#why are his eyebrows silver if his roots are brown you may ask? he gets them dyed professionally next question

[transguyhawkeye]

[ID: a drawing of Fabian Seacaster from D20 Fantasy High: Sophomore year from the shoulders up. He's looking towards the viewer with a big grin on his face. Fabian is a teenaged half-elf with medium brown skin, silver hair with brown roots, and a leather eyepatch over his right eye covering a prominent scar. His hair is shaved on the sides and the rest is styled in small mid-length twists, tied up in a ponytail. He wears small gold earrings and a purple v-neck shirt. end ID]

did you guys know that fabians middle name is canonically spelled "Aramaris" with a silent second r? because i just read that on the wiki and it haunts me

[filmflowersbangtan]

Dead of Night (preview)

pairing: gang member!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: swearing | drug mention | gangs | in the full story, there will be violence, blood, fighting, threatening 

preview word count: 4k

you meet jungkook in a diner in the early morning where it’s just the two of you in the entire place. An interesting relationship ensues, and you find out he’s not who you thought he was. He’s a prominent member of the city’s most powerful gang, surrounded by danger and trouble. But you still want him.

--

author’s note: I sincerely apologize for being gone for so long and for not updating any of my fics. To everyone waiting on IMSWY pt. ii: I am so sorry for taking so long with it. It’s still in my WIPs, and I haven’t given up on it yet, but it is on the back burner right now since I have many other ideas bubbling up that I absolutely have to write or else they will probably internally set me aflame (lol). 

I will be deleting many of my fics soon. I will be keeping “Unbound,” “I Must Still Want You,” “Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold,” and “Lonely Planets.” Everything else I will be deleting because I have no desire to finish working on them or I simply do not like them anymore and can’t see them going anywhere.

I also will probably not be writing anymore series. Everything will most likely be one shot because every time I start a series, I get too overwhelmed with the idea of updating parts and finishing them that I just end up postponing them for too long and leaving too many people who have been looking forward to them disappointed. I do want to say that I have been going through So Much since I last posted Lonely Planets pt. ii and IMSWY, but I am in a so so so much better place now. That’s why I’m even writing this story now.

This will be a oneshot. It will not be a series. It will be very long. I am almost finished with it, but I am posting this preview just to see if you all would like to continue reading it.

Thank you all. I appreciate all the feedback and the follows and the reblogs so, so much. The feedback and the reblogs of Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold is what really motivated me to write this one. I hope you all enjoy it. 😊

--

Being alone was like an addiction. It was fulfilling and appealing and…well, lonely. 

Two in the morning diner stops during the weekdays had become routine. The place was completely empty save for a waitress and a cook and maybe a tired trucker. You tucked yourself in a booth in the back. The vinyl seats were cracked and uncomfortable, the lighting was stark and washed everything raw. But it was comforting. Sleep was evasive and your apartment was barely unpacked, boxes stacked haphazardly in the dining area and the mattress on the living room floor. It was your idea to move to this vast city far away from home. This city swallowed everything in its incessant noise. Nocturnal and teeming with cars and neon lights. It never rested and the two of you had that in common. You took solace in that. 

The air was thick with bacon grease and bitter black coffee. Every morning you had waffles and orange juice. The refills were free and the waffles were the exact same circumference as the plate underneath it. Time was stagnant here. The city pressed against the plate glass windows, but the reflections from inside barred its entry. If you looked out, you simply stared directly at yourself. Maybe there was some kind of metaphor in that. 

The night shift waitress, Bethany, set your plate of steaming waffles on the table as well as a glass syrup dispenser. She knew you by name and you thanked her for the food. She smiled sweetly and left you be. 

The door chimed, denoting the entry of another patron. You didn’t look up. Bethany greeted the person in her cheerful customer service voice. You knew she didn’t actually sound like that. Once, you glimpsed her smoking a cigarette by the dumpster at the back of the diner arguing with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She had a tired voice. You wondered if she was lonely, too.

As you ate, Bethany took the patron’s order. From where you sat, his voice was a mumble. “You got it!” Bethany said before breezing away.

You glanced up from your food at the patron. Hair dyed blond, dark brown at the roots. He had a gentle face and a mouth made for smiling or furtively suppressing them. Tattoos were stippled on his arm all the way down to his knuckles. He was staring down at his phone, his fingers were slender and embellished with many silver rings. He was impossibly handsome. A paragon of beauty. 

And he looked up. Right at you. Why was it at that moment you happened to notice him, he decided to notice you, too?

Your scalp prickled with hot embarrassment. You immediately averted your eyes back to your waffles. There was only a bite remaining. Good. You could finish, get your check, pay, and leave.

Boldly, you chanced another glimpse. He did, too. This time, a smile, broad and lovely, stretched across his face. It was endearing and intimate and you had never felt so seen. It was exhilarating. A small smile crept onto your mouth. You couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious. 

This was how the following hour went. Weighted glances and secret smiles from across the room. He received his food, and he picked up his plate and mug of coffee and…was he coming this way?

You watched him, eyes wide, as he sauntered over to your booth and set his items on your table. “May I sit?” he said. His voice was the perfect match to his face. Smooth, sonorous, soft. Crushed velvet. 

Jerkily, like you had never done it before, you nodded. He sat. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. 

“I’m Jungkook.”

You told him your name. He repeated it once, twice, thrice. Like he enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like a piece of hard candy he didn’t want to dissolve on his tongue just yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached his hand over the table. You smiled and shook it. 

His plate was piled with pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs. He dug in. In between bites, he asked, “So what brings you here at this time of night?” “I have trouble sleeping. And you?” Your chest was tight with the awkwardness of it all, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease. 

“I’m just a night owl. Or I’m a vampire.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued eating.

Surprisingly, laughter bubbled from you until you couldn’t help the giggles that shook you. How long had it been since you had a conversation with anyone? Your store had been a drought for the past month, only a couple of people coming in a day. You didn’t call home because your parents would ask how you’ve been, and that topic lit a fire in your skull. Bethany was just a waitress doing her job. And Nora was always busy. It was refreshing to have someone sit with you. Talk with you. Want to be near you. 

His eyes danced at the sound of your laughter. It was an innocuous expression, boyish in how pure it was. 

You covered your mouth with your hands to mask the laughter. And he gently grabbed your wrist and removed them. “I like your laugh.”

Butterflies unfurled their wings in your stomach and fluttered in a frantic cluster. He resumed his meal as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

You cleared your throat. “I own a used book and record store downtown. It’s small and kind of hidden from the street, but it’s there.” You chuckled nervously. You were proud of that store, but you might have to close it down soon and return to your hometown with your tail tucked in between your legs if the revenue continued as it did. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s super cool. I like records. Books, not so much. Where is it located?”

You told him the address. “By that bodega on the corner.”

“The one that sells the really good blue raspberry shaved ice?”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll definitely have to stop by.” 

This was how the next few hours went. Talking about everything and nothing. He had lived in the city his entire life, worked as a freelance artist, had an apartment not too far away. Plates had been swept away by Bethany long ago. Refills poured, drained, and poured again.

And then, “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Kick it at my place?” Jungkook asked. His expression was open and genuine. 

You didn’t know if that was a good idea. But talking to him was stimulating and you didn’t want it to end. 

He noticed your hesitation. “Turn you location on your phone, I’ll even give you my address so you can send it to your friends. Anything to make you feel comfortable.”

He was right. He didn’t live that far. It was barely past five o’ clock in the morning, the city was still awake, billboards alight. The buildings towered, dark against the predawn blue of the sky. The apartment building was modest and typical of the city. Clean and affordable but just expensive enough to be appealing to a specific demographic of college students and those with decent enough jobs. His apartment was on the third floor and was charming with brick walls and high ceilings. There was a bookshelf packed with vinyl records, even more in milk crates. A record player in pristine condition sat on an end table beside an armchair. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the front door. 

“You said you liked records,” you replied, browsing his collection. 

“I did.”

“This isn’t liking records. This is a goddamn treasure trove.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, eager to move it from your face. “Bowie, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Prince. You even have a rare version of Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland. With the naked women! This is incredible.” 

He laughed. “I see you are a woman of taste.” 

“If only my dad could see this. I’m afraid to touch anything.” 

“I’m sure you don’t have clumsy hands with records. Since you have a record store and all.”

You laughed. “I appreciate the trust.”

“So what would you like to listen to?”

You mulled it over, taking your time examining the sleeves of the records. Then you found one.

He smiled when you showed him the cover art. “Perfect.” 

Frank Ocean’s Blond. A modern classic. Perfect for the liminal hour of five AM. 

Jungkook slipped it from its sleeve, fingers on the slim rounded edges of the record. He carefully settled it on the turntable, placed the needle on the disc, and played the album. There was the classic crackle of vinyl, and then the first track emanated. It was a phantasm of sound, rich and ethereal. Light but weighted. The song was the deep blue of the sky before the sun decided to pull itself above the horizon and emblazon the sky with its myriad of colors. It was the perfect song for this liquid moment that felt like a dream. This beautiful stranger standing before you with his incredible collection. 

And then you were in Jungkook’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. You smiled up at him and him down at you. 

The album continued on in the living room, serenading to no one. You and Jungkook had moved to the bedroom, lounging on the bed. The horizon blushed peach, casting the room in half-light. You both lay on your backs, him with an arm slung casually behind his head, you with your hands folded delicately on your stomach. 

“Thank you for paying for my meal today,” you said to him meekly. 

He smiled. “Thank you for the great conversation. And having an amazing taste in music.” 

You laughed. “What made you come sit with me anyway?”

That was when he looked at you, his mouth still slung in a smile, but his eyes sincere. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks went hot and you giggled nervously, covering it with your hands. He rolled over and carefully removed them, his eyes on yours. For a brief moment, time was still. Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close. His lips were so close. Your noses were just barely brushing. His voice was husky when he said, “I like your laugh.”

And then he kissed you. 

In the living room, Frank Ocean sang about nights and new beginnings. 

In the bedroom, you and Jungkook were breathless. Hands on thighs. Hands in hair. Teeth on collarbones. It was a innocent hunger, one that never got too peckish. He was careful with you, didn’t dare to remove your clothes. “I like you,” he breathed into your neck. You gasped at the sensation. 

You kissed until you both eventually succumbed to sleep, the morning sun pouring drowsy golden light across the room.

It was well into the afternoon when you woke to the sound of a shower running. The room was unfamiliar. Definitely not your barren apartment with the boxes strewn about the place. And you definitely weren’t on your living room mattress tangled amongst its waves of sheets. The bed you were in was the most comfortable you’ve ever experienced. Brick walls, plants, beautiful abstract canvas paintings leaning against the wall. Then you remembered. 

The diner. The vinyl collection. The sunrise. The kiss. 

Jungkook. 

He was in the shower and you were fully dressed and the night had to have been a dream. But it wasn’t. Reality settled back onto your shoulders in agonizing waves. You were hours late opening the store. But oh, you wanted to burrow into these soft, sweet-smelling sheets and dissolve into nothing. Eventually you got up. 

The door to the bathroom was open. You thought about telling him you were leaving, but instead, you drew your name and number into the mirror steam and went home to shower and change yourself.

An entire week went by and he never called. He didn’t return to the diner, either. It hurt. Every time you lay on your side, willing yourself to sleep, the phantom feeling of his hands and lips barreled you at such an unwelcome rush you would gasp. None of it was real. You had to keep telling yourself that. None of it was real. 

Life went back to normal. Jungkook was a fleeting daydream that sifted in and out of your thoughts. The store still barely got any customers, except for the same two or three crate diggers who visited like ghosts. And then Nora, your best friend, breezed through the door. She was a city girl through and through. Large sunglasses, the omnipresent iced coffee, the expensive wardrobe curated specifically for being in front of a camera. She was partly why you moved here. The two of you were from the same hometown, and she had escaped first to chase the tail of a fashion designer career. 

“Move here!” she had said during a phone call. “You’ll love it. You’re super hipster and this city eats that shit up! And you can open up that record and book store you always dreamed of.” 

She wasn’t wrong. You loved this city but this city seemed to not love you back. Now, she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and set her iced coffee on the counter top before you. You were sitting behind the register, feet up and reading a book when she had come in. You looked up from the paperback in your hands. “And what have I done to deserve your presence, Your Highness?”

“Good morning, dork! We’re going to a party.”

You kicked your feet down. Slipped a bookmark in the book and closed it. And you simply said, “No.”

She blinked, her smile stiff. “Why not?” 

“You know I have to open this place every single morning. I can’t go to a party and get drunk and miss another opening.”

“Stop making this store your entire life.”

“It is my entire life.”

“Well, live another one. Just for one night.” She clasped her hands together and actually pouted. “Please.”

You sighed. “You don’t have anyone else to go with?”

She perked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I do. I just want you to go with me. I want you to have fun for once. All you’ve done since you been here was work.”

Every single dollar and penny from your savings went to this store. It was your lifelong dream. And Nora—lovely, naïve Nora—had never needed to work for anything a day in her life. She meant well. She was never intentionally ignorant. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

She also didn’t know of your time with Jungkook. It was embarrassing that he never called. It angered you that he called you beautiful and said he liked you only for it all to be false. Thank goodness you didn’t have sex with him. 

“I’ll have fun once I’m a millionaire or something,” you said to Nora.

She huffed. “I can find you someone to cover the shop for the night. You won’t even have to pay them. Please just come with me.”

“No. What if they steal something.”

She stared at you flatly. “Do you really think any of my friends—my friends—would steal? Let alone steal any of this stuff? No offense.” 

“Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I already said. Fun. You know, music, drinks, guys.” She sang the last word and accompanied it with a little shimmy. 

“I have plenty of music and I can buy my own drinks.”

She slammed her hand against the counter top, startling you. “Stop being fucking difficult and come have some fun with me.”

So, grudgingly, you went. Albeit late because you didn’t trust anyone else to close the shop for you, but you went nonetheless. Nora did your makeup. Just glitter eyeshadow and a little eyeliner because you insisted you didn’t want much. And she picked out your outfit—a black lace bra, a crop top cardigan, and a pair of white shorts. 

“Because I can’t dress myself?” you grumbled, sliding on the clothes. 

“Exactly that. You dress too…hipster-y. You need to be hot for tonight.” 

You hadn’t worn that bra since you dated Namjoon. He was pretentious and arrogant and such a city boy it made you lightheaded. You met when he waltzed into the store shortly after you moved here. He smiled at you and you practically melted. The books were what he came for. He bought a Russian classic novel and at checkout, he discussed with you the allegory of sharing fruit in literature. He was eloquent and intelligent and so damn gorgeous you fell for him in that same moment. He scribbled his number on the receipt and told you to keep it. 

The relationship lasted for four months. He suggested you move into his high rise apartment downtown with him. It was a modern edifice, all glass and steel and money. He was the wealthiest person you had ever met in your life. And, stupidly, you were in love. 

And then you saw his text messages with some unfairly beautiful girl he followed on social media about how good she looked in his bed . He said he was lonely, that you worked too much, what else was he supposed to do? Needless to say, you left him. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

Now, Nora said to you, “And don’t think about wearing those fucking platform boots.”

“Why not?” you said, frowning. “They’re cute.”

“They look ridiculous. Like those boots that one goth girl from that cartoon you like wore.” 

You grinned, mischievous. “That’s exactly why I bought them.”

To Nora’s dismay, you wore the fucking platform boots. 

The party was in an underground venue. It wasn’t all red wine and an elaborate excuse to brag about money, like the gatherings Namjoon liked, it was edgy. A live band played pop punk on a stage, the lights in the place were dim save for the spotlights and the white Christmas lights behind the bar. Greasy pizza and liquor and neon lights. You brushed elbows with someone smoking a joint, and you were pretty sure someone was doing coke in the bathroom. 

Nora pulled you to the bar where she ordered herself a cocktail and you a craft beer. She knew you so well. 

There were so many people here. You mentally kicked yourself for not bringing flyers for your store. 

And then you saw him. Nora was talking your ear off about how hot the frontman for the band was and you almost choked on your beer. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you spat.

Nora blinked rapidly. “What? What happened?”

“This is why you brought me here. You cunt.” You didn’t mean to call her that. It wasn’t a word worn with frequent use in your vocabulary. In fact, you hated the word. But it was deserved in this situation. 

Namjoon. He was standing near the stage with a craft beer of his own in his hand, bobbing his head to the music. He didn’t like places like this. They were tacky to him. He didn’t even listen to this genre of music. What the hell was he doing here? 

The girl standing next to him turned to him and smiled. She was wearing lipstick as red as murder and her bob was so black it reflected the lights with an envious luster. She had a septum piercing, the two silver balls glittering in the low light like two tiny stars. That’s when it clicked. He was here because of her. She was that unfairly beautiful girl in his text messages. Your skin felt incandescent. 

“He had to see how hot you are. I thought you would enjoy shoving that in his face.” Lovely, naïve Nora. You wanted to slap her. 

You stood from the bar stool and set your craft beer on the bar. “I’m leaving now.”

Her face was slack with regret. Before she could form an apology, you turned and walked away. 

You were a few moments from the door when you heard your name. It wasn’t Nora. You stopped and your breath hitched. Your turned slowly, preparing to see Namjoon with that girl by his side but instead—

“Jungkook?”

His hair was black now and almost as shiny as that girl’s bob. It hung past his ears in gentle waves. He stood there in a baggy black shirt and jeans, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets. Silver bracelets draped from both wrists. In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Infernal. This couldn’t be the same man you shared a chimerical morning with. He looked like he had been created by the darkness of the city’s nights. 

Maybe it was just the hair. 

“Hi,” he said in the same way he did when he sat your table at the diner. It could’ve been mistaken as sheepishness, but his eyes were not meek. Besides the hair, you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him. 

Breathlessly, you said, “Hi.”

“You look nice.” 

Over his shoulder, you noticed Namjoon go to the bar. Nora scowled at him. He smiled amicably at her and his mouth moved, saying something. She froze, and her eyes immediately darted to you. Namjoon turned and saw you. And he started your way. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

You should’ve ran out of the venue. There were a million other things you should’ve done, but instead you grabbed Jungkook and kissed him. 

Initially, he went rigid with shock, but he melted into the kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth. “Miss me that much?”

You pulled away. “I did not.” A glance over his shoulder and Namjoon was gone. You audibly exhaled. 

“What happened?” 

You ran a hand over your face. “Ex.”

“Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were leaving?”

“Yes. And now I’m going. Goodbye.” You whirled around, shoulders tense with embarrassment and headed for the stairs. 

“Wait.” He caught up to you on the stairs. “Can I go with?” There were small white string lights strung in the stairwell and the glow reflected in his eyes. They were so brown. 

“Don’t you have friends to be with?” Your phone buzzed in your back pocket with an incoming text message. Most likely your own friend dying to know who the guy you just kissed was. You ignored it. 

“They’ll be fine.” He grinned. 

“Okay,” you said, feeling yourself smile as well.

There was no destination, but you ended up at a park, sitting beside each other on a swing set. Your feet dragged in the wood chips as you pushed yourself back and forth slowly. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “Do you want to know why I hadn’t called?”

You just looked at him. 

“This may sound like a corny excuse, but… I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before saying, “If we continued seeing each other, you would eventually find out that I’m not a freelance artist. I do paint, but that’s not what I do.”

You could feel your heartbeat gradually speeding its pace. “What do you do?” His eyes fell down to his hands. He turned them over, studying the lines in his palms. His hair slipped over his eyes. He was a portrait of affliction. “I’m a Lost Boy.”

You didn’t understand. He noticed your silence and looked up at you. “The Lost Boys. This city is practically run by them.” He corrected himself, “Ran by us.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’m in a gang.”

Your voice was a whisper. “What?”  

He quickly added, “If you no longer want to associate with me, I understand. They’re—we’re—dangerous. I mean, even if you haven’t heard of us, you know us. The leather jackets, the vandalism, the fights. That venue is owned by us. The drugs at that event were supplied by us. That band playing is in our pockets. My apartment is paid by dirty money.” He laughed quietly to himself then, almost pityingly. 

The night air around you was thick with your own dread. “Is being around you dangerous?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so small.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You could hear the unsaid “but” in his tone. 

“But what?” you prompted.

He chewed on his lip. A dimple in his left cheek appeared. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise your safety. If you do decide to be around me.”

--

[wonder-womans-ex]

What Are We but Human

Every story has a beginning and a middle. 

Luke knows this. He’s lived through it; he’s been taught it. He’s also been taught that every story has an end, too, but he knows from personal experience that this is very rarely true. 

The best and the worst stories never end. 

It’s only the mediocre ones that do. It’s only the ones that leave your mind as soon as the last page is turned. The best stories—and the worst—are the ones that leave you thinking why and but only and what if. 

Those are the stories Luke likes best.

Because there’s a place in his heart for nightmares and fear and endless boredom. There’s a part of him that aches to be hurt; he needs pain like he needs air if he’s going to keep on waking up in the morning. 

Maybe that’s why the person he’s sitting across from isn’t Remus or James or even Sirius Black—because Remus is wisdom and James is resistance and Sirius is anger. 

And Saint isn’t any of those things. Or maybe he’s all of them—Luke hasn’t quite figured that out yet. 

Saint is quick. He always has been. His tongue is quick to insult; his eyes are quick to notice; his fingers are quick as they drum on the table. Luke isn’t sure why they’re there, and he’s not going to ask. 

It would be fruitless, though, to wait for Saint to tell him, so he leans back in his chair. He’s aiming for nonchalance, but he knows Saint can see right through him. They’re the only ones in the house, and being alone with Saint has never given Luke cause to feel anything but fear. 

No, not quite fear. Recklessness—the need to do something stupid. He loves and hates it at the same time. 

The thought crosses his mind that maybe this is how Saint feels all the time, and it’s just rubbing off on him. Are bad decisions contagious? 

They must be, because opening his mouth to do something other than take a swig of his root beer is probably the most stupid thing Luke has ever done in his life. 

“There’s a theory,” he says, knowing he should stop talking—put down the metaphorical shovel before he digs any deeper—but not seeming to be able to, “that the universe is constantly expanding. That infinity is larger now than it was last week, or yesterday, or even ten seconds ago.” 

Saint looks up at him through his eyelashes. He arches one eyebrow, halfway between curious and skeptical. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because infinity is infinity—because if something never stops, it only makes sense that it would never stop not stopping.”

“I think you lost me around the same time you started talking, Tweedle.”

No-nonsense. He doesn’t get it. How can someone like Saint, someone wild and free and dangerous, be so down-to-earth, so poignant, when he needs to be? 

Luke skips the bullshit. He doesn’t know where all that talk of infinity came from and he doesn’t know if he cares. His hands curl into fists under the table, nails digging into his palms. He takes a breath and decides, fuck this. He decides I won’t be a coward. I won’t. 

“Have you ever loved someone you shouldn’t?” 

***

Saint never has been one for silver. No, Saint likes gold—glittering and malleable and surprisingly cool to the touch. 

It goes with his hair. It goes with his personality. It goes with his unquenchable desire to be the best. Gold doesn’t blend in, and neither does Saint. 

Maybe that’s why it’s so surprising—to him, at least, but he knows he could have seen it coming from miles away if he really, truly tried—that of all the people in his world, it was Luke Deveaux who caught his eye. Luke is the dull gleam of silver. He’s harsh and unrelenting. And, when he bites the corner of his lip and meets Saint’s gaze, the look in his chocolate-brown eyes is inexplicably warm. 

That might be why it hurts so much to have to say, “I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone at all.” 

He watches as something in Luke crumbles. He watches as Luke breaks. 

And then he watches as Luke picks up the pieces and shoves them back together. 

A survivor, Saint thinks to himself. I like survivors. 

Luke smiles. He tilts his head to one side. 

“Want to learn how?” 

When he inhales, it’s like Saint’s lungs are filling with air for the first time. His vision tunnels to the boy in front of him; all he can see is Luke with his coffee-brown hair and his eyes that hold the universe and his faint half-grin and the dimple that Saint is now close enough to see. 

Saint has never loved before. Not really. Not like this. 

But maybe Luke—bruised and battered and trying-to-heal Luke, Luke the God whom he tried so hard to hate, Luke who can take a punch like nobody’s business—will be able to change that. 

***

Luke watches as the pink of Saint’s tongue flickers out over his lips. If he didn’t know better, he would label it as nervous, but he knows that Saint doesn’t get nervous. Saint gets hesitant; Saint gets terrified. 

There’s no in between. 

He hopes this is the latter. He can deal with Saint being scared of him—after all, when have they not been scared of each other; or at least scared of what the other’s presence brings—but hesitant? Hesitant means he’s offered something Saint can’t accept. Hesitant means that somewhere in all the taking, Luke has forgotten what it means to give. 

But then Saint swallows. “I think,” he begins, and then stops. 

Luke waits. 

“I think,” Saint says again, “I’d like that very much.” 

***

They’re kissing. 

Saint has no idea how they came to be pressed together against the wall, hands tangled in hair and cupped around cheeks, lips practically locked in battle, emotions overflowing like he’s never felt before—he’s crying, isn’t he; they both are—and he thinks to himself, if this isn’t love, I can’t imagine what is.

***

Luke doesn’t know much. What he does know is this: 

Saint is kissing him. 

Saint is everything. 

This may be a beginning, and it may be a middle, but it sure as hell isn’t an end. 

Amazing characters are by @lumosinlove

@im-oknutzy-trash 

[dimpled-gukkie]

Blossom

A/n: Sorry this fic is long overdue but I finally finished. I hope you all are safe and healthy and hopefully those of you struggling can find solace in this fic. 

Pairing: Mafia Member!Jeon Jungkook x Reader/ Florist!Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, mafia au 

Word Count: 21.2k 

Warnings: Guns, Knives, Violence, mentions of blood, murder (not super graphic), explicit language, kidnapping, car accident, self-hatred, mentions of sex, innuendos, flashback scenes, death, anxiety, heartbreak 

Summary: “Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.”

The bell above you chimes as you enter the flower shop, the tension in your shoulders leaving as soon as you smell the floral scent. Ever since you were little you’ve loved flowers, earning yourself the name Blossom. It’s a little ironic to be named after something so delicate given your profession but you prefer the irony. Nothing like showing those arrogant little boys how the big girls play. Your eyes dart to the yellow roses sitting in the corner and carefully you make your way over there, your boots thudding as you walk. You take a brief moment to brush the pad of your finger over the soft petal, pondering taking them home. The sound of approaching footsteps startles you and you jerk away from the flowers, the small smile on your face morphing into a scowl and your eyes harden. 

When the figure rounds the corner, you don’t even offer them a greeting before blurting out, “I need three bunches of monkshood.” 

“Ahh, so I see common courtesy isn’t your forte.” The figure smiles sharply at you, eyes glinting like the point of the knife tucked into your belt. You grunt and roll your eyes, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him down. The man holds your gaze, brown eyes darkening to nearly black, his body language matching your own. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he holds your gaze for a beat longer before sighing and turning away. Only then do you let your guard down enough to take in the man before you. He has platinum blonde hair, the strands nearly white, and his dark roots peak through when he leans forward to wrap your bouquet. He’s wearing a white sweater and a simple silver bracelet although it looks quite expensive. He must have some other business besides this hole-in-the-wall florist shop. Like he feels your eyes on him he looks up and for the first time in a long time you feel intimidated.”That’ll be $30.” He says gruffly, punching the number into the register before turning it towards you. 

Your eyes flick to the spot where he grabbed them, the sign catching your attention. 

“The sign says 5 per bundle.” 

“I’m charging extra for pain and suffering.” He deadpans, sticking his hand out to you, palm open. The disrespect and attitude he’s giving you is infuriating and yet you do nothing. Well, maybe you’ll do something later. You’re in a hurry. 

“I don’t think that’s legal.” 

“I’m not sure you’re so innocent yourself sweetheart. You know those mean that death is near right?” Touché. You don’t say anything else to him, throwing the money on the counter before swiping the flowers and storming off. “Hope to see you again sometime!” He calls, the sarcasm so pointed that you feel it cut right through you. 

The bundle of flowers is clutched tightly in your hands, the brown wrapping crinkling as you shift the bouquet from hand to hand. Jungkook is late and you’re running on a tight schedule. “Where is that prick?” You mumble to yourself, jumping when lips press against the shell of your ear. 

“You talking about me sweetheart?” Jungkook whispers, laughing breathily as you shove him away from you.

“You’re late.” You deadpan, already heading inside. The security men on the main floor of the building pay you no mind as you head straight for the elevators, their heads turning in the opposite direction as you wait for the doors to open. 

“Time is relative you know, maybe you’re just early.” Jungkook winks, a smirk pulling at his lips. You roll your eyes and press the button for the top floor, repeatedly pressing for the doors to close. 

“I think you’re confused. It’s me who calls the shots not you.” You say causing his smirk to widen, his eyes darkening as he shoves you against the elevator wall, his body flush against your own. 

“That so?” He quirks a dark eyebrow up, his midnight eyes boring into your own. The lust swirling in them makes heat pool in your stomach and you struggle to hold his intense gaze. Your pride makes you lean forward, your eyes fluttering at the proximity. Your lips are a centimeter from his own and you find joy in the way he sucks in a shaky breath. 

“If I say you’re late, you’re late.” You whisper, relishing in the way your lips brush his own with each syllable. When you pull away, Jungkook licks his lips and his cheeks are now the same color. “What?” You smirk back at him, placing a hand on his chest. You can feel his heart pounding against it, the elevator static with the electricity buzzing between you two. “Cat got your tongue?” You ask, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you lean your upper back against the wall. 

Jungkook glares, a warm hand wrapping around your waist and landing on your lower back, harshly pulling you into him. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he presses his lips against your own. Hungrily he pries your lips apart, his hands gripping your hips as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He groans and your hand moves to the nape of his neck to pull at strands of his hair. You missed the weight of his hands on you, the heat of his body pressed against your own. 

The elevator dings and it takes everything in you to pull away, especially when Jungkook looks like pure sin. His lips are swollen and bright pink, hair mussed in the back from your fingers. You swallow loudly as you stare at him, the movement of the doors beginning to close catching your attention. Jutting your hand out, you slip out of the elevators when the doors reopen not checking if Jungkook is following. You know he is, you can feel his heavy stare on your back. You check your reflection in a nearby window, smoothing out your clothes and hair. Your eyes linger on Jungkook’s reflection, standing tall and protective behind you. 

You ache to reach behind and grab his hand in your own, to claim him as yours and you his, but as you feel the uncomfortable press of your knives on your thighs you know it’s impossible. You and Jungkook will never amount to anything more than lost lovers, broken souls taking comfort in each other. He’s your temporary home, one that’s always on the verge of foreclosure. You can’t have him forever and it keeps you awake at night.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder before retracting it. 

“Just fine.” You snip, adjusting your clothes one final time before heading into the board room. “Hi boys.” You smile, taking a seat at the head of the table as Jungkook flanks you. 

“You’re late.” The man across from you snarls, and you throw the bouquet to him. 

“Got you a present. Besides, isn’t time relative?” You can hear Jungkook snicker behind you and smirk. The man across from you looks you over slowly, and you cock your head at him. “Can I help you?” You growl just wanting to get this over with. 

“Next time you want to have a quickie before a meeting, make sure to fix your appearance.” 

“The fuck you just say to her?” Jungkook growls, his gun cocked and loaded before you can even blink. The man appears to be unfazed by the gun aimed between his eyes but you can see the slight tremor in his body. You raise your hand to Jungkook and he reluctantly drops his arm down but keeps the weapon at his side. Standing, you smile at the man, brandishing the knife you’d been holding since he looked at you funny.  

“What was that?” You ask, coming behind him to place the blade against his throat. He swallows, gasping slightly when the knife presses into his skin and a trickle of blood flows down his neck. “Sorry I didn’t hear you. I think you’re gonna have to repeat it.” You say lowly. 

“I-I said you- you look lovely!” He stammers and you nod at Jungkook stepping away from the man and returning to the head of the table. The man visibly relaxes, his hand coming up to his neck to press against his small cut. 

“You wanna know something?” You ask him and he and his colleagues nod frantically in means to appease you. “I hate liars.” As soon as the words leave your lips a bullet is in between the man’s eyes and his body slumps back in the chair. The two men flanking him are frozen before they turn to you with wide eyes, pleas leaving their lips so quickly they’re unintelligible. “Enough! Do you know why I’m here?” You ask and the man on the right smiles weakly. 

“To bring us flowers?” He tries to joke, laughing awkwardly before closing his eyes at the sharp look on your face. 

“You know why I bring flowers? It’s not just because they call me Blossom.” The mens' eyebrows draw together and you smile wickedly at them. “I bring them as a way of warning. If only people studied their meanings.” You drawl, walking around the room to grab the bouquet. You wipe the blood staining its brown wrapping on the nearest man’s jacket sleeve and bring it back with you to Jungkook. “You know what these mean?” You ask and both men shake their head making your smile widen. “Death.” A knife lands in the man to your right’s chest and he slumps into the chair, his eyes still wide open. You might close them later, it’s creeping you out. The last man standing shakes violently in his chair and you place the flowers back down on the table. “So tell me, just what happened to my last shipment?” 

“I-I don’t know.” His voice shakes and a small part of you pities the man. What a horrible way to die.

“Jungkook did I not say I hate like liars?” You ask and Jungkook grunts lowly. 

“You did.” 

“So tell me, just why did my shipment go to MKJ? And just where did my money go?” 

“I-I don’t know. Boss mentioned something about them paying a higher amount. I- I had no part in it, I swear.” 

“So you sold my order.” 

“Ye-yes.” The man puts his head down in shame and you nod acceptingly. 

“So where’s my money?” You ask, grabbing the man by the back of the neck to pull his head back up. 

“Processed already. They-they probably used it to buy more equipment for the weaponry.”

“I’m sure you know I want it back. So what’s the password to the account?” 

“Interlude” You let go of the man as he trembles and text the password to Taehyung, your resident hacker. He’s lucky and can do all his work from home and you smile at the thought of all the money that’ll be in your account when you get there. You’re gonna milk the place dry. “Any last words?” 

“What?” The man exclaims but the feeling of Jungkook’s gun placed against his skull quiets him. “But I told you the password.” You can’t look at him in the eyes so you turn away, hand on the door. 

“Yeah but you still lied and I hate liars.” The only thing you can hear is Jungkook’s finger pulling the trigger, the silencer doing its job and not alerting the other workers to the murders that just occurred. “Call Jimin to take care of the rest.” You murmur to Jungkook, leaving the room quickly. 

You end up walking home, wanting to busy yourself rather than sit in a car and relive what just happened. You should be okay with homicide, immune to guilt, but the human part of you is horrified by each murder you commit. You can’t stand to look at your hands, the metaphorical blood caked on so thick that they’re a twisted maroon color. Feeling your hands shaking you clench them tightly at your sides, trying to steady your breathing and relax. In your business you can’t show an ounce of weakness, a sliver of vulnerability, because the snakes around you will exploit it. The only person who’s really seen the real part of you, Y/n, is Jungkook. Jungkook is the only one who can slip off your mask, see the scarred and broken girl hidden behind the name Blossom. But because of who you are, the monstrosity of your mask, he’ll never give you what you want. He’ll never make a life with you. You’re just the girl he sees behind closed doors, the one he only whispers that he loves amongst bedsheets. And the lonely part of you clings onto this, your love for him drowning out the doubt, the fear of the heartbreak to come. Because as much as you wish for it, Jungkook’s loyalties will never lie with you. 

A car honks at you as you continue you walk down the street and you roll your eyes expecting Jungkook to be hanging out the driver’s window but stiffen when you notice a pistol instead. You drop to the floor in a second, the glass from the window behind you shattering on top of your body. Shaking from adrenaline and fear of being alone with a gunman you push yourself off the ground, wincing as the glass cuts into your hands and take off down the street in the opposite direction. You can hear tires screeching as the car u-turns and push yourself to run faster, hands fumbling with your phone as you call Jungkook on speed dial. He picks up instantly and you strain to focus on his words while trying to find a shop to duck into. “Hey where are you? You okay?” Jungkook asks as gun shots ring behind you. You gotta find a place to hide and fast. “Shit. Are those gunshots? Where are you!” Jungkook yells and you recite the nearest street name as you turn to run down it. You spot the flower shop from earlier and sprint towards it, not bothering to try and listen to Jungkook. “Y/n? Y/n!” Jungkook screams as you slide onto the floral shop’s floor as the car speeds by. Panting you lay on the floor, the phone lying limp in your hand. Jungkook’s now talking to himself, a string of curse words leaving his mouth. You smile a little, heart warmed by the fact that he’s worried. 

