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memurfevur-archive · 5 months

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Hide and Seek Part 2: The Bronze Girl

Character(s): Athena Uyilst, The Hidelord (@mageofspacemultiverse)

About: As Hidelord hosts an auction, a few visions of the future weigh on Athena's mind: a traitor, and a slave girl. Things don't exactly go to plan, though, and Athena finds herself with blood on her hands.

CW: graphic NPC death, blood, ask to tag

Hide and Seek Part 1: Song and Dance

=============================================

I stepped through the threshold as someone I was not, dragged by a leash fastened in the Hidelord’s hand. I kept my eyes on his back and my mouth closed. Anxiety threatened to grip my heart the closer we got to the merry-making that would welcome us below. I am not a stranger to parties, but I abhorred the ones Hidelord hosted.

A crowd had slowly filtered in: his close friends and fellow hunters with their best slaves, drinking from brown bottles and legs propped up on 'foot-rests'. They hollered and howled when we had walked in, a party effectively declared. Clove and holly dried in the window. Ribbons attached to the ankles and wrists of dancers waved to the music, loud to mark the festivities. Faces twisted in unappealing smiles, and the guests’ laughter almost sounded like an execution. I tried not to show my disgust as their spittle flew; a few rare droplets landed on my shoulder. It was worse than a circus here.

Beyond the thin, cramped opening that we walked through was a set of stairs leading to an old beech tree chair lavishly coated in layers and layers of high quality lusii fur. A gavel made from some poor troll’s horn perched precariously beside it. Hidelord guided me over, then gave a kiss to my knuckles before taking a seat. After waiting a moment so that his kiss could feel like the burning of bleach on my skin, he motioned for me to make a new perch on his lap.

"What...a...night. Welcome, you freaky fuckheads." The Hidelord welcomed, to another round of cheers and smirks from monsters just like him. "Yesterday we hunted; today, we feast on our spoils. Until then, see to it that you keep things entertaining."

Around us was a drunken revelry, one of the not-so-few occasions that this chalet would host a gathering. An auction, rather; a celebration of spoils and some chance to make wealth. I cast my eyes away from the guests manhandling available slaves, favoring to pretend it wasn’t happening at all. There’s no room for compassion here in this land, not unless there were strings attached, and I no longer had the power to intervene like I used to on the Mainland. In this existence as a bystander, I could only be thankful it wasn’t me, though I was not blind to the other warlords’ hungry looks. It was because of them, actually, that I had requested to sit upon my lord’s lap before our arrival.

My legs draped over the side of his throne as his hands rested beneath the thin cloth that hung very loosely over me, a protective but perverted claim to my body. I suppose it should’ve been obvious that I was his favorite asset, not that anyone else needed to know. The illusion of social politics is what makes the difference between life and death here in the Safari. The more someone is feared, the safer they are; if there’s ever a glimpse of weakness-- say, having a lover-- then the respect someone has for their fearsome leader would be gone. Leaders here must show a lonesome and gruesome independence to the likes of nothing that I could compare. Lovers, friends, children, anyone below a warlords rank: they’re all dangerous liabilities that could burn entire chalets down. There were not often exceptions.

Now you have someone like me: a dying breed, and with a gift for seeing the threads of time. A dangerous woman helping the stronghold stay strong, while playing the role of a fragile pet. A slave that could whisper suggestions into their crude warlord’s ear. It would be enough to set his throne ablaze. So we hide our song and dance from public eyes, and I kept my vow vigilance that he so greedily craves.

While looking away from the chaos of the party, my eyes landed on a particular warlord. The world around me had begun to drop away, and I was no longer myself. It was like I had been pulled underwater; the world shimmered and quivered around me, dusted in red. I knew what this meant, but whether I stood in the shoes of myself or someone else was always hard to tell-- but this man now before me became covered in blood. There was eagerness in his eyes, sparks of betrayal and a cruel smirk. Green stained the ground around him. I could feel my heart fall to my stomach. A slave stood by, trembling and crying. Bronze.

Then, I blinked, and a new scene played out before me. The same man, covered in blood but yellow instead of green. His body torn open, patches of skin missing from his body, and his face twisted in pain as agonized tears streamed down his face. A horn was broken. I could feel my pulse racing, and my hands began to twitch as if it could feel the texture of the horn that was once there. Anger. I felt so much anger….

I gasped and quickly sat forward, waking myself from these living dreams. We’d been in concert long enough for Hidelord to know my little signals, the lurch of my visions, the loyalty of my scent-tracking. He beckoned a servant to bring him drinks, playing the at-ease ruler without brains, but he surveyed the room with a cool intensity, looking to spot the piece of the puzzle that didn't fit quite right. There were a few that caught his attention, I could tell, but which one of them plotted was not too certain to him. As the drinks were brought over, he murmured to the troll: a sea-dweller dressed in wool rags with a bone piercing in his eyelid. This servant oversaw both gossip and the keys to the Hidelord’s personal zoo. The Hidelord knew how to play strengths, and before long he shooed them away. "Well?" His brows were expectant even as his words said little.

"You're the trapper, my dear turning knife. I will tell you when it is time. Preemptiveness does more harm than good, I have learned." I lowered my voice more, reaching back to trace a finger lightly across his throat. His eyes narrowed. "There are two possibilities. You're negotiating an asset, sharing her, and in your ecstasy you wouldn't even notice your throat cut. Or, you open theirs, covering her in their blood. Though I suppose this would give them away, once you begin to discuss your wares during this time of celebration, hm? Once someone touches it, is willing to give their life for it, you will know."

I felt a haze then, as if another vision was threatening to take me under again. A third possibility, but one I cannot see. Or, perhaps I had read my visions wrong? My lips pressed into a fine line as I turned back to glance at the crowd. The man was no longer where he should have been. I settled back into the lap and chest of my master. A few fingers parted through the locks of my hair, and Hidelord paid for my counsel with an unseen kiss to my temple. "A golden opportunity. Leeches must be cut out before they sink their teeth in too deep,” he murmured, "We'll show them our own form of ecstasy, won't we? Steal the smiles from their faces, the vigor from their bones?"

He held the glass of blood-red wine out to me, taunting me with a smirk. I did not refuse the wine, instead letting it wash over my parched lips as I drank from the glass in his hand. It was welcoming; a cool refreshment in a stale and warm atmosphere. Instead of licking the traces of wine off my lips when I was done, I brought my lips to his so he could sample, and when I pulled away he scraped his teeth against my bottom lip. I could feel his eyes linger on me as I turned away to look back at the crowd. He settled back more, letting the rhapsody spill out around us as we waited for the opportunity that I’d spoken of, his hand on my thigh just above the knee. Our song and dance, unknown to drunken eyes.

An hour and half seemed to pass at a lurid gait, until the heavy front doors jittered open and in sauntered a train of more slaves from the Hidelord's zoo. The zoo was its own form of hell: a great maze of cages just out back upon the sun-burnt cliffs. His eyes passed over each of his prizes, his potential products in turn, the fourth one drawing his-- no, both, of our gazes magnetically for a moment. Her outfit was beyond modest, and though her shoulder sank with accepted sadness, there was a glow about her. His chin tilted up in acknowledgment, and he took the horn next to the chair and gave it a quick bang across the top of the wooden chest, witnessing the whole of the party-goers go hush in preparation for his announcement.

"Well, well, well." He taunted the line of product, clutching me gently to him as he absorbed the fear they emitted and waved the guards that carried her over. "That umber would make a great deep color, don't you think, Athena? The tanning beneath the skin stiffen with heat, turning it a deep caramel. I could make you a handbag." I quietly scoffed with a scowl and said nothing, disgusted and with now prying eyes I am without the right to truthfully speak out against his taunts.

Instead, I studied the Bronzeblood within the cage. Her skin took on a soft hue of orange in the dull cascade of the sunset behind her. Her hair was long, matted, but the way it fell down on either side of her head framed her slender face well. She was beautiful, and everything about her matched my vision. I steeled myself for the trauma that was to come. I was to not care about her, just as I was to not care about any other servant in this building. No one survived being selfless in the Safari.

"You're privy to my domicile, you bastards and lepers, and you will be again!" Hidelord greeted to a harmony of snickers, "Now, as is typical, we have some lovely treats for you to occupy, if your wallet can take it. Eight prizes to do with as you please. To have a look, however, I offer free of charge." He scanned the row of patrons, splitting a grin and sipping at his cocktail. "Are there any takers? .......Nnnnooo? Well, perhaps-"

"I 'ant da one on yur lap 'ere, Hidelord!" A man with half his teeth missing cawed with a laugh, gesturing at me with his cane and licking his chops. My blood immediately ran cold and my stomach twisted in knots; I pressed myself tighter against my master-- my protection. The Hidelord rolled his eyes, cheek slouching against his wrist.

"Has there been a day that's gone by where you haven't asked for your piece, Haumme?"

"Ol take care 'er like you 'uldn't belief!"

"Shut your fuckin' trap. You're a groundskeeper. For the amount she's worth you'd have to take the teeth of everyone in this room, and then times that by four thousand, and lick the Grand Highblood's taint, and only then would you be halfway there." The dissenter's face soured and he grumbled into silence, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

Others with genuine offers soon stood and pressed their claim. The to-be-culprit caught my gaze when he stepped forward, venom evident in his eyes as he leered as though to say 'the hell are you looking at', before standing to make a claim of his own. "So much excitement!” Hidelord laughed and shook me, as if to get me to laugh along with him. Few transactions were made as time passed by slowly. I kept my gaze down to avoid the hungry eyes of strangers. I tried spacing out, thinking of anything but being here, so I wouldn’t have to listen to the survivor’s guilt that clawed at my stomach. I would be rattled to the present everytime Hidelord howled his laughter. I could not remember what time it was by the time the auction went on hold.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we'll discuss these purchases upstairs after the feast, no need to disrupt the celebration. I'll settle bidding wars, and let you tour your treats more properly." He chuckled, and the others bowed slightly in acknowledgment before the music fired up again.

In through the door after the cages came spits of roasted bone-in meat, dripping gobs of fat glistening from the flames, and great wood platters of hacked onions and vegetables. Patrons drew forward with their knives and carved their bits, some fighting to get the pieces they wanted. They ate with their hands, chewing into gristle and flesh and organ meat, wiping the blood and grease on their clothes. A servant brought the Hidelord a plate of his own, but he ignored it for now.

"There’s game to catch first,” Hidelord growled, “what do I seek, Athena?" His hand toyed with one of the knives on his belt, eager to let it feed on traitor blood.

I didn’t answer him. Fate was not mine to decide, not anymore. I learned long ago that no one could fight what was to come, to deny the inevitable. I tried not to think about that night and all the ones that followed. I tried not to think about the night I lost her. It can’t be helped; someone will be dying tonight. I scanned the crowd and once more my gaze landed on the warlord from my vision, brows furrowing and body tensing as he came closer to Hidelord’s throne. This was enough to quench Hidelord’s curiosity.

He picked up on the signal, looking sidelong for a moment before quickly turning his attention back. Hidelord spoke with his tone light; friendly, but shadowed by threats. "Jembra, you bitch, the party would've been better with you not around, pestering me for more than what you can fucking chew.” The troll who had approached the middle of the room, standing before the remnants of the roast, wore a symbol: though it was imprinted in a brand on his shoulder and embroidered on the ascot around his neck - like two swords crossing paths. The sunglasses over his eyes hid a pale amber-gold caste, and his stomach was fully obscured by pale-white dressings that may have even extended further down his legging-adorned lower half. A large C-shaped scar, long healed, drew from his upper chest to the side of his neck, and a pinky finger was missing at the joint. "And I’ll ask again. Somebody needed to see to our defenses," Jembra lightly deflected, a reedy and political color to his voice. "You mean, see to my assets?" "It's not against the code to chase yours, old friend." "Don't lecture me on the code, okay? I made the fucking code." Jembra glanced at me for a second, hands in his pockets, likely taking hold of some weapon. I could feel bile rising in the back of my throat, my fangs lengthening as my lips threatened to curl in a feral hiss. I bit my tongue to hold myself back.

"Point taken." His head cut upwards, breaking contact with me, "speaking of chasing, care to tell me about her? You know which kind I like."

The Hidelord swallowed his tongue, but his muscles tensed as he took a glance at the brown-blooded troll. Hidelord shooed me away off his lap, then gestured for the girl to be uncuffed and brought over to kneel at the foot of the steps. Jembra took a step forward and the Hidelord cracked the fingers on one hand, ready to vanquish the would-be-usurper...but not without patience.

My eyes lingered over the slave in question, cowering with tears streaming down her face. I learned long ago that this was the art of war. Once upon a time, that had been me cowering in a barricade as people laughed and touched, as if I was nothing but cattle. I felt pity for her, but I would sooner dissociate than feel the willpower to cause a change. That power wasn’t mine anymore. I turned to take a seat on the cushions at the foot of Hidelord's throne which were often reserved for his most prized slave, usually. It was rare that I wouldn’t be the one to warm them. As Jembra and Hidelord neared her, the Bronze whimpered and barked out a word that by now was almost foreign to me. My insides felt colder than the fear the other warlords put in me. "Akabri!" Akabri. A Vaelari word for something akin to mercy. A plea. A prayer. It felt as if all my breath had been taken from me. Vaelari. My birth people, long since wiped out by the Empire’s need for control. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I could not control the words that came from my mouth, and in my desperation I foolishly ignored the curious stares from the other warlords. These sounds, sounds that I have not spoken in sweeps, tore my throat raw: "Ebuto shiua! To ebu shiua!” You are heard.The Bronze girl began to tremble and sob out more Vaelari, matching my intensity. I had not even noticed the hot globs of tears that fell off my cheeks until I received a look of agitation from Hidelord. I immediately closed my mouth, fear making bile rise in my throat. I’d messed up.

All the background chatter and ambient noise faded to the chorus of a well-dead syntax filling the lodge. I could feel Jembra’s eyes on me, taking a glance as if it suddenly dawned on him that my presence was worthwhile.

"Well isn't that something? Them two know one another, do they?"

"I wouldn't know. Don't remember giving her permission to speak, though. Damn nuisance. She'll be lucky if I don't-"

"That isn't just speaking, that's understanding. I could use an interpreter." Jembra's rotten teeth almost glowed. "Name your price."

"Not for sale."

"Really now? I wouldn't say I agree." He scuffed his boot at the foot of the stairs, sending the Bronze shuddering. "You're a reasonable business-troll, great Hidelord, and everyone has a price. And to me, there's something...sweetly exotic about it. Your little bird could help me learn." He lightly, yet overtly commented. The Hidelord was not amused. "Didn't you hear the last bat-shit vagabond who asked me? Whatever price you want to match-"

"I'll give you my Lime. You remember Saphic? You're not going to turn that down, are you? For an endangered line you'd be insane, she's 500 teeth."

As the Umbre continued babbling, Hidelord's eyelid twitched, and he motioned to his guards. "For the love of the seven hells, someone shut this bitch up. Heat the brand, gag her, fuck if I care, but she's harshing the vibes in here."

"We're in the middle of an acquisition here! Leave her to speak, chum." Jembra quipped as two larger trolls approached but immediately wavered at Jembra’s gesture. "Besides, that was a poorly veiled distraction. You know, I don't think we've ever gotten to see this slave's blood first-hand.” Jembra gestured at me, and my eyes widened. “What is she? Based on your defense I'm guessing… Rareblood? No, maybe someone pretty damn important. Why don't we all find out...?" I fell silent at Jembra’s foolish threats. I tried to hush the Bronze girl to try to dissuade the others from harming her, but my attempts were fruitless. With a sigh, the Hidelord grabbed the Bronze by the hair and threw her into Jembra with a roar. If it was one thing I knew, it was that no one should feel comfortable with threatening anything of his.

