#ah and this is the first one i ever posted its very old so forgive it please

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure 

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love. 

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules. 

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!] 

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ 

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life. 

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends. 

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space. 

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life. 

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him. 

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings. 

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you. 

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that––he doesn’t want anything to change. 

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history). 

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever. 

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one. 

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second. 

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table. 

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all. 

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking. 

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense. 

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.) 

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue. 

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?” 

Wrong. 

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend. 

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.) 

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull. 

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon. 

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak. 

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection. 

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was. 

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners. 

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him. 

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school) 

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time. 

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon. 

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you. 

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be. 

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t. 

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life. 

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you. 

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract. 

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we? 

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second. 

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.” 

Right. Of course. Obviously. 

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way. 

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know. 

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you. 

Yes, that’s it, just say no. 

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact. 

Jake does not say no. 

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another. 

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart. 

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.  

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.  

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting. 

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?  

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.  

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea. 

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you: 

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture. 

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world. 

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right? 

Spoken like a true simp. 

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously. 

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all. 

Wednesday, December 9th 

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well. 

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist. 

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.” 

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say. 

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself. 

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...” 

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good. 

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often. 

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush. 

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment. 

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking. 

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers. 

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun. 

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table. 

“I’m helping y/n study” 

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday” 

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?” 

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party? 

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime. 

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.” 

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes. 

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again. 

He then looks to you with puppy eyes. 

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you. 

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that. 

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought. 

Weird. 

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest. 

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.” 

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no. 

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party. 

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.” 

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.” 

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you. 

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay. 

Admittedly cute. 

Thursday, December 10th 

You are having a bad day. 

You’re having the mother of bad days. 

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due. 

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms. 

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse. 

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about. 

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal). 

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n. 

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done. 

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space. 

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays. 

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude. 

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone. 

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding” 

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is 

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? :// 

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today. 

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home. 

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures. 

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy. 

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue. 

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.” 

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in. 

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window. 

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door. 

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right? 

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats. 

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood. 

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.” 

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?” 

“Touché,” you click your tongue. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.  

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?” 

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously. 

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you. 

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?” 

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood. 

You nod at his answer. 

“You two make a good couple.” 

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.” 

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen. 

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say. 

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy. 

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.  

Jake. 

Weird. 

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.  

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.  

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.  

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.  

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.  

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing. 

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.  

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.  

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.  

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation. 

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.  

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.  

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"  

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.  

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.  

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon. 

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you. 

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.” 

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show. 

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice. 

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand. 

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands. 

Hm. A little too familiar. 

Then, it clicks in his head. 

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?” 

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.” 

“You’re annoying.” 

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied. 

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table. 

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken. 

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?” 

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!” 

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him. 

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice. 

You break out of his trance and scoff at him. 

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well.  Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you. 

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.” 

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence. 

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute. 

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.” 

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name. 

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place.   “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan. 

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts. 

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.” 

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it. 

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute. 

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being. 

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion. 

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind. 

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.” 

Friday, December 11th 

The party does not clear your mind. 

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school. 

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood. 

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway. 

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case. 

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings). 

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news. 

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people. 

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.  

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap. 

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously. 

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive. 

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you. 

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth. 

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.) 

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons. 

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no. 

But he sure can be awkward. 

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him. 

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you. 

Bless this pure, pure boy. 

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them. 

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.” 

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!” 

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response. 

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay––dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den. 

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.  

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.” 

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."  

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?” 

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap). 

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.” 

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake. 

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement. 

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.” 

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth. 

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now. 

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.” 

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him. 

“What do you mean I’m too–” 

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say. 

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his. 

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at. 

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop. 

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him. 

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.” 

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing. 

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened. 

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you. 

He’s screwed. 

Saturday, December 12th 

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night. 

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream. 

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise. 

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone. 

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search. 

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before. 

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet? 

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up 

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry 

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy? 

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door 

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts. 

Talk? Outside his door? 

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down. 

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less. 

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however. 

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch. 

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is. 

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue. 

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?” 

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you. 

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home. 

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake? 

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps. 

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes. 

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you. 

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence. 

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking. 

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think. 

Not when it comes to you. 

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you. 

“Look, I-” 

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around. 

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth. 

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.” 

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.  

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare. 

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.” 

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help. 

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.” 

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.” 

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away. 

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare. 

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two. 

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily. 

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you. 

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away. 

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure. 

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response. 

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else. 

“Too late.” 

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’))))) 

#let me know what u think :D #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jake #jakesim #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake sim #enhypen jake fluff #jake sim x reader #enhypen jake imagine #jake fluff #jake sim #jake shim #iland #iland jake #iland imagines #jake #enhypen oneshots #enhypen oneshot

[jungxk]

crush

filed under. i totally forgot i wrote this. also i like the name eunmi sue me 

notes. thank you to @lonelyending for reading thru this crusty story and making me feel good enough about it again to post it. also @suga-kookiemonster bc im pretty sure i sent u this like a year ago and u told me to post it it but....i forgot abt it shdgjsgd. writing/life in general has been hard recently so pls accept this kookfic to hold yous over until i update just one

genre. fluff, light comedy, light angst, smut

warnings. smut (oral sex: f receiving, penetrative unprotected sex) 

length. 5.1k

the first thing jungkook thinks when he sees you is wow.

he hasn't been up for very long, and you don't even know he's looking at you through the window. yoongi-hyung has wrapped you up in his arms as you sob and sob, muted behind the protective hospital glass. even with messy hair and wet eyes he's starstruck. it's why he recoils slightly when jimin and namjoon explain to him that you're his wife.

"my," he can't even say the word. "my..."

"your wife," namjoon repeats. "you know what a wife is, right? marriage?"

"yes," jungkook huffs, digging his nails into his scalp. "i lost my memory, hyung, not my fucking brain cells." 

he suddenly registers the gold band glistening on his left hand, simple and heavy. he has to take a second to collect himself. "but...but i'm twenty-three. right? i am twenty-three, yeah?"

"yeah. you are," jimin says softly.

"then how the fuck am i already married? not that i'm complaining i just," he suddenly turns pink at the thought of you in a wedding dress, clinging onto his arm, breakfast dates, late night ramen runs at the convenience store, painting the living room in a house you probably share, naked in bed on top of him. jungkook clears his throat. "it just seems a little out of character for me. i can't commit to a pair of shoes for a week let alone-"

"i think it's best if you just spoke with ____," jimin finishes before jungkook can work himself into a frenzy, a comforting hand laying on his shoulder. "you two need to talk anyway and it's best if all these answers came from her."

jungkook gulps at the thought of speaking to you, seeing you face to face. suddenly he's a cripplingly shy fourteen year old again.

"okay." he croaks. "okay."

x

x

x

you were even more beautiful up close.

your tear stained cheeks are glowing and blotchy when you perch on the chair beside his bed, big eyes fluttering up at him nervously. you're soft and plush and shorter than he thought and jungkook has to fist his hands in the sheets and play a counting game with the heart rate monitor in order to maintain eye contact. he feels himself start to sweat when you smile sadly at him. "sorry, i just...i don't know how to be around you normally without making you uncomfortable," you say quietly, wringing your hands together to avoid touching him.

"uncomfortable?" he queries, gaze latching onto the ring on your hand. seeing it on you gives him a nice feeling.

you nod into your lap. "yeah, um..." you look at your scuffed shoes, searching for the word. "we're usually very...touchy."

he can feel himself turning red again. "t-touchy?"

you meet his eyes and a pretty smile breaks over your face at how bashful he looks, making jungkook's cheeks tinge even pinker than they already are. you nod cutely so your earrings tinkle, eyes shining, and suddenly he understands without any context why he fell in love with you, why he married you so young. you let a comfortable silence settle over the room before taking a deep breath, bracing yourself. "how much do you remember, jungkook?"

he tries not to cave under the weight of his guilt. "not a lot about...you, that is," he finishes with a wince, your sad eyes immediately making him wilt with shame. "i remember everything up until a couple of years ago. we had a show at the japanese dome, debuted in america, and then...nothing. and now..."

"and now," you echo softly. your eyes look distant, staring at the floor.

"i'm sorry," jungkook whispers, chin touching his chest. "hyung told me...they all told me how much i loved you and...and i'm sorry i don't remember any of it. i'm so sorry."

you shake your head gently. "don't be sorry, jungkook-ah," the pet name makes his ears perk up. its a familiar, calming sound. "none of this is your fault. you didn't ask to get hit by that car." your expression turns remorseful, tugging at his heart. "if anything, this is because of me. the only reason you were out was because i asked you to go and get eggs and formula even though i should've remembered to pick some up on the way home and-"

"no, no! please don't blame yourself," jungkook tries, wishing he was close enough or even brave enough to take your hand. you look up at him and he catches a glimpse of the endless pool of love you harbour for him, like a punch to the chest. "i don't ever want you thinking this was your fault. so ple-" he pauses. "wait, formula?"

the door bursts open before he can finish, pitter patter steps rounding his bed until it reaches the other side, where you sit. a little girl with big dark eyes and curls of dark hair stares at him in wonder and elation, her cheeks dimpling just like yours before she screeches, "appa!"

jungkook's mouth goes dry. appa?

you're quick to intervene, putting yourself in the toddlers path to scoop her up in your arms. her grabby little hands struggle over your shoulder, fingers wriggling in attempt to get as close to jungkook as possible. he only stares with wide eyes and an open mouth, heart hammering in his chest when he sees the uncanny resemblances: his round nose. your brown skin but just a twinge fairer. his hooded eyes. and his stomach lurches.

"shhh, eunmi," you coo as you carry her away even with her squirming. "remember what i said before? appa is sick. appa is sick, baby-"

"we have a child?" jungkook wheezes, eyes starting to glaze over. there's a bout of silence when you look back at him guiltily, the baby's fumbling grinding to a halt when she registers the tension in the air. jungkook's breath is barely a whisper. "is that my daughter?"

your face crumples with a fresh bout of tears and eunmi looks on worriedly. she pushes her little lips into your cheek in a baby's kiss, like she's seen her father do so many times to get your attention. the word "amma," is muffled into your skin until you get yourself together and press a short kiss to her head.

yoongi rushes in, face twisted in apology. "i swear to god i turned around for one minute and-"

"it's okay, yoongi," you say quietly, stroking the baby's head. "eunmi, stay with uncle just a bit longer, okay? amma will be back in a minute..."

"appa," she whines over your shoulder, reaching for jungkook who sits helplessly in his bed. he watches with tears wetting his eyelashes, heart twisting in agony at the sight of his child he doesn't remember stretching her arms out for him. she begins to cry when he doesn't react or coo her. like he used to.

"take her, yoongi," you say shakily, passing the baby to him. the sound of eunmi's crying makes your heart shatter all over again, yoongi's quiet hushing doing nothing to qualm her sobbing as the heavy door closes behind them.

the silence that falls between the two of you is nothing short of excruciating. jungkook's head spins, completely overwhelmed: is that why you both got married so young? because of a child? was this why jimin and namjoon wouldn't say a damn thing about his life until he spoke to you first?

and then all the other questions that followed: was he a good father? when was his daughter's birthday? did she like kimchi and banana milk too? did he sing to her? read to her often?

would she ever forgive him for not being able to remember her?

"her name is eunmi," you say, looking down at the floor when jungkook starts to cry.

x

x

x

jungkook doesn't understand how his baby could be so pretty. she's golden brown like those sandy beaches on postcards, with chubby cheeks and twinkling dark eyes that resemble yours to a t, and that's when he realises of course she's beautiful. she's yours. you balance eunmi on your hip while you make coffee - decaf, since you're still weaning - and despite the amnesia jungkook feels like he's been here before, in this warm, happy place that is the kitchen.

"she got your nose though," you remind him, dumping the baby in his lap upon her fussing. she always seemed to wind down under his touch, and although nervous about the sudden responsibility of fatherhood, jungkook is compelled to give it. eunmi doesn't understand anything's changed so he doesn't see why he should act like it. "she's whiny before her milk too. like you."

"hey!" he retorts, but can't exactly defend himself. he twirls his fingers around her curly pigtails until she catches on and tries to stand on his thighs, reaching for his hair to yank. jungkook lets her. he's barely known his daughter a week and he's already so smitten he'd let her gut him open with a butter knife.

"she missed you, you know. when you were in hospital all this time," you say, making him look up to watch you stare into your drink. the fear still lingers in your eyes, faint and persistent. he can see it every time you look at him and it makes his body yearn to touch you like he once did, like he once would have before his brain unlearned everything his heart didn't. you laugh while watching eunmi pull his hair again, making him hiss. "even yoongi tried but no one coddles her as much as you."

"really?" he asks, face lighting up. he's so happy to hear that. jungkook hates the way the question bubbles up in the back of his throat, like it'd make a difference or it'd change how he felt. but he has to ask it. "is that why...is that why we got married so early, then?" he says, trying to sound as offhand as possible. "because of eunmi?"

you chew your lip. "yeah. i mean, you said it wasn't a big deal. because you were going to marry me eventually so it didn't make a difference, but...it doesn't really matter i guess, because that's not what everyone else thinks," you pause, tracing the rim of your mug again. "that's certainly not what your fans think."

jungkook doesn't even want to think about it. the backlash, the gossip, the name calling and dehumanisation. for the first time in his life jungkook couldn't give less of a shit about his reputation. "i'm sorry," he says, feeling like the word has lost meaning by now with how much he's said it. "i'm so sorry. not for this, for us or for eunmi. i don't regret any of that i just," he shifts the baby in his lap, still getting used to her weight. "i can only imagine what you went through."

you look a bit bewildered. "...you said that last time too." you smile again reassuringly. "please don't feel solely responsible, kook-ah. you didn't exactly get me pregnant on your own."

he flushes tomato red and you giggle at him until eunmi joins in too.

x

x

x

jungkook can't keep his eyes off you while you play with the baby, comb out her hair, sing her lullabies while you bathe her together. he'd always wanted a whirlwind romance as a teen and it looks like he finally got it, because he can feel himself fall head first in love with you (all over again). it didn’t make sense for someone to be so collected and easygoing after having motherhood forced onto you so abruptly. you tell him often that he's a picture-perfect dad, but jungkook still doubts he compares.

"does she need a change?" he asks, struggling to keep all of eunmi's wriggling limbs in his grip.

"nope, just hungry," you say, reaching out when he passes the baby to you. you're about to stand up and go to the guest room to feed her, but jungkook is already arranging the pillows next to him for you, grabbing a baby cloth on the side too.

"do you need another pillow?" he muses aloud, but he's already grabbing the ones on his side of the bed before you can answer, forming a wedge for you to sit nicely beside him. he looks up at you when you fail to move. "are you okay?"

"yeah i, um," you chew your lip nervously. "you don't...mind me feeding here?"

you immediately regret the question once it leaves your mouth. jungkook's crestfallen expression hits you right in the stomach, round eyes glittering up at you. he hasn't looked this upset since he woke up nearly a month ago. "why would i ever mind?”

"oh jungkook," you sniff, sitting beside him. he pulls you into the nest of pillows beside him, arm winding protectively around your shoulders. your eyes brim with sympathy tears, tired and angry and upset with treating him like a stranger.

"if i make you feel uncomfortable, i can go," he offers quietly. "if it makes you feel weird i understand..."

"no, not at all," you rush to stop him, suddenly realising how close you are. you could kiss his pink little lips if you just tilted your head up. "i just didn't want to make you feel weird. all this new stuff is happening to you, you're suddenly a husband and a father with no recollection of signing up or it and i just...i don't know how much you want to invest the second time around," you scramble to finish your sentence when he pins you with a concerned expression. “as in, i understand if you don’t want to make the same choice twice. it’s a big decision.”

he shakes his head dismissively. there wasn't a thing in the world that could make him turn his back on his family but it looked like you still needed convincing. he peers at you curiously when you position the baby. "so i can stay?"

you smile at him eagerly. "of course," you undo the nursing strap of your bra before the baby finally latches. "i actually prefer it when you're here. it makes me feel safe."

jungkook watches quietly while you hum for the baby, playing with her little hand while she drinks. the adoration seeps out of him in waves, how serene you look while you rock her, how angelic eunmi looks while she blinks her big doll eyes up at you both. she won't stay this little forever. he feels so overwhelmed by it, gathering you further in his arms with the urge to hold his family in his hands like a diamond. you don't question the little sniffles jungkook buries into your hair, resting your head on his shoulder wordlessly. you missed being held by him, missed his cotton scent and gentle breath.

"i love her so much," he whispers into the shell of your ear, entranced by the baby's little gurgles and gulps. he reaches out to run his knuckle over the velvet of her cheek, round and stuffed with milk. "i feel like i'll die, i love her so much."

"me too," you smile. "it was scary and hard for a long time but...i'm so glad we had her. i wouldn't trade her for anything."

you feel jungkook's lips trace your temple, heart stuttering upon the sudden contact. you hear what he doesn’t say: i wouldn't trade either of you.

x

x

x

"why are you so sweaty?" jimin scowls, noting the dark patches under jungkook's t-shirt when he tries to take the baby from his arms. "it's not even humid today."

jungkook doesn't do anything but gulp and cuddle a sleeping eunmi closer to his chest. she's become somewhat of a security blanket for him; even if she wasn't awake to play, he was always itching to hold her and nuzzle into her head when he's tense or embarrassed. like now.

"leave him alone, you know he sweats when he's shy," yoongi grins.

"stop it," jungkook mumbles.

"shy? what for?"

"because he's got a crush on his wife," namjoon snickers, knowing jungkook would whack him one if his arms weren't around his kid. "why are you looking at me like that? it's true!"

"but you can't just say it! she'll hear!" he hisses.

"you're married," jimin deadpans but it only makes the younger boy curl in on his baby more. "god, this reminds of when you two met. remember how he used to hide behind manager hyung every time ____ came in? and then i had to listen to them fuck in the next room for a year only to end up back here all over again-"

"jungkook," you call. "where did these come from?" you walk into the sitting room with a bouquet of yellow roses nestled in your arms. "did a fan send them? i didn't see a note they were just on the worktop-"

"th-those are for you," he mumbles. "i got those for you."

you look so pretty when you stare it makes him sweat harder and the three older boys all but burst a vein in their head trying not to laugh when leaving the room. there's an awkward silence where you clutch the flowers and he clutches the baby. "thank you," you say finally. "they're beautiful, i love the colour yellow..."

his big doe eyes round up to look at you even though the lower half of his face is smushed into pigtails. "you're welcome."

"can i kiss you?" you blurt out, too fast to stop it. your cheeks are still stinging and you're pretty sure you have baby powder in your hair but jungkook looks at you with awe as he nods so vigorously his earrings shake.

so you do, leaning over the arm of the sofa to press your mouth over his long enough for both your breaths to catch. you pull away, moving to sit next to him so his free arm can wind around your shoulders when you kiss him again. "please," he mumbles when you part. "please don't ask to kiss me. just do it," he leans for another long, warm kiss that leaves you light headed. "stop tip-toeing around me, okay? we're married. i know i scare easy, but not that easy."

you feel giddy, finally feeling the weight being lifted piece by piece. "okay," you peck his mole endearingly before scooting up for another kiss. "i missed this."

"me too," he hums into your mouth. "it feels like the first time but also...not the first time, you know? not just because i don't remember but like," he doesn't know how to say it, wetting his lips thoughtfully. your chapstick is cherry flavoured, his favourite. "like we've been doing this for longer than both of us even realise. longer than this life."

"i know," you nod. "i know."

x

x

x

after a while, you forgot about jungkook's amnesia altogether. even though the chances of him making a full recovery were slim, it all felt so normal and back to routine, all the kissing and the cuddling and the playing with eunmi. there was almost no room for trepidation anymore. until now.

you moan into jungkook's mouth when he pulls you onto his thighs, big hands palming your ass when you grind into him. he's only mildly concerned that he'll cum in his pants at this rate but he doesn't fret too much: that was secondary to undressing you and touching you and pleasing you and making you scream as loud as he could make you without waking the baby. he has nearly three years of re-learning your body to catch up on and he's eager to start.

he's quickly reminded during this process that you are a master. you know exactly where to kiss him, exactly how much pressure to kneed into his cock with your hips, exactly how much tongue he wants in his mouth until he's whining and damp for you. of course you know his body like the back of your hand - your child wasn't conceived from thin air. it makes him all the more desperate to learn, almost antsy to get his mouth and hands on you until you're writhing and breathless beneath him.

you gasp when you feel his hand slip between your legs, rubbing his fingers over your shorts. you automatically rock your covered wetness into his touch, the long whimper you muffle into his neck sending jungkook soaring through the clouds with pride. you're so lost in the feeling, having missed it so much, you're barely able to squeak a stop! when he hooks his fingers inside the waistband of your panties.

his eyes shoot open. "what's wrong?"

"j-jungkook," you shuffle in his grip, feeling so embarrassed under his scrutiny you don't know where to look. "it's not that i want you to stop but. listen, just," you cling to his shoulders, shivering when his hands drag reassuringly up to your waist. "just remember that...i've had a kid, okay? i'm not gonna look like before."

he blinks. "i don't remember what you looked like before."

"no, i mean like," you lick your lips, tasting him there. "it's still something to keep in mind. i'm not gonna be as smooth and perky in places like all those idol girls you perform next to, so just-" he watches you fumble nervously in his lap, the growing disbelief making him blink. "don't expect too much okay? things might not look the way you imagine them to and i don't want you to feel-"

"stop," he cuts off, tugging you so you're seated over his erection again. the look jungkook pins you with is so intense you can feel your pulse thrum in your ears, the harsh rise and fall of his chest making him appear that much more passionate. "this body," he slips his hands up your top, palming your skin. "made my child. i take offence to it being spoken about with anything less than admiration, even by you."

"kook-ah," you say nervously, but still let him remove your pj top over your head before you laying you under him on the bed. you don't know why your eyes suddenly prick with tears when he traces over your stretch marks and discoloured skin with his smooth lips. "this kept my daughter warm," he kisses under your navel, sliding up to your heavy breasts. he kisses each darkened nipple, swollen from the baby's mouth. "these feed her." he rises further still, before planting his mouth on your forehead in a short peck. "and this raises her. so how can i be anything but proud to touch you?"

"jungkook, stop," you sniff, tears wetting your lashes. your eyes fall shut when he wipes them away with his thumb, lips ghosting over your cheeks and nose.

"what did i say about tip-toeing around me?" he whispers, forcing you to look him in the eye. only then do you see the tears there, all the ardour and respect he holds for you pooling in those brown depths. "i'm your husband. let me be your husband."

you kiss him before you can start crying again, letting him part your mouth and taste you long and hard before finally undressing himself and slipping your shorts off. this is all a first for him, and it's been so long since you've done this it's almost like a first for you too, frantic and messy and desperate to feel jungkook lodged inside you where he belongs. you know he must share the sentiment when he splits your thighs over the narrow of his hips, hooking them there while he gets a good look of his erection rubbing through your slick.

no wonder i knocked her up, jungkook muses faintly. i don't think i can ever stop doing this.

"jungkook, please," you run a hand through his hair, grinding against his cock in encouragement but he still won't take the plunge. instead, your voice reminds him of his initial objective, causing him to saunter down between your legs faster than you can process. he's licking into you before you can have a second thought about it, mouth falling open with a loud moan when he traces around your clit in firm circles.

he has your knees over his shoulders and his arms wound around your hips so you have nowhere to go, nothing to do but buck into his attentive mouth, jungkook's groans vibrating against you until you can barely keep yourself together - he's always enjoyed this as much as you have. which is why he takes his time, explores every crevice and subsequent response, relishing in the gush of wetness when he does something right. he even goes as far as holding his tongue stagnant against your folds so you have no choice but to rub yourself into him for friction, so entranced he is by your invigorating reactions. only when you're squirming and whimpering with deliriousness does he finally give in and resume a steady pace over your swollen clit, two fingers sliding in home so you have something to come around. and you do.

messy and wet and shrieking into the pillow by your head so that you're muffled enough to not wake the baby down the hall, your orgasm drawing out longer than normal as you do your best to ride it out. jungkook carries you through it, gulping down as much of your arousal as he can manage until your hips finally drop back into the bed in post-climax exhaustion. on the contrary, the only reason he stops lapping at you is because you tug him away by the hair, bringing him up to you and between your legs again before he can do anything about it.

he splutters with a moan at the sudden contact of your wetness against his cock again, eyes fluttering shut and allowing you to bring him in, arms and legs winding securely around him so that you're flush against each other, hips rocking in tandem. jungkook is so caught up in the feeling - not the sex but the safety of being held, being connected like this - that you're the one to reach down and position his tip against your hot center, before finally running your hands down your husband's back to cup his ass and shove him into you.

jungkook gasps, breath shaking at how tight you are. you're so hot, so snug around him his eyes shut upon instinct, letting your hands guide his hips and showing him how to move in that perfect rolling motion that you're only familiar with after years of practice. and jungkook, of course, is a fast learner. it doesn't take long for him to take the reigns and fuck you just how you like it, adding in a sharp snap of his hips every now and again just to listen to you squeak in surprise. the wet sounds of your joined arousal coupled with you moaning under him is near cathartic, sending him hurtling to his finish line.

but before he can get there you shift him over, thick thighs helping you roll and pin him under you on the bed. jungkook grapples at your waist when you resume a slower but harder rock of your hips that has his length grinding against your clenching walls, his head thrown back at the intensity of it. you ride him through it, peppering the moles on his pretty neck with kisses and sucks, mouth finding his stiff little nipple to give it a swirl too. it's exactly what he needs to finish off, fingers digging into your flesh as he bucks wildly, filling you full of his seed while he calls your name. you slow to a stop when his hands finally fall limp on your thighs, his chest heaving under you and covered in sweat. you giggle. he always got so sweaty.

"you did so well, kookie," you whisper, kissing his damp neck and collar bones. his arms are suddenly around you again for comfort. "you were so good for me...always so good to me..."

"you," he croaks finally, eyes half lidded and a little delirious. "you didn't finish?"

you giggle at his genuine concern, pecking his wet lips. "i got mine, remember?"

"how many times?" jungkook is suddenly alert, tugging your wrist to get your attention before you can climb off him. his other hand is still around your middle so moving was out of the question until he allowed it. he was still inside you. "how many times do i usually make you come?"

you blink in embarrassment. you never really thought about it, let alone counted. "um...i don't know..." he waits for an answer, awfully serious about it. "a-at least two or three, i guess."

you yelp when he flips you back over, fingers immediately prying your cum soaked folds apart to nestle inside. "then don't act like we're done."

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #myfic #dont we all love a memory loss au

[dropsofletters]

how to lose someone in seven steps? | yangyang

— summary: yangyang lives his life going from party to party, but when one grand event suddenly threatens to make him lose all his money, she ponders if she should break his heart in pieces or not. instead, she teaches him how to live a normal life.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: liu yangyang x reader — genre: rich kid!au ; magnate!au ; singer!au ; bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au — type: fluff ; angst ; romance ; humor ; drama — word count: 11,304 — playlist: criminal – taemin ; dway! – jackson wang ; 7 rings – ariana grande ; lifted – cl ; leonidas – yangyang ; +5 stars+ - cl — note: you have to read the prologue before reading this route.

Bottles stacked on top of one another, organized, some from the eighties, other from the latest few years. Shelves that clad themselves in pristine class, though their surroundings are dangerous for such expensiveness. There, with a dress that fits her body a little bit too tightly, she truly wonders what goes on through rich people’s heads. Money, obviously—how to spend it, how to waste it, and how to win it again, but whoever owns this mansion doesn’t think about the fact that any of the drunkards around the party could eventually knock themselves over with this shelf filled with alcohol—from wine to champagne—and possibly die in the process from a shard of glass going through their heads, or that someone could steal from him. Bottles lonely, void of anything to protect them, just a slide of the glass enough to grasp the material.

Though, she knows what she is doing. Tugging at the gold dress that Liying insisted on buying for her, she hopes that no one sees her. Not that she should be thinking when Hao specifically brought her to this party to socialize with possible record label owners or other artists that would want to collaborate with her—but after a while of speaking about nothing at all and sipping on the same glass of champagne, she feels drained out of energy. The host of the party word of mouth and yet, nowhere to be seen.

Cutting the chase, she turns around to see if she can find Hao somewhere. The living room is packed, people gathered dancing, some sprawling themselves on the couches, smoking and drinking. Nearby, a man tugs a woman to his lap, her cigarette falling on the floor to remain unlit as another person joins them. It’s only a matter of second before she feels her blood boiling in embarrassment, crossing one arm across her chest to hold her elbow upright with her drink when she sees the kiss shared by three. Parties like these do get a bit crazy.

The mansion is pretty, though, and while Hao is out—somewhere—trying to get her a record deal, she basks in the material beings around her. Golden walls, red decorations, and floors that were pristine when she had gotten there earlier but are now dusted in alcohol and ashes. She gives one step forward, then two, and she stops herself, not knowing exactly where to go. She has already talked to some people, but her social batteries are running out.

Getting her phone out of her purse, she puts her lips together until they decolorate the slightest under the pressure, typing a message for Hao. Not that she couldn’t call him, but screaming over the music as Post Malone plays for the umpteenth time just doesn’t sound like the best of ideas.

To: Hao-Hao.

Where you at?

I want to go home.

The response comes sooner than expected, her phone vibrating in between her fingers.

From: Hao-Hao.

I’m talking to the son of a record label’s CEO.

You can’t go now.

He’s a bit drunk but I’m taking care of him so he can hear you sing once he’s more sober.

To: Hao-Hao.

I’ll step out for a few minutes, then.

Call me when you need me. I won’t leave.

The sigh that rips from her throat only lets go when her phone plops back in place in the almost-empty purse, her heels clicking against the black tiles of the mansion. With each swing of her hips, energy drains itself out of her body. There is nothing that she would have wished for more than just lay herself flat on her bed, start a video-chat with her friends and just get lost in the conversation. At first, she thought it would be easier, speech slurred that would help her sound more appealing to those who are drunker than her, but no one pays attention to possible talents in parties like these.

The coldness of the night bites at her arms, as well as some mosquitoes, scattering across her ankles and making her hiss as she continues scratching herself. A fountain stands right at the front, surrounded by trees and a few sports cars. One of those cars, however, is Hao’s old, dark thing that seemed to be much less cool in comparison.

A swat of her hand against her skin has her hissing.

Fuck mosquitoes.

Fuck this party.

Fuck the broken dream that she keeps chasing with the hope of her story turning out to be more interesting than it really is.

From the far distance, just as she leans back against one of the many cars there, an engine starts to roar to life—getting closer and closer, perhaps wanting to get to the party faster, catching the attention of the entire block, not that they would care. With the golden fabric of her dress barely covering her from the coldness of the white convertible, she takes her phone out again to talk in the group-chat, but as her fingers work against the screen, the car gets closer. The wheels become music at that moment, the culprit making its appearance as the car enters the mansion, barely giving the security guards at the entrance any time to open the gates.

A gorgeous night blue makes the car outstanding, blend into the night but make it more noticeable in between the expensive cherry reds and the bone whites. Instead, the driver parks nearer to the mansion, closer to one of the street lamps by the entrance, draping its white glow onto the concrete that leads to the main door. Whoever the owner of the car is manages to park the car backwards, roaring the engine a few more times when he’s put in place before moving back a bit more…

And a bit more…

Even more…

Then, comes the crash. Miniscule, but enough to create a dent on the night-sky car.

