#I love how my old obsession has somehow found a way to seep into my current obsession too LOL

[agirldying]

Hi, Aura here.

My trauma anniversary is coming up really soon (in 19 days—which also happens to coincide with him being a year and 19 days older than me), it’ll be five years on March 7th. I can’t stop thinking about my abuser. I’m obsessed with him. I don’t know how to reconcile the two parts of me—the twelve year old boy who still loves him and the seventeen year old who is terrified of him and hates him. It’s like the little kid inside me slips through the cracks and fills me up with the same feelings I had. As much as I hate to admit it, I miss him. I want to go back to him. I want to see him. I want to turn back time to when he wanted me. To when he was there, even if he really wasn’t. I don’t know what to do. Or why I feel this way. I literally can’t stop fucking thinking about him. I just hit a new high (or low, depending on your perspective) of obsession. I don’t even remember how I got there but I found myself looking at his school’s student directory from a couple years ago (he goes to one of the other schools in my district) and staring at his name, phone number and address. I went and looked it up on my phone because I wanted to see how far away it was from my house, then I’m pretty sure I saw that his parents had sold his dad’s apartment in 2021. I know he lives in the same suburb as me, if his mom’s house has stayed the same (his parents are divorced), then it’s about a mile away from my house. So I live in constant fear and on high alert wherever I go. I feel like a stalker or something, but I swear I’m not. I wouldn’t go scout it out or anything. Now, I want to go to his school just so I could have the possibility of seeing him. I have this problem with intentionally triggering myself, I do it a lot. I’ve been listening to music I used to listen to when I was friends with him. I don’t feel like he hurt me anymore, or at least, right now I don’t. I feel like the part of me that still cares about him has taken over. I have BPD and he used to be my FP, as horrible that is to admit. I feel like I’m somehow slipping back into that mindset of desperation and obsession like when I was younger. I don’t know what to do. It always gets bad near the anniversary, I can’t stop thinking about it. And the fact that it’ll have been five full years is baffling to me. In my head, not a day has passed. He is still the same as he was when I knew him. I know for a fact he looks different now but in my mind, I still see him as the thirteen year old he was, even in dreams (even though he’s literally an adult now, he’s 18). I feel like I’m stuck in the past and it’s grip just gets tighter when I try to break free. I don’t even know if I want to be free. Sometimes all I want is to forget. Sometimes all I want is to remember. Trauma is so fucking confusing and sometimes I feel like it’s tearing me apart. I can’t reconcile the two opposite sides of me (as is true with nearly everything because I have BPD) and I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop myself from obsessing over my trauma or my abuser. I’m still attached to him, as much as I dislike it. A part of me loves him, wants to come crawling back to him, beg him to speak to me and hurt me like he did then. I feel like a mix of me then and me now, but a confusing, paradoxical mix. I feel like I’m grasping for things that aren’t there, parts of me that don’t exist and being consumed by the past as it seeps into the present until it bleeds together like a watercolor painting. Why do I feel like this? Nothing makes sense. I’m sorry if this also doesn’t make sense, I tried my best to describe it as coherently as possible.

I just forgot to mention that I’m struggling with also wanting to reach out to my abuser. I know that this time of year is always especially difficult for me and always makes my PTSD worse and near constant rumination regarding either my trauma or my abuser. It’s extremely difficult but I hope it might possibly reassure you to know I am hopefully seeing both my therapists in the two days following the anniversary and also the anniversary will be on a school day so I might have that to distract me but I honestly don’t know how much it’ll help, but at least I have therapy.

Hey Aura,

It's okay to have mixed feelings about your abuser. As for almost wishing for it to be how it was, there are a few reasons why someone might feel this way. One of these reasons may be that there is a sense of comfort in the predictability of that toxic environment, whereas safety is disorienting.

Another reason might be for self-triggering purposes, wanting to be hurt, perhaps to feel alive. I always say that trauma often sets a precedent that every other experience falls under, which can make your life feel incredibly dull when you're not indulging in things that put you in survival mode or whatnot.

I think something you may resonate with as well is that you might miss the affection that your abuser provided, as superficial as it may have been. It's possible that this is related to some potential trauma bonding.

What you said about the twelve year old boy who still loves him reminded me of Internal Family Systems and its concepts of parts and their ages. You may find that video interesting.

You're not alone in doing research into your abuser. I paid to see public records, addresses, relatives, phone numbers, emails, places of work, criminal records, even info regarding properties him and his family owned. It's not like I have plans with any of this information and I don't even completely understand why it matters so much to me, outside of finding out the extent of my abuser's lies. But even then, I don't know why I feel like I must know what he lied about (closure?). Either way, this doesn't make you and I stalkers by any means. Looking up publicly available information or subscribing to Truthfinder doesn't constitute as stalking, at least in a legal sense. It's one thing to keep these things to yourself, and it's another to actually go out and harass them.

I also resonate with your trauma feeling more recent than it actually is. For me it's been 8 years, and yet the events are fresher than the ones afterwards. This is simply the nature of trauma and PTSD. I don't know if it actually works like this (I think it does) but the more you think about something, you strengthen that neural pathway. So I for example have thought about my trauma much more than the events before and after it, so the neural networks are much stronger in that interval, whereas both before and after are much weaker.

I also strongly relate to your abuser remaining static in your head, as opposed to aging or updating. There are multiple versions of my abuser in my head - the one I knew him as (a skinny 16 year old), the one before his accident (who I believe was still definitely abusive), and the one after his accident (most up-to-date, unsure whether or not he's even capable of abuse anymore). The youngest version of him is often the one that appears in my dreams, though recently it seems to be updating. I believe there is a name for this, and it's called parataxic distortion.

There's a latin word called cacospectamania which is basically the inability to look away from something awful and I think you may also resonate with that in terms of trying to heal from trauma.

Another term I use which I think loosely ties into this obsession with your abuser is mythologization wherein we give our abusers an almost mythological amount of power, a supervillain persona, etc.

Ultimately it may just take time to work through these feelings and come to a new consensus within yourself, you know? Healing takes time. I think it's important to write out what you're experiencing as it can help you make sense of it and process it. I don't know if you keep a journal, but you may find that useful in your recovery journey. Additionally, I don't know if you're in therapy, but I would recommend that as well, especially as a trauma survivor.

I'm glad to hear you're in therapy. I think they can definitely help you with all of these things, especially the urge to contact your abuser. It's important to keep that door closed, and explore those urges to ensure you don't end up in a dangerous situation.

I hope I could help. Here if you need anything.

#text #asks #trauma #vent #trauma vent #aura anon

[bellsarefun]

Din Djarin/The Mandalorian Yandere Headcanons [The Beginning]

【ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ：A few of my personal headcanons (very rough ideas) on how Din would transition into a yandere.】

【ｐａｉｒ��ｎｇ：The Mandalorian x Reader】

【ｒａｔｉｎｇ：.PG-13 — no explicit content in this part, but in later parts of this series will have NSFW content. 】

【ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ：1.2k 】

The Mandalorian’s obsession with you started out as nothing more than meeting you by accident on Arvala-7. He was retrieving the asset for the Client, but what he soon came to find out is that he wasn’t the only one with a tracking FOB. You had somehow beaten him to the asset, a small green alien child, in the chaos of his blaster fight with the IG-11 droid. This unpleasant surprise forced the two of you got into a scuffle where you were crowned the victor after you had managed to knock him off of his feet.

You two agreed to split the reward, since the IG-11 droid was smoking from the blaster bolt in it’s head and was in no condition to take it’s share. Besides, you needed a ride off the planet because your ship was kind of destroyed in the process of getting to Arvala-7.

From then on, your relationship blossomed into a rather unorthodox friendship filled with laughs and bickering like an old married couple. You had stayed with him during the beginning just to look after the child but after awhile you grew to care about the Mandalorian just as much as you cared about Grogu.

Din couldn’t exactly place when he started to fall in love with you, but by the time he realized it—it was already too late. It was around the time your little family escaped from Moff Gideon on Nevarro when he realized it. He had barely escaped with his life and he now grasped how much he wanted to live; for you, for Grogu, and most importantly so he could hear your laugh once again.

You, on the other hand, loved Din like a cherished friend—so naïve and innocent—and Grogu was the son you never had. You both became foster parents to the little guy and it wasn’t long before you put on your ‘proud mom’ hat. But, the best part was how Grogu brought you and the Mandalorian to figure out how best to work with each other. You both learned to patch each other up after fights, take turns cooking the meals, and babysat Grogu while the other went off to work on missions. Overall, the domestic nature of life was something you couldn’t protest against

With this domestic nature of your relationship, Din couldn’t help himself but fantasize about settling down with you as his wife and giving Grogu some siblings. It was something he craved for, it was something he longed for, and dare I say, he needed.

The moment where Din’s love for you turned dark was when he almost lost you. The two of you were helping the Jedi Ashoka Tano free oppressed people from a ruthless dictator on Corvus when things took a turn for the worst. In a duel between the enemy and Din, the enemy cheaply shot you instead and hit you in the side. The last thing you remember from that mission was Din shouting out your name in panic and falling into inky darkness—your side exploding in agonizing pain.

Luckily, the bullet only got you in the side and, because blaster bolts cauterize skin, you managed to pull through the serious injury but it took weeks until you were fully healed. Din was by your side at your beck and call, refusing to let you get out of bed to do anything but use the restroom.

Din has lost a lot of people in his life, he’s lost his parents, friends, and his entire tribe. He sure as hell wasn’t going to lose you, the person he loves. He couldn’t imagine continuing his life without you, he doubted he could go a day without hearing your laugh and waking up to the sight of you and Grogu waking him up in the morning.

During this time, you noted a change in him. In his own way, he’d been showering you in affection; more touching, staring more than usual, and opening up to you more. You didn’t mind this new Din, but one thing that concerned you was how protective he had gotten. He would only allow Grogu to come near you and almost outright refused Cara and Karga when they asked to see you. You worried about him.

To Din, his protectiveness didn’t come from his need to control you but instead came from his love to see you safe. He loved knowing that nothing could possibly blemish your smooth, supple skin or that nothing threatened the loving smile that would cross your lips every time you made Grogu coo. He had gotten so used to you remaining in bed where he could protect you that the day when he couldn’t find you, he panicked.

You had gotten a transmission from Cara to come into the city on Nevarro, where the Razor Crest was stopped for a day or so, and you figured that you had healed well enough to go on your own. You had taken Grogu with you because you couldn’t leave the little guy alone since he’d become so attached to you. Oh, what a mistake that turned out to be.

As soon as Din spotted your empty bed, was in near hysterics. In one moment he felt like his whole life had fallen apart in a matter of seconds. He then a transmission popped up from Cara that told him everything he needed to know. Cara was informing you, if you were still on the Crest, not to come meet her. There was a group of people who had come into the Guild asking about the Mandalorian and you and she didn’t like the sound of it. He left before the transmission had even ended.

You hadn’t found Cara where she said she would be and you were so confused. It was growing darker by the minute and the streets of the city were looking scarier by the second, you were in no condition to defend yourself or Grogu. The small green bean was becoming fussier as the moments ticked by, he was clearly very hungry. You had waited for around an hour, but when you figured that Cara wasn’t coming you decided to head back to the Razor Crest. That’s when a group of men, of differing races, stepped out of the shadows and you knew in an instant that you were in trouble.

Din had found Cara in a matter of minutes, demanding angrily where she had sent you too. Cara immediately recognized the severity of the situation and guided the taking Mandalorian to the spot where she told you to meet her. They arrived a bit too late.

You were laying on the ground, bleeding from your nose and the blaster wound that had been healing opened up—blood was pooling around your form. Your face was a degusting menagerie of purples and blacks, bruises that would last for weeks at the very least. Grogu was being held by the back of his robe by one of the men, his small cries for the woman laying on the ground was the first thing the Mandalorian heard when he turned the corner.

He saw red and that was the last thing Din saw before he brutally beat the enemy group senseless—with the help of Cara of course. His thoughts whirled with fear and anger that made him feel sick to his stomach. He stomped and kicked until he heard the squishing of gore under his boot—he blood seeping through the soles of his shoes. But in a few seconds, it was over.

With the bodies of the men laying on the ground, beaten senseless to a pulp, in the center was Din cradling your broken body to his chest. Cara was dealing with the last of the men who had run off, leaving Din with you and a crying Grogu. This incident was the straw that broke the camels back, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight now.

You woke up the next morning, your right eye had formed a beautiful black eye that it made it hard to see. But, you still managed to see the familiar helmet of your friend, the Mandalorian, sitting in front of you. You were so confused on what had happened or how you had gotten back to the Razor Crest.

“Din? What happened? Last I remember-”

“Your safe, that’s all the matters.”

“Din, tell me what happened.”

Din was silent for a few moments and you tried sitting up in your bed, only for him to push you back down on the bed. You raised your right hand to grab his arm, but found it locked tightly in a electric handcuff to the side of the bed.

“Din, what- what is this?”

“I need to keep you safe. Even if that means protecting you from yourself, (Y/N).”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian headcanons #the mandalorian x reader #yandere #yandere headcanons #din dijarin x reader #yandere din djarin #yandere din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #grogu #baby yoda #yandere x reader #yandere mandalorian #male yandere #din djarin headcanons #fan fiction #the mandalorian fanfiction

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Would you happen to have any fic recs that involve John meeting the Holmes family? I always think that's such an interesting dynamic to see! Also, I think this goes without saying but I love your blog and appreciate your contributions to the fandom! Thanks!

Hey Nonny!

Ah, thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog!

Oooo! Yes, I love that dynamic too!! ANNNNND!!! You’re giving me the chance to make a part 2 for a REALLY OLD LIST!!! So YAY!!! I found a bunch on a text doc I haven’t posted yet, so HERE WE GO! Hope you enjoy, and as always, everyone please add your own!

PARENTS AND FAMILIES Pt. 2

See also: 

Parents & Family

Meeting the Family With a Fake Relationship

Do You Love Me? by whitchry9 (K, 641 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Family, Epic Bromance) – John asks Sherlock perhaps the most important question.

Once Upon A Time by ProfessorSquirrell (T, 908 w., 1 Ch. || Family, Snippets of Life, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Implied Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending) – There is a room in Sherlock's mind palace where nothing gets deleted. And it looks like this...

Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he's been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.

The Only Available Transportation by blueink3 (T, 5,379 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Sherlock, Caring John, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Birthday, Family, Misunderstandings) – It’s possibly the desperation that’s seeped into his voice despite his best intentions, or perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition, but she knows that whatever he’s calling about is Serious, hangover be damned. “What’s happened?” she asks, tone soft and as comforting as a hot cup of tea on a cold winter’s night. “Mummy,” he begins, voice catching. “I think John may be moving out.”

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Dropping the Act by jadztone (T, 27,258 w., 10 Ch. || Parentlock, Fake Relationship, Mary’s Family, Post-S4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Pining, Christmas) – Sherlock and John are quite happy living together with Rosie in Baker St. They might be even happier if they didn’t act towards each other like their love is only platonic. Mycroft brings troubling news in the form of Mary’s parents wanting to know just what their grandchild’s home life is like. The boys decide to spend Christmas pretending like they are in love in order to seem more like a "normal" family. It's easy enough to pretend when all you're doing is dropping the act.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Where The Ghosts Have Voices by HappyJuicyfruit (M, 37,691 w., 12 Ch. || Supernatural AU || Ghosts, Magical Realism, Light Horror, Fluff and Smut, John Can See Ghosts, John Whump, Emotional Manipulation, Dark Magic, Coma, Injury Recovery, Blow Jobs, Anal, Happy Ending, John’s Past, Mr Holmes, Powerful John, Holmes Brothers, Sherlock’s Past, Past Viclock, Drug Abuse, Hair Pulling) – John has lived his whole life as an outcast. It is only when he meets Sherlock, that be realizes being a freak might not be such a bad thing, and that the curse he has lived with his whole life may be a gift after all. (TO READ)

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #parents and families #meeting the family #Anonymous

[fanficsandfluff]

That Damned Laugh

To the anon who informed me of Rainbow Rowell's RACISM, i am writing this for my love of the characters, not the author's writing skill or fame. fuck her. i am still very much aware of what she wrote about and how she portrayed a character, but i cannot stop this inspiration when it comes to me. (wait to be clear to everyone reading this who hadn't seen the anons and my discussion, carry on wasnt the accused racist book. that was something else.)

If you, anon, end up seeing this and maybe don't like what I'm doing or whatnot, I'd love to hear from you again.

For those of you who maybe do practice Death of the Author, I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Carry On

