparing the tea. Just like her outfit, the song was Chinese - Who knew she would be interested in the culture. What a scary coincidence!

"Do you know Chinese?" he found himself asking, watching as she carefully placed the tray on the table. The porcelain set was Chinese; White, and painted with pink flowers and gold. Manually, he deduced. Well painted, but still, not an expert. Did she do it herself?

"Yes, I've been learning it for the past few years." even more of a coincidence. "I can't say I'm an expert - I haven't dedicated my time entirely to learning it - But I think I'm at least around mid-level. I can hold a conversation well enough, comprehend phrases, and even understand and write some of the easier symbols."

"I see... That's useful." he hummed to himself, watching her slender fingers pour him tea with such grace, as if she was recreating the sacred tea ceremony. "What do you suppose is a book that everyone would have at home?"

"Lord of the Rings?" her joked earned a small exhale of amusement from the man, though he didn't deny it. "Back home, every household had two books - The Bible, and a Dictionary. Don't ask why - Take it as it is."

"Duly noted. Good insight, as always." he nodded to himself, leaning to grab the foreign tea cup. "Did you paint these yourself?"

"Oh, yes, I did! It was a lot of fun! I've seen this design in one of the dramas I watched, and I simply had to recreate it." her joy seemed to amp up immediately, he noticed. "I only use this set on special occasions though, it's very precious to me. Usually, we just use Lea's set. It's very cute and fancy - I'd say it has Versailles influences."

"Fascinating." yes, and not quite. He might appreciate art, but he couldn't say he was that much of a die-hard enthusiast. "What about the fan on the table? I suppose you're taking it with you? It matches your skirt."

"Well remarked - Yes, I also embroidered it - Just like with this outfit. I love embroidering. I'm not the best, I know, but I found it relaxes me. Mrs. Hudson saw me embroidering on the window pane one day, and that's how we got so close." he wasn't surprised a doctor with nimble fingers would be dexterous in other crafts also - One needn't create a masterpiece, you create quality products.

They didn't speak more, through the duration of them drinking tea; Normally, this was a time to be sociable, but he was far too lost into the ocean of information, to come up with word-riddle plays, a game of chess, create poems or even indulge in old-lady gossips.

An eccentric woman this one, even if she doesn't quite realise it herself; No wonder Donovan hates her. Few people would step on their normalcy, to indulge in their niche love for another culture, or anything that isn't quite the socially acceptable norm. Does that mean she's brave? Confident? Or simply that she's come to a point where she just wants to find her own happiness without caring for others' erronated opinions?

The whole place was impeccably clean, and tidy; There was nothing out of place, not a single thing. Very meticulous and attentive to details. The apartment was big, and had the stairway to upstairs - Who knows what kind of personal wonders are hiding up there also? All artefacts that would showcase her passions and love for whatever she's interested in.

There is one thing, however, that he noticed, and that is the lack of any family pictures, or anything to remind her of personal relationships she has - Most people have that, don't they? Anything to remind them of home? He could find, in his sight, nothing of the sort. That would correlate in a peculiar way with his own theory - That she is wallowing deep in loneliness. He's never had a problem with that - He doesn't find it a nuisance, in fact, he enjoys his personal space and the ability to be as quirky as he needs; But ordinary people are desperate for interhuman relations.

This impeccable specimen before him was wearing a passive smile, looking at him; Surely, she doesn't always carry herself with such grace, does she? She looked like a scroll painting depicting one of those tragic Four Beauties from the myths. They say, the more beautiful a woman, the more she suffers. What a silly fortune-telling. "Alright, Magnolia flower, shall we?" at once, Sherlock rose to his feet, offering his hand in a gentlemanly way. 

He played cheeky, Katrina thought, immediately smiling with joy; He called her magnolia flower - That was Hua Mulan's name. A most valiant beauty, known throughout history. If she didn't know better, she'd call him quite romantic! Or, perhaps he was hinting towards her tragic fate - That sounded more of a Moriarty route though.

"Much obliged, Zhang Heng." oh, the stellar look on his face! Katrina placed her hand over his own to raise to her feet, then left the house together, hooked to his arm. They passed as quite the lovely couple, she'd go as far as to say that, once they passed by a mirror.

Sherlock called a cab and opened the door for her, just like a gentleman would, and told the driver the location to this Circus. Katrina wondered what this circus was all about - Would it have acrobatics? Gymnastics? Traditional dances? Or some curious kind of entertainment she was unaware of?

She remained hooked to his arms as he guided her up the stairs, and into the building. At the booth, she spotted John with a lovely-looking lady. Was Sherlock's plan to crash John's date? Or was he trying to blend in and investigate without being suspected. John went to pay for his tickets, two, for him and his date; But Sherlock butted-in with an innocent smile. "I phoned back and got one for myself and my date as well." John's face screamed murder. "Hi. I'm Sherlock, and this is Raven, my date."'

"Hello! It's lovely meeting you!" the blue haired lady stood out a little too much, she realised, not that it would let her politeness waver.

"Erh... Hi! I'm Sarah." the two ladies shook hands. "Sorry, I'll be right back." she must have fled for the toilet.

"So... I know you're investigating a case, that much was obvious, but are you also going to tell me what's going on, or did you just take me as your trophy wife?" the serenity with which she spoke almost surprised the detective, yet he didn't hesitate to reply.

"We are here on a date, of course, I promised you that much." he spoke as a matter of factly. "Investigating the case is just entertainment for us. A bonus, if you will." "No, you're not here on a date, stop using Raven as an excuse to ruin my real date just for an investigation!" John immediately snapped at his flat mate. "It was the perfect opportunity." Sherlock answered plainly. "You couldn’t let me have just one night off?" the poor medic was exasperated. "Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England ... " so they've got a secret society and assassins from China. Should be fun. "Dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave!" came the veteran's exhaustion. "We’re looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place ... " the mystery thickens - Oh, how she'd have liked to have been able to have helped with the investigation from the very beginning! "Fine. You do that; I’m gonna take Sarah for a pint." John completely dismissed him. "I need your help." begrudgingly, Sherlock admitted. "You have Raven! She's more than capable of helping you in your blind chase! In fact - I'd say she's better than me! Now leave me alone!" poor John was at his wit's end. "I couldn't possibly - What if she messes her outfit? It would be a tragedy, John, have some empathy!" what a jokester, using her coquette style against his flatmate. "I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!" the detective didn't get it. "You are kidding."

"I don't think he is kidding, John. I don't think he understands." Raven smiled, showing pity to the poor man. "What - What are you two talking about? What’s so important? We've got to solve this case!" Holmes was frustrated with the lack of cooperation. "Sherlock, I’m right in the middle of a date. D’you want me to chase some killer while I’m trying to ..." John tried to explain, but without being so forthright with his intention.

"He wants to pursue Sarah in the future a little more in depth; Romantically, or more." Katrina tried to explain it as diplomatically as she could.

"For God's sake, John - We've got three dead bodies and a running criminal, and all you think about is to get off with--" seeing Sarah approaching, the blue haired lady wrapped her hands around Sherlock's arm, forcing him to shut up as she cuddled into his side.

"Sherlock, darling, I think the show is about to start soon - Shall we go take a look? Sarah's returned also." how inconspicuous, the detective noted, offering a wry smile followed by a nod as he guided her towards the room with the stageplay.

They approached the play, surrounded by candles on the ground. Everything was nicely decorated, and Chinese instrumental music played. "You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is... Art." John didn't sound too happy about seeing art. Why though? She couldn't understand. "This is not their day job." the detective looked around, his keen eye scanning every inch of the chamber. "No, sorry, I forgot. They’re not a circus; they’re a gang of international smugglers." why in the world are they dealing with smugglers?! As the show began, a Chinese woman in her middle ages took the spotlight. She was wearing a red outfit reminiscent of a Qing dynasty Peking Opera, embellished with gorgeous jewellery; And even her make up was fantastic! "Her outfit is marvelous! I've always loved Peking Opera!" she watched with complete focus as the woman showed off a large arrow, and then stepped towards a veiled object about as large as her; She took the sheet off, revealing a huge crossbow-like mechanism decorated like a lion, or a serpent dragon. She gracefully placed the arrow in the mechanism, before taking a feather from her head ornament - And as soon as she placed it on the metal plate that activated the mechanism, the arrow was shot at incredible speed, lodging itself into the wooden wall in front. "How wonderful!" Sarah had also gasped in awe, looking at her date.

The assistant, a man wearing a typical male mask painted with the same Peking Opera allure, got chained, and put against the wooden wall. "Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock explained to them. The crossbow’s on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

The gong was hit once, startling Sarah enough to jump on her date; John seemed thrilled being so close to her; Sherlock looked at them with a certain boredom, then looked at the blue haired lady; She was clutching her embroidered fan, hiding that mesmerised smile of her. It seemed, seeing such rare art before her very eyes, got her quite euphoric. In spite of how easily startled she usual was, she hadn't flinched a bit from the sudden loud gong; And it was no surprise, coming from a Peking Opera enthusiast. Those were the perfect cues for the actors to perform certain moves. He was more intrigued whether or not she knew how to perform. The performer lady took a small dagger, showing it to the audience. "She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." she did just that. The audience watched the man struggle, and the weight descend swiftly towards the bowl. "Stay with John and Jean and make sure they're alright." the detective softly tapped his date's shoulder.

"You're leaving me to third-wheel their date?" she looked like a distraught kitten, looking up at him like that. "You can't just abandon our date - You have to take me with you. I already missed most of the investigation." she tried to convince him, but it was in vain.

"Not this time." he seemed very sure of himself. "I'll make it up to you." placing both hands on her shoulders, he turned her back towards the performance. "Don't mind me - Just enjoy yourself. I know you're into this." and he left without another trace.

Just as expected the escapologist just narrowly escaped; Nevertheless, a round of applause welcomed the performers. How fascinating! "Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider." as she walks away, a masked acrobat descends from the ceiling, rolling through the air as the broad red textile wrapped around his waist unravels. The audience applauds and he stops a couple of feet above the ground, holding his body parallel to the floor.  "Did you see that, Sarah?" John looked at his date, fascinated. "Yes, it was awesome!" Sarah replied back with just as much glee.

Katrina, however, was mute; She was far too busy enjoying the show to realise the black curtains at the very back of the chamber fluttering - Until Sherlock was thrown out, and a Chinese warrior right after, ready to annihilate him. John was the first to rush in and push the enemy off of his friend; Katrina followed soon after, hitting the man with a masterful kick to his mask; And Sarah came last, hitting him with some wooden sword or something. The enemy was on the ground, unconscious; Sherlock took off his shoe, revealing a lotus-like tattoo on his heel.

They didn't wait too long around - They grabbed each other and ran away, taking a cab towards the police station. There, they weren't greeted by Lestrade, but some inexperienced punk who didn't seem to have any clue what was going on. Katrina wasn't quite sure what the international smuggling operation meant, or who the people involved were - She was missing all the pieces of the puzzle; All she knew was that a precious item was stolen, and the Chinese troupe came to get it back - Problem was, no one had any clue what they were looking for.

Finally, they returned home to their flat, and stood straight in front of a wall filled with evidence. There was talk about a rendez-vous spot, and how the troupe won't leave without the stolen item retrieved; For once, Katrina felt as useless and out of place as any person who ever stays around the genius Sherlock Holmes, and has no insight into his brilliant brain. She felt awful.

