#took me way too long to get everything lined up and readable PLEASE--

[lil-lemon-snails]

"I can't ignore what's under dancefloor boards, The rhythm of my heart a dead-as-disco beat, But I still move my feet, to slip out of this groove, I'm free" ~ 2econd 2ight 2eer, Will Wood, The Normal Album

I have been plagued with visions of LDR Sun every time I listen to this song and I NEEDED to get this out of my system @spadillelicious when do we get to smooch the boy pLEASE

v textless version and close ups under cut!! v

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 23 of 27: Promises

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m back! Most of my exams are done and I’m finally back with a new chapter. Before you read it, I recommend rereading Chapter 22. It’ll be easier to understand this chapter. Short reminder: in the german version of the books, “Narcissa” is spelled “Narzissa”. So please don’t be confused about the spelling. Have fun! <3

CHAPTER 22

Words: 3.4k Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader, post war Warnings: angst, smut

He appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

For days, you had avoided him. Sat as far away as possible from him in class, stayed close to Ginny and Hermione, didn’t give him a chance to even approach you. And now, way past curfew you met him on a random hallway near the library.

The sight of him made your heart jump. His eyes widened. The two of you stood in front of each other, quietly waiting for the other to make a move. You took all of him in and tried your best not to wince when you realized how sickly he looked. It was your fault.

Draco spoke first. “What are you doing here?” His voice was strained.

You hadn’t heard his voice in what felt like weeks and you took a moment to process it. “Owlery,” you said finally. “I was on my way to the Owlery. I need to send a letter to my parents.”

He nodded. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry.”

You looked down. It was strangely comforting to hear it. “I know.” You wanted to say more but no words came to mind. None that would fit your current situation anyways. “I should leave,” you mumbled and straightened your back. When you walked past him, you smelt a whiff of his cologne and held your breath. You didn’t dare to look at him and resumed your way towards the Owlery.

“We need to talk.”

He had raised his voice and the words echoed in the dark hallway. You hesitated. “Draco …” Then you shook your head. “No.”

“Y/N, you owe me.” You heard his footsteps. “You owe me an explanation.”

It was then that you finally turned around. “I gave you one.”

Draco scoffed. “You gave me shit.”

“I gave you what you deserve,” you shot back. Each word struggled to come out. Lies, so many lies. “I told you, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you. We took this too far.”

You didn’t look him in the eyes but there was no reason to. The pain in his voice showed you that the words had their desired effect: “I still don’t believe you.”

“That’s not my problem,” you said. All the exhaustion from the past week suddenly rushed back and you felt your eyes beginning to burn. You wiped over your face, trying to keep your composure. “Draco,” you began and then you noticed something in his hand. An all too familiar bottle. Ginny had the same one on her nightstand. “What –”

Draco smiled bitterly and held up the sleeping medicine. “Thanks to you.”

“Screw you, Malfoy.” You turned around and left.

 “You have to eat something,” Ginny gently touched your shoulder and you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder. She sighed but her hand stayed on your skin, warmth radiating from it. “Please, you have barely –”

“I’m not hungry.” You cleared your throat. It felt so raspy. Speaking hurt.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ginny tried again. “It’s still early. If we leave now, no one will even see us. You don’t even have to get dressed. You can go in your pajamas.” You heard the smile in her voice. “How much fun would that be.”

A smile tugged on your lips but you couldn’t bring yourself to move a muscle. You were tired. So tired.

 “Oh, so we’re using last names again?” Draco followed you down the hallway with long strides. “Fine, Y/L/N.”

Your face burned, not with anger but with shame. His nightmares had returned and it was all your fault. The rational part of your brain told you that you weren’t responsible for his suffering. The break up was merely one tiny puzzle piece, one tiny thing that added up to all the drama and hurt in his life, but still it could have been avoided. The pure knowledge of that drowned out that part of your brain. And what was even worse – you couldn’t change it now. Couldn’t help him. Not now. Not ever.

“What do you want from me?”, the coldness in your voice frightened yourself.

“What I want from you?”, Draco sneered behind you. “I want you to stop lying!”

 Astoria was gorgeous. You had noticed it before but now you saw her in an entirely different light. When bitter words spilled out of you, a desperate attempt to cut through her skin and into her heart, her expression changed but her beauty stayed.

Their wedding photos will be on the front page of The Daily Prophet, you realized and the thought flipped your stomach. She’ll look perfect and happy and he … will he smile?

 You whirled around and nearly bumped into him. “When will you get this into your head, Malfoy? I’m not lying to you!” Every word was accompanied by a tap of your finger against his chest. Draco caught your wrist and held it still. It was unexpected and his tight grip hurt. You let out a sharp hiss.

“Merlin, when will you ever stop this charade?” Draco stared at you. The disgust in his eyes send shivers down his spine. You had seen this look before on him but it had never been directed at you. “All you ever do is lie! You lie to your parents, your friends, everyone who you say means something to you receives nothing from you except lies and deceptions. It seems to be the only thing you’re truly good at, the only thing that –”

“Shut up!”, you shrieked. You tried to pull away from him but he held tightly on to your wrist.

 You read the letter over and over and over until you memorized every last word of it. Your fathers handwriting was shaky, stretched letters, barely readable as if he wrote them in a hurry. Lines were smeared, dots missing, such a strange contrast to the neatly put-together man.

They found Alissa. Your sister. She was alive and well, hiding out in Southern Germany with two other Death Eaters that fled the country after the Battle of Hogwarts. They changed their appearances and names and got low-paying jobs in local muggle stores. You almost snorted when you read it. Your sister, the same one who believed muggles should be enslaved, now served them? Oh, what bitter irony this life kept in store for us.

Two days after the letter reached you, her face appeared on The Daily Prophet. You let out a sharp breath. It’s been years since you had last seen her face and time had not been treating her kindly. Sunken cheeks and hair that hung down in greasy strands – your hands started to shake. There was barely any resemblance between the woman that stared at you with blank eyes and the sister you grew up with.

“LAST DEATH EATERS FINALLY FOUND”, the headline said. You skimmed over the words but folded the newspaper and put it away once they got to a gruesome retelling of the Cleansing of Edinburgh.

Narzissa had kept her promise and you hated her for it.

You felt the stares of your classmates burning holes into your cloak and Hermione reached for your hand to squeeze it tightly. When you looked up however, your eyes were drawn to him.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wondered if he knew. If he had figured it out.

 Tears burned in your eyes. He’s right, you thought, he’s right about all of it. Draco abruptly turned his head; a clanking sound was heard at the end of the hallway. You barely noticed it.

“I have to stay away from you,” you whispered and he looked back at you. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” Your voice broke.

“You know why,” Draco replied. “It’s why my nightmares returned too.”

“Draco …” His name rolling from your tongue – it felt so right.

“We need one another.” He came closer. “We … whatever it was that we had, it worked.”

You let out a shuddering breath. “It didn’t.”

His gaze hardened again. “Stop fucking lying,” he hissed and suddenly, he let go of your hand and pressed you up against the wall. You yelped.

“Stop forcing something that isn’t there.” He was close, so damn close. “You have a wild imagination, Malfoy.”

He scoffed. “Look at me and say this again.” He grabbed you by your chin and forced you to look at him. “I said, look at me,” he growled. “Tell me it was all in my imagination. Every word, every touch, every confession late at night,” he glared at you. “Tell me, it meant nothing. Tell me, you didn’t feel it. Tell me, you don’t still dream of me. That you don’t long for my hands on your body, for the way my lips made you scream my name.”

His face was only inches away from yours. His smell was intoxicating; you could barely concentrate. The touch of his hand burned through your clothes. Naturally, instinctively, your hips rolled against his. His eyes glistened at the movement. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, it was all part of my imagination.”

You stared at him and with every passing second, you drowned in the grey of his eyes, drowned in the storm of them. “I hate you.” 

When your lips met, lightning struck.

“What are you reading?”

Theo and Blaise dropped down onto the grass and startled you.

“Potions,” you replied and Blaise raised his eyebrows at your obvious lie. You had made no attempt to hide the letter that laid on top of your potions textbook. Suddenly, you tensed up, remembering the last time when the boys came to look for you. “Is everything okay with him?”

“With whom?”, Blaise asked.

“Draco, idiot.” Theo rolled his eyes. “He’s … fine,” he then said.

“More or less,” Blaise mumbled and the two of you glared at him.

“We came to give you this.” Theo stretched out his arm, holding a piece of paper. You took it. An unfamiliar name and address was written in Theo’s sloppy handwriting. You looked at him, visibly confused.

“She can help you with your sister,” Theo said. You blinked.

“The trial,” Blaise explained. “My mother knows her and she helped in quite a few Death Eater trials so far.”

You read the name again, wondering how you had never heard of that woman. “Death Eaters belong in Azkaban,” you finally stated. “My sister is no exception.” The words burned in your throat.

The boys sighed. “A lifetime in Azkaban will not help her. People like your sister need a chance of rehabilitation,” Theo said.

“Do they?”, you asked with furrowed brows.

“After a considerable amount of time spent in Azkaban,” Blaise added. “Don’t get us wrong, she needs to be punished. Obviously. But prison alone will not help her change her world views. 

For the first time, you realized how little you knew about the two Slytherins. You had heard of Blaise’s mother, a woman who was famous for her many marriages. And you remembered the day, Theo’s father escaped Azkaban. But you knew nothing beyond that. You wondered how much pain and heartbreak these two young men carried inside their hearts.

It felt right.

He felt right. His lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hands grabbing you roughly. There was nothing sweet about this kiss. Nothing loving or calm. You felt his desperation in the way his hands teared at your blouse, felt his pain when he guided you to the nearest door in the hallway.

It was an unlocked classroom and the two of you didn’t break the kiss when you stumbled inside of it. He closed the door with his foot before lifting you up on a table. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down to your neck and you threw your head back as he began to suck on the skin. A whimper escaped you when his teeth scraped against your skin.

Draco’s hands moved quickly. As if he had whispered a spell, the buttons on your blouse sprung open. You moaned softly when his hands explored your body like he’d do so for the first time. Flashbacks from your first night flooded your mind and for a moment, you were back in the hotel room. The memories mixed together with your current reality and you could no longer differentiate between the two. You whimpered at the way, Draco caressed you, pulled you into hungry kisses and when his fingers sunk inside of you, you almost screamed.

Draco knew by now which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering, begging mess. You held on to him, your fingers clawing in his back, knowing you’d leave him with red streaks all over it. He pumped into you, while whispering in your ear. His thumb flickered over your clit and your breath grew more and more erratic.

An ache had begun to form in your stomach, growing stronger and stronger, and you begged for him not to stop. He chuckled and his hot breath against your cheek combined, made you moan his name.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come for me, I want to hear you scream my name.”

You obeyed him.

You watched him during Potions. He sat next to Theo and the two boys worked quietly on their assignment. Draco’s fingers moved with precision and ease, cutting the ingredients, mixing them in. From time to time, he read over the instructions, his brows furrowing slightly. He showed no sign of uncertainty and when Slughorn walked past him, the professor nodded contently.

The scene reminded you of the beginning of this school year when you had to work together for the first time. After he rescued you from Ron’s insults. “I don’t ever need you to come to my rescue,” you had snarled at him and Draco’s response was to flirt with you during class. How confused you had been during those weeks. How utterly irritated when you had to admit to yourself that Draco Malfoy was not the one dimensional asshole you had always wanted him to be. Oh, how you wanted to go back in time to this exact moment.

“You’re staring at him again,” Hermione said.

Your eyes dropped down to the cauldron again as you kept stirring it. You felt the worried look of your friend but were too exhausted to say something back to her.

A few minutes later, you looked up again. Draco had stopped working. His hands still held a knife. A root remained untouched on the table. When your eyes met, his flickered with pain. You held your breath. What would happen if you just went over to him? Then Theo touched his arm and Draco turned to him, breaking the moment.

Draco didn’t give you a chance to calm down and catch your breath. You still rode out the last waves of your orgasm when you felt him pressed against your folds, hard and dripping. He pulled you into a hard kiss and entered you in one swift movement, stretching you in an almost painful way.

“Fuck,” he groaned and you bit down his lip. You moaned when he began to move, equally rough and desperate to the way he kissed you before.

“I love you,” you heard him mumble. “I love you so fucking much, I hate you for making me feel this way.” He thrusted into you relentlessly. You arched your back and his hands gripped you so tightly, you were scared it’d leave bruises in the morning.

You mumbled something against his lips but didn’t know whether it was a curse or a confession, all you felt was the way he pounded into you. Each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the sensation in your stomach growing stronger and stronger. Draco grabbed you by the neck and your eyes fluttered open. When they met his, you moaned at the lust in them and they darkened. Your legs started shaking; he knew you were close.

“You want to come again?”, he groaned.

“Yes, please,” you replied and he smirked; a smirk that sent shivers down your spine. Gods, how you had missed this expression on his face. You knew that in the years to come, you’d dream of the sight of him – like this, sweaty and wanting and desperate for your walls to clench around his cock.

“Then come for me,” he hissed. You let go and pleasure followed immediately. It washed over you and you were certain you blacked out there for a second. Your legs started shaking uncontrollably and you came with his name on your lips.

Draco followed shortly after. His hips stuttered and with a silent curse, he released himself inside of you.

 ***

It was quiet. Draco had his hands behind his head as you rested your head on his chest. Your cloaks protected the two of you against the coldness radiating from the stones. His eyes were open, his mind restless.

Your fingers traced over his side and he shuddered at the soft touch. “I’m sorry,” you said, disturbing the peace. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you the answers you deserve.”

Draco swallowed. A few days ago, you had shattered his heart in the blink of an eye. But now, the fleeting touch of your fingertips mended it back together. Deep down, he sensed that it was only a temporary fix however. A tiny bandage on an open wound that would never stop bleeding – but he’d bleed out willingly if it meant he could hold you in his arms a little while longer.

“I would burn down the world for you,” Draco whispered. “I would hunt down whoever hurt you, if you’d only allow me. You hold my heart in your hands.”

You raised your head. A single tear rolled down your cheek and Draco reached to wipe it away. “I love you.”

Draco let out a shuddering breath. He had imagined a thousand different scenarios in which you confessed to him. In none of them did they feel like a dagger plunged in your heart.

“What I said that night was a lie.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly. “Allow me to love you back. Please.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I can’t.”

Draco sighed in frustration and stared back at the ceiling.

“Promise me to let this go.”

He scoffed. “I can’t let go of you.”

“Yes.” You sat up next to him. “Yes, you can. You must. Promise me.”

He looked at you. Merlin, how beautiful you were.

“If you truly love me, you will promise me and you will honor your promise.”

“You’re unfair,” he said softly.

“Slytherin blood runs through me.”

Draco chuckled. You leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. “Draco, please.”

He promised.

 ***

Draco stared at the ring in his hands. A golden band with an emerald, encircled by diamonds. A stunning, timeless piece that belonged to his grandmother and would look beautiful on Astoria’s petite fingers.

His eyes flickered to the nightstand. The bag of candy from the weekend in Hogsmeade was almost empty. Two pieces remained. He didn’t touch them, couldn’t bring himself to eat them. When he did, there would be nothing left of you. There would be no physical reminder that you ever shared a part of his life. No photos of the two of you together, no notes, no forgotten T-Shirt or hair pins in his dorm. You had come into and vanished from his life without a single trace.

Draco gritted his teeth when the familiar emptiness began to rise inside of him. He looked back at the ring. It’d suit you. Green was your colour, Draco was sure of it. The time you wore his scarf proved it.

“It’s not too late yet.” Theo sat on his bed, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched his friend. “You don’t have to do this. Contrary to your belief, you do have a choice.”

Draco closed his eyes. For a split second, he saw you and him, in the manor, laughing about something his mother had said. He saw you, barely covered by satin sheets, the morning sun hitting your face. He saw vacations, candlelight dinners, celebrations, your favorite flowers on the kitchen table, a shared closet, candy from Honeydukes. He saw happiness.

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Theo. “You know where Astoria is?”

***

CHAPTER 24

Choose Me Instead Masterlist Harry Potter Masterlist

The Tag list for this fic is closed!

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[calenheniel]

In Fantasy, a frozen fanfic | Chapter 1

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | G+

In a desperate bid to save their country from political and financial ruin, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle strike a deal with a former foe, King Albert of the Southern Isles. His price? That their firstborn daughter marry his thirteenth son.

Previous installments: Prologue

Follow updates: #InFantasyFrozen

For Helsa Week 2021, Day 1: Parenthood. @helsaweekmasterlist

Author's Note: This is a draft, exclusively available on Tumblr. I have literally the outline for every single chapter following this written, but not fleshed out into readable form yet... so this is all you are going to see for a while. It took me a while to write, as you can probably tell. Enjoy and please leave feedback.

»»————-　❈　————-««

Chapter 1

Snow pattered soundlessly against the arched window of the king’s study as he and his wife sat across from one another at his desk, reviewing the morning’s mail by candlelight. The fire crackled loudly in the hearth a few feet away, bringing a warm glow to the otherwise dim and drab space.

Iduna looked out briefly through the glass panes, the outside world obscured by the total darkness of the winter months. She was just able to make out the snow flurries of white and gray, and beyond that, under the lanterns lining the walkway to the castle gates, she imagined she could see the slow and halting movements of the castle’s servants as they shuttled through the gates and back. The town square, and the fjord beyond it, were entirely hidden from her view.

She shivered, drawing her heavy fur robe closer around her frame, and the small movement was enough to cause her to lose her grip on the letter opener in her other hand. It cut the side of her thumb as it clattered to the desk, and she released a small cry of surprise and pain as droplets of her blood fell on the envelope at the top of the unread stack, staining it red.

“Oh, dear,” Agnarr sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his chest pocket and wrapping it around her open wound. “You must be more careful with that.” He eyed her chattering teeth with concern. “Is the new robe helping even a little bit?”

Iduna looked away. “You know how difficult my… condition has been,” she said, gazing down at her swollen belly. “Even in rooms with the best-tended fires, I’m always cold.” She touched the collar of the robe, shooting him a small glare, and added: “Anyway, it’s not as if you paid for this yourself.”

Agnarr frowned but said nothing, returning his attention to the mail after another sharp look from his wife. His eyes widened as he examined the seal, and he paused, causing Iduna to glance at it with curiosity.

“Who is it from?”

He swallowed and began to open the letter, avoiding Iduna’s still-drying blood splatters. “The Southern Isles,” he said at length, causing her face to darken.

“Speak of the devil,” she grumbled.

He read it in silence to himself at first, but at Iduna’s unnerved expression, he passed the paper to her. She reluctantly accepted it.

Dearest Agnarr and Iduna,

Allow me to pass on my belated congratulations to you both for the auspicious news of your first child’s coming! While I was surprised to hear that the delivery date is so soon, you cannot imagine the happiness this has brought my family and I, and especially to my youngest son, Hans. He is eager to meet his future wife and in-laws. Rest assured that we will be the first guests to arrive for her christening.

I have ordered a small gift for my future daughter-in-law which you should receive in about one month, just in time for her birth. Please accept this as a token of our continued friendship and soon-to-be unbreakable bonds of family. I look forward to hearing what you think of it when we meet again in person soon.

Yours respectfully,

Albert

Iduna scowled and crumpled the letter in her unbandaged hand. “How can he be so sure it will be a girl?” she muttered. “The nerve of that man! We should never have told him that I am with child.”

“He would’ve found out eventually, whether we did or not,” Agnarr pointed out, sighing. “And besides, we did wait a while – probably too long – to write to him about it. Which he obviously picked up on.” He gestured for Iduna to hand him the ball of paper, which she did while sporting a glower. “I’m not sure there’s any need to be so sullen, dear. Nils said it was likely to be a boy.”

Iduna opened her lips as if to speak, but her face suddenly paled, and she collapsed from her seat to the floor, holding herself up on all fours. She groaned with pain as her husband rushed to her side, panic flashing across his eyes.

“Agnarr,” she moaned, “I think—I think it’s time…”

»» —— ««

Agnarr paced outside the bedroom, his features hollow and drawn from sleeplessness. Iduna’s moaning echoed from inside the room out into the hallways, and the sight of various attending ladies scurrying in and out of the room with fresh sheets and bowls of water did little to ease his worried mind.

He had long since dismissed his councilors from the scene, finding their hovering presence unnecessary at best—and unsettling at worst. Their questions about the queen’s health, while infrequent, were regular enough to cause the king to lose his temper and bark that it would not improve just because a gallery of onlookers wished it so. Sympathetic to their young monarch, they had left him in the care of the servants, and so he had waited, alone, for many hours to hear a spot of better news.

The grandfather clock at the end of the hall struck ten just as the door reopened to reveal the royal physician, who wore an equally exhausted expression. His hands, though recently washed, still had specks of the queen’s blood dotting the wrists and under his fingernails.

“Nils! It’s been an age. What’s going on?” he demanded, pulling the older man aside.

The physician stifled a frown. “I don’t have much news to share right now, Your Majesty. She is still in labor, just as before. We are doing everything we can to keep her comfortable.”

Another groan from Iduna resounded in the background, and Agnarr shot Nils a dark look. “You call that ‘comfortable’?”

The noise began to wane as they listened to the head maidservant, Gerda, whisper to the queen inside the room. The king’s expression softened. “Please, Nils,” he began again, “you’ve been here since my father was a young man. I know you’ve seen almost everything in your time.” He placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Just give me your honest assessment of what’s happening. I need to know if she—”

Agnarr broke off, swallowing a sob that threatened to choke him. Nils patted the king’s hand on his shoulder, taking it into his own, and sighed. “It’s difficult when the baby comes this early, Your Majesty. And with Her Majesty being in labor for so long…” He paused, squeezing the king’s hand. “I will do everything I can to keep her and your child alive. That you can rest assured of.”

Agnarr looked back at him with tears straining his vision, his lips just barely forming the beginnings of a grateful smile before a terrible cry erupted from inside the bedroom.

“All of you, out!” Iduna screamed, and then said something else in a voice too quiet to be heard. A flurry of attending ladies rushed out of the room, and the king broke away from Nils to rush to the doorway.

He was met there by a tired, distraught, but somehow still defiant Gerda. “No,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “She needs to rest for a moment. I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

Agnarr scowled. “Gerda, for God’s sake, let me in—”

Nils placed his hand on Agnarr’s shoulder, silencing him, and nodded to Gerda. The older woman shot the king a frown, and then sent a grateful look to the physician as she walked away from the door.

Agnarr turned on him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Fru Gerda is correct, Your Majesty. It is not your place to intervene.” At the king’s heated look, the physician dropped his hand from his shoulder, resting it on the doorknob as he took a step inside the room. “I’ll bring you more news as soon as I have it, but for now… please, try to get some rest.”

Agnarr watched in defeat as the physician closed the door behind him, and finally slumped into an armchair beside the room, his head lolling forward as he began to drift towards slumber.

»» —— ««

“Your Majesty?”

The king awoke to the gentle shaking of his shoulders, and his eyes blinked open slowly. He groaned as his vision finally cleared, seeing Nils. “How long have I been asleep?”

The physician smiled. “Only a few hours.”

Agnarr nodded, placing his aching head in his palms, and then with a suddenness that took Nils aback, it shot up in alarm and stared at the bedroom door. “It’s so quiet—what’s happened?” He stood from the armchair, grabbing the physician by both shoulders. “Is she all right?”

The strange, new sound of an infant’s babbles surfaced from behind the door. The king’s eyes widened as his grip relaxed, and he stared at Nils in wonder.

“Is that…?”

The old man’s smile widened. “Yes, Your Majesty. And Her Majesty is fine now, enjoying a well-deserved rest.” He sighed with contentment. “It truly is a miracle for the child to have been born so healthy, and of normal weight and size, in spite of everything.” He took one of the king’s hands in his own, patting it. “Would you like to meet your newborn daughter?”

Agnarr’s face paled. “Daughter?”

Nils nodded, and looked sheepish. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m afraid my prediction of her sex was rather inaccurate.”

The king paused, and plastered on a smile, though light droplets of sweat beaded at his forehead. “No matter,” he said, and inhaled as he nodded towards the bedroom. “Lead the way.”

Agnarr entered to find his new daughter in Gerda’s arms, bundled up and half-asleep, a smattering of light blonde hair visible on her soft scalp. Iduna lay in the bed just a few feet away, sleeping quietly, the only visible sign of the previous day’s strain being the pallor of her skin.

The older woman smiled at his coming despite her obvious fatigue, meeting him halfway across the room. “Should I make arrangements to announce the birth of the princess, Your Majesty?” she whispered, looking with fondness down at the infant.

Agnarr shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied after a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the girl. “At least, not until the queen awakens, and can meet her daughter properly.”

Gerda nodded, casting a pitying glance at Iduna. “Quite right, Your Majesty. The poor woman was barely able to speak a word to the child before drifting off.” She gently handed the baby to its father. “We’ll leave you three alone for a little while. I’ll be back with refreshments for everyone soon.”

At this cue, she and Nils exited the room, closing the door behind them. Agnarr sat in a rocking chair beside the fireplace, his gaze fixed to the sleeping babe in his arms, and his apprehension and fear gave way to a warm, glowing smile.

“Don’t worry, child,” he murmured, and tucked the sleeping bundle closer to his heart. “I’ll protect you.”

»» —— ««

The queen awoke to the same darkness that had greeted her the morning before, but also to the sound of creaking wood. She squinted and saw, with delighted surprise, her husband and daughter sitting together by the hearth.

“Agnarr?” she called in a soft, weary voice.

He looked up with dark circles under his eyes, but his expression was radiant as he walked to her bedside. “My dearest, you’re finally awake!” He handed her their child with infinite tenderness, sitting next to her. “I think she looks like you,” he remarked.

Iduna gazed down at the still-sleeping infant with some bittersweetness, and then back up at her husband. “Has the birth been announced yet?” she asked, unable to hide the anxiousness from her voice.

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to hold off until you were awake.”

“Good,” Iduna sighed with relief, brushing stray strands of the white-golden locks from the child’s eyes. Her nose wrinkled. “I can’t believe that old bastard was right all along,” she muttered. “How did he know?”

Agnarr wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t think of such things now,” he chided her, and returned his attention to the baby. “What shall we name her?”

Iduna frowned. “I hadn’t thought of any names for a girl.”

“I know, but…” He paused. “What about Elsa?”

Iduna blinked. “Elsa?”

He nodded. “Yes. It was the name of my favorite cousin. She died when I was still a boy—fell through ice while skating. This could be a good way to honor her memory.”

His wife frowned. “Agnarr!” she protested. “That’s far too morbid. Can’t you think of anything else?”

Before the king could reply, the infant nuzzled up against her mother’s breast and hiccuped, drawing her parents’ attention away from their dispute. Agnarr glanced at his wife with a cheeky smile. “I think she approves of her name.”

Iduna sighed, and could not help but smile in return. “Fine. Elsa it is, then,” she agreed.

They watched her for a while longer before Agnarr glanced up at the clock on the bedside table. “I should have Nils check on her, and make sure everything’s all right,” he said, and stood.

Iduna grabbed his hand and brought him back to his seat. “Not yet,” she said. “I want to enjoy this time we have with her, before all the hullabaloo starts up.” She patted his hand before letting it go. “But do fetch us something to eat. I’m famished.”

He bowed his head. “Of course, dear.”

She nodded her thanks. As he opened the door, he looked back on the blissful sight of his wife and daughter together, perfectly content, and smiled.

»» —— ««

Agnarr carried the tray of biscuits and tea with deliberate and careful steps as he made his way down the hallway from the kitchens back to the bedroom, chastened after nearly dropping the whole set a few minutes before in his unfamiliarity with the task.

Gerda, walking behind him, fretted over his apparent clumsiness. “Your Majesty, please, won’t you let me bring it to the queen?”

“It’s fine, Gerda,” he refused, trying to wear a reassuring smile even as it was clear he was concentrating intently in order not to trip. “I won’t break anything, I promise.”

The older woman muttered under her breath, following him despite his protests until they were a few paces from the bedroom door. At that point, after a sharp glance from the king, she relented and left him to his own devices.

Alone again, he sighed, placing the set down gingerly on the armchair by the door. “I’m coming in!” he called to Iduna, resting his hand on the doorknob.

A shriek from the queen, followed by the sound of their baby’s wailing, almost made the king fall back in surprise. He rushed into the room in alarm—only to find himself frozen in place by the sight that greeted him.

Their child lay crying on its back on the bed, a swirl of snow surrounding its tiny body. The queen was pressed up against the wall beside it, her entire frame shaking as she stared at the girl in open terror.

Agnarr regained his bearings long enough to close and lock the door behind him, drowning out the distant cries of worry from Gerda down the hall, and then sprinted towards his daughter. He gathered her up and pressed her into his chest even as a cold wind and snow whipped around them both, making him shiver.

As his warmth slowly enveloped her, however, so too did the strange elemental effects dissipate, until finally the baby was quiet again.

He sighed as he sat on the bed in exhaustion, and nodded for Iduna to join him. “Everything’s all right now,” he assured her. The baby whined a little. “She just needs to be fed.”

The queen returned to his side with caution, her face still drawn, and eventually took the child back into her arms. With a trembling hand, she unbuttoned and pulled aside a flap of her nightgown, pressing the infant to her exposed breast.

To both parents’ surprise – and relief – the child suckled without further dramatics, and Iduna released a long, shuddering sigh.

»» —— ««

Several minutes and harried exchanges with Gerda later, the child was asleep again in her mother’s arms. Her innocent, peaceful face gave no indication that she was aware of the fuss that had just taken place around her.

Once she was sure that the child would not stir, Iduna placed her on the bed, nestling her among the pillows and fresh sheets that Gerda had insisted upon providing (even though she had been disallowed from setting them up within the room herself, much to the woman’s displeasure). She remained sat on the edge of the bed, silent, taking little comfort in their temporary respite.

Agnarr had been quiet since the baby’s extraordinary display, pacing between the hearth to warm himself, and the door to shoo any interruptions away from the room.

She swallowed, and spoke at length. “It’s because of me,” she whispered, looking at the ground with shame. “It is my blood that has caused this.”

The king paused in his nervous walk to look at his wife, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

She would not meet his stare. “Do you remember how we first met?” she asked.

His head cocked to the side as he walked towards her, stopping just short of the bed. “Of course,” he replied. “I was sixteen, making the rounds with my father meeting townsfolk, and you were selling bread at market… but what does that have to do with anything?”

She hesitated at the question. “That… wasn’t actually the first time we met.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “What are you talking about, Iduna?”

The queen pressed her hands together in front of her, her brows stitched in thought, and finally met her husband’s gaze. “It was during the battle in the Enchanted Forest. You were knocked unconscious when some large rock came loose, and I…” She reddened. “I got us out of there before the forest was sealed off, and left you with some soldiers who had managed to escape. They brought you back home, and I fled into the mountains.”

Her vision misted over as the memories returned to her. “Luckily, I was found by a kindly older woman and her husband there. They were never able to have children of their own, if you remember,” she said, “so they took me in, without question, and taught me their trade.”

The king stared at her in dumbstruck silence; after a time, his arms uncrossed, and he pulled over the rocking chair from the fireplace towards the bed, sitting down again. “When we met at market,” he drawled, “I asked you if I’d seen you before. Do you remember?”

She blinked in surprise, and then nodded. “You denied it at the time,” Agnarr noted, one eyebrow raised.

Iduna grimaced. “I was afraid you would find out the truth.”

He connected the threads with sudden clarity. “That you were one of them,” he said, his eyes wide. “One of the Northuldrans.”

Her face grew hot. “Yes,” she admitted. “I never told you before, because I know the history between our peoples. Because of what happened to your—”

At Agnarr’s darkening expression, she stopped, curling her fingers around the cloth of her nightgown in her lap. At length, the king turned his stare on the sleeping child in the bed next to her. “And what of our child’s powers?” he asked. He eyed Iduna with suspicion. “Did you know she would be born with such abilities?”

Iduna sighed, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “It was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you. None of the Northuldrans have had such powers—not for several generations, at least.” Her brow grew furrowed. “In the old days, it is said that some of my people gained them through their relationship with the spirits of the Forest. I don’t know how, but it seems as if Elsa has inherited some of this magic.”

The king said nothing, and stared blankly at the painted blue wall behind the bed.

Iduna trembled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I should never have kept this hidden from you.” Her eyes were full of fear as he remained silent. “Please, Agnarr, say something, lest I lose all hope.”

Her husband’s frame was taut, and his expression betrayed nothing even as he began to speak. “Do you know what happened to my mother—Queen Rita?”

Iduna was taken aback by the question at first, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Only that she disappeared when you were still a child, never to be seen again,” she recalled, eyeing Agnarr with a growing sense of dread. “Your father blamed it on evil spirits, if I remember correctly.”

Agnarr’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. “He was already a superstitious man before that happened, and afterwards…” The king sighed, and slumped forward in the chair. “He considered the mere existence of an ‘enchanted’ forest anywhere within his realm to be a personal insult, even if its inhabitants exhibited no special powers.” He looked at her morosely. “And you know how that ended.”

Iduna swallowed, and made no reply.