The coolness only lasted for a second.

She has to look away, because she may not be an avid driver…but even she knows that getting too close to a street light wasn’t a good idea. Instead, she brings her phone up her face to use it as an excuse, eyes inspecting the car’s door when it opens, watching a set of slim legs peak out before the entirety of the owner makes his presence known.

Blown portions of his brown hair end up in the slits between his fingers, gripping at the strands for dear life as he stares at the dent on his car. Parted, obscured and defined lips call out for her attention, the ‘o’ in them almost funny had it not been for his beauty. His brown eyes widen in panic, knees creaking under his weight when he kneels beside his car and actually, for real, plants a kiss on the surface before connecting his forehead with it. If she is not mistaken, the sigh that rips from those precious lips sounds like an apology.

It’s none of her business, she tells herself, but when she crosses one leg over the other, she realizes just how freezing the night is, her thighs in full display while the handsome idiot with the car looks as toasty as ever. A blue hoodie on top of his body, black ripped jeans making his legs look like they last for miles and even some more. His shoes, however, are one of the latest releases of a popular brand that she feels like she heard one of her friends speaking about. Maybe Elena.

Maybe, he’ll have enough of a heart to give her something to cover herself up with—that’s the excuse she uses when she pulls her weight away from the white convertible that held her up to go over to him. The clicking of her heels does nothing to call out for his attention, forehead still pressed to his car like the main character of a romantic movie asking for the forgiveness of his partner after fucking up.

He did fuck up…his very expensive sports car, for example.

“Hey…” Her voice wavers a bit, eyes trailing down to the kneeling man. At this point, his thighs may be burning over the forced squat he is doing. “Are you crying right now?”

That seems to make him pull away from his car, pushing his face off the car before widening his eyes in the process. Not a single glistening tear clads his irises, so he seems to be fine. “Wh—? What? No.” He scoffs in the process, standing up and licking his lips in the process. “I’m just…some douche…one of my friends, like, he’s a total douche, he—ah, he crashed my car against the…the thing—”

“I saw you crash your own car.”

The puppeteer lets go of the marionette in him, shoulders dropping, legs becoming flimsy as his faux smile turns into somewhat of a pout, arms crossed over his chest to indicate just how attacked he feels right now. The grin from her is inevitable. “Then, why do you ask?” He conquers, though, one look at her has him giving a double-take, and sure, she looks good…but the squint of his eyes and the frown on his face is for something else. “You look oddly familiar. Have I, like, seen you before?”

“Have you?” Now that she thinks about it, the defined lines of his lips somewhat click on her. From where? She doesn’t know. “Now that you say it, I feel like I have seen you…”

Wiping his—probably—sweaty hands on his jeans, he claps his hands together. “Like, for real, I have seen you.”

“Maybe, the crash did something to your head, I don’t know.”

The guy in question can only hiss in the process. “That’s your nicest try for a joke?”

“That’s your nicest way of parking?” She asks, one thumb going over to his still very much dented car before sighing. “What’s your name? Because I really feel like I know you.”

Though, she does have a plan—leaving this poor man crying about his convertible isn’t something she is planning to do tonight. At most, she will call her brother-in-law and see if he knows someone who can fix cars, just if he wants the number. Not like he needs it with the amount of money he clearly has. “Liu Yangyang.” He replies, his hands placed on his hips when he looks at his car. “And that’s Emilia, my baby.”

“…You crashed your baby against a light—”

“My baby betrayed me and went a little too far, mind you.” Though, now that she has laughed and her phone is, once again, on her hand, she can think about that name. Liu Yangyang, Liu Yangyang.

Fuck.

Liu Yangyang!

“Oh my God, you’re Liying’s ex!” That’s not the kind of sentence that must have left her lips at that moment, but it’s what comes out of her. It takes a few seconds for Yangyang to process what she just said, pursing his lips in the process before squinting at her once again.

“And you’re part of her friends’ group. The little Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” Yangyang replies, though his voice begs to do no harm, she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt by his words.

“We are not a Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” She corrects, not realizing just how punctuated her words are coming out until Yangyang chuckles at her.

“You just did a sick dance move with your neck, bro.” The young man adds, making sure to move his head from side to side, perhaps more stylishly than her. “Are you sure you’re not a dancer?”

“I was going to call someone to help you out, but I’m not going to anymore.” She says, though Yangyang shrugs his shoulders.

“Dad will pay for it.” He adds, looking around for a few seconds. “And if you’re the only person who saw it, I just need to keep you quiet about it.”

“Why? Stuff like this happens at parties all the time—”

“Not when you’re the host and you’re not the slightest bit drunk, no.” This mansion…this goddamned piece of art that looks like it could be a castle, with how tall the walls are and how gorgeously decorated it is, belongs to no other than Liying’s ex?

“T—This is your house?” She asks, fingers widely pointing at the entrance before Yangyang nods. “What were you even doing outside? You’re the host!”

“You know, like, when it’s someone’s Sweet Sixteen party, they just arrive later than everyone and make a grand appearance and it’s, like, I don’t know, cool or whatever?” With the rapidness of his voice and how excited he seems to be about this situation, she can’t help but be in awe. “I was aiming for that.”

“Were you also aiming to crash your car or did your Dad pay for your license, too?” With the smile that appears on his features, somewhat shameful as he looks to the side, she can’t help but clutch her phone closer to her chest. “You bought your driver’s license!”

Yangyang rushes to place both of his slim hands on her cherry red lips, shushing her in the process, his face mere centimeters away from hers. “What do I have to do to keep you quiet? I need to look cool, still.”

Not that she was planning to ask him for anything, so she pushes his hands away from her mouth. “Ew, dude, I don’t know where your hands have been—”

“That’s not usually how that goes.” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself, before opening the door to his car once again. Bending down, he seems to be looking for something in the front portion of his car. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not that bad of a guy. I wash my hands.”

“Sure, you do.” She replies, aware of the fact that this is the man Liying had rolled her eyes to a bunch of times. Didn’t she ask her to break his heart like a month ago? Yangyang’s immature, from what she has heard, but the rest of him is a secret. “You don’t have to give me anything. I’ll just stay around this party for a bit longer and then, I’ll call it quits.”

“Aw, why? Is Taeyeon missing?”

“Taeyeon?” At the mention of such a name, she frowns.

Still, he continues to speak from inside his car, putting a few things together that she can’t quite make out from her position. “You know, like, Taeyeon from Girls’ Generation.”

“Huh?”

“I’m joking.” Dragging his voice, he comes out with a bag in between his hands. Typical in its beige and brown color, Louis Vuitton with just one clear glance. What is even more impressive than the purse on itself is how he pushes it towards her hands. “There you go, your gift.”

“…Yangyang, what language are you speaking in? I don’t even—What are you doing?” She asks, taking the purse in between her hands before shaking her head.

“Actually, I speak some. German, English…I took some Spanish classes—”

“Yangyang, I can’t take this purse.”

“It’s not that expensive.” He shrugs, as if this is really not worth more than anything she owns. Even more than her entire apartment compiled together. “Besides, you didn’t make a big deal out of me and Emilia having a moment, so…I’m letting you go with this bag. I brought it with me today, but I think it’ll go better with your outfit…” Though, she doesn’t miss the way his eyes trail down her body before correcting himself, blinking quickly and giving one of his infamous smiles. “Take it.”

“Yangyang, no—”

Unexpected are the steps he gives towards the door, rushed as he runs away from her, looking over his shoulders as he screams: “Too late, I’m already going.” Though, when he opens the door in one swift motion, he doesn’t forget to add something else. “See you later at the party.”

Though, she can’t even walk forwards to search for Yangyang in between the masses of people when she feels her phone buzzing in her purse.

Well, her original purse, not the Louis Vuitton one.

Is it even hers now?

From: Hao-Hao.

Go home…

The guy fell asleep after vomiting on my shoes.

It’s safe to say we’ve done nothing in this party.

Two steps back make her heels waver under the weight of the droplets of champagne on her system. Tugging both purses over her shoulder, she smiles. Yangyang, more than immature, has that youthful person that not a lot of people have.

###

Birthday parties are already not that good to start with. Put one single candle on a cake and start singing a song, that’s the best way to make anyone feel out of place and awkward. They are even worse when she feels two children tugging at her pants, and thank goodness a white belt wraps around the baggy beige pants, because they would have been at her feet had it been for Liying’s daughter’s friends.

Some people just launch themselves at their dreams as if they were a rocket, and Liying is one of them. Last year, when her stress reached her peak and her dating list only got longer with more mistakes, she decided to draw a line over all men in her life and go for her biggest dream all on her own. It wasn’t the clothing line that she had already worked in—and that, somehow, people were always surprised to hear about when seeing how plainly she dressed—, but having a child instead. That’s where the four-year-old child by her mother’s legs came along, adopted a year ago and still very much adoring her small, loving family.

But this is her first birthday party, and Liying had gone over the moon with preparations. Everything pink, in the shade of Peppa Pig, with children songs playing in the background as some of them scream, jump, and one of them even blows bubblegum into the air only to cover his face in the sticky substance. Surprise. The bubblegum is also very pink.

Liying picks her daughter up from the ground then, placing her against her hip as she gets closer to her. “Chengxiao, Mei, let go of her legs. She can’t even walk.” The monotone tone must have worked more than her pathetic plea, widening her eyes in adoration when seeing one of her best friends with her. “Did you buy the candles I told you about? I’m sure we need to give them some sugar before they start going crazy.”

She doesn’t know if she just chuckled or sighed. “Isn’t it too much sugar already?”

“It’s never enough sugar for them.” Liying conquers, placing a kiss on her daughter’s cheek before putting her down again. “Baby, tell all your friends to gather so we can start singing the birthday song!”

“Yes, mama!”

Liying pushes the strands of her dark hair away from her face, putting it up in a bun before asking. “So, candles?”

“I can’t even walk, Liying. They’re in my purse.” She points, well aware that she needs her bed more than ever right now. Not only had Chengxiao thrown a tantrum when she had not sung the Peppa Pig theme song for the umpteenth time, but she also had to take care of the other children. Wipe the bubblegum away from that little dude’s face. Make sure that everyone in well fed. Over everything, she has to pick the music and Lord forbid she picks something that isn’t Baby Shark.

Liying moves over to her pink couch, draping the children’s coats away to reach her purse before frowning deeply. “Your purse, you said?”

“Yes.” Using the coats as a pillow, she lays back on the couch, exhaling deeply as a sweet, tight-lipped smile appears on her face. “God, I’m about to pass out.”

“Don’t pass out on me.” Liying says, rummaging through her purse. “Why do you have so much shit in your purse?”

“The girls put all their stuff inside. Some of them didn’t bring purses.”

“I’m sensing Shishi and Elena in that statement.”

“Shishi can’t wear a purse that doesn’t have Pokémon characters all over it,” She starts. “And Elena is too cool for a purse.”

“Got it.” Liying finishes, pressing her purse to her abdomen to keep looking for her candles before a soft hum leaves her lips. “I found two things.”

“Two?” Her eyes open at that moment, staring at the objects in between Liying’s fingers. One of them is the number four in the form of a candle, and the other is a crumpled piece of paper that seems to beg to be recycled. “What’s that piece of paper?”

“I don’t know, was inside your Louis.” Liying whispers, unfolding the paper as she speaks. “And no matter how much I love that you’re wearing Louis Vuitton, it’s not your thing. You don’t wear anything expensive.”

Cameras flash inside her head at that moment, the aftermath of having a picture taken of her and the flash still bleeds inside her eyelids. Liu Yangyang in the shape of a gift, that’s what that purse means. Given to her a week ago, and still clinging to her side like pure nature.

What? The purse is cute…

“I—This is going to be so funny but,” Time for the truth, she tells herself. “I went to a party last week, right? And I went out to get some air because it was too cramped inside, so a guy crashed his car and—” Liying raises her eyebrows then, never showing quite as much of her expressions as that moment. “And it was so stupid, so I promised not to tell anyone and he gave me a Louis Vuitton.”

“Good guy.” Liying shrugs her shoulders. “Got his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” Liying says, turning the paper around. “Because he asked you to meet up with him in this place three days ago and you hadn’t even realized that he had put that paper inside your purse.”

Grasping the paper in between her hands, the flutter of a butterfly goes up her sternum and rests on her trachea. The handwriting on the paper feels like him, somewhat rushed, always on the verge of doing something, and with one little smiley face at the end, he does ask to meet up with her at certain place, three days ago, with the time written and all.

“…That’s the funny thing.” Though, her laughter sounds as fake as it possibly can be. “We both felt like we had seen each other and, hah, turns out it’s Liu Yangyang, your ex.”

Had it been anyone else, they would have at least gasped, but heart of steal, soul of stone, mind of ice—or better known as Liying—, simply seemed to find it fitting. “Huh,” She says, looking down at the piece of paper. “A downgrade for you but an upgrade for him. I think he’s asking you out.”

She shakes her head at that. “No way. He’s being friendly.” She says, quirking her eyebrow in the process. “Why? Is it the whole breaking his heart thing going on or—?”

“No.” Liying replies, zipping the bag in the process. “Yangyang is obnoxious and used to love Cheetos way too much for anyone’s liking, but he’s a nice guy.” She rolls her eyes then. “If you can keep up with the whole…Yangyang-ness that comes with it, and you’re really thinking about it, or about him. Who am I to say no?”

Sitting up, she hooks her fingers around the paper, crumpling it up in the process. “…Not like it matters if I’m curious about him. The day just passed.”

“Go there again.” The woman starts moving towards the kitchen, eager to give the children some sweets to see if they will get sleepy in the process. Liying’s intelligence goes above NASA at times. “Yangyang does party a lot, and attend a lot of events, but it’s always in the same places. People go to Yangyang, Yangyang never goes to the people.”

“…Why’s that?”

Liying sighs. “He’s rich, babe.” Pushing the candle into the pink-coated cake, the cream sloshing around a bit in the process, Liying chuckles at her own words. “Everyone follows after you if you’re rich.”

“…I don’t want him to think I’m just looking for money, though.” But, why does she even care about it? She has a Louis Vuitton bag now—

“And you took the Louis in the process of not wanting to seem like an opportunist?”

“I took it because he ran away before I could give it back to him.”

“And you were unable to go after him because…?”

“I was tired.”

Liying puts one hand on her waist, the shirt she is wearing a little bit more see-through with the passage of years, sticking to her like glue. Liying’s emotional side lets her cling onto the most miniscule of things. “Sorry to break it to you, babe, but your mind played games on you and took the purse because you wanted to have a reason to see him again, or something to cling onto until you saw him again. Not to blame…he’s a charming guy. Younger, but that’s the charm.” She sighs in the process of her train of thought. “…If only I liked older guys, I wouldn’t even be here on the first place.”

“I’m not interested in Yangyang.” She replies, clapping her hands together as she calls for the children.

“I could be the greater friend and say you shouldn’t, because he’s a man-child, and he’ll possibly be more of a headache than a good thing but—” Liying joins her then, screaming for the children to gather, the sounds of toys being dropped to the floor and cheers coming from the masses of children making her curse internally. While she’s here, their other friends are by Liying’s room, playing games online— “You are curious about him, and the mom in me is telling me I have to let you live your life so…” Liying taps her fingers against the crumpled piece of paper in between her hands. “Go there on the same day this week, same time. See if he’s there.”

###

A recording studio is not where she imagined herself to be on a Thursday at two in the afternoon, but it’s where Yangyang had invited her to go last week. With its gray walls, harsh lights that make her cringe onto herself in case someone looks a little too close at her face, and the staff rushing from one place to the other, she feels both sad and thankful that she’s not part of this. One, she doesn’t have to be judged by anyone but two, that almost means she’s not known by anyone as an artist.

Much to her surprise, the security guard at the entrance—at least two heads taller than her—had let her in at the mention of her name, but lost as lost can be she is when inside the studio. Asking one of the staff would be much too embarrassing, for Yangyang had invited her there, but he wasn’t exactly expecting her. Besides, if he had invited her, it would look too ridiculous to ask for his whereabouts. A fan, she would look like a fucking fan.

But, Yangyang doesn’t seem like an actor—if he was, and with the amount of popularity he has, he would have had at least three paparazzi on his back when he crashed his car. One step forward and she almost stumbles against one of the light guys, apologizing profusely as she continues going forward without a North. Whatever it is that she is doing other than looking around, is not the closest thing to finding Yangyang.

Much to her surprise, in front of one of the many green screens in that endless studio is Yangyang, seated in what she would compare to a director’s chair, the lights on him only highlighting the aspects of his face that had not been there when she had met him at the party. His lips are rosier, a sheen of highlight on both his cheekbones to make them more prominent—though, the structure of his face sculpted by the Gods was—. A golden bomber jacket rests on his arms, one leg crossed over the other as he speaks into the air with certainty. Confident with his hair pushed to the side and a small smile playing on his lips.

“Honestly, I’m just here to have a good time.” He shrinks into himself the slightest, tucking his hands under his thighs before swinging his legs back and forth. “I don’t care what anyone says,” A quirk of his eyebrow comes after, laughter following his statement. “Why would any of the other guys judge me for partying and buying expensive stuff when they, like, they do the same thing? It’s just…I want to live my twenties before I just completely turn my life upside down.”

The director asks, far too quickly. “How are you going to do that?”

Yangyang thinks for a moment, but he doesn’t deflate, much like he doesn’t give an absolute answer. “…What everyone does, go to Hollywood.” Though, he laughs at himself, shaking his head at the same time that the director asks to cut, a group of stylists rushing to him to fix his hair just at the same time that he stands up.

Statements. A green screen. Extra good makeup.

Questions.

They’re asking him questions about him…

And he’s here each week…

Yangyang is part of a reality show.

What the fuck?

Crossing her arms, she leans back on the wall as she watches the staff gather around him, telling him about places to go to after this, shootings that they need to do, and each voice molds onto itself until they are imperceptible. The farthest he gets from the green screen, the more she comes into view—with far less makeup than him and a red leather jacket that is much too old to compare to his bomber jacket.

Whatever.

Yangyang stops on his tracks when he sees her, stopping his typing on his phone when he smiles widely, like a kid that had just gotten his preferred kiss. “Girls’ Generation!” Confusion bathes the faces of the staff around him, and it takes her a second to curse under her breath when he moves towards her. Next thing she does is tell him her name. “Oh, sorry, I don’t keep up with the newest members.”

The only member he seemed to know was Liying, after all. “But you sure do keep up with something, Kim Kardashian.” She says, jotting her chin towards the chair that has now been taken over by someone else. “I didn’t know you were part of a reality show.”

“My manager asked me to join. Something about publicity…and people investing more in my appearances if I do. Influencer stuff, I guess? Like, I don’t like to call myself an influencer because I can’t, like, even influence my cat but…you know.” Yangyang goes around his answer a few times, earning a chuckle from her at the same time he drops a joke. “And please, call me Kendall. Taller, ass less fat, and I can pride myself on my legs.”

One look at them promises her that he is not lying. Long, slim, definitely looking good in whatever kind of pants he wears. “I’ll have to watch your show later.”

“Please, don’t.” Mortified, Yangyang shakes his head. “It’s all scripted and for drama. I promise, that’s not really how I want you to see me.”

Instead, she licks her lips. “Well, I found a paper in my bag asking me to meet you up here so…” She trails her voice. “How do you want me to see you?”

The challenge must have excited Yangyang, who runs his fingers through his hair and she almost believes she saw one of the staff dying in the process. That, or she’s trying to find other reactions similar to hers, heart thumping against her chest. “Well, I have some unreleased movies in my mansion and I thought we could—”

A woman with glasses propped on her nose, very much over the age of sixty, shakes her head as she nears Yangyang. “You can’t do anything today.” She finishes for him, throwing a look towards her before swallowing thickly. Something tells her that this is his manager, because she doesn’t look like Yangyang at all, and because of her authority.

Each day she is more thankful of having Hao.

“Why?” Yangyang drags his voice in a whine, turning to his manager to talk to her. “I thought I had Thursdays all for myself.”

“You thought correctly, but not today.” The woman turns her tablet to bathe Yangyang’s face on its glow. “Someone contracted you for a photoshoot today and I need you to take your pretty face to your limo so we can get there on time and have your makeup redone.”

Well, fucking shit.

She came all the way here for nothing.

Yangyang glances at her in the matter of seconds, his hands coming forward to grasp hers in their hold. His fingers are cold, mannerisms not as quickened as his voice, with his fingers soft like silk against her skin. She could get used to it. “Sorry.” He mumbles, biting his lip after. “Want to give me your number so we can meet up some other time?”

“Okay.” She says, soon after Yangyang takes his phone out of his pocket, giving it to her after unlocking it.

“Do you need me to call a cab for you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll walk home—”

“No way.” Yangyang denies, eyes turning to his manager. “Can we wait five minutes and call a cab for her? I can’t leave her alone here.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to.” He says, taking his phone in between his hands again before pointing to a door on the left. “There are some really good crepes over there, want to eat something as my manager calls a cab for you?”

A dream man doesn’t exist, they just don’t. She knows this, has engraved it in her brain and heart with each disappointment that has met her in the shape of a lover. However, with Yangyang talking over bites of his food, films that she hasn’t even heard about going past his lips with ease, summary after summary all awfully explained, she can’t help but think that she can get used to it.

Get used to the fluttery feeling that follows her when he closes the door to her cab and waves to her until he’s out of sight.  

###

To: Group-Chat.

I’m going to Yangyang’s place today.

The meteorite that splays in colors, leaving a black hole in its wake, comes in the shape of messages, both meaning to entice her to go into this damned date…and others simply for the sake of laughter.

From: Liying.

Ask for Alexander Wang’s newest collection.

From: Elena Wang.

He has money?

From: Liying.

Lots.

From: Yifei.

That’s it.

Girls.

We’re collectively asking for something so our babe can ask Yangyang to gift it to her.

And we do that each time they meet.

From: Elena Wang.

A ring.

From: Shishi.

The entire Dragon Ball collection.

From: Liying.

Clothes for children.

Preferably my daughter.

From: Bingbing.

Ladies, we all collectively suck.

We shouldn’t ruin her date like that.

(I say, as I lie through my teeth).

From: Angela.

We’re just joking, babe.

Go on that date!

If it didn’t work with Liying, it may work for you.

To: Group-Chat.

Thanks for making it awkward, Ange.

Important nights deserve bigger measures. An extra look in the mirror. Another movement of her hands to fix her hair and a blow of air that almost leaves her breathless, opening one more button of her shirt before hooking it again. She straightens her back, but with her heart thumping against her ribcage with more intensity at the action, she sighs. What is it about him? This man, whose life doesn’t fit hers at all, manages to make her curious. An itch. Thirst. Whatever this is, it palpitates with curiousness.

The mansion looks different in the daylight, but maybe she was a bit too tipsy when she had been here last. She smiles at the door, because why not practice for a while? Why not wait and ponder if this is another one of her bad decisions? Someone whose sunshine smile radiates on her eyes, blinds her, then takes her to a million trips towards the fields of heartbreak. He’ll know everything of her before she will even know what his favorite color is.

She had grown with only women in her life. No man in sight. Women gave out their empathy while men casted sympathy. Love is such a wicked game that it never gave her a moment to think better, to think about the words that had always been told to her:

Find a man who’d stop himself from kissing you if that meant hearing your voice.

But that never happens, so why is she here? Why does her finger come forward and press on the doorbell? Legs shaking, hands twirling against one another, she stops herself from running away when she hears Yangyang’s voice coming from the microphone at the entrance, telling her to hold up for a second.

She doesn’t need a man.

Then, why does she want one?

Why does she want him?

Diamonds have never been her thing, for the brightest thing she has seen is a smile. Convertibles can’t mean a thing when she can move in a cab and get the company of someone else while she writes some songs on the way home. Yangyang believes in the opposite of the world she has built for herself—the truest her, but that doesn’t seem to cross her head when he’s in front of her, in a white t-shirt and the air of a fucking nightmare.

Because falling for Yangyang is going to be a nightmare, much more when he calls her name as if it’s the melody of his favorite song that he had forgotten about in the twists of life, and when it comes up in the radio, he just knows about it. The lyrics, the tune, he appreciates it, loves it to bits for the three minutes and some seconds that it lasts.

Yangyang is three minutes and some seconds.

Yangyang is a nice feeling, nothing more, nothing less.

“You look pretty.” The glance-over he gives to her body is imperceptible, had it not been for his compliment, she would have never noticed that Yangyang spared one of the rushed seconds of his day by looking at her. “Wanna get inside?”

“It’s not like I came here to stand by the door.” She jokes around, making sure to smile just to avoid any misunderstandings. Yangyang closes the door behind them when she does get inside, one arm coming up to rest on her shoulder as he moves her forward.

“You know, I really thought you were, like, the sweet kind when I met you.”

“I am the sweet kind.” She wishes she could pay more attention to the living room around her, much more spacious when there are not hundreds of people scattered to make a place for themselves in this world of social rules. “You just…” Her words cut off when she looks at him, for his lips tell her—in silence, something she would never connect with Yangyang—that she’ll probably get in trouble with this one. “You don’t make it easy to be sweet to you.”

His lips move with such precision in her line of sight that she almost snaps out of it. Looking into his eyes would be less of a clear sign of her interest, but when he throws himself on top of his couch, legs sprawled like his arms to call out for her attention, she realizes something…

She’s really interested in Liu Yangyang.

“I’m going to earn it, I’m sure.” How in the world Liying called him insecure? She’s not sure. Instead, Yangyang leans his weight forward, taking a big bag of Doritos from the coffee table before opening it in one swift motion. A remote rests on his other hand, leaning back on the couch with the bag placed on his lap and his left arm extended for her to lay on it. “I have some films for us to watch…and I bought different snacks because I wasn’t sure which one you liked the most.”

“We can share.” She says, taking the spot beside him before slowly descending into the pits of Hell, letting her cheek rest on the side of his slim arm. “Do I get to pick what film to watch?”

Yangyang’s hand practically snatches eight pieces of Doritos to throw them inside his mouth, nodding in the process. “That was the initial plan.”

“Okay.” Taking the remote from his hands, she skims through the unreleased films he had talked about. “How do you even have these films?”

“My family owns a film production company. They all come from there.” Yangyang says as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, and she tries not to make a big deal out of it.

“Then, how did you end up in a reality show?”

“It’s a reality show to, well, like, show the lives of rich people and their children. I’m not always there, like, I’m not a regular.”

“Ah, I see…” She replies. “Does your family appear more regularly on the show?”

“What?” Yangyang asks incredulously, smiling.

“You said rich people and their children…”

“Yeah, but my family didn’t want to tag along.” His voice doesn’t become distant, fingers resting on her shoulder to play a bit with the fabric of her shirt. “Mom said if I was crazy for putting a portion of my life out there—for basically looking for the wrong kind of, like, of…” He looks up for a second, finding the right words. “Publicity, but I didn’t care at the time. I thought it was just going to be like recordings of my friends and I when we went out partying.”

“And what is it like?” She questions, cheek squished against his skin, movies momentarily forgotten for a moment, for her eyes are absolutely connected to this portion of him—the real behind the blinding smile.

“They give you a script and they make you sign a contract that says you have to, like, always be involved in drama, I want to say?” Yangyang chuckles in the process. “Basically, if I stayed quiet for too long, my manager would have to make me do something. Like, I don’t know, create a dating rumor or something…and that would have people talking for a while and boom,” He claps his hands together, right over her body, making her chuckle in the process. “We have a new season.” Though, the position makes him be a bit closer to her, enough for her to count his eyelashes, see the small blemishes on his delicate skin.

“Do you do that right now?”

“Nope, I stopped being a regular because of that.” Yangyang drags his voice, a groan coming soon after. “It was tiring. I’m just there for the fun…and for acting experience, I guess. It’s fun to see the drama go on when I’m not in the drama.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“What do you do?” His back comes in contact with the couch once again, leaving her with the time to breathe in oxygen and not his pure cologne. Somehow, she misses it.

“I’m a singer.” Though, she corrects herself when Yangyang parts his lips in surprise. “Well, I am trying to be a singer—let’s just say I am unemployed as of now. I have a manager, just haven’t had my big break, that’s all.”

“You are not part of a record label?” Yangyang asks, only to have her shaking her head. “Well, I have some contacts. I think one of my cousins owns a record label, so I could call him up—”

“Yangyang, you haven’t even heard me sing.” She tells him…because Yangyang lives his life with a blindfold, stepping forward without seeing if there’s an abyss just two steps away. “Are you always like this with strangers? You can’t offer me opportunities like that—”

For the first time in a while, Yangyang stays silent—he never does, much less does he look like he’s deep in thought, as if there is a portion of him that questions the reason behind his smiles, his humongous parties, his social presence that seems to follow him everywhere he goes. “Isn’t it better to trust too much than not trust anyone at all?”

“No.” She says, fingers coming up to interlock with his on her shoulder. “Yangyang, you’re going to end up hurt. Not by me, I can reassure you that, but by someone else…”

“It’s not like it hasn’t happened.” Yangyang says, and the seriousness in his voice is masked by a cramped smile. “It, like, it doesn’t matter. I’m a savage. I have money. It doesn’t matter, really. I can get over anything.”

“…Yeah, but you should be careful about what you give out to people.”

“A record deal isn’t that big of a—”

“Yangyang, I have spent years trying to find a record deal, of course it’s difficult—”

“Then, let me help you.”

“No.” She adds. “The beauty of reaching your dream is knowing you went through Hell and back for it, and you never gave up.”

One hand rests over her head, moving her from side to side. “That’s such a big brain person saying. I don’t even know what, like, to tell you.” Laughter bubbles from her, staring at his brown eyes that twinkle under the sunlight that peaks through the windows. “Okay, I’ll let it be.”

“Okay. Thank you, anyways.”

“Anytime.” This time around, she does turn her attention back to the TV screen, humming a song to herself as she looks through the options. “Oh shit, I forgot the drinks.”

Yet, she’s too comfortable in his arms to really care about that at this moment. “We can go search for them after the movie.”

“Are you really going to have Doritos without some soda on the side?”

“…Yes. It’s the healthier option, actually.”

“It’s not the—” Yangyang cuts himself short, sighing deeply. “It’s not the funniest option, darling. Life is about having fun.”

“Are we really having this conversation over soda?”

“Yes.” Yangyang throws his head back, neck in full display for her to see when he calls out a name she doesn’t know: “Lai Fang!” Silence. “Lai Fang, can you get me some soda, please?”

It must be one of his workers, now that she thinks about it, but much to Yangyang’s surprise, more than one person get out of the kitchen. Each of them dressed to utmost perfection—all in black uniforms, but sporting something similar other than that…the luggage that they carry, some bags, some simply display their disappointment on their faces.

The woman in the front, with short hair and lively nature, lets the wrinkles on her face speak about her years of hard work when she lowers her voice the slightest. “Yangyang, I’m sorry to say that I am not going to be working here anymore. None of us are.”

Maybe, since this is a date, she had expected Yangyang to act remotely cool. However, his arm slips away from the back of her head as he stands up, rushing to whom she supposes is Lai Fang. “What? No, no, no, no, no.” He repeats, waving his hands in the air as panic overtakes him. “I’ve paid you all. My chefs, my cleaners, my valets, my guards. What? Why are you leaving?”