Bringing the phone to your ear you mumble, “I’m fine.” He lets out a loud sigh of relief before demanding your location. “Uhhh… I don’t know the name actually. Just the flower shop on the same street.” 

“Is there a reason why you’re laying on my floor?” A deep voice rumbles and you crane your neck to find the snarky blonde from earlier. Groaning you lay your head back down ignoring him. He taps you with his shoe repeatedly making you swat his leg away. “Get up. You’re making my floors dirty.” Glaring at him you reluctantly stand up, moving to crouch behind the bunches of flowers in case the car circles back around. 

“Is someone after you or something?” Yoongi asks skeptically. Turning away from the window you stare at him and he sighs before running a hand through his hair almost nervously. “You get ten minutes before I want you out. I don’t need anyone like that coming here.” You’re not sure what he means when he says anyone like that but the slight worry in his eyes intrigues you. You glance back to his rolex that’s at least $10k and can’t help but wonder if flower boy is more than just your local florist. 

True to his word flower boy lets you stay for ten minutes exactly before pushing you out of his shop like some unwanted animal. Jungkook stops the car in the middle of the street, getting out to pull you into his arms. He lets out a shaky sigh, almost like he’d been crying, and you can’t help the way your heart stutters. Maybe you and Jungkook do have a chance. You don’t get long to ponder it though because he pulls away just as quickly, nodding to flower boy who stands in the doorway of the shop before climbing back inside the car. Flower boy’s face is expressionless and makes you a little uneasy. “Thanks for harboring me flower boy.” You joke and he rolls his eyes. 

“Just what I need, a fugitive on the run.” He says dryly. The corners of his mouth quirk up and you grin at him. 

“I’ll see you around flower boy.” 

“Yoongi!” He yells over Jungkook’s honking as you turn to get back into the vehicle. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks, his jaw ticking. His fingers tap against the steering wheel in an annoyed manner and you lean back against your window to smirk at him. 

“Be careful there Jeon, some people might think you’re jealous.” He glares at you and you giggle. “Aww do you care about me?” You tease, reaching over the center console to pinch his cheek. He slaps your hand away and flips you off which only makes you laugh harder. When you settle down and wipe the tears from your eyes you say, “he’s the owner of the shop. I think we’re friends.” 

“You have a friend? I’m shocked.” You slap his bicep, completely offended. 

“I mean we’re friends aren’t we?” 

“Yeah. Friends.” Jungkook says the word pointedly, almost like it’s left a bad taste in his mouth which confuses you. It was his decision to stay friends, saying he could only be friends with benefits at most. But now he says the word like he wants more. Does he? Or was he simply reminding you of what you both are? What you’ll only ever be. Why does this have to be so confusing? 

“Jungkook I-“ 

“Get down.” Jungkook interrupts and your eyes widen. Twice in one day? Well you shouldn’t be surprised since you’re the leader of a big gang and all. Folding your upper half against your thighs you hold your breath, your heart racing in your chest. Even though you’ve faced near death many times, you’ll never get comfortable with death knocking on your doorstep. Ironic since you’re a killer yourself. You should be comfortable with dying and yet it’s one of the things you’re scared of the most. But you trust Jungkook, so as he gets his gun out of the waistband of his pants you take a deep breath. You’ll be okay as long as he’s with you. Jungkook curses under his breath and you panic when you notice him roll his window down, his gun pointed out of it. Is the car pulling up next to you? Sitting up despite Jungkook’s command you pull out your knives, hoping to at least nail your attacker with one if you and Jungkook are ambushed. In some instances a surprise knife can win in a gun fight. But at least if you and Jungkook do die, you’ll die trying. Reaching over you squeeze Jungkook’s hand in reassurance and also to feel his hand in yours for what could be the last time, your chest tightening as the car idles up beside you. The passenger door opens and you launch your knife, blinking confusedly as you hear a voice very similar to Jimin scream. 

“What the hell Blossom?” Jimin yells, appearing in front of Jungkook’s window. He pays no mind to the gun resting in front of his face or the surprised look on Jungkook’s, only to the knife lodged in the exterior of his car. “I just got this wrapped.” He whines, stroking the side of his car with a pout. Yanking the knife out with a huff he hands it back to you, reaching into the car to unlock it before climbing into the backseat. “Why would you throw a knife at me?” Jimin asks as the car behind you honks, breaking you and Jungkook out of your haze as he presses on the gas, his gun lying on his lap. You take it from him and stick it in the cupholder, uncomfortable with it lying so freely with the safety off. 

“We thought you were someone else.” You say, looking through the car mirrors. “I got shot at earlier.” 

“Oh really?” Jimin asks excitedly. “It’s been so long since I got any action.” 

“That’s because the last time you got a little too carried away.” You turn in your seat to scold him.

“Okay so I got a little trigger happy, sue me. I got the job done though didn’t I?” Jimin huffs, raising his palms in a defensive manner. 

“Yeah but there were so many casualties the police thought there was a serial killer on the loose. We don’t need that kind of press.” 

“You make me sound like some kind of psychopath.” Jimin whines and you and Jungkook look at each other knowingly. 

“I hate you both.” Jimin glares with his arms crossed as the two of you burst into laughter.

When you return back to headquarters Jungkook returns to his stoic self, face void of any emotions. He goes back to acting like he doesn’t care about you, like the only reason he interacts with you is out of obligation. Sometimes you wonder if he actually does feel this way, his acting is so good. You sigh and run a hand through your slightly damp hair, moistened by the sweat from the stressful encounter earlier, and watch as his back disappears from view.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jimin asks and your eyes widen for a second. 

“What are you insinuating Park Jimin?” You ask with a pointed gaze. 

“You can drop the whole Blossom act babe, it’s just us three in the house. Besides you expect me to not notice two of my closest friends are in love with each other? You’re not exactly subtle about it.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jungkook and I are just friends.” You say monotonously from having to repeat it so many times. 

“Only’ll go as far as fuck buddies huh?” Jimin’s tone is pitying and you hate it. You hate that he’s so observant, that he somehow knows your exact situation. Did Jungkook confide in him or is Jimin really more intuitive than you thought? It’s hard enough to be vulnerable in front of Jungkook and you love him. The thought that Jimin can read you so easily is unsettling. “He talked to me about it when he was drunk. That’s how I know.” What is Park Jimin, some kind of mindreader? 

“Did he say anything else? About- about us?” You can’t stop the question from falling from your lips, not when you can find out what Jungkook is thinking. Sometimes when you’re just cuddling in your bed after catching your breaths after sex, you’ll talk about random things. But you can’t help but feel like he’s holding back. Like there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he bites back. You wish he’d just say it, just end it if that’s what he’s been thinking. You don’t know how much longer you can take this before it breaks you entirely. Before you’re so far gone that you lose all sense of yourself, that the you you were pre-jungkook is gone entirely, lost amongst your murky memories. You worry you’re already past the point of no return. 

“He wishes things were different. He just kept repeating that over and over. That he wishes he could go back and change the past.” Jimin’s eyes are rounded with sympathy and you wish you’d have never opened your mouth. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Jimin places his hand on your arm and you shrug it off, wanting to be alone. To get out of this suffocating atmosphere, away from the damning thoughts running through your mind. He must not want you anymore. He wishes you’d have never hooked up that one night two years ago. That he didn’t fall in love with you. He must regret you. You can’t fault him for it. How could someone really love the monster you’ve become? “I’m gonna go take a shower.” 

“Y/n I- it’s not the way you think.” You brush off his comment and skirt around his outstretched hand, not wanting to hear what Jimin has to say anymore. You’ve already reached your conclusion. If he doesn’t want you anymore and he’s too chicken to tell you, you’ll end it yourself. 

Walking into your bedroom you slam the door to vent out some of your anger, but mostly to give you some release from the overarching sadness. Two years, two years about to end like they’re nothing. You hop into the shower so you can pretend your tears are droplets of water letting the warmth comfort you. If you close your eyes you can pretend the warmth is Jungkook, which only makes your heart break further. Your chest aches, slowly throbbing. It’s like you can physically feel it breaking, each piece dropping to your stomach and making you queasy. You stay in there even as the water runs cold and your skin forms goosebumps. It distracts you from the sudden emptiness you feel. Just how much of yourself did you give to Jungkook? When you step out the house is eerily quiet, seemingly void of all life. How ironic given how you feel. Flopping down onto your bed in just a towel you stare at the ceiling. You wish you were Blossom, hard-headed and apathetic. You wish you couldn’t feel anything, that nothing meant anything to you. That Jungkook meant nothing to you. 

Your door opens and you jump, drawn out of your somber thoughts. You don’t have to look up to know who it is. Only one person would bother coming in with this much nonchalance. “What’s up with you?” Jungkook says, closing your door and flopping down beside you. “I just finished training and thought I’d come up since the house is empty.”

“What are we doing Jungkook?” 

“I mean I thought we were about to have sex but-“ 

“No I mean what are we doing? You clearly don’t love me like I love you and I’m just hurting myself, wishing for something I’ll never have. We should just end it here before I get hurt any further.” Your heart is pounding, eyes watering as you stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re doing this for the best you tell yourself. Jungkook is silent and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly like you can hide from the situation. 

“You think I don’t love you? You think I don’t mean it when I say it.” He laughs but there’s no humor in his voice. Just malice as his hurt takes the form of anger. “You know I don’t just say that shit. I say I love you because I do. Because you-“ He pauses and you can’t help but turn your head to look at him as his voice wavers. Tears silently drip down his cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, only staring at the downturn of his lips. 

“Because I what Kook?”

“Nevermind. It clearly doesn’t mean anything to you.” 

“It does! I’d give my life for you Jungkook and it scares me that I feel this way about you but I don’t know if you’d do the same.” You’re both crying now, staring at each other with frowns on your faces. 

“If you have to question it then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He murmurs, placing his hand on your cheek before finally making eye contact with you. You don’t know what to say, know what to do, so you kiss him. You kiss him with everything that you have and hope that the feelings you have for him are felt through it. His other hand finds your hip and pulls you up to straddle him. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmur between the kisses you place along his neck. Both his hands are on your hips and your towel is held between your bodies which are tightly pressed together. 

“I know. I’m sorry too. I-I’ll try harder, for you.” He gasps when you bite down on the junction between his shoulder and neck, his grip tightening. Your mouth finds his own again in thanks and you sigh against him as his tongue swipes on your lower lip. Jungkook and you have never been very good at voicing your feelings, much preferring the silent conversation of meaningful glances and physical touch. It’s easier this way, to be vulnerable. 

“I love you.” You say, pulling back and hiding your face in his neck to catch your breath. 

He nudges you with his nose to get you to look back up at him. “I love you too.” He whispers and for the first time it feels like a dagger; the realization that although he loves you, it’ll never never be enough to be with you, carving in deep. 

“Get up bitch, we got trouble.” Jimin yells, storming into your room and waking up you and Jungkook. Groggily you sit up, still emotionally exhausted from your conversation with Jungkook and the stress from literally running for your life. 

“Ever heard of privacy Park?” You ignore the way Jungkook scrambles away from you to continue the facade that the two of you are just friends, despite Jimin already knowing about you two. 

“You really think you have privacy when this place is lined with cameras? I don’t even want to know how many tapes the two of you have probably made. Although maybe you like that sort of thing.” Jimin teases and both you and Jungkook flip him off. 

“You’re disgusting. I can’t believe I used to share a bath with your nasty ass.” 

“You wound me.” Jimin sighs dramatically before flopping down onto your bed. “Anyways, I just came here to tell you that two of your boys just got killed in a low-level trade so I’m assuming MKJ discovered that their little rats are dead.” 

“Jimin they were still people, they had families.” 

“Well they should’ve thought about their families before getting in this business. You know what your dad always said, it’s kill or be killed.” 

“And exactly how did that work out for him?” You ask making Jimin fall quiet. It’s no secret that you and your father had a rocky relationship to say the least. He was the whole reason you were in this business anyways, as his only chid you were expected to take over his thrown. And it was no surprise that he died young, what with his life motto now being lived by Jimin. Sure killing others does save you at that moment, but it comes with an ever-growing list of enemies and a target on your back. So instead of getting a high school diploma at eighteen you got a gang. 

“Anyways…what do you want to do?” Jimin asks. 

“We’ll carry on business as usual. They’re planning something if all they did was jump two guys in retaliation to the death of their allies. So we’ll tighten our borders and distribute the new ammunition out to the different districts. Wire ten percent of the money we took to the corrupt officers to monitor MKJ territory for any activity. I want Taehyung monitoring their current known safe houses and we’ll have some of the upper ranks tap any cars in the area belonging to them. We’ll force them to show their hand.” 

“Don’t you think you’re being a little too casual about this? The last time we had a gang war was when your dad…” 

“Died? Yes Jungkook I do remember that.” You huff, rolling your eyes in irritation. 

“I just think we should be more cautious because we lost the last one. We’ve been rebuilding ever since.” Jungkook says. 

“Why do you think you have a say in this Jungkook? You had barely even been initiated at that point. I was the one who dealt with all this shit, I was the one who pulled us out of it.” 

“You didn’t make me second in command for no reason. I get a say in what happens as much as you do!” Jungkook yells and you laugh. 

“You really think you can tell me how to run my gang?” You say incredulously. “All you are is a pretty face Jeon.” You don’t mean it, you regret the words the moment they leave your mouth. But you’ve always been good at self-destruction. 

“That’s all you think I am?” His words are loud but his demeanor is quiet, made little by your low blow. By your invalidation of all his hard work, of his sacrifice. 

“I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this shit right now.” You say, walking away because it’s easier. It pains you to look at Jungkook right now. The hallway is silent as you walk towards the car and you pray to hear Jungkook’s hurried footsteps behind you. You pause for a moment by the door and wait for Jungkook to catch up, to not let you leave alone and yet he doesn’t come. With a sigh you grab the keys off the hook and drive to the only other safe place you have. 

When you were younger you weren’t allowed to leave the house alone, either your mother or one of your father’s men had to come with you. It’s understandable given that you were your father’s weakness, well supposed weakness anyways. Anyone close to your family however would’ve told them to not waste their energy taking you. The only time you ever saw your father was when he was telling you how much of a disappointment you were. And when it got too much, when you couldn’t shake the dark thoughts from your mind, you would sneak off to a small park a half-mile from your house and climb to the top of an old tree where you could pretend you were touching the clouds. 

The tree is not as nice as you remember, but childlike innocence does make the world around you seem prettier than it is. Pulling yourself up you sit in the crook of the lowest branch and the trunk, afraid of any of the higher branches not being sturdy enough. Taking a deep breath you shiver at the slight chill to the air but your limbs relax anyways. You keep replaying your conversation with Jungkook in your head. You’re a horrible person, hurting the person you love. You don’t deserve him, all you do is hurt people. All you bring is pain. 

“You stalking me?” A voice says from below you and you jump, having to grab onto the tree to prevent yourself from falling backwards. Hastily you blink away the tears in your eyes and laugh down at Yoongi. 

“Ah yeah of course. I just can’t get enough of your tsundere vibes.” 

Yoongi gives you a gummy smile before fake gagging, folding over in half while retching. “Ugh I can’t believe I’m friends with a weeb.” 

“Alright prima donna, how did you know what it was if you aren’t one?” His silence makes you giggle and you find yourself forgetting about your argument with Jungkook. Being with Yoongi is nice, it’s easy. It feels normal, something that you’ve wanted your whole life. Barking sounds from across the field and you and Yoongi both watch as a brown ball of fluff comes charging towards you both. Crouching down, Yoongi opens his arms for the small creature to jump into them, the force enough to send them both into the grass. Yoongi giggles as the little dog squirms in his arms and you feel your heart melt a little at the wholesome scene. 

“I didn’t know you had a dog.” 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. You’ve just never bothered to ask.” 

“What’s its name?” 

“Holly.” Yoongi says with a soft look on his face, standing up with Holly in his arms to bring the animal closer to you. Tentatively you stick your hand out to the small dog, squirming when it begins to avidly lick your hand. “Ahh look at that he likes you.” 

“I mean of course he does. I’m great, how could he not?” 

“Real humble too.” Yoongi remarks, but the sarcasm is foiled by the corner of his lips  curling upwards. His noticeably pink and soft-looking lips. Wait what? Before Yoongi can notice your staring you turn your attention back to the dog. “So what are you doing out here..In a tree?” 

“Just needed some place to think is all.” You shrug. 

“You should think less, it’s way more fun.” 

“If I stop thinking I’ll die.” You say because truly if you take a moment to breathe someone probably will have a knife to your throat. You always need to be one step ahead. 

“That’s a little morbid.” Yoongi says and you laugh it off. 

“Yeah I’m just overdramatic.” 

‘You know, I picked up on that.” 

“Oh really?” You ask.

“Yeah and despite that I still like you.” Yoongi says, setting Holly down to walk closer to you. 

“That so?” You ask coyly, raising a brow. He hums in response, stopping when he’s finally standing between your legs. You should really back away, tell him you’re with Jungkook. Except you’re not, you have no obligation to Jungkook. You’re not his girlfriend and you never will be. And it's with that notion that you lean down and kiss Yoongi. His lips are just as soft as you imagined, tinged with a faint rose flavor which is ironic given his profession. 

Ever since you and Yoongi kissed you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. Despite his callous persona he’s actually quite sweet, texting you multiple times a day to see how you’re going and how your day is. The only problem is that you can’t exactly tell Yoongi what you do and how your actual day is because really who would want to date someone who killed someone when they were just eight years old. Granted it was only because your father forced your hand: either you killed the mysterious man or he killed your mother. But regardless, if given the choice you wouldn’t even want to be you so why would anyone want to date you? So instead you told him that you’re the CEO of a small business which is true. Your business is just illegal and you have a different title although you’re still the head.

“He texts you all the fucking time. Does he not have a job?” Jungkook huffs as your phone chimes with yet another text from Yoongi. You never told Jungkook about that day at the park with Yoongi given your already rocky relationship, but it felt too dishonest to pretend Yoongi is someone else. Jungkook is still less than happy with Yoongi texting you despite your insistence that you’re just friends. Though, can friends really kiss and still be just friends? The thought of kissing him makes your stomach erupt in butterflies and you can’t stop yourself from grinning. 

“He does have a job. He was just checking in.” 

“He’s always just checking in.” Jungkook says before rolling his eyes and moving to grab his stuff from your room. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I don’t want to be here while you text him with that big ass smile on your face.” 

“I don’t see why you’re so upset. Can I not have a friend Jungkook?” 

“Yeah, you’re friends.” Jungkook scoffs and you furrow your brows. 

“What are you saying Jungkook?” 

“Don’t you think he texts you a little too often to just be friendly. He’s clearly just trying to get in your pants.” 

“Jungkook there’s no need to be jealous.” You huff growing frustrated. 

“I think you should find a new florist.” 

“Jungkook you can’t control me. Yoongi is my friend and as your-“ you pause, the word girlfriend sitting on your tongue before you stop yourself. “You don’t get to decide who I get to hang out with.” You huff and Jungkook pokes his tongue into his cheek, fingers gripping your bedroom door handle tightly. He clenches his hands a few times and you huff. Since when did things with Jungkook get so hard?

“So you’re just going to hang out with him despite knowing he just wants to fuck you?” Jungkook spits out, teeth clenched tightly together. 

“I don’t know anything Jungkook. Is it really so hard to believe someone could just like me enough to want to be my friend?” Your voice falls off at the end and Jungkook turns to you, sharp eyes rounding a little when he notices how small you’ve become. 

“I-I just think he wants more.” He says softly, reaching over carefully to take your hand in his own like he’s scared you’ll pull away. As if for extra measure he places your conjoined hands in his lap and soothingly rubs his thumb across the back of your hand. You suppose this is his way of saying he’s sorry. 

“I just want a friend.” You murmur, looking out of the window to avoid him. 

“You have me.” The both of you fall into a heavy silence, ‘am I not enough’ hangs limply between you. 

Hours later you finally make it out of your room and head downstairs to find Taehyung. Unsurprisingly he’s got a whole spread next to him, any snack you could think of within arms reach. Grabbing the bowl of fruit you begin munching on them while Taehyung prepares his update for you. “Just because you’re a criminal does not mean you have to be a thief.” He scolds, taking the bowl away from you and cradling it to his chest. 

“Why do none of you remember that I’m your boss?” You whine and Taehyung only smiles. 

“Because we get to see the actual Y/n who’s really a sweetheart despite her situation. Don’t get me wrong though, I definitely am still afraid of you because I know you could kill me at a moment’s notice. Anyways, before we get into business how has my little ninja been?” 

“Taehyung I use knives not throwing stars.” 

“Same thing.” He shrugs. 

“And fine I guess. Things with Jungkook have been rough but when haven’t they?” You say with a pathetic chuckle. 

“He’ll come around. You know how he’s been struggling with his brother.” 

“He’s been struggling ever since he first came here! That was three years ago Taehyung, how much longer should I have to wait?” 

“It’s not just that. He had me search for his brother last week to send him a birthday card and there’s no record of him for the past six months.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know, it’s like the guy just vanished.” 

“So he’s either dead or doesn’t want to be found.” You say. 

“Someone really knew what they were doing when they cleared him too, I can’t even find a trace.” 

“Isn’t Jungkook’s scar from him and his brother fighting over the computer?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. 

“Yeah but I don’t really see the relevance.” 

“I mean that they’re both computer nerds. So his brother could’ve done that himself and the question is if he did, why? And why didn’t he tell Jungkook?” 

With the news of Jungkook’s brother’s suspicious disappearance you’re more on edge than normal. You have a feeling Jungkook’s brother is not as innocent as Jungkook chooses to see him. After all, the whole reason Jungkook is in your gang is because he took on his brother’s debt and joined in his place. Taehyung also said that the safe houses are oddly quiet and so is the server that Taehyung managed to hack into. No one is talking. Which can only mean that they know someone is listening. Therefore, all your high ranking members are on house arrest much to their dismay. “I can’t believe you’re making me stay home for the next week.” Jimin whines, sprawled across the kitchen island as if it’s a sofa. They do say hoes like high places. 

“Think of it like a staycation. It’s a much needed break.” 

“We’re sitting ducks at this point. MKJ might as well ambush us now and get it over with.” Jungkook says and you slap his bicep in protest. 

“I’d like to keep the morale high you guys.” 

“I don’t know why you two are complaining. Being home is nice.” Taehyung says and you send him a finger heart in appreciation. 

“That’s because you haven’t left the house in five years.” Jimin teases and you can’t help but laugh. Taehyung truly is always home. 

“I have everything I could possibly need and want here. Plus I’m the only one who has clean hands if we get arrested.” 

“Technically you’re an accomplice.” You say and Taehyung rolls his eyes. 

“Technically I can just erase all data of me in the system, replace it with Jimin’s information and if they find my fingerprints say that I was kidnapped and held in the computer room.” 

“Wait why do I get to take the fall for you?” 

“We all know you’d charm your way out of jail. Kook and Y/n not so much.” 

“Hey I can be charming!” You say and all the boys just laugh in response. 

“No one in the city would ever go for you given that you’re blossom.” Jimin says and you only scowl. Is it really so hard to believe?

“Yoongi would.” You say and your eyes widen when you realize your mistake. Jungkook just rolls his eyes in irritation. 

“Yoongi would hit it and quit it.” Jungkook says callously and you can feel your anger spark. Why is Jungkook acting like a dick all of a sudden? 

“Yeah because friends with benefits is so much better.” You scoff and Jungkook just scowls. 

“At least I’m willing to come back.” 

“Oh you’re willing? Wow I’m honored. Thank you for finding it in you to be so charitable.” 

“Y/n I didn’t mean it like that.” He starts and you just roll your eyes. 

“Save it Jeon, I don’t feel like hearing your bullshit any longer.” Angrily you stomp over to the garage, Jungkook hot on your heels. 

“Where are you going?” 

“It’s none of your concern Jungkook. You can stop fake caring now and go call Jennie for a quick fuck.” 

“That was one time! I told you it was a mistake and we weren’t even dating!” Jungkook yells before skidding to a stop as you whip around to face him, your noses almost touching. 

“You’re right Jungkook, we’re not dating. So you can sleep with whoever you want and I’ll do the same.” You’re half turned and ready to head out when Jungkook pulls you back, pulling you flush into him. 

“I don’t want to do that though.” He whispers like he can no longer find his voice. 

“Then what do you want Kook? Because I can’t keep sitting around and waiting for you to love me. I’m tired of hiding, I’m tired of wishing I was someone else so you could proudly say you love me. I don’t know what you want me to do because as much as you hate who I am I hate myself too. So what do you want me to do Kook because as much as I wish I was someone else I can’t change who I am.” 

“I-I” Jungkook starts but his face keeps twisting as he struggles to find his words. In his struggle you find the answer. 

When you get to Yoongi’s flower shop you’re still upset over Jungkook, so much so that not even the sweet aroma of the roses by the door can make the corner of your lips twitch upwards. You’re not quite sure why you actually came here but when you see Yoongi round the corner looking a little disgruntled about a customer at eight in the morning you can’t help but feel a little weight fall off your shoulder. Something about him just makes you relax, like he understands. He just has a comforting aura that you find yourself drawn to. When he looks up and spots you his mouth quirks upwards for a moment before it draws back down into an indifferent expression. “You haven’t stopped by in a while.” He says gruffly, more of a statement than a question. You frown and take a few steps forward, fingers tracing lily petals softly. 

“I’ve just been really busy.” You weakly smile. 

“Are you okay?” You turn your head quickly to find Yoongi standing directly in front of you, a look of worry on his face. When you close your eyes to blink you can see the same expression etched onto Jungkook’s face from last night. You’re such a burden, already weighing down on the mind of a practical stranger. 

“I’m fine.” You say, once more steeling yourself. You’re strong, you don’t need someone to take care of you. 

“You’re pretty easy to read you know? You weren’t even facing me directly and I could tell you were upset. Your eyebrows are so close together you basically have a monobrow.” He quips, indenting the space between your brows with the tip of his finger. You let out a small chirp and slap his finger away. 

“I was just thinking.” You mumble and Yoongi smirks. 

“Shocking, didn’t know you had a brain in there.” When you glare at him unamused it’s his turn to laugh, his lips curling upwards to reveal a gummy smile. 

“But yeah, no need to worry about me.” You shrug and Yoongi smiles so wide his bottom teeth peek out. His eyes have a mischievous glint in them and you’re sure you’re gonna hate what is about to come out of his mouth. 

“Oh I wasn’t. Your mood is just so sour it’s causing my flowers to wilt. You’re supposed to give them ten nice words a day you know.” He teases, already turning around to run behind the safety of the counter before you can smack his arm. 

“Yoongi! How dare you!” You scold but your laughter slips through, causing your voice to go up an octave. “You suck.” You pout, following him to the counter and hopping up to sit down on it. 

“Sure, make yourself comfortable.” 

“I will.” You smile to which he only rolls his eyes. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you can’t recall the last time you just sat in a happy silence. Where it wasn’t weighed down by unspoken words or fear of what’s to come. When you could simply just be. It feels nice. Being with Yoongi feels nice. “I like hanging out with you.” You say suddenly and Yoongi jumps at the sound of your voice. 

“Mmm I guess you’re tolerable.” He hums and you sigh. 

“Would it kill you to be nice to me for one second?” You whine and you swear Yoongi snickers like the sound of you whining gives him immense joy. 

“Fine. I too enjoy you loitering in my shop and not buying anything despite this being a place of business.” 

“Why do I even bother?” You groan to yourself, ignoring the sound of Yoongi’s approaching footsteps. Instead you focus on the swing of your legs, reminding you of when you were younger and used to sit on the kitchen counter when your mother cooked. What a long time ago that was. Like he can tell you’re getting lost in your thoughts Yoongi clears his throat and you look up to see his nose scrunched in distaste while his arms are outstretched. You stare at him questioningly, eyes trailing down his figure and arms. You notice a faint tattoo peeking out from below his watch and your eyes fixate on it. The watch is almost the exact width of the tattoo like he’s trying to hide it. What just is he trying to hide? 

“Okay weirdo, hug me now before the offer is off the table. You’ve been giving me ‘please hug me’ vibes ever since you walked in.” 

“You can just admit you wanted a hug you know?” You tease, hopping off the counter to wrap your arms around his middle. His body is slim and you can easily wrap both arms around him but surprisingly it’s firm against your own, contrasting the soft plushness of his sweater. He smells like a meadow from working with all the flowers but the smell of something warm like whiskey or bourbon lingers as your head is tucked into his chest.

Perhaps you should think more things through. Perhaps you should pay more attention to the world around you since you’re at the top of plenty of hitlists. Perhaps you should stop being so reliant on Jungkook as you are now being chased through the city by who you only assume are some low level members of MKJ. The tires screech as you round a sharp corner and the car drifts into the opposing lane and you close your eyes tightly waiting for the inevitable crash yet somehow you are miraculously spared. Taking a deep breath you watch the car from the side view mirror behind you, trying to formulate a plan.You’re driving too fast  to jump out safely and the drivers are clearly too experienced for you to shake them off in this dangerous game of mario kart. Unbuckling yourself you pull the knives from the waistband of your mini skirt and roll down the window.

Grabbing onto the handle above the window you glance out the windshield and calculate how many seconds you have to pop out the window and aim for the tires of the vehicle before you get your head blown off as you round the car to the left. The tires screech and the sound pierces your ears but your focus can’t be shaken as you aim for the two left side tires that come into view before ducking inside the body of the car as gun shots bounce off the vehicle. Hastily you scramble back inside and roll up the window, glancing behind the car to find one of your knives dug into the front tire. It pushes farther in as the tire continues to roll but you sigh in relief as the vehicle begins to slow down. That is until one of your own tires gets shot and the car starts bouncing as it rides the rim. “Shit!” You scream, the car already beginning to teeter to the side and you slam into your door, letting out a groan. 

Today is really the day. Glancing out the window you can see the sidewalk clearly as the car begins its descent, the only thing you can hear over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears is the haunting dial tone of your phone. In your panic you just wanted to tell him one last time despite the argument that just occurred. The car finally slams against the pavement and begins to roll. Instinctively your body tenses, hand clutching the phone like it’s a lifeline. You hit your head against the broken windshield making your head throb. You can feel yourself beginning to slip out of consciousness and as your eyes begin to flutter, your eyes rolling back as you lose awareness, you can hear the faint sound of the dial tone. Jungkook never picks up. 

When you wake up your hands are tied behind your back and you sigh, though it fails to escape with the gag placed in your mouth. With a bored expression you look around the room to try and figure out where exactly you are. In your line of business you know plenty of spots where shady shit can go down under the radar. The walls around you are comprised of brick, pieces of it falling as the building is beginning to crumble. The ceiling is stained various colors, likely from water damage and miscellaneous fluids. If you stare hard enough you’re pretty sure you can make out speckles of blood. Large poles are staggered around the room and you realize then that you’re in an abandoned fire house. You haven’t heard of any abandoned fire stations in the area so they must’ve taken you far out of the city. You should expect as much, it buys them more time as Jungkook and the others have to search longer to find you.

Frustrated you throw your head back in anguish and wince when your head smacks into the pole you’re tied to. Turning your wrists outwards, you free up your fingers and try tugging at the ends of the rope binding your hands together. Tugging a few times the rope refuses to give and you huff, sucking the inside of your cheek as you think of your next plan. Pulling your legs to your chest you wait in anticipation to feel the dig of the point of the knife tucked into your waist band into your thigh but the prick never comes. Damn, they took your knives too. You’ll have to commend them for being smart: checking for weapons. They’re a little less smart for not binding your legs and by giving you the ability to stand also giving you the ability to fight. Sometimes being a woman and constantly underestimated has its perks. 

Boisterous laughter sounds from above you and suddenly two figures descend from above via the poles. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” The man laughs and you roll your eyes. Amateurs. You retract your previous statement of them being intelligent. 

“You’re stupid.” The second man says and you nod in agreement. He spins on his heel to face you and smiles crookedly at you. His eyes gleam sickeningly and ruin his handsome face, the heart shaped smile now sinister and ironic. It’s clear no compassion is left in this man. “Oh Blossom, how I’ve longed to see you in person.” Walking forward his steps make no noise, his movements graceful like a dancer but as deadly as the twelve gauge he spins lazily between his fingers. For a fleeting moment you wonder if this is how your victims felt before they died, if this is how you looked to them. The thought makes you sick. You truly are a monster. “I even came in person to see you, sweetheart. You’re quite a hard woman to find you know. Such a shame you rarely leave home.” He stops in front of you to caress the side of your face and you retract your leg to kick him in the knee only to widen your eyes in surprise when he catches your ankle before you can even graze him. 

“You don’t think I got to be head of operations just because of my handsome face right sweetheart? No baby, I got it through killing anyone that came in my way. Ruthlessly, viciously, tortuously. And it really would make my day to see you beg.” With a hand on your shoulder he roughly pushes you down so you fall on your knees, once again taking to caressing your cheek. “Now beg.” He growls, ripping the gag down your chin and pressing the barrel to the center of your forehead. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Ahh I know sweetheart, everyone wants to. A shame you have to be my enemy though, we’d have a good time together.” 

“You’re disgusting.” You snarl and turn your head away from him. The hand on your cheek moves to grip your chin so roughly you’re sure a bruise is going to form. 

“You’re really going to give me such disrespect when your life is on the line? You’re already on your knees so be a good girl like the little bitch you are.” His eyes burn with fury, the rage taking over his whole body as his brown eyes take on a more red hue in the streak of light coming from a hole in the wall. When you stare blankly at him he reaches his arm back and smacks the heel of the gun into the side of your cheek. You can feel the blood forming inside your mouth and you spit it onto his shoes making him scream in frustration. You fix him with your own crooked grin, fully letting your Blossom persona take form. 

“You really think this is scaring me? I’ve been kidnapped before sweetheart. This isn’t anything special.” You look him dead in the eyes and raise your eyebrows in challenge. He clicks off the safety and you give a bored sigh, hiding the racing of your heart.

“Hoseok you can’t kill her. We can’t exploit her gang if she’s dead.” 

“You’re right.” Hoseok sighs sadly and you give him a sarcastic smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t torture her though.” Before you can think he shoots you in the thigh, causing you to cry out in pain and drop to the floor, tears welling in your eyes from the pain. 

“Look at you, tied up and weak. You’re pathetic. You’re nothing without Jungkook by your side. You know that right? You can’t even-” Hoseok says laughing mercilessly.

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence.” Jungkook’s voice rings through the empty warehouse and your blood goes cold. It’s so low, practically a growl.

“Ahh I see your bodyguard has joined the party.” Hoseok claps excitedly, turning around only to be shot in the chest. He drops down in front of you and gives you a deranged smile. “I live for this shit.” His colleague falls as Jungkook shoots him as well but Hoseok pays him no mind. Instead, he smiles brightly at you as you look down at him, pressing a hand to his chest before placing it on your shirt, leaving a bloody hand print. “You’re next. See you in hell.” He giggles before his breath starts to weaken and his eyes lose their light. Jungkook is before you in an instant, hands coming to either side of your face to get you to look at him. Your eyes are still glassy making him blurry but he’s still so warm. And you let yourself bask in his warmth, pushing your head into his chest to sob as the memories come back to you. 

On your seventh birthday you were abducted by two strange men. They lured you away from your mother, seeking aid to help another child in pain. Like the naive girl you were you were eager to help, following them to the other end of the park where you were stuffed into the trunk of a car. Your screams for your mother to save you had gone unheard and you wound up tied to a plastic chair and abandoned in the middle of an old warehouse. There you stayed for two days, praying for your parents to come rescue you except they never arrived. Instead two teenagers found you slumped into the chair, severely dehydrated and hungry, carrying you to the nearest hospital where you were finally reunited with your parents. You thought they’d be happy to see you, that their eyes would too be filled with tears of relief from being reunited. How foolish of you to think that your parents would care. Instead, as soon as you were discharged you were scolded, called numerous names synonymous with useless by your father. You were a failure, accepting help and not getting yourself out of there. You should know by now that no one will offer you help. 

