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thearmyprof · 10 months

Text

Dirt Dance Floor Again

Rating: E

Pairing: Yoongi/Jimin

Word count: 31,20

Genre: Modern Fantasy!AU, Non-Idol!AU, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempt Non-Con

Summary: Jimin's friend convince him to go with them to the underground, invite-only pop-up club that happens every couple of months. While he doesn't love being around so many fae, he loves his friends more. A series of events leads Jimin to uncovering secrets he didn't know his friends were hiding and into the arms of someone he hated on principle.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49209175

Full Tags:

Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Enemies to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Bigotry & Prejudice, Attempted Sexual Assault, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, except magic, it's stopped before it gets very far, Underground Rapper Min Yoongi | Suga, Producer Min Yoongi | Suga, Producer Kim Namjoon | RM, Choreographer Park Jimin (BTS), Choreographer Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Fae Min Yoongi, Human Park Jimin (BTS), Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of Talk About Consenti, t's a whole theme I guess, Angst with a Happy End, ingside namjin, Magic, Platonic Soulmates Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin, Miscommunication, feelings of betrayal, Agust D as a persona, soft smut, Non-Binary Original Characters

2am-closing Old Canyon Friends Only – anon

“Fuck, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok breathes out, brow furrowed at his phone screen. “You see the text?”

Jimin finishes wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a now-too-damp towel and makes an inquiring hum. Hoseok waves his phone, screen facing Jimin, as if he can see anything from this distance with the phone going wild through the air.

“Don’t make me guess, hyung,” Jimin says blandly. He gives Hoseok a look as he finishes with the towel and throws it in the bin in the corner of the studio. “My phone is still in my locker.”

“Friends Only at the Old Canyon tonight,” Hoseok says after giving Jimin a thoroughly unimpressed glance. His eyes glue themselves back on the phone screen as if the text message is going to suddenly reveal more details.

“Cool,” Jimin says with a shrug, already heading towards the door to go change. Just as his hand hits the handle he stops with a curse. “I forgot I have a job tomorrow, hyung. I don’t think I can go.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Absolutely not. No. I am not going to take one of your excuses this time. Is the job even real? No. You’re going.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines. “I do have a job.”

Hoseok is pulling open the door now, having elbowed Jimin out of the way. “I do not believe you. Go shower. I’m coming by at 8pm to dress you.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow. He knows he’s already lost, but he can’t stop himself from trying to fight it anyway. “I can dress myself, you know.”

Hoseok is already down the hallway, rounding the corner to the front office and exit. Jimin sighs at his friend’s back.

“I could have had a job tomorrow. You never know,” he says to no one before heading off to the showers.

Yoongi tosses the notepad onto the desk in frustration. He glances at the clock and regrets it immediately. It’s only noon and even though that doesn’t matter when he’s been in the same position, hunched over his notepad, sitting at his messy desk, music mixing software waiting patiently since yesterday. Yesterday morning. He thinks Namjoon brought him dinner, he glances at his trash can by the door. And yes, there’s the evidence, he did eat at least one meal in the over-24 hours he’s been here. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, feeling relieved at the pressure.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

His self-loathing session is interrupted by a soft knock at the door, before the keypad is beeping with someone letting themselves in.

Yoongi turns back to his desk, instead of looking at the person stepping through his studio door. There are only two people who know the code beside him and one of them has never used it, probably never will. Instead, Yoongi starts tidying up the desk. Piling notepads and scraps of paper together neatly, putting loose pens away in their cute little Kumamon cup, straightening keyboards.

“Hyung, I brought lunch,” Namjoon says. “Were you here all night?”

Yoongi doesn’t bother to answer. Namjoon already knows the answer to the question. Yoongi finally turns to take in Namjoon and eye the take out containers being set on the small table at the end of the couch. He raises an eyebrow at the fried chicken containers.

“You here to break some bad news to me, Joon-ah?” he drawls.

“You wound me, hyung,” Namjoon says, but the blush blooming across his cheeks tells Yoongi all he needs to know.

“Let’s eat first so I can at least enjoy the food you went to all the trouble of bringing,” Yoongi says. “Fried chicken really deserves beer though.”

Namjoon sheepishly digs into his jacket pocket and produces a can of beer and then digs into the pocket on the other side to produce a second can.

“Shit,” Yoongi says with a whoosh of his exhale. “So, it’s really bad news.”

“Let’s eat first, hyung,” Namjoon says.

When they are done eating, sitting next to one another on the couch, Yoongi leans back giving his stomach an appreciative pat. He closes his eyes for a moment and enjoys the peace of the studio. Then after a deep inhale and exhale, he sits forward, forearms on his thighs, head cocked in Namjoon’s direction.

“Let’s hear it then,” Yoongi says.

Namjoon adjusts himself, clearly feeling anxious, jaw clenching just slightly. Yoongi watches all the little signs—tightening muscles, fingers twitching as if they want to be fists—Namjoon is angry. Not angry at Yoongi. No, he wouldn’t have brought chicken and beer if he were angry at Yoongi. But he’s angry.

“Spit it out, Namjoon,” Yoongi says flatly.

“They are summoning you back to the Seelie Court,” he says, voice tight, just like his muscles.

Yoongi blinks for a moment, processing the words. Then he pushes himself back, throwing all his weight to the back of the couch with a huff, kicking his feet out in front of him. He lets out a strangled laugh.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he manages to say finally.

“Hyung,” Namjoon whispers.

“Well, I am not going,” Yoongi states definitively. “They can fucking kiss my ass. And they can fucking stop using you as a messenger. It’s bullshit to put you in this position. Fuck them.”

Namjoon makes a small choking noise in his throat, then coughs as if trying to clear it. “They’re worried you’re going rogue on them. I guess Sunhee was spreading rumors you were seen with folks from the Unseelie Court.”

Yoongi laughs freely and loudly this time. “With what time? I am literally in here most waking hours.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says. “They still want you to come. They didn’t say for how long.”

“Well, my answer is still no,” Yoongi says. “I am, in fact, under no obligation to scamper off to them when they beckon me. I haven’t been a member of the Court for a long time. They’re all just too far up their own asses to realize it.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says again, letting Yoongi drop the topic.

“I’m glad you’re here though, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says. “Can I run some lyrics by you? This song is driving me up the fucking wall.”

Namjoon laughs, smiling with dimples and all. Yoongi returns his smile and gets up to retrieve the mess of notes he’d made about lyrics some time in the middle of last night. Both Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s phone chime at once.

Namjoon looks at his screen while Yoongi ignores his own phone in favor of searching through his messy handwriting for the lyrics he wanted to workshop.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon says with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“What’s up?” Yoongi says distractedly, still rifling through his notes.

“Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon exclaims.

Yoongi stops looking through his notes and glances at Namjoon. “Really?”

“Old Canyon,” Namjoon says with a nod.

“Huh,” Yoongi says, thinking.

“We should go, right?” Namjoon sounds hopeful. “You need to be with people, hyung. You’ve been cooped up here for days—weeks. You could do a battle, even. You know that always gets you inspired after a battle.”

Yoongi looks back down at the scribbles and crossed-out chaos on the papers in front of him. He thinks about how terrifyingly behind he is on this song, deadline looming. He thinks about being hunched over his notes, his keyboard for several more hours on end, getting nowhere.

“Sure,” he says, looking at Namjoon with a shrug. “Why not?”

Jimin looks at his reflection in the full length mirror hanging off the back of his bedroom door and exhales a pained sound through his teeth.

“Hyung, I don’t know about this.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Hoseok looks him up and down critically as if looking for the mistake. “You look sexy, Jimin.”

“I think he looks emo as fuck,” Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone, lying on his back on Jimin’s bed.

Hoseok scoffs before he says, “ He’s emo? You have literally only worn the color black this entire calendar year.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook retorts. “Remember? When your parents visited? I wore that grey sweater.”

“Dark grey,” Hoseok mutters. Then he shakes his head and gives Jimin another once-over. “You look hot, Jimin. I see a hookup in your future. And then you’ll be thanking me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “This is Friends Only, remember? If, and it’s already a big ‘if’, I wanted to get with someone, the odds of me finding anyone I’d want to hook up with are pretty low, hyung.”

Still, he looks at himself again in the mirror. The outfit, he will admit to himself—not out loud, he doesn’t want to give Hoseok that satisfaction—, but to himself, yes, the outfit is pretty hot. The black faux leather pants, practically skin tight, show off all his muscles earned from years of training. The black boots and black tee (again, rather skin tight) work in all the right ways. Pretty silver earrings dangle from his ears, his black hair intentionally a bit messy, like someone had grabbed onto it during a moment of passion, leaving it going every which way.

The make-up though. He steps closer to the mirror, inspecting how Hobi put dark eyeliner around his eyes, silver-grey eyeshadow making him look…seductive. He sighs. He’s feeling anything but seductive at the moment.

“I think it’s too much, hyung,” he finally says. “People will be mad if I’m sending mixed-signals.”

“And what would you suggest wearing instead?” Hoseok narrows his eyes at Jimin, daring him to keep pushing. “A plastic bag? Or, worse yet, denim overalls.”

“Yah, what’s wrong with denim overalls?” Jimin quips back.

Jungkook blinks over at them. “Yeah, I’ve even been known to wear denim overalls.”

“My point stands,” Hoseok says, his lips thin in feigned irritation. “Plus this is a Friends Only .”

Jimin clicks his tongue and looks at himself one more time. Then he glances over at Jungkook and says, “Yah, how come Jungkook isn’t getting all dolled up?”

Hoseok stares over at the boy who is laying one leg crossed over the other, foot jiggling wildly in the air, completely oblivious to the conversation, sucked into something on his phone. “He’s a lost cause, Jimin. Get him out of that oversize t-shirt? Convince him to wear something other than those boots that could stomp out an army? Nope. Lost cause.”

Jimin scoffs as he grabs his phone. “Alright well, let’s go get this over with. The sooner we go, the sooner we come back home and sleep.”

“That’s the spirit, hyung,” Jungkook says with a bright smile as he leaps gracefully off the bed.

Yoongi regrets. So much regret. He regrets convincing himself that coming to a Friends Only, right after the Seelie Court back-handedly summoned him, is anything but a terrible idea. There are fae everywhere. And maybe he’s being paranoid, but they keep giving him looks, like they all know—or at least know something he doesn’t. It’s unnerving.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi says, standing at the edge of the crowd, back to the large hangar door they came through. “Please tell me you also can see the chicken.”

“Chicken?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi points, blatantly, not caring if it’s rude, at the small hen sitting on a young woman’s shoulder, looking perfectly content despite the booming bass coming over the large industrial-size speakers.

“Ah, yes, that’s a chicken,” Namjoon confirms once his eyes find where Yoongi’s pointing.

Yoongi nods. He looks out to the mass of people. To the untrained eye it’s chaotic, a writhing storm of bodies convulsing and twisting in time with the bass that reverberates through the dirt floor. The flashing, colorful lights bounce off the corrugated metal ceiling of the warehouse they’re in. It’s dizzying.

“Alright, let’s go find sign ups,” Yoongi says, pulling Namjoon down by his arm so he can speak in his ear.

Namjoon nods and uses his height to look over the crowd. When he sees his target, he grabs Yoongi’s sleeve and weaves them through the mess of flailing limbs across the dance floor.

“V!” he yells when they’ve cleared the last bunch of dancers.

It’s calmer over here on this side of the warehouse. The party is only getting started and most people haven’t made it this far into the building yet. The tall man with brown curly hair falling over his nape turns at the sound of his name. His hair is long in the front as well, falling artfully into his eyes, the curl of it making him look deceptively innocent. His careful brown tailored suit—cut to look just a little bit too big on his frame in a very intentional way—makes him look like he wandered into the industrial block from another time period, not just another neighborhood of Seoul. His wide eyes light up at the sight of Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Hyungs! You made it!” he exclaims, pulling Namjoon into a hug and then Yoongi. “You battling tonight?”

“Yoongi hyung is,” Namjoon says with a smile. “I’ve got other plans.”

Yoongi snorts at that before dryly asking, “Why bother even coming here at all if you’re just gonna take Jin back home immediately?”

Namjoon pouts. “He’ll want to dance first, hyung. Plus, maybe we’ll stay to watch your battle.”

“Yeah, right,” Yoongi says with a roll of his eyes. “We all know you’ll last 30 seconds before you both want to fuck.”

“Who’s fucking?” a cheery voice says from behind Yoongi.

“Apparently you and Namjoon hyung, hyung,” V says cheekily.

Jin sidles up in between Yoongi and Namjoon, sliding his arm around Namjoon’s. He smiles sweetly. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Alright, well, I’ve heard enough,” Yoongi says, taking a step away from Jin. “You got my name down there, kid?”

“Yup,” V says. “Small crowd tonight. Maybe it’s the weather?”

“Storm’s coming, yes,” Jin says almost wistfully. “I heard the Court was asking for you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi stares Jin down and says, “Not you, too, hyung. Why do they think going through my fucking friends is going to work? It has never worked.”

“I guess they feel that sending a full on Sidhe to come collect you is extreme,” Jin replies.

Yoongi laughs at that. “It’s also not going to work. I would never accept their invitation and they can’t fucking touch me without it. They know it. They might be stupid, but they aren’t that stupid.”

Yoongi sees the look in Jin’s eyes, like he’s about to argue, about to tell him all the reasons he should have never left Court in the first place, but they’ve been over it. They’ve rehashed the argument so many times, it’s left a bad taste in Yoongi’s mouth.

“I’m gonna go find a drink before the battle starts. If I don’t see you, hyung, Namjoon, have a good night,” Yoongi says with a mock salute before he saunters away in desperate need of libation. He feels the eyes of not just his friends, but also of every fae in the room, follow him as he goes. He swallows the irritation down. He’ll save it for the floor.

“This was a mistake,” Jimin says. The three of them are standing across the street, encased in darkness with half the street lamps out, looking at the large warehouse where the Friends Only was probably already in full swing. From outside it’s dark and quiet. Not a stray bass note or strobe light makes an appearance on the quiet industrial block. Jimin shudders at the thought of the magic it took to create such a large masking spell, his stomach churning.

“How about this,” Hoseok says, voice pitched ready for negotiation. Well, he’s going to sound like he’s negotiating, but what he’s really going to do is convince Jimin to do whatever he wants him to, but Jimin will feel like he compromised somehow. “We’ll just pop in, watch a battle or two, have a drink, maybe take one spin on the floor, and then bounce.”

Jimin huffs out a laugh. “That’s basically the whole Friends Only, hyung.”

“Well, you can’t not see a battle. Those are half the fun of a Friends Only,” Hoseok argues.

“He’s right, you know,” Jungkook chimes in.

Jimin’s eyes narrow at him. “Not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Jungkook says without missing a beat.

“I’m not drinking,” Jimin says after giving Jungkook the stink eye.

“No one’s gonna try anything,” Hoseok says. “It’s a fucking Friends Only. They’d be dumb to.”

“I’m not fucking drinking, hyung,” Jimin says with finality.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to drink.”

“Let’s go,” Jungkook cuts in after looking back and forth between his hyungs.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” Jimin says.

After they show their text message to the bouncer and get their hands stamped, they stand letting the scene before them wash over them as their eyes adjust to the low lighting. Despite his reticence, Jimin feels the thrill of the bass as it vibrates through the dirt floor below his boots. His body is already itching to get out on the dance floor.

“You have your phone, yes?” Hoseok yells into his ear. “Call if you need anything. And I mean, anything, right, Jimin-ah?”

“Yes, hyung,” Jimin answers, making sure to look Hoseok in the eye so he knows he’s serious.

“Alright, have fun!” Hoseok gives a blinding dimpled smile and then is off into the crowd.

Jimin scoffs and turns to see if Jungkook wants to dance, only to find Jungkook is already gone.

“Fuckers,” Jimin mutters under his breath.

He inhales deeply, ignoring the niggling anxiety in favor of the thrum of excitement that pushes from inside his chest. He decides he’ll make his way over to the pit where they have the battles, so he can snag a good spot. Hoseok was right when he said the battles are half the fun of coming to these things.

After pushing his way through the crowd, he’s pleased to see not many have gathered yet. The best spot along the wooden fencing that blocks the “pit” off from the main part of the warehouse is still devoid of people. The pit is not really a pit, just a cordoned off part of the floor, really, various barriers put in place to keep onlookers from crowding participants. The wooden fence is considered prime real estate because it’s stable enough to lean against comfortably and the view is great. Plus, sometimes if a battler is in the mood, they’ll come interact with the audience and the fence is the best point of access.

Jimin leans happily against the fence, chest pressed into the top rail of wood, fingers drumming in beat with the music. Pleased he’s going to be able to check Hoseok’s Friends Only to do list off quickly, he lets his thoughts drift as he waits for the battles to start. He vaguely wishes he had thought to grab a bottle of water on the way over.

“Hey, gorgeous, you here all alone?” a saccharine sweet voice drips out next to him.

Jimin doesn’t move, only flicking his eyes to the left to see the man that had ambled up next to him, leaning his back against the fence.

“You mean, like on this planet or here at the pit?” Jimin asks, biting the inside of his cheek.

The man laughs brightly, loudly. Not bright like Hoseok hyung’s laugh, but a fake shrill sound that grates on Jimin’s ears. “I’ll take the answer to either, but I meant here at the Friends Only, gorgeous.”

“No, I’m not,” Jimin says tersely. He’s already over whatever this guy thinks he’s trying to do right now.

“Well, I don’t see anyone,” the man replies.

Typical. Jimin moves his head subtly, just slightly, to get a better look at the man while trying to not appear too obvious. He’s tall with big muscles threatening to rip the skin tight white tee he has on. Jimin bites at his cheek again, assessing. He curses, not for the first or last time, that he’s human and can’t feel out if the guy is fae.

It’s a Friends Only. The odds aren’t in Jimin’s favor.

“Like what you see?” the man asks. His tone is smug, obnoxious.

Jimin scoffs, but almost chokes as the man turns his head to face Jimin. His eyes glint silver and as he smiles, it’s a little too wide. Like someone was trying to create a human but didn’t quite know what one looked like, just this side of creepy as fuck. Guess that answers the fae question.

“Not really my type, sorry,” Jimin grits out, turning to face firmly forward again, hoping for the battle to just start already.

“Ah, don’t judge a book by the cover, gorgeous,” the man says. “I’m sure I can be exactly what you like.”

“Seriously doubt it, so, no thanks,” Jimin says, refusing to move, to look at the man.

He doesn’t relax even as the man remains quiet. Then the MC is yelling into the mic.

“Hey, hey, hey, party people! You made it to the Only Friends! You ready to rumble?!” the woman shouts, cutting through the music on the speakers near the pit.

Jimin starts in surprise as he hears shouts and screams, realizing that at some point in the last few minutes the crowd must have filled in around him.

“Make some noise!” the MC shouts.

The screams and shouts grow louder. People around Jimin are stomping their feet, vibrating the dirt of the floor. Jimin joins them with a simple loud “whoop” and stomps his feet. He feels the thrill sing in his veins.

“Alright, alright! First up, we have two competitors who have battled in the pit before! Please welcome K-K-K-KilllerKraft aaand YoFlow!”

The lights flash in brightly strobing rainbows as the crowd thrums in excitement. Jimin feels bodies press in around him. People manage to stay fairly respectful, even if they are hoping to get that much closer to the action, but he notices the man that had been poorly hitting on him earlier is definitely taking advantage of the proximity. He can feel like sides bump into one another, even if the man is keeping himself facing the pit.

Two men come out to the pit to more shouting and screaming from the crowd. Jimin does his best to ignore the constant presses at his side, watching the pit. He’s seen YoFlow perform before, not having been particularly impressed with his flow, despite the choice of stage names. KillerKraft is a new name for Jimin, so he waits to see what he’s got to offer.

The two men in the pit turn to face one another, each holding a mic in their hands. They are both posturing, making gestures and moving in circles confidently around the pit. Neither seem to remember there is an audience at all, both focused on the other.

Jimin sighs. He’s been to enough battles that he knows this is going to be a boring one. The two men are way too focused on dick measuring instead of performing. Sure enough, as soon as the music dropped signalling the start of the battle, the beat and flow changing, the crowd falling silent in anticipation, YoFlow jumps into lyrics about how many women he fucked this week. Boring. And also lies, Jimin thinks, looking YoFlow over. There is no way he’s getting women to give him a second look with that attitude.

KillerKraft is marginally better. The bar is low though, so that’s not really saying much. At least he manages to use some metaphor as he plays off some of YoFlow’s lyrics. Boring.

That’s when Jimin feels the creeping sensation at the back of his neck. At first he thinks it’s just in his head. He gets like that sometimes. So anxious he starts seeing or feeling things. But it doesn’t stop. Then the weight of the man who had lodged himself without permission against his side moves, so he’s half behind Jimin, pressing into his back. This forces his chest to dig uncomfortably into the wood in front of him. Panic wells up inside of Jimin. He has a half-fleeting thought that this behavior is very on theme .

“Fucking get off me,” he says, or tries to. It comes out as more of a wheeze between the panic gripping his throat and the pressure of the wooden beam on his lungs.

He can feel a hot breath on his neck as the man leans in to speak into his ear. “Just relax, gorgeous. I promise I’ll take good care of you tonight.”

And Jimin can feel it. The words are laced with symbols, infused with whatever fae magic this guy is channeling. The panic rises and rises, his heart pounding, throat closing.

“St-st-stop it,” he pants out. He briefly thinks of trying to thrust his elbow backwards, maybe get the guy to step back so he can get away, but his arms are sluggish and awkwardly trapped up by his chest on the wooden fence beam.

“Or what,” the man breathes. “What are you going to do, human?”

Tears prick his eyes as he feels his body involuntarily relaxing everywhere the man is touching, the spell taking effect. Everything feels heavy and it takes all his willpower to keep from sinking backwards into the man completely. A tear rolls down his cheek as he hears the man’s pleased, “That’s it, gorgeous. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good.”

Fucking Friends Only. Fucking magic. Fucking fae. He’s going to kill Hoseok for bringing him here. He’s going to hate himself forever for letting himself come here. The scream that’s building, building, building in his throat chokes him, having nowhere to go, no escape.

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders to loosen them up under his leather jacket. He jumps a bit in place, getting blood flowing. He’d been half-listening to the first battle and he’s a bit disappointed at the competition. He could really use a real challenge. He thinks he should have worked harder to get Namjoon to sign up. Then maybe he’d feel a lick of anxiety right now. He runs his hand through his jaw-length hair.

“Okay, give a big round of applause for KillerKraft, winner of our first battle!” the MC shouts through the mic. “And let’s make some noise to encourage YoFlow! Better luck next time!”

Yoongi scoffs. Fucking Friends Only. Ridiculous. Why not just give everyone gold stars? Participation trophies?

“And nowwwwww!!” the MC continues. “We have a special treat, folks! A legend walks among us! Make some noise for our one and only, Agust D!”

With one swift inhale and one long exhale, Yoongi becomes Agust D and walks out into the pit. The crowd is so loud the ground shakes. Yoongi can never get used to it—the enthrallment, not spelled, that takes over the crowd whenever he’s on stage. Agust D, however, soaks that shit up. It keeps his heart beating.

With cold eyes and subtle movements, he steps around the pit, facing his opponent. This KillerKraft is new on the circuit, a kid. Agust D can see through all the bravado, immediately spots every single weakness, and gets ready to strike.

Agust D smirks as KillerKraft opens his rap keeping with the motif of the last battle—sexual conquests and prowess. Child’s play. The kid falters at Agust D’s smirk, knows he’s waded too deep, he’s out of the kiddy pool without his floaties.

The beat shifts, changes, and the MC shouts “Agust D!”

The crowd is screaming before Agust D even has the mic up to his lips. His eyes glint steel, boring a hole into the kid in front of him.

“Hey you, thinking you’re a contender,

Spending all your time begging women to look your direction

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology

Go back to school kid, Get your grades up kid

Watch me a while, Study this flow here

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology”

Agust D turns from the kid then, who is pale and clearly knows he’s beat, and looks out to the audience. The crowd is screaming and jumping, losing their minds as Agust D keeps rapping. He walks along the edge of the pit, occasionally reaching a hand out, letting people from the crowd brush his palm. Every single person is in the zone with him, flowing along with his cadence, like one organism writhing with life.

All except one person. Agust D, wraps up his last stanza and the MC is shouting about his victory as he comes up to a section of the wooden fence where a man—beautiful, ethereal—is leaned chest against the wood, knuckles white as fingers grip the top of the beam. A tear track on his cheek, streaked black with his makeup, is shocking against his skin. Aside from the tension in his hands, his body seems relaxed. A large man—sylph by the looks of him—is standing directly behind, towering over the angelic man. At a glance it might look like they are just leaning into one another enjoying the show. But Agust D, following the tension in the shorter man’s hands juxtaposed with his body being propped up by the larger man, not to mention the tear, is setting off all kinds of alarms.

So, instead of going back to the center of the pit to accept his victory in the battle, he continues walking until he’s directly in front of the pair, only separated by the wooden fence. He watches the man’s wide teary eyes follow him as he approaches.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Agust D asks the shorter man, not even bothering to look in the taller man’s direction.

He doesn’t need a verbal response. The large eyes, brimming with more tears are enough to tell him all he needs to know.

“Okay,” Agust D says. He flicks his eyes up to the taller man who is staring down at him looking enraged. “I suggest you back the fuck off now.”

“Fuck you, I found him first,” the man spits out.

Possibly, maybe, in this moment, if Yoongi were Yoongi, this would go down a bit differently. But Agust D is at the mic. The mic that he lifts to his face. The face that is smirking, fire burning in his eyes. The man looks back confidently, smiling too widely, challenging the rapper.

So Agust D accepts the challenge.

“Everyone! We having a good night?” Agust D asks.

The crowd screams.

“I can’t hear you,” Agust D says calmly into the mic.

The crowd writhes, pushing forward as feet stomp and voices pitch higher.

“Everyone, make some fucking noise!” Agust D growls, elongating all the vowels as he speaks.

The crowd screams so loudly, his ears go fuzzy and he feels the shock in his skull.

After the crowd settles down a little, waiting for Agust D’s next words, he speaks again. “Friends Only is a great place, don’t you think?”

Screams of agreement ring out.

“Well, we have a problem here at tonight’s Friends Only, everyone,” Agust D says, eyes locking with the taller man who is now gripping tightly at the shorter man’s upper arms. That’s going to leave bruises. Agust D sees red. “Someone has used their magic on one of our Friends without their consent, everyone. You and I both know that ruins the fun for everyone. Isn’t that right?”

There are gasps and angry cries in the crowd now as people start to catch on to what Agust D is saying.

“What do we do to people who use magic on a Friend without consent, everyone?”

The crowd responds immediately in a unified voice, “Life ban! Life ban! Life ban!”

“That’s right. Life ban. So I suggest you get fucking lost, asshole,” Agust D keeps his piercing gaze on the taller man. “I know your face. You fucked up at a Friends Only. Consider this Friendship canceled. Get the fuck out.”

The crowd keeps chanting “Life ban!” as the man—finally—steps away from the shorter man, who collapses against the fence, barely holding himself up. The taller man, anger still clear as day on his face, storms through the crowd, cursing as he goes.

Agust D turns to the MC, shouts “catch” a moment before throwing the mic at them, and then is launching himself over the wooden fence in the blink of an eye. When he lands in the dirt on the other side, Agust D melts away and Yoongi is left reaching out for the man who is sliding down to the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Hey, hey, there we go,” Yoongi murmurs as he slides down next to the other man, catching him under his arm before he completely hits the floor. Yoongi helps him all the way down so his back is propped up against the fence, still holding him up with one arm.

“Can you speak?” Yoongi asks, watching the man’s face carefully.

The man’s throat convulses several times as he swallows, clearly trying to get control back of his body.

“Can I– fuck,” Yoongi says as he watches the man’s eyes fill with tears again. “Can I ask permission to summon a release spell? It won’t do anything but undo some of that asshole’s summons.”

The man is trembling slightly, his eyes are wide, tears flowing down his cheeks again, but—almost imperceptibly—he nods.

Yoongi nods in return and then closes his eyes. In general, he doesn’t spell much, at least not this way. His music is a kind of magic, too, but takes none of the effort that summoning spells does. He imagines the symbols for release and freedom. He wants to add one for peace or safety but knows that would be a step too far, so he leaves it. With a soft hum on his lips, he pulls at the magic and it pulses through his own arm where he’s holding onto the man.

The man pulls in a loud gasp, gulping at air, and a full-fledged panic attack crashes over him. Yoongi adjusts himself so the man is leaning more firmly against the fence post, so that Yoongi can get eye-to-eye with the man.

“Hey, Friend, can you hear me?” Yoongi asks.

The man’s breathing is so rapid, Yoongi is afraid he’s going to pass out. He’s shivering too, which Yoongi frowns at. The man’s tight tee and leggings not helping him be warm or comfortable. Yoongi shrugs himself out of his leather jacket and pulls the man forward enough to get the jacket around his shoulders. Then he settles the man back against the fence post and watches as he gasps for air.

“Listen to my voice, Friend,” Yoongi continues. “Follow my breathing. In– and out– that’s right.”

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, the man’s breathing finally, finally regulating.

“There we go,” Yoongi says. “What’s your name?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin,” the man says. He wipes aggressively at his cheeks with his hands and then gasps at his hands as they come back black from the makeup. Almost to himself, as he wipes the makeup stains onto his pants, he mutters, “Fuck. I fucking hate Friends Only.”

“I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says after a moment. “Is there someone we can call?”

Jimin laughs. It’s a bit pitched, a bit hysterical. Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Jimin pushes himself up, making to stand instead of continuing to sit on the dirt floor. Yoongi hovers but doesn’t touch him. Jimin leans himself against the pole, now standing mostly upright, shrugging Yoongi’s leather jacket around himself.

“I know who you are. You’re literally a famous rapper,” Jimin says, voice as pitched and hysterical as his laugh. In a different context he might sound cheeky or mocking in a friendly way. But here, in this tucked away corner of the warehouse, he sounds lost, terrified.

“Do you have someone you can call?” Yoongi asks again. He wants to reach out with a hand and hold Jimin in some way, to help him, but he knows more unprovoked, unconsented touch right now will not be helpful.

“Yeah. I-” Jimin starts, but is cut off by another voice shrieking his name.

Yoongi watches as V comes barreling towards them across the floor, the crowd that had formed around the pit completely dissipated now that the entertainment is over.

“Jimin?! Jimin! What the fuck happened?”

Jimin feels the breath get knocked out of him all over again as a body engulfs him in a full body hug. His back presses up against the fence once more, but instead of anxious, he feels safe and protected.

“Taehyung,” he breathes into the other man’s neck. “I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

Taehyung pulls back and looks at Jimin’s face. His hands come up to cup Jimin’s cheeks, thumbs wiping away some of the smeared makeup. Jimin melts into the gentle touches.

“What happened, Jimin-ah?” he asks.

“There was a guy– an asshole,” Jimin starts, but finds he can’t really come up with the right words. His eyes flit from Taehyung’s face to Yoongi’s, who is standing in the same place he had been before Taehyung’s arrival.

Taehyung follows the movement of Jimin’s eyes and turns to look at Yoongi.

“Is this the asshole?” Taehyung asks, his face the perfect picture of confusion.

“No! No! He– he helped me,” Jimin says quickly.

“Do you two know each other?” Yoongi asks. He looks back and forth between the two, noting how Taehyung’s hands are still caressing Jimin’s cheeks.

“This is my soulmate! Jimin!” Taehyung says enthusiastically.

Jimin watches as Yoongi furrows his brow for a moment and then a look of enlightenment blooms on his face. He smiles as he says, “Oh, you’re Park Jimin. I should have recognized your name. I’m sorry.”

Jimin blinks at Yoongi’s smile. He’s not sure he’s ever seen it. He’s been going to battles for the last couple of years, ever since Hoseok took him to one his first weekend after moving to Seoul. Of course, he realizes, he’s never really seen Yoongi before either. He’s only really seen Agust D. Agust D has a wicked, soul-crushing smirk, but never smiles. Which is hot as hell, but Jimin thinks he might actually find Yoongi’s sweet gum-filled smile more attractive.