The king looked pained by his memories. “I still don’t know what really happened to her,” he said, “though I think I understand why she left. My father thought that buying her trinkets was enough to demonstrate his affections, but… she missed home, and her family. And he never grasped that.” He frowned. “In fact, he took offense at it. Which only made her more miserable.”

Agnarr paused for a while, and weariness overwhelmed his previously stern countenance. “My father was wretched with grief and anger for years after she left, and I cannot blame him for that. I imagine I would feel much the same if I lost you.”

Iduna stared at her husband in surprise, and then her lip quivered as she threw herself into his embrace, burying her weeping face in the crook of his shoulder. He held her shuddering body tightly, his eyes closed as he kissed her exposed cheek.

“Oh, Agnarr,” she said through muffled sobs, “I’m so sorry.”

He held her as he waited for her crying to subside, and then asked in a gentler manner: “Do you know anything about our daughter’s magic, Iduna? Are there any stories about such powers among the Northul—your people?”

His self-correction made Iduna smile, and she glanced back at their child. “I’ve forgotten most of those stories, truth be told,” she said. “I’ve been in Arendelle too long, I think.”

Agnarr nodded in understanding. “That’s all right, dear, I was only wondering—”

“Wait,” Iduna interrupted, sitting up in her husband’s lap with a start. “There was one old Northuldran legend, about a Snow Queen… she was said to have frozen over entire kingdoms that refused to obey her will.”

At the king’s paling expression, Iduna nervously added: “It was probably just a fairytale made up to scare children, and teach us right from wrong. I doubt our little Elsa would ever be so powerful as to do such fantastical things.”

Agnarr’s lips twisted into a frown, and he raised Iduna off his lap and onto the bed as he stood, pacing again. “We cannot be sure,” he said, his hands clasping behind him. He stared at Elsa with concern. “My father did a fine job of scaring the wits out of everyone in the kingdom with his tales of the evils of magic, and inculcating the same prejudices in them which he held himself. Even if her powers never reached such heights as the stories describe, the fact that she has them at all is—” He shook his head, his troubles mounting. “We’ve only just forged a hard-won peace with Weselton, and secured some new trade routes that had previously been closed to us, no thanks to my father. And all of that would be at risk if they knew, let alone…”

Iduna caught his meaning as he stopped in his tracks, and the two exchanged a long, uncomfortable look.

“Albert,” she finished for him, her mouth dry. “He cannot know about this, Agnarr.”

The king’s expression was bleak. “No,” he agreed, “he cannot.”

Iduna trembled. “Well, that settles it,” she said, trying to sound resolute. “We’ll teach Elsa how to conceal her powers, so that no one ever finds out about them. That way—”

“It’s impossible, Iduna,” Agnarr cut in, pressing a hand to his forehead. “We cannot keep such magic in check forever. And besides, it… would be too cruel to ask that of her. She will not understand.”

“It’s the only way, Agnarr,” his wife insisted, though her lips quivered. She bit them to keep them still. “If we explain to her why it’s necessary, and keep her safe within the castle, away from the town—” Iduna broke off, unable even to convince herself of the workability of her plan, and tears began to collect in her eyes once more.

Agnarr could not keep the despair from his own voice. “Even if we could manage it, and keep her hidden away until she comes of age,” he murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder, “how, then, could we ensure that she would not reveal her powers to her future husband?” He frowned. “If that boy is anything like his father, he would no doubt try to manipulate her, and use this great power to suit his and Albert’s purposes.” He shuddered. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

Iduna stared at the child, her brow bearing the weight of defeat. “But what can we do, Agnarr?”

The king stood stock-still in contemplation, relying on every fiber of his remaining self-composure not to collapse back into the chair. A creeping shadow of gloom crawled across his face, darkening his brow. “There may be a way,” he said, swallowing.

At Iduna’s forlorn, questioning look, he continued: “Before my mother left, when she was at the height of her suffering, she would talk sometimes about a magical race of creatures that had the power to ‘heal’ her.” He paused, and clarified: “Trolls, apparently, living in a valley somewhere in the mountains above Arendelle. She said they could perform all manner of spells, and I heard her talk in her sleep once or twice about wanting to go see them.”

Iduna stared at her husband in disbelief. “Trolls.”

He reddened. “Yes, well,” he said, “I realize how absurd this sounds, Iduna, but…” He glanced at Elsa. “Now that I’ve seen what our child is capable of, the idea of magical trolls doesn’t seem so farfetched.”

“What are you saying, Agnarr?” Iduna snapped, shaking her head. “That your mother went to see them? That they helped her… ‘disappear’?”

His shoulders raised in defensiveness. “I don’t know,” he conceded, “but what if that were the case? What if…” He sat back down in the rocking chair suddenly, staring at Iduna with clear eyes. “They erased her memory.”

Iduna frowned. “How can you be sure?”

“I’m not,” Agnarr admitted, “but if the trolls are as powerful as she said, then… it might explain where she ran off to, and why she never came back.” He sulked. “I wonder if father knew.”

Iduna took in this speculation with confusion and annoyance, pressing a hand to her right temple as she sighed. “Even if that is what happened,” she began, trying to keep the impatience from her voice, “what does any of this have to do with Elsa?”

Agnarr struggled to answer for a time, unable to articulate his thoughts. At his wife’s expectant stare, he offered: “We could take her to them, and ask them to… remove her powers.”

The queen shot up in alarm. “Have you gone mad?” she hissed. “Do you have any idea how sacred and special her magic is?” Fury alit in her blue irises. “It is a gift, Agnarr. No matter what your father – or anyone else – thinks or says, it is a part of her eternal soul. To take it away from her would be akin to spitting in the eye of God himself.”

“Then what do you suggest?” the king retorted, exasperated. “What other choice do we have?”

Iduna’s anger faded as she contemplated the question, and her expression grew melancholic. Agnarr, sensing the shift in her mood, placed one hand on hers. He noted that it had gone cold.

“What is it, Iduna?”

She stared at him in quiet desperation, and before she could stop herself, her face sunk into her hands, and she wept.

»» —— ««

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

The question weighed on Agnarr more than the physician expected, and the latter exchanged a glance with Gerda as the doors to the king’s private study were closed behind them by a guard. The dark, windowless room seemed impossibly small, lit up only by a candelabra on the desk between the king and his guests, though a keen observer could notice its impressive depth and height through the flames.

Agnarr’s head was bowed for a moment, and when the silence grew too difficult to bear, he released a shaky exhale. When his gaze met theirs, they were stunned to find it fresh with tears.

“The child passed this morning, in the queen’s arms,” he said, his voice tremulous from grief. “Just after we named her—Elsa.”

Gerda’s hands flew to her mouth to suppress a cry, though she began to sob into her handkerchief soon after. Nils entered a state of shock, staring at the king in utter bemusement.

“But, Your Majesty… how is this possible? I saw the princess just a few hours ago, healthy as a newborn could be.” He shook his head. “How could her condition deteriorate so suddenly? Why…” He frowned deeply. “Why did you not call for me sooner, if she was—”

Agnarr rose his hand, quieting the physician. “It all happened very suddenly, I assure you,” he murmured. “It seems you were right after all, Nils, about the dangers of premature birth.” He closed his eyes, and his lips trembled. “I only wish we had not glimpsed what could have been, before the end.”

Nils’s frown eased, but only slightly. “Your Majesty,” he began more gently, “please, let me see the child. It will help me to better ascertain what happened, and be sure of Her Majesty’s health as well…”

The physician trailed off as he realized that the cold determination in the king’s eyes would not allow for further argument. “She needs time alone with the child – with Elsa – to grieve, in her own way,” Agnarr said. “Then, we will relinquish it and make preparations for the funeral.”

“But sire,” Gerda mustered the strength to speak through her tears, “it’s not proper. The child’s body, it will—” The woman gave in to a fitful sob at the thought before continuing. “It will cause Her Majesty great sorrow to see the princess that way.”

Nils did not speak, but his grim expression indicated his agreement with the maidservant.

Agnarr’s mouth pressed into a thin, firm line. “These are the queen’s wishes,” he stated, “and it would only cause her greater sorrow to take the child from her so soon.”

Gerda hid her moan of anguish in her handkerchief, and Nils patted her on the back, his frown etched into his wizened features as he stared at the king. “Very well,” he relented, bowing his head. “We will wait until Her Majesty’s mourning period is over.”

Agnarr gave a faint nod of thanks. “I appreciate both of you – your service, and your care – through all of this,” he said. Turning to Gerda, he added: “Leave any meals outside of the room for the evening. I will bring them to her myself.”

The older woman managed a nod in return, the cloth in her hands barely stifling her constant sniffles.

He turned his back on them, his hands clasped behind him. “You may go,” he said.

Agnarr waited until he was sure that they had left to release a deep, shaking sigh. He gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and then exhaled again, turning his attention to the tiered bookshelves which lined either side of the room, stretching out into the darkness of the far wall.

With sudden and frantic energy, the king began to rifle through the books, coughing and sneezing through the clouds of dust and cobwebs which greeted him as he pulled them off the shelves with little regard for their long-undisturbed state. His initial, methodical skimming of the first shelf was quickly replaced by mere glances as he ripped books from the successive ones, clearing out rung after rung, unsure even of what he was seeking.

Long minutes that felt like hours passed in this way, and by the time Agnarr reached the far end of the room – though he was only halfway through the stacks – he leaned back against it, spent of his energies and despairing of the futility of his quest, resting the candle in his hand down on the floor.

He sat there in the gloom of his father’s former study, now his own, caught in a state of bewildered insomnia when he brushed his hand against the candle, causing it to tip over to the ground. Luckily, he reacted fast enough to put out the flame that began to catch on a nearby loose sheaf of paper, and turn the candle back upright. As the remaining smoke tendrils rose from the burnt page, he sighed, accepting even this small bit of relief.

Agnarr.

The king’s back was rigid at the familiar voice, and he stared out into the darkness with terror in his eyes.

“Who—who’s there?” he whispered, looking to and fro. When nothing answered him, he curled his hand around the candleholder at his side, though he dared not move from his seat. His lip quivered. “Show yourself!” he demanded, unnerved.

A sighing wisp of a sound encircled him, causing the flame of his candle to flicker and dance, and then seemed to disappear into a corner of the room to his left. Agnarr followed its path with wide eyes, seeing it end somewhere at the very bottom shelf on the other, untouched side of the room. He grabbed his candle, ignoring the burn of hot wax as it dripped onto his bare hands, and held it towards the spot where the voice had led him.

There, nestled between inconspicuous volumes bound in the same, dark brown leather as most of the other tomes in the room, was a slightly larger and red-colored spine. He pulled it out with greater care than he had for any other book in the study, surprised by its heft, and gently laid it down on the wooden floor below. He blew away the dust that obscured the text on its cover.

Even when it became legible, however, the king found that it was comprised of ancient runes in which he had no education or training, and so he could make little sense of what its contents might be. When he opened it to the first few pages, paragraphs upon paragraphs of the same, unreadable runes greeted him.

“Very helpful,” he muttered to himself, glaring at the candle’s steady flame in his hand. “I must be going mad,” he said, sighing, and moved to place it back on the shelf.

Forgetting its weight, the book fell from Agnarr’s hands as if in protest, and as it banged onto the hard floor, it opened to a section that he had not yet seen. He held the candle with trepidation and curiosity over the pages, careful not to drip any wax onto them, and his eyes widened as he got a better look at their contents.

On the left was a page of runic script, but on the right was a faded illustration of a mysterious, dark creature with narrow, yellow eyes, its hands raised to the sky. Below it lay the sleeping body of a man on a carved stone bench – a nobleman, or perhaps even a king, Agnarr thought, from the looks of his fine raiment and armor – and from the man’s head, extending into the sky, were swirls of smoke and clouds of fantastic colors, all intermingling to create a stark and foreboding image.

The king shuddered at the sight even as he was unsure of its meaning, and he ran his hand over the lines of the drawing. He paused over the head of the sleeping king, feeling an unusual groove on the surface of the page; smoothing his fingers down, he realized it ran all the way to the bottom, and he quickly turned to the next page.

Folded and tucked into the centerfold of the book was a loose paper, sandwiched between another page of text and what looked like an illustration of a white stag. Agnarr ignored the picture, and busied himself with unfolding the paper. Flattening it out against the other pages with one hand, he felt his jaw go slack in surprise, and he had to hold tightly onto the candle to keep it from falling over again.

It was a map, with the fjord and castle of Arendelle drawn prominently in the bottom left corner, encircled on all sides by nondescript forests and mountains colored beige, brown, and dark green. From the castle was demarcated a clear path in red dashes through the mountains, to a spot at the top right corner of the page marked with a large “X.” Next to it was, Agnarr assumed, the name of the location; and though it was written in the same runes as the rest of the book within which the map had been hidden, the first two letters gave him some clue as to what – or who – could be found at the final destination.

“Trolls,” he murmured. The candle flickered, seemingly in agreement. He eyed it with wonder, and then looked up at the ceiling, seeing nothing more than total darkness… but sensing much more beyond it.

Collecting his wits, Agnarr folded the map back up and slid it into his breast pocket, and then closed the red book and slid it back onto the shelf. Standing with newfound strength from the floor, he walked back with brisk purpose towards the entrance. Once there, he lingered in the doorway to look back with a sad smile, disregarding the disarray his manic search had caused in the room.

“Thank you, mother,” he whispered, and left.

»» —— ««

The path to the stables was as shrouded in December’s eternal nightfall as every other part of the kingdom, and Agnarr was thankful for having traveled there enough times in daylight to know his way in the dark. He adjusted the sling against his chest so that it faced more towards him, and the deep, royal blue color of its cloth was well-disguised beneath his plain brown riding cloak.

His steward followed close behind with a lantern, though the light did little to illuminate their path. When they reached their destination, the older man gave a sigh of relief, holding aloft the light so that the king might better see the harness and gates guarding his prized horse, Sigurd. He eyed the king’s costume questioningly, but Agnarr would not answer the look as he untied his steed, leading it out of its stall with the trained hands of a horseman.

After carefully laying the saddle atop its broad back, he nodded to the steward, who waited expectantly, bracing himself. The king grabbed the older man’s shoulder, using the leverage to slide his foot into the stirrup and mount Sigurd.

A small, babbling sound escaped the bundle slung across Agnarr’s chest; the older man stared at it for a moment, but said nothing. The king almost sighed with relief, but elected instead to nod at the gesture of discretion in thanks.

The steward could not help but demonstrate some concern. “Are you sure about this, Your Majesty? There have been reports of brigands in the mountains as of late, and I can easily send one of the guards to go with you—”

“There are some sensitive matters I must discuss with the tradesmen there—too sensitive for company,” Agnarr interrupted in an authoritative tone, though his face reddened with embarrassment at his own vagueness. He adjusted the sling again, and continued in a more conciliatory way: “I will return before sunrise, Kai.”

The steward’s skeptical expression was obvious even in the dim lighting, but he did not press the king further on the matter, and stepped back from the horse.

The king could not bring himself to address the man’s suspicion, and whispered into Sigurd’s ear. The horse gave a whinny of comprehension, and the two set off down the path to the gates at a quick pace, disappearing into the night.

»» —— ««

Agnarr arrived at the location marked on the map – or where he thought it should be, based on his knowledge of the mountains – with a weariness etched into his brow that made him appear far older than his twenty-one years.

He had come upon a clearing in the forest resembling a Roman amphitheater, and the full moon above shone on the stage and surrounding theatron, which were covered in moss as if from long disuse. From his vantage point at the edge of the forest path leading into it, he could also make out countless stone orbs of various shapes and sizes, all draped with moss that matched their surroundings, scattered throughout the rows.

The king eyed this warily, clutching the bundle across his chest close to him as he dismounted Sigurd. He tied the horse to a tree nearby, and proceeded with caution into the center of the arena. “Hello?” he called out.

When nothing answered him, he swallowed, and made a second attempt in a more confident voice. “I am King Agnarr of Arendelle,” he announced, “and I have come seeking help.”

His statement was met with another bout of silence, and sweat beaded at his forehead as the bundle across his chest started to wriggle, making small mewling noises.

“Please,” he said, looking around at the empty valley in desperation, his eyes growing misty from the threat of tears, “I have no one else to turn to. The very fate of Arendelle is at stake.”

Finally, at this plea, Agnarr began to hear – and feel – a series of rumblings all around him, the very earth quaking beneath his feet. He looked down to plant them more firmly and keep himself from tripping, and in the background Sigurd whinnied with fright, bucking against his restraints. When the king lifted his gaze again, he was shocked to find that the same static, stone orbs he had observed before were rolling down the theatron of their own accord, until they were completely encircling him.

No sooner had he adjusted to the notion of self-propelling rocks than they began to take the forms of living beings, one by one uncurling into equally circular, stocky trolls.

At first, they seemed all alike in their terrifying newness to Agnarr: a small mop of bedraggled hair atop their heads, smocks or tunics made of moss covering their small bodies, jewelry containing precious minerals and stones strung around their necks and wrists, and impossibly large eyes that stared at him and caused him to shrink under their scrutiny. Sigurd’s incessant, fearful whinnying in the background did nothing to dispel his own fear, and he stood stock-still, unable to move.

After a minute or so, however, the king found their collection of eyes more curious than threatening, and was slowly able to differentiate the creatures from one another by the color of their necklaces, or the particular partings of their mossy hair. This calmed him, and as his breathing returned to a more normal rhythm, so too did his steed quiet in the background.

The trolls began to clear a path amongst themselves, and through it, one approached Agnarr with a slow, deliberate gait. Judging by the length of its mane, its long moss cloak, and the ostentatious, heavy decorations of green baubles strung about its chest, the king guessed that it was their elder.

“Your Majesty,” it said, bowing as much as its age would allow. Agnarr nodded in return. “I am known as Grand Pabbie among our folk. It is a pleasure to meet the son of Her Majesty, Queen Rita, after so many years.” The troll paused, registering the surprise on the king’s face at the mention of his mother. “But tell me, what brings you to the Valley of the Living Rock?”

Agnarr hesitated, but soon found himself pulling back his cloak and drawing down the top of the blue cloth to reveal his daughter’s waking features. Her bright blue eyes and soft coos were met with a chorus of “ooh”s and “aah”s from the crowd, who gathered in closer around the king to catch a glimpse of the newborn.

He was both comforted and unsettled by the attention, and unconsciously stepped back with Elsa. Pabbie, sensing this, gave him an encouraging nod to continue. “It’s all right, Your Majesty,” he reassured the king.

Agnarr swallowed. “I’ve come with a difficult – unthinkable – request,” he corrected himself, his voice shaking. “I only make it out of desperation, for the safety and life of the princess.”

At the encouraging and concerned looks of the trolls, he looked down at his child, and laid out the account of his coming to the valley in detail: how he met the queen; her true heritage, and the magic present amongst her folk; the conflict between her people and his father; the fear of magic in Arendelle; the unusual and difficult pregnancy, as well as the premature birth of the princess; and, finally, how Elsa’s powers had manifested earlier that same day.

When he finished, Pabbie asked: “May I take a look, Your Majesty?”

Before Agnarr could inquire as to what he meant, the elder troll conjured a cloud of fine, purple dust that seemed to seep out of the king’s forehead into the air above them, recalling to him the illustration he had seen in the red book. The cloud began to take shape, revealing Agnarr’s memory of seeing Elsa’s powers for the first time. The trolls tittered in astonishment at the magic, and the king watched the scene replay with the same dread and awe as he had just a few hours before.

As the spell came to a close and the cloud faded away, Pabbie looked with wonder upon the babe in the king’s arms. “Truly remarkable,” he murmured.

Agnarr shifted uncomfortably at the remark, and continued: “Yes. And Iduna and I could have borne all of these difficulties, but for one: Elsa has been betrothed to a prince from the Southern Isles since before her birth, as this was the price named by its king for his support in rebuilding Arendelle after the war.” He shook his head. “And that is not one we are willing to pay, after discovering her powers.”

The elder’s brows furrowed. “Why do you fear this king, sire?”

Agnarr frowned. “He is cruel, Grand Pabbie, prone to exploiting whatever unsavory opportunities he can to give himself the greatest advantage over others. While I know my father’s flaws full well, his mistrust of Albert was not one of them. That man…” He sucked in a breath. “He had his own brother killed to hold onto the throne, and has had the audacity to claim the death was a ‘tragic accident’ ever since.”

The trolls murmured to each other with wide eyes at this revelation, but Pabbie’s brow merely rose while he otherwise remained calm. “And you fear that he would bring the same harm to the princess, or otherwise seek to use her to bad ends,” he surmised.

Agnarr nodded. “Yes. We’re quite certain he would, which is why…” He trailed off, staring down at his child through a veil of mourning, and then looked back up at the troll with unspeakable grief. “We do not have the means to conceal her powers forever, nor would we even know how to do so.” His eyes closed, and he trembled. “It was by the queen’s request that I come here, and ask that you look after Elsa in our place. I had hoped we could ask you to remove her powers instead, but my wife forbid it.”

The trolls gave a collective gasp at this admission, with consternated whispers traveling through the crowd. Pabbie raised his hand, quieting the ruckus. “And Her Majesty was right to do so,” he affirmed. “Though, truth be told, it would’ve been impossible for me to fulfill such a request, even if you had asked it of me. There exists no such power in this world.” He paused, glancing at the child. “Does anyone else know that you’ve brought her here?”

“No,” Agnarr replied. “Her birth had not been announced, and I told the physician and servants that the princess died shortly after her birth.” He reddened. “Truthfully, I’m not sure they believed it.”

The elder was quiet for a while at this, and stared with sympathy at the child, who continued to flitter between sleep and wakefulness. “Her power will only grow with time,” he said. “There is beauty in her magic, but also great danger.” He gazed up at the king. “You did the right thing in bringing her to us, Your Majesty. We can raise her as one of our own, and teach her to use this great power for good. But…” The troll’s eyes softened. “Are you sure you want to do this? For if you do, she will never know you as her father, nor the queen as her mother—nor will you be able to see her again, lest you risk raising suspicions about her parentage.”

With tears trickling down his cheeks, Agnarr assented with a tiny nod. “Yes,” he murmured.

Pabbie bowed his head. “So be it.”

The trolls watched in silence, waiting; Agnarr, shaking, held onto his child for as long as he could, and then knelt down, his tears falling onto her cheek. He removed one riding glove to wipe it away, and then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Removing the scarf from around his neck, he wrapped it around the princess as he drew her up from the sling, and whispered:

“Goodbye, my sweet Elsa.”

With weak hands, he handed her to an older, matronly troll who had stepped forward from the crowd to stand beside Pabbie. As the exchange was completed, the king stifled his sobs, as did the trolls surrounding him, who watched the scene with oddly human tears streaming down their stony features.

Pabbie placed a surprisingly warm hand on his shoulder. “It will be all right, Your Majesty. Rest assured that she will live well and happily in the Valley, in harmony with nature and her magic.”

The gesture was of little comfort to Agnarr, who continued to cry. At length, Pabbie took the king’s ungloved hand in his, and with the other he removed one of the jewels from his necklace. He chanted a brief incantation under his breath that turned the mineral from green to purple, and then pressed it into Agnarr’s palm.

“Crush this gem into fine powder when you return to the castle,” he instructed, “and mix just a few grains of that into the drink or food of anyone who saw the princess alive. It will ensure that their memories of her are erased, and confirm your story about the queen’s miscarriage.”

Agnarr wiped his tears away with the heel of his gloved palm. “I will,” he nodded. “Thank you.” After a moment, he felt his lips quivering again. “Grand Pabbie…”

The troll was attentive, holding the king’s hand. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

The king swallowed uneasily. “I hate to ask this, or even think of it yet, but… if Iduna and I have another child, will it also—”

“Have powers?” Pabbie finished. Agnarr nodded, red-faced. “No, sire,” the troll assured him. “It is highly unlikely. Such magic only comes along once in a generation, if at all.”

��You’re sure of this?” Agnarr asked.

“Yes,” the troll repeated, and added in a kinder tone: “You needn’t worry.”

The king could not help but release a small sigh of relief, though it was soon replaced by a deep look of regret as he heard the princess gurgle from within the scarf with which she had been wrapped.

He stood, turning away. “I should go, now, before my presence is missed,” he murmured, and the trolls parted to clear a path for him back to Sigurd. The horse watched his return with impatience, knocking the ground beneath him with one hoof for emphasis, and Agnarr quickly untied him.

As the king slotted one foot into a spur, he was surprised to find Pabbie before him again, staring with understanding and warmth so pure that it caused him to shudder.

“Your Majesty,” the troll said softly, “I promise that we will keep her safe.”

Agnarr paused for a moment, staring down at the elder. The dried tracks of his tears were still visible on his face under the moonlight.

“Tell me, Pabbie,” he murmured, “did my mother hesitate, before you erased her memories?”

The troll’s expression lifted in surprise, and then turned wistful. “She loved you very much, sire,” he said. “Were it not for her fear of your father’s reprisal, she would have taken you with her.”

Fresh tears brimmed in Agnarr’s eyes. “Answer the question, Pabbie.”

The old troll sighed. “Of course she did. To give up a child… it is the most difficult decision in the world. But she knew you would suffer more, if she raised you in her condition.” He gazed up at the king with a knowing expression. “I know it probably never made much sense to you before, though perhaps it does now.”

Agnarr’s lip quivered, and he found he could not challenge the assertion. Without speaking another word, he swung onto Sigurd’s saddle in one swift, practiced motion, and allowed himself one last glance at his daughter.

“Tell her we loved her,” he said at last, turning away. “Tell her we’ll never forget her.”

Pabbie bowed his head, and the king threw his hood back over his head. Guiding his steed towards the path into the forest, the two set off towards Arendelle at a clip.

In the distance, the child began to cry.

[rfadaydreaming]

— cellophane

why won’t you do it for me? when all i do is for you?

pairing: jumin x mc

words: 4.4k

link to read on ao3 [x]

prompt: failures // fights

tags: angst, language, unhealthy relationship, a bit toxic tbh, insecure jumin, emotional manipulation, unhappy marriage

a/n: for: @mysme-events​ angst week. this piece is inspired by fka twigs song, cellophane!

“Are you mad at me?”

Your voice had come out smaller than you had intended.

“Is there a reason I should be mad at you?”

He replied without meeting your gaze, opting to focus on the rain outside the car window instead. You didn’t quite know what kind of emotion his tone was carrying, but yet you knew it wasn’t good.

“No...”

You became hyperaware of the bad taste beginning to form in the back of your throat. It’s all too familiar, unfortunately.

“Then I shouldn't be mad at you. Should I?”

You didn’t answer him. You just weren’t sure what to say.

Heavy silence filled the car once again, the rain against the roof of the vehicle was the only thing that occupied the small space.

You sighed louder than you meant to, arms crossing over your torso, cheek resting against the foggy glass of the window. The cold felt nice against your skin, helped keep you grounded, calm. You took in a few deep breaths as you thought back on the events of earlier tonight.

The unfamiliar hand grazing the small of your back surprised you to say the least, you wanted to flinch away the moment you felt his hands touch you,, but yet you didn’t move. Why? You’re not exactly sure. Politeness, anxiety, maybe a mix of both. Maybe something else underneath it all.

You recognized the voice as a business partner of Jumins, the owner of the company that’s been occupying most of your husband's time as of late. Late nights, long meetings, hoards and hoards of paperwork.

His reputation was one you knew well, hearing it all secondhand from Jumin. He was quick to drop anyone who disagreed with him, no matter how small. Such a pain for your stubborn husband to work around, but yet as always, he somehow managed.

But one thing your husband made sure you knew about was his stance with women in particular. You weren’t allowed to come to the company dinners anymore. You could only drop things off through Jaehee at the office.

It seems he didn’t even want you to call him after meetings, one thing you two have always done even before you had started dating. Maybe the fear of his colleague overhearing your voice was the reason behind it, you didn’t know, you didn’t ask. You knew he would get upset if you did. 

Stay away from him, was all he warned.

And you promised him that you would.

“And you must be the famous Mrs Han, I presume?”

He was in front of you now, his hand lingering on your hip for a moment before pulling away. You inched away ever so slightly.

“Ah, Yes. I am.”

You had to look up to him to reply due to how close he was, the first thing you noticed was just how much he resembled Jumin. The only major difference was his eyes, while your husbands were grey and light, his were brown and deep. The similarities threw you off guard for a moment, however your surprise once you met his gaze seemed to be taken a different way than you had intended.

A slight chuckle escaped his lungs, It was warm and clear, it had a bit more of a higher pitch than Jumin’s did. More character to it.

“I’ve heard such great things about you! Your husband seems like quite the happy man. And I can see why, you’re beautiful. Ah– If I can say that, that is.”

You shied away without thinking, you didn’t particularly like the feeling you had in your stomach right now. You were also painfully aware of how his position was giving him a ‘good view’ of your body from up there, as your husband would sometimes say. 

His words seemed innocent, he seemed kind. But Jumin’s warning still flickered within your mind.

“Thanks, I suppose.”

You fully expected him to take advantage of his much taller height, but yet he didn’t seem to. His eyes were trained onto your own as he smiled, never glancing down at your chest even once.

A weird feeling stirred deep within your insides.

He isn’t like how Jumin described at all.

Why would your husband lie?

You entertained his small talk for a few minutes, he introduced himself, as did you.

Fear was the main thing holding you back from leaving, of course. Jumin had been working on this project for months now, the memories of him falling asleep over his laptop, his dark circles, his late night confessions of just how much his head ached were fresh in the back of your mind.

His mood swings, his exhaustion, his late nights.

Be polite.

Be polite for Jumin.

“–But enough about all that! Do you drink?”

“Uhm… Wine, sometimes. But i’m not the biggest fan.”

“Any reason in particular?”

He leaned into you a bit, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. You naturally smiled in return.

“I’ve tried some wine, but they’re just all so bitter to me.”

You scrunched your nose a little at the memories. Vineyards with Jumin were never your favorite, he just loved such sour wines.

“Bitter? Your husband is an investor in how many wineries exactly, yet only offers his wife bitter wine? Hm. We can’t have that now, can we?”

He spoke with a smile, wrapping his arm around your waist and beginning to guide you towards the bar. Before you even got the chance to protest in return, he was already sweeping you away. His thumb ran circles on your hip that you were painfully aware of. 

The pit in your stomach was growing heavier and heavier with every step.

It's been awhile since Jumin’s had even touched you like this, you thought.

It was nice.

He was rambling on about the wines he had lined up for tonight as he led you to a seat, pulling it out for you while still going on and on. You couldn’t even find an opening to interject, ask for a bathroom break, anything. 

He ordered you a drink, as well as one for himself.

You desperately scanned the room for Jumin, eyes bouncing off black suit after black suit. You just couldn’t pinpoint him like this, everyone was wearing such similar clothing...

You swallowed thickly and took a sip of the wine in front of you, face cringing a bit as you expected the worst, however pleasantly surprised once the taste had hit your tongue. 

It wasn't nearly as bitter as the wines Jumin often offered you.

Jumin’s sudden touch to your knee had caused you to jump a little, breaking you away from your racing thoughts.

“Stop.”

He finally met your gaze, you scrunched your brows in confusion. Two fingers pressed down against your skin, putting a halt to your restless leg.

“You know I don't like when you do that.”

A sigh escaped his lungs as he pulled his hand back, crossing his arms over his torso once again. Back to staring at whatever was so interesting outside the window. Oh yes, you had forgotten. How could you.

You glanced down at your knee after he had already pulled away.

It was red from the pressure that had been placed there.

“Well, sorry for being such an inconvenience then.”

You laughed a little in disbelief as you spoke, pressing your cheek against the window once more. 

Maybe it was a childish thing to say, but you truly didn’t care right now. You slumped further into the seat, humming to yourself softly as you stole some glances here and there towards your husband. 

His face was void of any readable emotion as of now, but his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes said everything you needed to know. He seemed to be thinking about something, your words perhaps. He suddenly met your eyes without warning. It made you flinch. 

“Inconvenience.”

He looked at you as he spoke. It felt so cold. You could feel anxiety beginning to build. 

“Inconvenience, is searching all over the venue for my wife when she won’t even bother to pick up her phone for her husband.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but you had cut him off before he got the chance,

“Jumin I told you it was almost dead earlier tonight, I just–“

“Don’t interrupt me while i’m speaking. Please.”

Jumin raised his voice harshly, it was ever so slight, but it still took you by surprise. His eyes were oddly intense with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint, all you knew is that they carried weight behind him. One you weren’t used to seeing. 

His gaze made you feel small and slightly embarrassed, you weren’t even sure why. It just did.

You nodded and closed your mouth, letting him go on.

“Inconvenience, is watching my wife entertain another man while I watch from the sidelines. Not just any man, but the one man I so vividly remember telling her to stay away from.”

You opened your mouth to interject once more but his brows furrowed as soon as you did so, his chin tilted forward in silent warning.

He continued on.

“Inconvenience, is seeing my wife share drinks with another man. Flirting with another man. Touching another man.”

“I didn't flirt.”

You raised your voice slightly, not by much, but it was enough to make him raise a brow. It was just... so hard to control yourself when he was being like this sometimes.

“Sharing a few drinks with him, laughing and giggling like some teenage schoolgirl, letting him put his hands all over you. Might as well have.”

Jumin’s tone was still so cold, monotone, and for some reason that hurt more than anything else could have.