Two years later and you find yourself once again bound, your wrists raw and bloody from trying to get out of the harsh ties. The men only laugh sardonically as they carve into your arms and back, amused by your cries. They tortured you until you were half-conscious, finally succeeding in getting you to give information about your father. There you were once again left and using the bloodied knife they left behind you untied yourself and found your way home. You thought you’d make him proud; after all, you had done it without help. You saved yourself. Yet it didn’t matter because in saving yourself you sacrificed your father. Again you were reminded of what a failure you were, how he wished you’d have never been born. You were unlovable at best. 

At thirteen you were taken at least three towns over, dropped off in the middle of the woods with your hands bound and your eyes covered by a blindfold. You spent the whole day just trying to get the stupid blindfold off so you could see what was around you before you got attacked by whatever was lurking in the forest. After nearly slicing yourself with a sharp rock you managed to cut the rope around your hands and spent the next week foraging in the woods and trying to find some sort of civilization to get your bearings. It took you two weeks to get home by foot, unaccepting of the pitied handouts and offerings to pay for you a bus ticket as you walked the whole way. Surely this time your father would be proud even if the kidnappers did nothing other than blindfold and bind you. It was an odd practice but you didn’t want to spare it a second thought, rubbing your arms as you recalled your worst kidnapping experience. Except as you rounded the corner to your father’s office you saw the two men who had taken you in the first place. Frozen in fear you could only stare as they stood before your father as he sat in his chair. Patiently you waited for him to punish them for taking you except much to your confusion he only smiled and paid them money. It’s like he’s rewarding them for taking you, for putting you through hell for the last two weeks. Unable to stop yourself you barged inside, wanting answers to your questions. 

“Did you hire them to kidnap me?” You scream, overtaken by anger. 

“Of course not my dear, I was paying them to bring you back however it seems you managed just fine on your own. I’m proud of you.” He smiles. Placated by finally earning your father’s love you only hugged him before walking off, making sure to fix the two kidnappers with your worst stare. It was only later at the “office” party did you discover your initial theory was correct as they were promoted to a higher ranking. Your hands trembled and eyes began to water as you realized that the one man who you’re supposed to trust lied directly to your face. Maybe he even hired the other people to kidnap you too. Now you’re questioning everything he’s ever told you, more than terrified of the man you’re supposed to call your father. God, you hate liars. 

Jungkook calling your name breaks you out of your reverie and you sniffle, unaware that you had begun to shake. Jungkook pulls you farther into him, the seatbelt straining as you push against it. “It’s okay baby, I’ve got you. No one will hurt you when I’m here, I promise.” Despite the harsh words you said to him, he still forgave you and is taking care of you. You don’t deserve him. 

“Are you okay?” You hold him by each bicep to ensure he can’t move as you assess his form looking for any sign of injury.

“You were just bound, shot, and kidnapped but you’re worried about me?” Jungkook laughs and you roll your eyes. 

“This happens to me all the time remember?” 

“Are you okay though? You just started shaking out of nowhere. Were you reliving your nightmares again?” Jungkook whispers into your ear, so low that you can barely make it out even though he’s right next to you. 

Nodding, tears prickle at your eyes again and Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your head before stroking your hair, understanding that silent comfort is what you need at the moment. 

It is safe to say that you have not left the house since you were kidnapped. Not only have you been coping with the trauma from your childhood but you’ve been struggling with recovering from a car accident and being shot. But most of all you’re lonely. Jungkook has barely been home, he’s set on revenge, determined to kill all of MKJ for what they did. In a way it’s heartwarming but you know that with each person he kills he dies a little inside. Your stomach churns with guilt and you decide that you need a distraction. Despite your promise to Jungkook to stay home where you’re safe- well as safe as you can get with a target always on your head-  you grab the car keys and make your way to the flower shop. 

When you pull into a spot your hands shake a little as your anxiety heightens and you nervously fiddle with the necklace Jungkook gave you for your birthday last year. Checking the street several times before you exit the car, you basically sprint- more like quickly hobble as your thigh still burns from being used- into the shop, wanting to be visible on the street for as little time as possible. You run into an unsuspecting Yoongi, not anticipating he’d be anywhere near the entry. He groans underneath you, the both of you sprawled across the floor. “Sorry!” You squeak and scramble off of him, while he mock glares at you and holds onto his lower back. 

“Give me a warning next time will you? You’re heavy.” 

“Thanks.” You deadpan, wholly unimpressed. 

“Anytime.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “Hey you’ve been gone for a while. Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah.” You tug again at the necklace and Yoongi’s eyes dart to the action. Cocking his head, he opens his mouth like he’s going to question you further but refrains. 

“Well it’s good to see you anyways. If you need to talk about anything I’m here for you.” He places his hand on your elbow, tilting his head to look you in the eyes. 

“Thank you Yoongi, I appreciate it.” The air between the two of you stills and you can’t find it in yourself to break the eye contact. It’s so comforting and safe, something you’ve been needing the past couple of weeks. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the way you’ve closed the gap between you until you can feel the soft puffs of his breath against your face. Yet despite the danger signs flashing through your head you can only flutter your eyes shut when Yoongi presses his lips to your own. 

His lips are softer than you’re accustomed to, used to Jungkook’s slightly chapped ones- he constantly licks his lips as a nervous tick- and you can’t help but lean into Yoongi. Everything about him is just warm and soft: from his quiet, caring demeanor to his sweaters to his blonde hair that’s now laced between your fingers. Speaking of which, you give the strands a slight tug and he groans into your mouth, squeezing your hips in warning. You don’t take heed of it though and swipe your tongue across the seam of his lips. He immediately allows you entry and you only have control for a few seconds before he takes the lead, walking you backwards until your back hits the counter. You release his hair to move your fingers across his broad shoulders and down his slim waist, pulling him harder against you until the counter is digging uncomfortably in your back. He groans again when you roll your hips against his own before pulling away, hands on your hips to keep you in place as he separates. “I-I think we should take this slow.” He pants and you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What?” 

“I- I really like you and I want to do this the right way. I want to at least take you on a date first.” His cheeks redden and you giggle at his sudden shyness. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“You ask me on a date and then are surprised I say yes?” You tease and Yoongi just rolls his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. 

“Shut up. Anyways, how about I close the shop up early and we go somewhere?” 

“Sounds good.” You nod in affirmation. 

When you get home hours later after a few more intense make out sessions with Yoongi, you don’t expect the way Jungkook is angrily seated on the edge of your bed, his arms crossed against his chest making his biceps swell. You’d laugh from the way he’s sitting, the perfect image of a parent catching their child after sneaking past curfew, if not for the way his eyes are looking at you. They’re icy, enough so that you visibly shiver unused to this look from him. Normally he gazes at you warmly and you’re not quite sure how to take this. 

“You left.” He says monotonously, his voice edged with annoyance. 

“I did. The wound has nearly healed over and I didn’t put a lot of strain on it. I’m a grown woman Jungkook, I don’t need to be under house arrest.” 

“You were shot!” He yells, standing up and pulling on the strands of his hair. The frustration pours over, taking over his whole body as he begins pacing in front of you. 

“I’ve been shot before.” You shrug which only pisses him off even more. 

“That doesn’t matter. Hoseok was going to kill you and you’re acting like it was nothing. I almost watched you die! Don’t you understand?” He screams, chest beginning to heave as he stares at you with watery eyes. 

“But I’m alive. Jungkook I’m okay.” You try and console, slowly moving towards him as if he’s a wounded animal. In a way he is. 

“But I’m not!” You fall silent, hands falling to your sides as he begins to cry. You don’t know what to do, the only thing you can do is watch as he breaks down before you. Despite your previous situations, Jungkook has never let you see him break down, usually hiding it through sex or crying in the crook of your neck. This is uncharted territory and you don’t know how to navigate this situation. All you can think about is that you’re selfish. That you brought him this pain. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You stutter. “This is all my fault.” 

“You’re so selfish! Did you even think about me before you left?” He says and you only shake your head, eyes tearing up. 

“I just wanted someone to talk to.” You murmur and Jungkook only stills, turning on his heel to face you. 

“You went to see him didn’t you?” He says quietly, like if he says it any louder it’ll hurt. You can only nod. 

“So while I’m on the streets fighting for you, almost dying just to protect your ass, you’re out with another guy.” He takes a few steps closer, inching you against the wall to take your chin between his fingers and maneuver your face around. “You even smell like his cologne.” He laughs dryly, placing a thumb on your bottom lip to pull it slightly. “And your lips are swollen. But just friends right?” He laughs again, unable to stop a tear from slipping down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.” Your heart is breaking, you can feel it chipping piece by piece as more tears run down his face. You wish you could wipe them away but you’re frozen in place. 

“Do you not love me anymore?” He whispers and just the thought makes your own tears spill over. You love Jungkook more than life. If it was between you and him, you would take the bullet for him in a second. Jungkook deserves a better life, one far away from you. Thankfully you’ve always been good at self destruction. 

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, overcome by the emotions flowing through you. You’re doing this for his own good, you’re doing this for his own good. It takes everything in you not to take it back when you can see his heart drop, when you can hear the shaky breath he inhales. You feel like you can’t breathe when he takes a step back, his eyes hardening the longer he stares until they’re filled with anger and hatred. You’re doing this for his own good. Only when the door slams shut and you’re left alone in your room do you collapse to the ground, shaking as you sob violently, biting down on your hand to quiet them. 

Eventually the pain grows too much and like the coward you are you can’t face it alone. Unable to go to Jungkook for help you go to the only other person you can think of that offers you comfort and safety. When you get to Yoongi’s shop, only the light in the back is still on and you pray that Yoongi is here rather than that he forgot to turn off the light. Knocking almost frantically on the door you hope Yoongi will come and give you a piece of salvation, a moment to forget that you just broke the love of your life’s heart. It appears that pity is on your side as you see Yoongi round the corner from the back office begrudgingly and you can’t help your eyes from tearing up. When Yoongi notices you his eyes widen greatly as he takes in your tear-stained face, jogging towards the door and fumbling with the lock. When the door finally opens you push into his arms, thankfully he’s prepared for you this time, and bury your face in his neck. You sob harder as you remember Jungkook used to do this to you when he was upset, the memory of his broken face resurfacing. 

“I got you.” Yoongi shushes you quietly, rubbing one hand up and down your back while the other clutches the back of your head. Your body shakes as you continue to punish yourself, replaying your last moments with Jungkook. You feel even worse running back to Yoongi afterwards, the person who made Jungkook question your love for him. Yet here you are wrapped in his arms, being comforted by him because you can no longer have Jungkook. “What happened?” Yoongi asks when you finally quiet down, pulling away enough to look you in the eyes while stroking your cheekbones. 

“I just broke my best friend’s heart.” You say brokenly, a sob threatening to resurface as your lip begins to quiver again. 

“Yeah unrequited love is a bitch, but you can’t help the way you feel. If you don’t love them back you can’t feel bad about it and it’s unfair to both of you to try and force yourself to love them.” Yoongi says softly, still stroking your cheeks. Little did he know that you broke Jungkook’s heart out of love. 

“Yeah. I just don’t want to go home right now.” 

“You can stay with me for a few days if you want? I have a spare toothbrush and some clothes that should fit you. Only if you want to of course.” His ears tint pink as he rubs the back of his neck nervously, his sleeve pulling up to reveal his tattoo. Interlude. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” It’s your turn to be awkward as you fiddle again with the necklace Jungkook gave you wrapped around your neck. You should probably take it off but it’s the only piece of him you have left right now. Yoongi leads you upstairs with a smile and you can’t help your wondering eyes as you take in the hidden loft upstairs. The scent of flowers wafts up from the shop below and you can’t help the corner of your mouth from quirking up. 

The furniture is a muted brown and when paired with the sweet aroma of budding flowers you can’t help but feel calm. Yoongi fumbles with his things, frantically picking up clothes strewn across the floor and murmuring apologies about the mess but you pay him no mind as you continue to look around. It seems that Yoongi only has the bare necessities in his apartment: a bed, a night stand, and a small dining table with two chairs. Your eyes linger on the walls for any decorations and yet there’s none. Glancing at his nightstand table you see a small polaroid tucked into a frame but before you can walk any closer Yoongi hurries you into the small kitchen. 

“Are you hungry? I can cook you something.” He offers and you nod. Despite your lack of appetite you know you should eat. Rifling through his cupboards he only finds two packs of instant ramen and gives a small chuckle. “Not exactly the first meal I thought I’d make you but this will have to do.” He mumbles to himself and you can’t help the small smile on your face. How sweet. 

“You’ve thought about cooking food for me?” You tease and his ears tint pink again as he rubs against the back of his neck. 

“Maybe. I’ve thought about a lot of things with you.” It’s your turn to get shy by his sudden boldness and you only laugh. 

“That so?” You ask as he pours water in the cups from the kettle and lets them sit as he moves to corner you against the corner. He hums in response, moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Like what?” You press. 

“Like what waking up next to you would be like or holding your hand.” One of his hands drops to intertwine with your own and you can only grin. Things with Yoongi are so easy, it’s the type of relationship you’ve always dreamed of. Perhaps that’s why you relish his words and urge him to continue, the ache caused by Jungkook dulled. “I wonder if you’d like my favorite places too. I wonder about starting a new life with you.” 

“You sure about that?” You tease, unsure about how to react to his sentiments. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear and you’re swooning from that but something still feels missing, incomplete. 

“Been sure about it since the moment I met you. What you’ve gone through, who you are despite your circumstances is inspiring. When I look at you I want to be better.” You pause for a minute confused but don’t have much time to consider his words before Yoongi presses his lips onto yours, the hand on your cheek moving to entangle itself in your hair. He forces your mouth open with a small tug to your hair, his tongue slipping to brush your own as you part your lips to gasp. He wastes no time in claiming dominance, the hand not in your hair reaching behind you to grab your ass. You jump at the sudden squeeze and Yoongi smirks against your mouth, a hand coming down to grab your other thigh and urge you to jump. With your legs now encircling his waist Yoongi carries you to the bed with a surprising ease and you welcome the new distraction. 

You awake to the smell of bacon and coffee, rousing from your deep slumber to come face to face with Yoongi. He smiles shyly at you as he sets the coffee and plate of breakfast down next to you on the bed, blushing a little as the covers slip down and reveal your nude torso. Quietly he hands you his shirt that was thrown on the ground in your haste last night and you slip it on before taking a sip of coffee. “Breakfast in bed after our first time together? You’re really setting the bar high Yoongi.” You tease but are appreciative all the same. 

“Good. You deserve to be spoiled. You can think of this as a makeshift first date since I broke my promise.” 

“You’re too sweet to me. I don’t deserve it.” Like he can sense your self-hatred Yoongi comes to crouch in front of you, meeting your downward gaze. Taking both of your hands into his, he smiles softly at you. 

“You’re a good person y/n. You deserve all the love and kindness in the world.” 

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew my past.” 

“Our past does not define us. I’ve done some really shitty things in my past, I’ve hurt many people. But the important thing is that I grew and I’m not the same person anymore. And while you may have also done shitty things in your past, I promise you underneath all of that lies a good person, the person that I see.” Your eyes water and you sniffle, turning away to hide your tears. “Hey, hey it’s okay to cry. Crying does not make you weak.” Yoongi coos, gently placing his fingers around your chin to turn you back to face him. Somehow he knows all the words you need to hear. It’s almost like he already knows everything about you. 

You can only smile weakly at him, despite his words you can’t help but feel pathetic. “Now eat up before the food gets cold. Don’t want my money to get put to waste.” You laugh a little and he only grins, stealing a piece of bacon from your plate. 

“Hey!” You call but he doesn’t pay you any mind as he goes to fix his own plate. When Yoongi settles down beside you the both of you fall into a comfortable silence and you chuckle. How domestic, you muse to yourself. 

The day passes quietly as you help Yoongi, your phone untouched all day. It was nice to hang around the shop and tend to the flowers, you felt calmer than you have in a long time. Only a few customers visit the shop and you spend the majority of the time getting to know Yoongi better. Before he became a florist he used to work in computer information systems but wanted to change to a slow paced career. He also is new to the area, having only moved into town six months ago. He had a soft spot for cats and music, hoping one day to be able to have a house with a grand piano. 

“You’re an interesting man Yoongi.” You laugh when he finishes reciting the story about how he once played the recorder with his nose. “Speaking of which you never gave me your last name. What am I supposed to call you when I get mad at you?” You tease, missing the way Yoongi stiffens for a moment. 

“Min. Now do you want to go out to dinner and get something to eat? I think you deserve a real date.” Looking down at your clothes- one of Yoongi’s hoodies and a pair of sweats- you frown. 

“I’m not exactly dressed for a date.” You say gesturing to the sweats. 

“I think you look hot. I was thinking sushi?” 

“I guess.” You say, following him out the door as he locks up shop. Hands intertwined you meander down to a sushi place a few blocks down and out of habit you check behind you to make sure no one is following. You relax when you notice it’s just a random guy in a hoodie and hat, turning your attention back to Yoongi as he rambles about the new order of flowers he’s getting. 

Inside the restaurant isn’t very packed, quite empty for a monday night. You like the fact that less people are there though because it allows you to have an eye on every person in the room, on the off chance that a threat does come in. Surveying the room you notice that the guy with the black jacket and hat has also come in but the hat is a little too low for you to see his face. Odd. You push him to the back of your mind however when Yoongi grabs your hand from across the table and smiles gently at you. When the waiter comes he addresses the two of you as a couple and you can only look away shyly, not really having pictured yourself in a relationship with Yoongi. The thought makes you warm though as you realize every day could be like today. So calm and relaxing, so simple. You breathe a little easier at the thought. 

“I can’t believe you ate 3 rolls on your own.” Yoongi says, mouth wide open as you finish your last bite. What can you say? The sushi was good and you haven’t got to eat out in months as tensions with MKJ have been so thick. You can say you’re enjoying one of the last few peaceful moments you’ll have for a while as you anticipate MKJ’s next move. 

“What can I say? I’m making the best of a free meal.” You giggle which only makes Yoongi roll his eyes. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to take the bill based on gender roles.” 

“I mean it’s only fair since you’re the one who suggested this date.” You smile coyly, reaching for the check only for it to be snatched by Yoongi. 

“You got me there blossom.” He smiles and your blood runs cold. Does he know? Yoongi’s eyes also widen and he coughs awkwardly. “Not into pet names? I just thought it was cute since you love flowers so much.” Oh the irony. 

“No no, it’s…fine. I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” You laugh it off and Yoongi eyes you. 

“If you’re sure.” He says. 

The night is quiet, the only sound coming from Yoongi’s soft breathing beside you as he’s sound asleep with an arm strewn lazily around your waist. You’ve been good on not checking your phone for Jungkook all day but with the moon high above you lose your restraint, unable to sleep unless you know he’s okay. Slipping out of bed you grab your phone and head towards the bathroom, not wanting Yoongi to wake up and see you searching for a message from Jungkook. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as the nerves and fear set in at what could appear on the screen. What if he hasn’t even messaged you? What if he has called you ten times? Do you even want him to contact you? 

Turning on the device you bounce on your feet, leaning onto the counter for support. Nothing. The screen is blank, your messages empty. Except suddenly they start flooding in, your phone buzzing consistently as messages from Jimin and Taehyung flood your phone. Though none are from Jungkook and your heart sinks. He doesn’t want to talk to you. You suppose this is for the best because now he can cut ties with the gang seeing as he doesn’t want you around anymore and paid off the debt long ago. Perhaps the most concerning thing is the last text from Jimin: You lied. Jimin knows, he knows that you lied about no longer loving Jungkook but you can only hope he won’t share this information. Taehyung on the other hand is just disappointed in you for hurting his best friend. 

Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away because you caused this. As long as you keep telling yourself you’re doing this for him you’ll be okay. With a few more sniffles you head back into the room and set the device face down before crawling back into bed with Yoongi, your heart heavy.

The next day passes slower as you’re unable to get Jungkook out of your mind. You want to make sure he’s okay and that he’s been eating well and yet you’re scared that if you reach out you’ll only make him feel worse. If you contact Jimin he’ll just ask you where you are and tell you to face your problems rather than run from them and Taehyung is probably too upset at you to give you any information on Jungkook’s condition. The only thing you can do is hope that time will heal his heartache and eventually he’ll understand your sacrifice. Yoongi says nothing about your sudden quietness and you’re grateful for that. Instead he gives you silent comfort in the form of soft kisses and hugs.

There’s more customers today than yesterday and you enjoy watching Yoongi as he works, making pretty bouquets upon request and whispering ten nice words to the flowers. You catch him doing them again to a bunch of anemones before handing you one. “For you.” 

“Fading hope?” You ask and he frowns. 

“Anticipation for what’s to come. Think of the positives blossom.” He says, tapping the tip of your nose and causing you to smile. 

“Sorry Mr. Flower Whisperer. I only send flowers for negative occasions.” 

“What a waste of such delicate beauty.” Yoongi tuts and you just roll your eyes. 

“There’s beauty in tragedy you know?” 

“For the amount of flowers you buy, you must be surrounded by tragedy.” He quips and your smile falls. 

“Yeah you could say that.” You mumble and Yoongi frowns. 

“Well at least you have me to teach you about the beautiful things in life.” He finishes the statement by taking your hand in his own and twirling you around just to make you smile. “Your smile being one of them.” He says and you scrunch your nose. 

“Gross, you’re so mushy.” You tease only to have Yoongi tickle your sides in retaliation. 

“Accept my love!” He yells as you squirm to get away from his arms. The sound of your phone ringing makes you both still before you run over and answer without looking at the contact name. 

“Jungkook?” You say almost breathlessly, your heart racing in anticipation as you fail to notice the way Yoongi’s smile drops. 

“No.” Jimin says and you sigh in disappointment. 

“How is he?” You ask and you can practically see Jimin rolling his eyes. 

“Yes I’m doing fine, thank you. Besides why’re you asking me that when he’s with you?” 

“What do you mean? Jungkook isn’t here.” There’s a pause on the line and you grow anxious. “Jimin where is he?” 

“He was on his way to see you and talk things out. He should’ve been there long by now, he left two hours ago.” 

“Tell Taehyung to track his phone and I’ll be at the house as soon as possible.” Scrambling you run upstairs to find your car keys, mind in such a frenzy you don’t even see them on the dining table until Yoongi has them held in front of your face. 

“Looking for these?” He asks and you sigh in relief. 

“Yes thank you, I really need to go. Thank you for letting me stay for the past two nights and I’ll see you around.” 

“Keep your phone on you.” Yoongi says suddenly and you turn with a furrowed brow. “Just so I can call you later and make sure you’re okay.” He says hurriedly and you just nod before running out the door and to your car. 

When you arrive back you immediately head to the training room, grabbing a plethora of knives and even two handguns, already knowing just who you’re dealing with. You’re in the midst of packing away ammunition when your phone rings from an unknown caller. “Hello?” You ask in a bored tone, already knowing who’s on the other line. 

“Well if it isn’t Blossom herself. I’ve got to say it took us a while to find your number in the system, your boy Taehyung there is quite the hacker.” The voice says and you still when you hear Taehyung’s name dropped. 

“Where’s Jungkook?” 

“Ahh so you noticed your little boyfriend is missing. Although is he really your boyfriend after you’ve been out with Min Yoongi?” You’ve been reckless. MKJ has been following you and you’ve been too caught up in your own issues to notice, once again putting those you love at risk. 

“Min Yoongi means nothing to me. He’s just a supplier.” The least you can do is try and spare him when all he’s shown you is kindness. 

“Is that why you went out for sushi with him last night? Perhaps you’re not as skilled as everyone says you are since you were unable to even notice you were being tracked. Disappointing to say the least, I thought I’d have a real fight.” 

“Are you forgetting that we killed Hoseok?” You ask and you know you’ve struck a nerve when the man on the phone sucks in a sharp breath. 

“How could I forget? Did you also forget that our business is an eye for an eye? With that in mind I should just kill your boy right here and you can find his dead body. Would you like that instead?” He says angrily and it takes everything in you to not panic. 

“You would’ve killed him already if you wanted to. So just tell me what you’re looking for.” 

“Well sweetheart since you asked so nicely I’m looking to meet you. I want to watch as the life drains from your eyes the same way you watched my best friend die. And after you die I’ll kill your two little boyfriends and then everyone else in your gang.” You can hear the smile in his voice and your heart begins racing. Is everyone in MKJ insane? 

“Are you gonna send me the address like a good boy or are you gonna make me search for you?” You ask and chuckle at his frustrated groan. 

“I was going to make you work for it but since you’re being a little bitch I’ll send you the address so I can kill you faster. And remember it’s just you and me sweetheart. If I see anyone else on the cameras your boy is dead.” 

“See you then.” You say before hanging up the phone and grabbing a bag to pack more weapons in. You’re preparing for the bloodbath you expect this to be. When you finally are pleased with the amount of weaponry on you, you head towards Taehyung’s monitoring room. “Give me the names of the remaining heads of MKJ.” You say and Taehyung only scoffs. “Taehyung I’m not fucking around right now. Give me the names so I know who I’m dealing with when I go save Jungkook’s ass.” 

Your answer seems to please Taehyung who furiously pounds on his keyboard before a picture of a dimpled man pops up on the screen. “Kim Namjoon, head of accounts and strategy. Founding member and his weapon of choice is a glock. I can’t get a name or picture for their intel department though.” 

“Figured. All men take the easy way out and use a gun, I swear.” You say with a roll of your eyes and Taehyung only smiles at you before taking you into his arms for a tight hug. “Tae!” 

“Thank you. For saving him I mean because we both know you’re gonna beat this Namjoon guy’s ass. Also I know you still love Jungkook because you’re going to save him so I’m sorry for my messages earlier but I’m still mad at you for hurting him. Now go kick some ass and bring the both of you back so I can tell you how much of an idiot you both are.” Taehyung says and you can only squeeze him a little harder. 

“Thanks Tae.” 

Jimin stands at the front door, equipped with his own weapons strapped to his chest like a soldier preparing for war. When he spots you he nods and goes to open the door but you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “It’s just me Jiminie. He’ll kill Jungkook if he sees any backup but I appreciate you willing to stand by me.” 

“You know he’ll have backup. You’ll be lucky if they don’t shoot on sight.” 

“I know and that’s even more reason for you not to come. The boys need someone to look after them, especially Taehyung.” 

“I can’t let you go alone.” 

“As your boss I’m ordering you to stay and watch the house. Besides have some faith in me Jimin. I’m not just a pretty face you know?” You laugh weakly and Jimin only frowns at you. You both know the chances of you making it out are slim but you’re going to fight like hell to make it out of there. 

“I love you. You’re the best sister I never had.” Jimin says and you pull him in for a tight hug. 

“I love you too. I’m thankful that I’ve had you beside me for my entire life.” It feels morbid to say your goodbyes like you’re about to die but you know you’ll regret it if you don’t. You just hope this goodbye won’t be real. With a final squeeze you release Jimin before walking out the door. 

“Typical.” You scoff as you pull up to an old warehouse. They truly couldn’t have been more unoriginal. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk nonchalantly towards the old building, casually looking around while pretending you’re not scoping for any snipers. Surprisingly between the tree-line and along the roof you can’t see the figures of people or the glint of any guns. Perhaps Kim Namjoon really did want to kill you alone. Yet something still feels off, almost like you’re being watched. Turning around you scan the trees again only to find nothing and your body stiffens. Something is wrong, it feels too easy. 

Lo and behold when you turn around a gun is pointed directly in your face and your eyes widen. The man in front of you looks at you quizzically, cocking his head to the side as he examines you. “Are you really Blossom?” He asks and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. 

“You really think I’d send someone in my place?” You ask with raised brows and the man only frowns. 

“You don’t look like the monster you’re made out to be. Where’s the girl that killed a whole family just because they looked at her wrong?” 

“That’s me. And I didn’t kill them because they looked at me wrong, I killed them because they were terrorizing my people.” 

“Even the children?” Truthfully you had spared the children, sending them to a boarding school far away before you killed their parents and writing them letters in place of their parents so that way they didn’t have to grow up being orphaned but no one really needs to know about that. It’s not the children’s fault that they had evil parents. You only smile at Namjoon in response and take joy in the way that his eyes widen in shock ever so slightly. It seems that he’s begun to realize he’s got more than he bargained for. “You seem too inexperienced. You should never turn your back to an enemy.” 

“Did I turn my back to you or did I draw you out of hiding?” You ask and again he furrows his brows. He hadn’t thought of that. “So show me where Jungkook is. Come on Kim Namjoon, where’s the emotional torture? Where’s the beatings and gang mentality as I get ambushed? For the head of strategy you didn’t really seem to think things through.” You say and in his moment of confusion, you dismantle the gun from him and slice along his chest. He groans beneath you and you roll your eyes, pushing your foot harder against his chest with the gun pointed at him. “Cmon Joonie you’re making it too easy. You’ve clearly never spent much time in the field have you?” You tsk, before removing your foot so Namjoon can stand up. He looks at you with big eyes and you almost feel pity. The poor guy was so overtaken by grief he sentenced himself to death. Unfortunately for him your loyalty runs too deep and you must eliminate any threat to your family. Flicking the gun to gesture at the warehouse you make Namjoon lead the way to Jungkook, memorizing the path through the boxes for when you leave. Clearly this is going to be a much easier job than you thought. 

Yet the air catches in your throat when you round the corner and see Jungkook bruised and bloody, his face painted by blues and purples, splashes of blood dotting his cheeks as the gag around his mouth is stained with blood. His arms and legs are tied to the chair he’s perched on and yet when he lifts his head to the sound of footsteps he begins thrashing wildly with wide eyes when he sees you. Turning off your emotions you fall back into the Blossom role, knowing that his thrashing indicates this is a trap. Searching through the top of the stacked boxes you look for shadows of figures and yet you find none. You turn yet again to Jungkook to search for answers only to see him get knocked out by the butt of a gun you didn’t know Namjoon was hiding. You underestimated him as well. 

“Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.” 

“Gladly.” You say before tucking the gun into your bag. One thing Kim Namjoon seems to forget is that you should never leave your weapon unattended in case the aggressor can grab it for themselves. Your smile is wicked, as sharp and pointed as the two blades that sit in your hands. Rolling your shoulders you relax as you left yourself slip into an alternative headspace, one where your humanity doesn’t exist. Kill or be killed as they say. 

Namjoon lunges first, swinging his arm out widely, allowing you to dip under him and slice into his side. He yelps at the sting of the cut, holding onto his side as you stand across from him untouched. Poking his tongue into his cheek he charges again and you let him get close enough that you cut along his arm, causing him to instantly pull the knife back into him. He was close enough for the wound to be deeper and much more damaging than your previous surface cuts. “You bitch!” Namjoon yells angrily before charging at you in a fit of rage. Unfortunately, for however smart Kim Namjoon may be he is not a fast learner, had he been he would’ve realized he was too flamboyant in his attacks and left many areas of his body unprotected. Lodging a knife into his stomach you take the cut to the back of your shoulder as the other plants itself into his chest and only then does he slump over and flop onto the ground. With a sigh you walk over to his gun and turn back to him, crouching down so you can look at him in the eyes as the gun presses against his head. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and your stomach churns when you realize the both of you know it’ll be one of his lasts. 

“You gave a valiant effort Kim Namjoon. You can be proud that you tried.” It’s the only pity and condolence you offer before you stand up and shoot him square between the eyes. Grabbing the knives you wipe the blood off on his shirt before placing them back in their holders and the gun in your waistband. Turning to Jungkook your eyes once again water at seeing his pretty face damaged and gently take the gag out of his mouth. You hold back a sniffle before brushing the hair out of his eyes and beginning to untie his hands. You’ve only begun to loosen the knots before the hair on the back of your neck stands up and you turn slowly only to come face to face with someone you’d never thought you’d see again. 

“Jeon.” You say gruffly as Jungkook’s older brother stands before you. He’s much more ragged than when you last saw him, the night before Jungkook joined your gang a few years ago. He looks more tired than he did then too, the circles and bags heavy around his eyes. 

“Blossom.” He addresses, walking forward with the gun and you back a few feet away knowing that Jungkook is safe for now. “How lovely it is to see you again.” 

“What’re you doing here?” You ask. 

“I think we both know the answer to that question.” He smiles before looking down at Namjoon’s body. “I see you took out Namjoon for me. Don’t you just love when people do the dirty work for you? Just like what my brother does for you.” 

“Jungkook and I work together.” You say and he only rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sure. But thanks to you all the heads of MKJ are dead and I get to be the new leader. Well almost all of them, but give it-“ He checks his watch and as you go to grab your knife the safety clicks. “five hours and he should be dead as well. I can thank you for that as well since you outed his location. Truly, tell me how it feels to bring everyone you care for death.” 

“I- I don’t understand.” Who is he talking about?

“Speaking of which you almost got my baby brother killed that day with Hoseok. How is it that you’re willing to put the man you supposedly love in danger? And how could my baby brother supposedly love you when he knows what a monster you are? How can he not blame you for him having anything to do with your gang?” 

“Maybe because it wasn’t my fault. It was your debt that he paid. You were the one who let him do it for you. Do you even care that he did it so you could have a better life? Now all of his sacrifice was for nothing; you’re just doing the same shit for someone else.” You say and he huffs angrily. 

“I did this for him! I can protect him there unlike you.” 

“He was only in danger because of you!” You scream in frustration. He’s just as dense as you remember. 

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not good enough for my brother and because he can’t realize that for himself I’ll just make the decision easier for him. Got any last words?” 

You swallow harshly but lower your head anyways and accept your fate. If you make one move he’ll kill you anyways. As long as Jungkook is okay you’re fine with dying. It only makes sense for you to be taken this way when you’ve done it to so many people before you. When you just did it to Namjoon who lays limply beside you. “I love you Jungkook.” You say, glancing towards him one last time to see him no longer in the chair. You glance up in confusion only to watch Jungkook tackle his brother to the ground as the gun flies out of his hand. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Jungkook yells in his brother’s face, pinning the older man to the ground. “Don’t you fucking touch her.” He says again sternly and in this moment you’ve never been more afraid of Jungkook than you are now. His body shakes with rage and his brother’s eyes are wide as fear surely strikes him too. 

“Jung-Jungkook I’m doing this for your own good. She made you into a murderer. She let you join her gang when you were so young, so innocent. She took away your chance at living a good life. ” His brother says the word with such disgust that you can only flinch at such a tone being directed at Jungkook. Your sweet Jungkook who viewed his brother with such pride and love. Your heart hurts for Jungkook to finally see his brother for who he is, the brother that you saw the night before Jungkook joined your gang. 

“The only thing she ever did was love me and now I realize that I gave up a life with her for you. For my selfish brother who let my young, innocent self join a gang in his place because he knew I’d take the fall for him. Who then joined another gang in an attempt to murder the woman I love just because she reminds you of what you did. Of the sacrifice I made for you that you made meaningless. So if I have to choose between the two of you, I choose her.” He turns to you then, eyes glossy as he holds a hand out for the gun between your waistband. 

“Jungkook-“ You start, tears pooling in your own eyes as you realize what’s about to happen. “You don’t need to do this-“ You say and Jungkook smiles sadly at you. 

“It’s the only way I can protect you. I have to do it.” Handing over the gun Jungkook’s hand shakes as he presses it to the head of his own brother. He takes in a deep breath before stilling his hand and looking at his brother for the last time. “Despite everything I still love you.” Jungkook whispers and just as he’s about to pull the trigger a bullet already finds itself in his brother’s head. You both glance up to find Yoongi standing there, his hand shaking as a gun lies in it. 

“Yoongi!” You scramble to stand up, questions swirling in your mind so quickly that you can’t even speak as your thoughts cut over one another. “How-how did you find me?” You finally ask and Yoongi just gives you a sad smile. 

“You kept your phone on you.” He says before turning to disappear behind the boxes. Jungkook’s sobs keep you from chasing after Yoongi as you run over to him, catching him in your arms as he falls back from the onslaught of tears. His body shakes and you climb over him to pull him into your chest, his strong arms coming to wrap around your waist and his head nuzzled into your neck as you quietly shush him. 

Hours later the two of you finally manage to pick yourselves off the floor of the warehouse and drive home. Jimin and Taehyung rush towards you when you finally open the door, pulling you both into their arms with fervor. “I thought you’d be dead.” Taehyung sobs and you flick the back of his head. 