The swaggering traitor caught her, stumbling backward, and Hidelord threw a dagger into the troll's foot, catching the slave's side as it flew through the air. Both shouted, but the Hidelord didn't relent, and he quickly hoisted Jembra up the stairs on his back.

I lurched forward and caught the Bronze and held her, comforting her, quieting her cries as we spoke our tongue. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was not what I saw in my vision. I cast a look over my shoulder as Hidelord grappled with Jembra. As I watched them I whispered to the Bronze, telling her to hide if she could. This had turned personal.

I turned and saw Jembra reach for the knife, and Hidelord not having a clue, thinking himself won.

I hesitated, between letting it be and intervening. I shouldn't intervene! I should have learned by now that I couldn't change fate. I couldn’t do it to protect my brother, I couldn’t fight it to protect my matesprit, what chance would that change now for someone who claimed me as nothing but property? Hidelord's future was his... but did I have a future without him? What would happen to me here without Hidelord's protection? I thought to all the hungry warlords that undressed me with their eyes. Fates be damned, what use was a lie if it was dead?

With a deep breath, I readied myself and sprung. I landed on a table, then immediately propelled off of it and onto the wall where I ran just above the crowds’ heads. Jumping from that point, I pounced, not unlike a cat. A predator. A monster. My hands wrapped around Jembra's throat, snatching him from Hidelord's grasp. I could feel eyes fall on me in disbelief, but I could not care. I lifted Jembra high enough above the ground so his feet weren't touching, my nails digging into his flesh. I took the knife from his foot and threw it aside, leaving him with no spare weapon to scramble for. For me? I didn’t need one. I grabbed one of his horns and, effortlessly, ripped one of them off. I felt the chitin and sinew of nerves snap in my hands, and when I dislodged his horn I immediately rammed it into his gut.

While he shrieked in pain I grappled the man so that he was over my shoulder, my hands still clasped around the horn. As I threw him over my head the horn sliced through his skin, ripping him open and causing blood to spray everywhere. The body crashed against the wall with a sick, wet thud. I heaved in every breath, drinking it like water, growls and snarls escaping me like a feral beast. I will keep my protection. Hidelord will not die today. I spat at Jembra’s body, cursing at him in Vaelari.

The sound in the cabin was mute, as all the onlookers’ stares landed on me. All the guards and the lords and the slaves. Hidelord included, too. I looked up at him, looking for something: acknowledgment, approval.

But instead what I was met with was the back of his hand meeting my cheek, holding nothing back. His chest heaved as he stashed the knife and retreated back to his chair, taking the glass of wine from earlier and taking a few long swigs. I stared after him as the sting caused unwanted tears to well up in my eyes. His back was turned to me when he spoke again. "Guards, two of you. Take her upstairs. I don't want to hear that awful gibberish again, and if she keeps talking help her forget it. I'll deal with her later. Two more, take all these back to the zoo. Sales are closed for tonight. One had to ruin the fucking party for everybody. The rest of you can finish your meals and ales and fuck yourselves home." He turned to one scuttling assistant with glasses too big for his face and a long gray apron. Hidelord gestured to the strewn corpse. "I doubt he's salvageable, but see what you can do. If you get some life back in him, I'll make him wish he were dead later. If not, slop for the boars, they'll be happy for a fresh meal. And if you all have any questions, shove it." He cast one look back at me before taking his seat again. I shouldn’t have felt hurt. This was the song and dance, but a well of bitterness churned in my stomach, as two guards came and picked me up by the arms. A cast a glare at Hidelord, but that quickly lost its flame and I lowered my eyes to the ground. They dragged me up the stairs and dumped me in Hidelord’s study, buried me in fists and kicks, blood and bruises. Then, they were just as quick to abandon me to their posts right outside the door.

I settled myself against his desk, pressing my back against it and pulling my knees to my chest. I could feel the bruise forming on my cheek, no doubt a ring on his had made a haunting impression. Frustration built up in me, and I lashed out at the ground with my fist-- leaving that aching now, too.

I had been face-to-face with my past, and I could do nothing to save her. I had acted out of line and saved Hidelord’s pathetic ass, but I was to be punished for it. And above all, my visions failed me.

The music picked up again with far less vigor, and it was not ten minutes before he came storming up the stairs, near-snarling for the guards to watch downstairs for any dissenters. The door slammed open as the sound of footsteps landed outside.

The great Oliveblood shook his head with a grimace, pulling out a bag of ice and tossing it on the ground in front of me. "That's for your face, bitch. If I didn't punish you in some way right away, it would've turned into a fiasco down there: owners calling for my head or dragging you out into the Safari with the others. What happened, Athena? What in the Gog fuck happened? You said to wait for a signal and then start spewing nonsense out of your good-for-nothing government beak!"

There was frustration in his eyes. Power-hungry fury, yes. His voice was deep and bellowed with guttural anger. But there was a hint of something else that was unfamiliar and out of place. Fear? Since when was the mighty Hidelord afraid?

I didn't pick up the bag of ice, basking in the pain for a moment longer, but then surmised that I might be punished more if I didn't accept his help. I reached for the bag and pressed it to the bruise.

"...She was my kin," I said, wincing at my voice cracking. "We came from the same lands. The same people. The same family that the Empire you all so gleefully ignore wiped out. We were the Vaelari, or Fae as they call it. I thought my brother and I were the only survivors." I slumped back with a grunt, tilting my head back to lessen the pain. "I shouldn't tell you any of this. You'll just see it as another fucking dollar on a price tag. Or tooth. Or whatever the hells you fuckers use. Art of war or whatever. I wish I could be so ignorant."

He crumpled into his chair by the window again, hunched over and brain working. There was a stretch of silence before he spoke again. "......I'm not gonna pretend I understand what you're feeling. Doesn't serve either of our interests for me to, either. But okay. That, that at least, doesn't make what you did entirely ass-backwards.” My brow quivered at this sudden show of sympathy. Right. Songs and dances can feign emotion, too.

“Don't underestimate the power of a price tag, though. If what you're saying is true and she's endangered, that makes her an asset. Not a troll to just throw away to anyone with a few funds." He met my gaze for a moment. "Someone I can keep in the chalet. You understand?" The Hidelord shook his head and in a surprising move, shed himself of the long jacket that was his calling card. "...I've never told you how I made this coat, or at least not the specifics. It really isn't yours or anyone's fucking business, but after tonight's little display, I don't exactly have a choice in the matter. "I've been with bitches before, and I know you know it. I grew up in the Chalet, it was built on Atalis soil by Atalis hands. Labored in and out for a commune, a place of trade without chucklefucks breathing down our necks. My ancestor had it stolen by another lord when I wasn't even pupated, and I took it from another cuck some time later, but the place has never changed, and neither has the code." He didn't meet my eyes anymore as he ran his hands along the sleeves. "My first mate was named Imniks. She was everything to me. The body, the spirit. She was a soft thing though, plucked from a pillowcase. Squishy, overt. Tried to stand up to a rival lord once. Well, he left and gathered the others and waged war on us, vowed to take my Imniks, have their way with her, and make her watch as they killed me. Burn this place to the ground. She was weak… so I gave her up to save everything that meant something to me or the others.

"But you," his pupils seared into the wall, "you aren't weak. You're made of stronger stuff. I'm not looking to give up another and I don't think you're the kind to make me, but I've been here my whole life. You haven't... They'll want you thrown in the Safari for this, and I'll do my damndest to keep you out of a real cage, but if you think your bitch ass is going to get both of us killed because of the life that kicked you to the curb, you better right reconsider your perspective."

His voice was even and scarily calm despite his clear anger, as though romanticizing his past struggles with these trolls took the energy out of him.

I glanced at him briefly, taking in his story and his words and studying him without the coat. I wanted to argue, to say that they couldn't have any influence in what he did with me because I was his, but he was right. He knew this place better, and I should know better than anyone that politics is one hell of a field to traverse in.

But, his praise surprised me. Strong? How, when I had given up on life so long ago? His words made me reconsider; if I was weaker than what he claimed, I wouldn't be able to survive here. I wouldn't have been able to match him blow for blow my first day here, prompting him to spare me. Maybe there really was a fire still in me? How long would it be until those embers would go out, too?

Despite the sting of blood that dribbled into my eyes, I ignored my body's screams as I shuffled to the Hidelord and kneeled. Humility was a powerful thing to offer, sometimes greater than a life. "You are right. I was foolish, reckless. Do what you will to punish me, and make it believable, so what respect I robbed of you will be returned."

His hair hung wild across his shoulders, which shook along with his head. A thin sickle split his cheeks, armed with teeth. "You're a crazy bird. They heard enough to be calmed for tonight. I can't promise tomorrow won't sting, though. Jembra's people will want blood on their hands. I'll see what kind of middle ground we can find." When the Hidelord spoke of middle ground, it usually meant killing a few more trolls to supplement the losses. "Lilac's hard to bullshit, though. Then again, I'm sure you can foresee what I'm gonna do, so don't get all defiant on me. It's just business."

I pressed my lips together, not liking the sound of that, but I nodded along. There was a knock on the door, and the Hidelord quickly strode over and peaked around to see a servant carrying his food from downstairs. Keeping the door mostly-shut, he took the plate with a snarl, taking a fistful of meat before putting it down on the ground for me. His teeth worked and ground flesh into pulp as he nursed the idea of what he was going to do with his prize. From outside came drunken moans and howls and screeches that I wasn’t sure were lusii or troll in nature. "But I'll keep your Fae-shmae bitch around here for now, since you ended up saving my life. Frankly killed two wingbeasts with one bloody fuckin' stone; Jembra’s always been a damn rat, but he knew better to consider a play like that. And, if they can put blood in ‘im and make him squawk again,” there was a glint in his eyes, strange and eerie and wanting. "Maybe I'll show you how to skin the bastard.”

Silence filled the block for a while. There wasn't much worth talking about anymore. No bravado, no tug-of-war for dominance; not tonight. Guards didn't care to enter, nor were there demands for explanation. He never pressed for details about my life in these moments, when things were calm and there was no face to put on. Sometimes if the silence got unbearable, he'd ask what I wanted. Tonight though, there was none of that. He only polished his knives, eventually lighting a cigar for himself to smoke. The sounds of the howls and hoots would emerge from the Safari, somewhere far away from the small shred of troll-manity they were encased inside, though even those faded as the darkness began to lighten.

When he'd gotten through his whole belt, he stood and flicked his ashy blunt into an ashtray, then stretched and cracked his back. Hidelord’s eyes lingered on me for a few heartbeats, face even and giving away nothing. "If you want to sleep, sleep in the chair. Not sure if you're risking a hunt today, but either way...good morning." Briskly, the warlord left to his bed and pulled a curtain closed behind him, leaving me alone with my bruises and thoughts.

"Good morning, dear turning-knife.”

I glanced briefly at the chair, then greedily took to it knowing that it was better than nothing. As I curled up in the chair, I brought my knees to my chest and hugged myself tightly. I missed the warm arms of a loved one around me and the feeling of safety without the need of keeping one eye open. I missed friendly company with no strings attached; I missed the sounds of everyday life outside my door. But then I wondered if this was really any different than what my life had been on the Mainland. The Hidelord was just another Grand Highblood, but with green in his veins instead of purple, and having the cruelty of pretending that he cared.

And once again, not for the first and certainly not the last time, loneliness lulled me to sleep.

#Hide and Seek #Trapper and Trader #Athena Uyilst #The Hidelord #fevur writing #character death #blood #violence #ask to tag

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

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I was sad but fine till the last line of “traitor, traitor”, Em how could youuu 😭😭😭. And with Rhaenyra too, double homicide for poor Babey’s feelings. But anyways, imagine Babey when she finds out she doesn’t really say anything to them or anyone outright but her feelings are there and of course Athfiezar is very in tune with her and he can feel it. So now Daemon is on the shit list of this very large, homicidal dragon who has had years of combat experience against his other dragons and let’s remember that Athfiezar never liked him that much in the first place. So then Athfiezar is just there, hunting Daemon down whenever he flies on Caraxes and just snapping at them or something and generally making life miserable for him. Like what if Daemon was in his solar and suddenly the room gets very dark. Is it a sudden storm? No it’s just our lovely dragon bestie Athfiezar blocking the light. Daemon looks up and there’s just a dragon eye glaring at him through the window. And he can’t even do anything because what’s he going to do? Make Caraxes fight Athfiezar? No, they’re on the same side. If Babey was feeling mad/betrayed at Rhaenyra too then maybe Athfiezar would also be bullying Syrax? Syrax to Athfiezar is like a spoiled lap dog to a huge alley dog who was victorious in underground fight rings before escaping lol. A thought that helped me not feel sad is that even though there is an AU where Daemon cheats there can also be an AU where we could just push Daemon down the stairs 😇. Although if that AU of terms of endearment was continued would Babey be up for being in a poly with Daemon and Rhaenyra? Wouldn’t she feel too hurt/insecure that they’re only including her out of pity? And another sad thought, say she walks in on them while she’s pregnant and the shock causes her baby to go bye-bye. Imagine the glorious angst, the guilt and how she’ll never forgive them 😭

Now back to happier thoughts, I know some people say that having sex is dangerous for the baby after a certain time or before a certain time? How would Daemon deal with that if the midwife from Essos forbade him from having smexy times with his darling for a while and her belly is too round to comfortably ||suck his d*ck on her knees and she’s not in the mood to give him her hand|| I imagine he’d be sad but he’d probably be the type to come up with a whole new position just cause he’s THAT desperate

I think he’s an Aries sun because he’s fiery, he likes to start shit/takes initiative (🩸&🧀)😇, temperamental sometimes, will never filter himself and I think he wants to be able to be true to his feral, attention seeking self while still being accepted for that. As for Scorpio rising, I do not know if it’s because Matt Smith who plays him is a Scorpio or the character is just like that but he’s very magnetic. Able to make people both respect and fear him, kinda polarizing,alluring. Moon sign, no idea, he’s traumatized and emotionally constipated so I know it’s a difficult placement because the moon sign is supposedly representing, your inner thought, how you process your emotions and stuff. I hope this is not offensive to Aries suns if there’s any who see this. They have way more positive traits, I just don’t think Daemon is a great person with those traits yet (love him anyway though). Also, all zodiac signs have good and bad traits and if your zodiac in a certain planet is “evolved” that means you’ve learned to manage/overcome/are aware of the negative parts of yourself and I very much doubt he has a lot of evolved planets. But to be fair he’s had a busy life being a sad feral meow-meow so oh well. Also, I have not read the books so this is just based on the show and I am not an expert in astrology or anything, I just think it’s fun. Sorry for the long ask and the awful spacing, idk why my phone does this.

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 from

-💎

Lol, the Cannibal being petty as fuck toward Daemon and Rhaenyra will never not be a funny thought! I honestly don't know how I'd ever continue that AU; I imagine I'll get to it eventually but the thought just bums me out at the moment, haha. Babey cooould end up in a poly with Rhae/Daemon, but I'm not sure it'd ever work for her - there's so much insecurity there that I doubt she could ever let go of, and like, he was HER man, why she gotta share him with her older sis? Oof. I'll be doin' that WORK on the preggo fic to cleanse me of the dirtiness that was this AU.