Lai Fang sighs deeply, taking Yangyang’s hands in between hers before rubbing soft circles on top of the skin. “Yang, your family asked for some time-out. We will no longer be working here for you because they want you to learn how to fend for yourself. Something about being too spoiled—”

“Guys!” Yangyang says, a smile on his face as he tries to mend things. She rests her chin on the backrest of the couch, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. His world is crumbling down at his feet at that mere moment. “Guys, we don’t have to tell them! I’m perfectly fine with doing my stuff, but you know how it is…nothing will ever be the same without all of you guys here!”

“We have to leave, Yangyang.” Lai Fang lets go of his hands, and what seems to be tears gather at her eyes as she pulls away from him.

“No, Lai Fang! You can’t leave—!” Almost like a kid watching his mother go to work in the morning as he stayed home on a Saturday, Yangyang tries to rush for the entrance door, stopping anyone from leaving. Had it not been for one of the other workers winning over him in speed and opening the door, no one would have been able to leave. “What am I going to do now?”

“Be a normal young adult and live your own life.” Lai Fang says, rubbing her eyes before waving her hand at Yangyang one last time. “You can always text me if you need help, but this is the last day I’m working for you, Yangyang.”

“But—” His words are cut off with the staff leaving one by one, not hearing his pleas when the door closes in front of him before he could say anything else.

Silence fills the air. Seconds in which his eyes seem to be trained to that door, as if he just had a nightmare and he’ll wake up at any second. The screen still blinks and calls for their attention, so she does what would be best in that moment—

“Let’s watch a movie and calm down for a second, okay?”

Yangyang cuts himself out of whatever trance he had put himself in, clearing his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll go look for the soda.”

“Sure. I’ll wait for you here.”

The sound of pans clashing against each other, plates clanking obnoxiously and Yangyang cursing under his breath continuously tells her that this won’t be easy for him. Liu Yangyang has been left to be a normal adult for once, and he can’t quite fit in into the role. What a curse.

###

With soup sloshing around the container that she holds in between her hands, she doesn’t know how to ring Yangyang’s doorbell. She could scream, of course, but she doubts he will hear her from the depths of his mansion. Not that there are a lot of people there to start with, considering that all his staff left only days ago, but with how saddened he has been about the loneliness in his own home, she can imagine he’s buried deep in his bed, earphones taking him to a whole new world where he doesn’t actually have to prepare lunch.

Her foot must do.

She brings her foot up until it graces the doorbell, but it falls down before she could ring it. Fuck. She repeats the action and digs the tip of her Converse shoes into the doorbell, creating a prolonged sound that should call out for Yangyang’s attention. In the far distance, she hears an unintelligible scream that she connects to his presence, followed by the sprinting that she knows he always does when going through his house.

Out of the many things she has done for someone she is interested in—cursive in interested, there’s nothing more there—, making them the healing soup she had perfected from an online recipe and bringing it to them wasn’t an option. Sure, maybe she just feels a tad guilty for what happened to Yangyang, it wasn’t his fault to live in a world of fantasies and for him to be dropped into reality in the blink of an eye. That doesn’t happen to a lot of people.

But, why is she helping him?

The door opens to welcome the sight of Yangyang looking like the most beautiful mess she has ever met. For the first time in her life, she believes it when people say the best of attractions come when you’re attracted to everything, including their imperfections. His brown hair stays a mess on his head, sticking around in several portions. Eyebags cover his usually taut skin, and for utmost reference of what he is doing, his hands are bathed in soap. His shirt—once white, she can realize that much—now sprawls bits of pink in the weirdest of places, the only thing seemingly put together the gray sweatpants on his nice legs.

“Help.” Yangyang breathes out at that moment, not quite realizing that his hands are very soapy when he comes forward to wrap her up in a hug. Yangyang’s dramatic on his actions, she believes, and his parents may want to start pondering on adding him to one of their movies by the way he lifts her off her feet the slightest to hug her, bending her back a bit to be able to push his weight forward, hide his face on her hair and let out the longest sigh she has heard. “I’m trying to do laundry and all my clothes are now pink.”

…She’s helping him because of this.

The hand that is not only onto the container rests on his back, fingers threading over the fabric of his shirt to rub against his scapula. “Oh, baby, that’s no good…”

“I’ve been doing laundry for an entire night and now all my Alexander Wang collection is gone.”

Oh, shit.

One of her friends had mentioned the Alexander Wang collection…and she doesn’t know how much it is worth, but it’s one hell of a lot.

“Yang, have you had anything to eat?”

“Cheetos count?”

She pulls away to look into his eyes, running her free hand over his locks to pat them in place, though his hands don’t let go of her waist and her eyes can’t get enough of this sight of his face that she had not seen. The pout, the helplessness, the beauty of wanting to try to be normal. “Cheetos don’t count.” She mumbles, lifting the container up to his face. “I brought you some soup. My special healing soup.”

With nimble fingers, he grasps onto the plastic container, eyes widening momentarily before he babbles out: “A—And you’re helping me learn how to do laundry?”

“How about this?” She makes herself at home when she goes past him, taking off her jacket and swathing it on the hanger at the corner. “I’ll teach you how to be a normal person. Laundry. How to use a stove. All of the like.”

Yangyang closes the door behind him, his fingers now coming in contact with the little post-it note she had placed on top of the container, and she has to look away the moment he lowers his gaze to read it in a mumble.

“You can do it, Yang.” He reads out, before a sweet giggle leaves his lips. “Okay, let’s learn how to be a normal person.”

###

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up.” Even when saying that, Yangyang’s actions don’t falter the slightest bit, squatting in front of her guitar case to open it as she prepares her electric guitar for a street performance. “You have to do this every time you run out of money?”

He doesn’t understand it, and she can’t bring herself to be mad at him, looking around in case anyone has heard the mere obvious. She still owes her landlord one month of rent and in light of not having any café or bar performances coming soon, she has to search for a way to reunite the money to be able to pay her rent. Crossing the guitar over her chest and making sure the guitar amplifier is well connected, she hums at what he says.

The city bustles on its wake this afternoon, people going from side to side, the lake behind her surrounded by tourists and people who want to have their sweet picnics. Much to their delight, she’s going to sing today…and that may be against what they would have imagined their afternoon to go like.

“Yep.” She pops the word out, lowering the volume and practicing some of her minor chords. “Yangyang, being an artist is difficult and maybe, I’m just really not that talented, and that’s why—”

Yangyang moves his hands from side to side in front of her, movements erratic and somewhat dramatic, the sleeves of his designer sweater floating around his hands comically. “We’re not saying that. You’re talented. That’s something I have already established.”

“You haven’t even heard me play or sing anything.”

This is all he needs, a challenge or a dare, something that makes him sit in front of her guitar case, dropping a few bills into it that may be a little bit too much, his whole attention trained towards her—weeks of knowing him and still, she can’t see an imperfection in him that doesn’t make her heart beat rapidly, either in annoyance or because she’s flattered by this whole new world that she has met with him. “Okay, play something.” Yangyang says, bringing his knees up his chest, his chin squishing itself against the bony surface before nodding softly. “I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.”

She has played the guitar too many times, sang even more, when sober or when drunken, when in a party or when alone, but somehow, this feels different. His eyes on hers, studying her but never judging her, listening and truly understanding the words that escape her lips when she sings, watching her with so much intent that she feels nervousness for the first time. Her eyes close, trying to lose herself in the feeling of being there—of being supported, because Liu Yangyang oddly feels like her first fan, and she’s not quite against it.

When she opens her eyes, minutes later to start another song, she’s surprised not to see Yangyang. Not that he is too far away, blending into the groups of people as he calls them over, pointing at her widely in a way that has her laughing a bit at herself in between the words she is singing. Yangyang sprints from one place to the other, capturing people as he says:

“Do yourselves a favor and listen to her!”

It’s at that moment that she realizes there is really something more than interest, but what would be closer to love at first sight. There, with him, she can’t imagine having no one else by her side. There, with him, she wondered how in the world destiny had connected the two of them. Not a bad match, but definitely an unexpected one.

###

There’s a reason why human contact is so beautiful, and it is because the brain has the possibility of remembering far more than what we intend. Homely, it feels like, when Yangyang enters the convenience store after parking the cheapest of his convertibles outside, and decides to slot his fingers in between hers. Slim fingers, nails that come in contact with the outside of her hand, his rings scalding in coldness against her skin. There are diamonds in there, ones that left imprints each time he held her hand, but now she can’t get enough of them.

She wouldn’t say Yangyang is perfect—he isn’t. Spoiled, he seems to be, somewhat lost in his own world of seeing the good in everyone. For him, spending as much as he does is enjoying life, but he’s learning. A good listener, a copycat of what he hears and deems right, Yangyang now comes into a new phase of his life.

With her free hand, a kiss resting on her cheek in the process, she takes a cart out of its confines. Yangyang fixes the cap on his head as if not to bother her when he goes for another kiss to her cheek, the fabric of his white sweater—no longer making his clothes turn pink, thankfully—rubs against her forearm when she speaks up. “Now, Yangyang, how much should we normally spend in groceries?”

The man thinks for a moment, walking forward with her as she goes to the first hall. “I don’t know, like, seven hundred bucks?”

She turns to him with her eyebrows very raised, lips parted before breathing out the deepest of: “No. Yangyang, what the fuck? You live alone, I’m sure you can get to spend much less than that.”

“Sorry.” Yangyang speaks, laughter overtaking his body, his shoulders shaking in the process. “I spend like a thousand at minimum every time I buy something.”

This is the part of her that, sometimes, feels like Yangyang and her will never fit into the same sentence. Too different of lives can only create a mess when colliding together. A beautiful mess, she likes to call it. Losing him is not something she is thinking about as of now. “No, Yangyang, we’re not—We’re not doing that.”

“Okay, so what must I do?” Yangyang asks, and she takes this moment to dip her hand into her own pocket, taking her phone out, unlocking it and giving it to him.

“We’re going to use our trusting friend, a calculator, and try to stop ourselves from overspending.” She speaks softly, listening to the faint sound of what seems to be jazz music in the background. “And by us, I mean you.”

“In my defense, I always ‘almost failed’ math class in high school.” Yangyang replies and, as always, he makes her laugh.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey! I was a great student in, like, language class and stuff.”

Something about the smiles they both share makes her feel perfect—it shouldn’t, never has she felt quite like this, and somehow, she can’t bring herself to pull away when his lips come forward and rest on her forehead. Not that he has gotten anywhere remotely close to her lips, though, practically prolonging the stress of not knowing where they stand. Friends. Friends that like each other. Fire and water coming together. Something.

It’s comfortable, but no one knows exactly what it is.

###

The shivering feeling that comes after a sip of lemonade, sugar to the tongue, on a hot day of summer is the best feeling in this world. It reminds her of excitement—to reply to someone’s text on the early stages of dating, to get on stage for the first time after hearing a round of applause, all in one simplistic taste. Not even the laughter that surrounds her living room as her friends gather around could make her feel as great.

Her head lays on Bingbing’s lap, the fabric of the red dress Yangyang had bought for her relishing against her skin when she turns to her side, listening to the story Elena is telling through sips of her wine, the glasses ones that she hadn’t ever gotten out of her shelves but now co-exist in the hands of her friends. Life is good, for one second, she doesn’t have to think about the unknowingness of her existence in a world that is much too big.

Though, someone knocks at her door, enough to interrupt Elena as she presses her mouth in a thin line. “Who could it be? We haven’t ordered anything yet.” Elena says, and Bingbing takes the time to extend her hands after she gets off, pulling her dress down the slightest to cover more of her thighs and go over to the door.

“We should. I’m craving pizza like crazy.” Bingbing instructs, but she doesn’t pay much attention to what the woman is saying. Instead, she pulls a sweater up and down her body, covering the neckline of her dress before getting the door. Fingers threading on the doorknob, she opens it without really checking who it is, and if someone had told her this would be a sight for her to see months ago, she would’ve laughed straight at their faces.

A starry-looking button down covers his chest, but his legs are in display thanks to his ripped jeans, yet the dark color scheme is changed for something much brighter when his lips part in a smile and he points at the cardboard he has hanging from his neck thanks to some thick thread.

In red letters, much too bright, clearly in his handwriting, Yangyang has written ‘Kissing Booth’ and one dollar by its side. “Hi!” Yangyang greets, making everyone in the living room shush themselves to listen to what they’re saying—he may not see them, but all her friends had noticed him. “So, since you don’t let me help you economically and, like, you said you would only accept money that you’ve earned…I’m doing a kissing both. One dollar and I give a kiss out. So, you know, I can give you some money.”

She has to frown at his logic, or maybe, it’s the idea of Yangyang kissing anyone but her that makes the lemonade glass on her hands almost fall. “Yang, what are you even talking about?”

“All profits from the kissing booth will go directly to your bank account for your rent.” He indicates, moving his feet back and forth before looking up. “…I haven’t had any clients, though—”

“You are not having any clients.” She conquers.

“Why?”

“I’m not letting you kiss anyone.” The moment those words leave her lips, she can hear Liying snickering in the far distance, too soft for it to be heard by anyone, much more when Shishi splays her hand on top of her mouth to keep her from making any noise. “…For me. I’m not letting you kiss anyone for me.”

“Why?” Yangyang asks, leaning his weight against the doorframe before quirking an eyebrow. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“…Ah…” She clears her throat, not noticing just how close he is until she feels that damned, obnoxiously ugly cardboard sign bump against her chest. “What if I am?”

Taking his wallet out of his pocket, Yangyang gets out a lot more bills than necessary, putting them on her hand before shrugging. “You shouldn’t. Someone just paid you around a hundred kisses from the kissing booth guy. I don’t know the source, though.”

With her heart thumping like crazy, she watches as Yangyang takes her by the waist, hands fisting the fabric of her sweater before his lips descended upon hers. Fervor bleeds through his kisses, wanting and needing more of her, overtaking any rational thoughts as he makes all the worries dissipate. Her hands have a mind of their own as they thread through his hair, never getting enough of him—enough of the fantasies he likes to live just to spice up her reality.

When he pulls away, he gives a step forward, ready to take her inside until she breathes out quickly: “Yang, all my friends are here.”

“What?” The poor guy says, roses blooming on his cheeks when he turns to the left, watching the group of women raise their hands in the air.

“Surprise!” They all greet in a way that has Yangyang hiding his face on the crook of her neck, bringing a smile to her face.

She could get used to this. Not for three seconds, but for much longer.

#yangyang scenarios #yangyang #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #how to lose someone in seven steps?

[commander-diomika]

Ah fuck it. Let's get this started. Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Gen Word Count: ~1000 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract Summary: Zolf and Oscar Wilde find their way back together as the world falls apart. This is the first in a series of scenes through the time skip and beyond with eventual canon divergence, exploring trans masc Oscar Wilde, with background Barnes/Carter.

Posted as a series as most scenes will be able to stand alone as snapshots, and different scenes will have different ratings.

The Meritocratic Offices, Cairo.

“Wilde.” Zolf leant on the doorframe, arms crossed. They’d made him leave his glaive at the front, but his flat eyes and tone still managed to exude a threat. “Got your letter. Can’t say I was pleased to hear from you.”

Wilde looked up from the desk with tired eyes. It was not the face of the man that Zolf had met in London only six months ago. His hair was too short, for one, and it made his face look thinner, once-soft features sharp. Zolf was willing to bet if he’d cast Detect Magic, there wouldn’t be a speck of illusion on the man. Zolf hid his shock, lips barely twitching. After all, Zolf wasn’t the same dwarf either, sporting stark white hair and standing on two seemingly good legs.

“Ah, but you came, didn’t you?” Wilde’s smile, on the other hand, hadn’t changed. His smile said he was winning a game you hadn’t even learnt the rules to yet, and not for the first time Zolf wondered why he’d let the Harlequins talk him into dropping his investigation to heed this man’s summons.

“Of all the people in the world you could’ve tracked down, why me?” Zolf asked flatly.

Wilde stood. “Shut the door, if you please.” Zolf stepped in, obliging.

Unlike some of the other lavish appointments Zolf had seen Wilde take up residence in, this office was cramped, undecorated, and its walls were in need of another coat of whitewash. There was only one chair on this side of the desk, and it didn’t look like it would hold up to Zolf’s bulk. He stayed standing.

Wilde leant his hips on the front edge of the desk. He was moving gingerly, as if recovering from an injury, but as he leant back Zolf could see his demeanour shift, that insufferable entertainer’s persona wrapping around him like a cloak.

“I heard about the work you were doing for the Harlequins, on the weather abnormalities. I also heard that you were stalled, somewhat.”

Zolf grunted by way of reply. When Wilde didn’t continue, Zolf felt his impatience spark. “That’s not really Meritocrat business, now is it? What's really goin’ on here? Your letter weren’t exactly illuminating.”

Wilde examined his nails.

Zolf resisted the urge to Create Water over the top of Wilde’s head. When he’d decided to come here, he promised himself that he was going to be better. He’d changed. The fact that this was the man most able to get under his skin would only help make those changes stick. Hopefully.

“Those labels are meaning less and less, these days.” Wilde’s eyes met Zolf’s as though searching for something.

Zolf closed the small distance between them and grabbed Wilde by the lapels. Well, six months wasn’t a very long time for a dwarf, and change was hard. “Stop. Stop bein’ enigmatic and tell me what I’m doin’ here, Wilde. I know you could’n give a straight answer to save your life but if you don’t give it a shot, I’m leavin’.” Wilde flinched as he was pulled into a stoop, eyes skittering off Zolf’s face, now mere inches from his own.

He took a deep breath. “The Meritocrats have been compromised. Cult of Hades. Badly.”

Zolf let go. “… Alright then,” he said. It was half acknowledgement, half peace offering.

Wilde straightened, smoothed hands down his lapels, wincing slightly. “It’s true. There’s almost no one here I can be sure of. I asked you to come and work for me because, quite frankly, things are breaking down, and you’re the only one left.” The mask slipped and for just a flash, there was something so vulnerable on that face. The only what left, Wilde didn’t specify.

“Your old mercenary group left untapped leads, and I think I know the next steps. I’ve been trying to play the game from the inside, but any usefulness that might have been wrought here, is coming to an end.” His voice was high, emotion cracking through. He shifted back to lean against the desk again, tried to regain his usual composure, and failed. “On top of all that, I’m being hexed from a distance and have to wear anti magic cuffs twenty-four seven.” He knocked his ankles gently together with a metallic clink. Ah. That explained the lack of illusions, then.

Wilde took a shaky breath, and Zolf could see that he was dragging words up from a place rarely accessed. “I need help, Zolf. And I need to not be in this alone.”

Zolf felt a brief flash of guilt for manhandling this shadow of Wilde’s former self.

“Is that straight forward enough for you?” Wilde asked with a bitter drop.

That was a lot of take in. He’d known things were bad from his work with the Harlequins; but it was one thing to hear rumours and theorization, another to hear it straight from the inside. Heedless of his earlier assessment of the chair, Zolf sat heavily. “I… yeah. That’s rough.”

Wilde flicked his head as though to stop the kind words landing on him. As far as Zolf was concerned, it worked. He promptly abandoned his brief foray into sympathy for Wilde, and straightened back up.

“Also, back up a minute. Work for you?” Wilde started to smile again, his face becoming one that begged to be dunked in a bucket. Gods but this whole interaction was setting Zolf back. “Let’s get one thing clear. If I’m helpin’ you - and I’m not saying that I am - this time we work together. I ain’t gonna be your lackey, and I don’t need a handler. You keep me in the loop, you talk to me, and we work as a team.”

“Of course, Zolf. I accept your terms.” Wilde held out his hand primly, once again the picture of a man accustomed to making deals. Zolf saw him tuck that vulnerability back inside, and felt a flash of emotion that was either respect or resentment. “Partners, then?”

Zolf eyed the offered hand. Despite everything Wilde was going through, it was still remarkably well manicured.

“C’mon Zolf. Haven’t we always gotten along swimmingly,” Wilde implored with a tilt of his head and a waggle of his fingertips.

“Don’t.” Zolf said warningly. Resentment, definitely. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Wilde threw back his head and laughed. “Now Zolf, when have I ever given you cause for regret?”

Zolf growled, took the offered hand in his, and shook.

#hank writes #zoscar #zolfwilde #rusty quill gaming #rusty quill fan fic #rqg #zolf smith #rqg oscar wilde

[obscureoperations]

ok feel free to delete this if you aren't into blood play cuz I know its not everyone's cup of tea

but.

I was thinking about a scenario where Martin agrees to be tormented when he's gotten really hungry. tie him up, make sure he knows the rules, establish a safe word. basically the scenario involves teasing Martin with your own blood and making it so he can't get to it to drink, but also pushing and teasing him about the fact you're bleeding and he's hungry and all he really has to do is safe word and he can drink. but he's a good boy, so he won't. and you know he won't.

(of course this involves a lot of trust and intermittent check ins to make sure he is truly okay in the moment which brings out the intimacy here (yes. intimate blood play. it makes sense leave me alone))

telling him to keep his eyes on the cut in your finger as it drips blood down onto his chest. not letting him look away. reminding him how hungry he must be and telling him to not struggle and keep his eyes on you.

by the end of the scene hes crying and in a real deep headspace. ignoring his most important need. for you. all because you told him to.

(of course afterwards he gets taken care of all sweet n stuff :) )

I'm actually not opposed.. not at all! I love the detail.. and I really tried to do this justice to no avail. This is one of the premises that I can see myself coming back to. Trying to turn it from word vomit into an actual story!

Stray tears continue to trickle past his hairline, seeping into the thousand thread count pillow..Cheeks burning with shame.. Martin’s eyes remain fixated on the ceiling--the thin jagged crack that starts at the fan all the way to the far corner of your room. He felt heavy, nearly saturated with guilt the moment you began to ‘take care of him’. Your fingers gripped his thighs with an almost otherworldly force, as you pin his slight hips to the bed. Questions of who he belonged to.. What was his name… why exactly should he be apologizing.

Martin was still at you kept him tethered to the edge of delirium. Lips moving over his flesh in a way that reminded him that you still cared-- Teeth gently nipping at his neck tongue laving over his racing pulse. His mouth was dry, the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach was almost unbearable. The coppery scent was unmistakable, it curled at his nostrils causing him to swoon. The smell was unique, almost spicy-- everything about it was decidedly you. He would catch glimpses of the heady aroma when you would accidentally nick yourself preparing dinner. Or that one time when you fell off your bike skinning your knee.

His hands were numb, wrists tied to the bedposts, he had no idea where you managed to acquire the rope. His legs were extended towards the edge of the bed, slightly parted ankles tethered to the bed. Luckily for him, you decided to spare him some dignity. He was completely bare save for his shorts. Mouth sized bruises adorn his collar, chest and ribs-- all ranging in various colors. Pools of blood began to dry and stick to his skin, he could feel them tighten under the breeze. He was shivering, eyes fixated on the laceration on your arm--he prayed you didn't press in too deep.

~

He could still taste the tears streaming down your cheeks the moment he crawled in through the window. You were shaking, struggling to contain your sobs.The look on your face practically broke his heart.

“Martin… where were you?”

He momentarily seemed to lose the ability to speak. His eyes remained glued to your angelic face. The tears flowed freely. He never knew you to display any emotion beyond very mild annoyance-- You were shivering, arms wrapped around yourself protectively-- this was something completely new. He messed up.

“Y/n… I’m so sorry..”

~

“Why not me?”

You had asked him that question every single time. You knew all about his sickness, his actual need for blood. You knew that he couldn’t go to a hospital...he would be locked up forever-- Then why not you?

He claimed that you were far too precious to him. If he ever hurt you “He would die”

This was far worse, he had been doing so well-- You were on the verge of full blown panic whenever you could hear police sirens in the distance.

Martin knew what he was doing, he was quick on his feet, there was very little reason you should fear for his safety. But still, what if he messed up and made a mistake. You would never forgive yourself if something happened to him.

So he agreed. If anything to regain your trust-- and hopefully make amends. The safe word was “silk” ; he could use it at any time when things became too much. He wasn’t allowed to drink from you until you explicitly tell him it’s okay.

He had no idea what he was getting into, he nearly used the word the moment you picked up the blade.You winced ever so slightly as the steel pierced your skin--the ropes were the only thing stopping him from wrapping you in his arms. You didn’t have to hurt yourself for him. The blood began to pool down your arm, he wanted to scream. You seem almost mesmerized for a moment yourself as the crimson rivulets begin to drip down your wrist. His eyes remain transfixed, his face grows hot--the stabbing pain in his stomach causing him to wince. “Yn..p-please be careful” he whispers. Was that a warning or a request?

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you poise your arm over his chest-- squeezing gently as a few droplets land against his skin. He hisses sharply, eyes immediately screw shut-- white hot electricity surged up his spine. Every nerve ending set on edge as the coppery scent hits his nostrils

~

You take your time, painting red washed lines across his chest as his fingers helplessly grasp at the bed posts. He was panting, clearly tenting in his shorts, but he still refused to look at you.

“Martin, open your eyes..”

He shakes his head, images swirling through his mind. He saw mobs chasing him through the city. Torches blazing as he scrambles down cobblestone stairs. He saw the woman on the train laying practically lifeless. He saw the image of you from one of his dreams.

~

The two of you had very nearly broken up--but that was towards the beginning of your relationship. You knew that Martin had nightmares--this was when you first began to discover the depth of his sickness. It started with him talking in his sleep, waking up in tears unaware of his surroundings. It only got worse till one day you woke up in the middle of the night to find him locked in the bathroom sobbing uncontrollably. You begged and pleaded for over an hour for him to just open the door. He refused, he was so scared that he might have hurt you. As it turns out he dreamed that he had actually killed you. It all started from accidentally tasting a stray droplet of your blood. In fact, it was a few days after he had patched up your thumb after your run in with the kitchen knife.

Better than he ever imagined, the taste alone sparked something inside of him. He was so worried that one day he might not be able to contain himself. He was so scared that he might hurt you. You noticed his somber demeanor, but the pieces didn’t click until you found him in the midst of a literal breakdown. You didn’t care, you wanted him with you for the rest of your life. You were certain you could show him how to be good.

~

“Martin.. It’s okay… please look at me darling”

After a moment, he opens his eyes. Damp lashes cling to porcelain cheeks-- you only wanted to hold him. His gaze gradually moves from your face to the tips of your bloodied fingers, still glistening in the light. His stomach turns, threatening to collapse in on itself as he resumes tugging at the restraints.

“Y/n.. p-please.. We--ah.. We shouldn’t do this…”

Do what… sweetheart?” You coo, painting a crimson line just beneath his lips. In that moment you could have sworn his eyes shone brighter, almost amber under the lamplight. The force of his thrashing causes the bed posts to creak.. Groaning heavily beneath the pressure.

No no no… this was not a good idea everything about you smelled so warm and inviting.

He tries his best to school his face into a pleading expression, tongue darting over cracked lips.

“You should-- just clean up, and untie me.. I feel so much better now. “

“Untie you?” you snort as you trace your fingers over his lips, as he fruitlessly attempts to tilt his head. You can feel him tense as a strange sort of shiver rolls through him.

“And then what are you going to do…”

Tears begin to freely flow down his cheeks as he shakes his head. “N-nothing.. I swear..”

“I know this Martin.. You’re not going to hurt me.. You never would.”

His chest heaves, you could have sworn you feel some of the tension leave his body.

“No.. never!”

“Are you hungry darling?”

“Y-yess” There was something about the raw unfiltered need in his voice that caused something inside to ignite. You were familiar with it sure-- it wasn’t rare that you had him nearly slipping off the bed.

But this was different.

You only wanted to cure him of his nightmares, but in that moment you feared you were making everything worse. You just wanted to show Martin that you trusted him completely. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you even if he tried.

With a shaky hand, he draws your fingers to his lips, keeping the blood stained digits poised directly over his mouth. His breath came out in heated puffs, reminding you of this old rottweiler that used to be chained up in your neighbor’s yard.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you weave your fingers through his hair--noting as he leans into your hand. Breath ghosting along your palm--the tip of his nose brushing over the hardened bits of blood. You can feel him inhale deeply, as another shiver shoots through his slight frame. His teeth digs into his bottom lip as he relishes in the brief bits of attention. You continue to whisper to him words of affirmation. Thanking him for behaving so sweetly.

There was always one small vein on his forehead that always seemed more pronounced whenever he was in pain. Martin had migraines, so you saw it alot. He refused to take medicine, in fear that it might “make him loopy” His cheeks were flushed, brows furrowed in agony-- you couldn’t help the sudden pang of guilt. You already knew that Martin would never hurt you… why on earth did you think this was a good idea?

In a haste you reach for the razor, digging it into the palm of your hand. You begin to squeeze at your wrist, urging the blood to flow. You lean in, pressing a kiss against his temple as drops of blood coats your fingertips. You press one of your stained fingers to his mouth

“Martin… drink..”

He shook his head almost violently, pressing his cheek against the pillow. The motion left a bloody streak across his face. He could feel the droplets hardening by the second, his teeth immediately sink into his bottom lip. You were perched atop of him, knees resting against each side of his hips-- you sink down just a bit further. He lets out an audible gasp as your hips rock against his clothed erection-- droplets of blood pool into the dips of his collarbone.

He wanted to die… he truly wanted to die. There was no way that this could possibly be okay. Why would you want him to drink from you? You were so much more than one of his victims, you were his entire life. He valued your livelihood so much more than his own.

He failed to realise he was staring off into space, until your fingertips began to ghost along his jawline

“Sweetheart, are you okay?

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?” you sink back further onto your knees. The sudden bout of friction causes him to shiver.

“Plea- No.. y/n. Don’t stop..”

After a moment, he slowly reaches for your hand, you press your palm directly against his lips. You can still feel the rumbles emanating from his ribs, arms tugging fruitlessly at the restraints. Stray droplets of blood adorn his chest, the crimson stream begins to drip past his cheeks. He was panting, even as you press your fingers through the crack of his lips. Breath seemed to still within his chest.

Tears continued to spill down his cheeks, seeping down into his hairline. Had you actually “broken” your boyfriend? What was wrong? Surely he wasn’t this repulsed by your blood alone.

“Martin.. I’m so sorry..” You whisper suddenly, his eyes remain fixed upon the ceiling, the crimson rivulets drip past his firmly closed lips.

You continue to weave your fingers through his hair, as his lips slowly part beneath your hand.

Tugging as you whisper against his ear. “ Darling.. Please drink..”

#martin 1977 #martin 1978 #martin mathias #martin/you #martin/reader #bloodtw #blood play #self harm #consentual self harm

[its-chelisey-stuff]

My 2020 in dramaland pt 1/4

I’m doing this at the start of december but I’m scheduling it to be posted on Christmas Eve, because that way I can say to everyone Happy holidays! Anyway, these are the Korean dramas I watched this year (listed in the order I saw them, NOT including my favorite dramas, those will have its own post!)

Love Alarm (2019): I don’t think I need to say what this was about lol if you haven’t seen it, chances are, you’ve heard of it. This is like all those Netflix shows I binge in one day, hate them but still can’t help but want to know what happens next and immediately need a season 2. Btw, this drama has the type of love triangle that I tolerate the most: the men who like the girl are also BFFs and never actually turn against each other, or at least suffer because they don’t really want to hurt the other. Bros before hoes! Kinda.