“I told you I’d bring him back safe.” You say and Jungkook only begins to sob again as he must be thinking about what just happened again. The boys immediately ditch you in favor of one of their best friends and despite the situation you can’t help but smile at the soft scene before you, at the family you always dreamt of having.

With Jungkook finally settled and Taehyung clinging to him like a parasite, you and Jimin head into the kitchen to make some snacks and run over what just happened. “The one odd thing is-“ you start while mixing the cookie dough. “he talked about the third head of MKJ dying tonight. And I’d somehow outed his location? I just can’t figure out who it would be, I don’t really talk to anyone outside of you guys.” 

“What if it was that flower guy?” Jimin jokes and you pause, it all suddenly making sense. He knew who you were when you had first met and knew everything about you because he monitored you for MKJ. It matches his cover job in computer information. It explains the 10k watch and why he wanted a slow pace job. It explains why he suddenly moved in 6 months, conveniently the same time as when Jungkook’s brother became the head of intel. Interlude was the password to the MKJ files which is the same word tattooed on Yoongi’s wrist. He spoke like he knew your pain when you had to hide because people were shooting at you.  It explains why he panicked when he slipped and called you Blossom. MKJ. Min, Kim, Jung. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why he wanted a relationship with you. Was it all a ploy to separate you and Jungkook? But then why did he save Jungkook from having to kill his own brother? 

As if he knew you were thinking of him Yoongi messages you to come outside and immediately you panic. Hurriedly you grab the gun lying on your bed and head out the front door only to find Yoongi standing there anxiously, covered in ash. “Yoongi?” Immediately you drop the gun and check him for injuries, only finding a few minor burns. “Come inside, we need to treat these.” You say with a gentle pull on his wrist. 

“I can’t I don’t have time. They’ve burned down my shop and I barely escaped.” 

“Who did? MKJ?” You ask and then it clicks. Jungkook’s brother mentioned killing the final head, now known to be Yoongi, in his last moments. 

“Yes, they’ve discovered me and I don’t have much time before I have to leave again. But I couldn’t leave without asking you to come with me.” Taking your hands into his he soothes over your knuckles with his thumbs while looking up at you hopefully. “Come with me and we can settle down somewhere new and I’ll give you that white picket fence we talked about. We can get the house with the grand piano and can have a big yard in the backyard and tend to a garden. I have enough money that we can just stay in the house and relax every day, there’s no need to put ourselves in danger by going out and working. We can have the normal life that we’ve always dreamt of. So come with me and I’ll make it come true just for you. I’d do anything for you.” 

“Like kill Jungkook’s brother?” You ask, unable to help the question from falling off your lips. 

“Yes like killing his brother. I knew he’d hate himself for killing him or you for killing him so I decided he could just hate me. Another person can’t hurt.” He laughs weakly. “I know we haven’t been together for long but-“ 

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?” You ask.

“If I told you I knew would you have even talked to me after? I meant what I said when I said you were a good person despite the circumstances. And I know it’s soon but I can see myself having a life with you and I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m willing to give you everything I just need you to come with me. Please come with me, I don’t want to go through this alone.” His eyes shine with hope and yours shine with tears as you realize that this man in front of you is willing to give you everything you’ve dreamed of but you don’t want it. You don’t want it because it’s not with Jungkook and despite the ups and downs you’ve had with Jungkook there’s no one else you’d rather be with. You don’t want the white picket fence if it’s not with him. Sniffling you make eye contact with Yoongi and you can see the hope wither as he no doubt can see the rejection in your own. 

“I’m sorry but I can’t.” 

“But why?” Yoongi pleads, gripping your hands tighter as he senses you’re about to pull away. 

“I don’t want it if it’s not with him. I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s face falls and silently he slips his hands from your own to have them limply hang at his sides. It hurts to see him so sad and broken but after everything he’s done for you Yoongi deserves the truth. “I can offer you protection though. You don’t have to go.” 

“But I do. I won’t be able to just sit to the side and watch you love him. Besides I promised myself when I left MKJ that I wouldn’t return back to this life and I already broke that promise once for you.” You can only nod, eyes watering as you hold them back through a sniffle. Despite not knowing each other for long it hurts to see him go; you’d grown rather fond of the feisty flower boy.

“I understand. Call me if you need anything.” He only nods, coming closer for a second to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Take care Blossom. Maybe in another life we can be together.” He murmurs before turning away and disappearing into the night. 

Six months later and things are finally slipping into place. MKJ has imploded, the members turning against each other in aim to be the new head but the only thing they’ve accomplished is killing the entire gang off. With your rival out of the way you’ve had time to work things out, like your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve waited patiently by his side through his grief, holding his hand every time he breaks down as he remembers the final moments with his brother. You’re never more thankful for Yoongi than you are at these times, knowing that had he not shot the gun that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to survive the self-hatred. You still itch to check up on Yoongi but in order to protect him you refrain. He deserves a clean break and that means that you can’t be in his life, even as a friend. It hurts but the least you can do is let him move on. During this time you’ve also worked on yourself and all your past scars, pulling away at the old bandaids thrown haphazardly over your wounds to actually sew them back together. It’s hard and you must cry nearly every night but at this moment in time you can say that you’re finally okay with the person you are. That you deserve to be loved and that what matters is who you are today. Because as a great friend once said: our past does not define us, the only thing that does is who we are today. 

“Go on a date with me? A real one where I call you my girlfriend and hold your hand and do all that mushy shit.” Jungkook says, cheeks dusted a soft pink as he leans against your door frame with a bundle of yellow roses in his hand. 

“Ahh ever the romantic.” You tease to distract him from the way that your breath catches in your throat. His hair is parted neatly in the middle, framing his strong cheeks as it slightly curls around the edges. His large chest is hidden underneath a slim fitting black button up, the silk material shining softly under your bedroom lights. His thick thighs are covered by fitted black trousers and you have to stop yourself from swallowing loudly. He looks so handsome that you can barely figure out what to do with yourself as he fiddles under your stare. 

“Is that a yes?” He asks shyly and you can’t help the small laugh that tumbles out. He’s so intimidating in normal situations but here he’s like a boy asking out their first crush. He’s adorable and all yours. You’ve never felt so lucky. 

“It’s a yes Kookie. Let me get changed and we’ll go out okay?” He only nods, gently setting the flowers down on your bed. 

“So where are we going?” You ask as you change into a black dress tucked away in your closet for special occasions. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you but pay it no mind as you move across the room to put on the necklace he bought you. Jungkook moves to stand behind you, humming thoughtfully as he latches the necklace around your neck. 

“It’s a surprise.” He says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder softly in finality. “Now cmon, my pretty girl deserves to finally be shown off.” Taking your hand in his, he leads you through the house and you giggle at his haste. You pass by Jimin and Taehyung who smile widely at the two of you, giving you a thumbs up as you walk by. 

You’re shocked to say the least when you pull up at the familiar location, a small restaurant taking place of Yoongi’s old shop. The floral scent has been replaced by that of baked bread and grilled meat as the two of you stand in front of it. Your eyes turn glassy for a minute as you stare up at what used to be your secret sanctuary. “I saw their opening night was tonight and thought you might want to come. I know this place meant a lot to you and I wanted you to know it turned into something beautiful.” 

Beautiful it was with its artisan exterior, the loft upstairs turned into a patio where you can eat under the stars. With a gentle tug, Jungkook leads you inside giving the hostess your name before she leads you up the stairs and to the patio. If you close your eyes you can still remember what Yoongi’s small apartment looked like and you smile at the memory. Opening your eyes everything is cast in a warm golden glow from the lights strung above and through the thin awning you can see the stars. 

“This is beautiful Kookie.” You smile and Jungkook smiles widely at you, reaching over to take your hand in his own. 

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried it might make you upset and that I ruined our first date.” 

“You did a great job baby.” You say softly, leaning over the table to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I love you.” You tell Jungkook and he brings your conjoined hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. 

“I love you too. Forever and always.” The moment is soft, his eyes turned honey as he gazes at you warmly, his love and adoration encasing you entirely. You’ve never felt more at home then in this moment and you know you made the right decision all those months ago.

[pressedinthepages]

Sidetrack: Geralt

Summary: An unfriendly figure from the past still haunts you to this day, and Geralt finds a way to end that.

Series Masterlist

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, angst, fluff

A/N: Whoops my hand slipped. There was a big question that I needed to answer in this series, so here it is! I plan on doing one more “sidetrack” for another plotline :)

    You hear hooves approaching your cottage, just the faintest plods against wet leaves under the sound of Eskel snoring. He didn’t used to snore, but here, in this sanctuary, he is comfortable. You stand, leaving the herbs you had been sorting on the table. You discreetly peer out of the window towards the near-invisible path from the woods, watching as a familiar figure steps out of the shadows. The moonlight dances over the silver of his hair and lets you see the high planes of his face, darkened by the tell-tale scowl on his mouth.

    You push open the door gently so as not to wake your sleeping Witcher. The air is cool on your exposed arms as you cross the small valley, meeting Geralt half-way. He looks tired, but only in the way that another Witcher would notice. The subtle way that his head hangs slightly or that his shoulders are not perfectly held. Nevermind the fact that his armor stinks to high hell. 

    “Gods, Geralt. How long has it been since you’ve cleaned that?” You cross your arms as you stand just out of his reach. 

    “I’ve been busy,” Geralt hums, and you smirk lightheartedly. “Listen, I need your help.”

    “Of course Geralt, whatever you need, I can-”

    “It’s about Stregobor.”

    Your blood runs cold, the world spinning around you as you feel rooted to the spot. And then, like oil bubbling and spitting through the streets of Novigrad, anger fills your stomach and boils over. “That motherfucker? What is it, Geralt? Hang on, let me get my shit and then we-”

    “Wait. We’re not rushing into anything here, not now.” Geralt’s right, and you know it. You huff nonetheless, gesturing for him to go on.

    “I know where he is. Yennefer did some magic-y yada yada and was able to figure out where he’s hiding. It looks like he’s holed up in some cave system that I am sure is enchanted. Yen is waiting with a portal for us,” Geralt shudders, “but we have to leave quickly. There’s no telling what exactly we’d be walking into, but I want to get rid of him once and for all.”

    You nod, glancing back to your little home. Eskel is probably still asleep, curled around nothing in the void where you usually lay. Your heart swells up, conflicted. As if reading your mind, Geralt chimes in. “I’m not asking lightly. I know how much of a risk this is, and I get it if you would rather stay here. But I wanted to ask you, since you have a history with him too.”

    You look up at Geralt, letting your eyes drift over the way he holds himself. The great ‘Butcher of Blaviken,’ stooped down and looking at you with fire in his eyes. You steel yourself, biting your lip before shaking your head. “Let me go grab my gear, I’ll meet you back here.”

    You leave him and Roach, listening as he walks her over to your stables. The door is silent as you walk into the house, letting you pad along the floor over to the edge of the bed. You kneel and slide out the little trunk that has held your armor for more than a year, now. You have to move aside some of Eskel’s as you retrieve your own, smiling a bit at the familiar red and brown stripes. 

    You stand and begin methodically dressing in the heavy pieces. First, the trousers, enforced with hardened leather and chitinous shell at the knees. You have to let the belt out a bit at the waist, having grown a little bit soft around the middle since you last dressed in these. Next a plain tunic thrown over your simple corset, followed by your boots. It’s so much easier to do them first rather than trying to bend over in all of your armor. They are stretched and molded from years of use, plates of enriched dimeritium steel decorating the sides. Then comes the chest armor, meticulously pieced together from different monster bits to provide the highest level protection from any number of creatures one may run across. Finally the gloves, your fingertips bare to provide the most direct source of any signs you may cast. 

    You look over the room, finding your swords resting against the door frame. You run your hands through your hair before pulling it back so it is away from your face. What am I thinking?

    “There’s a pack under the washbasin, it’s got all of the potions and oils in it…” You startle at Eskel’s deep rumble, finding him watching from where he lay over the pillows. Sure enough, when you look, there’s Eskel’s old saddlebags, filled to the brim with various decoctions. You move back to the bed and perch on the edge, running your fingertips over the scar down Eskel’s cheek. He sighs into your touch, turning to press his lips to your palm. 

    “How much did you hear?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair. 

    “Enough to know that this is insanely dangerous. But I also know that you have to do this. And I’m just glad that Geralt’s going with you.”

    You lean down, pressing your foreheads together for a long moment. “I love you, Eskel.”

    His eyes, deep gold in the way of sunlight filtered through the trees, find yours in the darkness. “Just come back to me, that’s all I ask.”

    You kiss him, trying to pour every bit of love and promise into him that you can. You break away first, knowing that if you push it any longer, you won’t actually make it out of the door. You throw on your dark cloak and latch the buckle of your sword sheaths over your shoulder, turning to look back at Eskel one more time. 

    He sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands intertwined between them. He looks up at you, and you can smell the fear pouring from his skin. You nod, choking on unsaid words as the door closes behind you. 

    Your eyes shine as you approach Geralt once more. “Ready?” He asks.

“As I’ll ever be.” The final leaves that still decorate the trees dance in the breeze as you pass underfoot, following in Geralt’s footsteps. He suddenly stops, just far enough into the trees to be out of sight of your home. He reaches into his pouch and pulls out a little circular device, opening the lid and taking a deep breath.

“Yennefer? We’re ready.” As soon as the words leave his mouth your medallion hums against your chest, the air kicking up around you. A portal opens up between the trees, a black void lined with bright orange and red energy. Geralt groans, moving forward first.

“Gods, I hate portals.” He disppears as he steps through, leaving you in the silent forest, save for the audible buzz coming from the portal. You follow quickly behind, hearing it snap shut as your stomach lurches forward, pulling the rest of you with it. 

***

The air is significantly cooler, the ground crunching with the beginnings of the incoming frost. When your eyes open you notice a tall mountain before you, the entrance to a cave situated not far from where you stand. Geralt shivers, clearly still recovering from the aggressive sudden relocation. 

“Does he know that we’re here?” You whisper, drawing your steel sword. 

Geralt hums, doing the same. “No. Yennefer rendered his outer enchantments null, so we should be able to sneak in pretty easily.”

You nod, and the two of you move silently up to the mouth of the cave. You reach into the pouch that you have situated on your hip, finding a bottle of Cat. You down it in one go, shuddering with the taste. Geralt raises an eyebrow, knocking back his own bottle.

“Shut up, it’s been a while.”

“Didn’t say a word.”

The world sharpens to every little detail in the rocks, rough edges jutting out over a small creek that runs through the stone. Geralt steps first, keeping his feet light and quick down the paths. You follow in his wake, and you can feel your medallion humming harder against your chest as you climb further and further into the depths of the cave. 

“We’re close” Geralt murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. “Climb up there and you can drop down. I’m going to go around, try and get him from behind. You need to go up to him and cast Yrden, that way he can’t portal out of here.”

“Got it,” you reply, hefting yourself over an upturned boulder and onto an overhang. You can hear the bubbling of various mixtures, the intertwined scents tingling your nose. You can see a lab of sorts, dimly lit by candles around the place. There are barrels and trunks littering the floor, and a man in a long, dark robe stands before a table. His hair is grey and unkempt, and you can feel a powerful magic deep in your bones. You give a count to thirty, letting Geralt find his way around the cavern. 

You take a deep breath before launching yourself forward, landing in a crouch right behind the mage. Yrden leaves your hand before the man can even turn around, trapping him in an almost invisible ring, the barest bit of purple light betraying the edge of his trap. 

“What the-! Why I-urgh!” The mage seems to go through several emotions quite quickly, dancing through confusion into anger, and then anger into pain. His knees hit the floor quite forcefully when Geralt leaps onto him from behind, yanking his arms behind his back and locking a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. You can feel your stamina depleting as you hold the sign, clearly a bit out of practice. We should do some training, just to keep up to standards, you think to yourself. 

“Don’t bother trying to break them,” he growls into the mage’s ear, “they’re dimeritium.”

You let Yrden go, your energy quickly returning in its wake.  You watch as Stregobor struggles in his binds before relenting, looking up at Geralt with a smug smile. “So we meet again, Witcher. And it seems you’ve brought a friend.”

Your stomach churns, but you force down your swirling emotions in favor of observing the mage a bit closer. You step into the light, letting Stregobor see your face. This face, scarred and feral and tired, that he recognizes in an instant. 

“Ah, even better. A friend that I already know.” You bare your teeth at his words, measuring your steps as you step closer. “Are you here to finally understand what you truly are?”

You grab his chin forcefully, breathing heavily into his face. “I know what I am. I am a Witcher, a human, nothing more. You, however, are a monster.”

Geralt hums from where he stands behind Stregobor. “Witchers kill monsters, do they not?”

You nod, pressing the tip of your blade to the delicate skin under the mage’s neck. “Did you truly believe in the Curse? Or was this all some game?”

Stregobor, the bastard, smiles wider, all innocence gone from his eyes. He knows he’s been caught, might as well have a bit of fun. “What does it matter? It’s over now, has been for decades. All of the rest of you are gone, you remain the final piece to my puzzle.”

“It matters,” you growl, “because I am the one with a blade to your neck.”

“No. The curse, it’s a myth. Sure, there was the oddity in one’s anatomy every now and then, but that was mere coincidence.”

You blink, a hurricane of emotion swirling just beneath the surface. But you can’t let it out, not yet. You have work to do.

Geralt steps around to stand at your side, and you can smell the rage pouring off of his skin. Like a wildfire made of cinnamon bark, burning the hairs along your arms as the wind blows over. 

“Go on,” he whispers, Stregobors eyes widening as your fingers tighten on the worn leather of the hilt. “Finish it.”

With a flick of your wrist and a step to the left Stregobor’s head hits the ground, followed soon after by the rest of his body. His blood runs thick and dark over the wet cavern floor. You can’t hear anything over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest and your breath coming fast. You sheathe your sword, stalking to retrace your steps through the cave. 

Your feet dance over the rocks as you climb out of the darkness, forcing yourself to ignore the thoughts whirling through your mind. You burst from the cave entrance, finding only dense forest and nowhere to go. The last traces of your potion leave your system, your eyes returning to their somewhat normal state. You look around for anything, finding nothing, panic taking over as you brace to run. 

And then Geralt is there, his hand on your arm. You look to him, finding a mirror of your own emotions in his eyes. His grip tightens, forcing you to stay. “Tell me.”

Tears well up unbidden as your damn finally breaks. You sink into his arms, sobs wracking your body. Geralt stiffens for a millisecond before his arms wrap around you, sheltering you from the storm that feels as though it is erupting from deep in your chest. 

“It was a waste,” you cry, “all of those years spent running, keeping you all safe, from me. But it didn’t matter, I wasn’t-I’m not-”

Your voice dissolves back into sobs, mourning the years that you lost because of the actions of another. Geralt told you his story with Stregobor, and Renfri. She, and countless others, had her life snatched from her, for nothing. 

“It’s done,” Geralt murmurs, “You don’t have to let this control you any longer.”

You take a deep breath and nod, stepping back into your own space. “Thank you, Geralt.”

He hums, opening up that same little box from before. Another portal opens just before you and you step through first, your feet carrying you home.

***

Your cloak billows around you as your feet meet the mossy ground of the forest around your valley. You hear Geralt groan as the portal pops shut before you take off running. The sun is just starting to rise over the mountains, bathing the lower areas in soft light that beckons towards the mist. The treetops give way to wide, clear skies as you run up the path towards your home. You see the door open with Eskel on the other side, visibly relaxing at the sight of you.

You gasp unwillingly as he runs to meet you, falling into each other’s arms as soon as you feel him on your skin. You fit your nose into the crook of his neck and breathe in, scenting the last of his anxiety filtering away, leaving only the soft scent of home in its wake. Eskel’s hands hold you impossibly close and you can feel how his chest trembles under your fingers. 

Eskel parts from you only enough to look you in the eyes. “Did everything go okay? Where’s Geralt?”

“Yes, it’s done. Geralt was behind me, he’s probably emptying his stomach in the forest.”

“I HEARD THAT.” Geralt shouts from the treeline and you turn, watching as he trudges up the path. “I’m fine, just hate portals.”

“Yes, Geralt, we know.” Eskel laughs, and that sound, so deep and true and happy makes every moment of regret you may have felt seem so insignificant. “Come on, I’ve got breakfast ready.”

Eskel takes your hand and the three of you walk inside, dropping your swords and armor off to go back to their silent vigil over your home. 

[aspidenchantress]

WHEN WITCHES LET THEMSELVES BURN : iii

A/N : Well, it’s been around four months since I’ve last posted a chapter, so . . . hello? Long time no see. Warning ahead, there may be some mistakes here and there. With that being said, enjoy.

Comments make my heart happy :) . Let me know if you want to be tagged.

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   Her plants were dead.

   Again.

   Nesta knew Elain was in the habit of tending to them, as she did for pretty much all of the green life within the estate’s walls and beyond. She, herself, remembered to water them from time to time, thing she had been greatly scolded for by her sister, because there is, apparently, such thing as too much water for a plant.

   And yet here she was, again, looking down at dead flowers.   She didn’t particularly want to contemplate on why this only seemed to happen to her. She could already see the joke potential in it. Has surely heard said jokes while walking down the halls of the servants’ quarters, when she felt the need to escape and settle her thoughts. 

  She blamed it on the location of her room anyways.

  But there were times, when she let her mind wonder. When she was out in the gardens, just for the sake of being in Elain’s company, and she would lift the blanket she sat on, only to find small patches of black grass, where she could’ve sworn it had previously been green.

  When, during one uncharacteristically somber summer night, an exhausted rider, clad in the common blue-and-grey uniform of Hybern, had come to their gates, dropped a package at their feet, and stormed out into the night without a word.

  And the things she felt when opening that package– 

  “Are you ready?”, an impatient voice drawled from behind her room’s door, putting an end to Nesta’s train of thought. She huffed, annoyed, not at Feyre’s presence, but at what it meant.

  “Yes.”, Nesta gritted out. “Just a moment.”, she added, while stepping aside from the window and towards her dressing table, grabbing her brush and some hair pins to tend to her still undone hair.

  In a usual Feyre manner, her sister completely ignored her statement, and went for the handle to let herself in. Only to find the door locked. “Nesta, open up.”, she said, her voice higher than previously, but still muffled by the heavy, mahogany door between them. “I feel stupid waiting alone in this stupid hall, in this stupid dress.” , Feyre whined, the sound of the handle matching her frustration.

  Nesta just hummed and went back to the battlefield that was her hair. She held the hairbrush as if she carried a weapon, and let all her irritation go into untangling her brown strands, darker than her sisters’ golden ones. 

  The rattling stopped and Nesta let her shoulders relax. A few seconds later, a more subtle sound began, and she barely had the time to react when the handle’s lock clicked and the door opened to reveal Feyre in all her smug glory, arms crossed, hip resting against the frame, shit-eating grin full on display. 

  Nesta huffed again, and ignored her as she made her way inside the room.

  As always, she was beautiful, as the forest is beautiful in its wilderness and the thunderstorm in its intensity. Nesta eyed her aforementioned stupid dress, and was inclined to agree. Presenting itself in a headache-worthy salmon shade, with an overly puffy skirt, and sleeves, the gown was a monstrosity. There was barely any space for it on Nesta’s bed as Feyre plopped on it, arms raising over her face, a miserable sigh escaping her mouth.

  Nesta’s own mouth hardly had time to raise by its corners when Feyre raised one threatening finger and hissed : “Don’t you dare!”

  She raised herself up on her elbows, and continued, “I pulled one, minuscule, harmless, prank on Elain, which she apparently took to heart.” She rolled her eyes. “It was three months ago, for God’s sake! I thought she had forgotten, fat mistake! I woke up today to see all of my gowns covered in fertilizer. This is the only thing Alis could get her hands on in time.”

  Nesta stared at her baby sister, one corner of her mouth threatening to rise again.

  Feyre squinted her eyes, “Don’t.”

  Another corner up.

  “Nesta.”

  Nesta tilted her head back, letting out a snorting, joyful laugh. Feyre tried to scowl at her but found her face softening instead. Her sister was such a serious person, face immobile, sunken into a specific grimness. And yet when she found something worthy of amusement, which was a rare occurrence indeed, she positively howled. It was strange for Feyre, the way the past year had changed her family’s dynamic, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

  Even if it meant having to continue her life with a stained conscience, and even more stained heart.

  She eventually joined her sister’s laughter attack, chuckling, “I’m serious! I take pity on whatever poor bastard she will end up seeing as fit for her. The boy won’t know what he’s gotten himself into till he got a ring suffocating his finger. Innocent Archeron, my ass!”

  Nesta lovingly shook her head, before shifting her features back into calm impassiveness. as if the funny conversation had never taken place. She continued working on her hair.

  She could feel Feyre’s silent assessment burning the side of her face, and her jaw tensioned , waiting for the change in topic.

  “It’s almost time to welcome the first guests.”, Feyre said softly, cautiously.

  “I’m aware.”

  “You’d normally be ready by now. You’d actually be the first to leave her chambers, wide awake, perfect condition. Now you’re not even done with your hair.”

   Nesta closed her eyes, listening to her sister’s quiet steps as she approached her. Her brush was taken from her hand, and Feyre took over the task. 

   “Are you having second thoughts?”, Freyre asked after a while.

   Nesta opened her eyes, watching their reflection in the mirror. Same ice-blue orbs met her stare, one not-so-well-kept eyebrow arching in question.

   ��Of course I’m not”, she responded. “This is good. This is needed. We’ve dwelled in shadows long enough. It’s time to open the gates.” 

   Feyre hummed. “There’s something on your mind.”

   “There’s always something on my mind.”

   “You can stay here if it pleases you. Elain and I can handle them just fine.”

   “It will only serve as an opportunity to create more rumors. I’m fine.”

   Feyre tugged hard on her hair.

   “You bitch!” Nesta snapped, baring her teeth  “What was that for?”

   “Tell me why you’re depressed, asshole!”

   “I’m no such thi-”

   “You look miserable! Is it that the Van Tieghems are coming?”, she asked incredulously, “We’ll bloody obliterate them!” At that Nesta had to roll her eyes. “Nasty witches.”, Feyre ended by grumbling under her breath.

   It was the morning of the Winter Solstice, Feyre’s birthday. Normally, she would avoid a party thrown in her favor at any cost, ripping all decorations with her teeth , if needed be. But this year was different, for it was the first without their father. And that was definitely not the root of Nesta’s mood, as it was a breath of fresh air. But she had started hearing dangerous words whispered between people in Larsos and beyond, not long after their 40 days of mourning. And they had to put them to an end, or else they’d drag them into facing the consequences of their own actions, which was, as expected, not on Nesta’s priority list.

  Past times are long since buried underneath the ash.

  And that’s where they had to remain.  

  So the festivities in Feyre’s honor were necessary. A way for the world to enter their home and see for themselves that they were fine, and there certainly was nothing rotten about them, as much as the world’s hunger for poor gossip and drama seemed to lead to another conclusion.

  Easy. Right?

  “Nonsense. You know I want the Van Tieghems here. “, Nesta said.

  And it was true, as one of the three most influential families in Larsos, the Tieghems had to be present today. Any people of high standing had to, as a way to assure them, and by so, the rest of the world,  that the Archerons had not become a weaker link now due to their father’s death.

 Or that they had any role in it.

  “I just,” Nesta continued, watching as Feyre started to gather her hair in Nesta’s signature braided bun. “You know I’ve waited for the opportunity to level the waters for a while now, to get back to normal. So I actually can’t wait for this whole ordeal to begin so it can end already. But . . .”, she took a look at her dead plants, Feyre’s eyes following hers. “ I can’t help but feel that something is . . . wrong. I-” 

   Words caught in her throat. She couldn’t even begin to explain what she felt, what she had been dreaming about. Nor did she think she wanted to, as if saying it outloud would engrave them into fate.

  Feyre sensed her hesitancy. “Perhaps it’s just stress.”, she said, doing the last retouches n her hair. “We’ve been cooking this up for months now, and now that the day when we finally put it out in execution has arrived, I think it’s normal to feel anxious.”

  Nesta let her eyes wander to those plants again.

  “But,”, Feyre added, a little more quiet than before “It’s a good plan, and it’s a good story. Every detail of it is in check. And even if it wasn’t. A good story, I mean. We’ve got this. We’re Archerons, we get through. “

  “And besides”, she said, now looking straight in the mirror, as if trying to convince her reflection as well. “Everyone is concerned about the Red Murders. It will be easy to step out of the light and focus their attention to discussing that matter instead.”

  Nesta took a few seconds to let her sister’s words sink in, and attempted to nod, though it looked as if she was fighting a grimace instead. Eager to let the whole conversation slip away, and to lighten the mood, she opened the drawer on her right, and pulled out a square silver box. Already feeling Feyre’s surprise and giddy excitement, Nesta turned in her chair and placed the box in her hands.

  “Happy birthday, Feyre.” , she said softly.

  Feyre’s eyes were hilariously wide, but Nesta couldn’t judge her. It was strange, very much so. They didn’t use to give each other gifts before, but something has shifted in the last year, and they swore to start new. So she was starting new, even if gift-giving, or receiving has never been an enjoyable activity for Nesta. 

  “Well open it up already, we don’t have all day!” Nesta said , straightening her back.

  At that Feyre snorted and lifted up the box’s lid. Her brows furrowed a little as she lifted the circular piece of silver.

  “I know you’re not a big fan of jewelry,” Nesta went on,” but you’re expected to be.” 

  Feyre rolled her eyes, even if a smile threatened to appear on her face.

  “And I figured, that if you were to wear ornaments, you might as well wear some that bear utility. Something that screams . . .”, she gestured with her hand,  “Feyre.” 

  At her sister’s confused face, Nesta took the arm bracelet in her hands and showed her its most intriguing part. The bracelet would look as if a snake was wrapped around her arm, but if she were to pull the snake’s head, that’s when she would discover the true present. Nesta did just that, and Feyre’s eyes widened ever further as she saw the flexible blade that came out of the bracelet. It was not an overly intimidating weapon, a slender, short rapier. But it had the potential of being deadly, if used cleverly. And in Feyre’s hands, Nesta had no doubt it would be put to good use. 

  “Well?”, Nesta asked as she saw Feyre was not going to say anything anytime soon.

  Her sister closed her hanging mouth, then and managed to say. “Well . . . that definitely screams Feyre.” And then a grin split her face, and she threw herself into her sister’s arms.

  “IT’S AMAZING!”, Feyre squealed, and Nesta was fighting some mixed feelings of being happy because of her sister’s excitement and being slightly annoyed by it.

  “How did you even find it?”

  Nesta just gave her a smirk and walked towards her full length mirror, making sure her dark blue velvet dress was all in perfect condition. She watched the reflection, eyes on the background, where she could see Feyre trying to get her puffed sleeve out of the way so that she could try the bracelet on. She also took the blade and sliced her finger a little to see how sharp it was.

  It was very sharp. Nesta would know best.

  “Thank you, Nesta. Truly.”

  “No problem.” She turned back to her and her lips curled in distaste, making a beeline for her closet. “Let’s find you another dress.”

   The relief on Feyre’s face was almost comical.

__________________________

    Elain Archeron was going to find her sisters and turn them into fertilizer for her new camellias that she had gotten her hands on thanks to a very sweet lady she encountered in the market. 

   She had been awake for 5 hours now, making sure everything was going according to plan in terms of decor, and she still had yet to see any sign of her sisters presence in the house. Servants were all around the place, making now some final touches to the ballroom.Well, at least the ones they still had were. They truly needed to find some new helpers.

   Despite being still morning, they were expecting some guests quite soon. Being the first time Feyre had agreed on having a celebration done for her, albeit due to completely other reasons than her birthday, they were anticipating the arrival of a generous amount of people. Everyone wanted to finally take a look at the youngest Archeron sister, who had kept herself out of the public eye until now.

   That, or they wanted to get their noses where they didn’t belong and see if they actually could be accused of murder.

   Shaking off the thought, Elain focused on the flower arrangements she had assembled at the entry, while also concentrating on keeping her balance on the ladder she was perched on . She found some difficulty keeping her mind from wandering these days. Something felt off, apart from Prythian’s current situation. She wondered how wise it was to throw a grand party while the country bled at the hands of a serial killer. Even if she was painfully aware of the impossibility of anything of sorts happening in Larsos . . . especially on Archeron ground. Yet . . .

   “Oh, Alis!”, she said as the woman walked by her, carrying what looked like one of Feyre’s dirty dresses. Oops.

  “Have you seen or heard of my sisters?”

  “Oh, yes, dear. Lady Feyre went into lady Nesta’s room a few minutes ago. Shall I go and tell them you are looking for them?”

  “Oh, no, no, no.” Elain said quickly. “They’ll come when they’re ready. Thank you.” And on a second thought. “Also, you don’t have to wash those, Alis. Take them to my room please, I’ll take care of them.”

  “Are you sure, lady Elain?” , she asked, looking down at the poor state of the dress.

  “Very much so, please.”

  “Very well, then. Say if you need help with anything else. The flower arrangement is coming along nicely.” And with that she left, making a few people in her way scrunch their noses.

   Elain smiled to herself and shook her head. Looking outside the window to her right, she let herself get lost for a moment in the way snow has covered the land, except for a small patch next to the gates. Furrowing her brows, she decided on not reminding herself of the reason behind that peculiar aspect.

  Bony hands settled on her waist and she almost fell off the damn ladder .Harshly turning her head, she glared at her older sister, who currently presented a barely-there smug smile on that icy face of hers.

  “Nesta”, she hissed. “Not. Funny.”

   That only managed to get a widening of her smile, teeth showing. Elain pressed the back of her hand to her burning cheeks and carefully stepped down, making sure her pale pink dress was not in her way. She didn’t fancy falling on her ass.

   Not that it had happened before . . .

   “Where is Feyre?”, she asked once her feet when on solid ground.

   “Getting changed.” Nesta simply responded, giving a pointed look in her direction.

   Elain hummed innocently , and stepped back to admire her work. It looked pretty damn good, if she said so herself.

  “Do you need any help?” 

  “I could use some. There’s not much more to do, just help me get the rest of this materials and tools back to their place.”

  Nesta hummed and gathered as much as possible in her arms.

  “Did you give her her present already?” Elain asked as they were walking down the halls, smiling tightly at some of the servants passing by. 

  “Yes, she found it to her liking.”

  “Of course she did.”, Elain chuckled. After a moment of silence, she ventured on, voice dropping : “Is everything else in place?” 

  “Yes. . .”, Nesta responded, eyeing the painting on the walls. “I checked everything three times last night before going to bed.”

  “And was last night . . . “

  “Yes.” , she gritted out .Then a sigh. “I don’t know how to deal with it. I’ve yet to think of how to even break it to Feyre.”, by the end of the sentence her voice was a mere whisper.

  Elain sighed, and opened the storage room’s ajar door with her hip. “Hopefully we’ll also find what we need today, and there will be no breaking to do.”

  They put down their things and took a little time to sort out their thoughts.

  “I never got to ask you what you got for her birthday.” Nesta said after a while, the shadows of their previous conversation still dancing along her sharp cheekbones.

  Elain merely looked at her sister and grinned.

  Oh it was going to be something indeed.

________________________

   Feyre looked at herself in the mirror and nodded approvingly.

   With some luck, she was able to find a short sleeved dress in Nesta’s closet, her new arm bracelet on full display. She touched it thoughtfully, if not slightly worried, wondering if the new route their life has taken would require her to eventually use such a thing. 

   Sighing, she took her old, comfortable boots and put them on. Very Nesta-disapproved, but the grey material of her skirt was covering them.

   Making her way down towards the central room, she was stopped every few meters by people in the estate wishing her a happy birthday. She answered them all with a smile, one which was surprisingly genuine. Both her sisters have mentioned in the past week that something felt off, and yet, Feyre couldn’t shake that feeling of rightness. As if something great was about to happen, despite the fact that she was about to spend her birthday in her least favorite way ; surrounded by an unnecessary amount of people. 

   Finally arriving downstairs, she couldn’t help the slight grimace on her face. This really wasn’t her thing.

   It was beautiful, and she could see the effort that has been put into it, but dear Lord did she dread the thought of being shown around to dozens of people by the end of the day.

  It’s necessary, she reminded herself.

  No sooner had she finished her assessment of the place, than a soft knock sounded at the front door. One of their helpers was about to put down the box he was carrying , but she stopped him with an I’ll get it. 