It was like this most of the time. He would never yell, he would never shout, barely even show any emotion at all if you’re being honest. It drove you up the wall sometimes. You always left feeling like you were the irrational one because of it, no matter the case. 

It seems that’s what was happening again. As it always does.

“I wasn't given a choice, Jumin! He wouldn’t let me–”

The car came to a sudden stop, you groaned a bit, nearly biting your tongue due to the stop. It interrupted you just as you had begun to raise your voice.

 Jumin gave you an heavy look before rolling down the partition, Driver Kim gave him the confirmation that you two were back home.

He got out first, offering you a hand that you had refused to take.

The elevator ride was so uncomfortable.

His posture was relaxed as it usually was, hands messing with his cufflinks absentmindedly, his expression nearly blank while he stared at the panel of buttons on the wall, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world or something. The only indicator he has when he’s upset would be a clenched jaw.

It was something you had become oh so familiar with these past couple of months.

Anxiety was building up inside of your body, it felt itchy, it nearly burned. It was almost always there and had no issues made itself well known. But there was something deeper building behind it, not just from the argument. Something unfamiliar, bitter, ugly.

It frightened you.

You weren’t sure what it was yet.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

The two of you entered the penthouse in heavy silence, it felt like even breathing was much too loud for the atmosphere around the both of you. Elizabeth the Third had come running over as soon as the door opened, but it seems even she was able to sense the tension. You weren’t surprised, she usually can.

She opted to climb up on the couch instead, tail twitching back and forth as she watched her parents carefully from afar. You vaguely wondered if she knew something you didn’t.

Jumin went straight to the kitchen as soon as his jacket and shoes were off, not a word was spoken while he left. He went for a glass of wine you could only presume, he usually did once he got home. Normally you would get on his case about it, his more unhealthy drinking habits had been increasing as of late, but tonight wasn’t the time to nag him for it. You didn’t have the energy to fuel the fire more than you already had. 

You walked over to the living-room with a sigh, giving Elizabeth a slight pat before sprawling out on the couch. Your feet ached due to the heels from earlier tonight, but the relief of home was a welcomed feeling. You let your body sink into the cushions as you relaxed, at least the best you could for now.

You stared outside the window for a few moments, admiring the beauty of the city below. Your mind wandered just a bit. So many different types of people, most you’ll never meet, never see. But yet you wondered if maybe anyone out there knew how you felt right now. Maybe they could offer advice, a shoulder to cry on, something. Anything.

You closed your eyes, suddenly aware of how heavy they were getting, allowing your head fall back against the couch. It felt nice for a moment. 

You drew in a deep breath, your lungs stung as you pushed their limits.

It was peaceful. 

Jumin popping open a wine bottle in the kitchen caused you to flinch as you were brought back down to reality. The anxiety of the situation flooded back all at once, enough to make your stomach churn. 

The gentle still of before was gone in an instant.

You knew how all of this would play out. It truly felt rehearsed at this point.

He would press your buttons.

You would get angry.

He would give you the silent treatment as soon as you lost your cool.

You would apologize.

He would forgive you.

The two of you make up until the next time, then the cycle repeats.

You were almost numb to it at this point.

It used to be fun fighting with Jumin at first, if you could even call it that. It never lasted for too long, never too harsh either. You both would talk it out, laugh a little, then of course the make up afterwards was always amazing.

But now? There was nothing. No heated passion afterwards. No talking. No laughing.

Nothing.

Now you two could stay angry at each other for days on end until eventually one of you got tired of it, usually you. And someone halfheartedly apologizes, again, usually you. There was no communication either, you two just… go on like it never happened.

But it did happen.

It does happen.

And it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it doesn’t.

You heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, getting louder every second that passed. A soft sigh left your chest as you kept your eyes closed, maybe he would go away if you closed them tight enough, you could only hope.

It's Jumin. That’s your husband. You should never feel that way about him. But yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t.

You opened your eyes slowly and watched as he sat on the chair across from you, crossing his ankles in a somewhat sophisticated manner before slowly looking you up and down. The position you had wasn’t ladylike if you were being frank, your legs spread out despite the smaller dress you wore, arms sprawled out across the back of the couch, your posture slouched deep into the cushions. It felt a bit judgemental the way he observed you, maybe not, but right now you genuinely couldn’t tell.

“Feeling better?”

“Oh fuck off.”

You spat in return with a bitter laugh, god how you hated when he said shit like that during times like these. You knew that he knew you hated it too. Enter the pushing of buttons.

“I was simply asking a question. No need to get so worked up, my dear.”

He focused his attention on the dark liquid swirling within his glass while he spoke, putting emphasis on the pet name, feigning fondness. You narrowed your eyes in return.

“I feel great, especially good knowing that i’m not the one in the wrong here.”

While you beamed, he tensed.

You shouldn’t have said that. You knew you shouldn’t have the second it came out of your mouth.

“A lot of confidence coming from a woman who was acting like a little whore less than an hour ago.”

He suddenly met your gaze, your eyes widened as you felt anger begin to flood your chest. Jumin had never called you something like that before. 

“Excuse me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice was laced with offense, rage, maybe a bit of hurt if he cared to listen closely enough. But inside you knew he didn’t. You had gotten up from your place on the couch so quickly it had made you light headed for a few moments.

“Apparently something since you feel the need to flirt with any man you can get you hands on whenever I'm not around.”

Jumin looked up at you, you looked back down at him.

You were silent for a moment.

Processing things, taking it all in. Trying your hardest not to lose your cool, you just knew once you lost it he would have the upper hand. Don't lose your cool MC, please, you mentally chided. You inhaled deeply, exhaling even deeper as you took a quick breather.

“Look. I know how hard you’ve been working on this project okay, I didn’t want to fuck it up by saying something wrong to the guy or anything, I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, Jumin.”

You pleaded almost pathetically. Here it goes. This is the part where you usually start to apologize.

“Please, dont pretend like you’ve ever had my best interest in mind.” He said with a bitter laugh.

His laugh stung.

It was the thing to finally push you over the edge.

“You know what, I really, really wish I didn’t. If you cared enough to pay attention you’d see i’m always putting your best interest first and it makes my life miserable, absolutely fucking miserable Jumin! I can't even speak to another man without you getting all insecure and pissed off about it, and guess what happens after that? You make me feel fucking insane when i’ve done nothing wrong!”

You shouted, vented, spilt things you’d never even said out loud before.

“I don't even want to go outside anymore because I just know i’m going to do something that’ll make you mad, and you know what? I’m the person who has to apologize for it. Every single time. I’m the person who ends up comforting you even after you spend hours making me feel like i’m some whore or a broken fucking toy you only keep around because you’re scared of being alone again. It’s always me, me! It’s never you! I am so, so fucking tired of yo- this.”

He met your eyes, they were wide with surprise, shock, maybe even anger, but honestly you didn’t have the energy to care about his feelings right now. You couldn’t. It’s all you ever do, and it’s taking its toll on you. It’s too much.

Your slip up felt heavy in your throat. An apology almost spilt from your lips, but you stopped yourself before it had.

“This. I am so tired of this.”

You corrected yourself much quieter this time. It sounded so desperate, so empty.

The both of you sat in heavy silence once more. Exhaustion was slowly creeping its way into your body, mentally and physically.

You regretted all of your words almost instantly.

They weren’t false. But that only made you feel worse.

“MC.”

He spoke up after a few moments.

“Jumin.”

You replied calmly.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He genuinely seemed confused as he spoke, nervous, scared. On the inside you knew that he knew. He just wanted clarity, confirmation on what your words truly meant. It annoyed you, you had just explained exactly what you meant. But with a sigh, you held back your frustrations.

“Jumin. I am tired of this.”

You put emphasis on it, weakly pointing between the two of you. Eyes beginning to well with tears that you tried your hardest to shove away, your voice sounded so raw from yelling before, It hurt your own ears to listen to it.

A flash of guilt rapidly spread across his features, the glass in his hand shook slightly as he soaked in the true meaning behind your words. You were starting to feel guilty, he looked… scared. Your heart hurt looking at him in such a state right now.

His features softened as he met your eyes, he swallowed thickly. He looked like the old Jumin for a second again.

“MC, I’m–“

You cut him off with a shake of your head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your mouth,

“You’re so sorry. I know. You always do that. You put me through all of this only to apologize the second I say something that makes you even the slightest bit nervous.”

He broke away from your gaze like it had burned, instead staring down at the red liquid resting within his glass. His jaw was clenched again.

When you first entered a relationship with Jumin, you knew the kind of person he was. And at the time, you really thought you were okay with that. 

He had a lot to work through, you knew.

You could help, you told yourself, you told him. You’d be there for him while he figured things out, it would get better, as long as you were there for him, he would get better.

And he did. For the first year at least.

But now, things were different. So different.

You would start to laugh at the cashier's jokes too loudly for his liking. He would grab your arm a little tighter than usual, a silent warning, and you would quickly stop.

If you entertained Zen’s antics a few times too many, he would give you the silent treatment. Eventually your relationship with Zen had suffered in the long run, it was just better for Jumin’s sake if you two didn’t talk anymore.

Is it better for your sake, MC?

You remember Zen asking, but you couldn’t answer him.

Now it’s gotten to the point where you can’t even look at another man for a few seconds too long or else it turns into another argument.

Sorry didn’t feel comforting anymore.

After all, nothing changed afterwards, so did he ever really mean it?

They were just empty words to you now.

He’ll grow out of it, right?

That’s what you wanted to believe at the beginning. But how long would it take before he did? If he ever did? You didn’t know if you’d be able to stick around long enough to find that out.

“Jumin I’m not sure… if this is…”

working anymore.

The words just wouldn’t leave your throat. But still, he knew. And you knew that he knew.

You took a few steps back with a sigh.

Something had triggered within your husband as he grasped the gravity of the situation, the implication behind your words, the consequences of his actions. He dropped the wine glass to the floor, making you jump from the awful sound it made as it shattered against the hardwood. 

“You can’t leave.”

His eyes were wide as his head shook frantically, his expression took you by surprise, you could see panic claw their way into his features.

“Jumin.”

“No. Don’t– Don't leave. I’m sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He was on you in an instant, you knew he stepped on the glass judging by the sound it made, but yet he didn’t even flinch. You didn’t have time to process anything before he was holding you tightly against his chest, you couldn’t go anywhere even if you tried to, the pressure hurt a little. 

“We’re fine.”

His voice was shaky as he comforted himself more than anyone, it had an uncertain edge to it, painfully reminding you back to the first time you had stayed in his apartment. It made you more than a little nervous.

“This won’t happen again. Just don't leave. Don't leave me.”

Jumin rambled uncharacteristically, apologizing relentlessly as he buried his face into the top of your hair, his hands coming to hold the back of your head softly, pulling you into his chest. The sudden shift in his mood was enough to give you whiplash, you felt so much, too fast. Confused, guilty, scared, numb. Surprise wasn’t one of them though, no. It’s always like this.

You could hear him swallow thickly while he shakily ran his fingers through your hair, his racing heartbeat filling all your senses. You couldn’t help but notice his embrace didn’t feel as comfortable as it once did, it was unfamiliar to you. 

Your silence only made him even more nervous.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, your jawline, your temple, your forehead. You felt his tears press against your skin. He kissed your lips next, it was sloppy, panicked, filled with emotion. A sharp contrast to the Jumin you’ve been used to these past few months. Past few hours.

You didn’t react.

You didn’t kiss him back.

There was no spark to his touch like there should be. Like there used to be.

Your stomach was reeling, your ears were ringing. You suddenly buried your face into Jumin’s chest without warning, sobbing so hard that your head felt like it was about to burst from the pressure of your tears, your husband instead took this as a good sign. He hushed you with more of his frantic apologizes, but to be honest you weren’t really listening to him right now. Your mind only focused on one realization as you broke down within your husband's cold embrace.

“I love you.”

He whispered into your hair, you could tell by his tone that he really did mean it too. He cried with you even. Something he’d only done a few times in the relationship before.

You knew he did. You knew deep down, he loved you. 

All you could offer in return was a nod. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. Just nod. 

You realized something in that moment. 

You weren’t able to say I love you back to your husband anymore.

[kawaiijohn]

Going Angst Week Day 2: Obsession

Ao3:  Here

WC:  1689

Nav: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 

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The scenery behind the door was very... unique Quizz would say.  

“You know, if I wanted space I would just remove a wall.  A room suspended in the endless void is a little... extra, don’t you think?” They asked nobody.

There was a singular platform suspended in an endless inky void of space with a singular pathway to the door.  Nothing sat upon it but a desk- complete with a fancy looking double-monitor setup and roomy drawers underneath.  It looked sleek, modern, tempting.  

Quizz didn’t know why the single point of focus in an otherwise liminal room was so enticing, but hey!  The feeling in their chest hadn’t led them astray.  Yet.

With a shrug they began walking, their saunter turning into a slow but steady glide as they negated gravity.  “Well, only one way to go.  Down it is!!”

The monitors lit up with a strange logo- a devilishly smiling face with red shades and blue flames for hair.  Okay... that looked really cool, but... why was it lighting up?  They tapped the space key and a password entry blinked before them.

“I can’t even remember my name, what makes this place think I’ll remember a fuckin’ password right off the bat?  Sheesh!!”  He pulled the chair out and took a seat, realizing it didn’t need adjusting and was hella comfortable.  

Alright... he could work with this.

With a too-wide grin he began trying to unlock the machine.

-----

It turned out he could not, in fact, work with this.

Quizz had his cheek pressed against the desk, growling lowly at the password box as it flashed tauntingly at him.  It really didn’t help that the damn thing cackled at him with every wrong entry.

“Stupid computer.  Stupid amnesia.  Stupid Quizz... stupid stupid stupid.”  He pried his face off the desk in despair and slammed his forehead on it a few times.  “The fact that nothing seems to hurt me makes me think I’m just having an awful dream.”  Another slam.  “But with my terrible luck I’m in purgatory or something.” Slam.  

“Why is this so damn hard... Always gettin’ myself into so much trouble- way more than it’s worth!!  Gods mom was ri-...”  Quizz paused and thought.  “.... she was... who?  Who was... right??  ACK!”  They grabbed their forehead, talons accidentally scratching the fuck out of their face in the rush.  “I-I... why do things keep.  Leaving me?”

They took a moment to calm, thinking about it- thinking about the trouble they were in; lost and alone with apparently only a locked computer for company.  “Please, I... don’t want to forget her.  I just want to... know...” The pain in their head subsided as the thing in their chest thrummed violently.  “Who was she to me again??”  They had to remember, feelings of both nostalgia and love rushed over them, followed by a single, near debilitating shudder of regret and the gut-wrenching feeling of failure.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t enough... I couldn’t be there for you all...’

Quizz gasped loudly.  “I... someone said I get into trouble... it was familiar, but not angry.  Exasperated... and then I... I left them.  How did I leave?”  Their heard vibrated strangely again.  “I don’t think I left them willingly.  But who were... they?”

A happy, yet tired family sits at a table.  A single chair remains empty yet another day; a small plate covered in frogs sits on a placemat in front of it.  There’s three other people, smiling yet tired.  Pizza steams fresh in the center with two figures talking excitedly about something else.  They’re all smaller besides one more in focus than the others.  They look... older?  The image clears a bit more and reveals a stout woman with slightly greying hair and blank eyes...

Something clicks into place.

"Mom!!!  I remember mom- I think... but who are the others?  Kids, at least maybe?  Ah, what was her name- I can... Her favorite color was peach!!”  They readied themself for pain again, but none came.  “ Ah, so the initial memory sucks when I remember it!!  Noted!  Thanks brain, I hate it!!!”  They tapped their forehead and stood in front of the desk, arms crossed.  “Now, brain, my dear friend- can please you do me a favor and, oh... I don’t know... fuckin’ LET ME UNLOCK THIS FUCKIN’ DESKTOP?? Please???”

The monitor snickered softly at them again after a moment of absolute silence.

“ALRIGHT SMARTASS!!!”  Quizz slammed their fist hard on the keyboard, hearing something click softly underneath.  “There’s literally no need to get sassy with me!  So what do you say, help me out here, bud?  Please???”  They pleaded with the computer, but got a loud raspberry in return.  “Cool.  Just fuckin’ great.”  Another smack to the keyboard made something inside the desk click again, the sound of some sort of mechanism unwinding.  After a moment, a drawer (one he was SURE was locked) glided open gracefully.

Quizz perked up, ignoring the fact they were about ten seconds from slashing the monitor in half with their new claws.  “Alright!  Now that’s the shit I’m talkin’ about!  That’s the shit I’m fuckin’ about!!!”  They turned and saluted the blank space surrounding him.  “Thanks, weird void room.  Thanks weird asshole computer!!  I totally appreciate the help you gave me!!” 

‘Ah, sarcasm.  Never fails to lighten the mood.’

With nimble fingers the amnesiac started shuffling through the drawer.  It had several very... interesting items inside- weirdly shaped pens, a neat collapsable cane he was gonna inspect later, but the best of all was a pair of dope-ass red shades that they absolutely donned immediately- a feeling of pride and rightness filling them as they put them on.

They made it to the bottom of the drawer when their chest thrummed violently.  A lone binder, locked tightly, sat at the bottom.  They grasped their chest with one hand and the book with the other, admiring the intricate silver swirls and black glittering stars covering it.  Quizz placed it on the desk, noticing a small, strangely glittering key hanging off of a chain attached to it.

The room seemed to whisper directly into his mind.

‘Open it.  Inside.  Open... learn about... read... learn...’

With a shaking hand, they unlocked it and read.

They read.

And read.

Memories coming to the forefront and fading away just as soon.  Their eyes scanned words that would pixelate and blur as soon as they glanced at them.  Names and places, numbers and facts- blurred away from his sight.  

‘No.  This is not how it should be.’

A growl bubbled up in his chest as he kept reading.  Names were all universally destroyed, photos for the most part blurred out.  But categories- favorite places and things... birthdays and personality types- all of those were categorized neatly and nicely.  

Some pages had just a few, and those names were less obscured- some even with profile pictures fully visible.

Those pages made his chest rumble happily.  He couldn’t understand why.

But there were three specific pages that stood out.  Just looking at them... it made his blood itch, his chest scream in longing.

He needed to finish them.  If he didn’t... he didn’t know what he would do.  

He poured over the pages over and over and over again.

They all had information filled for the most part, more categories were finished than any other page had been, but things like the person’s name and appearance, as well as the photos were unhelpfully blurred out.

They snarled at the thought of not knowing what it meant.  

“Can’t make anything easy for me, huh?”

One was a page that was rather childish.  Observations were written but he could barely understand them- the letters scrambling before his eyes.  But he noticed something- it seemed the entry was cut short; the only clear thing besides crayon drawings of frogs said ‘entry cut short, just like their time with us.’

The second page was filled with pressed flowers- all different types of lilies and snapdragons.  Everything was written with a glittery peach gel pen.  They ran a claw over the script and felt a tear fall from their eyes.  The writing made them feel something deep and painful- the same pain they’d felt a short while ago.

Their eyes scanned the page, noticing a single clear data entry.

Favorite Color:  Peach

“This was... is this my mom?”

Upon saying that, the page become more readable- some smaller things filling out and the photo less ‘thumb over the camera’ and more ‘they moved while I took this’.

If this was information on people they knew then...

Quizz yelled as their chest spiked in pain, something overcoming their willpower.

If this book was filled with things about the people they loved, then they will... they are going to... uncover all of it- collect all the information and find them.  They’ll collect everyone interesting they meet- ask them... get answers, know things, know all things to... to - 

Protect.

Love.

Learn.

Know. Know them.

After feeling cold pins and needles consume their form, Quizz flipped back to the third and last page that had gathered their interest. 

The very first page in the book.

Their claw ran over the scrawling handwriting- admiring how the writer crossed their sevens with lines, how they looped their letters and underlined things for emphasis.  They felt nostalgic and hollow.

This page had every single category filled, but the descriptions were blackened out; like they’d spilled ink all over the page.  They looked it up and down but couldn’t find a single clue about who page one would have been.

With a sigh they grinned and noticed something peculiar on the inner cover- right next to the bio.  There was a single note, a single clue.

Password:  Page 5′s best friend.

Now that... that tickled Quizz’s fancy.  Page 5... that would be the childish froggie page?  Yes it was.  

Quizz felt the buzzing in their chest become steady, violent yet subdued.  It was telling them this was the right direction- that attaining that information would fill a hunger they didn’t know they had.

Interesting, this was going to just be... delightful.

[yzkhr]

Third installment of the Love Language Miniseries

It might be OOC so please bear with me

Dedicated to the one who gave me this wonderful yet painful series idea @meitanteisachi!

-

Words of Affirmation- You get a thrill from receiving compliments and unexpected praise. You like it when others say they care about you or appreciate having you in their lives. You love feeling understood and receiving recognition for a job well done.

Shinichi trusts Ran a lot. But having a recent 'misunderstanding' along with being busy with his detective work and texting an apology yet receiving a slur of misspelled sentences with only the words 'Sonoko' and the name of a specific bar being decipherable, he can't help but worry and overthink.

(The name 'Kazuha' was readable as well and it did lessen his panic, but the reassurance he felt was nothing compared to Sonoko and her constant tricks that worsened when they became adults.)

Reaching the said bar on Rans' text message, he rushes inside and immediately dislikes the smell of mixed alcohols and smoke everywhere. Face indifferent, he passes through the dancing crowd and went straight to where he deduces his girlfriend to be.

Knowing Ran, she's not someone to go wild in such a tight place, nor does she appreciate the smell of cigarettes all over the dance floor. She would be somewhere comfortable and quiet enough to converse with Sonoko and Kazuha. Shinichi can't think of a better spot than the bartenders' counter.

And he was right.

There she was, in the middle of a familiar drinking blonde on her left and a brown haired woman on her right, reclined in her stool and mouthing words to her left side. Despite her back being the only thing he can see from where he's standing, he recognized it in an instant, having been familiar from the sight since childhood (her iconic hairstyle also helped).

Walking a little closer to be heard and putting his hands into his pockets, he calls out. "Ran."

The girls, save from the gulping heiress who ignores him, turns around and express the same visage upon seeing him. Rans' expression instantly change however, as her wide eyes and agape mouth closes and curls up into a smile.

"Shinichi!"

She stands up from her seat and walks over to him in an odd unbalanced manner. On a closer inspection, Shinichi noticed how her cheeks flushed a rather more healthy red than normal.

Raising an eyebrow, he opens his mouth to scold but his prepared reprimands die on his throat as Ran hugs him instead of just standing in front of him, her slender hands wrapped around his neck slowly, her feet tiptoeing as she concluded she wasn't tall enough to reach Shinichis' height.

He instinctively backs away from the unexpected warmth and weight, flustered and confused. Ran didn't even gave him the time to recover, leaning her head into the crook of his neck and sniffing it as he felt her sigh, successfully making his mind blank.

"You smell nice." she whispers, letting out a giggle as if entertained at her out of nowhere compliment while he stands there, frozen and left with no words to respond. Even after five years of being together, her effect on him stays consistent and powerful, similar to their first meeting.

Fortunately, he was brought out of his reverie by a familiar—not in a good way— smell of rum mixed into her natural sweet odor. From that, everything clicked. Her red face, wobbly walking and unexpected behavior finally made sense to him.

"You're drunk." he deduces as he looks down at his girlfriend who avoided eye contact by looking sideways and pouting, confirming her guilty.

"Sorry Kudo-kun," he redirects his gaze at the source of the voice, finding an apologetic Tooyama Kazuha. " We're the ones that invited her here and as you can see," her eyes went to Ran briefly before going back to him and continues sheepishly, "We kinda got carried away."

He expected the answer. After all, Ran rarely drinks, much less get drunk. She'd only really go all out when there's an important celebration or a really big problem, like a certain misunderstanding that may or may have not happened between the two of them.

"It's fine." he acquits as his eyes looks at anywhere but Kazuhas' green ones, unsure of how to ask. "Umm, did Ran told you anything concerning? Like if there's a huge problem or something?"

The Osakan woman's eyes widened and suspiciously travelled to Ran as if asking for permission, who in return tightened her grip around his neck to bring him down a little. Kazuha now seems to have an answer, glancing back at him.

"Nope, Ran-chan said nothing like that at all." with the way she puts up a tight lipped smile, it was obvious she was lying. "Besides, if there is an issue like that, why don't you ask her? I'm sure she'd tell you."

He wants to disagree, being aware of Rans' nature to he very considerate that she might dismiss the topic. But Shinichi really isn't fond of the idea of pressuring his bestfriends' girlfriend, so he didn't say anything. Besides, Kazuha was right, if there was anyone to ask about what is wrong, it would be his girlfriend.

"Yeah, you're right." he laughs and attempts to change the topic, not wanting to make the atmosphere awkward. "Anyways, it's pretty late. Want me to take you guys home?"

The brunette shakes her head and looks from behind. Shinichi follows her gaze, only to find Sonoko still on the counter and talking to someone on the phone. Her voice is so loud that it can mildly be heard from where they're standing.

"No thanks, it seems Sonoko-chan is already calling Makoto-kun to pick her up."

"It seems so," he now looks back to her. "How about you?"

"No need," she pulls out her phone, showing him her private chat with Hattori. "The ahou already texted he's on his way."

"And besides," Kazuha sends him a teasing look and an amused smile. "Even if we didn't have our boyfriends picking us up, you'll still get your hands full."

As if on cue, Shinichi was reminded of his girlfriend who's still clinging on to him, her constant breathing on his ear enough to make him go red, as if he's the one intoxicated.

He silently agrees to Kazuhas' statement.

-

Ran insists on walking home instead of getting a taxi. He protested but after being presented with the same adorable pleading look she always used on him back when he was Conan;wide eyes, pouty lips, and blushing cheeks, he was really left with no choice.

Now, they tread across the empty streets of Beika with the moon illuminating the area, Shinichi makes sure that his girlfriend doesn't trip from her quivering steps, choosing to carry her on his back, her arms hanging loosely around his neck while his hand secured on her thighs, assuring of no fall. The night serves peaceful, accompanied by a comfortable silence.

Until he decided to break it.

"Hey Ran--" he starts, wanting to ask her about the 'problem' he wasn't sure they're having, but was cut off by her instead.

"Ne, Shinichi?" her voice is a bit slurred but with his proximity, he heard it just fine. She seemed to have timed it when he decided to speak, deliberately avoid the questioning from him, concluding that something is wrong. He wanted to ignore her distraction and push further, but with Rans' current condition, he gives up and lets her get away.

"Hmm?"

"Did it hurt?" he stops walking in confusion at such a sudden question, prompting him to face her as she wears an innocent smile.

"What hurt?" he asks, not getting the point. It took him a few seconds to catch on to what her 'innocent smile' and question means, and he isn't exactly happy at the conclusion he got.

"Please no," he exclaims as she looks at him expectantly, really wanting to continue. he complains. "Isn't this supposed to be the other way around?"

A glare is all it took for him to know she's not giving up. However, Shinichi isn't going to comply so easily either.

"Let me guess, when I fell from heaven?" he teases her, ahead of the supposed pick up line she's about to say.

Instead of being angry however, Rans' smile widens more than before, not looking as innocent. "No."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion he asks, "What?"

"When you fell for me."

He stares in disbelief. He had never expected such a cheesy pick up line to be even more cheesier than it already is and it honestly impresses him(in a bad way). Meanwhile, Ran looks way too proud of herself, a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Okay, you win." he states rather dejectedly and continues walking, wishing his surrender to be the end of her drunk flirting.

If he were to be completely honest, Shinichi somewhat expected Ran to do something crazy and uncharacteristic, since it isn't the first time for her to be this intoxicated. The last time, she sang random songs with the most intangible lyrics he had ever heard, her drunk singing voice comparable to his normal one. This time it's the same, only now it's sappy pick up lines instead of crappy lyrics( he isn't sure which one is worse).

"Shinichi," she starts again, and it was cue for Shinichi to pick up his pace to get home faster, and he did. But Ran is stubborn. She calls his name on repeat way too many times, that he has to stop and finally decides to listen.

"Alright, let's hear it and quickly take you home to your apartment because I'm already tired of this." he yields, defeated and weary. On the other hand, Rans' expression is the complete opposite, too cheerful and energetic like neon lights on a dark room.

"You know why you're tired?"

"Yeah because of your pick up--"

"Because you've been running through my mind all day long." she breaks into a laugh as he stops functioning, wondering how his girlfriend can be so witty and stupid at the same time whenever she drinks a lot more than usual.

He ponders if Kaito has something to do it. After all, there is no one better and worse at flirting with words than he is. Rans' are tolerable but maybe it's because he loves her so much that he does appreciate them, but they're still pretty bad.

He deadpans at her still cackling form just to express his emotions. "You know, other people will call you an idiot if they know you're doing this."

She pauses, her turn to be confused. "Just other people? What will you call me then?"

"My idiot who's doing this."

Her reaction is instantaneous. Her face blossomed a shade of crimson as she coughs, too taken aback while he tilts inwards, smirking at having to get back at her antics.

"That's not fair!" she whines, throwing daggers at him as she cough a little more.

"You started it." he yawns, the night catching on to him.

He really thought it was the end of it, but Ran always proves him wrong as she started once again. "Yeah, being good looking must be sooo tiring."

He really is impressed at how her mind can processed a mundane action and turn into a bad and cheesy pick up line. But he didn't become friends with the worst flirt in the world for nothing. Clearly not accepting defeat, he decides to play along. "Then you must be exhausted."

Her face turns into a blushing mess either from embarrassment or frustration or maybe even from both.

"Shinichi!"

And that's what they did until they got home. He truly was worried that there was something bothering Ran, but from the way she conversed and flirted with him(even though he's sure it's the alcohol talking), he was confident that if there was a problem, it isn't as bad as he expects it to be.

-

After an hour of throwing trashy jokes at each other, they finally made it to her apartment. He grabs the key he got from her earlier and opens the door, going straight to the sofa to put down his girlfriend.

Ran looks tired, eyes constantly blinking as she takes off her shoes, slower than it's supposed to be. She flops down on the couch, ready to doze off. Making sure she won't fall off, he strides into the kitchen to get some water.

Going back in the living room with a glass, he now finds her sitting instead of her laid down position a minute ago. She's dazed, eyes dead set on the table across as her brows intensely furrow as if trying to figure something out.

"Here you go," he sits down beside her, offering the water. He watches her drink it languidly, attentive to her every move. After finishing and putting it back on the table with a thud, Ran stands up, a hand on her throat.

"What's wrong?" he asks as the panic becomes visible on her visage, eyes roaming everywhere.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," as if on signal, she makes a strained sound while Shinichi rushes her inside the bathroom, certain that Ran won't appreciate walking into her living room with vomit all around it.

Upon reaching the toilet, Shinichi lets her bend over it and finally lets out everything she ate and drank that day as he soothes her back, stroking it back and forth. He also holds her hair up just make sure it doesn't get in the way.

"Are you okay?" he tilts his head in confusion as she turns around now done with her task, eyes watering slightly.

"I'm hungry." he sighs, having predicted it. He isn't the best at cooking, but letting his girl cook for herself while still being a bit visually impaired and losing her self balance every now and then sounds like the worst decision he can make in this situation.

"Fine. I'll make you something." hearing such words, Ran wipes her tears and beams at him. He leads her out of the restroom, leaving her on the couch and heading to the kitchen to cook at least a soup just to quench her hunger.

A few minutes passed and he comes back to a yawning Ran, with a hot and steamy soup laying in his hands. She offers him a drowsy smile, and he gives a knowing one in return.

"Here," he places the bowl on the table in front her and Ran takes it leisurely. She takes a chunk of food and blows at it, in the hopes of lessening the heat. Satisfied, she puts it on her mouth and makes a noise, glancing at him.

"It tastes good!" he chuckles and shakes his head in disapproval. "Thanks but, I'm pretty sure it only taste like that because you're drunk."

He leans in the wall as he watches her consume the soup with gusto, making his heart swell. When Ran finally eats half of it, he speaks out.

"Seriously, what made you drink so much like that?" despite the high chance that she won't answer, he still gives it a try.

After hearing no response, the detective sighs and looks away, deciding to let it slide and thinks that he'll just try again tomorrow.

But it looks like that he doesn't have to.

"It's Shinichi's fault." she said it so casually and quietly, but it didn't get pass his ears. Shock at the fact that she replied and at the specific retort, he looks back and stares at her.

"Eh?"

"It was Sonoko's little dare," she finishes the rest of the food without care and continues, "She told me how you're always so indifferent and said to make you blush or whatever. But, you you were so busy with the case that I didn't even had the chance and just gave up."

He was left dumbfounded. The events three days ago went back to him in a flash. All of Ran's little glances, her stuttering words, and even her hold on him before he left after taking her home finally made sense.

'That Sonoko!' he twitches his eyebrow in annoyance. He really should've seen that coming. If there was anyone this world who could think such an idea, it would be none other than their childhood friend.

He attempts to talk, but she beats him to it.

"But, now that I think about it, I really dont mind Shinichi being busy like that," she's now looking at him, a smile plastered on her blushing face, sign of still being under the influence of the alcohol. "After all, I really love Shinichi's face whenever he solves a case. Shinichi's eyes always lights up, like it's alive and burning. As if seeing a world no one else knows."