OTP: Jojo&SunOh. Hate that I love them tbh. But it’s mostly all thanks to him. To me, KimSoHyun’s chemistry with SongKang is the best chemistry she’s ever had with any of her co-stars. Well, maybe it’s a tie with Jisoo. Sorry Jang DongYoon. 

Thing I enjoyed the most: Knowing there’s a second season coming. I NEED CLOSURE! Dramas should never have seasons, it’s cruel.

Do I recommend it? Uhm... Yes. But beware of old tropes like Noble Idiocy super idiotic, a FL that never speaks her mind and a whole lot of nonsense angst and pining. Hey, your average kdrama basically.

Crash Landing on You: You know she actually did crash land on him. Twice. I loved that they were so doomed, it was awesome. A forbidden and beautiful romance, they were all in for each other. He was handsome and cute I mean is HyunBin! but she was my favorite: brave, sassy, bold and a CEO. I hated when they shoot her. A pity they can only be happy in Switzerland, but I liked that about their ending. (I made a sort of review of the finale here)

OTP: Awesome chemistry, have you heard about all those dating rumors? But my favorite couple was actually the second lol. I will never forgive this drama for NOT giving them a happy ending. WTF? And that’s why it’s not in my fave’s list.

Thing I enjoyed the most: Apart from the love stories? North Korean soldiers from Captain Ri’s team. Bless them.

Do I recommend it? Oh, is there someone who hasn’t seen it? For real, go watch it. It’s a romcom for the ages. Lots of nonsense and cliches. Loved it, just *one* little flaw. ALBERTOOOO!

Witch’s Court (2018): A law drama. I never watch these types of dramas. Only did it because I had a crush on Yoon HyunMin at the time, my sister made me watch it (she also had a crush on him) and I thought there was going to be way more romance. Heavy subjects, a great mom’s love and a lot of prosecutor bs.

OTP: They were cute. Wish I’d seen more of them though.

Thing I enjoyed the most:  Yoon HyunMin. But the FL was awesome in her own right.

Do I recommend it? If you like law/criminal dramas and barely a hint of romance, this one is great. And justice is served at the end.

Hospital Playlist: It was an adorable, peaceful and relaxing watch, not what you’d expect from a hospital themed drama. Very healing (no pun intended lol). And I loved the songs they played! The weird thing is that I kept forgetting about it, and that’s why it took me so long to finish it. 

OTP: I do have one, but not the one everyone ships: Dr Yang SeokHyung and his resident played by one awesome Ahn EunJin. She confessed, he turned her down gently, Buuu!!!. Waiting patiently for S2 and HOPE their love story develops more. Dramas shouldn’t have second seasons!

Thing I enjoyed the most: The friendship of the five besties duh

Do I recommend it? Awww but of course! if you liked the Reply Series and slice of life dramas, you will like this one. Only 12 eps but they were as long as a movie lol

WHY (minidrama) 2019: Two good friends trying to cheer up their bff who just got dumped (without any explanation hence driving him slowly into a mental breakdown and an identity crisis) by going on a Jeju vacation. In the guesthouse they’re staying, they encounter two awesome, chill and fun noonas. What you’ll see here: a moving story about heartbreak and letting go, bromance and noona romance.

OTP: While most of the time the lead was in deep heartbreak thanks to his awful ex, there was a subtle romance developing while he was healing. At the end, there’s a time jump and he’s totally in the right state of mind to completely be with her and give love another try. Lovely ending.

Thing I enjoyed the most: Jung GunJoo! AKA Dohwa from Extraordinary You!!!

Do I recommend it? Of course! It’s an adorable watch. And it only takes like 2 hours of your time, maybe less, I don’t recall. Here, you can watch it on YouTube. Also, not really a fan don’t hate me lol but there’s Hwang In Yeob as the bff of the lead. And he has a very meaningful role.

Where Your Eyes Linger (minidrama): First Korean BL drama I’ve ever watched and I’m so glad that it was a wonderful first. Given the amount of time and resources I was expecting a lot less from this but they all did a very good job. Beyond my expectations, really. Wonderful acting and such an angsty friends to lovers romance that was delightfully done. I don’t usually give out scores to dramas but omg 10/10!

OTP: THEY HAD SUCH GOOD CHEMISTRY! UGH THE ANGST

Thing I enjoyed the most: Oh, everything!

Do I recommend it? Like BL dramas and want to see more of them in kdramaland? Then YES YES YES. A thousand times YES! The reason why it’s not on my favorites’ list is because I wish it was longer.

It’s Okay to not be Okay: It had been so long since I’ve seen a KSH drama. Since his alien days lol Plus, my sister is a huge fan. Horniest kdrama of the year, for sure. Which is hilarious since the message of the whole thing was more about family. From the first episode I was waiting for the OTP to have a steamy makeout and have sex HAHAHA You know, they actually delivered, so I was happy. My review about the ending HERE

OTP: Queen MoonYoung and her horny but super restrained caretaker, KangTae. Love them.

Thing I enjoyed the most: All hail Queen Ko MoonYoung! And the best hyung, SangTae.

Do I recommend it? Yeah. Let’s be serious for a moment lmao it was a healing drama and the ending was beautiful. A few things here and there didn’t make sense though. The mom’s comeback was crazy, but meh, what are dramas without crazy? lol I guess this is not on my favorite’s list because I wasn’t as obsessed as I wish I’d been.

Was it Love?: Mamma mia, here we go again, my my, I should have resist ya! it was ALL right there but the writer didn’t have the guts to do the story right. It COULD’VE BEEN Mamma Mia, but all the potential went to waste. THE POTENTIAL!! You want to know who the dad of her daughter is? The only dude she ever slept with, her only ex! Big surprise. The writer! There, saved you the trouble. My rant on the ending here

OTP: Well, it wasn’t the leads, that’s for sure. It’s the second leads (or was he the third lead and she the second?)who ended up together, or at least it was hinted at. The female lead had way more chemistry with the one dude she was never romantically linked to, which is hilarious to me. Ugh so much wasted potential...

Thing I enjoyed the most: Gangster dude and his son! Bless them.

Do I recommend it? Jesus, NO. DON’T. Watch Mamma Mia with Meryl Streep, instead. That’s gold and it’s what they wanted to try to do for a moment here. Still wondering how I managed to finish this...

Record of Youth: Another drama I can’t believe I actually finished. A handsome model transitioning into an actor and becoming the main provider for the family that never fully supported him and had to pay for the debt of the dad that always belittled his dreams. Underdeveloped characters, a female lead that was outshined by CAMEOS of other women(in her 1 minute scene, KimHyeYoon had more chemistry with PBG), plots that went nowhere and a terrible pairing that had very little chemistry. A ranting about the finale and my wasted time, HERE

OTP: who? Ah, yeah, I guess there sort of was one... The photographer friend and the sister of the jealous friend. Their ending was ambiguous.

Thing I enjoyed the most: PBG, he carried this mess on his back.

Do I recommend it? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA No. Please, don’t watch it.

Private Lives: An orphan who was recluted to become a spy and works for a conglomerate that holds the power to decide the next president of Korea AND a con woman who wants revenge because her dad got sent to jail. They meet and fall in love and it’s the cutest thing ever but on their wedding day he misteriously disappears and... that’s it. Everything that happens after that makes zero sense. By the end I was more interested in the second leads.

OTP: TWO (but mostly the second couple) and the reason why I finished this drama at all.

Thing I enjoyed the most: Second leads. BokGi and Eduardo (yeah, I know that wasn’t his real name). I’d watch a drama of those two. Even if it was by the same writer.

Do I recommend it? Well... not really. LOL If you’re interested to know more about it, read my “recaps” of each episode HERE or read about the last ep here. You’ll understand about the same as if you were to actually watch it, but you will not waste your time. I hope? LOL

Start Up: A grandma with good intentions, a FL that lost it all as a kid, letters that weren’t really that genuine, a rich, cocky and petty jerk who wasn’t the ML (I mean by definition he had everything to be the male lead lol) and the actual ML (a genius who suffers from the biggest case of Impostor Syndrome I’ve ever seen). No one except for the FL mostly is honest. A time jump that was there just for the sake of angst and not quite done right. Also, making a business with your friends involves a whole lot of nonsense and drama. And a “love triangle” that drove the fandom to madness. And wait, the sister was the second female lead? She was more secondary than the secondary characters. This drama is seriously not what it seems at first lol

OTP: DalMi&DoSan. Adorable. The oly reason I finished this. From the moment they announced the cast and learned who the leads were, I knew I was gonna ship them. And that’s how I never get SLS lol

Thing I enjoyed the most: The answer to that question is HERE

Do I recommend it? Honestly, yeah. Just turn off your brain and never discuss it on social media. Binge it and move on with life. Not the best drama, but tbh not the worst. Well it is the worst by the writer lol Wow it sounds like I hated it, but it’s just that the fanwars really got to me haha and it’s all so recent, but I actually did love the love story and the grandma was a treasure.

#kdrama #love alarm #crash landing on you #witch's court #hospital playlist #WHY #where your eyes linger #It's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #record of youth #was it love? #private lives #jtbc private lives #tvn start up #kdrama review #please ignore that terrible edit i did with start up pic #i tried lol #it wouldn't fit with the other pic #sacrifices had to be made #end of the year drama review

[haillenarte]

white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days! 

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea. 

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help... 

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name. 

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof! 

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun. 

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

#ardbert #aymeric #crystal exarch #edmont #emet-selch #estinien #g'raha tia #guydelot #heavens' ward #hien #hythlodaeus #isse #ryne #sanson #solus zos galvus #thancred #urianger #zenos #white day #ffxiv #ffxiv translation

[ghostnebula]

Sincere and Dignified

“Eddie's twenty-first birthday + The entire Losers' Club + Las Vegas + Being in love with your best friend = Well, exactly what you'd expect.”

[read it on Ao3]

(or here)

    Eddie’s birthday is in November. Which makes him the youngest member of the Losers’ Club. Which makes him the last Loser to turn twenty-one.

    Which means they go all-out to celebrate, since it’s the first time they can all (legally) celebrate together. And because they’ve kind of forgone “proper” twenty-first birthday festivities for everyone else, so no one would ever feel left out. Finally, no one needs to be left out of it.

    They’ve all been living together for over three years now, they’re all getting close to graduating from college, and they all saved up for this one, because this is pretty much it. The last big, fun, tangible milestone in their young lives. The last “new” thing they’re earning the right to do (legally) after driving and voting. You bet your ass they go ham on Eddie’s birthday plans.

    That’s how they end up in Vegas. Several long weeks of planning, lots of money they scraped together into jars over the last few years ready to be spent, checking and double-checking every class syllabus to make sure no one misses anything important on Friday (they have to be at their hotel in time for check-in or, between Stan and Eddie, someone will pitch a fit). Then they’re all piling into Ben’s station wagon with as little luggage as they could manage to bring for a weekend trip (the station wagon is “spacious”; it is not a fucking miracle vehicle).

    Roughly ten hours later (five hours for driving, two for check-in plus cramming all their crap into the motel room and then attempting to organize it, one for figuring out and agreeing on where to even start with the partying, two more for getting ready) Eddie Kaspbrak has his first legal drink as a proper twenty-one year old, on this night of November third, and there’s no aftertaste of guilt like usual. He’s got Richie pushing shots into his hands, Mike making sure he’s eating some snacks once in a while so he doesn’t get too trashed too fast, Bev directing bartenders to make the most delicious fucking drinks he thinks he’ll ever taste in his life (Porn Stars, or something else inappropriate like that).

    He has Bill, the oldest, practically under oath to stay sober (at least for tonight) so there’s one semi-coherent Loser present to keep the rest of them safe and sane until he can drag them all back to the motel.

    He has a wad of cash in his pocket, a chunk of his savings from the past year, ready to blow on booze and gambling and whatever the fuck he wants, because it’s his birthday, so he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants.

    It’s safe, and more importantly, it’s legal, and most importantly, it’s Vegas. He never thought he’d ever have the balls to set foot in a place like this -- the kind of place his mother would demonize when he was a kid. Drinking, before he left Derry and his mom and the vice grip she had on his life, was completely out of the question, let alone getting hammered in a casino in Sin City, of all fucking places, under the care of the “evil little shits” he calls his best friends.

    He more than lets loose. He lets twenty-one years of virtually non-stop anxiety unwind in one night.

    When he wakes up the next morning, hung over for the first time in his life, it’s almost worth it. Bill’s the only motherfucker awake already, being that he’s the only one who doesn’t have several bottles of vodka et al. to sleep off, and he’s draped across the ratty arm chair in their ratty motel room, channel-surfing with the television volume as low as it can get. The light burns Eddie’s eyes, still, when he lifts his head and -- instead of turning, his head just kind of lolls on his shoulders until he can look at Bill properly.

    He wants to ask him to end his suffering, which he can only assume he has yet to see the worst of. Suddenly he understands why aspirin exists. He wants Bill to pump him full of painkillers until he stops feeling like he’s made of electrified cotton. Instead, he says, articulately, “Guh.”

    Bill turns his attention from Scooby-Doo to where Eddie is half-lying, trapped under the weight of Richie’s arm and half his chest. Richie is snoring away, glasses askew on his face, a cooling puddle of drool soaking Eddie’s shoulder. It’s gross, but he can’t really complain at this point. He’s accustomed to it by now.

    “Ah, he lives.”

    “Ugh,” says Eddie.

    “I bet,” says Bill. “So, do you want a recap of the events of last night, or did you keep your promise and remember every life-altering decision you chose to make?”

    Bill’s voice, which he’s hardly putting much effort into keeping down -- owing to the fact that all his effort is being channeled into trying not to laugh, and Eddie can’t even begin to fathom what’s so funny -- is causing the other Losers to stir. His splitting headache doesn’t want him to try to figure out what’s funny. He must have fried a metric shitload of braincells with all those Porn Stars last night, or whatever the fuck sugary booze Bev was pouring down his throat before everything went hazy.

    “Life-altering?” he repeats after a few moments, as Richie’s arm finally stops crushing him. It’s the only word that really stands out to him in the jumbled mess of hangover discomfort his brain is fighting, and it should cause him anxiety but he’s more worried, right now, about drinking some water. Richie sits up beside him, yawning.

    Bill hums. He looks terribly pleased with himself, which can be good or bad depending which side of the story you’re on, and Eddie’s got this sneaking suspicion he’s on the wrong side, here. “Yeah, that life-altering thing I tried to talk you two dipshits out of for longer than the actual ceremony took?”

    “Ceremony?” Eddie asks, trying to feel back through his poor, poor brain to remember anything after slot machines and vibrant chatter and deceptively sweet beverages being passed to him. Richie’s head drops onto his shoulder as his arms wrap around Eddie’s waist. “Guh,” he says into the fabric of Eddie’s rumpled shirt. Habitually, Eddie reaches up to pat him consolingly on the head. Richie’s not one for mornings.

    “Why don’t you take a look at your ring finger, birthday boy?” Bill says, but Eddie’s already frozen, because there was a flash when he raised his hand and he’s not entirely sure he’s believing what he’s seeing, and where the fuck did he even get the ring anyway, let alone a ring as nice as this? “Or, sorry, I should say: Mr. Tozier?”

    Eddie... mostly ignores him, in favour of smacking Richie a few times on the skull to get his attention, hangovers be damned. “Richie,” he hisses, heart going a mile a minute. “The fuck did I do?”

    Richie grumbles some kind of complaint, lifting his head from its safe space on Eddie’s shoulder, and when he follows Eddie’s gaze he lets out a kind of... laugh? More of a squawk, really. His left arm jerks off of Eddie’s waist lightning-quick, and then he’s holding up his own hand beside Eddie’s to show off their matching rings. “Oh my god,” he says, quiet (for Richie). A little bit of tension melts out of him. Then, “I think you mean, ‘the fuck did we do?’”

    “Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks, and Bill loses his battle and dissolves into peals of laughter, remote slipping out of his hands and landing somewhere on the floor. “Bill, you were supposed to be babysitting.”

    It takes a while, but Bill manages to regain his composure long enough to say, “Well forgive me, but you were a man on a mission. I distinctly remember a lot of, ‘we’re practically dating anyway’ and ‘no time like the present’ and ‘Bill, if you don’t step the fuck off I’m gonna shove this ring so far up your nostril you’ll be sneezing gold until you’re ninety.’ What was I gonna do about it?”

    “Oh my god,” Eddie says again, red-faced, mortified, heart still going-going-going. They aren’t dating, though, is the problem, and yeah, he’s always had this stupid little idea in his stupid little head that they might as well be, but he’s never asked, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Wasn’t sure if it was safe. Wasn’t sure if Richie wanted something proper or to just stay very, very close friends until the grave. They weren’t dating, and now they’re married, and ohJesusMaryandJoseph why did he let himself get so drunk last night?

    He doesn’t expect Richie to be resentful or anything, but he’s also an anxious mess by default, and post-drunken-haze Eddie is a different, apparently less chill person than mid-drunken-haze Eddie, because he doesn’t remember having this freakout last night.

    He doesn’t think that Richie will be pissed about it, necessarily, but he’s terrified that Richie’s going to want to... undo this, somehow.

    He expects regret.

    He doesn’t expect Richie to slide his hand against Eddie’s so that their rings clack together, letting out a soft little, “Aw,” as he does so, or to press his scratchy, stubbly face against Eddie’s cheek to plant a kiss there, or to say, just as quiet and soft as ever, “We’re married, Eds.”

    “Is that okay?” Eddie asks, heart in his throat, wondering if he somehow forced Richie into this when he wasn’t in full control of his faculties.

    “More than okay,” Richie says. “Is it okay with you?”

    Eddie nods dumbly, staring at their rings again, wondering what the fuck possessed them to make such a rash, life-altering decision like this, yet understanding all too well that his love for Richie is too big to contain and it has to spill out in little doses like this, or it’ll probably kill him, or make him go crazy. “Yeah,” he says finally, nodding perhaps too fast. “Yeah, Richie, it’s more than okay.”

    He turns in Richie’s arms to kiss him properly, apparently not for the first time, and just the action brings a couple snippets of last night’s escapades abruptly to the surface.

*

    “$25 Weddings,” a pink neon sign outside a squat white chapel proclaims, “Sincere and Dignified.” And below that, in smaller, baby blue lettering: “Can provide: Flowers, Rings, Witnesses, Transportation, Attire...” The list goes on. It’s a wonder Eddie is coherent enough to read it, let alone comprehend it, but he’s rounding on Richie, whose arm he’s hanging off of, with the best fucking idea already leaping from his lips.

*

    “Ffffffuck Kaspbrak,” Eddie slurs as a reluctant Bill helps him slip on a suit jacket, fiddling with the purple clip-on bowtie Richie threw over the divider at him. “Fuck Kaspbrak, right, Rich?”

    “Right,” Richie says enthusiastically -- probably too enthusiastically -- from the other side of the thin wooden divider that separates their “changing rooms.”

    “Fuck that name,” Eddie decides, nodding to himself. Bill takes the bowtie out of his hands with a sigh, and Eddie lifts his chin to let Bill fasten it to his shirt, grumbling all the while about how stupid they both are. “And fuck my mom.”

    “Fuck your mom!” Richie shouts. There’s a beat of relative quiet, then, “Not, like, fuck your mom, obviously. Fuck... you, maybe?” And then Bev’s raucous laughter echoes through the whole room.

    Eddie can’t help laughing with her, even though Bill’s insisting he stay still “so you can at least look semi-presentable for your pictures, c’mon, Eddie, this is a big moment for me, too.”

*

    “How are you the bridezilla, here, Bill?”

    “Could you please just work with me here, I swear to-- agh!” (More laughter from Bev. Stan saying something incomprehensible but loud and boisterous. Mike trying to shush them.) “I’m just trying to make sure this is actually special since you absolute buffoons refuse to just wait and do this right.” Is Bill fucking crying?

*

    Richie’s tongue down Eddie’s throat, over and over and over: in the chapel; in a bar; in front of the bar; just before Bill drags them away from the casino they’re trying to sneak back into and instead towards the station wagon he’s doing his best to herd the Losers to; in the station wagon; in front of the motel.

    Bill prying them apart with minimal assistance from a piss-drunk Ben who insists he’s “helping,” telling them once again that they are not allowed to consummate their fucking marriage in public, and especially not allowed to do it in the motel room all seven of them have to sleep in--

*

    He hears Bev’s little “aww” behind him somewhere as he and Richie break apart, and Stan’s grief about how fucking early it is “for this shit.” Eddie can hear something like a smile in his voice, if not just plain old amusement.

    “We’re married, Rich,” Eddie repeats incredulously, and Bill is saying something about their marriage license in his wallet because neither of them can be trusted, but Eddie couldn’t care less about licenses or whatever, because Richie’s smiling down at him in that way that makes his heart feel too full. And he doesn’t mean to, but a choked noise bubbles up out of him, almost a sob, maybe a laugh. Tears burn in his eyes.

    But that’s alright, because Richie’s crying already, and he wraps himself bodily around Eddie, rolling them over so he’s squishing him into the mattress while he kisses all over his face and his throat until Eddie’s squealing with laughter despite his agonizing hangover. He almost feels too good to care about it now, but he’s definitely getting some water and painkillers into his system the second the weird high he’s feeling subsides.

    “Okay, okay,” says Stan, standing above them suddenly, swatting at Richie’s shoulders. “You’ve had your fun. Noisy assholes. We were too drunk for proper congratulations last night. Move over.”

    All the Losers squeeze themselves onto the queen bed, somehow, and water bottles and aspirin get passed around. At some point Bill gets up to start the coffeemaker and comes back with (good fucking lord) their “wedding photos” in a crisp manila envelope. They’re just as gaudy as he expected. Leave it to Richie to find the ugliest possible outfit for his literal wedding.

    Eddie gets hugs and shoulder-squeezes and cheek-kisses from everyone, over and over, and Bev actually cries for about ten full minutes while she holds him, then at least ten more while she holds Richie, and then Ben cries, and... well, they all end up crying all over each other, but it’s awash with joy. “We’re happy for you,” they keep saying, and Eddie’s happy for them, too. He didn’t expect to accidentally do things this way, but he has to be glad it happened.

    “God,” he says a while later, shaking his head as he sips sugary coffee from the mug he and Richie are sharing (this room is meant for four people, max, not seven, and is equipped accordingly). He’s still examining a picture of Richie attempting to give him a piggy-back ride out of the chapel. Bill is visible in the background, eyes red and puffy, a wad of tissues clenched in his hand while Mike tries to console him. Eddie has been making fun of him for about half an hour now. “My mom would flip if I told her about this.” But the thought doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t get scared of her anymore. Not like he used to. Not when he’s so far away and he feels so safe with these six idiots who bring so much joy to his life.

    Richie’s thumb rubs over the skin of his lower back where his hand has crept up Eddie’s shirt. “Good thing you don’t have to,” he says, and that familiar mantra of “You never have to see her again,” bleeds through, plain as ever.

    Eddie hums. Passes the coffee back to him. “I know. But... I kinda want to. Just to watch her head explode,” he says with a shrug and a grin, earning a chorus of easy laughter from his friends. He stares at the ring on Richie’s finger as Richie throws back the rest of their coffee, something warm and familiar blooming brighter in his chest.

#reddie #my writing #oh look i actually found time in the chaos of my life to post this #a miracle #also a fic short enough to just post the whole thing on tumblr??? #a second miracle #the losers club #cw alcohol #cw gambling #vegas wedding babey

[chrysalispen]

ii : a shadow in dappled green

AO3 link HERE

More below the cut.

=======================

To the somewhat prosaic Aurelia - whose healthy wariness of magic was a product of her imperial education - the Stillglade Fane carried about it a mysterious air. Much like the Black Shroud and its eternally youthful shepherds, it seemed to move on its own and in its own time, observing the world around it as time passed but almost untouched by change. Seasons came and went and with them the cycles of novitiates, marked by the fall of leaves to give way for the growth of the new. All moved in their turns beneath the boughs of the great old-growth tree.

As ever, entering the grove felt like stepping into another plane of existence. Aside from the odd figure in hempen robes and wide-brimmed hat making the rounds between patients, it appeared as solitary and peaceful as ever.

Brother E-Sumi-Yan awaited her arrival at the guild hall entrance with a pleasant smile and the usual air of serenity about his soft and regular features. The old Padjal had never given his true age and Aurelia had never asked, though it was not necessary: she knew from his manner and from some of his recollections that he had a good century on her at least. As with all of his novices, he treated her with the amiable familiarity an old man might bestow upon a favored granddaughter.

Truth be told, it was why she looked forward to their visits.

"Well met, Aurelia. Punctual, as ever. I thank you."

"Guildmaster." She bowed from her waist, just a few ilms, enough to show a student's proper deference to her teacher. "Mother Miounne said you had need of me. Something about a request."

"I do, but it can wait for the time being. Will you take tea with me?"

“I suppose I can hardly say no if you went to all this trouble.” The modest service, Aurelia noted, was already laid out with two cups at the ready. She made her way to the empty seat at his gesture. “Please don’t say you held up your breakfast to wait on me.”

“Not at all. Please, sit. I’ll pour.”

Tea was the customary herbal offering, paired with a small plate of lavender scones and a little tin of something she thought was butter but appeared to be lemon curd upon closer inspection. Aurelia patiently cut open a pastry and helped herself to a small dollop which she spread as he filled her cup. It was a few degrees cooler here within this shaded bower than the rest of the city, and she was grateful for the boon.

“Now then,” he reached for his own cup in turn as she sipped, “how did your morning meeting fare?”

Ah, she thought. He already knows. I suppose I should have assumed as much. “I’ve been pardoned-- over the incident in Willowsbend, so Commander Heuloix said. The Elder Seedseer had them make a citizen of me. Frankly, I had all but assumed the matter forgotten.”

The words felt as strange on her tongue as they sounded in her ears, as if she were attempting to speak a language she did not recognize. But he merely nodded, not seeming even the slightest ilm surprised.

“We can be very slow and deliberate at times, but rest assured no one here would have forgotten your service. Least of all Kan-E-Senna.” Smiling, E-Sumi-Yan reached for a scone of his own. “Citizenship is among the greatest rewards in her power to bestow. In truth, I can think of precious few I would consider more deserving of it.”

“Thank you, Guildmaster.”

He made a hum of acknowledgment and took an experimental sip from his cup. For a few minutes neither spoke, busying themselves with their tea and taking in the deep quiet of the grove. She could hear the warbling of wood thrushes among the melancholy whicker of cicada calls, and the occasional warm breeze stirred the branches high overhead. Beneath the fragrance of her tea were the distinctive scents of river water and damp soil, scents and sounds with which she had grown intimately familiar in the past four years.

“The wood is recovering,” she said aloud.

“Hm?”

Aurelia set the cup aside with a small clatter. “Guildmaster, I’ve been... thinking. For a while now, if I’m honest.”

The Padjal remained silent, the tilt of his head an indication that he was content to listen. A sharp gust blew a stray wildflower, stem and all, onto her dalmatica; one of the children playing along the lanes without must have picked it and discarded it before an adult could stop them. Gently she plucked the flower from her chest and held it betwixt her index finger and thumb as she stared down at it.

“I’ve had my entire life dictated to me as far back as I can properly remember.” The star-shaped petals spun with the motion in a tiny burst of color, white tips with a red throat. With great care Aurelia tucked the wildflower stem behind one ear, where its little blossom peaked coquettishly over linen darts and golden hair. “I think the last choice I made for myself was to request a provincial posting when I enlisted, and that was a rare allowance. My family always made all the important decisions.”

“You needn't explain yourself, Aurelia. I understand your position. More than most, I believe.”

“Do you?”

“As you know, the Padjal are born to serve the needs of the forest and to act as its intermediaries. In the most literal of senses.” E-Sumi-Yan lifted his right hand to brush one of the horns that crowned his head, curving upwards from his mop of sand-colored hair. “My parents surrendered me to my compeers shortly after my birth, in order that I might learn as soon as possible those sacred duties which were expected of me. We are not given a choice in the matter. Sooner or later, we must all obey what we are called to do.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze traveled downwards into her emptied teacup. “I had forgotten,” she said. “Pray forgive my selfishness.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” He reached across the small stump that served as their table to pat her hand. “Most of us reconcile ourselves to our fate early in life and find acceptable outlets for our energies - personal pursuits that will not interfere with our charge. For you, there are no such limits.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know if I would be able to do what I want to do, if I remain here.”

“Had circumstances not conspired to bring you to Eorzea permanently, what would you have done then?”

“I suppose I would have finished out my enlistment, barring further misadventures. After that, I wanted to go... oh, I don’t know. East, perhaps, to Othard. Or south." She chewed on her lower lip in thought. "Actually, I would have liked very much to go to the southern provinces. If not Ala Mhigo then somewhere nearby- Werlyt, perhaps. I confess, I hadn’t thought too far beyond the end of my tour.”

“You have the freedom now to decide for yourself in truth,” he said gently. “A life spent healing others is a noble pursuit. There are certainly no lack of opportunities here.”

If he only knew how close his thoughts were to Keveh’to’s. She allowed herself a chuckle. “That much is certainly true.”

“But?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean precisely what I said, Aurelia." He folded his hands in his lap, calm grey eyes fixed on her face. " 'Tis quite plain to me that you harbor doubts. Are you not content to remain in Gridania?”

Unbidden she thought of her mother’s parting words. Take the new life you have been granted, Vittora cen Remianus had said, and live it.  

What shape, then, should that ‘new life’ take--

"I will take no offense if your answer to this question is 'yes,' you know. You would hardly be the first young person upon the star to be afflicted with wanderlust."

“In truth, I would like to continue my studies,” she admitted. “I’ve learned much more about botany in my time here than I would have expected, and for that opportunity, I am immensely grateful. But the gap in my education is a weakness. Eorzean alchemy appears to involve the synthesis of aether housed within appropriately aligned crystals, not only in regards to reagents but to the tools themselves. Neither of which I possess. Nor do I yet have the understanding necessary to attempt it, even if I did.”

E-Sumi-Yan’s brow knitted thoughtfully. “You raise a good point. The Twelveswood boasts skilled hedge witches and amateur apothecaries in abundance, but few alchemists of mention. If you seriously mean to enrich yourself-”

“I do.”

“-then you could do worse than to make inquiries with Frondale’s Phrontistery. They are the foremost institution of such learning here, and even if they cannot take you the Alchemists’ Guild might still prove a fount of useful information. Both are located in Ul’dah, far to the south and across the Thanalan scrublands.”

“Would they accept a late enrollment, do you think?”

“I cannot say.” He spread his hands as if to say these are not questions I can answer. “But so long as you were capable of aught your studies would require, I cannot think it would serve as much of an impediment.”

“If you think they might allow me to enroll, then I would very much like to do so.”

“You are a talented healer and I would much prefer you remain here with us- but that is not my decision to make.” His smile took on a rueful cast. “If memory serves, you will require letters of recommendation and introduction in order to enter the Phrontistery-”

“That is the way of things in the Garlean Empire as well,” she said, trying and failing to keep the eagerness from her voice. “If you would be willing to vouch for me, that is.”

“I am. If your mind is set, say the word and I shall make the necessary arrangements.”

For the first time in a very long while, Aurelia felt something in her stir with genuine excitement at the idea. Ul’dah! New sights. New land and a new city. A new school, with all the untapped possibilities that would bring.