  She thought of yesterday’s conversation with her sisters, when they made bets as to who would show up first. Even if Feyre bet for the Dujardins, she secretly hoped it would be Lady Florence Bruna. She loved the old woman. 

  Relaxing her face into a pleasant look, she opened the door.

  And nothing could’ve prepared her for who was standing in front of her.

  A face that was certainly not the wrinkly one of Miss Florence smirked down at her, and Feyre felt all the air leave her lungs.

  “Ah, if I’m not mistaken, you must be the infamous Feyre Archeron”, Rhysand Sayyadi said, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. “May I just say, I wish you the happiest of birthdays, darling.”

  Well, fuck.   

_____

tags : @meowsekai​ 

[bapyess1r]

Amphetamine

CHAPTER 10

Talia’s POV

I stared at the TV, repeatedly snacking on Pringle’s as I found myself a Star Wars marathon. As I took a mental break from all the pew pews, I sat in my car and smoked. “I hate sand…” I quoted to myself, stealing another swig of scotch. I decided I’d just buy him another bottle. I laid out on the driver’s side, staring at the stars, my body feeling rooted to my seat. I had music playing on the radio again. I was always listening to music, all the time, wherever and whenever. Then a song came on that reminded me of Sam. It’s My Life by Talk Talk. I could almost hear him singing along as he would cook some kick ass fried fish. I remembered it being delicious and perfectly crispy on the outside, hot and juicy on the inside, seasoned just right- “I’M FUCKING STARVING!” I stated loudly to absolutely no one. Then I got a tap on my window. I sat up startled only to be met with my Godmother’s curious brown gaze and warm tight lipped grin. I took a deep breath and rolled down my window with a smile. “Heeeeeeey Barbie….”

“Hey kiddo.” She smirked, knowing fully well I was on cloud9 by now. “I went to look for you in your room but you weren’t there. James is watching the kids and I figured maybe you’d want to grab something to eat.”

My eyes grew as big as saucers. “YES. PLEASE.” I moaned. With a chuckle she jingled her keys.

“We’ll take my car. I don’t trust you to drive right now.” She commented, backing up to her silver car. I pouted as I tried my best to climb out of my Jeep without falling.

“But I’m good at it…” I whined.

“I’m sure you are.” She laughed as I got into her car.

“Sorry if I smell really loud right now. I tried to air out some.”

“It’s not too bad. So what are you hungry for?” She asked me, pulling up google maps.

“Well considering I drank almost an entire bottle of top shelf scotch, is that Irish pub still open? That hangover burger with extra fries is calling out to me from the void…”

“O’Mally’s it is then.” She giggled as she put her car in drive.

We sat at our table as a waiter came to our aid with menus. He asked us what we wanted to drink and my drunk self gave him my entire order. My Godmother burst into laughter at my behavior before gathering the menus to give them back to the waiter, placing her order as well. With that, the waiter left to grab our drinks. I rested my head in my hands as I looked around, the soccer game on the TV behind the bar, a stage for bands to perform, and a wall of prop books. Then my gaze landed on my Godmother. I couldn’t exactly read her expression but I knew she was getting ready to say something. So I beat her to the punch. “So why bring me to dinner to talk?”

“I can’t just treat my goddaughter to dinner?” She chuckled, I narrowed my eyes at her.

“I may be under the influence but I can still tell when something’s up.” I said closing my eyes. She smiled at me as the waiter brought our drinks to the table and disappeared.

“Your Godfather came home to talk to me today at lunch.” She began and I groaned in annoyance. “He’s concerned about you.”

“I don’t know why! I’m very happy and I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions. He doesn’t get to decide who I date or spend my time with.”

“And I agree. When I went to get you earlier, you were video calling him and I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I was around long enough to hear you singing to him….” she poked my arm with a smirk. And I began to blush. “And to hear him say ‘I love you’?!” We both burst into a fit of girlish giggles. “Contrary to what your Godfather feels, I don’t think you’re in any trouble but I do want to voice something.”

“Yes?” I sipped my sweet tea in anticipation.

“James doesn’t know the details of exactly what it is Sam does for a living. I do… and I know you’ve been training yourself to go on jobs with him. That’s where my concern lies. Sam is a great guy but what he does is very dangerous. And you’re not exactly the adrenaline junky type.”

“No I’m not. But there’s something my life has been missing and that’s….spontaneity and adventure.” I began. “I’ve never left the country before. And while I’ve been sitting around getting high and drunk all the time to feel numb, he’s been seeing so much of the world. I wanna see that too. My training isn’t for Sam. It’s for myself. I failed as a dancer. Now I’m teaching kids who don’t know left from right yet and playing in a band that’s going nowhere further than a garage. I feel so unfulfilled and this treasure hunting thing is gonna start a whole new life for me.”

“I see the appeal of it. I really do. It’s just…. I’ve patched Sam up before. His injuries are almost fatal sometimes. I can’t even tell you how many bullets I’ve dug out of the man! The amount of stitches…. and the thought of you being shot at doesn’t feel very good. I don’t want you to end up on my table at work one night...”

“So then trust me. Trust that I know what I’m doing. I’m never gonna be able to do it if no one lets me!”

“I see…” she said nodding. She tapped her beer bottle with her fingernails and looked off somewhere.

“And for the record, I was gonna go through with it whether anyone approved or not. It’s my decision…” I mumbled. When I looked up briefly, she donned an impressed expression. With that, she raised her bottle to me.

“Then let's toast to it.” She grinned.

“To life without limits.” I managed to say. We clinked glasses and sipped our drinks before I took a deep sigh. Just then, a hot plate with a fat burger was placed before me. “I’m starving!” I growled, decorating my burger with a bit of black pepper and ketchup. The Hangover burger. Easily my favorite burger. A thick meat patty topped with bacon, hash browns, and a sunny side up egg with lettuce and onion. I placed the toasted bun atop the burger and bit into it immediately. How I even had the figure I did was beyond me. I ate terribly all the time. But I always hoped that my workouts would counteract my weight gain. I suddenly began to feel horrible. But the burger was so good that I decided to push away my self conscious drunk thoughts.

“Jesus girl!” My Godmother chuckled as she smacked on her fries and onion rings. “I do have another question though. Girl to girl….. what’s he like?” She asked and I damn near choked on my burger.

“I’m sorry, what?” I laughed.

“What’s he like? I mean… how is he?” She whispered to me, wiggling her eyebrows and I cackled. My Godmother was adorable on all fronts. I blushed as I bit into a fry.

“Romantically…. he’s the sweetest… he asks the most pure things of me sometimes and I’m not used to it. Sexually?.....” I began to grin perversely, thoughts of being with him running through my head. I laughed dramatically and hysterically before groaning. “God I can wait for him to get home.” And with that, she nodded.

“Ok that’s all I need to know.” She chuckled.

We chatted all night and the conclusion was that she supported Sam and I as long as I looked out for myself. Then she drove me home. I sighed as we pulled into the driveway. It was official. Barbara was the much cooler Godparent. “I’ll keep him off your ass as much as I can. Overall, enjoy him for the rest of us.” She chuckled before going inside. As the wind blew, I wrapped my arms around me, following her into our shared home.

“Goodnight, Godfather.” I called courteously at him as he smoked his cigar silently on his bedroom balcony.

“Sleep tight, Talia.” He said as my godmother entered the room. She winked at me before closing the door.

As I entered my room, I began to sigh. I picked up my phone and began to message Anais.

Me: sooo he said he loved me…

Anna: WUT?!

[junqkook]

— DESIDERATUM (m.)

pairing; taehyung/reader words; 7,087 genre; harry potter au, fwb au, smut, fluff rating; explicit

— synopsis; DESIDERATUM (n.) something that is wanted or needed; you had no idea you’d fall for a hufflepuff, especially not the seeker with a big smile and wandering hands that you spent more time in bed with than you cared to admit.  

contents; fwb, e2l, (lowkey) jealousy, mutual pining, fuckboy!taehyung, hufflepuff!taehyung, slytherin!reader, public sex, rough sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!), creampie, teasing, clothed sex, dirty talk.

Noise erupted from the long table opposite yours. You rolled your eyes, fixing your green and silver robes as you finished your meal, ignoring the loud Hufflepuffs in the Great Hall. Jimin nudged you and you nearly choked on your mouthful of food.

“Can you not?” you asked blankly, Yoongi’s head shaking slightly at the two of you.

“Come on, you’re being ridiculous,” the silver-haired boy replied.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Your body said more than enough.”

You let a lewd smirk cross your face. “Did it? I didn’t know you’d be looking so closely, Park.” You snuck your hand up his arm, squeezing his bicep through his Slytherin robe.

Jimin’s face twisted in disgust and he yanked his arm away from yours. “Gross, get away from me. Save it for someone else, would you?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes again, going back to your food as your eyes sought out that one brown haired boy.

His brown eyes were already trained on you and you caught his gaze. You started, coughing as the food in your mouth went down the wrong pipe. When you looked back up from your fit, eyes filled with tears and face red, Jimin’s hand soothing your back, you immediately met the Hufflepuff’s eyes again. He winked at you and his lips pulled up into a wide grin before he went back to his friends, laughing boisterously.

“Fucking Taehyung,” you huffed under your breath, muttering as you threw your napkin onto the table and got up.

“You good?” Yoongi asked, finally looking up at the two of you.

“Just fine,” you replied in a clipped voice. Yoongi’s brow raised in response and your cheeks flushed with heat at his disapproving look. “I’m gonna go outside for some fresh air.”

Going outside for some fresh air is not exactly what happened.

You’d made it only a few paces down the corridor outside of the Great Hall before a hand wrapped around your upper arm and a hand clamped against your mouth and you were pulled into a small alcove, barely big enough for two bodies to fit.

You attempted to scream, free hand immediately going for your wand, but then your eyes met Taehyung’s sparkling ones and you dropped your hand. You raised your eyebrows at him, which then prompted him to drop his own hand from your mouth.

“What the hell is your prob—”

Your cry of indignation muffled into nothing as his mouth pressed eagerly into yours, lips immediately moving and his large hands slipping up your body to your jaw. Your eyes closed on reflex, lips parting to allow him access as he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip. You let out an appreciative noise when he slid one hand back down to your thigh, moving your robe aside to grasp your bare flesh. He ground his hips into yours, using his hand on your thigh to lift your leg and wrap it around him.

You pulled your mouth away from his with effort, already breathing heavier than you were before. His lips simply trailed down to your neck, nipping and suckling your skin.

“Not—not here, Taehyung,” you whispered roughly, attempting to clear your throat. He bit down rather hard on your neck in response, pressing the flat of his tongue on it to soothe the sting. You held back the moan, shutting your eyes as you felt all of him moving against you.

“Couldn’t wait,” he mumbled against your skin. “You looked so good I just needed a taste.”

“I thought we agreed this was a one-time thing,” you replied as he moved a few inches back, your leg dropping back down to the ground. You let yourself stay nestled against the wall, biting your lip and enjoying the way he watched your teeth press into it. You saw his Adam’s apple bob in response.

“You couldn’t possibly think I’d be satiated with one night only, could you?” he asked hoarsely, his lips pretty and swollen from your attention minutes prior.

“Of course I could,” you chided. “It was one drunken night at Hogsmeade.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” Taehyung interrupted, a smirk already playing at the corners of his lips. “We woke up the next morning in my bed and you immediately began to panic—”

“I did not panic!” you huffed, furrowing your eyebrows and a pout forming on your lips. Taehyung’s hand cupped your jaw again and he used his thumb to drag across your bottom lip. Your body heated at his touch.

“You did,” he said softly. “You panicked and grabbed your clothes, agreeing with yourself that it was the one and only time that it would happen before running out like I’d given you a horrible time and you couldn’t wait to get away.”

You opened your mouth and let the tip of his thumb dip into your mouth. You bit down on it hard, ignoring the hiss of pain he made as he withdrew his hand from you. “Maybe you did show me a bad time, Taehyung,” you challenged.

“Judging from how dirty you made my bed sheets,” he whispered, leaning in close so that his nose brushed yours. You swallowed thickly, cheeks coloring. “I doubt that was the case.”

“In—in any case,” you finally stuttered, pushing at his chest with your hands. He complied immediately, stepping back and away from you to give you the space you were asking for. You tried to ignore how firm his chest felt under your palms between the layers of clothing. “It won’t happen again! I refuse to allow it.”

Taehyung raised a brow, his smirk still ever-present on his face as you fixed your robes. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

You huffed and ducked out of the alcove and back into the—thankfully empty—hall. “There’s nothing to see!” you called over your shoulder.

The sound of his laughter followed you the entire way back, echoing off the sides of your skull even as you attempted to shove it out.

You were quick to arrive at the Potions classroom, which your House would be sharing with Hufflepuff that morning. Your hair was a mess, since you had sprinted to make it before Professor Snape, and you cursed your friends for not waking you.

You slid into the seat beside Jimin, not realizing anything amiss as Snape strolled in minutes after you’d hurriedly brought out your textbook to lay on your desk.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you hissed to Jimin, who gave you an incredulous look.

“Boys can’t enter the girls’ dormitory, ____,” he replied. “Would’ve thought you’d know that.” The sound of snickering came from behind you and you ignored it to level a glare at your friend.

“That’s not what I meant, Park, you could’ve asked one of the gi—”

A voice behind you interrupted promptly. “Never been invited up to ____’s dorm, have you, Park?”

You froze immediately, whipping around to meet Taehyung’s crinkled brown eyes. “Taehyung, what the—”

“Neither have you, Kim,” Jimin shot back quietly, face void of emotion.

“Mm,” said boy hummed, resting his chin on his palm. “Haven’t I?”

Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on you and, once again, your cheeks heated in response to the Hufflepuff’s words. Before you could open your mouth to respond, Snape had begun the lecture, immediately ceasing all conversations. You sent Taehyung an irritated look before turning back to face your professor as he started explaining the potion you’d all be practicing today.

“The Draught of Living Death is potent and extremely dangerous,” Snape cautioned, giving every student an uncomfortably long look. You shifted in your seat, ready to start attempting the potion and see how well it would turn out. If anything, you had to best Jimin—and Taehyung, you thought begrudgingly. “This potion is extremely difficult to brew in the single hour I am providing you. I doubt any of you will be able to do so successfully. The ingredients and instructions are provided in your textbook; you may begin now.”

It was as if chaos erupted, students gunning for the ingredients in the cupboards before they ran out. You had barely managed to snag the infusion of wormwood and powdered root of asphodel and you immediately began to follow the instructions in your textbook.

“Mine’s turning a weird color,” Jimin mumbled beside you, peering into his cauldron. You took a peek and stifled a laugh—it looked a sickly green color instead of the pale lilac it was meant to be.

“Maybe you’ll be better with girls than you are with potions, Park,” Taehyung’s voice chirped from behind you.

You gritted your teeth. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with girls than potions, Taehyung,” you snapped, turning to face him and haughtily taking a look at his own oddly blue-tinted potion. “It’s not meant to be blue.”

Taehyung’s returning smile was wolfish. “I definitely had better luck with you than I do this potion.”

His Hufflepuff friend chuckled and gave him a high five; you scoffed and turned away, hating how hard your heart was beating and not daring to meet Jimin’s eyes, though you could see him trying to catch your gaze from the corner of your eye.

By the end of the lesson, nobody had brewed a successful potion and Snape had sneered at the entire class, dismissing everyone with a wave of his hand after you’d all cleaned up.

You and Jimin were walking down the corridor when a hand gripped your elbow and pulled you to a stop.

“Can we talk?” Taehyung said, eyes wide and brown and mesmerizing. You blinked a few times and nodded your head at Jimin, who gave you two an odd look before leaving, murmuring about being in the Common Room for the free period.

“What?” you hissed, wiggling your arm to pull it from his grasp. He didn’t budge, eyes still following Jimin as the fellow Slytherin walked away. “Taehyung.”

He turned his eyes to you and his jaw seemed to unclench. “You have a free period?”

“Why?”

His answering mile was almost blinding.

You didn’t know how exactly you ended up agreeing to this, but here you were.

Sneaking into the Hufflepuff Common Room with Taehyung, to be precise.

He’d kissed you as he tugged you down the hall after asking about your free period. His roaming hands on your waist and hips and thighs had your knees weak and your head cloudy. Then he’d whispered into your neck that his bed would be a lot more comfortable and you’d already done it once before and it didn’t have to mean anything, you were just having some fun and letting loose.

Your thighs had been so uncomfortably sticky and mouth swollen that you’d gotten swallowed up by his twinkling eyes and pretty smile and agreed, nodding vigorously and letting him intertwine your fingers and pull you away.

He led you to the kitchen’s corridor, stopping in front of a stack of barrels to the right. He found the barrel two up from the bottom in the middle of the second row and started tapping out a rhythm you didn’t recognize. When he finished, a lid swung open and revealed a small passageway. You had no idea how he’d managed to drunkenly sneak you in the first time nights ago.

He got down on his hands and knees and looked back at you. “Come on,” he urged, starting to crawl through. Not wanting to be left behind, you followed quickly after looking around to make sure no one saw you and the lid swung shut behind you.

Eventually, the two of you emerged in the Hufflepuff Basement, which was also their Common Room, and you were surprised that no one was sitting around.

As he helped you up with a hand, Taehyung seemed to have read your mind. “Most of us don’t have free period right now. I’m supposed to be in Charms with Ravenclaw.”

You raised your brows at him as he led you by the hand to the homely-looking couch. “And you’re just skipping your lesson?”

“Yeah,” he replied, pushing you down lightly onto the couch. He followed immediately after, forcing you to lay down on the couch to accomodate his larger frame. “You’re a lot more interesting than Charms.”

Your cheeks flushed and you let your legs open to allow him more room. He nestled his hips flush against you, rocking them once and making you gasp as arousal shot through you.

“I thought you said something about your bed,” you started to say, breaking off into a moan as he continued to roll his hips into your clothed core. You’d been dry as fuck when he started leading you into his Common Room, but as he paid attention to you once more you found the arousal surging back into your limbs tenfold.

“Maybe I like the thrill of having you right here,” he replied hoarsely. “Will you let me fuck you here on the couch?”

“Tae,” you whined, moving your hips against his in search of more friction.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he continued, pulling his hips away and bringing a hand down to cup you through your panties. He swore under his breath and slipped his hand under the hem, dragging his fingers up and down your slick folds. “Fuck, look how wet you are for me, I bet you’d love to get fucked right here.”

“Tae, please—”

He dipped one finger into you slowly, biting his bottom lip. Sweat accumulated on your forehead as you threw your head back onto the couch, panting as he worked his finger in to the knuckle and curled it inside you. “Look at you, wet and sucking my finger in.” He pulled it out and then brought in a second along with it as he pushed back inside. “Such a greedy pussy, begging to get fucked where everyone can see who you belong to. Isn’t that right?”

“Taehyung, I—” You cut yourself off with a keen as he thrusted his fingers in particularly hard, the tips brushing against your bundle of nerves.

“Isn’t that right?” he repeated. When you looked up at him dazedly, his eyes were dark and pupils dilated so wide there almost appeared to be no brown and only black. He punctuated his question with another hard thrust and you couldn’t stop the moan that clawed its way out, nor your answer.

“Yes, yes, fuck, please fuck me, fuck me right here,” you begged, rolling your hips into his hand for more friction. He let you grind against his palm while he moved his fingers, the pressure on your clit absolutely delicious. With a few more thrusts he removed his fingers from you completely, leaving you drenched and clenching around nothing.

He hurriedly undid the front of his pants, cursing as he had to swat away his robe. His hands found your panties and tugged them down your thighs, lifting your legs so he could push them the rest of the way off, leaving them dangling from one ankle. Taehyung paused as he looked down at you, legs up and spread apart, nothing hiding you from his view as your skirt had been hiked up by your hips.

“Do you want my cock, baby?” he purred, dragging one hand down your leg as you lowered them to bracket his hips between your thighs. His dick was pulled out of his pants, hard and the head an angry red. Precum was dripping out as he pumped it in his hand and you keened in the back of your throat, pussy drenched and clenching.

“I want it so bad,” you panted, grasping his robe with your hands and tugging him closer to you. He smiled widely and pushed his mouth against yours, kissing you sloppily while he ground his dick against your folds. The head caught on your entrance as he rolled his hips and he let out a long breath. “Put your cock inside me, I want you, I want your cock, Taehyung, please—”

“Fuck, ____, listen to you begging for my cock,” he grunted as he grasped the base of his dick and started to push inside of you. The immediate stretch as the head slipped into you made you delirious with desire. He didn’t pause, moving his hips forward until his hips were nestled snugly against yours, his dick sheathed completely inside.

He stopped to let you adjust, biting into your bottom lip and then pulling a centimeter away as he panted against your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close and let your legs wrap themselves around his hips to keep him in place. You clenched around his dick sporadically as you got used to the pleasurable stretch.

“Don’t squeeze like that,” he groaned, blinking repeatedly and caging you against the couch with his arms on either side of your head. “God, you’re so tight, have you even been fucked since I fucked you?” Your cheeks heated and you avoided his gaze. His eyes caught your blush and he moaned deeply, grinding against you and shooting sparks up your abdomen.

“Just fuck me, Taehyung,” you whimpered, bucking your hips.

“With pleasure,” he mumbled. He pulled almost all of the way out until only the head of his dick was nestled inside of you before shoving back in, starting a bruising and harsh pace. His dick pounded into you, the slap of skin against skin lewd and overtaking all of your senses until you could only feel Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

He shifted his position to the right, grabbing your calf and lifting your leg so he could push inside deeper. The head of his dick nudged against the bundle of nerves inside you and you nearly screamed from the pleasure, arching your back and fisting his clothes in your hands. The moans spilling from your lips were strangled and broken, your head thrown back and revealing your neck to him. Immediately, he ducked his head down and pressed his open mouth to your throat, suckling the skin and biting down hard.

He gave a particularly hard thrust and, paired with the pain spreading from where his teeth were latched onto your neck, you could feel your orgasm building quickly.

“Oh my—oh my gods, Taehyung, right there, fuck, right there—”

Muffled speech found its way to your ears and you would have brushed it aside, but Taehyung froze against you, pulling his face away from your neck and turning his head to look at the entrance of the Common Room over the back of the couch. Your stomach churned with fear and your body stilled, hands moving to Taehyung’s chest and watching his face closely.

He stayed inside of you, dick still hard and throbbing against your tight walls. “Is someone coming?” you whispered, heart beginning to pound. He didn’t say anything and you could hear the voices more clearly, two boys from the sound of it, and you wiggled your hips to try to get out from under him.

Taehyung kept a tight hold of your leg, lowering himself until he was completely pressed chest-to-chest with you. He let your leg fall to the couch and he winked at you. “Keep quiet,” he whispered, eyes dancing with mischief. “Don’t want to get caught, now do we?”

Before you could angrily throw him off and maybe jinx him with the wand tucked in your pocket, you heard the door of the Common Room swing open and instead you shut your mouth, trying to quiet your breathing and hoping they wouldn’t be able to hear your heart’s frenzied pounding. You were just thankful that the couch was facing away from the entrance, fully shielding the two of you from sight.

You could hear them talking about an upcoming Quidditch match, their steps slow as they mingled somewhere behind the couch; thankfully they didn’t seem to be making their way toward the couch. You hoped they’d just go up to their dormitory soon.

Taehyung’s hand found its way to your chin and you gave him a confused look. He winked at you again and then he was sliding his palm over your mouth, pushing down slightly. You furrowed your brows, about to shove his hand aside, but then his hips rolled forward and you clenched hard around him, swallowing roughly. His breathing was labored and quiet, hot against your face as he started to thrust into you hard and slow. He didn’t pull out all the way, only letting his dick pull a few inches out before shoving it back in as hard as he could.

He brought his lips to your ear, brushing the tip of his nose into your hair. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, so softly that you still had to strain to hear him. You were grateful for the palm pressed into your lips as he started to grind into you, the head of his dick repeatedly brushing your bundle of nerves from the position. You squeezed your eyes shut as the pressure built inside your belly. He moved his hand slightly away from your face, dipping three of his fingers inside of your mouth as the voices of the other students remained where they were.

The thrill from possibly getting caught shot tingles up your spine as your clit rubbed against him from how low his body was. It was like every centimeter of him was touching you, the natural curve of his dick fitting inside of you perfectly. You swallowed around his fingers as he continued to slowly thrust inside of you, dick barely moving away from your g-spot.

You couldn’t even utter a warning to him as you came, your orgasm taking over your senses and you clenched around his dick as tightly as you could. Your hips thrusted erratically as you chased your pleasure, throat closing up from the intensity.

Faintly, you heard the voices grow farther and fainter until you were sure they had made their way to their dorm rooms. After a few seconds of silence, Taehyung let out a quiet groan and then lifted his body up from yours, grabbing your hips to keep you in place as he started to snap his hips into yours as fast and hard as he could.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he growled, his grip so tight that you were already sure bruises were forming in the shapes of his fingers. You whined quietly, still clenching sporadically around him. “Coming while people were on the other side of the couch, you’re so fucking filthy,” he continued, hunching forward and resting a hand beside your head again. In only a few more strokes into you, he was stifling a broken moan as he spurted his seed inside of you. He pumped his dick into you a few more times as he rode out his orgasm, his come filling you up and mixing with your own juices as it pooled between your thighs.

The two of you were left sweaty and panting as he softened inside of you. When he finally pulled out of you both of you winced from the added stimulation and you blinked repeatedly to attempt to get rid of the haze fogging your brain.

“That was—” you started to say, stopping immediately as you laid there in front of him, bare and dripping. His eyes strayed to your pussy and he stared for a few seconds before swallowing harshly and digging his wand out of his pocket. He muttered under his breath and, with a flick of his wand toward your thighs, you could feel the mess dissipating and cleaning itself. It felt really weird, but then you were clean and he averted his eyes from your core to look at your face.

“It was something that you can’t just have once, right?” he said, a smirk forming on his lips again. You rolled your eyes and sat up, pulling your underwear back up your legs and thighs and got up to fix your attire until you were presentable again. He lounged against the couch, fixing himself languidly as he watched you with dark eyes. A shiver shot through your body when you realized he was still looking at you hungrily, as if he’d love nothing more than to keep you on the couch and stay buried inside of you if he could.

Neither of you said a word as you hurried to leave the Hufflepuff Basement, ready for the comfort of your own Common Room and bed.

The next month consisted of stolen kisses in empty corridors and the two of you all over each other between his sheets. You tried to resist at first, but every look he gave you in your shared classes and in the Great Hall had your body temperature rising and heat pooling between your thighs. Needless to say, you gave in each time his eyes strayed to you, each time his body brushed against yours, and today was no different.

Taehyung’s cleaning spell had come in handy in the weeks following that first—sober—hook up and the two of you were lazing in his bed. Your chest was heaving with the exertion, mind still reeling as you thought about if you should grab your clothes and dash out or stay while he absentmindedly drew patterns into your shoulder with his finger.

“Why don’t we ever go to your dorms? I’m dying to see what the Slytherin Common Room looks like,” Taehyung mumbled, shuffling closer and wrapping his arm around your naked body.

You rolled your eyes. “My prefect would have my head if she knew I’d let a Hufflepuff into our Common Room for a quick fuck.”

Taehyung scoffed, lips tickling the skin of your shoulder. “I take offense to that. I’m more than a quick fuck.” Your eyes widened and you snapped your head to face him, heart leaping into your throat. He met your panicked look with amusement before continuing. “My stamina is legendary and we could even go for a second round—” He propped himself up onto his elbow and peppered your face with messy, wet kisses. You squealed and shoved at him, giggles building in your throat.

“Oh, yes, definitely legendary. The female population of Hogwarts are quivering at the mere mention of Taehyung and his enormous heavenly dick—”

He shut you up with a chaste kiss to your lips, muffling the rest of your sentence and letting your words dissolve into laugher. He pulled back and the two of you lay in comfortable silence until he spoke up again.

“But really, can’t you be courageous and sneak me in? I fear that you’re simply taking advantage of me, you sneaky Slytherin.” His tone was playful as he spoke, eyes crinkled in the corners with his soft smile.

You let a grin form on your lips as you sat up, grabbing for your panties thrown onto the end of his four-poster bed. “Courageous? I wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, you know.”

His boisterous laughter was his response to your comment and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from following his lead. You dressed quickly, fixing your hair as best you could manage with only your fingers.

When you looked back, Taehyung was laying on his side with the blanket still covering his bare body. You tried to ignore the fire igniting in your abdomen at the peek of his toned chest that you could see—and don’t even get you started on those collarbones of his, which you’d littered with bite marks.

“Are you coming to the Quidditch game later?” he asked, laying back down on his back and stretching. He looked just like a cat, lithe and relaxed in his bed.

“You playing?”

“Of course I am,” he responded, eyes still trained on you as you got up from the bed, grateful he always snuck you in at the times the rest of his buddies were in lessons. “I’m the seeker, I’ll have you know.”

“Hm,” you pretended to ponder and gave him a coy shrug. “Not sure. I may show up, I may not.” He opened his pretty mouth in protest and you let the smile finally light up your face. “Guess you’ll just have to look for me.”

He was awestruck as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before you left, not willing to overthink your actions—you two were just sort-of-friends-with-benefits, after all.

“You’re coming to the Quidditch game, aren’t you?” Yoongi asked when he saw you pop back up in the Common Room after whispering the password (“Gloria” you had murmured) to the stone wall barring the steps down to the Dungeon.

“Of course I am,” you responded, shifting past the other students as they began to leave the way you had come in. “Jimin’s playing, isn’t he?”

Yoongi’s eyes were twinkling with something you couldn’t place as he watched you plop down beside him on the couch. “That’s right.” You gave the boy an odd look and dropped your bag beside you. “It’s cold out today; make sure to bring a scarf with you.”

“I always do, Yoongi.”

He sat back on the couch, the leather squeaking under his body. “Will it be your own colors, though?”

You whipped around to give him an accusatory look. “Is that judgment I’m hearing from you, Min?”

His smile was playful. “Of course not, merely a question presented for a reaction.”

He was teasing you. “I’ll have you know I’m quite fine wearing green and silver at all times. Anything you think you know is—”

“Correct?” Yoongi interrupted. “You can’t think nobody knows you’re always under Kim Taehyung, can you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as hard as you could without breaking the skin. “I most certainly can!” There was silence as Yoongi chuckled quietly beside you. “What… What’s being said, anyhow?”

He sighed a lengthy breath before answering you, eyes trailing down to your fidgeting leg. “That you and the Hufflepuff seeker are shagging, what do you think? He’s always staring at you as if ready to eat you whole at any given moment and then you two just disappear for a suspiciously long period of time before coming back at the same time.”

You pursed your lips. “Well we are messing around but it’s just that. It’s nothing… serious. Just some good old fashioned fun between the sheets.”

Yoongi raised his brows and hummed. “Uh huh, of course it is,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “So you’ll be rooting for Slytherin then, not Hufflepuff, I assume?”

“Of course I will!” you shouted at him, garnering looks of shock from around the Common Room. The rest of the time spent there while waiting for the game to begin was spent with laughter and jibes between friends.

When you two finally decided to get down to the fields and the Quidditch stands, you shivered under your scarf and had to will yourself to not look over at the Hufflepuff team as you climbed up the steps behind Yoongi. He picked one of the benches in the middle of the seemingly hundreds of rows and you followed him through the throng of students to stand in the middle. You looked over at the field, scanning for Jimin—or so you told yourself.

You caught sight of Taehyung in his Quidditch gear, the black and yellow jersey and robe startling. There were only a few minutes until the match began and you were completely ignoring your own House’s team as you let your eyes drink in the sight of the Hufflepuff holding onto his broom and talking in a huddled circle with his team.

He looked up at you as they dispersed, mounting their brooms. When he caught your eyes a smile pulled at the corners of his lips and he raised his hand in a wave, wiggling his fingers. You immediately waved back, lifting your hand only halfway and freezing as he chuckled and turned to focus on the field.

“Only having fun, huh?” Yoongi muttered from beside you, leaning in to make sure you heard him. You jabbed him in the side with your elbow and smirked at the grunt he let out.

You looked back to the field and watched Jimin as the match started, the Quaffle being tossed into the air. All the players were in the air in seconds, Bludgers already soaring through and aiming for unsuspecting players. The Chasers were off, trying to hit the Quaffle into the goal posts. Your eyes involuntarily found Jimin, one of the two Beaters on the Slytherin team, just as he knocked the blue Bludger from one of his teammates and sent it toward the Hufflepuff team.

You hadn’t even thought of cheering on Hufflepuff or Taehyung, screaming Jimin’s name and enjoying the sense of pride that filled your body as Slytherin’s score got higher and higher, the older Chasers successfully getting the Quaffle through the three hoops repeatedly.

The frustration rolling off the Hufflepuff players and crowd was palpable, but no one let it deter them from screaming. In fact, it had the opposite effect; Slytherin and Ravenclaw were screeching at the tops of their lungs, only encouraging the green-clad players and spurring them on.

Eventually, your eyes caught sight of a flash of yellow hurtling through the air, going higher and higher. You focused your attention on the shape and realized it was Taehyung. He must have gotten sight of the Snitch, flying after it with his arm outstretched and hand open. He suddenly changed course and dove downwards toward the field. His fingers curled around the Snitch and he brought his broom back up, the wind having ruffled his hair into an absolute mess.

“Kim Taehyung has caught the Golden Snitch! Hufflepuff wins!”

The entirety of the once-cheering Slytherin crowd deflated at the echoing voice. You stayed focused on Taehyung, a frown on your face. You were sure he would want to celebrate and you wanted to knock him over for winning against your House. His body turned toward you, a wide grin on his face and his arm still held up in victory as the Snitch’s wings fluttered around his fingers.

Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth, a scream already tumbling through your lips.

“TAEHYUNG, WATCH OUT!”

His eyebrows furrowed and you made to move, though you didn’t know where your body thought it would be able to go. Your hands fumbled for the wand in your pocket, but you were ages too late, his body barely turning to look behind him as the stray Bludger whirled toward him and connected with his chest.

There was a sickening crunch of bone and then he was losing balance, tipping off of his broom and tumbling through the air toward the ground.

Screams erupted from the stands, the other players zipping down toward the field and people standing up from their seats, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of him. Faintly, you heard McGonagall’s voice echoing through the pitch, aided by the Amplifying Charm.

“Students stay in your seats! Stay where you are!”

There was a rush of people, all the professors, running onto the field toward where you assumed Taehyung had hit the grassy field. You managed to slip past a few people, shoving your way to the very front of the stands and leaning over to try to catch sight of him, your hands trembling and your heart pounding against your ribcage.

His body was in the middle of the field, his arm and leg bent at unnatural angles and blood was staining the green grass underneath him. Your stomach lurched and you whimpered, tears blearing your vision. Hands gripped your shoulders and whipped you around to face the stands again.

Yoongi wrapped his arms around you, forcing your face into his neck. You were hyperventilating, breaths coming shallow and quick. Your head was swimming and your knees were buckling as you fell into your friend, his arm around your waist keeping you up and steady against his body.

“He’ll be fine,” he whispered into your hair, though his voice was soft and shaky as he presumably caught sight of the boy. His other hand slipped up to cup the back of your head, keeping you in place so you couldn’t wiggle out of his embrace and look back down at Taehyung. “He’ll be fine.”

You shut your eyes and tried to believe him, sobbing into his skin and gripping his robe with shaking fingers.

He didn’t wake up for days. He’d been taken immediately to the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey after she’d tried to heal him of his major injuries on the Quidditch pitch. Yoongi hadn’t let you watch any of it and you’d had to shove away from him once the screaming subsided. You’d caught a small glimpse of him being carried off of the field, the players of both teams distraught as the professors kept them from following after.

You hadn’t left his side in two days.

You came to visit often, so frequently that you were sure Madam Pomfrey held a grudge against you for not letting him rest. He’d stirred a few times during your visits, but you were told he had extreme internal damage and would probably be unconscious for a few days as his organs and bones healed under the nurse’s care.

You were leaning back in the chair beside his hospital bed, reading up on the Charms homework and stacks of extra copies of assignments beside you from the classes the two of you shared. Sighing deeply, you looked up at his limp frame and reached forward, tracing his hand with your fingertips.