Leading up to the birth I think is when they're gonna have to put a pause on the whole seksytime; I imagine Daemon would be a-ok with licking his 'lil Babey to some nice sleepy orgasms then basically whacking off onto her belly while she peers up at him all drowsy and smiling, cuz he's a sick fuck haha. A few months with his own hand ain't gonna kill him - plus, Babey might very well just go "hey, feel free to use my hand while I'm sleeping, lol". I do believe I have a similar sort of smut planned for this next chapter, actually (the whole getting himself off next to her while she sleeps thing, not the using her hand thing). That'll make more sense in the chapter, I hope.

And thank you for that zodiac analysis! I will have to do some research on it as I've gotta admit, the 'sun' and 'rising' and 'moon' signs all kinda threw me a little. I thought there was only one, but I'm clearly missing out! And Daemon IS a feral meow-meow, no point sugar-coating that, haha!

Thank you so much for the awesome thoughts, 💎 - and the spacing came out totally fine on the desktop! Sometimes the phone formats it weird as hell, but it goes through normal.

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world-of-aus · 2 years

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Hearts and Crafts

Pairing; Elementary Teacher!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

Warnings; Fluff

Word Count; 5,468

A/n: As a teacher myself this was really a self-indulgent fic, I’m always hoping to find my very own Bucky at work, but alas through fics it will have to do, happy pre-valentines day sweet babes!

All Other Works Can Be Found In My Masterlist In My Bio, For Updates You Can Follow @worldofausupdates stay updated!

Monday mornings; the start of a new week, a new day to teach the young minds that had been placed under your care.

You started your Monday's the way you always did, a fresh cup of coffee in one hand and a sweet bread that you had managed to swipe from the teachers' lounge down your hall in the other. You hummed under your breath as you entered your room – door pushed open courtesy of the custodial staff. You go for the windows first, opening up the blinds to let the rising morning sun filter in. It was important to you to start with a refreshed room, one that invited and welcomed your students in.

Moving over to your desk you placed your cup and napkinned sweet bread down, you’d be able to get to it once all your students had managed to filter in, their own breakfast sat in front of them. While you waited you moved over to the SMART Board switching on the screen to sign in and pull up the lessons for today. Another important step in your day, you wanted your students in on your plans, you wanted them aware of today’s lesson, and the valentine’s activity that you and your neighboring teachers had put together last Friday.

You had managed to mention it to them when lining them up at the end of the day, and they had been as excited as you had expected upon letting them in on the news. Like you, your students looked forward to the holidays, they looked forward to the activity’s and treats you would put together for them on the special days that rolled around during the school year.

“Why am I not surprised to see you at your board at this point, you’re there every morning, and you’ll likely be there come the end of the day.”

A smile pulled at your lips as you turned your head to your open door, “Good morning to you too Natasha,” you greet making your way over to the highlighted blonde, “you know I like to be prepared before the kids come in, I don’t want them thinking I don’t have a reign on things, those children can smell fear you know,” you laugh as she moves aside to let you step out into the hall.

“You think that’s why Dot has to pop into Barnes’ room midday,” she questions.

“Please,” you laugh, “Dolores at this point looks for any reason to pop into his room, and if she’s not careful, her observation mid-year isn’t going to look too good if she keeps letting her kids control the classroom.”

“And that is why I've nominated you for teacher of the year,” you hear from down the hall. You're turning to see Wanda, bright smiled and hands laden with valentine’s crafts, you move over to her without hesitation, grabbing half the items from her hold.

“And this,” you mention to the crafts in your possession, “is the reason I nominated you for teacher of the year, the kids love you Wands, you’ve got them wrapped so tightly around your finger.”

“If they’re not giving both of you the golden apple come the end of the year, you know they’ve made a grave mistake,” Natasha mentions as she sidles up to the two of you, lightening the load of crafts further. “This going in your room,” she questions Wanda, Wanda’s nodding as she leads the two of you to her class that sits across the hall from yours. “Actually,” she stops, “y/n do you think you can take that half over to Bucky, we’re sharing the same activity, and I had offered to buy the supplies.”

“Really Wands,” you question immediately catching on to her act, “if you knew half of these items were meant to go to Bucky’s classroom why didn’t you ask him to meet you at your car?”

“Aside from Dolores – though our intentions are different I'm always bothering the poor man,” Wanda argues, “I wasn't going to make him walk all the way back to the parking lot, he has the same arrival time as you, that would have just been cruel of me to make him do so.”

You almost roll your eyes, almost, “and Wilson,” you inquire, “I know him and Steve are in the fifth-grade hall but surely he would have helped you bring the things in, besides him and Steve always have their morning coffee with him.”

A smirk pulls at Natasha’s lips, one that mirrors the one that pulls at Wanda’s mouth, “see,” the brunette responds, “you’ve been to his classroom enough times in the mornings to know he has coffee with Steve and Sam – please y/n I'm sure he would be pleased to see you this fine morning.”

“Have to agree with Wanda here,” Natasha joins in, “I’m sure he would be delighted to see you unless you plan on stopping by midafternoon to surprise his students as well.”

Heat floods your cheeks at the lighthearted teasing, “don’t you have a sister to go visit,” you question hoping to throw them off, and that earns you a laugh from the girls, “Yelena lives with me y/n I'm sure she can bear a few moments away from me,” Natasha responds.

“So will you take them,” Wanda questions redirecting the conversation back, “listen, if it’s too much I'm sure I could ask Dolores – give her an actual reason aside from her disorderly instruction to go into his classroom.”

“Really wands, as if her visits throughout the day aren’t enough,” you mutter, “are these all the things or do they need to be evenly split,” you question finalizing the choice to go and drop off the items yourself.

Wanda beams, “you can take what you have there and just let him know if he needs more, he can come by my classroom throughout the day.”

A smile tugs at your lips, “so whenever Dolores decides to pop-in I should direct him this way,” you question feet already moving in the direction of Bucky’s classroom.

“Or you could direct him to yours,” Wanda responds a glint in her eyes when your gaze meets, he over your shoulder, “I don’t mind leaving what I know I won’t be using in your class, and I'm sure Bucky wouldn’t mind either, don’t you agree Nat,” she smirks looking at the blonde.

You're shaking your head at the laughing pair before you’re glancing away to move further down the hall towards Bucky’s classroom.

When you reach the threshold of his classroom you find that the door is only slightly cracked open, the voices of the men in question meeting your ear. A smile pulls at your lips as you adjust the purchased crafts in your hold, reaching out with a hand to give a swift three knocks before you’re letting yourself in.

“There she is,” you hear Sam, greet, “was wondering if I'd get to see you before Rogers and I had to head back to our hall.”

Your smile pulls wider, as you look at the man in question, “you know you could have just dropped by my room Sam, it’s literally on your way out,” you greet in return letting Steve who was the closest to the door grab the crafts from your hold.

“Sam just likes to know that you’re looking for him,” Bucky chimes in catching your gaze, bright pink smile kissing his lips, “thank you for bringing these by for me by the way,” he gestures to the craft Steve deposits on his desk, “had offered Wanda to meet her at the car, but she said there was no need, she’d bring them my way.”

You’re shaking your head, smile breaking, as you remember the conversation you had with Wanda and Nat just minutes ago.

“Well, you know how Maximoff can be she -”

“Oh James, I’m so glad I’ve caught you,” a voice cuts you off, a head of auburn hair gliding past you, “I know it might be a long shot, but do you think your keys will open my door, I seemed to have forgotten mine,” Dolores giggles stealing away Buckys attention.

Three pairs of eyes look at the head of auburn hair that stands at Bucky’s side, “and you didn’t think to find a custodian,” Sam questions brow raised. Dolores can’t be bothered to tear her gaze away from Bucky as she waits, “I couldn’t find one this morning when I came in, and with kids already making their way in I didn’t want to waste any more time waiting for a custodian to pop up.”

You can’t help the subtle shake of your head as you turn to Steve, “will you let Bucky know that Wanda should have more supplies in her classroom should he run out, I'd tell him myself but,” you tilt your head over to the two in conversation.

Steve offers you a small smile, “as if she won’t drop by his room three more times throughout the day,” he mutters, “can Sam and I walk you, I think our conversation with Buck here is done for now.”

A small smile pulls at you lips, “I’d like that actually feel like I don’t see enough of the two of you,” you tease knowing that it is in fact the complete opposite.

Steve draws closer to you looking over his shoulder, “c’mon Wilson we’re heading out, Barnes here is gonna be busy helping Dolores open her door, and the kids are gonna start coming in soon.”

Sam’s reigniting the smile on your lips with a shake of his head, “all I'm hearing is more time with my favorite teacher, we’ll see you around Barnes – Dolores,” he adds well after having turned on his heel to make his way over to the two of you.

“Wilson play nice,” you laugh quietly as he joins you and Steve, he throws an arm over you, the other finding Steve’s back, “Never once played nice when the game ain’t fair, surely ain’t gonna start now,” he answers guiding the two of you out of the room.

“You know,” you murmur as you exit out into the hall, “if he hasn’t caught onto it now, he’s likely not wanting to catch it at all, don’t you think you all should stop pushing it, someone’s gonna come out hurt.”

“Buck doesn’t know how to say no,” Steve answers as they walk you to your class, the sound of sneakers skidding across linoleum flooring meeting your ears as you see the first wave of kids scuddle in, “he doesn’t want to come off mean.”

“Besides,” Sam adds, “we wouldn’t be ‘pushing’ it if it weren’t the case.”

You remove yourself from his hold squeezing his side as you take your spot at your door, “I just don’t want to get my hopes up on something that may not be there is all.”

Steve leans forward to squeeze your arm, “like sam said we wouldn’t be ‘pushing’ for it if that were the case.”

“I know you all mean well, but drop it for a few days will you?”

The two are nodding their head at you, “well we better get going, you still down to go to the bar and grill with us tonight pre-valentine celebration?”

A smile pulls at your lips, “after the day we’re about to have you know you can count me in, regular group,” you question.

“You know it,” Steve answers for you, “so we’ll see you there?”

“Count me in,” you grin, “I'll see you two at recess,” you add as your first student runs for your legs.

“It seems Buck isn’t the only one in love,” Sam teases, and you're waving him off laughter bubbling past your lips as you dismiss them, “Bye Mr. Wilson, Mr. Rogers.”

They’re sending you one final wave to you before there descending down the hall, your hands guiding your first of thirty students into the classroom

“Macy, sweetie that’s way too much glue here -”

“Arthur the top needs to stay on the red glitter -”

“Oh, how wonderful Mathilda, your mother is going to love your valentine cat – oh it’s a dog, even more wonderful!”

“James, Steven please do not throw construction paper at each other it’s not to play with, Samuel I just said -”

“Miss y/l/n there’s someone knocking at the door,” you heard above the chaos that was your classroom during craft time.

You let out a breath as you stopped everything altogether your hand going up, the room growing quiet instantly, tiny hands shooting to the air as they all looked to you. You gave them all a kind smile, “boys and girls we have a visitor, I need you all to resume your crafts nicely and quietly,” you looked down to the three boys, “can we do that,” you questioned them, “can we continue our crafts nicely and quietly while I get the door?”

You receive the same response from the three, “wonderful now continue the crafts and please no more construction paper balls flying around the room.”

With that your turning on your heel making your way to your door, opening it without a second thought to peer out the small window beforehand. Your met with quite the surprise when you open the door to find Bucky and his class of 15.

“Mr. Barnes,” you greet warmly, “to what do I owe the pleasure,” you question taking notice of the crafts in his students' hands.

He leans in close voice lowered as he speaks, “Dolores has already managed to walk into my class three times today and its not even noon, my students are starting to become distracted, and frankly so am I, is it possible to merge classes for the next hour, we,” he stresses, “need a break.”

You look back to your classroom, brain scrambling as you look at your layout and how you could possibly accommodate a class of 15. “Oh please Miss y/l/n, we’ll be good we promise, we just want to work on our crafts – please,” you hear and that has your attention drawing back to Bucky and his students that stand just outside of your room.

“Of course, you can come in,” you smile, “do some of you mind working on the carpet, I don’t have too many chairs available.”

The class of 15 squeals behind their teacher and out of habit your finger comes to your lips a smile barely hidden behind it. “Quiet now we don’t want Miss Dolores finding you now do we,” you question brow raised.

The students fall into another fit of giggles this time the noise hidden behind their hands, “alright then, let’s get you inside, but make sure you do so quietly,” you add as you move to the side pulling the door open wider for them. They follow you inside, your class immediately intrigued by the influx of students following behind you.

“Class, Mr. Barnes and his students will be joining us for crafts this morning - now this does not mean we get loud,” you warn, “I expect you all to continue working quietly, remember be the star class I know you to be, do we understand?”

Your students are nodding in agreement, your eyes then fall to the mischievous three, “Steven, James, Samuel, I expect you three to be on your best behavior while Mr. Barnes is here, do you understand, should I need to come to your table there will be no recess.”

At the mention of no recess their eyes go wide, a promise to be on their best behavior leaving their lips, “wonderful,” you smile, “now let’s all get back to work while we settle the other class in.”

“Thank you for allowing us to come in,” Bucky whispers minutes in to having settled his classroom on your large square carpet, their tiny bodies sprawled all across it as they color furiously. “I wasn’t sure who else to ask and with Wanda’s group being out at the library I wasn’t sure who would be as welcoming next to you.”

Your eyes find his briefly, a warm smile pulling at your lips, as you look around your room “you know you and your class always have a place here with us, my students enjoy the company as much as I do,” you answer eyes flitting back to his.

There's something there, hidden in those cerulean eyes, something you want to question but your attention is being averted to a little blonde girl that lays on your carpeted floor. You don’t hesitate to move towards her as she calls your name again, lowering your body as you level yourself to her.

“Look what I drew,” she beams, shoving the paper in your face, you laugh as you lean back taking a better look at the two triangular figure holding hands in a heart, with a few tinier triangular figures surrounding them. “And what a wonderful drawing this is,” you encourage feeling a presence drop down next to you, “oh wow amazing, is that your mom and dad,” Bucky questions as the two of you look at Amelia’s drawing.

She giggles, “No Mr. Barnes, it's you and Miss y/l/n, see,” she stresses tiny finger pointing at the triangular figures holding hands in the heart, “and that’s all of us,” she adds pointing to the other figures.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as Bucky’s eyes find yours, both of you seemingly lost for words, “isn’t it pretty,” Amelia questions pulling your gazes from one another, you manage to pull a smile, “it’s absolutely wonderful little miss Amelia.”

You’d think it impossible for a child's smile to grow but Amelia manages to surprise you further, “You see Mr. Barnes I told you she would love it, now all you need to do is ask her,” she beams looking at her teacher, who has seemingly gone tense under her bright gaze.

“Ask me,” you question your own heart racing in your chest, beating like a wild drum in your ears.

“Amelia,” Bucky tries, but the small girl is quicker, “yeah Miss y/l/n, Mr. Barnes is always saying how you’re so kind and wonderful and that he likes you,” you turn your head to Bucky.

“A - as a friend Amelia - I meant it as a friend,” he says through a choked laugh eyes finding yours, “nuh-uh,” another student perks up drawing your attention back to the group, “we see how you look at Miss y/l/n at recess and Mr. Wilson looks at Miss Maximoff like that and you said they like like each other!”

“You know Mr. Barnes,” another shoots up, “you always tell us it’s not nice to lie, is it because you’re a grown up that it’s okay – wait does that mean my mom and dad lie to me too?”

Seemingly red in the face Bucky tries to settle his class, “Boys and girls it seems we’ve strayed a little far from our crafts, how about we settle down and get back to it, look at Miss y/l/n’s class how well behaved they are.”