“Wait,” Jimin says, jolting in an epiphany. He points a finger back and forth between the two men. “Do you know each other?”

“Yoongi is my hyung,” Taehyung says happily, as if that is enough explanation of anything. “But seriously, what happened?”

This time Taehyung glances back to Yoongi to see if he’ll fill in any of the details. Yoongi looks at Jimin with a question in his eyes. Jimin nods. “I– I don’t know if I want to talk about it right now. But you can tell him.”

Yoongi nods before he looks at Taehyung. He says slowly, “Well, the short version is some asshole sylph spelled Jimin without his consent and I had to ban him.”

“What the fuck?” Taehyung screeches. Now he’s pulling Jimin back in front of him by the shoulders and inspecting him all over. “What did he do? What the fuck? This is a Friends Only . Oh, my goddess, and in front of you , hyung. What the fuck was he thinking?”

Jimin is jostled this way and that as Taehyung keeps on with his inspection. He’s starting to shake a bit again, at the memories of the spell that had seeped in his veins, unfortunately far too similar to the exhaustion left in the wake of his panic attack. A shiver runs up his spine and then he starts feeling a bit dizzy.

“V, look, I banned him, okay?” Yoongi is saying flatly.

“Should have fucked him up first, is what I’m saying, hyung,” Taehyung replies with a pout.

Yoongi laughs. Jimin watches him, even with his vision swimming a bit. Is this normal? Or is this residual effects of the spelling? Multiple spells, he remembers. His breath catches. Yoongi can summon. Fuck, Yoongi can summon.

“Are you okay, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asks. His hands are back on Jimin’s cheeks, moving to feel his forehead. “You’re a little cold. Are you feeling ill?”

Then he glances at Yoongi, and says, “What did that asshole do?”

“I don’t know, I think it was just a standard immobility spell,” Yoongi says with a frown. He steps a bit closer to look at Jimin’s eyes. Jimin gulps in air as his lungs seize in fear. Yoongi stops and takes a step back again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jimin-ssi.”

“Hyung is good, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung murmurs comfortingly. “He won’t hurt you.”

Jimin shakes his head. He’s not sure what he’s saying no to. It’s not that he thinks Yoongi will hurt him, per se. Shaking his head brings the dizziness back full force. He throws his arms out, flailing for something to hold onto before he falls over. Taehyung is there immediately, arm under his curled protectively around his back, keeping him upright.

“He’s really cold, hyung,” Jimin hears Taehyung say. “Jimin-ah? Who did you come with?”

“Ho-Hoseok hyung, Jungkook,” Jimin mutters out through gritted teeth, sure if he opens his mouth too widely he will throw up. “Uh, ‘m not, not feeling good.”

The room is well and truly spinning now. Jimin is pretty sure he says, “Wanna go home, Tae-ah,” right before everything goes black.

“What the fuck?” Hoseok says again. Yoongi’s lost count of the number of times the man has uttered the phrase in the last 10 minutes. Each time he’s put different emphasis on the words, perhaps stressing the parts that are most perplexing to him in the moment. He stares down at Jimin, sound asleep on the couch, as he says, again, “What the fuck ?”

“Did any of the cameras catch that guy? Any of the wards? We should be pressing charges,” Jungkook says, eyes flashing gold in the light. He’s tense, hands fists at his side. He’s on the far side of the room, as if he’s afraid his negative energy is going to somehow impact Jimin’s sleep. Of course, with Jungkook, that’s not an impossibility.

“Namjoon and Jin are talking to security right now,” Taehyung says. He’s sitting on the floor of the small room, leaning up against the couch, hand slowly carding through Jimin’s hair as he watches the man sleep. He had already cleaned Jimin’s face and hands free of makeup with a wet cloth early. Yoongi watches, mesmerized by the tender care exhibited by the normally no-nonsense, zero shits given V.

The room itself holds nothing but a filing cabinet, a table, both shoved against one wall gathering dust, and the couch. For the gathering tonight, it’s meant to be a rest area, and seems to be serving its purpose well at the moment.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok growls, his hands yanking at his own short hair in frustration. “I brought him here thinking he’d be safe. He’s going to hate me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. He seems to have deflated some of his anger. “Friends Only is supposed to be safe. We couldn’t have known.”

“How is it that all of you know him,” Yoongi says, waving towards the sleeping man, “and I’ve never met him.”

The other three men glance at each other and shrug in unison.

“Well, I’ve known him since university,” Taehyung says and looks at the other two men.

“And, as you might have guessed,” Hoseok says, “we dance together.”

Everyone glances at Jungkook who looks tense again. His jaw flexes as he says in a low tone, “I’m his Guardian.”

“Ah,” is all Yoongi says, glancing back at Jimin.

“I actually didn’t realize he and Tae were close until now,” Hoseok adds.

“Soulmates,” Taehyung corrects. He looks back down at Jimin and whispers, “Soulmates.”

Yoongi nods. He feels a bit like a creep watching Jimin sleep, so he looks up and around the room, occasionally accidentally making eye contact with the others as they all stand vigil forcing his eyes to pingpong all over the place. Nervously he quickly glances at Jimin again. Yoongi is feeling oddly protective of this man he just met. He doesn’t know his story, but Yoongi is finding he really wants to know it.

“I need to get back to the floor,” Taehyung says, reluctance clear in his tone. “You’ll stay with him?”

Yoongi is surprised that Taehyung is addressing him and not the other two men in the room—the men that are actually Jimin’s friends. Everyone is looking at him and he feels sick as he recognizes the looks on their faces. Reverence, respect, deference. All the foolishness he’d left behind when he walked away from the Seelie Court. He glances down at Jimin again and understands. They’re trusting him, Yoongi, to protect their friend.

“I, uh, yes,” Yoongi says after a long pause. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his teeth. “I’ll stay.”

With that, Taehyung nods and stands, dusting the dirt off his trousers. “Thank you, hyung. If there’s a lull, I’ll come check on you.”

“Let me go with you,” Hoseok says. “I want to see what Namjoon and Jin have found on the CCTV.”

Yoongi watches as both men walk out and then looks at Jungkook. “How’re you holding up, kid?”

The younger man, eyes still trained on the sleeping man on the couch, just shrugs. After a moment he says, “I’ve been better.”

Yoongi nods. He doesn’t know much about imugi guardian bonds, but considering how protective he himself is feeling for the human sleeping away on the couch completely unconscious to the turmoil going around in his friend group, he can’t imagine Jungkook is feeling great. Yoongi allows himself to ponder for a moment more what it is about this human that has everyone so whipped. Yoongi is broken out of his reverie as Jungkook shifts in his place on the far side of the room, moving his weight from foot to foot.

“Do– do you think something is wrong with him?” Jungkook asks in a small voice.

Yoongi looks at him carefully, noting the gold glint in his eyes and the way his fists are white-knuckled and tense at his side still. He answers him slowly, “I think he’s human and was put through a lot of stress. I got rid of all the casting on him, but I think his body still needs to recover from the effects.”

“But he will recover,” Jungkook says. It sounds like a statement, but there’s just enough tremor in his voice to make it sound uncertain.

“He will recover, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says. “He’ll be fine.”

They fall into a silent vigil after that, only the muffled thrum of the bass from the dance music can be heard through the walls, waiting for the others to come back with news or for Jimin to wake up. Yoongi finds his mind wandering, thinking through how the day had gone absolutely fucking sideways. He can’t entirely say he regrets it though.

“Cocky little shit probably didn’t even realize we use CCTV in this place,” Jin says. He and Namjoon returned less than an hour after they settled Jimin on the couch in the lounge.

“Cocky? Or an idiot?” Yoongi asks, eyebrow raised.

“Probably both, honestly,” Namjoon says. “We were able to pull multiple angles of his face before, during, and after the, uh, incident.”

“It’s already been sent around to those that need to know,” Jin says. “If he’s smart, he’ll have already fucked off back to the Dreaming or at least out of this city.”

“What are the chances we’ll get that lucky?” Yoongi grumbles. “You said it. Cocky and stupid. Not a winning combo.”

“He better hope he doesn’t run into me on the street,” Jungkook says darkly.

Yoongi eyes him warily. “Don’t do anything stupid, kid. You can’t Guard him if you’re banished back to the Dreaming.”

Jungkook gives a huff and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Let’s just hope we’ve seen the last of the sylph then,” Jin says, patting Yoongi on the shoulder.

The first thing Jimin is aware of is his pounding headache. His hands immediately go up to rub his temples to try to find some relief. He slowly tries to squint his eyes open, but the fluorescent lighting makes the pounding in his head worse. With a groan, he pushes himself upright, the world spinning for a moment as he tries to piece together how he got here.

“Woah, woah, not too fast,” Jimin hears a low, gravely voice say.

“Drink this, hyung,” a much more familiar voice says and a bottle of water is floating in front of his face.

He gulps the whole bottle down greedily. He looks around the room again as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s half-laying, half-sitting on a dingy couch in what looks like a converted office or storeroom. Kneeling in front of him are Agust D— what the fuck —and Jungkook. Where Agust D’s face looks neutral, Jungkook’s is pinched with worry.

“How are you feeling, hyung?” Jungkook says, gently taking the empty water bottle and cap out of Jimin’s hands.

‘I– what happened?” Jimin finally asks, mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out how he got here. His memory is coming back in snapshots and the images he’s seeing are disconcerting to say the least.

“Do you remember the rap battle?” Jungkook asks. Jimin thought he’d looked worried a moment ago, but that was apparently just mild concern. The look on his face now is definitely worried.

“I– oh,” Jimin says as soon as he does remember the rap battle. “There was a handsy asshole that wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Then the evening clicks into place. Jimin shuts his eyes as he says, “Oh, he used magic on me. He fucking magic-roofied me.”

Jungkook makes a small whimpering, broken sound in his throat. Jimin throws his eyes back open to see the tears welling up in Jungkook’s eyes. Without thinking he opens his arms and Jungkook falls into them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, hyung,” Jungkook says in a small voice. “The hyungs are making sure he can’t come back, won’t bother you again. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Won’t leave you alone again.”

“Hush,” Jimin says, patting Jungkook’s back. The sadness in Jungkook’s voice is the most sobering of medicines. “It’s not your fault. It’s that magic-wielding fae’s fault. No one else’s. Besides, what could you have done anyway, huh? You know I’d rather see you safe.”

Jungkook nods from Jimin’s shoulder, his face buried in Jimin’s neck. The man still kneeling on the floor in front of the couch makes a small coughing noise that Jimin almost mistakes for a laugh.

Jimin’s eyes flick over to the man, Agust D—no, he’s Yoongi right now—still has a neutral expression on his face. His hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail. Jimin feels a needling sense of irritation in his chest at the sight of him. In entirely different circumstances, Jimin would find him attractive—like beyond attractive, really. But the fact is, they are in these circumstances and Jimin finds the pull to this man irritating at best.

“Why are you here, exactly?” Jimin asks.

“Your friends asked me to look out for you,” Yoongi says calmly.

Jungkook pushes himself up so that he’s sitting at Jimin’s knees, on the edge of the couch. Jimin keeps his eyes on Yoongi.

“Well,” Jimin continues shortly, waving his hand at himself dismissively, “as you can see, I am now fine. So, you can fuck off.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, sounding aghast.

“No, Jungkook, don’t,” Jimin says. He refuses to take his eye off the fae in front of him though. “Thank you, Yoongi-ssi, for stepping in and for helping my friends out. I am no longer in need of your services.”

Yoongi opens his mouth and then closes it again. Jimin narrows his eyes at him, challenging him to try arguing. Just as Yoongi opens his mouth again, the door to the room opens and Hoseok walks in with two other men. Jimin has to do a double-take to realize it’s Namjoon and his boyfriend.

“You’re awake!” Hoseok says cheerfully as he hurries over to Jimin’s side, nudging Yoongi out of the way. Yoongi nearly falls over, but catches himself and stands up, fading into the background of the group as everyone crowds around.

Jimin looks at everyone’s stricken faces and plasters a smile on his face and lies, “I’m fine. Everyone is so dramatic.”

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok starts.

“No, no, you know what,” Jimin interrupts. “I am going to go dance. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m going to go dance, like I planned. Then I’m going to go home. Everyone is being so ridiculous.”

He pushes himself up off the couch in one movement and only feels a little bit dizzy. He hides it well, he thinks. Hoseok hovers at his elbow, but doesn’t intervene. Jungkook stands to be at his other side. With the two of them flanking him, he feels fairly confident.

“Jimin, are you sure? I can take you home,” Namjoon says.

“No, hyung, that’s okay,” Jimin says as he shakes his head. He’s incredibly impressed with himself at how stable he sounds. “I don’t want to ruin your night. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no trouble,” Namjoon’s boyfriend says. Jimin feels a little bad that he can’t remember his name right now.

“No, hyung, I’m okay,” Jimin is even more impressed with himself now that he manages to sound exasperated.

Yoongi, who has edged back into the circle of men standing around Jimin, says softly, “I can stay with you or, well, not actually dancing, but I can keep an eye out.”

Jimin tenses to hide his shudder. “No, thank you, again, Yoongi-ssi. I’ve had quite enough of fae tonight, thank you.”

With that declaration he turns on his heel and walks to the door, confidently pulls it open, and steps back out into the warehouse.

Jungkook and Hoseok are quick on Jimin’s heels as he makes his dramatic exit from the rest room. Hoseok throws an apologetic smile over his shoulder before he’s shutting the door behind him. In the few seconds the door is open, the room seems to fill with music, but the silence after the door shuts is deafening.

“Does– does he not know you are all fae?” Yoongi says to no one in particular in the wake of Jimin’s departure.

“I guess not,” Jin says with a click of his tongue.

Namjoon looks just as bewildered as the other two as he says, “I guess it never came up?”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh then, perhaps bordering on hysterical. He says faintly, “That’s– that’s maybe the most nonsensical encounter I’ve ever had in my life. And I fucking lived at Court for years. What the fuck.”

Neither Jin nor Namjoon seem to have a response to that other than for Jin to give Yoongi’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Are you going to report that sylph to the Court, Joon-ah?” Yoongi asks. “He really shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with humans.”

“I do think he is a liability walking around Seoul,” Namjoon agrees.

“You know, Yoongi-chi,” Jin says. He kicks the heel of his right foot against the toes of his left, looking the picture of innocence, even as his voice sounds coy. “You could deliver the report yourself. It would have more weight coming from you.”

Yoongi scoffs. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before he says, “You know fucking well that Namjoon’s voice has plenty of weight.”

“Well, just think about it,” Jin says.

Yoongi slowly nods his head in a way he knows can only be interpreted as sarcastic.

“Okay, well, this has been some kind of evening,” Yoongi says. “I’m gonna fuck off home now.”

He pats his side for his phone only to discover his pocket isn’t there, because he’s not wearing his leather jacket. Because Jimin is wearing it.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. Then he laughs again—breathy with an edge to it. Then he growls, “Fuck!”

The two men in front of him look understandably bewildered. Namjoon opens his mouth to ask, but Yoongi is already moving towards the door.

As Yoongi rips the door open, he yells back at the two wide-eyed men, “I gave my fucking jacket to the kid and the jacket has my phone in it!”

Yoongi decides to ignore Jin’s stage whisper, “how chivalrous” as he stalks out to the dance floor.

Following the thumping of the bass and skirting around the throng of people dancing in the warehouse, Yoongi finally spots Jimin dancing sandwiched in between Hoseok and Jungkook, who are each facing inward. There’s a fine cloud of dust from the dirt floor of the warehouse, creating a hazy scene. They are all moving their hips synchronously, arms draped across each other’s hips and shoulders. They all look hot and sweaty. Entirely too warm to be wearing Yoongi’s leather jacket, which Jimin still is. Jimin tilts his head back in a clear laugh, even though nothing can be heard above the din of the music.

Yoongi grits his teeth, eyes are trained on Jimin, as he feels a spark of heat ignite in his gut. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Park Jimin is a menace. Whatever it is he and Jimin are doing right now, Yoongi knows he needs to come out on top or have the last word or whatever it is. He needs it. So, Yoongi decides to go find something to drink and wait the younger man out. Yoongi is nothing if not a patient man.

Jimin can see Yoongi watching him. Jimin hates it. He’s determined to ignore it. He carefully starts to move Yoongi out of his line of sight, slowly but surely navigating the trio in the opposite direction so that he doesn’t have to see him staring at him and feel heat from his gaze any longer. Every time he tries to move his trio of dancers around the dance floor, he still somehow catches Yoongi’s eyes on him, dark gaze piercing through his skin into his bones and nerves. Jimin’s skin crawls with the feeling of eyes on him. A part of him is angry about the fact that he likes it, likes that feeling. It makes him feel important, desired almost. But he quickly pushes the thought away, knowing it’s dangerous and alluring in equal measure. His frustration builds until he can’t take it anymore and can’t be held responsible for what he does next.

“Mother fucker, what is his problem?” Jimin growls out.

His two dance partners, clearly still on alert from earlier, whip their heads up to look at him, stopping right in the middle of the dance floor. Jungkook’s hands hover over Jimin, eyes scanning, as if checking for injuries.

“What is it? What happened?” Hoseok asks.

“He’s fucking watching me!” Jimin says, ignoring the ridiculous hysteria of his two friends.

“Who? Who is watching you?” Jungkook says quickly, whipping his head all around as if looking for some boogieman to come out of the dance floor.

“Min Fucking Yoongi,” Jimin grits out.

Much to Jimin’s annoyance, both his dance partners visibly deflate, tension leaving their bodies.

Jimin bites back his urge to scream in frustration and instead yells, “Why do you guys trust him? He can fucking cast! Why are you even friends with him? How are you even friends with him?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond when Hoseok cuts him off with a shake of his head. Instead, the older man wraps his hand around Jimin’s waist to steer him off the dance floor, Jungkook trailing behind them.

“Hyung,” Jimin says shortly, once they are away from the swaying mass of dancing bodies, towards the outer edge of the warehouse where it’s a little easier to hear one another.

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok says sweetly. “Maybe we should call it a night, hm? It’s been a hard night, yeah?”

“Okay, I know that face,” Jimin says, eyes narrowing. “You’re lying to me. There’s something you’re not saying. What the hell is going on?”

Hoseok has the gall to look sheepish. His gaze stays low and he puts his hands in his pockets. Jimin glances at Jungkook who is also looking awkwardly down at his own boots, nervously twisting the ball of one foot into the dirt.

“Here you are!” a shrill voice calls out. Jimin looks to see Namjoon and his boyfriend approaching. Namjoon’s boyfriend—Jimin is feeling increasingly angry at himself for not remembering his name—is apparently the one that called out to them. “I thought you would have gone home after a few dances!”

“Hyung!” Hoseok says cheerfully, his smile heart-shaped, all remnants of sheepishness gone.

“We were just talking about taking off,” Jungkook says. He, Jimin thinks, at least has the decency to look a little wary and guilty.

“The fuck we were,” Jimin growls. “These two were about to explain to me the thing none of you are saying. Why do you trust Min Yoongi? Why are you friends with him?”

“Why are we friends with Min Yoongi?” Namjoon’s boyfriend blinks.

Jimin crosses his arms across his chest to keep himself from exploding. “Yes, why do you all hang out with a fae?”

“I really think we should head home,” Hoseok tries again. But, at the same time, Namjoon, still trying to understand Jimin’s question, speaks over the top of him.

“I don’t understand why we wouldn’t know Yoongi hyung. We all know each other from Court.” Namjoon says. He turns to confirm this with the others as Jimin stares at him, Namjoon’s words sinking into Jimin’s skull.

Jimin thinks everyone starts screaming at Namjoon, but he’s not sure. His ears go fuzzy with white noise and it feels like someone pulled the bottom out from the floor. He frowns at his group of friends, all bickering and gesticulating at one another.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says in a neutral voice. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say– did you just say you’re fae?”

With a mind that has gone amazingly blank, he waves his hand around the group of four to accentuate his point. “All of you are fae?”

The silence is telling. Jimin doesn’t even have the courage to look at their faces. He swallows thickly. “Is anyone else fae around here that hasn’t bothered to tell me?”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon supplies, with Hoseok body slamming him a half a second later.

“Taehyung,” Jimin repeats blankly. “My Taehyung?”

Again, silence falls across the group.

Jimin is sure the music is still playing. The party goes on. But none of that matters. He doesn’t hear any of it. All he hears is static. Jimin’s eyes burn like embers with tears he absolutely refuses to shed. He feels betrayal like ice in his veins. Jimin can’t move. His limbs feel heavy, like lead, and his head is spinning. He feels like he’s in a dream. But this isn’t a dream. He reels trying to get some semblance of control back, feeling a little like he’s going mad.

He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths as he tries to grapple with the revelation that everyone around him is fae, putting pieces together of his memories, trying to find the place where he missed this key detail. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can’t seem to shake off the feeling like he’s been the butt of some sick cosmic joke.

“Was there going to be a point in time when any of you thought to, I don’t know, tell me about this?” Jimin asks calmly.

He watches as the four men in front of him glance at each other. Anger flares up inside him, hot and fierce. He scoffs, an embittered smirk plastered on his face, and he rolls his eyes. He feels the anger build until he’s sure the lava inside him is visible even to those standing guiltily in front of him.

“Fuck this,” Jimin hisses. He’s spent the last several years apparently good friends with fae—a lot of fae. He looks at Jungkook, who he’s known forever, and feels his heart crack in his chest. He watches as a tear slides down Jungkook’s cheek. Jimin thinks he should feel bad, and maybe he will later, but right now he feels like all the people in front of him have just confirmed his suspicions—fae manipulate and spell to get what they want.

“Hyung, I can explain,” Jungkook’s broken voice is muffled by the static still echoing in Jimin’s ears. Jimin just numbly shakes his head.

Jimin realizes he’s been unknowingly playing with fire his whole life, a fire he grew up fearing, and his rage turns to impulsiveness. His mind whirring with ways he can take back control of this, of his life, of who he spends time with. At that moment he feels like there has only been one person this evening who has been honest with him. So, without another word to the speechless men— fae —in front of him, he turns on his heel, knowing exactly where the man is standing against the warehouse wall, still feeling his gaze burn holes into his skin, like a beacon.

Jimin can hear the surprised shouts and protests from his friends but he ignores them and stalks over to the man standing, one hand holding two water bottles, the other hand in his jeans pocket, t-shirt just tight enough to allow Jimin’s imagination to fill in the details of his chest and abs, permed hair still up in a half-ponytail, loose hairs framing his face beautifully. He’s so beautiful.

Jimin confidently strides towards the fae and watches as the barest flicker of confusion crosses the other’s face before he retrains the neutral gaze on Jimin. Without another thought he steps right into Yoongi’s space, chest to chest, gripping his shoulders, and pulls him into a desperate, bruising kiss.

For a moment, Yoongi is too stunned to respond, but soon he gives in to Jimin’s kiss. It’s hot and needy, the kind of kiss that tells Jimin Yoongi wants this as much as Jimin does. Jimin feels his heart pound faster as Yoongi leans into him, and he can practically feel the heat radiating off of the other man’s body. Jimin’s own impulsiveness terrifies him, but not enough to stop.

When they finally break apart, Jimin looks up at Yoongi looking for signs of regret or anger, but sees none. He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the fae’s, savoring the feeling of closeness, with their hot, panting breaths intermingling.

Then, without speaking, Jimin leans in again for another kiss. It’s rough and demanding, all tongue and teeth as they claim each other’s mouth. Jimin moans into the kiss, his entire body melting against Yoongi’s. As they kiss, Jimin can feel one of Yoongi’s hands slowly inching up his shirt, teasing the skin underneath, pressing around his waist. He gasps at the touch, his skin erupting into goosebumps, craving more. Their kisses become more feverish, more passionate, until Jimin feels like he can hardly breathe. All he can feel is heat and fire.

They pull apart once more to catch their breaths, they lean into one another, still panting. Hands still gripping at one another, the water bottles Yoongi had been holding forgotten at their feet.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, hot breath rustling in Jimin’s ear.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Jimin asks coyly through his panting, “Why are you watching me, Min Yoongi-ssi?”

“You’re wearing my jacket, Park Jimin-ssi,” the fae responds without missing a beat. He gives out a short, labored laugh. “With my phone. In the pocket. I couldn’t call a cab.”

As if to prove his point, Yoongi slowly moves his hand out from under Jimin’s shirt and reaches into the jacket pocket, pulling out a silver phone. He waves it in between their chests before sliding it into his own jeans’ back pocket.

Jimin, still breathing heavily, huffs out a long laugh. Then his smile drops and he leans further into Yoongi’s ear, his fingers digging into Yoongi’s shoulders, and says softly, “Use that phone, hyung, and take me home.”

Yoongi is pretty sure the higher functioning parts of his brain shut off minutes ago when Park Jimin started kissing him. Now all he seems capable of is feeling the burning on his skin as one of Jimin’s hands trails up from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling with his nearly-shoulder-length hair there. Every hot spot along his body igniting where Jimin is pinning him against the wall, panting into his ear, his wet, hot breath sending shivers down Yoongi’s spine.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind there is a niggling sensation of something forgotten, but Yoongi could not care less. That is, until he realizes Jimin has his eyes trained on him, waiting for a response to something. Did Jimin ask him a question?

Yoongi’s eyes move slowly from Jimin’s kiss-swollen lips to his eyes. Jimin raises his eyebrows expectantly. Yoongi manages to breathe out a quiet, “Oh.”

Then he ducks down and grabs the water bottles from the floor. He opens one and hands it to Jimin, who takes it with a confused look on his face. Then he opens the second one and chugs it in one go. Glancing at Jimin, he sees the younger man watching him drink. Then Jimin takes a tentative sip of his own water.

When Yoongi is done with his water, he pulls out his phone and opens the taxi app, ordering a taxi for a few blocks away.

“Drink up,” Yoongi says, gesturing at Jimin’s water bottle, before slipping his phone back into his back pocket. “Cab’ll be here in 10 minutes.”

Jimin gives a small nod and it’s Yoongi’s turn to watch as the other drinks down the water in huge gulps. Once Jimin finishes, Yoongi takes the bottle from him and grabs Jimin’s hand with his free one. Pulling him along, around the edge of the dance floor, he only pauses once to throw the empty bottles in his left hand into the large bin.

The air is cool as they step through the warehouse door into the night. Yoongi leads them to a small alleyway, away from the noise and lights of the party. Jimin follows obediently, fingers laced tightly with the fae’s. It’s quiet here, only the occasional siren can be heard in the distance. Through the alley, they step onto another block, still within industrial buildings, but the street is better lit.

They come to a stop at a street corner, where Yoongi had told the taxi to pick them up. He leans in and presses his lips lightly to Jimin’s temple.

“Are you cold?” he asks quietly.

Jimin shakes his head, but leans into Yoongi a little further, and Yoongi takes that as an invitation to wrap an arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close to his side.

“Is this okay?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi blows out a puff of air before he says, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?”

Jimin laughs, the sound ringing out through the still night air.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that before,” he admits, his cheeks flaming. Yoongi feels like his insides are melting.

Instead of screaming like he wants to, Yoongi smiles, his fingers digging a bit into the soft part of Jimin’s waist where his hand is resting under the leather jacket.

“Likewise,” Yoongi says softly, before leaning in again to kiss Jimin once more.

They stand there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms and lips, until the sound of a car approaching breaks them apart. Yoongi pulls away, his hand reluctantly slipping from Jimin’s waist.

Yoongi steps up to the backdoor of the cab and pauses before he opens it. He turns to Jimin and asks, “Just for the sake of clear communication, when you asked me to take you home, did you mean for me to be a perfect gentleman and drop you off at your home? Or did you mean for me to be less-than-gentlemanly and bring you to my home?”

Jimin blinks at him and then bites his lower lip.

“And to be clear,” Yoongi says before Jimin can respond. “I am very in favor of option two. But can concede you’ve had a rough night and might just want to be alone in your own place.”

Time feels like it slows down as Yoongi watches Jimin’s face transform from a nervous pout to hold a full, toothy smile, eyes pressing into crescents. He didn’t think this plane of existence could contain a being so beautiful. Jimin reaches out and threads his fingers with Yoongi’s and says simply, “I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing the words, while Jimin takes a step back, allowing Yoongi to open the cab door. Jimin brushes past him, sliding onto the leather seat, keeping their fingers tangled together, gently pulling Yoongi to follow him into the backseat of the cab.

As soon as Yoongi gives his address to the driver, he half-expects Jimin to be all over him. Instead, Jimin shifts slightly and tilts his head to rest it on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi feels a warmth spread through his chest as he glances down at Jimin, who is looking out his window at the city lights as they drive. The only sound in the car is the slight hum of the tires on the asphalt and Jimin’s breathing beside him. Yoongi finds himself looking over at his companion’s profile, admiring it from his peripheral vision. Looking back out the window of the car, Yoongi can detect the faint greys of pre-dawn light filtering over the city.

Jimin feels his apprehension grow as the car ride continues across the city. When the bigger skyscrapers and city buildings are in the rearview, he starts to wonder where exactly they are going. He regrets not paying more attention to the address Yoongi had given the driver. Was he about to be ax-murdered on the outskirts of Seoul? He realizes ever since showing up to the Friends Only, he’s been entirely too reckless. This might be coming back to bite him in the ass now.

The car slows as it pulls off a main thoroughfare into a winding cobblestone road meandering among older homes nestled into a hillside at the base of one of Seoul’s many mountains. The fading city lights give way to the twinkling stars as Jimin takes in the beauty around him. The early morning sky is a deep navy blue, the stars are pinpricks in the darkness, and the moon is a coy smile of white light.

Just as he’s about to ask where they are going, the car comes to a stop at the corner of a cluster of older homes. It’s a nice neighborhood. Quiet and tucked away.

After thanking the driver, Yoongi, who Jimin realizes is still holding his hand on his thigh, opens his door and pulls Jimin along behind him as he exits. He waits as Jimin unfolds himself through the door, before shutting the cab door behind him. Then without a word, he pulls Jimin along the small street towards more houses.

“Wait here first,” Yoongi whispers. He puts his free hand on Jimin’s shoulder and turns him gently, positioning him so he’s looking down the hill back towards the city.

The view is gorgeous, of course, but he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be seeing something in particular. So, he waits. His back is almost touching Yoongi’s back and he’s tempted to lean himself backwards into the fae. Instead he focuses on the feeling of heat filling the gap between their bodies and the warmth where their hands are still entwined, where Yoongi’s hand never left his shoulder.

Then, Jimin sees what they have been waiting for. As Jimin’s eyes are trained on the horizon, he catches a subtle change in the sky. He gasps softly as the hint of orange and pink paint the sky with delicate brushstrokes, illuminating the darkness. The hues blend together to create an otherworldly skyline, as if he is staring at a painting instead of a real view. He thinks Seoul has never looked more beautiful.

Yoongi leans forward into Jimin’s back, hooking his chin over Jimin’s shoulder, his hand still wrapped around Jimin’s. Both men stand in silence until it’s impossible to ignore the beauty of what they are witnessing—the sun’s rays slice through the darkness like a curtain of gold and silver being pulled aside to reveal a beautiful new day. The sky gradually lightens from deep colors to pastels.

With one last squeeze, Yoongi takes his hand from Jimin’s shoulder and pulls him towards the tall stone wall surrounding a house behind them.

If someone had asked Jimin yesterday what he thought Agust D’s dwelling place looks like, he would probably have said an upscale, modern apartment—maybe in Hannam the Hill or somewhere equally swanky. Definitely something Jimin would never dream of being able to afford on his measly dance choreographer’s salary.

Needless to say, the hanok in front of him, only visible once Yoongi pushes a metal door in a stone wall back, is not at all what he pictured. The outside of the building, while clearly clean and well kept, makes him feel like he’s been transported back in time. To get to the hanok, they first step through a traditional wooden moon gate, just inside the metal doorway. They are greeted by the sight of a stunning madang, a courtyard bordered by the wooden framework of the main house, which stands as a protective guardian of this sacred space.