He stirred, fingers twitching, and your heart leaped into your throat as your eyes widened. Every time he moved you were convinced he wouldn’t wake, but your body still showed anticipation with every flick of his fingers. He stilled and your shoulders slumped, your eyes closing as you fought back the disappointment.

“You look awful,” his deep voice croaked.

Your head snapped up toward him again and you gasped when you met his brown eyes, open and groggy. Tears built up in your eyes and you blinked repeatedly as your bottom lip quivered. “You look worse,” you whispered.

“And I feel worse too,” he replied, attempting to sit up from his leaned back position on the bed.

“Don’t move too much!” you said, rushing to push him back down. He groaned at the movement, sighing shakily. “You took a nasty fall after that Bludger hit you.”

His lips pulled into a sneer as you attended to him, brushing his hair from his face. “Never would have fallen if Park hadn’t hit that Bludger at me.”

You pursed your lips. “Tae, it was a stray Bludger.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. During the silence, he let his eyes roam your rumpled attire and he raised a brow. “How long have you been here?”

Your cheeks heated and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “Not that long, I, uh, I just came to give you the assignments you missed—”

“She hasn’t left your side since you got here, mate,” someone chirped from a few beds away.

“Shut it, Wood!” you snarled, shooting the boy a glare. He held his hands up and the two of you watched him silently as he gathered his proper clothes and left, having been discharged by Madam Pomfrey minutes ago.

“How long have I even been here?” Taehyung finally asked, a smile apparent on his features.

“Two days,” you replied immediately.

“So you’ve been here for two days, huh?” he asked. When you looked at him his eyes were swimming with mirth and his hand caught yours, tugging you closer.

“I was worried,” you finally mumbled, not able to look him in the eyes.

“You know,” he started gently, thumb trailing against your knuckles softly. “A mere fuck buddy wouldn’t have been this worried about me.”

Your throat clogged up. “Tae, I—listen, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable and I—I don’t—”

He said your name softly, tugging on your hand until you had to lean down and get closer to his face. “I like you too,” he whispered. You were frozen, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, and you did the only thing you could think of.

You leaned the rest of the way down and kissed him.

He made a noise of surprise and you pulled back quickly, barely able to look him in the eyes. “So are you asking to be my boyfriend, Kim Taehyung?”

“I am,” he told you, his smile widening into a grin.

“I’ll allow it,” you replied playfully, a big smile of your own overtaking your features.

“You know what a perfect way to celebrate this would be?” he asked suddenly, dragging his hand up your arm until it was loosely circling your forearm.

“What?”

“Fucking before Pomfrey or anyone else bursts in.”

You had to resist the urge to smack his chest, mindful of the bandages wrapped around it under his hospital clothes. “Tae! You’re not even physically up for it—”

“Of course I am!” he scoffed. “First of all, I’m already half hard just from you saying you’d be my girlfriend. Second of all, I don’t even have to do anything! You can just sit on my lap and ride me like the dirty little good girl you are.”

His words had heat coursing through you and you had to squeeze your legs together. He caught the action and raised his eyebrows in response. You rolled your eyes and pulled the little curtain around his bed to hide the two of you from view.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered as you climbed into the bed beside him, sliding up onto his lap under the blanket.

“I can’t believe I convinced you to,” he quipped.

The two of you burst into giggles, his hand coming up to grip your hip. He let go of it after a second and wrapped his arm around you instead, pulling you down and flush against his chest. You muffled your half-laugh half-moan into the crook of his neck when you felt how hard he was getting against where you were pooling with arousal.

“Now be a good girl and stay quiet for me,” he whispered, nipping your ear.

all rights reserved © junqkook | 09/18 — reposting and/or modifying in any form on any medium is strictly not allowed. translations are not allowed.

[enby-hawke]

Summary: Hawke loves dragons and this is his very first dragon fight. I made up some magic that doesn’t exist. 

Word Count: 7815

Pairing: Lots of flirting mostly between oblivious Merrill, oblivious Hawke, and super annoyed Carver.

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

Bethany was still not talking to Hawke and neither was Mother. That didn’t change the fact that rent needed to be paid and Hawke had only gathered half the coin needed for the expedition. With Carver in tow, Hawke circled through his usual contacts, trying to drum up some work. After one no turned into 8, and the morning slipped to noon, Hawke decided it was time to get a drink and ask Varric for ideas before his temper made him do something stupid.

“I have the usual escort and delivery jobs, but if you’re looking for something bigger, I’ve heard of another opportunity...but the patron is….”

Varric trailed off, and Hawke sighed into his glass, the growing headache an unwelcome guest. “What, he a templar or something?”

“Orlesian.”

Even Carver joined in the groan. “Maker, we’re desperate aren’t we?”

“When are we not?” Hawke chuckled back. “What’s the job?”

“Just to check on his mine. Apparently, none of his workers have clocked out of work since Saturday, but also none of them have reported home. He won’t say what the reward is only that it will “exponentially paid,” whatever that means. Eh, maybe count me out today.” Varric knitted his eyebrows as he pressed his pen to his tablet, but with two words written, he’d erase three. There were at least three drained mugs of spiked coffee that Edwina still hadn’t bussed, but whether they were from last night or this morning Hawke couldn’t tell.

“Why not? You always come along,” Hawke grinned. If anyone could use a break from his room, it was Varric.

Hawke continued to feed scraps of his sausage and eggs to Boof under the table. The mabari had his head on Hawke’s lap, begging for more with his big brown eyes.

Varric set down his pen, rubbing his temple as he adjusted his reading glasses. “Maybe cause “The Bone Pit” is haunted with ghost slaves and spiders and Maker knows what else. You want to get cursed? Be my guest. I’m good.” Varric grabbed a not drained glass of spiked coffee and took a swig.

“Already cursed. It’s not such a big deal,” Hawke shrugged nonchalantly, but mischief crept into his eyes. “C’mon, Varric, where’s your authorial pride? Think of it as a research trip. A haunted mine could be the perfect setting for your next book.”

“I write action thrillers with a dash of political intrigue,” Varric argued. He pushed Boof away when the dog tried to push his head in his lap.

“Y’know I’m kind of with the dwarf on this one,” Carver said, picking at his stew before pushing it aside.

“Hey eat, you’ll need your strength,” Hawke pushed the bowl back in front of Carver. His brother grunted but resigned himself to shoveling the stew into his mouth. Hawke turned back to Varric. “Besides we don’t have a car. It’ll take forever to walk,” Hawke gave his biggest puppy eyes and even left his chair to kneel on the sticky floor, both hands clasped pleading. “Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

“Maker,” Varric caved. He always did. “Fine, but only because writer’s block is kicking my ass.”

Hawke jumped up, a spring suddenly in his step. “Great! But I should drive. You’ve been drinking.”

Varric barked a laugh. “So have you, genius. We’ll put Donna on autopilot.”

They picked up Isabela since they were already at the Hanged Man and Merrill just happened to already be in her room. Isabela didn’t like the idea of traipsing through a boneyard but when Merrill wanted to go, she resigned to tagging along. It was kind of like that ever since Hawke introduced the two, and that worked out since it was fun to watch Carver attempts to talk to Merrill. Though he was rooting for them, he couldn’t help but join Isabela teasing them.

Varric introduced Hawke to Hubert Bartiere in the Hightown Market where he had a store that sold everything from high-end fabric, perfumes, and of course his featured item, polished gems and jewelry mined and crafted “locally”. The man knew Hawke was Ferelden as soon as Hawke introduced his dog. He was less than impressed. Both Carver and Hawke managed not to punch him.

“You’re a mercenary, right?” Hubert glared at the odd party of humans, a dwarf, a Dalish elf and a mabari.

“I do a bit of everything,” Hawke shrugged.

“Well you’re good at killing and that’s what I need. I sent a group from the Wicked Dawn’s to take a look and they haven’t returned. I’m starting to think they made off with my coin. You, I won’t pay until the job’s done.” He continued to primp the mannequin displays, trying to end the conversation.

Hawke wasn’t satisfied with that and tapped Hubert on the shoulder. “But what is the reward? The listing isn’t clear.”

The man looked repulsed at the fact that he had been touched and took out a handkerchief, patting himself down. “I don’t know the extent of the problem so it depends on what you find there. Rest assured you will be fairly compensated. I am a reputable and fair merchant.”

Varric snorted at that, which told Hawke what he needed to know. The mage crossed his arms, planting himself in front of the mannequin in a peacock dress. “Not taking one step out of Kirkwall unless we each get 50 silvers each and then we can discuss a potential bonus-depending on what I find.”

The man looked outraged, his temple vein popping. “Where does a dog-barbarian get off making demands like that?”

“I can vouch for him,” Varric offered. “Whatever’s going on in your mine, Hawke can solve it. He comes with the Tethras guarantee.”

Hawke grinned cockily, imagining his fist was knocking out one of the Orlesian’s teeth.

The man sniffed sharply. “If it turns out my workers are just being lazy I will want my money back.”

‘And you won’t get it,’ Hawke thought, but he nodded offering the man the peace of mind he needed.

The man reached into his pocket going for plastic coin chits, but Hawke held up his hand in refusal. “I prefer coin.”

“I will need to go to the bank to convert it over. That may take some time as I can’t leave my stall. Perhaps you should go and check on my mine while you wait.”

Hawke grabbed the chits angrily. “Taking these for collateral. You can exchange them after I come back.”

The Bone Pit was only about 15 minutes away flying on Donna. You had to pass it when you left the city to get anywhere else. “Oh don’t look so grumpy, Varric,” Hawke nudged the dwarf, Donna’s wheel automatically adjusting course. “Didn’t you say hanging out with me is always an adventure?”

“Don’t butter me up, Hawke. You’re just using me for my wings.”

When they piled out of the car, Boof galloped out, dashing wildly in a wide circle causing Merrill to giggle.

“Boof!” Hawke called out. The dog bounced off a boulder and bounded back towards Hawke, and sat at attention, his feathery tail quivering as it swayed from side to side. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the fresh air, bud, but we have a job to do. Lead us to trouble.”

Boof nodded instead of barking, his puppy demeanor shifting instantly to wardog. Then he dashed away, before dashing back, then dashed away again, impatient at the humanoids much slower stride. The mine itself was strangely abandoned, pickaxes and tools and even luggage and blood were strewn about but no people. They kept their hands on their weapons as they explored, sometimes jumping at the sound of some birds scattering as they approached. The wind whistled through the mountains carrying cries of creatures that they could not place. The air was cold, the veil felt thin. You could feel the Fade weighing down from the midst of haze that hovered overhead.

Boof led them to the foot of a cave, where they saw a miner still dressed in ratty clothes. He was lying face down, several spider punctures tore through his shirt, where the man had been drained of blood. Strangely, his back was also burned, his skin had bubbled and stinking the air with singed flesh. The corpse had been scavenged, huge chunks of his torso that had been chomped out, most of his organs missing, but all the days-old blood was dry and flaking. “Poor man,” Merrill said. “It might have been a rage demon.”

“Or a dragon,” Hawke whispered, his heart suddenly in his throat. The heat that had done this was intense, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Suddenly Boof crouched, growling menacingly. They all turned to hear several high-pitched screeches. Hawke recognized the cry and dashed after his dog, casting a haste spell to keep up.

“Hawke!” he heard several voices shout behind him, but he wouldn’t slow down. The bright lantern lights danced with the shadows in the cave, echoing with the pounding of his gait. He kept running until he saw a clearing where about 20 drakes of all at varying sizes huddled. At the head of the pack stood the broodfather, fully mature at about 10 feet tall, and he breathed out a territorial fire at the sight of the intrusion in his nest.

“Aaaaaww, Boof,” he groaned. “It’s not a dragon.”

The drake screeched charging, the other younger drakes following in tow. Hawke sighed, it was still a fight and he still had to take it seriously. Deciding to save bullets, he grabbed the staff from his back, unfolding the blades with a click of a button.

The mabari was eager to charge but Hawke put his hand up. “Not yet, Boof,” he said and the dog sat down, waiting.

He channeled his magic into his staff, building up energy. When he collected enough, he waved his hand, imagining where he wanted ice to form. All beneath the charging drakes, sigils of ice mines formed exploding some smaller drakes into the air. Crystal crept and spread across the dirt and stone covering the drakes path with slippery ice. The smaller drakes began to lose traction, sliding and falling, but the largest drake dug his claws into the ground, steadying himself, digging claw after claw as it pushed its way out of the ice field.

The others were just beginning to catch up when they gazed out towards the damage already done. “Boof and I got the big one if you guys want to take the smaller ones,” Hawke grinned, causing Carver to roll his eyes. Hawke then pointed at the broodfather. “Boof! Tear out his throat!”

The mabari yipped in confirmation and bolted from his seat charging for the enormous drake. It bellowed, breathing fire but the dog bounded and bounced out of the way. Hawke aimed at Boof, and cast a haste spell, speeding up the dog’s gait so the drake could not aim properly.

Bullets and magic and Bianca’s laser bolts shot past the broodfather picking off the still slipping lesser drakes. Carver had decided to opt-out of this fight. He was now turned away, the tip of his greatsword buried in some dirt. Boof was in front of the drake now, and it swiped at the mabari with its meaty claw. Boof yipped, bouncing off its arm and then back to the ground. The dog jumped back up, raking his claws into the drake’s skin and pushed himself upwards. Boof barked triumphantly, clamping down on the drake’s throat and started to shred. Blood spurted out of the wound and the dog wriggled, tearing open it’s tough leather hide.

Hawke nervously watched his dog swinging through the air, his staff following as he aimed a barrier at him. The drake was moving erratically, turning and twisting and slipping and Hawke could not get a clean shot. The drake kept swiping at its neck, and it was only a matter of time before Boof would get hit.

“Boof, return!” he ordered and the dog released his chomp and pushed off the drake. Hawke managed to cast a barrier as he landed just in time for the drake to swipe. The claw sparked against the barrier, sending the dog flying backward towards Hawke. Boof scrambled to his feet and shook his head all the way down to his feathery tail. That was close.

The drake was dying now, all the other lesser drakes almost picked off by the others. Carver was sulking. Sure Hawke was disappointed it wasn’t dragons, too, but at least they were in the same family. “You want to finish it off, little bro?”

“Go ahead,” Carver muttered, not turning towards Hawke.

Hawke shrugged. He didn’t know what he did wrong this time, but he didn’t feel like playing into Carver’s mood. The drake was approaching now, trying to breathe fire, but it could not manage it any longer and the flames only went a few inches past its mouth. Hawke chose an ice spike, aiming carefully. He shot it, the air whistling as the large chunk of crystal shot from Hawke’s hand and into the wound Boof had opened. The spike pushed through its spine and through the back of the dragon’s neck. The drake gurgled, swayed and fell with a thud.

“Is that all of them?” Merrill asked, breaking the sudden silence.

Hawke sheathed his staff onto his back. “There may be more. We should clear out the cave just in case.”

They had found the rest of the miners and the mercenaries Hubert had sent earlier. The corpses were dragged behind a knocked-down wall only days open strewn about the nest in a shallow pile. The bloody bones were in the process of being stripped clean with gnaw marks chewed in. Armor was scattered in shallow piles with a single torso still trapped stuck into its chest plate-dented from where the drakes had tried to peel it off.

Hawke and Isabela, of course, halted the group to check to see if they could find any coin or other valuables amongst the scattered body parts. Both of them dug through pockets and bags throwing whatever didn’t interest them over their shoulder which could either be a rock, a button, a shovel, or a foot. Isabela pried off a gold ring off a mercenary’s gloved finger inspecting it closely. Hawke collectively found 126 silver and split amongst the group. Isabela, like always, kept all the coin she found and the ring, but still was still happy to receive her share.

“Nice!” Hawke grinned as he divided up the piles. “It’s even.”

“I still don’t know why Boof needs money,” Isabela eyed the pile before Boof, who was busy cleaning himself.

“Oh c’mon. Boof deserves a king’s meal after taking out that drake.” He collected Boof’s share and put it on the money pouch on his armor harness. “I’m treating him to a special dinner after this,” Hawke grinned at his pup who looked up at him with his tongue still out. “Your pick.”

Isabela groaned as Hawke suddenly started baby-talking his dog showering him with kisses over his snout as Boof’s tongue would stretch trying to reach Hawke’s face. She didn’t bring up that Hawke was always treating his dog to “special dinners.” Boof’s happy booming bark bounced against the cave wall, as he rolled onto his back, demanding belly rubs.

“Quiet, Boof, we don’t want to wake the nest.” Hawke said sternly.

Boof then boofed, his throaty bark muffled in his throat as he begged still belly-up.

After a short-ish belly rub session in which Merrill joined, they spent the next few hours exploring each nook and cranny. Hawke kept hoping for a dragon. There was a whole nest here, but he knew Mothers didn’t usually stay near the brood. She might be nearby, or anywhere in the mountains, if she was there at all. They kept going when they heard the sound of a cry. It was a man’s voice, and he was terrified.

“We’ve got a survivor,” Hawke told Boof. “Find him.”

Boof nodded, dashing forward and the party followed to find a man who had climbed on top of a rock. He was surrounded by 5 lesser drakes about as big as Boof. They clicked and growled trying to climb up the rock, but the red-haired miner kept kicking them back down with his lone spare boot, his other dirty pink foot bare.

He spotted the group and shot an arm out towards them. “Help me! Please!”

Boof corralled the drakes, herding them away from the miner. Hawke was about to shoot a fireball when he remembered he didn’t know this man and waved at an overly eager Merrill to put down her staff. Carver and Isabela understood and they charged alongside Hawke with Merrill lagging behind, her staff at the ready. Varric picked off drake after drake with throat and eye shots. There were only 2 left by the time Isabela, Carver, and Hawke arrived. Isabela grabbed one biting head and shoved her dagger in its eye. The drake squealed before keeling over. Carver chopped off the other one’s head and it rolled away, it’s tongue flopping. Hawke having nothing to do started helping the man down from the rock that he was trapped on.

“Oh thank the Maker. I thought I was gonna die.”

“Yeah you got pretty lucky,” Hawke nodded, steadying the man. “How are you? Need food? Water?”

“I’m thirstier than a son of a bitch. I’ve been trapped in these caves for days now,” the man replied causing Hawke to dig through his bag and bring out a thermos and some jerky. The man took it and greedily downed the whole thermos leaving Hawke with just the backwash and then inhaled the jerky.

“Thank Mythal you’re ok,” Merrill said, leaning against her staff. “How did you survive?”

“By hiding mostly,” he replied, coughing on the meat. “I spent most of my time in a crate, with the quarry, but my thirst got the better of me. I tried to make my way to the entrance but those dragons sniffed me out.”

“Actually, those were drakes,” Hawke corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“Drakes are primarily male with few exceptions, have no wings, and only grow a quarter of the size of-,”

The man held up his hand. “Sorry I asked. I just really want to get out of there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hawke felt embarrassed that he had gone into lecture mode about drakonis. “Sure, the way back should be clear.”

Hawke started to move forward but the man grabbed him by the shoulder his murky brown eyes manic with fear. “You can’t go through there. There’s a huge dragon.”

“We can handle it,” Hawke shrugged. He probably meant another drake.

“No, you don’t understand it’s much bigger than the others- with the horns and huge wings. You don’t want to go out there.”

Hawke suddenly lit up. One with wings? Could he be telling the truth? “Let’s go, Boof,” Hawke dashed off, his wagging dog yipping in agreement.

He could hear the others only barely turning the corner, their footsteps echoing against the cave walls. “Will you slow down?” Carver shouted.

“She might not be there if we wait too long,” Hawke called back over his shoulder.

Hawke’s ears were pounding with the thud of his heartbeat. His breathing was erratic and only Boof seemed to be able to keep up with his hastened gait. He dashed out of the cave and onto a rocky plateau where she lay, curled up like a cat, her head tucked into her hefty claws.

He was paralyzed, his heart galloping in his chest and for a few moments, he could only stare. “Holy fuck it’s really a dragon,” Hawke whispered just as the group caught up with him.

Hawke was visibly trembling. He thought he would disintegrate at this moment. She was young, only a few heads taller than a full-grown drake and her scales were a sandy color. She had two sets of outstretched horns that ended in sharp, bony points. Her claws were like obsidian and about half the size of his mabari and they twitched as the dragon slumbered, unaware of the intrusion. For a few moments, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat and he breathed alongside the beast.

“This is the best day of my life!” Hawke’s voice was not quiet and there was a chorus of shushes.

The dragon stretched and moved and Carver pulled Hawke back into the cave before his brother could go charging. The Abyssal snorted, but settled back into its dream. “Elgar’nan, she’s big,” Merrill whispered, peeking around the corner.

“Don’t worry I’ll protect you,” Carver told Merrill. Then he turned to Hawke, strapping his greatsword to his back. His voice was still low and wary. “This might get messy. Mind if I borrow Dad’s gun?”

Hawke’s eyes lit up. “The Armorwing?” He was too loud again and was shushed.

“Yeah, we never had a real chance to try it out,” Carver grinned back.

Hawke waved his hand excitedly, opening a portal, and reached into the white void. He called to his mind the image of the gun, trying to ignore the sudden ache as a soft memory of daily shooting practice bubbled into his thoughts. Suddenly, he could remember the first time he held the Armorwing and quickly squashed down the flood of memories that threatened to come crashing in. A few moments later, he felt it wrapped around his fingers and he pulled out a silverite assault cannon with a barrel about 2 inches wide. 6 different colored runes were into 3 buttons on each side.

Carver slipped the strap into place adjusting it to his size and as he fiddled with some of the settings while Hawke hovered over. The rest of the party was dumbfounded.

“Now remember we’re going to want to stick to ice settings for most of the fight. She’s fire-aspected.” Hawke pointed at the snowflake rune which made Carver snort, and he pressed it before Hawke could.

“I know how to use it. Just don’t get us killed,” Carver muttered. He clicked off the safety and stared down the sight.

“How in the Maker’s name did two broke Fereldens get their hands on an Armorwing?” Varric asked.

“Didn’t I tell you? My dad helped invent them,” Hawke shrugged.

“Oh, I guess that explains everything then,” Varric replied, his tone stating the opposite.

“Don’t worry, it's got nothing on Bianca,” Hawke grinned.

Isabela followed, exchanging her knives for her handguns. “Great we found the dragon- Let’s kill it while it’s sleeping,” she began to aim but Hawke shoved his way forward bounding like the mabari that trailed his feet- in front of Isabela’s aim.

“Oh sweet Maker,” Carver groaned.

Hawke didn’t even notice his party but was addressing his dog rather seriously, his arms crossed looking into the mabari mutt’s deep brown eyes. The mabari’s long feathered tail was wagging wildly somehow understanding. “Now this is our first real dragon fight, Boof. She’s young but it’s the real deal so keep up, okay. She looks maybe 50 summers at most, but don’t underestimate her. Her flame sac is fully mature. She will be able to create a gaseous flame that burns at about 1600 degrees Celsius. Boof! That’s hotter than lava!”

“Lucky,” Carver cleared his throat. He seemed more annoyed than horrified.

“Right, right,” Hawke nodded and then nodded to his dog. “Got that? No catch. Stay behind me if it gets rough-”

The dragon was starting to awaken because Hawke wasn’t exactly being quiet. The party fidgeted, with varying degrees of anger to fear, except for Carver who was just sighing and looking up to the sky for help.

“Uh, Hawke what the fuck are you doing?” Varric whispered not that it mattered if he was quiet any longer. The dragon slowly opened one scaly red-eye, it’s gaze fixating on the bubbly mage who was enthusiastically stretching his arms and lunging.

“Looks like it’s time.” Hawke clapped his hands in glee then placed them on the ground. Pebbles trembled and sudden spikes of boulders shot up from the ground, startling the dragon. A circle of spaced jagged rocks juts out one by one making makeshift barriers on the platform, while one boulder raised right before Hawke’s feet. The dragon crouched defensively, dodging the spikes as she took to the air with several wind-inducing wing beats.

The dragon bellowed the air grew stiff and dry and flames shot down at Hawke, who pressed himself behind the center boulder. Everyone dove undercover as the flames flooded the platform melting some of the rock. “Whoooooooooooooooo!” Hawke whooped as the flames split against the boulders shooting past him and blackening the rocks in front of him. He only had a small pocket where he and Boof huddled as the flames licked past them, the heat sweltering the air, making it thin.

The dragon finally stopped inhaling and swooping far into the air beyond the reach of bullets and laser bolts.

“Maker she’s so beautiful.” Hawke was shouting now. “Alright everyone barriers will last only about 4 seconds at best under direct fire so best stay undercover and stay light on your feet.”

Merrill chirped from where she was ducked under a rock near the mouth of the cave. Carver was guarding her with his body, the Armorwing clenched in his hands. He swore under his breath as Merrill drew her staff, her eyes wide and trembling but she just said, “Let’s try not to get cooked, everyone. It’ll smell awful.” Somehow she was just able to accept that this was happening.

“She’s magnificent,” Hawke laughed maniacally. “Aw man, does anyone want to record this?”

Isabela and Varric just glanced at each other from their cover, not sure if they should gang up to kill Hawke.

“You’re mad, you know that?” Isabela cried. She fired several shots at the dragon, as it circled around them trying to make runs in the safety of the skies, but the bullets just sparked against her underbelly. Varric shot a laser from Bianca but it only scorched the scale. Carver shot one hole in the center of it’s right wing. The dragon screeched, echoing through the mountains. It breathed flames again, and everyone dove back under cover of the boulders. But though its hide was blackened it didn’t seem to do much damage.

“Her underbelly’s harder than steel,” Hawke cried. “Aim for the fleshy part of her wings to bring her down.”

Hawke aimed an ice spike at the dragon’s eye but she tilted, veering left and the spike shot past her. Isabela shot up with her handgun, the dragon flinching each time a bullet bounced off the wing but one bullet went clean through, blood spurted from the wound. Merrill flung spells and bolts up at the dragon in support but the dragon seemed to be absorbing the magic.

The dragon gurgled, it’s mouth lighting up as it swooped down for another pass. “Cover,” Hawke called out. Boof barked and they both dove behind the boulder again everyone ducking for safety. The rocks were steaming still red with flame that slowly died into embers. Their cover would melt away if they took much longer. The dragon honed in on the dog, following it with its flame. Boof galloped towards the edge of the arena bouncing against the rocks to lift him just beyond her reach. Hawke shot at the dragon's head, another ice spike grazed her eye, scraping it and it’s turned its head, the fiery stream blasting away from the plateau.

“Boof, you alright?” Hawke called out, his voice high and panicked.

The dog barked from behind a boulder.

The dragon bellowed zoning in on Hawke, circling back around. Varric was following the dragon with Bianca, Carver with the Armorwing, Isabela with her handguns. They both took turns shooting holes in her wings whenever they had an opening. Some of Varric’s laser bolts bounced off the bone and impaled themselves into the rock with glowing red spikes. Isabela aimed for parts already bleeding, but Carver’s ice absorbed into the dragon causing it to shriek every time he managed a hit. The dragon hovered above, steadily losing traction, when a huge rock flew from what seemed like nowhere and smacked the dragon on it’s nose.

“Nice one, Kitten!” Isabela grinned in approval.

“Watch out!” Merrill shouted back.

Blood spurted from it’s nostrils as the boulder continued undeterred into the sky. The dragon tumbled down, crashing into the rocks which slid away clearing half the platform.

She shook her head, her red eyes a little glazed but quickly spotted Hawke and started slinking into range.She gurgled, her teeth glowing orange as she inhaled.

“Lucky!” Carver cried out as Hawke fleeing behind the lone center boulder still steaming from being hit from all sides. He could not get too close to the melting rock and he could feel the heat on his back.

The flames wrapped around the boulder scooping out and filling the space. The dragon continued breathing fire approaching the boulder, the flames curling around the side singing Hawke as it became a hot bowl of flames. Hawke cast a barrier absorbing most of the indirect heat but the dragon was determined to burn Hawke out of existence and kept breathing out.

His barrier was cracking, the protective glow quickly fading. The heat was getting through and his skin began to blister. He called healing magic to run through him, trying to keep up with the damage.

“Hold on Hawke!” Merrill cried. A sigil formed around Hawke and lighting him up with a soft blue glow underneath before another barrier encased his body.

The dragon held out for a few more seconds before she could breathe no more, and it took a long ragged gasp. “Carver, now!” Hawke cried, but the dragon once again began to inhale.

The dragon swiped away the melting boulder, leaving Hawke completely in the open. Carver cried out dashing from the dragon’s flank and buried his greatsword deep between two scales in the dragon’s neck where it snapped off. Blood squirted from the wound and the dragon breathed out short premature flames that Hawke was able to dodge. Carver then grabbed the Armorwing, aimed it at the wound, and shot several rapid ice bullets. The ice burst through the other side of the dragon’s neck, the bullet’s sizzling against the stone as they bounced off. The dragon bellowed, stomping all across the ground, causing an earthquake and Carver struggled to maintain his footing as he dodged the dragon’s swipes.

Boof barked, charging at the dragon his hackles raised and chomped down on the wound Carver just made. The dragon flailed, trying to shake the dog off as he shredded the wound. The ground shook, knocking Carver off his feet. Hawke dove forward while the dragon was distracted and rolled under her head where the soft underside of her mouth was exposed. He drew his staff from his back, and with mana-enhanced force he jabbed the blade upwards through the soft scales into the roof of the dragon’s mouth snapping it’s maw shut and snuffing out the flames. Hawke cried out, channeling all his energy into one large lightning bolt that amplified through Hawke’s staff and sizzled the dragon, frying its brain. The dragon’s head swerved and began to fall and Hawke rolled and kept rolling until her seventy-pound head shook the ground with a thud.

The dragon twitched, flapping its wings erratically as it tried to take flight again. She attempted to open her mouth, but the slick black staff held firmly in place. Flames shot through its teeth and nostrils as it rattled its last breath. It’s great red eye slit focused on Hawke, his reflection staring back as the life seeped out of the creature until the dust settled and all was silent.

Varric stepped out from behind his melted boulder, Bianca still raised at the creature. “Andraste’s flaming tits. You idiots did it.”

Hawke threw up his arms whooping as loudly as he could. Flames shot from Hawke’s mouth, a stream of triumphant fire blasting over the dead dragon as he mimicked her breath. Carver tackled him screaming excitedly, snuffing out the flame. Both of their cries bounced off the mountains of the Bone Pit. Soon Boof was shaking himself off and joined in howling on top of a boulder, safe from the heat of the hot stone. Hawke grappled Carver, trying to corral his head into a noogie, “Fuck yeah, little bro. First fucking dragon! Who’s kick-ass now!”

“Get off me,” Carver laughed twisting out of Hawke’s grasp quite easily since he was about a whole a head taller and twice as broad. “You idiot! You almost got us all killed.”

Merrill giggled, as the brothers wrestled for dominance. The mabari stayed barking at the brother’s, demanding one of them pay attention. The brothers twisted and squirmed, until Carver slammed Hawke into the ground, forgetting the stone still glowed with heat.

“FUCK!” Hawke’s scream echoed and he jumped to his feet, the back of his arms were singed and stinging. He had already been nursing burns and this just reopened them. Embers flaked off his leather armor and faded as they fell.

“FUCK!” Carver’s hands were sweltering where he had caught himself on the hot stone. His fingers trembled in the pain, parts of his palms bubbling.

“What kind of idiot gets more hurt after the dragon battle?” Varric chuckled. He was writing something in his travel notebook.

“The kind of idiocy that’s genetic,” Isabela rolled her eyes as the brothers nursed their wounds.

“You guys should be thanking me,” Hawke called back. “That was awesome!” He was already running his hands over Carver’s so they weren’t as much of an angry brown-red. Then he ran a spell through his whole body, the stinging easing just a bit. When he was done, he finally noticed that Boof was licking his paws, also bloody with burns. “Oh Boof, I forgot your shoes.”

“Are you all alright?” Merrill called out. Speaking of shoes, Merrill’s had no soles in spite of Hawke’s and Isabela’s insistence she get a sturdy pair of boots. Even if she did, everyone’s shoes were melting into the stone. She was still at the edge of the platform, safe, but trapped.

Hawke ran up to the boulder that Boof had taken refuge on. He was laying on his side panting, but with happy eyes. Lucky dug into his blood to fuel one more regeneration spell, his hands closing the burns on Boof’s back paws. Boof licked his dark gold snout, closing his eyes as Lucky worked.

The skin was growing, but it still looked tender.

Still need to visit Anders.

“You did great, bud,” he rubbed the dog’s floppy ear affectionately then hoisted the pup up over his shoulders so he wouldn’t have to walk on the scorched ground. The dog turned his head, licking Hawke’s cheek.

Then Hawke walked over to the dragon head and put one hand on its snout, the scales still warm. The Abyssal’s head was as half as big as Hawke’s body and he felt this great sense of peace as he gazed into the dragon’s eyes. “I’ve been dreaming of getting close enough for forever and...” he couldn’t finish his thoughts and turned to Varric, odd eyes gleaming with excitement. “You think we can bring the head with us?”

“Why in the Maker’s name would you want to?” Varric snorted.

“I don’t know. It’s cool.”

“Where in Gamlen’s hovel where would we store it?” Carver said.

“Fine, then I’m at least taking a tooth or else no one at the Hanged Man will believe me. Wait! Someone take a picture!”

“I got a selfie stick,” Isabela cried out digging through her bag.

“Um, you guys go ahead,” Merrill called out at the gathering group, still stuck at the edge of the platform. “I think I might just wait until the ground cools down.”

The group exchanged glances before Hawke nudged Carver. His brother looked annoyed that he was shoved. Boof licked Carver’s head as Hawke leaned in close. “Go be a gentleman,” he whispered, winking.

Carver blushed deeply, Isabela and Varric snickering. Carver undid the strap of the Armorwing, handing it back to Hawke to put away. “Uh…Merrill?” he started out awkwardly taking only a single step forward.

“Yes, Carver?” she called back.

“If you’d like I could…carry you?” Carver looked like he might keel over.

Her green eyes lit up in relief, but her pointy ears twitched slightly. “Oh, I wouldn’t wish to be a bother.”

“Ridiculous!” Hawke cried, shoving Carver forward with his free hand,“Carver’s great a picking up beautiful girls.” Immediately Merrill went beet red all the way to the tips of her ears. Boof barked as Hawke’s grip slipped putting the Armorwing back into the portal. Quickly, he hoisted the dog back up onto his shoulders.

“Lucky,” Carver said warningly, looking nervous as he gazed back at him.

“Go get her,” Hawke whispered.

The three of them unashamedly ogled as Carver, red-eared, walked up to Merrill his feet slightly dragging. He rubbed the back of his neck avoiding her gaze. She had a habit of staring intensely and Carver couldn’t seem to stand the scrutiny. “Would you like a piggyback or would you prefer bridal style?”

“Bridal style!” Hawke hooted, causing Carver to glare at him murderously.

“Oooh, swoop her up in those big strong arms!” Isabela teased.

“That’s my vote!” piped Varric.

“It’s not a vote!” Carver bristled, his brown freckled skin deepening all the way down to his neck.

Merrill seemed to look confused, not quite understanding what Hawke, Varric, and Isabela saw as so amusing. “Um…I don’t know what either of those mean so just…whatever makes you most comfortable.” She held out her arms straight out towards Carver, unsure what was going to happen.

Carver awkwardly leaned down since he was a head and a half taller, and placed her hands on his shoulder. “Kind of link your hands so you don’t fall-”

She removed her hands from his shoulders and clasped her hands together, waiting for her next instructions. Carver, not wanting to correct her, tried to push his head through the hole in her arms but his head was so big he just pushed her arms up, confusing Merrill.

“You’re brother’s real smooth, Hawke,” Varric chuckled.

“It’s like watching a drunk monkey pet a cat,” Isabela cringed.

“Yup,” Hawke replied. This was painful.

Finally, he thought to grab her hands, unlink them, throw them around his neck and then press them back together before he finally scooped her up by the knees causing her to yelp in surprise.

He steadied himself as she flailed squeezing onto him and then carried her back to the dragon where Isabela was fixing her phone onto the stick. “Finally, lovebirds,” she teased.

Carver glared at her in an effort to shut her up but she just waggled her eyebrows as she extended the stick and then held it up in the air. They huddled around the dragon head with Hawke sitting on top, gripping each horn. His dog still draped around his shoulders licking his lips and panting heavily. Carver was carrying Merrill to his right, Merrill smiling sweetly, but Carver’s face looked uncomfortably serious. Varric and Isabela were to Hawke’s left, both linked arm in arm and grinning. Isabela was making a peace sign.