"Whenever Shinichi solves a case, he helps a lot of people. And it's amazing to know, that tons of people are alive right now—because of Shinichi." she rambles on, calling his name too many times as if she's only talking to herself, like he isn't standing right there at all to listen.

Her voice, despite being slurred holds honesty in them that didn't make the current condition of his heart any better as he's hearing her compliment him.

"I guess that just means, that I really love Shinichi." she laughs at her own words, finding such a revelation amusing.

Meanwhile, Shinichi stands there having only two things in his mind; that Ran is really drunk, and that he's just glad the dare is over. Because if it wasn't, with the way he feels his face burning right now, he was sure Ran would've absolutely won it.

[translightyagami]

Hello!

I love your fanfic “in your shoes”

(It was the first thing I read about your work and since then I have fallen in love with your writing)

For the fic prompt... Could you write a little more of that AU, please.

(Oh it was so fun to return to this AU! L is a professor at the university Light's attending and they've been together for a little while. You should read "in your shoes" first, but its not imperative. anyway! hope you enjoy!)

cross-posted on ao3!

It was spring break, and L sulked in Light’s apartment. He planned to host his boyfriend during the long academic holiday, but Light surprised his family with a last-minute visit back to Japan. L fiddled with his pockets, taking in the Light’s plastic apology while he laid out instructions on cat-sitting Ryuk.

“Look, I’m sorry, but my father’s been getting ill more often, you know, and you’re going to want to mix Ryuk’s wet food with some dry because he likes the texture, and my mom pretty much said he’s going to kill himself into retirement so I need to be there to convince him to slow down, I’m the only one he listens to about work matters, and this is Ryuk’s favorite toy, so use it with him for about, oh, an hour a day? My sister misses me. I have to go back. Here’s the litter you need to use, and the scoop for when you clean it.”

“I made plans,” L said and took the red scoop from Light. He held it in both hands, staring at the handle in the shape of three apples. Even to his own ears, his voice was pathetic. “I made a reservation at our favorite restaurant. I got really weird sex toys for us to try, because there’s all that recovery time.”

Light’s expression softened until his regret tasted genuine, if pitying. He stroked a hand through L’s hair.

“It’s only for the break,” Light said and kissed L on the forehead. “And then I’ll be back. Just switch the reservation, huh?”

While his soreness over the whole business still thumped under the skin, L liked snooping around Light’s place. He brought his grading work over and, after finishing up, wandered the square-ish space. Despite paying a deep-pocketed rent price, Light lived in a small, cramped studio – made all the tinier with the fat black Ryuk tottering around. His bed, a neat twin mattress with blue sheets that screamed department store boys youth section, had beneath it several plastic storage boxes. L flipped through them, pausing every so often to pet Ryuk or shake the cat’s feather toy.

Inside were stacks of birthday cards, letters from family, and, beneath all this communicative detritus, a pair of diaries. Or journals, as Light called them on the first page of each faux leather book. L flicked the pages of the journal dated the year before Light started at his university. Nothing interesting leapt out, save how Light’s kanji was cramped just like his handwriting in English. Some entries were readable only by squinting – although L didn’t care to read more than three or four since they all smelled of a closet Light didn’t occupy much anymore.

He did enjoy the entry about Light’s adoption of Ryuk. Apparently shelter cats with bad attitudes were Light’s favorite pets, and Ryuk marked the most recent addition. As L read the line, “He only likes when I feed him treats. We’re special to each other, because he chose me and I chose him,” Ryuk nipped him on the finger. L blew a raspberry at the awful little man but shook the feather toy to avoid another nip.

The next journal was more interesting, for it covered Light’s more recent goings-on: fitting in at a foreign university; cooking for himself for the first time; and L rubbed stubborn tears away reading about Light breaking down and calling his mom to ask her, please, how to make his favorite dessert. “I miss everything about home,” Light wrote in an entry marked a month before his first class with L. “There’s nothing for me here except school and Ryuk, and I’m tired of it. I can’t have made a mistake coming here, have I?”

And then The Entry: “I met the most interesting person today.” L knew the date – how could he forget the most important beginning he’d had lately? After that entry came others, more and more concerned with ethical boundaries, and whether this person (God, of course Light refused to acknowledge his crush on a professor, as though his journal judged him) felt the same as Light. One memorable paragraph fell on the day before Light first asked L on a date. Using the back of his hand, L tried to ward off more tears but nothing helped. Ryuk, no longer in a nipping mood, stamped himself a bed in L’s lap. His snore scored L’s reading.

“I wonder if it’s possible to know someone the way I know myself. Or is that too romantic? That’s another thing I sort of hate and love about him, how he’s romantic like me. We’re not moony or anything, but sometimes when he lectures I can feel how he feels – how his passion is a broad stroke. He loves concepts, ideas, the way that no one else I’ve ever met does … except for me. And then when I go to office hours and sit on the other side of his desk, all I can think about is how his mouth moves around words, makes them sound like they’re carved in stone. Even when they’re just so stupid! Because god, he says stupid shit sometimes. And I want to kiss him when he does, so he’ll shut up and hold me and tell me in that serious voice what a joy I am to have in class … maybe outside of class too, if I play my cards right.”

On Friday, a day before Light’s flight back, L woke up to his phone ringing. He was in Light’s apartment, snoozing on the twin bed with a Ryuk-shaped stone on his stomach and the last pages of the journal propped on his chest. His tone was mealy as he answered but perked as the sharp music of Light asking how Ryuk was played through the phone.

“Your little man is fine,” L said, stroking the little criminal in question. “Are you well? Is your trip giving you what you wanted?”

“Not really,” Light said. “I didn’t come on the trip to get something I wanted. My family is happy. Are you doing okay? I hope your bruised ego and our new reservation survived the week.”

L nodded before remembering Light couldn’t see him.

“Yes,” he said, laughing. “I’m okay. Actually, I wanted to ask you something, since you’re back home and everything.”

“Oh sure. Go ahead.”

“Are you happy you stayed?” L asked, licking his lower lip. “I mean, are you happy that you stayed at the university? You didn’t make a mistake?”

The pause was long, filled only by pen clicking on Light’s end as he kept quiet. As L geared up to wave away the question, Light sighed until his lung wheezed.

“I don’t make mistakes,” Light said. “Of course, I’m glad I stayed. Although if you read my diary again, I will make you wish I didn’t.”

[calmlftv]

falling. - c.h. blurb

description: a lil bit more angst, but this time inspired by cal’s instagram story cover a few months ago! 

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst but w a happy ending.

w/n: apparently if i listen to falling by harry styles enough i’ll write something sad. oops 

taglist: @spicycal​ @castaway-cashton​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​ @notinthesameguey​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @ashtonsos​ @loveroflrh​ @bestyearssos​ @treatallwithkindness​ @bestyearslftv​ @another-lonely-heart​

****

It’s been 4 days since you and Calum fought, and the radio silence was starting to become absolutely deafening. 

All you wanted was his strong arms wrapped around you, his breath on your neck as he buried his face there, the smell of his clothes enveloping you in an even bigger hug than the one he was physically giving you; all you wanted was him, his giggley laugh that usually became silent when he was really happy, your fingertips tracing his tattoos while you laid in bed together, limbs tangled around each other while he sang you a love song. You missed him desperately. 

But that night always comes back, the way his voice sounded when he snapped at you, the exhausted and annoyed frown on his face that dragged all of his beautiful features down. Your voice snapping back, alcohol on your breath as you finally told him everything that was bothering you; thinking about it now, you couldn’t remember what you were so upset about anyway. You just know it broke the most beautiful relationship you had ever been in. It has pushed you away from the love of your life. 

Now, it was 2 a.m., your eyes stinging from the tears you had let out earlier as you laid in your best friend’s bed. She had let you stay with her after the fight, giving you her bed as she slept on the couch in her living area. You were even sharing clothes; the idea of walking back into your home with Calum filled you with anxiety, knowing he would be there and knowing you would have to see him. See his face, smell his cologne and hear his voice. 

Your mind restless, you threw the covers off, dragging your hands down your face before you looked around the room. Your best friend’s electric piano was in the corner, music stacked high and random papers filled with chords for her favorite songs splayed out everywhere. Before you gave it much thought you swung your legs over the bed, padding over in your bare feet and baggy t-shirt before reaching out and pressing the power button. 

The bench was cold against your bare thighs, the cool faux leather almost calming as your hands played over the keys. You hadn’t played in so long, your hands itching to dance over the ivories as you pulled out your phone. You pulled up the only song you had been listening to these days, muscle memory kicking in as you learned all the chords in a short time. You opened your camera, facing it towards you and starting a video recording as you played. 

“I’m in my bed,” you sang, your voice a bit rusty from the years of no use. You continued despite that. 

“And you’re not here. And there’s no one to blame but my drink and my wandering hands.” 

The words of Harry Styles floated from your mouth, the music swelling and falling as you pressed forward. You lost yourself in the sounds, forgetting about the video recording and just letting the music take over. Your own voice surprised you as it quickly warmed up, your hands tense while you played and played; your best friend padded over, rubbing her eyes and smiling as she heard you in her room. She leaned against the doorway, arms folding in front of her as she quietly watched you, just enjoying the sound of your voice. 

Once the song was over you held the final chord, letting it ring out around you as you sat there. Tears fell on the keys, the overwhelming numbness taking over shortly after as you stopped the recording. Quickly you posted the first chorus and verse to your Instagram story, typing an i’m sorry on it and praying that Calum wouldn’t see it.

Your best friend quietly moved behind you as you did this, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and watching you caption the video before she silently sat with you. The two of you played and sang until the sun came up and your voices were aching, giggles escaping between songs as the two of you just fell into the music over and over again. 

As the sun came through the windows the two of you moved to bed, sharing the soft mattress together like you’ve done a million times before. You both quickly fell asleep, the lack of sleep catching up to you as your eyes fluttered closed. 

It was 3 p.m. when you woke up again, your best friend shaking you awake. 

“Y/N,” she said, patting your cheek. 

“What?” You groaned, burying yourself deeper into the covers until she grabbed your arm and shook you again. Finally getting the message you sat up, your phone being shoved into your hands as you wiped the sleep from your face. 

Opened on your screen was Calum’s Instagram page, the sight making you groan. “Why are you-” 

“Shut up and watch his story,” she said, reaching over and tapping the colorful circle around his profile photo. 

What popped up was Calum, a sad look on his face as he played his guitar in what looked like the living room. His pouty lips were pulled down at the corners, the camera a bit far and the lighting a bit dark but the circles under his puffy eyes were still obvious. The words i’m sorry too sat in a corner, small but readable to you.

His fingers picked the strings of his guitar softly until his voice followed. 

“You said you care, and you missed me too…”

Your breath caught in your throat as your actions from the night before came crashing back to you; the plead for him, the caption on your video and the caption on his. Heart swelling, you looked at your best friend, her eyes watching you as Cal’s voice swelled. 

“C’mon,” she said as the story closed, tugging you gently off the bed. She tossed some clothes at you. “Get dressed.” 

You nodded, confused but listening to her. Once you had clothes on she came back, sitting you down as she brushed out your hair and cooled your undereyes. When she was finished she pulled you up, handing you the bag you had come there with and ushering you out the door. She sat you in her car and started to drive, her plan finally dawning on you as anxiety flared up in you. 

The home you shared and created with Calum looked exactly the same; not like it should have changed at all, since you know Calum wouldn’t have done anything, but the sight of it still so perfect against your broken and nervous heart was stark. Without words you got out, bag clutched tightly in your hands as you looked at your best friend. She gestured for you to continue, her butt staying in the car as your feet carried you to the front door. 

Your key was in your bag but you opted to knock instead, a hand nervously running through your hair as you waited for the answer. 

You blinked and suddenly the door was open, Calum’s tall frame taking up the doorframe. His eyes were rimmed in red and puffy, dark circles hugging the lower lid as he looked at you. His brown eyes were darker than normal, no doubt reflecting how he felt inside. 

His eyes were wide as he looked, yours the same size as you both just took each other in. His hair was messy. 

“Hi.” You said, your voice hoarse. 

“Hi.” His voice was soft, his features lined with sadness. 

You tucked some hair behind your ear. “Can we-” 

“Yeah,” he answered, stepping aside to let you in. You waved to your best friend, her giving you a nod before heading home.

Once inside you set the bag down, turning around and burying your face in Cal’s chest. His arms immediately found their way around you, his grip tighter than it ever has been as your shoulder shook. 

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, tears already falling down your face. Calum’s chest heaved, a tear hitting the top of your head as he breathed you in. He missed how perfectly you fit against him, how much you smelled like home. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sobbed, pressing a kiss to your head before you pulled back enough to look at him. “Can we work this out? Please?” 

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks again. “I’d really like that,” you said, Calum pulling you back against his chest. He squeezed you until you were both done crying, his hand lifting your chin so he could press a kiss to your forehead. His lips found yours a moment later, his hands on your hips as he still squeezed you. 

After you both pulled away he bent down, throwing you over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. You couldn’t help but laugh, this being your favorite thing. “Calum Thomas!” 

A chuckle met your ears as he carried you upstairs. “I missed your laugh, doll. Had to hear it again.” 

You giggled, letting him carry you to bed before he covered you in kisses and cuddles.

[flowercrown-bard]

Whumptober Prompt 8: Don’t say goodbye

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/ Jaskier

Read on AO3

„Geralt, you‘re back!”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, when he saw Geralt enter their small cabin. His smile added new wrinkles to the numerous ones already there.

Crow’s feet, Yennefer had called them decades ago. For Geralt the wrinkles were a reminder of a lifetime filled with laughter and bright smiles. Though he wasn’t the one in need of a reminder. He would never forget the decades he had been blessed with Jaskier’s presence.

Geralt closed the door behind him and went over to sit by Jaskier, taking his old hand in his. The skin wasn’t smooth anymore and the fingers were crooked from age, unable to elicit music from the lute that had been lying in its case unused for years now.

“I bought you a notebook.”

Jaskier let go of his hand to take to book from him, stroking the forget-me-not on the cover with a fond expression.  

“This is perfect. I have just finished filling my last one.”

“I know.”

Jaskier had shown it to him, proud like he had always been of his creations and exited to share them with Geralt. He had looked at every page, had let Jaskier explain to him the meaning of every line he had written.

Jaskier had looked at him with eager anticipation that almost gave him his years back.

“Come on, three words or less,” he had teased.

“It’s perfect,” Geralt had said and he had meant it. It was perfect, because it was Jaskier’s and it made him happy. It didn’t matter that Geralt hadn’t been able to read a single word. Jaskier’s hands have long ago began shaking too much to produce anything readable anymore, but if writing gave Jaskier joy then that was everything Geralt could ask for.

No, that wasn’t true. He wanted so much more than that. He wanted Jaskier to be young again, to be able to travel with him and let Geralt show him all the far off places he wouldn’t ever be able to travel to now.

At least he had been able to show him the coast.

Jaskier looked up from the journal and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Geralt! You’re back!”

His heart clenched painfully. It was fine, he told himself. He was used to this.

That didn’t make it any less painful.

“How nice of you to visit me,” Jaskier said lightly, as though the words didn’t break Geralt’s heart. “It has been far too long. How long can you stay, before you go hunting again?”

Forever. Geralt would stay forever by Jaskier’s side, as he had done for years now. Long gone were the days that Geralt only visited their cabin in between his hunts. For almost a decade he had been living here, taking care of Jaskier, helping him eat and walk and stroking his thinning hair as he went to bed wishing for the mercy of being granted more time with him. The only times Geralt still did his witchering, as Jaskier still called it after all those years, was when he accompanied the neighbouring fisherman-family to protect them from sirens and the like.

“I can stay with you for however long you need me to,” Geralt said and never had anything felt more true.

“Wonderful!” Jaskier said with a sly smirk. “Then you can tell me all about your adventure. You really should take me with you the next time.”

“I will.”

He won’t. The only adventure Geralt had left was the quiet life with Jaskier at the coast and the only thrill he needed was watching Jaskier’s eyes light up every time he met Geralt for the first time again.

“Wait, just let me get my quill.”

Jaskier moved slowly. It was obvious how much it pained him to take even small steps, the ache in his old joints sighing with every movement.

Geralt was tense, ready to jump up at any moment to catch Jaskier, should he stumble. He could have gotten the quill for Jaskier, but time and time again, he had been told that Jaskier wanted to know that he was still able to do things on his own.

The triumphant “Aha!” as Jaskier found the quill and almost dried up inkwell and sat back down, warmed Geralt’s chest. Watching all the pain of aching bones was bearable, when it gave him the sight of Jaskier still finding joy in the small things, as he had always done.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt expectantly, quill and the new notebook at the ready.

Geralt swallowed. There was no adventure to tell him off. Maybe later Geralt would tell Jaskier the truth, how he had met the fisher’s daughter on the way to the marked and helped repair her wagon, how he had had trouble buying all the essentials in this time of year.

Later, Jaskier would be happy to listen to the trivial things Geralt had to say. Now, he was attentively waiting for a heroic tale.

So Geralt gave him a tale. He told him about the time he had fought a cockatrice – one of Jaskier’s favourite stories, even though Jaskier didn’t know it.

As every time, Geralt told the story, Jaskier made inappropriate comments and laughed and gasped at the same parts he always did.

“Oh, this will make the most beautiful ballad! Oh, what should I call it?”

Geralt muttered the same thing he always said when Jaskier asked him for a title for this specific tale. An innuendo, of course.

Jaskier let out a barking laugh. “That is genius, my dear! Just you wait, I will make a poet out of you, after all.”

Geralt took the praise. It was easier than explaining that it had been Jaskier who had come up with the title of the ballad that he had already written ages ago, and unwittingly rewritten so many times after that.

“Will you take me to see the sea, Geralt?” Jaskier said after a while.

Geralt nodded and made to guide Jaskier outside.

“No, wait. I need my jacket first.”

“You are already wearing a jacket.”

Jaskier hit his arm playfully. “Yes, but it’s too dark. When going outside in summer, you should always wear bright colours to make the flowers jealous. Not that you would ever do that,” he added with a teasing wink.

“You’ll be cold.”

“I’ll have you to keep me warm.” Jaskier said it so casually that it made Geralt’s heart clench. Even after all this time, even though Jaskier couldn’t remember most of the times Geralt had kept him warm, he was still so sure that he would.

He sat Jaskier down on the small bench in front of their cabin, looking out over the sea. Jaskier sighed wistfully.

“I had always wanted to show you the coast. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Geralt agreed. It really was. It was beautiful and it was painful and Geralt knew that in years to come, he would never see the coast again, because it held to many memories of Jaskier and he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing the waves crash onto the shore without having Jaskier next to him to watch it with.

A breeze brushed Jaskier’s hair that matched Geralt’s in its colour, away from his forehead. Geralt laid an arm around Jaskier, doing his best to shield him from the wind, but it wasn’t enough to stop Jaskier from shivering.

All the warm colour of the summer jacket wasn’t enough to combat the bitter cold of winter.

Geralt stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier asked, eyes suddenly fearful and he clutched Geralt’s hand in his.  

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at the quivering in Jaskier’s voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I am just getting you a blanket.”

Jaskier nodded, but he didn’t let go.

“Jaskier…”

“There is something I need to tell you, before you leave.” He sounded so earnest, hope and worry mixing into a painful harmony. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for years.”

Geralt knew what Jaskier was going to say and yet his heart sped up, like the first time Jaskier had said these words to him.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

No matter how often Geralt heard the words repeated, no matter how often Jaskier said them for the first time, hearing them was still as breath-taking and unbelievable as it had always been.

“I love you too.”

Jaskier’s smile as Geralt said the words made it all worth it. It made him endure.

He genlty pried his hand from Jaskier’s cold fingers. As much as Geralt longed to stay and make this moment last, he needed to get Jaskier the blanket. He prayed that when he got back outside the moment would still be present in Jaskier’s mind.

He felt Jaskier’s pale eyes on him, as he went inside the cabin again.

“Goodye, Geralt.”

He froze. Agonisingly slow, he turned to face Jaskier. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t, Jaskier. You never say goodbye. You always say –“

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing you around.” Jaskier’s voice was small, but for once his eyes were clear. “I am not stupid, Geralt. I know I am old. I know I am forgetting. It feels – it feels like I am trapped in my own mind and there are windows that show me the outside world and there are doors and I know if I pick the right one, I will understand. But I never find the right door.” He swallowed. He rubbed his fingers, whether out of nervousness or because of the cold, Geralt couldn’t tell. “Some doors are locked. And I am afraid one day I will not be able to walk through the door that tells me who you are, anymore.”

His eyes never left Geralt’s, as though Jaskier was trying to drink in the sight of him. As though he thought it was the last time seeing him.

Fear plunged its ugly claws into Geralt’s chest.

“You don’t need to remember me. I will let you get to know me again and again, if I have to. I will always come back to you. Even if the memory of me leaves you, I won’t.”

“No,” Jaskier said, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “But I think that I might. Maybe not today. Maybe not for years to come. But one day, I will leave you and I might not get the chance to say goodbye then.”

“Don’t say that.” It sounded harsher than Geralt intended. He tried to close himself off, to keep all emotion out of his face, but the impassive mask cracked. It had been too long since he had worn it. There had been no need to put it on while he was with Jaskier. Geralt hadn’t worn the mask for so long that now that he so desperately needed it, it didn’t fit anymore.

Jaskier tilted his head to the side, a smile still playing on his lips. “For years you complained that I wasn’t telling the truth in my songs and now that I am saying the truth, you don’t want it.”

“It’s not the truth.”

“Maybe it isn’t your truth, but it’s mine. And it would be so much easier if it was yours too.”

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t listen to another word of this.

Geralt all but fled into the cabin, leaning against the wall with closed eyes, trying and failing to get his breath under control. To get the words out of his mind.

It wasn’t the truth. Not yet.

Damn it, it wouldn’t be easier if he accepted it. Denying it and shoving the thought of the day that Geralt wouldn’t be seeing Jaskier around anymore as far away from his mind as he could at least allowed him to hope. To forget that there would ever be a time where no one would greet him and await his recounting of adventures long past.

He grabbed the woollen blanket from the rocking chair where Jaskier liked to look at books he couldn’t read anymore and balled it in his fists, before willing the tension to go away. Jaskier shouldn’t have to see him like this.

With a shaky breath, Geralt went back. Jaskier was looking over the sea, a faraway look in his eyes, as he listened to the seabirds’ cries as though they were nightingales. He didn’t even throw so much as glance at Geralt.

Geralt didn’t know whether Jaskier was angry because of what Geralt had said or whether he was too lost in his world of closed doors.

Carefully he put the blanket around Jaskier’s shoulders, tugging it tightly around him, before he sat down next to him.

Jaskier flinched and looked up at him, startled, before he broke out in a smile so bright, it could banish the winter wind tugging at their hair.

“Geralt! You’re back!”

Geralt closed his eyes, tried to put the mask back on, tried not to notice the crack in his heart that Jaskier’s words had left.

“You need to tell me about the adventure you had!”

“Maybe some other time,” Geralt said and he knew he couldn’t keep the thickness out of his voice. “For now, can we just… be here?”

Jaskier took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Of course, dear. I will still be here, when you are ready to tell the story.”

An iron chain wound around Geralt’s chest, getting tighter and tighter, making it hard to breathe. “I know.”

Geralt didn’t know for how long they just sat there, looking at the sea. As the sun began to set, Geralt found his words. This one, he knew, wasn’t a story Jaskier had forgotten just yet, but he told it anyway. He didn’t know, if Jaskier was even still listening, if he was aware of Geralt’s presence next to him. But as Geralt spoke about a day in Posada, about a devil and an annoying yet brave bard, he felt Jaskier’s hand twitch in his.

When he turned his head, Jaskier was still looking out at the sea, but there was a smile on his lips, lines around his eyes deepening with the memory of laughter.

Even when Geralt had finished the story, Jaskier still didn’t speak. It was only much later, when Geralt guided him back inside, put him to bed and pressed a kiss against his forehead that Jaskier finally found his words again.

“Will you do me a favour, Geralt?”

Geralt didn’t need to speak to let Jaskier know his answer. The look on the bard’s face told him that he already knew it. That Jaskier could ask for anything, ask for black pearl of Skellige that only existed in legends and romantic men’s hearts and Geralt would give it to him.

“Go find a new adventure.” After I’m gone.

Jaskier didn’t say the words, but Geralt knew that was what he meant. His throat became tight, but he nodded anyway.

Jaskier smiled and lifted his hand to caress Geralt’s cheek. “Thank you, my love.”

For a heartbeat there was silence, only the rush of the waves outside that would lull Jaskier to sleep.

Then, quietly, Geralt spoke the words that broke his heart but freed him from the chains around his chest. The words that Jaskier deserved to hear, at least this once.

“Goodbye, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes turned soft as Geralt took his hand from his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on it.

“See you around, Geralt.”

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part VIII

The Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person requested and I dove into headfirst

First part // Previous part // Next part

Send me requests for other fics, ideas for this one, opinions, whatever! My apologies if the quality seems to have one downhill; I'll be doing minor edits for the sake of readability when I have a good chunk of free time.

“Shhh, guys, leave it,” Jens said. Everyone’s comments died on their tongues. Zoë and Moyo herded the superfluous students from the room and left as well, shutting the door behind. Moyo almost clapped a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it in favor of a saddened smile. It didn’t really help. Robbe wasn’t sure if they ended tonight on good terms.

“We’re going to bed early,” Aaron suggested. “We have to get a jump on those damn exams.”

“Leave it,” hissed Jens.

“I was just saying, we’re—”

“Leave it.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Robbe. “We’re going to bed early.” He hadn’t realized how angry he was all week until faced with its culmination. And now—now he was tired. Stupid and single and tired.

There were still no sheets on his bed; he hadn’t gotten around to doing anything with them. He could perform a cleaning spell on the mattress if it got too bad in their absence. Whatever. Robbe couldn’t be bothered to rifle through his trunk for a cleaner blanket, so he crossed the room and grabbed the one off the fourth bed.

Motherfucker. It smelled like Sander. He really couldn’t win, could he? Robbe threw the blanket to the decimated floor and curled up without any covering at all.

“He wasn’t that attractive,” said Jens, breaking his own rule. “Had to get those roots done again.”

Robbe clamped his pillow over his ears. “Shut up.”

“We haven’t been to Hogsmede in a while. Might be nice to go tomorrow. The four of us.”

Hogsmede. Robbe’s eyes burned.

“I need to stop at Honeyduke’s,” Aaron agreed. “It’s Live It Up week.”

“I’d fancy a pint at the Three Broomsticks.”

The Three Broomsticks. Robbe was not going to cry over this. It brought him back to Sander explaining their fake love story to Zoë, all the little accurate details, all the possibility… that’s all it was. A story. You don’t like me. He cast the Muffliato charm across his four-poster before the tears started flowing. Once they started, they didn’t stop until morning.

“You don’t have to tell us a thing,” Jens said. “We understand.”

I want to, Robbe thought. He rolled over and faced the wall for the remainder of the night.

***

As much as he would love to hardcore sulk, Robbe had never been that kind of person. Sander was gone. They weren’t even together for that long, so there wasn’t much sulking warranted. He took Saturday and Sunday as unofficial off-days before exams, in that he spent them with Jens, Moyo, and Aaron, pointedly not talking about Sander. They did not go to the Three Broomsticks. Jens passed a whole afternoon in Honeyduke’s, attempting to sample every flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor beans.

Okay, Robbe sulked. But not hardcore.

Robbe resolved that one Monday he would snap out of it in time to guard his outstandingin his five classes. What should he do? What had he learned? He could start there. Starting there was something.

1. He should never drop a class for someone he wasn’t really dating.

Robbe’s Potions exam was the first on Monday, and he went into it grossly unprepared, despite hours of common room studying. There was a large difference between reading theory and enacting what it said. Plus, a lot of his library time focused more on Sander’s eyes than on the written material.

Everyone else chopped up their beans and sprinkled them into their brews without difficulty. Robbe couldn’t remember how many he should use. In the end, he dumped a whole handful in completely whole and stirred counter-clockwise. How much could it hurt, anyway? He left fifteen minutes before the exam period was up, and the Potions master did not bother to stop him. The Drought of Living Death he prepared could probably kill the whole class, Britt and all, even if not in the way it was meant to.

Why had he stopped attending in person? What could Britt have done to him? It hit him—she probably knew the dating thing was fake from the beginning. Sander might have planned it all out to make Robbe look like an idiot.

That wouldn’t account for that night in the workshop.

Fuck that night in the workshop.

Sander waited outside the Potions classroom, his back on the wooden doorframe. Britt would be done soon. It didn’t give Robbe any satisfaction to brush by Sander without speaking—or at least, not until he saw Sander rubbing his arm in the aftermath. Robbe must have hit him with the door.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder, hoping it sounded blasé.

It could have been anyone there, he thought. Sander wasn’t special anymore. Then he went to his bedroom and stared at the wall over it.

2. He was not straight.

The specifics were, as of yet, unclear. He was in love with Sander, which meant he liked boys, but he’d kind of liked Noor too. Not romantically. Or even sexually. But like, he enjoyed her company.

Sometimes.

He wasn’t in love with Sander anymore, though, definitely not. Robbe figured if he told himself that at least four to five times a day, it might become a little more accurate. Two weeks was too short a time to fall for someone.

After all this, he needed to get Jens alone and lay it all on at once. Bad phrasing be damned. The boys began packing their belongings on Wednesday, after a mostly uneventful Transfiguration exam (Moyo turned his cockroach into a pair of earrings that still moved their spindly antennae—he seemed satisfied). They would leave on Saturday afternoon. Aaron tried a simple cleaning spell, Scourgify, and ended up scattering his belongings to the four corners of the castle. He scurried away to pack the rest manually, Moyo at his heels to help.

Jens and Robbe were alone. Robbe was ready to talk about it.

“Why is Moyo always here?” asked Jens, in a way that made it sound like he was breaking the tension.

His plan failed, of course, because Robbe was already speaking. “We have to talk about something.”

They stared at each other. Jens blinked.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” Robbe began. “I wanted to, but it was always so complicated.”

“Uh, sure, okay.” Jens shoved a crumpled shirt into his trunk, followed by a pair of ripped slacks he could never wear to class again.

“This thing I had with Sander… it was fake to him. But, well, uh, to me—”

Jens nodded. “I know.”

Damnit, no.

“Jens,” Robbe tried a second time, “I’ve realized some things about myself recently. They kind of explain other things, from earlier, so…” He switched tactics. Who knew how long until Moyo and Aaron returned? “Do you remember when you and Jana broke up? How you found out about what’s-his-name and—”

Another shirt in the trunk. Some more destroyed pants. “Yeah.”

“Cool. So um, you should understand that it was—” It was never this awkward to talk to Jens before. Jens was supposed to be easy. Robbe folded his shirts by hand, like his mother did, and placed them carefully in his own luggage as he thought of how best to phrase this. “I did it on purpose. She was gonna tell you and I—well I said—”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know things about myself now. Learned them. From that. and this.” Here it came, the big jump. Even though Robbe knew Jens, Aaron, and Moyo outlined a whole plan to get him and Sander together, he still worried about what they’d say when confronted with the reality of it. “Jens, I’m—"

“I know.”

No, that wouldn’t work. Again, “Jens, please, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Robbe, I know—”

“I don’t want you to know!” Robbe flopped a shirt down harder than he intended. “I want you to let me say it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gay. That’s who I am. With or without Sander. Okay? I need you to understand that it’s like that with or without him.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you know. You’re my best friend.”

“Okay,” said Jens. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Jens closed his trunk on top of some clothing that spilled out the sides. He sat down on it to close the latch. Then he reached out and gathered Robbe into the tightest hug ever. It wasn’t nearly everything that Robbe wanted to say, but it was some, and Jens didn’t run away from him. Sexuality crisis, somewhat had. Robbe was sure there would be more later.

3. You don’t like me.

Robbe’s final exam was History of Magic. Luckily, his cramming paid off. He breezed through the questions on the first and second wars faster than any of his peers and was out the door within thirty minutes.

Most students were trapped in their classrooms for another half-hour or more. Empty corridor stretched in all directions, and Robbe didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day. He knew where he wanted to go.

Sure enough, his astronomy tower perch was vacant. Bright sunlight dyed the campus in shades of yellow and gold, made the upper turrets appear as drawings from a children’s book. Robbe noted in passing that someone had collected Sander’s picnic blanket from its forlorn position on the roof. That made sense. Filch himself must have cleaned.

From overhead, soft music played. Robbe was sure he was hallucinating. He sat down on the sill.

Oh fuck, maybe not hallucinating. Noon cast a shadow of someone above onto the roof below.

Sander’s blanket wasn’t where he’d dropped it on night one because Sander sat on the overhang above the window. He had it splayed across the shingles, a compact player oozing the final lines of that same damn song on a loop, his wand gripped in his hands.

Robbe couldn’t escape him. Couldn’t escape how he felt about him. He could bring it under his control if he made it look purposeful.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t you have class?”

Sander startled.

This was a mistake. Never mind. Robbe should go.

He leaned even further out the window for a better view of Sander’s setup. A stack of textbooks balanced precariously, end on end, held aloft by a complicated charm of some sort. A quill rolled down the roof and stopped as if by an invisible wall. Sander had created a bubble for his things.