Sarah was the first to speak up - She asked whether she should leave or not; Frankly, Katrina felt the same, she just didn't have the heart to voice it. Thanks to John, she remained, and agreed to order takeout. The medic went to grab something from the fridge - It was empty. In the meantime, Saraj was looking at the evidence board and felt compelled to make light conversation with the detective. "So this is what you do, you and John. You solve puzzles for a living." she found herself wondering. "Consulting detective." came Sherlock's mindless reply. "Oh. And you, Raven?" she tried again, hoping her fellow lady would be more talkative. "I'm a forensics doctor for the police. Part time hacker and blog runner." Katrina tried to make small talk, but was unallowed, for the detective reached for her wrist and pulled her to his side.

"Your talents are wasted on them." he grumbled. "You said you know some Chinese - Look at this. It's a Hangzhou dialect. A cipher. Any ideas?"

"It's Suzhou." the lady corrected him immediately as she bent a little to look at the pictures depicting yellow graffiti symbols. "It's Suzhou dialect. The term 'Hangzhou' was a misnomer of the time. All accord of the term being used, as far as I'm aware, have been corrected to 'Suzhou'." Sherlock turned his face up to look at her, quite flabbergast.

"Fascinating knowledge you have sometimes - But does it have any relevance in breaking the code?" 

"Nope." he could only groan. "I only know a few symbols - Like here, the single symbols on the paintings - That is the symbol for 1 and that is for 5. Together, they make a 15." the man nodded in agreement. "The numerals on the wall are the same - Two symbols put together and you make a whole number. But you don't need me to know Chinese - Your symbols have already been translated. Look at this -- 9 MILL -- Does that mean anything to you? Does it stand for... 9 million in some currency? Chinese people use the Yuan and the Dollar for international commerce."

Sherlock immediately shot up to his feet, yelling for John and pushing the photograph into his face. "John, look at this. Soo Lin at the museum – She started to translate the code for us. We didn’t see it! “NINE,” “MILL.”  Nine million quid. For what? We need to know the end of this sentence." he hurried to put on his coat. "Where are you going?" the medic asked, frowning in confusion. "To the museum; to the restoration room. Oh, we must have been staring right at it!" Sherlock was already almost half-way out of the door. "The book, John. The book – The key to cracking the cipher! Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk." just before he rushed out, the lady called out his name.

"Sherlock!" she cried. "Wait!" this time, in spite of her soft voice, he did hear her, and stop, albeit a little impatiently.

"I don't have time right now, and I can't take you with me. It's too dangerous. Just stay here with John and Linda. I promised I'll make it up to you." though he tried to leave, the girl gripped the sleeve of his coat. "What is it?!"

"Sherlock, listen to me!" her gorgeous eyes looked up into his own, as if pleading to be heard. "You asked me two questions today - If I knew Chinese, and about that book - We already figured out the code, but what's it applied to? A book. What book? The most common book that could be in London, right? A London guide of sorts, a dictionary, something like that - It wouldn't stand out to anyone who'd see it. It's completely natural and harmless. So, perhaps, every number corresponds to a page number, a paragraph, a specific word -- You can't go there and search blindly, while you're being hunted down by professional assassins - At least know what you're looking for, find it, and then get out of there quickly before you get hurt."

"You're worried about me?" he found himself smiling almost tenderly at the lovely lady before him.

"Of course I am!" she exclaimed without the least bit of hesitation.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." he reassured, kissing the top of her head once again. "You've given me all the information I needed to narrow my search. I'll be quick." and thus, he bolted out of there, searching for a cab. What a brilliant young woman.

Katrina was a little lost in her reverie while Sarah ordered takeout - While the two were chatting, however, the doctress had a frightening eureka. Those people were professional assassins, and Sherlock Holmes just thwarted their plans. Surely, they'd want the enemy eliminated, yes? So... What was to say... They weren't already going for their flat? In a panic, Katrina went outside; There were still a few people around, but not much. She quickly dialed Sherlock's number. "I'm busy, make it quick."

"I think we're in danger." the line was silent. "I just realised - These guys aren't just ordinary smugglers right? They're the Chinese Mafia. They're among the best when it comes to silent assassinations, aren't they?"

"Just stick to John and Martha. I'll be back soon." he reassured her briefly. "Call Lestrade if you're anxious." Before the lady could answer back, however, a tall bulky man wearing black clothes and a hoodie spoke to her from behind, making her yelp loudly. "Raven? What is it?"

"Th-There's this creepy Chinese guy who's asking me if I have it - I think he's referring to the thing that was stolen from them, right?" she gulped, making small backward steps. "Wh-What do I do? Quick, What do I do?" her legs were trembling violently like two flowers in the breeze. "Sherlock, I am terrified." her whispery tone, completely petrified, sent a shiver down his spine.

"RUN!" 

His command came in vain - Before she could even react and sprint away, the enemy lunged her way, grabbing her by her long flowing hair, punching her to the ground; Her phone fell to the ground, but Sherlock could still hear her cries of pain and alarm - Nobody came to her aid, not even when she was on the ground, with an assailant choking her to death. Soon, her mind slipped away, and darkness veiled her vision and consciousness entirely.

But before I could do anything, the man attacked me, making my phone fall from my hand and holding me in a choke hold as I struggled and struggled to breathe, but to no avail. Sooner than later, I could feel my mind slipping away at a rapid pace and darkness soon veiled over my whole consciousness.

Once she finally awoke, she was painfully bound to a chair next to John and Sarah. Just as she expected, the criminals burst into Sherlock's flat and took them hostage. Neither of the three even dared to speak to each other for they were far too frightened.

The woman performer from the show spoke in the same melodic voice as before, though now, it made the hair on the back of their necks stand up. "A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket. Chinese proverb, Mr Holmes." Holmes...? Was she mistaking John for Sherlock? John tried to explain himself, but it was for naught. "Forgive me if I do not take your word for it. Debit card, name of S. Holmes." "Yes; that’s not actually mine. He lent that to me." they were so doomed.  "A cheque for five thousand pounds made out in the name of Mr Sherlock Holmes." she continued voicing her reasons behind believing John was actually Sherlock. "Yeah, he gave me that to look after." their only real saviour would be the very man's genius, or him tracking her phone down - Again. "Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes." they were in deep trouble. "Yes, okay ... I realise what this looks like, but I’m not him." no one was going to believe such an unconvincing man. "We heard it from your own mouth." oh, damn his sarcasm! “I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compare to my massive intellect.” it would have been hilarious, were they not in such a precarious situation. John soon realised any attempt at persuading the woman were completely hopeless. "Did I really say that? I s’ppose there’s no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression."

Before he could finish the sentence, the woman rose a small pistol and pointed it at his head, making John cringe away from it, blowing out a panicked breath and in turn, making the woman grin. She loved tormenting her victims... What a sadist. "I am Shan." that name spoke nothing to the girl, though John seemed to have heard that name before. "Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" she cocked her gun, and with a very long tension moment, she pulled the trigger -- Thankfully revealing it to be a blank. This scenario was a million times scarier than the cabbie from before. Kat was so scared, she wanted to cry - She was good at thinking under stress, but she had no clue how to escape a Chinese gang pointing their firearms at them! "It tell you that they're not really trying." Shan continued her terrifying speech. "If we wanted to kill you, Mr Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive. Do you have it?" she cocked her gun again, warning them this one wasn't a blank anymore. "Do I have what?" John asked, completely clueless. This case, once again, quite eluded him in many ways. "The treasure." Shan specified, approaching the barrel of the gun to the army vet. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." poor John was trying to struggle against the restraints, but it was no use. Nothing worked.

"The treasure...? John - The man who attacked me asked me the same thing. Is it about the 9 million thing? Is that what they were searching for?" Katrina asked, hoping he would know more - Alas...

"Ah, Miss Black, what a delight. A sight for sore eyes, just like my client suggested." Shan's comment made Katrina's head shoot up with revelation.

"Your client - Moriarty?!" the Chinese woman smiled sardonically.

"And as clever as expected." her henchman stomped to the victims' side, and took the blue haired lady up by the chair - Shan took the sheet off the ceremonial crossbow, and Katrina was placed in front of it. Great. She's in danger again. When will this end? Hopefully not with her life. "Everything in the West has its price... And the price for her life... Information." Shan turned back to John, threatening him. "After you, Miss Black, if your beloved doesn't tell us where the treasure is, that one is going to die next, facing the same execution." she pointed towards the terrified Sarah.  

Faced with such imminent danger, Katrina would do incredibly poor; She was panicking and thinking irrationally, or rather, not at all. How could she think of a way out, when she can't balance her chair to the side and escape the arrow, she can't undo the ties, and there's no one to save her? It is an equation with no solution! Only Deus Ex Machina could save her.

Shan continued her interrogation of poor frantic John - The treasure was revealed to be a hairpin. "The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr Holmes, have been searching." if Sherlock didn't tell her what the case was all about, Shan summarised it perfectly well. "Please. Please, listen to me. I’m not ... I’m not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for." John was getting desperate, and rightfully so. There was no getting through with Shan. "I need a volunteer from the audience!" the medic was begging her to stop this execution. "Ah, thank you, lady! Yes, you’ll do very nicely." she pointed towards the bluenette, before stabbing the sand bag - The victim trio were watching the sand swiftly fall into the metal bowl of the crossbow. "Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes’ pretty companion in a death-defying act." As John tried to plead for everyone's lives, trying to make the woman understand he wasn't actually Sherlock, she only ignored his words and put a black origami on Katrina's lap; It was a black lotus, masterfully done; But the doctress had no time to analyse the pretty origami - She was close to death... And quite the gruesome death. To think she wanted to be pretty on her death day...

"You’ve seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends." Shan taunted the blue haired woman.

"I’m not Sherlock Holmes!" John's voice boomed loudly through the echoing underground, but no one reacted. "I don’t believe you!" Shan snapped at the veteran. "You should, you know!" unexpectedly, Sherlock's voice resounded from somewhere behind Katrina. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him."

"Sherlock!" she cried out for the first time since she'd been abducted. "Sherlock, please, hurry!" Shan rose her pistol, cocked it and aimed it towards him. He immediately dodged to the side of the tunnel, disappearing into the shadows, making one of Shan’s thugs start to hurry toward the end of the tunnel. "How would you describe me, Raven? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"

"Dramatic!" the terrified bluenette wailed. "And incredibly late!"   "That’s a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second." Sherlock spoke to her, at the same time he knocked out one of the thugs. "Well?" Shan still kept her pistol aimed that-a-way.

"Well -" he hit another henchman over the head with a crowbar. "The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." out of nowhere, Sherlock kicked away a dumpster-fire, distracting Shan whilst he lunged to untie the damsel in distress. She could feel his warm fingers touching her own - Every touch on her skin gave her hope, it gave her vitality - Though every glimpse towards that descending weight quickly erased any of that. Unbeknownst to her, a henchman took Sherlock by surprise - He looped a long red textile around the detective's throat and joints multiple times, wrestling him away from the chair, from rescuing the victim. Katrina couldn't see the struggle behind her, only hear Holmes' pained grunts and groans of struggle, fighting off the enemy. "Sherlock, please...!" she couldn't look anymore - She didn't want to see the arrow shooting off and piercing through her skull. That was too macabre to even think about. Instead, she hung her head down, letting the tears fall down her cheeks in river.