“Before we discuss this matter further there is a small favor I would ask of you, which brings us to today’s business. The guild has had a request from the Bannock.” E-Sumi-Yan reached into the sleeve of his robe and withdrew a neatly folded square of parchment. “A missive arrived this morning from Galfrid, one of the Twin Adder’s drill instructors. There has been suspicious activity around Lifemend Stump as of late.”

“The moogles’ glade?”

“The very same. Due to its sensitive nature, I would rather not send it to Miounne. I was hoping you might be able to see to the matter in my stead."

"Of course. Should I go to the Bannock first?"

"No need. There is a witness who has been in touch about the same issue, and he should be able to provide more information directly.” He handed the parchment to Aurelia and stood from his seat, indicating their meeting was over. She took it and tucked it into her belt as she followed suit. “Should you find anything which merits further investigation, pray report to the Bannock and relay it to Galfrid before your return.”

“I will.”

“And be on your guard. Even so close to the city, the wood often cannot tell friend from foe." Abruptly, E-Sumi-Yan's easy smile faded to take on a most serious cast indeed. "Even its shepherds.”

==

The Lifemend Stump lay perhaps a half-league to the southwest of the city, nestled within the central Shroud. Despite the heat of the day, the greenery and the rushing sound of water from the nearby river made the journey a relatively short and peaceful one, and she took the opportunity to sort through her thoughts as she walked.

Aurelia thought she had made peace with the notion that her homeland was lost to her. But once one came down to it, she wasn’t sure that a quiet life in the forest was truly what she wanted. At least not for the rest of her days. Gridania was a lovely place, but she had come here as a prisoner, after all. Perhaps that circumstance was the core of her conundrum.

Just this once I would wish to be the captain of my own ship.

To her mind, E-Sumi-Yan’s very lack of resistance to her wanderlust spoke volumes. Perhaps he simply thought that some time spent away from the forest broadening her horizons in Ul’dah would change her mind and convince her to stay- or at the very least dispel any grand illusions she might have of the world without the Shroud, once the novelty of it all had worn off.

“What have we here, kupo?”

Aurelia drew short so abruptly that she nearly tripped over her own feet and over the edge of the riverbank into the water in an attempt to correct her balance. The familiar round form of a moogle floated perhaps a fulm away from her face. Its tiny leathery wings fluttered furiously, the most immediate sound by far in the still summer air. They were much smaller than the fluffy body they held aloft, and as the moogle studied her with open curiosity she watched it list to one side under its own weight. Its bright orange pom twitched atop its head.

“Good morning,” she managed. “Um…”

“So Kupto Kapp was telling the truth, kupo!” the moogle performed a triumphant spin midair, “You can see us!”

“Ah... yes. I’m- that is, my name is Aurelia. Are you-”

“Oh, I mean you aren’t supposed to be able to see us. Not unless we let you, kupo. But I guess it’s all right since he said the Elder Seedseer asked you to come here and help fix the Twelveswood and all. Usually the only ones who talk to us around here are the Padjal so this is a fun change! ...though this means I did lose my wager with him, kupo…”

“I’m sorry,” the Garlean attempted to (politely) interrupt this cheerful outpouring of words, “but I really must be on my way. I’ve been asked to-”

“Come to the Lifemend Stump! Yes, yes, I know all about it. Brother E-Sumi-Yan told me I should expect someone, kupo. If you’ve come to have a look for yourself, I can be your guide!”

“That’s very kind of you-"

"You're Aurelia, you said? I’m Kuplo Kopp! Pleased to meet you, kupo! This way, Miss Aurelia, this way!”

Once again her reply went nigh unheeded as the creature performed another circular turn of joy, this time about her head. This was clearly going to be one of those moments in which any response she might give would be meaningless, and it was just as obvious that she had a companion now whether she liked it or not.

Just as well. The entire endeavor would give her something to do other than ruminate.

So thinking, Aurelia let Kuplo Kopp take the lead. The path diverged at the river’s edge, snaking into a small cavern next to the waterfall. The well-worn rocks magnified the rush of the current into a grinding roar that drowned out all other sounds. Cool spray struck her cheeks and dewed her clothes on her passage, a welcome respite from midsummer heat- though she knew she could not linger, as tempting as the thought might be.

Beyond the rush of water upon rock the rustle of leaves reaching her ears once more. Before they could draw closer, she reached for the moogle and grasped the pom antenna on his head. The moogle let out a startled yelp.

“Ow! That hurts, kupo!” His tiny wings fluttered with wild indignation. “Didn’t E-Sumi-Yan teach you any manners? You aren’t supposed to pull on a pom like-”

“Hush,” Aurelia interrupted. She let her free hand drop to her belt. Her fingertips brushed over the stem of her wand, registering the slightly roughened texture of its bark before closing about it in a ready grip. “Let me make certain the area ahead is clear.”

“Clear?”

“Just be quiet.”

Stealthy movement was not precisely what Aurelia would have called her strong point. She was a healer, not a skirmisher. Even during the Willowsbend incident, she had relied upon her wits as much as what paltry magic she had at her disposal. But she had learned while foraging in the depths of the forest how to move quietly and avoid the notice of poachers and bandits, and she put that knowledge to use now. Each step she took, she did so at a slow and steady pace, in order that the wooden clack of her pattens upon stone would not alert a potential intruder.

Leaf-shaped patterns of shadow dappled the sun’s glare at the far end of the craggy tunnel, and Aurelia slipped past and behind the tree’s trunk to survey the area more closely. It didn’t take long to dispel her worries: the glade lay still and pristine, by all appearances undisturbed.

She let her hand fall back to her side, posture relaxing somewhat as she took in the natural beauty of the place. Shafts of sunlight poked holes in the canopy high above to shine down upon wildflowers and tall grass in the places it could touch, and small yellow butterflies drifted from bloom to bloom. Somewhere not too distant she could hear a thrush’s call.

And at the center of the clearing---

The massive breadth of the Lifemend Stump lay at the glade’s heart. Though Aurelia herself believed in no gods, she had learned much of local custom and folklore over the past handful of years, dwelling among the people of the Black Shroud in more remote settlements. This place, one the Padjal called “branch of rebirth,” was sacred to the moogles. The smallfolk left items here to be mended, usually things with deep sentimental meaning. People rarely lingered, for it was considered extremely ill fortune to do so, though on occasion some souls tried to catch a glimpse of their benefactors.

There was a blade, a very crude one, stuck into the center of the stump. Aurelia’s brow knitted into a deep frown.

This is surely not one of the locals’ doing.

Her sense of caution renewed, she drew closer to have a better look. Whomever had done the work had done so with violence and purpose; a segment of the leaf-and-acorn resin mosaic so artfully impressed into the stump’s surface had cracked beneath the force of the blow and defaced it. Broken pieces lay in sad and cracked fragments around the point of ingress.

Who could possibly have done such a thing? Surely it would have been no one from the city. She could hardly imagine the Coeurlclaws or really anyone from the local Keeper communities defacing something that belonged to the moogles. The hunters and trappers among them quite often depended upon the creatures’ largesse themselves. And precious few of the bandit crews that called the forest home would dare venture this close to a Wailer outpost, for fear of--

“Oh, look! There’s someone else here ahead of us!”

Aurelia startled at the cheerful trill. She righted herself and turned in the direction it had come: not from the mouth of the cave, but from a small stand of nearby ash saplings. The voice’s owner was waving at her: a young Hyuran woman, perhaps a year or two Aurelia’s junior. Everything about the stranger’s attire lay open and loose, from her shirt and very short pants to bright crimson plated thigh-high boots. But the most remarkable thing about her was the strange contrivance which sat atop her head and over the half-mask she wore. It looked almost like a magitek device, Aurelia thought, something an army engineer would wear. Like safety goggles, only more ponderous.

Kuplo Kopp fluttered anxiously about the woman’s willowy frame, and the movement of his wings drew Aurelia’s attention to the Lalafellin man who trailed behind. He wore the robes of a mage and the same curious headgear as the woman. His lips were pursed with something akin to displeasure.

“Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we might resume- oh dear.” He drew towards the center of the clearing, brow as deeply furrowed as Aurelia’s own. “Is that-”

“A sword in the stump? Oh. That’s… bad. Really bad.” She turned her attention away from her companion to settle upon Aurelia- or, rather, it seemed that way from her body language, given all of her face that was visible under the heavy headgear was her lips. Her chin tilted from side to side in a way that felt oddly birdlike. “Um, you weren’t… responsible for this, were you?”

Aurelia opened her mouth to answer, but in the same instant found herself surrounded by glowing pom and cloudlike fluff.

“What? Oh, no no no, Miss Yda, not even close!" cried Kuplo Kopp, with a flurry of his wings and another spin about her head for good measure. "Miss Aurelia would never do such a thing, not at all, kupo! The stranger I saw wore dark robes, and anyway, she’s been sent by Brother E-Sumi-Yan!”

“Hm,” the mage grunted. He leaned forward to peer at something through his goggles; clearly, he had taken the moogle’s denial at face value. Aurelia was relieved to find herself no longer the subject of the pair’s scrutiny for the moment. Even the girl’s attention had turned back to her diminutive companion, who now busied himself with some sort of adjustment to his goggles while he muttered under his breath.

“...How are the readings, Papalymo?” The woman Kuplo Kopp had called Yda was fidgeting, rocking idly from heel to heel in a manner that indicated she was not accustomed to standing still for long periods of time. “Do you see any disturbances?”

Papalymo tapped a small button on the outer rim of his headgear. The bottom half flipped upwards on a hinge--- not goggles, then, Aurelia amended; some kind of visor. “Yes, in fact, I do. This one is exactly the same as the last. Newly manifested, mind, but quite visible. At this rate-”

An icy chill ran down her spine in the moment before the air in the glade seemed to turn thick and heavy. Through the screen of the canopy a cloud blotted out the sun and the wind began to stir itself into a gale with increasing speed- no mild summer breeze, this. It lashed at her clothing and skin as if it were throwing handfuls of invisible needles.

“Oh hells,” she muttered, unslinging the wand from her belt. In the moment the other two moved to react in kind, the wind became a loud and throaty roar that drowned out the sound of falling water: one echoed by the lumbering movements of a large treant. The seedkin crashed into the clearing with an angry bellow. Its cry shook the surrounding leaves and rattled the broken pieces of resin upon the stump’s surface, and the grinding sound of the wind seemed now to rumble into their very bones.

Papalymo shrugged the carved bone staff from his back and offered Aurelia a briefly questioning glance. “Kuplo Kopp seems convinced of your innocence,” he said. “Thus I shall take him at his word and trust that weapon of yours isn’t ceremonial.”

“No more than is yours, I should think.”

“Excellent. Then you can watch our backs, if you would be so kind. Yda! Draw that blasted thing away from the Stump! No point in making matters worse.”

“On it!”

Yda took a running leap towards the rampaging creature without hesitation, her position marked with a bright flash of crimson and gold as her body twisted midair into a hefty kick that connected with a sound thwack against the treant’s trunk.

"Over here,” she called, dancing into stance after stance with each pace that lured it away from the center of the clearing- in time for a cluster of other, smaller seedkin to spill from the trees. They made a beeline for Papalymo, only to find themselves caught in the sudden magical pyre that surrounded him.

“Hurry up and take that thing down,” he shouted at his partner, drawing his staff back for another cast, “unless you want to be eaten!”

“All right, all right! I’m trying!”

Determined not to lag behind either of them, Aurelia called forth a condensed handful of wind-aspected aether to dance at her fingertips for a brief moment, before spinning the globe into its branches to rip at its leaves and splinter its branches. The treant yowled its rage to the skies, gnarled hand-like branches thrashing wildly. Yda wove through each attempted blow with the sinuous grace of a serpent as her brass-clad knuckles landed hit after hit. Another burst of flame made short work of the smaller creatures, and as they fought she could see the treant’s swipes begin to slow: its wrath, for a small mercy, was now all but spent. Aurelia duly turned the earth against it as Papalymo did the same with fire, stones and flame smashing and scorching trunk and branch alongside Yda’s swift fists.

Between their combined efforts, the creature finally crashed to the ground with a heavy groan and lay still. The trio stared at each other, each in various states of singed, bruised and sweaty. Without a word Aurelia reached for Yda with an outstretched hand. Cool aether suffused her skin like water as her wounds - mostly superficial - closed in the next instant.

“Thanks,” the pugilist panted, wiping at her brow with one forearm. “Erm. ...Sorry about all this.”

“It’s nothing I’ve not seen before.” After assuring herself that none of them had suffered any grievous injury, Aurelia tucked the wand back into its leather loop on her belt. “Unfortunately, the forest has been rather sensitive.”

“Ugh! I know. It’s bloody hideous.” Yda braced her hands on her hips. “One little fluctuation in the aether and you get something like this. We’re lucky you came along when you did.”

“Likewise. What brings you and your friend to Gridania?”

“Hm? Oh, we’ve come here lots over the years!” Aurelia did not miss the brief glances exchanged between the two strangers before Yda replied, perhaps a little too brightly: “...That is, we’ve come from Ul’dah-”

“Yda,” Papalymo began, his voice sharp, but she barely glanced at him before plunging on ahead.

“-to conduct our annual aetheric survey in the Twelveswood!” The fists made a clanging sound as she hastily hooked them back onto her belt before thrusting out a hand in greeting. Bemused, Aurelia accepted her vigorous handshake. “I’m Yda Hext and this is Papalymo Totolymo. Nice to meet you!”

“Yes, yes, very good,” Papalymo huffed an impatient sigh, “Now that we’ve introductions out of the way and we are no longer in immediate danger of being devoured by the local flora, might I suggest we do what we came to do and go before we press our luck?”

“Right! Right. Sorry.”

As the pair argued, Aurelia had caught the flutter of something out of place from the corner of her eye-- a feather, split and ruined at the ends, bending listless and forlorn in the cooling breeze that whispered through the cavern and into the glade. She knelt to study the corpse which the feather crowned. It was an Ixali warrior, adorned in trappings much more elaborate than she had seen before.

There were footsteps crunching through the grass at her back. Aurelia stood, dusting her hands off on the front of her dalmatica at Yda's approach.

“Oh, you've found something!"

“Yes,” Aurelia said. "Our culprit, I don't doubt."

She caught the yellow of Papalymo's robes as he joined them, squinting at the corpse through his visor lenses. “So it would seem- and that is not just a scout, either. That is a chieftain." He let out a soft whistle from pursed lips before adding: "I don’t suppose you might be able to tell us what killed him?”

“Not at a glance, no.” She looked back down at the dead Ixal. “I suppose the wood might have retaliated against him, but to be certain of that I would have to take a closer look with the proper tools. Which I do not happen to have on hand at present.”

“Pity. ...Well, I don’t suppose that is as important as the obvious fact that their war bands have ventured far too close to Gridania for anyone's comfort," Papalymo said. "It’s quite possible they’re acting under orders. Of course, that begs the question as to whose…”

“A question which I am sure the Twin Adder will be most anxious to investigate themselves,” Aurelia interjected, keeping her answer polite but brisk. This encounter was growing stranger by the moment, and as curious as it all was she knew a report would be expected soon. “Would either of you mind terribly if I take that sword back to the Bannock with me? I'll tell the Grand Company they’ve got a body to collect.”

“Hm? No, by all means.”

The Ixal's ritual blade was embedded a good few ilms into the stump’s surface, but it was not a stout thing and one good yank was enough to dislodge it. Aurelia hefted it over her shoulder; it was a bit heavier than she had expected, but she had run enough minor errands in this part of the wood on the guild’s behalf over the last few years to have a rough idea of where things were. The Bannock wasn’t far and the extra weight wouldn't slow her enough to matter.

“Please take caution while traveling through the wood,” she said. “It isn’t always welcoming to outsiders.”

For the first time since they had met, Papalymo finally offered her a genuine smile. “No," he agreed, "it isn’t.”

Aurelia raised her free hand in a friendly wave and crossed the glade towards the cavern. Had she chanced to look over her shoulder, she would have seen that the pair lingered to stare after her long after she was out of sight.

#upon pale dawns #chrysalispen writes #aurelia laskaris #yda hext #papalymo totolymo #a realm reborn retelling

[wistfulcynic]

melancholy

There’s a post somewhere in the depths of Tumblr (if anyone knows where please post the link) something to the effect of a person who had been suffering through a bout of depression one day started to sing while they were cooking. Their roommate immediately rushed in, overwhelmed with relief because they knew that singing meant the person was feeling better. 

This is inspired by that. 

--

melancholy: 

August is always a difficult month for Killian. As if the sweltering heat and the mosquitoes and the bittersweet sense of summer waning weren’t bad enough, it’s also the month in which Liam died. Each year Killian grows tense and snappish as the anniversary approaches, both eager for the damned thing to be over and wishing it would never come. 

And this year, this one, is the worst yet. This August marks ten years since his brother passed, a fact that first begins to worm its way into Killian’s mind on a soft May day when he should be happy—his own bloody birthday. He’s 29 this year and with thirty now not so much waiting around the corner as looming up directly in his path, he finds himself struck by the realisation of just how painfully young Liam had been when he died. He can’t stop thinking about it as August draws nearer, or of all the things he’s seen and done that Liam—dead before he even saw his quarter-century—never had the chance to try.  

He knows himself well enough to be aware of what miserable company he is when these fits of melancholy overtake him, and this being such a long and vicious one he does his best to stay away from Emma as much as he can until it passes. His roommate has enough to deal with, he thinks, she doesn’t need him adding to her burdens. So he keeps to himself, stays in his room with music on his headphones or goes to the bar he knows she hates to brood over a glass of rum. Sometimes he takes long walks late into the night, alone with his thoughts and safely away from the temptation of Emma Swan. 

On the day of the anniversary itself he runs into her despite all his efforts. Her skip kept her out later than usual and so it happens that when he returns from the bar, drunk and aching deep in his soul, he finds her not asleep in her bed but in the kitchen making grilled cheese. She gives him a look that’s at once understanding and tentative, oddly yearning and full of sympathy, and he forces a smile to his face but does not speak. She opens her mouth but he shakes his head hard, willing her to understand that there’s no way he can bear her kindness now. If she offers it he will break and he can’t risk that, not with her. She means too much to him and he already wants so many things that she can’t give—there’s no telling what he’ll do or say if he lets his guard down now when he’s so bruised and so needy and so alone. 

She nods and swallows and tries to smile, and he retreats to his room feeling worse than ever. He lies in bed with sleep nowhere to be had and he thinks, once again, about Liam. He thinks about how his brother died before he had a chance to see the world as he always wanted. Before he could learn to sail the ships he used to admire in the harbour. Before he could fall in love. 

What kind of woman would he have chosen, Killian wonders. Or, perhaps, what kind of man? Either is equally plausible; he truly has no idea how Liam felt about love or sex or romance. It occurs to him that in some ways he hardly knew his brother at all. 

He’s certain though that whomever Liam might have chosen to love, he’d have made better go at it than Killian. Better than the married woman that he failed to save, better than the roommate with her mile-high walls who will never love him back. It’s almost like he’s trying to be alone, he thinks bitterly, and to waste every opportunity offered by the life that Liam worked so hard to give him.

~

His August mood that started in May lingers well past the end of summer, and the air is crisp with the bite of early October when Killian realises that he’s managed to go a whole day without once thinking of Liam. It makes him rather sad again but it’s also a relief; he can’t live his life trapped in grief and guilt and recrimination. And he needs to live that life, and live it as well as he knows how—he owes Liam at least that much.  

The following day finds him in the kitchen making fajitas when Emma gets home. He’s in the mood to cook for the first time in ages and he’s making more than enough to share, both because Emma’s been known to have a bowl of cereal of an evening and call it dinner and because Killian figures a nice meal will serve as an apology for how difficult it must have been living with him these past few months. 

He’s singing to himself when the front door opens, one of the old sea shanties he grew up hearing, and when Emma appears in the kitchen he gives her an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, love,” he says. “I know the shanties aren’t your favourite, but—urgh.”

Emma strides across the room and flings her arms around him, squeezing him so tightly he grunts. She presses her face against his neck and he feels the warmth of her tears on his skin. 

“Thank God,” she whispers. “Thank fucking God.” 

“What’s this, Swan?” He hugs her back then pulls slightly away so he can look down at her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“When you’re sad you stop singing,” she whispers, as fresh burst of tears begins to flow. “This is the first time you’ve sung in six months. I’m just—” she breaks off on a sob. “I’m so relieved you’re feeling better. I was so worried, Killian.” 

He stares at her. “You were worried about me?” 

“Of course I was!” She tries to snap but it comes out weak and watery. “I lov—ah—I care about you.” 

His breath catches and his heart stutters as she goes rigid in his arms and watches him warily. In times past he’d have convinced himself it was a slip of the tongue and nothing more, but his vow to live his life the best he can is fresh in his mind, and Emma is still holding him so tightly and she’s still crying... crying because he was sad. Because she saw that he was sad. Not that he was a pain in her arse to live with but that deep down he wasn’t well. 

She always sees him.

Live, he reminds himself. Take the risk, for Liam who never could. 

He brushes the hair back from her face, tear-streaked and gorgeous and full of an apprehension that breaks his heart. “I love you too, Emma,” he says softly.

Her mouth falls open. “You do?” she gasps.

“Aye. Very much.” 

“Oh, Killian.” She squeezes him again and he lets her, cradling her head as she weeps freely into his shoulder, letting his fingers tangle in her hair as they have longed to do for years now. 

“I’m so sorry for worrying you, love,” he murmurs. “I never dreamed you’d notice.” 

“Of course I noticed,” she retorts, pulling back to dry her cheeks on the sleeve of her sweater. “I know it’s ten been ten years since Liam died and I knew how much that would upset you. I wanted to help, but—” 

“But I didn’t let you,” he finishes, shaking his head. “I’ve been a bloody fool. Can you forgive me?” 

“Of course I can. So long as you promise me one thing.”

“Anything, darling.” 

“The next time you feel that way, don’t try to handle it alone. If you don’t want to talk to me there are counsellors—” 

“You’ll do, Swan,” he assures her. “And I promise.”  

She nods, her smile brilliant with relief, light with lifted worry. “I’m always here for you, Killian,” she says. “To listen or hold your hand or anything else you need.” She takes a deep breath. “Because I love you.” 

Something settles in Killian’s chest, something that feels terrifyingly like happiness. He cups Emma’s face in his hands and kisses her, a gentle, clinging kiss that she stands on her toes to return, and for the first time in ten years Killian Jones knows that he is not alone.

--

#cs fic #cs ficlet #cs ff #cs ff au #cw: depression #captain swan #profdanglaisstuff

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 15: The Warning (originally posted on April 26, 2021)

AN: Dread it, run from it, the end is near. Part 1 of the two-part Part 2 finale has arrived. And with this two-parter, we will officially be halfway through Alternate Future. What could Parts 3 and 4 possibly hold for us? Well, that's for later. Right now, we return to Homeworld which means we once again won't be fully focusing on Steven, and we will also see a certain Gem in action.

Synopsis: Lars and the Off-Colors return to Earth with an urgent message.

Cast:

Matthew Moy as Lars, Dante

Enuka Okuma as Rhodonite

Kathleen Fisher as Fluorite

Ashly Burch as Rutile Twins

Erica Luttrell as Padparadscha Sapphire

Christine Baranski as Hessonite

Shelby Rabara as Squaridot, Demantoid's Peridots

Olivia Olson as Citrine

Jinkx Monsoon as Emerald

Noël Wells as Black Rutile

Lauren Ash as White Topaz

Amy Sedaris as Yellow Zircon, Blue Zircon

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Hayley Kiyoko as Morganite

Jennifer Paz as Mean Lapis

Charlyne Yi as Navy, Eyeball

Della Saba as Aquamarine

Kari Wahlgren as Pyrope

Melissa Fahn as Demantoid

Uzo Aduba as Demantoid's Bismuths

Miriam Hyman as Demantoid's Bismuths

Deedee Magno-Hall as Black Pearl

Dee Bradley Baker as George the Light Prism

Zach Callison as Steven

Kate Micucci as Sadie

Indya Moore as Shep

Nancy Linari as Martha

Featuring Hugh Laurie as Doctor Laurie

--

Hushed whispers filled the grand hall as many former Gem aristocrats filed in. Behind a holographic podium were posters of the prosecuting Zircon's smug face with the word "HOPE" underneath the picture in very big letters. When the last of the ex-nobles arrived and the doors shut behind them, out came Yellow Zircon with a prideful spring in her step as she took her place at the podium.

"Good day to you all." Yellow Zircon announced as she presented the speech prepared for her today. "As you all know, the Gem race has now entered a new golden age thanks to Steven Universe, the son of Pink Diamond, and the Crystal Gems." As she spoke, an image of Steven and the Gems appeared behind her. "But don't think they have good intentions."

Suddenly, the hall turned a bright red as a big red X was crossed over the Crystal Gems. "With the loss of our caste system, our weapons, armies, colonies, and the Diamonds' control over us, our kind has become weak. Perhaps weak enough to be conquered."

The former nobles began muttering to each other with concern while Yellow Zircon stared at the speech in confusion. "Wait, this is my speech?" she quietly asked herself before returning to the subject at hand. "Anyways, their pacifistic ways could soon be the end of us all. That is why as a potential democratic leader of the Gems, I promise to restore our old ways so that we may be better prepared for a possible invasion. Thank you everyone for your time."

The other Gems began clapping and cheering while Yellow Zircon walked backstage, continuing to examine her speech when she ran into her campaign manager, a seemingly docile Ruby with her gem on her stomach. "Oh, Navy was it?" she asked the Ruby. "I'm pretty sure my speech is all wrong. I could've sworn I had something different planned earlier!"

"Oh don't be such a worrywart Zircon!" Navy laughed, slapping the taller Gem on the leg. "I just made a few changes, that's all! Which reminds me, you got some special guests arranged for your next speech, so do make a good impression on them!"

"Okay, if you say so." Yellow Zircon reluctantly obliged and kept walking, leaving Navy alone to snicker maliciously as she pulled a black egg-shaped communicator from her gem. "This is Agent Navy, come in Black Rutile." She said to the egg as it produced a holographic image of her superior.

"Ah, Ruby, so glad of you to call." Black Rutile said delightedly. "How has your infiltration of the Zircon's campaign going?"

"All according to plan my Rutile." Navy saluted the hologram. "She doesn't suspect a thing."

"Excellent." Black Rutile grinned. "Once she's in power, we'll come in, reveal our goal to the galaxy and initiate our coup. I knew I chose the right Gem for the job."

"Oh, you're too kind my Rutile." Navy giggled. "My magnanimous, visionary, absolutely gorgeous Rutile!"

"Okay, now you're just brown-nosing." Black Rutile scowled. "Morganite should be meeting with you shortly, so keep an eye out for her while I go gather forces." She commanded. "Over and out."

--

Meanwhile, on a different part of the Gem Homeworld, the Sun Incinerator began to make its landing at a spaceport where many Gems were either departing from Homeworld by spaceship or returning home. But this crew in particular was only here for a quick pitstop.

"Well, here we are back on Homeworld Off-Colors." Lars declared as he and his motley crew of Off-Color Gems disembarked from their pilfered vessel to look around the spaceport. "Man, it's wonderful how much Steven has changed everything."

"Yeah, once these ships were out conquering worlds." The left Rutile replied.

"But now they're out spreading peace and fixing what they broke." The right Rutile remarked.

"We can sing Steven's praises later." Rhodonite said, getting her fellow Gems back on track. "We came back here to refuel."

"Yes, we know Rhodonite." Fluorite said slowly. "I'm just going to take a breather over there." She then pointed over to a little hangout spot where different Gems were striking up conversations. "How about you?"

"I'm just going to explore a bit." Lars answered. "Anyone coming with?"

"I'm gonna go over there to where those other fusions are." Rhodonite replied as she pointed to another hangout spot populated with cross-Gem fusions just like her.

"Guess that leaves me and Paddy to watch over the ship." The left Rutile said.

"Our crew shall go their separate ways for the time being." Padparadscha declared sweetly.

However, as the Off-Colors briefly split up to relax, a sinister plot was brewing without their knowledge. Emerald and a squad of Black Pearls were hiding inside one of the unoccupied ships, having been spying on the Gem team this whole time. "My Rutile, I have visual on the Sun Incinerator." Emerald said into a communicator. "At long last, it'll finally be mine!"

"Yes Emerald, the sole reason you joined my alliance." Black Rutile said sarcastically. "But remember that once you finally reacquire the Incinerator, you are to rendezvous with your teammates and provide our transport to Earth."

"But what about your dropship, my Rutile?" one of the Black Pearls inquired. "Can't you use that to come to Earth instead?"

"I'm currently using it to reach Blue 4." Black Rutile explained. "Lars will no doubt use another ship to reach Earth, but by then it'll be too late for him"

"Understood." Emerald nodded as the communicator shut off, and then she turned to the Pearls. "You heard her, move out!"

"Yes, your Emerald." The Black Pearls monotonously replied and marched towards the Sun Incinerator.

The Rutile twins noticed the squad of Pearls marching to them and decided to ask what was up. "Uh, hello there." The left Rutile nervously greeted. "Don't think we've ever seen you Pearls around before."

"Forgive our intrusion, we were only created not too long ago." The leading Black Pearl apologized with a bow. "My fellow Pearls and I are working for a higher power who believes she can bring peace to Homeworld."

"Ooh, look at those Pearls over there!" Padparadscha exclaimed. "I don't like the looks of them Rutiles, they look suspicious!"

"Yeah, that reminds me." The right Rutile said. "Who is this higher power you're working for?"

"She refuses to disclose her identity at the moment," another of the Pearls said. "but she doesn't like a certain friend of yours very much."

Before the Rutiles and Padparadscha could comprehend what the Pearl said, a pair of crystalline thigh-high boots clinked loudly as their owner snuck aboard the Sun Incinerator, and they turned around to discover that it was Emerald.

"We've been discovered!" Emerald yelled before she raced further into the ship. "Pearls, seize them!"

"Emerald?!" the Rutile twins exclaimed in shock.

"Emerald has stolen the ship!" Padparadscha added as Lars, Rhodonite, and Fluorite raced to discover what had happened.

"So we meet again Emerald!" Lars said angrily as Emerald began to take off in her reclaimed ship. "What do you have planned this time?!"

"I think the better question is, what do WE have planned!" Emerald corrected just as furiously. "You're so distracted by the destruction that Steven has caused, you're just as blind to his impending fall! Now Pearls!"

The Pearls summoned their spears and threateningly pointed them at Lars and the Off-Colors. But just then, three silhouettes that have been watching things play out made themselves known by emerging from the shadows to strike.

The first Gem had orange skin, a red-orange gemstone at the center of her chest, a red and white jumpsuit with black shoulder pads, a blue-purple cape, and a pale yellow afro that came together at a widow's peak. She was the first of the trio to attack, plunging her sword into a Black Pearl's chest and causing her to poof.

The second Gem was a Peridot with rectangular chartreuse-yellow hair, her triangular gem replacing her left eye, a medium green jumpsuit with dark green shoulder pads and a four-pointed star symbol on the torso, a light green cape, dark green leggings, and medium green boots with yellow triangles on her knees. She lifted a metal crate into the air with ferrokinesis and tossed it at another group of Black Pearls, poofing them as well.

Finally, there was a Gem Lars easily recognized. Citrine was also a member of this trio, whaling on Black Pearls as they tried to dogpile her, and she was wearing a cape as well. It was black, matching the mask she wore over her eyes.