“Cheers to exams,” Robbe said, a bit louder. Sander did not look at him. The music cranked itself up to mask Robbe’s voice—perhaps it was spelled to muffle all noise Sander did not want to hear. That wasn’t fair. “This is my spot.”

“You said you didn’t want to be friends,” said Sander. He didn’t sound upset. Why did Robbe expect him to be upset?

“Can you turn down the music?”

“Britt’s going to join me.”

“That isn’t really what I asked.” Robbe wondered if interactions like this would ever stop hurting. But he didn’t feel as bad as he felt last week. Or on Friday night. Maybe the finality of a no was all he needed to move on. He recalled Sander’s speech word-for-word, mostly the end. You don’t like me.

It hit Robbe in a moment of irrational bravery, when Sander’s music dialed up in volume. Their first night in the astronomy tower, together, illuminated by Britt’s wand. The CD playing in the background. Sander knew what he was wearing on a specific double-date on a specific day—there was no denying something existed between them.

And to have Sander talk like that, say it was nothing… it wasn’t nothing, not to Robbe, and Sander needed to hear it.

So he said it. No introduction, no nothing. “I liked you.”

The Major-Tom-planet song quieted. Definitely some kind of magic there.

“I liked you so much,” he said again. Now that it existed, now that it was said, there was nothing to stop him from continuing. “You can’t tell me I didn’t.”

One of Sander’s quills rolled to the edge of the bubble, only this time, it dropped out and fell the length of the tower.

“We made it up, we agreed,” Sander whispered. “I’m sorry.” He slid down from the roof, landing beside Robbe on the sill, then jumped to the floor. His belongings trailed behind him in a floating line.

Robbe stood his ground and blocked the staircase. “It’s not your thing to decide.” His voice softened. “I liked you. So that’s that. And it’s done.”

Sander scuffed the floor with his shoe.

“Good. You never have to see me again.” Robbe pointed down the stairs for dramatic effect. “I have class. Bye.”

He felt lighter than he had all week when he descended the staircase. Any lighter, and he would have missed it when Sander said, “I liked you, too.”

4. He was a jerk to Noor.

Robbe sought her out on the train home, abandoning his friends in their own little compartment. They had plenty to discuss without his involvement. Pranks and whatnot. The usual. Noor was alone in a compartment near the back of the train, a dozen or so scrolls of parchment dispersed around her. She wrote on one with a broken quill.

She wasn’t a bad person. Robbe should have just told her. The least he could do was tell her when everything was over.

“Hey,” he said, taking the seat across from her.

She looked up, surprised. “Hello.”

“You seemed like you could use some company.”

Noor blushed. “No, I—Britt’s sitting elsewhere, and I have a lot to do.”

“With Sander,” Robbe supplied.

“What?”

“Britt’s with Sander.”

“Oh, um, actually—”

Robbe wasn’t in the mood for the nitty-gritty details of whatever Britt and Sander had going on. Obviously it was toxic. Not his problem. Besides, this conversation was for Noor’s sake, not his own.

“Listen, about me and him,” he said. “I need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to lead you on.” He hoped it wouldn’t get awkward. The extent of his recent planning was pretty much just say it without warning and hope it works out.

“I don’t read smoke signals,” said Noor curtly. She set her quill down on the seat next to her, ink stains bleeding into the cushioning. “But I get it.”

“No, it was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Awkward silence. Robbe wasn’t built for prolonged chatter with anyone besides Jens, Moyo, and Aaron. The girls’ group was the exception, and only when Jana and Zoë were present. He fiddled with the beginning of a hole in his yellow sweater.

“I suppose I should apologize too,” said Noor, after a while. “That was fucked up, to say he’d get bored of you. I was a little—well, you know.”

“If it helps,” Robbe said, “you were right.”

Noor frowned. She sat up in her seat, and her parchment fell to the carriage floor. The sweets trolley passed by their sliding doorway without stopping—its driver could likely sense the tension. Robbe explained, “He’s back with Britt.”

“No, he isn’t,” said Noor. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Jana said—”

“Who would know better: Jana, or me?”

Robbe fumbled for something to say in response. Actually, now was a pretty good time to get out, before the topic became any more serious. He said, “He broke up with me.”

“It wasn’t for Britt. She helped him through some stuff, sure, but everyone knows that train’s come and gone.”

“I guess I’m just boring,” Robbe said.

“Bullshit.” Noor picked up her parchment again. She dipped her quill into her ink and began her writing anew, on whatever mess this was. Robbe couldn’t read fucking cursive. “I don’t believe it. Britt says he adored you.”

Robbe didn’t know what to make of that. There was no way he could segue into his next point, which was, of course, that their dating arrangement wasn’t real in the first place, especially after something so honest from Noor. He gave a bullshit excuse, something about chasing the sweets trolley, and got the hell out of there.

***

Robbe said goodbye to Moyo on the train platform. Jens and Aaron lived close enough that their parents parked in the same general vicinity, meaning that they could walk over as a trio. Robbe considered awaiting Sander on the platform as well. Every time he learned something new about Sander’s behavior when he wasn’t there, he got more and more confused. What fake relationship could be convincing enough to have Sander’s ex lamenting its reality?

The boys shared idle gossip on their way to the parking lot. Nothing substantial. Robbe’s head was too full of thoughts, most of them Sander-related. He wasn’t angry, or upset, or tired right now. How did knowing one little thing from Noor make a difference in his overall mood? They split off to their respective parents with casual goodbyes and a promise to write at least once during the holidays.

“Hey,” called Jens, just as Robbe opened the shotgun side.

Robbe turned back, his rucksack swinging off his shoulder. He swiped a hand across his eyes.

“Were you in love with him? Actually?”

They spent two weeks together. Two weeks, plus months and months of pining from afar that couldn’t count for much. It was supposed to last longer. What had Sander said, that day after their date? He wanted it to continue through the holiday break. And now, nothing. Robbe summarized this feeling the only way he knew how: “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

He climbed into his mother’s waiting car, and with that, it was Christmastime at the Ijzermans house.

[baepop]

PRIVATE // 7

You have two bombs dropped on you in one day.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Jungkook x You x Jennie

Genre: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Sorry I took so long to get this out! More to come!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

You frowned at the view in front of you. Taking your index finger, you gently adjusted the frame, but it continued to mock you as it tilted back into its crooked position every time. You sighed and put your hands on your hips. You had been at this for a solid half hour without feeling satisfied, so when an incoming phone call came through, it was a very welcome distraction. Seeing the name on your screen, you smiled as you picked it up and held it to your ear.

“Congratulations…” You heard his soft chuckle on the other end which had you mimicking it with your own.

“Same to you…I didn’t see you at the ceremony, but I figured it was like you to blow it off.”

“You know me well, I guess. Did you get yours in the mail?”

“Yeah I’m actually holding it right now. It feels so surreal. I can’t believe it’s been 4 years already…’

You smiled down towards your feet as you began pacing back and forth in your small living room, reminiscing on your scholastic career by Yoongi’s side. “Yeah it’s crazy…”

There was an awkward pause that thankfully didn’t last too long, seeing as both of you wanted to hear from the other for a while now.

The boy cleared his throat before speaking again, “So I was wondering, if you might want to grab some breakfast or something. It’s the least you could do to pay homage to your college career.”

You rolled your eyes but readily agreed to meet at a diner downtown despite having work later on. Many of your other classmates had moved home right after graduation, so the shuttle ride into town was desolate. You put your headphones on and turned your lo-fi playlist all the way up as you stared out of the window. Summer was in full swing and yet you still found yourself indoors all of the time and not doing the things you liked doing when it got hot like going on a hike or riding your bike to the park. Since taking your last final, all your life consisted of was going to work at the suit shop and binging Netflix originals. You refused to think about why that was.

As you entered the semi-empty establishment, you realized you were the first to arrive, so you secured a booth for your rendezvous and ordered some orange juice. You were mid gulp when you heard the chime of the door ring. Yoongi spotted you by the windows and walked briskly towards you with a big gummy smile on his face. You couldn’t help cheesing back at him. You hadn’t realized how much you missed your friend.

“Man, I’m starving.” He began perusing the menu after sitting down as you did the same. Your stomach rumbled loudly before you got the chance to agree, making you both laugh.

Once the waitress left with your menus and your orders, you looked towards Yoongi who was giving you that look you were afraid he might give you once the pleasantries were over. You didn’t want to talk about them.

“So…”

“Let me stop you right there.”

Yoongi smiled, “So we’re just going to pretend—”

“YEP.” You took another sip of your juice, and then another as Yoongi struggled to hold back snickering. He focused on his fingernails instead but found it nearly impossible to concede to your only request.

“So, there’s a date—”

“YOONGI!” The boy laughed, looking to your eyes to see how serious you were.

“I’m sorry but, are you really sure you don’t want to know anything? Like, not a single thing? I have juicy details you know…”

It was unlike Yoongi to gossip, so his attempt at lightening the serious subject had you cracking a smile despite getting riled up at the mere mention of them. You looked up at him wiggling his eyebrows and bit back a laugh. Instead, you rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, lacing your fingers atop the table.

“What juicy details could you possibly have?”

“Well,” Yoongi took a sip of his water for dramatic effect, “Jungkook’s family may or may not have found out that he has a girlfriend.” Your eyes snapped up towards the blonde, the shock clearly readable on your face.

“And,” Yoongi took another sip of his water, “they may or may not know that his girlfriend was the weird girl at the proposal dinner.”

You gasped aloud, “Shut the fuck up!”

“Oh, I will not! You really caused a shit show Y/N.” Yoongi shook his head, clearly finding all of this hilarious but you couldn’t find the humor in it one bit. Just then, your pancakes arrived but they were the last thing on your mind. Yoongi forked his five-stack as you bombarded him with questions.

“How did they find out!?”

He spoke with cheeks full of syrupy starch, “Jungoo tol them,” he swallowed before forking another piece of pancake, “he tried to call off the wedding after that, but you can imagine how that went.”

You sliced your pancakes into tiny pieces as you took in the information. Jungkook tried to call off the wedding? You hated how happy it made you to hear that.

“I’m assuming you haven’t heard from Jennie?”

You looked up at him and put your utensils down. “Not since the dinner. Maybe this wedding isn’t weighing as heavy on her as she’s making it out to be. She probably loves him now.” You stabbed your breakfast aggressively.

Yoongi snorted, “My ass. We all hung out two weeks ago and they almost killed each other playing Monopoly.”

You began to wonder what they might be up to these days with everything going on. The morning after the engagement event, you woke up alone. You hadn’t seen or heard from either of them since then, which was truthfully what you needed in order to sort your convoluted thoughts and figure out how you really felt. After checking your watch, you cursed aloud and pulled some cash out of your wallet.

“I lost track of time! I gotta get to work but when can I see you again?”

Yoongi dumped the rest of your food onto his plate. “Well, I still have my apartment for another week, I was thinking of throwing one last rager tonight before I gotta hand the keys in. You should come.” You nodded thoughtfully, contemplating the idea of possibly running into the love birds tonight. “I doubt they’ll show up honestly, they’re super busy these days.” As always, Yoongi knew exactly what was on your mind.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”

“That’s my girl!” Yoongi spoked with a mouth full of food which had you giggling all the way out of the door.

You sped walked seven blocks before reaching the entrance of your job. You were a few minutes late which was already stressing you out since your boss was not easygoing about punctuality.

“Y/N! You’re late!” Raphael regarded you in a disapproving stare as his bifocals slipped down the bridge of his nose. You hurried to remove your bag and put on a blazer.

“I know! I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

“You have a client waiting. They’ve been here for a few minutes already, so be apologetic when you greet them, okay? They asked specifically for you, by the way.” Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t have any appointments set for today with any of your regulars. As you peered past the curtains that led to the fitting area, you recognized a tall lanky woman to be Jungkook’s mother and surely enough, her son sat perched on the bench near the mirrors. You gulped as they both made eye contact with you. His mother crossed her arms as you let yourself into the back area, your eyes unable to leave Jungkook’s starry-eyed stare.

“Well it’s about time you show up.” Your scalp prickled with embarrassment at her tone.

“Mom—” Jungkook tried to admonish his mother but you quickly cut in.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting! What can I help you with today?”

The woman eyed you before gesturing towards Jungkook. “We’re here to get him fitted for a tux. Since you did so well with his last suit, we figured you were just the person for the job. It’s for the wedding, of course.” You nodded solemnly, peering briefly at Jungkook who looked uncomfortable. You noticed he was wearing the suit in question, and he looked amazing in it.

“O-Of course, what kind of suiting were you thinking? We have morning dress fits, tailcoats and classic three-piece suits.”

“Show me your best three-piece suit in black.” You immediately got to work getting all of the components in Jungkook’s sizes together as she watched you like a hawk. You couldn’t believe this was happening, but you didn’t have time to register it all, not if you were going to get them out of the shop as quickly as possible.

As you busied yourself hanging the pieces on various hangers, you heard Jungkook speak softly to his mother who refused to take her eyes off of you.

“Mom, can you give us a minute? Please?” She sighed heavily and gave him a pointed look but let herself out of the dressing area, nonetheless. Once she was out of sight, you both let out the breaths you had been holding in.

Your fingers trembled over the hangers as a heavy silence lingered with her departure. “Jeeze, she’s kind of intense, isn’t she?” Your lighthearted remark died out in volume as Jungkook placed his hand over yours. You jumped at the contact, not having noticed him moving closer to you. You looked up at him, unsure of what his intensions were. “Jungkook…”

“I’m…sorry about her. But you don’t have to do this. It’s so fucked up. Just say the word and we’ll go.” You focused on your task at hand with a hard line pressed into your mouth.

“If you knew it was fucked up, then why did you agree to come?”

“Because I’ve been dying to see you, and this seemed the only way that could happen. They haven’t let me out of their sight since I told them you were my girlfriend.” Jungkook chuckled bitterly, leaning on the wall and looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I’m selfish that way.”

You looked at him before looking back down at the suit pieces that were all ready for him to try on. “Take your clothes off, Jeon.”

He slowly removed his jacket then began unbuttoning his shirt. When you didn’t offer anything more, he continued on, “Do you at least miss me the way I miss you? I’m in hell over here.” His voice slightly broke towards the end of his sentence.

You avoided his gaze as you passed him a crisp white dress shirt to put on. “No. I broke up with you, remember?”

“C’mon Y/N, we both know you didn’t mean that.”

You chuckled bitterly. “Wanna bet?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m willing to bet on it.” Jungkook stepped up to you but you refused to crack under his intimidation. He was now close enough for you to smell that cologne you loved so much. You gulped as your eyes traveled upwards. “You feel the same way I do, I know you do. And I know you’re going just as crazy over this whole ordeal as I am.”

You cleared your throat and backed up a few inches, taking a clearing breath as you handed him a pair of trousers. He sighed and took them, stepping onto the platform. His eyes quickly found yours in the mirror. “You can act tough like you always do in front of me, but…I know you’re hurting and I’m sorry about all of it. I really am.” You bit the inside of your cheek while he talked, trying to focus on not tearing up. “I just want you to know that I’m hurting too, even if it doesn’t seem like it, and that things don’t have to be this way forever. And I’m not going to stop pursuing you until you forgive me for not telling you first.”

You stepped onto the platform just as Jungkook held his arms up to give you better access to his waist. While cinching the waistband of his pants on each side with a pin, you couldn’t help getting caught off guard by his ending words. “What do you mean by things don’t have to be this way forever?” You helped him into his vest and then the jacket as he fell silent in thought.

When he was all dressed, Jungkook turned towards you, finally responding, “You’ve told me over and over again that you don’t care much for titles and that you prefer things be casual anyway…so why is it such a huge deal that I’m someone’s fiancé? If we can get passed the fact that I fucked up and kept something important like this from you, promising that it won’t happen again, do things between us really have to end?” You scoffed in returned, but ultimately didn’t know what to say. Did he actually have a point here? Since his marriage was clearly only for appearances, and you were absolutely sure Jennie didn’t want him in any way, could you really see past something like this? Would you be a hypocrite if you chose to draw the line here?

You both stood on the platform looking down while inches apart. When you finally looked up, you noticed he was blushing which caught you off guard seeing, how your mind was swarming with unanswerable questions. You stopped breathing the instant he placed his finger on your cheek and softly caressed it. He took a deep breath and held you by the waist with his other hand,  speaking softly while leaning his forehead onto yours, “Y/N… did you honestly think I’d give up on the woman I love because my family is telling me to?”

You opened your mouth but the right words to say escaped you. No one had ever told you they loved you before. You weren’t sure whether to cry or laugh or kiss him. Thankfully, you didn’t have to choose because Jungkook’s mother had back and cleared her throat loudly at the sight of you two embracing. Jungkook let you go so you could turn around to compose yourself.

She looked less than pleased, but nonetheless agreed to take the suit, though you suspected it was only to get him away from you as soon as possible. You hurried to mark down the adjustments that needed to be made to the clothing as Jungkook begrudgingly got redressed. When you were positioned back behind the counter, you barely got to wave goodbye as she stomped out of the door with him hurrying to catch up. He stopped to cast a worried stare past his shoulder at you before disappearing past the windows

Yoongi’s party was in full swing, and you didn’t have to be inside of his house to know that. The second you began walking on his block, the raging music and shouts from drunken party stragglers constantly broke the silence in the empty neighborhood. As you approached his place, you could see a group of people laying on his front lawn having deep conversations about nothing at all.

It was only 10 at night yet there were already enough plastered idiots to potentially have the party shut down early. You smiled and shook your head, wondering how wasted Yoongi must already be to have let his party get this out of hand. After weaving through the crowd of alumni near the door, you let yourself into the house only to be greeted by a ton of drunk people shouting at your arrival. You winced and cheered along with them in confusion before making eye contact with Yoongi who was already beckoning you over to join him and his group of friends.

You noticed how badly he was slurring his words once you got to him. “They’re cheering for every new person that arrives.” He smiled sleepily at you. His cheeks were flushed, and his smile was even gummier than usual. You giggled and nodded in understanding, “Okay, I’m going to need whatever you’re all drinking, stat.”

“It’s the jungle juice! I don’t know what they put in it, but one cup is alllllll you need.” Yoongi hiccupped before continuing. “I’m ssho glad you made it, Y/N. We graduated! We did it!” He shook your shoulders and you couldn’t help but laugh as you tried to remember the last time you witnessed this loose version of your friend.

“Okay, I’m going to go play catchup and then I’ll be back to reminisce on the good ol’ times with you.” You patted his shoulder then set for the kitchen. There were so many people crammed into his living room that the trip to the kitchen took longer than expected. After dancing your way through, you reached the purple tub of liquid everyone was drinking from unscathed and decided to celebrate by helping yourself.

As you sipped from your red solo cup and watched the crowd of people having a good time, you felt a little jealous. You wanted to come out and let loose and feel as stress free as they felt but you were so tightly wound with all the stresses in your life. You didn’t want to think about all of that though, at least for tonight. You wanted to stop worrying and pitying yourself, even for just a moment.

You took a steadying breath, readying yourself to join Yoongi’s friends and put on your best social persona. However, as soon as you made it out of the kitchen entryway, a hand closed around your wrist and pulled you to the side. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see who it was until you made it into the tiny clearing at the corner of the living room safe from the packed crowd. When you looked forward, Jungkook was biting his lip in a smile. Your eyes lit up involuntarily.

“Hey you.”

“Hey.” You smiled into your cup, blushing as you took a tiny sip. You weren’t exactly surprised to see him here, but you were surprised at how happy it made you.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”

“Yoongi’s my friend too, you know.”

“I know, but you’ve been holed up in your apartment lately. Does this mean you’re, maybe, ready to forgive me?” Jungkook adorably poked your cheek and although your expression had been guarded, a smile tugging at your lips gave your true feelings away.

You rolled your eyes, “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that.”

Jungkook didn’t bother feigning sadness, not while your fingers lingered on his hand unwilling to break away from the contact he initiated. Your hands lasted intertwined for a while, both of you swinging your arms back and forth as you surveyed the party that was quickly getting out of hand. When some loud frat boys threatened to knock you over while thrashing around to a song, Jungkook pulled you toward his chest and wrapped his arms around you, shielding you as one of the guys’ drink spilled all over his denim jacket.

Jungkook remained calm, though you could tell by now that the furrow in his eyebrow said otherwise.

“What the hell, asshole?!” You shoved the drunk guy who was none the wiser about what was going on behind him. When he turned around and saw a giant purple stain on the side of Jungkook’s jacket, he immediately apologized and looked at his now empty cup.

“You gonna pay for that!?” You wanted to keep yelling at him but Jungkook stood in between you effectively blocking your view for the time being. He chuckled, watching you get so worked up over him. He found it endearing to say the least.

“Chill, it’s okay. Mistakes happen.”

You sighed and inspected the stain on his arm. “Come on, we gotta wash that out before it stains.” You grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen where you grabbed the dish detergent then shoved him into the tiny half bathroom tucked away in the back of the house.

Once you closed the door behind you, Jungkook took his jacket off and handed it to you. He sat on the toilet and propped a foot up so he could rest his chin on his knee and watch you scrub the living hell out of his jacket. He smiled when you tsked, the stain proving to be quite stubborn. What the was in that jungle juice!? You ran the sleeve under warm water then rung it out and held it up to inspect it further.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Jungkook watched you steadily, gauging your reaction. He was pleased to witness the blush growing across your face despite you trying hard to keep your cool.

“And so did I when I said I couldn’t do this with you anymore.” This time it was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes.

“So you’re telling me that you were okay with not making things official between us, but now that I’m going to be signing some silly license, all of a sudden you’re my scorned ex-girlfriend?”

You scoffed at the purplish liquid draining in the sink. “You know, for someone who finds titles so important, you’re making marriage seem like it’s inconsequential. That’s the real silly thing here.

“This marriage is inconsequential. That’s the whole point, and especially so when it comes to you and me.”

You sighed and turned to him with a frown on your face. “So why are you doing it then, if it doesn’t matter?”

“I told you, because my parents—”

“No, Jungkook, your parents aren’t the ones getting married in a month’s time. YOU are. So why are YOU doing this?” The boy fell silent, unwilling to meet your eyes. You took that as your queue to go, but when you reached for the door, he held it shut.

“Jungkook…” The brunette stood up and leaned against the door.

“Don’t go…please.” His voice was barely above a whisper and his eyes held a sadness in them that you’d never seen from him before. You fought the urge to close the distance in between you and hug him, but when he approached you himself, you didn’t stop yourself from putting your arms around him.

You held each other for a while. His arms tightened around your waist as he buried his nose in your hair. Your heart beat quickened as you closed your eyes to experience every bit of this moment. You hadn’t been able to hold him in what felt like forever, and you never wanted to let go.

Jungkook nuzzled against the side of your face. The warmth you felt in his embrace was comforting, and the allure of his lips only a few centimeters away was ever so tantalizing. All it would take for you to kiss him was to shift your head just a bit, yet you felt paralyzed where you stood. It would be all too easy to disregard everything you knew up until this point and pretend you were both still a couple of students fooling around on campus.

But hadn’t you wanted to let go tonight and let loose? To not worry and think too much as you had been doing for months?

Your breath grew shallow as his lips crept closer to yours. You licked yours absentmindedly as they awaited to feel him. It felt as if an eternity had passed, waiting for him to kiss you, and when he finally had, your cold and lonely world was set ablaze again. He pressed a soft kiss into your mouth, testing the waters. The answering reciprocation took both of your breaths away as you kissed him back ravenously. Your fingers tangled themselves in his locks as they had done dozens of times before.

Jungkook held onto the sink for support as you crashed your body into his. He mirrored the neediness you expressed with each movement, moaning into the kiss when you bit his bottom lip. In one swift motion, Jungkook bent down and picked you up by the thighs, placing you on the bathroom sink then reattaching his lips to yours. He gripped the edge of the surface as your body writhed against his. No matter how much you kissed, you didn’t feel satisfied. His lips were sweet and addictive, but you knew you’d have to kick your craving for him eventually. A tear rolled down your check as you stuck your tongue into his mouth. You carefully wiped it away without bringing attention to it. You were doing what you set out to do tonight in hopes that it was a good thing, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were betraying yourself.

Jungkook began trailing kisses across your cheek and down your neck. You sighed in content, leaning back to give him more access. Just as you began removing your jacket to expose your bare shoulder, loud banging on the door interrupted your moment of passion. Both of your heads turned towards the door where the doorknob began jiggling. Jungkook turned back to you and smiled. “Just like old times, huh?” You giggled breathlessly then hopped down from the sink with his help. Grabbing his damp jacket, you both exited the bathroom hand in hand, not caring about what that might look like to anyone else.

Once you reached the living room again, you spoke into Jungkook’s ear due to the loud music blaring making it difficult to speak out loud. “Let’s find Yoongi, I promised I’d hang out with him.”

Jungkook nodded and hung his jacket to dry in his friend’s room before meeting back up with you. He found you and Yoongi by the beer pong table. The blonde boy had gotten rowdy during his winning streak and challenged you to a game which you quickly agreed to. The next few hours went by in a flash as the three of you hung out casually for the first time ever. You found their banter absolutely hilarious, though you suspected the jungle juice and the beer might have something to do with that. Though you knew you couldn’t pretend like the things that were hurting you never existed, it was a relief to not harp on them even if just for a little while.

Once 1:00 came, you bid farewell to the boys. They protested your departure, but when you insisted on leaving since you had work in the morning, Jungkook refused to stay in favor of walking you home. The crowd of partygoers had now spread up and down the block, but once you cleared a few blocks, the cool silent night had made its return. You both walked hand in hand the entire way, taking your time with slow steps and even stopping a few times while mid conversation.

You had completely forgotten about Jungkook’s summer internship which had already began. He could go on and on about the people he worked with and you enjoyed listening to every bit of it, humming along and giggling every time he did a voice impression.

It was impossibly soon when you both had reached your apartment, despite taking the long way there. It was hard for you both to unlink your fingers and part ways. As you drank in the sight of Jungkook in front of your place, you noticed the way his expression was expectant.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye.” You slipped your hand out of his grasp much to his disappointment.

“Does it have to be?” Jungkook’s doe eyes damn near broke your heart, but even so, you couldn’t break your own heart by allowing him inside. Who knows all the complications that would arise from doing that.

“’Fraid so…”

“But neither of us want it to be.” Jungkook frowned.

“Even so, it’s better this way.” Jungkook sighed in frustration and shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking his foot into the concrete.

“Even if you think so, I’m not giving up,” Jungkook looked up at you one last time, “I meant what I said. I love you, Y/N.” Your breath hitched hearing those words for the second time today. You swallowed and looked away before you could get emotional, unlocking the door to your apartment and disappearing behind it.

As you leaned against the door, you willed your heart to stop pounding in your ears. You peaked out of the window and watched Jungkook walk back up the block with his hands still in his pockets. The high you felt all night was wearing off, and all that was left was sadness and exhaustion.

With a deep sigh, you started stripping on the way to your room. You had left the lights off before leaving, so you stubbed your toe on the corner of your dresser in the darkness. You cussed and hobbled over to the light switch to inspect your throbbing pinky. Upon turning around, you saw a figure rising from your bed and it took everything in you not to scream.

Jennie was groggily rubbing her eyes as she squinted at you through the piercing light flooding her eyes. You stood on the other end of the room, frozen with your foot in your hand.

“Turn the lights off, it’s late.”

“Umm, what the hell are you doing here?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t sleep her anymore.”

“Yeah but I never said you could either.” You limped over to the bed and crossed your arms. The girl sighed and looked up at you once her eyes adjusted to the light.

“I broke off the engagement.” You gaped at her, dropping your arms to your sides in disbelief.

“You what?! When?!”

“A couple hours ago. I just, I couldn’t do it anymore. My parents threatened to cut me off but…I don’t care. I choose you.” With that, Jennie laid back down and rolled over while pulling the covers over her. “Now, please turn the lights off. I have to get a fucking job in the morning unless you want me squatting here.”

In a daze, you turned off the lights then crawled into bed beside her. You laid on your side with your back facing her, trying to discern why you felt even sadder than before. You thought she fell back asleep soon after, so you began crying and letting the stress of everything wash over you. While blubbering into your pillow, you felt Jennie’s arm drape over your shaking frame as she scooted closer to you to be big spoon. Your sobs soon died down, finding comfort in her embrace. But the most overwhelming emotion of all was relief.

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Ch2

Chapter 2: The Dreamer

"Shit! Fuck! Dammit!" Kai growled as he once again reached the last page of the leather-bound novel he had been reading. He turned the last crisp leaf only to find the last page, telling that the Dragon Lord still had to find his true love, so yellowed with age and stained that it was beyond readability. No matter how many times he read his favorite story, it frustrated him to no end that the ending remained a well-kept secret. With expert care, he closed the antique book, being extra careful with the antiquarian treasure.

Gold claps and hinders lined the corners so the leather would not wear out too quickly.

Red, orange, white, and blue jewels were embedded into the twists of each corner, while a gold clasp with a leather strap kept the book locked when it wasn't being read. Gold patterns adorned the exquisite cover while faintly glowing letters spelled out the title. The spine was equally studded with gold corners binding it together and studded with dully-glowing jewels. The pages were aged and yellowed but worn in a way that made it clear the book was not only well-used but well-loved.

Running a hand through his spikey brown hair, he gently placed the book back in his bag.

Then he interlaced his hands behind his head before leaning back against the trunk of the tree he currently occupied in a laidback manner before gazing at the clear blue sky above him. The teen had tall, thick spiky brown hair, shaped like fire, and bright amber eyes that shined like burning embers. He had a focused expression on his face, with a scar visible on his right eyebrow and a bandage above his left. He wore a red half-zipped-up jacket over a white shirt with some kind of Japanese symbol on the back of the jacket and brown pants.

Nineteen-year-old Kai Smith closed his eyes with a contented sigh before happily trying to drift off to sleep.

He wanted to escape the shackles of life outside the wide acres of land and forest surrounding the small home he occupied with his beloved sibling. If only to escape for a moment.

"KAI!"

"AHH!" He cried out as the sudden noise caused Kai to bolt from his serenity, and momentarily forgetting where he was, he maneuvered to see what it was that had woken him. The sound of giggling from above forced his eyes open, and he came face to face with the adorable face and sweet, innocent smile of his younger adopted brother. He had long, blonde tousled hair, and brown arched eyebrows with bright emerald green eyes that many people would state could sometimes glow in the dark.

He wore a dark green jacket with a white t-shirt and black pants and black and dark green sneakers.

"Good morning!" Twelve-year-old Lloyd smiled down at his older brother with a wide, bright smile and innocent eyes cutely shut. "Sleep well?"

"I did," Kai smirked with a tone of mock irritation. "Until a certain someone conspired to kill me by knocking me out of a tree." He answered with a mock glare, but his brother simply burst into laughter before taking a step back. Recognizing the game, Kai smirked and took a step forward. Lloyd took another step back, but Kai was quick to follow him until finally Lloyd turned and sprinted. The chase had begun. Letting him have his fun, Kai let his little brother win for a moment before putting on a sudden burst of speed and tackling the child to the ground.

The two rolled around for a few minutes before finally collapsing in a field of colorful flowers in a heap of laughter.

"You have been a very, very naughty boy, Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon-Smith." Kai scolded playfully, wagging his finger in front of Lloyd's face as if punishing a small child. Lloyd pouted at this, succeeding only in making himself look cuter, but Kai had helped raise him and was immune to his little brother's tricks to getting out of trouble.

"Perhaps I should ask Nya if she could cook a veggie casserole for dinner instead of pizza?" He mused thoughtfully. Lloyd's reaction changed in an instant.

"No!" The younger boy squeaked in pure panic and quickly jumped to his feet. He tugged harshly on Kai's arms and ran around him to push him to his feet when that didn't work. "Let's go, please! We can go right now! I'll even carry everything home, I promise." He started saying quickly and desperately. It took all of Kai's willpower not to fall to the ground laughing at his brother's response.

"Alright, alright green bean, we'll go." Kai chuckled at his brother's relieved smile while reaching to retrieve the bag that he had lost during their play. "But you have to promise to behave." He added and Lloyd groaned in defeat but nodded, his love of seeing the town outweighing his pride. The siblings had moved to the sleepy town of Ignacia when Lloyd was eight and Kai and Nya had just turned fifteen. They had instantly begun rebelling against the role society had dictated for him.

The trio's father Ray, a retired blacksmith, had settled his family in the small town not long after the family lost their mother to illness.

When the Smiths first arrived in Ignacia, Maya, the trio's mother and a fantastic artist who was very talented with watercolors, and their father Ray shared a love of adventure and traveled around a lot, studying the different cultures they came across. They continued their adventurous life after they were married. They had settled down for a short time when they received the joyful news that Maya was pregnant with Kai and Nya. After the twins were born, the couple decided they wanted to adopt another.

It wasn't long before they adopted a one-year-old Lloyd.

Once Lloyd was old enough to travel, the family continued their adventurous lifestyle. Unfortunately, news of her mother's illness sent the family rushing back to Ninjago City for treatment, but sadly no medicine was enough to save her. Maya's dying wish to her children and husband was for them all to be happy and to never stop following their hearts. Shortly after, the remaining family members moved to the sleepy, provincial little town of Ignacia.