With her eyes closed, she couldn't see that John managed to get up, struggling with his chair, and kicked the crossbow trajectory elsewhere; Sherlock, also, headbutt the criminal and, with his pocket knife, swiftly cut off her restraints, jumped forwards, dragging her off the chair, and onto the ground. The arrow shot the criminal in the chest, killing him instantly.

Katrina could feel two strong arms embracing her tightly; She was pressed against his chest, shielded and protected. Sherlock, her hero, saved her once again. 

To think she'd be trembling and weeping so much - The detective was looking down at the girl he was holding so dearly, how she was practically nestled like a kitten in his pocket, how she was clinging to him, but couldn't calm down, even knowing she was safe? Normal people, faced with such imminent death, with close calls - They're so pitiful.

"There should be Five Beauties in China, instead of four." it took some straining from the girl to actually hear what he was saying. "You're safe now." his hands found their way cupping her cheeks, wiping away her rolling crystal tears. "I've got you. You're safe." the most response she managed was a nod of her head. He noticed the evident prints of the assailant's hands around her neck, and the burns on her wrists caused by the rope - But he doubted she would be worried about that, above all. "What kind of monster would dirty a lady's outfit?!" he gasped theatrically, knowing it would do the trick.

"THEY DID WHAT?!" as expected, Katrina's head shot up, and Sherlock could see her shocked expression, it was almost comical. She almost had a most grotesque death, and she's worried about her outfit. What a fascinating specimen. "They are quality textiles - This dirt will be horror to clean off! Oh, that Moriarty owes me a new outfit!"

"Moriarty - Again?" Holmes sombered immediately.

"Yes... Shan said Moriarty was her client. We would have been targeted regardless of the hairpin problem." Katrina finally found her words again.

"Things are getting more complicated." the man hummed to himself. "Can you stand up?" she shook her head. Poor darling was still trembling hard. "I'll help you out, come on." he dragged her up, but didn't account for her weakened state - Katrina collapsed in his arms, fully lax, as soon as she was standing up.

"Sorry, I... I really... Can't feel my legs." she muttered softly.

"Well - A damsel in distress deserved the proper treatment, I suppose. Can't bypass the British gentleman chivalry -- That is what you said, didn't you?" in one swift move, Katrina was, once again, being carried like a princess by the cheeky detective. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you quite enjoyed this."

"I do like it." her honesty was bewildering to the detective - Such genuine yet heartfelt honesty... For some reason, he found it endearing. He couldn't stand Molly's evident crush on him - Exploitable, but for the most part, mundane, irrelevant and borderline annoying. Katrina's kindness, however, felt... Different. He found it... Acceptable. Well, more than acceptable, actually. "I'd just rather not have to go through an incident that thrown me an inch away from my death. I don't think my heart can take this much."

"Well - I promised I'd make it up to you for that failed date, didn't I?" he had a half-smile on his face. "I'll try to downgrade the death chances, and up the ordinary. So - A coffee, perhaps?"

"Yeah, coffee sounds amazing. I know a nice to-go place next to this park." finally, her smile was back, albeit, still wavery and uneasy.

"We can do that." his voice remained calm, soothing even. 

They soon returned back to their flat after briefly speaking to the police and the newbie detective. Katrina, in spite of her exhaustion, needed to take a long bubble bath and scrub away the disgust from her body; She needed to relax somehow, to wipe away her fears and anxieties. She'd been through enough - She deserved a break already.

Still, after performing the self-care routine with all of its steps, she finally flopped on her fluffy bed, opening her laptop to watch some movie and pass out. Sometime through the middle of the movie, she heard her phone buzzing twice. She received two messages - One from James, and the other... From an unknown number called M. Moriarty. In a flash, she took a screenshot of the lockscreen, capturing both messages in the same picture, before finally reading them both properly.

"Hello, Raven! Sorry for disturbing at this hour, but I needed some advice. I don't really have many friends, so if it's okay with you, can we meet up for a warm drink and walk through the park? Heard the weather's going to be lovely tomorrow at noon. I'll bring the game USB stick for testing also. - Jim from I.T. "

Moriarty's message, however, sounded quite different - And in a rather teasing, playful manner.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game of Fan-Tan. Next time, let's make it less dangerous, and more fun. After all, I wouldn't want the little black bird to bring her own death before we get to meet and play The Game - M "

They already started playing the game, Katrina thought to herself, all fear vanished as she plugged in her hacking devices and began tracking down the mysterious Moriarty, her #1 fan.

Oh, Mr. Moriarty, I am more than eager to play this little game of Tag with you~.

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[detroitbecomeonline]

I've played this campaign about once a week for almost 1.5 years with my friends, and we are all very dedicated to D&D. Our previous campaign took over 2 years to complete. So he existed far before my DBH blog began.

Kylikan Labson is a Paladin caucasian half-elf with perfect dark hair and blue eyes. He's the most handsome man in the landTM. He has the gallant aesthetics of a knight in shining armour and table manners to match. His biceps are as thick as your head. Great abs. #1 ass. (Party voted.) He's the walking embodiment of handsome masculinity and is the voice of the party, with the highest charisma he talks his way in and out of good work. Women swoon over him in the street. Literally.

But that's the image he adopted after he joined an anti-corruption society. With his thick Russian accent and inclination towards intimidation and manipulation, he knows how to get information or, at least, where to get it from. (Russian spy with the exterior of a white knight.) (Cue an interrogation scene where he back-handed an evil wizard for talking back. Cue an interrogation scene where he stood in front of an orc solider, unsheathed his sword, palmed the blade thoughtfully in his hand and politely asked the soldier where the explosives are.) But this heavy side of Kylikan makes sense. After all, he escaped his creator to be here.

Kylikan had been grown in a lab. An evil wizard acted as abusive adoptive mother until he figured out a way to escape the castle tower. Quite literally a Rapunzel set up. At twenty years old, he finally ran through the forest and met people who helped him dive into a new life. He promptly met people from the secret anti-corruption society (The Watch) although he didn't know they weren't just any normal mercenaries. Culturally, he was taught to honour Aasimar as "angel bloods" as they're holy in nature. He doesn't favour one god, but believes that they all exist and therefore gets his powers from the holiness of his bond to uphold righteousness.

42, appearing in his late 20s as per half-elf blood. Mercenary career established. Single! (Bisexual. Practising chastity.) Generous, serious, straight-forward and actively wants to provide for those around him.

He met the party. His world turned upside down. A young adult elf girl with dark necromantic powers that she couldn't explain. A human man from the enemy who fights with shadow magic. A gorgeous Aasimar woman who didn't even know what an Aasimar was. (And of course a male dwarf who came and went and a female cleric gnome who joined who needed help and ended up staying. The elf and the gnome have crushes on him.) The elf and the human quickly became daughter and father.

He screwed up so many times. He had sway with anyone else but the dark power users and the angel blood. He was a dick. He came across in poor ways in almost every interaction. He freaked the Aasimar out Big Time when he brought her golden jewellery. She had a panic attack because she didn't know what being an Aasimar meant. The party thought he was hitting on her. Absolutely Not. After finding out the elf with dark powers sourced them from a horrid patron, he attempted to arrest her. The party knocked him out. He tried bonding with the human man who was a similar age to him, but their personality differences made it incredibly difficult. They fought a lot. Think Edgin and Xenk.

These people didn't understand their roles in the world! Or maybe... He misunderstood his. He's spent time with the angel blood. And they've become social equals, though he'd honour her with smaller gifts and praised her when she got her wings. But after dozens of events, Kylikan's mother found him. She'd been watching him. Studying him in the free world. And through his work of dismantling an evil society of science and testing the limits of the material plane, he discovered what he really was. He was the first successful homunculus-like being of free will, imbued with divinity. He was supposed to be an Aasimar. But the experiment had failed. (I screamed when the DM narrated this. Holy shit.)

And with this, the Aasimar discovered that she wasn't so natural either. With no guiding voice, she discovered that she wasn't deserted by the gods, no, she simply had no holy figure in the first place. The evil science society helped conceive her in her mother's womb, since her parents were desperate for a child. They imbued the successful string of divinity into the fetus. Two fetuses. Twins. One was taken as payment at birth, a horrible surprise to her parents. Had Kylikan been responsible for the Aasimars' existence?

He assured her that the fact she was artificially created made her no less of a person. That she was real. He was real. And the stars aligned for them to meet, for who would he be, a "fake" man without a holy being to worship, and she a "fake" Aasimar with no one to honour that? They were destined for each other. And he honours her because they're friends. (Equality unlocked.)

Yet, those with "evil" magics would be there for him. To love him and to help him. He made up with the elf after days of being bitter after the failed arrest. She trusted him and he kept betraying that trust due to his own suspicions. But she had good, holy intentions. And they met an NPC (human's literal daughter, elf's adoptive sister) who came from a devil cult. And she held values of fighting against corruption. Kylikan learned that these people are just like him. They are good.

But tragedy is swift. Kylikan's mother killed the human man in a fit of rage (and a really good roll). The battle could've gone differently had Kylikan not panicked due to his trauma. But at least he saved the angel blood. At least he saved her. The elf would never forgive him now.

And now he must carry the body of the man who hated him back up through the dungeon. The man who decided this one time to trust him. To help him take down this science lab dungeon. He died for him. And as he carries the body on his shoulder, the elf girl screams ferally that her only father figure is gone. Her own trauma breaks from her surface. And he was supposed to be an angel blood. He was supposed to be an angel blood. Everything was black and white a year ago, but now it's simply the Truth versus the Lie.

who wants to hear about my dnd character. i promise this is compelling as hell

[yoonpobs]

10 years | ksj

pairing: kim seokjin x oc (ft. brother!jimin)

genre: brother's best friend, angst, forgiveness?, teeny tiny fluff (it's barely there lol)

words: 7, 294

summary: 10 years change people but you still remember

"Why are you freaking out?" Isabelle is attempting to get you to stay in one position, but it's fruitless when all you do is pace back and forth in the space of the changing rooms when you hear people barking orders from the outside.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" You exasperate.

Isabelle glares at you, nimble hands reaching to tighten the lace corset around your waist in one swift motion; turning your body to face her as she does her job of primping you up.

"You're being dramatic." She rolls her eyes.

You huff.

You loved Isabelle, probably because she's been working for your family for years and that she was the mother figure in your life that you never could have gotten from your own biological one—but also because she was the only person that knew her way around that thorny mind of yours.

"What would you do if you haven't seen someone in over ten years and the last memory you have with them is bitter?" You say in a hushed whisper.

Isabelle's eyes soften, hands reaching out to rest on your shoulders as your head droops, anxiety blooming in your chest even if you weren't the one getting married today.

"What can you do but say hello?" She says, "Time doesn't stop for anyone, _____."

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers when you hear the rustles of the curtains, causing both of your heads to turn towards the source of the noise.

"_____, your brother is asking for you." Lea, your brother's wedding planner, peeks her head through the curtains to call you.

Your heart betrays your seemingly calm stature as you begin to perspire, terrified of being face to face with the person that you should've been most excited to see.

"Time's up, ______. You can't run forever." Isabelle says, eyes solemn.

"You'd think being an adult would mean you grow out of old habits ..." Jimin mutters, glaring at you when you finally make your appearance at the rehearsal dinner.

You stick your tongue out at him petulantly, unable to forget the fact that he was no longer the older brother that you hero-worshipped because he excelled in everything that he did, nor was he the kid that stole your figurines to spite you. He was a man, older and more mature—with a wedding to celebrate the beginning of a new life with his partner.