Characters: Simon Snow, Baz Pitch

Words: 1,905

~~~~~

BAZ

Simon Snow does not laugh, full stop.

(Well, to be fair I'm not a cackler much myself, but I do at least guffaw from time to time.)

Snow spent so much of his youth being weighed down by the 'Chosen One' moniker and being tormented by yours truly. Still, I know of that little list he kept of things he liked about Watford and all its experiences and people. It seemed he did take joy in most of it all. After all, I'm sure he had fun at Bunce's house on many an occasion.

But just being around him and in this way for a while now, you start to notice. He's seen me laugh. A few times, in fact. And hard. I'm not very proud of it; what that man can do to me and make me do. He doesn't like when I cover my hand over my smile. It's habit, though, I've reminded him countless times. The fangs and all. We're working on it.

But Simon may just smile or huff. I've giggled with him on our particularly soft nights or togethertimes.

All this to say... I've found a new hobby/goal/obsession recently.

Make Simon Snow laugh.

My cheekiness all these years has kept my humor to cruel, lowbrow tones. Maybe it makes me less funny, I don't know. But once or twice I'd nail a comeback or snarky one-liner (of course with a bit of flirt thrown in) and Snow will giggle and shake his head. But that's all I've achieved! A small, pandering, boring -- though still admirably adorable -- (Damn that Snow) giggle.

I've moved on to physical humor. I tried throwing myself dramatically over him when he's in bed, but he just seems to think it's all part of my Pitch flair.

Today I made a minor breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen trying to mix myself a smoothie. Bunce has been gushing about a smoothie craze for weeks now, so I finally figured why not. The damn lid wasn't on tight enough. Not-yet-smooth smoothie shot everywhere. There was a pause as it happened, my one hand on the Liquify button, my other resting nonchalantly atop the lid that didn't do any lidding, dammit.

Snow looked up at me from his seat by the kitchen counter, eyes drawn from his phone. A beat. He barked out a laugh. A much louder one than I think I'd ever heard him make.

"Put a sock in it, Snow," I growled, to keep with my facade, though inside I was jittery with glee. I wanted to hear more.

Snow convinced me to binge a new show. Crime Minds. Something like that. No, criminal. It's Criminal Minds.

You wouldn't expect this to be a series fit enough for a cuddle, but Snow and I are an unexpected couple. So it works.

A few dumb jokes are littered throughout the show, in between corpses and the same police station set being reorganized and shot from different angles every episode. One such joke was so inconspicuous and so nothing that I cannot even recall it now. But both Snow and I chuckled at it. Then Snow made an additional comment to it, making me laugh. And soon we were both giggling together like schoolboys, like we had early on when we were maybe still a bit bashful with each other.

He shoved his face into my ribs and snorted when I whispered the new inside joke much later on in the episode. I was also grinning like a madman, but the soft tickle his action gave me didn't exactly---

Oh.

In bed. Perfect. Lovers fool around all the time in bed. Not fool around as in sex--well, no, of course sex, but I mean they also play around-- never mind.

SIMON

Baz has been acting off lately. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. He seems distracted. More like how I act. I'm always thinking of something else, not able to stay focused on one thing for long. He's like that, but trying to act like he isn't.

We're doing something odd today. We're in bed at sunset. It's hardly sunset, as a matter of fact. The sun isn't seeping orange and red into the flat yet. Penelope took us out on a hike today. It tuckered the both of us out. Baz drained a buck when we got home.

I'm laying perpendicular to Baz (or is it parallel? composite? I could never remember mathematics), my legs resting over his stomach. He's reading and I'm playing a puzzle app on my phone.

BAZ

Now's the time, Baz. Just do it, don't think.

His socked feet are right in front of me. There's only been a handful of times we've sat in this position, half of them being my lower half resting on Simon's sturdier upper half. It's now or never.

I stare at his feet for too long, zoning out and forgetting that I was left staring at them, so it definitely looked like I have a fetish for feet. Which I don't. Focus, Basilton.

I take a finger-- no, two fingers. I scratch quickly at his heel. His leg jerks, foot being pulled back.

"What?" he asks me, as if I hadn't been plotting this for weeks. As if I just did it to get his attention.

"Something on the bottom of your sock, love."

Simon went right back to his head hanging upside down off the side of the bed, phone held out in front of his eyes.

Well, that proved one thing. He's ticklish.

He places his ankles right back where they originally were, crossed, atop my stomach. I try again, this time on his arch. I apply more pressure.

"Bahaz!" Simon shakes his foot out, "Is that how you start a foot massage?"

"Would you like a foot massage?"

"No. Not if it's going to tickle like that."

My cheeks heat up. Damn that buck. I'm rosier than I usually am.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, coolly. I barely stuttered.

"I wouldn't try it," he's back to looking at his phone again, "Penny did once and I nearly broke her elbow or something. She wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"So you're very ticklish, then."

"Don't," this is the first time Snow seems to tense up.

There's a moment of quiet between us. A tense quiet. I lunge for his ankles and he shoots up into a sitting position. I scratch at his arch with four fingers now and he screams.

"Baz!" Simon whines a bit and he somehow yanks his legs free, not without losing one of his socks in my grip.

SIMON

He's grinning at me. No. Sneering.

I still hate when he does that. Reminds me of back when I wanted to throttle him. Sometimes I still do.

"Baz," I warn. His whole posture changes into a predator's, like he's the lion and I'm his fresh zebra. The new stance sends a shiver down my spine, with his shoulders hunched and all, ready to pounce.

"Baz... Baz, Baz, Baz..." I say over and over again because he's smiling at me, and then I start to smile, too, "Bahaz!" I try once more, but his name is all that's coming out, and now I'm giggling. I'm nervous. He did this to me.

BAZ

He's already giggling and I haven't even laid a hand on him.

"Yes, Snow?" I respond to his many calls of my name before I lurch forward, sending my whole body crashing on top of his and trying to pin him. I dig my fingers into his sides and don't stop for as long as I can maintain contact through his squirming.

"Gehehet off!" he's already crumbling, words being broken up with short laughs.

I slide my fingertips to his stomach and scratch there; Snow bucks. It gets even better when my cold fingers make contact with his warm skin beneath the shirt he's wearing. He yelps like I've never heard him yelp (like he's burnt his finger, but he's also 11-years-old again), and he dissolves into loud, beautiful laughter.

"St-Stohohop! Baz! I'm going to end you!"

"Isn't that how we always said it would end? Snuffing each other out? I'm perfectly happy that it's now going to end in my favor. You should've told me you were this easy to defeat earlier on, Snow."

"Shut up!" he cackles, legs kicking wildly behind me, as my body is thrown over his torso. Now I have both my hands buried into his sides, squeezing and squeezing. I get curious, my cheeks still burning with blood, and I lean down to his neck and... (no, I don't bite) I start nibbling. Snow loses it.

His whole face scrunches up, as I watch when I pull my head back. His smile is huge and bright. And the laughs bubble up from his stomach, releasing softer into the air like he sucked a little of the joy from it before releasing to keep for himself.

"Dohon't do that!"

"I thought you love my kisses."

"Not tha-HAAT!"

He shrieks again, hands too slow to stop my face from moving in. I nibble and even lick a few times, careful not to touch him with my fangs.

Did I mention that my hands are still tickling at his sides and ribs while I'm nibbling? Oh yes, I've waited so long for this sound. I wasn't going to make it come out lightly.

I blow a raspberry and that's when Snow's laughter catches and turns all hiccuppy. The noises are infecting me, starting to make me giggle. I shift, and my face now descends towards his stomach, which is bared after I rucked the shirt up.

SIMON

"TYRANNUS BASILTON G-GRIMM FUCKING PITCH-- OR WHATEVER YOUR LONG STUPID ARSEHOLE NAME IS--"

He's laughing at me. I keep laughing even without him tickling me.

"I swehehear I'm going to fucking kill you and your whole family if you do that dohown thehere--" I'm hiccuping. Crowley, how embarrassing.

BAZ

He's got me. I can hardly breathe from laughter. I keel over into him or he into me, but soon we're a laughing pile together on top of the mussed up sheets on the bed.

I make a loud snort and that reels us both back in again, laughing til we're red in the face and til my cheeks hurt.

Simon is giggling away, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, but he just keeps on giggling. I'm able to sit up a little more and Snow's head is in my lap. He's beaming and looking up at me through squinted, teary eyes.

"That was fun," I say, and I don't think it's the brightest or smartest thing to say. But I say it.

"I love you," Snow's smile is still wide, like he's drunk from it. There's a moment where I feel like I've died again, color drained from me.

It doesn't seem to bother him, that he's said that. For the first time. I run my fingers through his reddish curls once, letting them tangle in the locks towards the back of his head. I hunch myself down so I can kiss him.

"I've wanted to hear that for so long," I whisper.

"That I love you? You haven't figured it out by now?"

"No, you idiot," I say with nothing but fondness, brushing my nose along Simon's jaw, "Your laugh."

#carry on #carry on: the rise and fall of simon snow #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #simon/baz #simon and baz #fanfiction #carry on fanfiction #carry on fanfic #fanfic #ticklish!simon #ticklish!simonsnow #lee!simon #ler!baz

[giuliafc]

Betrayal -- Chapter 19 and 19bis: Inside the Mind of a Criminal (snippet dal 30) + Pigella (LadyNoir July day 30)

<< 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 – 18 -- 19: Ao3 || FFN – 19 bis: Ao3 || FFN -- 20 >>

Betrayal Chapter 19: Inside the Mind of a Criminal

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Agrestebug and MyImaginationFlows

Summary: We learn the background story of Lila's father, Richard Sphinx, the new Papillon, and how he's going to be much, much worse than the first one...

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

TW: mention of extreme manipulative and obsessive behaviour and cruelty against family

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Well done, Lila. Now head back to the monk and get his staff. If there are more jewels like these, we need to get our hands on them!" Richard sat at the desk of his office, staring at the nothing in front of him. His elbows pinned on the wood of the desk, his face resting on the length of his hands. His body was wrapped in a purple and grey suit and a grey mask covered his face, making his green eyes shine.

Briefly, he broke contact with Lila's akuma and stood up; he slowly paced the room to the fireplace. His gloved hand picking up a photograph on the mantle, portraying a woman with short brown hair wrapped in an elegant blue tailleur.

He still remembered the day he'd met Melania, Lila's mother. She was a petite Italian lady who exuded elegance and genuineness at a celebrity party. She looked so out of place, and her cheerful smile was like a breath of fresh air in the hypocrite atmosphere of the ball room. He still remembered his burning passion, how much he'd wanted her—her and all she represented. She was the daughter of a rich Italian family of ambassadors, with excellent connections all over the diplomatic world he wanted to be part of. When his charming politeness managed to raise her interest, he thought he'd hit the jackpot.

Their story had been short but intense, their relationship the final tassel in the puzzle that brought him to the limelight. Before their engagement of 5 years ended, FERG, his company, was quoted in the stock exchange. Quickly rising to be one of the top companies in the market.

Everything was perfect. Then, Melania fell pregnant and had her baby. For reasons that Richard couldn't understand, she somehow started distancing her husband — him. He suspected that the accusations of him having committed several cases of fraud, and having caused several suicides, may have been part of it. But Richard had done it for her. Nobody else was important in his mind. He had to protect his family. He had to protect the people who mattered for him. How could Melania not see that?

"You're a heartless monster!" she accused him instead, when she tried to leave him and go stay with a friend; but he found her almost immediately and locked her up in her room.

The more he clenched his grip on Melania, the more the woman became distant, almost terrified. Eventually, she dared to ask for divorce and deny him the rights to see his daughter.

"His obsessive behaviour is harming me and my daughter! I'm afraid for our safety, Your Honour," she told the judge. "Only the money is important to Richard! He puts his company before the safety of his family."

Needless to say, she won the case. Since then, she kept as far away as possible and had tried to keep Lila away from him too. She had changed her surname to the plain Rossi, and changed her job many times. Until Lila was old enough to make her own decisions, she succeeded at keeping him away.

But Lila was a clever girl. Her thirst for power and her quest for attention were second to him. She knew what was important in life, that power and money were the only things that mattered. As soon as she had gained the use of a mobile phone, she contacted him (lying to her mother). They had been plotting against Melania ever since.

Now it was their time to obtain their aim. When Papillon trusted Lila to be his second in charge, Richard advised his daughter to gain as much information as she could about those powerful jewels that gave him power. Now all that hard work was paying off.

He squeezed Melania's photo in his hands, breaking the frame with his strong hold. How dare she run away from him? How dare she disregard his burning passion?

"You don't love me, you think you own me," shouted Melania when she left him, taking away his only daughter with her. "I don't want you to be a bad influence on our daughter. You terrify me."

How dare she. She was his wife, his other half, his property.

"You're mine. MINE. No judge can take you away from me."

He stared in a daze at the blood flowing from his gloved hands, where the shattered glass of the photo frame had pierced the skin underneath the suit. His eyes gleamed of madness. "I will be victorious. I will get the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir. And when I have the most powerful jewels in the world, you will come back. You will love me again. If you won't, I’ll force you to."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Gabriel closed his eyes as he placed a single red rose between Emilie's palms and squeezed her hands gently before closing the glass cover of her coffin one last time. He rested his hand on the glassy surface for an endless moment; the hand of Lieutenant Raincomprix falling on his arm way too soon for his tastes. He sighed and gave one last glance at the peaceful face of his sleeping wife.

"It's time to go, M. Agreste. Mlle. Sancoeur," said the officer.

They had spent a long time talking to SentiAdrien in Adrien's room. The boy had confirmed most of the wrongdoings that his teachers and friends had accused Gabriel and Nathalie of, and had pleaded completely non guilty regarding any involvement in his father's terrorist activities.. M. Raincomprix had decided to be safe, and was arresting both Gabriel and Nathalie.

"Mlle. Sancoeur will most likely be released when the heroes witness her double agenting, but better safe than sorry," said Raincomprix.

Gabriel glared at him as the officer moved his and Nathalie's hands behind their back and handcuffed them. He shot one last, languid glance at the blonde figure in the coffin, before having to follow Raincomprix and walk away.

To be continued… Day 30.2 — Bonus chapter

30.2 - Betrayal Chapter 19 bis: Pigella

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Agrestebug and MyImaginationFlows

Summary: Ladybug struggles to understand how to win against the vacuum akuma, but Volpina has to eventually face (temporary) defeat. (1687 words)

Written for the LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly Day 30 — Rose.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"Hey, Vacuum Lady, Aren't you tired of collecting dirt?" shouted Chat Noir as he used his baton to propel himself up. He smirked and added, "Probably not, since you've got Volpina with you. She's the biggest piece of dirt in existence!"

"How dare you," hissed Volpina and the Vacuum akuma at the same time before they both followed Chat Noir out of the way.

Ladybug gazed at the two akumas following her partner gratefully; then she put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes shut to concentrate. She picked up her communicator and dialled Alya's number.

"What's the plan, Ladybug? I saw Chat Noir jumping away with the akumas, I thought he may be trying to distract them."

"You were correct. Listen, Alya, I need you to use the water dragon. Water passes through surfaces so you will reach me in no time," whispered Ladybug to her Bugphone.

Alya smirked. "Right-o, I'm on it!"

Just seconds after their conversation, Ladybug saw water seeping through the barrier of books that towered in front of her. And, in a whirl of magic, Dragonbee Alya appeared in front of her. She wore a red outfit with the symbol of the dragon at the centre of her chest and curvy golden lines separated the red from sections of gold and black stripes. Her hair was combed in a twirly ponytail that looked like the sting of a bee. Ladybug didn't waste time and picked up her phone again, dialling Chat Noir's number this time.

"Chat, bring your whiskers back here immediately, before your transformation wears out!" she said before he could even say meow. With a gracious jump, her partner was again by her side seconds later.

"M'lady called?" he asked with a little smirk that Ladybug would have loved to take off his face with a kiss, but she knew perfectly well it wasn't the right moment.

"Alya, Chat and I’s timers are running out, we must be quick. Use the wind dragon and swoop us out of this alley and back on a rooftop."

Alya's eyes gleamed. "As you wish, Ladybug. Wind dragon!" Ladybug and Chat Noir were wrapped in a current of wind and next thing they knew, they were on a rooftop next to Nino (or rather, Thueban Jameel (1), as he has called himself), far away from the Library Maze but still keeping it in sight. The two heroes hid behind a chimney to release their transformation and feed their kwami without being spied on, and in no time they were up and running again.

"Okay now…before the akumas find us and we get stuck into that maze again. Lucky Charm!" called Ladybug. A red and black polka dotted single rose fell into her hands. "What?" she muttered, scratching her head.

"Are we going to declare our love to a vacuum cleaner?" was Chat Noir's snarky comment. But before Ladybug could say anything, the rooftop they were standing on disappeared and they all fell on the ground, facing yet another massive wall of books.

"Shoot! Here we are again…" cursed Ladybug.

The vacuum akuma reached them as well. "There you are, you fools. Did you really think you could escape? What a bunch of idiots! Tricksters, like that thief. I'll sweep you all away from existence. I wish I didn't always try to help people. I wish my heart hadn't been so kind. I'll take all the tricksters away, so maybe my boss will forgive me. I need my job!"

The four superheroes had to forcefully separate again trying to escape from the strength of the vacuum's sucking power. Before jumping off, Ladybug took a good look at the akuma and noticed that the akumatised object must be a book, which the victim was holding in her hand to create the vortex of sucking power.

Something in what the akuma had said was nagging at Ladybug. As she ran to hide from the vacuum, she went back to what the akuma had previously said: someone had stolen a book from her library and she was upset about it.

"What do you mean by trickster?" she asked when the akuma reached her once more.

A smirk popped on the victim's face. "That liar tricked me. He told me a sappy story about his family and convinced me to lend him the book without opening an account, but in the name of someone else. He promised me he was going to bring the book back in a couple of days. I'm too nice, too gullible. I wish all the tricksters would disappear!"

Ladybug's gaze fell on her lucky charm and her eyes widened. OF COURSE! How could she be that stupid to not realise before? She unified Kaalki and Tikki, becoming Pegabug. Then, with a smirk on her lips, she called for a 'Voyage' and jumped out of the maze, stepping inside the Couffaine's boat.

"Ladybug? Is there something wrong?" said Rose. That was a strike of luck: Rose was in Juleka's room, but her girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. "Jules is in the bathroom, if you're looking for her," added Rose when she noticed that Ladybug's gaze had darted around the room.

"No, I was looking for you, actually." She opened her yoyo and took out a pearl anklet. "Rose Lavillant, this is the Miraculous of the Pig. I need Pigella's help to win against this akuma."

Rose grabbed the anklet and put it on, allowing Daizzi to come out in a buzz of magic. "I still can't believe how cute you are," said Rose when she looked at the little kwami. Then, she muttered the transformation phrase and changed into Pigella.

It didn't take long for Pegabug and Pigella to find the vacuum akuma again, just in time to see Chat Noir being sucked in the vacuum when he got distracted by their arrival. The sound of Ladybug's scream echoed in the empty alley of books.

"You've got another one with you, Ladybug? I'll suck her in too!" drawled the akuma victim. But Pigella's gaze had a determined gleam.

"Why is your heart so full of sorrow? You should rejoice and be happy!" said Pigella with the sweetest of smiles on her face.

"Don't get close to me! I'm going to suck you in!" warned the akuma, but Pigella didn't just get close to her. She hugged her. The akuma was so baffled that she got petrified on the spot.

"Gift," murmured the pink superheroine and in a flash of light, a beautiful scene appeared in between the two girls, picturing a room full of books and everyone loving each other and being nice and friendly with each other. The akuma victim had tears in her eyes.

"Why are people so nasty? Why do people do wrong things, like lying or stealing? I want everyone to be happy!" The akuma leaned in Pigella's embrace and hugged her back, dropping the book that created the vacuum in the process. As soon as the akuma's grip on the book weakened, Ladybug caught it. She broke the book to release the butterfly, which she hastily captured, cleansed and released.

"Bye bye, little butterfly," said Ladybug as the white insect flew away in the sky. Then she picked up the lucky charm and threw it in the air, releasing the kaleidoscope of ladybugs. The instant Chat Noir reappeared, she was in his arms.

"I'm purr-fectly okay, M'lady," said the feline but this didn't stop the polka-dotted heroine from crying.

"Why do you always die for me? I don't want you to do that anymore!"

Chat Noir smiled softly as he hugged her tight, then he broke the hug to wipe her eyes and stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry, ma Buginette. I'll try to pay more attention, okay?"

"This new Papillon seems very dangerous, especially because he has a cunning fox like Volpina at his side. We need to pay even more attention than before!" said Ladybug as she hugged him again. He patted his hand on her back, gently drawing circles on the material of her suit.

"I'll be okay, as long as I'm with you," murmured Chat Noir into her ear.

oOoOoOoOoOo

"I'm very disappointed, Volpina." Richard's voice was tense as he spoke through the ethereal connection of the butterfly. "We were so close to achieving our goal, and now we have to start all over again! I've no time for losers!"

Far away on a rooftop, Volpina lowered her head and closed her eyes, clenching her fists. "I'm sorry, Father! I still have my Miraculous though, and the akuma."

She groaned thinking back at how Pegabug had immediately found the tracker she'd put on Su-Han's bag. She had completely underestimated how strong and skilled the monk was, and she hadn't been able to steal his staff. Besides, Su-Han seemed to have the annoying ability to see through her Illusions, which she really didn't expect.

"I will come up with a new plan to submit to you, Father, don't worry!" she said, seething in a low growl.

Richard's stern expression didn't soften. "You better. Did you get Melania to sign the document I gave you?"

Volpina took a paper from her pocket and looked at it carefully. It was a request to cease school and start homeschooling, signed by her mother. It had taken her much more than just a trick to obtain her mother to scribble her signature without noticing what it was all about. "I have it here. I told her that the school will be closed because of all the attacks and that I would stay with a friend of mine for some time." Pain flashed through her eyes as she added, "I doubt she would have noticed anyway, as busy as she is with work."

Richard smirked, hearing the hurt in Volpina's voice. "Worry not, my daughter. When we make the Wish, she will have all the time in the world to dedicate herself exclusively to us." His smirk widened when he felt the strength of her emotions. "Together we will succeed."

He cackled, and from her rooftop, Volpina sneered.

To be Continued… Day 31

Notes:

Thueban Jameel: "Beautiful Snake", from the Arabic for beautiful, "Jameel" (جميل) and the Arabic for snake, "Thueban" (ثعبان). (Thank you so much to my Beta, MyImaginationFlows, for her assistance with Arabic!) The peacock is the symbol of beauty, so I thought it would fit.

Author's Note

Hey! Here it is, this is a bonus chapter I had to write because the snippets didn't give me enough space to wrap up the battle and all loose ends. It's a second part for chapter 19, based on the LadyNoir prompt for day 30, "Rose". Let me know what you think of it.

I hope you will like it anyway and will leave me a comment. You know that comments are my bread and butter!

You're lucky today because you're getting even the epilogue and the end of the story. So… until I finish updating that, a temporary 'bug out'!

#miraculous ladynoir #miraculous love square #miraculous lb #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous adrien #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous nathalie #nathalie sancoeur #ladynoirjuly2021 #miraculous fanworks

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Auld Lang Syne (Jack x Rin)

Word Count: 3200

Warnings: None! Complete fluff.

A/N: inspired by @magic-multicolored-miracle winter prompts. New Year's kiss. o one asked for it 🤣 This is a sequel to "I'm A Creep" <-- Found here

She came to this little bookstore as many days a week as time allowed. Maybe it was becoming a bit obsessive, Rin’s constant reasons to spend hours there instead of a library. There was a collection of unread novels piling up on the coffee table of her council flat off the high street. Any excuse to be nearby

With the holidays fast approaching, her catering job kept her busier than ever. The constant flirting and serving and pleasing executives and drunk administratives and book editors and bankers managed to fend off the memories of the last time she ended up in the psych hospital. That and plenty of time made everything slow down and spread out over days instead of the constant hours she once spent. Her senses now and then brought Jack back to her like the waves in his mental pond crashing over her. She would be taken off guard for just a moment or two, but the parties kept them back at bay.

Two months in the psych hospital was all they spent together. A month that seeped into her dreams and waking moments for half a year after Rin was released. How she and Jack never spoke again after that night. He grinned awkwardly in her direction during their next group therapy session. Squinting his eyes like he was trying to place where he knew her from, but that was part of her gift. Sometimes, they woke up from a dream and forgot she was ever apart of them.

Before Rin could blink, Emma had come to take Jack home. Emma who smiled fondly at the “barking” girl with scarred hands who carried the flame of hope from her heart to her brother. At least that's what she communicated to Rin as they brushed fingertips on the way out. Jack was safe. He was loved. Emma would make sure he could handle the world without messages and the dead people who plagued him for so long. A few more days, and Rin was dropped back out in the world too.

Still, as the song goes, she learned to muddle through somehow. It had been a rather peculiar stretch of time Rin had gone without thinking of his unearthly eyes or that mass of dark curls on her neck and chest as they.. A bell over a door she didn't remember stepping in broke her out of the reverie.

Rin found herself inside a small shop with shelves eight or nine feet high. That musty smell of tangible books invaded her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. With eyes closed, she put her hand on the first row she could find and melted into the memories imprinted on them. She was struck by an unexpected wave, but instead of drowning she rode it to shore. There was a squeaky creak that often accompanies a wheel and just knew someone was on one of those ladders that glided across the shelves.

“You alright, loov?” that Yorkshire accent filled Rin’s ears and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “You look like you've seen a ghost,” he chuckled at a joke he felt only he understood.

He was a few feet above her when she finally opened her eyes. He dipped precariously from the ladder like he was swinging from a rope on a pirate ship. Those eyes shining brightly as they reflected the white lights decorating the store. Rin didn’t need to touch him to know he was happy. She could see it on his face as he smiled in her direction. Even in hospital she never knew he had dimples.

“Jack,” it came out before she could help herself.

He arched an eyebrow curiously in her direction. Head tilted in thought. Then looking down at his name tag he puffed air out of his nostrils “Right,” he tapped it “Forgot I was wearing this.”

Rin’s shoulders sagged in defeat, then unexpectedly “Have any Dickens?”

What the hell, she chided herself.

“Do we also have tea in the Queen’s country?” he teased. Rin’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. “sometimes we forget all the books we've read. I've forgotten loads since I was sick a few years back. Lived rough then was in hospital while. Dunno why I said that.”

“I think we tell strangers our secrets because we’ll never have to see them again,” Rin spoke softly.

“If you never come back, I was a bad salesman. Always looking for repeats.” Was.. he flirting? “Any Dickens will do?”

“Oliver Twist?” Rin signed and closed her eyes. Her face was on fire. You've had sex with this bloke, and he's got no bloody clue.

“Oi! I like Edwin Drood best. Old man dropped dead right in the middle of it all. Never got a proper ending. Ever been on one of these?” Jack gestured towards the ladder. Rin shook her head so he opened an arm. “Hop on with us then!”

“You give all the girls a ride?” Rin found her voice. She climbed up and settled herself against Jack’s body. Her naked hand closed over his; she felt a jolt go through his chest which tensed in response.

“Not- Not usually?” he stammered and tightened his grip around Rin’s waist as they slid along the shelves. “Do we know each other from somewhere? You just feel familiar. Dunno why I'm thinking of a bird.” Jack spoke more to himself.

“Well, actually, name is Wren-”

He cut her off, “But your brother couldn't say it right, so everyone calls you Rin.”

Jack’s body relaxed into the young woman’s. Maybe it was reflex, but he cautiously buried his face in her hair and inhaled.

Rin swallowed a smile, and found little ways to touch him that day. Little ways to touch exposed parts of Jack everytime she visited the store. Innocent explanations for their hands lingering when he handed her the twentieth book she didn't need. To flirtatiously brush the curls away from his forehead as he leaned over the counter when they talked.

And almost every single time Jack leaned into it. Reciprocated. Started remembering little parts of Rin from their time in section. Not the big messy memories, just bursts from time to time. She was ok with that. She would take him anyway she could.

Now here she was, two days before Christmas with her hands on the ornaments in the shop window. She had something wrapped in brown paper in her purse and was biding her time as Jack helped the customers buying last minute gifts.

Soon it was her turn, and Rin placed the gift on the counter simultaneously with Jack doing likewise. There was unexpected laughter, the way Jack's tapered off into a giggle from a loud outburst. Infectious as it was, Rin joined in.

“If we got each other identical presents, you're coming to mine for New Year’s,” it wasn't a question. “Emma and her partner know you somehow. Must be from around the visitor’s during..” His voice trailed off.

“Our time in the nuthouse?” Rin offered.

Jack leaned over and brushed his nose against Rin’s cheek out of the blue. They lingered momentarily, before he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I've done that before,” another assertion as his verdant gaze settled on Rin’s lips.

Picking up the package, Rin shoved it playfully into Jack’s chest so that he was forced back. “Open your gift!”

“Fine!”

Jack mimicked her tone as he tore into the wrapping paper at the same Rin dove into hers. They both held up books simultaneously and fell into a fit of giggles.

“OLIVER TWIST!”

“EDWIN DROOD?!”

In unison: “FIRST EDITION?!”

“I can't believe I never knew how much you loved books,” Rin was blunt.

“I'm not sure how much we spoke for you to find out.” Jack hugged the book tightly to his chest. “I'm not sure how much I spoke to anyone outside of group and therapy.”

Rin took one of her million chances when she placed the palm of her hand against Jack’s cheek. He relaxed into the touch, eyes closed and sighed contentedly. Under the surface he was warm and bright like the Christmas lights. She wouldn't let herself pass any further than the happy memories. Impassioned ones of mouths and hands and fingertips and hugs.

Perhaps it was the particular sensation Rin spread out from herself to Jack that triggered a reaction. One of him leaning across the countertop to bring their lips together in a chaste kiss that lingered longer than it should have.

Jack recovered and righted himself before apologizing. He was compelled in the moment out of gratitude. “Meet us here on New Year’s, yeah? So we don't have to be alone.”

“You've got family, Jack.” Rin reminded him.

“So we don't have to be alone for the New Year,” he only repeated. It was a date.

------

Rin took the early shift on New Year’s Eve so she could tear out and get ready. The nerves coiled in her stomach as she scrambled to fix hair that wouldn't fall right or apply make-up that made her resemble a street walker. She sighed, defeated, and told herself this was all she could give.

Still Jack threw a large grin in her direction as he closed up the shop. He wolf whistled and Rin felt her face catch fire.

“Aren't you a stunner?” he pecked her cheek and gave the woman before him a spin. She loved the way it came out sounding like “stoonah.”

“You got a big date or something?” he teased before taking her by the hand.

“I needed extra money for the holiday so I thought I'd hang around a street corner. Fifty quid and a warm cot, I'll do whatever you like” Rin shrugged and winked coyly.

Jack rolled his eyes, but his demeanor changed as he traced the network of scars on the back of her hand so delicately Rin felt tears in her eyes. She swiped at them swiftly hoping he thought it was the chilled breeze.

“Dunno why I did tha,” he dropped the hand abruptly and buried his own in a jacket pocket. “Not my place to touch (tooch) you when you didn't ask.”

Uncomfortable silence.

“does anyone else work here besides you?” Rin gestured towards the store as they started walking, she assumed, to Emma’s house.

“Sometimes Emma and Billy. Only when I get too overwhelmed.”

Rin linked her arm with Jack's to break the weird tension. “Do you manage it?”

“I own it. Why need a job? Maybe a bit of a conflict if the boss has a bit of a flirt with the shopgirl innit?”

“OWN IT?!”

Jack laughed, “Not bad for a nutter who talks to dead people and was not long for Big Issue. Why do I say this shit to you?!”

“I'm like a truth serum?” she offered.

They wound their way through a lovely neighbor with houses no one Rin knew could afford. She remembered Jack’s brother-in-law was a lawyer. He told her his sister left him not long after he got out. Had to be spousal support and a settlement, but she didn't prod.

“I helped someone a while back. Someone kinda connected. Well-known, I guess? I tried to sort out his missus when she tried suicide.”

“It didn't work in the end.”

“At first. It's how I got sectioned. The voices. His voice. She was ok for a bit. His family sent me letters. They figured I knew something. What I knew got them a conviction. I got a reward. Doesn’t always feel like one if everyone’s dead now does (dooz) it?”

It was Rin’s turn to lace her fingers with Jack's. “You helped someone's family find peace. Sometimes that's enough even if you kinda lose yourself in the process. Look I let what I can do almost kill me. That’s what put me in hospital.” She held up the gashed scar along her wrist. “But that gave me yo-” Rin swallowed the word. “I got to use my gift one last time. And he's happy! Even if he forgets who I am.”

“Who could ever forget you, love?”

They were quiet the rest of the journey.

-----

Rin sat on the edge of the pool as her feet dangled in the bath warm water. Her brain flashed back to the lake where she experienced Jack drowning in his own mind. Bogged down by medication he didn't need while the dead clung to him. Then they had surfaced, she nearly torn apart by the ghosts Jack fought with. Bellowed that he was no longer their messenger. They tried to take her as compensation.

Now false water filled Rin’s lungs as a fake grin spread across her cheeks. The chlorine and tropical air made her nauseous, ready to vomit. Of all the things Jack could have suggested they do, swimming at 11pm would not have ever crossed her mind.

“There was a kid, lived here before Emma, died right. Mean little bastard too. Suppose dying like that might get a kid angry as long as he was tied to it.”

Jack stood on the pool’s edge, toes curled around the stone. His face went a bit dark as he narrowed his eyes in the direction of something Rin couldn't see in the opposite corner. He clenched his fists. She knew it was a silent standoff between Jack, and most likely, the dead boy.

It was only a flash of his old self before Jack snapped to. He grinned like the Cheshire cat as he undid his jeans and tore his sweater off. Then headfirst into the deep end leaving Rin to squeal.

“WHAT are you doing?!” she yelled as he bolted towards her underwater.

“Dunno fancied a swim. It's rather lovely water considering it's January. Plus,” he pointed towards the ceiling, “Look up.”

Rin followed his finger and gazed upwards. A large glass window spread the night sky before them. Millions of stars shone through, stars she never really bothered searching for. She was overwhelmed by other people's emotions, literally, that she never had a quiet moment to herself so that she COULD look up.

“Don't you wanna to join me?” Jack’s question was rather coy as he side-stroked back and forth.

Rin shook her head, “I'll sit here and watch.” She glanced down at the wine bottle she nearly forget, “And drink.” So they did.

Now her anxiety was churning her stomach. A coat of alcohol warmed her further than just the temperature of the pool room. Her chest was tight with lack of oxygen as she struggled to not cry. So she focused on the long, thin body completely relaxed on the water's surface. What a lovely distraction it was.

Jack floated along lazily on his back, boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. That secret part of him Rin had not seen in two years clearly visible. Now her face grew flush with desire and the memory of how good it felt for once to be touched by a man because he cared about her. How they made each other sing.

Jack must have sensed something because he righted himself and swam towards her. Those hands on her calves and knees to part them slightly so he can stand between them. He was silent as he reached for the bottle of wine.

“Rin, be honest,” his voice filled the silence of the room. “Can you swim?”

Rin's heart pounded so loudly in her ears that Jack was muffled. The way he looked at her, desire emanated from him. There was a disconnect between his brain and body. Those hands on her thighs remembered exploring her but the rest of him didn't. They lingered between innocence and the verge of obscenity. If he wanted, Rin would have sex with him while a houseful of people partied and danced within ear shot.

“i can swim!”

Jack pushed off the wall and splashed her in the process. “Do you think I'm sexy?” he was drunk. Head tilted as the wet curls clung to his face.

“A blind person would think you're sexy. You're taking the piss because I won't get in.”

“Of course I am! Come on. I'll hold you?” he raised an eyebrow. “It's almost midnight. I want to be with you when it is.”

“We're together enough, Jack”

“No!” he waved his hands. “I want to hold you.I don't know why, I know I have before? I feel like there's just this.. Ever since you came to the store it’s been like trying to remember a dream I had once. And some part of me is saying you know how to help because you've done it before?”

Realization spread across Jack's face, “Rin, am I the one who forgot you?”

“It happens sometimes. I think.. I think my abilities shut off a part of people who no longer need me or want me?” she shrugged it off.

“How could I not want you?”

It was such an innocent thing to ask. One Rin had asked herself every time someone used her. Her parents turned her into a sideshow freak for their religion. Men and their sick desires that she tapped into. Even she didn't want herself most of the time.

But Jack had been alone. Left to his own devices and literally haunted. Rin never needed to touch him to know how sad he had been when he first was sectioned. It emanated from him. He knew about self isolation and mistrust. And especially about gifts that would ruin you if they could.

There wasn't a thought left. Spurned on by the purity of his question, Rin hurried out of her clothes and eased herself into the pool. She swam as quickly as her body allowed before throwing herself in Jack's waiting arms.

Their arms and legs tangled together in the water. Rin wrapped herself around Jack's hips, her arms draped across broad shoulders. She twisted her fingers up in his hair and let her body meld into his.

Jack held Rin's head in his hands. Their foreheads pressed together as he nudged the tip of his nose along her face. Careful, at first,

to only brush his lips on her cheeks and eyelids. Then the countdown started.

Everyone in the house started counting down excitedly, and Jack stopped being cautious. It was cliché how their mouths found one another hungrily as the guests screamed Happy New Year! How Rin's empathic touch sent a wave of electricity that visibly shocked Jack's body as they began to sing. As if she plugged his body into his brain and there was a spark that brought him to life.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

And never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

For days of Auld Lang Syne

They relaxed into one another. Their kisses became languid but no less passionate. Everyone stormed the pool around them, splashing and laughing and hollering. Emma drunkenly interrupted the couples’ warring lips and tongues.

“Took you fucking long enough,” she teased her baby brother. “I kept hoping this would happen.”

Rin buried her face in Jack's chest as he held her tight. That bright fire that flowed from Emma to her and Rin to Jack back in hospital took root again in this house and pool.

“Me too.”

We’ll take o cup of kindness yet

For days of auld lang syne