"Citrine!" Lars cried excitedly as the three Gems fought off the seemingly growing mob of Pearls. "Hey, who are those other two Gems?"

"Lars, long time no see!" Citrine replied while backhanding a Black Pearl in the face. "I can introduce you to my new partners later, now help us out!"

"Finally time to put my new musti-yuddha skills to use." Lars declared while taking off his cape and gloves to fight the Black Pearls. "Come at me bros!" he challenged the Gems as he put up his fists, using his newfound Indian boxing skills to punch, kick, grab, knee, and elbow his way through the Pearls.

"Nice moves there my friend!" the yellow afroed Gem complimented Lars before they, along with Citrine and the Peridot, stood back to back against the Pearls while the Off-Colors watched. "What do you call that kind of fighting?"

"It's an Earth type of combat called musti-yuddha." Lars explained as yet another Black Pearl charged at him. "SHORYUKEN!" he yelled, uppercutting the Pearl into the air before it poofed, and her gem clattered on the ground.

"I've got to get me some of those lessons." Rhodonite said to herself.

"The human is stronger than we were led to believe!" one of the remaining Black Pearls gasped in shock. "Everybody retreat!"

With that, the Black Pearl squadron officially withdrew from combat, leaving Lars and his Gem allies to collect themselves.

"So, like I was gonna say, meet some new friends I made since you were last here." Citrine introduced her new partners.

"You may call me Hessonite." Hessonite greeted Lars with a handshake. "Former commander of Yellow Diamond's army turned ally of the Crystal Gems and Gem vigilante. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm her sidekick, Peridot Facet-4E3M Cut-7ZY." The Peridot introduced herself. "Though most call me Squaridot due to my hair. Much like my former commander turned partner, I have once antagonized the Crystal Gems before Steven showed me the light. Well, after quite a few setbacks, of course."

"I'm Lars." Lars replied as he pointed to himself, and then to the Off-Colors. "Meet my teammates, the-"

"We know full well about you and your exploits Lars." Hessonite cut Lars off. "Citrine told us about you when we first crossed paths, and she has proven useful to my cause."

"Excuse me, but what cause?" Fluorite asked Hessonite.

"The detainment of a Gem revolutionary known as Black Rutile!" Squaridot dramatically announced as she presented an image of the Gem in question. "For the past couple years ever since Steven began the process of reforming the Gem empire, this felon has been gathering up an army to rebel against him and the Crystal Gems, and now that the Spinel incident has come and gone, Black Rutile has finally decided now to initiate her plans to destroy him and conquer the Gem race!"

"Wait, why does Black Rutile have it out for Steven?" Lars asked when he came to a realization. "Wait, I remember her! She came to Earth once and interviewed me about my experiences with Steven! Is that all a part of her plan?"

"Indubitably," Citrine answered. "She's been gathering as much info as she can on Steven, the Crystal Gems, and almost everyone they've ever met in preparation for her forthcoming invasion. She knows everyone's strengths and weaknesses, and will use them against us with extreme prejudice."

"Black Rutile may seem like a genial reporter," Hessonite continued her sidekicks' explanation. "But it's all an act to disguise the cunning, devious, opportunistic, sociopathic monster she is underneath. Black Rutile was a former member of White Diamond's court and a fearsome warrior during the Rebellion with a burning vendetta against Pink Diamond because she believed Pink always got what she wanted by whining & crying all the time instead of doing any actual hard work to deserve things."

"So she hates Pink, big whoop." Rhodonite snarked.

"It's not just Pink, my dear fusion." Hessonite stated, putting a gloved hand on Rhodonite's shoulder. "By proxy, she has a hatred for Steven and the Crystal Gems because they continued her work by reforming our society, and some aren't very kind towards Steven's decisions."

"We were surrounded by those Black Pearls, but a trio of caped crusaders have come to save us!" Padparadscha cheered.

"Yes, thank you for adding to the conversation Sapphire." Hessonite muttered, glaring at Padparadscha before she turned back to Lars. "Recent intel we have gathered tells us that Black Rutile has inserted a Ruby spy into Yellow Zircon's democratic campaign, feeding her nothing but lies to inspire Gems to rebel against Era 3. I'm planning on infiltrating a speech she is giving, but I need help." She grabbed Lars by the hand and gazed at him with determined eyes. "Tell me Lars of the Stars, are you with us?"

"Well, with intel like that, I don't see why not." Lars declared, taking Hessonite's hand and giving it a firm shake. "I'm in!"

With that, the Off-Colors had some new allies by their side, and a new adventure to go on. One that might be their most dangerous yet.

--

Meanwhile, the remaining Black Pearls continued fleeing from Hessonite's squad and found somewhere safe to hide, where their leader turned on a communicator on her wrist.

"Black Pearl-6G9, report!" Black Rutile barked to her subordinates.

"It is the Hessonite, she has struck once again." The Pearl stated. "And it seems she has allied with the so-called "Lars of the Stars" to undermine your hard work."

"That traitor has been a thorn in my side for too long." Black Rutile snarled irritatedly. "A real shame too. She and I got along quite swimmingly before she went to retrieve that Prism." She then remarked nostalgically. "But enough about my backstory. The Zircon is preparing to make her speech soon. I need what's left of your force to protect her at the auditorium in Igneous Square no matter what. Affirmative?"

"Affirmative, my Rutile." Black Pearl-6G9 nodded and shut off her communicator before she turned to her fellow Pearls, nodding to them as well.

--

Later that day, Lars & Hessonite stood atop a building and gazed down upon the Gems gathered at Igneous Square where Yellow Zircon was set to make another speech. Also on stage with her were a group of Black Pearls, her mysterious campaign manager Navy and their special guest Morganite.

"Good day my fellow Gems." Yellow Zircon announced while Lars followed Hessonite down the building and blending in with the crowd. "As you can see, I brought a very special guest with me. I'd like you all to please give a warm welcome to the legendary designer, Morganite!"

"Wait, she's with them?" Lars whispered to Hessonite as Morganite stepped up to the podium. "But she seemed so chill when we first met her!"

"Looks can be very deceiving Lars." Hessonite advised her human ally. "Black Rutile has supporters all across Homeworld and their former colonies, but Morganite here is a part of her inner circle."

"Wait, inner circle?" Lars asked. "You mean she's got, like, a whole legion of doom by her side?"

"I wouldn't put it that way, but yes." Hessonite answered. "Now shush."

"Thank you Zircon for the marvelous introduction." Morganite said gratefully to the Zircon before she turned to the audience with a speech prepared. "Today shall be the end of Era 3. The end of the Crystal Gems, who have acquiesced to gaslighting and manipulation for thousands of years. At this very moment, hundreds of lightyears away, Steven Universe continues lying to the Gem race and brainwashing the mindless masses to his so-called "peace and love", while hypocritically abandoning all in actual need of his alleged assistance!" As Morganite went on, her speaking became more and more dictatorial until she began outright shrieking every word that came out of her mouth. "Once WE are in power, we shall return to our ways of conquering and terraforming, starting WITH PLANET EARTH! AND SOON STEVEN SHALL REALIZE THAT IF HE AND HIS MOTHER WEREN'T SUCH IRRITATING BRATS, HE WOULDN'T BE HIS OWN UNDOING!"

The Gems in the audience all began cheering and pumping their fists, chanting Morganite's name as she took a bow and began to leave the unnerved Yellow Zircon to take back her podium, until someone else took the microphone.

"Steven gaslighting and manipulating?" Lars hijacked the podium to make his own speech. "Frankly my friends, you're all dead wrong! Sure, he and I got off on the wrong foot more times than I can count, but I know that he is an actual good person. A fact that you are all just blind to for the sake of being mouthpieces for a complete maniac! You're no revolutionaries; you're just a bunch of proud clods! And another thing-"

"Hey pinky, get off the stage!" one Agate jeered while the Black Pearls began to surround Lars onstage.

"You shall come quietly human for questioning." The lead Pearl ordered, spear pointed directing across Lars's neck.

"Uh Hess, little help here!" Lars cried out nervously. Suddenly, a golden blur emerged from the crowd and easily dispatched the Pearls, along with any other Gems trying to get on the stage to attack Lars.

"Come on, let's head to my lair!" Hessonite stated before the screen behind the podium began to short-circuit before finally, Black Rutile appeared on it. "You."

"Ah Hessonite, so glad you could make it to the eve of my grand takeover." Black Rutile purred in greeting. "And look, you even brought a plus-one! Lars of the Stars, am I right?"

"Master, I sincerely apologize for my failure!" Morganite dropped on her knees and begged for Black Rutile's mercy. "It was the human who tried to expose me!"

"Save the apologies Morganite, I'll send in reinforcements later." Black Rutile replied before turning back to her pair of foes. "And as for you, go ahead and run around this planet all you like, 'cause you won't find me anywhere on it!"

"Well, where are you?!" Lars yelled.

"That is highly classified." Black Rutile responded with a sneer. "Not that you would care, you rose-colored hippie. Toodles!" With that, she disappeared from the screen, leaving the pair aghast at her sudden appearance before one of the Gems spoke up.

"Can't you see, Steven is forcing us to waste ourselves away being all caring and helping, when we should be returning to enslaving!" a particularly vigorous Pyrope yelled. "Who's with me?! OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE!"

"YEAH, OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE!" a Jasper agreed, inspiring the other Gems to chant those same words.

"OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE! OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE! OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE! OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE! OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE! OUR HEARTS AND GEMS TO HER CAUSE!"

"It's worse than I thought." Hessonite muttered nervously while she and Lars made their escape. "She's manipulated them all."

"Do the Diamonds know about this?" Lars asked his new ally.

"I'm not sure, but that will definitely get their attention." Hessonite replied as they got further away from Igneous Square, where the chanting kept on going and Yellow Zircon stared in shock at what just happened.

"Was I just a tool for a fascist cause?" Yellow Zircon muttered in utter despondence while Navy stood behind her with an evil grin.

"Fascist cause? No." Navy grinned as she retreated into the shadows. "Tool? Oh so very much."

--

Not too far away from Homeworld was the former colony of Blue 4, a once pristine colony that has fallen on hard times due to its ruler's neglect of her subjects. And far from Blue 4 on its own little asteroid was the Palace of Light, formerly the capital of Blue 4 that was the current residence, or rather a prison, of the ex-elite Gems Pyrope and Demantoid.

"Day….I've lost count, of our imprisonment in the Palace of Light." Demantoid muttered robotically to herself as she sat across from Pyrope in their shared cell. "I have been making countless plans to break out of this cell and exact our revenge, but a certain someone just keeps debunking them all."

"Well, it's not my fault that most of your plans will fail!" Pyrope said haughtily. "Kind of like how it was your fault that we lost to Steven!"

"My fault?!" Demantoid yelled back as she hopped up and marched over to meet Pyrope's gaze. "If it weren't for your arrogance, we wouldn't be stuck in here with no status, no weapons, and no hope of escaping!"

Suddenly, the destabilizing forcefield that prevented the pair of Garnets from escaping shut off, allowing them to leave their cell with no trouble.

"Who could've possibly done this?" Pyrope wondered, looking around at how only their cell was deactivated while the others were still operational.

"I believe I can answer that for you." A voice answered pridefully as she marched towards the Garnets and revealed her identity. "Black Rutile, at your service. Long time no see you two."

"My stars, THE Black Rutile?!" Demantoid gasped in recognition of the Rutile. "Where have you been all this time?! Why are you only now helping us when you could've been useful during our clashes with the Crystal Gems?!"

"I've been plotting their downfall for quite some time Demantoid." Black Rutile answered. "I suppose you have been disenfranchised by Steven, much like my compatriots here, no?" she then asked as White Topaz, Aquamarine, Eyeball, Lapis 1J9G and Holly Blue emerged from behind her.

"So, you've been plotting your own rebellion, just like Rose Quartz?" Pyrope asked as she gazed at the Gems Black Rutile has gathered for her alliance.

"Indeed, and I believe you both deserve seats in it." Black Rutile replied as she took the pair's hands. "Now then, are you with me?"

"I am with you." Demantoid accepted the offer. "But only if she gets left here."

"No no no, she should be left to rot while I join you!" Pyrope demanded.

"Uh, something wrong you two?" White Topaz asked.

"It's all her fault we lost!" the Garnets blamed each other with fingers pointed, but they were quickly proven wrong.

"No, it's neither of your faults." Black Rutile stated as she brought up a projection of the pair's final battle with the Crystal Gems using the Light Prisms. "It's all because of Steven that you lost. That cunning, devious, opportunistic, sociopathic monster wanted you out of the way because you had no place in his dystopia, but there is room for you in the utopia I will soon build. Now let me repeat myself," She deactivated the hologram and looked back at Pyrope & Demantoid. "are you with me?"

"Okay, we're in!" Pyrope exclaimed, shaking the fearsome Rutile's hand. "Now tell us, what do you need us for?"

"I am planning on going down to Earth to strike at the Gems when they least expect it." Black Rutile explained, leading the group out into the main area of the Palace while pulling out another hologram from her visor detailing her plans. "Once we detain them once and for all, we shall indoctrinate the Gems they have brainwashed into their so-called Little Homeschool to our cause and overwhelm the Diamonds with our superior armies. After that, we'll have to discuss lat-"

Suddenly, the signaling of an urgent message cut off Black Rutile's plans. "One second everyone." She muttered before taking the message. "Ruby, report!"

"My Rutile, we need you!" Navy exclaimed fearfully. "The Zircon has already been seized since the speech, and now Morganite & I are on the run!"

"Yes, I'm well aware of that." Black Rutile said while pinching the gem on her face. "That Morganite, always such a self-important coward. I shall send in backup posthaste!"

"Oh thank you my glamorous Rutile!" Navy cheered. "I am so honored to be in your presence like always!"

"What did I say about the brownnosing?" Black Rutile shut Navy up before the message ended, then she turned to her minions. "Holly Blue, 1J9G, keep Lars of the Stars away from Earth no matter the cost."

"Understood my Rutile." Holly Blue obliged with her master's salute. "Come along terraformer."

"Really, we're going all this way just to get revenge on Steven?" Lapis 1J9G snarked. "You know, we don't have to make all these super complicated plans, we can just go down and kill everyone."

"Bite your tongue Lapis!" Holly barked at the Lapis Lazuli. "Is that the way you want to speak about someone who promised you your friend back?"

"No your clarity!" 1J9G squeaked in fear of the Agate's terror.

"Very good." Holly Blue replied pleasantly. "Now, let's return to Homeworld."

As the pair of blue Gems departed, 1J9G looked back at Black Rutile with a sneer while the alliance was being unknowingly watched.

The Light Prism George let out a gasp at what he just witnessed and began speaking in Gem Glyph to his fellow Prisms, who had now taken forms similar to his own. The three of them nodded, knowing just who to call.

--

Meanwhile, back on Homeworld, Lars and Hessonite had finally escaped the mob of furious Gems and found themselves standing before a pair of large doors at a tower.

"Welcome to my lair, Lars." Hessonite declared as she placed her palm on a scanner that allowed her entrance into the room. At the top of the steps was a large & elaborate computer system, along with the Off-Colors, Squaridot, and Citrine all waiting for the pair's return. "This was once Yellow Diamond's bubbling chamber before Era 3, and I've heavily repurposed it to suit my vigilante needs."

"Lars, you're back!" Rhodonite cried, and the Off-Colors all gave Lars a big hug as soon as he reached the top of the steps.

"Lars is coming back!" Padparadscha cheered.

"So, what's the situation like out there?" the right Rutile asked Lars as he took a seat at a workbench covered with gadgets either being built or fixed.

"It's worse than what Hessonite led us to believe." Lars muttered. "Black Rutile has brainwashed so many Gems into thinking Steven is the bad guy by using that Zircon's presidential campaign as a mouthpiece for her beliefs. And remember Morganite? She's one of her supporters."

"Are you serious?!" Rhodonite exclaimed in shock, since the last time she met her former superior, Morganite seemed so ambivalent towards Era 3. "I could never forgive her for how she treated us, but this is just going too far!"

"My thoughts exactly." Lars agreed. "Morganite gave a big speech about how the Crystal Gems are even more oppressive than the Diamonds were, but I took to the stage to argue against her claims. And then came a message from Black Rutile."

"What was she like?" Fluorite asked the undead human.

"She seemed so condescending, yet utterly monstrous at the same time." Lars answered. "When Black Rutile ended her message, all the Gems at the auditorium started chanting about their support for her. It's almost like those fascist regimes I read about."

"Holy revolution Lars!" Squaridot cried out. "We must warn someone, pronto!"

As Lars continued discussing the events at Igneous Square, Hessonite sat down at her massive computer and began putting down her findings on the screen before calling up Blue Zircon. "Zircon, this is Hessonite."

"Hessonite, glad to hear from you." Blue Zircon greeted the Garnet. "How's your investigation of my opponent going?"

"I had a little help exposing her." Hessonite stated, turning her screen to focus on Lars a bit. "This human and his Off-Color friends were at Spaceport Epsilon when their vessel, the Sun Incinerator, was hijacked by its former owner Emerald. Now I've enlisted them in helping me stop Black Rutile, and even had Lars accompany me to Igneous Square where Morganite made a speech at Yellow Zircon's conference."

"What were you two able to gather?" Blue Zircon asked.

"She turned out to be merely a puppet for Black Rutile's syndicate through the installation of a navel-Gem Ruby as her campaign manager." Hessonite continued with her findings before another message came through. "One second, have to take this." She tapped on the new message, which came out as a series of symbols that seemed unrecognizable to Lars when he took his place by Hessonite's side.

"What is that?" Lars asked, gazing at what he believed to be gibberish.

"It's Gem Glyph, the language of our people. Allow me to translate." Hessonite answered. "FROM GEORGE. SOS, PYROPE, AND DEMANTOID ESCAPED. BLACK RUTILE AND OTHER GEMS BROKE THEM OUT OF PALACE OF LIGHT. PLEASE SEND-, and then it just stops. Like the writer was captured before they could finish."

"Uh, one question." Lars said. "Who's George, and who are those Gems he's talking about?"

"George is what your friend Steven calls one of the Light Prisms that formerly belonged to yours truly." Hessonite answered as she stood up from her chair. "And Pyrope and Demantoid are a pair of high-ranking Garnets much like I who owned two other Light Prisms, before Steven confiscated them and we defeated the pair. It seems Black Rutile has recruited them into her alliance." Then she turned to Blue Zircon. "Zircon, send a warning to Steven!"

"I'm sorry Hessonite, but it seems my communication line to Earth has been compromised!" Blue Zircon exclaimed nervously. "How can we possibly warn the Crystal Gems now?!"

"Simple," Lars answered courageously. "we go back to Earth."

"You all can go ahead, I'll hunt down Ruby and Morganite." Citrine announced.

"Right, good luck out there big guy." Lars agreed before Citrine hugged him. "And thanks for the hug, but can you let me go?"

--

Later, Lars and the team returned to the spaceport where the Sun Incinerator was once in to search for another ship. "Where do we find a ship now?" Squaridot asked hurriedly.

"Simple, we take mine." Hessonite answered as she pointed to her warship, a large, orange inverted pyramid that stood tall and proud over all the others. At least, until it was destroyed by a saw blade made of water that instantly cut the ship in half.

"Oops, sorry about your ship!" Lapis 1J9G called from above with a laugh. "But seriously, I'm being forced to do this because my boss loves to make everything super-complex."

"Now what do we do?" Rhodonite asked nervously while the terraformer flew off.

"Easy, we take another ship." Hessonite instantly formed another plan and dashed to a different vessel parked nearby.

It was a green spaceship that was in the shape of a massive octahedron and had four long, claw-like prongs extending from all four sides. Lars instantly recognized this other ship as the Destiny Destroyer, the one that Emerald used to chase him and the Off-Colors after they stole the Sun Incinerator.

"So, taking another one of Emerald's ships, huh?" Lars wondered. "Ah, just like the old days when Emerald was after our heads, eh gang?"

"We are going to steal the Destiny Destroyer!" Padparadscha answered while everyone boarded Emerald's warship, all except Citrine, who had already volunteered to remain on Homeworld.

"Stay safe there Citrine." Lars promised Citrine before he went inside to pilot the ship out of Homeworld.

"Godspeed Lars of the Stars." Citrine replied as the Destiny Destroyer finally took off and left the planet. "There goes one of the bravest creatures I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Where is he?!" Citrine heard Holly Blue scream as she, Morganite, Navy, and a squad of Gem guards stormed Spaceport Epsilon in search of Lars. "You, Citrine, where is Lars?!"

"Lars isn't here right now." Citrine answered sardonically as she summoned her weapon from the gem on her stomach, a massive war hammer. "But if you'd like, I'll tell them you said hi and you give up."

"Well, it seems you finally caught us." Morganite announced as she put up her hands. "Go ahead, cuff us all."

"Quit acting so defeatist, our old ways are on the line here!" Holly Blue yelled before summoning her whip. "Now, any last words before I execute you for defying our master?!"

With an uncomfortable twitch in her eye, Citrine dropped her hammer and spread out her arms. "Go ahead." She snarled. "Bring it on."

--

"You really believed you can try to stop us little Prism?" Pyrope cooed mockingly to the three captive Light Prisms on Black Rutile's dropship. "Once we get rid of Steven once and for all, we'll use you three to raze everything he loves to the ground, and you'll be utterly powerless to stop us."

While the other two Light Prisms hugged each other in fear, George bravely took a stand against the Garnet, and yelled some form of retort in Gem Glyph.

"Oh keep quiet you." Pyrope shut George down immediately before turning away from the Prisms to meet Demantoid, who had now received perfect replicas of her former limb enhancers. "And how are you doing Demantoid?"

"Splendidly!" Demantoid exclaimed. "I feel like we've never met Steven to begin with!"

"Yes, you can compliment me for recreating your limb enhancers later." Black Rutile said to Demantoid. "Right now, I've set a course for one of your old colonies because I require your Peridots and Bismuths for a special task."

"What kind of task?" Demantoid asked while the dropship settled down on a planet covered with green hi-tech structures.

"You shall see." Black Rutile said as she, Demantoid, Pyrope, White Topaz, Eyeball, and Aquamarine disembarked to greet some Peridots and Bismuths nearby. "Salutations worker Gems!" she energetically greeted them. "Have I got an offer you certainly can't refuse."

"Demantoid?" one of the Peridots gasped at the sight of her former superior. "But we were told the Crystal Gems stopped you!"

"Well, you were wrong." Demantoid stated. "Black Rutile here has broken me and Pyrope out, and now we've joined her for revenge!"

"We have come to this little planet because we want you." Aquamarine announced. "We need more soldiers for our army, and you have the perfect amount of brains & brawn for the job."

"Fat chance you uppercrusts!" One of the Bismuths yelled as she stepped forward. "Steven would never allow you to control anyone in this era!"

"That's because this era will soon be over!" Black Rutile argued with the Bismuth. "Once I am in power, I will be the sole ruler of all Gemkind! You really think this is any way to talk back to your future empress?!"

"Oh, they will find out about this." The Bismuth said, quietly angering Black Rutile. "And they will stop you no matter what."

Black Rutile was utterly enraged at this kind of rebellion, but she kept a cool head even as she pulled a bowie knife from her gem and held it at the Bismuth's gem. Then suddenly, as if a completely different Gem replaced her, Black Rutile abruptly stabbed that Bismuth in the gem on her chest, and slowly scraped it down her gem while the Bismuth screeched in pain. When Black Rutile removed her knife, the Bismuth's form split in half just like her gem before she was finally shattered.

"Get rid of her remains." Black Rutile ruthlessly commanded to the frightened masses. As another Bismuth picked up her coworker's remains, Black Rutile turned to the other worker Gems. "Now let me repeat myself. I have an offer you most certainly can't refuse!" she said to the Peridots and Bismuth with cheer like she didn't just sadistically shatter another Gem. "Are you with me?"

"We're with you." Demantoid's terrified subordinates muttered.

"I can't hear you." Black Rutile insisted.

"We're with you!" the scared Gems repeated much louder than before.

"Peridots?" Black Rutile then asked the Peridots.

"We're with you!"

"Bismuths?" Black Rutile asked the surviving Bismuths.

"We're with you."

"And what about you?" Black Rutile said to the Bismuth she just shattered with her knife. "Oh right, shattered!" Then she started giving out orders. "Topaz, I need you with me to find more recruits. Aquamarine, Ruby, keep watch over our new recruits." She once again turned back to the Peridots. "And I got a few questions for you."

"What do you mean Rutile?" one of the Peridots with her gem on her chest asked.

"First off, can you call me "my Rutile" from here on out?" Black Rutile commanded. "Second, what's a Gem gotta do to find some corrupted Gems in this era? And three," She reached for her gem and pulled out a massive bubble containing various chunks of Cactus Steven. "what can you do with these?"

--

At long last, Lars, the Off-Colors, Hessonite, and Squaridot had left Homeworld via the Destiny Destroyer, ready to jump to hyperspeed, return to Earth and warn Steven of Black Rutile's plans.

"Ugh, I'm pooped!" Lars groaned as he slumped back in the captain's chair. "Think when we get to Earth, I'll go back to my old house and take a nice long nap before we save the planet and then head back into space."

"It would be nice to see Earth again, without threatening its existence though." Hessonite smirked, gazing out at the infinite sea of stars, planets, comets, and all sorts of cosmic scenery. "How about any of you?"

"Uh captains, we have a problem!" Rhodonite yelped as she stared at the radar screen. "It's the Sun Incinerator, and it's shooting right at us!"

"Emerald!" Lars grumbled as he pounded his fist on the armrest. "Come out and fight like the so-called commander you call yourself!"

A viewing screen turned on, allowing the team to see Emerald, sadistically excited to finally get her revenge. "How are you Off-Colors, now that you're on your way to destruction?"

"You won't take us down Emerald!" Lars bravely declared.

"Famous last words human filth." Emerald responded hatefully. "I've been begging, no, pleading to get my vengeance only for Steven to heartlessly take it away from me with his dumb little Era 3! Well, once Black Rutile is in power, she will render all of this era's laws null and void in favor of returning the Gems to the terrifying conquerors they were born to be!"

"Fat chance One-Eyed Jerk!" Squaridot cried out before she suddenly realized the hypocrisy of her retort.

"Engines to hyperspeed, quick!" Lars commanded his crew.

"Already on it Lars." Fluorite announced as she retreated to the engine room.

"We are under attack by Emerald, but we shall win!" Padparadscha declared eagerly.

The Destiny Destroyer's thrusters burned brightly as the ship prepared to leave the space above Homeworld and make a break for Earth, leaving the Sun Incinerator in the dust.

"Oh no, you don't!" Emerald yelled, forcing her ship to go into hyperspeed as well in hot pursuit.

--

The chase soon began in hyperspace, with Emerald continuing to pursue her purloined Destiny Destroyer while Lars and his crew were set on their path to Earth.

"Keep firing!" Emerald yelled, commanding her subordinates to fire her ship's blasters.

"Do a barrel roll!" Lars yelled in response.

"I'm sorry, a what now?" the Rutiles wondered in unison.

"You know, like in the video games!" Lars added. The Rutiles quickly caught onto this and began spinning the ship in a perfect circle.

"Actually, I don't believe that qualified as a barrel roll." Hessonite snidely corrected. "It seemed to me more like a-"

"Can't let you do that Hessonite!" Lars interrupted the orange Gem in a thick accent.

"Do what?" Hessonite replied.

"Ruin the joke." Lars answered. "Turn this around and start firing!"

With that, the Destiny Destroyer was flipped around to face the Sun Incinerator and began firing from its prongs.

The Sun Incinerator began to sustain heavy damage, much to Emerald's fury, and she gave another command to her subordinates. "RAIN FIRE!"

"But my Emerald, your Destroyer!" one of the Citrines serving as a part of Emerald's crew replied fearfully.

"JUST DO IT!" Emerald roared. The Citrines did as they were told and fired the Incinerator's blasters at the Destroyer, now causing the enemy ship to start falling apart as well.

"She's falling apart!" Lars cried as alarms sounded, signaling that the Destiny Destroyer didn't have much time left. "How much longer till we leave hyperspace?!"

"We've just arrived at our destination!" Squaridot yelled when the Destiny Destroyer finally left hyperspace and now hovered close to the planet Earth. "And good timing too, this ship is gonna fall apart!"

With not much time left till the Destiny Destroyer's destiny is to be destroyed, Lars thought up a plan right on the spot. "Everyone in my hair!"

"Come again?" Hessonite asked, one half of her monobrow raised.

"My hair's like a portal, and on the other end there's a lion Steven owns who's been brought back to life with powers like mine!" Lars explained. "But I think we're all gonna have to get in one at a time, so fusions are out of the picture!"

"You got it." Fluorite replied as she de-fused into Titanite, Lavender Jade, Iolite, Rubellite, Indicolite, and Verdelite, who all dove into Lars's hair.

"Don't forget us!" Rhodonite said as she de-fused into her Ruby and Pearl, who got into Lars's hair next.

"I wonder how this even works." Squaridot wondered just as Hessonite grabbed her and shoved her into the hairy portal. "Hey, quit it!"

"Lars has made an unorthodox plan to escape Emerald!" Padparadscha yelled while Hessonite grabbed her under her arm and dove in after Squaridot.

"What about you Lars?" the left Rutile asked, sticking her hand in Lars's hair.

"I'll cover things from here, just find Steven on the other end if he's nearby!" Lars ordered.

"Okay, be safe." The right Rutile said before both twins fully dove into the portal, leaving Lars as the only one onboard the Destiny Destroyer as he slowly stepped forward. Just then, Emerald showed up on the viewscreen.

"Any last words before I finally destroy you, Lars?" Emerald grinned maliciously.

"Yes, yes I do." Lars declared, glancing at a big red button that really stuck out from the rest of the green ship, and then looking back at Emerald with a smirk. "Hope you don't mind losing another ship!"

And so, Lars punched the button, causing the alarms to sound. "WARNING, SELF DESTRUCT SYSTEM ACTIVATED!" an automated voice declared. "PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND PROCEED TO THE ESCAPE PODS!"

"No, what are you doing?!" Emerald shrieked in terror at what was in store for her beloved ship.

"Saving the universe, that's what!" Lars declared before he shut his eyes and dropped to his knees. "Sadie, Shep, Mom and Dad, Steven, everyone." He whispered to himself. "I'm sorry."

With that, the Destiny Destroyer finally detonated, and its remains began careening towards Earth's surface. As Emerald watched from her prized Incinerator, she went ballistic. "NOOOOOO! YOU MAY HAVE OUTSMARTED ME AGAIN LARS, BUT I STILL HAVE THE SUN INCINERATOR!" she screamed angrily while her Citrines stared awkwardly at her. "Mourn with me!"

"Emerald!" Black Rutile yelled as her hologram appeared behind her green subordinate, giving her a scare. "I've been watching the entire battle. You almost had Lars right there, but then he had to press the self-destruct button!"

"I apologize my Rutile, please forgive me!" Emerald bowed for her black-colored master.

"Eh, you win some, you lose some." Black Rutile rolled her eyes. "Head to my current location at once. It's finally time."

"Yes, master." Emerald nodded in compliance as the hologram disappeared. "At long last, vengeance will be mine."

--

After the Destiny Destroyer began falling to Earth, everything else was but a blur to Lars. All he could remember were all his friends from Beach City gathering around the wreckage before being taken away somewhere.

As he slowly opened his eyes, he could barely make out four people standing by him in a hospital bed.