He looks nervous, you can tell because you know Jimin better than most—a position you begrudgingly gave up in replacement of his wife, Risa—so you offer him a squeeze of his shoulder, and a look to tell him that you were here, and he was okay.

Jimin accepts it with a small smile of gratitude, moving aside so you could take your seat on the VIP table where most of his important guests sat, meaning your parents, Risa's parents, the best man and the maid of honour.

From the moment you stepped foot into the hall, you spot the person that should have been unfamiliar to you, but all you can remember is what was the best years of your life that was taken away from you. It should've been hard to spot him through the pastels and people, but you've always had eyes for him—the foolish lens of a girl that didn't want to grow up.

Even as you seat at the table, mingling with your future sister-in-law, and the maid of honour, along with Risa's parents, you can't bring yourself to acknowledge him just yet, and he has yet to make it known that he acknowledges you too.

Perhaps it was the pettiness from both ends. The fact that neither of you wanted to step down just yet, the last known interaction between the both of you only causing your heart to constrict further. You wonder if he remembers you the way you have with him.

"______," Risa calls your name, leaning in to whisper into your ear as you snap your focus on her.

"Hey, sorry." You mumble, scratching your neck, "Was a little distracted."

Risa offers you an understanding smile and you're grateful to the heaven's above that Jimin managed to make a woman like her fall in love with him. It was a far better alternative and change from the demons he used to go for as a high schooler, and you fondly (but not really) remember fighting off crazy exes when your brother decided that they weren't his long-term.

"Is this about ..." You can tell Risa hesitates to say his name, knowing the matter was still a fresh wound for you even if you had a decade to heal.

You sigh, reaching for her hand to give it a squeeze, mustering a strong front so she wouldn't worry anymore.

"Don't worry about me. It's your special day." You remind her with a soft smile.

She scoffs.

"Not yet. This is to ensure nothing goes to shit and no one gets left at the altar on a real day." She mutters.

You giggle, and even Jimin picks up on his soon-to-be wife's comment and pinches her hip, giving her a glare that lacked any real malice. You observe the way Jimin leans into his fiancee's touch when she reaches for his hand, a gesture so simple but carried the weight of lovers that wholly trusted each other.

Sometimes you envied Jimin. Throughout your adolescent years, you were always pinned against him for reasons that you still cannot justify.

The two of you were fundamentally different in nature. Jimin was a quiet kid, but his actions were the ones that spoke for him instead. For what he couldn't say in words, he made up for through the results of his actions. As a younger sibling, watching Jimin excel in every activity that he sets his mind to make you worship him, wanting to be as talented and ambitious as he was.

If he did kendo, you'd sign up so you could carry on the legacy of his talent. When he ran for class president, so did you in your own grades. Everything was always stemmed around Jimin and what he did.

Even if he was quiet, he naturally took the lead in doing things. Where you were the polar opposite. A louder than life personality should have made you the proactive one, but deep down you were meek, timid and terrified of doing things out of your comfort zone.

It did hit a sore spot for you and Jimin's relationship when he grew up enough to no longer facilitate his baby sister's incessant whines and tugs to join him in his activities. You remember the day clearly when he told you that you were nothing but an extension of him.

When you look back, you can think of it as a fond memory of two teenagers that were horrible at speaking about their feelings, but you remember the hurt you felt; only wanting to be a part of Jimin's life when he wanted to be on his own.

It took a few years to repair the relationship that was fragile, to begin with, and it wasn't just the effort of you or Jimin, but—

"Hyung, do you need to run the video through IT to check if it's playable?"

You're brought back to the present when Jimin's voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you instantly know who he's referring to.

The only person that he could comfortably refer to as 'hyung' was the only person that you have yet to greet, or acknowledge.

"I see what you're doing, Park. You're not seeing this video until the 13th."

The rest of the people at the table laugh at the banter between best friend's, but you remain uncharacteristically silent. No one picks up on it—or if they did, they know well enough not to point it out for the sake of maintaining normalcy at the table.

You listen attentively to the briefing run down by Lea, and you smile fondly at the fire that the young wedding planner carried in herself. She was meticulous, and you only had Risa to thank for managing to get the most dedicated wedding planner that you were sure was out there.

Eventually, you had to practice the walk-in from the runway, up until the altar behind where the bride and groom were to be situated. That meant you have shuffled around under Lea's commands, and that you caught more of his appearance than you would have liked.

Of course, he grew up beautifully. He had always been exceptionally good-looking even from when you were in high school up to your early college years. The birth lottery definitely favoured some people, and he was on the top of the list.

But he no longer had the same youthful charm that he did when you last saw him at 23. He looked rougher around the edges, lines on his face that come with time and experience, the stroke of a paintbrush that you weren't there to witness. Age did him well—and you couldn't deny the fact that as he grew, he also grew more attractive. The assuredness that comes with age, and the physique that you can only appreciate from afar.

The suit he's wearing is ever so flattering on his broad shoulders. He followed the theme well, a black blazer, with a deep-maroon sash draped over his shoulders. You applaud the designer that had done the fitting for him because it looked perfect, quite literally like it was made for him.

You feel mediocre immediately. The dress you were wearing was stunning—in the most objective sense—and you had a matching coloured sash that was draped around your hips instead, the corset accentuating your figure. But you were still far from comparison from him. You always have been.

"_____, could you please stand next to Jin?" Lea's voice calls out an order from the front of the altar, waving her notebook at you to step aside.

Your eyes widen as you feel the blood in your face drain, hearing your new position for the photo session.

You don't want to throw anyone off, or make Jimin's special day about you—so you suck it up, take a deep breath and shuffle into position next to Jin.

His presence is overwhelming. It's like he's there but he isn't. He doesn't feel like he's there, probably because of how long the two of you haven't spoken to each other, basically strangers. You don't acknowledge him even when your shoulder accidentally brushes against his arm, and you definitely don't acknowledge him when Lea smiles at the two of you and says perfect.

You see Risa's concerned stare on the two of you, but you give her a tight smile and mouth to her to focus on what Lea's saying instead. She narrows her eyes at you but finally relents when you nod your head to tell her that it was fine.

You were older. You weren't going to let some ... you didn't even know what to call it. But you weren't going to let the past make you feel uncomfortable when the future hasn't been told just yet.

"Jin—could you loosen up a little? It looks like you're constipated and your face isn't going to make up for that on camera," Lea deadpans, shooting a blunt comment straight at Jin.

He flushes beside you, but you don't look at him to know that because you hypothesised that he still has the same habit of his ear's turning red if all attention is on him.

"You and I know my face would've been the highlight of the picture if it weren't for the lovebirds." He quips back.

You can't find it in yourself to laugh yet when others do, but you look down at your feet to pretend like you were distracted.

Even his voice sounds more like himself. He had always been Jin, but it's like he grew out of the mould he forced himself into when you last saw him; a more relaxed yet determined version of the past that no longer exists.

"Jin!" Lea calls out.

"That seems to be your favourite word today ..." Jin mutters, which causes Jimin to snort at his best friend's antics.

Risa slaps your brother on his shoulder and narrows her eyes at him, and it's comical how fast she managed to get him to neutralise his expression.

"For a very good reason," Lea retorts, "Could you hold _____ by the waist? The space between the two of you looks too awkward."

If only she knew.

This was possibly the situation that you wanted to avoid the most, not even acknowledging him yourself, or his name to say hello—but he had to hold you close like you were something to him.

"Shouldn't he be holding the maid of honour—?" You helplessly try to reason, but the words get stuck in your throat when Lea glares at you.

For someone younger than you, and smaller than you in height too—she was terrified when she had to be.

"It's ... fine," Jin says after a beat of silence.

Then, his hand snakes around your waist so snug as he pulls you slightly closer to him that you almost lose your footing.

You gulp, unable to ignore the heat of his grasp or the way that it feels so natural as he rests his palm loosely on your hips, fingers drumming against the bone absentmindedly as Lea directs the photographer with angles that she best believe captures the moment.

When the photographer begins the countdown, you force a smile as genuine as you can, while Jin squeezes your hips as the shutter goes off.

"You two looked comfy." Jimin slides into the seat next to you after the rehearsal, rubbing on his eye with a cotton pad to remove the makeup that was applied on him.

You scowl, swatting his hand away to berate him for causing wrinkles so early on as he huffs at your adamancy.

"Don't ignore me," He pokes your side as you sigh.

"Then don't overthink it, okay? It was for the picture." You grumble, eyes focused on the bits and bobs of makeup tools at the vanity inside the changing rooms.

You can feel Jimin's stare on you, as well as how hard he thinks. Call it a sibling intuition, but you knew exactly when he was overanalysing situations, and you felt that at this exact moment.

"You know you have to speak to him eventually, right?" Jimin says after a while.

You freeze, fingers pausing as you tap against the table. Your eyes meet Jimin's through the mirror and you know he's serious, his expression says it all. But he wasn't there when it happened, and he wasn't you to feel how it felt.

"I went for ten years without talking to him. Another ten won't be hard." You clip.

Jimin sighs, turning his body to face you as you keep your shoulders towards him. It feels very much like when you were younger when Jimin sat you down to lecture you about your behaviour, or reprimanding you for doing certain things to keep you safe.

But it's vastly different. You're twenty-eight now, and you no longer took Jimin's words as the word of God, and he knew that.

"I don't know what exactly what went down between the two of you but according to Jin—"

"And you don't need to. It's been ages, Jimin. I've moved on." You snap.

Jimin purses his lips, seeing the way you're beginning to draw up all your walls against him again. It makes his heart clench because there was a time where you would have told him everything, where you would have confided him when you were having troubles. But he knew he ruined that relationship himself, and even if it's been over a decade since that fight the two of you had, the scar of the experience would always be there to haunt you both.

He knew you didn't hold it against him anymore, but he also recognised the way you'd subtly pull away sometimes, the reason why you never visited as often as you said you would in your infrequent phone calls.

"I'm just ..." He mumbles, looking at you earnestly but you don't return the stare, "I'm worried, ______."

You scoff.

"You don't need to. I won't cause a scene at your wedding, okay? I—I'm not like that ..." You start off strong, but finish in a soft whisper.

Jimin's eyes soften when he reaches a hand to rest against your shoulder.

"That's not what I meant." He sighs.

"Whatever it is that you meant just ... forget it, okay? I'm a grown-up now. I'm not your baby sister anymore." You tell him.

He flinches at the bluntness of your words but knows that you don't mean any harm to them. It was the truth that he had a hard time accepting, especially when he could've been there for you more during the years of university and the beginning of your work-life.

"I ..." Jimin trails off.

You sigh, turning around to finally face him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," You wince, "It's just that ... you don't need to worry about my battles anymore, Jimin. I've learnt how to deal with them on my own and you have your own set of things to worry about. I'll always be your sister, and nothing will change that—but I'm just not the same, impressionable girl I was a decade ago."

Jimin bites his lip as he mulls over your words, a fact hard for him to accept but nevertheless, he must. He always had the tendency to be overprotective and possessive, whether it be of his relationships, activities or belongings—it was an ugly trait that got the best of him from time to time.

He knew deep down, that he played a part in why you and Jin are so sour with each other, and he can't easily get rid of that guilt.

"I know, I know," He exhales, "If that's the case then ..."

You raise an eyebrow, willing him to continue.

"Then?"