#robert sheehan #jack #the messenger #robert sheehan character fics #jack x rin

[cutaepatootie]

Animal - 09 | FINAL

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: boxer jungkook | angst | tiny bits of fluff and humor Word Count: 15k

Warnings: implicit sex, explicit descriptions of violence, blood, character death (ups), really realistic and gore descriptions, dark themes as drugs, gangs, police getting involved... This is one of the darkest things I’ve ever written, please be careful and if you don’t feel good reading those things... Skip them, please.

A/N: Today is my birthday and as my gift to you... Here you have it, the final chapter, I’m not ready, Animal is my baby, I don’t wanna say goodbye but... The time has come. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for joining me in this long journey. Lots of love!

 previous chapter ← 09 | final chapter

It felt weird, the fact that after two months, everything felt normal again.

Having Jungkook with you every night, falling asleep in his arms and waking up buried beneath his body – the boy moved so much in his sleep you could swear one day he was going to suffocate you – it all felt so normal.

You hadn’t talked about the final wrestling match again and you just hoped he would make the right decision.

The final day of your practices at the hospital, was a sad day, having to say goodbye to all your patients and all the people that had become your family, the ones that had taken care of you and the ones that had taught you so much, but it had to arrive, and you had to say goodbye.

You brought one of your carrot cakes and you all ate it while you laugh remembering the different anecdotes you had lived. You couldn’t wrap your mind around the idea that, in just a few months, you would be working as a nurse instead of studying as one.

You tried to make the most out of everything. The last time you entered the equipment room, the last time you walked down the corridor of your floor, greeting patients and their family. The last time you got on the elevator, changed clothes inside the changing rooms, somehow remembering Jungkook as you stared at a certain wooden bench. In there, he had sat while you sewed up his brow after his car accident. It was when he had asked you to go out with him, just as friends of course.

You smiled, thinking how much things had changed since then.

In love…

Two small words, but fuck, how much meaning they held.

You walked out of the hospital that Friday night, smiling as you walked away from your student life. You were going to graduate on Sunday, fuck.

Your mother, grandparents and your aunt had traveled to the city to attend your graduation and they were staying at a hotel not far from your campus. You had been there with them for lunch that day.

As you opened the door of your dorm, still smiling like a silly girl, you started smelling something familiar.

You frowned, closing the door behind you. The room was dark, but it smelled like… Cheese?

You switched on the light to find Jungkook lying on your bed, a family sized pizza by his side as he smiled brightly at you.

“Congratulations, nurse Y/N,” he smirked.

You smiled widely and approached him, leaving your things on the floor.

“I haven’t graduated yet, so technically I’m not a nurse yet,” you said. “Would you put your life in the hands of this semi-nurse?”

“I’ve already done it, and it has turned out pretty good,” he pointed at himself.

You laughed and sat on the bed.

“Is it from Pizza Planet?”

“Of course, do you think I would buy you pizza from a place that wasn’t Pizza Planet?”

You chuckled again and punched him in the arm.

“You better not if you want to win your way to my heart.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he said in a dramatic way, throwing himself on your lap. “I’ve already won that long time ago.”

You punched him in the arm.

“Don’t push it, Jungkook,” you grunted. “I can kick you out of my room and spend my night alone with this pizza… Doing nasty things.”

“Oh…” he hummed, lifting himself up from your lap. “Would you do nasty things without me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“What a nasty girl,” he purred.

And then, kissed you like he had been kissing you all week. With passion, with playfulness… With love.

You spent the night alone in your small room, sitting on the bed with the pizza in between you, soft music playing on the background and only your fairy lights lighting up the room. You talked and laughed, you showing him some video you had seen on Twitter that had caused you to almost peed yourself. Of course, Jungkook had to be extra and had to copy the video, dancing to Take on Me with a pair of ugly glasses you had hidden somewhere in your room while you recorded him and cracked up like a mad woman.

“I’m literally crying,” you said in between gasps, your stomach hurting from all the laughing. You wiped a tear away from the corner of your eye dramatically as Jungkook laughed – in that beautiful high-pitched laugh he made when he found something really funny – and approached you.

“Lemme see,” he said, grabbing your phone as he plopped down on the bed by your side.

The both of you laughed until the girl whose room was right next to yours knocked on the wall, letting you know that you were disturbing her.

You clasped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughs. Jungkook hid his face on your pillow, but from how his body was shaking, you could see he was still laughing.

“Stop laughing,” you protested, your laughs dying down as you sat on his lower back. “If she knocks once again, then I won’t be able to protest ever again when she makes a noise.”

“Why do you care?” he said, lifting his head from the pillow and craning his neck so he can stare at you. “You’ll graduate on Sunday.”

“Yeah, but I’ll live here until I find a good apartment and a job as a nurse!”

“Whatever, it will be summer and no one cares about noise in summer.”

You rolled your eyes. “You say this because you don’t live here.”

He arched his brow and, in one swift movement, pulled you away from him and laid on his back, placing you back on top of him.

“You could just move in with me.”

You arched a brow back.

“What do you mean?”

“What does ‘moving in’ means?” he teased you, pinching your sides.

Your heart skipped a bit. Just the thought of waking up in that fluffy bed, under the sunlight that seeped from those big windows and seeing the mass of wavy, bed-hair that was Jungkook made your tummy jump.

“Isn’t it a bit soon for that?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “If I get tired of you and your obsession with order and tidying, I will kick you out.”

“Hey!” you pouted.

“But I’ll wait to kick you out until you have enough money saved to rent your own apartment, I’m not that cruel. What do you think about it?”

“Hmm… Let me think,” you placed your index finger and thumb on your chin, as if you were deep in thought. “I could enjoy a house that has more than one room… Your big TV is a pro too, and the shower, the bed…”

“And me?”

“You’re a con, definitely.”

He gasped and grabbed your sides, pushing you onto the bed and rolling on top of you. He started tickling you as you fought against him.

“Ah!” was the only thing you could say in between the laughs that erupted from your throat. He had always used your tickly skin against you, and you suddenly had a déjà vu, to a night you had been in your old apartment, debating whether you should play Mario Kart or Overwatch. Of course, he won, and you ended up playing Overwatch – which you hated because he always won you.

“You’re the biggest pro of them all,” you whispered in his ear.

The tickles soon turned into kisses and the screams into moans.

You could hear the girl in the room next to yours knocking on the wall, but neither of you cared, muffling your laughs with each other’s lips.

. . .

“Oh my God!” your mother gasped as she saw you emerging from your dorm building. “What a stunning daughter I have!”

She brought her hands to her mouth as she walked towards you to hug you.

“You only call me stunning when I wear make-up,” you chuckled, hugging her back.

She broke the hug, her hands on your shoulders as she eyed you up and down.

“Don’t lie,” she pouted. “Your father and I did a great job!”

You laughed and walked away from her and towards the car, greeting your grandparents and your aunt, who was sitting on the driver’s seat.

On the way to your campus, you were trembling, so nervous you couldn’t stop bouncing your leg up and down. Your lilac suit was making you sweat, so you took the blazer off, leaving you in your black crop top and the lilac pants.

You were nervous because that day was the last day of your life as a student, it was the door to your adult life. You were so used to going to class, or to practices, studying, preparing for the final exams… That you were afraid you wouldn’t know what to do without all that. You were nervous because you didn’t know how to walk with high-heels, and you were wearing a pair of black sandals taller than a pencil, you were sure you were going to trip on the stairs as you got on the stage once you heard your name in the big theatre hall of your campus.  You were nervous because of a lot of things, but there was one that stood above the rest.

Jungkook.

That same night would be the final match of the wrestling season, and ever since you had sort of reconciled on Monday, you hadn’t spoken about it again. You didn’t know if he would fight or if he would stay at home. You had given him an invitation to the party that your classmates were throwing after the graduating ceremony, but he had just kept it in the back pocket of his jeans without saying a thing.

You closed your eyes and hoped that, whatever the decision Jungkook made was the right one.

Evey looked beautiful in her baby yellow dress, her long hair curled and falling down her shoulders softly. You nearly cried as you hugged her, you had gone through so much together… It was hard to believe that you were the same girls that had met four years before as you were trying to buy some snacks from the broken vending machine in your campus. It took you three lost coins to realize it was broken.

You clapped like crazy when her name echoed around the theatre hall and she did the same when it sounded yours. In the end, you didn’t trip with the stairs and you grabbed your diploma looking classy in your lilac suit.

You weren’t going to lie, you enjoyed the cocktail after the ceremony, and tried to make the most out of it with your family and your friends, but you were a bit out of it.

It was nine pm, in only one hour, the fight would start. It meant that, if Jungkook had made the decision of fighting, he was already there.

“Hello,” you heard a soft voice say.

Your aunt stopped talking and you turned around, a small sandwich in your hand, to see Evey awkwardly smiling at your family.

“Hey, Evey!” your mother smiled at her, hugging her. “Congratulations sweetheart, I’m so proud of the both of you.”

“Thank you,” she hugged your mother back, all smiles.

“Are your parents here?” your mother asked when they broke the hug. “I haven’t seen them.”

“Oh,” Evey said, turning around to point somewhere in the crowd. “Yeah, they’re there with my brother and my grandparents. They asked me about you too.”

“I’ll greet them later.”

“They’ll love it,” she smiled kindly. “It’s been great seeing you today.”

She said goodbye to your family and grabbed your hand, leading you away from them so you could talk in private.

“What happens?” you asked, frowning.

“I’m going now… To the match, are you coming?”

She knew nothing about you telling Jungkook not to fight that match, she still knew nothing about all the shit Taehyung and Jungkook were into. But she did know that you and Jungkook had “sorted everything out”.

“You’re skipping the party?”

“Yeah, you’re not?” now it was her who frowned. “It’s a pretty special night for Jungkook.”

“I promised myself I would never go to another wrestling match and I’ll keep it,” you said, nodding with your head. “Jungkook knows I’m not going.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? We can still go to the party when the match ends.”

You shook your head. “I’m sure,” you smiled. “Just… If you see him, tell me I wish him the best of lucks.”

“Alright,” she shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll se him tonight anyways,” she wiggled her brows. “If he loses you can always comfort him, and if he wins, you can always celebrate with him… You know.”

“You can be sure of that,” you playfully said.

“Oh whoa! Y/N admitting she’s going to have sex with Jungkook… We’re witnessing the rise of a new era, everyone.”

“Things change, people evolve…” you laughed.

She laughed with you and hugged you. You held her tightly to you.

“We’ve done it, Evey,” you whispered.

“Yeah, against all odds, we’re fucking nurses.”

When you broke the hug, the both of you had tears in your eyes.

“We’re fucking weepy nurses,” you added.

“I don’t know what the future will bring to some crybabies like us,” she laughed.

“I don’t know either, Evey, but I know we will be happy as heck.”

“Yeah!”

“Just… Don’t marry Taehyung too son, will you? I mean, wait for a couple of years or something…”

She punched you in the arm.

“I love you,” she said, hugging you once again.

You smiled, hands caressing her back.

“I love you.”

You don’t know how much time you were there, hugging each other, you just know that every single memory you had with her flashed before you in that moment.

You patted her ass, breaking the hug.

“Go before you ruin my eyeliner, I spent an hour doing it,” you said.

“It’s already ruined,” she said, sticking out her tongue to you.

You brought your fingers to your eyes.

“Just joking!” she laughed, making you glare at her.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t disappear right now!”

“Alright! Alright!” he laughed, starting to walk away from you, towards the exit of your campus. “Let’s meet tomorrow for coffee!”

“I hate coffee!”

“I know!”

She waved at you and you remember her smiling face, and how pretty she looked in her flowy baby yellow dress as you watched her disappear.

. . .

You couldn’t keep your eyes away from the main entrance of the bar you and your classmates had rented for the party.

You had texted him the address an hour ago, but he hadn’t even seen it. You just hoped he hadn’t seen it because he was busy watching some TV, not because he was on top of a ring punching another boy.

“Here you have!” Mara cheerfully said, already drunk as heck. “Cheer up, girl! I know adult life sucks, but don’t let it get the best of you!”

You smiled softly, grabbing the drink she was offering you and thanking her.

You knew it was a special night, your graduation party, but you couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t Jungkook in that moment. Had Evey told him you wished him good luck? Was Evey seeing how he punched Jiwon over and over? Or was it the other way around? Jiwon punching Jungkook again and again?

Images of blood running down Jungkook’s nose filled your mind, his broken lip and bruised cheeks. You just couldn’t stand it.

Taking a long sip from the drink Mara had given you – and that you didn’t even know what the fuck it was made of – you finished the whole beverage, grimacing at the bitter liquid running down your throat.

You were sitting on a chair placed by the wall, not too far from the dace floor, where your friends where laughing and dancing, all drunk and happy. You envied them, you wished you could feel as lightheaded as they did in that moment, no other concern than having fun.

The lilac blazer rested on the back of your chair, and a bitter expression adorned your face. You knew you must be looking like the life of the party in that moment.

Leg bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the sound that was playing, your eyes travelled to the main entrance once again.

Nothing.

You could just go to the dorm and wait there, because you were going crazy.

After standing from your chair, you waved at your friends.

Mara frowned and approached you.

“Are you going already?!” she said, raising her voice so you could hear her above the loud music.

“Yeah, I’m a bit tired and these fucking heels are killing me.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Alfredo pouted, another one of your friends. “There was a really cute boy asking for you just a couple of minutes ago.”

You frowned. “Who?”

“Dunno, his face looked familiar but I don’t know where I’ve seen him before.”

“Where was he?” you asked, voice high-pitched.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but…

“Near the bathrooms, two minutes ago.”

“Alright, thanks!” you said, leaving your empty glass with them and making your way around the crowd so you could get to the bathrooms.

There was a small staircase leading down to them, and, as you stood before it about to start climbing it down, your eyes met a pair of black ones.

A pair of eyes you knew too well.

“You came,” you breathed, frozen in place.

“Yeah, but I was starting to think you hadn’t.”

You eyed him up and down. Jungkook was looking beautiful dressed in a black suit, white t-shirt with its first buttons undone. Classic yet breathtaking. His wavy, long hair fell on top of his forehead beautifully, parted a bit on the middle to allow him to see what was in front of him.

“How couldn’t I?” you laughed. “This is my graduation party.”

It wasn’t until you felt something warm rolling down your cheek that you noticed you were starting to cry. You brought one hand up to wipe the tears away.

“Hey,” he whispered, climbing up the final stairs and approaching you until his arms were around you.

He let your hand fall to your side and started wiping your tears away himself.

“Why are you crying?”

His voice was so soft and melodious that you couldn’t help but cry even more. It was the first time you were letting yourself fully cry in front of him, and you were just as confused as he was.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I don’t know, I just can’t believe you’re here, I was so worried…”

He smiled softly.

“Well, I’m here,” he said, his thumbs caressing the skin underneath your eyes. “And stop crying, or you’ll ruin your makeup.”

You didn’t give a single fuck about your makeup, to be honest.

“Fuck my makeup,” you scoffed, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him against you, caging him in between your arms.

For once, you could finally breathe.

Did all that mean that he hadn’t fought? He surely didn’t look like it… Did it mean that…?

You broke the hug and grabbed both of his cheeks with your hands.

“Are you alright? You don’t have any wounds or –“

“I didn’t fight, didn’t even show up,” he said, interrupting your.

His words only made more tears appear in your eyes.

“Agh,” he protested. “Stop crying or this will look like a funeral instead of a graduation party.”

“They’re happy tears.”

“I don’t like seeing you cry,” he softly whispered, fingers wiping away the tears once again. “Don’t care if they’re happy tears or not. It breaks my heart.”

“Who is the sappy one right now?”

You teased him, sniffling as he finished cleaning your face from any tears that remained.

“I’m so happy you’re here right now.”

“I’m so happy I’m here with you right now,” he smiled. “I would have died if I hadn’t seen you dressed in this suit, you look so sexy I don’t even want to be here right now.”

You bit your lower lip.

“Can this stop? We look like one of those cheesy, romantic couples.”

“Ew, no,” he grimaced, taking a step back.

You laughed. You thought your heart was going to explode at any moment from how happy you were. He had listened to you, he hadn’t gone to the fight, he hadn’t fought against Jiwon. He had chosen you, his mother, a normal life, over all the violence and pain and danger.

You were whipped.

“Let’s dance,” you suggested, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the dance floor.

“Thought you didn’t dance,” he said from behind you.

“Once a year can hurt nobody!”

He laughed as you stopped walking and turned around to face him. People surrounded you, but it was as if you were the only ones inside the bar.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you said, smirk on your face. “Did you buy that suit just for my graduation party?”

He smirked back.

“Maybe.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Maybe? I can already picture you going shopping, thinking about what suit should you buy for a graduation party. Would it be too inappropriate to attend in your usual black jeans and oversized t-shirts?”

He grabbed your lower back with one hand and pressed you against his.

“What does it matter? You’re going to take it all off by the end of the night,” he whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You liked how that sounded. You were just about to tell him that, when the DJ spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen! You better grab a partner because, what would a graduation party be without some slow dance!”

“Fuck,” the both of you mumbled at the same time.

You laughed loudly as you saw the fear in each other’s eyes. You hated dancing, even more, slow dancing.

Jungkook shrugged and offered you his hand.

“Once a year can hurt nobody, can’t it?”

You smiled and grabbed his hand confidently. The notes of a guitar started sounding and everyone around you stopped jumping and screaming and grabbed a partner.

“I hate this,” you growled, looking all around you.

“Me too,” Jungkook whispered in your ear. “But if we don’t do this I’m afraid we’ll catch their attention and they’ll kick us out of here.”

“Fuck, without even grabbing a couple drinks first?” you hasped, eyes wide as you leaned back to stare at him.

He nodded solemnly. “Without even grabbing a drink first.”

“We need to dance, then,” you said. “To convince them we’re one of them. That we’re romantic and cheesy.”

“We must dance.”

You smiled and placed your hands around his neck, arms resting on his shoulders as his hands found your lower back.

“I’ve never done this, so sorry if I step on you with my heels or something.”

“If you step on my feet with those killing heels I will have to go on a wheelchair for the rest of my life.”

You chuckled, muffling your sounds with the palm of your hand.

“Shh,” Jungkook shushed you. “If you laugh, they will see us! You have to act serious and in love.”

“What?” you scoffed.

“Serious and in love, remember,” he said, straightening his back.

You chuckled some more and then, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Your fingers intertwined behind his neck, fingers grazing the strands of his dark hair.

When you opened your eyes again, you found those black, round eyes that somehow looked like the eyes of a cute anime character. Under the shitty lights of the bar, they were glimmering.

Suddenly you were really nervous and trembly, but you couldn’t avert your eyes away from his, as if he had some sort of magnetic pull towards you.

The only things you remember in that moment are the beautiful music and his dark eyes, as infinite as the night sky above you.

He pressed you a bit tighter against him, feeling each other breaths every time you exhaled.

From up close, you could really see him and admire him, and feel the luckiest person on Earth because, somehow, your path had crossed Jungkook’s in this infinite road that life is.

You weren’t nervous anymore, nor worried, you were just in love. Just like him. Two young people in love, dancing to a slow song in the middle of a crowded dance floor. Maybe there were other couples in love on the dance floor in that moment, but none of them shone like the two of you did, no one looked at each other like you did.

One of your foot accidentally stepped on one of his, and your eyes widened.

“Ups, sorry,” you said.

“Ouch,” he laughed, acting as if it hurt him more than it did. “Someone bring the wheelchair!”

Some people around you stared at him, scowl in their faces as he had interrupted their romantic moments.

You laughed and hid your face in the crook of his neck, resting your head on his shoulders.

As you closed your eyes, it finally felt like home. With his scent surrounding you, his body moving with yours as the music guided him, his hands holding you. You could spend the rest of your life like that.

Just the two of you, holding each other, loving each other.

It was funny, how at the beginning you had hated each other so much and had been sure you wouldn’t even touch him with a stick, and now there you were, wishing he would touch the entirety of your skin and that you would touch the entirety of his. Your paths had crossed, looking like it was another crash in the passing of time, but then, they had become parallel lines that walked together. Life really was capricious.

When the slow music turned into disco music, you grabbed some drinks and kept dancing like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been dancing like two birds in love just seconds before. You joked around and ended with your heels in Jungkook’s hands as you jumped to the music.

He had carried you home on his back, the bar not too far from your door building. Your arms around your neck as you talked non-stop – blame it on the alcohol and your sore feet.

You still talked and laughed as he threw you one your bed and made love to you. That slow song was still playing inside your mind as he peppered kisses all over your naked body. You hummed the song as your fingers traced his skin just like the musician’s fingers had caressed the strings of his guitar as he sang the song. Jungkook had never felt so loved and full before.

The sex was a bit messy – since the both of you were in a state between drunk and ecstatic – clashing of teeth, bangs against the wall, you nearly ripping Jungkook’s shirt open, him tripping as he got out of his boxers and nearly falling on top of your desk… But it was the pure definition of the both of you, messy yet loving, passionate and young. Infinite as much as it was brief.

. . .

A deaf noise jolted you awake.

You were a bit disoriented as you sat on your bed, brushing the fallen strands of your hair away from your face. Rubbing your eyes as you opened them, you tried to understand what was going on and what had woken you up.

Your room was still dark, but you had let your blinds rolled up so the moonlight seeped in.

When your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you finally could make out what was going on.

Besides you, the bed was empty, the sheets unmade as if Jungkook had woken up in a haste.

“Just calm down and tell me what’s going on,” you heard the deep voice of Jungkook.

He was sitting on the floor, by the bed, back resting on its side as he held his phone to his ear.

You frowned a bit, who would call at 3 am?

“Joon, please, calm down, you’re freaking me out.”

You kneeled on the bed and crawled towards its side until you were behind Jungkook. He softly moved his head to the side, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Tell me,” he sighed. “No, I’m with Y/N.”

A long pause followed his words, and suddenly, a thick silence filled the room.

A cry escaped Jungkook’s throat. It was so low you weren’t even sure if you had imagined it.

“W-what?” he gasped.

Confused, you sat on the floor by his side. His face was like nothing you had ever seen, contorted in pure pain and agony.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, this can’t be…” he hid his face in between his bent knees, his free hand pulling harshly from his hair. “This can’t be happening.”

“Jungkook…” you whispered, caressing his shoulder trying to comfort him.

“FUCK!” he screamed, startling you and making you pull your hand away from him.

He stood up, pacing around the room frantically. You stared at him, worry starting to seep through every limb, bone and organ.

“FUCK!” Jungkook kept screaming, sometimes sobbing in between screams.

Jungkook was crying.

“This can’t be happening, Joon,” he sniffled. “This can’t… Fucking hell! Fuck! FUCK!”

You stood up, but didn’t dare touch him in case you startled him or something.

“W-what happened?” he kept saying, tears rolling down his cheeks. “W-who did it… How?”

A long pause followed his words. You blinked a few times, heart aching for him, despite not knowing what exactly had happened. You just knew, that it had to be something really bad, for the way Jungkook was breaking in front of you.

“Where are you? No, Namjoon, I’m going. If you think I’ll stay here as if nothing hap – Can you let me speak?! I’m not going to stay here! Send me your location and I’ll go.”

You approached him. He had his forehead pressed against the wall, body completely rigid.

“I don’t fucking care what you all say or what’s best, I already let him down, I won’t let him down twice,” he growled. “Sent me the location.”

With that, he hung up.

He started shaking, and you, afraid that he was crying again, approached him. But once you did, you stopped yourself from touching him.

He wasn’t trembling because of the cries, he wasn’t even crying anymore, he was trembling in pure anger, fists clenched and eyes closed.

“J-Jungkook,” you stuttered. You hated the tremble in your voice, and you hated yourself for being scared of him in that moment, but that was exactly what you were, scared to the bone.

You had never seen him so angry yet so calm, not even during the fights.

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?”

You decided to fight against yourself and placed another comforting hand on his shoulder.

As soon as you touched him, he flinched away from you, opening his eyes and walking away from the wall as he breathed heavily.

“Jungkook…” you whispered. His eyes were red and puffy from his previous outburst, and he had his jaw clenched. “What is it?”

“Taehyung and Evey are dead,” he spat the words so suddenly, that it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown all over your body.

“W-what?” you stuttered, barely being able to form any word.

“Fuck, Taehyung and Evey are dead!” he screamed, making you flinch and cover your eyes.

No. It couldn’t be real. You must be dreaming, sleeping soundlessly by Jungkook’s side on your bed. In a couple of hours, when the sun was high up in the sky, Evey would text you and you would both go to your favorite café to order a coffee and some green tea.

It couldn’t be real.

Jungkook started pacing around the room once again, pulling from his hair, growling and crying all over again.

“No…” you were mumbling. “What?”

You were even gasping for air, like a fish out of water.

“They attended the match… You were right, it was a trap,” Jungkook mumbled. “They did it… Mr. Kang and fucking Jiwon, they did it! They killed my brother!”

You cried and pressed your hands further against your ears, refusing to hear him, refusing to acknowledge what was happening.

“No… Evey.”

“They all waited for me to appear for two hours, and when I didn’t, the match was called off and they all went home. Taehyung, Evey and the boys stayed there, trying to reach out to me, but to no avail, so they ended up leaving. Mr. Kang men followed Tae and Evey down to Taehyung’s apartment and caught them in there… Namjoon and Hoseok found them an hour ago because Tae wasn’t answering the phone.”

A shiver run down your spine. Flashes of Taehyung and Evey laughing together in Tae’s apartment, you telling them they were gross as they kissed and showed their love to everyone. Flashes of them on the sofa, Evey on top of him as he grabbed her hips with his large hands, eyes always shiny as long as they were looking at her. Flashes of them on the floor, blood spilling from their bodies and accumulating on the floor as their eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. One next to the other.

You gasped for air. You didn’t know when you had stopped breathing, but suddenly you had felt your lungs closing and your throat constricting.

You put a hand on the wall, stopping you from falling to the floor.

“Evey… Tae…” was all you could mumble.

When you lifted your eyes from the floor, you saw Jungkook putting his clothes back on, not even bothering to grab his blazer.

“W-where are y-you going?” you stuttered.

“I’m going to get those fucking bastards and make them pay for what they did.”

“No!” you said, throwing yourself at him. “No, please Jungkook, don’t do that.”

“Get off me!” he growled, pulling your arms away from him.

“Please, please,” you kept pleading, following him towards the door. “Don’t go there.”

“I listened to you before, I didn’t attend the match… And look where Taehyung and Evey are now! It should have been me the one who died tonight, not them.”

The mere thought of Jungkook dying made you want to throw up.

“Don’t go, please,” you kneeled on the floor, hugging one of his legs. “Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too.”

“Let go of me, this is what I have to do.”

“Please.”

With a harsh pull, he pulled his leg out of your embrace.

“I have to do this,” he said, hand grabbing the doorknob. “I have to do what’s right. This is right.”

“They’re already gone, Jungkook, getting yourself killed won’t bring them back.”

“I don’t fucking care, my brother is dead Y/N, it’s as if I was dead too.”

“Don’t say that, don’t go,” you kept pleading. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t stay. Don’t come after me, please, stay here, it’s the only thing I’ll ask of you.”

“J-Jungkook,” you stuttered, blinking your eyes as the light of the corridor appeared and disappeared in mere seconds.

In the blink of an eye.

You stayed there, in the darkness of your room, kneeling naked on the old carpet. You were quiet, eyes glued to the closed door.

Darkness filled you, darkness surrounded you… And you wondered how things could change so quickly, when you had been feeling so full and giddy just hours ago.

Finally, you let out a sob, and then other, and the next second, you were crying on the floor, face hidden behind your hands.

He had left you with the same words that once made you wanted to leave. I can’t. I can’t love you. I can’t stay.

Both times you had pleaded him, to love you, to stay, and both of them, he had told you he couldn’t. What was it about the two of you that you wanted but couldn’t? Was it that you weren’t made for each other? He wanted to love you, but he couldn’t. He wanted to stay, but he couldn’t. You both wanted to be together, but you couldn’t, and each time you tried to go against those words, life proved you wrong and them right.

You feared your thoughts were true, you feared you couldn’t be with Jungkook. You feared there would be a time when he wouldn’t be part of your life anymore, a mere memory.

Flashes of Evey filled your mind.

Her with her radiant smile and comforting words, with those horrendous dramas she liked to watch, with her hot temper and big heart. Her, with her bag always full of extra pens she could borrow to you. Her, with her open arms and warm hugs. Her, with her head full of dreams and full of Taehyung. Her, in her flowy baby yellow dress in your graduation party.

“Yeah, against all odds, we’re fucking nurses,” she had murmured in your ear, radiant as ever.

She had always wanted to be a nurse, and she had told you multiple times how hard she had worked for it. She wanted to work at some hospital for some years before going to some country where aid was needed, she wanted to help those who needed it the most.

And now, she was gone, and the only thing that remained of her was the memory of her, in her flowy baby yellow dress walking away from you.

With thoughts of Evey, another thought appeared inside your mind. What if it was the last time you saw Jungkook too? What if you never got to see his beautiful face once again, or be gifted with one of his radiant smiles? What if you never got to hug him, touch him, smell him, kiss him again? What if you never got to tell him how much you loved him, and how proud you were of him?

The mere thought of that, sent bile to your mouth.

You stood up from the floor and grabbed your phone. You called the boys, one by one, but none of them answered.

You had some text messages from your family, telling you how proud they were of you and how much they loved you. But in that moment, it didn’t matter.

You opened Evey’s contact. She was offline.

You saw her profile picture. She was smiling, sitting on Taehyung’s lap. The both of them were laughing at something, his hands on her hips, her hands on top of his. You had been the one taking the picture months ago.

Rubbing your nose, you put on some clothes and sat on the bed, not knowing what to do.

Should you call Jungkook? Should you call… Who? Your family could do nothing but worry about you, you didn’t want to involve the police in case things got worse… You couldn’t do anything but sit there and wait. Wait, for Jungkook to arrive or for him to never come back, you never knew.

Tears dried on your skin and your head hurt so much you thought it was going to explode at any moment. Your lips were swollen, and your eyelids too, so much that it was almost difficult for you to keep your eyes open.

You don’t know how much time went by, you just remember staring at the window and seeing the colors in the sky slowly change, from a dark blue that looked almost black, to a beautiful cyan, to soft lilac hues with pink undertones.

Birds starting to sing and the city started to wake up.

And you were still waiting.

Your eyes had closed from tiresome and you had fallen back on the bed when you heard a knock on the door.

Immediately, you jumped on your feet and rushed to the door. Jungkook. Was it him?

Without even thinking twice, you opened the door, out of breath.

A dark shadow pushed you inside your room, grabbing you from the front of your t-shirt and slammed the door closed behind him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jiwon smiled at you.

Your eyes widened in recognition, his face hidden beneath the shadows of his hoodie, but still, you could see a trail of blood dripping from his left eyebrow.

You opened your mouth to scream for help, but a gloved hand covered your mouth and no sound came from it.

With his other hand, he held the back of your head and pressed tightly.

“Hmpf,” you were protesting, trying to bite the skin of his hand but teeth only finding the leather material of the gloves.

“Shh, you don’t want t hurt me, don’t you? I thought we were friends.”

You couldn’t even think about defending yourself, it had all happened so quickly and you were so tired and drained… You were a limp puppet in his hands.

“Aren’t you going to delight me with your self-defense knowledge? What a disappointment… After all my brother told me I thought today would be fun,” he said, smirking wickedly as he slammed you against the wall.

His hand, still placed on the back of your head, absorbed the strength of the impact, but your back wasn’t protected by anything and you felt a sharp pain.

“Ah, did I hurt you?” he said. “Sorry.”

You had never seen that side of Jiwon. He looked just like his brother, a wicked version of him. His eyes looked shinier, almost as if he was crazy.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

His hands travelled once again to the front of your shirt and, before you could say anything, he was throwing you across the room, body falling against your desk with a loud boom. You gasped when you felt the edge of your desk hit your back, body falling onto the floor with another loud noise.

You tried to move away from him, crawling like a snake towards the door. Before you could move more than a couple of centimeters, he placed the thick sole of his booth on your lower back and forced you to stay still.

“Agh!” you protested.

He sat himself on your lower back in a swift motion and placed his hands on your mouth once again, in case you asked for help.

“See, as I don’t want to be worried about you being too loud, I’ll apply an easy solution.”

You heard him move, one of his hands retreating from your mouth. Some seconds passed and then, his hand was back on your mouth, this time shoving something inside. It was something that felt like a cloth, so big that you thought your jaw would dislocate. A metallic taste filled your mouth.

“Sorry it’s a bit dirty… I didn’t have time to wash it after going to your friend’s apartment…”

Your eyes opened wide in recognition and a wave of nausea hit you, gagging multiple times.

“Don’t worry, it didn’t touch them with it, I just used it to clean my hands from their blood.”

You gagged once again, tears filling your eyes. You felt as if you were going to throw up right there and you would choke on your own vomit, so you tried to calm yourself. Cold mind, cold mind Y/N, think please.

He grabbed your hands and held them behind your back with one of his, the other grabbing your hair forcefully and forcing you to lift your head from the floor.

“Oh, no, Y/N, why are you crying? Am I hurting you? No… I didn’t want this to happen, I swear, but each time you disappeared, you appeared back again like the little whore you are. You wanted to make Jungkook jealous with me, huh? Well, I must thank you for the act, you were truly helpful to me.”

He chuckled, the sound was a vicious noise to your ears.

“You brought me closer to him and made him weaker… Women always make men weaker for them, always find their easy spots. Pff,” he scoffed.

Suddenly, he slammed your head against the floor. You felt your whole head reverberating, the pain mixing with the headache being almost unbearable.

“My brother told you to tell Jungkook to show up at the match… He didn’t,” he slammed your head on the floor again, your vision becoming blurry.

When he felt your body relaxing underneath his, he let go of your wrists and stood up.

The back of his boot slammed against your side, a sharp pain echoing through your whole body. Black dots appeared in your line of vision, and the only thing you could see was the dusty floor beneath your bed and a pair of socks that you had left forgotten there.

You followed his movements with the corner of your eyes.

He began pacing around your room, looking at the decorations on the wall. He was so sure you were done, that he wasn’t even sparing you a glance.

You tried to move, but your limbs weren’t responding you. You clenched your teeth in frustration.

“I’m curious… Was he even going to show up? I didn’t know he was such a coward,” he waited for you to answer, but when he remembered you couldn’t, he cracked up. “How silly I am! You can’t talk!”

You growled when he looked at you, but he just shrugged and focused his eyes on the wall in front of your bed. There were polaroids of you and Evey all over the place.

The mere thought of him staring at her pictures just after what he had done to her…

“It’s such a shame, you know?” he began saying.

He was so absorbed in his own little word and full of arrogance, that was facing his back to you as he looked at the pictures without even worrying about him.

Well, you have underestimated me once again.

Closing your eyes tightly, you thought of Evey. Of her beautiful baby yellow dress stained with a deep crimson red right now. Of her body lying on Taehyung’s carpeted floor. You thought of her blood pooling beneath her body, staining too, the purple carpet. You thought of Jiwon standing before her, wiping his blood-covered hands in the cloth you now had in your mouth.

With all the strength that was still left in your body, you placed your hands on the floor and flexed your elbows. The cloth muffled your cries of pain, your side really hurt.

“That two young girls like you, with all their lives ahead of them, so pretty and full of future… Had to get involved with two guys like them and fuck everything up. Taehyung got Evey killed… And now Jungkook will get you killed too…”

You felt dizzy once you were crouched on the floor, but you knew there was no time to waste.

Supporting your body on the desk behind you, you grabbed the desk lamp that was in there with your other hand. A metallic old piece of shit you had protested a lot about, but that now, would come in handy to you.

With a strong pull from it, you unplugged it from the wall and held it in the air, above Jiwon’s head.

He didn’t have enough time to react only turning around, and before he could do anything, the lamp crashed with force against the side of his head. You heard a deafening sound and then, his body was falling backwards onto your bed.

Letting the lamp fall to the floor, you quickly shoved the cloth out of your mouth, nearly throwing up in the process.

Your body fell to the floor, resting on your hands and knees as you spat all your friend’s blood.

Your whole body was trembling, aching, and you were starting to black out from those sharp bangs your head had received.

You could hear Jiwon crying in pain and you were trying to stand back on your feet so you could rush to the corridor and ask for help, but you had spent all your energies in grabbing the lamp and smashing it against Jiwon’s head.

You felt him move, and wanted to move too, but you couldn’t.

Before you could even cry, he grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head backwards against the table. You felt cold spreading from where the table had hit you, to the rest of your head and neck.

Your back rested on the stack of drawers that formed party of your desk. You were gasping for air as you saw Jiwon crouching before you. You wanted to scream, now with your mouth free of the cloth. But still, you couldn’t say a word.

Your head fell limply to the side, and you felt Jiwon’s hand grabbing your chin and forcing your head to stay upright.