Jimin takes in the scene with wide eyes, struck by an immense sense of calm that he hadn’t expected. He feels Yoongi’s presence behind him and for a moment, the two stand in complete stillness.

The surface underfoot is composed of carefully laid stone tiles, creating a smooth and even pathway leading from the moon gate to the heart of the madang. Along the edges of the path, patches of soft green moss, almost glowing in the dawn light, create a harmonious contrast against the sturdy stone. At the center of the madang is a small pond with a small leafless tree bending gracefully over the water. There is a fountain bubbling quietly, creating a tranquil atmosphere in the whole courtyard.

As they slowly walk further into the courtyard, Jimin trails his eyes across the potted plants and delicate stonework up to the hanok buildings. The house itself is a clean light grey—almost white—with dark hefty timber beams as the frame. The gently sloping roof is made of dark grey tiles, accentuated by the same dark wooden beams at the eaves.

Yoongi leads Jimin down the pathway to a door to the left of the hanok. He slides it open and they toe their shoes off at the step. The doorway leads them into an updated kitchen area. The kitchen is modern enough, with an island and state-of-the-art appliances, but still possesses touches of history, like the wooden beams supporting the ceiling.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Yoongi asks, going towards what looks like a mini-fridge built under the island counter.

“Holy shit, hyung,” Jimin finally manages to get out. “Does having a magic fairytale hanok come with being a fae?”

Yoongi barks out a laugh as he pulls out glass bottles of sparkling water from the fridge.

“I’m serious!” Jimin pouts. “I figured you probably had money, but what the fuck?”

Yoongi shrugs with a lop-sided smile, handing Jimin one of the bottles of water, and says, “What can I say? I like beautiful things?”

Jimin nods, taking a sip of his water, nose wrinkling at the bubbles. He says, “It is beautiful. Definitely beats my little studio apartment.”

For a few minutes, they fall into a silence, drinking their water. Jimin plays mindlessly with the paper label on his bottle. His eyes dart up to look at Yoongi’s face and he’s startled to see the fae is already looking at him. Jimin swallows and feels his face heating as the look Yoongi gives him sets him on fire.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Yoongi takes a step closer. His eyes don’t leave Jimin’s for a moment. Jimin’s heart races and he feels a shiver run down his spine at the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze. They move closer to each other, until they’re standing just a breath apart. Jimin is so tense with anticipation, he thinks he’s going to rip apart. His eyes focus on Yoongi’s lips and it takes him a moment to realize the fae is asking him a question.

“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin blinks, then wrenches his eyes away from Yoongi’s lips to his eyes. “Show me the bedroom?”

Yoongi’s lips twitch into a small smile, as if he’s amused by Jimin’s straightforwardness. The next thing Jimin knows, his hand is engulfed by Yoongi’s and he’s being pulled down the open walkway of the hanok that connects each of the rooms until they come to another sliding door.

Yoongi doesn’t waste time opening it and pulling Jimin inside. The natural light, still dim with sunrise, filters through white billowy curtains allowing Jimin to see that the bedroom is just as stunning as the rest of the hanok. In the center of the room, against the back wall, is a raised platform holding a luxurious looking yo mattress. On either side of it are delicate wooden bedside tables with sleek lamps. Everything is creams and greys and accented with dark wood.

Yoongi closes the door and steps towards Jimin until they’re standing a breath apart. Jimin can feel the warmth radiating from Yoongi’s body and he swallows, trying to fight against the urge to close the distance between them. He thinks he might want to just drown himself in Yoongi. Why is he resisting? He doesn’t quite remember.

“Is this okay?” Yoongi asks as he reaches out a hand to cup Jimin’s face.

Jimin hums and nods faintly, leaning into Yoongi’s palm. He closes his eyes and just feels everything. His skin is on fire. Everywhere. He’s in flames. He holds onto some kind of restraint for only a moment longer and then he lets himself fall.

*~*

Yoongi feels Jimin’s lips on his before he even realizes what’s happening. He forgets everything except the way Jimin’s hands feel in his hair, the way their mouths fit together. He gasps into Jimin’s mouth, deepening the kiss, and pulls him closer until there’s no space left between them. Jimin moans softly as he melts into Yoongi, his hands sliding down from Yoongi’s hair to grip onto his hips. Yoongi’s body is on fire and all he wants is more, more, more.

They pull away from each other only for a moment, long enough for Jimin to shrug himself out of Yoongi’s leather jacket. It hits the floor with a soft ‘thunk,’ making Yoongi realize how quiet the room is. He thinks maybe they should stop, should slow down. However, Jimin doesn’t seem to have such reservations, leaning right back into the fae’s space as soon as the jacket is off.

“Hyung,” Jimin whispers into Yoongi’s ear.

Yoongi hums, not wanting to stop as he kisses across Jimin’s cheek down to his jawline.

“I need you closer.”

Yoongi feels his breath hitch as Jimin takes his turn and trails hot, wet kisses down the column of Yoongi’s neck. Almost without thought, Yoongi’s hands are sliding up under Jimin’s shirt, pressing into the soft skin of his torso. Then Jimin is pushing or pulling—Yoongi can’t tell—him back towards the bed, never breaking their kiss until they’re both tumbling down onto the luxurious mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Yoongi is pushed onto his back and Jimin straddles him, rocking his hips just enough to have Yoongi gasping and cursing under his breath. Yoongi’s hands grab at the hem of Jimin’s shirt, pushing up until he’s revealing more and more honey colored skin, then sitting up to reach Jimin’s shoulders, and then Jimin is helping him get it over his head. Without pause, Jimin is pulling Yoongi’s tee off before Yoongi falls back into the mattress again with a groan. Jimin follows him down until he’s pressed against him, chest to chest, kissing Yoongi’s face, neck, collarbones.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out, “Fuck.”

Then Jimin is back with his lips on Yoongi’s. He’s moving slower now, less fiery desperation, more savoring each touch that adds to the arousal pooling in Yoongi’s gut and threatening to explode out of every cell in his body. Jimin is toying with him, edging him with slow rocks of his hips, the fabric of their pants almost painful between them. Yoongi thinks he’s going to combust.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says again between kisses.

Jimin hums in question, but doesn’t stop kissing another trail down Yoongi’s neck. He stops occasionally to nip at the sensitive skin or run his tongue over a spot. Yoongi isn’t sure when, but at some point his eyes shut and all his senses dedicate themselves to feeling the fire burning every place Jimin touches.

Then Jimin’s hips are still, but his hands are everywhere moving up and down Yoongi’s torso reverently, as if he’s touching something precious. Each caress is tantalizing yet gentle, as if Jimin is trying to commit the feel of Yoongi’s body to memory.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face and pulls him in for the most tender kiss they’ve shared so far. When he finally pulls away just enough that their breaths linger together in reverie.

“Tell me you want this,” Jimin whispers.

Yoongi is pretty sure the air has been sucked out of the room, but he manages to whisper back, “I want this.”

Jimin smiles against his lips as he ducks in for another kiss. Then he pulls back a fraction, watching Yoongi’s face and running a hand through Yoongi’s hair.

“Tell me you want me ,” Yoongi whispers, his lungs feeling constricted. He does not know where this vulnerability and insecurity is coming from, but he can’t stop it spilling out of him.

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Yoongi’s eyes and says with a soft smile, “I want you , hyung.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says into a long exhale, the tightness in his chest reigniting the fire the tenderness had dampened.

“Tell me you want me, hyung,” Jimin echoes. “Without magic or spells.”

Yoongi’s hands tighten on Jimin’s hips where they had been resting. “I want you, Jimin-ah. I promise I will never use magic without your consent. I promise I can make you feel so good, you’ll never want another partner without a single symbol or spell.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to let out a long exhale and sigh, “Oh.”

Jimin pulls back just enough for Yoongi to get a good look at his face and the fire in his eyes. His lips are parted slightly, breathing shallowly as he focuses on undoing Yoongi’s pants, biting his bottom lip in concentration.

Yoongi trails his fingers down Jimin’s arms, admiring the flex of his biceps as he works Yoongi’s pants’ zipper down. Then, Jimin is scooting back and pushing the fabric away and off Yoongi’s hips with a gentle pull and a whisper of noise that might be appreciation or something else altogether.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face in both hands again and pulls him into another kiss. This one is slow and deep like they have all the time in the world, exploring each other with their tongues.

Jimin hums softly into Yoongi’s mouth before breaking away for a few seconds to whisper against his lips, “Hyung,” then sinking back into another kiss until their noses brush gently against each other when they part again.

Then Yoongi reaches for Jimin’s pants and helps him rid himself of them, the tight pants taking a bit of work to get off. They giggle at a first failed attempt before they finally join the floor with the rest of the forgotten clothes.

Once they are both naked, Yoongi pushes Jimin back into the mattress and takes a moment to appreciate the man in front of him. Then he trails kisses down Jimin’s neck and chest continuing lower still until he reaches Jimin’s waist. He pauses only for a moment before continuing to work his skin with his lips, tongue, and teeth, paying special attention to his hip bones before moving down to Jimin’s inner thighs. As soon as Yoongi’s hot breath ghosts across the sensitive skin of Jimin’s cock, Jimin bucks up with a gasp at the contact, arching his back in response while Yoongi moves even lower and starts tracing circles around the base of Jimin’s shaft with his tongue already swollen with its own want for attention.

Jimin lets out a low moan as Yoongi sucks gently on the tip, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through him from head to toe. Jimin’s hips buck involuntarily as he tangles one hand in Yoongi’s hair while running circles on pale skin with the other as Yoongi continues to work him slowly and deliberately.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses as Yoongi starts bobbing up and down on him.

“Fuck... hyung,” Jimin says again, voice cracking as Yoongi twists his way up the length and then back down with a wet sound. Jimin’s hips jerk and he groans. Yoongi’s tongue moves all around him as he sucks down Jimin’s entire length. Jimin groans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“Hyung,” Jimin gasps, voice strained, as Yoongi sinks back down and starts bobbing up and down faster.

Jimin’s body shakes with pleasure as Yoongi tightens his grip on Jimin’s waist, bringing him in deeper. A moment later, he comes with a muffled cry into the sheets, covering Yoongi’s hand where it’s wrapped around him, pressed into the aftershocks of orgasm.

Yoongi slowly pulls himself up and collapses onto the bed beside Jimin. He drapes an arm over Jimin, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead tenderly. Jimin smiles blissfully before turning onto his side to face Yoongi.

Yoongi kisses Jimin softly on the lips before placing a slow gentle kiss just below his ear. His lips move down to Jimin’s neck and chest as his hands start tracing gentle circles along Jimin’s skin. Jimin melts into Yoongi’s touch, breathing heavily against him as Yoongi continues exploring every inch of him with both hands and lips, memorizing every curve and dip of skin.

When Yoongi feels Jimin’s skin begin to prickle in goosebumps against his touch he deepens the contact, twining one hand with Jimin’s and pulling their bodies together, very slowly, as their arousal begins to reignite. Jimin breathes out a whimper of sound and presses himself closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder.

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes out in what almost sounds like a whine.

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums, now kissing along Jimin’s collar bone.

“Please,” Jimin actually whines this time. “Hyung-”

Yoongi kisses Jimin’s mouth fully, breath mingling between them because really all he can think about is getting back inside of Jimin as soon as possible. But then he pulls away, slowly trailing kisses across Jimin’s cheek until he reaches his ear.

Yoongi kisses him one last time before pulling back again, taking a moment to reach over for the lube and condoms tucked into the nearest nightstand. He drops the condom on the mattress and snaps open the lube. He looks to Jimin’s face, waits until Jimin’s eager nods give him the signal to keep going.

Yoongi slicks up his fingers and reaches for Jimin, pressing in just barely. He pauses a moment, gazing down at Jimin to see if he’s still okay. Jimin simply nods but it becomes clear that he needs more as his hips begin to shift impatiently against the mattress. Yoongi presses in farther and Jimin gasps at the intrusion. Yoongi moves his other hand down to rest on Jimin’s hip, giving him something to hold onto while he eases his finger in slowly.

Jimin lets out a half-strangled moan as Yoongi presses his lips against Jimin’s. His tongue forages for the delicate sweet spots of Jimin’s mouth, sending sparks of pleasure running through his veins. Yoongi moves his hands over every inch of Jimin’s body, slowly readying him as their kiss deepens with each wave of passion cascading between them.

“Now, hyung,” Jimin croaks desperately. “I need you now.”

Then, in the blink of an eye, Jimin is grabbing the condom, ripping it open, and rolling it down Yoongi’s length. He pulls Yoongi down on top of him, as Yoongi works some extra lube on himself.

Jimin rocks his hips forward, pressing himself against Yoongi’s tip. Then, he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s back and pulls him in closer as he eases Yoongi in inch by perfect inch. They both let out loud moans at the contact, surrounded by the noises of pleasure of their contact.

Yoongi stays still for a few moments afraid he’s not going to last another moment like this. Everything is so hot. He slowly starts to move against Jimin with a delicate rocking of his hips. They’re moving together now, limbs entwined groins pressed together as he thrusts into Jimin over and over.

Jimin groans deep in his throat as Yoongi slides into him again and again, faster now as they move against each other in sync. Jimin plants his feet firmly on the mattress and stretches up to brace his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. Allowing him to pull Yoongi even farther in until Yoongi is buried all the way inside in one complete fluid motion.

Jimin’s walls clamp around Yoongi in a tight constricting fit. He grunts and fucks Jimin hard, trying his best to make the other man see stars. Then he leans down and finds Jimin’s mouth, lips crashing together as they continue to move together in a frenzy of lust and passion.

Yoongi swallows down Jimin’s groans as he lifts his hips into each thrust. In another minute, Jimin arches beneath him as he comes again with a shudder, moaning out Yoongi’s name as he comes. Yoongi keeps moving until he reaches his own peak, coming undone at the seams as he fills the condom deep inside Jimin’s body.

The two of them collapse together on the bed breathing heavily. Before Yoongi lets himself drift off to sleep, he gets himself up to the bathroom to wash up and bring a wet cloth back to Jimin to tidy him up as well. By the time Yoongi is finished Jimin has started to drift off to sleep, so works quickly to clean everything up. He throws the cloth to the side and he climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers around them both and nuzzles against Jimin’s hair, inhaling deeply, and tangling his limbs around Jimin.

His mind drifts as he watches the white curtains flutter in the breeze through the bedroom window. He will never understand the fae who choose to stay in The Dreaming over here. Humans feel and love so intensely. Without these momentous moments, the vividness of human life, how can anyone appreciate the mundane? Yoongi can never imagine having anything but this, living any way but this, loving any way but this. And that is how he drifts off to sleep as the morning songbirds finish up their calls and day truly starts over Seoul.

*~*

Jimin opens his eyes to the sound of low-toned chimes. He is alone on the yo mattress, but he can feel where Yoongi had been lying next to him. The space is still warm, and when Jimin presses his fingers into it, he can even feel Yoongi’s lingering body heat. He slips from the bed and picks up the folded clothes, a simple t-shirt and joggers, that Yoongi had left for him. He slides them over his naked skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. The fabric is soft and smells lightly of citrus, which makes Jimin smile as he heads to the bathroom to freshen up before heading out toward the madang.

Jimin pauses when he sees Yoongi standing at the moon gate with two tall people. Jimin stays back, not wanting to intrude in the tense conversation he can feel emanating from the group. The two people in front of Yoongi are wearing flowy silver robes, their blue hair braided and fastened up in intricate styles. They have sharp features, including long, pointed ears donned with silver rings. Their faces are neutral, but there’s an intense feeling radiating off them that Jimin can’t quite place.

The sight of the courtyard is all rather picturesque with the clearly otherworldly beings standing with Yoongi in front of the moon gate, pond and tree before them, bubbling waters creating a false sense of serenity.

“I really do think it’s in your best interest to accept our invitation, cousin,” one of the blue-haired people said.

“And I told you to fuck off,” growls Yoongi. “I am not accepting your invitation now, nor will I be accepting any in the future.”

Jimin thinks he should duck back inside and not eavesdrop on this conversation anymore, but is distracted then by the tinkling of a little bell. He looks down to see a small black cat rubbing along his shin and then winding around his legs.

“Oh, hello, pretty,” Jimin says brightly. “Where did you come from?”

“I said fucking leave and take that with you,” Yoongi says pointing straight at Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes go round and he feels a pang of fear at Yoongi’s harsh tone. Before he can fully process what’s happening, Yoongi is striding across the madang towards him.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, his tone surprisingly sweet considering the look of irritation on his face. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and I’ll be there in a moment? I just need to kick out these unwanted house guests.”

Jimin nods dumbly and watches as Yoongi kicks towards the cat, who hisses and runs towards the two people still standing at the moon gate. The cat sits next to their feet, eyes narrowing at Yoongi.

“I do hope you take time to reconsider, cousin,” one of the people says. “You cannot simply run away from your responsibilities.”

“Watch me,” Yoongi says confidently. “I hope the door hits you on the way out.”

Then he whirls around to take Jimin’s hand and lead him towards the door to the kitchen. Once seated on a wooden barstool, Jimin watches as Yoongi pulls out a number of containers from the refrigerator. Then he watches as the fae begins to heat various dishes up and starts to set a variety of options out along the bar counter. Jimin waits patiently until he is done serving breakfast—or lunch, really, since it’s already afternoon— and they are well into tucking into their food to ask any of the burning questions on his mind.

“Who were those people? Fae?”

“They,” Yoongi says and waves his hand holding his chopsticks vaguely in front of himself as if trying to shoo away an annoying bug, “are the Sidhe. So, yes, they are fae. And fucking the worst kind, too.”

“And you were fighting with them?”

Yoongi coughs. “I wouldn’t say– no, not fighting exactly? More like strongly disagreeing with them? There has been a push to have me back at Court and I have zero intention of leaving this plane, maybe ever, so…they can keep pining away for me, I guess.”

Jimin picks at some of his kimchi, brow wrinkled in thought. After a moment, he asks, “Why don’t you think you’ll leave here?”

“The Dreaming,” Yoongi sighs, but a faint smile pulls at his lips, “is a very beautiful place. But it’s almost too beautiful. The Dreaming is dull. Lifeless. It’s like nothing ever happens there. Emotions, feelings, sensations are just so much more intense here in The Crossing, and the fae can experience that, but only here.”

Jimin sits with his mouth hanging open slightly as he processes this new information. He’s annoyed at himself for not paying attention more to all things related to fae. He doesn’t exactly want to give away how much he doesn’t know.

“They called you cousin,” Jimin finally says, hoping for a safe topic that doesn’t belie too much of his ignorance.

“Ah,” Yoongi says, nodding and swallowing down a spoonful of rice. “They call every other fae cousin, really. But in my case it’s actually true, since I’m half Sidhe.”

Jimin’s brow wrinkles further as he’s suddenly reminded of a forgotten school lesson. “I didn’t think Sidhe mingled outside of their own. In fact, I didn’t even know they came to this plane.”

“Well, my parents seem to be the exception that proves the rule, with my mother straying into a human’s bed,” Yoongi says with a twist of his lips. Jimin can’t tell if he’s displeased or amused. Maybe both. “But you’re right. Sidhe mostly only travel to The Crossing to retrieve fae and issue invitations to Court.”

“Oh,” Jimin says. “So, that’s what they were talking about? You being invited to Court? Like some kind of official summons?”

Yoongi laughs and gives Jimin an almost fond smile, and then leans forward, bringing a hand to his mouth, like he’s sharing a secret. “Doesn’t really matter. I’ve no intention of going. I like it here.”

Jimin feels his heart clench. He’s overcome with a desire to make sure he does what he can to stay in Yoongi’s orbit. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. Yesterday, he was sure all fae were duplicitous, manipulative assholes. Today he’s entertaining thoughts of having the fae before him be something more than a one night stand.

Yoongi’s phone vibrates from the counter, where he apparently left it. He gets up to check, brow furrowed as he scrolls through what Jimin imagines to be many messages.

That reminds Jimin to check his own phone, shut off the night before. His friends are probably worried after his sudden departure last night. He feels a stab in his gut when he remembers why he left suddenly last night. In the light of day, in this beautiful hanok, in front of a fae that has done nothing but be honest and kind to him, Jimin feels a small pang of guilt for his reaction. Still, they should have told him from the beginning.

Still, Jimin decides to go find his phone and check his messages. Back in the bedroom, he sits on the edge of the mattress while his phone boots up. He waits for the messages to come. But there is only one. There is tightness in his chest, as he waits, hoping maybe he just didn’t have enough signal or something.

He feels sadness cascade over him as he clicks into the only message—from Jungkook—that simply reads, “I’m sorry hyung.” His finger hovers over the call button, but then he decides to wait. He’d call later, when he’s had more time to think.

“Shall I take you home?” Yoongi says. He’s standing in the open doorway, leaning on the frame. He’s a vision in the afternoon sunlight, all soft in cozy grey clothes, the green of the courtyard behind him.

Jimin takes a deep breath and buries the sadness, anger, and guilt to be unpacked and dealt with later. He pastes a cheeky smile on his face and says, “Only if I can get your number first, hyung.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure Jimin was actually going to text him back. Not after the absolute shitshow that was the Friends Only and then whatever it is they are calling his spending the night. No, he absolutely never expects to hear from the man again. And yet. And yet, Yoongi finds he cannot stop thinking about him.

If he didn’t know better, he might start worrying the man had spelled him in some way. If anything, he is starting to understand why all of his friends have been so protective of him. There’s some kind of magnetism to Park Jimin.

Yoongi isn’t even thinking about the sex—well, not thinking exclusively about the sex, maybe—but rather catches himself wondering what Jimin might be doing at any particular moment. While Yoongi is picking up lunch for Namjoon and himself, he wonders if Jimin is eating now, too. While Yoongi is washing his face and brushing his teeth before bed, he wonders if Jimin is already asleep. Stupid, cheesy shit like that that Yoongi would never admit to in a million years out loud.

That’s why, after a full week passes, when Yoongi was working late in his studio, he ignores the buzzing of his phone. This track is almost done, he’s just looking for the perfect sound to complete the texture he’s going for. He’s proud of himself, really, he’s gone almost a half day without thinking about Jimin—does thinking about not thinking about Jimin count as thinking about Jimin or—, hyperfocusing on this track instead. Sometimes he thanks the goddesses he was blessed with very human ADHD.

With a feeling of victory blooming in his chest, he finds the right gong sound he needs and slots it into the track. He plays the whole thing back with a faint smile on his face. Perfect. He can tell this is going to be a hit. Yoongi saves the file, renders it down to a wav file, and emails it to Namjoon and the other PD on the team. Then he pushes himself back from the desk, chair gliding smoothly across the wood floor of his studio. He leans back and stares up at the ceiling for a while before he starts to wonder what time it is.

Yoongi grabs his phone off his desk with a flourish, twirling his desk chair around in a circle. As he’s spinning, his phone lights up. 2:00am. Not bad. He definitely thought it was way later. Cool. Then he slams his feet into the ground, coming to a complete halt, as he taps on the text message notification and sees the sender is Jimin.

“Can we meet,” is all the message says. Yoongi feels a little coil of anxiety in his gut.

He texts back immediately a “sure thing, when is good” and stares at his own words in embarrassment debating whether he should be allowed access to any communication devices.

“Why are you awake?” comes the next text from Jimin.

Yoongi bites back a smile. He shoots back, “Why are YOU awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” Jimin sends back.

“Just finished work,” Yoongi replies.

“Hyung...it’s a Saturday-no, now it’s a Sunday morning,” Jimin writes.

Yoongi chuckles. “Gotta work when inspiration strikes.”

“So, can we meet?” Jimin writes after a few moments.

Yoongi chews on his bottom lip. He eyes the time, calculates how quickly he can get home and sleep, before writing back, “Sure, Bubbles and Brew 11am?”

“K,” is all Jimin responds with.

Yoongi debates the entire time he's packing up whether to write a good night message, but decides against it by the time he's flicking off his studio's lights. No need to make things weird. More weird, whatever.

Jimin almost bails on the whole “meet Yoongi and see about maybe seeing him again” plan four separate times before he finds himself standing in front of Bubbles and Brew a good fifteen minutes early. He hesitates outside the door, feeling his heart race in his chest. This is a bad idea, he thinks to himself. He’s already mad at the five apparent-fae in his life, he shouldn’t be inviting another in. And yet, here he is, sliding into a booth towards the back of the café, and pretending to read through the extensive menu.

“Hey there,” comes a deep, gravely voice and soft rustle of fabric as Yoongi settles into the booth across from Jimin.

The first thing Jimin thinks is “soft.” Yoongi’s hair is clearly freshly washed and dried, but then unstyled. He’s makeup free and wearing could only be described as one step above pajamas, but perhaps not actually meant to leave the house in, dark sweats and well-worn Epik High hoodie. Jimin is overwhelmed with the desire to fold himself into all that softness and maybe never leave.

Instead of launching himself into the fae, he manages to croak out a “hey” instead. Very smooth.

Thankfully a waitress comes by and takes their drink orders before the awkward stretches on for too long. But she’s gone all too quickly and Jimin is left tracing his eyes along the knots in the wood of the tabletop.

“You needed to see me?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin glances up and Yoongi is eyeing him curiously. He clears his throat and answers, “Yeah, I mean. Need might be too strong of a word. I wanted– no, yeah, yeah– I wanted to see you.”

Jimin can feel the unforgiving red blush burn across his face all the way up to his ears. Yeah, this is going incredibly well. He watches Yoongi’s face like watching a trainwreck. He can’t look away even though he knows this is all going to end in disaster. However, Yoongi surprises him. He smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up higher than the other.

“I wanted to see you too,” he says softly, but confidently. Jimin’s heart skips a beat at the words, the warmth in Yoongi’s eyes sending a thrill through him.

The silence stretches between them as the waitress brings their drinks, an iced coffee for Yoongi and a strawberry bubble tea for Jimin. She sets them down and disappears without comment. The conversation starts off with Yoongi asking about Jimin’s work as a choreographer. Jimin, always eager to talk about his passion, explains the details of what he’s working on. He talks about the different movements he has and how they tell a story, getting more animated as he continues.

Jimin feels a warmth in his chest at the way Yoongi seems entranced by his words as if he’s never heard someone talk about dancing with such enthusiasm and admiration before.

Jimin then steers the conversation towards Yoongi and his new song he’s working on. He asks all kinds of questions leading Yoongi to open up about his process and what kind of music he likes to create.

Before either of them know it, two hours have gone by in what feels like no time at all. Jimin can’t believe how easily the conversation has been flowing between them. He hadn’t expected Yoongi to be so talkative and honest, or that they would have this much in common. He starts to think that maybe he’d been wrong about fae all along.

Maybe, just maybe, Jimin concedes that he's let a few bad fae influence his judgment of the whole. Yoongi has been nothing but kind, open, funny, protective. If anything, he reminds Jimin of his friends, who, turns out, are also fae—that thought has his stomach dropping. Jimin starts to think maybe he's the one that is going to need to apologize. Of course, there's the matter of them having lied to him. Perhaps lied by omission, but still lied. Maybe he's still a little angry and a lot hurt.

As the conversation dies down and their drinks are empty, Jimin can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that it’s over.

“Can we do this again?” Jimin asks as they wave the waitress over to pay for their drinks.

Yoongi, busy using his phone to pay,—“hyung pays, don’t argue, Jimin-ah”—hums in agreement. Once the waitress has cleared their empty cups away and wished them a good rest of their day, Yoongi says with a blush to his cheeks but no hesitation in his voice, “How about dinner? Sometime this week?”

And, as if by magic, but not the bad kind, Jimin is sure, that is how Park Jimin, human, and Min Yoongi, fae, start dating. Or, at the very least, start meeting regularly for coffee and meals and blush-filled chats.

They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months. No labels yet. Mostly they are just talking and sharing stories, listening to music and watching movies, doing a little bit of kissing. Okay, maybe a lot of kissing and occasionally a lot more than kissing. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever felt lighter. He might even have the clichéd spring in his step—nauseating.

He still has worries, like getting this album finished for the latest idol group debuting in a few weeks or how Jimin still hasn’t really talked to his friends. If he’s honest, both are keeping him up at night at this point.

Yoongi sees the impact of Jimin’s prolonged silence on the other fae. Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook are especially despondent. However, none of them seem to want to make the first move. Hoseok keeps saying “Jimin needs his space” and Yoongi is about ready to lock them all in a room until they talk it out. Yoongi isn’t a meddler. He hates meddlers. But everyone is hurting and it’s stupid.

That’s why, when he gets the anonymous text message about another Friends Only, he lights up in excitement. Jimin, given the horrendous events of the last Friends Only, might be harder to convince to attend, but it’s the perfect place for everyone to meet up and hash things out once and for all.

As luck would have it, Yoongi is already picking up Jimin for lunch. He nervously twiddles with his phone as he sits in the driver’s seat of his car out front of the younger’s dance studio, waiting for him to come out. Yoongi knows he has to approach this conversation tactfully. Yes, tactfully.

He pulls out the small jewelry box from the glovebox and pops the lid open. A thin silver chain necklace with a pendant shaped like a graceful dragon made of interwoven lines whose body wound protectively around most of a green jade orb. He fingers at it anxiously, feeling the spells flutter and react to his touch.

Yoongi snaps the box shut as the passenger door opens and Jimin drops into the seat with a tired sigh.

“Long morning?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin stretches his neck, eyes closed in exhaustion. “It was good, but tiring. I’m so sore. What’s that?”

Jimin is eying the jewelry box in Yoongi’s hand.

“Ah– uh, this?” Yoongi stammers. He vaguely recalls about 30 seconds ago he was determined to be tactful.

“Yeah, that. What is it?” Jimin repeats, now pointing with his finger at the box.

Yoongi hands it over with a sheepish smile. “It’s for you.”

Jimin looks at him in surprise before opening the box and gasping. The dark silver dragon glitters in the sun.

“Before you put it on,” Yoongi starts.

Jimin freezes where he sits, hands still pinching at the clasp of the necklace.

“It’s uh– It’s spelled?” Yoongi says, though he sounds so unsure it comes out as a question.

Jimin drops the necklace into his lap. “What do you mean it’s spelled?”

Yoongi flounders, flapping his hands trying to assuage the other and gain back his composure. He’s not sure he’s successful on either count, judging by the angry glint in Jimin’s eyes now.

“I– okay, it’s warded. There are symbols of protection embedded in the chain, the pendant. I just thought,” Yoongi struggles to find the words. He glances at Jimin’s face and instead of seeing anger, all he sees is soft adoration and patience. Okay. “The wards will make it so no one can spell you without your explicit permission. And they cannot take the necklace off. Only you can. That way– that way, you can maybe feel a little bit safer. From us.”

His words trail off and end in an almost-whisper. He keeps his eyes firmly on Jimin’s hands, which are lightly brushing the silver chain of the necklace in his lap.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, running a finger over the jade. He links the necklace around his neck, pulling down the car’s visor and flipping open the mirror, admiring how the pendant looks against the dip between his collarbones.

Yoongi allows himself a small grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“So,” Jimin says brightly as he pulls on his seatbelt. “Where are we going for lunch?”

Jimin can tell Yoongi is nervous. He watches as the older man picks at his noodles with his chopsticks, other hand drumming fingers on the tabletop. He’s like a ball of energy waiting to explode.

“Is something wrong, hyung?” Jimin finally asks. He’d finished his food several minutes ago, but Yoongi, eyes focused on his food, is still just pushing his meal around in his bowl.

The question seems to startle Yoongi. He looks up, surprise on his face, as he takes in the fact that he’s been zoning out and Jimin has already eaten.

“Right, yeah,” Yoongi says. “I’m fine. I did have something I wanted to ask though.”

Jimin feels a bit apprehensive and he plays with the pendant of his new necklace. He knows it’s strange to get such a nice gift, out of the blue, especially when they aren’t really a gift-giving couple. He mind whirls as he tries to guess what’s going on, but nothing he comes up with makes sense.