"Don't let me be the reason why you can't fight your battles," He tells you softly.

Your expression remains stoic, but you internally agree with what he says. You'd never blame Jimin, and you knew it was irrational to do so—but the ugly feeling of needing someone to blame that wasn't yourself or Jin was dominant in your conscious.

"I promise." You smile at him extending your pinky finger out, and he grins at the old ritual the two of you would do as kids.

"Good." He ruffles your hair, and you glare at him when he messes up your up-do that Isabelle spent a long time on.

"Dude!" You whine, but he snickers at your reaction.

"Ah, can't believe that I'm getting married in a week." He adds as he stares at the ceiling.

You smile to yourself and nod your head in agreement.

"Remember when you told me you were going to marry Hana?" You snort.

He grimaces, the memories of his college self resurfacing at the reminder of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"Thank God you snapped me out of it," He whistles lowly, "She was fucking insane."

You chuckle at that because Jimin sure had a type, and it was the insane girls with daddy issues. Even Risa was a little crazy but she had a good heart to make up for it.

"It seems to be a trend with you." You shrug your shoulders.

He narrows his eyes at you and flicks you on the forehead before he glances down at his watch to curse under his breath.

"Fuck. I have a meeting at the office," He groans.

Your lips tilt upwards at his distraught as you pat him on the shoulder, gesturing him to leave.

"Don't worry. I'll find my way home."

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, Jimin—I'm sure. Now leave before they find a new CEO." You quip teasingly.

He thanks you, and presses a kiss onto your forehead before he scampers off, grabbing at his coat before he's out the door.

Once he's out of the room, you sigh to yourself; suddenly oddly nostalgic at your childhood, up to teenage memories as you and Jimin were speaking about it.

You purse your lips, unable to get Jin out of your head even when you look back to all the fun times you had as a teenager because he's always been there ... until he wasn't.

You wince, remembering the day it happened so clearly.

The smell of burnt something pricks the air and you only have yourself to blame.

You curse when you see clouds of black smoke escaping the small vents of your oven, the shady proof of how horrible you were at baking even if it was for a cause that resonated deeply in your heart.

You were thankful that your mom wasn’t home to witness your blunder because she surely would have yapped your ear off for trusting your clumsy self in the kitchen, let alone baking a recipe that was far out of your skill range.

“Why does it smell like—_____, really?” Jimin’s voice enters your thoughts as he ascends down the stairs of your home to spot you hastily fanning the smoke away with your mittens.

“Can you shut up and help me?” You hiss.

He laughs, loud and clear as he clutches his stomach to control his body.

“Dude—why?” He wheezes.

You chuck one of the mittens at him when he finally enters the kitchen, body moving at its own accord to get the trash bin along with the mitten that you threw at him while he pushes your body aside.

“Jin’s leaving tomorrow so I thought I would make some of his favourite shortbreads …” You mutter.

Jimin gracefully plucks out the burnt batch of shortbread and chucks it into the waste bin as you pout at your efforts being thrown away.

“And you didn’t bother asking for help when you know he gets his shortbread’s from a bakery?” He deadpans.

You roll your eyes and wipe your hands on your apron as you sigh.

“Look—I wasn’t thinking and now I don’t have anything to give him before he leaves!” You pout.

Jimin eyes you suspiciously and raises an eyebrow as he leans against the counter to observe your sullen expression.

“So? It’s not like he’d care.”

You glare at him.

“Well—I care.” You retort.

Jimin is silent for a moment before his eyes widen, his body inching closer to yours as if he found out something that he needed to tell you.

“Do you … do you like Jin?” Jimin gasps.

Your eyes widen, cheeks reddening simultaneously as you quickly shake your head to deny the fact—even though your heart and face betray you.

“W-What?” You squeak, “Of course not! It’s just a nice gesture to send him off.”

Jimin scoffs and narrows his eyes at you accusingly.

“Then why did you go out of your way to bake him something he likes when you know you’re hopeless in the kitchen?”

You roll your eyes, hoping your nonchalance plays off well enough to distract Jimin from the way your handshakes at the prospect of being caught.

“He’s my friend, Jimin. I do nice things for my friends sometimes.”

Jimin looks like he doesn’t believe you, and you wish that for one moment he wouldn’t use his brain to overthink your words or the sibling telepathy he claims to have to unravel your heart’s true intentions.

“He’s my best friend. Aren’t I supposed to be the one doing all of …” He gestures to the mess of the kitchen you left it in, “… this?”

“Well you don’t own him and you definitely don’t pick who Jin’s friends with. So fuck off will you?” You snap.

Jimin narrows his eyes at you.

“He’s five years older than you.” He reminds you slowly.

You sigh, busying yourself with cleaning up the kitchen counter.

“And? You’re two years older than me but you don’t see me condemning our sibling-ship.” You retort.

“That’s not what I meant,” He groans, “He doesn’t need a kid having a crush on him, okay? He’s off to university.”

The way Jimin uses the word ‘kid’ doesn’t sit well with you, as if to tell you that you were inferior to him and Jin because you were younger than him. But you weren’t far off, and heck, you’d argue that you were far more mature than your brother or any of his friends.

“I’m graduating high school this year.” You sneer.

“And Jin is off to university!” He exasperates.

“I don’t know what your problem is because I—don’t—have—a—crush—on—him!” You emphasise with a shove of your finger to his chest with every word.

“You better not because that’ll be weird. I don’t need my sister crushing on my best friend.” He scrunches his nose when he says that.

The drop of your heart is inevitable, but you’ve long decided that you don’t live your life to please Jimin anymore, and what you wanted what was what mattered.

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off, chucking the last bit of your dishes into the sink before you glance over at the clock.

“Tell mom I’ll be out!” You say, throwing off your apron as you quickly check your appearance when you grab for your car keys.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asks.

You glare at him, slipping on your shoes as quickly as you possibly can before you call out to him, halfway out the door:

“Jin’s!”

“Oh, hey _____.” Jin is surprised when you turn up on his doorstep.

“Hey yourself,” You smile, stepping in after you’ve slipped your shoes off.

“What … what are you doing here?” He asks when the two of you make your way up to his room, after offering a greeting to his parents and brother in the kitchen.

You flop on to the beanbag at the corner of his room and give him a knowing stare.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” You say.

He nods his head, understanding as he glances around his barren room, most of his belongings packed away in his luggage.

“Are you here to say goodbye?” He teases.

You scoff.

“I suppose.” You shrug, “There was supposed to be shortbread too but …”

He laughs, a sound that you’ve come to adore, even as a young girl you always thought Jin was the funniest person ever. When Jimin would argue that he was funnier, you’d always jump to defend Jin’s ability to make you laugh instead.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” He says to you, plopping down to sit across from you.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving.” You sigh, resting your head against the plushness of the beanbag.

Jin snorts.

“Why does it sound like I’m never coming back?” He jokes.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to be in a completely different time-zone. Two, flight tickets get super expensive during the holiday season’s so I doubt you’d be back. And three—you’d probably make cool university friends keep you company so that you wouldn’t wanna’ come back anyways.”

Jin looks at you, lips twitching upwards as you complain.

“You … you thought that through, huh?”

You roll your eyes, chucking a figurine in his direction.

“Just, promise to call?” You whisper.

He smiles softly at you and nods.

“Course’. I’ll ring Jimin up and we can all talk.”

You blink at his choice of words, afraid he’s misunderstood your point.

“I mean … you can call me …” You mutter.

Jin pauses for a moment, before catching himself and chuckling softly under his breath.

“Wouldn’t that be kind of weird …?”

His choice of words only reminds you of Jimin’s tone when he warned you against your apparent (but very present) crush on Jin.

“Why would it be weird?” You tilt your head to the side.

He snorts at your question and you frown because you don’t understand what aspect of it was funny at all.

“Come on, you’re Jimin’s baby sister. If I called you it would seem predatorial, won’t it? I’m literally five years older than you.”

You don’t think he means to sound condescending, but the tone of his words definitely come across that way. You bite your tongue to not say anything rash just yet, as you take a deep breath before you respond.

“We’re friends … and I turn eighteen in June.” You remind him about your birthday coming in two months.

He shrugs.

“Yes but it’s still weird. It would just seem like we’re together, you know?”

His words make you freeze, eyes widening at his implication.

“Would that be such a bad thing …?” You whisper, and the words leave your mouth before you can think twice.

Jin hears you loud and clear, and his eyes widen. You see his body tense and the way he shifts away from you ever-so-slightly that it makes your heart drop.

“_____ … I don’t …” He tries to navigate the topic, but your eyes are bored straight on his face and it flusters him.

“You’re a kid, _____. I don’t date kids.” He snaps, deciding to opt for a defensive approach.

The demeaning term sets you off as you feel anger bubble through your system in bursts of hotness.

“I’m not a fucking kid!” You snap, and his eyes widen at your tone.

“Woah, calm down—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” You lash out, “I’m not some dumb or naive child that doesn’t know what’s right or wrong, okay? I’m turning eighteen this year—and I—I thought you were better than this. How could you be so shallow?”

Jin scoffs.

“Shallow? _____,” He deadpans, “You’re just turning eighteen and I’m twenty-three. That’s a whole five-year difference. I don’t think you’re dumb but the thought of dating you right after you turn eighteen is just …” He shudders.

You still.

You didn’t know Jin could hurt you so much with just words, but he did just that. He didn’t need to say much, but you felt every sting that came with his intentions.

“Who said anything about dating?” You ask hoarsely, “I just said to call me.”

Jin softens a little, turning to face you as he sighs.

“_____ … I know you have a crush on me and—”

You’re absolutely mortified when he exposes you out in the open like that, the truth left out for both of you to mull over; but even worse for you as you were the one that was on the plank.

“Why does everyone keep saying that!” You snap, embarrassment crawling up your neck as you avoid his gaze, attempting to deflect.

“—I don’t need you waiting for me when I’m off to university. I’ll be fucking around a lot and you don’t deserve that.”

You gape at him, stunned at his audacity.

“Do you think I’m that pathetic?” You laugh, but there’s no humour in it.

“What? No—”

“Oh, you so do, Kim Seokjin,” You snarl, “Do you think I would wait for you? To live out some stupid fairytale? Yes—I have a crush on you but that’s all there is to it—a fucking crush!” You yell.

His eyes widen, attempting to reach out for you to calm you down, but you shift away.

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage but just for a fucking phone call. I’m not even asking you to like me back!” You throw your hands into the air.

“But you’re implying it! Why else would I call some girl that I’m only friends with cause' of her brother if I didn’t like her?”

That’s all it takes for silence to overtake the both of you, your mouth stunned shut as your eyes widen at his words.

“What?” You choke.

It’s like Jin is blinded by the need to defend himself, a carnal desire to protect his own heart to make him feel less like a weirdo about the way his best friend’s little sister makes him feel. An odd feeling he never wanted to acknowledge until he acknowledged you.

“I mean exactly what I said, ____,” He spits so vehemently that he doesn’t recognise himself, “All you do is follow us around like some helpless puppy because of what—your crush on me? Get over it because I’ll never like you.”

You freeze, and your heart does too.

“Do you think I willingly talk to you? It’s because of Jimin! You’re his baby sister. What else could I do? Tell you to fuck off?” He snaps.

Your lip trembles but you will yourself not to cry in front of him. Not this boy who thinks of you that way, as someone’s baby sister rather than who you were.