The town of Ignacia was built in a large glade of a mighty forest and was truly an ancient phenomenon.

Its appearance was matched by the backdrop of giant mountains which have helped shape the city into what it is today. The materials that these mountains brought were of great importance. The village itself looked elegant. With its seagrass rooftops, redwood walls, and native bird species, the place had a pleasant atmosphere. The main attraction in the town was the fountain, which was built thirty-nine years ago. Ignacia had an unhealthy economy, which was mainly supported by fletching, wood-crafting, and armorsmithing.

But their biggest strengths were sustainable hunting and advanced medicine.

In the town of Ignacia Ray set up a small shop selling glass objects, paintings, sculptures, and anything he could craft in his forge. Even though they were quite wealthy compared to the rest of the small town. It hadn't been too difficult for the family to settle into small-town life after almost four years of traveling. Nya, like their mother, adored all forms of art around the world, but she found the Japanese style of their home inspiring. Soon her own art flooded the shop.

As long as Nya had her art, she was happy.

Carefree and fun-loving, Lloyd found a new adventure in everything he could find and delighted in the woods and the fields around his home and the town and the many buildings. If he wasn't exploring, he was plotting to steal candy from the grown-ups. Kai, unfortunately, hadn't adjusted so easily. He missed those days. Traveling and seeing many exotic places and cultures, and learning about the world ever since the morning they came to this provincial, backwater town.

It was already mid-morning and the streets were alive with bustling people, carrying out identical routines to the rest of the week.

The smooth cobblestone streets lined the city, identical massive stones corbelled together. Identical red and brown houses on batches of dirt or elevate on hills lined both sides of the streets with windows for houses on top and shops on the bottom. They were smushed close together while stone chimneys lined each roof. An enormous wall surrounded the town, separating it from the lush woods and fields, already starting to change color in the late autumn.

Kai noticed every morning just the same.

The baker carried his tray like always, the aroma of baked goods filling the crisp autumn air as people opened up shop and carried out their daily routines. People were gathering their goods and running errands, the same routine, saying good morning and asking how they were and how their families were doing. Even though the Smiths were different, they were no exception.

"Good morning, Lloyd! Good morning Kai!" The baker called, carrying a tray of bread and rolls.

"Good morning!" Lloyd chimed and rushed over with Kai behind him. The child bounced from shop to shop, delighting in his favorite past time while Kai tried in vain to strike up a conversation with the baker.

"Where you off to?" The baker asked.

"The library," Kai answered. "I just finished the most amazing book about a spellcaster and–"

"That's nice." The baker replied, having clearly stopped listening after Kai said library and called to his assistant to finish making the croissants for the day. Kai rolled his amber eyes and called for Lloyd. They continued their stroll to the only real place Kai felt at home in the dull, little town. Already, townspeople began to gossip about them as he walked by.

"That boy is strange, no question." A group of gossiping old ladies muttered amongst themselves.

"He's always distracted."

"He's never part of any crowd." An aristocratic woman pointed out. "He's always by himself reading books."

"His head's in the clouds, all the time." An old man grunted.

"No denying he's a funny boy that Kai." A group of shoppers conversed amongst themselves, while men running shopped, bowed, and tipped their hats respectively to any woman who came by. Kai growled in annoyance as he heard the gossip. A caravan drove by, ignoring the two boys after the driver said the usual good day, while three teenage girls giggled like school girls when the brunette walked by.

"That boy is so peculiar."

"I wonder if he's feeling well?"

"He's too wild." A man said to his wife. It took all of Kai's will to not growl in frustration.

"He always has a dreamy far-off look on his face."

"If his nose isn't in a book, he's scribbling away in a notebook."

"He's so strange but special; it's a pity he doesn't fit in."

"Oh yes, he's ravishing isn't he?"

"Quite, he is a funny boy though."

"A beauty, but a funny boy."

"Very different from the rest of us."

"FSM take me now if I ever become part of this life!" Kai growled to the heavens, stomping his foot in frustration. His fists clenched whenever the words odd, strange, funny, or peculiar were mumbled over and over just like yesterday and the day before that. Every day was the same thing and he had half a mind to turn around and tell everyone in town to piss off and mind their own business. But he forced his tongue in check. He cared nothing that such an outburst would only warrant more disrespect from the town and they'd treat him even worse than he already was.

It was solely out of respect for his family that he kept his cool.

Kai had adored and respected both his parents. He, Nya, and Lloyd had been devastated when age robbed them of their beloved father. Shortly after the disease killed their mother, their father's broken heart followed her in death less than a year later. The town could say whatever they wished about him, but Kai would never forgive himself if he accidentally tarnished his parents' good name because of his inability to control his temper. That and he knew the only thing losing his temper would accomplish nothing.

Except the residents marching up to his house and complaining to Nya about how her twin brother was too wild and lacked discipline.

Quite frankly, Kai loved Nya too much to let her put up with their nonsense simply because she was Kai's twin. It simply wasn't worth it. Kai had never denied he was different from everyone else, even in his own bizarre family. But after years of traveling and seeing so many different cultures and places, his own mannerisms seemed minor in comparison. However, in this backwater town so pedestrian and old-fashioned, those simple characteristics were all the town seemed to care about.

Unlike most boys, he wanted to become a writer and travel rather than marry and inherit and run a vast estate.

Kai loathed the mannerisms that many considered normal, and as headstrong and outspoken as he was, wasn't afraid to voice it and for that, he was considered odd and freaky. Not that Kai cared, he'd long since ceased caring about what others here thought of him. But despite that, he truly wished someone would look beyond his looks and accept him for who he was. An individual and not another handsome boy bound for a wealthy marriage and was simply just too headstrong for his own good.

His sharp eyes barely caught his reflection in the glass of one of the shop windows when he and Lloyd stopped to gather the groceries on Nya's list.

He turned to meet the lovely boy staring back at him. People always said the twins were lovely like their parents. Nya possessed their father's charcoal black hair and their mother's ocean blue eyes. Her brother had their mother's brown hair, even though his hair was a lighter shade, and he had his father's burning amber eyes. Lloyd may have been young but Kai could already he was going to become a handsome young man. Kai was fully aware of his appearance and what others thought of him.

But in his mind and his normal standards, he wasn't beautiful or even handsome.

To be beautiful you had to be tall and lean like his mother or Nya, and you had to have a perfect tan and look like prince charming. Compared to Kai, Nya was a gorgeous princess and Lloyd was an angel, while Kai looked more like a damsel in distress masquerading as a boy. Yet while Kai didn't see the beauty in his appearance, everyone else in the town saw nothing but his fair facade. They made no attempt to look behind it and considered him odd, peculiar, and strange.

Though he couldn't care less what others thought of him, it saddened and frustrated the fiery teen to no end, not one in town could accept him for who he was.

"Kai?" A sweet voice broke the older teen from his thoughts, and he diverted his attention from his reflection to his worried little brother, holding two large paper bags of already paid for food. "You okay?"

"I'm fine bro," He smiled, "Just lost in my thoughts." He replied following his reflection until the glass faded into the wood, they continued on their way...

[laurelleghuleh]

OCAF | Ch. 12 “This ravaged village is my heart”

In this chapter, there is a poem by Giuseppe Ungaretti, one of my favorite Italian poets. The original title is "San Martino del Carso". He mainly wrote between the two great wars of the twentieth century, so I thought he was quite a fit for the occasion. I like to think that Levi could definitely be one of his readers.

Warnings: read the masterlist first

Songs: "War Of Hearts" by Ruelle, "Close To You" by Rihanna, "Outro: House Of Cards" by BTS

DAPHNE’S POV

The silence on our way back was unbearable. By then the thunder of boots that rang as one on the ground had turned into a distant and vague thud. Almost an inaudible, dull sound. As we ploddingly proceeded like empty shells, citizens began to appear from out of their windows, murmuring and shaking their heads in disbelief.

I didn't dare to look up. I couldn't hold their gaze.

Sorrow, humiliation, inquietude, blind anger, and a thousand other emotions seemed to get the better of me. Glancing around, it didn't seem like my comrades were handling the situation any better.

Once we got to the headquarters, I walked over to the wagon where Eren was resting. Beside him, Mikasa had been keeping an eye on him the whole time. I gave them both a simple nod. My lips were pressed into a thin line, behind which any words of thanks or condolence remained mute, still hanging in my now completely dry throat.

Proceeding towards the main entrance, I witnessed from afar a heated discussion between Hange and Levi. I didn't understand much about it, but I soon saw the captain push her away and go straight into the building. He was limping and his hands were curled into stiff fists.

As soon as Hange noticed me, she reached out to me, shaking her head. With a concerned tone, I asked her what had happened, and placing a hand on my shoulder, she said:

“Please, later try to check on him.” I nodded, unsure if he even wanted to talk to anyone. Let alone me.

Honestly, I was dying to see him. Not yet knowing what to tell him or how to approach him at all after the expedition. The thought alone of confronting him made me sick. I didn't have the courage. What could I ever tell him in such a situation? How could I ever help him? I could only imagine what was going on in his head.

Halfway between the hallways and my door, I had almost completely stripped down, taking off my uniform and the rest. I tried to reach the bathroom as soon as possible, hit by a sudden nausea. At the sight of the toilet, I could no longer hold back.

I felt my guts squirm and at the push of the last retching, I let myself fall to the ground. On that cold floor, I realized how miserable and lonely I felt. How lost. That thought alone had been enough to convince me. I wanted to see him, to know what had happened to his legs, how he was doing and all. I had to see him.

I tried to wash as quickly as possible. Under the water, I noticed some bruises and cuts on my arms and legs, nothing serious. No medication was actually needed. And luckily, despite the light concussion, I seemed to feel quite fine.

Without overthinking it too much, I put on my nightgown, but only once outside my room, I realized that perhaps it would be quite inappropriate. After all, Levi was my superior.

Who cares. Like he gives a shit about what I’m wearing…

I knocked, not knowing what to expect behind that massive door or whether to even expect something. He probably would like to be left alone... But I didn't want to give up right away, so I knocked again. But nothing. Again, but still nothing. One last time, then I swear to God I’ll-  

Just as I was about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing a figure completely immersed in the gloom of the room behind it. Levi.

There he was. His hair was untidy and still wet - perhaps he had just gotten out of the shower -, his eyes tired, his jaw set, his torso barely illuminated by the dim hallway lights, his muscles tense, one hand on the door and the other pressed on a gauze on his chest. Lower he was wearing his pajama pants only, carefully shortened on one leg, enough to reveal a tight bandage around his ankle.

A view that could break your heart as much as take your breath away.

Literally. I was suddenly unable to spell a single word or even remember why I was there in the first place. Luckily, Levi relieved me of the embarrassment of taking the first step, just calling me by my name:

"Daphne." The low pitch of his voice seemed to resonate through the space all around us, filling it inch by inch. And I swear I had even felt it running within my bones.

Six letters and I was already lightheaded.

He hesitated to add more, waiting for my reply. All I could do was to faintly open my mouth, unable to articulate anything reasonable.

"What are you doing here? You should be resting by now.”

I don't know what was wrong with me at that moment, but I couldn't stop staring at him. To be more specific, I couldn't take my eyes off his chiseled chest, and off whatever he was hiding under that gauze. I unconsciously advanced and when I was only a few inches away from him, I took his hand, moving it from his skin to reveal a deep wound.

“Levi…”

Overstepping the doorframe, I was now completely inside the room. Levi sized the moment to close the door behind my back with his free hand and at that point, we were alone in the darkness, just a step away from each other.

I could sense his eyes looming over me as I inspected his wound.

“Levi, this looks bad… Let me help you. It's the least I can do for you after yesterday... and today too actually…”

“I’ve already told you that surviving the expedition would be enough. We're even.” he said, grabbing me softly by the wrist. I sought his gaze in the gloom and stepping forward, I said with a thread of voice:

“Let me just help you.” He let go of my wrist and as he turned his back on me, he said:

“The medical kit is in the other room”. Therefore, I followed him into the darkness of what looked like an office, his office. He opened a door at the end of the room, on the right side, revealing his bedroom.

Everything was exactly as I expected it to be: simple and extremely neat.

The room was decorated with nothing more than the essential. A wooden headboard was placed against the wall on my left, at its sides two small night tables, and in front of it, about a meter away, stood a large double door wardrobe. To my right a completely bare wall with a solid wood door right in the center. His bathroom, I thought.

Almost all the light came from a large window on the left, precisely aligned between the bed and the wardrobe, while a small candle on one of the two bedside tables illuminated a box. It must be the medkit he was talking about. Once I saw it, I took it and ordered him:

“Sit on the bed”. Oddly enough, he silently obeyed.

Levi patted on a spot on his left, and silently following his instructions, I made my way to the bed. Twenty-four hours earlier I would have bitten him if he had tried one more time to gesture me something.

I sat and tucked a leg under me. Without wasting any more time, I observed the kit, searching for something useful to treat the lesion with. Then I took Levi by the shoulders, making him rotate in my direction since his wound was on his right side, a few centimeters from his collarbone.

As I sanitized my hands, I pondered upon what to do. He had already stopped the bleeding, but a couple of stitches were definitely needed; the injury was long and deep.

Meanwhile, Levi continued to stare at me as I began to clean up his wound. All of a sudden, in a single move, he took me by the hips, lifting me and placing me on his lap. Then he said,

“You’ll have a better look on it from here.”

“L-Levi, your legs ... Don't they hurt you?” I nervously stuttered sensing the bare skin of my thighs against the fabric of his pants. I was suddenly aware of how short and thin my dress was.

“I can’t fight a titan right now, but I think I can handle this.” and as he said so, he pointed his gaze to my thighs. I tried to divert his attention, changing the subject, and returning to his wound.

“Whatever. I'll be quick.”

“Take your time." he murmured.

While I was cleaning his wound, Levi had stayed religiously silent. But after a while, he said: “You did well today.”

“I don't think so…” I immediately replied.

“Why? You're still alive.” he said looking for my gaze, still fixed on a spot between the edges of his wound.

“You’re still alive. You survived. Even. This. Time. You little scum. You survived and they didn't.” That voice in my head started haunting me.

But it was right. After all, if it hadn't been for Eren, I would have probably met the same fate as Petra, or Eld, or anybody else. I still didn’t dare to share my thoughts with him. When I tried to reach for the disinfectant in the kit, Levi blocked me with his arm, saying, like it was an order:

“Look at me, Daphne.”

But I ignored him, trying to extend my arm past his. With just one hand, he suddenly grabbed my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. His piercing eyes moved impatiently between mine as if he were looking for a clue to my silence, inspecting the deepest depths of my soul.

“What is it, uh? Don't tell me you think you didn't deserve to survive?”

I tried to stay still, returning his intense gaze, without saying anything. Still unable to confess, I was on the verge of a break down: in his presence, I always felt like an open book. Easily readable. Inevitably clear.

Suddenly his grip on me became stronger and his tone darker and tense. His voice sounded almost like a growl as he spoke through his teeth, “Do you think you didn't deserve to be alive in the place of my squad? In place of valiant soldiers like Eld ... Gunther ... Petra ... and even Oruo?”

“Stop it …”  I abruptly cried, looking away and freeing myself from his grip. I jumped up and massaged my jaw as I walked away. I was about to leave when Levi spoke again:

“Did you really think I wouldn't find out?”At the sound of those words, I felt obliged to turn around.

“Eren told me everything,” he said as he stood up from the bed.

“That you two didn't want to leave. You didn't want to leave them alone” He took a step forward.

“That Eld opposed, imposing his orders on you. And that you decided to follow them.” Another one further.

"That when you saw them die, one after the other, you were ready to go and fight it." he said, taking another step until he was now right in front of me. A few inches away, he whispered, warming up my skin with his hot breath:

“You did what you had to do, Daphne.”

I remained motionless, digesting his words and his looming proximity. Sensing my silence, he slowly stepped forward, and brushing his lips on my ear he said:

“You know what? I think all this has nothing to do with the expedition”. Then he moved to the other:

“I think it's just your unswerving guilt.” So he went back to the other:

“It has nothing to do with having accomplished the mission or not. Or not even with surviving the expedition. No...” Then he returned to the other side, this time pronouncing every single word as slowly as he could:

“It's the guilt of not having been able to save someone you cared about. Again...” Then he brought his face back right in front of mine

“Now tell me. Am I wrong?"

If there had ever been butterflies in my stomach, by then they had probably all burned alive by that sudden rage I felt flare up from within. Caught by that blind anger, without even realizing it, I impulsively grabbed him by the neck, applying solid pressure on it, not enough to choke him, but just enough to hurt him, even a little.

So I pulled him in, to the point where our noses touched, and gritting my teeth I warned him,

"Don't think you can talk to me like this just because last night I was crying in your arms, Levi."

He continued to stare at me almost impassively, unblinking as if my fingers were nothing around his neck. On second thought, his eyes looked so empty. So tired. I would have said even so deeply sad.

Let's be honest, he could have freed himself from my grasp in a second, and yet he didn't. Then bringing his jaw forward, almost caressing my lips, he opened his mouth to say,

“Go ahead. Squeeze harder if it makes you feel better.”

I inhaled deeply trying not to completely lose control and kill him on the spot. But still, I couldn’t loosen up my grip on him.

Seeing me waver, Levi stepped even further, pushing me with the weight of his body against the wall behind me. As soon as I felt the chill of the bare surface on my back, I saw his arms rising. His fists were now positioned at the same height as my head on the wall, while his neck was still between my fingers.

“Do you think I don't feel that way too? That guilt? Do you think I wouldn't have given my life for them? We all feel that way. Every. Single. Time”

At the sound of his words, my arms fell helplessly along the sides of my body.

What the hell got into me all of a sudden? Until a few minutes earlier, I had arrived there with the best of intentions. I wanted to help him, I wanted to be by his side… And now? Now I was almost choking him. I had to calm down as soon as possible.

We both needed to calm down. After all, we were both exhausted, powerless, and incurably grieving.

Calm down, Daphne.

I rubbed my eyes furiously as if my fingers could flay off the tremendous frustration I was feeling at that moment. I swallowed all my pride, even though it was almost impossible for me to bear the fact that Levi had read me so easily. It was almost humiliating.I sighed and finally looked up from the ground. Instinctively I raised my hand to reach his neck again. I let my fingers slide slowly as if I could gently trace the word sorry along his skin. I had crossed the line.

Lower, his wound had started to bleed again, so with one hand, I guided him back to his bed, straddling him again. Then I said with a thread of voice:

“Let’s just get this over with.”

We stayed perfectly silent as I started working on his wound all over again.

As I leaned over my right to take the disinfectant in the kit, I felt Levi's hands brush my skin, working it’s way up my thighs to my back. In a very specific point: not too high, not too low, just a few centimeters before it could have gotten awkward. I quickly eyed him, but he defended himself, saying:

“It's just to keep you from falling.” I involuntarily rolled my eyes and then added:

“Anyway, hold still, this may hurt.” So I applied the product, but Levi never flinched. When I was done, Levi spoke again:

“Farlan and Isabel... I saw them die during my first expedition. We were just a bunch of kids from the Underground. We weren't even supposed to be there. They didn't have to die there. And I didn't have to survive there.”

Then he paused.

“But I did… Daphne, this thing never gets better. Each expedition is like a Russian roulette and you just have to keep your fingers crossed until the very end.”

“I'm so sorry Levi…” I could only add. Who knows how he must have felt at that moment.

Then, after I had sanitized my hands, knowing what a clean-freak I was dealing with, I took a needle and thread. But before proceeding, I found the courage to tell him:

“Sometimes I just think I’m not suited for this life. Not even for that little freedom I’ve experienced the past three years in the Underground after Martha had freed me... I feel like I've been in survival mode throughout my whole life.”

I almost hesitated before speaking again.

“Sometimes I feel like I can't take this anymore. And other times I can manage any situation without any problem... As if there was another person within me that takes my reins and saves my ass every single time... I do not know how long I will be able to endure. How much suffering and death I will still have to witness before I crumble down…”

I was at my limit and my tone had become definitely quieter as I continued:

“Or maybe it's just the fact that you are humanity’s strongest soldier and I am a simple girl from the Underground.”

Placing a hand on his chest, I could feel his heart pounding faster and faster at the sound of my words and his hands on me sinking their grip, dipping into my skin through the thin layer of cloth.

So we found ourselves staring at each other, again, in silence. That emptiness was becoming unbearable when I decided to bring my attention back to the wound, saying:

“I should get you something to bite while I sew your-” But holding me still on top of him, he assured me,

“It won’t be necessary. I can bear it.”

“I know, tough guy, but this is really gonna hurt-”

“I’ve just told you it won’t be necessary.” Looking at him closely, he seemed quite serious, so I decided to proceed, reemphasizing:

“Ok, but stop me if it hurts.” I felt a light pressure on my back as the needle sank into his skin, but after the first knot, I sensed his grip loosen and his hands began to gently stroke me with small circles on my back.

“Of these houses nothing remains but the rubble of a ruined wall…” he said as the thread formed another knot on his skin.

“Of the many who were so close to me nothing remains” a little pause “not even that.” I tightened another knot.

“But in my heart not one cross is missing.” another one.

“This ravaged village is my heart.”

By now I was done with the sewing and looking carefully at those four crosses on his skin, perfectly aligned with his wound, I felt his words make their way up to my eyes, where one after the other they pooled on the very edge of my eyelids. Like dew after a long humid night.

I looked up, hoping to manage to say something.

“It's a poem I found in Erwin's bookcase…” he added.

“Levi…” I feebly said, trying to steady myself with a hand on his shoulder. Those words had made me dizzy.

Suddenly he pulled me closer, squeezing me tighter and enveloping me completely, while I felt my body almost melting against his and my robe shifting in his hands.

“You don't have to endure or overcome pain. You just have to keep going, Daphne. The fact that you are still alive does not make you a villain, but a survivor, a fighter.”

I did my best to hold back my tears. I wanted to show him that I was truly listening to him, that I had listened to every single word of his since we met. Sensing my discomfort and looking me straight in the eyes, he added:

“Time is not on our side... But if you learn to treasure every second you’re granted, the world will be yours. Do what you think is right and never look back. Never have regrets.”

I returned his gaze and sighing, I nodded. Then I stretched out my arm over his and took a gauze to cover the stitches. Still tied in his grip, practically glued onto him, I naively asked:

“So you really don't have any regrets? Not even one?”

“One or two.” he said roaming his eager gaze from my eyes and to my lips. And vice versa. Restlessly.

His hands silently slipped along my hips and then squeezed me, as if he wanted to hold me even closer to him when the space between us had already completely vanished. I felt my breath shorten and my back instinctively arch as he aligned me with his hard-on, gently pressing me on it.

Despite his tired eyes, Levi's nostrils were wide open like those of a wild animal in front of its prey, sighing heavily and looming over it. An ache grew within me, shaping a stinging line from my belly down to my legs. At that point my hips could not stay still, grinding almost imperceptibly on him.

A thick fog of suspended breaths had materialized in those few inches between our faces, as we inhaled and exhaled, with our mouth wide open, impatiently waiting for one of us to take the first step. The one who was ready to surrender and lose.

LEVI’S POV

My hands were literally itching because of her. All because I selfishly wanted more of her.

Her figure perfectly molded onto mine; we were like two long lost pieces of jigsaw now reunited. I scanned every inch of her body in front of me with my breath, never touching her. Then swallowing thickly, I confessed:

“Daphne, when I saw you hanging from that tree today…”. I sighed trying to pull myself together “ The fact that you are alive is more than enough for me…” Then I went back on her face. Resting my forehead on hers and cupping the back of her head, I murmured:

“But just say the word…”

I felt almost as if I were sinking into my bed when she whispered back:

“Please.”

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »2

Previous  »  Next Series Masterlist  ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff ▎ word count: 11k  ▎ ch.warnings: cursing, use of homophobic slurs (censored), internalized homophobia?, mxm smut, fingering, anal, some fluff, some angst, they’re dumb because they're still figuring everything out, mentions of alcoholic father & verbally abusive parents. Do not read this if you’re sensitive to any of these warnings!

When the morning came, Taehyung had to physically force himself out of the comfort of his bed, still not fully awake as he sluggishly dressed himself for practice.

This time around, instead of losing sleep from playing video games all night long, Tae’s racing thoughts were the culprit.

After somehow managing to leave some extra time to spare, Taehyung figured it couldn’t hurt to pack his breakfast— a chocolate chip granola bar, before rushing out of the house and driving off to school. He greeted a couple of his teammates once he got there, exchanging handshakes and friendly pats on the back. Then, when Taehyung was about to pull his sweatshirt over his head, he felt the presence of someone’s stare on his back. He turned around to see who it could be, when— “Namjoon?” “Oh—hey! Uh.. hey.” The latter looked like he’d just shit his pants, eyes set on the ground whilst rubbing his nape. “Hey.” Taehyung’s brows furrowed, “what’s up..?” “Nothing.” The older quickly blurted out, “Just wanted to say hey.” Tae simply blinked once, twice, and three times before slowly nodding his head, utterly confused. Without exchanging another word, Joon got out of there, not baring the awkwardness any longer. However, just as he was making his way towards the door, in came Jungkook. “Kook, hey.” His dimpled smile showed, trying to be subtle when eyeing the boy’s limp. Fuck, Namjoon just wanted to be upfront with it, but he didn’t want to scare either of them away. So, he opted for keeping his mouth shut. It was a challenge, to say the less, “Are you hurting?” Damn, Tae. How rough can you be? Meanwhile, Taehyung was discretely looking at the two of them, wondering what they were talking about.

Jungkook awkwardly smiled at Namjoon, the backpack strap tightly clenched on his shoulder, ''Hey, yeah, uh.. No, I'm fine.''

It was hardly believeable, but Namjoon nodded, eyebrows drawn together in concern still. A few seconds of silence followed before Namjoon spoke once more, ''Are you sure you can play? You say you're fine, but-'', he didnt finish his sentence before Jungkook interrupted him, ''I'm fine, I'm playing.'' He was extremely stubborn, Namjoon knew this. ''You're of no use if you get hurt, Kook, you could just sit on the bench today.'' He was pushing it. ''No.'' Jungkook was determined, now walking past Namjoon instead to get to his locker, throwing his bag on the bench to get changed. His locker was placed just a few steps away from Taehyung's, but he didn't dare to say anything, giving quick glances as he's changing, pressing his lips together in a straight line. He hated that his heart fluttered from the close proximity, and being in this room once more made the memories play back in his head.

Taehyung’s sharp eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, he would steal a quick glance towards Jungkook’s direction when he was sure Kook wasn’t looking, shaking his head when he’d caught himself. A small part of Taehyung wanted to ask Jungkook about how he felt regarding all of.. this. But, that would be extremely unlike him. He’d already done something out of the unexpected, he really didn’t feel like adding another to the list. Even when practice began, Tae would be looking at him, like an idiot deep in thought. Namjoon didn’t fail to catch this. His eyes seemed to always be trained on the two of them. Tae managed to catch him a few times, but Joon would always divert his gaze somewhere else, hoping he didn’t make it too obvious. If there was one thing to know about their captain, is that he was extremely sneaky. So, when he decided they’d be practicing their defense in matches, he knew just who to group together, “Jimin and Hoseok, Daejung and Jin, and..” Joon pondered, “Jungkook and Taehyung!” Hit. Him. On. His. Head. With. A. Bat. Namjoon had to be kidding, why would he place him with Kook out of all people?!

Jungkook's eyes widened, why would Namjoon group them together?! It made no sense. Normally, Joon would do everything in his power to keep them separated to keep the peace. But he couldn't act up on it, he couldn't really complain, because part of him wanted to be close to Tae, but another was so embarrassed, the memories still too fresh in his mind, his body still more sore than he'd like to admit. He ran his hands through his hair, sweat glistening on his forehead as he's catching his breath, glancing over at Taehyung, hesitating as if he's not sure if he's allowed to approach him for this practice. But he had to, it would be weird if he didn't, so he mustered all his courage to walk up to him, still quiet. He was thankful that they were sweaty and hot from the practice, masking the blush creeping on his cheeks.

Well, this was awkward. “You coming, or what?” Taehyung’s deep voice laced with annoyance as he waited for Jungkook to approach him, suddenly wanting to get out of there before the obvious tension engulfed him whole. He didn’t need any futuristic powers to know this was going to be.. something. Even he, himself, was struggling not to bring up the past. Whether it would be pleasing to Jungkook’s ears or not, he didn’t care. He felt like he had to say something. “You look dorky as hell limping around the school, y’know.” Taehyung extended out his arms to make a basket, his voice close to a murmur, not wishing for anyone else to hear, “Uh, um.. did you try the panthenol cream?” Okay, he wouldn’t say anything else. Tae already took it too far trying to intervene in Kook’s personal life.

Jungkook's frown from the limp insult disappeared quickly when Tae murmured his next words. It wasn't surprising, he had to keep the image up, he hated JK. Bullying JK was his thing. But the quiet question was unexpected. Jungkook glanced over with his big doe eyes for a mere second before staring straight at the floor, his bangs bouncing over his eyes, nodding as they walk, his small limp evident, even if he's trying so hard not to. He wanted to speak with him, but now that he could, he was speechless. He had nothing, he wasn't even in the mood to argue, grabbing the basketball to get into position, ''I'll defend, you attack.'' As it should've been, always been. The double meaning behind his subtle words was only readable by the two of them.

Namjoon almost had a tunnel vision on the two of them, barely noticing the other guys practicing. His chin jutted, rubbing it slowly as he was in thought. He wonders what Tae was whispering to the younger.

Although Taehyung could be a bit of an asshole at times; he wasn’t entirely soulless. He had feelings, just like any other human. But, unlike most, Tae would never show it on his face. Maybe the reason he liked ticking Jungkook off so much was because he didn’t know of any other way to garner his undivided attention.. Of course, that could never be it. But even he wasn’t so sure of that. Fuck, why was everything so confusing? With a soft nod of his head, Taehyung kept quiet, doing as Jungkook told without a second thought. By the time they were done, sweat dripped from Tae’s body, gluing some of his fringe onto his forehead. Even though him and Kook barely shared any words, Taehyung found himself missing the silence.. After all, it was better than talking about what took place before, it would’ve just made him feel uneasy and more prone to getting angry. What was even more surprising was that they didn’t even bicker once, that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. “Good job everyone. See you tomorrow!” Namjoon waved his team off, screwing the cap back on his water bottle before setting it down on the floor, “Are you guys okay? You broke your tradition.” He teased, referring to their usual arguments.

Jungkook tilted his head back, chugging down the entire waterbottle, the muscles on his neck dancing beneath his sweaty skin. He grits his teeth when he swallows, the aching pain in his body even worse now after practice, but trying his best to not show it. His eyes flickered over to Namjoon, an awkward smile pulling on his lips, ''I'm good.''

Namjoon didn't believe it, waiting for the other players to start to leave the practice room before he decides to ask, his eyes scanning the two men with a slight squint, ''Did something happen yesterday?''

Taehyung’s mouth went dry, eyes wide as he looked at Namjoon, “No, why?” The taller shifted on his feet, trying to not let his tone waver as he lied to Joon’s face, “What do you mean? Why are you asking us?” Tae got defensive, crossing his toned arms over his chest, eyes lowered in questioning. He had to remind himself to calm the fuck down. Why was Namjoon interrogating them so much? They didn’t get caught.

Namjoon crossed his arms over his own chest, mirroring Taehyung's stance, ''I can tell when something's up,'' He said, eyes moving over to Jungkook, ''You two were the only ones here last night, and after you left,'' He directed his words back at Tae, ''Jungkook came shortly after, obviously hurt.''

Jungkook was getting anxious, he didn't like this. why did it matter? Sure, maybe Namjoon was worried about them fighting, but today they didnt, and now that was also an issue... ''I already told you, we fought.''

Namjoon clacked his tongue, directing his attention to Taehyung again, ''If that is so, why didn't you today? This is unlike you both. It's been too quiet... You guys can talk to me about anything?''

Taehyung clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, having trouble making sense of the situation, “So.. it’s an issue that we didn’t fight?”, A disbelieving scoff followed soon after, “Joon, you’re making no fucking sense.” Tae was about to walk past Namjoon when the latter opened his mouth, knowing it would make him stop in his tracks, “I found cum on the-!” He lowered his voice, looking around to see if anyone else was left lingering. “I found cum on the ground, okay?” Taehyung swore he felt the previous vigorous beating of his heart stop for a second. “Look, I’m not saying it was you guys,” Joon breathed out, choosing his words carefully, “But if it was.. I’d support you! I’m not against the gays, or anything.”

Jungkooks heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was about to burst out of his rib cage. How could he have been so fucking dumb? He should’ve cleaned it up. Internally he scolded himself, and his face was completely frozen. He couldn’t even look surprised. His eyes were dead staring at the floor, not even able to look at either of them, and the urge to just run away was rising. Should he? He felt like he was gonna faint any second, he hadn’t eaten, his body was exhausted and aching, and slowly he started to softly rock back and forth as he felt dizzy.