“You think you’re more intelligent than me, huh? That you will get out of this, huh?”

Blood was dripping from his forehead, and his grip wasn’t as tighter as he was before.

His hands travelled towards your neck.

“That first night I met you, of course I knew who you were… Word spreads fast,” his hands were barely caressing you, knowing you couldn’t make anything to pull them away from you. “I truly couldn’t understand why Jungkook had set his eyes on you, you looked so dull and ordinary… You would have never caught his eye. But then, you told me you were dressing as Hellboy, not Hellgirl, and when we spoke you had guts, sarcasm and were wity… Then, I knew why he had set his eyes on you,” he smirked, his hands tightened around your neck.

“The fact that you kept coming back to me each time was almost comical, you made me think you were another one of Jungkook’s hook ups, you know? Your attitude and that pettiness had made him want you, but once he had had you, I thought he would let you go. And surprisingly! He fell for you!” he started laughing, as if he had just made one of the funniest jokes he had ever heard. “Not even my brother believed me when I told him Jeon was in love with you! He didn’t believe me until he didn’t show up tonight.”

You started to feel your feet getting cold and numb. You wanted to lift your hands and reach for him, but you couldn’t.

You gasped for air.

“I must admit you’re pretty tough… What a waste of – ”

You knew he kept talking, but you couldn’t hear him. Just a buzzing sound and your head suddenly was too heavy for you to bear it.

The black dots appeared once again, and you fought to keep your eyes open. Your lids felt so heavy…

His lips kept moving, his hands couldn’t press tighter against your neck because he, himself, was fighting against his own body too. You could see it in the way his head swung sometimes.

You blinked. Saw the door to your room opening. Light seeping inside of it. A body entered the room. You blinked. Jiwon’s hands disappeared from around your neck, and your body fell limply against the floor, your head falling on top of one of your arms and amortizing the fall. You blinked. You could see a set of black shoes, covered in dots of crimson red. They looked familiar to you but you couldn’t remember where you had seen them. You blinked. Jiwon’s boots appeared right in front of the pair of shoes. You blinked, lids getting heavier and heavier. After a few seconds, Jiwon’s body fell limply to the floor, right next to yours. You blinked. You could see Jiwon’s face. His eyes stared blankly and lifelessly at you. You blinked.

Someone lifted your upper body from the floor, your head spinning from the movement.

You could feel your body shaking, or was that someone who had lifted you from the floor the one shaking you? You tried to focus your eyes but you couldn’t, everything was happening so slowly…

“… Y/N…” you somehow heard your name, but it sounded so distant… Almost as if you were under water. “Y/N… Please baby, stay with me…”

You tried to blink once again, but this time, your eyelids didn’t answer to you.

“… I can’t lose you too… Stay with me… I won’t be able to bear it…”

And then, everything went black and peaceful, frighteningly peaceful.

. . .

It was as if you had been asleep for a long time, except for the fact that your whole body ached and you didn’t feel rested at all.

The first thing you noticed was a familiar scent.

Something that smelled like antiseptic and cleaning products, like the alcohol you use to wash your hands.

It was something you had become familiar with.

Hospitals.

You made a great effort in opening your eyes, your vision blurry and cross-eyed.

The noises around you were familiar too. Beeps of the ECG and scratches of the small wheels of the medication carts against the floor.

You were in a hospital.

Finally, you snapped your eyes open, staring all around you, a bit disoriented.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” you heard a soft voice say from behind you. “You’re awake.”

You focused your eyes on the direction of the voice, finding the face of your mother. She had a frown on her face, but looked somehow relieved. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair was disheveled and all over the place.

“Love,” she whispered, sitting on the armchair by your bed and placing a hand on your cheek. “You’re here with me…”

You frowned and closed your eyes for a moment, taking your time. Your body hurt, your head hurt, everything hurt, but there was a pain that outstood the rest, and it wasn’t physical. Your heart ached, it made you want to rip every single venous line you had in your body and scream at the top of your lungs.

Flashes of a yellow dress fill your mind, and then, images of blood and bodies lying on the floor.

“Evey…” you whispered.

Your mother brought a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart… You know about Evey?” she asked you. You nodded softly. “I’m so sorry… What happened to her… We’re all heartbroken. For a moment I thought you’d have the same fate as her...”

You opened your eyes, your vision was blurry from the tears.

“You know what happened to her?” you asked. Your mouth felt dry and it was difficult for you to speak.

She nodded. “It’s horrible what happened to her and her… Boyfriend. Their parents didn’t even know she was dating someone. Apparently, the boy was involved with bad people and… Got Evey involved too.”

You looked away. It hurt to hear your mother talk about Taehyung like that. It hurt to think that Evey’s family were probably hating him now, blaming him for Evey’s death… But wasn’t him the one at fault for Evey’s death?

You clenched your fists in anger.

“Did you know she was dating that boy? That he was… Dangerous?”

Yeah, you had, and despite all the conversations with Evey, all the fights telling her he wasn’t good for her… You had caved in along with her and all of them. If you had been a better friend, if you had insisted more… If you hadn’t gotten involved too, maybe you wouldn’t be in that hospital room with your mother looking like she had spent a whole week crying. Maybe Evey wouldn’t be dead.

It was not Taehyung’s fault, he just loved Evey so much. You remember the pure fear in his eyes that night he told you about his and Jungkook’s business. How he had pleaded you to keep Evey out of all that. He just loved her and she just loved him. It wasn’t their fault.

But you should have been the rational one, convinced Evey that the boy wasn’t good for her and that the best she could do was ignore her feelings. And you had been… Until you followed her steps.

“No…” you breathed. It felt like you were betraying Taehyung a little, letting him be the bad one. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend either.”

You looked back at your mother and she looked angry as she grabbed your hands with more strength, as if she was afraid you would just disappear.

“You have to be careful with who you get involved with, look what happened to Evey, look what happened to you,” she said.

“What happened to… Me?”

She caressed your knuckles “Those delinquents who… Did that to Evey, came looking for you thinking you would have some sort of information. They not only nearly killed you, but they killed a poor boy who came to defend you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Jungkook.

“A… A p-poor boy who came to defend me?” you gasped, you felt as if you were out of breath.

“His name was Kim Jiwon,” your mother nodded, closing her eyes as if feeling the pain. “He had been missing since he was ten, his older brother taking him away from his family. They came from a wealthy family, but apparently, the older brother was involved in some dark business and their parents kicked him out. He brought poor Kim Jiwon with him.”

Jiwon was dead… And they thought he was the good one?

You wanted to speak but bit your tongue. You didn’t know where Jungkook was or if he was safe, you didn’t want to risk his safety by asking about him.

Nothing in your mother’s testimony made sense, the reality you knew was another. Of course it could be true that Jiwon and his brother came from a wealthy family… But the fact that he was a good boy and that had come to your rescue? No. Maybe that was police wanted to make everyone believe so things wouldn’t get any more complicated.

“Those… Assholes, nearly took you away from me,” your mother said after a few seconds, snapping you back to reality. She threw herself at you on the bed, accidentally hitting your side and making you almost see black from the pain. You didn’t say a thing though, she had been worried enough about you. “I thought I was going to lose you. The doctors said you needed time to recover from the hits to your head and kept you sedated, they told me you would eventually wake up but that they didn’t new if there would be any consequences left…”

“How much time have I been… Here?”

“A week.”

Your eyes widened. “Grandad, grandma? Auntie?”

“They’re all home. Police called us just when we were about to return home. I bought them train tickets and told them that I would take care of you. I didn’t tell them how bad the wounds were, didn’t want to worry them too much… You already know your grandmother… But they asked me that you called them when you were feeling better, no pressure, you need to rest first and then we can call whoever you want.”

You nodded with your head. You wanted to talk about Jungkook. Where he was, if he was safe, if he was still alive…

You remember that voice before blacking out, it was his.

“Who found me?”

“Police did, a boy called them.”

“And they only found me in my room?”

Your mother frowned.

“I mean, was I alone in my room when they found me?”

“Well, yeah,” she blinked. “Except for that other boy. Poor soul… Did you know him?”

“Hmm…” you didn’t want them all to think Jiwon was a ‘poor soul’ and that he was the victim of it all. “I had seen him around before, he was always into shady things…”

“But police told us –“

“Police didn’t know him,” you cut her. “He was just as bad as the boys who did this.”

Your mother stayed silent.

“I’m so happy you’re back sweetheart,” she placed a kiss on your forehead. “But you should rest a bit now, you have two broken ribs and a strong head contusion.”

Ah, so that’s why your side hurt so much… It seemed like a miracle to still be alive after all the blows you had received.

“Alright,” you nodded with your head.

“I’ll call the doctor, tell her you’re awake.”

You nodded again.

She stayed all night with you. You watched her sleeping form on the armchair by your bed, you were so sorry for all the pain you must have caused her. You wondered if she had ever left your side once in the entire week you had been there.

You wanted to sleep, you felt so tired and drained, but you couldn’t. Your mind was full of thoughts of Jungkook. Your heart ached at the mere thought of something bad happening to him. He had clearly killed Jiwon… Fuck, he had killed someone, didn’t matter if that someone was Jiwon… He had his hands covered with his blood.

Just a week before you were running away from your graduating party with him, holding hands and laughing at everything that waited for the two of you. Now, you weren’t sure if there was even a ‘the two of you’.

It took you thirty minutes to convince your mother of the fact that, if she went to the cafeteria to have for once a decent breakfast and take a walk to clear her mind, you wouldn’t die.

She left after a thousand ‘are you sure?’, ‘keep your phone in the bedside table’, ‘if something happens call me and if you start feeling bad, call the nurses’.

When she left you alone, you sighed.

It was a lot to take in, and everything you thought about it, your head hurt.

You took the painkillers that the nurse had left on the bedside table for you. Now that you were awake, you didn’t need the saline solutions anymore, nor did you need to take all the meds via iv.

What if you called the boys? Would they tell you where Jungkook was, if he was fine? What if you called Jungkook?

You were there, your phone in your hands, when the door of your room opened.

Thinking it was a nurse, or your mother, repeating you if you were sure for the umpteenth time, you didn’t even spare a glance to the door. But you did once you saw the dark figure wasn’t moving.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze to the person who had entered the room, air disappearing from your lungs.

You didn’t even have time to say anything before he was running towards you and stretching you in his arms, face hidden in the crook of your neck. You could only lift your arms and encircle his torso with them.

You let out a long exhale of air. He was alive, he was there with you.

You started sobbing, ignoring the pain in your ribs and the pain inside your chest. He was there in your arms, and it was all that mattered to you.

“Y-you’re awake,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re alive.”

“You’re alive too, I-I thought I…”

He broke the hug and grabbed your face with both of his hands. You hadn’t seen him since he had entered the room, and you left a strangled gasp at the sight of his bruised face.

“Jungkook,” you said, hands coming up to caress his face. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

Your eyes traveled across his face, hidden underneath the hood of his black sweatshirt. He had bruises all over his left cheek, covering the scar of the cut you had once sewed up. One of his eyes was swollen and covered in a yellowish tone, but from the look of it, it had been completely purple not to long ago. His once straight and round nose was curved on the bridge, an ugly cut on top of it. Your eyes ghosted over the scar.

“You didn’t go to the doctor? To anyone who could heal you?”

Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled it softly away from him, only to grab your face once again and press his lips against yours, and then against your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your chin, the corners of your lips.

“I thought I had lost you too…” he murmured in between kisses. Another kiss to your lips. “I thought you wouldn’t come back to me, I… I felt like dying when I entered your room and found Jiwon on top of you… I-I…” his voice broke and you looked up just in time to see two thick tears rolling down his cheeks.

You covered his hands with yours, cradling your cheeks.

“Seeing you looking so pale… And so still lying in my arms…” he closed his eyes. “It haunts me every night.”

“But now I’m here, Jungkook,” you whispered.

He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“You’re here…” he breathed, repeating your words.

“And you’re here too…”

He pursed his lips and you pulled your face away from his hands, trying to get a better look of his face.

“You need to see a doctor,” worried was laced in your voice as your eyes, once again, trailed his features.

He lowered his head and distanced himself away from you, hands still intertwined with yours.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, you’re nose looks like it’s broken. What happened to you? Where did you go when you left my room?”

“I shouldn’t have left your room, if I hadn’t, maybe…” he stopped himself.

“Maybe…” you said, trying to make him continue.

You tried to sit yourself up on the bed, but the pain in your side stopped you from doing so. Hearing your strangled cry, Jungkook lifted his eyes from the sheets of your bed and placed a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to lay back on the bed, the back of your bed slightly up.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be here right now and I wouldn’t have to…” he averted his eyes once again, lost somewhere beyond the window of your room, staring at the grey clouds that covered the sky. It looked as if he was deep in thought. You opted for giving him some time.

He took a deep breath, his face turned blank and you wondered what he was thinking about.

“I don’t have much time –“

“Why?” you interrupted him.

“I don’t have much time, I just heard the doctors outside yesterday say that you were finally awake and I wanted to see you but your mother was in here and I couldn’t. Your mother or anyone else can’t see me here.”

“Why? Why can’t they see you?” you said, frowning.

His eyes went back to yours. They looked dark and you felt like you were falling into the void when you stared at them.

“I wanted to see you,” he ignored your question. “Wanted to see you one last time and make sure you would be alright. I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing if you’d be okay.”

“What do you mean with all this, Jungkook? You’re confusing me,” you closed your eyes as a dull pain started to fill every part of your head. “What do you mean with wanting to see me one last time?”

When you opened your eyes once again you felt small under his stare, under his dark eyes that were looking so intensely at you. He bit his lower lip, frowned, as if he was debating against himself.

“I have to go, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice barely audible and nearly blending with the sounds of the iv machine.

“Now? My mother won’t be back until –“

“I have to go to another city,” he interrupted you.

“Alright,” you nodded. “When you’re back I’ll probably be out of the hospital so –“

“No,” he interrupted you again, shaking his head. “You’re not understanding me. I’m going to another city. Forever.”

You stood silent after his words, only staring at him and breathing. Your eyes started to sting from the tears you had shed before and because you weren’t even blinking.

“F-forever?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“B-but, if you wait for me I’ll be able to go with you when the doctors discharge me.”

He smiled softly and brought one of his hands to caress your cheek. His eyes turned soft and he was staring at you almost as if he was… Sad.

“I cannot wait for you and I cannot bring you with me, you must stay here.”

Your eyes filled with tears.

“Why? I want to be with you.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I want to be with you, Y/N, believe me, I want nothing more in this world than to be with you… But I –“

You shook your head and pushed his hand away from you, averting your eyes from his.

“Don’t say you can’t, don’t say that.”

“You know I want to be with you, that I’d love to spend the rest of my days hearing your laugh and seeing your smile. Teasing you and making you angry… But… But I can’t.”

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks. That was what you two were, wasn’t it? A constant I want but I can’t.

“Staying with you means putting you in danger… Again. It means forcing you to leave your life behind, your career, your family and everything you know and love.”

“I wouldn’t care if it all was for you.”

“But I would. I would care.”

“So what? After all we went through, you’re just going to disappear and leave me here?”

“Don’t say it as if I was abandoning you, please,” he said, lowering his voice and closing his eyes. You couldn’t imagine how much your words hurt his heart.

“And what are you doing, Jungkook? I want to be with you, there’s nothing else in this world that I want more. I lied for you, I hid the truth from my best friend for months, I put myself in danger for you… I’ve shown you how much I want to be with you. How much I love you… I don’t have a say in all this?”

Jungkook clenched his teeth. He wished those beautiful words had spilled from your lips in a different place, under different circumstances.

It wasn’t easy for him either. He wanted to be with you too. To see your pretty face every day when he woke up, see how you scrunched up your face when he pinched your nose to wake you up. To see your hair shining under the sunlight, contrasting with the white pillow. He wanted to eat pizza with you at night, to show you the world and hand it to you on the palm of his hand. He wanted to see you make your dreams come true and grow as a person. He wanted to make his dreams come true by your side and make you proud by growing as a person.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t do all that because he cared about you too much.

Because he knew what he had done and what would happen because of that. He knew he could never give you the life you wanted… The life you deserved. He couldn’t promise you a normal life with a normal future, normal holidays travelling and seeing the world, normal family with children and peace. He couldn’t, and that killed him.

Above everything he wanted… He wanted you to be safe, and that could only happen if he stayed away from you.

He shook his head, eyes still closed.

“No when your life is involved.”

“I’d rather live a short happy life, than live all my life regretting not spending it with you.”

He shook his head once again. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Of course I know what I’m saying! Do you think I’m someone who speaks without thinking first? I’ve lost too many things to lose another one, you can’t do this to me.”

“Believe me Y/N, this was not my plan, this was not what I wanted…” he stared at you. “I wanted to make things right for once, do what was correct. I wanted to leave the world of fights and drugs and violence and all that behind, leave Sungho and Mr. Kang and all their shit. I wanted to become someone you could be proud of. I wanted to become a better person for my mother. I didn’t want this.”

“Why is this happening, then? What went wrong? You seemed so happy last week.”

“I thought I had everything under control,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought that, if I went to the police and told them everything about Sungho and Mr. Kang, everything would be alright.”

“You listened to me?”

“At first I thought it was stupid… But then… I started to think that maybe it was the only way out… I just happen to forget that Mr. Kang has men everywhere.”

“They told him what you wanted to do?”

Jungkook sighed.

“The agreement was that I would give them all the information I had about Mr. Kang and Sungho’s business, enough to send them both to jail and their closest men with a pretty good sentence. In exchange, they would reduce my sentence and Taehyung’s to a couple of years and grant us protection while in jail so Mr. Kang and Sungho’s contacts couldn’t reach us.”

You nodded, encouraging him.

“But Mr. Kang heard about my agreement and acted before it could come true. I handed the cops all the information I had, names, places, bank accounts… Everything… And then went to your graduation ball in hopes that they would act quick enough for them to capture Mr. Kang and Sungho before the fight had even begun… The cops never appeared, and… And when I heard they had killed Taehyung I went searching for Mr. Kang and his men. Killed Jiwon’s brother, then Mr. Kang,” he said, as if it was something normal. “Lastly I killed Jiwon.”

You gulped. You blinked a few times staring at his hands. They were clean, but you knew they were stained in blood, just like Jiwon’s had been when he came to your room.

“The agreement was to hand the police Mr. Kang and their men alive… So now the agreement is over, and they’re going after me.”

“You can tell them what they did, tell them that he had undercover men.”

“They already know.”

“And then?”

“They just don’t know who they are,” he sighed. “It’s not that easy Y/N. Having some gang after me… I could hide with the protection Sungho offered me. But hiding from the police, after betraying both gangs… Sungho is in jail now and I’m sure he knows I was the one who sold him out, I don’t have his protection anymore and I can’t let police get me. Justice won’t be soft on me, and without their protection in jail, I’ll be dead.”

“There has to be other way…”

“There is,” Jungkook nodded, once again grabbing your hand in his. “Disappearing. Going as far as I can.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” he said. “Look at me, look at me please,” he told you. You softly opened your eyes. The sky outside was so cloudy there was barely any light in the room. “This is what is best now, this is making things right. I wish I had more time to say goodbye, maybe a last week with you or so, but I already risked being here for a week waiting you would get better. Now that I know you’re safe, I can go –“

“Jungkook.”

“Let me finish, please,” he said.

You nodded, swallowing all your tears bitterly.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. You’re also the most stubborn and insufferable person I know,” you both laughed at that. “But it has brought me to life. You and your hot temper and attitude and your strong character and your snarky remarks. You have brought me to life, and I have no words to describe how thankful I am.”

You smiled at him, or at least tried, because your vision was so blurry you could perfectly be staring at the window.

“You’ve made me, for the first time in a long time, want to be better, want to make people proud of me. I haven’t been able to do so in the end,” he scoffed. “But I’ve tried, I swear I’ve tried.”

“I know.”

He grabbed your face with both hands.

“And I don’t want you to cry for us, or to be sad about what could have been,” he said, shaking his head. “Because we made the most out of the little time we had together. I wished it would have been eternal, a lifetime length, but it can’t be. I would do it all over again, maybe I would change some things like kicking you out of my apartment that night you met my mother…” you turned serious and he laughed at your face. “But I would do it all over again if it meant being with you.”

“I would do it all too, Jungkook. You’ve turned my boring life into something exciting.”

“So exciting it nearly killed you.”

And there they were, those words he always said that made you laugh even if your heart was breaking into a million pieces.

You closed your eyes as you laughed. It was bitter, but it was true. You basked in the warmth of his hands, in the comfort of his presence.

“Will I ever see you again?” you finally opened your eyes and stared at him.

His eyes were shinny and wet, looking as round as the planet Earth. You swore he could hold the whole wide world in them.

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

“I’ll wait for you, Jungkook. I’ll wait for you to come back to me. Maybe ten years from now, maybe fifty… I don’t care. I’ll wait for you.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t,” he smiled. “I don’t deserve it. Be happy, live a full life. Adopt a puppy and call him Jungkook –“

“You know I would never do something as cruel to a poor puppy as calling him Jungkook,” you interrupted him, trying to turn serious.

He laughed and stared at you with adoration written in his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was about to leave the woman of his life.

“Okay, call him Four-Cheese Pizza,” he joked. “Buy a nice house and go to IKEA to buy furniture and steal as many small pencils as you can from there. Dance and laugh and meet people… Travel around the world, get to know every place and think of me in each one of them hugging you, kissing you or making you trip,” you punched his arm and he laughed. “And maybe, one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“Maybe one day…” you breathed, as if it was your own promise.

He sealed that promise with his lips, caressing yours with them until you started to feel dizzy and him, breathless. It was a bitter seal that held a sweet promise.

The promise that maybe, you would come across each other again, in some corner of this world. The same world that Jeon Jungkook held in his eyes as he walked out of your hospital room and stared at you with those beautiful, dark, almost animalistic eyes, for the last time.

Present day…

The girl blinks, hoping the man will continue talking.

When she does so, some tears escape from her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She quickly wipes them away, not wanting the man to see her cry and make him feel bad.

He doesn’t see, though, his eyes lost in the cloudy sky outside the window. She has finally convinced the man to raise the blinds so the room wouldn’t be as dark.

When the girl sees the man isn’t going to talk, she opens her mouth.

“And what happened after that? Did you go back to the city? Did you see her again?” she asks, not being able to stop herself.

She can’t believe their story ended like that, no wonder why the man is so bitter and nostalgic all the time. If she had a love like that, and she let it go, she would also be bitter and nostalgic, though the circumstances weren’t the best…

The man smiles softly and stares at the girl.

“I did,” he says. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and for the first time, she sees him looking tired and drained besides sad and bitter.

“A-and… What happened? You went back together? Was she waiting for you?”

The man laughs at the questions. The girl is curious. She reminds him so much of you…

“Seven years later, I received a call from Namjoon. We kept in contact every once in a while, careful not to get caught,” he says. “Sungho had been killed in a brawl inside the jail. Some of his men died with him too. It was finally safe to return to the city.”

The girl smiles, waiting for the man’s next words, eager to hear him telling her about how he saw Y/N again.

“After seven years I went back to that city, my house. It had changed so much. The problematic area was now a neighborhood full of young couples and students. The neon lights had disappeared, they weren’t trendy anymore. Minho’s club had been turned into a gambling building… I searched for her as soon as I stepped a foot in that place.”

The girl leans forward in her chair. She’s excited.

“She was now living in a modest neighborhood, nice apartment, she owned a car of her own. A nice Chevrolet. She worked at a hospital not far from her apartment. There were some flower shops nearby and a small shopping center. It took me two weeks to gather the guts to go to the hospital and wait for her near the parking entrance. I sat on top of a stone bench waiting for her evening shift to end. It felt like an eternity, but when I heard her laugh and saw her walking out of the hospital front door and towards the parking entrance, I knew it had been more than worth it. She looked…” the man stops, eyes getting lost in the distance. The girl swore she could see the girl reflected in the man’s eyes, she swore he was seeing her all over again in his head.

“Breathtaking. She hadn’t changed one bit. She had cut her hair and her face looked brighter, but besides that, she was the same girl I had left in that hospital room seven years ago. It took me everything not to run to her and kiss her… But I didn’t. I stayed there, watching her walk with her colleague, laughing and talking about everything. I stayed there and when they approached too much, I ran away. It was like that for a month. Sometimes it was after the night shift, sometimes after the morning shift. Sometimes she walked with someone, sometimes she walked alone. Some days it rained, other days, it was sunny. But I never had the courage to stand from that stone bench and walk towards her.”

The girl’s smile vanishes and her eyes turn sad.

“One day, I told myself it would be the day. I brought some flowers in the nearby flower shop, some beautiful sunflowers. I sat on that bench and told myself that I would get her, the woman of my life, that I would kneel before her and tell her how much I had missed her, how much I…” the man stops, and his eyes return back to reality. He returns to his hospital room, to his bed. His eyes turn sad once again. “But then I saw her smiling at her phone, looking so bright and… Beautiful… And images of her in that hospital room, eyes filled with tears, looking sad while I broke her heart and told her we couldn’t be together, that I had to leave the city, to leave her came to my mind. I couldn’t see her sad once again, and somehow, I knew my presence would bring her that. Sadness. Would bring her all the bad memories and feelings. I wanted her to remain happy and bright and healthy.”

The man stops, and the girl bounces her leg up and down impatiently.

“So I told myself that it was better that way. That she thought I was still lost somewhere across the sea. I stood up, threw the flowers on a nearby trashcan and stared at her one last time. I felt as if I was taking a picture of her with my eyes, and then, walked away and never went back to the hospital or… To her.”

The young nursing student opens her mouth and gasps.

“You… You never saw her again?”

The man shakes his head. His dark eyes find the girl’s and she shivers.

He can see in them everything the man had once been.

“I told myself I was doing it all for her, that I was keeping her safe and happy. I hoped she was happy with her job and life and new apartment. And I stayed out of it… I told myself that during the following four months, and everyday was a battle against myself, not to go to the hospital and see her again, just one last time… But I was just lying to myself,” he scoffs bitterly. “I didn’t do it for her. I did it for myself. Because I was so scared, I was so scared she had done what I had asked her and had moved on, that she hadn’t waited for me. I was so scared she would reject me or tell me that she was better without me. I was so scared that she didn’t even remember me anymore… So I saved myself the pain and disappeared, carried on with life.”

“How could you do that? You loved her.”

The man smiles at the girl’s words.

“I did it precisely because of that.”

“And what did you do? With your life.”

The man shrugs. “Found a decent job, decent apartment. Visited my mom, I bought myself a nice car too. I got married once, unsurprisingly it didn’t go well and divorced. Met some more women after that… But nothing serious. And… Here I am now. A sad, old man who is about to die just as sad and alone.”

“You won’t be alone, Mr. Jeon,” the girl decisively says, nodding her head. “I’ll be here with you.”

For the first time since she knows him, she sees him smile, properly smile. He has a beautiful smile, one that makes him look younger. His bunny front teeth shows, and new crinkles form by the side of his eyes.

“Thank you, young girl,” he smiles.

The girl grabs his hand.

“If there’s something I can do for you, Mr. Jeon… Call a friend, search for someone…”

The man narrows his eyes.

“There is one thing you can do for me.”

The girl nods and lets go of his hand. The man sits on his bed with effort, opening the drawer of his nightstand and grabbing an envelope from it. He hands it to the girl and she holds it delicately.

“It’s for her,” he says with a raspy voice. “She lives near the Central Hospital. Sixth floor, B door.”

She stares at the envelope, your address written on it.

“I was planning on sending it to her since a long time ago… But never did. I think now is the time to start doing things I wanted to do but never did, don’t you think?”

“Do you want me to go to her house and give it to her?”

“Yeah, I’d love it. If you want to, of course, I would never –“

“I’ll do it, Mr. Jeon,” the girl nodded solemnly. “I’ll give it to her.”

. . .

It is a week after Mr. Jeon is gone, that the girl finds the strength to finally keep her promise to him.

On a Tuesday evening, she walks out of the hospital, letter secured in her backpack and follows the address that was written on the envelope of the letter.

She knocks on the B door of the sixth floor of the apartment building near the Central Hospital and waits.

It seems like an eternity, but eventually, the door opens.

It reveals a woman with soft wrinkles starting to cover her face. She radiates something the girl can’t put a name to, but something that makes her understand why Mr. Jeon once fell for her.

“Hello?” she asks, her voice is soft and she smiles at her.

“Hi,” the girl says shyly.

She doesn’t know where to look at, she can’t help but stare at the woman before her, at you. You look just like Mr. Jeon used to describe you, he didn’t leave any detail out.

You raise your brows and the girl laughs.

“Oh, sure,” she smiles, grabbing her backpack from her back and unzipping it. She searches through it, hand coming across the letter finally.

She hands it to you with a smile on her face.

“It’s from an old friend,” she says.

You take the letter from the girl’s hand, frowning a bit.

“From an old friend?”

The girl nods and zips back her backpack, hanging it over her shoulder afterwards. She would love to stay there and see you read Jungkook’s letter, to know what he had written in it and how you would react to it, but she felt it was a moment that belonged to you and Jungkook only.

Smiling at you one last time, the girl walks down the corridor and disappears from your sight.

You’re left there, door still open, with that letter in your hands.

Still frowning, you close the door of your apartment, ushering your cat inside.

In silence, you read the letter.

To Y/N:

This is going to be brief. I hope you don’t throw this away as soon as you see my unmistakable handwriting.

There’s not been a single day when I haven’t missed you. There’s not been a single corner of this world that didn’t remind me of you. Everywhere I went, everywhere I stayed, there you were with me, in my arms (or tripping under my playful foot)

I’ve loved you every single day of my life.

I’ll keep loving you even afterwards.

Jungkook.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook boxer au #bts boxer au #animal pt9 #animal final chapter #cutaepatootie #posted 17.07.2019

[okageshadowkingfannovel]

Book 1: Chapter 2

The next night finds Ari and his curious family standing together in the living room. Framed ancestors peer down upon their descendants with haughty seriousness. A fire dances and crackles in the fireplace, driving away the chill seeping through the house’s bones and playing a snappy percussion to the family’s musings.

“Hmmm … the crest is … I think … hmmmm,” says Ari’s father, furiously rubbing his chin to redness in thought.

The family stands around the mysterious, moaning, moldy, still quite unopened bottle. The purple clashes violently with the swirling beige pattern of the antique rug and it starts to give Ari a headache. Ari’s mother giggles.

“You’re obsessed with that bottle, dear. You always did love antiques.”

Ari’s mother is too right. The whole family - mother, Ari, Annie, and even grandmother and grandfather - have been called into the living room to try and puzzle out the bottle with the unbudgeable cork. They have been standing there for at least an hour and a half.

“I still say we just smash it open,” Ari’s grandfather pipes up from the couch.

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s right, honey.”

“No, no, Dad, this is no ordinary bottle. It’s special, so you have to open it in a special way.”

Ari’s father doesn’t see the dramatic eye roll making its way around the room.

“Oh! You know what?” Ari’s mother suddenly exclaims, “I just remembered. The circus is in the field tonight.”

“Hmmm, the circus,” muses Ari’s grandfather, “you know, I was in a circus before we got married. But back then, we were in true love. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s right, honey.”

“Yes, yes, Dad, very romantic,” says Ari’s mother, “but Ari, Annie, why don’t you go and have fun?”

“Alright, Ma, see ya!”

With a whip of her perfectly set pigtails, Annie turns to run off.

“Oh! Annie! You shouldn’t go out alone at night. Go with your brother.”

As if waiting for this opportune moment, Annie looks over her shoulder and gives a triumphant smirk to her mother.

“It’s ok. Chad is picking me up. I’m going out on a date tonight.”

The words ‘Chad’ and ‘date’ wash over Ari’s mother like some divine tidal wave. She looks at her daughter, her eyes sparkling with joy and pride.

“Oh Annie! You’re going on a date! You’ve grown up! I’m so happy for you!”

But Annie is gone before the praises can even reach her. Ari’s mother collects herself with a few sniffles and a dab or two at her eyes with the end of her sleeve.

Ari turns to leave as well, but is stopped by his father.

“Ari, my son! Let’s talk for a while, boy!”

The phrase is saturated with paternal sentiment and Ari gets a brick like feeling in his stomach that this will take much, much longer than just ‘a while.’ Like the dutiful son that he is, Ari about faces and returns to his spot before the bottle, by his father’s side.

“Ahem, this bottle … this bottle,” his father begins.

“It’s pretty awesome,” says Ari half-heartedly, “I mean, the color … purple is so cool.”

“Oh! You can tell! Good! Listen, this crest on the bottle.” His father gestures vaguely at the tangled design. “If my theory is correct, this crest is in the shape of the tail of the Rainbow Rat that only comes out by moonlight, namely …”

“Oh, um, and?”

His father carries on, speaking quickly and unleashing all the excitement that has been building ever since he found the ridiculous bottle with the long back story. To his credit, Ari sincerely tries to understand his father’s retelling of the bottle saga, but he can only catch and fathom every fifth sentence or so.

“… Among those ancient rituals is …”

“… and the curve of the handle is …”

“… foretold by the shoelace weaver …”

“… with the proper harmonics …”

“… all you need is a little garlic …”

“… at 200 degrees for an hour …”

“… No, wait, let me see …”

“… Then, yes! No … no …”

“Then, it’s simple quantum physics.”

Some time later, the question “do you understand, son?” reaches Ari and it takes the boy a minute to realize he’s actually meant to respond to something.

Ari glances at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace.

Two hours have passed.

The rest of the family has disappeared and the fire has shrunk to embers.

“Oh, th-the circus …” leaves Ari’s mouth.

“Huh? Circus? Oh, the circus! Yes, the circus was tonight, I remember. Well, don’t just stand there. Go and have some fun, boy! We can talk more about this tomorrow.”

“Thanks, dad,” Ari says quickly before launching himself out of the living room.

He throws himself out the front door into a dark, cool night. The moon is full and golden yellow, hanging high in a star filled sky. It’s all quiet save for crickets and the breeze rustling the trees and Ari’s harsh panting as he runs. Ari leaps down the stone path to the front gate, hoping he hasn’t missed it. Maybe he can catch the grand finale. That’s always the best part anyway. Maybe he’ll be able to find Julia.

Following the pale moonlit path, he comes to the crossroads and turns towards Tenel Field. There’s a clearing off to the right from the path, tucked away in Tenel Forest. Usually, all that sits there is an old stone circle with a massive pillar sticking up out of the middle. It’s ancient and harmless and it doesn’t take up a great amount of space. Tonight, it would be joined by a massive tent and loads of people and the sounds of an amazing performance.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who’s there?”

Ari stops and suddenly notices the sentry standing guard. He must’ve gone too far and missed the clearing.

“Geez,you scared me, kid,” says the man on sentry duty. He’s a skinny, pale young man that looks barely able to stop a squirrel, let alone a ghost.

“Sorry,” Ari wheezes.

“Anyway, it’s dangerous to go out there at night,” he says, gesturing behind him, “man, I can’t believe I got this shift tonight when the circus is in town.”

“Right, sorry.”

Ari turns and runs back to where the clearing should be. Somehow, he had run right past the banner hovering ghost-like over the smaller pathway leading into the clearing. As he draws closer to the hulking black silhouette of the circus tent, it strikes Ari how quiet it is. There is no laughter or cheering or the thunder of applause. There’s not even the babble of chitchat as people spill out into the night and head home. Ari’s heart sinks.

Before the yawning entrance to the darkened circus tent stand Levi, Julia, and, off to the side, a short, portly man with a thick black mustache and a tall top hat. Assuredly the ringmaster, he looks incredibly tired and drained. Ari trots to a defeated halt in front of his friends.

“Oh, Ari,” starts Julia, distracted by the sound of Ari’s exhausted panting, “good evening.”

“Hey Ari, what’s going on? The circus is over.” It can’t be seen in the dark, but the smugness on Levi’s face drips into his words. “Ha ha ha! You’re such a loser! You always miss out!”

Ari looks at Julia and tries to make out the expression on her face in the dark, dark night, but he finds it unreadable. She doesn’t say a word.

“Anyway, come on, Julia. I know a place with a great view. Let’s take a walk. We’ll see you later, Ari.”

“Um … bye, Ari,” Julia whispers as she and Levi circle round him to stroll on down the path.

For a moment, Ari watches their figures disappear into the dark. He wonders if he should have said something. But then, if so, what could he have said. He sighs, his lungs still aching from his race to the clearing.

“Ah, nothing beats a drink after work!”

Ari looks to see the pudgy ringmaster tilting his head back and raising an ambiguous looking bottle to give himself a long drink. After a long and fairly impressive moment, the ringmaster finally lowers the bottle and punctuates with a hiccup, a burp, and a satisfied sigh. Then, the ringmaster turns a bit.

“Huh? Hey kiddo, circus is already over,” says the ringmaster in a not unkind manner.

“Yeah, I figured,” says Ari gloomily.

“By the way, …” The ringmaster takes a few steps closer.