"Astounding, his heart rate has slowed dramatically, but he is still alive!" the muffled voice of a doctor exclaimed in astonishment. "Also, is the pink skin something he had all his life?"

"No doctor, it's been a thing for almost three years now." Lars's mother Martha answered. "I think it all started when he was abducted by aliens."

"S-Steven. Steven." Lars groaned lethargically as he fruitlessly reached out his hands for Steven. "Steven!"

"Doc, I think he's coming to!" Sadie yelled.

"Lars!" Dante Barriga exclaimed as he and his wife raced to their son's side. "Please, give us a sign that you're all right!"

"Steven, need Steven!" Lars cried out as he tried to get up out of bed.

"Mr. Barriga, please remain in your bed!" the doctor advised Lars. "You thankfully suffered no serious injuries, but you've just woken up from a coma sustained from that crash!"

"No, I think he's trying to tell us something!" Shep stated as they kept Lars stuck in his hospital bed. "You want to see Steven, right?"

"I need Steven, he in big trouble!" Lars replied, slowly beginning to regain some grasp of his words just as a nurse came in.

"Doctor Laurie, our patient has one more visitor." The nurse told the doctor. "He said a bunch of "Off-Colors" told him everything."

"I'm here Lars!" Steven exclaimed as he rushed into the hospital room to be by Lars's side. "Hessonite and the Off-Colors told me what happened when they came flying out of Lion's mane!"

"Steven, finally!" Lars cried happily as he grabbed Steven's shoulders. "Listen, I need to warn you! You and the entire planet are doomed!"

--

Meanwhile, as men in black suits began cleaning up the Destiny Destroyer's remains and taking them away for further inspection, the Sun Incinerator zoomed past Beach City, now with Black Rutile, White Topaz, Aquamarine, Eyeball, Lapis 1J9G, Demantoid & Pyrope, some Peridots and an army of cybernetically-enhanced Cactus Stevens on board.

"My Rutile, I've got bad news!" Eyeball exclaimed as she got reports back from Homeworld. "It's about our forces back on Homeworld. Holly Blue and Morganite have successfully been detained by a Citrine in league with Hessonite."

"Is that so?" Black Rutile wondered while she sat in a meditative pose, examining all the data she had collected on Steven and the Crystal Gems. "Well, they weren't going to be useful to me until further notice anyway." She got back to looking at all her data and began deleting what she found to be useless. Most of them involved Ronaldo. "Seriously, why do they keep hanging out with this human if he's such an irritating rat?!"

"My Rutile, we are en route to the Alpha Kindergarten and Facet Five." One of the Peridots announced. "There, you will find the Cluster Gems you seek."

"Excellent." Black Rutile replied, steepling her fingers together before she stood up. "My friends, our finest hour will soon be upon us. Once we have enough fodder to terminate the Crystal Gems, our next stop will be returning to Homeworld, where we shall overthrow the Diamonds and take their empire for ourselves."

"Yeah!" Aquamarine, Eyeball, Emerald, Demantoid, and Pyrope cheered. White Topaz was very unsure of herself while 1J9G just rolled her eyes irritatedly.

"We're here." Black Rutile added as the Incinerator finally touched down in the Alpha Kindergarten, and she disembarked from the ship. "Ah, reminds me of the Zeta Kindergarten where I first emerged. So many memories of far happier times. Now tell me, where is the control room?"

"It should be nearby." A Peridot announced as she used a GPS on her screens to guide the rebellious Gems through the Kindergarten until they discovered a green elevator pad that led them straight down to a large, green hexagonal room. "We have arrived."

"Finally." Black Rutile muttered as she looked around at the tube-like structures littered about the control room. Poking one of them with her bowie knife, the tube began to shake a bit before it began growing into a strange Gem monster with multiple limbs that had a gemstone made from the shattered remains of other Gems. "It's alive! Alive!" she gasped excitedly. "Everyone, wake them all up!"

"Uh, are you sure boss?" White Topaz stuttered, insanely unnerved at the creepy atmosphere of the control room. "I think I'll just wait back at the ship with those cactus things."

"You are not leaving us, you coward." Aquamarine barked, holding White Topaz back with her newly reclaimed wand. "You will assist us in awakening these experiments so we can use them against Steven! Are we clear?!"

"Yes ma'am." White Topaz replied meekly and got to work on awakening the other Cluster Gems.

"Hey, I'm just as scared as you are Topaz." 1J9G said to White Topaz. "I'm only here so I can get back at Steven for taking my friends away, so I'm not that interested in the boss's psycho vendetta either."

Soon, more and more Cluster Gems began to awaken from their slumber, feebly grasping at their captors while their gems projected other Gems in pain. And Black Rutile was utterly excited to see them all.

"Yes, yes!" Black Rutile cheered, her cries of joy echoing throughout the control room. "THEY'RE ALL ALIVE!"

--

And so it begins. This was quite probably the longest chapter of Alternate Future I've written yet, and I'm definitely quite proud of it. Was Black Rutile to your liking folks? Was she evil enough yet still had some form of a point? Well, I hope you're excited to see more of her as she takes center stage in the final chapter of Part 2, Enemy of my Enemy! After that, I'll be going on another hiatus. But when we meet again for Part 3, I've got tons more where that came from!

#steven universe #steven universe future #fanfiction #steven universe alternate future #lars barriga #rhodonite #fluorite #rutile twins #padparadscha sapphire #hessonite #black rutile #white topaz #aquamarine #eyeball ruby #emerald #holly blue agate #mean lapis #demantoid #pyrope #morganite #squaridot #citrine

[writer-k-pop]

The Artist (x.m.h.) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 3.3k / Ending B - 3.4k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"I can't believe you dated him!" Mun Hee says excitedly as we stroll through the hotel.

"You don't even know the man I loved." I tell him like he's lost his mind.

Mun Hee shakes his head, "I looked at his palm. He had 16 lives!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up in amazement. "That's one of the biggest amounts I've ever seen!"

I fight the smile that forces its way onto my face. Mun Hee's constant amazement whenever someone comes in with more than the average amount of lives amuses me. "I once heard of a woman with over 30 lives." I tell him.

"They go up that high?" Mun Hee's eyes grow to the size of tea cups.

"Apparently." I say, "How did he look?" I ask, crossing my arms.

Mun Hee shrugs, "Fine. I don't know how long it's been since he passed but his clothes were pretty wrinkled and he looked a bit thin."

I purse my lips in concern but remind myself that he'll change into the Minghao I remember. The first life Minghao.

"Vroom! Vroom!" A child vocalizes and accidentally barrels into my legs.

Instinctively, I reach down to steady him.

"Seok Jin!" A woman comes walking up to me with an apologetic look on her face, "I am so sorry."

I look from the child to the mother then to the father who walks up behind them. A family. In my hotel. With a child.

I force a smile to cover the nausea spinning in my stomach. What if the child is only one its first life? How could the Gods send such a child to me?

"I told you not to run in the lobby." The mother kneels in front of her son and scolds him, "Apologize right now, Seok Jin."

The child twists his hands together, knowing he's done something wrong. "I'm sorry." He says quietly.

I squat down to be level with him and meet his eyes. "That's okay. I forgive you." I tell him and pick up the toy car he dropped when he hit me, "Just don't do it again and be very careful where you walk." I remind him and hand over the toy.

The boy takes the toy and holds it close to his chest while nodding.

Satisfied, I stand back up and continue walking with Mun Hee.

"How many?" I ask when we're far enough away.

"The parents both had three." Mun Hee tells me, "The boy had 12."

I nod, "He'll leave with the parents?" I ask.

Mun Hee nods.

It happens rarely but if a child under the age of 13 arrives at our hotel, the hotel's life replay doesn't occur for them because they are too young to understand it. If the child arrives alone, we usually arrange a transfer for them right away. But if they arrive with parents or siblings, we send them away at the same time as their parents or siblings.

Knowing that the boy had lived 12 lives quiets the nausea I had felt earlier. For a second, I had worried that it was his first life and felt sick that the Gods were pulling him away.

"Room?" I ask Mun Hee as we turn down another passage.

"711." Mun Hee answers.

"You said 16 days?" I question.

Mun Hee nods, "16 days."

I breath out, "Let the waiting begin."

~The Sixteenth Day~

"What's that?" Mun Hee asks from behind me, scaring me half to death, and nearly making me drop the precious painting in my hands.

"Do not sneak up on me." I warn him then turn to show him the artwork. "It's a piece of Minghao's."

"You kept it?" He gingerly takes it from my hands and gazes over it.

"It was a gift. Of course I kept it." I tell him, "I just kept it hidden."

"Why?" Mun Hee asks like that was the dumbest decision I have ever made, "I mean look at the colors! And the emotions. You can really tell he put his whole heart into this."

"Exactly." I sigh. Taking the painting back from him, I place it back in its hiding spot. "He put his entire heart into it."

"Ah." Mun Hee realizes and then moves his hands to shake the thoughts away. "Anyway, he's there already. He had asked to get there earlier."

I abruptly turn to him, "What do you mean he wanted to get there 'early'?"

Mun Hee shrugs, "I'm guessing he wanted to do some art in your garden cause he also asked for paper and a pencil."

I scrunch my face up, wondering why he would want to draw anything in that dead garden. Wanting to see for myself, I turn and walk out of my office with Mun Hee shutting the doors behind me.

"Did you know that he was a professional swimmer in 14th life?" Mun Hee questions with excitement. When I stay silent, he continues, "Yeah, a couple days ago, he spent the entire day in the pool, just swimming laps."

I nod, silently, not exactly caring about any of his lives besides the first.

"And, and in his fifth life, he ran an orphanage with his wife and, oh my goodness, the stories he told were just heartbreaking." Mun Hee continues.

I roll my eyes and wonder when he will shut up.

"Did he like wine when he lived his first live?" Mun Hee asks me.

I give him a confused look as we exit the elevator.

"He drank at least like a bottle a day." He informs me. "And apparently, in one of his lives, he told me which, I just can't remember which one, but he was a wine maker person. Really fascinating."

"Mun Hee." I stop and turn towards him.

"Yes?" Mun Hee asks with innocence.

"Don't you have a front desk to watch over?" I question, hinting that he should leave.

He doesn't understand the hint but does realize he left the front desk unattended so he quickly rushes off and I am finally left to my own thoughts.

Thankful that I wore flats today, I quietly approach the garden with the sound of pencil graphite sliding against paper guiding me.

Instead of sitting on the bench, Minghao sits at the little table off to the side. A bottle of champagne sits between two tall glasses, one of which has been filled. Minghao has his back to me and he is constantly looking between the paper in his hand and the bare tree that sits in the middle of the garden.

I move closer but my shadow elongates and crosses Minghao's line of vision.

"You weren't thinking of sneaking up on me, were you, (y/n)?" He asks, glancing back at me with a lazy smile.

"I'm just naturally quiet." I say and slide into the unoccupied chair next to him. Leaning over, I peek at the drawing he's working on. He's captured only the tree and none of the chrysanthemums.

"What do you think?" Minghao asks, tilting the paper to give me a better view.

"You gave it way more life than it actually has." I tell him my honest opinion.

"But the real tree isn't dead which means it has some life left." Minghao counters, setting the paper on the table. He picks up his filled glass and inspects the liquid.

"I'm pretty sure it's been dead since the beginning of time." I mutter.

"You never told me you liked champagne so much." Minhao comments, ignoring my mumbling.

I grab the bottle and pour myself a glass, "I do, but you were a wine lover and I liked the wines you picked. So I had no complaints." I explain and take a sip.

"And you hid the best stuff from me." Minghao places a hand over his heart before sipping from his glass.

"You know, Mun Hee's probably going to remember you for a long time." I comment, taking in his features. His long hair, his gentle eyes, his round cheeks, and his sharp lips.

"The attendant?" Minghao wonders and I nod. "He was entertaining. Had a lot of questions. Reminded me of an old friend in one of my lives. You know the kind that is like a little kid, constantly wondering why and laughing at everything you say?"

I nod, agreeing with his perfect description of Mun Hee. "He has his moments."

Minghao leans back and looks up at the glass ceiling. "So, this is where you've been hiding."

"It is." I answer his statement question. "Surprised?"

He frowns and shakes his head, "Not at all. It actually makes a lot of sense now." He looks at me, "How you said you grew poor, made it rich, but actually hated all the riches you had obtained. It all makes sense."

I rest my chin in my hand and just gaze at Minghao. Just taking in his presence and the calm that he always gave me.

"Remember the one painting we did together?" Minghao asks.

My back straightens remembering the piece very well. "The one we danced on?" I want to clarify incase I'm remembering the wrong one.

But Minghao nods, confirming my thoughts. "It never sold." He smirks. "But I had always secretly hoped it wouldn't so it was a win for me."

"It was a really big piece." I chuckle, "Did anyone have room for that?"

He giggles, "It was kind ambitious but it was my favorite."

"You were always a sucker for the abstracts." I tell him with a smile.

"Remember how we did it?" He quizzes me, rising to his feet, and holding out a hand.

I tilt my head at him curiously. Minghao bounces his hand at me, telling me to take it. Cautiously, I place my hand in his and within two seconds, I'm pulled to my feet and away from the table. Minghao effortlessly twirls me so I'm facing him with one hand on my waist and the other outstretched with mine still in his grasp.

"Remember?" He repeats his question and begins to move back. 

Without having to think much, my body follows his as we dance before the tree that keeps me tied here. I smile as the memory returns with the feeling of the cold, wet paint squishing between my toes still attached. With a song playing only in our minds, we move together like no time has passed between us. Even though it has been so long, my eyes don't linger on my feet. Instead they stay locked on Minghao's eyes which are locked onto mine. A lifetime of unspoken stories swim just under the surface and with every physical step I take, I take one more step into that sea.

With one last twirl, our movements cease but we stay locked together. Our foot prints created a map of our dance in the dirt around us. A map that will soon be gone.

"(y/n), you do remember." Minghao says happily, releasing me.

I quickly grab his hand again, "Who said you could let go?" I question.

He chuckles, "I'm not going to run away. " Minghao nods towards the table, "Plus I want to finish drawing your dead-yet-still-alive tree."

"It's dead." I correct him quietly.

"Says the one who is alive but also not alive." He smirks and leads me back to the table. Sitting back down, he picks up the paper and pencil while I scoot my chair closer and rest my chin on his shoulder to watch his process.

"Did you ever marry?" I wonder and his pencil falters against the paper.

"Do you really want to know?" He responds with a question.

I nod, "I do. I didn't stick around to find out what kind of life you had and I want to know."

Minghao sighs, "I did marry in that life." He answers.

"Did you love her?" I side glance at him.

His eyes lift from the paper and land on the chrysanthemums at the base of the tree. "I did. And I loved the three children we raised together."

My lips form a small smile in content. "Three children is less than what you had always hoped for." I point out, thinking back to our late night conversations. The ones where we'd be tangled in the sheets and in each other and just talking about our future dreams.

"I lowered the number after you left." He tells me, resuming his drawing.

"Why?" I ask, pulling away and resting my head on my fist.

"Because I was so sure that we'd have a family together. So when you left, it was like one of those desired children also left with you and I couldn't see myself happy if I had the four with another woman." Minghao explains, "It just didn't seem right."

"Did your wife want four?" I wonder, hoping I didn't take away another woman's dream.

Minghao shakes his head, "No, she always wanted just three so it worked out."

"What were their names?" I ask, curious about his life.

"Maria was our first born. Then we had Jackson. And our youngest was Renjun." Minghao recites their names as I sip from one of the champagne glasses, not caring who's it is.

"Thank you." I say, relieved when I don't hear my name among his children.

"For what?" Minghao looks at me.

"For not naming any of your children after someone like me, someone cursed." I explain.

Minghao nods in understanding, "I thought about it." He says, returning to his drawing, "But that name was saved for the fourth child."

"Even then, I wouldn't have let you name a child after me." I tell him. "My name is one that should disappear when I do. It doesn't need to be around any longer."

"Finished." Minghao holds up the drawing after placing the pencil behind his ear.

The tree that sits on the paper is a good replica of the one we're sat in front of. Leaning in closer, I let my eyes travel up and down the drawn tree.

"You even copied its cracks." I notice the shadowed divots in the trunk.

"Every little piece counts." Minghao simply states.

"I still think it has too much life in it." I sit back in my chair.

Minghao turns in his chair to fully face me, "Even after all these years, you still don't think it's alive?"

I sigh and let my eyes wander over to the tree. "That tree isn't alive. It just stands there. Day in and day out." I meet his gaze again, "If it were removed from this garden, it wouldn't exist."

He picks up his glass then does a double take. "Did you drink from my glass again?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

I laugh at his reference to me always, purposefully or accidentally, drinking from his glass. "Maybe. I wasn't paying attention."

Minghao smiles and finishes off his glass.

For the following hours, and through another bottle of champagne, Minghao tells me about his life. The places he got to travel to because his art was being featured. How Maria followed him and studied the arts. How Jackson was always getting into trouble. How Renjun was so quiet and such a daddy's boy that his wife began to joke that he definitely wasn't hers. The stories of the grandchildren he got to see.

When the stories and champagne subsided, Minghao gazed out the window with a pensive look on his face. I hold onto his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Can I ask for one last favor?" He says, looking down at our hands.

"What is it?" I ask, worried I might have to turn him down. Some things I can do, but most are out of my control.

Minghao raises his head and meets my gaze. "Dance with me one more time?" He asks.

I smile, "Of course." I tell him and we both rise our feet.

As we dance, I get lost in him. Lost in the way his body feels against mine. Lost in the way we breath together. Lost in the way everything disappears when we step in time together. I don't know how long we dance for. But it is long enough for the orange glow to dim and for a cool breeze to remind me of what comes next.

"Do I leave from here?" Minghao asks, leaning his forehead against mine.

"No." I whisper, "There's a car waiting for you out back."

"And you can't come with me cause I wasn't the first?" He wonders.

I shake my head, "I can't go with you." I repeat.

Minghao wraps his arms around my back and pulls me in close, "Whoever the guy is, he's one damn lucky man."

I smile, thinking of the first who is still to come. "We should get going before Shin sends his minions searching for you."

"He doesn't really have minions, does he?" Minghao asks, resting an arm around my shoulders.

"I don't really know. He's always threatening me with them but I've never actually seen them." I answer as we walk away from the garden, the two champagne bottles and two glasses sitting next to the abandoned drawing.

"What will you do while you wait?" Minghao asks, matching his pace with mine.

I shrug, "Probably the same thing I do everyday."

"Run a hotel and drink?" Minghao guesses with a laugh.

"Something like that." I agree knowing he's hit the nail on the head.

"You should start packing up your things, shouldn't you?" Minghao worries.

I shake my head, "I don't need to take anything with me when I leave. Much like you. I'll just go as I am."

"I guess that makes things a little easier." He declares, not having thought of that fact.

As we exit the back doors, Minghao takes in a large breath. We walk towards the idling car while Shin stands and simply watches us approach.

"Is he always that serious?" Minghao leans down and whispers to me.

"Unfortunately." I whisper back.

A few feet from the car, Minghao stops and faces me. I copy his movements, wondering why the sudden movement.

"Do you still have it?" He asks. "The painting I gave you for your birthday?"

I nod, "I have it stored away." I tell him.

"Hang it up." Minghao instructs me.

"Why?" I ask, scrunching my eyebrows together.

"I'm leaving this world for good." Minghao explains, "And I want you to proudly show off the painting to everyone."

"But it'll make me miss you." I counter with a frown.

Minghao smiles, "Missing me is okay cause it means you'll remember me."

My face settles into sadness when I realize what he's saying.

"I know I won't remember you when I cross over so you have to remember me? Alright?" He asks, cupping my cheek and strokes his thumb against my skin.

I nod, "I'll hang it up." I tell him though I'm unsure of where I would hang it. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He says then leans down and places a light kiss to my lips. Even though it's light, it's heavy with emotions. When he pulls away, my eyes shed a few tears while his stay dry. Though he was never a big crier.

"I'll tell the Gods to hurry up with the others so you don't wait too long." Minghao tells me before walking towards the car where Shin has opened the door for him.

I watch in silence as Minghao gives me a last wave before sliding into the car. Once the door is shut, the car begins to drive away.

I sniffle and hold back a flood of tears as the car disappears into the fog. But even through my attempts, a couple tears manage to escape and make trails down my cheeks much like the ones our feet made in the paint. Long after the car has disappeared, I pull back my heavy shoulders and turn back towards the hotel to wait for the others.

In the garden, a single chrysanthemum has withered away and only two glasses and two champagne bottles remain on the table. The drawing having disappeared along with Minghao.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"Now it's your turn." Minghao states with a smile while I lock my hands together behind his neck.

"Finally, I've waited long enough." I joke.

"Well, your waiting is over." He says before giving me a kiss.

"Let's go before Shin comes hunting for me." I mumble against his lips.

Minghao chuckles but pulls away. As we leave the garden, Minghao confidently grabs my hand and swings it back and forth.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise." Then I remember the painting of Minghao's that he admired. "Mun Hee, that painting in my office?"

He nods.

"It's yours now. Take it and hang it up wherever you like." I tell him and surprise widens his eyes.

"Seriously?" He asks me before looking behind me at Minghao, "Seriously?"

Minghao smiles, "It's hers to give away."

Mun Hee wraps me in a hug, "Thank you!"

"You're welcome." I tell him.

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Minghao grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Minghao and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opted to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Minghao softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Minghao securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

#kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen the8 #seventeen the8 imagine #the8 imagine #the9 #seventeen minghao #seventeen minghao imagine #minghao imagine #xu minghao #xu minghao imagine #minghao #waning crescent hotel #writer-k-pop

[acciocrzychickfics]

Happy

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago actually and I have been struggling if I should make this public or not. I guess its now or never. The setting is post-war. I don’t know why but I have this feeling that the Order was never really disbanded, it was kind of like a watchdog type organization after the war. 

Adjusting his eyes to the dark was never a hard thing for Remus to get the hang of. However, adjusting his ears to the crying of his son took him awhile. He was always the first to wake up to little Teddy’s cries. He chalked this up to his keen sense of hearing. Rolling over in bed, he saw Dora sleeping soundly. She had been through the wringer at work these past few weeks. She needed her sleep and he knew it. He kissed her forehead and went to the small room he had magicked when she was pregnant to let her know that while he was still unsure about if his lycanthropy would be hereditary or not, they would get through this together. 

“Are you hungry, little cub?” he asks, picking up the small blue-haired baby who was now smiling up at him as he walks into the kitchen. 

At first, he had struggled with these midnight feedings especially if Dora had to do a night shift for the Order or had to an all-nighter at the Ministry. Not understanding how such a small child could eat so much. He finally broke down and apparated to Andy’s in the middle of the night with a wailing Teddy. He had done everything to try and get him to calm down but once he put Teddy in his grandmother’s arms he quieted now. 

“You know, you are going to be a charmer when you get into school. Don’t tell your Mum but I charmed a girl or two in my time.” Remus exclaims trying to calm his two-month-old son down while using a warming spell to heat the bottle, chuckling then adding “She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”

Teddy gurgles as the bottle is placed on his lips and latches on unsure how he likes this “I know it’s not the same as when Mum does it.” 

Sitting down in the rocking chair in the living room, Remus begins to read to his son that his mother would read to him as a small child. “Where we were, little cub? Ah yes, Chapter 3. They did not sing or tell stories that day, even though the weather improved. They began to feel the danger was far away on d either side.”

Until four or five pages later did he notice, that Teddy had fallen back to sleep and the bottle had been drained. 

“I never expected to fall in love. I never expected to marry, let alone your mother. I never expected to have children. Never in my life did I ever expect to have an amazing son like you. Teddy Lupin, I. Love. You. One day, I will have to be honest with you about why I left. I regret that immensely and am unsure I ever will forgive myself for that. However, know I missed your mother and you the entire time I was gone. I thought that you both were better off without me in case you did inherit my furry little problem. Just know, no matter what I love you with all my heart and will do my best to provide for you no matter what. I can not guarantee your life will be easy with having a werewolf as a father.”

“I have a feeling Teddy will be very defensive if anyone talks bad about his father” he hears from behind him. Standing up, he sees Dora standing in the doorway of the lounge smiling. “I will also keep anyone in line who talks ill about my mate.” 

“You should be in bed” Remus answers concern lacing his face as he holds Teddy in his arms letting the bottle fall from Teddy’s lips. 

“You should have woken me up, I would have fed him,” Tonks exclaims in frustration, now holding her breasts. “My boobs hurt.” 

“I am sorry” Remus answers quietly going slightly scarlet “I should have realized.” 

“ It is only natural and it is nutrients for our son.  No need to be embarrassed, Rem” Tonks answers back motioning to her breasts “There is a spell I can use to get the milk out of these. Mind if I hold him?” 

Remus transfers Teddy to her arms as he squirms in her arms “It is alright, little cub. Mummy is here.” It was as if hearing her voice calmed him down as he snuggled into her arms. 

Kissing Tonk’s head, then Teddy’s whispering “I love you both”, he pulls out his wand to whisper “scourgify” to clean up the mess he made in their kitchen. 

“I would have just left it in the morning.” Tonks yawns walking back into their bedroom to put Teddy down in his crib as he changes his hair color to bubblegum pink “Have you noticed he changes his hair color depending on who is holding him?” 

Lupin smirks, not realizing that he did indeed change his color to brown when his father was holding him.  “Now that you say that when Any was over, he changed his hair color to dark brown.” 

“I think that is his way of letting us know that he knows the difference between us,” Tonks replies yawning again. 

“Dora, you need to go back to bed.” Lupin reiterates “You are going to be exhausted come tomorrow.” 

She sighs trying to come up with an excuse trying to hold her son as much as she can “I just want to hold him. I just want to hold him in my arms and not let him go. I feel like a bad mother because I am working all the time.” 

“Dora, come here.” Remus motions towards the bed, picking up his son and placing him in his bassinet next to the bed, “Teddy will be fine for a couple minutes in his crib.”

Glancing at Teddy once and then looking back to his wife, “Darling, you are in no way a bad mother because you work. You are creating a better world for our son. A better future for him to grow up in. A better world for both of us to raise our son in.”

“I just am afraid I will miss him growing up.” Tonks begins to say before Remus puts a finger to her lips.

“He is only two months old, Dora.” Remus responds “Maybe you can talk to Kingsley about creating a hybrid work schedule so that you can be home but also in a time of need, you can be in the office? I am sure both of you will be able to come up with something that will be applicable.” 

Tonks bit her lip “I guess, I think I’ll sleep on it” 

“I also think you need to sleep. Your hair is turning its natural color again” Remus reiterates calmly putting a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. 

Tonks walks out of the fireplace as her mother is feeding Teddy and Remus is cooking lunch. 

“Nymphadora, why are you here? It is only one” Andromeda asks as she puts Teddy down in his swing. 

“I am home for the rest of the day” Tonks answers smiling the biggest smile she has had in weeks. 

“Did you talk to Kingsley?” Lupin asks grabbing some bowls from the cabinet. Walking up to him, she gives him a peck on the cheek.

“I did,” Tonks replies pulling herself up on the kitchen counter swinging her legs. “We agreed that I would be on something called hybrid maternity leave. Since my full maternity leave was up about a month ago, I will be going to work every other day. On the days I am not on the job, he will or another Auror will be updating me.” 

Remus hands her a bowl of soup smiling, “That is wonderful, Dora.” 

“I have other news about you, my dear” addressing Remus looking back at him. “I heard a rumor, that you will be asked to take back your post at Hogwarts.”

“What? Me?” Remus questions trying not to make his disbelief show on his face. 

“Yep, Kingsley was talking to Harry and Minerva when I walked into his office. I can not help that I have learned some skills from a certain werewolf” Tonks answers him as he hugs her forgetting about the soup in her hands. 

“I am guessing they do not believe that I know,” Remus asks realizing that she had the soup in her hands 

“Oh, I have a feeling that they will notify sooner rather than later” Tonks smiles glancing out the window as an owl flies towards them.

#remadora #acciocrazychickfics #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #dora lupin #teddy lupin #andromeda tonks #post war fic #hp fanfiction #remadora fanfiction

[unicornbitchface]

Raat ki Rani

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Background: A story set in the colonial past of India.

Beta’d by my lovely friend @madbaddic7ed​​ !

Warnings: harsh languange

...............................................................................................

Chapter 3

The hall looked magnificent as if the ghosts of the past had brought them back to the days of glory. The chandelier was lit up, its jewels reflecting light upon every nook and corner.

The musicians played with vigor, expecting a heavy reward for their best efforts and the sweet-scented welcome of every guest added to the pomp.

Every high born around the state was to be present in the feast, and there they were, happy to make the acquaintance of the new British resident. The only glitch was that the said officer was nowhere to be seen, making the Maharaja jittery and a little annoyed.

Soon everyone would start asking questions, for how long was he supposed to distract guests with starters? With this thought, Ganga nodded at Kulwant, asking him to get an update.

*******

Late again! But the blame was on the delay with the dress they insisted to be worn. What was wrong with the old ones? Nothing when I see them!

Who in their right minds would wear these? UGH. I will have to talk to the culprits after this goddamn feast for that buffoon!

As Damini walked through the seemingly deserted halls of the palace, fixing her stubborn hair, adding a gajra and cursing the dressmaker, she did not realise that she took a wrong turn.

Distressed by her woes of fashion and etiquette that mandated her presence in that debauchery, she walked in a jiffy towards her dear friend, Ashwanth.

The gajra, long forgotten, embraced the side of the marble tile near a very special room. Only the melody of her heavy gold trinkets echoed in the air paired with a certain gift, attracting the attention of a handsome blue-eyed devil who was switching to his suits after giving the Indian kurta a chance.

The sound made him curious like the first night, and his feet dragged him to the halls. Only half dressed, shirt unbuttoned, he looked around and tried to trace the echo. All that he could concur, was a moving shadow with the curves of silk, the bells moving in sync with those voluptuous hips. Coming back to his allotted room, the only remnant of that siren laid across the floor.

The gift.

That smell.

His hand snatched the bunched flowers, as if the grounds would swallow them if he wasn’t quick enough. One whiff and he knew he needed it in his life more than the opium his friends favoured.

So, it belonged to a person after all, and by the accompanying silhouette, a woman.

His woman.

A sudden realization had his pupil dilated, as he went back to the room. She might be at the feast.

If he heard them right, everyone significant would be present in that hall, and she was the most significant.

He chuckled at his poetry, what is wrong with me, he thought. He moved around the room with swiftness but also a renewed interest, humming tunes while he applied a dash of cologne and adjusted his jacket to perfection.

He passed the mirror one last time, stopping to fix his hair. He had to look perfect for his sweet maiden. His brows furrowed, a troubling thought flashing his mind. What if she was spoken for? What if she was claimed already, her heart in someone else’s hands?

Blue eyes turned colder than a foot of ice.

Hands on the desk,

He looked at himself,

A crooked smile gracing, 

Then what?

Then,

A war like no other.

A war that would put Trojan and Mahabharata to shame.

A knock at the door tamed the raging storm in his eyes. Lord Cavill looked up, frowning at the distasteful intrusion upon his whims and fancies.

Ah, the big bad boulder.

“Come in, General! I assume you are here to escort me to the venue?”

“Khamba Ghani Cavill Saab. I heard that the British people are always on time, and yet here I find you, barely dressed for the occasion.”