“What the hell?” Taehyung’s face twisted up, internally freaking the fuck out but he hid it well, “Namjoon, it wasn’t us.” He let out a defeated sigh, “It was Seulgi.” Namjoon’s brows pinched together, even more confused than before, “What?” Taehyung was sure that by the time they were excused from their “private” meeting, Joon’s face would be covered with wrinkles from how much he’s frowned in the span of a few minutes. It was amazing, really. “I mean.. I had sex with her.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie. Never in a million years did he think he would be talking about his sex life with Jungkook and Joon present, but here he was. In the midst of it all, Taehyung’s eyes kept on lingering back to Jungkook, noticing how awfully pale he looked. The younger looked like he was about to fall at any minute. “Taehyung, why was there so much cum then?! Did you seriously have sex without protection?” The Captain’s lips parted in surprise, mind wandering to the horrible possibilities of what could happen. Oh yeah, Tae forgot about that minor detail.. “No—I used protection.” He reassured him, “It just.. all fell from the condom.” Can they go now? “Uh, can I go?” Taehyung settled for asking, leaving Namjoon wide eyed before going downstairs to get changed.

Jungkook watched Taehyung leave, this entire conversation was like as if from a terrible teenage movie, and he wishes with his entire being that the world would just open up and swallow him whole. Namjoon's attention shifted to Jungkook, whom looked like he wasn't doing well at all, ''Hey, hey, are you alright?''

Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts, looking Namjoon straight in the eye as if he's seen a ghost, ''Y-yeah, hm, I gotta go,'' He croaked out before hurrying to the lcoker room as well, almost stumbling on the way down

By the time Taehyung wandered into the locker room, almost everyone else had already evacuated. Thankfully. He was way too out of it to partake in a normal conversation, even less force himself to do small talk with a few guys he only interacted with during practice. He took off his Jersey, sweat stains running along the light fabric. Taehyung didn’t know if that was cold sweat, or sweat from the physical exercise.. Either way, it was disgusting. Suddenly, the sound of the door opening caught his attention. In stumbled Jungkook, looking even more out of it than he did.. Shit, he looked horrible. It was concerning.. “Kook,” Tae hesitantly called out his name, rushing over to the younger to take a hold of his forearm, helping him regain his balance so he doesn’t drop to the floor. “Here.” He slowly led him to a nearby bench, “Jungkook, just take a deep breath.” Taehyung sat down next to him, making sure to leave some space between their bodies.

''Thanks..'' Jungkook's voice was breathy, his hands trembling in his lap. He really shouldn't have skipped breakfast, and he definitely shouldn't have participated in practice today. But that's how he is, he focuses on one thing with tunnel vision to occupy his busy mind, and this focus turned out to be working out, as it always is. Jungkook's chest heaved up and down slowly as he took deep breaths, feeling that it does help him gather himself enough to feel grounded. He glances over at Taehyung's feet, not sure if he wants to meet his eyes, still feeling embarrassed and guilty for the big fuck up, he really should've cleared any traces of last night. ''I'm sorry..''

Guessing that Jungkook might’ve been walking around on an empty stomach, Taehyung stood up from his spot on the bench before scavenging around in his backpack, searching for that granola bar he packed this morning, “Here, eat this.” He sat it down on the other’s lap, pushing aside his own hunger. At this moment, Jungkook needed it more than him. They sat together in silence, Taehyung absentmindedly staring down at the ground while listening to the heavy breathing at his side. “It’s whatever.” His voice was nonchalant, though.. was it really? The taller’s jaw tensed, wanting to free the words that hung at the tip of his tongue. He knew he might regret this, but during yesterday’s sleepless night, he thought hard about it, “Next time we’ll just be more careful.” Taehyung’s voice was close to a whisper, feeling tingly from the nerves. Was he really going to do this..? “I just.. I’m not gay, alright? It’s just sex. So, don’t think of it as anything more than that.” There was no sign of emotion on his face, though deep inside, he was a nervous wreck.

Jungkook didn't open the granola bar provided, but simply kept it in his hands as he fiddled with the plastic. He felt so confused right now, being thrown subtle words that could be interpreted as concern and care, to be thrown off a cliff the next as soon as he feels any hope for... whatever the fuck this is. But he gets it, of course Tae wasn't gay. Of course this was just another fuck. But why did feel like it wasn’t? Was it really just him that felt this way? He said the one thing he thought would be appropriate in this situation to save his own skin, to not be left as the one who got made a fool out of for having feelings, ''I'm not.. either.. It's just sex.'' JK wasn't as good of an actor as Taehyung, the expression on his face more sombre than anything. And what if it was just sex, would it still be good enough? He'd still be able to feel him, even if the elder didn't.. feel. Jungkook stood up, hissing at the way his overworked muscles protested, but he forced himself to stand straight. He didn't want to stay around for now, he wanted to leave, have some space to think. He didn't even want to bother changing back to his regular clothing, and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

Taehyung debated on whether he should even bother uttering another word. He said what he had to say, nothing else was itching to be heard. So, with one last look at Jungkook’s direction, Tae’s eyes followed his figure until he was out of sight. Taehyung stayed sitting there, replaying what happened in his head, feeling like he was on the edge of his seat at the cinema, just dying to know what was going to happen next. It’s already been established that they’d be having casual sex. When? Tae didn’t know. Probably whenever they both felt like it, obviously. He’s had sex many times before, just not with a guy. As of yesterday, that statement was no longer true. And shit did that scare him.. Taehyung didn’t really know how to approach it. Smoothly, that is. “Was this a mistake?” He asked himself, leaning down to hide his face in his hands. However the hell this was supposed to work out, Taehyung only hoped he would get a firm grasp of the concept. Soon.

When the last bell of the day rang, Tae was one of the first people to get out of there. With his hands tucked deep into the warmth of his pockets, Taehyung casually squeezed past the crowds of students in the common area, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. After he was in the clear, and had a better view of the outside through the glass, his shoulders slumped in defeat. It was pouring. Or like his mom used to tell him, ‘confetti was falling from the sky.’ Bringing his hood up to his head, Taehyung took it upon him to brace himself when he noticed a familiar person standing by the doors. It was Jungkook. He didn’t look too pleased, and if the older remembered correctly, he didn’t have a car, “Kook.” The taller snuck up behind him, “You planning on walking?”

Jungkook jumped where he was standing when Tae called his name by surprise, turning his body to face his, ''Ah, yeah...'' He turned to look outside once more, a sigh pressing through his lips. How is it that every single time he's daydreaming of Taehyung, he seems to show up one way or the other, ''Also, hm.. thank you for the granola bar.'' He internally scolded himself once more, not sure why he even had to mention that.Taehyung probably didn't even remember giving it to him, however, it did help. Jungkook doesn't have a lot of money, and living by himself was expensive. Food was a necessity, but he'd only eat when deemed entirely necessary, or leech off of the school lunches.

“You’re welcome,” Taehyung let out an airy chuckle, still not fully over the way Jungkook jumped in his spot. So he was easily scared. Noted. “Hey, uh..” He nervously scratched at his nape, “I can give you a ride home, don’t want you slipping on a puddle and falling on your ass..” He smirked at the surprisingly vivid image, part of him finding it amusing. Tae would never admit to that, though; he was afraid of the reaction he might get. He would also never admit to the fact that Jungkook could get scary when angry. “Come on, we gotta hurry.” Taehyung effortlessly pulled off his sweatshirt over his head, wavy hair a mess as some strands effortlessly fell down to his eyes. Holding the gray fabric over the both of them, Tae spared Jungkook a knowing glance before he began making a run for it, making sure the younger could still keep up with him. “Shit!” His voice was nearly muffled by the sound of the heavy rain hitting against the concrete ground, his sweatshirt barely of any use. Without even knowing it, Taehyung had a big grin on his face. Walking as fast as he could, he nearly slipped on the wet grass, catching himself just moments before disaster. The sound of his laughter echoed in the misty air, “Meant to do that.” By now the fabric above their heads was completely damp, but that didn’t seem to faze him.

Jungkook couldn’t help but let a laugh slip out of him as well, Taehyungs laugh was infectious, “Yeah, sure.” As the damp sweatshirt was basically useless, however a comforting feeling swirling within Jungkook as this was giving him this close proximity to the man he’s grown to like even more now, the smile he didn’t know could be so pretty when it was out of genuinely rather than in a mocking sense. As they finally arrived by the car, which by no means was fancy, but functional, Jungkook went to the passenger side after taehyung  unlocked it and got into the drivers seat. The mere seconds he was exposed to the rain was enough for his hair to be soaked, stringy curls dangling around the frame of his face. “Fuck, that rain came out of nowhere.” Jungkook breathes out as soon as he slumps down in the passenger seat, shutting the door closed. The sounds of the heavy rain clattering against the car surface was almost soothing to the ears.

“And you were planning on walking,” Taehyung reminded him as he threw his head back against the headrest, not caring that his hair was wet from the rain. “You owe me, you know.” He turned his head to meet Jungkook’s doe eyes, a lazy smile dancing on his lips. He didn’t actually expect anything in return, simply teasing the other like he always did. Not even a second later, Taehyung pulled on the gear shift, looking over his shoulder while using one hand to back out of his parking space. Paying close attention to the directions Jungkook had given him, knowing he tended to get lost a lot of the times, Taehyung drove off. Comfortable silence soon took over them a few moments later, until Taehyung broke it, “How come you don’t have a car?”

Jungkooks eyes continously ended up on Tae's hand gripping onto the steering wheel. It was so close, but so far away, "Huh? Well.. money's been tight." He shrugged, hoping it was enough of an answer. Just like tae, he wasnt the most keen of talking about hardships. He didnt want to come off as weak, showing struggles, especially not in front of Taehyung. Or maybe, he was exactly the one he wanted to open up to. Jungkook smiled vaguely, "I could use the exercise anyway." Not to mention, most of his money goes towards being able to stay in school, with the help of the scholarship hes been working his ass off to keep.

The last thing Taehyung wanted was to come across as noisy, or too invested in Jungkook’s personal life, so a light nod on his end was enough of a response for him. But even so; he was intrigued. The younger was struggling financially..? Tae had a lot of misconceptions about JK, but he would’ve never thought that was one of them. After a few minutes of driving down a route that was foreign to him, listening to the rain hitting down on them harder than ever; Taehyung finally pulled up to a small apartment complex. From the outside, it looked cozy. “We’re here,” His deep voice disrupted the comfortable silence, waiting for Jungkook to get out of the car as he tapped his slender fingers against the steering wheel.

Jungkook was hyper aware of the tapping noise tae was making against the steering wheel, the tapping almost echoing in his head, "Thanks for the ride." He spoke softly, and as soon as he was about to get out of the car, a loud spark of thunder flashed in the sky, the noise startling poor jungkook, he cried out an almost embarrassing sound as he flinched, his hand gripping the door handle hard. How embarrassing... he was terrified of the thunder.

How embarrassing indeed.. If Tae had not seen the raw look of fear in Jungkook’s big eyes, he would’ve hopped on the chance to make fun of him for it. Eyes drawn to the way Kook’s hand desperately gripped onto the door handle, it was made clear it wasn’t as amusing to the latter as it was to him, “Jeon, you need me to protect you from the thunder?” He raised a brow, and even though his tone was teasing, a pinch of seriousness lingered within the small cracks. A tired sigh escaped past his lips before he turning off his car, “So childish..” Taehyung mumbled under his breath, acting like it was a big pain in his ass to even consider spending more time with Jungkook. He would never admit to feeling the complete opposite of that, maybe not while sober. “Come on, don’t just stand there.” Taehyung made his way over to the other’s side, urging him to straighten up before wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to his chest.

"Ah, I'm not scared... " his voice came out weak, so he didnt even bother arguing further. His chest felt like it was about to explode with the close proximity of Taehyung pulling him closer.. it was comforting and incredibly impactful, his heart pounding so hard he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He guided the two of them to the front door, fumbling to fish out the keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. "Uh, it's not much but, welcome." Jungkook gestured in a general manner followed by a shrug as he stepped inside, closing the door behind them. It wasnt big, but it wasnt terribly small either. He had gotten this place after being kicked out by his parents. They had found out about his preferences with males, and his parents were terribly against this.

Taehyung stayed behind Jungkook as he took a look around his place, noticing how he didn’t have much furniture apart from a couch set up against one of the walls in the room. “Nice place.” He exclaimed, leaving his shoes by the entrance and plopping down on the cushions, extending his arms out along the back. It was just as comfortable as it looked. Apart from the lack of decorating, at least in the living room, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t an interior designer or some shit like that, Kook didn’t need to worry. As far as he knew, it was better of a home than some. After having finishing exploring the unfamiliar room with his eyes, Taehyung looked up at Jungkook, “Are we the only ones here?” He didn’t see another car in the driveway, but Tae figured his parents were off at work.

Jungkook kicked off his shoes and threw his bag on the floor, not really bothered with unpacking it for the moment. He steps into the living room and his eyes fall on how comfortable taehyung already seemed to be. It was odd, really, seeing Tae in his home, in this setting. It felt different than being around him in school, now without the eyes of other people, he seemed more relaxed. The question caught him off guard, but he wasn’t surprised. Not many their age live alone, “Yeah, just us.” He tried to be casual about it, “You want anything to drink?” He wasn’t sure what he had at home, but something should still be in the fridge. He mostly kept various drinks or instant noodles around, “I was gonna grab something anyway..”

“Sure. What do you have?” Taehyung sat up a little straighter, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Jungkook in the kitchen. This felt.. different, to say the least. Definitely a lot different compared to the atmosphere back home, Tae could never seem to catch a break. Even sitting on the couch like this, so relaxed and at peace— It wasn’t something he did, or felt on a regular basis. Come to think of it.. when was the last time he sat on his own furniture? He was mostly up in his room, not interested in listening to his father’s drunken rambles about how much of a shitty day he had at work. Where was the corny, “How was your day, son?” Or, “What did you learn at school?” Taehyung undoubtedly knew that he would get tired of those questions as time went on, but he would just like to answer once. Was that too much to ask? Pulling him out of his thoughts was the sound of the heavy thunder, and almost instinctively Taehyung’s eyes went to Jungkook. The older had never been frightened by the sound, so it would be rude of him if he didn’t comfort Kook.. Patting the empty spot next to him, Tae reached for the drink in Jungkook’s hand. “Uh, you can sit with me. If you want.” Of course he could, it was his goddamn couch for fucks sake.. “I mean—so you’re less scared, that is..”

Jungkook's heart pounded in his chest, he really fucking hated the thunder. Something about the loud, rumbling noise was triggering to him. It reminded him of the night he was kicked out of home, a terrible thunderstorm screamed in his ears along with his parents, his father screaming at him to 'get the fuck out of here, I have no son!', and 'I dont want a fucking f*g living under my roof!'

Jungkook took a deep breath as he sat down next to Taehyung, handing him the drink. It wasn't anything special, just a juicebox, but it was the tastiest thing he had around, and it was his last one. He settled for a water, since..well, it's free. He was thankful for owning a TV, and it was fairly nice, he'd gotten it for free from a friend that had gotten a new one. Underneath the tv table was a playstation, probably the one thing he owned that was the most valuable to him, the one thing had kept him sane throughout the past year, ''Do you like videogame-es?'' Jungkook looked over at Tae, flinching once more when a spark of thunder flashes outside.

Seeing the way Jungkook’s body trembled in fear at the booming noise, Tae hesitated whether or not to go through with what he had in mind. Biting down on the straw of his Mixed Berry juicebox, anxious for the reaction that was to come, Taehyung scooted closer to Jungkook. “Just lean against me, Kook.” He reassured, making himself more comfortable so the younger could take shelter against his chest. This was nothing. He was just being friendly.. “Video games?” Taehyung’s head perked up at the question, he was a /sucker/ for video games. Spending so much time secluded in his room allowed him to advance in his skills, and it paid off whenever he played against other people. “Whatever game you’re thinking of, I bet I could beat your ass.”, The taller challenged, the corner of his lip inching upwards.

Jungkook quickly grabbed the two controllers that was laying on the floor by their feet, handing one over to Tae, ''You bet, huh?'', He scoffed playfully, the bratty kook that Tae was used to shining through. If there was anything Jungkook was confident in, it was his skills in gaming. Without thinking, he turned on the Playstation remotely with his controller as he leaned onto Taehyung for the comfort he offered, watching the game load. It was a mortal combat type of game, his favourite to play to get any frustrations out. And to beat somebodys spirit down with his combos.    Having Tae's comfort and the excitement between them for a simple videogame, almost occupied his mind from any worries. The thunder was there, but it was momentarily forgotten.

Taehyung rolled his eyes at Kook’s scoff, part of him glad that the other had visibly loosened up at the idea of gaming, despite him acting like the brat he knew so well. The older just had to show him who’s boss, that’s all. “You doubting me, Jeon?” He shook his head, taking the familiar controller in his hands and looking down at him, “Let’s make a deal.” Taehyung shifted a little bit on his spot, “If I win, you have to do what I say. And if you win—which, not gonna happen, I have to do whatever you want.” He playfully nudged the other, “Sounds good?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but let his mind wander at the thought, however the result may be, a tight swallow following along with the way he subtly licked his lower lip without knowing, “Deal.” As mentioned, he was confident in his skills, but a part of him kind of wondered what taehyung would make him do if he lost. However, he was way too competitive to not try his best to win. As the match begins, Jungkook starts off well, his combos unmatched, a smile curling on his lips as his eyes as completely fixed on the screen.

Truth be told, Taehyung didn’t know what he’d make Jungkook do once he lost.. It was not up for bargain that Tae would win, his mind just couldn’t grasp on the idea of losing. After all, the term was foreign to him. Taehyung’s fingers pressed repeatedly on the buttons of his controller, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. “Fuck.” He cursed out loud, having had underestimated Jungkook’s moves. Tae wouldn’t give up just yet, though. He still had time to redeem himself. “Take that!” Without him even being fully aware of it, a series of profanities escaped past his lips, which were a hue of red from him biting down on them often. “Goddamn it..!” He wasn’t doing as good as he hoped. “Shit shit shit-“ There was no trace of a smile on Taehyung’s face, sharp eyes glued onto the screen that would sometimes get painted on with blood after their characters’ hits. Sucking in a sharp breath, his fingers moved faster than ever, trying to hang on to the last bit of hope Tae had for himself. And that didn’t do shit. After it was clear that he’d lost the match, Taehyung slumped in the couch with a frown. “That’s never happened before..” He muttered sourly, not believing that Jungkook beat him. Jungkook! “You were just lucky.” God, was he a sore loser when it came to video games. “Whatever,” Tae faced him once again, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you want?”

Jungkook scrunched his nose in a smile as he won, the corners of his eyes creating small wrinkles, a dorky, teethy shit eating grin on his face. It almost reminded you that of a bunny. “Sure, this was pure luck.” He couldn’t get the smile off his face, putting the controller away. Now that it came down to the question, his smile faltered, eyes moving to Taehyungs face. What did he want? Actually, he knew exactly what he wanted, he just wasn’t sure if he dared to ask. “Well...” he hesitated, turning his body to face him. While seeing Taehyung so up close, in this setting, he looked even more gorgeous than ever, and it fucked with every fiber of his being. It wasn’t fair, the way this man had been holding his heart and mind in a vice grip for so long. Tae’s lips were reddened and plump from all the lip biting, and they looked more and more inviting with every passing second, “A kiss.” His voice was quiet, “I mean, a real kiss..” sure, he fucking loved the dirty kisses he’d received from him in the locker room, but it was in the heat of the moment. This one, he wanted to be.... different. Did it make sense? Maybe not. But he wanted it. So he leaned a little closer, his doe eyes still staring at Tae’s lips, “Please..just... once.” Or twice. Or, forever.

Taehyung’s eyebrow twitched, “A kiss?” He repeated, wondering if he heard right the first time. “I..uh,” The taller gulped, rubbing at his nape. It was just a kiss.. What was Tae so afraid of? Hell— he stuck his dick inside of Jungkook before, but somehow this felt more intimate. His dimmed eyes fell on the younger’s soft lips, absentmindedly licking over his own at the enticing sight. Yeah, maybe he wanted this. Breaking the distance between their bodies, Taehyung’s face slowly inched closer to Jungkook’s, teasing him. He stared into his doe eyes, mirroring the look of longing that swirled within them. With one last look at the other’s face, Taehyung’s lips clashed against the younger’s in a sweet kiss, momentarily forgetting about all of his previous doubts. Time seemed to stop when their lips met, but the fluttering only intensified as Tae’s hand snuck down to Jungkook’s thigh, merely resting it there. “Hmm..” The older hummed, his thumb now rubbing invisible circles on the warmth of his skin. When he did pull away to catch his breath, Tae snuck a guilty peak at Jungkook, making sure this wasn’t just a product of his imagination. Then, like he’d never broken the contact in the first place, Taehyung leaned in for another.. and another, and so on until he lost count. The sound of their kissing echoed throughout the empty house, the older’s heavy breathing hitting against Jungkook’s skin. Not being able to stand the extra space between them, Tae’s hands gripped at Jungkook’s small waist, pulling him down on his lap as he man spread.

Jungkook sighed into the kiss, daring his hands to delicately hold Taehyungs face. If he thought his feelings were strong from the locker room scene, he was so wrong. This kiss was it, the last drop. He was hopelessly, head over heels in love with this man. “Tae...” He whispered his name, as if it was the most beautiful word he knew, letting the elder pull him into his lap, his entire body screaming for Taehyungs attention. “More..” He whined, the kisses growing heavier as he melts into Tae’s touch, his hands moving to wrap behind his neck. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more of. Everything. All he knew was, he needed more.

Taehyung was glad to know he wasn’t the only one who craved more. How could he not? Jungkook’s lips felt like heaven.. Before he found himself in this situation, Tae had never poured his heart out during a kiss before, and that fucked with his head. Maybe he just wanted to show off, nothing more. But the growing tent in his pants proved he was subconsciously aware of what he wanted, of how he felt. “Fuck,” He bit down on his lip, tightening his hold on Jungkook’s waist. His boner was becoming more noticeable by the second, and having the younger’s body on top of him wasn’t exactly helping..

Jungkook positioned himself more comfortably, straddled over Taehyungs lap, pressing himself down on his growing erection. “I haven’t been able to fucking think because of you.” Jk breathes out his words like a low, frustrated growl. Completely in a haze of pure, heavy need and lust for the man beneath him. He gazes into those intense, piercing eyes of his. Fuck, he was whipped. Jungkook wraps his arms around the elders neck, pulling him in for another kiss, this one hungrier, greedy for the taste of his lips within his feverish high. He grinds down on Taehyungs cock, still clothed. JK surely found out he likes to tease, knowing Tae’s temper might be good for one thing, their carnal desires.

“Is that so-?” He broke out into a low moan, eyes glued on the way Jungkook’s hips moved so wonderfully against him, giving his erection the attention it so desperately needed. “Fuck..” Taehyung threw his head back against the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every strong gulp. He didn’t know just how much more teasing he could handle before fucking Jungkook right then and there— the cushions splattered with their cum. Shit, Taehyung was getting harder just thinking about it.. He bucks up his hips into Kook, veiny hands now placed on his plump ass, where they squeezed until his knuckles turned white, “Baby, shit..!” The pet name slipped out, and Taehyung was too clouded with lust to notice, or care. Growing bored of their position, Tae hastily flipped Jungkook over, throwing him down onto the couch and began unbuckling his pants, overgrown fringe falling down to his eyes. After discarding the rest of his clothing, only Taehyung’s boxers stayed on. The shape of his cock was evident through the fabric, and his chest softly heaved from adrenaline as he stared down at him. “My turn, princess.” Taehyung leaned down to whisper in Jungkook’s ear, letting his breath linger on his skin for more than a second. Tackling the younger’s shorts, the boy pulled them down along with his underwear, leaving Tae breathless at the sight. Fuck.. when he saw Jungkook’s entrance, he wanted to leave it gaping and puckered just like the first time. It was cute. Deciding he’d be a tease, the older trailed his kisses along his toned inner thighs, close enough where his hole was.

Taehyungs usage of petnames made Jungkook instantly feel smaller, the small amount of brattiness he had washed away. He was so, so easily subdued by this man. In reality, all needed is a simple stare and his legs are weak. So this, is so overwhelmingly amazing... “Ah-!” Jungkook gasps when he’s flipped over so easily, heat spreading like a wildfire underneath his skin. Being exposed like this once more, but this time it was less rushed.. taehyung took a moment to tease, to indulge in the sight of his body. Jungkook exhales a low, breathy sigh at the feeling of Tae’s lips, a small, needy cry caught in his throat, hips wiggling softly to wordlessly ask for more

From his spot in between Jungkook’s legs, Taehyung stared up at him through his eyelashes, his piercing eyes peeking from behind his messy fringe. A hint of a smile crept onto his rosy lips when seeing how the other’s hips called out to him, so needy. The younger was a sucker for his touch, and Tae knew that. “You’re a desperate little baby, aren’t you?” He cooed, chuckling to himself. Fuck, he just wanted to drive Jungkook crazy. Taehyung left yet another trail of wet kisses along the other leg, his hand softly caressing Jungkook’s thigh. When he pulled away, that’s when he brought his attention to Kook’s pink entrance. His fingers were just itching to get a feel. Seeing Jungkook like this.. spread out and a whiny mess, Taehyung couldn’t stop himself from following through with that urge and inserting his middle finger into him, gradually pushing it deeper. “So fuckin’ tight.” He bit down on his lip, noticing the way Kook took his finger in so well.

Another pathetic cry rolls off the youngers lips, nodding desperately, "Fuck-k.. yes, please please--!" He was already beginning to squirm underneath taehyungs ministrations, embarrassment slowly washing away; the need for the elder was too strong, he didnt give a fuck how much of a little bitch he sounded like. "Taehyung--" another whine, this one higher pitched when he feels taes long finger pressing deeper, his ass clenching around him in desperate anticipation; he took a few heavy breaths, doing to relax his tight hole, sweat already forming on his brow. Jungkooks cock pathetically remained untouched, growing harder by every millisecond, small clear beads of precum forming on his swollen, pretty mushroom tip. Fuck, Taehyung was driving him insane so easily, the bet long forgotten, he was all under the elders complete control.

Even if Taehyung hadn’t won the bet, damn was it worth it. Every single second of it. He curled his finger inside of Jungkook, feeling the warmth of the younger’s walls spread all throughout his body. There was not a single inch of him that wasn’t aroused, and hearing Kook’s high-pitched whines only made it worse. Taehyung’s finger now moved in and out of him, taking it out until only his nail was left engulfed, a thin layer of Jungkook’s juices adorning the skin. “So wet already, huh?” The older raised a brow, eyeing the other’s facial expressions before his gaze fell on Jungkook’s cock. It looked like it was about to combust.. Tae couldn’t let that happen. With his other hand, Taehyung’s fingers wrapped around the shaft, tugging at it slightly whilst rubbing the slit with his thumb. “Baby boy..” He smirked, maintaining a steady pace in both of his hands. “You like it when I tease you?” Tae leaned down to get a better view of Jungkook’s face, jerking him off faster than before as his warm breath fanned against his lips, feeling Kook’s chest heave up and down from under him.

Jungkooks breath hitched with a choked sob, his sensitive length finally getting the much needed attention it's been aching for, "I love it-- ah! Oh my fucking goood..." his jaw is slack, hanging open in pleasure, his breath so heavy and loud youd think hes having trouble breathing.. He was so vocal, shameless wanton moans continously pushing through his lips with every thrust of taehyungs finger, his hips starting to twitch and bucking his hips to try to fuck into taes hand, "It feels so good.." he whines, hands reaching to brush taehyungs fringe out of his eyes to look at him, try to show him how fucking much he loves him with his eyes. If only telepathy was a power of his.

Taehyung stared into Kook’s doe eyes, the wet noises of his finger now working even faster than before arose to his ears. The hand that was tightly wrapped around Jungkook’s cock began jerking him off to the beating of his heart; merciless and brisk. A few minutes later, Taehyung put a stop to his hands’ movements all of the sudden, knowing it was bound to earn himself a squeaky whine from the other male underneath him. He couldn’t take it anymore, the erection that was held back in his boxers grew harder to ignore by the second.. In a blink of an eye, Taehyung’s throbbing cock sprung up from its previous hiding spot, some of his own precum visible at the head. Tae forcefully opened Jungkook’s legs even further, wanting to make sure that he had enough room to fuck him good.    He was glad that this couch was big enough for the both of them, they would’ve had to take it to the ground if it hadn’t been. Tae would be much too impatient to go to Jungkook’s room, even if it wasn’t that far away. Before having covered his cock with a layer of his saliva to act as a lube, Tae playfully pushed the tip against Jungkook’s hole, rubbing it against the sensitive skin.

Jungkook spread his legs as far as he possibly could to accomodate for Taehyung, his eyes swirling with want. His arms uselessly above his head, a vulnerable position for him, but he didn't feel uncomfortable. He trusted Tae with his body, desperate for him to fuck him dumb. ''S-shit, Tae... please-'' He rested his head against the couch, his sweaty neckmuscles dancing beneath his skin as he tightly swallows, screwing his eyes shut. He was almost brought to the edge before Tae had stopped jerking him off, and slowly it had gone backwards, the need to cum so intensely pulsating in his lower abdomen, ''Fuck me already, I can't stand it..'' His cock was throbbing, the red tip dribbling clear liquid down his length, veins prominent.

If Taehyung wasn’t so eager to hear Jungkook moan out his name, he would’ve taken his time to tease him even further, but even he was growing bored of that. He made himself more comfortable on the couch, manhandling Kook’s body as he pleased, effortlessly pulling him down for his benefit. Taehyung shifted the younger’s leg up a bit for better access and pushed himself in, feeling his thick girth slowly begin to stretch Jungkook out. A low growl escaped past the older’s lips, hands placed on either side of Kook’s head as he hovered over him, inserting himself in his tight ass until he was balls in deep, “Fuck..” The boy hissed, hips beginning to move in a circular motion, toned cheeks clenched every time he would aim deeper inside of Jungkook.

Jungkook's legs were already vibrating, falling apart under Tae's ministrations, a wanton moan escaping his lips as he slowly slipped into bliss. Oh, my /god), he was breaking so easily for this man. His eyes screwed shut, lower lip clamped between his teeth as he muffles a pathetic whine, his hands snaking around Taehyung's torso to touch his back, running his palms over the muscles flexing with every movement

Taehyung’s face falls down to the crook of Jungkook’s neck, sucking on the skin until it was clear that he’d left a mark, proceeding to leave a bundle of hickeys that proved Kook was in /his/ control. In this specific moment, Jungkook belonged to him. Gaining more confidence in himself, Taehyung’s thrusts became more evident, his pace gradually increasing in speed as his heavy balls clashed against Jungkook’s skin repeatedly. “Hm..!” His upper body fell onto the younger, trailing a series of wet kisses from Jungkook’s jaw down to his prominent collarbones, all the while his cock was snapping deeper into him. He didn’t know just how much longer he could last, Kook felt fucking wonderful.. Taehyung’s lips traveled down to Jungkook’s perky nipples, opting for wrapping his toned arms around the younger’s small waist before he engulfed the pink bud into his mouth, his tongue slowly swirling around it. The older’s hips never once faltered in speed, his movements steady all throughout.

Jungkook knew those marks would be something he'd have to worry about tomorrow, but right this second, it didn't fucking matter. He wanted to be marked, claimed as Taehyung's little bitch, he wanted everyone to know he was his. He felt the pooling warmth build in his lower abdomen, his cock leaking juices profusely until it soaked the skin of his lower stomach, the small friction of Taehyung's body against it as he thrusted into him unbearable, ''G-gonna..cum...gonna cum, fuck, harder, please--'' He begged, voice high pitched, tears forming in the corners of his eyes at the intensity of the buildup. The coil inside of him was wound so tight, it felt like it was about to burst at any given second.

Taehyung began pounding into him at an animalistic rhythm, grunts easily leaving past his agape lips as he looked down at his cock sliding in and out of Jungkook, the veiny skin covered in the latter’s juices. The muscles in Taehyung’s arms flexed as he gripped down onto the cushion by Jungkook’s head, keeping himself grounded as his thrusting faltered in roughness, pounding into him lazily. “Fuck! A-ah..” The older broke loose inside of Kook, feeling his cum slush around from within the younger. He pulled out, his glistening mushroom tip coming out with a pop. Taehyung watched his cum drip from out of Jungkook’s puckered entrance onto the cushion, not caring as he worked on regaining his lost breaths, “That was fucking amazing..” A sly smile tugged at the older’s lips, eyes closed as he tilted his head back. Looking back down at Jungkook, Tae leaned into the male’s touch, nuzzling his face against his neck, “I fucked you good, didn’t I?” He breathed into his skin, eyes lightly dimmed.

The very moment he felt Taehyungs cock desperately throb inside of him, his own orgasm hit him like a fucking truck. He whined loudly as he came untouched, soiling the skin of his stomach with a large puddle of cum dribbling down his swollen length. As Tae pulled himself out, his body trembled with sensitivity, satiated at last. As the high of lust slowly ceased, Jungkook was able to catch his breath, instead overwhelmed by other feelings than just pure need. Love? He fucking loves him. He loves the way his sly smile appeared, the way his strained voice still manages to be confident and cocky. Loves the way his body feels against his afterwards, like a warm blanket of security.    “Yes,” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, his hand reaching up to run his fingers through the elders hair. He didn’t want this to ever end. He didn’t want him to leave.