“Are you going to ask our teacher to be your valentines,” Samuel pipes up, your head moves in their direction, “she wouldn’t say no,” Steven adds, “Yeah she’d totally say yes,” James agrees, “I heard her tell Miss Maximoff at pick-up that you had really nice hair and an even nicer smile – my mom likes my dad’s hair even though he’s bald, and she also likes his smile – they're married – wait are you and Miss y/l/n going to get married?”

“Boys,” you nearly screech, “that is not a question to be asking, what did I say about being on our best behavior?” “But miss,” they whine, “we weren’t misbehaving we were just asking a question!”

“Yeah, Miss y/l/n they were just asking a question,” Amelia defends bringing you back to their group, “Mr. Barnes do you have a question to ask Miss y/l/n,” she adds almost innocently bringing your attention back to the elephant in the room.

Your gaze is moving back over to Bucky once more, the burly man seemingly frozen under the fire of scrutiny the two of you just received.

“Mr. Barnes,” you find yourself breathing, because it couldn’t be true could it, did your group of friends really have good reason to ‘push’ it?

His eyes find yours, “d-do you have a question for me,” you add, his lip's part, tongue peeking out to run over his lip, “I -”

Three swift knocks draw your attention away from one another as you look to your door, principal Fury burning into the room. The two of you stand almost immediately, “Miss y/l/n, Mr. Barnes,” he greets lips set in a thin line. His eyes flit around your classroom, “I’m sorry to have disrupted your crafting, but if you don’t mind, I'd like to speak to the two of you in private before we dismiss for lunch.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, Principal Fury never had reason to step into your room unless it was for observation. You look to Bucky then to your class, “Boys and Girls,” you clear your throat, “Mr. Barnes and I are going to step outside for a brief moment, the door will be open so I expect you all to continue working, should I have to step back in there will be no recess for you after lunch is that understood?”

“Same goes for my class as well, do we understand,” Bucky adds looking down at his kids.

“It should take no more than five minutes,” Fury adds.

“Right,” you nod, “Mr. Barnes after you.”

Bucky takes lead as he follows Fury out of your room, your feet carrying you after him.

As if the worry that had settled in your chest wasn’t enough to suffocate you, finding Dolores out in the hall arms crossed had been enough to all but stop your breathing.

It was quiet in your room, the afternoon passing all the slower without the feeling of the fall sun kissing your skin, the sound of delightful screaming meeting your ears. It was now forlorn stares, quieted sighs, and the ever-soft murmur of apologies from your students to his.

“Miss y/l/n you can relax,” Fury directs to you, “in no way are you and Mr. Barnes here in any trouble, though I can’t find myself to say the same about Miss Dolores.”

Dolores glares, “see it has been brought to my attention that Miss Dolores here has been leaving her classroom unattended for most of the morning looking for Mr. Barnes, it was also mentioned that this isn’t her first offense.”

“I don’t know who mentioned this to you,” Dolores grumbles, “but I can assure you that it’s not the case.”

Fury looks to Dolores brow raised, “there are cameras in the halls, and in your classroom, I can assure you that it is infact the case, do you know the possible harm that could come from you leaving your students alone, the trouble that we could get into should something happen to them because you were careless?

“I had only been looking for Mr. Barnes to help settle my class, my students adore him,” she tries to defend.

“To help settle your class,” he questions, “when we hired you though we were sold on the fact that you were going to perform great classroom management, did that fly out the window when Barnes was hired or did you just lie good enough to get yourself hired.”

“Principal Fury,” she all but gasps.

“I’d like you packed by the end of the day,”

“But," Dolores tries, though she stops at the stern looks she’s sent, “you can go pack your things and I'll come escort you out when you're finished.”

Both you and Bucky are frozen in shock as you watch the events unfold, Dolores turning on her heel as she scuffles down the hall to her room.”

“Miss y/l/n,” Amelia all but whimpers from her spot on the carpet, “did we get Mr. Barnes in trouble, is he not going to be our teacher no more?”

“We didn’t mean to,” another adds in, “Mr. Barnes is the nicest teacher we’ve ever had and he deserves to be happy, and you – you make him happy; he’s always telling Mr. Wilson and Mr. Rogers during recess how much he likes you; we were just trying to help.”

Your caught by surprise, heart racing in your chest as Sam’s and Steve’s words ring in your mind ‘we wouldn’t be pushing it if wasn’t the case.’

“I really don’t want Mr. Barnes to be in trouble,” Amelia whimpers, and it's at the first sign of a wobbly lip that you push any thoughts or feelings you have for Bucky aside and focus on the students in front of you.

You manage to gather all the kids on the carpet, quieting them down as you try and explain to them that Mr. Barnes is only taking care of another teacher's kids while Principal Fury figures out a way to spilt evenly the twenty kids that now need a teacher mid-year.

“So, Mr. Barnes is still our teacher?”

You're nodding your head, hand rubbing Amelias back comfortingly, “he absolutely is, but right now the other students needed him a little more because of how amazing of a teacher he is to you all” you answer, “but come next week you’ll be back with him in your classroom along with some new faces.”

“Miss y/l/n,” Steven chirps up, “so does that make you an amazing teacher too since your taking care of Mr. Barnes class?”

A small smile pulls at your lips, “well I guess it does, doesn’t it?”

A chorus of agreements flit around the carpet, Amelia curling into your side, “Miss y/l/n, will you make sure he gets my drawing afterschool, he promised he would put it on his cabinet, I really want him to have it.”

You squeeze the little girl, “absolutely Amelia,” you glance at the clock above your door the seconds ticking as the time to line your students up for pick-up begins to roll around.

“Alright boys and girls, it's almost time for us to go so why don’t we all begin to pick up our things and put them away.”

The students go without fuss, as they move around your room; as you watch them go your glad principal fury had let Bucky’s students grab their things from their class after lunch, it definitely gave you insight to the amount of hooks you’d need to be adding to your classroom walls for the newer students you’d be getting next week. As the last few minutes tick away the kids help you clean your classroom up, the crafts they put together for valentine's day in their hands as you line them up.

You're doing one final sweep through before meeting the students at the door. They look just about as eager as you feel to be released, “well boys and girls I had a wonderful Friday with all of you, remember to give your loved ones your special valentines craft when you get home, does everyone have their things?”

Heads are nodding down the line, a smile pulling at your face, “wonderful, now remember we are to walk in a quiet straight line, as we make our way out of the building, I do not want to have to send us back to start over, understood?”

A herd of, “yes mam,” is heard around your room, “Alright then let’s head out and start our weekend.”

Student pick-up is always a flurry, kids much like their parents are in a rush to go home and start their weekends. From the time you get them all rounded up in the court to the sound of the first student being called up there's very little downtime between the farewells you and the other teachers on duty are giving out.

For thirty minutes you're seeing your eager students off with a warm promise to see them come Monday. The court always empties out fairly quickly on Friday afternoons and there’s only a handful of students left as the last of the cars roll in. Sweet Amelia is among those left, her hand in yours as she stands on her toes to see if she can spot her car.

“I’m sure they’re in the line,” you reassure, “you’ll see they’ll be -” and before you can finish her sentence her name is being called out a squeal of excitement bubbling past her lips as she pulls you along.

You go with a laugh, letting her tug you along to her car, you never mind helping load the last of the students in their vehicles. It's when Amelia is strapped in that a gasp of realization is leaving her lips, “Oh Miss y/l/n please don’t forget to give Mr. Barnes my card, I really want him to have it.”

A smile pulls at your lips, “Of course sweetie, before I leave for the day, I'll make sure to take it by his room.”

Amelia holds a pinky out to you, “promise,” she questions, your fingers hook with hers, “I promise.”

You’re sending Amelia off with a final wave, the court now empty as the final kid loads their car, you're sending the crossing guard a final wave before your making your way in the halls now empty as the teachers scurry into their rooms to pack up and begin there weekend as well.

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of your cardigan, your fingers reaching for the device as you continue to make your way down the hall. A message from the group text waits for you as you near your door, ‘see you all at the bar and grill tonight, don’t forget your plus one (;’

A smile pulls at your lips as you read the text walking into your room, remembering what Bucky’s students had shared with you your fingers type away, ‘did you finally tell Miss Maximoff that you like like her ;p?’

Bubbles appear at the bottom, likely Sam conjuring up a smart reply as you set your phone down to gather your things. You were grateful to have cleaned up beforehand the only things that needed to be grabbed were your bag, and the card that Amelia had left for Bucky.

Your phone vibrates on the desk but you decide you’ll check the response on your way out after taking Bucky the card. You grab the valentine craft from your desk turning on your heel only to be met by Bucky himself at your door.

A smile pulls at your lips, “Hey Buck, was just going to you, Amelia drew up another card for you insisted I give it to you before I left for the day,” you say as you move towards him. He thanks you with a smile as he takes the card, he looks at it opening it briefly. His eyes are finding yours again as he passes you the card, you look at him in question, “Buck, that’s yours, Amelia made it for you,” you chuckle.

He licks his lips, “I'm pretty sure that’s meant for you,” he answers. Your brows furrow but you take the card back nonetheless, you look at the front a single pink heart on it, a smile pulls at your lips as you open it a red blob with a green top in the middle of scribbly lettering.

‘i luv you from my hart to my toez wil u bee my valemtine?’

p.s. the toemaytoe is Mr. Barnes.

The grin spreading your lips hurts your cheeks as you look up at Bucky a smile of his own kissing his lips, “Do you really look at me the way that Sam looks at Wanda?”

Bucky chuckles as he steps forward closing the space between you, “that really the question you want answered?”

Your breath is caught in your chest, barely a foot of space left between the two of you, “Well I'm pretty sure Amelia here helped ask your question – so yes, that is the question I want answered.”

Bucky’s hand find’s your cheek, thumb smoothing the skin there “you promise to still like me when I go bald?” You're laughing then hands finding the lapels of his cardigan as you pull him close, his warm breath fanning over your lips, “I’ll love you from your head to your toes,” you murmur before your pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #teacher!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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1kook · 3 years

Text

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting one

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: jk is a ditzy lil nerdy sweetheart, college crushes, social distancing -_-, use of the zoom app, 1kook Builds a Healthy Relationship (Version 2.0) ratings: M (18+) wc: 3.2k

notes: well. here we are. as always i have to thank common sense (coincidentally named rumu @kigurumu ) for reading this over and pointing out little details <3 after much deliberation, i have decided to post our beloved zoom jk (see origin story here) in the form of short ‘drabbles’ depicting diff zoom calls with this being The Beginning™️ so please... bare with me </3 ty to all the nice ppl who have been excited for this, luv u very much 🥺

There are times in human history where words captivate their audience; times when single words or phrases wrap around the listener, melt into their bones and radiate warmth from within. But rarely does one word manage such an impact, rarely is it as revered and as cherished as the word cancelled is to most college students.

Class is cancelled, group meetings are cancelled, the stupidly big semester final project was cancelled. You could cancel nearly anything, and in most cases, it would be beautiful. Cancelled meant more time to sleep in the morning, an afternoon free of pesky project partners, a pleasant reprieve from having to socialize with anyone. It was a glorious word with heavenly connotations that brought tears of joy to your eyes whenever you saw it appear in an email preview.

Except this one.

Spring Semester 2021: On-Campus Classes CANCELLED — Social Distance Measures as per State Regula…

Your last semester as a student in university… online? You couldn’t believe it. All these years of studying rigorously, cramming for exams, attaining a near perfect GPA— just to sit in your bedroom and stare at your computer screen for the last 15 weeks of classes? Had your friends not been there to mope with you, you’re certain a part of you would have gone on a rampage and cursed every bacteria known to mankind for doing this to you.

It was your last year, you whined in private (never in public; your friends had always considered you the mature one, the studious friend who kept everyone in order), yet here you were, setting up your desk for your last ever first day of classes with quite possibly the biggest pout on your face.

Zoom, your school had raved in an email a few weeks into the break, the desktop application that will keep us united in these trying times! As if, you huffed, giving the stupid application permission to connect to your computer’s camera and audio systems. What even was proper Zoom etiquette? Did you have to enter the meeting and greet every student cheerfully? You had always said hi to your classmates before, but something about saying it over a computer mic felt awkward.

The feeling doubled when you finally entered the meeting, only to be met with a sea of black screens save for your professor, who seemed to be clicking around his computer in a rather confused fashion. This was going to suck, you thought bitterly.

You had entered the room ten minutes earlier because, well, you always showed up to class a few minutes earlier than the scheduled meeting time. But was there any point to doing that here? Usually, the time before class was spent making small talk with said classmates, discussing the readings or the assignments, talking mindlessly about whatever came to mind. But something in your gut said it would be weird to do that now.

So you sit in silence for the next ten minutes, nervously tapping your pen against your desk as you wait for the professor to launch into whatever introductory monologue he had planned. You toy with your phone, scrolling through your twitter feed only to see a brigade of tweets from students all over the nation suffering the same fate as you. It was a trending topic.

Two minutes before the class starts, you hear the tell-tale ping of someone entering the meeting. You wave it off just like you have your other 41 classmates thus far, but then there’s the clearing of a throat, and a sweet, “good morning” filtering through your speakers. Lifting your head from the hunched over position you had assumed while glancing at your phone, you’re startled by the sudden handsome face that appears before you.

In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window.

He’s nothing short of a dreamboat, soft and doughy cheeks that catch the hue of the screen light, highlighting his cheekbones in a faint blue color. Imploring doe eyes blinking widely at the screen as he clicks around, narrating his confusion in a low mumble (mic still on, how cute). Dark hair— was it brown? black? the pixelated screen made it hard to tell —messily pushed away from his face.

And his voice, oh his voice. It matches his gentle appearance perfectly. A soft snort. “Am I the only one here?” he says, thin lips pulled to the side in a bashful grin.

The professor laughs with him. “No, but you are the only one with your camera on,” he responds.

You’re not sure if it’s the professor’s teasing jab at literally everyone else or the need to support the cutie who smiles softly at screen, but suddenly, a handful of windows come to life. Your classmates fill up the screen, dressed in an array of styles with bedrooms (and, on the rare occasion, dorm rooms) to match. You nibble at your bottom lip, finger hovering over the button that will expose your appearance to the rest of your classmates

Eventually, the wordless peer pressure, the need to be a good student, and the supportive face of Jeon Jungkook (he/him) have you inhaling sharply before dutifully clicking the camera on. Your face appears on screen, nearly lost in the now overwhelming sea of faces. You’re one of the last ones to turn your camera on, both pages of your zoom meeting participant windows filled with the contrasting images of your classmates joining from their bedrooms. The professor claps in delight, and finally dives into the mandatory first day of classes spiel.

Syllabuses, group work, asynchronous lectures. You’ve heard these words all before, have practically memorized this class’s syllabus like the back of your hand. The pros of being an overachiever. The cons are, however, that you think every question your classmates ask is stupid. Read the syllabus, you want to scream. But it’s the first day of class. You don’t even know who your assigned study group partners (as mentioned in the syllabus) are and you certainly don’t want them to dislike you so soon. They can do that after the third meeting, but not today.

You’re not entirely surprised when your attention drifts away from the professor and the endless sea of stupid questions he’s left to answer. Even when you realize you’ve stopped paying attention, you don’t bother forcing yourself to tune back in. No, instead your focus drifts across the windows of faces.

Some of your classmates are as bored as you, glaring at the screen with disinterest, or glancing off to the side probably at their phones. So you start looking at their rooms, analyzing their decorations and posters as if you’re a professional critic on some house design show.

Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in a rather plain dorm room. Plain light gray walls— or maybe it’s white —free of decoration. He’s sitting at the provided desk, just like you. The only reason you focus on that is because there’s a multitude of your classmates lazily sprawled across their beds, slumped over a couch. Hardly anyone is sitting at attention like you. Well, except for Jeon Jungkook (he/him). He’s practically exposing the entirety of his living accommodation with the way his camera is set up.

Above eye level, reaching just below his chest, with the room all laid out before you. A neat twin bed, sheets meticulously made. It almost looks like the decorative set at a furniture store with the way the comforter and variety of pillows are placed. He doesn’t seem to be in the crappy dorms you remember, which leaves you wondering where exactly he’s been assigned. You know certain sports clubs get fancier dormitories. Anyway, there’s a door off the side of the bed, a black guitar standing in the corner just behind it. You wonder what’s behind the camera, if maybe his desk is as organized as the rest of his room. Maybe his closet is his weakness, you muse, imagining poor Jeon Jungkook (he/him) with a tornado of a closet. But the thought doesn’t make that much sense, so you discard it quickly.

Anyway, his dorm room. It’s neat and orderly, makes you tilt your head curiously as he swivels from side to side before you. As for himself, he’s dressed in a plain white sweater, hoodie strings perfectly even. His hair has long since fallen over his forehead, but he’s pushed it over this time in a fluffy side part. He was adorably soft.

He’s paying attention to the professor like he genuinely treasures every word that comes off his tongue, nodding along understandingly. He’s even got a pencil in hand, leaning forward every few seconds to scribble something down hurriedly. Not like this is all on the syllabus or anything, you think.

But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s dispelled just as fast. He’s only trying to be a good student, you scold yourself, feeling oddly mean for wanting to make fun of this sweet boy. Especially when he raises his hand a second later and asks the first good question of the day. Something about the grading scale for group projects and how much is determined by the group members themselves. You’re not too sure, the words get a little fuzzy when he starts speaking and his pink lips pull down into an endearing pout.

A couple minutes later and your professor finally wraps up the questions, telling everyone to email him if any other questions arise throughout the semester. Just as you’re sighing in relief, he utters those dreaded words: “Ice-breakers!” he exclaims, and the whole class grimaces, much to his amusement. He says something about feeling the excitement through the screen, but then changes gears. “Since it’s a little hard to talk to your neighbor, I’m going to test out the Breakout Rooms and see how that works, okay guys?”

You frown. Breakout Rooms? What on earth was that? Like most of your classmates, this is pretty much your first rodeo with the Zoom application. He was sending you all into small groups, where? The answer presents itself a few seconds later, a message box appearing on your screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 4

Your professor is still chattering in the background when you nervously accept the invitation, his voice suddenly cut off as your computer jumps to a new loading screen. It takes a while before you’re suddenly dumped into a new room. And then you’re staring at your own face, blown up on your own screen in a rather uncomfortable way. Jeez, did you really look like this?

As soon as you get to picking at your appearance, your mirrored reflection jumps to the side, once, then twice more to fit the three new guests in your room. Silence fills your bedroom as you and your classmates all stare at each other nervously for a couple seconds, unsure of what to say. This was, after all, your first meeting.

Just as you’ve gathered all your courage to click your microphone on, the screen jumps around once more and suddenly Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in your Breakout Room. Immediately, his surprised face melts into the most reassuring grin you’ve ever seen, and he’s practically jumping forward to turn his mic on.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, smooth and low. It’s like the awkward tension melts away under the pressure of his pretty smile, your classmates responding back with polite hellos and good mornings to him. You barely get yours in before Jeon Jungkook (he/him) starts talking again. “So… how are you guys?”

His words, sweet and caring as they are, send the five of you into a rather mindless conversation. Talking about nothing really, just whatever comes to mind about the class, about the semester, about the remote learning. Then Jungkook— “just Jungkook is fine!” he tells the other four of you with that same too pure look on his face after someone refers to him by his whole name —starts talking about some movie he had seen on Netflix the other day, something his friend recommended to him. Truthfully, you have zero interest in the type of plot he is describing, and you can tell some of the other people in your group don’t either. But he’s absorbed in his storytelling, features lit up as he details every last plot point of the film like his life depends on it. There’s a wordless agreement to let him ramble on.

By the time Jungkook has finished his novella recapture of whatever movie he was talking about, a green message bubble appears at the top of your screen. It’s a message from your professor, who is telling you the small group meeting will end in a few more minutes.

“Aw, that sucks,” Jungkook laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. And then, “oh! We haven’t answered our icebreaker question yet!”

Ah, yes. The reason for this small group was to get to know each other, not for Jungkook to recount an entire two hour movie for you all. “Oh, right,” you agree, probably the first words you’ve said in the past five minutes. You navigate to the chat box, where your professor had hastily dumped the question before sending you all off. “What’s one thing you miss most about being on campus?” you read aloud, glancing back at the screen.

Your group mates are all in various states of blissful comfort, the gaps of their nervousness smoothed over by Jungkook’s bubbly personality, and the hesitation they’d shown at the beginning is practically gone. Someone steps forward and says something about the campus dining hall. Jungkook laughs, loud and airy, claps his hands all cute too. Someone else says the library because it was a good place to study. There’s a lull and you jump in quickly. “I think I’ll miss the couches by the gym in the student center the most,” you confess, though you doubt anyone knows which ones you mean. They were a set of brightly colored couches tucked into a cranny behind the Starbucks just outside the campus gym, avidly avoided by the gym rats who were determined to ignore the sugary drinks and snacks.

Apparently, the hiding spot isn’t as secretive as you thought. “Oh, the ones by the Starbucks?” Jungkook exclaims, excitedly looking at his screen. You have this fluttery feeling that he’s looking at you for the first time. You nod, and he quite positively beams. “I love those!”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time there,” you say, though it’s a little stilted because you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to react to Jungkook’s enthusiasm. Though his outgoing personality cloaks you in comfort, his pretty smile has your heartbeat acting a little funny.

Jungkook’s got these huge eyes, blinking owlishly at you. “Really? So do I!” And then you both seem to have the same realization. His head tilts to the side cutely, an amused smile on his face, “I’ve never seen you there.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” you shoot back, a little snarkier than necessary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His smile turns goofy.

“Woah,” he says in a rather dreamy tone, “isn’t that so cool? We spent so much time in the same place, but never crossed paths before,” he babbles. He’s stopped looking at his computer, leaning back in a sort of dazed manner with this sparkly look to his eyes, much to everyone’s amusement. Except yours, because frankly, it sounds a little bit like he’s describing— “fate!” he says suddenly, like it’s truly an aha! moment. He pauses, taps his finger against his chin. “Or anti-fate? I’m not sure. But it’s like— we could’ve met so many times before and we didn’t.” Doe eyes return to the screen, flickering around until they presumably land on you again. “What do you think, __?”

And he’s just so cute, makes the rigid shield around your chest soften for the slightest moment as you nod meekly. “Uhh, yeah. Fate,” you agree, and then get to hear him laugh and giggle for about three seconds before you’re suddenly thrown back into the larger Zoom meeting.

Weirdly flustered, you hurriedly click your microphone back off, and nearly contemplate the camera too. But then the professor is asking you all to share what you talked about and you’re resigning yourself to a few more minutes of screen time while the class wraps up. By the looks of it, not everyone had as an enjoyable time as you did. Part of you is thankful you didn’t get stuck in an awkward small group. The other part recognizes wholeheartedly that it’s all thanks to one smiley boy at the bottom of your screen.

“And group 4?” the professor asks, and you blink yourself back into attention. Before you can unmute yourself and answer for your group, Jungkook is beating you to it.

“We talked about a lot of things,” Jungkook answers cheerfully. From your view, you get a front row seat to the sheer power of Jungkook’s magnetic personality, watching as all your listless classmates suddenly snap back from their daydreams to zero in on whatever Jungkook is saying. He fills in the professor about what you talked about, from the movies to the couches, and you feel weirdly mushy when his eyes flicker across the screen before settling with a soft smile.

He can’t possibly be looking at me, you tell yourself. Your hand jerks forward to turn the camera off, but in your haste, end up knocking down the water bottle on your desk. You scramble to straighten it, thanking the universe for the fact you actually remembered to screw on the cap. You glance back at the screen, and nearly die when you catch sight of a giggly Jungkook, smile hidden behind an adorable sweater paw as he laughs at something on screen. Oh no, was he looking at me? you panic.

“Alright, everyone,” your professor says in that “I’m about to wrap this class up” voice. Too close to the screen, voice a little too loud. “Good meeting today, I’ll see you all again on Wednesday. Stay safe.”

“Bye!” Jungkook sings sweetly, and everyone else follows as they all bid adieu to the professor. Still a little frazzled from the possibility that Jungkook may have watched you flail around like a total loser, you take a second longer to turn your mic on. Your classmates quickly leave the meeting, leaving only a few stragglers until the very end.

Surprisingly, Jungkook is here too, brown eyes focused on the screen. You unmute yourself. “Um,” you stammer, eyes unwillingly flickering over to Jungkook who smiles at the sound of your voice. “Goodbye. Thank you,” you rush out, and then quickly leave the meeting as well.

With the meeting over, you’re left staring at the home page of the Zoom app, heart beating a little too fast to be normal. Your face feels warm, and your fingers tremble from some unfamiliar, giddy feeling in your chest. You exhale slowly, hand coming up to rub at your chin as if that will somehow explain the weird excitement from your Zoom meeting. Maybe it was just adrenaline, or nervousness, you try to convince yourself. After all, the first day of classes is always nerve-wracking.

Except when you navigate to your class page and begin to mindlessly scroll through the class roster, there’s a weird stutter to your heartbeat when you catch sight of that Jeon Jungkook (he/him) that appears halfway down the list.

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk♡#jjk fic #bts smut #bts fic #mine

2K notes · View notes

alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Shut Eye

pairing/genre: idol!Yoongi x reader, fluff

premise: In a world where every night you meet your soulmate in your dreams only to forget their face and voice when you wake up, you’re now more desperate than ever to find them.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: I was listening to the piano version of ‘For Forever’ from Dear Evan Hansen while writing this...so maybe that explains it?? THIS IS SOOO CHEESY YOU GUYS

requested by anon - thanks for the fun request, hope you enjoy! a picture of your ask/request will be at the bottom of the post. Thank you!

_________________________________

You awoke with a gasp, the covers flung aside in an effort to grab the notebook and pen you kept handy on your nightstand. Not bothering to flip on the lamp, you used the little moonlight filtering in through your window to write down the events of your dream.

You spent most nights in the dreamscape with your soulmate, his face and voice a blurry mess in your mind. The two of you would talk for hours, that much you know. The general idea of the conversation would stick with you as well, but beyond anything else, you’d wake up with the same familiar feeling.

The specific brand of heartbreak that tends to accompany goodbyes.

Tonight’s dream had been something entirely different, though. Try as you might, your mind can’t seem to conjure up the exact words your soulmate had so calmly whispered in your ear as you stood on a red carpet facing innumerable flashing cameras. However, one thing was for certain.

He was trying to send you a message.

He was trying to find you out in this big world.

You’ve made a bullet-point list now, with the words red carpet, famous?? and beautiful suit starting off the list. As the list continued on, you only grew more and more confused. Why did your soulmate choose that dreamscape? After years of the usual sitting room and long chats, something must have happened to make him change.

Frustrated, you scanned last night’s notes to see if anything out of the ordinary had happened. You nearly gave up before one of the final bullet-points caught your attention.

we talked about family

did we talk about our family??

Eyebrows scrunched and lips pouted, you wracked your brain for any recollection of the conversation from the night before. Indeed, you remembered waking up with the distinct feeling of discussing future baby names, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember what he had said he liked. What you did remember was that it was a name that had made you laugh, and that he had been upset about it for the rest of the evening.

Not too upset, though. He’d still quietly warned you in the way he always did when he knew he was about to wake up. Softly lacing his hand through yours, running his thumb over the back of your knuckles until in the blink of an eye he was gone.

There had been several occasions when you’d woken up still feeling the ghost of his hand on yours.

The notebook in your hands glared up at you, an unwelcome reminder that you were nowhere near close to understanding the meaning of your most recent dream.

Normally, you would have just let it go. But today was different. Today you woke up just knowing that he had meant something by the dream. The way he’d brought you out on that red carpet, your arm linked through his as he led you toward a group that was already posing for pictures-

Wait. A group? You’d forgotten that part. Another bullet-point was added to the growing list.

part of a group (friends?)

Your eyes drifted shut as you tried to remember any more details, the ways the cameras flashed seemed to impair your vision as you’d looked at the group that had smiled as you neared. One of them had made some extra space for you and your soulmate, and you’d nearly keeled over when you saw who it was.

But who was it?

You sighed, scribbling one last bullet-point before your brain quit functioning.

I recognized the friends - famous?

It was a bit discouraging to look down at the list and see so many question marks, but you paid it no mind as you tossed your notebook back onto the nightstand and found the strength to get up for the day.

You’d just have to wait until the next dream.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

“I have no idea where this is going,” you admitted while staring up at the ceiling, sprawled out on your bed. “But I just know that he’s trying to tell me something. You know?”

Your best friend, Ji-eun, just laughed on the other side. “I’m sure he was...but honestly, who knows? Maybe he just wanted a change of scenery.”

“Ugh. You’re no fun.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but no more fun for you tonight. I’ve got to go to bed. Got to wake up early tomorrow, remember? It’s a big day.”

“Oh, that’s right! Are you nervous?”

You’d nearly forgotten that your best friend was also one of South Korea’s most beloved singers. On most days, you forgot her stage name, too.

“No, not really. I just usually hate having to sit there by myself, you know? There are so many groups, and them I’m just by myself. Looking beautiful.”

“Aww, poor IU, all alone.” You teased. “I’d go with you, but-”

In an instant, Ji-eun, or IU, squealed and you knew that she had an idea. “Yes! Come with me!! I’ll sneak you in! You won’t even have to worry about the red carpet- wait.”

You winced, having held the phone at a distance from your ear so as to not immediately lose your hearing. “Oh no, now what? You know I’m not fit for award shows, Ji-eun.”

“Didn’t you say that your dream was on the red carpet?”

You blinked. “Yeah.”

“Sooo,” Ji-eun dragged out, “Maybe you’ll see him.”

A wry laugh escaped you. “What makes you think he would recognize me even if he was there? Or that I would recognize him?”

IU made an indecisive noise. “Well, you already described his beautiful suit-”

“Hey, no teasing. It was absolutely gorgeous.”

“Exactly! If there’s a guy that shows up wearing that suit, then maybe that’s him! And, maybe he’s part of a group! You would recognize the group if you saw them, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re just trying to get me to come with you,” you drawled, ignoring the little spark of hope.

“Obviously. Hey, you know that really pretty red dress you bought not that long ago?”

“Yeah.”

“Wear that, and work your dreamscape magic or something to help him remember the red dress. He’ll recognize you when he sees you tomorrow!”

With an eye roll you’re pretty sure Ji-eun heard through the phone, you groaned. “If he’s even there. If.”

“So you’ll do it?”

In the end, it was the memory of having to say goodbye every morning without even remembering who you were saying goodbye to that had you agreeing.

••••••••••••••••••

Falling into your dreams had always felt more like waking up, the urge to stretch and run around almost too much to deny. Tonight, you entered the familiar sitting room that you’d frequented nearly every night for the past few years.

Your soulmate is waiting for you when you enter, his back turned to you.