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” You say, oddly calm, but your glassy eyes are what snaps Jin out of it.

“Wait … ____,” He sighs.

“I’ll fuck off myself, all right?” You grit, pushing yourself off the beanbag before you’re storming out of his room.

Jin doesn’t bother chasing after you because he’s mulling over his words, absolutely disgusted with what he said. His parents and brother miss you when you’re out the door crying.

Jimin doesn’t even ask how you were.

“Oh—”

It’s like he’s always there at your most vulnerable moments.

Jin is hovering by the entrance of the changing room awkwardly, his limbs too long for the tight space.

He startles you out of your reminiscent state as you clutch the robe to your chest, acutely aware of the fact that you were in nothing but your bra and underwear underneath it.

You flush, avoiding his eyes, afraid that if you looked at them; all you would remember is what he said to you.

“It’s fine,” You parrot the words he said to you earlier, and quickly pack your belongings, and casual clothes into a bag to make your way out back into your hotel room.

As you brush past him, he stops you with his voice.

“______.”

You freeze, hands still tightly gripping your robe as you feel his eyes rake over your body. You feel both exposed and safe, because once upon a time—Jin was the person that could comfort you the most.

“Yes?” You say in a clipped tone.

You hear him sigh, and you’re about to leave until he interrupts you again.

“How are you?”

You nearly scoff at the mediocre question he poses when the situation between the two of you is anything but. The question seems so out of place when the room is so tense, the ghost of his words here to haunt you both.

“Good.” Is all you respond with before you try to leave.

He grabs you by the elbow, gently, but enough for you to fall against his chest, his arms reaching around to grab you before you fall.

The opening to your robe falls a bit, and his eyes dart away out of respect as you quickly shove it closed with reddened ears.

“What do you want?” You snap.

He winces at your hostility but doesn’t blame you for it.

“I just wanted to catch up with you,” He shrugs.

Now, you scoff. It’s because Jin is still so irrevocably him, that in any other circumstance you’d smile in fondness at his ability to make any situation simple as if there wasn’t history between the two of you.

“Do you now?” You say blandly, “What do you want to know? I’m still Jimin’s baby sister if you were wondering.” You say bitterly.

Jin freezes and sighs when you bring it up; alluding to what he said to you that night years ago.

“Actually … I wanted to apologise,” He confesses.

At that, you still.

Apologise?

Did you need an apology? Wasn’t that what usually fixed conflict?

But no, an apology wasn’t going to fix the years of insecurity that you were left with when he was gone, always nitpicking at your flaws and your identity; wondering if it were really only an extension of your older brother.

Even though you were older, and somewhat more rational—there was still a part of you that wanted to blame Jin for your insecurities, even though you knew that was a war between you and yourself.

“For what? Calling me an extension of my brother or that our friendship was to please Jimin?” You snarl.

He winces and releases the hold he has on your elbow as he rubs his hand across his face.

“I was young and—”

You scoff.

“Young? I thought you were too old back then? Where was this energy ten years ago?”

His eyes narrow at you, and he noticed that you definitely grew a backbone—and a mouth. It was inappropriate still, to think of you any other way right now when he was attempting to apologise to you.

But your beauty was dangerous, and you’ve always been a pretty thing; even when you were growing up. The truth he uttered a decade ago was somewhat the truth still, he felt way too … old to be with you, even if his heart begged for him to keep you close.

“I don’t know why I said the things I did, _____.” He sighs.

You turn around, face contorted with every emotion you’ve been withholding since that fateful night.

“Let me tell you then,” You shove a finger into his chest.

“You’re pathetic,” You spit, hoping to hurt him as much as he’s hurt you.

His eyes widen when you lean in closer.

“You liked me too and you had no fucking clue what to do about it, so you pushed me away the one night I asked for a small favour. You wanted to protect yourself because you’re too in your head thinking that your feelings matter more than anyone else’s, am I right Jin?”

“_______ …”

“Shut up,” You snap.

He does, and he sees the fire in your eyes burn brighter.

“You thought you were the only one that was struggling with their emotions but guesses what—you weren’t,” You whisper, “I was too. And I pushed it aside every moment I spent with you because I knew that it wasn’t my position to decide for you if you liked me or not.”

His hand reaches out to cup your face, something instinctual inside of him told him to do so—wanting to hold you close. To his surprise, you don’t pull away. Your features soften, but you haven’t done your piece just yet.

“But you … you decided for me.” You say softly, “You showed me how much of a piece of shit you were that night.”

Jin’s eyes widen, and the words hurt—but nothing compared to how he felt when you blocked him everywhere, even to go as far to tell Jimin to never mention your name to him.

It sucked for the first two years, but eventually as you went to college and university, you unblocked him. Was it out of spite to let him see how well you were doing? Or the boyfriend that you had?

Maybe.

“_____, I’m sorry.”

Here he was, at thirty-four years old, apologising to you much like a man would—and you can’t help but admire his face when you lean in, heart willing yourself to act rather than your rationale.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” You say.

It seems that you shock him more and more with each second that passes. You weren’t the same girl you were a decade ago, but yet traces of you still lingered in your features, your smile, your voice and your words. It was just you, but older.

“It was for me.” You tell him softly and he nods his head in understanding, cupping your jaw.

“You have no idea how much I regret that night, ______.” He whispers.

You purse your lips.

“What will regret bring you, Jin? A do-over?”

This time he goes silent to observe your face. It’s no longer the same cold stare you’ve been giving him the entire day or the fact that you’ve been ignoring his presence until he found you tucked away in the changing room—a tip-off from Jimin.

“No but … you’re right,” He tells you, “I wanted to protect myself and it was selfish. I can’t change what I said or did but I’m here now and—my heart is still the same.”

“Ten years change people, Jin. I’ve changed and so did you. Maybe you liked the girl I was when I was eighteen but I’m nowhere near in the same mind-space I was back then.” You tell him.

Even though your own heart betrays you by beating rapidly against your chests the closer the holds you, you knew that acting out of your rationale would only end up with you being hurt yet again. You forgave Jin … sure you did. But ten years was far too long to accept the fact he may feel the same.

“I know but I couldn’t forget you, not when I was in university and not when I started working.” He confesses, eyes burning into your own.

You purse your lips and stand your ground. A hand reaches to clasp his, slowly pushing it away from your face as you sigh. You notice the crestfallen expression on his face, but you don’t comment on it.

“I forgave you but that doesn’t mean I forgot what you said to me that night …” You tell him, “I know I was young and that you aren’t responsible for my insecurities but you told me every single thing that I was terrified of.”

His eyes soften but ensuring he kept his distance when you slightly pull away.

“_____—” He sighs.

“No, Jin,” You tell him firmly, “You were the person that mended Jimin and I’s relationship so you knew how much it ruined me to believe that I was nothing but a product of his aspirations. That I had nothing for myself but who my brother was. I struggled so much to find my footing as a teenager and I didn’t even know what I liked and didn’t like it because the lines were so blurred between my own interests and Jimin’s.”

Suddenly, he sees a little glimpse of the girl when you were eighteen peakings through your exterior. You still sounded a little unsure of yourself, words shaking ever so slightly.

“And for the person to tell me that I was more than just Park Jimin’s sister to … to …” You swallow, the words stuck in your throat because as much as forgiving Jin was for him as it was to you, the words still haunt your mind.

“To say that I was just an extension of my brother?” You whisper, “I didn’t know who I was then but I lost who I tried to be when you said that.”

Jin bites his lip, feeling awful. But he knew that he had no right to feel like he was the one that was hurt when his words plagued your mind for years.

“Whatever your feelings are at this moment …” You trail off, clutching your belongings to your chest, ready to leave without another glance, “They’re just your guilt telling you to hold on to something you didn’t get closure with.”

You look over at him once more, a solemn expression on your face.

“This is your closure, Jin.”

You leave without sparing him another glance, and the man stands in the empty changing room feeling a lot different. He thought he’d amended things, but when you leave, it feels as bad as it had been ten years ago.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Holding Hands

Just dipping my toe into the "faking a relationship for a holiday party" trope. (And blame @shealwaysreads for this cause she was like do it and so I did it.)

This is unbeta’d. Please be gentle with me.

*

Draco waited. The silence that had fallen a couple of minutes ago was still loud. The fire in the hearth kept spitting threateningly instead of just crackling quietly and sweetly like it should. The fairy lights around the tree twinkled gently, slowly, throwing golden patterns over Potter's skin, his dark hair.

They were sat across from each other in front of the hearth, Draco in his armchair upholstered in silver-grey velvet, and Potter in the plushy green armchair he had conjured when he'd arrived. Their drinks were sitting on the spindly-legged table between them.

Potter looked very politely confused, a tiny smile on his face, a thin line between his brows. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his long, strong fingers clasped together neatly, his full attention focused on Draco. He looked...like he was waiting for Draco to finish speaking, to...explain.

Draco licked his lips and tilted his head a bit. "Erm...?"

Potter's smile widened a bit. "Yes?" he said eagerly. Draco blinked and shook his head imperceptibly. Potter's confusion deepened. "I'm...waiting for you to...you know--" he waved his hand vaguely and then grinned, "--laugh," he finally said, a tad lamely.

Draco frowned. "What's funny?"

Potter's mouth fell open on a stupid gape. "I mean... I thought..." He pushed his glasses up his nose and then scratched the back of his neck. "So, what was it you were saying? What are you asking me?"

"Did you not hear me, or are you feigning stupidity?" Draco asked coldly.

Potter frowned, bristling a bit. "I heard you, Draco, and I feel like you're taking the mickey."

"I'm doing no such thing. I explained my predicament and asked you a simple yes or no question. Would you be so kind as to grace me with an answer?"

Potter shook his head irritably. "Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like... Like a fucking ponce. That's how you used to speak to me." Draco just looked at him. "Can you just be normal, please?" Potter snapped.

Draco spread his hands out. "I am being normal."

"Uh huh." Potter was still frowning. "So, you're saying--" He broke off and shifted in his seat, straightening up. "So, you're saying..." Trailing off, he just sat there looking like a fucking idiot. "What are you saying?" he finally asked.

Draco picked up his brandy and took a sip before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, lifting his chin high. "Fine. I will ask you again. Since you're a bloody troglodyte, apparently." He had to gather the will and courage all over again to repeat himself. "Will you accompany me to my parents' Christmas party as my boyf- partner? Meaning, they'll think you're my partner. We’ll just have to pretend."

"You...said something before that earlier."

"Oh. Yes. Well, when my mother asked me if you and I are lovers, after she read that article about us in the Prophet, I simply said yes." He'd managed to say it without displaying any emotion the first time. Now, however, Draco could feel heat rising up his neck and face.

Potter was looking particularly stupid as he stared with his mouth open. "Your parents think we're dating?" Draco nodded. "And they want to...meet me?"

Draco brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "If you consent."

Potter leaned back, slumping in his chair, knees spreading, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He blew out a long breath with a whooshing sound, his lips very pink as they formed an 'o'. Then, rather abruptly, he chuckled, rubbing his face and making his glasses jump onto his forehead.

"Which bit did you find amusing?" asked Draco with feigned politeness.

"The whole thing."

"Oh?"

"Draco," Potter said on a laugh, "can you stop talking like that, please? It's fucking hilarious right now. Especially because that's not how one talks to their 'lover'."