“Say “dragon!” Hawke yelled out.

“Dragon!” only Merrill and Hawke called out as they snapped the picture.

They took several more photos since Isabela didn’t like how she looked in the first one. She held up the group for 5 minutes adjusting her hair and make-up in the camera on her phone. When they finally got a picture Isabela didn’t hate, Hawke insisted he has one with his head inside the dragon’s mouth. It took a bit to pry out his staff and he also got a lot of drool in his hair for that idea. Then Hawke picked the biggest, sharpest tooth he could find took 15 minutes of digging it out with his dagger. Boof scrambled off of Hawke’s shoulders and settled himself on the dragon’s neck, watching his packleader work. Finally, when Hawke successfully pulled out the tooth and put it in his pocket, the party turned to leave. But Hawke, instead of following, turned the dragon’s head on its side started sawing at the dragon’s throat.

“Lucky,” Carver said warningly. “We’re not taking the head with us.”

“I’m not,” Hawke grunted, tearing the dragon’s throat-wound open gingerly, his hands slick with blood.

“Uh…Hawke gets a little crazy around dragons.” Varric stared at Hawke like he was completely unhinged.

“You have no idea,” Carver muttered.

“Just a sec.” Hawke couldn’t focus on talking. He set the bloody dagger down on the dragon’s head and used his hands to peel down the top of the muscles gingerly. Then when he had a big enough opening, he dug his hands into the dragon's throat. He didn’t have to go very far to find what he was looking for, the Abyssal’s flame sac. Carefully, he felt around until he could see in his mind exactly what the gland looked like. Then pulling out his right bloody forearm, he picked up the dagger again and slid it inside, carefully shearing away the tendons that held the firm sac in place.

The party watched in horror as the blood gushed onto Hawke, who seemed to not mind it one bit. The sounds of squelching and ripping filled the air and Isabela looked queasy. “Anybody bring a bucket?” she covered her mouth.

When it was free, he tucked the blood-drenched dagger back into his sheath on his belt and pulled out a small red fleshy ball that’s center glowed orange. Its thick skin was veiny, almost see-through and it beat like a heart.

“Isn’t it amazing? It’s her flame sac.” Hawke breathed excitedly. “Look her magic lives, but it’s not as warm as I thought it would be.”

“Uh…that’s great Hawke,” Varric replied. He was eyeing his friend, who was drenched with slick, steaming dragon blood from his face all the way down to his melted boots.

Isabela whistled, “Good call. An extinct dragon gland can probably fetch at least 100 sovereigns. Maybe more in the right circles.” She dared a peek just in time for it to beat. She gagged and turned away. “Glad I didn’t have to do it.”

“We can probably fund the expedition with this!” Carver said.

“I was thinking of giving it to Merrill, actually,” Hawke replied, causing the Dalish elf’s eyes to widen in surprise in Carver’s arms. “I mean we’re not too far off from funding the expedition and Abyssal flame sacs are especially potent at cleansing magics. Perhaps it will help purify your eluvian shard?”

Merrill’s green eyes were so wide Hawke thought he might fall in. “Oh, n-no, Hawke, I couldn’t. You need it more,” her face was red as she stammered.

“We can find coin anywhere,” Hawke shrugged, “but restoring an eluvian? That’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Besides that barrier probably saved my life. I owe you,” He smiled at Merrill who was beaming back until he met Carver’s gaze. Somehow he had pissed him off.

“Um,” Hawke said awkwardly, “I’ll just put it away until we can store it properly.” He was suddenly feeling self-conscious. He waved his hand opening up an interdimensional portal and stuck the sac in the reflective portal before closing it, his brother still glaring coldly.

“Great, great,” Varric muttered. “Now can we go home. My pants are singed and I think all the rubber’s melted off my shoes.”

Hawke leaned on Varric, slicking blood onto him. “Buy me a drink, Varric. I’m a dragon-slayer now.” He waved his hand into a fist dramatically.

“It’s your turn, dragon-kook,” Varric groaned as he looked at his clothes, an impression of blood slick where Hawke had made contact.

They bantered and teased Carver all the way back to Varric’s car. At one point Isabela had to flee from one of Hawke’s blood-drenched hugs. Merrill had not noticed she was being carried the whole time until they arrived at the car which caused Isabela to hone in on Carver’s reddening face. “You didn’t realize? Really, Carver? Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“Ask me out to what? That sounds fun!” Merrill cried.

Carver looked like he would crumble under the laughter.

On the way home, Hawke had been forced to strip down to his small clothes and hose down with magic before Varric would let him into his car.

“You’re easy to get naked, Hawke. I just have to ask.”

Carver refused to look at him. Merrill was red, fidgeting with her seat belt refused to even glance at him the whole time. When Hawke tried to make conversation she would squeak and refuse to say anymore. Isabela stared in approval. “You do keep fit.”

Hawke refused to part with the dragon tooth and he refused to clean it. He wanted to remember this moment exactly as it was. Varric did made him put it in a plastic grocery bag so it wouldn’t drip and he clutched it happily. He rode home with one towel beneath him so he wouldn’t wet the seats and one towel draped over his shoulders. His curly hair was frizzing and messy. Boof’s head laid on Hawke’s lap as he sprawled across his brother and Merrill, his feathery healing paws now wrapped, and twitching in his sleep.

“You know, Hawke, I had a thought,” Merrill’s eyes were purposely averted from him, her voice high and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Merrill,” he looked over to her and she dared a peek. His one brown eye, one blue met hers, and she gasped. Hawke’s unbridled joy was spread in the biggest grin, his brown freckled skin warm and bright, and he was of course completely nude except the tight superhero boxers that clung to his drying skin.

Her eyes went wide and stayed wide as she slowly looked away, her whole body rigid and stiff with some expression Hawke could not decipher. “Uh,” she said and gulped. “Why didn’t you just put the dragon in your portal?”

Everyone’s expressions fell dark as Hawke’s mouth fell open. For a moment he just gawked at her brilliance. “I could kiss you!” he shouted, startling the slumbering pup who barked in protest. Carver clenched his fist, ready to punch him as Merrill suddenly fell and bonked her head on the car window. Hawke obliviously shot forward, placing one hand on the dwarf’s sagging shoulders. “Varric, we need to turn back!”

[complicatedandstained]

The Other Day at Hot Topic: Claire’s

Axel steps out of Hot Topic with a guilty conscience and a pleased smile that he cannot quite contain. 

“Let It Snow” ironically graces the island mall’s speakers overhead, as he traces the familiar path over to Claire’s. He finds himself caught up in the surge of people mid-morning brings to their two story, air-conditioned corner of paradise. Locals and tourists alike beginning their holiday shopping clad in pompom hats and red and green Hawaiian shirts. Above their spirited chatter, Axel can already hear the staccato grumble of Vanitas giving Roxas hell back in Hot Topic. 

Dumbass is going to have to cut that out quick if he wants to get Aqua her job back. 

Axel hammers a few more exclamation points into the ‘hurry up’ message he’s composing before firing it off to Demyx. 

Axel would have liked to stay with Roxas and Vanitas himself, but his own shift has already begun, and the children of Claire’s can’t pierce their own ears. Or so Marluxia tells him. And he needs to play nice with Marly today, for Saïx’s sake.

Anyway, it’s Dem’s day off, and Xigbar can only take so many of his distractions at the tattoo parlor before he starts barking like his German Shepherd. So Dem’d jumped at the chance to come in and continue wooing another potential Organization member. Never mind that the band already has a singer... 

And that would turn off Vanitas to the conversation, for sure. No way was he getting caught in Demyx’s web of rehearsals, demos, and shameless merch promotion. No way in hell. 

Roxas can probably hold his own until then. Vanitas might wind up in a neck brace, but it’s a sacrifice Axel is willing to make. 

And it’d be Aqua’s fault, really, for getting a little too into her part and storming out instead of babysitting Hot Topic’s newest rivals for him. 

God. Saïx is going to throw a fit if he finds out about any of this. 

And Axel figures his introverted boyfriend is already going to be in a rare state from his long day of meetings, margs, and sucking up. 

Of course, Axel will have to tell him something. 

He just might have to temper it first. Nothing will be too over the top tonight. He’s thinking red wine, candles, massage oil, bubble bath…

Then Saïx can just drown me. 

Axel snickers to himself and then laughs outright, recalling Roxas’ flat out refusal to believe that Saïx would date him. A soccer mom trips over her Adidas slides at Axel’s sudden outburst, and, used to being stared at, Axel winks at her—which does not help her catch her footing—before ducking into Claire’s. 

Axel’s smirk finds its way back out as he surveys the moderately busy store. Everything smells like spilt sugar plum perfume. One cluster of small fries gathers around the metallic green and red tinsel hair accessories and another around the tourist faves—cowrie shell bracelets, puka shell necklaces, silver starfish shaped earrings—all strategically located near the entrance. Axel weaves easily between them, too absorbed to notice the lanky, red-headed freak in their midst, and sidles up to the side of the register, where an athletic blonde woman with a pixie cut is finishing up a sales transaction.  

“Larxene, you light up my world like nobody else,” Axel croons to his coworker, overtop the One Direction lyrics floating through the speakers. “The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed!”

He leans fairly close to her ear, his arms crossing on the counter, but she ignores him in favor of straightening a stack of coupons, a scowl forming across glossy pink lips. “You’re late,” she says. 

A dry sound escapes his throat. “Missed you too.”

Larxene puts in beaucoup hours at both Claire’s and Hot Topic to pay for her apartment fees and architecture courses, and, therefore, Axel sees entirely too much of her, and vice versa.

She replaces the 15% off stack atop the cash drawer and checks for anyone else in line before turning around and leaning back to speak to him. “I was hoping you weren’t coming.” Her smile is not charming, but he returns it with vigor. 

“Sometimes life disappoints us.”

Her smirk twists, and an eyebrow rises. “That why you look like crap today?”

“Hm?” Axel glances toward one of the thousand mirrors atop their neat white accessory displays and sights his swept back, unstyled hair, the shock of golden freckles sprinkling his nose, the foreign, childlike quality of his eyes without their cat eye liner. 

He’d almost forgotten. Saïx, Xigbar, Roxas…Why hadn’t they said anything about it?

Xigbar’d told him once he prefers his men without makeup. But of course now he’s dating Demyx and his glitter bronzer loving self, so what the hell does he know. Saïx has seen him with and without and everything in between and would never have said anything. Vanitas and Aqua had been a smidge distracted what with his threats to fire them and all. But Roxas…

Huh. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Saïx monopolized the bathroom this morning,” Axel tells Larxene with a playful touch of bitterness.

“Taste of your own medicine, hm?” teases a voice, approaching from his other side. 

Axel doesn’t need to look up to recognize his manager—Saïx’s closest friend. 

An arm inked with a familiar black, brown, and forest green pattern of vines, leaves, and thorns wraps Axel’s shoulders and gives a brief squeeze. Axel raises a hand to press Marly’s wrist, turning and narrowing his eyes at him skeptically. 

“Hello, Marluxia.”

“You look good,” Marly insists in his easy, confident way, stepping back to observe him. “Natural beauty.”

They are all acutely aware he is only saying this because Axel is not breaking as much of the dress code as usual.

“Don’t listen to him,” Larxene cuts in, tapping Axel’s chin. “You look like crap.”

Axel raises his hands defensively to either side, eyelids shutting them out, “There’s this hoity-toity Hot Topic management conference today. I am a good boyfriend and let Sai primp for an extra hour.”

“And Axel spent the extra time squeezing into those pants,” Larxene quips to her boss, pinching the tight gold denim in question, opposite hand propped on her hip.

“Unquestionably.” Marluxia smirks, eyes flitting through the store to ensure he’s not neglecting his head managerly duties. 

Axel balks, shooing away Larxene’s loose grip on his thigh. “You don’t like the pants?”

“No,” both say in unison, horrified, wide eyes back on Axel and the outfit in question. “We’re obsessed with the pants,” Larxene corrects quickly on both of their behalves. “It’s your face that’s the problem.”

Marluxia chuckles despite his earlier disagreement, as Axel’s arms cross, and he steps off in the direction of his piercing station. 

“Boss,” he growls, “I’d like to report one of my coworkers for unsportsmanlike conduct.”

Larxene pauses in rooting through a fringed black pleather handbag to stick her tongue out at him, flashing the lime green plastic of the tongue piercing he’d done for her. “Then maybe you should go work at Dick’s.”

“I hope you mean Dick’s Sporting Goods,” Axel raps his knuckles against the top of her head, grinning thinly.

“Either way,” she interrupts, smirking up from her handbag, from which she’s produced a tube of liquid eyeliner. 

Axel opens his palm for it with a sheepish smile. “You’re an absolute darling, you know.”

“Screw yourself,” she snipes pleasantly, but releases the tube into his palm. He snatches and pockets it hastily, lest she change her mind. 

“Children. Please,” Marluxia’s hand raises to rub his forehead beneath his neat bubblegum pink bangs. “You primadonnas are making me miss my old job managing White Castle.” Marluxia’s elegant nose crinkles as if he can still smell the burger place’s unique onion stench. “If I’d had to manage both their incompetence and your drama, I think I would have taken an early grave.”

Axel rubs at the back of his neck and chuckles good-naturedly, and Larxene scowls and elbows him in the ribs.

Marly winces at this interaction and rolls his eyes. His throat clears with a neat little cough. “Regardless, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you both while I have you here. First and foremost, we are running our flower crown promo through this weekend. You are encouraged to wear a crown to advertise the sale and may take one from the display or bring one from home if you like.” 

Marly straightens the ring of red roses crowning the shoulder length, sharply layered pink hair he’s undone from his usual ponytail.

Axel’s lips tip up just as Larxene’s tip down. 

“I’ll do it if she does.”

“Douchebag.” 

For a moment, Larxene’s glare could set off a smoke alarm, but noting Marly’s noble attempt to cover a groan with his hand, her expression softens. Larxene sighs. “Fine. I’ll do it for you, Marly.”

“And the children,” Axel prompts with an alligator smile, eyes following a trio currently knocking over Naminé’s elaborate pyramid of bug-eyed Beanie Boos. “Do it for the sweet little children.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” she flicks her wrist toward another group of their miniature customers, pulling down a shelf of earrings whole, “and the bratty little children.”

Axel snorts, though he knows deep down she doesn’t mean it. Larxene enjoys seeing little kids smile over stupid little cute things and helping preteens accessorize for their first dates. She would just stab him with a stiletto heel for saying so. 

“And another thing,” Marly continues, loudly enough to pause their squabble, and ushers them toward the back of the store. They pause near the wall length, color-coded flower crown display, where conversations are less likely to be overheard and customer complaint surveys less likely to be filed. “We need to discuss your timeliness.”

Axel blanches and then wonders why Larxene does too. 

“Larxene, I know that you picked up Kairi’s shift at the last minute,” Marly begins, sweeping a few strands of hair behind his ear and pretending not to notice Axel’s shoulder jutting into hers. 

“And Axel, I’m aware that Saïx asked you to check up on Hot Topic in his absence.”

Axel nods and tries not to scowl at the reminder. 

“Ordinarily, as you know, I’m happy to let these things slide,” Marly continues, folding his hands in front of him above his short violet half-apron.

“And we appreciate it Marly—” Axel puts in, though it doesn’t stop the man’s expression from growing steelier, and there’s a reason he gets on so well with Saïx. 

“However,” Marly interrupts, “with the holiday season upon us and new recruits starting out, I’m going to need you, my more experienced warriors to lead the charge.” He gives each of them a measured look and nods with approval at their attentiveness. “I hope I can count on you.”

“Of course, boss,” Axel purrs easily, patting the man’s bicep.

Larxene crosses her arms and nods as well. “Anything you need.”

“Good,” Marly’s smile grows jagged fangs, “because in Kairi’s absence, I’ll need one of you to train our new employee later today.”

Larxene groans loud enough that a passing service dog yips back. “Anything but that,” she corrects. 

Marluxia laughs a villainous sort of laugh, before he walks off to take over ringing on the register, waving his fingers at them like a noble might a peasant. “Work it out, darlings.”

*           *

Axel and Larxene duck into the narrow lavender painted staff lounge, mid-argument. He heads for the time clock, while she props herself up on her knees on the sleek, black sofa that feels much like a slab of stone in an old timey prison, to try on flower crowns in the mirror above it. 

“I’m not training another Kairi clone,” she repeats.

“Naminé and Kairi have completely different personalities,” Axel interjects readily, having had this conversation, regarding Marluxia’s interest in hiring doppelgängers, more than once already. 

“Then you train Kairi 3.0.”

The first crown has golden leaves that stick up from Larxene’s head like horns, and she swaps it out for another with black and purple blossoms and silver stems. She seems to prefer that. He has to admit it’s striking with her skinny black jeggings and slinky white camisole. 

“I’m happy to train Kairi 3.0.” Axel shrugs turning around as he ties off his Claire’s apron. She beckons him forward and he bows his head so that she can crown him with a ring of ocean blue and seafoam white blooms. 

“What,” her hand near slips, setting the flower crown slightly askew, “seriously?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to subject anyone to you.” Axel joins her, kneeling on the couch to get at the mirror. Shifting her eyeliner from his pocket, he begins tracing a lid as she readjusts his crown. “But if she doesn’t want to pierce ears, sweetie, you don’t have much of a choice.”

She tugs the crown half off, down below his ear, and smacks him with it. The line above his eye smudges hopelessly.

Glancing back at the mirror, he frowns at the flowers tangled in his hair, scoffs at his single charcoal raccoon eye, and abruptly starts to laugh. Larxene joins in, clapping him on the shoulder. “You suck,” she says, “do you know that?”

“I know,” he says after a minute, tugging at the crown and further upsetting his hair, “just help me fix this.”

“Fine,” she pushes him by the shoulder down onto his ass, and loosens his ponytail, wrapping the band around her wrist, “but I want to hear the latest Hot Topic drama.”

“Drama?” His shoulders stiffen though he attempts to hide it as he combs fingers through his hair. “No drama. When has there ever been drama?”

“You were 15 minutes late, genius.” She lifts the flowers and tugs harshly at a snarl. “Tell me the drama.”

Axel hisses, hands raising in attempt to stop her. She removes the crown entirely and gently smooths back his auburn locks. He lowers his hands. “Alright, alright, gees.” He exhales and his hands fold neatly in his lap. “His name is Roxas.”

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter five (a leonard cohen afterword)

”Give me a Leonard Cohen afterword, so I can sigh eternally.” -”Penny Royal Tea”, Nirvana

November 19, 1988. Somewhere near Manhattan, New York.

I have the copy of After the Watershed tucked underneath the interior of my jacket to keep it totally out of sight. I made a vow to Maya, and if this, confining my eyes to her writing while hiding it from Lars, then it’s a deal. I must protect her. I must take a little peek into her musings and figure it out for myself. Lars can help me more if he wishes: here, I’m getting yet another free little window into her mind.

I slip into the spindly barstool right next to Dominique: to her left is Nancy, then followed by Lars. I don’t know if I can share this new edition with these two ladies but it’s better if I keep it under wraps. I feel the card stock making up the front cover brushing against the armpit of my shirt. I hope I can steal a moment under these bold neon lights in order to read it.

The bar meanwhile is comprised of wood that’s about the color of molasses and is also so clean that I can eat right off of the surface. It smells of fresh lemons with maybe a kiss of whiskey. Right in front of us stands a display of wine and whiskey bottles: in front of me is a rich dark brown bottle of sarsaparilla next to another bottle of root beer. I’m still promising myself not to drink especially after what happened in New Orleans.

Every so often I take a glimpse to my left to make sure the three of them are not paying any attention to me. Then again, if I get any questions, I could probably wave it off but who knows how this is going to work. I’m about ready to slip it out from under my coat lining when Maya herself saunters out from behind the bottles with a black apron in hand. Her black waves drift behind her head with each step; and then she freezes right before us.

“Maya, what—?” Lars sputters out, and she recoils at the sight of him. I gape at her while Dominique and Nancy are sitting there next to me in stunned silence.

“I—didn’t know you worked here?” I’m almost at a loss for words.

“I did for a little while and then the bartenders all went on strike,” she explains to us as she’s tying the apron behind her back. Must be the other reason why she came back East. “I was offered to be a bar back but I’d rather serve instead because writing only does so much for me. girl needs to make a living somehow.”

“Couldn’t agree more...” Nancy’s voice trails off. Seems legitimate, though.

“What may I get for the—“ She swallows at the sight of Lars. “—four of you?”

“I’ll—have a beer,” Lars starts.

“Cosmo,” Nancy adds.

“A lemon drop,” says Dominique.

“Sarsaparilla—you got anything to eat?” I ask her in one fell swoop.

“We have pasta and potstickers,” she replies, her voice lightening at the sight of me.

“I say we have both,” Dominique suggests.

“We can each have pasta,” Nancy elaborates, “and we can have a platter of potstickers right here in front of us.”

Maya then nods her head at us, and flashes a raised brow at me. I still have the zine tucked under my arm as she steps back around the display when Lars leans back with his hands upon the top of the bar.

“Man, that was left-field,” I remark, clasping onto the edge of the zine cover.

“Tell me about it,” he mutters, running his fingers through his hair, “I was not expecting that. Not expecting that at all.”

Once the words escape his lips, she returns with a big silver platter of big potstickers, each of them crispy looking and golden brown on the outside. There’s got to be at least a dozen here as she plunks it down before us.

“—or that, for that matter.”

“Holy shit, this is a lot of potstickers,” I declare as she reaches under the bar for four polished silver forks. She bows her head as she hands one to Lars, but she leans in closer to my face as she gives me the fourth and final one.

“Eat up for me,” she whispers to me. “Please.” I swallow as she steps back to make our drinks. The three of them watch her in stunned silence which gives me the chance to read this new edition of After the Watershed. I slip it out from underneath my jacket and hold it down on the stool next to me so it’s out of sight and I don’t have to eat with one hand.

Using the neon lights around us, and using my left hand to eat up the potstickers, I take a look at the first passage, written in grayish typewriter ink:

“I had the misfortune of using up all the money I had put away following the bartenders’ strike in Manhattan and the Bronx as part of promoting my own writing. Trying to be like Bruce Pavitt of Subterranean Pop indeed has its pitfalls if I might say so myself.”

Well, that explains that.

“If you must ask why I decided to pick up the job of bartender in the filthy river that is downtown New York City, it’s to escape my old life. I was held captive in my own childhood home and I decided to not have another minute with it.”

Maya herself then returns with a big bowl of vermicelli for me and a glass masonry jar filled with whitish flakes.

“Parmesan?” she offers me.

“Eh, just a little dusting.”

She sprinkles some over the pasta before moving onto Dominique. I continue reading:

“The story is that I escaped from Massachusetts in order to find my sister given she was on a book tour in the Northeast. Candace traveled away from the Boston area because she knew of everything there. She knew the territory all too well and thus she avoided going there.”

I raise an eyebrow at that. That doesn’t make sense. Meanwhile, this pasta is smooth and embedded with lots of garlic butter just how I like it. Keep going...

“I worried that the circuitry would break with the bitter upstate New York cold but I need to say that a lack of anesthesia leaves quite the memory.”

That still doesn’t make any sense. 

“Lack of anesthesia.” Maybe there’s more to that third eye scar than I originally thought. But “circuitry” is what’s throwing me. Yeah, there was that weird glint if neon light in her pupils but it could’ve just been a reflection of the neon lights behind us. Maybe I’m just overthinking things. Maybe I’m about ready to close this and focus on filling my belly because I kinda wish she’d have elaborated more because this is a little baffling.

But with every word I’m taking in from her, I’m taking a bite of pasta. Every so often I reach over to the separate platter for a potsticker but I’m mostly fixated on these intricate silky little noodles. Never came to a bar that also served pasta and potstickers before.

I also never came anywhere that sells food where they give second helpings, either. Before I can even so much as reach the bottom of the bowl, she returns with a big pot of vermicelli and puts in more with the plastic tongs. I take a sip of sarsaparilla and continue on with reading:

“But by some miracle I managed to press on throughout New York and found my job. I was there for a couple of months and then the strike happened. That was my chance to catch up with Candace. It was definitely a difficult task given I was reported missing and had I surfaced, I would’ve been dragged back to the very shithole I was trying to escape from.”

And I’m officially glad I didn’t take her to the police. I guess it must have been pretty brutal in order for both her and Candace to want to leave. Makes me wonder what kind of home they lived in. I also think back to what Molly told me and Lars in how she suggests it to be cabin fever. I’m not buying it as I take more bites of vermicelli. I can feel myself getting full but it’s just so damn good.

“I traveled across the outskirts of the city, heading out to a little town called Monticello where I lay low for about three days. There was only one television to be found in the whole town and that was the diner I scrounged at. I decided to leave because I knew I would be found. And so I traveled through the backwoods of upstate New York, trying to find my sister and the golden ticket out of my old life. I got about as far as Syracuse when I realized I had only just enough money to squeak me out to a city called Rochester but it was a stretch. I wound up in Syracuse with the few American dollars in my pocket and I spent them on a bag of nuts because I was getting hungry. I kept going until I ran out of fuel about a mile outside of a town called Oswego.”

So she got there and I found her on accident. Holy shit.

Maya herself returns to me with a third helping of pasta, and she’s giving me a lot in the helpings, too. I hope I don’t fall asleep eating because I wanna know more.

“My memory is a bit foggy but I do recall walking through the pouring rain towards a church. A block ahead of that was a Denny’s restaurant so if nothing, I figured I could scrounge behind the restaurant and then camp out at the church. But before I could go any further past the front door of the church, a black haired pastor told me to come inside. I told him thank you and I kept walking. I don’t remember anything after that, except when I woke up, I was being cradled in the arms of the most wonderful man. I was weak and the thought of food made me—and still makes me—sick to my stomach. I don’t know what happened to me, but there I was, face to face with two beautiful brown eyes, as brown as the earth. I was cradled against the loveliest body, as soft as a pillow and yet as strong as I could ever imagine a man to be. He called himself Joey and he is undoubtedly the most beautiful man in the world because he saved my life.”

There’s a part of me that wants to cry but I can’t because the three of them will want to know. There’s also all the food she gave us. I drink down the rest of the sarsaparilla and groan inside of my throat.

“Wow,” Nancy breathes a sigh of relief. Dominique leans forward over the top of the bar with the side of her head resting in her hand.

“Oh, God, I’m so full—“ Lars groans, leaning back in the stool and rubbing his belly. And I am, too: I set down my fork and lean back to lay a hand on my stomach, which is very warm and very firm. I’m surprised the lower part of my belly isn’t poking out a little bit because come to think of it, I ate a ton of food, all those potstickers and three big helpings of vermicelli with lots of garlic and butter. Then again, Maya did give us a lot of food. 

So that’s her story: I found her by accident all because she wants to be reunited with her sister. But that still doesn’t explain why she came back here to the City, though. That also doesn’t explain what actually happened to her in Boston. Or outside of the church, for that matter.

I have so many more questions, and I’m feeling so full that it’s going to be a while before I can ruminate it much less consider seeing Sebastian Bach and Company. I let out a low whistle when I catch a glimpse of writing at the bottom of the page next to my fingers. I give my belly a massage as I crane my neck forward for a better look at this afterword:

“That night I had a dream about him. I am sincere when I say his body is the most beautiful I have ever seen. He’s like a searchlight, caressing over me with his indigenous radiance and bathing me with his gentleness. He exposed me, with the rope slagged around my ankles like an umbilical cord. In my dream, I approached him while he was in bed. I wanted to come closer to him, to love him and hold him in the way he did with me. I touched his face and approached his dark delicate lips when he whispered ‘I want you to give to me’ before kissing my neck. I woke up before I realized I had moved so close to him. Oh.. how I wish to feel him again, in all his warmth and softness.”

I then lift my head to catch a glimpse of her peeking around the corner of the display at me. I still have my hand rested upon my stomach, so very warm. And I don’t know what to think, besides what Lars is telling me.

“Joey, I’m gonna need you and Dominique to help me outside. My legs are like lead...”

I close the booklet and tuck it under the interior  of my jacket again. I sit up and I feel heavy. I’m skinny but I feel so heavy. I look at Maya again and she’s eyeing my body.

And I still don’t know what to think.

[galaxiesandstarlightinherveins]

Fae AU Chapter 2

Also known as Feels Like Forever on AO3. 

Newt wanders through England as much as he can. The Ministry would prefer him to stay in London but really can’t do anything as long as he stays in England. So, he does. He heads up north towards the forests. The fairies that are his constant companions just as Niffler and Picket urge him that way with whispered giggles. They lead him through the darkness of an ancient forest. He sees the Sidhe from behind the trees, watching him. They are both terrible and beautiful and he doesn’t dare to look for too long. Picket hides in his pocket, long since given up his attempt at stopping Newt from following. 

The fairies lead him to an unconscious man. A man with silver hair tied to a moss covered trunk of an oak tree. Newt recognized him immediately. The dark lord himself: Gellert Grindelwald. The fool probably had come to ask the sidhe for what exactly? Even he should have known that they want nothing to do with humans, both magical and mundane. 

He gets pushed towards him but a couple of mischievous sprites. It begs the question, will he help Grindelwald, the man responsible for so much death, or leave him to die here at the merciless hands of Fae. Unfortunately, Newt has never been known to be cruel and even Grindelwald doesn’t deserve this kind of fate. The sidhe continue to watch as he walked towards the dark lord. Newt unbinds him with just a touch. As every day goes past, the need for his wand diminishes just a little more and Newt worries for the day that he won’t even need it anymore and what it would mean for him. But that day is not today and there is a foolish dark lord in need of help. 

Grindelwald falls forward and Newt catches him. He lays him on the ground, between the roots and his head in his lap. It will take awhile for the enchantment to wear off and until it does, Newt can not leave him be lest the sidhe finish what they were doing. So Newt waits. He doesn’t know how long he waits for just that the forest stays dark and it’s always been impossible to keep track of time amongst the Fair Folk. 

Newt doesn’t realize that he dosed off until their is a wand at his throat and a curious dark lord standing over him. Grindelwald stares at him with a certain look in his eye that Newt is unable to place. Mismatched eyes sharpen as Newt tries to stand up. 

“Stay.” The wand digs into his neck a little and Newt settles back down with his case clutched in his hands. Perhaps nodding off with a dark lord in one’s lap wasn’t the best of ideas Newt mused. Pickett was letting out angry shrieks from his hiding place in his coats. Newt looked up at Grindelwald and immediately looked down once he made eye contact. 

Grindelwald continued observe him, using his wand to tilt Newts gave towards him. “Tell me, Mr. Scamander, why do they seem hesitant at your prescence? What is about you that made them back off?” 

Neither the look in his eye or the tone of his voice, was malicious. Grindelwald was inquisitive and made no move to attack. In fact, his voice was quiet, almost gentle even,  perhaps wary of the fae that watched them. 

Newt, feeling hopeful that Grindelwald was, at least, too curious to kill him, made another move to stand. The dark lord allowed him though he kept digging the end of his wand into Newts neck. 

“Um, well, never mind that? We really, well um, ought to get out of here?” Newt berated himself for his awkward mess of phrasing. What was he doing here? Trying to help the most wanted man in the magical world no less? Merlin help him, he should be running for the hills. 

“Hm” Grindelwald’s expression went from curious to smug and the smirk he wore did not bode well for Newt. “I’ll find out one way or another.” 

A shiver went down Newt’s back. The dark lord knowing of Newt’s talent was the last thing he needed. Grindelwald lowered his wand, though it was clear that he was still ready to strike if need be. Newt was still curious as to why and how Grindelwald ended up here but it was probably best for him to not ask. 

Grindelwald raised his right eyebrow as the two continued to stare at each other. “Well, did you not say we needed to leave?” 

“Yes!” Newt snapped out of his stupor and quickly grabbed Grindelwald’s moss covered sleeve (just how long-) and led him towards the exit. At his questioning look, Newt quickly explained, “Its best if we don’t get separated. The fair folk, well, they like to misguide and confuse.” 

“Very well then.” If Newt had dared to look back he would have been terrified at the michiviois look in Grindelwald’s eyes. Instead, he felt a strong steady hand take his arm so that they were walking beside each other. “Perhaps this would be better, Newton.” 

Newt didn’t know what made Grindelwald go from Mr.Scamander to Newton, but he didn’t like it. He especially didn’t like the way in which it was spoken. It was dark and foreboding. The magizoologist felt himself tense up at the contact. He felt the intensity of Grindelwald’s stare bearing into his neck, making him blush. 

Instead of responding, he led him into the darkness of the forest. He knew better then to trust the sunlit paths. It was safer to be in the shadows of moss covered trees, most of which towered over the two forming a canopy that barely allowed any sunlight in. They stepped over gnarled roots and broken branches hidden by fallen leaves on their path. As they went further in, the trees became larger and less light was allowed in. The emerald greens of the woods became browns and blacks. Grindelwald was becoming tenser with each step they went deeper into the forest. Newt eventually had to summon a light ball to help guide them, not realizing that he did it wandless and wordless or that summoning it made his eyes turn gold. 

The two continued their trek in silence. The forest was quiet. Any animals that may have lived in it were hidden from them and not making any sound. Newt was trying to forget the fact that he was leading the dark lord who he had just saved out of the forest. He knew that if he thought about it for more then a couple of seconds, he was going to panic. Theseus was going to kill him if he ever finds out. Merlin, what have he done? The light started to flicker in response to his raising panic. 

“Calm yourself, Schatz.” Grindelwald tighten his hold, eyeing the shadows surrounding him. “You’re attracting them.” 

Pickett was letting out concerned shrieks. He climbed onto Newt’s shoulder to try to hug his neck in a semblance of comfort. Newt forced himself to calm his breathing. He nuzzled Pickett and murmured a soft “Thanks.” 

Grindelwald didn’t loosen his hold on Newt’s arm. Instead, it seemed as though he got closer to Newt. He was wary of the shadows, eyes darting from one tree to another. Newt watched him, wondering if he could see the fairies following him or if he was just sensing their presence. He knew the dark lord was rumored to be a seer, but how much could he See. Was it only limited to visions of the future? Or was there more to it? 

Eventually, the trees started to get smaller again and the need for the summoned light became less and less until Newt was able to extinguish it. They were able to see the end of the forest and the sunlight shinning through the trees. The two exited and Newt welcomed the feeling of the sun on his skin. He didn’t know how long they were in that forest but knew it was too long. Grindelwald let go of his arm and turned to face him. 

“I suppose I must thank you for your help, Newton.” Grindelwald’s arms were behind his back and he became the perfect picture of confidence. “But I must ask, why?

Opposite to him, Newt hunched in over himself with hands clutched tightly to his case. “I couldn’t just have left you. It would have been cruel to leave even you to their devices and, well, I’ve just couldn’t.” Newt finished lamely. He wasn’t trying to not think about it, quite frankly. “They would have left you to literally rot on that tree, magically drained but still alive, after playing whatever tricks they wanted to. Perhaps even trying to consume you and no one deserves that fate.” 

There was that look again. Like Newt was some kind of puzzle that he needed to figure out. Like Newt was a precious treasure that he wanted to keep for himself. It sent shivers down his back and left a feeling of dread pooling in his gut. He needed to get out of here now. He’s already said too much. 

“Perhaps, that is why visions with you in them never seemed clear.” The dark lord muttered, more to himself then anyone else. Louder he said, “Join me, my dear. I can see it in your eyes. You can See, can you not? Perhaps not the future, but other aspects, no? And surely those around you do not understand such a talent. Do they shun you for it, I wonder.”

Newt shook his head. “N..no. I can’t. Well um, actually, can you not, I mean, will you not tell anyone about this? Please? No one else knows about it.... my sight and, well, I’d like to keep it that way.” Newt was wishing he was better at talking. He felt like he was making more of a mess with every word he stuttered out. “Please.” 

Grindelwald regarded him for a moment. “Very well then, Schatz. But I must ask you to come to Paris in two months time. I want to show you the truth of the matter. The truth of what I do and what I aim for. After that, it’d be your choice and if you say no, that’d be the last you’ll hear from me.”

“I can’t!” Newt was in shock. How in Merlin’s name did it turn out like this? 