A part of you knows that the two of you have been through this many times before. You’ve technically met your soulmate hundreds of times - maybe even thousands at this point. But every night, it’s the same little feeling of anticipation as you wait for him to turn around.

Always wondering who it might be. Always dreading the moment you wake up and forget his face all over again, waiting for the next dream to identify him.

He’s in the black, lightly checkered suit that he wore last night, not a single strand of his black hair out of place as he turns around with wide eyes.

Your breath is momentarily caught in your throat as you suddenly recognize him, not only from the previous dreams but from nearly everywhere else in the waking world.

“Hey,” Yoongi mumbles, a soft smile gracing his lips as he looks at you. “You look beautiful.”

You looks down at the red dress you’re wearing, the same one you’re planning on wearing at the award show. Nodding at his suit, you grin.

“Are you wearing that to the award show today?”

He nods, stepping toward you. “I wish you could go, I know that I’d be able to find you-”

“I am.”

Yoongi stops, his mouth slightly open. He takes a single step toward you. “You are? How?”

“Ji-eun is my best friend, remember?”

He takes a moment to recall that tidbit of information about you, nodding. “So...we’ll see each other.”

“I hope so.” You tilt your head. “But will you recognize me? It was so hard for me to remember any details after last night’s dream, I feel like it’s getting harder.”

“I think it is,” Yoongi agrees, striding over to you and grabbing your hand even as a light pink dusts over his cheeks. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to forget this dress.” With a wink that belies his shy nature, Yoongi leads you out onto the red carpet, where cameras are waiting.

He walks you through the event, glancing at you every few seconds as though afraid that you’ll disappear at any moment. That’s certainly a valid concern - it’s happened plenty of times.

You’ve just made it to where the rest of the members are standing when you feel the tell-tale pull back toward reality.

You’ll be waking up at any moment now. Most likely because of that pesky nest of birds that have decided to camp out just outside of your windows.

Instinctively your grip on Yoongi’s arm tightens, and he turns to you. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re about to leave.

“What if it doesn’t work?” You blurt out, taking in every last detail of him. From the way his cheeks are still pink to the fit of his suit.

Yoongi absolutely shocks you as he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, pulling you a little closer. His breath that dusts over your ear feels so real as he whispers gently to you.

“We’ll find a way. I promise.”

•••••••••••••••••••

It was the same dream as the night before; the same infuriating goodbye that seeped into your bones as you hurtled awake. However, this time, you could have sworn that you recalled a puppy-dog gaze that was begging you to remember him as you left the dreamscape.

You’d worn the red dress you currently had on, the red lace falling just below your knees. A part of you remembered the way your soulmate had reacted when you’d waltzed into the dreamscape, the way you had casually linked your arm through his as you walked onto the red carpet.

Today you couldn’t find the energy to write anything in your full notebook, opting to bury your head in your hands.

“Who are you?” You groaned. The feeling of his soft lips against your forehead has you sighing, wishing that you could replay it all over again. After shooting a glare at the red dress hanging in your closet, you grabbed your notebook to write down one note before getting up.

We love each other

•••••••••••••••••••

Ji-eun - er, IU, instructed you to wait for her at the entrance to the photo-op portion of the red carpet. She would be busy doing little interviews before that, which honestly didn’t seem that appealing to you.

Especially not when you were so nervous you thought you were going to throw up.

Staring down at your red dress, you nearly jumped out of your skin when there was a hand on your shoulder.

“Ha! You’re jumpy today,” IU teased, “I wonder why.”

“Oh good, you’re finished.” You ignored her tease, happy to get moving. “You look amazing.”

It wasn’t a surprise, but she still deserved to be complimented. IU looked absolutely ethereal in her flowy green gown, the two of you looking like some sort of Christmas ad.

“You look great as well!” She motioned toward the carpet. “I think we’re just after this group. Ready?”

Armed with a smile and your best friend at your side, you ventured onto the carpet. It was easier than you though it would be; most of the time you were stepping aside to allow the photographers a clear view of IU.

You’ve nearly made it to the end when a fresh round of screaming picks up.

There’s only one group that can command that much attention.

You couldn’t help but crane your neck as you see BTS walk onto the carpet, just a couple of groups behind you. Your eyes widened on their own accord when you saw them, unable to shake the feeling of having met them before.

Of course, they pay you no mind. However, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Suga took a moment to get up on his tippy-toes, looking around. You went to point it out to IU, nobody paying either of you any mind as you walk off the carpet. You lost all ability to speak, however, as you took a closer look.

It’s the suit.

The one that is checkered with a light gray, the one that fit your soulmate just right.

It’s the black hair that’s perfectly styled.

And as Suga turned to look your way, you didn’t miss the way his eyes caught on your red dress.

Almost like he had been looking for a red dress.

In the span of a single heartbeat, you made eye contact with the idol, the same question lingering in your eyes.

For Min Yoongi, that’s all it took.

Abandoning all precepts, he took off down the carpet, heading straight toward you. From the way the other members took one look at you and your red dress and immediately began speaking to those present, you knew that they’d been waiting for this. Knew that they weren’t planning on keeping this low-key, because there was no real way to do that.

Not as Yoongi saw you and knew.

You managed to take three steps toward him before he was before you, grinning with his gummy smile even as his ears turned red.

“Quick,” Yoongi breathed out, reaching down to take your hands in his. “If it’s really you, tell me what name we can’t agree on for a girl.”

The question threw you off guard, making you laugh. But after a moment, you found with a gasp that you remember.

You remembered everything.

The way the two of you first awkwardly stumbled into the dreamscape at the age of nineteen. How you eventually opened up to each other, grew to care deeply about the other.

You remembered the nights when the two of you were rambunctious and laughing at stupid stories Yoongi told you about the boys.

You remembered the nights when you sat in silence, dreading the moment you would have to wake up.

And you remembered that just a few days ago, Yoongi had brought up family. You’d spent the night talking about how many children you’d want, how you’d raise them, what you’d name them.

And there was one horrible name that he loved and you hated, and neither of you were willing to budge on it.

“Ugh,” you groaned even as you smiled. “We are not naming her Pearl! It would make her sound like a pirate ship!”

The cameras flashed, which made Yoongi’s eyes glimmer as he laughed along with you. Then, without a care in the world except for knowing for certain that it was all real, Yoongi tugged you closer until your foreheads touched and all you could see were his dark eyes pulling you in.

“I told you we’d find a way.”

Hundreds of cameras flashed, documenting the moment and effectively labeling it a dream come true.

masterlist

#Yoongi x reader #idol!yoongi x reader #idol!bts x reader #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #suga x reader #idol!suga x reader #yoongi x y/n #bts x y/n #suga x y/n #bts fluff #bts soulmate au #yoongi soulmate au #bts shared dreams au #suga shared dreams au

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‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ at 25: An Oral History of Disney’s Darkest Animated Classic

Posted on Slashfilm on Monday, June 21st, 2021 by Josh Spiegel

“This Is Going to Change Your Life”

The future directors of The Hunchback of Notre Dame were riding high from the success of Beauty and the Beast. Or, at least, they were happy to be finished.

Gary Trousdale, director: After Beauty and the Beast, I was exhausted. Plus, Kirk and I were not entirely trusted at first, because we were novices. I was looking forward to going back to drawing.

Kirk Wise, director: It was this crazy, wonderful roller-coaster ride. I had all this vacation time and I took a couple months off.

Gary Trousdale: A little later, it was suggested: “If you want to get back into directing, start looking for a project. You can’t sit around doing nothing.”

Kirk Wise: [Songwriters] Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty had a pitch called Song of the Sea, a loose retelling of the Orpheus myth with humpback whales. I thought it was very strong.

Gary Trousdale: We were a few months in, and there was artwork and a rough draft. There were a couple tentative songs, and we were getting a head of steam.

Kirk Wise: The phone rang. It was Jeffrey [Katzenberg, then-chairman of Walt Disney Studios], saying, “Drop everything. I got your next picture: The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

Gary Trousdale: “I’ve already got Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz. You’re going to do this.” It wasn’t like we were given a choice. It was, “Here’s the project. You’re on.”

Kirk Wise: I was pleased that [Jeffrey] was so excited about it. I think the success of Beauty and the Beast had a lot to do with him pushing it our way. It would’ve been crazy to say no.

Gary Trousdale: What [Kirk and I] didn’t know is that Alan and Stephen were being used as bait for us. And Jeffrey was playing us as bait for Alan and Stephen.

Alan Menken, composer: Jeffrey made reference to it being Michael Eisner’s passion project, which implied he was less enthused about it as a story source for an animated picture.

Stephen Schwartz, lyricist: They had two ideas. One was an adaptation of Hunchback and the other was about whales. We chose Hunchback. I’d seen the [Charles Laughton] movie. Then I read the novel and really liked it.

Peter Schneider, president of Disney Feature Animation (1985-99): I think what attracted Stephen was the darkness. One’s lust for something and one’s power and vengeance, and this poor, helpless fellow, Quasimodo.

Roy Conli, co-producer: I was working at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles, doing new play development. I was asked if I’d thought about producing animation. I said, “Yeah, sure.”

Don Hahn, producer: The goose had laid lots of golden eggs. The studio was trying to create two units so they could have multiple films come out. Roy was tasked with something hard, to build a crew out of whole cloth.

Kirk Wise: The idea appealed to me because [of] the setting and main character. I worked with an elder story man, Joe Grant, [who] goes back to Snow White. He said, “Some of the best animation ideas are about a little guy with a big problem.” Hunchback fit that bill.

Gary Trousdale: It’s a story I always liked. When Jeffrey said, “This is going to change your life,” Kirk and I said, “Cool.” When I was a kid, I [had an] Aurora Monster Model of Quasimodo lashed to the wheel. I thought, “He’s not a monster.”

Don Hahn: It’s a great piece of literature and it had a lot of elements I liked. The underdog hero. [He] was not a handsome prince. I loved the potential.

Gary Trousdale: We thought, “What are we going to do to make this dark piece of literature into a Disney cartoon without screwing it up?”

Peter Schneider: The subject matter is very difficult. The conflict was how far to go with it or not go with it. This is basically [about] a pederast who says “Fuck me or you’ll die.” Right?

“We Were Able to Take More Chances”

Wise and Trousdale recruited a group of disparate artists from the States and beyond to bring the story of Quasimodo the bell-ringer to animated life.

Paul Brizzi, sequence director: We were freshly arrived from Paris.

Gaëtan Brizzi, sequence director: [The filmmakers] were looking for a great dramatic prologue, and they couldn’t figure [it] out. Paul and I spent the better part of the night conceiving this prologue. They said, “You have to storyboard it. We love it.”

Roy Conli: We had two amazing artists in Paul and Gaëtan Brizzi who became spiritual leaders in the production. They were so incredible.

Gaëtan Brizzi: [“The Bells of Notre Dame”] was not supposed to be a song first.

Paul Brizzi: The prologue was traditional in the Disney way. Gaëtan and I were thinking of German expressionism to emphasize the drama. I’m not sure we could do that today.

Paul Kandel, voice of Clopin: They were toying with Clopin being the narrator. So they wrote “The Bells of Notre Dame” to open the movie.

Stephen Schwartz: [Alan and I] got called into a presentation, and on all these boards [was] laid out “The Bells of Notre Dame.” We musicalized the story they put up there. We used the pieces of dialogue they invented for Frollo and the other characters. I wrote lyrics that described the narrative. It was very exciting. I had never written a song like that.

Kirk Wise: Early on, we [took] a research trip with the core creative team to Paris. We spent two weeks all over Notre Dame. They gave us unrestricted access, going down into the catacombs. That was a huge inspiration.

Don Hahn: To crawl up in the bell towers and imagine Quasimodo there, to see the bells and the timbers, the scale of it all is unbelievable.

Kirk Wise: One morning, I was listening to this pipe organ in this shadowy cathedral, with light filtering through the stained-glass windows. The sound was so powerful, I could feel it thudding in my chest. I thought, “This is what the movie needs to feel like.”

Brenda Chapman, story: It was fun to sit in a room and draw and think up stuff. I liked the idea of this lonely character up in a bell tower and how we could portray his imagination.

Kathy Zielinski, supervising animator, Frollo: It was the earliest I’ve ever started on a production. I was doing character designs for months. I did a lot of design work for the gargoyles, as a springboard for the other supervisors.

James Baxter, supervising animator, Quasimodo: Kirk and Gary said, “We’d like you to do Quasimodo.” [I thought] that would be such a cool, amazing thing to do. They wanted this innocent vibe to him. Part of the design process was getting that part of his character to read.

Will Finn, head of story/supervising animator, Laverne: Kirk and Gary wanted me on the project. Kirk, Gary, and Don Hahn gave me opportunities no one else would have, and I am forever grateful.

Kathy Zielinski: I spent several months doing 50 or 60 designs [for Frollo]. I looked at villainous actors. Actually, one was Peter Schneider. [laughing] Not to say he’s a villain, but a lot of the mannerisms and poses. “Oh, that looks a little like Peter.”

James Baxter: I was doing design work on the characters with Tony Fucile, the animator on Esmerelda. I think Kirk and Gary felt Beauty and the Beast had been disparate and the characters weren’t as unified as they wanted.

Kathy Zielinski: Frollo stemmed from Hans Conried [the voice of Disney’s Captain Hook]. He had a longish nose and a very stern-looking face. Frollo was modeled a little bit after him.

Will Finn: The team they put together was a powerhouse group – Brenda Chapman, Kevin Harkey, Ed Gombert, and veterans like Burny Mattinson and Vance Gerry. I felt funny being their “supervisor.”

Kathy Zielinski: Half my crew was in France, eight hours ahead. We were able to do phone calls. But because of the time difference, our end of the day was their beginning of the morning. I was working a lot of late hours, because [Frollo] was challenging to draw.

Kirk Wise: Our secret weapon was James Baxter, who animated the ballroom sequence [in Beauty and the Beast] on his own. He had a unique gift of rotating characters in three-dimensional space perfectly.

Gary Trousdale: James Baxter is, to my mind, one of the greatest living animators in the world.

James Baxter: I’ve always enjoyed doing things that were quite elaborate in terms of camera movement and three-dimensional space. I’m a glutton for punishment, because those shots are very hard to do.

Gary Trousdale: In the scene with Quasimodo carrying Esmeralda over his shoulder, climbing up the cathedral, he looks back under his arms, snarling at the crowd below. James called that his King Kong moment.

As production continued, Roy Conli’s position shifted, as Don Hahn joined the project, and Jeffrey Katzenberg left Disney in heated fashion in 1994.

Roy Conli: Jeffrey was going to create his own animation studio. Peter Schneider was interested in maintaining a relationship with Don Hahn. We were into animation, ahead of schedule. They asked Don if he would produce and if I would run the studio in Paris.

Don Hahn: Roy hadn’t done an animated film before. I was able to be a more senior presence. I’d worked with Kirk and Gary before, which I enjoy. They’re unsung heroes of these movies.

Kirk Wise: The [production] pace was more leisurely. As leisurely as these things can be. We had more breathing room to develop the storyboards and the script and the songs.

Gary Trousdale: Jeffrey never liked characters to have facial hair. No beards, no mustaches, nothing. There’s original designs of Gaston [with] a little Errol Flynn mustache. Jeffrey hated it. “I don’t want any facial hair.” Once he left, we were like, “We could give [Phoebus] a beard now.”

Kirk Wise: The ballroom sequence [in Beauty] gave us confidence to incorporate more computer graphics into Hunchback. We [had] to create the illusion of a throng of thousands of cheering people. To do it by hand would have been prohibitive, and look cheap.