A smirk laced the British resident’s face as he retorted, “Well you’re not wrong, but I happen to be the guest of honour and I may arrive whenever I may please. In fact, just for that comment, I would like to take a few more minutes before I leave.” And he turned towards his desk and picked up a recent correspondence from the Crown. 

Kulwant couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a movement instantly caught by the blue-eyed man. 

“Keep going! I will take an extra minute for each time you roll your eyes, kind sir.”

It was beyond the General’s comprehension that a man as petulant as this entitled bleached monkey, could even hold the post of a hawaldar in court, let alone be a Lord of some sort. Nevertheless, he was a guest, and of honour at that.

Thus, the loyal servant of the court stood tall and quiet while the firang made his point, albeit unnecessarily.

Once he was done having fun at the General’s expense, Cavill agreed to be escorted to the event. He reached the hall, and couldn’t believe his eyes for a minute. 

The hall looked straight out of a fairytale, and the worth of the mere jewels studded on the walls could help him buy a couple of kingdoms.

He reigns in his musings, and walks toward Maharaja Ganga Singh. 

************

“We don’t have time! Baba will decorate his court with my head! Let’s go!”

“Damu! Come on, wait! You don’t even have flowers in your hair.”

“You think I care, Ashwanth!? I can barely move in this outfit! It’s so heavy and so unnecessary! All for that invader and his honour! What can be more honourable than stealing lands you have no business with, right?”

“Damu, don’t be silly! You’re a princess, and you cannot just march into the hall like a maid! Here, let me put these roses and..Can you just.. oho! THERE.”

“That’s right! I am a princess and this is my palace! Watch me..”

The two friends kept bickering along the way. Anyone who had seen these two would mistake them for longtime lovers, and yet things remained strictly platonic, at least from Damini’s end. 

For someone with an expertise in strategising, warcraft and literature, the princess often missed the veiled looks Prince Ashwanth threw at her. How he always brought gifts, only in exchange for her ruthless company and how he bowed down to all her incessant demands, all for her pleasure.

To Ashwanth, she was the key to his future and beyond. To Damu, he was the ever constant confidant, seemingly balanced and loyal to a fault.

As they moved towards the hall, she made eye contact with her father and naturally started walking to him, just like she has been trained to, her seat to his left calling out to its rightful master. What she didn’t realise was a figure moving in the same direction.

Lost in conversation and the pull of the decorum, she collided with a commoner, which only fueled her frustration.

“Dekh ke nahi chala jata kya? Humare raste aane ki himmat kaise hui?” (Can't you see where you're going? How dare you get in my way?)

“What did you just say?! How dare you use that tone with me?

“Poore mahal mein yeh gorey deemak ke bhaanti badhte hi ja rahe hain! Ek din ka bhi chain nahi hai!”(These white people are everywhere, like pests! Give me a break)

“Damu yeh..”(Damu this is….)

“Honge apne desh mein nawab, yahaan pe inki aukaat humaare naakhoon baraabar bhi na hain! Aur aise kya ghoor rahe hain yeh, laaj lajja kuch hai inko?” (He might be a Lord in his country, but here he isn't worth my toenail! And why are you staring at me like that? Have you any shame?)

Lord Cavill fumed at this disgrace of a woman, one who dared to look him in the eye and dared to speak while addressing him directly. Although he could not understand her words, her tone and posture were enough to get her backhanded, had they not been in the presence of company.  

This unruly child must be taught a lesson.

If anyone asked Lord Cavill, a woman’s tongue is only good for two things, sewing her mouth shut and on his cock whenever he pleased. If he didn’t expect the siren of his dreams to be in attendance, he would have put her in her place. Even if he could not punish this puny, dusky troll, he still had a reputation to defend.

“You listen to me carefully woman! You are messing with the wrong man, and spewing gibberish in some primitive language is not going to save you! Do you even know who I am? You are in MY bloody court and if I please, I can rip that serpentine tongue out of that pretty little hole! So you better apologise!”

“Cavill Saab.. please.. that’s my..”

“APOLOGISE? For what? Standing on my own soil? Or comparing you to a termite? None of which are false in my eyes. So get out of my way and know your place or you know what, go cry to your incompetent Lord!”

A storm raged in their eyes, wrath of all oceans combined in his and a black blizzard stirred concurrently in hers.

“Eyes down now, foreigner. ” The Tigress growled in warning.

The entire hall was suddenly quiet at the outburst. The musicians had stopped playing, and by the look of amusement on their faces, this was not the first time Damini Bai Sa had been the centre of attention.

Ashwanth tried pulling her back, her father was shooting daggers at her, while her siblings stood with aggravated expressions, exasperated by this wild child. It was Ganga Singh, who walked towards the ruckus and roared, which broke the deadly silence that had thickly draped the occasion.

“DAMINI! Are you out of your mind?! Do you even know WHO that is? Forgive me my Lord! This is my youngest child, Rajkumari Damini Bai, and I do not know what got into her, she is nothing like this!”

Renu and Revati Bai snickered at this comment and tried to hide their glee when they could see their father’s plan failing. No way will Lord Cavill bed this wild boar! They were preparing themselves for saving the kingdom, all the while reaping the seeds of pleasure from it.

“Damu, this is Lord Cavill himself. What is wrong with you, my child? Apologise, right now!”

“I would rather do Jauhar..” (light a pyre)

“DAMI..”

“It’s alright, Mr. Singh! I cannot expect common courtesy from uncultured brats like her. It just saddens me that you bear this burden on your shoulders! She certainly must have brought tremendous shame to the title of a Princess!”

Damini was about to give him a piece of her mind when Ashwanth pulled her back and gave her a solid glare.

Lord Cavill continued, “ Forgive me, but Maan Singh and your daughters seem like true blue-blooded beings. Has she been adopted from the streets?” His condescending tone should have had all the swords in the realm drawn up, but the language barrier and a father’s resolution to shove his daughter at him, saved the British neck.

Damini could not tolerate the insult and charged at him, “ Oh this is it! You goddamn plague sore! I will..” but was blocked by Ashwanth who was done watching her embarrass the Rajputana pride like a common whore.

“THAT IS ENOUGH DAMINI! Go take a seat!” The Maharaja ordered. But when she moved to her designated seat, her father grabbed her by the arm and lashed out with gritted teeth, “Sit with the guests. That seat belongs to your Master now. And don’t you dare embarrass me further. You are to serve him, and make sure he is left wanting for nothing. Nothing.”

Tears threatened to fall as the Tigress straightened her back, the princess coming to the fore, taking her position in the room, finding her place in the oppressive hierarchy.

Cavill watched her change her stance, a subtle nod to whatever her father threatened her with and for a second, he was impressed by the precise mutation. That is when he noticed the princess for the first time. Not so bad for a desert kingdom, blooming in all the right places. 

Back home, feisty women were his speciality, and he would often tame the likes of this woman, ploughing through their virgin lands.

His eyes wandered to her navel, as she walked to the guy who took her away earlier. Must be fucking her, and not enough at that! If she were in the right bed, she would be blissed out and her tongue tired. He could see her under him, screaming for an entirely different reason.

As the lust awoke, the mere thought of breaking this ballsy female had blood rushing to his groin, steeling his resolve as well as his cock. He had never bedded a princess, and was primed to claim her body for one night.

If that man could have her, she was fair game to all.

He strode towards the prize, steps decisive and eyes frigid. That is when he heard her voice, lowered but not discouraged by any means.

“Ashwanth, they let him take my seat, MY seat! And how could he say that about my lineage!? It was my seat!”

Ashwanth patiently replied, “ Don’t create a scene Damu, a chair does not define your position in the house, neither does some outsider! And can you please stop talking in English? You know how our people feel about it!”

Damini was feeling suffocated and needed to take a breath, but her luck soured the moment she felt thick fingers grabbing her arm, and felt his breath at the nape of her neck.

“You don’t need to get so riled up, princess. You know you can always sit on my lap like the little bitch you are.”

Damini looked at him with such fire in her eyes that it would have put Hestia to shame.

"Take. Your. Hands. Off. Me."

Taken aback, Cavill's grip loosened and she jerked out of his grasp with a rippling force. Much to the astonishment of the onlookers, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

The pride of her tears matched with the stride of the Tigress, refusing to fall before anyone.

***********************

Hindi Terms:

Khamba Ghani: Rajasthani salutation and a way to say hello. 

Firang: A derogatory term used for Europeans/ Colonisers, loosely translating to outsider.

Saab: Sir

Maharaja: King

Gajra: A traditional weave of scented flowers used as hair accessory by women.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@madbaddic7ed @henrythickcavill @toomanyfandomsshreya @inana999 @maximumninjavoid @mistress-of-ward

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill thoughts #colonial era #india #henry cavill series #raat ki rani #thechurchofcavill #henry cavill x ofc

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #14 - The Dragon Queen

<Post-Heavensward MSQ, Post-Dragonsong War, Slight Spoilers ahead>

Commend - ‘to present, mention, or praise as worthy of confidence’

————————————————————

“That sounds like it must have been so scary, but also like an amazing journey,” Maelie smiled up at Katsum as she petted the small dragonet in her arms, “To have visited another world…it sounds so very strange, yet so fascinating!”

Katsum smiled back as she handed Midgardsormr, who sat on her shoulder, another piece of the cookie she had in her hands, “It was quite the adventure, there is no denying that for certain.”

Ever since the day the True Brothers began their attack on Ishgard and took the refugees of the burnings in the Brume as hostages, the same day that Maelie was dropped from the top of the Vault and Katsum jumped after her only for both of them to be saved by Vidofnir, they had been good friends ever since, especially as Maelie began to have a fascination with the Dravanians. And who better to answer any questions she might have than the ‘Queen of Dragons’ herself. Katsum grew fond of the young girl and told her as many stories and tales that she could remember in hopes to share the beauties she’d seen of the world to another who could scarcely even have dreamed of seeing such things not so long ago. Each time she came home to Ishgard from a journey, she would seek out Maelie or the young girl would find her and they would walk the city’s streets as they talked, waving hello to all they passed by and marveling at how bright and cheerful the city had become since the end of its long war. There was still much to be done to make the nation whole again, the progress so far was still so beautiful.

The dragonet in Maelie’s arms purred as it butted its head against her hand, as she scratched its scales, “You’ve seen so many amazing things, Katsum. I would love to see the Churning Mists one day, and the vast and endless seas of water, but I imagine not all things were so beautiful and good…”

Katsum chuckled softly, “You are a smart girl, Maelie. Always have been. Yes, it’s true, but,” She looked at her seriously, “Don’t let that stop you from going to find your adventures. There are far more precious and wonderful things out there to outweigh the bad.”

Maelie nodded, “Right!”

“And next time Vidofnir, you should ask her if she can show you the Mists, I am sure she would be happy to.”

“Really?! Oh yes, I certainly shall! Ah, I’m so excited just thinking about it!”

Katsum laughed at the giddiness of the young girl as it reminded her very much of her younger self which only made her smile more brightly. They soon made their way to the aetheryte plaza in Foundation, still talking and laughing as the snow fell softly around him. Katsum’s feline ear twitched at the sound of a very familiar voice speaking not far away and she turned her sapphire eyes to lock onto the royal blue regalia of the Lord Commander, and a warmth fluttered through her chest as she smiled brighter. Sure, she had seen Aymeric this morning and every morning since they were married, but that didn’t mean her heart ever stopped fluttering when she would see him. As they approached him and Lucia, who was standing behind him, she noticed that he was speaking to a Lalafellan man and young woman, who were both dressed in fine robes and furs of an Ul’dahian fashion. Curiosity swept over her as she and Maelie moved in closer.

“Ah, good morning Lord Aymeric and Lady Lucia,” Katsum mused sweetly as she smiled brightly at them, her tail swaying happily behind her.

Aymeric’s ice blue eyes warmly met hers as he too smiled, “Lady Katsum, there you are good morning. And a good morning to you as well Maelie, Midgardsormr.”

The little dragon just nodded slightly as he continued to munch on his piece of cookie while Maelie nodded her hello.”

The paladin woman turned her head in question a bit, “Were you looking for me? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all, but I was about to search for you yes. You see���”

“I can explain myself from here, Lord Aymeric, if you’d like,” The Lalafellan man rudely interrupted her beloved as he stepped forward with a grinning smile on his muschasted face, making a sweeping bow before her, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Katsum. My name is Aguda Kesuguda, head of the stock and trade of Kesugu Industries of Ul’dah. Before I begin, I really must commend your undeniable strength and poweress on the battlefield. I’ve heard many tales, and while I have not seen them for myself, they never cease to send my heart aflutter to recall them, yes yes!”

The miqo’te narrowed her eyes slightly as her smile shrunk into a rather small and fake expression of kindness, shifting her posture into a more regal and defensive stance; the posture of a queen. This did not go unnoticed by Maelie as she took a step back and watched cautiously. Aymeric too noticed, yet he didn’t not say anything, only sighed at the interruption and eyed the noble.

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard your name mentioned before in brief passing. ‘Tis a pleasure, yes, yet what is it that you sought me out for?” She knew that pleasantries from a merchant of Ul’dah meant only one thing: they wanted something done for them. She had not the patience or care for such games either.

Aguda grinned and shrugged, “Ah yes, a woman of action, of course. Forgive me, it is but the habit of nobles to win over the other with flattery, but you and yours here I see are far too smart to play in such nonsense.” Katsum just stared at him and he cleared his throat, “…more so than I thought too. Ahem, I came to beseech you aid in a most urgent matter. I have a shipment of resources and supplies I am trying to transport to the warfront, and every time it begins to leave on its journey to Ala Mhigo, it has been attacked by bandits trying to steal its contents! It’s not been anything terribly dangerous of course, but I wondered if I could ask for your assistance in protecting it to its destination. Or rather, one of your dragons.”

The group stilled and Katsum’s eyebrows arched in confusion, “ I beg your pardon? And please do not repeat yourself, it is just an expression of my astonishment.”

The noble nodded, “Of course, of course. My reasoning for such a request is that while I could hire a group of mercenaries to protect the cargo, such beings can be unsavory themselves and cost right much gil you understand. But dragons are loyal and ask for nothing, with just a word from you and they fly to your beck and call. And what better way to show your power as a queen than having one of your subjects deliver rations and supplies to the soldiers and people of a wounded nation, hmm?”

There would have been a time that Katsum would have shouted at this man that he knew nothing of dragons and nothing of her throne, and to leave their city before she threw him out herself, but instead, she remained quiet and listened to his greedy words with that simple expression of thought on her face.

Aguda seemed to take that bait as a sign of winning her over as he continued, “So, what do you think? Could you spare a dragon to help out a poor old merchant deliver his wares to those in need?”

She saw Aymeric narrow his eyes, “Would they not appear to be supplies from Katsum herself then if a Dravanian were to be protecting them rather than from you yourself Lord Aguda?”

Aymeric had already caught on Katsum knew, and luckily he was laying out the road for Katsum to ride down as Aguda answered.

“I suppose they would, but I have little worry for that. As long as they get the resources they are due, yes? Plus, they would be packed in crates bearing my seal so a bit of publicity for everyone, hmm?”

It is a very interesting suggestion, my lord, but first I must ask,” Katsum clasped her hands in front of her as she asked, “Are these provisions truly yours?”

Aguda froze in that moment and her eyes sparkled silently; she had him, “Whatever do you mean by that, my lady?”

Katsum smiled to herself as she feigned a curious and oblivious expression, “Pray, forgive me for causing such upset, but I had heard the most awful rumor of stolen goods and provisions meant for refugees of Ul’dah recently, and even more unsettling takes of the people trying to take them back from the thieves only to be injured and then arrested on false charges. As some of those provisions were ones that Ishgard and Dravania both had traded with Ul’dah for such purposes of aiding those less fortunate, it seemed only right that the Sultana inform me of these most dreadful events. So again…I ask you,” Katsum’s expression narrowed and her eyes almost seemed to glow in her fury, “Are these provisions truly yours? And I would beseech you to speak the truth, good sir, for we shall know if you do not.”

The noble’s jaw dropped as she moved her first piece into the winning square. Indeed, she and Nanamo had been speaking on the subject just a day or so ago and how the Sultana was worried about how restless the people were getting at being wronged so, and Katsum had offered to keep an eye out. It had been her cargo originally anyway, and such fine Dravanian resources should not fall into hands they were not meant for.

Aguda finally got over his shock and glared at her then, “Uh! The audacity of such claims! I came to seek assistance, not to be blamed for such villainy!”

“Nay, you came here for a dragon —for a “free” guard as you said—that would discourage anyone wearing only tattered rags for clothing too afraid to step forward to take back what is rightfully theirs so that you could spread the name of influence into the city of Ala Mhigo, thus earning potential buyers for future trade. it was made plain the moment you spoke of dragons ‘asking for nothing’. Dragons are loyal to their kin and to those they have come to trust, yes, but if you truly believe they are so blind to follow mine or anyone else’s word and ask for nothing in return like a hound, you are far blinder than you believe them to be.” His jaw dropped again, yet she did not wait for him to answer as she pressed further, “Now, if that is all you wished to discuss, I suggest you take your leave of our city and see to the return of those goods to their rightful owners. Unless…you would like me to inform the Sultana of the information I have just come across and let her and the Brass Blades handle it..?”

Aguda’s face paled, and he tried to retain some of his noblistic confidence, “Why you—”

“Father, please!” Finally, the woman behind him spoke and stepped forward to stand in front of him with a deep look of concern on her face, “She offers you a way to fix it yourself, don’t throw it away with your shame of being caught! I told you you mustn’t do something like this and look where you’ve put us now!” His head dropped as the girl turned to Katsum and bowed her head, a look of sadness filling her eyes as she looked up at her, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that he had gone through such lengths as this. Please, forgive us, and I will see to it that the supplies are returned to Ul’dah and given out to the less fortunate personally. Please, my lady.”

Katsum stared at her for a moment, looking her over and her lilac colored garments and grey furs. Her eyes showed sincerity yes, but the eyes can be made to fool anyone who looked into them. She glanced at Midgardsormr, seeing he too was staring at her closely, taking in his assessment. With a breath, Katsum summoned Raihogg’s gaze as the dragon’s eye gem began to glow softly and his voice whispered through her mind.

“Her words are genuine as her heart is broken by her father’s deeds. You may believe her as she indeeds to do just as she says.”

The eye in her necklace fades back to its shining red and blue color as Katsum’s eyes softened and she asked the girl, “What is your name, my lady?”

“Kemoda. Kemoda Kesugada, m-my lady.” Her voice trembled as she answered.

Katsum smiled, “There is no reason to fear, Miss Kemoda. I thank you for your honesty and in your offer to right what has been wronged. In return for the good being returned to their rightful owners, I will only speak of the matter being closed with her Grace, nothing more. No names, no suspects. But I will be checking in to be sure our goods were returned as promised.”

Kemoda nodded furiously, bowing low as she breathed, “Oh thank you, my lady! Thank you! You have my word, I shall fix this right away!”

The miqo’te nodded and the lalafellan woman turned and glared softly at her father amidst her worried expression, “Come father, we have much to work on.” With that, she started on her way towards the gates of Ishgard with a determined step in her stride.

Aguda glanced back at her for a moment before looking up at Katsum again and glaring at her, hoping to get in one final word she guessed.

But Midgardsormr hissed first, “Go now, mortal, while I still allow it.”

The deep voice of the ancient dragon seemed to be enough to send the lalafellan man running after his daughter, any thoughts of sassy retorts dying on the squeak of his shout of terror. Midgardsormr chuckled at this before going back to snacking on his cookie and Katsum took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I will never get used to politics and the games you must play,” She sighed.

“No one ever does I’d imagine,” Aymeric mused, stepping up to. her and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, “But I dare say you are getting better at playing them. Well done, my queen.”

Katsum blushed lightly as her ears fell back shyly, though her warm smile spoke of her happiness, “Not in front of the child, Aymeric, please.”

He chuckled, and they glanced over to both blink in shock at the wondrous look in Maelie’s eyes as she watched them and she hugged the dragonet tight. She blinked as they looked, “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, you both are just like a fairytale come true. ‘Tis a love I hope I find one day too.”

Katsum blushed again as Aymeric did and they laughed lightly as Katsum nodded, “I never thought I would have it myself, but thank you, Maelie. That is very sweet of you.”

The girl nodded before Lucia stepped forward then, “Regretful as I am to cut this beautiful moment short, there are other matter that require attention, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric sighed and nodded, looking to Katsum as he drew her into a short yet loving kiss, “Thank you for your assistance, Queen of Dragons. I shall be sure to repay your kindness as soon as I can.”

Katsum grinned knowingly, “And I shall look forward to it. Until tonight, be safe, both of you. And farewell.”

The Lord Commander nodded warmly as he reluctantly pulled back from her and turned to follow the First Commander back to Congregation. katsum watched him go before she turned to Maelie with a grin, “Well, shall we continue our walk?”

“Yes! Or course! Oh, I wanted to ask. How did the Dravanians first come to this world? You mentioned they were from another star right?”

“They did indeed. We’ll be happy to tell you.”

#katsum almor #aymeric de borel #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #aymeric x katsum #aymeric x wol #aymeric de borel x wol #aymeric de borel x katsum almor #katsum almor x aymeric do borel #post heavensward msq #slight heavensward msq spoilers #heavensward msq #ishgard #knight of ishgard #lucia goe junius #maelie #vidofnir #raihogg #midgardsormr #dravanian #dravania #the dragon queen #queen of dragons #queen of draic #ffxiv write 2021

[spohkh]

miracle on cornelia street [dean/castiel]

so BASICALLY sarah @adanceinasnowglobe and i were talking about what everyone would be up to post-series -- yknow, like, now that theyre all safe and healthy n everythings cool and destiel is officially together. yknow. as happened in canon -- and we were like so obviously destiel get a house, and thats kind of the basis of this verse so !! this is the foundational fic for what i HOPE will be a series of fun lil day-in-the-life drabbles, from both me and sarah!! 

ehehehe :-) enjoy!

read on AO3

The house is a quaint thing, sitting low and snug under a pair of shady oak trees in a quiet suburb just outside of downtown Lawrence. Its brickwork face is weathered—definitely in need of a good power wash—and the roof is just as worn. The bottom step to the porch slants unevenly, and the porch itself has cracks in the concrete. There are chips in the paint on the window frames, the iron porch railing is rusting, and who knows when the gutters were last given a proper cleaning.

There’s a lot of work to be done, but standing there in the small front lawn, Dean Winchester can’t say if he’s ever seen anyplace else so perfect as the house at 3767 Cornelia Street. Dean’s house—his home. His home with Cas.

“Can you believe it?” he quietly says to Miracle, who has been sitting patiently by Dean’s leg. Miracle tilts her head and wags her tail. Dean looks back up at the house. “Yeah, me neither.”

The sound of a familiar car rumbling up the road snaps Dean out of his reverie. He rubs a knuckle at his eye and clears his throat and tries to look like he hadn’t been standing in his front yard about to cry while talking to his dog, christ.

The car rolls to a stop on the curb just in front of the house. The driver’s side door opens, and Sam slowly unfolds his ridiculous limbs as he gets out. It’s always a wonder how he can fit himself into a car at all. Sam gives a dorky little wave as he ambles over to where Dean is standing.

Dean peers behind Sam, trying to see into the car. “What, no Eileen?”

“Hello to you, too. Dick,” he replies snarkily. “She’s wrapping up a work thing. She’ll come over when she’s done.”

Dean sucks his teeth in disappointment. “Ah, well. Guess you can go home then.” Sam shoves at his shoulder. Dean just laughs and pulls Sam in for a proper hello hug.

“Why are you standing out here, anyway?” Sam asks when they part.

“Can’t a man just hang out in his own front yard? Accompanied by a dashing canine companion?” He leans down to pat Miracle on the head.

“I guess…” Sam looks down at Miracle. When she tips her head up and gazes back at him, Sam snorts.

“What?”

“Miracle on Cornelia Street,” Sam says with mirth.

Dean squints at him. “What?” he repeats, now more incredulous.

“You know—like Miracle on 34th Street. But we’re on Cornelia, so.” He nods down at the dog. “Miracle on Cornelia Street.”

“Dude.” Dean rolls his eyes at Sam’s goofy grin and starts walking up the path to the house, Miracle trotting behind him. “Shut up and come inside already.”

Sam follows after him, pausing just inside the threshold as he spots something on the doorframe. “Oh, classy,” he says, throwing a sardonic look to where D.W. and C.W. are scratched into the wood.

“Just wait,” Dean jokes with a toothy smile, “when I got the time I’m gonna draw a little heart around it.” He was joking, but now that he said it, he kind of wanted to.

Cas looks up from the stove when they walk into the dining room. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old AC/DC tees, the logo all but worn away from being washed so many times. He’s usually in some ratty tee or other when lounging around these days. But in honor of Sam’s visit today (Cas’ words) and to seem a little more dressy short of donning his usual button-downs (Dean’s private opinion), he’s also wearing the cable-knit cardigan Sam got him as a gift last Christmas. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam leans against the counter that separates the dining and kitchen areas, craning his giraffe neck to catch a glimpse at the stove. “Hey, Cas! What’cha cooking?”

“Nothing. Dean made it. I was just watching the pot so it didn’t boil over.” He locks eyes with Dean, his intent stare very clearly communicating I did not touch the chili I added nothing I did not touch the dial I was just watching it like you asked so don’t even start.

Dean just smiles as he walks past the counter and steps into Cas’ space. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, and busses Cas on the cheek.

“You’re welcome,” Cas replies warmly. He’s gazing up at Dean with those summer afternoon blue eyes, standing in one of Dean’s shirts and that dorky cardigan, and Dean starts to get full of that feeling from out in the front yard again. If they were alone, Dean would probably say something recklessly sappy like I am so stupid in love with you.

As it is, Dean clears his throat and turns back to Sam, slinging an arm around Cas’ shoulders, and says, “He did the salad.”

Cas sneaks him a knowing look before, thankfully, putting his attention on Sam without commenting on Dean’s hasty redirection. “I did the salad,” Cas agrees blithely, and places the salad bowl on the counter for Sam to see, seeming pleased with himself.

Sam looks between the two of them, an amused tilt to his eyebrow that Dean implicitly distrusts. He’s definitely thinking mocking thoughts about the two of them. But he just quirks a smile and says, “It looks great.” Shrewd little diplomat.

Cas shifts to the side to see past Sam’s shoulder. Sam glances behind himself before shooting Cas a confused look.

“She’s still at work,” Dean tells Cas, guessing who he’s looking for. “Sadly.”

“What, am I not good enough?”

“Of course you are,” Cas promises earnestly, just as Dean says, “Well…”

Sam’s opening his mouth to retort, probably something absolutely scathing, when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, a smile spreading over his face. “Speak of the devil,” he says, then tips his head with a grimace, “as it were. That was Eileen. She’ll be here soon, so I’m gonna go wash up.”

“Bathroom’s down the hall—“

“Dude, I know where it is. I did help you guys move in.”

Dean spreads his hands in assent. “Fine, christ, I swear never to be a good host to you in my home ever again. Go ahead and go take your dump now.”

“I’m not gonna—ohmygodnevermind.” He turns on his heel and huffs down the hall, Miracle trotting after him, the tags on her collar clinking together jauntily.

Dean reaches past Cas to turn the burner off, then lands his hand on Cas’ hip. “Have I told you today how cute you are in that sweater?”

“Yes.” Cas brings his hands up to cradle Dean’s face. “Four times.”

“Make it five.” Dean kisses him. He pulls Cas into a hug, pressing his face against Castiel’s shoulder. They sway into each other. After a warm moment, Dean says in a low voice, “The first family dinner in our house.”

Cas hums a soft, contented sound in agreement. “The first of many,” he responds, just as quiet. Dean squeezes him tighter. He knows they’re both thinking about Jack and Claire, their bedrooms sitting empty and waiting for whenever they can find the time to visit—and Kaia and Alex and Jody with Claire, if they can, and Charlie and her girlfriend, and Bobby, and all the other wayward extensions of their sprawling family caught out in the wind. Their house isn’t big enough to host everyone, but with Sam and Eileen up the block and the bunker just a few miles out, there’s plenty of room to put up people who come out their way. Dean has the hope that 3767 Cornelia Street becomes a common pitstop for folks—a suburban Roadhouse, a tidier (much tidier) Singer Salvage.

Dean presses a kiss against Cas’ neck, and Cas breathes a sweet little sigh that pushes all thoughts about future dinners right out the window. Fuck, this dinner could go out the window, for all he cares. He kisses a little higher up, right under Cas’ jawline, before pulling back to catch Castiel’s darkened gaze. “How ‘bout we ditch the nag and go have a private party of our own?”

“Dean, no. I worked really hard on that salad.” He sounds perfectly serious, but the playful glint in his eye gives him away. Dean snorts, mumbling oh, forgive me, Chef Cas as he leans in again.

Just as they kiss, Sam walks back in. “Hey, I think something’s wrong with your sink–- oh, sorry.”

“Huh?” Dean reluctantly pulls away as Sam clears his throat, looking sheepish. “What’s wrong with what, Sammy?”

“Uh, with your bathroom.”

“The bathroom? Oh, what, you clogged the toilet?”

“Wha— N—  I DID NOT SHIT IN YOUR BATHROOM.”

“Then how did the toilet get messed up?”

“It’s the SINK, the SINK—”

“You took a shit in the sink?”

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dean…”

“What? He started it.”

“Started WHAT?”

Dean snaps his fingers. “The end of the world.”

“Oh! My god!”

“I guess technically, yeah, since god is our kid...” He turns to Cas. “Weird, weird lives we lead.”

Cas just shakes his head, clearly exasperated. Sam has given up on speaking completely and has fallen back on making a gesture like he’s one second away from grabbing Dean by the throat.

“I was there for all twelve years of it,” Sam says to Cas, “and I still can’t believe you stayed with this guy.”

“Well,” Cas muses serenely, “you’ve been here a lot longer than me.”

Sam grimaces when Dean throws him his best shit-eating grin. Nothing like his two favorite people bonding over how much of a pain he is.

The sound of the front door opening distracts them, and then a voice calls, “Knock knock! The life of the party has arrived!”

“Eileen!” Sam exclaims happily. Miracle takes off down the hall, Sam hot on her heels.

Dean chuckles at Sam’s unabashed excitement, then gives Castiel another peck on the cheek before moving away from him. “Can you put everything out on the table? I’ll go check out the bathroom sitch real quick.”

Cas catches his hand as he starts to leave, softly saying his name. When Dean looks back at him, Cas smiles and says, “I love you.”

Dean wonders if maybe three time’s the charm and he should just give in to what his body wants him to do. If a man has a right to stand around and cry messily anywhere in his own home, surely the kitchen would be the place to do it. The kitchen, after all, is the heart of any house.

But Dean doesn’t. He indulges in a little sniffle, Cas’ eyes glimmering with knowing in the soft light. Dean brings Cas’ hand to his mouth and kisses the neat gold band around his finger, and he kisses each peaked knuckle, and he turns Cas’ hand over and kisses his palm and his wrist. Then he lets go and puts his own hand against Cas’ cheek, and says his recklessly sappy thing: “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

And the glowing feeling inside him doesn’t settle, only grows brighter.

Whatever’s wrong with the sink will be just one more thing to a long list of shit to deal with. Their house needs work, no denying. But Dean knows they’ve got plenty of time.

#destiel #deancastiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #my writing