Ari can suddenly detect the smell of popcorn, peanuts, sweat, and high proof drink clouding off of the ringmaster’s person. By the light of the moon, he can suddenly see the polka dots on the man’s tie and vest and a strange haunted look in the man’s large, round eyes.

“Kid, did you know that your spirit seems a bit … I dunno, overshadowed?”

Ari gives an exasperated huff. “Yeah, I guess.” The social tragedy of tonight weighs heavily on him, and Ari is not really in the mood.

“Everybody tells you that, huh?” The ringmaster fidgets the bottle in his hand, making the liquid inside slosh and swirl.

“Yeah, thanks for bringing it up.”

“Ha ha ha, calm down, kid. I don’t mean to rattle your chain.” The ringmaster’s demeanor suddenly takes on an air of concern. “But, watch yourself. Stay strong, kiddo. Heh heh heh.”

The ringmaster ends with a hearty chuckle and another long swig from his bottle.

“Right,” says Ari as he turns to walk back up the path, “have a good night, sir.”

“Will do, boy, heh heh,” calls the ringmaster, “take care!”

With hands in pockets, Ari slowly makes his way back to the main path and heads towards the crossroads. As he walks, his mind fills and drowns with all the ‘overshadowed’ business that always seems to buzz around him. Heck, even the ringmaster, a complete stranger, picked it off him in barely the blink of an eye. Is he really so ordinary, so unmemorable, so unnoticeable?

Overshadowed?

What a crappy night.

“Omigod!”

Ari looks up from his shoes. The cry came from just up ahead at the crossroads. It sounded like Annie’s voice.

He breaks into a run. Just in front of the directional sign, Ari catches two human figures - one standing and one lying on the ground. And then, looming over them …

“Oh no! It’s-it’s-it’s a ghost! It’s a ghost!”

A huge misty white cloud with glowing yellow eyes bobs up and down over the couple like a drunken fish.

“Somebody! Help!”

The standing figure suddenly goes running back towards town, leaving the other still lying motionless on the ground, at the mercy of the wandering specter. The realization punches Ari in the stomach and he feels the blood drain from his face. That’s Annie lying on the ground.

Without thinking, he charges the ghost, a guttural yell ripping from his throat.

To his surprise, this actually works.

The yellow eyes fall on the screaming boy and widen in what might be surprise. Mid-bob, it spins round fast and drifts off into the trees, fading away into the night air and the dark.

“Ari?” Suddenly, his father is running down the path from the house. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Unable to get the words out, Ari crashes to his knees beside his sister. He puts out his hands, but is afraid to touch her.

“Annie? Oh god, Annie!”

His father gets down beside him and gently touches the girl’s small shoulders.

“Annie? Can you hear me? This is your father. Annie! Open your eyes!”

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • Chapter 12 • Chapter 13 • Chapter 14 • Chapter 15 • Chapter 16 - Finale

NOTE: Okage Shadow King is owned by Sony Computer Entertainment and Zener Works. This novelization is purely a fan-work and the writer claims no ownership over the characters, general plot line(s), etc.

#okage shadow king #osk #boku to maō #playstation 2 #novelization #video games #writing #fiction #fanfiction

[oreomonsterhunter]

ON:E D2

Day 2 continued (even though there isn’t really a part one since TuMBlr DeLETed iT and I do not have the energy to try to recreate my thoughts, plus they wouldn’t be first impressions anymore since I’ve seen it already. Le sigh)

My Time is up first and I’m not prepared. My laptop even decided to quit the hell out of the website I was watching from, I assume in an attempt to protect me from 23 year old menace Jeon Jungkook. But the show must go on...

Ok I love the guitar move, I loved it the last two times and I love it now

No one come for me but his voice sounded a tad bit off when he first came in

I say this with love because my eyes and ears are peeled for injuries and strain and it is 2000007191819% believable that jk went too hard on day 1

But you know he’s right back on top again when the backing vocals come in and it sounds like a recording 😍 that’s my boy

I SEE TIDDIES I REPEAT THERE ARE TIDDIES ON THE SCENE

This choreo is impeccable

And I say that having seen it thrice and had my eyes peeled for the footwork and hand work because jk can Dance with that real good technique

You can almost touch the hours he’s put into this performance

Can you tell I’m avoiding the sexual nature as long as possible because I am

The leather fit was better for the thighs I’m just gonna say it

I like the red (and spoiler: the fact that he and jimin switch colors) but I reeeeeally liked the leather

My gawd those shoulder moves he’s so aggressive with it I’m 😳

The fact that his entire chest is out is absolutely sending me off the deep end, I am losing it, I have lost it

This sure is a...pectacle

Insert Jin windshield wiper laugh here

Jeon jungkook has pretty broad shoulders...and an itty bitty waist...and he’s throwing it in my face I’m like damn

Ok the backup dancers are lovely, and I like the symbolism of jk being followed by shadowy strangers, his every move inspected and copied

Imma say it: I liked day one hair better

I AM GASPING FOR BREATH JEON JUNGKOOK STOP IT RIGHT NOW I SAW ABS AND A WHOLE FRICKIN SHOULDER PUT THAT AWAY YOUNG MAN

I am keeping my eyes on the prize there is more to come I gotta stay cool but his THIGHS ARE A SIREN SONG AND I AM HELPLESS

That vocal run oof 😍😭 and right after that intense dance nonsense

Ok Santa I’ve had enough, all I want for Christmas is to squeeze jk’s thigh. Just one. Just for a moment. That’s all I ask.

I see sweat 👀 I’m not gonna say the thought I’m having I’ll scandalize you

FILTERRR JIMINNNN FUCK ME UPPPPP

Ok so he has his first note and immediately spreads his legs what am I supposed to do here jimin

His shirt is thin and almost missing as many buttons as mr doesn’t-know-what-buttons-are-jungkook so HOW does he do the outfit change later...we’ll find out

THE ROBE yes this is better this is the one heck yeah new fave

Jimin is Carmen right now (if you know you know) this is my ultimate goal

His hair...I said I was obsessed on day one but tousled is 😍 I love silvery jimin

And yes his eyeshadow is perfection absolute chef kiss Gordon Ramsay is on his knees praising this five star look

The lift and the half fall with the backup dancers is even MORE chef kiss ughhhh I’m so glad I’m watching this again to catch the details (and now I can pause lol)

Oop I caught a glimpse of those hand tattoos hello

Yeah jimin said “jk isn’t the only one with a chest”

HOW the outfit change was FOUR SECONDS OR LESS I COUNTED

I am literally yoongi looking at jhope doing hip thrusts right now. Hand over mouth, phone fallen to the floor, my entire life in shambles. Jimin has brought literal tears to my eyes how is he this potent even through a screen

Potent is the word, he is an actual SIREN like what

Jimin get over here I want you

And now I’m soothed with Jin 😌 thank you

THE PINK SHIRT nvm I’m not soothed I am a massive fan girl

His hair is also perfection, the whole vibe is It

Jin’s voice is sweeter than the WWH kisses he blows to the audience all the time 😭 omggg

I really do love that shirt, the sleeves are so fun and pretty and flowy

The little prince theme is killin me ahh

Things I want after this concert (since part 1 was deleted I’ll repeat myself...thanks tumblr I really love that you deleted valuable notes): jimins ripped sparkly pants, jungkook’s thighs, jimin, Jin’s shirt

HOLY HELL THAT HIGH NOTE

Jin are you sure you’re human I see no flaws, pretty suspect if you ask me

What?!? The song is over already? Excuse me?

Probably because I had to keep taking breaks from jk to breathe, and jimin to regain some control of my brain cells

The way tae does lil kid things as an adult

Not just on stage but I was reminded by that lil finger wave, this absolute cutie

The way he holds a mic is 👀 this man really does everything differently and somehow makes anything look damn good

What’s cuter, this kid or taehyung’s smile right before the chorus??? Impossible choice?

NOPE it’s the way tae makes those little faces at him and pats his head and you hear army in the background 🥺😭😭

His high notes at the end? Are they all trying to murder me with these vocals? Vocal line doesn’t REST

EGOOOOOO I think I need hobi in a red car for the rest of my life

How am I supposed to stay calm when you look That Good, hobi?

This choreo is so much fun ahhhhh I wanna dance but I’m definitely not good enough to learn this on the fly

The lil woah

Ripped jeans hobi 😍

Skipping hobi is an absolute joy, a bit of sunshine everyone needs to witness, the cure to what ails you, the light at the end of a long day, I sob

His joy is seeping through the screen he really is sunshine

He can really make any dance look easy, that’s such a skill

I mean these leg moves? I know they’re hard, or at least tricky, and he just? Does them? And makes my brain think they’re easy because he’s just doing them so naturally? What a lie he’s just gifted beyond this dimension. And also practices to perfection so there’s that

Tae is seriously shaking his booty right now lol

I know the boys always make fun of suga’s rap during boy with luv but I really love it

Jin’s so happy 😊 they’re all excited and having so much fun

I’ll never stop screaming over bts harmonies. Jk can actually turn anything into a masterpiece he blends so well with everyone, goosebumps every time I forget about a harmony and get surprised and ughhhh yesss

Jimin doing the ego dance lol this cutie

See I’m not crazy, they really are so happy on stage 😭 they’re all glowing and now they’re gonna talk about it I better not cry I’m too tired for that

Mmmmm Joonie wearing necklaces is 👌

All of their hair looks stellar oof

DNA choreo is one of my faves (who can watch them and say they’re not amazing performers, seriously)

Yasss Jin goooooo

Dance line really knows how to take and grab my attention like...I’m addicted to them

The hobi center part at the end though 🥳

I love the old songs, I’m always smiling when some of them come on idk

It makes me happy that bts still like performing their old stuff, like...we enjoy it but so do they

SUGA ON THE THRONE WHERE HE BELONGS #king of swag

You know it’s an old song when rapper jk reappears, and y’all know how much I love rapper jk *cough* ddaeng *cough*

The baseball is weird not gonna lie

Ooh little groovy jhope

Jimin seriously considered yanking his shirt up, I saw him think about it 😂 but shirt still tucked in

NEVER OVER THIS DANCE BREAK

Ok usually my jaw drops over jhope NOT NAMJOON excuse ME whAT

This should be ILLEGAL SIR, ILLEGAL

Ok yeah jhope has my jaw dropping again how does he move like that

😳😩🥵 red alert, that smirk is worth calling 911 to put out a fire because Hot Damn

I love jimin’s voice ok I love it

The closeups on heavy breathing sweaty bangtan are actual threats against my life

Not sure I have a pulse anymore

Can anyone in bts perform cpr I think I need it

Ok nvm jhope’s intro in spring day is the virtual version, I’m saved

What excuse me park jimin you better be ok go drink some water bb

Jin forehead I see you, worldwide handsome on full display

Gahhhh hobi vocals simultaneously kill me and bring me back to life

Also harmonies with rapline and vocal line (suga and jimin are lovely omg)

IDOLLLLLLLL YASSSSSS QUEEN

jk is totally doing sound effects lmao

I like how tae has the bandana around his bicep again (they totally stalked the internet and found the thirst, it’s the least practical thing, he’s only wearing that for one reason lol

They are the MOST HYPE how do they just keep going my introverted ass is in awe

Jk like move y’all are in my way this is my moment get out of it ahahaha

Wait how did I not notice tae put the bandana on his head

It must be a pain in the butt to clean up all that confetti

Encore song is only for army 🥺 these are the most precious boys i swear

Jimin fixing jhope’s hair...I thought I couldn’t uwu any harder but I can

Apparently I can uwu even harder because jimin saying he’s not gonna cry and smiling so big his eyes turn into smiles too I’m the softest for one man and his name is park jimin

President joon, I’m happy too 😭

#glamazon #seokjin #king of swag #yoongi #my darling sunshine #jhope #president joon #namjoon #mister smooth #master of seduction #chim bean #jimin #tall dark and handsome #taehyung #thottius maximus #jungkook #bts #on:e #on:e concert

[littleogreboii]

Soleil

Summary: 

God of death with a gaze of woe, spoke to me and he told me so: "Fast, before I will lose control, please, have mercy and save my soul." 

If you were to ask Soul, Maka was the sun and Soul was the moon, and Maka deserved the world.

Warnings:

Major Character Death | Brief Description of a Dead Body

AN:

This is based off the song Soleil by Toraboruta-P and I used the English translyrics by JoyDreamer. You can find her cover here. I personally really like Lizz's cover. I just think Lizz's softer voice goes with the tone of the song a bit more.

It’s like midnight for me at the moment so I apologise if there’s any mistakes or if it’s just generally trash, but like it’s too late now.

AO3

God of death with a gaze of woe, spoke to me and he told me so:

"Fast, before I will lose control, please, have mercy and save my soul."

Maka looks upon the being that used to resemble her dearest friend. If she looks closely she can still almost see ribbons of pink hair bursting out of the darkness. The ribbons are fast decreasing and she knows it won’t be long until they’re fully lost.

Soul pushes Maka back, brandishing a scythe to protect them from the blades. “Maka. Pay attention.” He thrusts the scythe forward and leaps back, reaching out to pull Maka with him.

“But Soul…” She breaths, hand ghosting her mouth. “Can’t you hear?” It’s evident in the way Soul doesn’t hesitate to defend the two of them that he can’t, but it’s all she can hear.

“Save me.” The being cries. “Help.” They continue. And the voice is so familiar that Maka fails to suppress a shudder.

“Chrona.” She whispers and that catches Soul’s attention. He puts more distance between them and the being. They retreat into the trees, knowing the being will have a harder time manoeuvering the terrain.

“What do you mean?” He leans against a tree, catching his breath.

“It’s Chrona.” She collapses to her knees. Her hands dig into the dirt as the tears run down her face. “It’s Chrona.”

All the pain you feel, I am sure you didn't wish for that

And the looks that you bear are so grim, those you wear

Maka can remember a simpler time when the three of them were kids. Chrona’s wings had always been slightly darker than her’s and Soul’s, but Maka passed it off as a trick of the light. They hadn’t shared much of their childhood with Soul and Maka, but the flashes Chrona gave away suggested it wasn’t pleasant. They had that in common with Soul.

The most common occurrence in these flashes had been the name ‘Medusa’. Maka had quickly decided she wasn’t a fan of Medusa, but she thought that Chrona was free as long as they were with her and Soul. She’d been wrong.

One day, Chrona had been there, the next, they were gone. Maka had dragged Soul along to search for them and on the way they had encountered many different people. Maka spares a thought for those people whom she knows are waiting in the village for Soul to slay the being. It’s his final trial on his way to adulthood and he bought Maka along. She knows he regrets bringing her, but she can’t remember the last time they’d been separated. Still, with the knowledge that this is Chrona, she can’t bring herself to simply let Soul kill them. There has to be another way.

Maka’s mind flicks back to the woman’s body she’d found on the floor of Medusa’s house. The body had been tainted blue with blisters forming along the arms and face. Dried blood and rotting meat had flooded her senses. A large cut straight through the body’s chest was the last thing she remembers of that day. She couldn’t tell you how she got out. She assumes Soul had something to do with it, always better at biting back his emotions. 

She can’t bear the thought of Chrona looking like that woman had. She has to do something now and it has to be fast.

Shining bright, she is like the sun, waiting there for her fate to come

Holding out her hand with the flow, smiling as she then told you so:

Chrona breaks through the last of the trees and Soul rises to protect Maka. Maka rises too. She walks past Soul and pushes his weapon down. She reaches out her arms towards Chrona, allowing a soft smile to take residence upon her face.

She remembers the first time she met Chrona. They’d attempted to steal food from her and Soul. Soul had ended up with a gash from that encounter, but soon after, they’d met again. That time, Maka had offered up some food to Chrona with a careful smile. Chrona had broken down to her not long after that and she’d held their hand through it all. Chrona’s tiny wings had been so fragile back then.

Now, Chrona’s jet black wings cast shadows over Maka’s small frame. She ignores this, extending her arms closer to Chrona. 

"It is quite alright, I shall take the darkness that you hold

And I will change your shape, as a bird you can escape

“I’m so sorry, Chrona.” Maka begins, taking another step towards Chrona. “I should have been there for you, but it’s alright now.” She wraps her arms around Chrona, avoiding the blades threatening to dig into her skin. “Yes, it is quite alright.”

The darkness inside Chrona is infectious and the memories they carry with them stream into Maka. The times they all spent together seem so far away with the way Medusa seems to slither into every inch of them. All Maka can see is the harsh words and bitter manipulation Medusa instilled inside of Chrona.

She forces herself to look past that. She thinks of the games they all played together under the shining sun. “I can feel it all. I’m so sorry, but it’s ok now. I shall take it all away.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think we can return to how things were before, but it’s not too late.” She hugs Chrona tighter. “Yes, I think a bird would be perfect for you.”

You can fly to place far away, in the sky you are free everyday

If you don't have a goal or a prey, then it's fine 'cause with me you can stay"

Soul watches as Chrona begins to morph. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of the old Chrona. He sees the lilac hair and lanky stature that they always carried. It fades as more of the darkness seeps away. He watches the darkness make it’s bed in Maka’s arms, soaking them in ashen tones. He tells himself it’s ok. Maka is strong.

Maka continues her speech. “As a bird, you’ll be free to go wherever. Medusa will never find you.” She hesitates. “But, if you have nowhere to go, you’re always welcome to stay with me, Chrona.” She leans her head against Chrona. “Always.”

Maka is forced to release them as they shift even further. She shudders, a permanent chill settling into her spine. Soul comes up beside her and wraps her in a side hug. She leans into it, drowning herself in the scent of his sweat. Anything other than blood.

White as told, wings unfold, here it stays, following always

The black in Chrona’s wings bleeds out, replaced with a blinding white. They’re far whiter than Soul’s wings have ever been and he worries Maka has overdone it. Chrona shrinks down, seemingly into ash, until all that remains are their wings. Out from the ash a white dove appears and Soul can tell Chrona remembers everything now.

The bird flies out of the ashes, high into the air and the sunlight reflects off their wings. Maka faces Soul shooting him a reassured smile, but Soul can only watch Chrona. He’s enchanted by the way Maka washed away all of Chrona’s darkness with such ease. Chrona returns to the two of them, fluttering about at eye level. 

Soul’s eyes are drawn behind Chrona to the dark cloud approaching from the village.

Many more are wanting now her to save them all somehow

And the girl was reaching out saving them without a doubt

It’s to be expected that everyone flocks to Maka wanting them to purge the darkness from them as well. The greed only increases the darkness and people are becoming tainted faster than before. They wave off their sins, knowing Maka will be there to save them at the moment they lose themselves. Soul can only watch from the side as her wings begin to taint.

The first boy she helps is one she’s met before. He’d introduced himself as Kid back then. He’d been tainted by his obsession with symmetry. It had driven him to the point of wanting to reduce everything to zero to create a ‘perfect’ world. However, the first step for a perfect world involved eliminating humans as they are the biggest wrongs in the world. Maka takes that obsession with nothing less than a smile. She squashes it down when it threatens to overtake her. She thinks of the beauty that the imperfections of the world holds.

The next boy she helps is an obnoxious one. His desire to be the strongest had set him down the path of the demon and he’d thrown himself into the darkness full throttle. The girl that accompanies him, introduces him as Black Star. Soul knows the girl will soon follow Black Star into darkness and can only hope that she doesn’t come to Maka when that happens. 

Maka steals the desire to be the strongest away and reminds him that power that risks harming those he loves isn’t worth it. Later when Soul asks how she dealt with the darkness Black Star held, she’ll laugh and state that she has so desire to get stronger unless she’s getting stronger alongside Soul. Soul’s heart begins to break at the notion.

The girl finds her way back to them soon after, the darkness absorbing her. Her wings tainted by the lies she’d drowned herself in to keep others happy. Soul finds this one the most pitiful. Her lies made to keep others happy had only brought them misery. 

“Tsubaki,” Soul laughs, “Truly a pitiful flower.” He decides the name suits her. However, the laugh fails when he notices the lies that begin to slip past Maka’s tongue with more ease than they used to.

Two siblings appear next. They remind him of Chrona. A life full of misery, only the sibling turned that misery into weapons. Liz and Patty, the demon sisters, a name that the siblings don’t seem to appreciate. Maka struggles to take the darkness from these two. They’ve been holding onto their anger for so long that there’s barely anything left to save, but Maka, ‘perfect angelic’ Maka, does it anyway.

Slowly as all the birds were to fly, she was in there among in the sky

'Cause the birds were all covered in white, she had turned just as dark as the night

Soul finds it harder to be around Maka these days. She snaps over the smallest thing and he spends most of his time walking on eggshells. He can never bring himself to blame her though. He knows that there’s no stopping her and he also knows he could never bring himself to leave her.

More people come and she saves all of them without hesitation. They hardly speak to each other now and Soul longs for the days of their childhood where Maka would smile with all the light in the world.

The day comes when there’s no more light she can give. At that time, the sky is filled with beautiful white birds, but Soul doesn’t care for them. He only has eyes for Maka. He squints through the blinding light rays and finds her in the centre of it all. Her skin no longer glows and her eyes hold no light.

She's consumed by the darkness they bore, she will never wake up anymore

'Cause she used all the strength she would hold, now her body is finally cold

It’s Soul’s turn to remember the body they found all that time ago. He didn’t allow himself to react at the time, too concerned for Maka, but now she’s in the same situation and it’s all he can think about. But, instead of the body, all he can see is Maka led like that. It bubbles up inside him, until he can barely breathe.

He can’t imagine a world without Maka. She’s all he’s had for so long. He can’t remember what his parents look like and it’s been a long time since he heard from Wes. Chrona never stayed for him. Even now, he can spot Chrona circling Maka’s body. He wishes Maka had never saved Chrona. He wishes he had the courage to kill Chrona in the first place. But most importantly, he wishes he’d never brought Maka with him to the edge of the forest to face Chrona in the first place. He’s a coward and it’s cost him his light.

Grieving bird, gave his word, took the pain, darkness and all vain

Maka doesn’t deserve to be cold and empty. She should be full of life and warmth. He curls his hands into fists as he resolves himself. Maka managed to take all that darkness so why couldn’t he? What was stopping him from saving her? Nothing.

His wings had been small for so long, but he focuses all his energy into them, willing them bigger. He needs to be able to fly so he can reach her. He screams as the wings rip out of him, stretching out. Feathers fall off him, but he doesn’t care. The wings remind him of Chrona’s and he reassures himself that his wings remain white for the moment.

Through the clouds up he would fly, birds in black where all over the sky

Now you shine like the gold on the sea, all because you are Soleil

Hesitantly, he beats his wings. Once. Then twice. His whole body shakes under the force and he stumbles forward. He steels himself before running forward towards the edge of the cliff. He jumps up and beats his wings. Up he goes, past the sea of white and into the realm of darkness.

Black birds circle Maka and Chrona, still hoping she’ll save them. They charge him as he passes, trying to pass the darkness onto him. His wings are tearing and he fears he won’t make it. He reaches out his hand and it brushes against Maka’s back. He pushes up and lifts her higher. He keeps flying, carrying Maka with him. Chrona follows and Soul knows they’re encouraging him. 

He breaks through the clouds and the light washes over Maka. The darkness floods into Soul, but Soul just watches the way the light warms Maka. His hair dyes white and his eyes flash red. His body shifts and changes, but he’s content to watch the light bounce off Maka’s eyes. She’s finally in her rightful place, under the sun. Her light brown hair glows with the sun.

His wings give one last flap before breaking off. Soul wraps his arms around Maka and allows the darkness to finally take him. He falls, using his body as a cushion for Maka.

It’s a lost cause, but he doesn’t know that.

For just a moment, Soul’s eyes open and he swears he sees the three of them, him, Maka and Chrona, sitting under a tree together as children once more.

#soul eater #soul eater evans #maka albarn #crona gorgon #chrona #crona #how do you spell chrona's name??? #soul eater ff #soul eater fanfic #se ff #se fanfic #implied soma #soma #soul x maka #implied soul x maka #soul eater au #se au

[half-bakedboy]

MERRY CHRISTMAS @trashforaleclightwood. HERE’S MY HORRIBLE ATTEMPT AT ANGST THAT I HOPE YOU LOVE. 

Read Winter Not-So-Wonderland on AO3

Alec hated winter. Winter in New York was colder than it needed to be, busier than anyone wanted it to be, and had treacherous weather that changed people’s lives. As the scalding coffee burned it’s way down Alec’s throat, the memories flooded through him. Bright lights, wide eyes, screeching metal, the burning smell… 

Alec shook his head abruptly, shaking off the dread creeping up on him as it always did this time of year. Christmas Eve was always one of Alec’s favorite days of the year. Family tradition dictated each of the Lightwood children would open one present. Jace would open a piece of sports equipment and lock himself in the basement for the rest of the night to try it out. Izzy would open a new makeup product and spend hours putting it on and taking it off. Alec would open a book that he’d spend the night getting lost in. And Max would get the same as whatever sibling he had attached himself to that year. 

Last year, Max opened two tickets to a late night screening of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. He had begged Alec to read the book with him a few months prior after Alec’s first boyfriend, Magnus, gifted it to him. Max had immediately became obsessed with the series as every 9-year-old did. When Alec found out a local theater was doing a special Christmas Eve showing, Alec convinced his parents to let the brothers skip the family movie night. Magnus picked them up in front of their house and the three started their adventure as the snow started to fall. 

The bell above the front door of Alec’s favorite cafe sounded, breaking Alec from his thoughts once more. Luke’s booming voice and a squeal from Clary had Alec looking away from his Harry Potter book for the first time in hours. 

“I thought we had lost you to LA, you son of a bitch,” Luke yelled, pulling the man into a tight hug. Alec couldn’t see his face but a pang of sadness shot through his heart. Clary pushed her father away to throw her arms around the man’s neck. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming by!” Clary practically screamed. Alec couldn’t help but think the whole exchange was less than business like but that wasn’t rare when it came to Clary. He thought maybe the thought was just a bit of anxiety seeping out.

“Biscuit, how could I not see you and your father for this holiday?” At the sound of his smooth voice, Alec’s entire body froze, the book in his hand dropping with a loud thump on the table. Luke seemed to notice, his eyes widening as they shot toward Alec. 

“Are you here for Christmas? Please tell me you are!” Clary asked hopefully, her eyes begging her words to be true. The man chuckled and stroked a hand through Clary’s hair. Alec’s heart constricted, his breath quickening. He remembered how those comforting hands felt on him. 

“Yes, Biscuit, I am going to be spending Christmas here. In fact, my company is opening a new store in New York so…” The man waved his hands, an extravagant gesture that somehow looked normal coming from him. “As of yesterday, I’m home,” he finished. The squeal from Clary knocked Alec out of his daze and his hand flung out to grab his book for comfort. The motion was too quick, though, and before he knew it his coffee was pouring onto the table. Any other day, he wouldn’t have cared that his book was covered in coffee, but this was Max’s book. The one thing of Max’s that Alec cherished so deeply. He cursed loudly and grabbed the novel, wiping it rapidly with his hand. A pair of manicured hands handed him paper towels and he froze again. 

“Alexander…” The man said softly, his hand resting on the small of Alec’s back. Alec jumped at the touch and ignored the hurt look that flashed across the mans face. 

“Magnus,” Alec whispered, the panic obvious in his voice. He closed his eyes as memories overtook him again. 

“Magnus, do you think there will be other Ravenclaw’s there? I’m wearing the hat you brought me so people can be sure to know I’m a Ravenclaw!” Max yelled excitedly from the back seat. He had taken his seatbelt off so he could lean over the center console to show Magnus the blue and bronze winter beanie he begged Magnus to get him. Magnus chuckled and patted his head gently. Alec looked on, smiling softly and tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach. 

“Of course there will be. Ravenclaw’s have a way of finding each other, anyways. It's cleverness that comes with the territory,” Magnus replied smoothly. Alec pushed Max’s head so he was sitting back in his seat. 

“Will you please buckle up?! It’s insane how many times I have to ask you,” Alec said, clearly annoyed at his sibling. Magnus chuckled and rolled his eyes dramatically, peaking over at Alec.  

“That’s Alec’s Slytherin showing. Always has to take the lead.” Max’s bubbling laughter filled the air as he reached back for his seatbelt. Alec was looking back toward him, shaking his head at the banter between the two people he loved most. He saw the quick flash of terror in Max’s face before…

Alec was brought back by Clary’s soothing hand on his shoulder and Luke’s baritone voice saying his name. When his eyes opened, he saw Magnus with his eyes shining with tears. His own lingered but he had gotten used to keeping them hidden. He brushed off Clary’s hand and pushed himself off of the wall he had slumped on to. 

“I’m okay, I’m good…” Alec trailed off as he noticed the subtle tremble of Magnus’ body. They couldn’t take their eyes off of each other and Alec knew that Magnus hadn’t forgotten that night either. He felt Clary squeeze his shoulder even tighter and reached up to place his hand on top of hers. “I’m okay, Clary, really,” he muttered. Clary nodded and moved back behind the counter, busying herself with mindless chores. Luke noticed the intense stares of the two men and followed closely after her. 

“Are you okay?” Alec broke the silence, taking an unexpected step forward. Magnus nodded slowly, his hand instinctively reaching out toward Alec. The movement stopped when Alec flinched away. He couldn’t help it. The sight of Magnus had brought the accident to the forefront of his mind. Christmas Eve was already hard enough without the added reminder. 

“Alexander, I didn’t… I heard you moved upstate,” Magnus commented, waving his hands again in a familiar way that had Alec’s breath catching in his throat. Alec shrugged, placing the soft cover book in his back pocket and shrugging on his jacket. 

“I moved back. Figured it was time to… move on,” Alec said softly. His eyes met Magnus’ once more and he couldn’t help the soft sigh that left his lips. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Magnus had turned toward the door. “Are you free?” Alec said abruptly. Magnus stopped his hasty exit and peeked over his shoulder. 

“Yeah, yes, of course I am,” Magnus practically exclaimed. Alec let a soft smile spread across his lips as he left the cafe with Magnus. He could feel the frigid air against his face and see his breath mingling with Magnus’. If he was truthful to himself, he would realize how much he missed this. 

“How have you been? I’ve… I’ve really missed you, Magnus,” Alec admitted. The hazy breath in front of them became heavier at Magnus’ relieved sigh. Magnus stopped his stride and turned toward Alec, tears still shining in his eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure if I should have come back. Our last conversation…” Magnus shook his head, his eyes wandering to the dusting of snow across the pavement. He shuddered and Alec knew it was his own memories haunting him. 

“Our last conversation wasn’t fair. We both bought Max those tickets and neither of us took off his seatbelt. There wasn’t anything you could have done to change things,” Alec said sternly. It had taken months for Alec to believe that. When he’d finally done so, Magnus was gone. 

“Guilt was the hardest thing to get over. Max…” Magnus trailed off with a shake of his head and a tear slid down his cheek. Alec moved quick, wrapping his arms around Magnus tightly. He was expecting memories of that night to overwhelm him at Magnus’ tough as they had done before but instead, another memory came 

“Alec, help!” Max screamed. Alec went to turn toward the shout but a heavy weight jumped on his back. He crouched down to absorb the impact and his hands flung back to keep the child on his back. 

“Max! You can’t just jump on people,” Magnus yelled. Alec was about to agree until Magnus continued. “That is absolutely against the rules!” Alec rolled his eyes before he dropped his hands, Max sliding off his back and landing on the floor with a grunt. He shot up onto his feet and jumped over the back of the couch, effectively providing a barrier between Magnus and himself. 

“You’re both children and I have no patience for this tonight,” Alec said. He meant for the bitterness that usually encapsulated his tone to show but he couldn’t help the laughter that shone instead. 

“You love us, Alexander,” Magnus teased as he placed a quick peck on Alec’s cheek. Max gagged but quickly regretted the reaction as Magnus pounced over the couch. The two tumbled to the floor, Magnus pinning Max to the ground and messing up his perfectly styled hair. 

“Magnus!” A cheery voice squealed. Magnus pulled away from Alec quicker than Alec wanted, but a smile overtook Alec’s face at Magnus’ wide eyes. Alec walked over to the new arrival, his eyebrow raising. 

“Max, you know your crutches don’t grip on the pavement when it snows!” Alec chastised. Max rolled his eyes in a familiar way and moved toward Magnus.

“You would think this one would stop being so ‘big brother’ now that I’m double digits but here we are,” Max said, his voice getting louder to make sure Alec could hear him. Alec rolled his own eyes and watched the two. “You disappeared,” Max mumbled, placing himself in front of Magnus. 

“I did. I’m… I’m sorry, Max,” Magnus said. He went to look away but Max launched himself into Magnus’ arms, surprising both men. 

“Max, Jesus Christ, you can’t do that anymore!” Alec yelled as he grabbed a fallen crutch off the ground. Max held to Magnus tighter, Magnus doing the same. 

“Uh-uh, Alec. Dr. Jenny says that I can do everything I did before,” Max teased. He squirmed out of Magnus’ grasp and stole the crutch back from his brother. “Which is why you both are taking me to go see Harry Potter. It starts in 10 minutes and it’s about a 2 minute walk for an abled kid so we’ll be cutting it close.” Max started in the direction of the theater, leaving a shocked Magnus and a chuckling Alec behind him. 

“So…” Magnus started, not taking his eyes off of Alec. Alec just chuckled and started after his brother. 

“He hated last winter until the last drop of snow melted off of our lawn. He hated Harry Potter until he found his Ravenclaw beanie shoved in the back of his closet. Max spent a lot of time hating what had happened to him. Then one day he didn’t,” Alec said by way of explanation. Magnus looked over at him, his golden eyes shining in just the way Alec remembered. 

“And you?” Magnus inquired. Alec nudged his shoulder against Magnus’ and looked up at the sky before meeting Magnus' eyes once more. 

“Winter isn’t looking so bad right about now.”

#this is so not great #but its the first thing ive written in months #so take it easy on me #i hope you like it blaire ♥️ #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec fic #my writing

[seriouslyhooked]

Thank You (For Your Love)

Future set CS Thanksgiving fic. Emma, Killian and their children are hosting the family and their friends for the holiday, but before guests arrive there’s time for a bit of a CS interlude. Rated M for ‘may be a second chapter with real smut…’ In the meantime please enjoy this little tease. Also please keep in mind I never watched season 7, so any issues you all see with this not fitting into that world, my bad. Still, cuteness is cuteness right? Hopefully! Available on AO3 Here and FF Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! It has been a season of irregular writing for me, but I couldn’t let one of my favorite holidays come without adding some fluff and CS family cuteness of my own to our fandom. This is a time of year meant for love and togetherness, so whether you have a happy family life or whether you find yourself wishing for more, I hope you will enjoy this fic and this expansion of a universe I miss so much. It feels like forever since Once has been on, but I still feel super connected to these characters and this world, and every time I hear this song, ‘Thank You’ by Mozella, I think of Emma and Killian. Hope that happy feeling translates here, and thank you all so much for reading!

Busy. That was the primary way to describe the holidays these days in the Swan/Jones household. A few years back that was often because they couldn’t catch a break from big bads and curse-induced disasters, but all of that had changed. Things had been peaceful for quite a while now, but that peace did not always guarantee quiet.

“How much time have we got, Swan?”

The question from her husband prompted Emma to check the clock on the kitchen wall. Guests were supposed to be arriving in an hour and her parents had been advised that she and Killian had Thanksgiving dinner totally handled. So basically, any minute now the Charmings would sail on through the door, completely disregarding that fact.

“Hard to say,” Emma said shrugging slightly, and though it was feint, she swore she heard a growl emanating from deep in Killian’s chest.

A flush of excitement moved through her instantly, but Emma fought against the instinct to meet Killian’s stare. Even from this distance she could feel the tension between them, the heat that flowed in the air around them, and the need that her pirate always had. Forget the fact that they’d managed to sneak an oh so satisfying rendezvous this morning before the kids woke up, with Killian there was no off switch. Oh he was a perfect gentleman most of the time, always reading her wants and following her wishes at every pass, but he was also… well, how to put this delicately? Insatiable. The man was insatiable even with years of history between them.

“Are you toying with me, love?” he asked, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her, his hand skimming over her with practiced precision. His fingertips brushed across an exposed patch of skin where her shirt had ridden up, and her pulse fluttered. She hoped he’d missed it, but when he pressed a kiss to her neck, nipping ever so slightly she knew he hadn’t. She pushed back against him, and now she understood his words. She’d said it was hard to say, but that wasn’t the only thing that was hard. Not by a long shot.

“When have I ever been known to do that?” she quipped.

He mumbled something into her hair about her being a siren who always called him back again. She swallowed harshly, but leaned back into his affectionate touch before twisting in his arms to look at him.

“The kids?”

“Coloring,” he reported. Emma arched a brow. “Well Hope is. Little Liam is reporting as her first mate and serving honorably.”

“So he’s chewing on the crayons and drooling on the paper?”

Killian’s only response was that roguish smile of his and Emma giggled – yes giggled – at the idea of an image she’d seen many times. Their daughter, spirited and fiery as she was, had it in her brain that she needed to color every day. When pressed on why it was important, Hope said she needed to become an ‘’aw-tist’ (her word for artist). Emma had asked her why, and her response was well thought out if a little harsh:

“I has ta do this, Mommy.”

“Why, honey?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because Daddy tells me pwetty stories but there’s no pwetty pictures to go with them. My other books have pwetty pictures. Daddy’s stories need them too.”

This would have been a purely adorable thing for her charming and precocious daughter to say save for one small problem. The stories her ‘Daddy’ told her did have pictures, and they just so happened to be drawn by Emma’s father, and Hope’s grandfather.

So far they’d managed to keep Hope’s true objective under wraps from her Dad, who though strong and always doting, would probably be a little hurt about the comments on his sketches. Those homemade storybooks were just supposed to be a cute little project to make for Hope when Emma was pregnant with her, but somehow the stories had clicked. Their little princess was obsessed with tales of the savior and her pirate. She just wasn’t so enthused with the pictures that went with them.

“Henry’s got his eye on both of them, and no interest in being recruited for cooking duty. So that leaves you,” he pressed a kiss behind her ear, “me,” he managed to grasp her earlobe with his teeth in a way that made her sizzle, “and however much time we can manage.”

Emma glanced up at her husband, taking in the handsomeness of his features, and the sexy stubble that still graced his strong set jaw, before pulling him in to her by the collar of his dress shirt. She wanted the kiss that they shared so badly, and immediately they were catapulted back in the thick of the lust that blended so seamlessly with the true love in their hearts. It was so easy to get swept away, to forget that the kids were in the next room and that guests were on the way, but hell if she cared. All that mattered was how good Killian always made her feel, and brilliantly beautiful pleasure that was seeping through her at the promise of what was to come.

“Knock knock!”

Her mother’s call came from the front door, and because she was in the thick of a stolen moment with her pirate, Emma almost ignored it. Then it dawned on her.

“Shit! My parents,” she whispered and though she sought to scramble away, Killian held her firmly where she was.

“Not so fast, my love. Wouldn’t want to hurt the little one.”

His hand came over her stomach which had not yet started to show. In another week or so a bump would start to form, at least if the tendencies of her last two pregnancies held up, but for now, it was still her and Killian’s little secret. A secret they planned on keeping until Christmas day. It seemed only fitting, since all Hope could think to ask for Christmas was a baby sister. Hopefully this would turn out in their daughter’s favor, and Killian was convinced it would thanks to his strange but usually accurate pirate intuition. But no matter who their newest bundle of joy turned out to be, Henry, Hope, and Liam would be happy. There was more than enough love to go around in this family, and all Emma’s children were eager to share it.