“I was kind of hoping you might come with me to the Friends Only tonight?” Yoongi finally asks, voice quiet.

“Oh.”

“I know– we didn’t really ever talk about the last one. And it wasn’t great, obviously, what happened. But we met? So, I guess that is good? And I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to see– to go,” Yoongi finishes with a stutter.

Jimin eyes him for a moment, fingers still touching the dragon pendant. “I don’t know, hyung.”

“I– I admit that is maybe why I gave you the necklace,” Yoongi says, waving towards Jimin’s neckline. Jimin immediately drops his hand and pretends like he hasn’t been admiring the jewelry ever since he put it on in the car.

“If you wear that, then you’ll be protected from any fae at the Friend Only. We could just go for a couple hours. Maybe have a drink. I might be persuaded to dance,” Yoongi says. Jimin notices his definite wince when he suggests dancing. A smile erupts unbidden from Jimin’s lips.

“Okay, hyung,” Jimin says, voice teasing. “You win. We’ll go. But you have to do a battle.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, matching Jimin’s smile.

“And dance with me,” Jimin adds.

Yoongi’s smile drops. He sits dejectedly for a minute, clearly pretending to weigh his options, but Jimin knows he’s already got him.

Yoongi fusses with the collar of the flannel shirt he decided to wear. He's standing in front of his bathroom mirror, assessing his look. Normally, he wouldn't care this much. But he's nervous. Not date-nervous, but more I've-set-my-friends-up-to-reconcile nervous. He's not stupid enough to think there's no possible way for this plan to backfire. In fact, his brain has been kindly supplying all the gruesome ways this could backfire for the entire afternoon, since dropping Jimin back off at work.

Before he knows it, he's knocking on Jimin's apartment door, shaking out the non-existent wrinkles in his flannel shirt that is hanging open. Quickly, Jimin opens the door, looking stunning in a black leather jacket—Yoongi's leather jacket that never found its way home again, which is perfectly fine, in Yoongi's opinion—and dark jeans.

"Hey," Jimin greets him, his eyes scanning over Yoongi’s outfit. "You look good."

"So do you," Yoongi greets back, and leans in to give Jimin a sweet kiss on the lips. He offers Jimin an elbow. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's," Jimin says, twining his arm with Yoongi's.

They park several blocks away and walk to the warehouse.

The night is cool, but considerably warmer than it had been the last time there was a Friends Only. Jimin automatically wraps himself under Yoongi's arm in a way that leaves Yoongi entirely too pleased. Yoongi's hand finds its way to Jimin's waist underneath the leather jacket. Yoongi feels warm and comfortable. He feels happy, he realizes. This is what happiness feels like.

Jimin is mid-giggle at something Yoongi had said when a tall figure steps out in front of the two of them. Jimin immediately tenses and goes quiet and Yoongi tightens his arm around him protectively.

"Min Yoongi-ssi," the sylph says. He looks much the same as he did at the last Friends Only. The one he was banned from.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. Nor have I given you permission to use my name," Yoongi says coldly. "I am also under the impression you shouldn't be anywhere near Seoul. Or The Crossing, for that matter."

The sylph smirks and laughs. Cocky and stupid, Yoongi thinks. He leans over the both of them as he says, "I don't think the Sidhe's naming conventions apply in The Crossing, Min Yoongi-ssi. My name is Ah Minsu."

There's an awkward silence as Yoongi does not return the greeting.

"I wanted to apologize to you," Minsu continues. He's still looking at Yoongi. In fact, he hasn't looked Jimin's way once. "I didn't realize this little human was yours. I would have never presumed. Of course, humiliating me in front of half the fae in Seoul and getting me banned from the Friends Only, might be a bit too much, don't you think? All over some human?"

Yoongi bristles and he feels Jimin tense ever further into his side.

"I'd suggest you watch your words," Yoongi says tightly, hand unconsciously tightening on Jimin's waist.

Minsu's smile turns into a sneer. "I see. You're still playing at being king, even here in The Crossing. But that's fine, Min Yoongi-ssi. Let's not make this a scene. Enjoy your evening."

The sylph steps back, giving them a mocking bow, before slipping away into the darkness of the alley he had come from. Yoongi and Jimin stand there for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

"I-" Yoongi starts, his mind trying to catch up with what just happened. "We can go. I had no idea he was still here. I thought they'd banished him back to The Dreaming."

"No," Jimin says firmly. "No, I'm not going to let some asshole ruin our night. Let's go."

Yoongi watches Jimin's face and sees nothing but determination there. Still, he asks, "Are you-"

Jimin cuts him off with a glare before he finishes his sentence. Instead, still under Yoongi's arm, he steers them towards the dark, silent warehouse.

In Yoongi's list of "Things that Could Go Catastrophically Wrong with My Meddling," the sylph, Minsu, showing up had not actually made the cut. This is mostly due to Yoongi not having actually checked with Jin or Namjoon to make sure Minsu had been banned not just from the Friends Only, but from the plane entirely. Yoongi is mentally kicking himself for that oversight now.

"Yoongi-chi! Jimin-ah! You're here!" sing-songs a cheerful Jin as the two step into the din of the warehouse. Jin is all smiles and waves his hand off towards the dance floor. "The others are around! They'll be happy to see you."

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but Jin is already off, dipping back into the crowd. Yoongi glances over at Jimin to see the other looking rather shell-shocked. This whole plan was, in fact, an extremely terrible idea.

Yoongi leans into Jimin's ear to ask, "Are you okay? Maybe we should just go?"

Jimin shakes his head. "Let's dance."

Yoongi nods slowly and lets himself be pulled into the mass on the dance floor. The bass is pounding a moderate rhythm and the bodies writhing around him making him feel particularly on edge. But then Jimin's front is pressed up against his and everything else fades away. Rather than dancing, Yoongi feels he's doing everything to keep up with Jimin's movements, trying to match his gyrating hips and fluid body. He's entranced by the way Jimin moves, and how the leather jacket is open to reveal the white tee molded to his body, emphasizing every curve. He can feel the sweat starting to gather on their skin as they dance closer together. Jimin’s eyes are dark, intense, and unbelievably beautiful. Yoongi feels he’s falling into them.

They move together for what feels like hours until Jimin is winding them down and Yoongi is panting from the heat and intensity of it all. As they make their way off the dance floor, they're stopped by Hoseok and Jungkook.

"Hyung," Jungkook says nervously at Jimin. "Are you– Can I-"

Jungkook's forehead is wrinkled with frustration, his face set into a frown. Yoongi feels a bit sorry for him because he can see concern and anxiety in the way that Jungkook has one hand grasped around Hoseok's upper arm. And in fact, both fae look downcast and anxious.

"Hey, how about I go find V or whoever is working sign-ups tonight? You said you wanted me to battle, right?" Yoongi asks Jimin.

Jimin, looking nervous himself, nods gratefully. "Yeah, I'll meet you over there after the battle?"

"V is on duty tonight," Hoseok confirms with a nervous smile.

Yoongi nods and wants to say more to Jimin. He wants to remind Jimin to call if he needs anything. He wants to tell Jimin to stick with Hoseok and Jungkook until the battle. He wants to become the overprotective mother-hen. But he swallows all that down. Instead he says, "See you after the battle."

Jimin gives him a quick squeeze and then Yoongi pulls away and walks off in search of Jimin's soulmate. One glance back gives him a partial view through the crowd of Jimin standing in front of the other two, all three men tense and unsure. Yoongi hopes they work things out.

Yoongi finds V easily enough and is herded quickly to the pit. After arriving late to the party, the battles are just about to start and Yoongi is grateful for getting slotted in anyway.

The competition is more fierce this time. There are some real talents here that Yoongi has to respect, and he finds himself pushing his limits to keep up with them. It becomes a game of who can rap the fastest and come up with the best lyrics.

The crowd around him is alive, shouting out encouragement and screaming for the participants. The energy is electric as Yoongi focuses on his performance. All his worries about Jimin and his friends go away as he throws himself into the flow of words and beats. He's lost in the music and nothing else matters to him besides winning this competition.

When it all comes down to just him and one other rap battler, Yoongi knows he has to pull out all the stops if he wants to win this one. He puts everything he has left into his last few verses until finally emerging victoriously as the winner of the night.

He looks around the crowd for Jimin. Except he's not there. There's not a single familiar face in the crowd at all. Yoongi ignores the sensation of anxiety bubbling under his skin. Jimin probably got caught up talking and catching up with his friends. That must be it.

Still, when Namjoon and Jin make their way through the crowd to him, twin looks of worry etched into their faces, Yoongi feels his anxiety come back in full force.

"Yoongi," Jin is saying. "Yoongi, have you seen Jimin?"

"Not since the battle started," Yoongi says, trying to swallow down the panic. "He was with Seok-ah and Jungkook-ah."

"Apparently, he got upset and walked away from them," Namjoon says. "They thought he went looking for you, but if you haven't seen him-"

"He left," Yoongi concludes. For a moment, he's upset with Hoseok and Jungkook for saying something to upset Jimin. Then he's a little hurt Jimin would leave without coming to find him first. Then– "Wait. Wait, Joon-ah."

Yoongi can't say it out loud. His veins are filled with ice and the lump in his throat is strangling him. He can't breathe.

"Hyung?" Namjoon asks. He holds Yoongi's elbow, which Yoongi is infinitely grateful for because he's pretty sure he's going to pass out.

"Ah Minsu," Yoongi chokes out.

"That asshole sylph?" Jin says, confused.

"He was here," Yoongi is now sure he's going to throw up, rather than pass out. "He was here. Outside."

"What?!" Jin screeches. Without wasting more time, he's gone, pushing his way through the last of the crowd standing around the pit.

Namjoon stays, though, still practically holding Yoongi up. "It'll be okay, hyung. Hyung'll find him."

Yoongi nods mutely. He's pretty sure this is all his fault, somehow. He's not sure exactly where he went wrong, but he's pretty sure he fucked up big time. And now Jimin was in danger.

Jimin wipes a tear away from his cheek, angrily. He feels so embarrassed and stupid . His footsteps are the only noise in the otherwise quiet street that leads to the closest train station. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are in his jacket pockets—Yoongi’s jacket pockets—with his right hand holding on to his phone.

He toys with the idea of calling Yoongi. He should call Yoongi, really. But he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about everything yet. If what Hobi says is true, Yoongi is basically royalty , the heir to Sidhe throne or whatever they call the head seat at the Seelie Court. That, on top of the information Jungkook had given him about how Jungkook is some kind of imugi and basically imprinted as a guardian to Jimin for life, is just too much.

Instead of feeling betrayed like he had two months ago, Jimin just feels stupid for not knowing all of these things—for not asking—for never showing the slightest bit of interest in his friends’ lives. How anyone is still friends with him is beyond him. He’s been so selfish and cruel. Embarrassing. He wipes away another tear that was rolling down his face without permission.

He feels his phone vibrate and he pulls it out to see Yoongi is calling him. He hovers over the big red “reject call” button, but decides against it. He’s not going to run away from his problems anymore.

“Hey, hyung,” Jimin says. He’s glad his voice is only minimally shaky.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out his name in a sigh. Relief, Jimin thinks. “Where are you? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I left without telling you,” Jimin says. “That was stupid of me.”

“You’re not stupid, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi replies easily. “Hyung was just worried.”

“Sorry,” Jimin says again. “I just, I needed some air and some space. I’m okay. I’m just heading to the train station. I’m just going to head home.”

There’s a pause on the line. Jimin looks around himself, along the poorly lit street, but he can see the light of the subway station about 3 blocks away.

“I can come get you,” Yoongi says quietly, hesitantly. “Just to take you home. So you don’t have to ride the train so late.”

“No, no, it’s okay, hyung,” Jimin says quickly, feeling guilty for his impulsive decision. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Text me tonight when you get home, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says.

“Sure thing, hyung,” Jimin says and hangs up.

Jimin pockets his phone feeling decidedly guilty for causing so much worry. Worrying his friends. Worrying Yoongi.

“So cute,” a voice says with a slow clap.

Jimin freezes in his tracks as he sees Ah Minsu approach, sneering and arrogant. His fists clench in twin feelings of rage and fear as he feels the phone in his pocket, emotions bubbling up inside of him. He can feel a fire rising from within, his blood turning to acid as Ah Minsu stands like a snarky, immovable wall before him.

“What? No hello?” Minsu leers. “That’s very rude. Especially when I’m here to help you.”

Jimin’s frown deepens and he takes a step back, his eyes never leaving the ground. He glances around for an escape route but realizes that the street is dark, blackness falling everywhere. Was the street this dark a moment ago? He can make out a doorway to his right and the glow of the subway station sign 3 blocks away, feeling much further away than it had just a minute ago.

“Get to the point,” Jimin grits out as he turns his attention back to the sylph in front of him.

Minsu tuts. The smile that stretches his face has a shiver running up Jimin’s spine. “Well, somehow, the Court got wind that Min Yoongi-ssi has been fraternizing with humans. Could be bad for him. Could get him sent back to The Dreaming. Permanently.”

Jimin freezes at that, looking at the sylph’s face. This guy is an asshole and a liar, but the idea that Yoongi could be banned from coming here to Seoul—permanently has Jimin feeling panicked. Jimin cannot, will not, be the reason Yoongi loses the one place he’s said makes him feel alive. And if there’s even a grain of truth–

“However, there’s an easy way to get that cleared up. At Court. You just need to tell them that you’re consenting and whatever it is he’s done to you was with your permission,” Minsu says easily with a shrug. The smirk on his face shows much he’s enjoying watching Jimin’s discomfort grow.

“You want me to go to the Seelie Court? Is that even possible?” Jimin asks.

“Of course, it’s possible with an invitation,” Minsu says. “Luckily for you, I have a pretty decent standing within the Court myself. So I can issue you an invitation, no problem.”

Jimin eyes the fae in front of him. This could be a trick. It’s not like the sylph has done anything trustworthy at this point.

“What is in it for you?” Jimin asks.

Minsu laughs, amused. “You humans are so quick to think that we fae want something from your kind. Maybe I’m just doing a good deed. I heard about Min Yoongi-ssi being in trouble and decided I would help out.”

Jimin scoffs. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“Well, what about your other friends? Jung Hoseok? Jeon Jungkook?” Minsu asks.

Jimin’s chest squeezes in panic. His face must betray his worry because Minsu is tutting again. Smirk growing into a satisfied grin.

“Just think, Min Yoongi-ssi’s mistake,” Minsu says, his face wrinkling a bit in disgust at the word ‘mistake,’ “could impact his whole circle of friends. They could all end up permanently banned.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jimin says, head feeling heavy.

“Well, the fae take misdeeds in The Crossing very seriously. Prolonged fraternization is a very serious offense. But it can be cleared up so easily.”

Jimin cannot go anywhere with Minsu. That would be stupid. How can he trust anything this fae says?

“In fact, let me prove to you what I’m saying,” Minsu speaks again. “Let me introduce my good friend, the Sidhe.”

Jimin watches another tall person step out of the darkness to stand next to Minsu. They are in billowing robes of silver with dark blue hair in a fancy mass of braids on top of their head. They remind Jimin of the other two Sidhe who visited Yoongi’s hanok two months ago.

“My dear cousin,” the Sidhe says, bowing to Minsu, “is correct that Min Yoongi-ssi, as you know him, is being sought out by the Court.”

Jimin nods at this. He’s wishing, not for the first time, he knew more about the fae and the Court. After this is over, he’s going to invest in some books, maybe take a class, or maybe ask his friends for a crash course, if he can suck up his embarrassment.

“I would like to extend an invitation to you, Park Jimin-ssi,” the Sidhe says, voice laced with a soft accent. Jimin is surprised when they hold out a thin, burgundy card. Jimin steps forward to automatically take it with both hands. He sees what must be the Seelie Court seal and feels his face fall at the thought that this might be the truth.

Jimin looks at the card, unseeing, as he thinks about the potential consequences if all of his friends are permanently banned to The Dreaming. They would lose all the lives they have built here in Seoul. And it will be all Jimin’s fault.

“What do I have to do?” Jimin asks, squaring his shoulders.

“Easy, accept the invitation and just step through this door here,” Minsu smiles and gestures to the door in the building to their right. “We’ll just pop through and clear this up right away.”

“Will you accept my invitation, Park Jimin-ssi?” the Sidhe asks.

“Alright,” Jimin says. He’ll text Yoongi once he’s there, he thinks. Hopefully, this will all be over soon, once this misunderstanding is cleared up. He turns to face the Sidhe and says, “I accept your invitation.”

The Sidhe goes through the door first. From where Jimin is standing, nothing much happens. The Sidhe steps through to what looks like the door to an abandoned office, part of some industrial complex of some kind. Jimin figures it's like the warehouse for the Friends Only, spelled to look ordinary. Minsu is then gesturing him through before he can think much more on it. Without a glance backwards, Jimin steps through the dark doorway to the Seelie Court.

Dawn starts creeping over the horizon, spilling warm light into the hanok, when Yoongi really starts panicking. All of Yoongi’s texts go unanswered and his eventual calls go straight to voicemail. When his buzzing at Jimin’s apartment are only met with silence, Yoongi decides to call in the rest of their friend group.

“Jungkook-ah, have you heard from Jimin?” Yoongi asks while on speaker driving to a local coffee shop he knows Jimin sometimes goes to people-watch.

“Jimin hyung?” Jungkook asks. “What do you mean?”

“He isn’t answering his phone. I haven’t talked to him since he was walking to the train last night,” Yoongi says, feeling incredibly stupid for taking so long to realize Jimin might actually be missing.

“Hyung,” Jungkook sounds broken as he utters the word.

“I know, Kook-ah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, hyung,” Jungkook says.

“Maybe,” Yoongi doesn’t feel like belaboring the point. This is definitely his fault though.

“I’ll call the others,” Jungkook says. “I’ll let you know if we hear from him.”

“Thanks, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, pulling into a parking space in front of the coffee shop.

Jimin isn’t at the coffee shop. None of the baristas have seen him today. Yoongi’s heart races as he leaves the coffee shop and heads back to his car. He tries calling Jimin again, praying to any god that might be listening this time it goes through.

It doesn’t.

He drives to Bubbles and Brew where they’d had their first kind-of-date. He drives to the movie theater, the fancy Japanese restaurant, the park by the Han River. Yoongi even tries the cat café where Jimin had confessed he's actually quite allergic to cats, but only after they had been in the café for 15 minutes.

Jimin isn’t anywhere.

“Let’s meet at your house, hyung,” Taehyung says over the phone. No one had better luck than Yoongi.

Namjoon arrives late to Yoongi’s hanok, his brow furrowed with worry. Yoongi can see him hesitating at the doorway before joining the others. Everyone else is gathered around Yoongi’s kitchen and dining area. Jin and Taehyung are sifting through their phones, trying to find any more contacts that might be able to help. Jungkook paces. Hoseok stares at the wall, unseeing, clearly lost in what is probably some kind of self-destructive spiral.

“Come in, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says, when the man doesn’t move.

Namjoon toes off his shoes and steps into the room. “Hyung, I’ve been conferring with some of my acquaintances who might know that sylph, Ah Minsu. From what I’ve gathered, he has been planning something. He’s been asking around about you. And about Hoseok and Jungkook. It doesn’t really make sense, but it can’t be good.”

Yoongi allows himself a moment to internally berate himself. The “should have” list is long. He should have taken care of that asshole from the beginning. He should have made sure he was actually banned. He should have made sure Jimin would be protected.

Just then, there is the low chime of someone calling at the door. Yoongi stands up quickly, slips outdoor shoes on at the step, and makes his way across the madang to the front gate. Anger flares in him as he sees the two Sidhe standing before him.

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” one of them says.

“Look, now isn’t a good time,” Yoongi starts.

“Ah, yes,” the other Sidhe says. “You might be worrying about that little human. Park Jimin-ssi.”

Yoongi looks sharply at the second Sidhe. “What do you know about Park Jimin?”

“It seems one of our cousins issued an invitation to Court and Park Jimin-ssi accepted,” the first Sidhe says.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi snarls out. “There is no way in this plane or any fucking other that Jimin would accept an invitation to the fucking Seelie Court willingly.”

“You know as well I do, cousin,” the second Sidhe says, “that invitations must be consented to. I can assure you, Park Jimin-ssi, willingly accepted our cousin’s invitation.”

“Bullshit,” Yoongi spits out. “That’s complete bullshit.”

“No matter,” the first Sidhe sniffs. “We’re here to issue you an invitation to Court, cousin.”

The Sidhe proffers a red invitation, holding it out for Yoongi to take. Yoongi angrily grabs the card with one hand and slams the metal door shut in the two Sidhes’ faces.

“Fuck,” Yoongi says to the door. “Fuck!”

“What happened, hyung?” Jungkook asks from the courtyard.

Yoongi turns to see that everyone is standing there by the pond, waiting for news.

“Jimin’s at Court,” Yoongi says flatly. He glances down at the burgundy card in his hand. His skin crawls at the sight of it. Wishes burning it would change reality. “He’s at fucking Court.”

The silence that hangs over the madang is palpable. No one moves, all eyes on Yoongi. Yoongi doesn't know for how long everything freezes in place—a minute? an hour? Then–

“Why would he be at Court, hyung?” Hoseok asks. His eyes are wide.

“Maybe he didn’t know you can say no to the invitation,” Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi’s heart breaks at how desolate Jungkook’s voice is.

Namjoon says, sounding as forlorn as Yoongi feels, “He didn’t know enough. We could have protected him better by telling him more. We should have done a better job preparing him.”

Jin’s face turns an angry red as he murmurs, “How could none of you have talked to Jimin about fae matters?”

“We all dragged him into this mess,” Taehyung says, almost to himself, his jaw clenching.

There’s another tense silence as everyone wrestles their own thoughts. Yoongi feels a wave of guilt wash over him as Jin’s words sink in. He had been so caught up in his own feelings for Jimin that he hadn’t even considered how unsafe it might be for him to be around the fae. He had let his own desires cloud his judgment, and now Jimin was paying the price.

“We couldn’t have foreseen this though,” Hoseok says gently.

The air suddenly seems heavy and charged with emotion as everyone eyes each other.

Namjoon’s jaw clenches tightly as he snarls, “It wasn’t me who didn’t talk to him for two months!”

“Why are you trying to pin this on me? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Hoseok says, his voice rising in pitch as he slams his arms against his chest.

“But you do see him every day, don’t you?” Namjoon snaps back.

“This isn’t an office! We’re dancing! All of us have different classes and assignments!” Hoseok yells. “Besides, any one of you could have just as easily called him. Phones exist, you know.”

“He needed better protection,” Taehyung says. Then he suddenly rounds on Jungkook. “Aren’t you supposed to be his Guardian? Where were you?”

Jungkook flinches as if Taehyung hit him and looks near tears at the accusation and looks down at the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where he was or that he was in danger. I should have been more vigilant.”

“It’s not just Jungkook’s fault,” Yoongi says, stepping forward to defend the maknae. “None of us were paying enough attention to Jimin’s safety. We were all too caught up in our own bullshit to think through the consequences.”

Hoseok slams his fist on the wooden porch railing. Yoongi watches as everyone starts screaming at one another, no one even listening to the others’ words anymore. Yoongi feels his temper flare as the argument spirals out of control. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The anger fizzles out immediately, leaving anguish and fear in its wake.

“Enough!” Yoongi growls loudly, pulling the symbol for peace as he yells. The group falls silent immediately. Yoongi softens his tone as he says, “We can fight among ourselves later if we must, but right now we have to get Jimin back. Before something bad happens. Assuming we’re not too late.”

“It’s the Seelie Court, Yoongi-chi,” Jin’s tone is softer now, too. “He should be safe there.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook scoffs. “Just like he was safe at the Friends Only. Twice.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok breathes out.

The silence is tense and awkward.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, feeling sick at the memory of each misstep. He knows that right now, without proper support, Jimin is not safe anywhere near the fae, especially in the Seelie Court. “We need to act fast. Namjoon, can you gather any intel you can on Minsu’s plans?”

“Sure thing, hyung,” Namjoon says.

“The rest of you,” Yoongi says, turning to look at the other four fae. “Will you come with me to the Seelie Court?”

“Is that an invitation, hyung?” Hoseok asks, a hint of sass in his voice that helps break some of the tension.

“Yes, Jung Hoseok-ssi.” Yoongi pulls himself up straight in mock regality. “I am officially inviting you, along with Kim Seokjin-ssi, Kim Taehyung-ssi, and Jeon Jungkook-ssi, to accompany me to the Seelie Court.”

Jimin tries not to panic as he’s escorted by two fae guards to an isolated guest room deep in the bowels of the Seelie Court. He realizes quickly he’s not in the industrial building they entered in Seoul. He realizes that he’s probably not even in Seoul anymore. This Court must be somewhere else, some place else and that the door they walked through was just a portal.

The Seelie Court itself is like a large hanok, or multiple hanoks maybe, made of light colored wood. The structures are connected by courtyard gardens and delicate covered timber walkways. Bright white paper screens divide the outer courtyards from the inner buildings, which glisten in the sunlight with their polished wooden floors and intricately carved walls, which reflect back the light in beautiful patterns. Almost too beautiful. With each turn in the path, new halls open up, twisting away from Jimin so that he knows he’ll never find his way through at this rate.

The guest room itself is simple and clean. The sunlight that slants in through the paper-covered window paints soft, dancing shapes on the white walls. A low desk with a cushion for a seat lines one wall; in the other corner sits a low table with a comforter folded neatly at its foot. There is a yo mattress with a cover spread across it in the center of the floor.

As soon as he’s alone, he pulls out his phone to text Yoongi to tell him where he was. As he looks at the words “out of service” on his screen and feels the prickle of anxiety. He can’t contact Yoongi. No one knows he’s here. He’s on a different plane of existence and no one knows he’s left Seoul.

Jimin sits on the mattress, his back to the wall, waiting. There’s no sound except for his own breathing, which seems loud in all this silence. He expects to hear some sort of activity, but it was as if time has stopped entirely. Then, he realizes the light coming through the paper in the window never changes. Apparently, here at the Seelie Court, there is no sunrise or sunset. He loses all sense of time.

Not a single soul comes to greet him. The stark silence only adds to Jimin’s terror that grows with every passing moment. To keep himself from hyperventilating, Jimin’s fingers play with the jade orb around his neck and his mind wanders to memories of Yoongi, of his friends, of home.

Yoongi at the piano. Yoongi’s gummy smile. Yoongi smirking at some quip he’s made. Yoongi kissing Jimin.

He thinks of his friends, who he owes several large, prolonged apologies to. He pushed them away when he was prejudiced and scared. He kept them at arm’s length. He ran away every single moment that got rough.

He thinks of his job teaching dance and choreographing. He thinks of the life he’s built for himself in Seoul.

Jimin’s muscles tense at the sound of approaching footsteps, his heart pounding in trepidation. Suddenly two Sidhe stride into the room, their colorful robes and sashes glinting in the candlelight. With a sharp exhale, they simultaneously produce a basin filled with steaming water, along with several cloths and a comb.

One of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to come towards the basin of steaming water. Jimin hesitates, feeling the Sidhe’s piercing gaze pierce him like needles as he steps closer to the basin. His heart thuds loudly in his chest and his feet feel like lead weights sinking into the carpet. Then the other Sidhe is tugging at his clubbing clothes, clearly indicating for him to take them off.

“Excuse me?” Jimin asks shakily, clutching at himself protectively.

The Sidhe make an impatient noise and move to help him remove his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Jimin shrills, trying to back up.

His resistance seems to make the Sidhe more insistent, as they pull at his shirt and pants. Jimin quakes in fear, his heart pounding against his ribcage. A thousand needles seem to pierce into his skin with every passing second as the two Sidhe wordlessly stare meaningfully at him. His mind scrambles for something to do, but he can do nothing but obey their unspoken command and strip himself of clothing piece by piece until all that remains is his underwear—which appears to satisfy the two fae in front of him. Jimin shivers and hunches his body up, covering himself with crossed arms and raised shoulders.

Once he’s naked, one of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to wash himself in the basin, handing him a cloth to wash himself with. He’s quick to take it, to show them he can do it himself. Jimin’s hands quiver as they dip into the warm liquid, shaking. He struggles not to let his fear take over as he washes himself with the water and a cloth, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable beneath their watchful eyes. Every muscle in his body is clenched tightly, trying to keep composure but failing miserably. The Sidhe remain silent throughout, never once speaking or reacting to anything he does.

Once finished, they silently take away the basin and present him with a beautiful green robe of silk that fits him perfectly. One of the Sidhe takes up a comb and begins to work it through his hair, their long nails gently scraping against his scalp. The other Sidhe ties an intricate knot around his waist. Jimin stands as still as possible, feeling like part of this strange ritual where he will become the human sacrifice. With a nod, they turn and leave without another word.

In the same whirlwind fashion that they arrive, the Sidhe are gone again.

Tears fall then as he stands in the middle of the bedroom in strange clothes, in a different plane of existence , feeling utterly alone and violated. His hands run over the robes the Sidhe had dressed him in. He doesn’t even feel like himself anymore. He can’t tell if he’s losing his mind, if any of this is real. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, but the tears keep flowing down his face.

What had he been thinking, agreeing to come here? Jimin collapses onto the bed, too overwhelmed to process what has just happened and why. He had been foolish to trust Minsu—what had he been thinking? What possessed him to go along with their plan? He should have known better. He should have known it was a mistake, should have contacted Yoongi or anyone. His chest feels heavy with worry as he thinks of his current situation.

He looks around for something, anything, that might help him find a way out of this place. In desperation, he gets up and begins searching the room for any sort of exit or window. The door won’t budge. The window doesn’t open. As he does so, however, panic begins to take over him once again. What if there was no way out? What did they want with him?

Jimin slumps to the floor, his knees giving way beneath him. He buries his face in his hands and sobs uncontrollably. He can’t believe he’s so helpless and alone, stuck in a world he doesn’t understand. The tears start streaming down his cheeks and Jimin pulls his hands through his freshly combed hair. As his sobs echo through the room, a wave of sadness washes over him as he realizes just how far away home feels right now. The weight of his situation bears down on him like a crushing weight, threatening to suffocate him.

The Seelie Court has not changed at all in the years of Yoongi’s absence. He’s extremely irritated that the Sidhe have manipulated things and forced his hand so he’d have to show his face here again. As he pieced together the information they had to go with—the Sidhe’s increasingly backhanded ways of inviting Yoongi to Court, Minsu suddenly have the far too brilliant plan to bring Jimin here. No, this is the workings of the heads of Court.

The realization that this has all been a plot to get Yoongi back to Court came as a brief relief to Yoongi. It means they have no real intention of hurting Jimin. Yoongi can just show his face, fight whatever verbal sparring match the heads of Court have planned, and then take Jimin safely home. He holds onto this as he strides confidently into the Great Hall, flanked by Jungkook and Hoseok on his right and Jin and Taehyung on his left.

Yoongi only allows himself a brief glance at the room, unchanged and familiar as it is. The whole hall is bright, as if bathed in a perpetual morning light. There are plants everywhere, tucked into corners, hanging from the rafters. Chairs are scattered throughout, never in any practical arrangement for holding an audience at Court. But then again, they never really have had much need for holding audience.

While only a few of the scattered chairs are occupied by fae—many more are probably hidden away throughout the room, which is deceptively larger than it appears—, calmly sipping from tea cups or simply admiring the foliage about, Yoongi can see the entire heads of Court has been assembled. Twelve Sidhe, in their silver and blue robes, sit in a semi-circle on the raised dais at the front of the hall. It is towards this dais that Yoongi and his coterie walk to now.

As they approach the Sidhe, Yoongi can feel the air around him grow tense with each step. He can feel their eyes on him, measuring and assessing. He knows what they are doing—they are trying to intimidate him, to make him feel small and insignificant, the same trick they’ve been catching him in his whole life. However, he’s brought his own arsenal of tools for intimidation. Starting with his friends at his side, all dressed in their Seoul fashion—a clear rejection of Court protocol. He straightens his shoulders and holds his head up high as he steps to the appropriate distance from the dais. He’s pleased to see the flicker of uncertainty briefly flash in some of the Sidhe’s eyes.