Draco knew he was probably purple in the face by now. It was embarrassing. He ought to have told Potter right after he'd confirmed the rumours to his parents. They'd have laughed about it, and then asking him to go to this fucking party now wouldn't be such a fucking task.

Because they're friends. Close friends even. And Potter was probably going to say yes. He never denied Draco anything. He was always indulging Draco; taking care of Draco. Siding with Draco when that fucking Weasel ragged him. Always promoting Draco's label in his interviews, endorsing his little boutique. Trusting Draco enough let him dress him for important events even though Draco knew Potter had the most basic, unadventurous sense of fashion.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Potter was the softest, most indulgent person and he was probably going to say yes. But that didn't make any of this any easier. Because obviously Potter thought it was funny that the two of them might be lovers. He found this whole thing really amusing.

There was a thin strain of hurt somewhere in Draco's chest but he ignored it.

"So how long before you say yes like we both know you're going to?" Draco drawled.

Potter grinned widely. "What am I going to be wearing?"

*

The Manor was an absolute wonder to behold. Draco was sure even Hogwarts was never this heavily decorated for the holidays. Fairy lights, glittering icicles, ice sculptures, wreaths, ostentatiously decorated Christmas trees, more lights - the whole house, inside and out, was dripping in red, green, gold and white.

Potter stared around in silence, his expression very serious. He was dutifully holding Draco's hand (just like a lover might) and was taking in the sight of the gigantic ballroom they were in, guests milling about sipping golden champagne from crystal flutes, house-elves trotting around between people's knees holding up trays of hors d'oeuvres; the four gigantic, glittering Christmas trees in each corner of the room, the ice sculpture of a delicately carved fairy, her wings spread, in the centre of the room, sparkling fairy dust falling from her hand and disappearing mid-air.

To Draco this was just about normal, if a tad bit overdone (for the enjoyment of the guest of honour he'd brought along with him, he supposed), but he still blushed in embarrassment when he looked around with Potter's eyes; he was probably convinced now that his parents were pretentious or something. Feeling a bit timid, he glanced sideways at Potter.

He was looking very, very handsome tonight. He had on robes of deep, royal violet - dark enough to nearly pass off as black - with intricate gold embroidery that Draco had spent hours working on himself. He'd let Draco clip a matching cape, embroidered and lined along the hem with fur, onto his shoulders with matching brooches that glittered under the light of what had to be at least a thousand candles hovering above them. He'd made a decent attempt at taming his hair - not a successful attempt, but Draco gave him credit for trying anyway. He'd switched his usual clunky glasses out for the vision correcting spells that Draco knew he hated but it meant his eyes were shining so bright and green that it made Draco's stomach clench a bit with something he’d always staunchly ignored.

Then, his parents spotted them. Lucius was in black as usual - the material expensive, but still black - and Narcissa looked decades younger than she was in robes of pale lavender and silver. Draco smiled as she beamed at them, gliding over alongside her husband.

"Darling." She feathered her lips over Draco's cheek. "Fashionably late, I see. And fashionably dressed," she added, turning to Potter and holding out her hand, her smile small but her eyes warm.

Potter bent over her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her hand briefly - just like Draco had instructed him to - before straightening up and smiling politely. "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You are very welcome - literally. And please call me Narcissa."

Lucius had watched and listened in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, his serious gaze fixed on Potter. When Narcissa stepped back, he slowly extended a hand to Potter.

Draco held his breath. They hadn't discussed this. He had no idea how Potter was about to behave with his father but he knew he wouldn't blame him for anything he said or did. Potter was a much better man than his father. This was fact.

But Potter simply shook hands with Lucius and nodded. Draco felt his shoulders relax.

They mingled. Draco had to repeatedly 'introduce' Potter to people as though they all didn't already know who he was, who his fucking parents were. It was laughable. But this was a stupid fucking formal Pureblood soirée and Draco still had his manners. What surprised him was how well-mannered Potter was being.

Potter was also being very loyal to his role as Draco's partner.

"He was such a little terror as a child, bless his heart," said some old crone, patting Draco's cheek with one wrinkled hand. Draco wanted to hiss at her like a cat.

"Aren't we all, at that age?" Potter said calmly, smiling.

"Oh, you're very dedicated to him, I see" she simpered. "Such a pleasure to see. You hardly ever find this in you youngsters these days."

"He doesn't give me much reason not to be dedicated to him."

Potter was still holding his hand.

"Draco doesn't tell us anything about how the two of you put your rather unhappy history aside in order to accept your...softer feelings for each other." Narcissa looked like she'd been bursting to ask Potter this all evening; she'd finally gotten a chance now that she was done making the obligatory rounds amongst her guests.

Potter looked at him, and Draco, his face hot, returned his gaze, trying to apologise wordlessly. But Potter just grinned.

"Well, I don't know about him but," Potter smiled down at Narcissa, looking handsome and charming and, well, fuck, "it was just a natural, automatic thing for me, really. The more I got to know the real Draco Malfoy the deeper I fell in love with him."

Draco felt his eyes widen a bit. He wanted to look at Potter to figure him out, to try and discern just how much he was bullshitting. He wanted to read Potter because Potter was supremely easy to read. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. Draco could always tell, just from one glance, the kind of mood Potter was in.

Trying to appear casual, like Potter hadn't said anything that made Draco's breath catch, Draco looked sideways at him. Potter was smiling, his eyes honest and soft and crinkled at the corners. He was nodding along to something Narcissa was saying.

And he was still holding Draco's hand.

"Very well done," Draco muttered, once his mother had wandered away into the crowd.

Potter smiled and squeezed his hand. "You said you'd give me a tour of the gardens," he said. Draco nodded and led him out.

They strolled in a leisurely manner. It was snowing but there were charms in place which meant that the snow never actually touched them, instead disappearing about a foot over their heads. The gardens were decorated too, lights twinkling everywhere, lighting up the paths.

"This must've been a great place to grow up," Potter eventually said.

They turned the corner and in the distance was the turret-shaped gazebo, hung with white-gold lights. Narcissa, when the weather permitted, loved to paint in the gazebo. Draco smiled.

"It was." Then, guiltily, "I mean... I don't mean to brag or any--"

Potter laughed. It was a low, deep, familiar sound that made Draco break out in gooseflesh.

"Draco," he said gently. "You don't have to feel guilty every time you talk to me about your childhood."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "'m not guilty," he mumbled.

"No? You're still that insufferable, obnoxious little shit you were in school?"

Draco actually felt his face fall. He turned to Potter, unbothered about sounding vulnerable. "That's what you thought of me?"

Potter laughed. "Can you blame me? Do you remember you back at school?"

Draco slumped a little. "I suppose." They were nearly at the gazebo now. Together, they turned onto the path that led to the steps leading into it. Then, "That's...not what you think of me now, is it?"

"Draco," Potter's voice was gentle, yet teasing, "Everyone thinks you're a prat. You have to know this."

"Yes, but you?" They climbed the two steps and walked into the gazebo.

"I think you're a prat too." They were still holding hands. "But you're my prat."

Draco turned to look at him but Potter, with a sharp yank, was pulling Draco to himself. With a soft 'oof', Draco hit Potter's chest. Now they were holding both hands.

He quickly pulled himself together although Potter could probably feel his heart galloping in his chest. "Am I, now?"

"Isn't that what we've just spent the last hour and a half proving to people?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I was under the impression that it was an act."

"Well," Potter said quietly. "I'd rather it...be real."

They were standing pressed together in the centre of the gazebo, fairy lights surrounding them, Potter's green, green eyes reflecting them as he stared intensely at Draco. He looked like he was challenging Draco, like he was daring Draco to laugh in his face and carelessly brush aside what he'd said. Because that's what Draco Malfoy would do when Harry Potter declared something like that, right? He'd stomp on Harry Potter's proffered heart and revel in it.

Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that. Especially not when Potter was holding his hands and smelt so good and looked at him like he was promising him so, so many things.

"You were very convincing tonight," said Draco.

"It was really easy," said Potter.

"You held my hand throughout."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Harry if we're together?"

"Would you like that?"

"I would love that, Draco."

"You've called me Draco for years now."

"I have."

Draco looked down at the lines of gold thread on Harry's chest, gleaming against the violet silk. "I think I'd like to call you Harry," he admitted.

When his gaze lifted back to Harry's, he was smiling at Draco. Then he looked up above them.

"Mistletoe," Harry said simply.

Draco's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Oh," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry just smiled again, and slowly let his head drop forward so that their foreheads touched. Then he brought his mouth up to Draco's brow and kissed it.

"Oh," repeated Draco.

They were just gazing at one another now.

Damn it, thought Draco as he broke first and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

They were still holding hands.

*

[whatudottu]

Ough I’m thinking about the Andromeda 5 again and about how they feel about physical affection (specifically one on one going down a table of person a hugging person b, everyone getting a turn) and I thought about it being a short post until I mega tag rambled my last A5 post-

P’andor is very much a fucking ‘do not touch me’ kind of person all times of the day and almost all days of the week, with the only exception to that rule being Bivalvan who is the only person in his life that he cares about enough to consider being physically affectionate with that he won’t end up hurting or even killing with his radioactive vibes. It’s a very fucking big point of contention that you do not talk about P’andor’s suit, mentioning it in passing or even suggest the whole ‘necessary evil’ of it, and like the other four don’t have to be threatened with death to know that it’s just a thing they’ve collectively agreed upon.

So like, even if the whole ‘don’t touch me’ rule is waived for brief little moments of affection, P’andor doesn’t cuddle unless he’s out and about sipping in lingering radiation of places with no honour. The absolute starvation this man experiences is not just in his hunger but even the simple concept of holding and being held by someone he remotely cares about has been robbed from him as he robs from others, and the fact that a well fed P’andor could easily tower over Bivalvan - his head alone reaching the size of half of his fucking body - just submitting to being an entire bowl-sized little spoon just; this man needs therapy but noodle cuddling his husband is close enough.

Someone who follows the ‘do not touch me’ rule has very opposite reasons for doing so, and that certain someone is Ra’ad ‘cursed with visions’ himself. The entire problem with his new Mutants and Magic brand deal is that this man is already naturally overstimulated because he got no clue that reading minds isn’t actually normal for amperi, he doesn’t need to have sensory overload viewing an entire person’s memory either when he touches someone with a by-the-books nervous system for the duration of a hug.

So when Galapagus came along with his magic immunity and ‘does not contain a nervous system you can directly touch’ shell, the immense fucking relief he felt when all the thoughts and memories just stopped plaguing him, this undiagnosed autism creature had just the one moment he has ever had in his entire life of pure fucking relaxation and nearly collapsed on the spot in Galapagus’ hold. And just for the moments he spends laying across the shell of Galapagus, you can very visibly see that the only ‘bones’ in his body is his mantle and his hidden beak, even if the details are muted under layers of muscle.

But the funny thing is, with the magical power of psychic mana and memory reading mutations, technically Ra’ad can know exactly why P’andor is so strongly against physical contact and equally live through Bivalvan’s memories of this hidden facet of his husband.

Something something, Ra’ad cannot read P’andor’s emotions because he isn’t based in electrical neurological functions nor read memories because that requires direct physical touch on someone who HAS a nervous system to begin with, yada yada psychic magic just affects those that have a life force (mana) that aren’t built to resist it (becoming even more mana) or adept at absorbing it (becoming anti mana). This means that if Ra’ad just so happens to be in the room where someone just quickly hugs (or maracas in Andreas’ case) P’andor, he can see exactly how much P’andor wants to reciprocate but simply cannot.