“Look what I brought, Henry!”

Emma heard her brother, Neal, excitedly charge to the living room and then heard her oldest’s enthusiastic reply.

“Cool! What is it?”

“It’s a football, Henry. Don’t you know what a football is?”

“Yeah, Henwy, don’t you know?” Hope asked, prompting both Emma and Killian to chuckle, since the likelihood that Hope had any idea was minute at best.

“I was just teasing, bean. Of course I know what a football is. We gonna play later?”

“You bet ya. You want to play Hope?”

“Maybe. I’m an awtist now. Can awtist’s play?”

“Damn, I should –“ Killian started as Emma tried to say “We should handle that.”

“Until later, love?” Killian asked with a wry grin and she smiled, pressing one last kiss to his lips as he went to go swoop Hope up, greet her parents, and prevent a storybook revelation the likes of which this town had somehow never seen.  

After giving herself a moment to regroup and fanning her face a bit to try and blow away the tell tale color of a moment with Killian, Emma joined them all out in the living room. Embracing her parents and her little brother before turning her attention to her kids.

“Looking good, bean,” she said, echoing Henry’s endearment for his sister that had a special history.

When Emma first found out she was pregnant, they’d all taken to calling Hope the little bean and it was Henry originally who said it was fitting. Killian and Emma couldn’t figure why until he reminded them. She and Killian had shared their first real story on the bean stalk, so the product of that kind of true love would be a bean. Killian especially had loved that, so much in fact that the nickname stuck, and the eventual nickname of ‘sprout’ for Liam was just as permanent as well. Emma didn’t know what the new baby’s name would be, but she was eager to see what Killian could come up with.

“It’s my tuckey!” Emma bit back a smile at her daughter’s exuberant words, especially the one that was glaringly mispronounced.

“And what a beautiful turkey she is,” Emma’s mother cooed. It was totally typical. She loved being a grandma just as much as she loved being a Mom.

“Tuckey is a girl?” Hope asked, clearly confused that turkeys could be girls too. But soon enough she did that thing so many four-year-olds tended to do, she decided to roll with it and forget her line of detailed inquiry. “Mommy and Daddy was kissing in the kitchen again.”

“Hope!” Emma said, aghast at having been ratted out so promptly and matter of factly. But her shock grew more profound as she watched her mother take a chocolate from her purse and hand it to Hope. “Mom?”

“My granddaughter and I have a deal. She’s my eyes and ears. My little birdie, so to speak.”

“Oh really? Because it sounds like she’s a spy...” Emma teased.

“A spy?!” Killian proclaimed, play acting like it was his life’s work. He pretended to scour the room, even lifting a squealing little Liam into his arms to help in the exaggerated search. “Tell me we don’t have a spy! A dreaded spy, oh Liam can it really be so?”

“I’m not a spy! Not a spy!” Hope said, immediately shaking her head and looking completely uninterested in this twist on things. She shoved the chocolate back towards Mary Margaret, something that Emma had never ever seen before. “No more tellin, grandma. Sowwy. Love you.”

“And I love you, princess,” she said, pressing a kiss to Hope’s head as she shot a scolding look at Emma. Emma ignored it, but handed the chocolate back to Hope. Her daughter grinned immediately before ripping it open and shoving it all in her mouth as fast as she could, her eyes closing in that intoxicated way that every kid gets with quality candy.

“You mind helping me in the kitchen, Mom?” Emma asked with the benefit of distraction, and her mother agreed with no question, moving behind Emma and stepping into the preparation process seamlessly. After a few minutes though, Emma caved and asked what exactly was up. “So, care to explain why you need a ‘little birdie’ all of a sudden?”

“Oh there’s no reason,” her mother said in that way that said she wasn’t being totally truthful. Emma didn’t even need a super power to feel that either. Her Mom was just a terrible liar. “Fine. I was just thinking that one more baby would really round out this family.”

“Okay, so you and Dad should get right on that,” Emma quipped and her mother huffed.

“Emma.”

“Mom. You act like that’s crazy. What’s stopping you from having another kid?”

“Nothing’s stopping us,” her mother said, her honesty back in full force. “We are blessed with the children we have. I’m perfectly comfortable with two kids. I wanted one girl and one boy and we’ve been blessed with exactly that.”

“But we’re different?” Emma asked, intrigued to know why her mother felt that way specifically.

“Yes I think you are. You and Killian were both denied the childhoods you deserved in so many ways. And I know, even though you’ve never told me, I know in my heart that when you wished for us to find you, you also wished for more.” Her mother’s voice broke, a sign that tears were threatening to come, and Emma wasn’t surprised, not when her own tears were lurking at the edge of her vision. “You dreamed of a big family, Emma. You wanted brothers and sisters and parents who loved you more than anything in the world.”

“And I found that, Mom. Well, most of it at least.”

“I know you did, Emma. I know,” she said, hugging Emma to her quickly. “Your father and I do love you. So much it drives me to enlist Hope in trace amounts of espionage.”

Emma laughed at the reminder. “Yeah, not exactly your best moment.”

“Maybe you’re right. But my point still stands – you are an amazing mother, Emma, and you know how magical that dream of a big, huge family can be to a kid. Now you have the chance to make that come true for your babies, and for yourself.”

Emma smiled at the thought, and she was so pleased that her mother truly understood her despite the long 28 years she’d gone without her. Time had been a great healer, but the remnants of Emma’s past did remain, and those dreams, though they were dreamed so long ago, they still lingered, even now. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother that the dream would come true. Another baby was coming, and this family would in fact grow, but just as she was about to she remembered – there was no one in the world less equipped to handle a secret than her mother.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it,” her mother begged, saving Emma from an awkward half response and Emma exhaled a breath of relief.

“Okay, I promise.”

The joy that brought her mother was undeniable, and the rest of their prep time was spent with elated conversation, and genuine familial love. Soon the rest of their family and friends appeared, filling the house with so many personalities, and laughter, and light. It was unbelievable, but somehow, miraculously, it was also their real life.

“Would you like the honors this year, my love?” Killian asked, when the time had come for the Thanksgiving speech. It was tradition now, that each year before their favorite meal they came together and said all that they were thankful for. Sometimes Killian started things, sometimes it was her parents, but this year Emma felt particularly inclined to take the lead. Killian could see as much just from the expression on her face, and he kissed her cheek before taking his spot at the opposite end of the table. When all eyes were on her and an expectant silence descended, Emma spoke her mind.

“Thank you all so much for being here. Every year we say pretty much the same thing. That we are grateful for our health, for our family, and for our friends. We thank whatever forces out there have gotten us to here, and we wish to be just as blessed in the years still to come. Thanksgiving is all about acknowledging what we are thankful for, and I would be remiss to let this moment pass me by without saying how special this is to me.”

“What’s we-miss mean, Henwy?” Hope asked in what tried to be a whisper but was a very loud inquiry. Some of their guests failed to stifle their laughter as her brother explained.

“It means Mommy really wants to say this and share it with all of us.”

“Oh! Okay, keep going Mommy.”

Emma bit back a chuckle but took her precious girl’s advice. “For so many years I did not have this, and I know that really none of us did. We were all dealing with our own burdens. No one’s story had gotten to that promised happy ending just yet. But we’re here now. We have so much, and it’s all because we have each other. I couldn’t ask for anything more than the love in this room. I couldn’t have dreamed of a life as worth giving thanks for as this one. And I want to thank you all for the part you play and for the light you bring on this day and every day.”

“To family,” Killian said, taking Emma’s silent queue that words were beginning to fail her.

“To family!” Everyone echoed.

With that, everyone proceeded to enjoy the rest of the night, eating and talking and sharing stories of all the highs they’d achieved together throughout the years. It was a perfect thanksgiving, or ‘tuckey-day’ as Hope had fondly put it, and though it ended sooner than the kids might have wished, by the end of the evening Emma was feeling the length of the day. She was tired, but she was also tremendously happy, and so comforted by the safety of her children and the presence of her true love at her side.

“Hard to imagine that I could ever be more thankful than I was the day I made you mine, Emma,” Killian whispered as they shut the door to their room behind them. They’d put Hope and Liam to sleep, so they were officially off the clock. Well, at least for a little while.

“And now?” Emma asked, knowing he was about to say something that would take her breath away with its thoughtfulness and sincerity.

“Now every day shows me how wrong I was. Life has only become more incredible, the world is always brighter, and every moment is one I would never trade for all the riches in the world. And I have you to thank for that, Swan. So thank you, Emma. For your love, for your light, and for everything you are.”

“How is it you always say the right things?” Emma asked, pulling him closer to her and running her hand along his face, her eyes tracking every feature that she’d memorized since the first moment they met all that time ago.

“Because, love, we’re one. Two hearts made whole and all of that.”

“Oh really?” Emma teased, running her other hand down the hard lines of his chest. “And does that two parts made whole just go for hearts or -?”

She squeaked out a sound of delight as Killian swept her into his arms and brought her over to the bed, silencing her with a kiss, and then proceeding to outline just how very together they were meant to be. With his hand, mouth, and body he drew her into a frenzy, making her see stars and succumb to that fever in her blood more than once, helping her reach a high that she only ever found with him. And when it was over, and the two of them were spent, catching their breath curled up in bed, Emma brought her hand over his chest, reveling in the feal of his heart synced in perfect time with hers.

“I love you, Killian. Now and forever.”

“And I love you, Emma. The same and somehow more.”

And with those final words they drifted off to sleep, and Emma’s final thought was that she was so immensely grateful and that she’d never take any of this magic that they’d found for granted, no matter how long their fairytale turned out to be.

……………….

La la la la la la

Mixed up and lost You showed me love at no cost And when nobody else cared You were there

Down on my luck You helped my life get unstuck And when the world went away You stayed

Thank you for the good times Thank you for your love Thank you for the joy you've given me Yeah, yeah, thank you

La la la la la la

You fight off my enemies You'd take a bullet for me And you know I'd do the same for you

'Cause that's how we roll Connected at the soul And I just wanted you to know how I feel

Thank you for the good times Thank you for your love Thank you for the joy you've given me Yeah, yeah, thank you

La la la la la la

Thank you for loving me every day Thank you for showing me the way Thank you for things that I'd never say

La la la la la

Thank you for the good times Thank you for your love Thank you for the joy you've given me Yeah, yeah, thank you, thank you

Thank you for loving me every day Thank you for showing me the way Thank you for things that I'd never say

La la la la la

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a little family fluff for everyone in this holiday season. And, at the moment, I am thinking it might be fun to write a follow up for Christmas with the baby reveal and a bit more CS smut. Would love to hear what you all think, but more than anything just want to wish you all the best holiday and a lovely rest of your year!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs #future cs #cs family #emma swan #killian jones #the jones family #cs thanksgiving #cs one shot #ouat #ouat ff #captain swan mixtape #cs mixtape #thank you for your love

[darkpoisonouslove]

TV Show Tag Game

I was tagged by @theonceoverthinker. Thanks, this looks fun (from what I saw in the rules XD).

rules: pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions. don’t cheat. tag 10 (or however many) people.

1. Winx Club

2. Lucifer

3. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

4. Gravity Falls

5. Once Upon a Time

what’s your favourite character from 1?

Griffin. I love all the little details that the show tells us about her in the 20 minutes of screen time she gets for 8 seasons. And her backstory is really interesting (at least the way I have imagined it to fill the gigantic hole that is only barely outlined by canon to separate it from the vast void of space.)

who’s your least favourite character in 2?

Eh... Cain? I did feel for him at some points but then he had to go and be like that! Sorry, but that’s just not something that can keep me rooting for ya.

what’s your favourite episode of 4?

Northwest Manor Mystery. Fun fact, along with the shapeshifter episode, this is the scariest episode in the series for me at least... Me, the person who doesn’t watch horror. Me, the person who doesn’t watch horror yet always ends up with the scariest episodes as her favorites. But yes, I love this episode. The Dipcifica storyline is incredibly strong and I love it. And the supernatural stuff is A++. Just a super neat episode.

what is your favorite season of 5?

I am struggling here between season 3 and season 7. But I was so obsessed with season 7 ever since it came out so I guess it did manage to root season 3 out of the favorite spot.

what’s your favorite couple of 3?

Philinda, no question about it. I was shipping this since way back in the beginning of season 1. And then it was finally canon... for 5 seconds. But still.

what’s your favorite couple in 2?

So this is kinda weird because it is totally Deckerstar but I somehow don’t exactly like putting it in here because for a long time I wasn’t certain if I even wanted them to go romantic. Like, they just needed to be together in whatever way and I guess that is exactly what the best couples have but idk... I just feel like focusing exclusively on the romance takes away from the couple because there is so much more there than just romantic love. It’s like, they have literally every kind of love and shoving them just in the romantic context feels like it doesn’t do their relationship justice if you get what I mean.

what’s your favorite episode in 1?

Okay, so hard tie between 2x18 (“The Heart of Cloud Tower”) and 3x10 whatever the hell that was called (I think I’ve seen at least three different names for this one in the different dubs so I didn’t bother remembering them).

what’s your favorite episode in 5?

Back to my roots on tumblr... That would be 4x20 “Mother”. Nothing has managed to surpass this episode for me even if the season isn’t the best by a far cry.

what’s your favorite season in 2?

Ah, damn. I really don’t know. All of the show is a big blur to me and I barely remember what happened at all not to mention in which season. I will be rewatching this but I want the last season to come out before I get to that so that I don’t run around the timeline in a disorderly fashion. But I think season 3... or season 2. i can’t really decide. I can think of things that majorly pissed me off in both... But, hmm, season 3 had one of the best deaths I’ve ever seen so I’ll go with that.

how long have you been watching 1?

Since my childhood. I can’t remember how old exactly I was when I first started watching it but probably around 7-8.

how did you get into 3?

Let’s just say it was random because the details are a bit problematic.

favorite actor in 4?

I have zero idea who the voice actors are tbh so I don’t really have one. I think they’re all good, though.

which do you prefer? 1, 2 or 5?

Currently 2. And 1. But 2 is definitely much better. I’m into 1 mostly for a few characters in particular and whatever cool thing I catch in between.

which show have you seen more of, 1 or 3?

Eh, I am not sure, actually. I haven’t watched 1.5/8 seasons from Winx and 1/6 seasons from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Idk which would constitute as more when they have a different length of the episodes.

if you could be anyone from 4, who would you be?

I guess being Bill Cipher could be kinda cool. I don’t want to be anyone else but myself tbh.

would a crossover of 3 and 4 work?

Yes. They had their fears seeping into our dimension through a rift in space in 3 (and also kinda the same in 4, actually) so I guess they could get sucked into an animated show as well. That wouldn’t be too weird considering everything else that has happened. And then they could investigate Gravity Falls. That would totes work out.

pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple?

I’m gonna say Stella and Layla. Don’t @ me because I am already developing an AU set of headcanons that I simply haven’t found the time and desire to write out yet. But just you wait!

overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5?

Yeah, like you can pick between those two kinds of craziness. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D feels better written tbh, especially when you compare the quality of the later seasons, but my god, the angst levels. That is too much, stop it!

which has better theme music, 2 or 4?

Lol, I’m not even sorry for this but... Lucifer. The music in this show just rocks so hard, damn!

Tagging: @her-majesty-wears-jeans, @trashcankitty12, @darcyinstilettoes, @intothewickedwood if you want to kill some time and have fun with this! XD Also, if anyone else wants to do it, do it! It’s a lot of fun!

#tag game #tv shows #about me #kinda

[prissyhalliwell]

A Tradition to Remember

This is my @rumbellechristmasinjuly​ gift for @jenitosam​! This story is inspired by her prompt (cozy, holiday, feast, happy ending) and her adorable Rumbelle fan art! 

Summary: A book club is only as good as the book it reads. Belle has no idea how important her choice will become. I Read on AO3

_______________________________________________________________

Storybrooke, Present Day

Mr. Gold stared at the cover of the deep emerald book, the gold embossed print jumping off the cover as if mocking him.

Her Handsome Hero

Gold snorted. What utter rubbish.

He glanced up from his armchair as Belle French, Storybrooke’s irresistible librarian, walked into his living room, bringing with her two steaming cups of tea from the kitchen.

“So,” she said, giving him a warm smile as she passed him a cup and gestured at the book in his hands, “what do you think?”

Gold bit back his first comment, not wanting to insult Belle’s choice of book. It would hardly be the best way to start this new chapter of their friendship.

Pun intended, of course.

When Belle had first asked him to start a book club with her, he’d initially been delighted. They’d had many chats about literature over the years, often while he was checking out new reading material or she was perusing his shop’s antique book collection. The chance to make these interactions more regular was a very agreeable one, especially during Storybrooke’s long winter months. The idea of being cozy and huddled up in front of a fire with Belle - he had insisted on holding these chats at his house instead of her drafty old apartment above the library or worse yet, in the even draftier library itself - was even more appealing.

The only downside so far seemed to be the reading material itself. He’d spent years carefully crafting his reputation as Storybrooke’s resident monster. If word got out that the fearsome Mr. Gold not only attended a book club, but one that was reading a book called “Her Handsome Hero”, he’d be laughed out of town.

“Perhaps we could start with another book?” Gold asked hopefully, as Belle settled into the matching armchair next to his. “I’m sure one of the classics would do nicely. What about Dickens?” At the shake of Belle’s head, he felt a bit of panic creep into his voice. “One of the Brontës? I’d even be open to Austen…”

She placed a reassuring hand on his knee. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

He grunted, ignoring the warmth of her hand as it seeped through his trousers and into his leg, leaving the skin beneath tingling. “Care to make a wager on that?”

She chuckled. “I promise it’s more intriguing once you open the cover.”

“I fail to see how anything with a title like this could be intriguing,” Gold grumbled. “Sounds more like a trashy romance or some horrible made-for-TV movie.”

“It’s not like that!” Belle protested. “I read the first few chapters the other day before I realized it was perfect for us.” She scooted her chair several inches closer to his and dropped her voice conspiratorially. “This book is actually a mystery!”

He looked at the cover doubtfully. “Does the butler kill the handsome hero? That would certainly be an enjoyable twist.”

Belle shook her head. “No, I mean the actual book itself is a mystery! I found it in the middle of the Reference section, wedged between two out-of-date atlases. It’s not in the card catalog or the computer system. I even tried to look it up online. As far as the internet is concerned, this book doesn’t even exist!”

Now that was intriguing. He set his tea down and looked at the book more closely. It was clearly very old, but was still in pristine shape, despite being lost between the stacks for who knows how many years. He had many antique books that he sold for hundreds of dollars each that were in worse shape than this.

The cover’s illustrations were still clear and unfaded, an intricate gold border around the book’s edge and an image of a proud-looking knight with long, flowing locks that irritated Gold for some reason he couldn’t name.

He flipped through the first few pages, but there was nothing there to help him either. No publisher, no date, not even a dedication to some beloved family member. The pages simply jumped straight into the story, starting with the ever so cliche “Once upon a time…”

He was about to comment on this when something Belle had said finally registered to him.

“Does this mean you only have one copy?” he asked, realizing for the first time that she had only brought one book.

Belle’s cheeks turned a fetching color of pink. “I’m afraid so. We’ll have to share and um...take turns reading out loud to each other.”

Now it was Gold’s turn to go a bit pink. He could feel his face heat up and hoped his blush wasn’t as obvious as Belle’s.

Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about, he told himself. It’s not like Belle had suggested anything indecent. But somehow, the idea of reading out loud to each other just sounded rather...intimate.

Gold wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Or how he felt about reading aloud. He wouldn’t mind hearing Belle’s beautiful, lilting Australian accent, but there was nothing appealing about his own accent - not fully Americanized, but no longer truly Scottish after all these years - that Belle could want to hear.

She clearly had not thought this idea all the way through.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he returned to a safer topic. “Well, if it’s not tasteless drivel, then what is it about?” he asked, handing her back the book.

Belle’s eyes lit up. “From what I’ve read already, it’s definitely a fantasy novel, but the main focus is on the values of compassion and forgiveness - the qualities that truly make a hero.” She smiled reassuringly. “So definitely not a trashy romance.”

Gold felt slightly mollified. “I suppose that sounds slightly better. I didn’t really figure you for the type to read cheap romance novels.”

A slight blush colored Belle’s cheeks once again. Gold grinned. “Well, at least not in a book club then.”

“Oh, you!” Belle smacked his leg playfully with the book. “You’re terrible.”

His grin widened. “Perhaps you should kick me out of the club in punishment. Who knows what trouble I’ll cause?”

He gave her his most mischievous smile. Belle didn’t even blink.

“That’s exactly why you have to stay. It’s much easier to keep you out of trouble if I can keep an eye on you.” She flipped open the book. “Now, shall we begin?”

Gold sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

------------

Enchanted Forest, 28 Years Ago

If Rumplestiltskin had thought his Yuletide tradition of stubbornly refusing to celebrate the holiday would be permitted to continue once Belle arrived in his life, he was sorely disappointed.

The Great Hall had been decked in more festivity than it had seen in the last 300 years combined. Candles had been added to every available surface that his interfering maid could reach. Their soft light gave the Great Hall added warmth, and the holly and berries that Belle had festively arranged around them added a bit of color to the room.

Rumplestiltskin hated it.

His entire home had become redecorated for Yuletide, barely resembling the dreary space he had inhabited for so many years. Everything was festive, except for the master of the castle, and he felt woefully out of place in his own home.

He supposed it was his own fault for not putting his foot down when Belle had hung up the very first mistletoe. But how could he have known that it would get this out of control so quickly?

It was the only explanation he could find for why he now found himself staring down at a book that a beaming Belle held out to him excitedly.

“This has been my favorite book since I was a child,” she explained proudly. “My mother and I used to read it together all the time.”

“Ah,” Rumplestiltskin said awkwardly, noticing the title and the picture of the heroic knight etched on the cover. “How...fitting.”

Either Belle didn’t catch the sarcasm in his tone or she chose to ignore it. “I thought we could read it during our Yuletide celebration.” A spot of pink appeared on her cheeks. “You know, to pass the time, especially on these long winter nights…”

“I see.” Rumplestiltskin stared at the title, his imagination already running wild with speculation. “I’m well aware of your love of books, but...well, this seems like it might be a little uh...risque for a young lady.”

Belle’s lips trembled as she tried to keep back a smile. “You’re worried about a book corrupting me?”

“I just think it would be frowned upon for a noblewoman such as yourself - ”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Rumple, if you were worried about my reputation, you probably shouldn’t have whisked me off to live with you in your castle after insinuating that you were well-endowed.”

Rumplestiltskin blanched. “Ah, you understood that, did you?”

“Yes, and it was very wicked of you.” Belle’s tone was reproving but the merriment in her eyes gave her true feelings away.

“Wicked, you say?” Rumplestiltskin scratched his chin. “Well, seems only fair that I should be punished then.”

Belle’s eyes grew as wide as tea saucers. “Punished?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Oh yes. I should go organize my lab immediately in penance.”

Belle let out the breath she had been holding with a laugh. “Oh, Rumple. You really are terrible.” She dropped the book gently into his lap. “But you’re not going anywhere. If you insist on being punished, we have the perfect instrument of torture right here.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. It was going to be a long Yuletide.

------------

Two days into reading the book, Rumplestiltskin’s view had still not changed. If anything, it had gotten worse.

“This is absolutely ridiculous!” he huffed, slamming the book shut.

Belle crossed her arms, openly glaring at him. “What’s so ridiculous about it, may I ask?”

That list was quite long in his opinion, but he decided to start with his biggest complaint. “The hero, for one! This moron is so obsessed with looking brave that he walks straight into danger at every available opportunity.” Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. “He barely takes a breath after hearing there’s a dragon in a lair before racing off to fight it.”

“Perhaps you’re just jealous that you’ve never slayed a dragon,” Belle said dryly.

He gave her a wide smile, full of teeth. “I am the dragon, dearie.”

Instead of being intimidated as he’d hoped, she merely patted his leg consolingly. “Of course you are, Rumple.” Her eyes danced with amusement. “An extremely grumpy one.”

He pointed a taloned-finger at her. “Don’t be cheeky. Or I might just conjure up the giant spider from your book and feed you to it.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Belle’s eyes grew wide. “You hate spiders even more than I do.”

“What? That’s just...ridiculous,” Rumplestiltskin stammered. “I’ve never even - where’d you get such a silly idea?” He leaned forward, coming nose to nose with her. “Who have you been talking to?”

Belle burst into peals of laughter, throwing her head back in glee. “Oh, if you could see your face right now!” She held her side, her belly continuing to shake with laughter.

Rumplestiltskin glared at her through narrowed eyes. “If you figure out how to control yourself, I’ll be upstairs in my lab.”

Before he could snap his fingers and disappear, Belle reached out a hand to stop him, her giggles slowly subsiding to an occasional hiccup. “No, wait. I’ll behave, I promise. Let’s keep reading.”

Slightly mollified, Rumplestiltskin opened the book and began reading where he had left off earlier.

It was only hours later in his lab, well after Belle had gone to bed for the night, that he realized how easily she had distracted him from his complaints about the book and deftly maneuvered him back into reading it again in mere minutes.

A slight smile curled on his lips. It seemed he had underestimated that maid of his once again.

------------

The other mystery, which was why Belle was so insistent on reading the book with him in the first place, finally came to him after several days of intense pondering. In hindsight, he realized how slow he had been to figure it out, since it was clearly the only logical conclusion.

“Ah ha, I’ve got you!” He declared from his seat at his spinning wheel, causing Belle to jump where she had been placing the tea things on the Great Hall’s dining table.

“Wha-what?” she asked, flustered.

He sprang up from the spinning wheel and began to stalk towards her. “I’ve figured out why you wanted to read that book with me.”

Belle blushed. “Oh?”

She was holding her hands together tightly, as if she was nervous about his discovery. But surely Belle knew he wouldn’t hurt her after all this time? Even if he found her joke to be in poor taste. Not that his feelings were hurt, of course. He didn’t care what anyone thought about him, even if he liked Belle more than most people. Knowing what she thought of him was actually very helpful, now that he thought about it. And it’s not like others hadn’t called him far worse.

“Yes, yes, dearie. The parallels are quite obvious, even for an old fool like myself.”

“Parallels?” Belle frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He waved her denial away dismissively. “It’s no use denying it. The sorcerer Gideon met earlier in the book is obviously evil and has been the one pulling the strings all along. Undoubtedly, they’ll face off in a final battle in the end of the story.” He touched his hand to his chest and gave a mocking bow. “I’m sure you couldn’t help but be reminded of him when you met me.”

Belle’s eyes grew wide in understanding. She rushed towards him, catching him off guard as she grabbed his hands in hers.

“You have it all wrong. I’ve never seen you that way.” At his doubtful look, she paused. “Alright, maybe for the first few days...but to be fair, you were purposely trying to be horrible to scare me!”

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to argue, but Belle plunged on.

“But I know the real you now, Rumplestiltskin. The sorcerer in that book is nothing like you. He’s pure evil, without any feeling or compassion for anyone or anything else.” She stepped a half step closer towards him. “I know that’s not you.”

His mouth felt dry. He should really snatch his hands away from hers. Her palms were warm where they held his between them and her skin was softer than he could have imagined.

“I’ve done many evil things in my life,” he said, trying to stop her from looking at him the way she was now, her eyes shining with something much brighter than friendship.

“I know,” Belle said, still holding his gaze. “I can’t say I approve of all of the decisions you’ve made, but doing bad things doesn’t mean there’s not good in you too.”

“So you didn’t want me to read the book because I reminded you of the evil sorcerer?” Rumplestiltskin asked stupidly.

Belle smiled up at him shyly. “It’s actually the opposite in fact.”

Now it was his turn to frown. “The opposite? Who else in the book could I remind you of?”

A blush began to spread across Belle’s cheeks. She looked on the verge of saying something, but then changed her mind.

“Tea!” she exclaimed, dropping his hands and turning back to the table. “It’s going to get cold if we don’t drink it.”

“Belle, I have magic. I can always just - ”

But Belle had already walked back to the table and was raising the cup to her lips.

He sighed and walked over to join her, picking up his chipped cup and cradling it in his hand.

Perhaps one day he’d uncover the mystery that was Belle of Avonlea. Until then, the only thing he’d be getting to the bottom of was his tea cup.

------------

Despite all his complaints, Rumplestiltskin was actually a little sad when Belle turned to the last page of the book a few evenings later. Not that he was going to admit that to her, of course. The Dark One had his pride, after all.

It was the last night of Yuletide and they had just finished a delicious feast that the Dark Castle had prepared for them. With their stomachs full of roast hen, pork sausages, and bread pudding, they had settled in their now customary spot on the settee in front of the fireplace to read the last chapter of the book.

Rumplestiltskin had opened some of his most prized red wine from his cellars, which Belle had barely touched because she was so caught up in reading the ending.

“With the evil sorcerer defeated at last, Gideon returned home to his village, grateful to be reunited with his family. Confident that his homeland was no longer in danger, he hung up his sword and shield, content to live a simple life with those he loved for the rest of his days.”  

“Let me guess,” Rumplestiltskin interrupted. “He lived happily ever after?”

Belle looked up from the book, quelling him with one look. “If you don’t let me finish, you won’t find out, will you?”

He pretended to pout, but did as she said. Despite being fairly certain about the ending, he did want to hear her read it.

Not that he cared about the fate of the brave Gideon. But since he had already put in so much time reading the book, it only made sense to finish it.

Obviously.

“Gideon’s countrymen welcomed him home, throwing a giant feast in his honor. Whenever anyone asked about the qualities that made a hero, Gideon would simply smile and say, with all modesty, ‘Anyone can be a hero. You must only do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’”

Rumplestiltskin pretended to yawn. “Boring.”

Belle ignored him and continued reading.

“With his family by his side and his memories to guide him, our hero Gideon…” She paused, her lips quirking upwards. “...lived happily ever after.”

“I knew it!”

Belle tried to look annoyed at him, but ended up bursting into laughter a moment later. “Yes, you’re very clever, Rumple.”

He tapped his nose knowingly. “It’s the second sight.”

She looked unimpressed. “Or the fact that most stories have a happy ending.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a wolf-like grin. “Clearly you’ve been reading the unimaginative stories.”

Belle smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Admit it, you liked the book.”

“I didn’t not like it.”

She giggled, pulling her feet up onto the settee. Drawn in by her laugh as if it was a siren’s call, he leaned closer.

“I suppose that’ll do,” she said. “For now.”

They were close. Closer than they had been since he had held her in his arms that day she’d fallen from the ladder. It hadn’t been that long ago, and yet, so much had changed since then.

Even himself.

“Thank you, Belle,” he said finally.

She looked at him curiously. “For what?”

For being herself. For accepting him. For everything.

“For...bringing a bit of Yuletide spirit into the castle.” He wasn’t willing to admit to her just how much it had meant to have her there, especially during the holiday. It was the first time since Bae had left that he’d had someone to celebrate with. “It’s been many years since I last enjoyed Yuletide this much.”

Belle blushed. “Well, I’m glad I could help. It would be a pity if you couldn’t enjoy yourself a little.” She nodded towards the book. “You’ve been so good to humor me by reading my favorite book with me.”

Now it was Rumplestiltskin’s turn to blush. “It’s no matter. I actually haven’t minded…” Seeing the smirk that began to form on Belle’s lips, he hurriedly added, “...that much.”

His addition didn’t seem to deter Belle’s happiness in the least. Perhaps she had spent enough time around him by now that she could tell his heart wasn’t in the teasing.

“I’m so glad! I was thinking, maybe it could become a new tradition for us?”

Rumplestiltskin fought the urge to roll his eyes. Yuletide wasn’t even over and Belle was already planning for next year!

Then again, he supposed it was nice to think that she was already looking forward to spending another Yuletide with him. He could count the people who had looked forward to spending time with him on one hand. It made him happy that Belle was one of them.

However, that didn’t mean he would miss the opportunity to tease her about it.

“You? Want to make reading at Yuletide a tradition?” He put his hand to his heart and twisted his face into a look of surprise. “I’m shocked.”

“Oh hush.” Belle gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder, trying to suppress a smile and failing miserably. “I actually meant that we should make reading “Her Handsome Hero” at Yuletide our tradition.” Her eyes danced with merriment. “I fully intend to continue making you read most nights with me as well.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a deep sigh, throwing his hand over his face. “My life is only struggle.”

Giggling, she leaned forward and pried his hand away. Suddenly, they were face to face, Belle holding his hand between her two smaller ones. He became aware of the soft skin of her hands pressed against his, and a tingling sensation that was spreading through his fingers.

“I, uh…” Rumplestiltskin seemed at a loss for words. Belle was not magical, yet she had the power to reduce him to a babbling fool. “Your hands are very soft.”

“Are they?” Belle licked her lips, leaning even closer. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well...they are.” He gulped. “Maybe you should hold them sometime.”

Belle stopped an inch in front of his face, her face wrinkling adorably in confusion.

“Rumple?”

If he leaned even the littlest bit forward, he could capture those delectable lips between his.

“Yes, Belle?”

“Stop talking.”

Before he could argue, Belle closed the space between them herself, pressing her lips against his own.

His eyes fluttered closed automatically, all thought fading away as Belle filled his senses. Everything was heightened: he could smell the rose-scented bath oils she used on her skin, taste the sweet berries she had eaten earlier that evening, hear the soft sounds she made as she sighed against his lips, and feel her skin vibrating against his own body as she leaned into him.

So caught up in the moment, he didn’t notice the new sensation until it was almost too powerful to ignore. The warm, happy feelings that had been building in his chest were almost completely smothered by an overwhelming need to run. Only when he pulled away slightly did he realize what was happening.

Rumplestiltskin wrenched himself away from Belle, knocking himself off the settee in the process and falling to the floor in a jumbled heap.

Belle’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha-what’s wrong?” An embarrassed blush was quickly spreading across her face. Considering his violent reaction, she no doubt believed he was rejecting her. She was right, but not for the reasons she probably thought.

Ignoring her question for the moment, he checked his hands. They were back to their usual green and gold flecked hue, his long fingernails ending once again in black talons. He could feel the magic coursing under his skin, filling him with power and purpose. The Dark One’s curse was intact.

“It’s still here,” he said at last, relief flowing through him. He looked up and saw Belle eyeing him warily, clutching her knees to her chest protectively.

He barely kept back a groan. How in the world was he going to explain this?

Picking himself up off the floor, he cautiously perched on the end of the settee again, not wanting to spook Belle further.

Avoiding her eyes, he began to tell her his story. His sentences were clumsy at first, full of halting, half-finished thoughts, but soon he felt the truth pouring out of him, as he explained to her the nature of his curse, his mission to find Bae, and why - despite the proof that they were True Love - he couldn’t be with her until he was reunited with his son.

Risking a glance at her face, he was relieved to see nothing but compassion there.

“Oh, Rumple,” Belle cried, taking his hand in hers and pulling it into her lap. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” Once again, Rumplestiltskin marveled at Belle’s loving nature. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve her love, but he would spend every day from now on proving himself worthy of it to her.

“If there’s anything I can do...to help you find your son…”  

It took every ounce of restraint for him not to gather her up in his arms and kiss her again.

Since he couldn’t do that, he settled for leaning his forehead against hers.

“Belle, there’s something else I need to tell you. I have a plan to find Bae, but it involves another curse - ”

As if on cue, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and his long-time rival and apprentice, the Evil Queen, strode briskly into the room, stopping abruptly as her eyes fell upon them.

Her expression grew into a malicious grin as she watched them leap apart from each other.

“Excuse me, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin drawled, trying to get the situation back under his control, “but we’re in the middle of - ”

Regina chuckled darkly. “Oh, I can see that.”

“...a feast,” Rumplestiltskin finished.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Regina looked down at her nails. “I must be behind on the current slang.”

Before he could come up with a suitable denial, Regina waved a dismissive hand. “But no matter. I’ve come for the Dark Curse.”

Rumplestiltskin blanched. He had thought he had more time, but he supposed he had gotten sidetracked with everything happening with Belle recently. He should have known Regina would move swiftly in his absence.

Unfortunately, this left him in a bit of a quandary. He had arranged for his own comfort during the curse, but no provision had been made for Belle. Regina would no doubt create a nasty cursed fate for his True Love, for no reason other than to spite him, if he did not intervene.

“About our deal, Regina,” he began slowly. “I’m going to need to make sure that Belle is included in our little arrangement. You see, I’ve grown quite used to having a housekeeper and…”

Regina wasn’t fooled in the least. “No deal, Rumple dear. I can ensure that you’re both fairly comfortable, but not together. Take it or leave it.”

Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed as he weighed his options. Regina wasn’t likely to budge on this. He’d taught her too well for his own good.

“I don’t have all day,” she said, tapping the toe of her high-heeled boot in feigned annoyance. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He bared his teeth at her. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this in writing?”