“Well,” says the eldest of the Sidhe. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Yoongi feels a flash of anger course through him at the condescending tone. He takes a deep breath before speaking, keeping his voice even and controlled. He can hear his friends taking similarly deep breaths from behind him.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “As you know, I had important matters, including my livelihood, to attend to in The Crossing.”

Another of the Sidhe snorts in disbelief. Yoongi feels his hands tense into fists at his side and he has to consciously relax them.

“Important matters indeed,” they say. “We’ve heard all about your dilly-dallying.”

“Dilly-dallying,” Yoongi can hear Hoseok mock the word under his breath.

Yoongi is about to open his mouth in retort, but another voice interrupts him. “Well, Min Yoongi-ssi, you came much quicker than I expected.”

Ah Minsu walks through the Great Hall to stand near Yoongi’s group, far away enough to avoid physical threat, but still near enough to the dais. The newcomer looks resplendent in golden robes with several layers. Everything flutters as he moves, as if he’s buoyed by his own little wind. Yoongi raises his eyebrow to the sylph.

“Cocky and stupid,” Jin mutters under his breath.

Yoongi huffs out a quick laugh, trying to bite back the angry smile threatening to ruin his composure in front of the Court.

“I’m rather surprised you’re here at all, Minsu-ssi,” Yoongi says. He can’t stop the smirk on his lips then. “I may use your name here, can I not? You seem to have no qualms about using mine.”

Minsu leers at him. “Why wouldn’t I be here? I am a representative for my clan. I have many dealings with Court. Plus, I wanted to come give my testimony in your case.”

“Dear cousin,” the eldest Sidhe speaks, looking at Minsu, “what do you mean by testimony?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minsu asks, turning to face the heads of Court. Yoongi watches the sylph’s face become the facade of obedience and contrition. “Our cousin is making an attempt to keep a human in The Crossing as a pet .”

The Great Hall had been relatively quiet up until now, but upon Minsu’s words, whispers break out among the fae. Even some of the heads of the Court lean towards one another to remark on the allegations.

Before Yoongi can react, Taehyung is launching himself towards Minsu with a cry, “You bastard!”

As Taehyung surges forward, Yoongi reaches out to grab him, but misses. However, Jin is closer and successfully gets a hold of Taehyung in a strained back hug.

“Don’t you dare talk about Jimin like that!” Taehyung yells at Minsu, struggling against Jin’s hold on him, both their eyes ablaze with anger. Yoongi tries to put a placating hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, but Taehyung continues his struggle.

Yoongi doesn’t want them getting into a fight that could ruin their chances of getting Jimin out of here unharmed. Yoongi looks towards Minsu and sees the sylph is laughing. Yoongi thinks he looks a bit crazed. It’s nauseating.

“That is enough,” the eldest Sidhe says, voice echoing with magical amplification to fill the hall.

Taehyung huffs, but stills his struggle. He keeps his eyes narrowly trained on the sylph. Satisfied his friend isn’t going to do anything impulsive, Yoongi turns his gaze to Minsu again. The sylph shoots a smirk at Yoongi, who feels a muscle in his jaw tighten, but otherwise holds his tongue.

“Do you care to elaborate on your accusations, cousin?” one of the Sidhe on the dais asks. “While possibly distasteful, it is not explicitly illicit to have a relationship with a human. However, if the human is not consenting...”

The Sidhe lets their sentence trail off, letting everyone understand where the nuance in the laws lay. Yoongi uses all his willpower not to laugh aloud.

“You see,” Minsu says, still confident for reasons Yoongi cannot fathom, “I met the human at a gathering of humans and fae. I was immediately concerned with the way that Yoongi-ssi was treating this human in particular. He seemed far too interested, picking him out of the crowd intentionally. I could tell that the human was shocked and uncomfortable with Yoongi-ssi’s spell summoning. Yoongi-ssi did not notice, or did not care.”

Minsu pauses and shoots a glare at the rest of Yoongi’s friends for added effect. “The human definitely didn’t want to go with Yoongi-ssi. It took a lot of work, but I was finally able to find the human alone and convince him to get away from Yoongi-ssi. I did eventually decide it was better to bring him here to Court. It seemed like the only way.”

Yoongi watches as Minsu weaves his intricate lies, anger simmering in his gut.

“Knowing that Yoongi-ssi seems to have not had as proper of an upbringing as the rest of us, I figured it best to make sure he is taught a lesson here, at Court. I’m sure being raised in The Crossing has led to an incomplete education,” Minsu finishes with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Yoongi can hear the surprised gasps from his own group of friends. He can hear Hoseok’s incredulous laugh leak out before he can clamp a hand over his own mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Jin says, sounding incredulous, before the Sidhe on the dais can speak up. “Do you not actually know who he is?”

Jin waves a hand vaguely in Yoongi’s direction while he addresses Minsu. This time it is Taehyung that accidentally lets out a disbelieving laugh.

Minsu clearly has no fucking clue. This is better than Yoongi thought.

“Of course I know who he is,” Minsu replies and actually rolls his eyes. “He’s Min Yoongi-ssi of no clan, half-fae, from The Crossing.”

Yoongi can feel both Hoseok and Taehyung struggle to maintain composure and even Jin now looks like he’s about to laugh. Yoongi feels like he needs to reign this in and get Jimin so they can get out of here.

The eldest Sidhe clears their throat from the dais. Everyone sobers up a bit and turns their attention back to the heads of the Court.

“The matter of the human’s consent can be quickly ascertained,” one of the Sidhe says. They nod to a fae standing to the right of the dais and watch for a moment as the fae leaves though a sliding door. “However, given our cousin’s upbringing, I am certain we will find no wrongdoing.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense!” Minsu growls. His face grows red with anger as he tries to puzzle together everyone’s reactions to his accusations. He whirls on Yoongi. “Who the fuck are you?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrow at Minsu, but decides not to answer him. Instead, he turns back to the dais and asks, “Where is Jimin? I would like to see him.”

“Ah, he is being summoned now,” the eldest Sidhe says.

“What the fuck is going on? I was told if I brought the human here, Yoongi would get the justice he deserves,” Minsu is shouting now.

“I’m not sure who told you that, cousin,” another Sidhe on the dais says. “But, we are not in the habit of punishing those that have not actually committed crimes.”

“Yoongi is a low life! He fucking raps at clubs and who knows what else! How can any of you be defending him! Don’t even get me started on those pathetic excuses for fae he hangs out with!” Minsu seethes, clearly grasping.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow on the sylph. Someone can belittle his character all they want, but sure as fuck they are not going to come after his friends.

“First,” Yoongi starts, “you started this, asshole, spelling humans without their consent. I should have had you banished back to The Dreaming for good immediately. That was my mistake. I’ll be sure to rectify that today.”

Most of the Court raises their eyebrows at this revelation. More whispering erupts throughout the Great Hall. Minsu sputters.

“Second,” Yoongi continues with barely a pause, “my friends are all upstanding citizens. Half of them are esteemed members of this Court. Which you would know if you actually asked around. In fact, despite my long absence, it’s probably not hard to find out who I am just by asking. I suggest you do your actual homework before talking out your ass.”

Minsu is still sputtering, as if trying to find something to say but failing.

“Third,” Yoongi drops his voice low, tone that of steel, he raises his arm to point his index finger straight at the eldest Sidhe, “while I am no longer a member of this Court, that seat was once to be mine. Yes, I may have renounced my clan and have settled in The Crossing like many of our kind have, but I grew up in these very halls.”

Yoongi stalks slowly forward towards Minsu, who is looking satisfyingly terrified now. Yoongi feels as if he’s about to vibrate out of his skin as a rage that goes well beyond just the sylph standing before him burns through him. He punches a single finger into Minsu’s chest to emphasize his point.

“Insulting my upbringing is to insult to my parent,” Yoongi gestures again towards the eldest Sidhe, “and to insult the entire Seelie Court. Apologize to them.”

Minsu doesn’t even hesitate. He drops into a full bow, forehead pressed into the wooden floor.

“Forgive me, dear cousins,” Minsu murmurs into the wood.

“Now get out. I don’t want Jimin to have to see your face,” Yoongi says with finality.

Minsu quickly rises to his feet and trips over his own feet in his scramble for the door, skirting around Yoongi’s friends on his way out. He’s gone from Court in less than two minutes.

“Now,” Yoongi turns back to the heads of the Court. “Where is Jimin?”

“He should be here any moment,” the eldest Sidhe replies with a small smirk. How Minsu hadn’t seen the resemblance between the Sidhe and Yoongi is surely beyond everyone in the room.

Just then the door the fae had exited early slides open and the fae steps back through it. She looks nervous before she steps aside to let the person behind her through.

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he sees Jimin. He’s wearing grand green robes that make him look ethereal, but his pale complexion, the red splotches on his face, tousled hair, and swollen eyes are clear indications he’s been crying. He’s breathing hard, taking in gulps of air as he steps into the room. His eyes light up with hope as he and Yoongi make eye contact.

“What is the meaning of this?” Yoongi asks with a hardened tone. He’s itching to throw himself at Jimin, to run out of here, to burn the entire Court down as he goes. He swallows down his instincts and waits for the Sidhe to answer him.

At the same moment, Jungkook makes a broken whimper and races toward Jimin, Taehyung hot on his heels. Both fae immediately wrap themselves protectively around the human and usher him back over to their group.

There is clear confusion in the faces of the Sidhe as they watch the events unfold before them. Finally, the eldest Sidhe asks, “What is the meaning of what?”

Jimin’s ears have been filled with static ever since the fae came to collect him from his room. Again, no words were exchanged as the fae led him down twisting paths and confusing corridors. He realizes he hasn’t heard a spoken word aside from his own since Minsu’s rough “deal with the human” when he was left in this place. The silence and the terror have him choking on the scream building in his throat.

They finally stop in front of a simple white door. Before he can even take a breath, the fae is sliding it open and stepping inside, gesturing for him to follow.

Keeping his eyes firmly on the back of the fae in front of him, he follows into the room, which turns out to be a large hall filled with plants. He tempts a glance around, trying to get his bearings. There are a whole group of Sidhe, tall and intimidating with their ornately styled blue hair, on a platform in front of him. As he looks further into the hall, his knees almost give out in relief at the sight of a familiar group of people. Jimin’s eyes lock with Yoongi’s and Jimin releases an inaudible gasp.

Yoongi looks soft for the briefest of moments as he gazes at Jimin, eyes raking up and down Jimin’s frame, then his expression turns hard, angry. He faces back to the platform. His tone matches his expression when he asks, “What is the meaning of this?”

It’s so jarring to hear someone speak—especially with that tone of voice coming from Yoongi —after so long in silence. How long has he been here, in this timeless, soundless, lifeless place? How do the fae stop themselves from going mad here?

Jimin registers the despondent sound Jungkook makes just before he and Taehyung are barreling forward, wrapping their arms protectively around Jimin. Before he can even process what is happening, he’s surrounded by his friends. They all seem to form a barrier between him and the rest of the room.

He wants to embrace the relief of being with his friends again, with Yoongi. But he can’t let himself relax yet. His friends might still be in trouble. Yoongi might be in trouble. That’s, after all, why he came to this godforsaken place in the first place. With a start, he realizes Yoongi’s been talking this whole time, voice still sharp as steel, with the Sidhe on the platform.

Yoongi stands with his arms folded across his chest. He looks like he could spit acid at the Sidhe, who look back at him with creased brows. Their voices are quiet and calm. Jimin’s anxiety spirals from inside his little friend fortress.

“We have done nothin but treat the human with respect and hospitality,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Bullshit,” Yoongi growls. “Let’s wrap this up so we may leave and never come back.”

“But dear cousin–” another of the Sidhe starts.

“No,” Yoongi cuts them off. “I am not interested. I haven’t been interested in decades. I have a life in The Crossing, as is my right. I am not giving up my life for this bullshit. So take your Court and fuck off. You think you’re better than the Unseelie Court? You think you’re all noble? Did any one of you ask Jimin what he wanted or if he was even here of his own freewill?”

An eerie silence hangs over the hall.

Yoongi scoffs in disgust. Jimin can just see his profile through the shoulders of his friends. The fae is standing tall—commanding—and the anger rolling off of him is almost visible.

“What happened to consent, hm?” Yoongi sneers. “One of the most sacred values, is it not?”

“Cousin,” a Sidhe says, shifting a little on their feet, “it is true, perhaps, we were not as thorough as we should have been.”

Jimin can hear Jungkook and Taehyung both let out angry huffs of air, but they don’t move.

“Human, step forward,” the Sidhe in the center of the platform says.

His wall of friends around him are tense, hesitating to move until Yoongi tells them to let Jimin through.

Yoongi holds his hand out to Jimin, palm up. Jimin takes it readily and steps up next to the fae. Yoongi’s hand gives his a comforting squeeze. Jimin keeps his eyes trained on the platform in front of him, rather than making eye contact with any of the fae.

Jimin takes a few deep breaths, his hand still in Yoongi’s. He can tell the Sidhe are all watching them, feel the burning of their gaze on his skin. But as discomforting as their gaze is, he can also feel the familiar comfort of all of his friends at his back, close enough for their body heat to reach him.

The realization hits Jimin then. It was all a trick. A stupid one. Yoongi was never in danger until Jimin stupidly followed that asshole through that door. His friends were never in danger. This is their home, for fucks sake. Something settles inside his chest then, some of the fear melts away.

“Human,” the Sidhe says. “Did you consent to coming to Court?”

“I–” Jimin starts, thinking back. “I did. But I was told Yoongi hyung was in trouble. I was told I could help him if I came here.”

Yoongi makes a small choking noise, clearly upset, but Jimin keeps his eyes on the Sidhe’s feet.

“I see,” the Sidhe says. “Well, while you were clearly given false information, I’m afraid consent was still given.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok says from behind Jimin.

And Jimin has had enough. He’s tired. He’s afraid, but less afraid now that his friends are here. Now that he knows the imagined threats are just that—imagined. Most importantly, though, he’s angry. So angry. Angry at Minsu. Angry at the Sidhe. He lifts his chin and makes eye contact with each Sidhe standing on the platform.

“However,” Jimin says loudly, making sure his voice carries, which has the added bonus of taking the tremor out of his tone. He silently gives thanks for that theater class he took in university. “I did not consent to being stripped naked, forced to wash in front of an audience. I did not consent to wearing unfamiliar clothes, have my own belongings taken away, and to sit in some empty room for who knows how long. No one asked me for my permission. No one has spoken a word to me at all.”

Jimin’s face burns red at the confession, not sure if it’s a product of him being embarrassed or angry, and he worries he sounds like he’s rambling. He darts his eyes to the side momentarily to see if he can see Yoongi’s reaction. Yoongi is staring at him, eyes burning fierce with what might be a mixture of anger and pride. Okay then.

“You know what, I might have given my consent to be here when I didn’t know what the fuck was actually going on,” Jimin continues, confidence blossoming in his chest. “But now I know.”

Jimin takes a deep breath and squeezes Yoongi’s hand tighter. Yoongi’s presence grounds him. He meets the Sidhe’s gaze head on, his voice growing stronger with each passing second.

“I did not come here to be humiliated and degraded. I did not come here to be treated like some plaything for you and your Court’s amusement. And I sure as hell did not come here to be used as leverage against someone I care about,” Jimin says, his voice menacing.

The tension in the room is palpable, waiting for the Sidhe to respond. Jimin fights the urge to fidget under their intense scrutiny, focusing on the weight of Yoongi’s hand in his.

“I see,” one of the Sidhe says finally, breaking the silence. “We apologize for any inconvenience.”

“Wow,” Jimin hears Taehyung breathe out, voice laced with sarcasm.

No one moves. Jimin has no intention of accepting their half-assed apology. Instead he says, lifting his chin higher in determination, “I am revoking my consent. I no longer wish to accept your invitation to this Court. I would like to go home. With Yoongi. And my friends. Now.”

The Sidhe seem speechless—a frozen tableau of blue fae with varying levels of shock on their faces standing before him on their platform.

“Let’s fucking go then,” Taehyung says, breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the room.

Suddenly, Yoongi is turning, pushing Jimin into his friends’ arms. The group moves quickly, ushering Jimin down the length of the room and out a set of oversized doors. They are in a large circular room with doors all along the walls. Each has a small label over the top of the door frame, but the language must be fae, because Jimin can’t decipher it.

No one makes a move to stop them as Namjoon’s boyfriend opens the door they’ve moved in front of. Without any further ceremony, they all file through the door and end up in a room that looks suspiciously reminiscent of Yoongi’s hanok.

“That was really hot,” Taehyung breathes out.

Hoseok laughs, although it sounds more like relief.

Jungkook hasn’t let Jimin go yet, hand still coiled protectively around Jimin’s bicep. “You okay, hyung?”

Jimin nods and looks around at the faces standing around him, looking for one in particular.

When he doesn’t see who he’s looking for, he frantically asks, “Wait, where’s Yoongi?”

Yoongi waits until he’s sure everyone has made it through the portal before he turns his attention back to the Court and the Sidhe on the dais. He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you invited me,” Yoongi says calmly. “I assume it wasn’t to swap chicken soup recipes.”

“Child,” the eldest Sidhe says.

Yoongi looks at his parent, standing regal in the center of the dais, and waits.

“I do not want you making the same mistakes as I did,” the Sidhe continues.

Yoongi clenches his jaw. There is an edge to his tone as he repeats, “Mistakes.”

“Yes, I did much when I was younger that I wish I had spared myself from. The Crossing provides much to distract, but that can be dangerous,” the Sidhe says.

“By that logic, I am one of your mistakes, since I am a product of your forays into The Crossing,” Yoongi says.

“I would not put it that way, Child,” the Sidhe says, the barest hint of sadness in their voice. “Humans feel much, it’s true. But their emotions are not stable. They do not understand longevity the way those of us of The Dreaming do.”

“Thank you for your advice. I promise I will not regret this choice. I cannot apologize for taking certain risks and living my life on my own terms,” Yoongi says. He almost pities the fae on the dais. They rarely leave the cozy blandness of the Seelie Court. They don’t realize what they are missing. What it feels like to be alive—or to truly love.

None of the Sidhe speak. Yoongi is happy to wait them out, letting the tension fill the room, an invisible cloud that makes it a little hard to breathe.

Yoongi is relieved when Namjoon walks up to the front of the room. He positions himself next to Yoongi, giving the fae a small nod. Yoongi feels the final coil of anxiety release.

“Alright, well, I’m leaving,” Yoongi says, dusting non-existent dust off his jeans, sounding almost tired, as if he’s had to put up with way too much bullshit for one day—which is true. And he means every word he says, he can already feel the dulling of his emotions the longer he stays. It’s time to go.

“You cannot just walk away from your responsibilities,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Ah, cousin,” Yoongi replies, allowing the sarcasm to drip through in his tone, “you are so correct. And I have many, many responsibilities and obligations waiting for me in The Crossing. So. If you’ll excuse me.”

He gives the eldest Sidhe a courtesy nod of his head and then he turns on his heel and marches out of the Great Hall. Namjoon keeps pace with him.

“That sylph is actually banished this time?” Yoongi asks when they are far enough away from the dais he feels comfortable to talk.

“Yes, hyung,” Namjoon says. “Turns out someone had, uh, mislaid the paperwork the first time. Apparently someone thought it would be a good idea to trick Minsu into bringing Jimin here in order to lure you to Court. I think they were trying to win the heads of Court’s favor. I’ve reported the fae responsible and made sure the paperwork was walked all the way through to the right office this time. Ah Minsu won’t be able to leave The Dreaming again.”

Yoongi nods. “Good. That’s good.”

Jimin is throwing himself into Yoongi’s arm the moment the fae makes it through the portal, the older grunting at the unexpected impact.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Jimin says into Yoongi’s neck. “I was so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to care, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi murmurs, wrapping his arms more securely around Jimin’s back. “I should have been more open, too. I’m sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head, still buried in Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi huffs a laugh. He turns his head so his nose is tucked into Jimin’s hair and he murmurs, “I think the most important thing is, if this ever happens again, you call me first, hm? Fae bullshit happens, call hyung. Deal?”

Jimin laughs wetly as he nods and tightens his hold. He thinks maybe it’ll be better if he can just stay here, like this, forever. Then he remembers that empty bedroom at the Seelie Court, where time didn’t seem to pass, and he changes his mind. Not forever, but for a long while, maybe.

Jimin is wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a towel when Hoseok lets out a small gasp.

“Do you see the text?” his friend asks without looking up from his phone screen.

“I left my phone in my locker,” Jimin says with a shrug. He throws the towel in the laundry bin and starts zipping up his duffle.

“Friends Only tonight,” Hoseok says. “You coming?”

“Don’t think so,” Jimin says. “I’ve got plans.”

“Plans? What plans?” Hoseok asks, pretending to sound annoyed. Then he finally looks up from his phone screen to see the mischievous smile Jimin is giving him. “Oh, you know, what. Ew. TMI. Never mind. I do not want to know. Have fun. Wear a condom.”

Jimin is already pushing the door to the dance studio open, his duffle bag hanging from an elbow. “You too, hyung!”

Namjoon is knocking on the open door to his music studio. Yoongi vaguely wonders when he left it open. Maybe Namjoon used his emergency code for what is clearly not an emergency, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon is saying, dimples showing from his smile.

“This should be good,” Yoongi mumbles, already turning back to his computer screen.

“There’s a Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon apparently doesn’t let Yoongi’s taciturn mood get him down. “You coming?”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi says, refusing to look away from his work, resolutely clicking his mouse.

Namjoon just laughs as he walks away down the hall.

“Yah!” Yoongi yells. “Shut the door!”

Sometimes Jimin forgets he’s no longer at the Seelie Court. Usually, it’s brief, but that moment of panic when he thinks he’s back there—floating in that timeless place—is enough to prick his eyes with tears and send his heart thumping in his chest.

It’s easier though, here, in Seoul, to remind himself that everything is still real and time is passing. He can hear a car out on the road and a bird singing from Yoongi’s madang. He can smell fresh air and petrichor. He can taste the coffee that’s brewing across the way when Yoongi hands him a sturdy mug and the same coffee on Yoongi’s lips when they kiss. He can see the sun’s shadows on the walls of the hanok as it makes its way across the sky. He can feel—everything—the softness of sheets, the heat in the air as summer comes into full swing, the hard earned sweat when he’s working until he gets a choreo looking the way he wants. He’s here. He’s real. Time continues to march forward.

When he first confessed to Yoongi that he was still struggling, that sometimes he forgets where he is and the fear that accompanies that forgetfulness, Yoongi was heartbroken. But soon, the fae had set up speakers throughout the house, for ambient noise so there was never silence and clocks in every room of his— their —hanok.

“Hey, where are you?” Yoongi asks as they get ready for bed.

Jimin hums a question in response, pulling his shirt off before sliding between the sheets and comforter.

“You seem distant,” Yoongi says. He folds himself carefully under the comforter and lays on his side, curling into Jimin. “Everything okay?”

Jimin gives Yoongi a small smile, reaching out to take his hand. The weight of it is heavy, warm between them and helps Jimin know that his next words are nothing but the truth, “Just lost in thought, I guess. But yeah, I’m okay.”

Jimin leans forward to kiss Yoongi then, pouring all his tenderness and love into the press of their mouths together. His warm lips brush against the older man’s. He feels his heart thump in anticipation and longing as he slides his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and pulls him close. He can feel the slow, steady beat of Yoongi’s heart—a strong rhythm that resonates through Jimin’s chest. There is nothing else in this moment but the two of them, enveloped in tenderness and love.

As they spend the rest of the night taking turns touching skin, trading kisses, and pressing each other into the mattress, Jimin stays present, here, in Seoul, in the hanok they share, with all the love that surrounds them. As a summer rain gently patters outside the window, Jimin snuggles closer into Yoongi’s arms feeling the contentment that washes over them both as they finally drift off into sleep.

#thearmyprof #bts fanfic #bts ff #fae bts #bts angst #yoonmin #angst with a happy ending #romance #bts fantasy au

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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hoshikokakure · 3 years

Text

Natsu on NaLu

It's quite lengthy, and I don't know how to make the 'continue reading' cut off thing on my phone anymore, but if you're reading this, thank you! Hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts, if you agree or disagree. I'd love to know your own analyses!

Let's get it.

You know, looking at Natsu looking down at Lucy crying while hugging and thanking him, BEFORE boy's all like "yeah I had something to say but nah", made me think that...maybe NATSU thinks that LUCY isn't ready or hasn't realised her feelings. Perhaps he was ready to confess after the war? Maybe. I don't know.

But here, Lucy is remembering everything she's gone through, everything they've gone through, and she says "I wouldn't be who I am, if not for you two" (not verbatim bc I'm typing this and do not have the best memory – it'd be so cool if I got the quote right), both Natsu and Happy, so I genuinely believe that there's a possibility that Natsu's behavior in 100 year quest is him hinting to Lucy that he likes her, or sees her not just platonically, in the most Natsu way.

Because it's Natsu. The boy stays true to himself no matter whatever adversity or scorn he faces. So why would he do un-Natsu like things to show Lucy, his other half of two complete souls, his best friend, Lucy who knows him so well, that he doesn't see her just platonically anymore. Natsu wouldn't act like Lucy's "princely suitor" because

1. He's a DRAGON KING'S son. What an insult to Igneel.

2. Natsu's very much someone who sees and values the character of a person. I firmly believe he's like "love me for me, screw all the haters". At his core, which we see in the original Fairy Tail when Lucy and Happy keep Natsu's body warm with their body heat, he knows who he is, labels be damned.

As readers of Fairy Tail, can anyone really say that Natsu would dress up in a suit, bring flowers, ALWAYS use THE DOOR, and any other stereotypical princely/gentlemanly suitor-like things to woo someone who knows him, or maybe woo anyone?

Or I guess, can anyone say that Natsu would willingly abandon his strong sense of self, himself at his core, for anything so far presented in Fairy Tail?

He beat up Gray for trying to use Iced Shell...TWICE. He was willing to die for Erza. He's stated he doesn't care what he becomes as long as he has and can protect his friends, family, Fairy Tail. He beat up Zeref and said "Bye Bro, I'm tired and want to see Happy and the others" (not verbatim).

He provides a distraction for Lucy, unless he believes his thoughtful input is needed in that moment i.e. Natsu to Lucy about her not crying about Jude, Natsu to Lucy on fighting for fun and comparing strength and fighting a war where people die...and is not for fun.

So far, aside from giving into END when Natsu thought Lucy died, when presented with a difficult path and decision, he's always tackled it

1. head-on: Plan T

2. Covertly and intelligently: Asuka thought she shot the robbers in the air and Natsu encouraged her and that idea

3. By creating an option different from previous limited options: i.e. eating Etherion, i.e. eating Laxus' lightening, i.e. Edolas, Evil Natsu Dragneel and his two servants Gajeel Redfox and Wendy Marvell, etc.

This boy pushes and breaks so many boundaries created in Fairy Tail, which is typical of the main character – Natsu is the protagonist, Lucy is the narrator – but not once has he compromised his sense of self, Natsu at the core. We can see that many of his regrets come from events out of his hands, Igneel and the dragons, for example, that he takes personally so as to avoid those losses from happening again.

Like, I always say, Natsu is such a complicated character for me because there is SO much depth in his character, in Natsu Dragneel, that is so simple but so complex like 3d humans. I dislike Shrek, but like the ogre said, onions have layers. Layers create depth, and the fact that there's so much unsaid that can be delved into...And I'll digress, but the character depth of minor characters like Cana and Mira, for example, and the possibilities for characters like Max – so many theories there for this sand mage, where do I begin? – it's beautiful.

Of course, a quality of a well written work is well written characters, which MANY authors have, but Fairy Tail will always be my tale as old as time for various reasons including but not limited to characterisation.

AND OKAY WOW TANGENTS ON TANGENTS, BUT,

Back to the point, I believe that Natsu behaving in more overtly inappropriate ways to Lucy and Lucy only, while fending off other men except for family, is his way of trying to scream at Lucy "I LOVE YOU", without screaming "I LOVE YOU" to Lucy.

Until when? Maybe until Lucy realises that "yeah, no. Natsu actually IS interested in that stuff", unlike what she told Juvia and Cana, or something. I don't know, I'm not Mashima.

Also, note that in no way is this behavior tolerable – it is not okay and I'm not defending Natsu's behavior. It may be fiction, but don't let fiction, characters, etc. dictate what you do and don't allow when it comes to consent, good humans.

Thank you for reading, and please stay healthy♡

#nalu #fairy tail nalu #100 years quest #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu x lucy

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librarianandguardian · 3 years

Text

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

#fate the winx saga #saul silva #saul silva x reader #sky of eraklyon #fate riven #farah dowling #ben harvey #saul silva imagine

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

White Lilac

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (war! au)

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: hints to major character death

Word count: 1.6k

Rating: pg13

Summary: White lilac- a symbol of purity and innocence, that is what he saw in you that day. He promised himself he would keep you safe and happy, but the cold hard reality has other plans for the two of you. The promise that he made under the lilac tree led to the ultimate sacrifice.

A/N: This is part of the Love Blossom Series (4/7) and square 5/25 of the @bangtanwritingbingo event (square: Jeon Jungkook). I want to thank my amazing beta @dinamitae. Eva you have been a gem for helping me with this one! <3 I have not written angst in a while and you have given me the confidence that i needed! I would also like to thank my best friend for putting herself through finding the perfect picture for me to make a banner out of! (I promise i am done angst-ing Jungkook for now!)

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner.

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

The scent of white lilacs invaded your senses, the sweet fragrance wafting along the warm spring breeze. Walking through the garden you giggled as you observed the bees, barely awoken from their slumber over the winter. It was cathartic, the stillness of the garden, the smells enveloping you offering a sense of peace you revelled in.

You sat down underneath the big white lilac tree, a bunch of flowers nestled in your lap. You hummed whilst your fingers worked diligently at making a flower crown. It was the only time you had to enjoy the nature around you and you were going to make the most of it. Humming to yourself you didn’t notice the man that approached silently on the pathway ahead of you.

Jungkook observed you for a while, his eyes taking in the picture of innocence that lay ahead of him. He would tell you this years later, but he fell in love with you as soon as he saw you. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight of your wide smile and childlike glee as you placed your finished crown on your head. He decided then and there that he would do anything in his power to keep that smile on your face. Determined to be the one to have your heart, he approached you. Finally noticing him, the wide smile you offered him sealed his fate.

“Jungkook!” you laughed in delight as said man picked you up in his arms, “put me down!” Your legs thrashed around trying to wiggle yourself out of his hold. Jungkook held onto you tighter, his laugh echoing around the row of lilacs towering over you.

“Y/N, you will fall!” he warned you when your incessant slaps on his back made him lose his grip on you. Laughing you stopped and just let yourself hang over his shoulder allowing him to carry you, the basket he had on his other shoulder obstructing your view.

“And here I present to you, the queen of the garden, Y/N” he made a show out of placing you back on your feet underneath the same lilac tree he found you months ago. The lilac tree that drew his attention, it being the tallest one standing like a beacon amongst the others. You chuckled and steadied yourself still holding onto his shoulder.

“You flatter me good sir, I am but a fairy of the garden” you mock curtsied, the dress you were wearing billowing around you. Jungkook took a moment to absorb the smell of the lilac and the sight of you. The sun shone through the branches, casting shadows over the ground and yet it seemed like the rays of sun managed to find you anywhere you went. The light shining around you gave you an ethereal glow. He couldn’t have been happier than at that moment.

You smiled at him and offered him your hand. “Come on, let's sit down and have that picnic” you beckoned him. He let himself be guided by you, in his head making a promise that he would follow you wherever you would go.

Playfully tugging at his hand you urged him to hurry up and set down the basket he carried over his shoulder. Doing so gave him the mobility he needed to tug back at you, his strength greater than yours. Yelping you stumbled backwards into him, your hands on his chest to stop yourself from falling.