Taehyung’s muscles loosened up at the gentle combing of Jungkook’s fingers through his sweaty hair, sinking deeper into the younger’s warmth, enjoying his touch more than he would’ve liked to admit. “Knew it.” He cockily hummed, his mumbled words muffled by Jungkook’s skin. God, he felt like such a big baby. . Laying limp over Kook’s body, face nuzzled in his neck; it was fucking embarrassing. “Hey, uh..” Taehyung treaded carefully with his words, looking at Jungkook for any sign of emotion in his face. “Will you be fine? ‘Cause of the thundering, I mean..” The older sat up, searching for his discarded clothing on the floor and slipping on his boxers. It was getting late, he should really be heading home..

Jungkook internally protested against the loss of Taehyungs warmth, sitting up straight as he watched him get dressed. No, of course he wouldn’t be fine, but could he even say that? Would he ruin everything? Jungkook winced at the soreness of his body, carefully leaning back against the couch again. “Um... yeah, but..” he struggled to find his words, “Could you help me first? I really... need to clean up.. and my body is... sore.” He cringed at it words, but it’s all he got. An excuse, he technically could do it himself, but if this stalled the fact that taehyung would leave him alone, he was willing to risk the awkward question. Maybe, if he stalled long enough, he’d stay the night..

“Um..” Taehyung scratched at his head, “I mean—yeah, sure. What do you need me to do so you’re less sore..?” A massage? Witch craft? He had no fucking clue. Tae’s never taken time out of his day to care for someone after sex, so, this was a bit new to him. At least the mess on the couch was something he knew how to do.. kind of. Using the fabric of his now somewhat dry sweatshirt, Taehyung wiped at the puddle of cum by Jungkook’s legs, acting like he knew what he was doing when in reality he didn’t know shit about cleaning. “There.” He proudly looked down at the familiar spot, seeming pleased with himself. It was still wet, but at least there was no trace of whitish liquid..

Jungkook presses his lips together in a tight line to prevent himself from smiling so hard, but to no avail as his grin went from ear to ear, “Your shirt is dirty now!” He slowly sat back up again, an attempt to stand up on his wobbly legs. His muscles felt like noodles, but he needed a fucking shower. But he was too exhausted. He was about to bend down to grab his shirt when he hissed in uncomfortable pain, his ass surely not happy with a second stretch within this short timeframe, especially when it’s such a new thing for his body to endure, “Ah fuck...could you hand me my clothes.”

Taehyung didn’t hesitate on reaching for Jungkook’s clothes, handing them over to the younger before eyeing his weak stance worriedly. Shit, was he too harsh? He should really learn to control himself at times.. “So..” Tae awkwardly looked around the place, rocking on his feet. What else should he say? They were done. Wasn’t he supposed to get the hell out of there as soon as it was over? He didn’t want to make Jungkook uncomfortable by lingering around in his house any longer, “Is there anything else you want me to do..?” Tae threw on his shirt and pants, his ‘cum and rain’ sweatshirt hanging by one of his hands.

Jungkook put his clothes back, combing his fingers through his hair to fix the mess. Well, attempt to fix. Fuck, theres so much he wished taehyung would do. Cuddle up in his bed, kiss, absentmindedly rub circles on his back until he fell asleep... But that's was relationship things, and he knew for a fact taehyung did /not/ do relationships. Especially not with a guy. With him. "Hm..." Jungkook seemed to linger longer than he thought on answering this question, feeling anxious. He didnt want to tell him to leave, and he was scared to ask him to stay... "If you're tired, you could stay.." he tried to seem neutral about this, but he was a terrible actor

“What about your parents, though?” Taehyung questioned, unaware of Jungkook’s situation as he spoke. “Are they fine with me staying over..?” The invitation was tempting, Tae couldn’t lie, but something within him told him it wasn’t a good idea. Then again, there was nothing for him to do at his house.. It was basically an abandoned city. He’d most likely spend the rest of the night hidden away in his room, blasting some music whilst listening to the rain tap against his window. Taehyung didn’t want Jungkook to get too comfortable around him, but he guessed one night couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like he had any other plans. “Yeah. I’ll stay..” Tae nodded his head with a shrug of his shoulders, smiling at Jungkook.

"Just us." Jungkook shrugged back, mirroring the smile, however his smile was quickly turning into a grin, his body seemed to relax after hearing tae say hed stay, as if he didnt know he was so tensed up to begin with. In the midst of his sudden spark of joy, he didn't even consider whether he should've asked if taehyung wanted to use the couch or come to bed with him, just grabbing him by the hand to guide him to his bedroom. He had a big bed, big enough for two people as he loved to be able to spread his body out at night. Part of him kind of wishes it was smaller in a way, giving him another excuse to be closer to the elder. The rain was still pouring down, calming in a sense since the thunder had calmed itself. Jungkook got undressed again, this time keeping his boxers on as he crawled under his blanket, making space for taehyung to join him, "Come here?"

Even though Taehyung’s questions stayed unanswered, the elder didn’t try to fight it. Maybe Jungkook’s parents worked late into the night, that’s all. Either way, it wasn’t his place to be so curious. “Just us.” The taller playfully mimicked Kook, shrugging his shoulders once more. Just them.. there was nothing to be worried about. All they were going to do was sleep together, literally. Before Tae was given the chance to fully register what he had caved in to, he followed after Jungkook without a doubt, staring down at their hands with big eyes. He couldn’t help but notice the difference in size, feeling the tip of his ears warm up, now overruled by an adorable shade of red. As Jungkook got undressed in front of him, Tae’s eyes raked down the younger’s figure, admiring his curves and edges. There was no feeling of lust in his mind, only.. ‘Damn, he’s pretty.’ Taehyung didn’t know how to conclude all of that into a single word. He quickly looked away when Jungkook caught his wandering eyes, bringing a hand up to his nape out of embarrassment. “Hm?” The taller’s head snapped up at the younger’s voice and made his way over to the bed, slipping his shirt over his head, unbuttoning his jeans. Taehyung crawled under the blanket next to him, immediately engulfed by not only the warmth of the thick fabric, but Jungkook’s skin. If he could see himself, Tae would probably bust a laugh. He laid with his hands by his side, body stiff as a board as he stared up at the ceiling, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

Exhaustion hit jungkook like a crashing tide wave as soon as he laid down, yawning and absentmindedly turning his body to the side, facing taehyung. He pressed his cheek against the elders arm, snaking his arm across his chest in a gentle hold, "Hm,,," he hummed content, already drifting into the limbo between being awake and asleep, unaware of the words slipping past his lips in a quiet, mumbled whisper, "I like this....you.." he nuzzled his cheek closer, his eyebrows drawn together as if hes drifting into a bad dream. "Don't leave..."

The touch of the other boy’s cheek against his skin was enough for Taehyung to melt deeper into his spot, looking at the way Jungkook’s arm was placed across his chest. Why did this feel so.. natural? Kook laid against him like they’ve been doing this for years. Yeah, Taehyung might’ve initially been shitting his pants, but now that he was actually experiencing it, it was nowhere near as bad as his mind made it out to be. Actually, it was quite nice. His body visibly relaxed under the covers, muscles not so stiff. “Hm?” Taehyung furrowed his brows, gazing at a sleepy Jungkook. He couldn’t hear him properly, probably because he was nearly slurring over his words. The sight brought a little smile to Tae’s face. “I won’t leave, Kook.” Taehyung whispered just as quietly, moving his arm to snake them around the younger’s shoulders before pulling him closer, wanting to feel more of his warmth. Tae’s other arm fell on top of Jungkook’s, resting it there while rubbing soothing circles onto his skin.

‘I won’t leave, Kook.’ It was four in the morning, and Taehyung had never been good at keeping his word. At exactly 3:36, he’d woken up in a cold sweat, eyes wide and alert as he tried to make out the details of the unfamiliar room, needless to say it was a challenge in the dark. Then, an incoherent mumble approaching from his side garnered his attention, causing Tae’s shoulders to gradually drop down in relief. He was met by the peaceful expression on Jungkook’s face, deep into his slumber. Fuck, how could’ve he forgotten? Taehyung felt like a fucking idiot. The clock set up on the bedside table now read, 3:39. It was at this time when he’d tried to fall back asleep, forcing his eyes shut no matter how many times they objected. But, they’d find themselves wide open a second later. He let out a sigh, resting a hand over his head as he took another look at the time. 3:45. “Great.” Taehyung let out a quiet curse, knowing not much time had passed by since he’d woken up, but part of him felt like he’s been laying awake for /hours/. Taking another look towards the younger’s direction, Tae’s heart began to recklessly pulsate against his chest. If it was one octave higher, it might’ve actually been enough of a nuisance to wake Jungkook up. Just looking at Kook laying next to him.. this wasn’t part of the plan, it just wasn’t. Last time he remembered, they didn’t agree to sleeping on each other’s bed, or— or holding the other close enough to where you could feel their breath against your skin, or fucking kiss for that matter. They agreed to have sex. That’s it. It was now 3:51. Taehyung was thinking hard about.. everything. Maybe it was a mistake; sleeping over at Jungkook’s. For a straight man, this didn’t feel very heterosexual. 3:53. Taehyung sneakily tried to break free from the other’s hold, gently moving his arm off of his chest. Quietly pulling the blanket off to the side, Tae sat on the edge of the bed, reaching down for his loose clothing. He glanced over at the clock, it was 3:56. After he finished getting dressed, Tae looked down at Jungkook’s sleeping form once more. If he stayed any longer, guilt would’ve eaten up at him. So, after pulling the covers up to Kook’s neck, afraid he might get cold, Taehyung tiptoed his way out of the room. 4:00, He looked down at the screen of his phone, throwing on his shoes. Taehyung would be lying if he said he didn’t hesitate on grasping on the doorknob, but he pushed past that. Without another look, he closed the door from behind him, forgetting about his sweatshirt on the ground. Stepping out into the chilly morning, Tae got into his car before driving home.

Co-writer & creator of header is my lovely @velvetwicebang​ <3 © sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[ladyaudentium]

Confectionary Affection

Title: Confectionary Affection Fandom: Final Fantasy Crisis Core Rating: T Pairing: AngealxOC Characters: Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos, Original Characters Links: A03, FF.net

This took me longer than I would have liked, but I'm back with the next chapter! This one is jam packed with Angeal and Zack content! Be sure to grab a cold drink and a snack to enjoy!

Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed after the first chapter so far! If I missed responding to anyone's review, I'm sorry! I'll be going back over the reviews for the previous chapter, and if I missed you, I'll send you a response!

Enjoy!

It was nearly impossible to forget that Angeal and Zack had stopped by her bakery.

Kalika and Anri worked themselves to the bone and were only just barely able to keep up to the new level of demand. Sometimes it was so busy during the morning that there was simply not enough stock left to open in the evening; not even if Kalika remade everything again.

At first the business had been making a considerable income, and even now, it was till turning a higher profit than the past, but the costs of running the establishment had also increased. Sometimes there was simply not enough ingredients or prepared pastries left to open again in the evening. Usually this ended up with the business losing money.

Not only that but the increased workload had Kalika and Anri burning out more quickly than they could regain their strength. Kalika's usual late nights and early mornings preparing dough and bakery items were quickly turning into working around the clock. It wasn't unusual for her to doze off kneading a bread dough only to wake with it on the floor or ruined from over working it.

Anri was the same, for the first time since she was a new employee, she was making mistakes with drink and food orders. As a result, the customers were becoming upset and more than once a scene with raised voices had caused Kalika to intervene and forcibly remove the troublemakers.

It was getting to the point where an extra set of hands was a necessary addition; preferably a set with some muscle behind them. Kalika sighed heavily as she once again wiped the chalk board clean. Her handwriting was never great to begin with, but her hands were still sore and shaky from the kneading she had just finished.

The sun was beginning to set, and the bakery had been closed all day. Kalika had spent all night and day preparing every bit of dough, batter, and meringue for the no doubt absolutely insane day tomorrow. If her usual delivery of supplies was on time, she would be able to open again the day after, but if not… well she would come up with something. She always did.

Slapping her cheek, she forced herself to stay awake for just a little while longer, she just needed to finish this task and then she was finished—

*KNOCK KNOCK* "Kalika?" a voice called from outside.

The young woman jumped at the sudden noise which caused a series of events to follow:

First, her precariously placed step ladder slipped off the edge of the counter, causing her to scream in fear and drop all her supplies creating a racket.

Second, the door burst open just as she desperately tried to remain balanced, her hands reaching out for anything that would keep her from the inevitable.

Third, she fell.

The young woman braced for the cold, hard impact of the floor, but instead was met with a warm embrace. Black hair and blue eyes entered her vision and it was with a sudden sinking pit in her stomach that she knew who it was.

Angeal Hewley.

"You should be more careful." He intoned lowly, his chest vibrating with his voice, "We need to stop meeting like this."

Kalika stared up into his bright blue eyes as her head rested on his chest. "I don't know, I think it's kind of nice?" the words escaped her mouth before she could think twice and immediately could feel her face begin to heat up in a deep, mortified blush.

Angeal blinked once in disbelief as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Better be careful, Angeal or pretty soon she's going to be falling for you!" Zack called excitedly, breaking the silence.

The black-haired man, sighed deeply and screwed his eyes shut, clearly stressed, "Zack. What have I said to you about appropriate behavior and comments?" he prompted as the burly SOLDIER made a move to stand, his steady grip assisting Kalika to stand along with him.

There was a heavy sigh from the opposite side of the corner while the younger boy replied monotonously, "You said that I need to think before speaking and that words have impact. I can't take back anything once it's been said, sometimes the best choice is to remain silent." the energetic boy leaned back over a bar stool and with both hands over his face, "I can't help it though, you two make it so easy!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands to the ceiling.

"You need to learn self-restraint if you intend to be an honorable member of SOLDIER in the future." Angeal scolded and judging from the young boy's reaction, this seemed to be a common occurrence between the two of them. Somehow, that did not come as a surprise to the young woman.

"I know, I'm doing my best, Angeal! Sometimes it just bursts out before I can stop it!" Zack turned to Kalika, "By the way, we're here to return this! The scones were delicious, thanks!" he held out the same container that Anri had given them upon their departure from their last visit.

The blue haired girl blinked once in surprise as she accepted the box; a reusable one that was not their typical to-go boxes. That sly girl, she had planned for this too. "Thanks, I'm glad you liked them." she looked up at Angeal, "I'm sorry for the trouble of making you come back here to return it. It would have been fine if you just disposed of the container instead." she also took the opportunity to notice that it had been washed as well. How… odd. Somehow, she just could not picture prominent members of SOLDIER doing something as ordinary as washing dishes.

The image of Angeal in a pink, frilly apron suddenly was at the forethought of her brain and she blushed deeply once again.

"It would be wasteful to merely dispose of an easily reusable box such as this." Angeal stated plainly. His eyebrows lowered with concern as he pulled a glove from his hand and gently placed his palm on her forehead, "You're quite red, are you feeling alright? Have you eaten anything today?"

"I - I think so? I've been busy today and haven't had a chance to sit down for long." Kalika blurted as she froze in place. Should she move away from his hand? Or would that be rude? Why was he being so friendly? Was he always this caring to strangers? Especially a stranger that just hit on him a minute ago. The blush returned full force to her face with that traitorous thought.

Before she could panic any further, he pulled his hand away and once again donned his glove. The young woman breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Busy? But you're closed!" Zack spoke up, and cocked his head to the side, "Wait, why are you closed? Shouldn't this place be hopping right now?"

Both sets of bright blue eyes settled on her with varying inquisitiveness. Zack's was honest confusion but Angeal's was less readable. His mouth was set in a straight line across his strong jaw while his eyes held a spark of suspicion that set a cold sweat down Kalika's spine.

Oh boy, how could she explain this without outright blaming them for the necessary closure and the empty ingredient cabinet?

"I… well… you see, ever since your last visit, business has been crazy. Lately I can't keep to the hours we normally hosted. Sometimes I'm up all night preparing!" Her words were spoken with a joyous tone, but from the lack of change in both of their expressions, she was not convincing them.

Angeal opened his mouth to respond, the frown of concern deep on his brow, but was interrupted by a fourth, unfamiliar voice, "Oh my Gaia, you're Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER! You're back! I can't believe it, I gotta tell everyone!"

Kalika felt the blood leave her face as her attention immediately snapped to the tall, blonde woman currently standing in the open doorway attempting to snap a picture of the two men.

"No, pictures without permission and we're closed, please leave!" She ordered, pushing past Angeal to confront the woman directly.

"What? But it's the middle of your posted hours and your door is open! You can't throw me out, do you know who I am?"

"Nope, and I'm sorry you've forgotten. Now, please get out, we are closed, and you are trespassing."

The woman's brown eyes flashed with indignation, "Listen, I don't know how you get off talking to customers like that, but—"

"No buts! I asked you to leave. I won't ask again." Crimson eyes sparked with anger as she stared the other woman down.

Red lips opened to argue further, but she was cut off by a deep, commanding voice "You have been asked to leave, you should comply with that request."

A quick, furtive glance backwards revealed Angeal standing straight, his burly arms crossed over his chest and a dark glare adorning his features. A shudder wormed its way down Kalika's spine. Scary, was the only thing she could think.

There was a beat of silence between the three of them. The woman suddenly looked appropriately ashamed of her behavior and without another word scuttled away.

The second the woman was outside, Kalika grabbed the door and threw it shut behind her. Much to her surprise, it bounced back open and that's when she noticed the lock was completely broken. Around the spot where the deadbolt should have been was a hole in the door frame and splinters scattered along the floor.

She shut it again, it bounced backwards.

She applied a little more force, it bounced backwards again.

Frustration and resentment burning within her, she tried again; it bounced backwards.

With all her strength, she slammed the door shut and before it could bounce back, shoved a chair underneath the similarly broken and limp door handle.

Defeated, she braced her hands against the door and let her head hang between them.

"It would probably be a good idea for you both to use the back door to leave. You'll attract less attention that way… plus, it seems this one is broken now." Kalika murmured quietly, not daring to look up in fear that they would see the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Kali…? Is everything… okay?" Zack's genuinely concerned voice broke the silence.

A lump caught in her throat and without looking at either of them she walked to the nearest table and sat down on one of the chairs, burying her face in her hands. She could not cry, not here, not with Angeal Hewley First Class SOLDIER and Zack Fair here to witness it. One shuddering breath later gave her the confidence to speak.

"Yeah, I'll be fine… somehow, I always am."

A shadow fell over her, "Is there anything we can do to help?" Zack asked.

"No, but thanks." Kalika waved him off but much to her surprise, he caught her hand between two gloved ones of his own. Surprised, she looked up into an uncharacteristically serious expression on the young boy's face.

"I swear on my honor as a SOLDIER I will do whatever it takes to help you, Kali. You're one of us now, right Angeal?"

"Don't swear on your honor lightly, Zack."

"I mean it! I do!"

Angeal nodded, seemingly accepting his young protégé's resolve. "How long has your door been broken like this?" the First Class inquired.

Kalika sniffed as delicately as she could as she attempted to take her hand back from Zack, but it was held tight. "It was fine earlier today; it was only just now that something seemed to be wrong. There was a hole where the deadbolt was and splinters from the door frame were scattered along the floor…" the young woman snapped her jaw shut when she realized the implications of her words.

Angeal's face darkened once again and his eyebrows angled inwards at a dangerous angle as he stared his young protégé down. There was a heavy beat of silence as Zack seemed to realize what was going on, "Oh… well… you know… SOLDIER strength, am I right?"

"No! It's fine really!" Kalika jumped up and did her best to placate the visibly upset SOLDIER, "It was old and in need of replacement anyways, I can probably write the replacement off as a business expense. I'm sure Zack didn't mean it."

Angeal sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "His intentions aren't the issue. SOLDIERs have enhanced senses and abilities. If Zack does not learn how to control these properly, he could end up hurting himself or worse, others." He looked up, "I apologize for the door, Zack you're going to suspend a fifty-pound weight in a squat today to make up for your lack of control this evening."

Zack groaned and Kalika winced sympathetically, "I don't think that's necessary, is it? Maybe since you're really strong you could help me with something, and we call it even?" she suggested. "I still need to finish rewriting that menu sign. We're opening with a new item tomorrow."

Angeal looked over his shoulder to see the unfinished chalkboard, "Is that what you were doing when you fell?"

An embarrassed blush crept over her face once again, "Yes, it's too high for me to reach on my own. So, I usually have to get creative… with a step ladder… on the counter."

"That sounds very dangerous." The raven-haired man lowered his eyebrows in concern and disapproval.

"Maybe you can help Angeal! Just lift her up and she'd be able to reach no problem!" an excited Zack exclaimed and, in his enthusiasm, squeezed her hand that was still held captive.

The young woman sputtered, "I- that's not what I meant, but maybe if one of you could just hold the ladder steady? I usually have Anri to help me, but I gave her the day off today."

Angeal turned and with one hand lifted the step ladder she had been using, revealing one of the legs to be broken off, "For the sake of your safety, I would advise against using this again."

"Oh… I see…" the young woman murmured as she worried her bottom lip, how was she going to get up there now?

Zack was practically vibrating with excitement from beside her. A quick glance to him revealed that he was glancing quickly between the two of them biting his lip in anticipation. He was planning something, if only the blue-haired woman could figure out what it was…

"To make amends for the broken door, I would be willing to lift you as Zack suggested." Angeal offered as he moved the broken ladder out of the way.

"I mean, are you sure? I don't want to be a burden. Are you sure I won't be too heavy?"

The burly man grinned and chuckled deeply. The genuine mirth revealed pearly white teeth and the genuine good-ness that radiated from him was unlike anyone she had ever met before. "I'm sure."

Kalika blushed for what seemed like the tenth time in under an hour, "I – Well… if you're sure, I guess. I need to get the chalk." Walking forwards, Zack finally let go of her hand and Angeal stepped out of the way to let her pass behind the bar. Grabbing the chalk from the ground and the eraser cloth, she turned back to the First-Class SOLDIER, "Okay, I'm ready, how would you like to do this?"

Angeal stepped forward and for the first time she noticed how tall he was. She had never felt so small compared to someone in her life, he dwarfed her in every sense. She was eye level with the middle of his chest, and he was easily twice as wide as her. Another blush adorned her cheeks as he knelt to one knee, "Sit on my shoulder and I will take hold of your legs."

Nodding, she turned around and as instructed, gingerly sat on his shoulder, doing her best to put as little weight on him as possible. Two arms wrapped around her knees, locking them in place and the next thing she knew, he was lifting her into the air.

Sucking in a breath she flailed, unbalanced, for one moment before a hand on her thigh steadied her. Angeal Hewley, First Class SOLDIER of Shinra was touching her leg. She tried not to think about how her butt was on his shoulder and instead focused on finishing the sign as quickly as possible. Her hands and shoulders cramped but she did her best to legibly scrawl the newest addition to her menu.

"Dumbapple tart?" Zack exclaimed, "Angeal, didn't you grow up in Banora?! That's so cool!"

"Is that true?" Kalika inquired, looking down to meet the bright blue eyes of Angeal.

"It is, both Genesis and I grew up there. His parents had the best Banora White tree, every summer we would take as many apples as we could and sit in the branches eating them." A small, nostalgic smile pulled up the corners of his mouth.

"That changes everything then, let me down, I'm all finished now."

With one swift movement, the hands disappeared from her person and for a brief moment, she hung suspended in the air before being gently lowered to the ground. The black-haired SOLDIER stared down at her with a quizzical expression on his face. Setting the chalk down she made to pass him, "Have a seat. I'll be right back," and disappeared into the kitchen.

The fridge opened with a hiss, a quick scan through the contents revealed her prize. Pulling two small tarts from their tray, Kalika put them on a plate and made her way back to the front. The fridge closed with a satisfying click behind her.

"Here, to thank you for helping me with the sign, please be the first to try a tart!" placing the plate on the bar counter, she waited excitedly for them to each take one. "They're Banora White apple tarts with some decorative white chocolate to counter the sourness and some edible gold sparkles for presentation."

Zack immediately grabbed one and in one bite put the whole thing in his mouth. His eyes lit up as he playfully slapped his mentor's shoulder, "D'ese are r'lly gud An'eal! You shou'd taste ish!" (translation: These are really good, Angeal! You should taste this!)

Angeal sighed in resignation as he took a tart, "Thank you, this wasn't necessary as it is us who are in your debt, not the opposite way around."

Kalika smiled brightly, "It's fine, really! Plus, I hope that I can live up to your memories of the times stealing and eating the apples."

With a small smile, he took a bite and instantly his blue eyes lit up with surprise, his eyebrows once again disappearing into his hairline. Swallowing, he turned back to the blue haired woman, "You have a true gift for baking."

Flushing for the umpteenth time that day, Kalika continued to smile, "I'm glad you like them. I'll package up one for Commander Rhapsodos as well and you can give one to him too!"

"How much do we owe you for the tarts?" Angeal asked as she pushed through the door to the kitchen.

"Nothing! They're thanks for helping me!" she called back as she began to package up the third tart and then returned to the front with it. Angeal stared her down, his mouth a straight line and his azure gaze steeled with his resolve.

"Please, it would be dishonorable for us to accept these gifts a second time. Especially when your door breaking was our fault in the first place."

Stumped, she could only stare. Never had anyone been so insistent on paying for a gift. "Don't be silly, these are gifts, do you insist for payment when you give a gift to someone?" she held out the tart wrapped in a white box with Confectionary Affection stamped on the sides. "Here's Commander Rhapsodos's tart, try not to squish it if you can, and now it's getting late. I imagine you need to get back to Shinra, since the front door's broken and likely a crowd of fans outside waiting for you to exit, follow me to the back door."

With that, she turned on her heel and pushed open the swinging door and motioned for them to follow her. Zack hopped up immediately, but Angeal took a moment to gather himself and follow. Passing through the kitchen and a small hallway with a set of stairs leading to the second floor, they came to the back door. Pushing it open revealed the dirt yard and receiving area for her shipments of ingredients.

"Thanks again for the treats, Kali. They were delicious as always!" Zack called as he jumped down the short flight of stairs, an arm extended in a cheery wave.

"Thank you for your hospitality. You honor us with your generosity. Genesis will enjoy this pastry, I am certain." Angeal stated solemnly, his eyes shining with the depth of his gratitude.

"Any time, come by again soon. Preferably without causing any trouble this time. Using the back door might not be such a bad idea to avoid any drama like with that woman earlier." She pointed to a black rectangle with a button in the middle, "Next time you're by, just ring this doorbell and I'll let you in."

Zack grinned devilishly and took a breath to make a comment, but before he could utter a sound, Angeal put a hand over the young boy's mouth to silence him. "Thank you Kalika, we will not forget your kindness today."

The blue -haired baker could only manage a small wave as they turned to walk away. Zack continued to wave enthusiastically until they were out of sight behind the fence. Closing the door, her knees felt weak. The sound of her name on Angeal's lips created a feeling in her like she'd never experienced before. Sliding to the ground she replayed the memory in her mind until she was sure that it would be with her forever.

She had offered for them to come back again, but it was such wishful thinking she did not dare hope too much. Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern, but three times was a dream and nothing more.

But oh, how she loved to dream.

Oh they'll be back, but in the meantime, there's other shenanigans that need to happen first >:3c

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you'd like! I always enjoy hearing your thoughts!

[laheyy]

I’m wondering for your fic “as I breathe so does she,” if you had a backstory to what happened to captain Rex and the other clones? Like if part of mace defeating palps meant order 66 never happened so the chips weren’t an issue? Or if kamino was investigated after the fact and the whole plot was exposed? I love it so far and was curious

Hi! This is really funny that you asked me this because I had been stressing about what to do with the clones for, like, the entire time I’d been planning this story, but I knew I needed to include them (or at least Rex) and I finally figured it out today.

I think one of the reasons I’ve been struggling so hard with it was because I didn’t want them to be only soldiers anymore. I wanted to let them have agency with what they pursued after the war- whether that be staying with the Grand Army of the Republic (which in my mind was considerably downsized after the war ended to redistribute money to struggling systems) or pursuing other employment options. Here is what I decided on as a timeline and explanation for what happened in my universe with how Anakin didn’t turn to the dark side, Order 66 doesn’t happen, and what happens to the Clones:

Beginning in canon ROTS- Anakin tells Mace about Palps, goes to the council room like instructed. The same thing happens where he’s essentially falling apart and breaking down, but instead of coming to the realization that he needs to go save the shitty old man, he decides to call Padmé and tell her what's going on even though he knows he shouldn’t. The shock of Palps’ reveal sends Padmé into early labor and instead of rushing to save the chancellor, Anakin runs to Padmé instead. He realizes that if Padmé is having the baby right now there is nothing Palps can teach him in time to save her life. He reasons that with his mom, it was just a matter of being too late and if he goes to save Palps first, those few precious minutes may be the deciding factor in whether or not she lives. 

Over at the Senate, everything happens like normal to an extent, except Kit Fisto isn’t killed by Palps and survives, he testifies to Mace killing the Chancellor with his lightsaber, but in the struggle both Mace and Palps go over the side of the senate building. Both are presumed dead. More on this (Padmé, Anakin, the Jedi...) for another time!

SWITCHING GEARS- this means that Order 66 never gets to happen and at first in the aftermath, nobody knows about it and nothing was done. Everything is kind of in chaos at the Senate with the Chancellor being killed, people and blaming the Jedi for the war going on so long, but Bail Organa and Mon Mothma (Padmé would be there but she just had healthy baby twins) manage to wrangle everything in order enough that to turn the Republic back on the side of the Jedi and convince people that they should be happy the war is over, and that the Jedi did exactly as the promised-they won the war and now the Republic should be working to repair the damage the war caused on the galaxy. They elect Mon Mothma as the next Chancellor of the Republic. 

AS FOR THE CLONES: The Jedi and a few chosen Senators are heading  to task force to investigate Palps and everything and how he managed to hide himself for so long and what his endgame plan was. During this investigation they find Rex’s sealed report about Fives and the inhibitor chips. Mas Amedda (who is in prison) confirms the real reason behind the chips and what they were going to be used for and everyone is rightfully horrified. The chips are removed from all clones. This takes some time and while this process is taking place, all clones return to Kamino, but the Jedi oversee the chip’s removal process because they don’t trust the Kaminoans anymore for obvious reasons. 

Concurrent to this happening, the Senate passes a few legislations that are important to the clones (spearheaded by Padmé even from maternity leave)- 1. All clones are given citizenship in the Republic. What planet may you ask does it say they are from? Coruscant! Kamino leaves the Republic after the investigation in Palps and the inhibitor chips and the clone bases close. 2.They receiving a mega large stipend from the Republic as thank you for their service. This one is really important because we never really talk about how canonically they aren’t paid?? They will also get a pension when they reach a certain age. 

After the chips come out, the clones are armed with their new citizenship and a hefty sum of money a lot of options. They are allowed to go wherever they want! A lot of them stay to help raise the remaining cadets who aren’t adults yet on a campus built on Coruscant for the clones once they leave Kamino; some decide to stay in the Grand Army as retainer soldiers and in the mean time settle down across the galaxy and have families; some work at the Jedi Temple; some accept positions to teach at the Imperial academy; some go to college; They do a myriad of things! They all are allowed to have therapy! 

However, in my mind, the ones who did the most time serving on the front lines find just turning to a civilian life hard and unsatisfying. SO, when the Senate creates their version of a Galactic Red Cross thingy to help the worlds hit hardest by the war, it is the clones who make up the majority of the forces! They go back to places like Ryloth and Onderon and help the citizens rebuild. But, this time when they work for the Republic, it isn’t as a slave army but as a paid citizens with rights and shit. They have benefits and vacation time! There are also some Jedi assigned to this task force (I think was how Ahsoka came back the Order, she worked with Rex on this and then it allowed her time to heal and come back), but they aren’t automatic superiors to the clones, they work alongside them and are equals with them in a way they could never be before.

This is where I think some of our favorite Clones are- Rex, Cody, and most of their respective battalions. They are helping the rebuild the Galaxy they now get to live in as fully recognized citizens. They use the star destroyers and stuff to deliver relief aid. It’s a whole thing

This was a really long winded way to answer your question lol I have so much more in my head but tried to condense it down to something readable. I hope it makes sense lol. If you have questions about anything I haven’t mentioned here please ask, I love talking about the expanded worlds for my stories lol. 

One of the things I didn't mention above was that all the clones also get medals for their service and special traveling privileges and I think the Senate commissions a large memorial to be built on Coruscant as thank you for their service and to honor the fallen. The Jedi and their clone battalions stay in touch (Rex’s official residence is recorded as Padmé and Anakin’s apartment for the longest time because it took him forever to find an apartment he liked after the war. He was a big help with when they awoke screaming at 3 am lol). 

Also, I know there's that funny post that floats around about the clones getting last names and Anakin and Ahsoka fighting over who’s last name Rex gets, but I think the clones would choose a cohesive last name for all the brothers to stay united after they separate! Of course some change it, or discard it when they get married but I think they’d want something that was just for them. Don’t ask me what it is though, I haven’t figured that out lol 

Thanks for asking!! :))))