P’andor does in fact notice Ra’ad’s piercing looks.

And in addition, I believe that it’s only far for the water lads to sleep together, as it probably saves on having two rooms dedicated to essentially a deep salty bath. Bivalvan often finds himself waking up quite literally tangled up in limbs as, despite falling asleep separately, as Ra’ad has ‘instinctively’ cuddled up around him. The twist? This fucker wanted to learn what he and P’andor got up to and found a nearly different person all together.

It’s become a bit of a nightly tradition, to dream Bivalvan’s memories of an affection starved P’andor, who clings so desperately yet softly to the eye of the beholder. To see and hear what P’andor cannot say in any other state, to have words spill directly from him confessing the deep seated desire to just- be himself as him and not the [banned discussion topic] that he has to be, and to be that with not only Bivalvan who’s memories Ra’ad watches, but for his husbands who he just so utterly loves and even his daughter who he wishes he can just- ruffle her hair and maybe just pass that fucking entry level barrier of fussing up someone’s do and getting them to whine with an affectionate ‘daaaad’.

It’s almost enough to forget that he’s kind of been blatantly avoiding being alone with Andreas ever since he noticed that there were no more thoughts in his head that used to be so loud and ANDREAS!

Ra’ad had been originally paranoid about Galapagus, who he could not read and trust because he was unaware of the magical methods he used, but it soon became familiar because he had always known Galapagus to somehow just hide from his perception. When Andreas suddenly didn’t have a thought of his own, he was utterly terrified, because how can this dumb brick of a man suddenly hide so well that even the direct thought-to-mouth ‘Andreas does as he thinks’ process was unseen to him just suddenly disappear!?

On first impression, he assumed that Andreas was dead oh how almost right he ended up being-

But Andreas is one of the most physically affectionate member of the Andromeda 5 (P’andor tries to compete for how affectionate he can get with Bivalvan but Andreas does it far more often with far more people- even outside the Andromeda family), and even though he only took one moment to hug or touch those under the ‘don’t touch me’ rule plus moist squid skin and never went any further, Ra’ad didn’t particularly get any flashes of memories.

Andreas’ techno-organic circuitry may act similarly enough for Ra’ad and other amperi to read his emotions, but functionally it is not a nervous system that is defined BY the psychometry mutation that Ra’ad specifically has (ask Cooper and he’ll probably get access to Andreas’ memories, that little technopath). Even though the sudden barrier - and he would later discover it was a barrier in addition to all the dread that would find its way in at the fact - worried and concerned the living hell out of him, it was the silencing embrace of Galapagus that let him wonder closer to Andreas and maybe even lean into his next hold.

Then one day, the physically affectionate ‘i love my husbands’ Andreas is just, not doing that. Instead of having to brace for nor even just waiting expectantly for a surprise run-in with Andreas, the already mounting concern he had for him developed into full blown panic as the amperi/Tesslos-based assumptions about death or fucking murder rushed into his mind, sending him into a fervour - however brief - into scouring for Andreas. Didn’t have to look far to find Andreas hadn’t even left his room, but is very much not in the mood to leave it.

Good thing Ra’ad can still read his emotions, because it wasn’t anger, fear or even pain that kept him in his room, but immensely deep grief, mourning and a feeling of saddened reminiscence. And not knowing anything more, nor even having the potential to just pry further with only a circuit to read, Ra’ad approaches with a ‘what’s wrong’ and an invite to hold.

Turns out, Andreas is feeling terribly homesick, at least an entire galaxy away from his entire colony, of siblings, mum and grandparents, of aunties and uncles and of cousins to the millionth degree, all gone without even a goodbye and a little message saying ‘hey, I’m alright, I’m safe on the planet Earth an entire galaxy away’. Aside from never even wanting to think of a crowd the size of what Andreas describes as his family, Ra’ad too shares that he has siblings that he hasn’t heard from in so long, though even far before Aggregor happened and under the assumption that they might already have passed someway or another. The idea of little younglings walking around (even if amperi spawnlings do not even have the power to resist currents let alone walk on one foot-equivalent), the thought of little siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews he might not ever see grow up, he perhaps the first time hesitantly drags Ra’ad into a hug, but this time with full knowledge that he could hold on for as long as Ra’ad lets him.

And Ra’ad does so, for so long, that neither of them could keep track of time. It only really stopped with the tremor causing purrs kinda became loud enough for like folk to later come home and see the two of them just gathered in a corner of the room.

So that’s what I have to share with you- I have some thoughts about Galapagus and Bivalvan specifically, but then I realised that I haven’t had that much in the way of ‘here’s their planet and here’s how it affects them’ yet and even then Andreas just recently got this ‘Andreas misses family, Ra’ad’ moment from the tag rambles agdkadfkl-!

[jimlingss]

Maybe Baby Retreat

➜ Words: 12.7k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut

➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.

[Day One]   Taehyung should be fucking you.   It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus.    The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it.   Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you.   “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.”   “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.”   “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar.   You suppose it was your fault to begin with.   All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive.    The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind.   “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?”   It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere.   “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!”   There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs.   The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter.    Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed.   “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old.    “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword.   You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort.   “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!”   You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you.   “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.”   He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.”   Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!”   There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel.   Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.”   She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs.   Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!”    “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.”   It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims.   “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.”   The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt.   “Not too bad, right?”    Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt.   “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.”   “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?”   “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.”   But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch.    And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?”   You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.”   “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.”   You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”   “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.”   You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand.   “Is that...even sanitary?!”    You can’t imagine how many people have used it.   “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.”   “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.”   Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?”   “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.”   Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here.   “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well.   When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate.   “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period.   “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another.   “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.”   “Damn straight.”   The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.”   You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?”   “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.”   She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs.   Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.”   “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation.   “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.”   “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.”   “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.”   Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.”   It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night.   The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious.   It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide.   “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!”   Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.”   “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks.   After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet.   It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling.   The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it.   Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?”   “Mhmh...”    You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket.   “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?”   “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?”   “About half an hour?”   Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth.   “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.”   You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush.    In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember.   And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband.   Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?”   “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.”   He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.”   You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.”   A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.”   “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.”   “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.”   After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

[Day Two]   Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows.   “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting.   “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.”   “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.”   “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—”   “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him.    It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible.   Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics.   “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!”   “Don’t you trust me?”   You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?”   The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do.   There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses.   You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun.   Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.”   You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions.    “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.”   “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been.   But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too.   “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.”   What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard.   “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.”   You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy.   “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.”   Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.”   You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt.   The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times.   “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo.   “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?”   “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?”   Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.”   “We’re going on a hike?!”   “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation.   The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join.   Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline.    No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group.   Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?”   “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are.    “I can carry you if you want.”   “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs.    You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac.   “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again.   “Isn’t this better?”   “Aren’t you tired?”   “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.”   You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall.    There, you’re finally on set on your feet again.   You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.”   He grins and downs it.   Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts.   “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient.   “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.”   “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.”   “I can take it for you.”   “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing.   A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?”   Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.”   She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.”   Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.”   The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?”   “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.”    It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish.   “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.”   Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?”   You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.”   “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone.   “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.”   His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.”   “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents.   “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.”   Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.”   She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.”   “T-two weeks?” you sputter.   Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.”   Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman.   It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood.   “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.”   “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.”   Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.”   “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously.   Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?”   “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.”   She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…”   But his voice drowns out.   You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you.   The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt.    “What’s wrong?”   You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?”   “You’ve just been quiet.”   “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?”   His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”   “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.”   “That’s not true.”   “We forget to buy food all the time.”   “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins.   You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.”   “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.”   “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.”   You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.”   “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.”   “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile.   Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.”   You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it.   It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.”   It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub.   “Is it warm?”   Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled.   “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?”   “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink.   “What are you doing?”   “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties.   After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver.   “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!”   Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and—   “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac.   “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?”   “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.”   You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?”   “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air.   You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude.    You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge.   Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat.   “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek.   “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder.   He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.”   “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule.   “Let them hear.”   He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness.    Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try.    Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.”    “Yeah, and I know you like it.”   He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach.   “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?”   “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.”   “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control.   The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist.    Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?”   You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it.    “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.”   “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.”   A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices.   “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.”   “What?”   “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed.   He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?”   “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.”   “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.”   “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.”   “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff.    Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance.   You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully.   “How was it?”   “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder.   “No.”   “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.”   “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?”   “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.”   You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg.   Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?”   “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.”   “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?”   “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room.   Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles.    With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction.   “Okay. Ready?”   “Uh-huh.”   The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.”   “Now what?”   “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble.   “T-Taehyung!”   “Good?”   “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote.   He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.”   Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!”   “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard.   It clatters to the ground.   “Oh shit.”   “Taehyung!”   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.”   He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma.   You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy.   The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons.   “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.”   “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.”   Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.”   He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him.    When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat.   He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.”   “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck.   “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.”   It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing.   He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm.   “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.”   He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.”   Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.

[Day Three]   There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all.   “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil.   “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table.    Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you.   You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do.   But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!”   You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.”   Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?”   Taehyung grins. “Probably.”   “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?”   “Sure.”   You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself.    It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you.    Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot.   But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge.   “Remember Bali?”   “When you lost your passport?”   “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.”   “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.”   He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”   You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?”   “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?”   You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.”   “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.”   “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?”   “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.”   “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?”   None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.”   “You and I both know that’s not true.”   “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water.   There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view⁠—   “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has.   “What?”    “Wanna take a dip?”   Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?”   “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does.   “God, it’s so cold!”    The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping ⁠— something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you.   “It’s freezing, Taehyung!”   “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?”   You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.”   “Why?”   “You know I can’t swim.”   His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.”   Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.”   “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”   You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.”   “You only like me?”   “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.”   Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff.   You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore.   “Who would?”   “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.”   “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you.   The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds.   “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat.   After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again.   You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock.   He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.

[Day Four]   Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before.   He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone.   But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you.   Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls.   “Morning.”   You sheepishly grin. “Morning.”    “What time did you get up?”   “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.”   “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun.   The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over.   “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.”   But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering.   Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin.   “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.”   He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile.   As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy.   //   The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks.   “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…”   “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.”   What.   Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.”   “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice.   “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.”   “What were you talking about?”   “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.”   “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.”   “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand.   “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”   You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.”   The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.”   As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?”   “Yeah. It was nice.”   Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly.    As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.”   “Second...partner?”    “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.”   “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away.   “Do you want an open relationship too?”   “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.”   He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?”   “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?”   “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.”    Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife.   “Are you jealous?”   “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.”   “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins.   “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.”   //   Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner.   “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.”   You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—”   “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.”   You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.”   Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.”   “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?”   It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees.   The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off.   But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists.   You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too.   He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round.   You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.

[Day Five]   The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry.   “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”   “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.”   “Yes, I really loved it.”   “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.”   You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures.    “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.”   “So soon?”   Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands.   Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes.   Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats.   “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.”   He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours.   The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.

[Epilogue]   This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous.   “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes.   “Are you divorcing me?”   “No.”   “Did you lose your job?”   “No.”   His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.”   “Yea— wait. What?”   Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?”   He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion.   “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.”   He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks.    It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face.   “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs.   “I sure am.”   He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?”   You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.”   He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.”   Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement.   “We can always go back for the next kid.”   “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.”   “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile.   You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.