“Jungkook!” you chided with a gentle slap on his arm. You tried to look serious in your mock anger but the crinkle at the corner of your eyes told him otherwise. He pretended to look apologetic for a second before a mischievous grin formed on his face. In an instant you were trapped in his arms, his fingers digging into your sides tickling you. Pearls of laughter fell from your lips, and Jungkook swore he’d never heard anything more pure.

“Stooooop” you pleaded but it was futile. When at last you forfeited, he stopped, but the grip he had on you tightened. He raised one hand to cup your face, your bodies so close together that you could feel each and every breath he took, each heartbeat. The laughter died from your lips and you inhaled sharply. He was beautiful, his kind eyes locking with yours. A surge of affection and happiness washed over you. Mirroring the hand he had on your cheek, your thumb caressed his.

“I love you” your admittance was nothing new to him, but each time he heard it, it felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest. His smile promised you eternal love and devotion and when his lips moulded into yours in a kiss, you believed it.

“Marry me” he whispered. You never thought you’d feel so incandescently euphoric, but as you nodded your head and whispered your acceptance against his lips, you felt like you were on top of the world.

The white lilac tree- your white lilac tree- stood once again in bloom, the fragrance caressing your sensitive nose. With your head buried in Jungkook’s shoulder you revelled in his warmth. You felt content, his strong arms around you, his palms resting on your hips tracing patterns that only he knew about.

“Y/N” his sleepy voice penetrated the daydream you had fallen under. You hummed in response, feeling too tranquil to speak. He paused for a couple of seconds and you allowed him to gather his thoughts. When he remained quiet you realised that what he wanted to say was serious enough to trouble him.You lifted your head up to glance at him, instantly reading the worry on his face. His brows were furrowed and he was biting his lips in concentration. Releasing yourself from his warm grip you cupped his face, a feeling of unease washing over you.

The relaxed atmosphere you have been basking in earlier is broken by the somberness in his eyes. You knew what he was going to say and with a pained smile you shushed him before he could speak.

“I know, I understand.” His eyes pleaded for you to believe that he had no other choice, he had to fulfill his promise. He prayed that you knew how much he loved you and what you meant to him. You understood but it wasn’t easier on you. “We will make it through this, I promise.”

That night you did not let each other go, under the white lilac tree, hands intertwined, the ring on your finger telling the story of a forever that would never be.

‘To Y/N,

With regrets we share the news of…..’

The scent of while lilacs no longer mattered to you. Walking through the same garden where you met your husband all those years ago felt like a thousand knives stabbing into you. The rain pelted down on the hard ground loudly, in a pattern that almost felt like gunshots. Your feet carried you mindlessly through the pathways you and Jungkook would walk through, hand in hand, very much in love. With him by your side the road felt too short, but the cold empty space next to you reminded you of how long the distance actually was. It felt like an eternity, your feet aching, your throat coarse. One foot in front of the other, one tear trailing another down your cheek, your fingers gripped tightly onto a piece of soaked paper. The words smudged, but you didn’t care, you knew them by heart. They burnt a hole through you, raged inside your numb heart.

‘Beloved Y/N,

It is getting dark here so I will have to write this quickly.

You have always been better with words than I have, but I will try my best to be up to par with your skills. I long to see you, see your warm smile, see your eyes crinkle when you laugh at my jokes, see the way you light up when we walk through the garden.

I long to be able to hold your warm hand. I have almost forgotten what they feel like, my hands can only remember the coldness of weapons and the dirt that they have gripped for so many months. But maybe I should not touch your hands from now on, my bloodstained ones would only taint them with the sins that I have had to commit.

Y/N, I am afraid. It is cold here. I am forgetting what the sun looks like, what the smell of the white lilacs on your skin feels like, what your lips taste like. I wonder if I will ever make it back and experience them again.

I know I have made you cry time and time again by now, please forgive me. I have never wanted to cause you pain. Had I known this is how things were going to end up, I would have not approached you that day in the garden. You were so beautiful to me, framed by the lilacs, a crown of flowers on your head. You looked like a princess. Pure and innocent.

I never meant to taint that innocence, I wanted to keep you safe and sound, warm and happy, keep the smile tattooed on your face.

I am here now holding onto the last bit of hope that I will fulfill that promise. I am writing to you now to make another promise. That somehow, someday, I will return to you.

I would continue writing but the sky is getting dark and the rain is making it difficult to hold the pen.

I love you, now and forever.

Eternally yours,

Jeon Jungkook’

And so the white lilacs never bloomed in your heart again.

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andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

in cinders | 9 | explanations

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 24,362 words / 9 chapters

summary: You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate.

tags: cinderella AU, prince!Shouto, romance, misunderstandings, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

“Get your hands off of her!” you yelled before you could think.

You rushed forward, ducking under the heavy arm of a guardsman, and ripped the soldier off of Ochako. You took advantage of his surprise, getting yourself between them and pushing her behind you. You held out your arms to block his access to her.

“What the hell is going on here?”

The guardsman whirled on you. “This little wench stole from a noblewoman.”

He pointed, and you followed the line of his finger towards the pink, puffy dress clutched in Kamiko’s conniving fingers. Kamiko smirked at you, looking more pleased with herself than you had ever seen before.

“I found this hidden under her mattress so I reported her to the authorities. Now get out of the way, cinders, she needs to be punished.”

A feral noise escaped you. “I’ll fucking kill you for this, Kamiko.”

Kamiko scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A soft voice from behind you sniffled, “It’s not true! I promise I didn’t steal it!”

The guardsman let out a flat laugh. “How would a servant come by a dress like this? It’s obviously stolen.”

You moved to block him again as he reached for Ochako. Thinking quickly, you swept the crowd of servants in front of you, looking for any escape route. Your eyes fixed on Kaminari who stood frozen where he had been trying to control the crowd. His gaze was locked behind you, and his brow was furrowed. His mouth seemed to be shaping some word in question.

You tried to catch his eye but before you could, he whipped back in the other direction and was off like a shot, pushing through the crowd and out of the kitchen.

“Hand her over or I’ll have to hurt you,” the guardsman growled, drawing your attention back to him.

Your heart leapt into your throat. There had to be some way out of this. There had to be some way to protect Ochako, there had to--

You froze, a plan dawning on you. Ochako had never stolen a thing, but you had. And if there was one person Kamiko hated more than Ochako, it was--

“It was me.”

The guardsman halted, staring at you. Around him, the other kingsguard looked dumbfounded and the kitchen staff quieted. Kamiko and the housekeeper looked floored.

“I stole the dress,” you said quickly. “I stashed it under Ochako’s mattress.”

“Y/N, no--!” came from behind you but you paid her no mind.

“It’s not the first time I’ve stolen a noblewoman’s dress,” you said loudly. “I stole the Lady Utsushimi’s gown the night of the ball. Kamiko found that one too, didn’t you?”

Kamiko stood frozen, but a gleeful look was entering her gaze like she couldn’t believe her luck.

“Ask her,” you said to the guardsman. “Ask her what she found beneath my mattress.”

He turned to her in askance and slowly she nodded. “It’s true. I returned the dress to Lady Utsushimi myself.”

You grimaced. “So you see, this isn’t the first gown I’ve stolen and hidden beneath a mattress. Ochako didn’t even know I had done it.”

The guardsman gestured to another of the kingsguard. "You’re to go to Lady Utsushimi to confirm the return of her gown.”

Then he turned back to you. “You’ll be coming with us.”

You hesitated. “Is Ochako free to go?”

He frowned. “If you come with us quietly, no harm will befall the girl.”

You nodded, holding out your hands. Ochako’s fingers clutched at the back of your dress and she muffled a sob into your shoulder.

“Please don’t do this,” she said quietly. “Tell them it’s my dress.”

The guardsman took your outstretched hands, binding them in a thick layer of rope. He knotted it securely, the fibers digging into the skin of your wrists.

“I’ll figure a way out of this,” you said to her under your breath. “I always do.”

The guardsman gave your bindings a tug and you tripped forward. He wrapped a hand in the fabric of your shift, tugging you in front of him. From this angle, you could see the rest of the kitchen staff, staring at you in shock. Rikido fluttered nervously over the shoulders of the kingsguard, looking beside himself. You tossed him a reassuring smile.

The dress in question belonged to no one. If they couldn’t find the owner, perhaps you would be let go with minimal punishment. You only regretted that you wouldn’t get a chance to apologize to Ochako before then, or set things clear with Shouto.

“Ochako,” you said as the guardsman pulled you stumbling along after him. “If Shou - I mean, if he comes looking, tell him I’m sorry I didn’t wait for him.”

Ochako's brow knitted and she opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off the the door to the palace courtyard bursting open.

“WAIT!” A voice gasped out and Izuku Midoriya all but fell inside, followed closely by Kaminari, who was looking especially proud of himself. “Ochako didn’t steal anything, she--you’re not Ochako.”

The door to the courtyard thumped against the opposite wall and rebounded heavily into Kaminari's shoulder, sending him stumbling into Izuku's back.

The guardsman holding you hesitated, looking confused, and you felt your own confusion rise within you. What was Izuku doing here? Had he been who Kaminari had run off to? How did Izuku know Ochako and why would he come running?

Ochako herself answered that question for you.

“Izuku!” she shouted, flinging herself into his arms. Izuku held her to him tightly, pulling her close in a way that that was unmistakably affectionate. His emerald gaze darted worriedly all over her, as though checking her over for injury.

“You’ve got to stop them taking Y/N.” Ochako was pleading into the fabric of his vest. “They think she stole the dress!”

You glanced between the two of them, puzzled. Now was not the time, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Are you two....together?”

Izuku looked at you, a kind expression on his freckled face. “Yes, since...I, um, recognized her at the ball.”

All of a sudden, things snapped into place. That day in the kitchens, the way Izuku’s gaze had been drawn over your shoulder, the blush that rode high on Ochako’s rosy cheeks. Their disappearance at the ball, the night in the corridor where’d you stumbled over Izuku. It all made terrible, horrible sense.

Ochako had never been in love with the prince.

“Mr. Midoriya,” the guardsman said, “Forgive me, but I believe you’re interrupting a criminal investigation.”

“No, sir,” another voice cut in, and you whipped around to find Lady Utsushimi at the other entrance. “I am interrupting a criminal investigation.”

Your mouth dropped open and you felt a little bit like you were losing your mind. Was the entire castle going to come witness your arrest? What was Lady Utsushimi doing here?

A murmur went through the other servants, several of them eyeing Lady Utsushimi with interest. Her gaze swept disdainfully over the chaos of the kitchens, flickering over the guards in their red livery and Ochako clutched in Izuku's hands before landing back on you.

“My afternoon tea was interrupted by a guardsman checking on the return of a dress, claiming that the thief had struck again today,” she said haughtily. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that the accused was none other than my favorite kitchen girl.”

The place staff stared at her, silent.

"I came all the way down to this..." she hesitated, eyes roaming judgmentally back over the messy worktables, "place...to tell you that the dress in question today is also mine. And that Y/N did not steal it, the blessed simpleton. I lent it to her."

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as another guardsman turned to her in bewilderment. “She herself claims to have stolen it, my lady.”

Lady Utsushimi raised her own scornful eyebrow, and the guardsman seemed to shrink before her. “Are you suggesting that I am a liar, sir?”

That’s exactly what she was. Despite yourself, your heart went out to the poor fop.

“N-no, my lady,” he stuttered. He seemed to cast about desperately for any explanation. “I only meant--”

“I suppose you didn’t even stop to think before marching in here and calling foul, did you?” she demanded, and his panic seemed to increase exponentially.

You had to stifle an absurd laugh. Though not the dress on trial at the moment, you had quite literally stolen this woman’s gown. And here she was, busting into the kitchens to yell at a man for accusing you of the very same.

The eyes of the kitchen staff flicked between them, looking on as though they’d never seen a match more engaging. Their interest was dialed up by a thousand, however, when a head of red and white hair appeared over Izuku’s shoulder.

“Izuku, why’d you run off? Is everything--” Prince Shouto stopped, staring at the scene before him. His full mouth parted in surprise, and instantly his eyes snapped to you.

You flushed, twisting nervously in your bindings.

“Y/N, I thought I had asked you to wait for me,” was the first thing he said. Your blush deepened and a chatter began to build in the crowds of the kitchen staff.

You cleared your throat. “I, um...something came up.”

The prince's eyebrows went up and he huffed a soft laugh. “Yes, I can see that.”

The guardsman who held you shifted nervously behind you. “Your highness, you know this girl?”

Prince Shouto fixed his gaze on the guardsman, stepping forward. “I do. Has she done something?”

A delicate sniff came from over your shoulder. “She's done nothing, as I’ve been telling them.”

Shouto’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Camie? What are you doing here?”

Lady Utsushimi inspected a fingernail idly. “Informing them that she did not, in fact, steal my dress.” She waved her hand at the fluffy monstrosity now hanging loosely in Kamiko’s shocked grip. “This idiot girl," she gestured to Kamiko, "seems to have assumed the worst. Or to have lied.”

Something like fear flashed across Kamiko's angelic features and you had to stifle another laugh.

“Will someone tell me what the devil is going on?” The housekeeper groused from Kamiko's side. “Is there a reason why all these nobles are here for Y/N?”

You had to wonder at that as well.

Lady Utsushimi, however, seemed to have no problem adding fuel to the fire. “I'm here because I lent her my dress, of course," she paused, a sly look crossing her face. A vague sense of sudden foreboding came over you.

"I figured she should get used to wearing them..." Lady Utsushimi said, a smirk overtaking her features,"...seeing as she’s going to be Shouto’s bride.”

Your brain turned off, and you stood frozen in absolute bamboozlement.

What in the hell did she think she was doing?

Shouto coughed uncomfortably. "Camie, I told you that in confidence. I didn't realize you were already acquainted with Y/N."

Lady Utsushimi shrugged, unconcerned. "It's not like you weren't going to ask her."

Your eyes flashed up to Shouto’s and he stared back, lifting a shoulder a little helplessly. “I had planned on asking you a little differently, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

He pushed his way past Izuku and strode the length of the room to kneel before you.

You could only stare down at him in shock.

“Y/N,” he said in that soft, low tone that made you feel like your mind feel a little like it was melting. “I love you, and I can't let you go now that I've found you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

All your blood seemed to rush out of your head to pool somewhere near your feet, leaving you mindless.

“Shouto, but I -- but you --”

He laughed, and he took both of your bound hands in a calloused palm. “I understand if you say you won’t, but I hope more than anything to hear you say you will.”

You looked down at him, your eyes darting over his handsome face. “You mean it? You really love me?”

He smiled. A length of silver ribbon appeared in his fingers. “Since the first moment you trod on my toes.”

You laughed, a feeling of euphoria crashing over you like a tidal wave. You felt incredible, like you could shoot apart like a firework, run the length of the continent, lift the entire castle with only your mind.

Shouto loved you. Ochako loved Midoriya, and Shouto loved you.

"Yes!” you shouted, startling even yourself with your own enthusiasm.

Shouto grinned and leaned forward, looping the silver ribbon over one of your wrists. “I had hoped to have a ring prepared before asking,” he said, shooting a sour look in Lady Utsushimi’s direction. “This will have to do for now.”

Lady Utsushimi inspected her nails again, nonplussed.

Abruptly, Shouto stood, scooping you up into his arms as he did. You yelped, throwing your still-bound arms around his neck in terror. He laughed into your hair.

“Shouto!” You gasped, clutching at him, but he was already moving, kicking the door into the servants’ hall open with one booted foot.

“Camie, Izuku, please see that this situation is resolved,” he said, carrying you into the halls. His deep voice bounced off the stone walls. “And send word to my father than I cannot be disturbed for the rest of the evening. I will speak with both of you later.”

Without waiting for their response, he moved down the hallway, turning the corner into the castle proper. He carried you through the palace, up through that winding series of brightly-lit halls. You blushed as people stared at you in passing, hiding your face in his broad shoulder. Then the world around you was all a blur of windows and doorways, until you stood before the grand oak doors to his apartments.

“Please ensure that we are not disturbed for the next twelve hours,” Shouto said to the guardsmen as they opened the doors for him, and you felt the tips of your ears go red. Surely he didn’t mean...?

As the doors closed behind you, Shouto carried you through his sitting room, straight through the double doors that lead to his bedchamber. His bed appeared much neater this time around, the covers clearly having been laundered and remade, but you did not have much time to admire it before you were tossed bodily onto it.

You yelped, but Shouto was already there, his body covering yours and pressing you into the soft, soft give of his bedding.

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” he said, his face dipping near to yours. His eyes were so bright and a roguish grin cut into the corner of his mouth. A rough hand came up to gently press one of your arms down next to your head.

Your breathing shallowed. “I had wanted to talk to Ochako.”

He looked at you in question.

“I had...believed her to be in love with you. I see now that I was quite mistaken,” you said.

Shouto laughed. “So that’s who Izuku has been sneaking around with. No wonder he ran after her at the ball. She was the Lady Uraraka, yes?”

You nodded.

“And that was why you came to the ball,” he murmured, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “And slipped her jewelry onto my tray. Why didn’t you say something, that day in my chambers when I asked for information?”

You squirmed. “I thought you were...angry with me. You were asking for the Lady Ito, and Captain Bakugou kept brandishing his sword.”

Shouto smirked. “You thought I meant to have revenge for my poor toes?”

You flushed. “I know now that you wouldn’t.”

His smirk turned predatory. “I rather think I would. I believe I will collect my dues this very moment.”

With that, he leaned down and slotted his mouth with yours. Your blood rushed in your ears. His mouth was so soft and he tasted like mint, exactly the way you'd thought he would.

A calloused hand slipped up your waist to press you up into him. You gasped, arching with the motion of his hand to get closer to him, pressing desperately against him.

He groaned softly and slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving to hold the back of your head in a gentle but firm grip.

“Y/N,” he breathed when he drew back from you. “I shouldn’t go any further. It would be improper, before we are married.”

You let out a frustrated noise and threw your arms over his neck to draw him back to you. “I stole Lady Utsushimi’s dress and broke into your birthday. I called Kamiko a spineless fucking flop and all but poisoned your food with a necklace. I spend every evening up to my elbows in ashes and soot because I can’t keep my mouth shut. I don’t care about proper.”

And then you pulled his mouth back to yours. Shouto seemed to resist for a moment before sinking back into you, his weight trapping you heavily against the mattress.

“Unless you’re worried about your virtue,” you teased when you finally broke apart.

A dark look came into his grey and blue gaze and he gestured to your still bound wrists. “I rather think you ought to be more worried about your own predicament, love.”

A shiver raced down your spine. His sharp gaze caught it and he smirked.

“Like that, do you?” he pushed back onto his knees and pulled his shirt over his head. Your mind went blank, and all your focus narrowed to the sight of his sculpted chest and well defined abs, the promise of power in his sinewy arms. This is what he had been hiding beneath all those soft doublets.

Shouto leaned over you again, caging you in and lowering his face to yours. “That day in the library. You shivered when I called you a good girl.”

You flushed in embarrassment.

“I confess to imagining what else would make you tremble like that.” He turned his face into your neck, biting down softly. You gasped, and your hips lifted into him before you could stop yourself.

“It’s time for me to take my revenge for everything you’ve put me through, love,” he breathed, laving over your collarbone. “You've hid enough from me these past weeks. You are going to come apart for me - once for every day you hid from me.”

You moaned, grasping frantically at his arm. The week wasn't long enough to give him that many climaxes, never mind the evening. “Shouto, I can’t.”

His mouth dipped below the line of your dress. “You're going to try, love. As your prince, I command it. I will wring them from you should I have to.”

Shouto’s fingers moved to the hem of your dress and he pushed it up over your head, helping you move your shoulders to roll it out from underneath you.

“Perfect,” he breathed. His mouth latched over a nipple and you arched desperately up into him. His clever fingers trailed down over the skin of your thigh, before slipping beneath your underwear. He pressed gently against your clit and you moaned even louder, writhing somewhat helplessly underneath him.

“S-Shouto,” you panted. “Please let me touch you.”

His mouth released your nipple, only for him to flick his tongue over the hardening bud. “When I’ve properly avenged my toes, princess.”

His fingers pressed into you and you moaned again. He looked up into your face, staring with interest. You moved to hide your face in embarrassment but he caught you by the arm and pinned it back into the mattress above your head. The bindings held your other arm in place with it.

Shouto kissed you again, and his clever fingers twisted inside you. Heat built within you, and as his thumb pressed insistently against your clit, your vision went white with pleasure.

You rode his hand to completion as he swallowed the sounds of your moans. When you returned to yourself, he was stroking your hair gently as your hips jerked in weak little circles against him.

“So beautiful,” he said, smiling and pressing another kiss to your mouth. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. You’re going to be the most loved princess this kingdom has ever seen.”

You flushed, but smiled against his mouth. “I hope to at least be the most well-read."

His varicolored gaze raked over you, like he was cataloguing every one of your features to save forever, and his hand tightened in your hair.

"I love you, Shouto,” you said, letting your gaze rove over him too. "I'm sorry to have hid from you for so long."

He smiled, looking elated at your pronouncement. “Y/N," he said, "I love you, too.”

Then, a serious look overtook his handsome face one more. “But I believe we have some unfinished business, love. That’s one,” he said, and his hand moved to unlace his breeches. “But you have several more to go."

He rolled over you, stretching out over your body and reaching for your bindings. "I do think I promised you to teach you how to ride.”

You choked and blushed to the roots of your hair.

And teach you he did.

#bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #fanfic #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #boku no hero academia #smut

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dork-empress · 3 years

Text

Singing in the Dead of Night

Damian Wayne meets a new masked persona in Gotham, and everyone has to adjust to her.

AKA I have a lot of headcanons about Lucy Quinzel and I'm making it other people's problem.

I want it up front that I haven't read these comics, just a lot of wiki pages and tiktoks. If there's a fun thing in the comics you can tell me, but this is my own version of this universe and these characters.

This is going to be the main story, but I may do some offshoots. If you want to subscribe, chapters are also posted on my Ao3 (link in my description).

“You need to take things less seriously.”

Damian looked up, looked down, and then looked back just to be sure it was really his father who asked. It was hard to tell sometimes if your superhero father had been replaced or possessed or something. “Are you serious? YOU’RE telling me that?”

“That should enforce to you how dire the situation is.” Bruce said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re still a kid,”

“I’m 15,” Damian said, then thought about his varied adventures, “Technically…”

“My point exactly,” Bruce said, turning a page on his crime reports, “You should enjoy being a kid, for a while.”

“Oh, did you enjoy being 15?” Damian said, and maybe that was a low blow, but if Bruce wasn’t ready for him to call him out he...shouldn’t have made him upset. Hmm.

Bruce looked up and stared into his soul, and Damian worried he might have stepped in it a bit. He backed up a step in case. Bruce took a deep breath, looking at him. “My childhood was stolen from me, but I at least had one. As did all the other Robins. You’re not responsible for what happened to you,but I think you could use some time. I couldn’t offer you a childhood then, and I can hardly do that now, I know, but I can do what I can.”

“And what are you doing?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re suspended from Robin duties.”

“WHAT?!” Damian exploded, getting in his face. “What are you talking about?!”

Bruce didn’t flinch, “Until the Wayne Manor Christmas Party,” Bruce said, “I’ve called Tim and he’s willing to cover for you until then.”

“He doesn’t NEED to cover me,” Damian snarled, “I’m right here! I’m not injured, or dead, or ANYTHING I just--WHY?”

“I told you,” Bruce said, “You need to find other...hobbies, or form connections or SOMEthing. Anything other than the lifestyle. You have two months, you’ll live.”

Damian curled his fists, shaking, but had no more arguments. “You’re the WORST!” He said, and went off to his rooms.

The room was left in stony silence for a moment. Alfred came in, changing out Bruce’s cup of tea. “You don’t actually expect that to work, do you?”

“Not really, no,” Bruce said, “But he’ll be out of my hair for a little bit.”

Alfred was very dignified and so did not snort. But it was close.

Damian went out at night, saying he was off with a friend. Best to keep things vague, but if Bruce pressed, he’d say he was with Jon, and could probably bully Jon into vouching for him.

He dressed all in black, jumping from the rooftops, looking for trouble. There was usually plenty of it in Gotham. He just had to avoid the Bat Signal hanging in the sky and he’d be fine.

He heard a crash and looked down. Jewelry store robbery. Perfect.

He jumped down to ground level and approached the broken in window, taking out his sword. “Anyone in here, it’s better to surrender now,”

Of course, because it was Gotham, he wasn’t met by a normal jewel thief. No, instead, what approached him was a small walking orange balloon animal dog.

Because of course it was.

With an act first, think later attitude, he stabbed at it. He regretted it instantly as it let out some sort of opaque gas, the effects of which he didn’t want to find out. He pulled his shirt up over his mouth in hopes of preventing himself breathing too much in.

“Oh wow,” a voice said behind him, “Are you Robin?”

Damian whipped around and scowled. The gas was obscuring whoever was there, but the silhouette seemed like something of a ballerina. Why couldn’t one criminal just be normal?

He jumped back, ready to attack, but she didn’t fight him. “I’m not Robin,” he said, “I’m…” he didn’t think of another name. Ugh, this was more complicated than it needed to be.

“Huh,” she said, heading over to the display case, “This city sure has a lot of teenage ninja fighters, doesn’t it? Is ninja appropriative? Hmm, will have to think on that.”

She picked up a diamond ring from the display case and headed for the door. “Put that down!” Damian yelled at her, lifting his sword up.

“What, are you going to kill me for one ring?” She said, holding it, “Kinda overkill, don’t you think, Blackbird?”

Damian put his sword up to her, blocking the exit. “I’m not going to kill you, I’m just going to stop you,” he said, determined, but then her words sank in. “Blackbird?”

“Well, I’ve got to call you something, isn’t that how these superhero fights all go?” She stepped forward out of the fog, a girl about his age with a white painted face, lips painted into a heart, and bright orange and pink eyeshadow. “I’m Commedia, the hero of funny, the dancing clown, the laughing knight, etc etc.” she said, “im still working on my name too.”

She did a fancy twirl, getting out of range of Damian’s sword, which he countered to block her from the entrance again. “Oh, you like to dance?” she said.

“Clown, huh?” he said, staring her down, “You work for the joker?”

She laughed, high pitched and sweet, “Very much no,” she said, twirling again through the store, “Though I understand the confusion. No, Joker is...well, a joke. He’s not even registered in the clown registry.”

“There’s a clown registry?” He swung his sword.

This time, it came to a stop, with a matching jingle. He frowned, and saw it was a tambourine that the woman had lifted and stopped the sword like a shield.

He stared at the girl, Commedia, in stunned silence. She smiled brightly at him. “Well, this has been fun. But I really ought to head out. Raincheck on that dance, Blackbird.”

With a spin and a jump, she made it past him and rushed out the door, throwing a pink flower behind. A gas filled up the room in her wake, obscuring the view. Damian unfortunately got a whiff before he could block his nose, but he knew a simple fog cloud scent when he smelled it.

Damian went back into the shadows before the police inevitably arrived. It did seem below his paygrade, fighting someone who only stole a single diamond ring. But it was even stranger for that fact. A strangely dressed clown woman engaging in very strange and specific crimes in Gotham screamed “beginning of a dangerous plot.”

He wanted to go in swinging as usual, then remembered that if his father heard anything about a young person with a sword threatening police, he might catch onto the fact Damian went out that night. So, he went with the subtle approach. Breaking into the jewelry store’s records.

He was glad he did. It turned out that ring in particular had a history. It had been bought, returned, bought again, and returned once more, all by the same man, a Matthew Crenshaw. A quick records search brought up that he was a simple caller at a center. Nothing special about him. But, he was tied to the ring, and that tied him to the girl, so that was his first stop.

He tracked down the apartment to find Matthew Crenshaw in the middle of a very strange day. Damien watched through the window as Matthew lay on the floor of his meager living room, looking up at Commedia herself. She held the ring out to him, offering. “Well come on, man! Take it!”

“I don’t…” he mumbled, “Who...who are you?!”

“Just call me your fairy godmother,” she said. “Come on, you said you wanted it! So take it!”

“That’s…” Matthew said, “That’s the ring that Jenny liked...that she…”

“That you said would make the perfect proposal!” She said, dancing around, “So? Here it is! Now you can propose for real!” she said, giving it to him.

He juggled it, nearly falling over. Commedia came rushing over, jumping through the window and onto the fire escape. “Alright, hands up,” Damian urged her.

She turned, smiling. “Why, Blackbird? We going on roller coaster?” She put her hands high in the air and swung around the fire escape ladder, “Weeeeee!”

Damian followed her, pointing his sword tip at her chest. “Stop,” he said, “What are you planning?”

“Well, I’m planning to go sneak up to that window up there so I can look in and see what Matty and Jenny have going on,” She said, “Wanna join--OH!”

Damian pressed his sword up to her neck. “Cut the games,” He said, “You’re up to something, I know it. So tell me.”

Commedia sighed, giving in. “Matthew doesn’t want to get married.”

“I...what?” Damian said, confused.

“Matthew Crenshaw, the guy up there,” Commedia said, “He’s a nice guy, and he cares for his girlfriend Jenny, sure. But she’s been pressuring him about getting married, even though he doesn’t really like the idea of getting married. He’s talked himself into saying that he needs the perfect ring, but when he bought it, he decided he couldn’t afford it, and gave it back. So, I got it for him.”

Damian’s scowl only deepened as she kept talking. “Who’s he to you?”

She tilted her head, confused. “He cold called me to try and offer me a deal on car insurance.”

Damian put down the sword. He just. She said it so sincerely. “Who ARE you?” He demanded, now out of confusion more than anger.

She smiled brightly once more. “Why, I’m Commedia! The hero clown, the dancing--”

“Yeah, you said all that before, but like,” He sighed, “Why?”

Commedia’s smile fell down to something simple and kind. She offered a hand to him.

Hesitant, curious, and just...confused, he took it.

She led him to the other window, where they saw Jenny walking through the door. She gasped and ran to Matthew. “Oh, Matt! Matt, yes! Yes, I do, I do, I never thought this day would come! Oh gosh, I gotta call my mom, I’ve got a few dresses all picked out. You’ll see, it’ll be a huge party with everyone we know and-”

“Jenny,” he said, “Jenny wait, I...you know I don’t...I’m not comfortable with crowds and...and I don’t--

“But it’s MY DAY!” Jenny wailed, “You wouldn’t take MY day from me, would you?”

“C’mon,” Commedia muttered.

“Please, Jen,” Matt continued, “Look it’s just...if, if we did get married, shouldn’t--wouldn’t it be my day too?”

“Oh come ON, Matt,” Jenny said, walking to the counter, “We both know I’m the one who knows what’s best for you. It’ll be good! You’ll finally get to shine, and if you don’t like it, you’ll have ME there to take the rest of the spotlight!”

Matt’s hands balled into fists, and his face set, “No.”

“What?” Jenny said, incredulous.

“I’ve had it! I’m tired of-of you telling me what I like and what I don’t!” his lip trembled as he stood up. “I knew I was hesitant, but I didn’t know why! Now I see it’s becasue I didn’t want you in the rest of my life!”

“Hey now,” Jenny said, “Matt, calm down--”

“Get out of my house!” Matt went to the open window Commedia left behind and tossed out the ring.

“Whoopsies,” Commedia said and dropped away. Damian, confused, dropped down after her.

She picked the ring up from the ground and held it out to Damian. “I trust you can get this back to the jewelry store.”

“So, all of that…” he said, “was to help a guy get out of a bad relationship? That you barely knew?”

“He sounded sad on the phone,” Commedia said, “Made me curious.”

Damian scoffed, staring at her. “Who ARE you?”

She chuckled. “My guess is you’ll find out sooner or later,” she said, “So I’ll pick later, for now. But I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Blackbird.”

She took out another flower. This one shot off into the distance like a grappling hook, and pulled her twirling into the night.

Damian could have followed her, maybe. But, holding the ring in his hands, he didn’t see much need to.

Across town, Batman was called to a bank robbery in the middle of the night. Inside, however, he didn’t find the vault broken in, and nothing stolen, other than a number of complimentary lollipops. “You know there are easier ways to get my attention.”