Stephen Schwartz: Michael Eisner started being more hands-on. Michael was annoyed at me for a while, because when Jeffrey left, I accepted the job of doing the score for Prince of Egypt. I got fired from Mulan because of it. But once he fired me, Michael couldn’t have been a more supportive, positive colleague on Hunchback.

Kirk Wise: [The executives] were distracted. We were able to take more chances than we would have under the circumstances that we made Beauty and the Beast.

Don Hahn: Hunchback was in a league of its own, feeling like we [could] step out and take some creative risks. We could have done princess movies forever, and been reasonably successful. Our long-term survival relied on trying those risks.

One sticking point revolved around Notre Dame’s gargoyles, three of whom interact with Quasimodo, but feel more lighthearted than the rest of the dark story.

Gary Trousdale: In the book and several of the movies, Quasimodo talks to the gargoyles. We thought, “This is Disney, we’re doing a cartoon. The gargoyles can talk back.” One thing led to another and we’ve got “A Guy Like You.”

Kirk Wise: “A Guy Like You” was literally created so we could lighten the mood so the audience wasn’t sitting in this trough of despair for so long.

Stephen Schwartz: Out of context, the number is pretty good. I think I wrote some funny lyrics. But ultimately it was a step too far tonally for the movie and it has been dropped from the stage version.

Gary Trousdale: People have been asking for a long time: are they real? Are they part of Quasimodo’s personality? There were discussions that maybe Quasimodo is schizophrenic. We never definitively answered it, and can argue convincingly both ways.

Jason Alexander, voice of Hugo: I wouldn’t dream of interfering with anyone’s choice on that. It’s ambiguous for a reason and part of that reason is the viewers’ participation in the answer. Whatever you believe about it, I’m going to say you’re right.

Brenda Chapman: I left before they landed on how [to play] the gargoyles. My concern was, what are the rules? Are they real? Are they in his imagination? What can they do? Can they do stuff or is it all Quasi? I looked at it a little askance in the finished film. I wasn’t sure if I liked how it ended up…[Laverne] with the boa on the piano.

Kirk Wise: There was a component of the audience that felt the gargoyles were incompatible with Hunchback. But all of Disney’s movies, including the darkest ones, have comic-relief characters. And Disney was the last person to treat the written word as gospel.

“A Fantastic Opportunity”

After a successful collaboration on Pocahontas, Menken and Schwartz worked on turning Victor Hugo’s tragic story into a musical.

Alan Menken: The world of the story was very appealing, and it had so much social relevance and cultural nuance.

Stephen Schwartz: The story lent itself quite well to musicalization because of the extremity of the characters and the emotions. There was a lot to sing about. There was a great milieu.

Alan Menken: To embed the liturgy of the Catholic Church into a piece of music that’s operatic and also classical and pop-oriented enriches it in a very original way. Stephen was amazing. He would take the theme from the story and specifically set it in Latin to that music.

Stephen Schwartz: The fact that we were doing a piece set in a church allowed us to use all those elements of the Catholic mass, and for Alan to do all that wonderful choral music.

Alan Menken: The first creative impulse was “Out There.” I’m a craftsman. I’m working towards a specific assignment, but that was a rare instance where that piece of music existed.

Stephen Schwartz: I would come in with a title, maybe a couple of lines for Alan to be inspired by. We would talk about the whole unit, its job from a storytelling point of view. He would write some music. I could say, “I liked that. Let’s follow that.” He’d push a button and there would be a sloppy printout, enough that I could play it as I was starting the lyrics.

Roy Conli: Stephen’s lyrics are absolutely phenomenal. With that as a guiding light, we were in really good shape.

Stephen Schwartz: Alan played [the “Out There” theme] for me, and I really liked it. I asked for one change in the original chorus. Other than that, the music was exactly as he gave it to me.

Gary Trousdale: Talking with these guys about music is always intimidating. There was one [lyric] Don and I both questioned in “Out There,” when Frollo is singing, “Why invite their calumny and consternation?” Don and I went, “Calumny?” Kirk said, “Nope, it’s OK, I saw it in an X-Men comic book.” I went, “All right! It’s in a comic book! It’s good.”

Stephen Schwartz: Disney made it possible for me to get into Notre Dame before it opened to the public. I’d climb up the steps to the bell tower. I’d sit there with my yellow pad and pencil. I’d have the tune for “Out There” in my head, and I would look out at Paris, and be Quasimodo. By the time we left Paris, the song was written.

Kirk Wise: Stephen’s lyrics are really smart and literate. I don’t think the comical stuff was necessarily [his] strongest area. But this movie was a perfect fit, because the power of the emotions were so strong. Stephen just has a natural ability to connect with that.

Will Finn: The directors wanted a funny song for the gargoyles and Stephen was not eager to write it. He came to me and Irene Mecchi and asked us to help him think of comedy ideas for “A Guy Like You,” and we pitched a bunch of gags.

Jason Alexander: Singing with an orchestra the likes of which Alan and Stephen and Disney can assemble is nirvana. It’s electrifying and gives you the boost to sing over and over. Fortunately, everyone was open to discovery. I love nuance and intention in interpretation. I was given wonderful freedom to find both.

Stephen Schwartz: “Topsy Turvy,” it’s one of those numbers of musical theater where you can accomplish an enormous amount of storytelling. If you didn’t have that, you’d feel you were drowning in exposition. When you put it in the context of the celebration of the Feast of Fools, you could get a lot of work done.

Paul Kandel: The first time I sang [“Topsy Turvy”] through, I got a little applause from the orchestra. That was a very nice thing to happen and calm me down a little bit.

Brenda Chapman: Poor Kevin Harkey must’ve worked on “Topsy Turvy” for over a year. Just hearing [singing] “Topsy turvy!” I thought, “I would shoot myself.” It’s a fun song, but to listen to that, that many times. I don’t know if he ever got to work on anything else.

Paul Kandel: There were places where I thought the music was squarer than it needed to be. I wanted to round it out because Clopin is unpredictable. Is he good? Is he bad? That’s what I was trying to edge in there.

Kirk Wise: “God Help the Outcasts” made Jeffrey restless. I think he wanted “Memory” from Cats. Alan and Stephen wrote “Someday.” Jeffrey said, “This is good, but it needs to be bigger!” Alan was sitting at his piano bench, and Jeffrey was next to him. Jeffrey said, “When I want it bigger, I’ll nudge you.” Alan started playing and Jeffrey was jabbing him in the ribs. “Bigger, bigger!”

Don Hahn: In terms of what told the story better, one song was poetic, but the other was specific. “Outcasts” was very specific about Quasimodo. “Someday” was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

Kirk Wise: When Don watched the movie, he said, “It’s working pretty well. But ‘Someday,’ I don’t know. It feels like she’s yelling at God.” We played “God Help the Outcasts” for him and Don said, “Oh, this is perfect.” That song is the signature of the entire movie.

Don Hahn: “Someday” was lovely. But I had come off of working with Howard Ashman, and I felt, “This doesn’t move the plot forward much, does it?” We ended up with “Someday” as an end-credits song, which was fortunate. ‘Cause they’re both good songs.

Kirk Wise: It was all about what conveys the emotion of the scene and the central theme of the movie best. “God Help the Outcasts” did that.

Everyone agrees on one point.

Stephen Schwartz: Hunchback is Alan’s best score. And that’s saying a lot, because he’s written a whole bunch of really good ones.

Gary Trousdale: With Hunchback, there were a couple of people that said, “This is why I chose music as a career.” Alan and Stephen’s songs are so amazing, so that’s really something.

Paul Kandel: It has a beautiful score.

Jason Alexander: It has the singularly most sophisticated score of most of the animated films of that era.

Roy Conli: The score of Hunchback is one of the greatest we’ve done.

Don Hahn: This is Alan’s most brilliant score. The amount of gravitas Alan put in the score is amazing.

Alan Menken: It’s the most ambitious score I’ve ever written. It has emotional depth. It’s a different assignment. And it was the project where awards stopped happening. It’s almost like, “OK, now you’ve gone too far.”

Stephen Schwartz: It’s astonishing that Alan has won about 173 Academy Awards, and the one score he did not win for is his best score.

The film featured marquee performers singing covers of “God Help the Outcasts” and “Someday”. But one of the most famous performers ever nearly brought those songs to life.

Alan Menken: I met Michael Jackson when we were looking for someone to sing “A Whole New World” for Aladdin. Michael wanted to co-write the song. I could get a sense of who Michael was. He was a very unique, interesting individual…in his own world.

I get a call out of nowhere from Michael’s assistant, when Michael was at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York. He had to [deal with] allegations about inappropriate behavior with underage kids, and the breakup with Lisa Marie Presley. He’s looking to change the subject. And he obviously loves Disney so much. So I mentioned Hunchback. He said he’d love to come to my studio, watch the movie and talk about it. So we got in touch with Disney Animation. They said, “Meet with him! If he likes it…well, see what he says.” [laughing]

There’s three songs. One was “Out There,” one was “God Help the Outcasts,” one was “Someday.” Michael said, “I would like to produce the songs and record some of them.” Wow. Okay. What do we do now? Michael left. We got in touch with Disney. It was like somebody dropped a hot poker into a fragile bowl with explosives. “Uh, we’ll get back to you about that.”

Finally, predictably, the word came back, “Disney doesn’t want to do this with Michael Jackson.” I go, “OK, could someone tell him this?” You can hear a pin drop, no response, and nobody did [tell him]. It fell to my late manager, Scott Shukat, to tell Michael or Michael’s attorney.

In retrospect, it was the right decision. [But] Quasimodo is a character…if you look at his relationships with his family and his father, I would think there’s a lot of identification there.

“They’re Never Going to Do This Kind of Character Again”

The film is known for the way it grapples with the hypocrisy and lust typified by the villainous Judge Frollo, whose terrifying song “Hellfire” remains a high point of Disney animation.

Gary Trousdale: Somebody asked me recently: “How the hell did you get ‘Hellfire’ past Disney?” It’s a good question.

Alan Menken: When Stephen and I wrote “Hellfire,” I was so excited by what we accomplished. It really raised the bar for Disney animation. It raised the bar for Stephen’s and my collaboration.

Stephen Schwartz: I thought the would never let me get away with [“Hellfire”]. And they never asked for a single change.

Alan Menken: Lust and religious conflict. Now more than ever, these are very thorny issues to put in front of the Disney audience. We wanted to go at it as truthfully as possible.

Stephen Schwartz: When Alan and I tackled “Hellfire,” I did what I usually did: write what I thought it should be and assume that [Disney would] tell me what I couldn’t get away with. But they accepted exactly what we wrote.

Don Hahn: Every good song score needs a villain’s moment. Stephen and Alan approached it with “Hellfire.”

Alan Menken: It was very clear, we’d thrown the gauntlet pretty far. It was also clear within our creative team that everybody was excited about going there.

Don Hahn: You use all the tools in your toolkit, and one of the most powerful ones was Alan and Stephen. Stephen can be dark, but he’s also very funny. He’s brilliant.

Gary Trousdale: The [MPAA] said, “When Frollo says ‘This burning desire is turning me to sin,’ we don’t like the word ‘sin.’” We can’t change the lyrics now. It’s all recorded. Kinda tough. “What if we just dip the volume of the word ‘sin’ and increase the sound effects?” They said, “Good.”

Stephen Schwartz: It’s one of the most admirable things [laughs] I have ever seen Disney Animation do. It was very supportive and adventurous, which is a spirit that…let’s just say, I don’t think [the company would] make this movie today.

Don Hahn: It’s funny. Violence is far more accepted than sex in a family movie. You can go see a Star Wars movie and the body count’s pretty huge, but there’s rarely any sexual innuendo.

Kathy Zielinski: I got to watch [Tony Jay] record “Hellfire” with another actor. I was sweating watching him record, because it was unbelievably intense. Afterwards, he asked me, “Did you learn anything from my performance?” I said, “Yeah, I never want to be a singer.” [laughing]

Paul Kandel: Tony Jay knocked that out of the park. He [was] an incredible guy. Very sweet. He was terrified to record “Hellfire.” He was at a couple of my sessions. He went, “Oh my God, what’s going to happen when it’s my turn? I don’t sing. I’m not a singer. I never pretended to be a singer.” I said, “Look, I’m not a singer. I’m an actor who figured out that they could hold a tune.”

Kathy Zielinski: I listened to Tony sing “Hellfire” tons. I knew I had gone too far when, one morning, we were sitting at the breakfast table and my daughter, who was two or three at the time, started singing the song and doing the mannerisms. [laughs]

Don Hahn: We didn’t literally want to show [Frollo’s lust]. It turns into a Fantasia sequence, almost. A lot of the imagery is something you could see coming out of Frollo’s imagination. It’s very impressionistic. It does stretch the boundaries of what had been done before at Disney.

Kirk Wise: We stylized it like “Night on Bald Mountain.” The best of Walt’s films balanced very dark and light elements. Instead of making it explicit, we tried to make it more visual and use symbolic imagery.

Gaëtan Brizzi: We were totally free. We could show symbolically how sick Frollo is between his hate and his carnal desire.

Kathy Zielinski: The storyboards had a tremendous influence. Everybody was incredibly admiring of the work that [Paul and Gaëtan] had done.

Don Hahn: They brought the storyboarded sequence to life in a way that is exactly what the movie looks like. The strength of it is that we didn’t have to show anything as much as we did suggest things to the audience. Give the audience credit for filling in the blanks.

Gary Trousdale: It was absolutely gorgeous. Their draftsmanship and their cinematography. They are the top. They pitched it with a cassette recording of Stephen singing “Hellfire”, and we were all in the story room watching it, going “Oh shit!”

Paul Brizzi: When Frollo is at the fireplace with Esmeralda’s scarf, his face is hypnotized. From the smoke, there’s the silhouette of Esmeralda coming to him. She’s naked in our drawings.

Gary Trousdale: We joked, maybe because they’re French, Esmeralda was in the nude when she was in the fire. Roy Disney put his foot down and said, “That’s not going to happen.” Chris Jenkins, the head of effects, and I went over every drawing to make sure she was appropriately attired. That was the one concession we made to the studio.

Gaëtan Brizzi: It’s the role of storyboard artists to go far, and then you scale it down. Her body was meant to be suggestive. It was more poetic than provocative.

Brenda Chapman: I thought what the Brizzis did with “Hellfire” was just stunning.

Roy Conli: We make films for people from four to 104, and we’re trying to ensure that the thematic material engages adults and engages children. We had a lot of conversations on “Hellfire,” [which] was groundbreaking. You saw the torment, but you didn’t necessarily, if you were a kid, read it as sexual. And if you were an adult, you picked it up pretty well.

Will Finn: “Hellfire” was uncomfortable to watch with a family audience. I’m not a prude, but what are small kids to make of such a scene?

Kathy Zielinski: When I was working on “Hellfire,” I thought, “Wow. They’re never going to do this kind of character again.” And I’m pretty much right.

“Straight for the Heart”

“Hellfire” may be the apex of the maturity of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but the entire film is the most complex and adult Disney animated feature of the modern era.

Gary Trousdale: We went straight for the heart and then pulled back.

Kirk Wise: I was comfortable with moments of broad comedy contrasted with moments that were dark or scary or violent. All of the Disney movies did that, particularly in Walt’s time.

Don Hahn: A lot of it is gut level, where [the story group would] sit around and talk to ourselves and pitch it to executives. But Walt Disney’s original animated films were really dark. We wanted to create something that had the impact of what animation can do.