Grindelwald took Newt’s hand into his own and raised it to his lips to be kissed. The dark lord bowed before him, acting like the perfect gentleman. “Just one night to change your mind, that is all I ask.” 

And before Newt could respond, Grindelwald apparated leaving him confused and flustered and unsure of where to go from here. 

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Mother May I?

Good after noon everyone! If it is in fact afternoon for you. Either way I hope everyone’s day’s are going better than mine. Here is the next chapter of ‘The Part Timer Series’, if you’re looking for the first part go ahead and search the tag or look it up on my Master List :) 

As I mentioned earlier this story is based off of some head-cannons that @ikesenhell and I talked about over some nourishment. Though it is worth mentioning that they don’t match the now cannon restaurant stories (have you all been able to play the Gatcha? If not have you seen some of the screen-caps?)

Tagging @little-mini-me-world per their request! Hope all is good!

As promised in my little give-away, in this and all subsequent chapters you are going to see @elievalentine‘s OC - Akiharu Natsuyuki and @one-eyed-captain-kinky ‘s OC - Zhari joining the gang. 

Under the cut to keep away dash clutter! 

Happy Reading Fam!

T~

Mother May I?

[YN]

Your alarm screeched to life at the much too early time of 745am. You dind’t need to be at work until 11am but you wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to get ready. It was Monday, and subsequently, your first day of training at Azuchi. Taking care to secure your long hair in a braid so you could pin it into a bun. Once your hair was in place you dolled your face up with a quick flip of your wrist for an almost perfect winged cat eye, accompanied by a splash of mascara. You finished the look there, deciding to leave the rest of your face natural. You didn’t need anything melting off of you or turning splotchy if the day got hard.

Hair and makeup presentable you got dressed to Hideyoshi’s uniform specifications. Putting on a black collared button-up, you rolled the sleeves up just past your elbows as instructed and tucked the shirt into the well-fitted slate  dress pants you had just slipped on. Finishing the look off with a black leather belt to keep your pants from drooping and your black non-slip shoes. You gave yourself a final look over in your mirror and laughed. If you didn’t know you were headed to Azuchi you’d think you were a mob boss, this was way too much black for one person to be wearing.

You arrived to work twenty minutes ahead of your scheduled start time, greeting Hideyoshi at the door. “Good morning Mr. Toyotomi.” he stared at you for a moment before breaking into a genial smile.

“Good morning (YN), just Hideyoshi is fine. Let’s go ahead and get you started.” he turned over his shoulder, “Ieyasu, can you seat anyone that comes in while I get them situated?”

“Whatever.” was the only response gave, but it didn’t seem to bother Hideyoshi much.

“That is our bartender Ieyasu, he’s a little prickly, but you can’t take what he says at face value. He’s just a bit contrary.” you had to chuckle as the aforementioned party shot daggers at the two of you.

“It’s nice to meet you Ieyasu. I look forward to working with you.” you offered a formal nod of the head as you smiled his way.

“Sure.” was his only response as he turned around, continuing to clean glasses and put them back on the shelf.

Hideyoshi walked you to a check-out station at the back of the restaurant where he punched in a quick code on the screen before turning back to you. “Go ahead and fill out the boxes on the screen and we’ll get you set up in the computer.” stepping aside to let you up to the counter.

“All finished.” You turned and stepped back letting Hideyoshi back in front of the screen.

“Sounds good, while we’re waiting for your badge to print let me take you around and introduce you to everyone.” and he did just that.

Most of the faces you recognized from your interview. Mitsunari, the silver-haired young man with glasses, was the finance manager and he sat in the shared office space with Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide, the other shift manager who had interviewed you. Though you didn’t get to say hello as he was off today. Upstairs was Nobunaga’s office, he was in, but it was clear he was busy, so you only stayed briefly to express your gratitude for being offered the position. Coming back down the stairs you were walked through the kitchen seeing Masamune the executive chef of the restaurant while also being introduced to the patisserie chef.

“Hello, I’m Akiharu Natsuyuki, the resident patisserie chef. Come to me if you need anything sweet or you need to get away from that one.” she pointed at Masamune “it’s nice to have another female on staff, I hope we get along!”

Akiharu was a short, slender woman, with soft features and bright brown eyes. Her hair was the color of chocolate mouse and looked like it would feel just as fluffy.

“Likewise.” You greeted her with cheer. “Let’s get along!”

“Of course.” she smiled once more before turning back to her mixing bowls.

“Hideyoshi,” you spoke up once you were outside of the kitchen “Are Akiharu and I the only female’s on staff?”

“No there’s one other. Zhari.” At the sound of her name, a young woman about your age popped up from underneath one of the counters. Wavy honey brown hair was pulled into a ponytail so high she looked taller than you, but as she walked closer, it wasn’t difficult to tell you had a few good inches on her.

“You rang?” the young woman quirked an eyebrow at Hideyoshi.

“Perfect timing. Zhari this is (YN). (YN), Zhari.” he looked back at her “She’s going to be training with you for the week, but let me know if you need any help. Have fun.” with that Hideyoshi headed back up towards the front of the restaurant.

[Hideyoshi]

I had to admit, I was impressed. You were a hard worker, and in the four days, since you had started, you could already see how competent you were. Zhari had asked for permission to have you on your own, and you now covered half her tables by yourself. We had been uncharacteristically busy as of late, but that didn’t seem to faze anyone, even you.

“Can I help you with that?” I knew better than to take a full tray of food from waitstaff but it was so hard to watch someone your size carry that much.

“I think I’ve got it but thank you Hideyoshi.” you smiled up at me “I’m going over to twenty-two if you want to follow just to make sure.”

“Ah um, no, I don’t want to get in your way. Just let me know if you need help carrying anything.” I hesitated before I walked back towards the front.

“If you don’t stop acting like a helicopter parent she’s going to file a complaint against you with Mitsuhide.” Ieyasu grumbled as I walked past the bar.

“Who’s going to come to complain to me?” Mitsuhide slinked in beside me

“Nobody” I quipped as Ieyasu answered “(YN)” himself.

“Good to know, I’ll go start the paperwork now.” and without another word, he made his way back to the office.

“Wait, Mitsuhide!” I shouted after him, but he wasn’t listening. Before I could chase after him the bell to the front chimed rooting me to my post for the next two hours.

“Good afternoon, how many will be dining with us today,” I asked the group of young girls. The looked to be about sixteen, it was summer break, wasn’t it? At least that explains why kids their age were here at this time of day. It would be reprehensible if they were skipping school just to come here for lunch.

“Five please, you wouldn’t happen to have anything in Ms. (LN)’s section would you?” the apparent leader of the group making a request for you.

“Of course right this way.” I lead them to a six-seater in Zhari and (YN)’s section “Can I get you ladies started off with something to drink?”

I walked back to the soda fountain and saw you loading up a tray. “Thanks, Hideyoshi,” you smile dazzled “I heard the order, if it’s alright with you I’ll take it from here?”

“Please.” I sat back and watched as you balanced the drinks and sauntered off to the table of happy teens.

“I see she’s a fast learner. Very nice job Hideyoshi. Is Zhari here for me to give my regards?”

“Regards no. A raise yes,” Zhari responded from around the corner carrying a tray full of food from the kitchen.

“Zhari that is no way to talk to your boss.” I felt my frustration rise at her tone. I didn’t need that precedent being set and you thinking that sort of behavior was acceptable.

“Chill out Hideyoshi, Nobunaga’s cool.” She walked by him giving him a fist bump before screaming back into the kitchen “Masamune! You better have something hotter than me back there ready for table six when I get back.”

“At your service!” He appeared at the window siding three plates in her direction. “Hey Nobu, Akiharu has a question for you.”

[YN]

Everyone gets along so well sometimes you had to wonder if you’d ever fit in. It had been four days, and you were starting to get a feel for the water. Mitsuhide worked nights, and while he was quiet most of the time, he was observant. You weren’t sure how, but problems seemed to resolve as if they were never there to begin with. He did like to tease, but in a very different manner than the others. It was sharper, witty. He kept you on your toes.

Ieyasu was, as Hideyoshi warned, a contrarian but he was always finding an underhanded way to help out. Even if the help still came with an insult. he got along with everyone from what I could tell save Mitsunari, but even I was starting to think that was a front.

Mitsunari was almost always in the back. You had only seen him away from his desk once, and it was to run an errand for Mitsuhide. He was accommodating, always looking to assist in some way, though someone typically stepped in before he was given the opportunity. You were still trying to work that one out, but his smile never failed to sell out Akiharu’s dessert special for the day.

Masamune was continually flirting, but the inappropriateness always reached new levels when he and Zhari were together, it was funny and made the whole experience a bit more relaxing and casual. While they were silly in their own ways, both were considerate and knew the best way to push me past any hesitation I might be feeling. If I was confident in my work, it was because of their encouragement.

Nobunaga was a great boss, doing what he felt was best for everyone as a whole. Everything was in the best interest of his customers and his employees. Though if he kept eating all of the sweets Akiharu cooked up we were going to have a problem. I was four days in, and I could tell something was going on there. Nobunaga took every chance he could to visit her back in the kitchen when Hideyoshi wasn’t there to reprimand him, he was practically kitchen staff. Not that it mattered, Akiharu baked up anything he wanted, so far sugar stars seemed to be the most popular dessert she made for him.

Then there was Hideyoshi. He was a weird one. Always mothering, there when you needed him, and when you didn’t. It was endearing, but you could see how it could get old. You had caught a few comments made to him by Ieyasu in passing, and you appreciate having someone look out for you. Not that you minded, as long as you weren’t talking disrespectfully to Nobunaga, he was very concerned with your well being so you let him help if it made him feel better and didn’t mess up your flow.

You were going to enjoy working here very much. Excited you stood near the soda machine and listened to Hideyoshi take the order for five girls who had been seated at one of your table. They were familiar, had they been in your biology class this past year? Filling up glasses as they ordered, you picked the tray up and made your way out to the table.

“Thanks, Hideyoshi,” he looked baffled “I heard the order, if it’s alright with you I’ll take it from here?”

“Please.” He motioned with his hand as if to say ‘after you’ stepping out of the way so you could get passed. Blinking a few times as you walked by.

[Hideyoshi]

I wasn’t dumb, I knew Nobunaga was going to get candies from Akiharu. At this point, I was more concerned with how you were going to do covering a table of young girls who clearly knew you, than dealing with his sugar problem. Would you be distracted? Nervous? Happy? I was interested in your reaction, you face seemed to make the most intriguing expressions, and I always found myself curious. You never reacted the way I thought you would, and I liked that.

Placing the drinks down with a flourish with a musical quality to your voice, everyone thanked you. You were friendly, and I was sure your smile could rival Mitsunari’s on dessert sales if you learned how to harness it. Tucking the tray under your arm as you leaned down towards the girls you took their order. You popped your pen and notepad back into the white apron we had given you, dropping straws onto the table. There was what looked like a pleasant exchange before you excused herself and headed to the kiosk to place the orders with the kitchen.

Personable and timely. Such a diligent worker.

“If you keep staring like that you’re going to burn a hole in them.” I jumped as Zhari walked passed with the food for her table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just supervising.” I felt the need to defend my actions, had I really been staring that long?

“Uh huh, sure. Just don’t scare them away with your constant mothering okay? I really like them.”

“Same!” Masamune jumped into the conversation backing Zhari’s comments up.

“Again I don’t know what you two are talking about. I’m going back up front.”

…

It had been a quick day, with summer vacation in full swing more people were visiting in the afternoon for lunch than they had been before. I was relieved from my post up front by the evening host and headed back to the break room to my locker trading my no-slip shoes for my dress shoes and a tie.  As I shut the door, you made your way back doing the same as I had hanging your apron after switching your work shoes with regular tennis shoes.

“You headed out, or just back to the office?” you turned to me as you hooked your lock back on the door.

“The office, need to finish up a few scheduling things. Everything go alright today? We didn’t overwhelm you with tables did we?” I looked up as I finished tying my tie.

“Not at all. I think I’m really starting to get the hang of it, but thanks for your concern.” you smiled, and the room got brighter, why was that happening? I really needed to get my vision checked. While I hadn’t been paying attention you made your way to the door turning just before taking the employee exit.

“Have a good night Hideyoshi. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t work too hard until then!”

[valloryr]

One Page Lost

Author: Vallory Russups

Rating: T

Pairing: Byakuran/Sawada Tsunayoshi, Bluebell/Yuni, Bluebell & Byakuran, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Arcobaleno

Prompt: Sky Day (Dragon AU / Royalty AU) for @khrrarepairweek

Tags/Warnings: N/A

Summary: Byakuran saw Tsuna at the library and fell in love.

AO3

For Byakuran, the world was a book. A well-read one, but not a book you open again and again to discover new sides and angles, new perspectives and old secrets. Rather, the type you pick up because it's comforting, familiar, and there is nothing better anyway.

Lounging on a cushioned sofa as white as everything else in the room, Byakuran frowned at the marshmallow between his fingers. Kikyo would be annoyed with him if he went through all their stocks of marshmallows in a single day yet again. which was the perfect reason to cheerfully finish off the last packet.

"Bya-nii!" Bluebell's sweet voice signalled her presence before the girl burst through the doors, leaving wet footprints on the plush white carpet. She latched onto him and pouted into his stomach.

"You should come when you don't smell like sea-weed, dear." Byakuran patted the head of his 'little sister'. "Went out for a bath in the sea?"

"She dumped me."

"Well, I've been telling you it won't work out between the two of you. You're the sister of the man who murdered everyone she loved, after all."

Byakuran rubbed Bluebell's shoulder consolingly. Honestly, he didn't understand why Yuni had to be so difficult about some things.

Bluebell shook her wet hair and glowered.

"Not like this, dummy. She dumped me into the water, nyu. We quarrelled, and she pushed me. This hasn't ever happened before!" Bluebell intertwined her cold, slightly scaly fingers with Byakuran's warm ones and looked down. Mumbling, she added, "What if there is something wrong with her? Are you sure that tea you're feeding Yu-chan is... safe?"

Byakuran sighed.

Everything would have been so much easier if people had less morals. Even his closest and dearest ones fell prey to this fate.

Touching Bluebell's cheek gently, Byakuran said, "Safe or not, without that tea you wouldn't have Yuni-chan at all."

Bluebell bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

"But this way, I have to wonder whether it's really Yu-chan I'm with or someone I've made up myself."

Smiling, Byakuran told her a joke to keep her mind off such useless things, and then chattered a mile a minute, switching to more interesting topics. Scruples were so boring, and he was already bored by so many things he wondered how he functioned. Probably out of pure spite. People would be much happier with him gone.

Yuni was a disappointment.

After Byakuran's country of Gesso crushed the Vongola Empire and created the Millefiore Empire, his first action was to secure the family of the Giglio Nero prophets. The mother was too strong to be contained by his magic, which was the reason Byakuran killed her along with everyone who protected the prophetess. He drugged her daughter Yuni, keeping her at hand just in case, but she didn't See what he needed her to, so Byakuran easily discarded the girl.

She was lucky Bluebell took interest in her.

In a world where everything was a book, there was just one page torn out. A single page Byakuran didn't know the contents of.

That 'page' was an old story, almost a myth. It told about a group of mystical ancient dragons controlling the keystones of the world.

The Arcobaleno.

Byakuran desired that page more than he had ever desired life.

"And what are you doing here?" Byakuran purred into the ear of an unfamiliar figure in the royal library.

"HIEEE!"

The figure - it was a young man, almost a boy, no matter how high-pitched his scream - shuddered and stumbled away from the White Emperor. He managed to bump into two oak desks and almost bash his head into a bookshelf.

Quite a bemusing reaction. Usually people just bowed, threw their money at him, and fled the country.

The boy rubbed his head. He was a cute little thing, all scrawny knees and brown doe eyes and fluffy hair Byakuran longed to brush. The oversized robe hanging off his frame only emphasised his small stature. It had seen better days. Several necklaces of golden beads festooned his neck, so thin Byakuran could snap it with one hand, and they rattled every time the boy moved. Very bad for stealth.

He might have even been interested in romancing the boy, had Byakuran not known how those things unfold. Boring, like everything else.

"Scared of me?" he asked with his usual smile. The boy looked to the side before taking a deep breath and looking right into Byakuran's eyes, a feat unheard of even among Byakuran's most loyal servants.

His heart skipped a beat.

"I know the things you've done, Your Highness," the boy - who looked too young to be there - said in an endearingly direct way even though his shoulders trembled. "But I'm not scared."

"How delightfully suicidal."

Byakuran swept past the boy to drop into a chair, furrowing his eyebrows at the fact that it was gilded with gold. Why gold? He had told them he only welcomed silver.

"Now, who are you? I haven't seen you here before. And where is Mammon. It's not like them to eschew their duties."

Mammon was the Keeper of the Books and the one in charge of the special archive that contained precious information on such things as the world before Byakuran's reign as well as the legends of the old - The Seven Arcobaleno Dragons.

"I'm Tsuna," the boy told him. When he wasn't shrieking, he had a soft, soothing voice. Byakuran wouldn't mind listening to this boy lecturing him in Kikyo's stead. "Master Mammon took me in and told me to help clean everything up." Tsuna scratched his cheek. "They... aren't fond of that."

"Well, they weren't hired for their cleaning skills."

Byakuran took a nearby book in hand. Indeed, it wasn't dusty - a rare event in Mammon's library. They were lucky they were incredibly knowledgeable about languages as well as had a gift of repairing frail pages and charred tomes. Then again, Byakuran might still get rid of them in the future. To spice things up.

"Th-this is my first day," Tsuna spoke up nervously, unable to bear the silence. He fiddled with the beads on his chest. "Everything is fine, right? I haven't done anything wrong, right? Master Mammon is... very easily irritated." He added under his breath, "At least they don't shoot me with a musket."

Byakuran let Tsuna's ramblings wash over him.

He didn't remember hearing about Mammon taking anyone in - they were not the charitable kind - but to be fair he generally skipped reading reports because he could guess everything written in them, both complaints and praise. He left such mundane things to Kikyo and Zakuro.

This was a minor surprise, but even small surprises were the reason Byakuran made it that far.

He returned the next day.

He returned yet again, with Mammon nowhere to be found all the while.

Byakuran would have liked to torture them a bit for lazing about in their work hours, but when Tsuna greeted him with a shy grin and a wave of his feather duster before falling off a step-ladder, he laughed and found himself actually grateful.

"Ouch." Tsuna jumped to his feet, wincing when his movement pushed the step-ladder to the ground with a loud clatter. He ignored it and braved on, "P-please don't punish Master Mammon for not being here. I tried to rope them into helping. They escaped."

"Probably drinking fairy-dust essence with that meditation master from the Oriental District."

"Actually, no. Really, no. Master Mammon hates Fon-san. I think they teamed up with Skull to go bother Master Magician Verde."

"Skull? Ah, the messenger from Carcassa."

Tsuna hummed, leaning down to right the step-ladder. Byakuran appreciated the view of the round behind. Such a shame the boy insisted on those horrid clothes. Honestly, even if you have no money, just go and steal it!

He should send some underlings out for a present. Even Byakuran hardly ever managed to shove Torikabuto out of his tower, but Daisy would appreciate a work-out. He should send him somewhere remote though - Daisy had interesting hobbies like carrying around a bunch of torture tools and trying them out on citizens to see if he met anyone as immortal as him, and people were oddly judgemental of that pastime.

"Your neck is very lovely," Byakuran whispered in Tsuna's ear, enjoying the poor boy's blush. He trailed his finger down the his Adam's apple before wrapping his hands around it.

"Thank you, but, um." Tsuna pushed Byakuran's hand down firmly. He righted his jiggling necklaces, this time with charms on them - a present from Byakuran. "I'd like to keep it."

"Tsu-chan, don't be a meanie. Of course I'll let you keep your neck, I don't want to snap it or cut it off. Just... strangle it a little."

"Hiee!" Blushing to the roots, Tsuna coughed into his fist. "That's... No. Not my fetish. But..." His voice lowered. Byakuran leaned in even deeper to hear it, inhaling the scent of dust, honey, and musket powder. "But I may not be opposed to trying out something else."

With that he used a burst of magic to blast Byakuran out of the library.

Rubbing the back of his head, the Emperor laughed. He hadn't expected little sweet Tsuna to have magic.

Byakuran found out that Tsuna was bullied by some of the other servants in the castle.

He was pleased.

After all, how else would he find an opportunity to show his Tsu-chan just how much he treasured him?

He gathered the bullies and their families and executed them in the most brutal ways possible, aided by the imagination of the torture masters Lal Mirch and Colonello. By the end of it, even Bluebell trembled, clutching Yuni's hand and shielding Yuni's eyes from the gruesome sight - sparing her lover in the only ways she could afford to.

Tsu-chan watched the proceedings solemnly. Unlike Byakuran or Daisy, he didn't laugh a single time. His eyes glowed strangely orange, and Byakuran didn't hold himself back from kissing his sweetheart on the eyelids once the show was regrettably over.

"You didn't find it cruel? Their death?"

Byakuran caressed Tsuna's lower lip with a curious thumb. It was soft, like a petal of a toxic flower.

His Tsuna grasped Byakuran's hand, the one adorned with the rings both his own and those of fallen enemies'. The boy's fingers lingered on the Vongola ring.

"Perhaps I did. But it was also necessary."

In Tsu-chan's eyes Byakuran read mourning but not regret.

It was then that Byakuran decided that he loved him.

"So, you didn't change your mind, kora?" Colonello asked him. His eyes showed he would respect any decision Tsuna made, but the spherical Dragon Amulet on his chest shone bright blue, anticipating blood-bath.

Tsuna glanced down at his hands. Noticing their trembling, he curled them into fists - even though Reborn pretended to just sun himself on the stones, he was watching, and his teacher would release a stream of scorching fire any second to 'help Tsuna deal with stress'.

"No, I didn't. Why would you think so?"

"That's pretty obvious, Tsu," Skull chimed in. Unlike half of them, who took on their dragon forms since their secret meeting place allowed them to let loose, he remained a human. He was the biggest dragon, after all. Besides, he would get an opportunity to fly freely soon. "You've been getting quite chummy with that albino bastard."

Viper, a beautiful indigo dragon happy to shed their Master Mammon disguise, huffed out fumes of black mist. Their equivalent of pursing lips.

"Mou, I didn't lose so much money by playing translator just for it to end up useless."

"There are things more important than money," Fon preached, still sounding calm and peaceful even as a long red dragon twining around trees. "Self-discovery, for one."

"Thank you, Fon, but I think I've discovered enough about myself to want to bring down the man who has made my people suffer for so long," Tsuna said.

On his neck, his amulet glowed, the orange gold of his eyes not concealed by the magic of the beaded necklaces he wore in the human form. The power inside the little sphere was ancient and beautiful, reminding Tsuna of times long past, when he founded the Vongola Empire with Giotto. Giotto then became the First Emperor, while Tsuna kept his identity concealed - he was the leader of the immortal Arcobaleno dragons and what would he do if he broadcasted who he was to everyone he met?

Lal Mirch wrapped the end of her navy blue spiked tail around Tsuna, while Verde abandoned his heap of research papers to make the tea he awkwardly presented to his boss.

Tsuna smiled at all of them.

A pity that the human whose company brought him so much enjoyment had been twisted before they even met, but Tsuna would never be alone.

Tomorrow they would be sieging the castle, freeing Yuni (who told him she wanted to bring a tagalong, and Tsuna didn't mind - he always listened to his friends' requests), and Tsuna would see Byakuran one last time. He wondered what expression the man would make.

Tsuna's heart ached briefly, but he had seen a lot of death, some caused by Byakuran himself.

Some things were cruel but so necessary.

[ellaofoakhill]

Wind and Shadow, Part One

My Esteemed Friend,

Valdr of Silvercloud,

I pray this letter finds you and Dian well, and your pursuit of matters esoteric and strange ever fruitful.

I am hale as ever. Oakhill grows more joyfully crowded by the day. Meline has moved into the north wing, and won the hearts of fey and creatures roundabout; I daresay she’s done better in six years than I in six hundred!

Havel is well; Very soon I will take him to meet our mutual teacher, the Great Sage. His smithcraft grows by leaps and bounds; I suspect he will surpass me before he reaches fifteen thousand. Far more importantly, he is a gentle soul. All his practice with blade and haft and shield is devoted to guardianship; never once has he shown any interest in victory or conquest. It is not too much to say that I am proud of him, and hold him dear as I would my own son. As you know this full well, I’ll cease my braggadocio, and bring myself to the matters causing me to write you beyond friendship, which need no justification.

A child has recently come into my home. Her name is Selva, and I know not whence she came, though I am certain she was treated with contempt and neglect. She is two hundred years old or thereabouts—she herself does not know—and has revealed herself as a fire fairy. It is this which is my chief concern, and why I call on your assistance.

Do you remember the days when your element first revealed itself? I know it is a grander celebration for elf than fairy, but we too celebrate it as a beautiful rite, when a child takes her first tottering steps down the path of life, wherever she decide it to lead. My father wept with joy to see his eldest daughter lift his sixteenth-ounce sledgehammer with a chubby hand and bounce it on a finger, even as he scolded her for sneaking into his smithy!

… Selva’s first experience was not like that. I fear her power is beyond her control in a dangerous way, to herself and to others. I should say no more until we meet again, which is the purpose of my writing you. Might Selva and I visit your silver halls, my friend? She has been through hurt no creature should endure, let alone a child. I do not want her to be hurt again, least of all by herself.

May the years fall lightly upon you like summer rain, and the jewel of your heart grow ever more polished.

 Your Friend and Junior,

Lord Ella of Oakhill

 ***

 Hello, Ella!

Well! I am glad you are hale, my young friend. The herbs Meline sent have eased my heart greatly. Dian is both relieved and a bit exasperated, as this means I can talk even more. To walk about under the stars is a treat now, where before it was a labour.

I told you when you were considering him that Havel would be a fine student, and am glad I wasn’t wrong. The true wind, when the ear turns to it, does not lie, though it can mislead those who only hear what they wish.

As for Selva… yes, she is greatly troubled. The wind tells me she is fearful and shrinking, as a tree whose roots are cut again and again. But also that this is not her natural state. When I listen for her, rather than her troubles, I hear an enduring flame that an ocean of oceans will not extinguish, and a warmth and high brightness, like the noontime sun.

Of course you may bring her by! Bring Meline too, and Havel if he can come. I should love to have so many guests! I shall ask Nebulosa to come by and pick you up. Would the full moon be acceptable? Send me a reply if it isn’t, but the wind says Selva might like to see the world silvered beneath her.

Take care and see you soon!

Valdr of Silvercloud

***

“Who is Nebulosa?” Meline asked, after reading Valdr’s reply. She and Ella were in the hall next to the fire. Selva was at the child-size writing desk Havel had brought—and repaired, judging by the mismatch of legs—working on her letters. Meline shook her head; the girl had devoured all nineteen letters of the Feyish script, and was writing her first words. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she pronounced each letter.

“A friend of Valdr’s,” Ella said, a little smile on her face as she watched Selva work. “We’ve met several times, and I assure you she’s quite friendly.”

“What is she?” Ella looked back at Meline with a quirked eyebrow; her smile took on a mischievous twist. “If you say she’s safe, I trust you, but you should tell Selva beforehand so she doesn’t get scared.”

Ella nodded with a thoughtful look. “Selva,” she called. Selva looked up from her desk, stylus freezing mid-stroke. “Could you come here, please?”

She took her tablet and scampered over. To save on paper, Ella had given her a beeswax tablet and a small copper stylus. Once she reached the bottom, Selva had only to swipe a hand across the wax, and she could start over.

She held up her tablet. It was filled top to bottom with “star”, “moon”, and “sun”. “Better?” Her face and tone were grave.

“Hmm… yes.” She tousled Selva’s hair. “Your form is getting more consistent, Selva, and you’re starting to understand which letters tie together and which don’t.” She gave Selva a smile. “You are doing well. Now,” she scooted over on her chair, “come and sit. I have something to tell you before we leave tonight.”

Selva, glowing with praise, perked up, and hopped into Ella’s lap. “We’re going to your friend’s, right?”

Ella nodded. “That’s right. I’ve asked Valdr to help you with your fire, and—”

“Is he a fire fairy, too?”

Meline reached across the table and touched Selva on the nose. “Don’t interrupt, Selva. It’s rude, and what Ella has to say is important.”

Selva clapped a hand over her mouth, and said a muffled “sorry.” Meline fought to keep her face straight.

Ella continued. “I’ll answer your question as soon as I’ve said what I was going to, alright?” Selva nodded. “Now, Valdr’s agreed to help you, but we must fly to get to Silvercloud, where he lives. So he’s sending a friend of his, Nebulosa, to pick us up. Now Nebulosa’s a great grey owl. Do you know what that is?”

“I know what an owl is,” Selva said, taking her hand from her mouth, “so Neb… Nebulosa,” she crawled over each syllable, “is a big grey owl?”

“…Yes,” Ella said, “but a great grey is a specific kind of owl. They are big, like you said, with beautiful grey-brown markings. They have fluffy feet, and huge yellow eyes. And once you see one,” she grinned, “you won’t ever forget.”

Selva’s eyes were huge.

“I’ve met her before,” Ella said, giving her a squeeze, “and you’ve nothing to fear.” Selva nodded. “Now, Valdr and his wife are elves. Have you ever met one?”

Selva furrowed her brow. She shook her head.

“Elves are fey, like us,” Ella said. “Valdr’s quite tall, and thin, and a bit severe-looking.” She smiled. “But he is a kindly old soul.”

Selva put a finger to her lips. “Does he know about fire?”

Ella “hmm”ed while Meline sipped her tea. “He is a dark elf,” Ella said, “or a night elf, if you prefer. But,” she scratched her chin, “there are basics to each element which can be taught by any teacher, regardless of their affinity.” She gave Selva another little squeeze. “And there are more important things, Selva, which he’d like to help you with.”

Selva’s hands had been drumming a quick beat on her thighs. They stopped. “You mean… where I came from?”

Ella nodded. “If you want him to.” She looked into the fire. “There were dark times in my past, though maybe not so dark as yours, which Valdr, and others, helped me through. I think maybe he could do the same for you.” She turned back to Selva and stroked her hair. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

After a moment, Selva nodded. “Should I get my things?”

Ella smiled. “Yeah, go get them ready.”

[puppetwritings]

The Forest || Wonwoo || Oneshot

Word Count: 1244

Genre: witch!au, fluff

Summary: Being in a dark, creepy forest that was said to have a demonic spirit was one thing you hadn’t ever wanted to do. 

Minghao // Woozi // Mingyu // Seungcheol // Junhui // Hoshi // Joshua //

There was an ominous feeling that crawled up your back as you ventured through the forest. It made your stomach churn and your skin crawl. Every time you looked up, a creature stared back at you with red eyes before scampering off, as if to tell their friends about you. You shuddered at the thought. If only you hadn’t gotten lost.

You had gone up the mountain to pick fruits and had lost track of time. When you saw the sun beginning to set, you turned and started to head back to the path, only to find that it wasn’t there. You had strayed—like they had told you to never do. Especially in this forest because something evil lived here.

This forest contained the spirit of the black panther. The black panther had terrorized the town nearby, asking for sacrifices in exchange for protection, and the citizens gave them to him. But after a hundred years, a hunter came and slayed the black panther, leaving its pelt to be hung by the citizens as a sign of warning. However, the black panther’s spirit stayed. He was an evil spirit—demonic. The hunter had only killed his mortal form but he hadn’t vanquished the evil spirit that resided inside the panther.

And here you were, stuck in the darkness of the forest with no light except the moon that was shaded by the trees.

You shuddered as a cold wind blew through your thin robes. If only you had dressed warmer. Fall had just began to slowly creep up on your town and you hadn’t thought it’d be this chilly. You also hadn’t thought that you’d be out at night.

You released a sigh, stopping and looking left to right. Nothing looked familiar. Maybe the forest looked different at night? Perhaps you were actually heading the right way? Maybe you were actually walking on the path right now and—

You screamed.

The sound echoed off the trees, causing a flutter of cause among the critters of the night. You felt ashamed for startling the sleeping ones and stirring the awake ones but you couldn’t help it. You just ran into a spider web.

You helpless brushed at where you thought it was at and gave a shudder of disgust. You hopes the spider hadn’t been on there. Or the spider’s snack.

You whimpered slightly and began walking again, using the almost useless silver light to guide your way. You kept your eyes down, making sure you didn’t step on branches or get caught on the old, gnarled roots. But all the while, you felt something watching you.

It’s the black panther.

You shook yourself. No. It wasn’t. The black panther was just a stupid myth adults had told the children to scare—

What about the pelt? There’s a pelt, isn’t there?

The pelt was just any old black panther! It wasn’t necessarily and evil black panther with a demonic spirit.

But then that would mean there are black panthers in this forest regardless.

That…is true. Were black panthers nocturnal?

There was a rustle in the bushes and you gave an unladylike shriek.

Something emerged from the foliage. A large…hulking…

“Are you alright?”

You flinched slightly but froze. A human? You peeked past your fingers and looked at him. The moonlight hit his black hair in a way that made it almost blue. His eyes were a dark brown, hidden in the shadows of the trees. He was dressed nicely—not too rich, but showed that he definitely had some wealth. He was handsome as well.

“Miss?”

You jumped slightly. “Oh, um, yeah, I’m fine…”

He blinked at you and then looked around before turning back to you. “Are you lost?”

“Me? Yeah. A bit.”

You saw an amused smirk come to his face. He nodded. “Would you like for me to guide you out then?”

“Oh!” you hesitated. Who was he? Did that matter now? You would either get eaten by animals if you stayed out any longer. You might have a chance to fight against a man… “Sure, if you could.”

The young man nodded and turned, beginning to walk around the bush from which he came. “I heard a scream, you see,” he began to explain, “so I came over to see who it was. It’s dangerous to be lost in these woods so late at night.”

“Because of the black panther?” you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper.

The young man looked surprised and then he chuckled. “Of course not, that’s only a myth. But there are a lot of dangerous animals out here. I’m glad I found you.”

You nodded slowly, though you clutched your basket close to your chest and looked around, fear still tingling on your spine.

“Do you believe in that myth?”

“Huh?”

“The myth about that demonic black panther spirit.”

“I didn’t…but this forest is giving me strange vibes, so I’m starting to,” you replied.

“That’s not because of the demonic spirit though.”

You looked at his back uncertainly. “It isn’t?”

“It isn’t. This forest is originally sacred and you’re an intruder, so that may be why you feel out of place,” he explained, his arm extending out and his hand waving vaguely. “Witches used to roam this area—this forest and the town that you live in—and they blessed this land. Animals would have enough to eat and enough water to drink. Nothing here could be destroyed. That black panther had just lost its way. It needed a witch to contain it—it’s a patron spirit, you see, but it had escaped. Very unfortunate.”

You nodded and then frowned. “How do you know so much about this place?”

He remained silent for a moment and then glanced over his shoulder at you. “I live here.”

“You…live here?”

He nodded.

“No one lives here,” you said, frowning in confusion.

“I do though. Are you saying I’m no one?”

“No! No, but,” you raised an eyebrow, tilting your head curiously.

“I’ll tell you once we’ve gotten you back to your town, alright?”

You nodded slightly and quietly followed the strange young man.

Once you two had arrived at the dimly lit town. The two of you stopped at the entrance and you turned around, giving him a grateful smile. He was handsome, you realized again, but more handsome than you had thought him to be in the forest. He was lean and his smile he gave you was easy. He had an almost ethereal feel about him and he looked a bit like a…panther.

“So,” you straightened, more confident now that you were out of the creepy forest, “You were going to tell me why you live in the forest.”

“You still want to know?” the young man asked, amused.

You nodded. “Of course, I want to know.”

The young man looked around. A few of the townspeople glanced over curiously, their attention grabbed by his looks. He leaned down, his black hood brushing against your cheek slightly as he bent to your ear.

“I’m the witch that holds the spirit of the black panther.”

Your eyes widened as he pulled back, smiling.

“My name’s Wonwoo. If you ever get lost in the forest again, just call for me, alright?”

You nodded once, eyes wide in awe still, and watched as Wonwoo turned and walked back towards the forest, his black cloak barely brushing the grounds and the moonlight giving him an eerie, otherworldly feel.