“Aw, Come on Bats!” Harley said, swinging from the ceiling with one of the lollipops in her mouth, “Ain’t this a classic? Brings me back to the old days.”

“Oh, you’ve stopped doing crime then?” He said, leaning back and looking up at her, “News to me.”

Harley flipped down in front of him. “Batsy, you know I’m tryin’! I do good, is it a crime to have a little fun while I do it?”

“If you hurt people, yes.” Batman said.

Harley deflated. “I haven’t done that in a while now. I’m goin through some life changes.”

Batman hummed, staring down at her. “I’m guessing this is about the small clown that has been reported around town recently doing strange acts of minor crimes to help people?”

Harley brightened again, balancing on the teller counter. “She’s my new apprentice! A bit of a goody-two-shoes, but I’m doing my best to train her.” She did a handstand, “I came to ask for some advice at raising child soldiers, considering you have so much experience.”

Batman always scowled, but it seemed his scowl deepened on that. “I help some people come to terms with terrible things that have happened to them, and teach them to be a force of good in the world instead of falling to the world’s darkness.” He thought back on his children, “It doesn’t always work.”

Harley laughed, “No kidding,” she said. She sighed, thinking. “To be honest, Commedia is already pretty good. I can’t claim credit for that.” She rocked back and forth, feeling uneasy.

Batman approached, slow so as not to scare her. “Well, we both know she didn’t get it from her father.”

Her face was already white, but she blanched further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, “She’s my niece, she ran from home so I’m taking care of her and-”

“Harley,” Batman stopped her rambling, “I’m a detective, remember?”

She frowned, shaking at him. “He doesn’t know,” she said, “No one knows, she...she’s never met him and I don’t want her to I--”

Batman held up his hands, stopping her again. “I know,” he said, “I understand, really. And I’ll help.”

She blinked up at him, smiling. “Really?”

Batman nodded. “I’ll help you protect her. As for advice....if you ever figure out a perfect way to raise masked vigilantes, let me know. I mostly just do the best I can, and make sure they can do a proper spin-kick if they need to.”

Harley snorted. “I’ll make a note of that.” She grabbed the box of free lollies on the counter, “I am going to be robbing these though, and you can’t stop me.”

She headed for the back entrance and away. “Harley,” Batman called her again, and she froze, “The year you were gone, when you disappeared and suddenly your sister had a child she wasn’t pregnant with. I want you to know, I noticed.”

Harley smiled, turning, “Thanks Bats-” When she turned, he was gone. “And people call me a drama queen.”

#lucy quinzel #batman #damian wayne #harley quinn #batfamily #joker

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the-avengers-ate-my-tongue · 4 years

Text

Scars (Smut)

Scars

Summary: You hadn't seen Will ever since the day he left you to chase Hannibal in Florence, finding out after a while that he got married to someone else. But with the murders of the tooth fairy, Jack asked him to come back to help, and he couldn't stay away anymore, showing up for a visit. Will the old scars of your heart burst open in new wounds or heal completely?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: SMUT, angst, swearing, spoilers from season 3.

Word count: 3.381

A/n: this is the first smut I write in English, it's not my first language, so I hope it's alright. Any mistakes or anything, just let me know. This is another one with my boi Will, I just love him so much AAAAAA

As I read The Wuthering Heights for the hundredth time sitting in the living room, I heard someone ring the doorbell. I sighed, staring at the clock. It was still early. The person I was expecting would just come in, after all, Alana was a close friend and she knew she was allowed to do so. I raised an eyebrow. I wasn't expecting anybody else.

My dog, Sally, started to bark thunderously, sniffing under the door. I closed the book lethargicly, rolling my eyes as I got up the couch in a lazy mood, walking to the door and opening without asking who was outside, realizing perhaps too soon it was a mistake.

Will Graham stared at me, a light smile in his handsome face that didn't reach his eyes. I felt like something was twitching my stomach, and probably turned albescent. I hadn't seen him in over three years. Alana warned me he was back in town to work on the tooth fairy's case, but I didn't think he would stop by for a visit. Not after so long.

"Good to see you, Y/n." He tried, obtaining no response of mine. "I… I was just around the neighborhood and I wanted to see you. It's been a while."

"Who gave you my address?" I retorted, probably sounding more hostile than I intended. He stepped back, scratching the back of his neck, probably already regretting the impulsive idea.

"Jack."

"Of course he did. What else did he tell you?"

"Was there anything else he should've told me?" I searched his face for any sign of emotions, but didn't get anything that could tell me what he was feeling. The old Will was someone I could always read, no matter what. After Hannibal came along, he just started to show less and less emotions, till his face became a cold mask, his deep eyes empty, opaque. I missed the sweet, caring Will.

I was just standing there, silent. Sally found some space between my legs and managed to get out the house, launching at Will, wagging her tail and trying to get close enough of his ears so she could lick them. Will laughed lightly, crouching down to pet her.

"Who's this?" He asked, scratching behind her ears. I crossed my arms, I gave everything to that dog, undying love, a bed, high quality food, and now she backstabs me.

"That's Sally. She's a stray I took in one year and a half ago. Sally, sweetheart, come inside." I whistled once and she obeyed, running through my legs again. I sighed, stepping away from the door so he could come in. Maybe he wouldn't stay for long if I just let him in. He hesitated, but entered, passing through me. I could smell the air as he passed, he still used the same aftershave. That hurt even more, and I could feel my eyes watering a little. Why did he have to come? Why was he here? What does he want?

I tried to hide it, opening the kitchen door so Sally could play in the backyard, then walking to the sideboard where I kept whisky.

"Would you like some?" I inquired, still not feeling safe enough to face him. "I'm pouring myself one."

"Sure. Please. Neat." He replied, and I could feel his eyes on me, watching every single movement I made. That made my hands tremble a bit, and I cursed in a whisper when I spilled a little bit of the drink. So fucking clumsy.

I finally faced him when I felt my eyes get dryer, smiling lightly as I gave him the glass of whisky, neat. Our fingers touched a bit and I sat beside him, albeit a little far, taking a long sip of my glass. We stayed like that for a few minutes, two strangers that used to know each other, love each other. My eyes traveled through his face and I distinguished some new scars, probably from the great encounter with Hannibal Lecter and Mason Verger a few years ago. I remembered the way I used to kiss every single scar he had, I loved every part of Will, his scars were part of his story, part of who he was.

He lowered his eyes for a moment, smiling as he saw the book standing on the coffee table.

"Is it still your favorite? Wuthering Heights." He grabbed the book, opening the first page. There was the name I didn't use anymore. Y/n Graham. He gave me that edition as a Christmas gift a long time ago, and I couldn't get rid of it, fantasizing that after such a long time, I could still feel Will's scent in it.

"Undoubtedly. Every time I read it it's like the first. Except maybe now it's even more bitter." I avoided facing him, staring at the book, suddenly feeling pretty silly. He didn't ask. He knew why.

"I suppose Heathcliff's still your favorite character."

"Now more than even, guess I finally understand his suffering." I regretted sounding so harsh, but it was said now. Will clenched his jaw.

"So you're saying I'm your Catherine?"

"I don't know. Am I?" I teased, hugging my body protectively. "Why are you here, Will? Why did you have to come? To torment me? You left three years ago after I begged you to stay, you just had to go after Hannibal, pursue your hunt. I allowed you to go, but I couldn't be there when you returned. I didn't even know you would return alive or if I would see a miserable Jack Crawford knocking on my door with grief in his face. I wouldn't bear it. So I left, but I kept expecting you to come find me if you ever got back. Then, Hannibal was finally arrested. I thought it was finally over, but you never came. You left again, and a while later I heard…"

My eyes traveled through his hands and I saw it. The wedding ring. That hurt so much I finally felt tears wetting my face, and dismissed them quickly with one hand.

"So it is true. You did get married." My voice sounded venomous, sharp as a knife. "Lucky girl. We didn't even get to that stage. Engagement was the maximum."

He was silent, allowing me to vent. As I haven't done that a lot with Alana already. His eyes were finally wet, finally some emotion on his face. That handsome face. That face I would never get tired of. I wanted to kiss them away, hold him and tell him everything would be okay, but it wouldn't. That teacup would never gather itself up again. We were two broken souls.

"I thought you wouldn't want me anymore. I wasn't the man you once met, the man you fell for, I was no longer good for you, if I ever have been. Hannibal changed me in ways you could never understand, ways even I don't understand."

"Hannibal changed all of us. Like a poison ivy that found its way into our cores and grew roots there. I can still feel his damage inside me, like… A cancer. It spreads. It tastes like metal at the tip of my tongue. I saw his face in my dreams for a very long time after you left. I still see him sometimes, not necessarily in my dreams…" I stopped talking as he grabbed my hand, caressing the palm with his thumb. I realized how much I missed his hands. They were a little rough due to how much he worked with them, but it never bothered me. It was ridiculous how much he could still affect me with a single touch, a look.

"I wanted to start over. Leave everything behind. I wanted to… Flee from that darkness that nested me. But it followed me, as it does wherever I go. I wanted someone pure, so it could contain it, or even diminish it. But you, Y/n… You never left my mind. I could never suppress you." He raised his hand, touching my cheek with cold, pale fingers. That touch made me close my eyes, his voice working like a balsam inside of me. I sighed, totally giving in.

Will got closer, his lips touching mine with such delicacy. I touched his hair, grabbing some on the back of his neck, pulling it lightly. That made him release a low groan, as the kiss started to get deeper. I moved my body, wanting to stay as close to him as the laws of physics allowed, and when I felt his tongue touch mine, fireworks eclode from my chest, my heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's.

I still loved him, of course I did. I never stopped. All the bitterness he left with his departure started to boil on my chest, becoming something else, something I couldn't figure out yet. His lips moved from mine to my neck, and I moaned a little louder, sinking my nails on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to my thigh and I allowed myself to lie down on the couch, pulling him with me. He lifted my leg and I embraced his waist with them, feelings mixtured inside my chest. That was wrong, he was a married man now. He had a wife waiting for him back home.

But, for a moment while he stared at me, our foreheads glued together, I saw my Will in his eyes. I saw the Will I first met, the socially awkward man Alana introduced me years ago and couldn't even stare me in the eyes, the kind, caring man I once knew. One single tear fell from his eye, and I knew he was probably conflicted as well. I kissed it away, kissing his lips again, a deep, slow kiss that made my insides chiver. I needed him so much. Even if it was just one time. Just for today. I needed that kind of closure.

I unbottoned his shirt, sinking my fingers into the skin of his biceps. He threw it on the floor, going for my clothes, and I thanked myself mentally for a moment for wearing a dress. He'd seen it before, he'd taken it off many times. He lifted the piece of clothing above my head and I threw it away gladly, kissing his neck while opening his pants. He kicked off his shoes, doing the same with the pants and underwear as I took off my bra. He took a while to stare at my body, his pupils so dilated with lust his eyes were almost completely black.

"No one looks at me the way you do." I said, noticing I haven't heard that tone in my voice for a very long time.

He pulled my panties off and rested his hips on mine, shutting his eyes as he slipped slowly inside of me. I let out a low gasp, trying to stabilize my breathing. Will hid his face on my neck and I could feel his hot breathing and the light scratches of his beard. Still slowly, he started to move inside me, thrusting back and forth. I bit my bottom lip as I tried to suppress a groan, and one of his hands grabbed my breast, his thumb stimulating the nipple. Will knew all my "buttons". Where to push, where to hold, so I could melt in his hands.

He started to thrust faster and faster, and I could feel the familiar feeling growing at the bottom of my stomach. A few more minutes and I lifted my head up, shutting my eyes as the pleasure started to grow.

"No." Will said almost in a whisper, pulling my chin down. "Let me see your face. I need it."

I stared at him while we both climaxed, a loud cry leaving my lips and Will's almost louder groan echoing through my ears. He dropped his body on mine, both of us covered in sweat and bodily fluids. We stayed that way until we could breathe normally again, his head on my chest and my fingers playing with his hair.

I wanted to say so many things. How much I loved him. How much I wanted him to stay. How much I've missed him. But he knew. He always knew. After that, we showered together to get rid of the sweat, and even then we couldn't stay away from each other. He hugged me while the water washed our body, kissing sometimes my lips, sometimes my forehead, my neck, my shoulder. I kissed every single one of his scars, as I used to do. I thought I'd seen tears on his face, but it might have been the water pouring from the shower.

After we finished the shower, he got dressed and I put on a robe, my hair wetting the silk. Will took my face in his hands, kissing my lips with tenderness. I wanted to ask him to stay. He knew that. I wanted him to leave before I made a fool of myself.

He was still holding my face when the door suddenly opened and I pushed him away quickly.

Alana entered, looking from Will to me, and I knew I would get scolded later for that. She noticed, always cunning.

"Well, just look what the cat dragged in." She said with sarcasm, the door still open. "Hi, Will. Long time no see."

"Alana." He said, seeming surprised. She didn't have time to answer, though. Her son, Morgan, entered the house accompanied by my little world.

"Mommy!" The dark haired child ran to me, bringing a smile to my face as I crouched down to hug him.

"My beautiful boy! Did you have fun at the zoo?" I asked, forgetting about Will's presence for a while. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble, Alana. Henry, did you behave?"

"Mommy, we saw a lion! He roared, and then we saw the giraffes, and the tiger…"

"Look at you dodging my question! Very canny." I laughed, hugging him again.

"He always behaves, you know that. He's a good kid." Alana answered, but she wasn't looking at me. She was staring directly at Will.

I looked at him. His eyes were on Henry, he seemed shocked, astonished.

"I'll be on my way, then. I'll call you later." She said almost like a threat, making me smile.

"Okay. Bye, Morgan. Send my regards to Margot, Alana, and come to dinner at the end of the week."

"Will do. See you around, Will." She closed the door behind her, leaving me with the two people I loved the most.

"Henry, this is Will. He's an old friend of mommy's. Won't you say hello?" I brought him closer to Will, and he got down on his knees, his eyes wet.

"Hi, Henry." He greeted, smiling with joy. Real joy. I smiled back, caressing Henry's hair. "It's nice meeting you."

"Hi." He replied with shyness, hiding behind my body. That made me laugh lightly.

"Baby, why don't you go upstairs and draw a picture of that lion you saw? How about that?" I asked him, kissing the top of his head.

"Okay, mommy." He started to climb up the stairs as Will still stared at him, seeming amazed.

"Is he… Is he…" Will tried to formulate his words, emotion breaking his voice.

"Yes. He's yours. Not difficult to notice, right? He looks just like you." I replied, wiping the tears away. "I found out I was pregnant a few days after you left. When you came back and Hannibal was arrested, I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to stick with me just because of the baby, so I just… Didn't. He was about a year old when I found out you got married. Alana is his godmother, she helped me so much. She and Margot. He's just a little younger than their son, Morgan, they're best friends. Henry's very smart. He's a joyful child. He's kind, caring to others. He reminds me of you all the time. He's my biggest accomplishment."

Will's face was blushed from crying, but he smiled through the tears, cleaning his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Mommy!" Henry called from the top of the stairs, crayons on his hands. "Can I show Hannibal the drawing?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I grimaced, feeling Will's gaze on me. He wasn't supposed to find out that way, I didn't even have the time to tell him slowly so I could try to explain what made no sense.

"Ahn… Sure, honey. Sure. If you want. Now go to your room for a bit, okay? Mommy will see you in a minute, and then you can show me the drawing." I waited until he entered the room, hearing the door shut. I turned myself to Will.

"Did I hear it right? Hannibal?" Will raised his voice a little and I gestured him to keep his voice down. "Hannibal has seen the kid? You're taking him to see Hannibal?"

"I know how it sounds, just let me explain…" I asked, noticing the change in his eyes. They were once again cold, but sharp. He was angry.

"How do you explain this? Y/n? Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes! Yes, I fucking have! I lost my mind when you left, goddamnit!" I screamed, covering my mouth, hoping Henry would not come out of his bedroom. "Hannibal was the last link I had with you. So I sought comfort with the only one who would understand what was like to lose you. Because no one fucking did. Even Alana couldn't help me. So yes, I turned to Hannibal. Because he knows what's like to love you, to ache for you. And you don't get to judge me for that."

Will's eyes were wide, like he couldn't believe what I was saying.

"Besides…" I sniffed, rubbing my face with my hands "Hannibal cares for him. I know it. And Henry just adores him, Will, you should see…"

"My God, listen to what you're saying, Y/n! Listen to yourself!" He grabbed my face with his hands a little roughly, making me hold his wrists. "He's a killer. He's a cold killer. Can't you see how dangerous it is?"

"Well, we're all fucking killers!" I pushed him away, breathing hard. "Or have you forgotten about it? The night we killed Randall Tier? You really think that wouldn't stain me? Or maybe you do, and that's why you married another woman, with all her purity, because you couldn't bear to see how much you and Hannibal have broken me!"

He kept staring at me with that look in his eyes, the cold, sharp look that made me shiver. For a moment, I felt the danger of him trying to take my kid away. Would he even consider that? No. No one would take my child away from me. He was mine.

"This was a bad idea, I should've never allowed you to come inside. Please, leave." I asked, pointing to the door.

He stayed put.

"Will, you better leave. Now. I'm warning you." I stepped away from him, but he pulled me closer, hugging me tightly. I hid my face in his chest, sobbing, hitting him weakly on the shoulders with my fists. "Just go, please. Just go."

"We'll figure it out. Everything will be fine." He kissed me for the last time, letting me go. I knew he would be back. He stared at me once more, and finally left, closing the door behind me.

"Mommy, why are you crying?" I heard Henry's voice and turned to look at him coming down the stairs, kneeling to hug him. "Please mommy, don't cry!"

"It's okay, baby. Mommy is fine. Everything will be okay. How about a nice bath before we go see Hannibal, uh? Let's go."

"With bubbles?" He asked, clapping in joy. I smiled back to him, caressing his hair.

"With bubbles. Lots of bubbles." I kissed the top of his head and rushed him to the bathroom, an uneasy feeling pumping on my chest. I knew that wouldn't be the last time I saw Will. He would be back. Yes, he would.

#hannibal #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen #will graham #will graham headcanon #will graham imagine #hannibal imagine #will graham x reader #alana bloom #alana bloom imagine

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secret-engima · 3 years

Text

hamelin-born

@secret-engima

Oscar likes green. It’s that simple. Yes, he does have a lot of fond memories linked to the color green, and yes, having everything be green means that any magic he choses to use has a good chance of being lost against the background, but - green’s his favorite color. It’s that simple. He’d probably honestly be a little amused at hearing all the frantic speculation about his reasons behind the color scheme.

...the fact that The Emerald City made appearances in the hometowns of what would grow to become Team JNPR is totally a coincidence. Right? Yes. A total coincidence.

*snicker* That is perfectly in character. Mercury probably sarcastically suggested that Oscar’s animated cane-weapon be given the name of ‘Short Term Memory’ or something along those lines. Oscar, true to himself, decided - hey, his cane was a living thing, it should have the chance to chose it’s own name!

That is why the cane proudly bears a name suspiciously similar to ‘Toto’.

Whitley is cheering on Oscar’s efforts to make miniatured rainbows, and looking up all the information on color spectrum and prisms. He too wants to be able to, one day, see a grumpy person with a personalized raincloud above their head! A raincloud that will break into rainbows when they smile and/or laugh! And they know just the perfect test subject...

Somewhere, Qrow feels a shiver run down his spine.

Oscar did not set out with the intention of kidnapping Whitley. It just - happened? And ooh, but I love seeing Whitley’s perspectives of his first meeting with Oscar. It’s just - Oscar accidentally come off as mysterious and colorful and almost fae; it’s amazing. And just - I’m suddenly struck by the parallels with another modern fairy tale - namely, Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. Oscar doesn’t sugarcoat the danger when he offers to take Whitley away; he lays out everything in his offer, and leaves it Whitley’s decision.

And Whitey - comes away.

He never regrets it.

A couple of random thoughts about the Schnee Family Debacle: Actually, Qrow might initially be afraid that the ‘Schnee Bingo’ is indirectly aimed at Ironwood. Because Winter is - relatively close in Ironwood’s confidence, I believe. And the whole ‘dragging the family’s sin’s into the light?’ It is going to impact her, one way or another. And everyone who is aware of ‘Schnee Bingo’ is going to wonder just what they did for the Ringmaster to respond like this - speculation goes anywhere from realistic to highly improbable.

The smart ones, upon uncovering the evidence of what the Schnee family does to their kids, think that that probably has something to do with it.

Me: @hamelin-born

The reblog chain this is from is getting really long, so I decided to snag this and start a new post with it. XD

Oscar likes green! It means growing things and life! And yes it does hide his magic rather well :3

The fact that Emerald City has been all over the world and stopped in hometowns of SEVERAL main characters is total coincidence yes. :3 Just like how it is TOTAL coincidence that sometimes, a child or two is invited backstage to meet the tiny Ringmaster. >:333

(Pyrrha remembers that circus years later, how she was 14 and just starting to really get famous and realize how much fame sucked, and she didn’t have her parent’s permission to go to the Circus just outside Argus but she did anyway and it was a night she would never forget. A magical, beautiful night, and then the little Ringmaster, a boy younger than her, smiled and sang a song that brought tears to the eyes and somehow- it felt like he was looking right at her.)

(She remembers being invited backstage by one of the acrobats, a cocky boy her age with silver hair, and at first she thought they were doing it because she was “Pyrrha Nikos” but- they never mentioned it. They never even asked her name. They just led her backstage to the tiny Ringmaster in his top hat and cane and workshop of wonders. He smiled at her and asked her name. She blinked and cautiously asked if he didn’t know it already. The boy twirled his cane and seemed a little too old for his childish appearance as he said “How could I? We’ve never met before. Though,” his smile had gone a little ... something at the edges, sad or wild or maybe even fae like her grandmother’s old stories, “I may have met your shadow along my roads, and for that I suppose I owe you thanks.”)

(“...Thanks? To me?” She asks, and the boy hums as he starts performing magic tricks right there, just for her, reappearing and disappearing of various trinkets and tools. Yes, he tells her, and then he pulls out a beautiful little necklace, a slender gold chain with a glimmering stone in the shape of a juniper tree, he offers it to her, and she wonders if it’s her imagination that the stone tree feels warm and alive on her palm, you don’t remember, he hums gently, but you once told my best friend that you believed in him, and it quite possibly saved his life. He never told me your name, but he told me about the Argus girl with red hair and kind eyes, and I dare say you fit the description to a T.)

(The Ringmaster smiles at her and gestures at the little necklace, “Keep it, as a thank you. May it bring you good fortune and safe passage, no matter where your destiny leads.” Not long after, she was led out by another of the acrobats, and it was only after she’d gotten home and was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom that she realized she was automatically wearing the necklace. And that the stone still felt warm.)

(If anyone bothers to ask Pyrrha Nikos after that if she believed in magic, she will touch the pendant of a tree that she always wears around her neck and say yes. Magic is real. And so are little fairy boys with kind green eyes.)

(Annnnd now I wanna do some drabbles of the main cast meeting the Emerald City circus and having encounters with the mysterious little Ringmaster XD)

Mercury so suggests “short-term memory” but Oscar solemnly says the cane should have a say. It picks the name “Total Remembrance” and Mercury laughs his head off while Neo gleefully calls the cane a sarcastic little twig. They shorten the name to “Toto” for Oscar’s sanity.

Whitley is a glee the day they get the spell to WORK. Now- to find their first test subject. Emerald: I’LL GO LEAD HIM HERE *flies off as a gremlin magpie*

Oscar doesn’t know it, but he comes off as a little bit fae (or a lot fae) to a LOT of people. He can’t help it, with his connection to magic and his future memories and the way he acts and dresses he just- feels like a storybook wizard or fairy boy stepped out of the pages. And gosh, Oscar is totally like Peter Pan in his kidnapping of Whitley. XD Just- he offers adventure and danger and love and FAMILY. Come away with me? whispers his magic and his outstretched hand, and Whitley is far from the only person to have taken it over the years (look at his time-traveling crew), and he never regrets it.

Oh gosh I didn’t think of that. Qrow WOULD possibly think this was a jab at Ironwood, but ... not necessarily because of Winter? Depending on when this happens she might only be newly graduated. No wait the hammer fall happens in canon, so yeah there is the Winter connection, but ALSO, in canon Ironwood is implied to be an old, estranged friend of the family, and further, as a Council member, he and Jaques have to deal with each other on a professional level. Taking down the Schnees could be seen as a personal jab through Winter yes, but also as a threat, that if they can take out the Schnees, who are roughly equal Ironwood’s status and known “friends” (for a loose definition of the word) of the General, then what can they do to Ironwood directly?

The smart criminals look at the confidants of their Ringmaster, who are mostly kids, and a few of them know that the Ringmaster looks like a child himself and they ... well. Put some pieces together.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Team Gremlin verse #long post

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch25: All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go

Summary: The team work hard to put the events of Sokovia behind them, whilst Steve and Katie set a date for their wedding. But as the Avengers get to grips with their new base upstate, with Tony retired from active service, Steve finds his time stretched perilously thin between his leadership responsibilities and his soon to be wife…and tempers boil over.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, HARD Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: More super edits from @angrybirdcr . And this chapter was always one where I was a little bit ambivalent about the flashbacks and ending, so I kinda changed it up a bit...

Chapter 24 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

July 2015

“You’re up early.” Steve said as he dropped onto the swinging chair besides his girl. It wasn’t even 6 am yet but she was sat outside on their patio “You ok?”

“Yeah.” she smiled at him, as he pecked her cheek, looking out over the dimly lit lawn area of the Newly Opened Avengers Facility which swept down to the banks of the Hudson. The Facility had been the product of one of Tony’s crazy brain farts not long after they had come back from Sokovia and had been remodelled in record time. Whilst some areas were still undergoing renovations, over 80% of it was complete. There had also been changes to their team too. Clint had headed home, the birth of his baby son- Nathaniel Pietro- prompting him to take indefinite paternity leave, all of them fully accepting this was his way of leaving everything behind for good. Thor had left earlier that morning, promising he would return for the Wedding, whenever they finally got round to setting a date. But they still hadn’t heard a thing from Banner and the jet was proving impossible to track. On the plus side, they invited Sam and Rhodey to join the team officially and both had gleefully accepted, along with Vision and Wanda. Lawson was now their chief Technician and Evans had joined the team too, which made Katie happy as she enjoyed their company.

It was starting to grow light, the first rays of sunlight were bouncing off the water to the West. He turned to look at his girl and watched her as she surveyed the river, feet tucked underneath her on the seat.

“No regrets?” he asked, and Katie could feel him studying her face as her mind wandered back to the conversation they’d had when Tony had first mentioned moving to a new base.

Look, Cap, we’re like a trouble magnet,“ Tony explained animatedly, "Wherever the Avengers are, trouble follows.”

“So - you’re suggesting we build another building?” Steve rubbed his neck and looked up at the blueprints Tony had now blown up against the wall.

“I’m suggesting we relocate, completely, leave the Tower to Stark Industries and build our own facility and expand.” Tony said, flipping through pictures with a sweep of his finger. “We have this this old warehouse upstate, good location, middle of nowhere.”

"Less chance of civilian damage.” Steve’s hands fell to the buckle on his belt.

“Full medical wing, Living quarters, as well as a bunch of extra spare apartments, for all the strays we keep accumulating, training arena, kitchen, cafeteria- satellite links- you name it, you got it.”

"How long will it take?” Steve asked and Katie tried not to sigh at the fact that her dream of a quiet life in a nice house in Brooklyn had just blown up in front of her face.

Tony looked affronted. “I’m a billionaire cap, it’ll take however long we say.”

Steve looked at Katie who simply shrugged at him, keeping her face passive.

“Have you two eaten?” she asked, changing the subject.

Tony shook his head as did Steve.

“I’ll fix you both something.” she turned and started moving towards the kitchen area.

“Not for me…” Tony said. “I’ve got a dinner reservation with Pepper at 8…” “Yeah, you might wanna get a move on then, seeing as its 7:30.” She shot over her shoulder as she turned and began pulling stuff out of the fridge to prepare dinner.

“What?” Tony glanced at his watch and frowned “Shit…fuck…”

“You kiss Pepper with that mouth?” Steve quipped back as Tony collected up his laptop and the blue-prints disappeared off the wall.

“FRIDAY why didn’t you remind me?” Tony groaned. “You never asked Boss…” The Irish lilt came back.

“I miss JARVIS…” Tony grumbled, the door clicking shut as he left.

Steve headed into the kitchen and stood for a moment watching his wife as she moved around, before he he headed over to her, his arms wrapping round her from behind.

“Are you okay, you know, with the idea of moving to a new facility?” Steve asked. “I know it’s not exactly the home you had in mind.”

“We’ll be together. That’s all that matters.” Katie shrugged, concentrating on her task- chopping a pepper up for the couscous salad she was making.

“I know but, I just worry sometimes. You deserve better, a quiet life.”

“Not sure we have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek. “You got out of SHIELD, you could get out of this.”

“You know for a moment in Sokovia… “Katie placed her knife down and turned to face him. “I thought… well I thought we weren’t getting out of it alive. And It frightened me, I’m not gonna lie…”

She looked up at him and met his eyes. He knew the whole thing with Ultron and the final show down in Sokovia had shaken her, more than any other mission she’d been involved in. It served as a reminder exactly what is achievable with technology, how fragile humans are, how easily life and peace could be shattered. For that split second, when on that floating city she hadn’t seen a way out, she had genuinely thought their time was up. And her life with Steve cut short before it had even started.

“We stood there, on that rock and in that split second when it seemed everything was lost you know what I felt?” she looked at him and he waited for her answer “Relief. Relief that if we both went down, we did it together and I didn’t have to spend a single day without you…”

“Sweetheart…” Steve began but she carried on.

“I can’t sit by and simply wave you off on a mission wondering to myself if it’s the last time I ever see you. I hated doing that when I left SHIELD and I can’t do it anymore. You fight, I fight.” “So what if I quit?” Steve looked at her. “What if I gave you the life you deserve?” “You can’t quit, and I wouldn’t ask you to.” Katie shook her head, smiling a little. “The world needs The Avengers, and the Avengers need their Captain…” “And their Captain needs his girl.” Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with something that looked to her a lot like worry. She sighed and ran her hands up his arms, bringing them to rest on his shoulders.

“And she’s not going anywhere…” Katie she assured him gently, standing on her toes to give him a peck

She knew the Avengers depended on Steve as their leader even more so now that Tony had said he was hanging up his Iron Man suits for good, choosing to manage and see over the running of the practical side of things instead of active combat. Ultron had really hit her brother hard, but whilst his way of dealing with it was to call it quits, Steve was the opposite. He wasn’t ready to leave this behind for a quiet suburban life. And if being with him meant Katie had to stay too, then so be it.

So, regrets?

“No” she said, taking his hand in hers as she lay her head against his shoulder. “None at all.”

He smiled to himself as her hand began to play with his, the fingers of her left hand gently tracing across his knuckles, the only evidence of her brutal beating last year was the slightly bent pinkie that no matter how much physio she had, she couldn’t extend it fully. He still got a cold shiver when he thought about how close he had come to losing her. She sighed softly, and he looked down to see she was looking at their intertwined hands and then it struck him just how much he couldn’t wait to tie himself to her for the rest of his life.

“Let’s get married.” He whispered gently into her ear.

“I thought we already were.” She chuckled.

“No, I mean let’s do it. Let’s get a date set, the sooner the better. We were supposed to set one months ago and I don’t want to wait any longer.” “Is that what you want?” She looked up at him smiling.

He nodded “More than anything, Doll.”

“Alright. Let’s do it.” He grinned before his lips met hers, the kiss gentle and soft.

“Any ideas on where?” She asked. As a matter of fact Steve did, the idea had come to him a few days ago, but he wasn’t sure if she was going to go for it.

“Well…I errr…thought, maybe, perhaps we could look at the church my mom used to take me to when I was a kid.” He ran a hand through his hair “That is, if you wanted to.” “Steve that’s a lovely idea.” She smiled and he beamed down at her

“You think?” “Yeah. And I’ve been thinking, maybe, we could have the reception here, in the grounds.” she said, looking at him.