Regina’s face broke into a wide grin. “Of course. The pen is mightier than the sword after all.”

Her words broke through Rumplestiltskin’s frustration and he nearly rocked back on his heels. He barely stopped himself from reacting, as his brain raced wildly with an idea.

It could work. It had to.

“Fine,” he growled at her, summoning a parchment and quill. He began to write hurriedly, ignoring Regina as she stalked over to him to peer over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget the - ”

“I think I can handle it,” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “I do this for a living you know.”

Regina looked rather pleased with herself and he took the opportunity to enact his plan.

He made a point of looking over his shoulder at Belle, who was sitting on the settee with her chin held high in spite of the gravity of the situation. If anyone embodied the virtues of Gideon, it was her.

Heaving a deliberately weary sigh, he looked back at Regina, gesturing helplessly at Belle. “Can’t you do anything for her?” he asked, letting himself sound just the tiniest bit desperate. If Regina thought him a lovesick old fool, then he might as well use that to his advantage.

“I already said she’d be comfortable. What more do you want?”

“I don’t know. I just...well, she loves her books.”

Regina blinked at him. “Books?”

“Yes, they’re these reams of paper bound together -”

“I know what a book is, Rumplestiltskin!” She let out a growl of frustration. “Are you actually asking me to let her take her little book collection along?”

“She really does love them,” he said, knowing how pathetic he sounded.

He exchanged a look with Belle, who seemed to understand, at least on some level, what he was trying to accomplish.

“Books are my true passion,” Belle said suddenly, watching his face for confirmation. “I’d be miserable without them.”

Regina looked to be reaching the limits of her patience. “I’m not wasting magic to transport a castle full of books to the Land Without Magic.”

“More like a library, really.” At Regina’s glare, he backpedaled. “Fine, fine. Can she just keep that one?” He waved a hand at “Her Handsome Hero”, which Belle was clutching tightly. “It’s her favorite. She never shuts up about it. At least give her that much.”

Regina mulled it over for a moment or two before slowly nodding. “Fine, she can keep the book. If only so you’ll shut up about it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, can we get this curse on the road?”

Rumplestiltskin fought back a smile as he finished scribbling out their deal on the parchment. It would be enough.

------------ Storybrooke, Present Day

Gold didn’t often admit to being wrong - not that he was often wrong in the first place - but the book club had ended up being one of the best things to ever happen to him.

More specifically, it was Belle rather than the book club itself that was wonderful, but as the book club was an excuse to spend several hours a week with Belle’s undivided attention, it also was quite nice.

The book had grown on him as well over the past month. Though the characters lived in a fantastical world of magic and dragons, they also felt familiar to him somehow. He’d become invested in their triumphs and failures almost as if they were his own.

Perhaps Belle’s kindness was finally rubbing off on him. Or perhaps this was merely more proof that he needed to get out of the pawnshop more.

Even stranger were the moments when he’d felt certain he’d read the book before. It was a fairly standard fantasy with a heroic protagonist that triumphed over impossible odds, so it was hardly breaking new territory in the literary market. Yet something about it seemed like an old friend to him, bringing him comfort and nostalgia all at the same time.

He wasn’t the only one who experienced these odd moments of déjà vu. Belle swore on the book itself that she had never read it, yet she too admitted that she felt a sense of familiarity with the story that she couldn’t explain.

“Perhaps it’s the company,” she said one day, when they both experienced one of these moments.

He snorted, twirling his cane between his fingers. “I’m sure my company is intellectually stimulating, but I doubt it’s given you magical insight into the book.”

She shook her head in amusement. “No, silly. I meant the sense of familiarity and comfort it brings us. Maybe we’re so content together during our reading sessions that we’re projecting those feelings onto the book.”

No one had every described their interactions with him as bringing them comfort. Normally, it was the exact opposite.

But hearing Belle describe his company in that way sent a shiver of pleasure from his toes to his brain, causing the latter to short circuit temporarily.

“That’s...a possibility,” he said finally.

Thankfully, Belle hadn’t pressed the issue and they had gone back to discussing the latest chapters.

That had been several weeks ago however and they were now nearly finished with the book. They had decided to do something special for the last chapter and had decided to mark the occasion by cracking open a bottle of one of his best vintage wines.

There was an anticipation in the air that Gold was unsure of, but that he felt all the way down to his bones. Belle seemed to feel it too, her eyes flicking back and forth between his face and the pages before her.

“Do you, uh, want to read first?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick her lips in a way that prevented Gold from responding right away.

“Uh, yes. I can...do that,” he said, still hypnotized by the moisture on her lips. “Read, I mean. This book.”

Belle tried to hide her smile. “Well, I’m glad we’ve established you can read. Especially since it’s the final chapter.”

“Aye,” Gold replied, wishing he had just kept his damn mouth shut. He cleared his throat, taking the book from Belle and opening it to the last chapter.

Time flew by as they were swept up into the action of the story. The epic conclusion of the hero Gideon’s final battle with the evil sorcerer - who in many ways was more familiar to Gold than the protagonist - kept them both enthralled, neither relaxing until Gideon finally defeated his enemy with one final swing of his enchanted sword.

As Gold continued to read of the hero’s warm homecoming, a strange sense of anticipation began welling up inside him. He ignored it, trying to focus on the resolution of the story. There was no reason for him to feel any excitement at this point; all the action had finished and the story was winding down, most likely ending in some trite moral lesson.

“Gideon’s countrymen welcomed him home, throwing a giant feast in his honor,” Gold read, his eyes glancing up to see Belle as captivated as himself, sitting on the edge of her seat. 

“Whenever anyone asked about the qualities that made a hero, Gideon would simply smile and say, with all modesty, ‘Anyone can be a hero. You must only do the brave thing and’…” Gold’s vision began to blur, but he fought through it, determined to finish the last page, “...‘bravery will follow.’”

The moment he finished speaking a hot flash of pain ripped through his brain, making him clutch at his forehead in shock. Something was squeezing its way inside his head, worming into his mind. His other hand gripped the book like a lifeline; the sturdy binding the only solid thing he could feel at that moment.

He heard a sharp cry from Belle and he longed to reach out to her, but his vision had not returned. He grasped blindingly towards her, his hand finally finding her shoulder. Her hand came up to cover his, squeezing tightly.

He saw flashes of images: a caste high up in the snow-covered mountains, a spinning wheel near a fireplace, a young woman humming as she bent over a table pouring tea. The glimpses kept coming and going too fast for him to process, yet they somehow felt familiar to him.

Eventually the flashes began to slow, settling on one image in particular. It was the young woman again, but this time she was bent over a book. His heart leapt as he recognized it as the same one he held clutched in his hand. The woman looked up, a beautiful smile spreading across a face he knew all too well.

“Belle?” he whispered.

And just as quickly as they had come, the memories began to recede, quietly settling into the background of his mind as his sight began to return.

He blinked, glancing up at Belle to see her looking at him with the same awe and bewilderment that he felt.

“Rumple?” she asked softly, squeezing his hand even tighter.

“Belle!” He leapt forward, already forgetting about his unhealed leg, and ended up sprawled at her feet. “It worked! The words woke us from the curse!”

A giggle of pure joy escaped Belle’s lips. Instead of helping him up, she plopped down onto the floor beside him, cupping his cheek gently with her palm.

“I knew you could do it, Rumple.”

Feeling lighter than he had in 330 years, he sat up and pulled Belle into his lap, kissing her soundly. They didn’t have to worry about breaking the Dark One’s curse here, which meant he could kiss her to his heart’s delight. In which case, they might not be getting off this floor anytime soon.

Eventually they had to surface for air, but they stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, neither ready to let go.

Belle let out another giggle from where her head lay on his shoulder. “Aren’t you glad I asked you to join another book club?”

He snorted. “It’s not so much ‘ask’ as ‘force’, my dear.”

She pretended to pout, her lower lip sticking out adorably. Rumplestiltskin decided he had no choice but to kiss the expression right off of her.

Several minutes later and out of breath again, they finally settled down enough to talk through their next moves. They couldn’t let Regina know they were awake so they would have to be careful.

Now that his plans were finally coming together, his old anxiety began to well up within him. He’d come so far to find Bae - but what if, after everything, it still wasn’t enough?

Before his thoughts could go too far down that old road, Belle - her smile soft and gentle - met his gaze firmly with her own.

“Everything is going to be fine. You’re going to find Bae and we’re going to be a family.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips, as if punctuating her point. When he still looked unconvinced, she gave him a hard stare. “We will find your son, Rumplestiltskin,” she repeated emphatically. “And then you’re going to start making up for what you’ve done to the town.”

Rumplestiltskin’s brain took a second to catch up. “Wh-what do you mean ‘make up’?” he sputtered indignantly.

Belle’s smile was warm, but he could see the steel-like determination in her eyes. Whatever she wanted from him, he wasn’t going to like it, but neither was he going to get out of it.

“Well, since you essentially evicted everyone from their homeland, you’ll start by giving people free rent on their homes - ”

“Free rent?” Rumplestiltskin almost choked. “Are you mad?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she scolded. “Yes, I think it’s only fair that you give them free rent - at least until you can find a way to reverse the Dark Curse and take everyone back home. I also think - ”

Rumplestiltskin wanted to laugh. Or cry. He wasn’t sure which. Too much had happened in the last twenty minutes to process.

“Do you think defeating Regina is going to be that simple?” he asked, exasperated. “This is real life - not some fairy tale with a handsome hero who swoops in and saves the day!” He picked the book off the floor where it had fallen and waved it at her. “I’m not Gideon, Belle.”

Belle laid a hand on his, gripping it tightly. “I know you’re not, Rumple. But do you know what you are?”

“In big trouble?” he asked, hazarding a guess.

A startled laugh erupted from Belle. Sensing that perhaps things weren’t so bad as he had thought, Rumplestiltskin let out a small chuckle as well.

The laughter broke a little of the tension between them and allowed him a moment to think objectively. After almost thirty years, he had regained his memory, found Belle, and was on the cusp of locating Bae after 300 years of waiting. If the worst thing he had to do was make reparations to the people of the Storybrooke for what he’d done, was that so bad? As far as karma went, it seemed like a pretty fair deal for being reunited with the two people he loved most in the world.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Belle said, letting out another chuckle. “And I know you’re not Gideon.”

“Then what makes you think I can fix things?” he asked, drawn in by the way Belle’s eyes held his. Perhaps if she - and Baelfire - believed in him, he could eventually become all the things they always wanted him to be.

“Because,” Belle whispered softly, gently stroking his cheek with her hand, a beautiful smile forming on her lips, “you’re my handsome hero.”

#Rumbelle Christmas in July #Jenitosam #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #prissy writes #A Tradition to Remember

[cinnaminsvga]

Zemblanity | Jimin (M)

→ summary: 

“I’ll write a song for you, Park Jimin,” you say, unaware of the weight of your promises slowly finding its way around your neck.

”Pinky swear?”

The noose tightens. “I swear on my life.”

→ genre: fan!jimin, idol!reader, horror/thriller, angst, smut || part of this collab!! → warnings: major character death, non-graphic descriptions of rape and sexual harassment, psychological + physical torture, physical violence, and obsessive behavior → words: 11.8K → a/n: this physically hurt to write, mostly because i was drunk 99% of the time. also a lot of triggering material in this, so be warned. and i’m sorry jimin for always making you the bad guy... some day, i’ll write a soft fic for you. (special thanks to @seokkbuns for supporting me the whole way... love you)

Sometimes you wished the universe would congratulate you for being a decent human being. Sure, that would defeat the purpose of giving awards in the first place, but can you really help that you wanted to be recognized for your mediocrity, occasionally? Maybe a little ribbon for opening the door for a stranger, or perhaps a coupon from Mcdonalds for not parking in the handicap spot. You weren’t asking for a lot.

Hell, where the fuck was your Nobel Peace Prize for not absolutely decimating your annoying, hoity-toity, bitchass, toe-sucking CEO? If you could somehow convert the anger slowly seeping its way through your veins into renewable energy, you could probably power the entirety city of Seoul at this point.

“Y/N. How difficult can it be to produce one fucking album?” President Kim Namjoon groans, gesticulating at the air madly like the buffoon that he is. All he needs is a banana and unicycle, and his Harambe cosplay would be complete.The ridiculous mental image hardly calms you down, dumbfounded by the absolute audacity of his question.

“Are you seriously asking me that question, or are you just pretending to be an idiot to make me angry?” You seethe, teeth gnashing in a way that would probably make your dentist cringe. Namjoon is not fazed by your reaction. Instead, he reaches into his desk drawers and pulls out a thin stack of papers. You can’t see any of the text, but you have a good idea as to what it was about.

“This is a compilation of news reports written about you and Serendipity over the past year,” he emphasizes, slamming a page filled with graphs and jargon whose meaning escape you. He jabs a finger at one of the angry red graphs, and you can see that he was pointing at what appears to be a significant drop. “As you can see, there haven’t been many reports, if at all.”

“So? That’s what happens when an idol group is waiting for their next comeback.” You shrug your shoulders, kicking a leg up onto his table just to piss him off. Namjoon is quick to stab your ankle with a pencil in retaliation, causing you to pull back with a yelp. “Yo, what the fuck! That hurt!” You exclaim, rubbing the reddening spot sullenly.

“It’s like you’re purposefully being difficult, Y/N.”

“So you’ve noticed?”

Namjoon heaves a sigh, and you speculate that it might have been his thirtieth one within the past hour. A tense silence befalls the two of you, and you watch as the older man rubs his temples in frustration. You can’t help but notice the age lines beginning to form on his forehead, and do your eyes deceive you? Were those wrinkles under his eyes?

“You’re getting old, chief,” you comment, grabbing one of Namjoon’s numerous pencils to poke the lines away. He swats at you tiredly, but it is clear that he knows it is useless scolding you. If getting mad at you would produce results, you would’ve bended to his will ages ago. As it is, the man looks ready to drop dead in his seat. He slumps over his desk, eyes closing in meditation.

“No thanks to you, I assure you,” he mumbles back, voice muffled from his table. “Why can’t you just be like Hoseok? He writes music like it’s his only drug.”

“That’s because that kid is literally always on drugs, chief.” You snort, crossing your arms. “And at least the drugs help him with inspiration. Me? I’ve been stuck in a ditch since January. You know this, Joon.”

“I know. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating. What happened, Y/N? I’ve given you almost everything you could ask for.” Namjoon says, lifting his head up to stare back at you. He appears as dejected as you feel. “Why isn’t that big head of yours making music like it used to?”

“You haven’t given me everything I could ask for.”

“What else do you need? You have the studio, the resources, the funding…”

“Time. You haven’t given me enough time.”

Namjoon sighs his thirty-first sigh. “That’s simply a request that even I cannot grant, Y/N. You and I both know that this industry… it moves quicker than any of us would like. Soon enough, people will forget your name. Your members will be left in the dust. Do you want that, Y/N? Are you willing to succumb to your writer’s block in exchange for your members’ livelihoods?”

The two of you already knew the answer to that. You could only glare back at him, irritated that he had used the only weakness you had, the only people you were willing to risk a limb for.

He smiles sadly back at you. “Three months, Y/N. We need an album by December, or else your group is gone. I don’t want you to fail, believe me.”

Oh, I believe you, you think bitterly to yourself, slamming the door to his office with more force than necessary. Of course the bastard doesn’t want you to fail. Other than Hoseok’s group, Serendipity was the only other money-making group in the company. Rookie group after rookie group have debuted in the past, but none of them have stuck out to the public. They were all waiting for you to come back, whenever that may be.

“Maybe I should just go solo,” you whisper wistfully to yourself, but the image of your three other members staring at you in betrayal is the only thing holding you back.

It would have been easy, too. As the main vocalist in the group, you could potentially survive if your group were to disband. With numerous songwriting and producing credits under your belt, you could definitely stay afloat for another year or so.

These thoughts have been burdening your mind for months now, but you have tried your best to hide this from your members. Perhaps the stress of speaking with Namjoon is what allowed your walls to crumble, making your internal conflict clear as day on your face. Contrary to how you had acted in front of your superior, you actually did feel the strain of your hiatus. Your members were itching to return to the limelight, especially since all of them lived and breathed performance. You hated going home everyday, their eyes sparkling with hope for news of a comeback, only for it to fizzle out as quickly as it had come.

With all this mind, you suppose you shouldn’t have been all that surprised when you arrive back in your dorm that afternoon, your three sisters are sitting forlornly in the living room, waiting for you to arrive.

“What’s with the impromptu meeting? Did Sooyoung clog the toilet again?” You try to joke, but there is no sign of mirth in the eldest’s eyes. Sooyoung clearly means business if she can’t even bother cracking a smile; the kind leader has never looked so dark.

“Y/N. We need to talk,” Sooyoung says. The two younger girls nod in tandem, their head bobbing like pendulums on a taut string. You feel sweat beginning to form on your palms.

“I know what you guys are want to say and I get it. We all want a comeback. Do you think I don’t want to return to the stage? To perform in front of thousands of fans?” You can’t help yourself for immediately going into defensive mode. It feels like you were being cornered by a pack of hyenas, as you were certain they had gathered here to gang up on you. Your worst fears are getting realized, and the thought of going solo passes your mind for the second time that day.

“You sure aren’t acting like it,” Hana murmurs, but the maknae stomps on her feet to silence her. Hana yelps in shock, pouting sulkily.

“Shut up, Hana,” Gowon warns, her normally bright face marred with a deep frown. She turns to you, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, Y/N… She didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “Yeah? If she didn’t mean it, then why the hell are you all sitting here just waiting to attack me?”

“We’re not here to attack you, Y/N. Stop overreacting,” Hana says, rolling her eyes. She yelps again, rubbing her arm petulantly where she had been slapped, but Gowon’s face is an indomitable fortress. For once, you wonder what your maknae would do if she were truly pissed off.

“Y/N, we just wanted to ask if you needed any… help?” Sooyoung tries, brows furrowed in concentration. It is obvious that she is choosing her words slowly, as if she is afraid to startle you off like a deer. “Like, I know none of us are even half as good at producing like you, but if you need someone to take the wheel instead…”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” you say, voice edged with ice. You had not meant to say that as coldly as you did, but you couldn’t help that the stress was talking for you. Hana’s face goes dark in an instant.

“Oh? Does little miss producer have her shit together? Because at the very least, you’d think you would have some work to show for it,” she mocks, irises dancing with flames. Gowon tries to get her to shut up, but the elder seems to have a lot more to say.

“You think we don’t know what you do in that studio of yours? Sooyoung-unnie looked through your hard drive and found hundreds of unfinished samples. Hundreds! If you’re so good at your damn job, then I don’t see why you can’t finish even one of your stupid––”

Before you realize it, your palm is stinging with heat as the two other girls stare in shock at Hana’s reddening cheek. Hana stares at you too, mouth opening in shock rather than in pain. You raise your hands up in surrender, appalled by your own actions. The silence is a blanket, suffocating the air out of your lungs as the two of you are locked in a heavy stalemate. Then, she scoffs.

“Oh, is that all you got? Not even an excuse? If you can’t even defend yourself, I don’t even know why I’m bothering to listen,” she says, standing up to leave. Gowon tries to tug her back down, but she swats the younger’s hand away. “Sorry Gowonnie. I know you care a lot for Y/N, but I can’t care for someone who doesn’t even care for us,” she hisses. The slam of her bedroom door reverberates across the dorm, rattling your bones.

With Hana gone, Sooyoung sighs deeply, rubbing her temples not unlike the way Namjoon had done earlier that day. You hate yourself for not noticing the deeper lines forming across her forehead, too.

“Y/N. We know that you are very proud of your work, and that you’re trying your best. We really do. But it wouldn’t hurt if you could at least… be transparent with us.”

You snort, disbelief coloring your face at Sooyoung’s audacity. “I can’t believe you can say that with a straight face after you looked through my stuff without permission.”

Sooyoung has the decency to look guilty. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You left your studio door open once and well… I was just curious, you know? You never talk about your music process with us, and the girls and I were wondering if you actually… still cared.”

The sadness in her voice quickly dispels any dredges of anger still left in your body. Sighing in defeat, you haphazardly throw your tired body where Hana had been sitting. With the cool leather of the couch enveloping you in a hug, it is only then that you notice how incredibly weary you felt.

“I know. I’m sorry, I really am,” you murmur, closing your eyes so you don’t have to see their disappointed faces. You can feel Sooyoung’s soft hands carding themselves through your hair. “I just… I’m trying so hard to make an album for you guys but it’s just so difficult because I have to think about charting on Billboard and adjusting beats to the choreographies…”

“We understand, unnie.” Gowon says softly, patting your knee. “And believe me, it’s all thanks to you that we were able to win seven times during our last comeback. We don’t always have to beat our last record, you know? I’m sure the fans will love anything you put out.”

“I know,” you sniffle, allowing a few tears to escape. The same gentle hands leave your hair to wipe them away. “But I still don’t wanna disappoint you all…”

“You won’t, Y/N. We’re all very proud of you,” Sooyoung says, wrapping her arms around you. Gowon joins soon after, and you feel guilty for allowing yourself to believe them. You don’t deserve their patience––not after all the grief you had inadvertently put them through.

“I doubt Hana feels the same way,” you laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a creaky door more than anything.

Gowon pinches your cheek lightly. “Ah, she’ll get around. You know how she gets when things don’t go her way. I’d say we were all itching to slap her once or twice in our life.”

The three of you laugh, only feeling slightly bad for bad-mouthing the poor girl. As grumpy as the younger girl might be, all of you still love her despite her faults.

“Y/N-unnie? I have a suggestion, actually.” Gowon says, once the laughter had died down. You hum, raising your eyebrow at her.

“Yeah? Do you want to help me write some songs?”

Gowon shakes her head, waving her hands in embarrassment. “No! Well, I do, but that’s not what I wanted to suggest,” she says, rubbing her neck nervously. You squint at her, curious as to what has gotten the younger feeling too anxious to say.

“Do you think that maybe… a vacation might do you well?” she says, almost too quietly. You think you must have misheard her, and judging by the way she pouts back at you, the confusion must have been visible on your face.

“I said, you need a vacation, unnie. A real one, and not one that will get filmed for a reality show or something,” she repeats, firmer this time. From the corner of your eye, you can see Sooyoung nodding in agreement.

“That’s a great idea, Gowon. Y/N, I think you need a little break from all the stress. Perhaps you can get inspiration during your time away from work,” Sooyoung adds. You turn to face the eldest, eyebrows reaching your hairline at the fact that she was even agreeing to such a terrible idea.

“It’s not a terrible idea, for your information,” Gowon huffs, seemingly having read your mind. “Out of all of us, I think you deserve to relax and learn how to have fun.”

You splutter indignantly, somewhat offended at Gowon’s frank admission. “I know how to have fun! I bought a rice cooker last week with a coupon from the newspaper. I saved $20!”

“Oh my God,” Sooyoung laughs, shoulders shaking with mirth. “How the fuck are you younger than me, ahjumma?”

“This is what I’m saying,” Gowon deadpans, flicking your forehead. You yelp, rubbing the area with a pout. What is it with this girl and doing bodily harm on her members? “When I mean fun, I meant regular, young adult stuff. Shit like…”

“Going to karaoke! Watching movies! Travelling! Spa treatments! Reading books!” Sooyoung lists, bouncing up and down in her seat. If you hadn’t known better, it is as if Sooyoung was planning her own vacation instead.

“Maybe sex?” Gowon adds, and that earns a strangled cough from you.

“Gowon!” You yell, slapping the giggling maknae in the back. “Who told you about the s word?”

“Learned from the best,” she says coyly, earning another slap from you. “Ouch! Okay, I’m joking. But I have to admit, Sooyoung-unnie has some good ideas. Maybe you should travel or go back home?”

“If the company will even let me,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Do you really think Namjoon-ssi will let me leave when he basically gave me only three months to produce an album? I don’t think so.”

“I’ll make him agree,” Gowon says ominously.

“You’ll make him agree,” you repeat.

“Yup,” she says, a mysterious smile on her lips. “So, since you’re agreeing to my proposal––”

“Who says I’m going?” you interject, but Sooyoung slaps a hand over your mouth, silencing you.

“Hush! I have an idea. You see, one of my old high school classmates owns a spa resort up in the mountains near Busan. It’s super remote, so you don’t even have to worry about being recognized by anyone.” She prattles on, already whipping out her phone to text who knows what. Her fingers are flying at the speed of light, and you try your best to snatch it out of her hands.

When you try to grab it, Gowon holds your arms behind your back, effectively imprisoning you. She points a shit-eating grin at you. “Nu-uh, Y/N. You’re going to relax, even if it fucking kills you. So let Sooyoung and I handle everything, okay? We’ll get Namjoon’s approval tomorrow, and you’ll be off to Busan by the weekend. Sound good?”

No, it did not sound good at all. You have been an idol for five years now, plus your three years working as a trainee. You hardly remember what it felt like to not work, and you can only imagine how bored you’ll be once you get there.

Before you know it, Sooyoung finishes speaking with her classmate, booking a room for three nights. Gowon claps excitedly, already planning to pack for you to lessen your burden. You smile wryly at the two of them because you can’t help but be endeared by their pure enthusiasm.

You go to your room that night, wanting to believe Gowon’s words. Maybe she’s right; all you need is a vacation. When your eyes finally close and your breathing has steadied, you go to sleep believing that everything might turn out okay.

––♡♡♡––

It does not turn out okay, unsurprisingly.

Like Sooyoung had mentioned, the spa is remote, far away from any semblance of city life. It sits halfway up the mountain, where it is said to have the nicest hot spring baths in the country. There is a small town at the bottom of the mountain, which is where the taxi had dropped you off. When you ask him why he can’t drive you all the way to the resort, he shakes his head apologetically.

“Sorry, miss. The roads up to Blue Springs Resort are pretty narrow and I can’t risk going up there at this time of night. You could probably ask one of the locals here to drive you up. Good luck!” He bids you goodbye cheerily, snatching your payment out of your hands and driving off without another word. You stand at the edge of the road, mouth agape at his brazen desertion.

“Fuck me, I guess,” you groan, taking your phone out to try and dial for help. Of course, the reception is horrendous, and you suppress your screams at this terrible turn of events.

“This is all Sooyoung’s fault,” you mutter darkly, dragging your suitcase into the dark town to look for help. It is only 7pm, but it seems like the townsfolk have decided to hit the hay for the night. The shop windows and houses that you pass are all dark, and your dying phone can barely light the way as you try to find any sign of human life that might help you find a place to stay.

After thirty minutes of searching, you are two seconds away from just breaking and entering into some poor bastard’s house when a young man exits his house. He stares at you, with your sweat matted hair and scuffed luggage, and you have half the mind to wonder if there were any traces of ketchup on your lips, leftover from the hotdog you had eaten on the way there.

“Hi,” you greet. You raise your hand hesitantly.

He raises his own, incredibly confused. “Uh. Hi?”

“Sorry, I know I look really weird and all, but I was wondering if you could help me find a way to Blue Springs Resort? The taxi I took pretty much left me on the side of the road, and I don’t have anywhere else to stay,” you finish, teeth chattering from the cold. The man’s eyes soften, and he approaches you.

“Oh, that happens sometimes. The resort usually has a shuttle come through here, but I guess it’s too late to call them now,” he explains, “I could drive you there, if you want? I was going to head to the city, so I could drop you off first before heading out.”

You can hardly believe your ears, unsure whether you could trust this man’s goodness or not. “Are you sure? I’m not bothering you, am I? Also, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I don’t really feel safe going inside a stranger’s car.”

The man laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, I get you. If it makes you feel any better, I actually work at this town’s local police station. I can show you my badge in my car, if you want,” he says, rubbing his neck shyly. “My name is Jungkook, by the way. Officer Jungkook, usually, but I’m off duty so feel free to drop the title.”

You grin, charmed by his little awkward mannerisms. “Nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m Y/N.”

To your relief, his expression doesn’t change at the sound of your name, but you had already figured that he didn’t recognized you from the moment you met. It isn’t like you expected everyone in South Korea to know who you or your band was, but it never hurt to be cautious. You loved your fans, but you never knew what type of things they could do to you.

The two of you jump into his car after he kindly pops his trunk open and takes your luggage from you. He lets you take control of the radio, and the soft sound of some American ballad fills the car as the two of you ride into the night. The drive is silent, save for the music and your occasional humming. True to his word, a police radio and badge are sitting idly on his console, and you half expect it to come to life with news of some incident or whatnot.

Jungkook notices your curious gaze, and he grins at you. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m off duty, so I doubt I’ll be getting any calls. Besides, hardly anything happens in this sleepy town, so I’d be surprised if that radio would light up, even when I’m on patrol.”

“Not to be offensive, but doesn’t it get boring around these parts? With nothing happening?” you ask, lightly fingering the radio and badge in fascination.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Boring is safe, I suppose. That’s what my chief always says. Besides, it isn’t entirely quiet. There are always reports of crashes around the mountains because the roads are so difficult to maneuver. Speaking of…” he trails off, his driving growing increasingly slow as the path begins to grow narrow. “Gotta be careful. The mayor has been working to get railways around these roads, but funding it pretty tight. It’s particularly dangerous at night.”

You watch, tense as his grip grows tighter on the wheel. You are starting to get worried that Jungkook might accelerate off the cliff, but he manages to offer you a shaky smile in assurance. “Don’t worry, miss. I’m a good driver, and I’m used to these parts. Just gotta make it past this one particularly nasty turn and––”

He goes silent, brow furrowed in concentration as you arrive at the aforementioned turn. He slows the car to a crawl, inching his way around the sharp edge when the radio suddenly switches the song from a love ballad to an energetic pop song. The sudden noise startles Jungkook, and he jams his foot straight down on the pedal.

You scream, clutching your seatbelt as the car revs forward and for a brief moment––you are flying. Your stomach flies to your throat as you feel nothing but weightlessness, and you think you can hear Jungkook cursing obscenities as he tries to pull the break but––nothing.

The car drops, crashing like a tin can against a large tree. Pain blooms all across your body, and you want nothing more than to scream, but no sound would come out. In the edges of your consciousness, you can still hear the radio playing, the sound of your own sweet melodious voice being the last thing you remember before your world fades to black.

––♡♡♡––

Everything hurts. Scratch that––it feels like there were broken shards of glass that had a physical vendetta against your vital organs inside of you. You swear that there are weights attached to your eyelids, and it feels like hours until you can finally get them to open.

The first thing you notice is that it’s bright. The room (“A bedroom,” you murmur, noticing the bedside table and closet near the door. There is an electronic keyboard gathering dust in the corner too.) is filled with sunlight, the small window on your right devoid of any curtains. The sheets smell like lavender, and there are at least two pillows underneath your head. When you try to move, your body screams in protest as a sharp pain throbs somewhere on your torso.

Craning your neck, you gingerly peel the blanket off your body, and even then the effort is too much. When you successfully pull everything off, you are bombarded with the sight of bandages everywhere. You look like those discount mummy costumes, the ones that no one bought and are always sold for a third of its original price. You must have jostled one of your wounds while you were shifting, and you watch with morbid fascination as red starts to bloom across your stomach.

You think you are going to be sick.

Panic surges through your bones and you feel the desperate urge to get out of bed––for what reason, you do not know. It isn’t like you could go anywhere in your condition, but you just needed to do something. You don’t know where you are, or what happened, or even what day it is. You need to get out of here––

Suddenly, the door opens, and a man with blonde hair and droopy eyes enters with a cup of tea in hand. He yelps in surprise when he sees you, one leg already off the bed as you were still in the middle of your panic-induced escape. He rushes towards you, and gently pushes you back onto the bed.

“Hey, hey… Relax. You’re going to hurt yourself if you move too much,” he says, his tone soft and calming. Your heartbeat refuses to relax, and you must have looked crazed to the young man. He places the cup of tea by the table, and firmly tucks the blanket back over your body.

“Oh damn. I think your stitches might have opened… I’ll have to clean that up later,” he murmurs. He reaches behind you to fluff up your pillows, and you catch a whiff of his lavender body soap. He sits by your side, a worried look marring his soft features. He places a hand on your head and asks, “Y/N, does your head hurt? I’m not all that good with head injuries, so I’m not sure if I bandaged it correctly… I tried researching techniques, but I’m worried I didn’t do it right…”

His words feel like cotton in your ears, but you manage to catch the first part of his sentence. “Wait, how do you know my name?” You ask, voice sounding hoarse after hours (days?) of misuse. The man notices, and offers you his cup of tea. You try to wrap your hands around it, but even your fingers are wrapped in bandages. You notice there is a splint on your index finger, and you let out a sob at the sight. How would you be able to play the piano now?

Pitying you, Jimin brings the cup to your lips and lets you drink. The tea scalds your tongue, but your sandpaper throat accepts it with open arms. He places the empty cup by the table before answering your question. “My name is Jimin. I’m the owner of Blue Spring Resorts. I was a friend of Sooyoung back in high school.”

At the mention of Sooyoung and the resort, memories of the previous night floods your mind. You remember how the car had driven off the side of the road, the feeling of weightlessness and dread filling you like poison. You remember the sound of music playing as you slipped in and out of consciousness. You remember––

“Jungkook,” you say, gripping the man’s arm with frightening strength. He holds your hand, alarmed. “Jungkook,” you repeat, tears welling in your eyes. “Where?”

“Jungkook? Who’s Jungkook?” Jimin asks, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. You push his hand away, and shake his arm more urgently.

“He––he was in the car, with me. He was the one driving me to this resort when he accidentally drove off the cliff. He––where is he?” You stutter, words flying out of your mouth quicker than you can process. Luckily, Jimin seems to understand the gist of your babbling.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. When I found you on the side of the cliff, I only saw your body under the mangled car. I didn’t bother checking further, because I was more concerned with getting you back to safety,” he explains, tears springing in his eyes from guilt. Your heart drops. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to get you out of there.”

Tears flow freely down your cheeks as you sob, a loud wail escaping you as you think about the sweet police officer who was probably dead on the side of the road. Jimin wraps an arm around you, rubbing your shoulder as you choked on your sins.

“I––I can go check again later. I was meaning to head back to town to shuttle some more customers to the resort until I saw your car…” he says, lips pursing. “I can also go back to salvage whatever I can…” he offers, and you nod sadly, already weary despite having just woken up.

He gazes at you sadly, unfurling your fingers off of his arm and putting them back onto your lap. He does not berate you for the small nail marks you had left against his honey skin. “Go to sleep, Y/N. I'll be back by nightfall. Get some rest."

Soon after he had made sure your blankets and pillows are at their optimal position, you fall into a fitful sleep, your heart feeling heavier than it did before.

––♡♡♡––

Just as he had promised, he returns later that night. You had awakened when you heard the faint sound of a door slamming shut, the anxiety starting to build until Jimin's fluffy blonde head peaks out from behind the bedroom door.

He smiles apologetically, clicking the door shut as he enters the room quietly. "Sorry, did my arrival awaken you?" he says, sitting beside your form. He notices your breathing relax at his proximity, and the grin spreads like wildfire on his face.

"It's fine. I was going to wake up soon, anyway," you say, voice still warbled with grogginess. He smiles, patting your knee before standing up once more.

"I'm gonna get you some water and food," he says when he notices your curious gaze. "Also, I passed by the wreckage again, and..." he trails off, sounding worried for your reaction. You steel yourself, and you try your best to look like you weren't about to burst into tears at any moment.

"There wasn't anyone there," he says, finally. You freeze, confused by his admission.

"What?"

"It's true," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "I tried looking everywhere, even around the vicinity of the crash. All I found was the car and your things."

You deflate at the news, but you can't help the remaining dredges of hope beginning to resurrect in your heart. Maybe he had escaped and had run off to get help, or at least you wished.

"Did you try contacting the police? Jungkook mentioned that he was part of the police force."

An odd look flashes across his face, but it leaves before you can decipher it. He coughs awkwardly, rubbing his nose. "Uh, yes. I contacted the police about the crash a few days ago, and they said they would be focusing on looking for that Jungkook fella. For now, I'll take care of you until you can safely return to town."

If his reasoning sounds odd, you don't question it. You are too busy grieving Jungkook that you can barely think for yourself. Jimin rubs your shoulder, before turning to leave and fetch your belongings.

When he returns, he brings the remains of what was once your black suitcase. He places them by your side, riffling through the things he salvaged from the wreckage. "I tried taking some of your clothes and toiletries, but I'm afraid your laptop was crushed completely," he says, placing your folded clothes beside you. When he takes out the ruined laptop in question, and you gaze at it with empty acceptance.

It isn't the end of the world, you suppose. You saved most of your photos and music online and in your work computer, so all is not lost. To your surprise, however, Jimin pulls out another small black object from his bag and hands it to you.

"My hard drive survived?" You stare at it in wonder, turning it over in your hands delicately. You ignored the pain in your fingers as you clutch the small object to your chest, tear ducts starting to burn. You give Jimin a grateful look. "Thank you for everything," you whisper.

Jimin's cheeks turn a brilliant shade of pink, eyes downturned in sudden embarrassment. "I-it's no big deal," he stammers, twiddling his thumbs. You chuckle, pinching his cheeks endearingly.