“Here?” Steve frowned, he’d assumed she’d want some kind of hotel booking downtown. But as she spoke, he soon realised that what she was saying made perfect sense, and was more them than any flash place they could hire.

“Think about it.” she said, “No security issues, no press, just us, our friends, family… we can get a marquee by the lake…” Katie paused. As a girl she’d always envisaged a huge, fairy tale wedding with hundreds of guests, in The Rainbow Rooms no less. But now, all she wanted was for those people who meant the world to them to be there to celebrate with them.

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded. “Never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“Then I’m fine with that.” He smiled, gently kissing her again.

“So you wanna go see this church?” she asked.

“What now? It’s barely light…” “So?” she sat up “I’ll take you to IHOP on the way…” “Now you’re talking…”he grinned.

By the time they had showered, which Steve had suggested they do together, to save water and time (although by the time they had finished there was a lot more water and time used up than if they showered alone) and finally dressed it was gone eight, meaning they hit IHOP at just after half past. As they both stuffed their faces, excitedly talking about their clandestine wedding planning Katie was struck with just how young Steve looked. He was dressed casually in a Dodgers T-shirt, jeans, trainers and a baseball cap, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. He was excited.

The church was in a small neighbourhood in Brooklyn and Katie instantly fell in love with the place. St Augustine’s was an old red stone and brick built church with a tall spire. Very Gothic chic, which caught her attention instantly. As Steve climbed out of the car, a rush of memories hit him, the smells, the noises, the sights, everything. It was like he had stepped back in time as he saw his mother grasping his hand softly as she led him up the steps and through the heavy wooden doors. The last time he had set foot in this church, however, had been his mother’s funeral. But now, it was time for something happier.

Steve slipped his arm round Katie.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Katie said.

Before Steve had chance to reply, a voice with a faint Irish lilt spoke, causing them both to stand and turn to see the Priest walking towards them.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi…” Steve smiled, shaking the priest’s hand “I’m Steve…”

“Rogers, yes I recognised you.” the Priest smiled “Pleasure to meet you Captain.”

Steve shook his hand before the Priest reached out to Katie

“So this would make you Miss Stark?”

“Hi.” she smiled, shaking his hand.

“Charmed…” The Priest smiled, his eyes twinkled as he looked at Katie and she instantly warmed to the man. He wasn’t as old as she had expected, maybe a few years older than Tony, the hair around his temples was greying and his eyes were lined but he had a kind smile.

“So what can I do for you?”

“Well, we…” Steve smiled at Katie before he looked at the Priest. “We’d like to get married here. As soon as we can.” The dark haired man smiled and beckoning for them to follow him to the back of the church “I’m sure we can manage that, let’s see what date’s we have free…”

After chatting to the priest, and settling on a date, Steve was taken by a wave of nostalgia and convinced Katie to drop into the small cemetery on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Weaving their way through the stones he finally stopped in between two well weathered ones, which contained the names of his parents. Crouching down he gently wiped away decades worth of grime and he bowed his head, his eyes wet.

“Hey ma.” He said softly, “brought someone to meet you.”

Katie felt the tears springing into her eyes as she crouched next to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“She’d be so proud of you, Stevie” She said gently, “They both would”

“I hope so.” he said softly and she reached out to turn his head so he was looking at her.

“Baby, how could they not be?”

She gently kissed him before she stood up and made her way to the car, leaving him alone with his thoughts for 10 minutes or so before he came striding out of the yard, and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Could we, maybe update the stones?” he asked after a moments pause “I mean I didn’t have much money back then and I’d like them to have something a bit more, I dunno…” “Of course we can.” she said, tangling her fingers with his, bringing his hand up to her lips so she could kiss his knuckles “Of course we can.”

******

“31st August?” Natasha frowned. She was the first person after Tony who they told they had set a date.

Katie nodded.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s like…well, it’s weeks away!”

“Look, just be grateful it wasn’t sooner. The priest originally offered us a date two weeks off which Steve was all for taking until I persuaded him to give us a bit more time.”

“You know you could have set this date months ago.” Natasha rolled her eyes “Yeah, I know. I mean it’s gonna be a bitch to organise. If only I had a really good almost sister-in-law and a best friend with amazing military like planning skills that could also double up as bridesmaids…” Katie said, eyeing her as they walked. Natasha stopped and turned to face her friend. “You mean…” Katie smiled at her and nodded “If you’re up for the job…”

“I’d be honoured…” she stuttered, before pulling her into a hug, which surprised her slightly but she returned it gladly. “I’ve never been a bridesmaid before.” “There is one condition…” Katie said looking at her “Can you get Wanda involved in the organisation too? Help her with something other than training or whatever…”

Nat smiled “Sure I can handle that.” Natasha’s response was nothing to the one she got from Tony when she asked him to give her away.

“You know you’re my dad in every way other than actually being my dad…” she said, her fingers on one hand playing with those on the other as she felt her eyes misting “There’s no other person I’d want to walk me up the aisle…” He instantly teared over and pulled her into a hug, not finding his voice for a good 30 seconds as he silently shed his tears over her shoulder.

“I’d be honoured…”he whispered softly, kissing her cheek.

Steve, however wasn’t having as much luck. Rhody, Clint and Sam all accepted his invitations to be Groomsmen (he sent one to Thor via Jane, who also accepted gleefully with a loud, booming phone call) but he was struggling really to decide who to ask as his best man.

His initial thought had been Tony, despite the fact the two of them bitched and bickered at one another, they were close, almost brotherly close. However, given that Tony was giving Katie away in his role as Father/Brother of the Bride that was out. The next obvious choice was Sam, but it all just felt wrong. He was struggling, coming to terms with the fact that his lifelong best friend wouldn’t be the one to do the job.

“I always thought it would be Buck by my side.” he said, looking out over the lawn as he was sat on the patio one evening with Katie, the pair of them with a beer in hand. “He was, is, my oldest friend.”

“Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known for the longest Steve.” Katie said, shrugging “It’s about who came into your life and never left your side.”

Those words had resonated within him, and he realised they made perfect sense. So in the end he did ask Sam, who accepted gleefully. Although when he caught him and Natasha huddled in a corner, looking at something on his phone one afternoon, the pair of them sniggering like a couple of naughty kids he started to wonder what on Earth he had started.

***** Katie sat in front of her mirror and did her hair and make-up before she shrugged on the pale pink jumpsuit she’d bought especially for that evening, slipped her feet into her heels and headed to the living room. It was now 6:30, but knowing Steve as she did, he would no doubt barrel through the door in the next 10 minutes, swearing the way he always did when no one else but she could hear him, shower and be ready to go in 15 minutes flat.

She sighed to herself, she’d had the best day today in a long time. It was the first day in ages she’d had off work and she’d managed to buy her wedding dress. Or should that be Tony had bought her wedding dress courtesy of Pepper and a black Amex. Wanda and Nat had cruised down to Manhatten with he in the Champagne stocked limo, stopping to pick Pepper up on the way. Once in the boutique, it had taken them a while but Katie had finally settled on one, a gorgeous, sweetheart neckline Ivory A-line with lace detailing all-over the bodice which was decorated with crystals. The skirt flared into layer upon layer of tulle decorated with the same lace detailing and beading with the skirt extending into a layered train at the back.

Steve had also had a reasonably productive day. Given that he, Sam and Rhodey were planning on wearing their Military Uniforms for the wedding and that Thor was going to be in his best Asgardian dress gear this only left Clint and Tony to organise for the suits. Katie had already picked them, simple charcoal pinstripes with ivory and gold waistcoats and light blue ties (light blue, pale red and gold were their colours, being a less gaudy variation of red, white and blue which they had agreed on) so this meant all he had to do was sort a fitting for Clint and Tony.

It had been a lot easier than he had imagined, the store already having Tony’s measurements, (because of course he got all his suits from there) and they also had a sister branch about 30 miles from where Clint lived who could sort it for him. So with that done and completed by lunch time his attention had turned to the meetings he had with General Ross and Rhodey about a potential collaboration programme with some of the Armed Forces Specialists. Now he had one final stop to see how the New Recruits for the support team were getting on.

“Hey,“ Steve said as he strode into the training facility before he smirked and nodded over Sam’s shoulder "I’m assuming you told them to take five?”

A confused frown spread over Sam’s face as he turned to look behind him. Every single one of the recruits was standing right staring wide eyed at the Captain.

“Drills!“ Sam shouted “Or you’ll get another 10 laps of the compound!”

“You’ve taken to this training role far too easily.” Steve grinned at him.

“What can I say, I’m a natural born leader.” he grinned “S’up?”

“I’ve been going through the intel on the Cambodia job.” Steve said. “I know the authorities are insisting its some low times arms dealer thinking he can muscle in on someone else’s patch but something smells off.”

“That’s because it is.” Nat said, walking into the gym, tablet in her hand.

“You got something?” Steve asked and she nodded, handing him the item.

“Cross referenced the MO. Matches an attack on an Army Munitions factory in Calcutta. And one in Tayshet, Russia” she said “And this is the culprit.” Steve looked down at the photo up of a man in what looked like a White Hockey Mask.

“He’s calling himself Crossbones.” Nat said as Sam moved to look at the photo.

“Great…another rogue arms dealer.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Sam snorted “What kind of dumbass name is Crossbones?”

Steve sighed and looked at Natasha “We got any info on who he might be?”

“I contacted a few people.” Nat said vaguely. “One of my contacts came through and says he has something but will only speak in person.”

“How soon can we go?” Steve looked at her.

“I’ll talk to them, see what they say.” She said.

Steve nodded “Ok, well I don’t think it needs the full team so me and you will go, Sam you can hold the fort here. We should only be away for a day or two.”

Sam shrugged “You’re the boss.” “I’ll make a few calls, tell them to expect us.” Nat said. Steve nodded and she straightened up. “You talked to Katie?”

“Not since this morning why?” Steve looked at Nat.

“She got a wedding dress today.”

“She did?” Steve’s face softened just the way it did anytime someone referred to their wedding. “Hang on, am I allowed to know that?” “Think it’s pretty safe to know your future wife’s bought a wedding dress, you know, on account of the fact you’ll be getting married soon.” Sam snorted “You’re just not supposed to see it before hand.”

“How long did she take to pick it?” Steve looked at Natasha, a grin on his face. Natasha smirked back at him.

“Not that long, because I’d already rung and told them the type of thing she like so nothing she tried on was hideous to her. We were in there a couple of hours, then went for some lunch and did a bit more shopping.”

“Good.” Steve nodded. “She’s been working really hard recently so she deserved a day off. I feel like I’ve hardly seen her over the past few weeks with everything that’s been going on.”

Which reminded him, he couldn’t wait to take her out that night for a well overdue evening together. They’d both been so busy with setting up the compound, her business and he was looking forward to them both escaping the hustle and bustle. Which reminded him, he needed to go.

Nodding to the pair of them, smiling as Sam barked another order, he wandered into the corridor. It seemed a lot less busy than usual. Maybe everyone had taken an early finish for some reason, although he couldn’t think why for a Tuesday. He glanced at his watch and gave a start. “Shit…”

They weren’t taking an early dart, he was taking a late finish.

Katie was sat on the couch, shoes long since abandoned along with any hope that they were actually going anywhere, and was half way through a bottle of very expensive Pinot Grigio that she had bought for them to have once they got home by the time Steve blustered into the apartment.

“Shit, shit…baby I am so sorry!” he said, as Katie looked up, not even able to bring herself to be pissed off anymore, she’d been angry about half an hour ago. Now she was just disappointed. “The meeting with Ross and Rhodey took a bit longer and then something came up on the Cambodia thing” he continued, sighing “Time just got away from me.” he stopped as he drew level with the couch “You look gorgeous.” “Shame it was for nothing” She said, rolling her eyes, turning her attention back to the TV and the re-run of Friends she’d been watching but not paying attention to.

“We can still go…”

“There’s no way we’ll make it.” she said, pointing to the clock with her eyes “Its forty minutes into Manhatten and you need to change.” “I’ll call, push it back…” he said after a moment’s pause. “Just forget it.” she sighed “Honey…” he dropped to his knees in front of her “Don’t be like that…we can go for a drink or something.” “I’m not being like anything.” she snapped back. “You’re the one that told me to ready by seven, well I was…you on the other hand-”

“I know and I’m really sorry.” “I know.” she said, standing up “You said. Look, it doesn’t matter. Not like I had anything special to talk to you about or anything…”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, “What-“

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

“Katie…” he sighed as he rose to his feet too.

“I’m going to get changed and take a dip in the hot-tub with the rest of this bottle of wine and a manuscript, might as well make the most of my spare time” she said, grabbing the ice bucket as she headed to the hallway “Your presence is not required.”

*****

“Uh oh, what you done?” Natasha asked as she walked into Steve’s office the next morning, finding him browsing delivery sites for flowers.

“Last night was supposed to be Date night.” He muttered with a sigh “I was late, and we missed our reservation. First time I’ve ever done that. Katie was not happy.” “So I suppose now isn’t a good time to as if you’re up for a trip to Russia tomorrow.” Nat said, and he let out a groan. Katie had hardly spoken two words to him all evening and this morning before she had left for her office at the other end of the compound. Today was Wednesday, one of the 2 days out of 5 she worked on SIP stuff during the morning, then trained in the afternoon, a way for her to keep her toes in with the Avengers training.

“You’re right, it’s not.” he said, “But she’s pissed at me anyway so…”

“You sure it’s just about date night?” Nat asked, “Not like her to get so annoyed over something like that, especially if, as you say, you’ve never done it before.” “Well like I said yesterday, this place has been taking up a lot of my time” He shrugged. “She’s probably feeling a bit neglected. It’s my fault completely.”

“Well instead of wasting money on flowers…” Nat said, nodding to his screen. “Go and find her now, take her somewhere for the afternoon. I’m supposed to be sparring with her in 15 minutes, we can reschedule.”

Steve hesitated. “What about…” “I can handle the arrangements for Russia.” Nat said, “Just go.”

Katie’s bad mood hadn’t got any better by the time she finished her work for the morning and it got even worse when she reached the door of the main gym area and paused as one of the new recruits, a girl called Jenny Allen, was midway through a full on bitch rant.

“Who the hell does she think she is anyway? I mean…” “She’s a damned good agent.” Evan’s voice cut her off “One of the best I worked with, one of the most outstanding snipers I know so…” “Yeah well she still shouldn’t just be allowed to dip into missions as and when? I mean, we all train our asses off and she just walks around, like she’s hot shit just because she was trained by some SHIELD legend when we all know the real reason she was pulled into SHIELD and the Avengers in the first place is because of her name…” “You’re out of line…” “And let’s face it, she’s only here now because she’s engaged to Cap, and owns half the gaff…”

“I mean, they are two pretty good reasons” Katie said, pushing the doors open and walking into the gym. She had to give Allen credit, she started bit but then recovered and stood tall.

“Katie, I…” Evans started but Katie cut him off. “It’s ok…she has an opinion, she’s entitled to it. Say what’s on your mind Allen.” “I just…” she took a deep breath “I don’t like the way you seemingly get to swan into missions, with little to no training like the rest of us. It’s dangerous.” “Dangerous?” Katie folded her arms over her chest.

“Yes, dangerous. You don’t know how we operate as a team, I mean are you still versed in hand to hand?” Versed? What the fuck?

Katie raised her eyebrow and smirked at Evans who instantly spotted the look on her face. Fuck this, she’d been waiting to give Allen a smack since she had caught her batting her eyelids at Steve, practically trying to climb him when he’d been running over a report with her. What better way was there to fix a bad mood?

“I tell you what.” Katie said “why don’t we find out? I’m due to spar with Widow but you’ll do.” “I err…” Allen hesitated slightly. “Nova I don’t think that’s a good idea?” Evans cut int. “I mean…” “No.” Allen said, straightening up. “It’s fine…I’m game.” Katie turned to drop her water on a bench and started to wrap her hands in the bandages she had.

“Go easy on her…” Evans whispered in Katie’s ear. She looked at him innocently.

The pair of them started to circle and Katie waited, waited like she always did for her opponent to make the first move. She watched, quickly noting that the woman favoured her right, so she was right handed. She was also a bit taller than Katie, and stockier but that wasn’t an issue, she’d floored Sam before and Evans come to think of it.

As Allen came in with a right lead, Katie ducked and aimed a harsh left jab at her mid-section, causing the woman to let out a gasp of air. She recovered fast, coming in again and Katie moved to the right so the blow glanced off her ribs and aimed a kick to her right knee, causing her to stumble slightly. As she straightened Katie was waiting and landed a hard jab straight to her face, causing her to reel as her nose began billowing crimson. There were hisses from the watching recruits and she vaguely registered Evans to tell her to take it easy but she wasn’t listening. Allen wiped at her face and came at Katie, full on, which was what she had wanted, she’d riled her enough to make her want to fight fierce but as she came Katie threw herself to the left and swept both legs from under her. She crashed to the mat and in an instant Katie had her on her front, knee in her back as she yanked her arms back.

“You’re right…” Katie bent over, lips close to her ear as she struggled, making Katie pull even more “I do own half this gaff, and my brother owns the other half. Something you need to remember when shooting your mouth off, and trying to climb my fiancée in his office…” “I wasn’t-.” she protested and Katie cut her off with another yank.

“If you so much as utter another word commenting on my fighting skills again. I will rip your arms out of your sockets, right before I have you escorted out of my compound, you got that?” “Yeah I got it.”

Steve paused at the sight in front of him. Following Natasha’s advice he’d headed to the gym, ready to take his girl out for the afternoon, only to find her pinning Allen to the floor, the woman’s arms yanked behind her back and her nose bleeding on the mat.

“I tried to stop them…” Evans looked up at Steve who made a noise in his throat and strode towards the two women. “Katie that’s enough!” his voice rang out loud across the gym. “What the hell is going on?” “Allen had some worries I wasn’t field ready.” Katie let go and easily got to her feet, looking at him, a flash of anger in her eyes, the fact he had used his Captain’s voice on her hadn’t gone unnoticed. “So I offered to show her, put her mind at ease.”

“Yeah well I think you’ve made your point.” he said, looking at Allen as she stood up holding tight to her nose, pressing firmly to either side to try and staunch the flow of blood from the single quick right straight Katie had hit her with before the take down.

“Do you need medical Allen?” Steve asked. She shook her head. He turned his attention to Katie, and glared at her “I don’t know what the hell is going on here…” “I just told you.” she shot back. “I was showing how field versed I was…” “By punching her in the face?” he said, his hands falling to his belt. Katie folded her arms and glared back at him.

“We were sparring.” “You were trying to rip her arms out of the sockets…”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Katie rolled her eyes earning herself a glower, a look which would quell anyone else but not her, she wasn’t scared of him. “Maybe now she’ll think twice about making shitty comments.” “If someone punched you every time you made a shitty comment you’d never get up.” he said back, no trace of humour in his voice, because he didn’t find the issue funny at all. He eyed her again before he nodded to the door “Go.” Was he serious? One look in his eyes told Katie he was.

“Fine.” she shrugged, picking up her water bottle before she left. Natasha, who noticed the tears in her eyes went to stop her but Katie waved her away. Steve watched her back before he turned to Evans, pointing to Allen

“Patch her up and then I’ll see both of you in my office. AND GET BACK TO WORK!” he bellowed round the room.

Evans and Allen both nodded and left.

Steve noticed Natasha was looking at him from the doorway, arms folded.

“Got something to say, Romanoff?” he asked, snappily.

“What could I possibly have say when you handled that so well?” she asked sarcastically. “FYI, you might want to take your shield back home with you later, I can’t expect Nova’s gonna take to being stripped down in front of people so well…” She levelled Steve with another look before she left and he let out a groan of frustration. Could this get any worse?

By the time he got back to his office both Evans and Allen were waiting. And when Evans explained what Allen had been saying, Steve was even more frustrated as he wasn’t surprised Katie had reacted the way she did, not that it made it right, just a little more understandable. He unloaded on the woman, gave her a verbal warning and then dismissed them both. Then, deciding it was time to face the music at home he headed to their apartment.

Katie had made it back to their quarters before she had burst into tears. She knew she was being unreasonable in a lot of ways. The Compound was still finding its feet, so of course it wasn’t going to run like clockwork and obviously Steve was going to be working long hours. She was too, she wasn’t completely innocent in that respect. The issue was him missing date night was something he had never done before and it had surprised her a lot. Was she getting less important to him as the time went on?

Angrily she stripped off, changed into her bikini top and her denim shorts before she grabbed her book intending on heading out to the patio area to top up her tan in the August sun.

She was in the kitchen, grabbing herself a beer when Steve came back.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No.” Her tone was clipped, “But thanks for asking.”

He rolled his eyes “Katie…”

“Excuse me.” She went towards the door, but he didn’t move.

“Steve, get out of my way.”

He still didn’t move. “No, you’re not going anywhere until we sort this out.”

She groaned and looked up to the ceiling.

“Wanna tell me what your problem is?” he asked

“Right now, you, not letting me out of this fucking room.” she sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me for last night and I get that, but..”

“That is not the problem!”

“Then what is?” He shot back, somewhat exasperatedly. “Honey, I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be fixing…”

” That!” she looked at him, her voice loud “That is the problem! That you have no fucking idea what the matter is! You’re so wrapped up in running this place I hardly get a look in. You don’t ask for my input, you don’t involve me in anything…”

“Woah, now hang on.” He stepped forward. “When we moved here you said you didn’t want to run anything…”

“And then you order me out of the fucking room in front of the damned trainees!”

“Yeah well you can’t just kick the crap out of one of my team members like that”

“Yeah well your team member is an asshole.” Katie rolled her eyes. “She deserved it for being a dick…”

She took the opportunity to dodge round him and out of the doorway he had vacated when he stepped into the kitchen and made her way to the doors at the back.

“Right now you’re being a dick”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to play second fiddle to your fucking Army Camp anymore.” “Army Camp?” he let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Yes Army Camp” she said, spinning round.

“You’re being ridiculous.” he shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “Absolutely ridiculous.” “And that doesn’t help!” she glowered at him “When I’m pissed off or upset, you telling me I’m being ridiculous…” “Well you are…” A chuckle escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

“Stop fucking laughing at me!” She yelled, the heat rising up her neck and to my ears. He was really, really pissing her off, her could see it on her face he took a deep breath as she continued. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me this whole thing isn’t about reclaiming some of that time and life that was stolen from you?”

“You think…” He stopped and cocked his head to one side, trying to make sense of what she was saying “You think that this, all of this…” he waved his arms around “Is some kind of trip down memory lane?” “Well isn’t it?” He shook his head, snorting, giving her comment the contempt it deserved. “You couldn’t be further off the mark if you tried.”

“Well from what I see it looks like you’re simply trying to re-live your Howling Commando days.” She snapped back “And I have news for you Steve, I’m not Peggy, no matter how much you wish I was.”

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them and they felt like a slap to his face. But instead of it upsetting him, he found himself boiling over with anger at how fucking ridiculous she was being. They had been through this time and time again, he’d shown her and told her at Clint’s she as the most important thing in his life, hell, they were getting married in less than three weeks for fucks sake, what else did he need to do?

“That’s out of order and you know it.” His voice was low. What do I have to do to make you realise you are what I want? Not Peggy, you…”

Suddenly the shitty nature of her words began to sink in and Katie found herself unable to look at him anymore, so she turned her head to the side. So he crossed the room and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing her to look at him. As she looked back his jaw twitched slightly, a mixture of hurt and anger in his eyes, the furious energy radiating off him and then that ridiculous part of Katie’s brain that controlled her libido piped up, this was fucking hot. Her breathing hitched slightly and he felt it too.

“Fine, if that’s what you want…” he practically growled as his lips crashed onto hers and before she could even think to kiss him back, he pulled away - leaving her wanting and moving toward him to try and catch his lips again. Her hands reached for his face, desperately trying to bring him back to her. At the motion, his hands grabbed her wrists and forced them back to her sides, clearly, but wordlessly telling her who was in charge.

There was a slight pause between them, both trying to catch their breath from the row that had just occurred and from the searing kiss he had just delivered. Then their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to both pull her closer and he began to tug at her clothes. Getting the hint, she acted in tandem, hands falling to the clip on his utility belt, fumbling with it for a second in her rush before successfully releasing it and then going for the flies on his uniform pants. Steve popped the button on her denim shorts and in a quick swoop shoved them and her bikini bottoms down as they both stumbled around the room.

He took hold of her hips again so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted. They continued to stumble around the room for a moment before he took control and roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his still fully uniformed waist and her arms went around his neck as he slammed her up against the wall at the far side of the lounge and, using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass. One hand went to her hip while the other pried her hands from the back of his neck. He was able to hold both of her wrists together with one of his hands, placing them up above her head and holding them there tightly.

This was angry sex, not make up sex, this was utter ‘I’m so fucking angry at you so I’m gonna show you.’ sex. Well, she was angry too so there was no way he was having this all his own way.

She rolled her hips, hard against him which was enough to get his attention but he simply used his free hand to shove her legs off of him. Katie managed to catch herself on her feet, only slightly bumping against the wall but before she had chance to think his lips found hers again, hungrily kissing her while his hand skated over her bare stomach. She arched into the touch, wanting him to move a bit south, but his hand stopped an inch away from where she wanted it to be.

“Say you’re sorry.” his voice was right by her ear, rougher than she could ever remember it being before. Rough enough to make a shiver go down her spine and for her to try and thrust into his hand, desperate for any sense of relief. But he pulled even further away from her, making her whine a bit. “You’re sorry and you believe me…”

“I’m sorry.” she breathed out, stumbling over her words “And I believe you…”

He surged forward, kissing her desperately and she openly moaned into his mouth as two of his fingers slipped inside of her. His motions were fast and aggressive and he brought her to the brink, and then stopped.

“Do you still believe me?” he breathed out, voice ragged. “Tell me you do and you want this.” The fucker was still making a point but by now Katie really didn’t care.

“Stevie, please.” she thrust her hips out toward him, gasping “I still believe you, I want you.”

It was want, not need. And that didn’t escape his notice. He knew which one he would prefer to hear, to be wanted over needed any day.

He couldn’t help the soft smirk on his face as he braced one hand on the wall beside her head, the other harshly yanked one of her legs up so that it wrapped around his waist. Reaching into his pants he freed his now painfully hard erection from them and didn’t even pause before slamming into her, making her cry out sharply, one hand going to grip his bicep, the other against the wall to steady herself. He slammed into her over and over with such force that she was sure she was about to go through the wall itself and into the hall.

Desperate to be both closer to him and not to actually go through the wall, because that would be awkward to explain, not mention painful, Katie tried to lean in more to him. The motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused her to moan at the feeling. At that point Steve quickly removed his hand from the wall and lifted her off her feet. Their chests pressed together, the bare skin of her stomach rubbing against the harsh Kevlar of his uniform, both messily kissing each other as Steve stumbled around the main area of the lounge before toppling over the arm of the couch where Katie ended up on top. Even then he continued his aggressive thrusts, his hands on her hips, pulling her down as he drove upwards.

She let out a small groan, the roughness of his pants was grinding against her clit along with the fact he was bottoming out inside her, hitting her spot again and again.

“Shit, Captain…” she hissed and the noise made him slam up even harder, fuck he loved it when she said that when he was being tough. She let out a loud scream and tightened around him and at the feel of her walls clamping down, which was fucking bliss as always, his thrusts upwards became desperate as he chased his own end, before he gave a loud “fuck…” and he came, hard as she collapsed on top of him.

The pair of them lay, utterly spent and his hands gently ran up her spine as her face pushed into his neck.

“Still pissed at me?” he murmured.

“In a fashion.” she responded as she picked her head from her shoulder and rolled to the side so she was between him and the back of the couch. He moved so they were facing each other, gently nudging her nose with his.

“Can we talk this over like adults now?” his voice was still quite stern. Katie bit her lip as she looked at him and he sighed, his voice becoming softer “I hate rowing with you. But I still don’t know what’s going on. Please talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t have ordered me out.” she said.

“You broke Allen’s nose.” Katie had to fight the smirk crossing her face. Good shot.

“it’s not funny.” “It is.” Katie said “She deserved it.”

After what Evans had told him, Steve kind of agreed to be fair and Katie saw his face soften slightly. “Evans told me what she said.” Steve brushed her hair behind her ears “For what its worth she’s had an official warning.” “Did you go all Cap on her?” Katie raised an eyebrow “Bet she loved that…” “What do you mean?” “Oh come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed…”she snorted before putting on an airy voice “oh Cap…that’s so funny. Hey Cap, can you show me how to do this take down. Oh Cap, you’re such a good teacher… she was practically trying to climb you the other day in your office.” “You’re jealous…” he smirked.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff.” she sighed “Especially not some 28 year old blond bombshell.” “Blond bombshell?” he snorted.

“What? She’s hot.” I shrugged “I’d do her.” His eyes flashed cheekily “Now there’s an image.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he laughed before sighing again.

“Listen to me…” he said, his hand then coming up to caress the side of her face as he looked at her, driving his words home. “You are the most important thing in the world to me and there’s no other girl that comes close, not matter what you think. Not Allen, not Peggy, no one. And as for playing second fiddle…” he gestured with his spare hand around the room. “Say the word and this all goes.”

“Yeah right. You’ll never give up being Captain America…”

“I would for you.” He said simply.

Katie looked at him, he’d shocked her, but he meant every word. If he had to give all this up, he would. He didn’t want to but, he would. The magnitude of what he had just admitted took a while to sink in, but when it did Katie was overcome with emotion, and the tears pricked at her eyes.

“Hey, come on.” Steve let out a soft sigh, as he held her close, rubbing his hands softly up her back. “You wanna tell me why last night was such a big deal, and yeah, I know that I messed up but, well I’m getting the feeling there’s a little more to it.”

With a deep breath she pulled back and licked her lips. “I err, I just wanted to tell you something and I wanted it to be special because I know how much it means to you, but, well, I made a decision on my name. You mean everything to me, Steve, and when we get married I wanna give everything to you, so, I wanna be Mrs Rogers.”

Her words took a moment to sink in and once they did, a huge grin spread across Steve’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling. “We’re tying ourselves together for life and I want everyone to know that I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“I’ll always be yours, Baby.” He whispered, as she leaned in to kiss him, as he wrapped an arm around her waist while one of her legs slithered in between his.

Soft, gentle kisses were shared as Katie gently reached for the zip of his uniform top, undoing it and then guiding his undershirt over his head as he undid his pants fully, shimmying out of them before he guided her onto her back while he shifted so he was caging her in between his legs. This time the mood passion, not anger.

“You have no idea what you do to me…” he whispered gently into her ear as he undid the strings on her bikini top leaving them both completely bare. She let out a groan as she titled her hips up. He closed his eyes as her hand came to rest on his cheek and he leaned into the touch as he shifted so her legs parted and he was inside of her again.

Tilting her head back at the feeling left her neck exposed, which Steve took advantage of in pressing soft kisses up her throat. His hand snaked up her arm so he could intertwine his fingers with hers. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, instead of the frantic rhythm he had prior. The hand that wasn’t entwined with hers went to her hip, pulling her closer as he thrust deeply, gently, slowly, each roll of his hips hitting her spot as he continued over and over again, head dropping to my neck, collar bone and breasts which he had paid no attention to before.

“Stevie, you feel so good…” Katie moaned and he let out a groan of his own at her words. When her orgasm rolled over her again, this one not as ferocious as before, but no less pleasurable she melted underneath him, breathless, her hand running through his hair as he came again, collapsing on top of her

The moments after they finished were always their favourite. The quiet bliss that surrounded them like a bubble, keeping them safe from the world.

“I love you.�� Katie said softly. He picked his head up from where he had it buried in the crook of her neck so he could meet her eyes.

“I love you too.” he responded, pushing some hair out of her face, thumb circling her cheek. “I can’t wait to make you Mrs Rogers.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over hers.

**** Chapter 26

**Original Posting**

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