"No, really. You did so much for me when I've done nothing to deserve it. You even bandaged me up, which I have no idea how you managed, by the way."

Somehow, Jimin's cheeks darken even further. The color spreads like wildfire, inking the delicate skin of his neck and ears. "I, um... About that..." He coughs awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you. You raise your eyebrows in question.

"Yeah? You didn't do anything weird right? I'm not gonna get out of here with an extra foot, am I?" You joke, and it seems to have made Jimin loosen up slightly.

He shakes his head, a small grin on his lips. "No, of course not. But I did have to undress you, and uh..." He trails off once more, unable to finish his sentence. You feel blood start to rush to your face as well, but you try your best to seem unfazed by his confession. Clearing your throat, you pat his shoulder as nonchalantly as you can.

"I would hope so. Bandages wouldn't exactly work if I had clothes underneath them, wouldn't you say?" You quip, and your ears are blessed with the pleasant sound of his tinkling laughter. You feel your breathing stop, and you wonder if it would be weird if you could ask him to do it again.

"Cute," you eventually say, which probably isn't any less embarrassing than your previous intrusive thought. The blood vessels around Jimin's face must be working on overtime right now, but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad when he looked so damn cute.

"Me? You must be mistaken... You're the cute one here," he squeaks. He must have only belatedly realize what he had said because he slaps a hand over his mouth in shock, screaming slightly muffled by his hands. "Oh my Gooood I did not just say that!"

You let out a loud laugh, the action agitating your dry throat but you can't help but do it anyway. He takes a peek at you from behind his hands, eyes wide in awe.

"Your laugh is even prettier in person," he says absentmindedly, before slapping his hand over his mouth again. "Fuck! I mean––"

"In person?" You question, peering at him inquisitively.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders, sheepish. "I'm, uh... a bit of a fan of yours, I guess? When I found out that Sooyoung had joined a girl group all those years ago, I couldn't help myself from researching you guys and I supposed you've caught me in your spell ever since," he confesses, the redness in his cheeks never fading. "You could say that you're my..."

"I'm your favorite?" You finish, smiling cheekily. He nods back, his mortification palpable. Taking pity on him, you choose not to tease him and instead ask, "Speaking of Sooyoung, do you mind lending me your phone? I want to call her to tell her I'm alright."

"Oh, there's no signal out here, unfortunately," Jimin explains, frowning. "However, I do have a landline you could use, but it's too far away... I could call her for you, if you'd like?"

"That would be great, thanks." You say, grabbing his hand gratefully. Jimin stills, allowing your bandaged fingers to caress the calluses on his palms. "I mean it when I say that, you know? I owe you my life."

Jimin swallows, hands shaking as he laces his fingers through yours. Poor kid must be nervous being with his idol, you think to yourself, impossibly endeared by this lovely boy.

His smile is as sweet as his voice. "Anything for you, Y/N."

––♡♡♡––

After that, Jimin brings you some dinner. He bashfully admits that he isn't the best cook around, and he'd normally ask one of the chefs at the resort to cook something up but they were all incredibly busy due to the influx of customers. When he spoon-feeds you some of the kimchi stew, your eyes light up from the explosion of flavor on your tongue.

"This is wonderful, Jimin!' You exclaim, mouth already opening for the next spoonful. Jimin chuckles at your enthusiasm, beaming proudly as his favorite idol sings praises over his cooking.

The two of you spend the remainder of the night getting to know each other. You ask him a myriad of questions, mostly about his job and the resort. You find out that he had inherited this place after his father had passed away, despite his initial dreams of becoming a singer. You apologize for prying, but he shakes your concern away.

"Nah, it happened years ago. It's fine," he says, his eyes crinkling from the intensity of his smile. You can't help your face from mirroring his own, despite noticing the slight sadness tinging his tone. "Besides, I love my job. I get to meet lots of interesting people like you."

"You're just saying that because you're my fan. I'm not interesting," you say, cheeks dusted with pink. Jimin shakes his head, and you're almost worried that he might dislodge his head from how violently he moves.

"No! You're amazing! All your fans and members know that you're amazingly talented. The songs you write are so incredibly deep and meaningful, and you've helped a lot of them go through some tough times––me included," he admits. You gaze sadly at him, knowing that he isn't the first one to share this with you.

"I know... But I haven't been all that good at writing these days. In fact, the only reason I came out to this resort was to get some inspiration..."

Jimin stares at you, a look of concern in his irises and something... else. When you look closer, all you see are his shiny brown eyes gazing back at you. "I'm sure you'll be fine. You're the amazing Y/N. I'm sure anything you write will be fantastic."

You doubt it, but you nod your head anyway to appease him.

"Since you said you wanted to be a singer, maybe I'll write a song for you in the future," you say, laughing lightly when he stares at you incredulously. He points at himself, as if uncertain that you were talking about the same person.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I was talking about you, silly."

He shakes his head, disbelief coloring his face but you don't miss the way a slight blush has invaded his honey skin. "For me? But I'm a nobody. You don't even know if I can sing well."

"I think you'd be a great singer, Jimin. You've got a nice, soothing voice," you say, shameless.

"Stop teasing me," he says, pouting in such an adorable way that you can't help but continue teasing him.

"I'll write a song for you, Park Jimin," you say, unaware of the weight of your promise slowly finding its way around your neck. “I swear on my life.”

Even if you had no intention of fulfilling that promise or not, it is definitely worth seeing the way a soft smile blossoms across Jimin's cherubic features.

"By the way Y/N, I had been meaning to ask... You don't have to answer by the way, but..." he starts, hesitant to continue. Judging from his sudden shift in demeanor, you have a feeling you already know what he's going to ask, anyway.

"You're going to ask about the comeback, right?"

Jimin's face lights up immediately. "Yeah! So, it's happening soon, right? We've all been waiting since November of last year, so I was wondering..."

You shrug your shoulders noncommittally. "I guess... But like I said, I haven't been writing as well as I'd like, so I don't know how soon it'll happen but... Yeah, it's in the works."

Jimin sighs as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank God... I've been arguing with people on Twitter who had been making weird rumors that you guys were going to disband... I knew you guys would never do that, right?" he says, eyes sparkling with pure adoration.

You swallow down your guilt, unable to bear looking at his hopeful face. You croak, "Yeah. We would never."

Two nights pass quickly as you lay in Jimin's cabin to recover. You had learned that he had placed you in his room because it was comfier than the guest rooms, and when you had insisted to be moved, he quickly shut you down, assuring you that he was perfectly fine with letting you stay as long as you needed. You acquiesce, pouting as the young man practically babied you and attended to your every beck and call.

You know he means well, and it isn't like you were averse to the attention being showered upon you by this handsome boy. So you allow yourself to be pampered just this once; after all, you were supposed to be at a spa resort.

"Speaking of," Jimin says after he finishes feeding you your lunch. "I wanted to offer you something, if you don't mind." You hum, eyelids closing from the blissful feeling of being well-fed.

"What do you think about having a massage?"

That wakes you right back up.

"What?" You ask, gaping slightly at the young man. Jimin, who had been previously emboldened by your satiated state, is sweating bullets, astonished by his own brazenness.

He tries to backtrack. "Uh, you can say no, of course. I was just, well, since we're at a spa and such, and it just so happens that I happen to be a licensed masseur, and uh––"

"I'd love one, if you don't mind."

"And just, I mean––wait? You want one?" He splutters, plump cheeks turning pink. You tap them gently, giggling when they redden under your attention. God, you wanted so badly to kiss them and see if they were as soft under your lips as they were under your hands.

"Yeah. I mean, my company did pay for this trip, and I'm supposed to be here to relax, so I might as well take advantage of the situation," you say plainly.

Jimin nods dumbly, semi-disbelieving that you had agreed so easily. He assures you that he'll be careful, the both of you still worried about your injuries. He says that he'll pay more attention to your shoulders and  upper legs, since those seem to be the only areas where you aren't severely wounded.

He turns you over gently, a continuous stream of apologies leaving his mouth every time you let out even the slightest hiss of pain. With your back fully exposed to him, he carefully peels your the night shirt off of you, and you can only imagine the way his cheeks must be reddening all the while. Thankfully, he leaves your shorts on as he goes about to preparing the materials for the massage.

"Tell me if I'm being too rough, okay?" he says, and you can hear him opening the cap of massage oil. After a few moments, you feel his steady hands start kneading soft circles into your shoulders, and a sigh escapes you before you can stop it.

Jimin chuckles lightly. "Good?"

"Wonderful," you sigh, feeling the tense knots from months of stress starting to unravel under his skilled fingers. A particularly hard press of his fingers elicits a loud moan from you, and you whimper when his fingers freeze abruptly.

"Why'd you stop?" You whined, nudging his thigh with your foot. You can't see Jimin's face, so you are unsure as to why he had stopped so suddenly.

"N-nothing," he stammers, and he continues on as if nothing had happened.

Under his care, you release a litany of moans and whimpers, unable to stop yourself from enjoying the smooth glide of his hands. In the edges of your pleasure-addled brain, you wonder what would have happened if your body hadn't been seriously injured. You can imagine how his hands would descend lower down your back and onto your hips, pressing dangerously close to your center but never quite reaching it. You squeeze your legs, hoping that Jimin doesn't notice that your moans might have started sounding a little bit more erotic than before.

As if reading your mind, Jimin pauses to clear his throat. "Uh, would you mind if I moved on to your thighs? If you don't want me to touch you there, then..."

You don't know what comes over you. His fingers have you locked under some sort of spell, so you can only whimper pathetically back in response. He takes that as a sign of approval, and the next thing you know, you feel him grabbing fistfuls of your thighs.

"Oh fuck," you moan out, your voice loud in the silence of the room. Jimin's ministrations quicken, almost as if he was trying to milk the sounds out of you. Somewhere along the way, you moan something that sounds suspiciously like "Jimin," a fact that the man greatly appreciates.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Jimin groans, his thumbs snagging onto the edges of your shorts. He tugs them down slightly, and you feel your lower regions light up like wildfire. You lift your hips imperceptibly, but it's enough for Jimin to wrench your flimsy shorts out of the way, leaving you bare for him and his hands.

Breathing heavier than before, Jimin takes a moment to calm himself. He rubs himself against the edge of the bed, biting his lip as he tries to keep his own moans at bay.

"Touch me," you whine, snaking your hand around your back and grabbing his wrist in impatience. You direct him directly to your center, the both of you gasping at the wetness already there. Jimin experimentally swipes a finger up your slit, gazing in awe as your slick mixes with the oil already on his digits.

Ever the gentleman, he asks, "Can I really...?"

You think you might be going insane from his indomitable patience. "Yes! Just fucking finger me already, Jimin," you gasp, feeling his fingers rubbing small circles around your clit. He teases you like this for a few moments, and you're about to sneak your hand down there to take care of it yourself when you hear the sound of a phone ringing from downstairs.

Jimin pauses, removing his hands from your core and leaving you feeling cold and wanting. You manage to turn your head to the side, and you see Jimin looking torn as he stares at you and the door.

"I have to..." His voices tapers off, a war waging in his warm brown eyes. "Customers, and..."

Even though you would love nothing more than for him to finish you off, you of all people understand the importance of work. "Go," you say, offering him what you hope is a comforting smile.

He gives you one last rueful look before he leaves, the sound of the door closing echoing in your skull.

"Fucking hell," you groan, your treacherous hands trailing down your body after his departure. When you reach your climax to the image of blonde hair and plump cheeks, you trick yourself into thinking your fingers were not your own.

––♡♡♡––

"I don't think I can keep staying here anymore, Jimin."

The weather has turned colder overnight, and Jimin has to reinstall the curtains back onto his bedroom window. You had been stuck in this room for a week already, with only Jimin as your only source of comfort.

You would always be grateful for the kind man's hospitality, but sitting in a room for days on end was starting to get to your head. You didn't really see yourself as the type to get cabin fever, since you were used to being cooped up in the studio for even longer periods of time. But you suppose there is a difference, since you couldn't even properly make music here with Jimin always staring down your neck at every opportunity. At the very least, your days spent here have done wonders on your stress, as it has given you the time to ponder and contemplate some of pressing your life choices.

"Oh? But you're not fully healed though," he comments dismissively, collecting the plates and utensils you had used for dinner that night. You thank him quietly, but he doesn't respond to it like he normally would. He places them by your bedside before tucking you under your blanket until only your head can be seen.

"Yeah, I know but I think I should be well enough to head back home, don't you think?"

"Maybe in a few more days," he says, refusing to look you in the eyes. When you grab his shoulder to force him to pay attention to you, his gaze is still averted to the ground.

"Jimin."

"Y/N."

"Why won't you look at me?"

Jimin finally does, and you are surprised by the amount of sadness that you find. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just... worried? I don't want to risk taking you down this mountain and having you get injured again..."

"I won't though, right? You're used to driving down the mountain. I trust you," you say, honeying your words to try and get him to agree. It must have worked, judging from the way his shoulders droop in defeat.

"Yeah, I guess. But maybe after the weekend? It's a bit busy at the resort this week, so you'll have to wait until Monday."

Squealing at the prospect of going home, you envelop the man in a bone-crushing hug, ignoring the way your stomach protests at the sudden movement. "Thank you so much, Jimin. You don't understand how hard it's been being away from home, but I'm glad it was you who I got to spend this time with," you say.

Jimin smiles, patting your back. "Of course. Anything for you––"

"What's more, my time here has allowed me to really think about my life, you know?" You interject, prattling on as if he hadn't spoken. He furrows his brow, looking at you curiously.

"What do you mean about your life?"

"Oh, you know. I know that I said that I came here to write songs for Serendipity's comeback, but I actually came here to think about my own solo career," you say, shrugging your shoulders. You miss the way Jimin's entire body freezes as you continue on speaking. "I've been thinking about the pros and cons of what would happen if I actually did leave the band, and suffice to say I think it really would be for the best if I left the group. I was never the favorite member anyway, so I think it would be best if––"

"No."

"––I left the company and––excuse me?" You pause, finally noticing the rigid way Jimin was sitting. You stare at him, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. "What do you mean by 'no?'"

"I mean, you can't fucking just leave the band, Y/N," he snarls, standing up and beginning to pace around the room. You sit up on the bed, feeling on edge at this sudden appearance of a Jimin you had never met before.

"Of course I can. My contract is about to end in a year anyway, so it's not like the company can force me to stay––"

"What about your fucking promise then, huh? Was all of that bullshit?" Jimin roars, the volume of his voice startling you immensely.

"What promise?" You squeak when he slams a fist into the bed frame, rattling your entire mattress from the force.

He raises his hands in the air, unperturbed by the purple bruise already forming across his fist. "Of course you don't remember! It's because you were lying. You were lying to all of us."

"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"On your first win, don't you remember? You made a promise that Serendipity would never disband, not even when you turned 50," he says, breathing turning ragged with rage. He stalks his way towards you, and you try your best to burrow yourself under the covers.

"Well, things change okay? The Y/N from 5 years ago probably didn't know she would be neck deep in stress to the point where she thinks she's going to die, okay? I thought you, as my fan, would understand that my well-being should come first," you say, your voice growing louder as you realized the ridiculousness of this situation. Who the hell did Jimin think he was? Who gave him the right to be angry when you were only doing what was best for you? "Hell, you wanted to be singer, didn't you? You should understand better than anyone how difficult it is to always be under public scrutiny!"

The sneer on Jimin's face is feral-looking, almost murderous. "No, I don't. I don't understand."

Before you can react, he goes to slam the door shut, the sound of the lock clicking in place. The final nail on your coffin. No matter how hard you twist the knob or bang your hands against the door, no one would come. No one could hear you.

––♡♡♡––

Jimin doesn't visit your room once in over three days. That means he has stopped giving you food and water, purposefully starving you until you bend to his will. He had only slipped a small note under the door frame, detailing the conditions for nourishment.

"If you want to live, then you'll write me a song. Prove to me that you don't break your promises."

Easier said than done. Even during a life and death situation, that specific part of your brain refuses to cooperate, and you can hardly write a verse without breaking down and crying.

How pathetic. What type of producer were you, if you couldn't even safe your life by doing the only thing you were supposedly good at?

On the third day, your vision has started to grow hazy from dehydration. You have yet to resort to drinking your own urine, but you were hoping to attempt to satiate Jimin before that. With the lyrics and notes hastily scribbled on a piece of paper, you slide it under the door, waiting for your captor to judge your draft. Never has a song frightened you as much as this, and you laugh mirthlessly at how you had been worried about charting just a week prior.

You hear his footsteps approaching, and you wait with bated breath as the rustle of paper signals that he has begun to read your song. You hold your breath, the seconds feeling like decades as you wait for him to pass his judgment.

The lock clicks. The door opens.

Jimin, with his blonde hair and plump cheeks, crumples the paper in his hands without a word. He rips the paper in shreds, and you watch in horror as he grinds his foot into the sorry remains of your draft.

"Nice try, but I know this song. I listened to the songs on your hard drive all those nights ago, and I know this is a draft for a solo song," he says, grinning sadistically at the sight of your face crumpling in despair. While you are still in the midst of mourning your one chance of escape, he walks past your kneeling form, grabbing something from the bedside table.

When you look, you see the small black hard drive in his hands. He waves it at you, almost mockingly, before slamming it onto the ground––hard. He stomps on it, grinding his foot onto it just like he had done to your draft just minutes ago. You scream, jumping to save your precious hard drive from further harm––but alas. It is too late.

Bits of wire and shards of plastic are all that's left of your entire library of secret solo songs. These are the files you hadn't saved to your studio computer in fear of it being discovered by the wrong people. Years of blood, sweat, and tears––gone.

In an instant, your vision grows red, red, red.

"I'll fucking kill you!" You scream, hurtling your weak body at him with all the power you could muster. Despite his small frame, he is able to wrestle you down quickly, barely breaking a sweat as you squirmed and screamed murder at him. Tear blurred your visions as you tried your best to hurt Jimin in any way you can, but he takes it like it's nothing. Growing tired of your noise, he slams your head against the floor, knocking you unconscious.

––♡♡♡––

When you awaken a day later, you find cuts all over your legs and arms, as well as a strange ache between your legs. You don't even have the energy to let out a sob as you curl back into yourself.

A note by your bedside table:

"Since I took something away from you, I thought it was only fair that I gave you something back in return. Something you will always remember me by."

––♡♡♡––

You keep trying to write songs to please Jimin. As it turns out, anything you churn out will earn you his seal of approval, so long as it is none of the drafts from your old hard drive. Every song you write garners you a meal and cup of water. You don't know what he does with the songs you write, and you honestly don't care. None of the songs have any meaning to you; they are all just strings of words and notes hastily sewn together for the sake of having something to present to Jimin.

Five days since he had broken your hard drive, and you have written almost twenty songs in that time frame. "Enough songs for an album," you mutter darkly to yourself, staring forlornly out the window. Some time during your confinement, Jimin had installed metal bars across the window, leaving you no means of escape––or death.

You were his own personal music box.

In the distance, a police siren blares. Your ears perk up, straining your eyes to find any signs of an approaching car. To your incredible joy, you can see the telltale signs of a blue and red light growing closer to the cabin. You start hammering on the windows, hoping for them to notice you, but your cries are unfortunately unheard from the third floor. You watch, hopeless as two police officers jump out of the car and towards the front door. From your perch, you cannot see their faces, but you think you can see one of them dragging their foot with a light limp.

Pressing your ear against the floor, you try your hardest to listen to their conversation, but Jimin has always talked in very hushed tones. You catch the sound of a deeper voice, loud enough to hear but not enough to decipher his words. There is another voice, but this one is slightly familiar. You pound your fists against the floorboards, but neither of the police officers seem to have noticed.

You try your best to scream for help, but your voice is too hoarse from hours of crying yourself to sleep. You punch the floor in misery, despair wracking your body as another chance to escape slips through your fingers for the second time.

Your gaze catches on the keyboard in the corner of you room. You had forgotten about its presence, largely unable to use it due to some of your fingers still being broken. You plug the thing in, raising the volume to its highest setting and testing it out to find that it was much louder than you had anticipated.

Despite the insistent throbbing of your fingers, you begin to play.

––♡♡♡––

"What's that sound?" Officer Yoongi says, turning back just as Jimin was about to usher him out the door. Jimin huffs in annoyance, but his face melts back into its usual sunshine-y way when the officer stares at him expectantly.

"Oh, probably my guest. She likes playing the piano during this time of day," he replies smoothly. Officer Jungkook limps back into the house, peering at his chief curiously.

"Chief? What are you waiting for? We still have other houses to search," he says.

"I recognize this song," Officer Yoongi replies, humming slightly as the piano's haunting melody echoes throughout the house. "I used to play piano back in the day. I think this is Schubert."

"Shoe who?" Officer Jungkook laughs, the mirth dying in his eyes when he sees the concentrated look on his chief's face. "Yoongi-hyung?" He questions once more.

"Nothing," he finally says, his gaze still turned upward in thought. He waves absentmindedly at Jimin. "Sorry for intruding. Like Jungkook said, we still have other houses to search. Let us know if you hear news about Y/N."

"No problem," Jimin says sweetly, shutting the door firmly on their way out.

When the car reaches the bottom of the mountain, it is only then when Yoongi remembers. "Erlkönig. That's the song," he says.

Something stirs uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

––♡♡♡––

Days have passed and it takes longer for you to produce enough songs to feed yourself. Malnourished and severely weak, you pass out almost consistently, unable to keep awake long enough to even leave the bed to write. After the fourteenth day, you suppose Jimin must have taken pity on you, because suddenly you find yourself submerged in a warm bath with his gentle hands rubbing soap all over your body.

You might have tried resisting, or you might have not. It’s hard to remember the details, even while it is happening You are too weak to even speak, allowing this wretched man to wash you without struggle. He rubs at your breasts and thighs, his fingers grazing your core teasingly, but you feel nothing. You are a living corpse, waiting for your captor to let you rot in peace.

"This must feel good, huh? After weeks of leaving you in your own filth... See? I can be forgiving too," he murmurs, fingers rubbing circles over your slit.

Your tired eyes can barely keep themselves open, but as luck might have it, you manage to see the toilet's porcelain cover is slightly ajar. Perhaps Jimin had been busy repairing the toilet earlier that day––it did not matter. All that matters is that you had one final chance to escape right under your fingertips, and you'd be damned if you wouldn't try one last time before completely submitting yourself to your fate.

I will not die. I will not die. I will not die.

You chant these words incessantly into your head until it is all you can hear, see, feel. Jimin turns his head for a moment to get more soap, and in that moment, you are filled with enough energy to grab the porcelain slab and slam it against his head. Jimin crumbles against the impact, his body folding in agony as he cradles his head in pain.

You swing it again and again, aiming for his head every time until he moved no longer.

"And stay fucking dead," you finish, dropping the chipped slab onto his unmoving carcass.

Adrenaline continues to pump through your veins as you slump back into the tub, the gravity of what you had done still keeping your mind on overdrive. After a few more minutes of heavy breathing, you manage to pull yourself out of the tub. You shrug on your shirt and pants, limping haphazardly out of the door.

When you go to lock the bathroom door, you scream in surprise when Jimin jams his foot in the doorway. Awake and alive, he struggles to go into a sitting position, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. You slam the door repeatedly over his foot, but he manages to hold the door open enough to pull himself up.

"You bitch," he growls, blood dripping from his broken skull. You scream louder, desperately pushing his foot out of the way in order to close the door. Despite Jimin's unexpected reanimation, it appears that he is still weak from your brutal battering to his head, so you are able to push his foot out of the doorway and lock the door. To your horror, you can hear his nails scratch against the wood, his cries of anguish sounding warbled and inhuman. You step back, waiting for the door to burst open and for your inevitable death––and it never comes. The scratches stop, the wailing ends, and the house is still.

Finally free of your captor, you run out the front door and take your first breath of fresh air in weeks. With a smile on your face and blood on your hands, you promptly pass out in the middle of the lawn.

––♡♡♡––

You wake up in the back of Jungkook's police car.

"Wha––?" You jolt awake, fear starting to pump through you as you whipped around to survey your surroundings. A large hand pushes you back into your seat, and your eyes focus on the face of a dead man standing.

Well, sitting.

"Y/N, relax! You're safe with us," he whispers, urging you to take deep breaths. You inhale and exhale, eyes still wide in shock at the sight of the man you had thought to be dead.

"I––Jungkook, I thought you were de––"

"I'm so sorry Y/N," Jungkook says instead, enveloping you into a tight hug. You release a sob, partly in confusion but mostly in relief for having a friend around you. The two of you cry in tandem, apologies coming out of your both your mouths as you tried to make sense of what was going on.

"Wait, why are you sorry? I was the one who crashed the car and led you to being kidnapped," Jungkook says, tears staining his handsome face.

You shake your head. "No. This is all my fault. If I hadn't asked you to drive me all the way to this stupid resort at night, we wouldn't have crashed and just––"

"Hey," Jungkook whispers, shushing with a finger. "Let's stop blaming ourselves, okay? We're taking you to the hospital downtown so you can get your injuries checked. Yoongi-hyung sent the other officers to clean up Park's resort while we––"

"No!" You scream, shaking Jungkook off of you in a panic. You shake the driver, begging him to turn around. "Jimin is still alive! He's going to kill them––"

"Aish. Jungkook-ah, restrain Miss Y/N, will you? I don't want the three of us getting killed by an avoidable car crash, okay?" The driver growls. Jungkook carefully hugs you to his chest, effectively imprisoning you in his gentle but firm hold.

"Yes sir, Officer Yoongi," he says before turning his attention to you. "Don't worry, Y/N. Jimin's dead. We found his body outside his garden. He jumped out of the bathroom window, probably in an attempt to escape the authorities," he explains. You shiver at the news, knowing full well that Jimin had probably been on the way to murder you. 

“How did you find me? I thought I was going to die in front of that house,” you ask, hands trembling despite the warmth of the car. Jungkook cups your bloodied fingers in his larger ones, being careful not to jostle your wounds too much. You want to tell him that it’s fine––most of it was Jimin’s blood, anyway.

“After the crash, I had woken up alone with my legs broken. I called dispatch to try and look for you, but it seems that we had been missing for two days already,” he explains, voice soft and smooth. It’s almost odd hearing him speak, after being so used to listening only to the sound of Jimin’s voice and your own sobs. 

“We had visited Jimin’s cabin a few days ago, trying to find you. Yoongi-hyung already had a bad feeling about him, since his mannerisms seemed too practiced and controlled––trademark signs of someone who is very good at hiding his secrets. Then, we heard the sound of your piano,” he says, gazing at you in awe. “It was brilliant of you.”

“Erlkönig,” Yoongi comments from the front, nodding grimly. “I thought it was an odd choice to play. It’s a song laced with death. I’m glad I trusted my gut instinct and returned to the cabin after we received a search warrant.” He shifts his head slightly to look at you, his gaze piercing but kind. Different from the sickly saccharine gaze that Jimin always used to have. “Music really did save your life.”

You don’t want to think about music right now. You don’t want to think about anything at all. "I just want to go home," you whisper, body slumping from exhaustion. Jungkook cards his hands through your hair, murmuring words of comfort as you slowly dropped off into dreamland.

"It's going to be all right... You're safe now... Nothing can ever hurt you again..."

––♡♡♡––

5 years later.

You enter the concert venue's VIP booth without a sound. Most of the other attendees hardly bat their eyes as you slink your way to your seat. You hold a picket fan with Gowon's smiling face on it, a banner with Sooyoung's name, and a wristband with Hana's grumpy face emblazoned on the side. You make it just in time for them to open the concert with their opening song.

The deep bass of Zemblanity filters its way through the overhead speakers, and the sound of thousands of screaming fans almost drown out the song entirely. You grin at the sight of young men and women screaming the fanchants in tandem, even laughing loudly when you'd catch the faint sound of "Y/N" mixed in at the end. You join the chants for most of the songs––all except the first song.

A boy with pink and yellow hair notices your silence, and points a boxy-grin back at you.

"Not a fan of Zemblanity? Even though it topped the Billboard charts twice in a row?"

The boy looks nothing like him. His cheeks are too thin, and his eyes are too dark. And yet, there's something about him that brings a chill up your spine. You make a mental note to make an appointment with your therapist first thing in the morning.

"Nah. Not a big fan. Heard the producer is an asshat," you say, shrugging your shoulders. The boy laughs, loud and pretty.

#BangtanWriters-Net #networkbangtan #jiminnetwork #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #park jimin #jimin #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #jimin au #bts horror #bangtan #BTS x you #bts fanfic #bro im... what the fuck was this LMAO #anyway... im going to bed

[let-it-raines]

Rising From The Ashes

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. 

And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on...one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. 

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be. 

Rating: Teenish (currently)

Also on AO3: | Here |

Tagging my usual peeps: @resident-of-storybrooke @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld 

A/N: Okay, so I don’t usually do this, but @shady-swan-jones sent me a prompt far too long ago, and I was absolutely obsessed with it! Like, seriously. And yet somehow it got lost in the masses, its document hidden away in a folder and forgotten about. And that’s just not okay when I like this story so much. 

But what I don’t usually do is post just a baby snippet of a story as a way to keep me motivated to keep writing it. I have some more words than this that are written, but I’m taking baby steps. I have no clue when I’ll update this (as in I could literally update tomorrow or two months from now when I’ve hopefully finished the second in command sequel), but you guys have such a special way to keep me motivated. And this won’t be anywhere near as long as my other multi-chapters. (Hopefully)

Also, as we all know by now, I obviously can’t focus on just one thing. So here we go!

                                                          ****

Her hip rests against the doorframe to her daughter’s nursery as she watches her boyfriend pace back and forth over the tufted gray rug singing little Ada to sleep. She’s nearly four months old now, the blue of her eyes fading away to green but still sticking around in certain lights, and her light blonde hair is growing a bit darker and forming in curls. She’s beautiful, like a small little miracle, and she’s somehow an exact mixture of she and Killian. Emma knows that Ada’s features will continue to change, to morph between she and Killian until she’s got features that are completely her own. But right now she simply looks like them.

Emma likes that she looks like them.

She also likes that she’s not the one putting a fussy Ada back to sleep right now. There are few sights more beautiful than Killian bonding with his little girl and helping her get to sleep after a particularly rough night that even roused Henry from his room, his hands rubbing at his eyes and asking why his sister was being so loud.

An eight-year-old and an infant in one house is not exactly a great mix, but they’re all learning.

Killian had taken Ada from her arms when her rocking and attempt at feeding her didn’t work in calming Ada, and Emma led Henry back to his room, tucking him under the covers and running her hands through his hair, pushing it back and scratching at his head in the way that she knows soothes him.

“Momma,” he mumbles, his deep brown eyes wide open in his never-ending curiosity, “will you tell me a story about my dad?”

Her breath hitches, and her heart starts pounding in her chest, the rate so quick that her entire body begins to heat while her hand stops its ministrations in his hair. “Do you…do you mean your dad, baby, or do you mean your daddy?”

“My dad. Not daddy.”

That’s what she feared, and she wasn’t prepared enough for this. She hasn’t gotten enough sleep, and it’s only been a few months, a little longer than Ada’s been around, since she told Henry that Killian isn’t actually his father. Sometimes it’s still jarring to talk about. 

“Kid, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I want to hear about him.”

She sighs. It’s hard to talk about Neal, always is, but Henry deserves to hear about his dad.

“Well, you know your dad was in the marines, and he was very brave. One of the bravest men I’ve ever known, and he spent his entire life trying to make the world a better place.”

“Like a hero?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, running her hands through his hair again, and Henry’s eyes start to flutter closed again, “like a hero.”

“I’m glad he was a hero,” Henry mumbles as sleep starts to take over more quickly than usual.

“Yeah, kid, me too.”

It had been quick and almost painless to get Henry back to sleep, his eight-year-old body much easier to take care of than his sister’s, but the short conversation they’d had has left her all shaken up, her mind running amuck with thoughts of Neal and the intricate spiderweb of emotions that always come with his name or how she sees his face when she looks at Henry and sees all of Neal’s features reflected back at her.

She feels warm hands press against her face, shocking her out of her thoughts to see Killian looking down at her, a soft smile on his face.

“You ready to go back to bed, sweetheart?”

Her eyes look to him before they look over to the crib where Ada is sound asleep. He’s a miracle worker. He has to be. There’s no other way he could have done that. 

She nods and lets him lead her back to their room, the warmth of his hand now seeping into her lower back before they both crawl into bed, rummaging around underneath the warmth of their cream comforter until Killian’s on his back and she’s tangling her legs with his and wrapping her arm around his middle while her cheek rests on his chest. His hand moves up and down her back in soothing circles, small indiscernible patterns being drawn by his fingers, and she knows by the worry etched into his features he’s going to talk to her about why her face has been all scrunched up.

“You want to talk about whatever happened when you were with Henry?”

“How do you know something happened?” She knows the answer, but she asks anyways. 

“Because I know you.”

She sighs, pressing a kiss against the hair on his chest, right over his heart. “He asked about Neal.”

His body tenses underneath hers, and if anyone understands the history she has with Neal, it’s Killian. After all, he was there for all of it. “What did…what did he ask?” “He just asked to hear a little about him, but it wasn’t much. I told him he was a hero, like we always do.”

“Aye, he was…he is, but that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

She shakes her head, and she faintly feels his lips pressed against the crown of her head while his hand squeezes her hip.

“Neal’s dead, babe. He died, and Henry’s never going to know him. Hell, Neal only got to know Henry for four weeks, and I can tell all of the stories in the world about how his dad is a hero but…but we’ll never know what happened to him. He just – he disappeared into thin air, and you can’t explain that to a child. They don’t understand. And yeah, he’s got you and you’re the best daddy in the world to him and to Ada obviously, but I just feel like sometimes I’m doing a disservice to Neal’s memory. I know he wasn’t perfect. We had a hell of a lot of issues but – ”

She feels Killian’s thumb on her chin, propping herself up to look at him, and the water in his eyes likely reflects the water in hers. “Emma, you could never dishonor his memory by living your life. I mean, yeah, I’m sure he’d probably be weirded out that we’re together, but he’d want us to be happy. He’d want Henry to be happy, and you’re making him the happiest little boy. And you’re honoring Neal’s memory as best as you can.”

“So are you.”

Killian chuckles, and she nuzzles herself back into his chest while his hand starts moving against her back again. “We should work together and make a book of memories about Neal for Henry…and for us.”

“I’d like that.” She moves up to quickly brush her lips against his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling. More than anything.”

“More than anything.”

She’s making breakfast for Henry the next morning while he’s in the living room finishing his homework – or more likely watching TV knowing him – when she feels strong arms wrap around her middle and prickly stubble brush against her cheek.

“Something smells delicious,” Killian breathes against her ear, his breath coming out hot and causing her entire body to shiver.

“It’s just from the box,” she smiles, and Killian rubs his nose further against her skin. She’s going to burn these pancakes and burn the house down while she’s at it if he doesn’t stop turning her on when they both have jobs to go to and children filling their house.

“I wasn’t talking about the pancakes,” he growls, and screw it. Who needs responsibilities?

Who needs pancakes?

She turns around and hungrily slants her lips over his, the familiar warm feeling running through her as they devour each other, their tongues already fixing together while her hands run up his chest and his run down her back to squeeze her ass, the firm grasp causing desire to pool in her belly. She’s just pushed him up against the island, their bodies pressed as closely together as they can without them actually having sex, and that’s when Henry runs into the room, the two of them springing apart like they’ve been burned.

Shit. The pancakes.

She turns off the stove before she adjusts her robe, making sure that her breasts aren’t spilling out. She can scar Henry in a lot of ways, but not in that way.

“What were you guys doing?”

“Making pancakes,” Killian answers, smiling at Henry before stepping toward her and pulling the hem of her robe down. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your reading for school, lad?”

“I finished, and there’s something you guys need to see on the TV!”

“Kid,” she groans, her body still tingling even though she’s had the emotional equivalent of a cold bucket of water dropped on her, before she picks up the plate of pancakes she’d made before Killian came downstairs, “if it’s the commercial for Disney World again, we’re not going until Ada is older.”

“First of all, babies go to Disney all the time. And second of all, no. I think you left it on the news, and there’s something about my dad on TV.”

“What about your father, lad?”

“They’re saying he’s alive.”

The plate of pancakes falls to the floor, the glass shattering and breaking into several sharp pieces that scatter all over the kitchen floor while her legs give out beneath her, and the only thing that keeps her from breaking as well are Killian’s arms holding her up.

#cs fic #cs ff #rising from the ashes