Will Finn: Eisner insisted we follow the book to the letter, but he said the villain could not be a priest, and we had to have a happy ending. The book is an epic tragedy – everybody dies!

Kathy Zielinski: It’s a little scary that I felt comfortable with [Frollo]. [laughing] I don’t know what that means. Maybe I need to go to therapy. I’ve always had a desire to do villains. I just love evil.

Don Hahn: Kathy Zielinski is brilliant. She works on The Simpsons now, which is hilarious. She’s very intense, very aware of what [Frollo] had to do.

One specific choice in the relationship between Frollo and Esmeralda caused problems.

Stephen Schwartz: I remember there was great controversy over Frollo sniffing Esmeralda’s hair.

Kirk Wise: The scene that caused the most consternation was in the cathedral where Frollo grabs Esmeralda, whispers in her ear and sniffs her hair. The sniffing made people ask, “Is this too far?” We got a lot of support from Peter Schneider, Tom Schumacher, and Michael Eisner.

Kathy Zielinski: Brenda Chapman came up with that idea and the storyboard. I animated it. It’s interesting, because two females were responsible for that. That scene was problematic, so they had to cut it down. It used to be a lot longer.

Brenda Chapman: I know I’m probably pushing it too far, but let’s give it a go, you know?

Kirk Wise: We agreed it was going to be a matter of execution and our collective gut would tell us whether we were crossing the line. We learned that the difference between a G and PG is the loudness of a sniff. Ultimately, that’s what it came down to.

Brenda Chapman: I never knew that! [laughing]

Don Hahn: Is it rated G? That’s surprising.

Gary Trousdale: I’m sure there was backroom bargaining done that Kirk and I didn’t know about.

Don Hahn: It’s negotiation. The same was true of The Lion King. We had intensity notes on the fight at the end. You either say, we’re going to live with that and it’s PG, or we’re not and it’s G.

Brenda Chapman: I heard stories of little kids going, “Ewww, he’s rubbing his boogers in her hair!” [laughing] If that’s what they want to think, that’s fine. But there are plenty of adults that went, “Whoa!”

Don Hahn: You make the movies for yourselves, [but] we all have families, and you try to make something that’s appropriate for that audience. So we made some changes. Frollo isn’t a member of the clergy to take out any politicizing.

Gaëtan Brizzi: We developed the idea of Frollo’s racism against the gypsies. To feel that he desires Esmeralda and he wants to kill her. It was ambiguity that was interesting to develop. In the storyboards, Paul made [Frollo] handsome with a big jaw, a guy with class. They said he was too handsome. We had to break that formula.

Stephen Schwartz: I [and others] said, “It doesn’t make any sense for him to not be the Archdeacon, because what’s he doing with Quasimodo? What possible relationship could they have?” Which is what led to the backstory that became “The Bells of Notre Dame.”

Don Hahn: The things Frollo represents are alive and well in the world. Bigotry and prejudice are human traits and always have been. One of his traits was lust. How do you portray that in a Disney movie? We tried to portray that in a way that might be over kids’ heads and may not give them nightmares necessarily, but it’s not going to pull its punches. So it was a fine line.

Stephen Schwartz: Hugo’s novel is not critical of the church the way a lot of French literature is. It creates this character of Frollo, who’s a deeply hypocritical person and tormented by his hypocrisy.

Peter Schneider: I am going to be controversial. I think it failed. The fundamental basis is problematic, if you’re going to try and do a Disney movie. In [light of] the #MeToo movement, you couldn’t still do the movie and try what we tried to do. As much as we tried to soften it, you couldn’t get away from the fundamental darkness.

Don Hahn: Yeah, that sounds like Peter. He’s always the contrarian.

Peter Schneider: I’m not sure we should have made the movie, in retrospect. I mean, it did well, Kirk and Gary did a beautiful job. The voices are beautiful. The songs are lovely, but I’m not sure we should have made the movie.

Gaëtan Brizzi: The hardest part was to stick to the commercial side of the movie…to make sure we were still addressing kids.

Kirk Wise: We knew it was going to be a challenge to honor the source material while delivering a movie that would fit comfortably on the shelf with the other Disney musicals. We embraced it.

Roy Conli: I don’t think it was too mature. I do find it at times slightly provocative, but not in a judgmental or negative way. I stand by the film 100 percent in sending a message of hope.

Peter Schneider: It never settled its tone. If you look at the gargoyles and bringing in Jason Alexander to try and give comedy to this rather bleak story of a judge keeping a deformed young man in the tower…there’s so many icky factors for a Disney movie.

Jason Alexander: Some children might be frightened by Quasi’s look or not be able to understand the complexity. But what we see is an honest, innocent and capable underdog confront his obstacles and naysayers and emerge triumphant, seen and accepted. I think young people rally to those stories. They can handle the fearsome and celebrate the good.

Brenda Chapman: There was a scene where Frollo was locking Quasimodo in the tower, and Quasi was quite upset. I had to pull back from how cruel Frollo was in that moment, if I’m remembering correctly. I wanted to make him a very human monster, which can be scarier than a real monster.

Roy Conli: We walked such a tight line and we were on the edge and the fact that Disney allowed us to be on the edge was a huge tribute to them.

“Hear the Voice”

The story was set, the songs were ready. All that was left was getting a cast together to bring the characters’ voices to life.

Jason Alexander: Disney, Alan Menken, Stephen Schwartz, Victor Hugo – you had me at hello.

Paul Kandel: I was in Tommy, on Broadway. I was also a Tony nominee. So I had those prerequisites. Then I got a call from my agent that Jeffrey Katzenberg decided he wanted a star. I was out of a job I already had. I said, “I want to go back in and audition again.” I wanted to let them choose between me and whoever had a name that would help sell the film. So that series of auditions went on and I got the job back.

Kirk Wise: Everybody auditioned, with the exception of Kevin Kline and Demi Moore. We went to them with an offer. But we had a few people come in for Quasimodo, including Meat Loaf.

Will Finn: Katzenberg saw Meat Loaf and Cher playing Quasimodo and Esmeralda – more of a rock opera. He also wanted Leno, Letterman, and Arsenio as the gargoyles at one point.

Kirk Wise: Meat Loaf sat with Alan and rehearsed the song. It was very different than what we ended up with, because Meat Loaf has a very distinct sound. Ultimately, I think his record company and Disney couldn’t play nice together, and the deal fell apart.

Gary Trousdale: We all had the drawings of the characters we were currently casting for in front of us. Instead of watching the actor, we’d be looking down at the piece of paper, trying to hear that voice come out of the drawing. And it was, we learned, a little disconcerting for some of the actors and actresses, who would put on hair and makeup and clothes and they’ve got their body language and expressions. We just want to hear the voice.

Kirk Wise: We cast Cyndi Lauper as one of the gargoyles. We thought she was hilarious and sweet. The little fat obnoxious gargoyle had a different name, and was going to be played by Sam McMurray. We had Cyndi and Sam record, and Roy Disney hated it. The quality of Cyndi’s voice and Sam’s voice were extremely grating to his ear. This is no disrespect to them – Cyndi Lauper is amazing. And Sam McMurray is very funny. But it was not working for the people in the room on that day.

Jason Alexander: The authors cast you for a reason – they think they’ve heard a voice in you that fits their character. I always try to look at the image of the character – his shape, his size, his energy and start to allow sounds, pitches, vocal tics to emerge. Then everyone kicks that around, nudging here, tweaking there and within a few minutes you have the approach to the vocalization. It’s not usually a long process, but it is fun.

Kirk Wise: We decided to reconceive the gargoyles. We always knew we wanted three of them. We wanted a Laurel and Hardy pair. The third gargoyle, the female gargoyle, was up in the air. I think it was Will Finn who said, “Why don’t we make her older?” As the wisdom-keeper. That led us to Mary Wickes, who was absolutely terrific. We thoroughly enjoyed working with Mary, and 98% of the dialogue is her. But she sadly passed away before we were finished.

Will Finn: We brought in a ton of voice-over actresses and none sounded like Mary. One night, I woke up thinking about Jane Withers, who had been a character actress in the golden age of Hollywood. She had a similar twang in her voice, and very luckily, she was alive and well.

Kirk Wise: Our first session with Kevin Kline went OK, but something was missing. It just didn’t feel like there was enough of a twinkle in his voice. Roy Conli said, “Guys, he’s an actor. Give him a prop.” For the next session, the supervising animator for Phoebus brought in a medieval broadsword. Before the session started, we said “Kevin, we’ve got a present for you.” We brought out this sword, and he lit up like a kid at Christmas. He would gesture with it and lean on it. Roy found the key there.

Gary Trousdale: Kevin Kline is naturally funny, so we may have [written] some funnier lines for him. When he’s sparring with Esmeralda in the cathedral and he gets hit by the goat. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” which is the worst line ever. But he pulls it off. He had good comic timing.

Kirk Wise: Tom Hulce had a terrific body of work, including Amadeus. But the performance that stuck with me was in Dominic and Eugene. There was a sensitivity and emotional reality to that performance that made us lean in and think he might make a good Quasimodo.

Gary Trousdale: [His voice] had a nice mix of youthful and adult. He had a maturity, but he had an innocence as well. We’re picturing Quasimodo as a guy who’s basically an innocent. It was a quality of his voice that we could hear.

Don Hahn: He’s one of those actors who could perform and act while he sang. Solo songs, especially for Quasimodo, are monologues set to music. So you’re looking for someone who can portray all the emotion of the scene. It’s about performance and storytelling, and creating a character while you’re singing. That’s why Tom rose to the top.

Stephen Schwartz: I thought Tom did great. I had known Tom a little bit beforehand, as an actor in New York. I’d seen him do Equus and I was sort of surprised. I just knew him as an actor in straight plays. I didn’t know that he sang at all, and then it turned out that he really sang.

Paul Kandel: [Tom] didn’t think of himself as a singer. He’s an actor who can sing. “Out There,” his big number – whether he’s going to admit it to you or not – that was scary for him. But a beautiful job.

Brenda Chapman: Quasimodo was the key to make it family-friendly. Tom Hulce did such a great job making him appealing.

Kirk Wise: Gary came back with the audiotape of Tom’s first session. And his first appearance with the little bird, where he asks if the bird is ready to fly…that whole scene was his rehearsal tape. His instincts were so good. He just nailed it. I think he was surprised that we went with that take. It was the least overworked and the most spontaneous, and felt emotionally real to us.

Kathy Zielinski: Early on, they wanted Anthony Hopkins to do the voice [of Frollo]. [We] did an animation test with a line of his from Silence of the Lambs.

Kirk Wise: We were thinking of Hannibal Lecter in the earliest iterations of Frollo. They made an offer, but Hopkins passed. We came full circle to Tony, because it had been such a good experience working with him on Beauty and the Beast. It was the combination of the quality of his voice, the familiarity of working with him, and knowing how professional and sharp he was.

Though the role of Quasimodo went to Tom Hulce (who did not respond to multiple requests for comment), there was one audition those involved haven’t forgotten.

Kirk Wise: We had a few people come in for Quasimodo, including Mandy Patinkin.

Stephen Schwartz: That was a difficult day. [laughing]

Kirk Wise: Mandy informed Alan and Stephen that he brought his own accompanist, which was unexpected because we had one in the room. He had taken a few liberties with [“Out There”]. He had done a little rearranging. You could see Alan’s and Stephen’s spines stiffen. It was not the feel that Alan and Stephen were going for. Stephen pretty much said so in the room. I think his words were a little sharper and more pointed than mine.

Stephen Schwartz: I’ve never worked with Mandy Patinkin. But I admired Evita and Sunday in the Park with George. He came in to audition for Quasimodo. When I came in, Ben Vereen was sitting in the hallway. Ben is a friend of mine and kind of a giant star. I felt we should be polite in terms of bringing him in relatively close to the time for which he was called.

Mandy took a long time with his audition, and asked to do it over and over again. If you’re Mandy Patinkin, you should have enough time scheduled to feel you were able to show what you wanted to show. However, that amount of time was not scheduled. At a certain point, I became a bit agitated because I knew Ben was sitting there, cooling his heels. I remember asking [to] move along or something. That created a huge contretemps.

Kirk Wise: Gary and I stepped outside to work on a dialogue scene with Mandy. As we were explaining the scene and our take on the character, Mandy threw up his hands and said, “Guys, I’m really sorry. I can’t do this.” He turned on his heel and went into the rehearsal hall and shut the door. We started hearing an intense argument. He basically went in and read Alan and Stephen the riot act. The door opens, smoke issuing from the crater that he left inside. Mandy storms out, and he’s gone. We step back in the room, asking, “What the hell happened?”

Gary Trousdale: I did a drawing of it afterwards. The Patinkin Incident.

Stephen Schwartz: Battleship Patinkin!

“Join the Party”

The darkness in the film made it difficult to market. Even some involved acknowledged the issue. In the run-up to release, Jason Alexander said to Entertainment Weekly, “Disney would have us believe this movie’s like the Ringling Bros., for children of all ages. But I won’t be taking my 4-year old. I wouldn’t expose him to it, not for another year.”

Alan Menken: There was all the outrage about Jason Alexander referring to it as a dark story that’s not for kids. Probably Disney wasn’t happy he said that.

Jason Alexander: Most Disney animated films are entertaining and engaging for any child with an attention span. All of them have elements that are frightening. But people are abused in Hunchback. These are people, not cute animals. Some children could be overwhelmed by some of it at a very young age. My son at the time could not tolerate any sense of dread in movies so it would have been hard for him. However, that is certainly not all children.

Don Hahn: I don’t think Jason was wrong. People have to decide for themselves. It probably wasn’t a movie for four-year olds. You as a parent know your kid better than I do.

If everyone agrees the score is excellent, they also agree on something that was not.

Alan Menken: God knows we couldn’t control how Disney marketing dealt with the movie, which was a parade with Quasimodo on everybody’s shoulders going, “Join the party.” [laughing]

Roy Conli: I always thought “Animation comes of age” would be a great [tagline]. I think the marketing ended up, “Join the party.”

Brenda Chapman: Marketing had it as this big party. And then you get into the story and there’s all this darkness. I think audiences were not expecting that, if they didn’t know the original story.

Kathy Zielinski: It was a hard movie for Disney to merchandise and sell to the public.

Gaëtan Brizzi: People must have been totally surprised by the dramatic sequences. The advertising was not reflecting what the movie was about.

Stephen Schwartz: To this day, they just don’t know how to market “Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.” I understand what their quandary is. They have developed a brand that says, “If you see the word Disney on something, it means you can take your 6-year old.” You probably shouldn’t even take your 8-year old, unless he or she is very mature, to Hunchback.

Alan Menken: We [Disney] had such a run of successful projects. It was inevitable there was going to be a time where people said, “I’ve seen all those, but what else is out there?” I had that experience sitting at a diner with my family, overhearing a family talk about Hunchback and say, “Oh yeah, we saw Beauty and Aladdin, but this one…let’s see something else.”

Stephen Schwartz: I did have a sense that some in the critical community didn’t know how to reconcile animation and an adult approach. They have the same attitude some critics have about musicals. “It’s fine if it’s tap-dancing and about silly subjects. But if it’s something that has intellectual import, you can’t do that.” Obviously we have Hamilton and Sweeney Todd and Wicked. Over the years, that’s changed to some extent, but not for everybody.

Roy Conli: Every film is not a Lion King. [But] if that story has legs and will touch people, then you’ve succeeded.

Kirk Wise: We were a little disappointed in its initial weekend. It didn’t do as well as we hoped. We were also disappointed in the critical reaction. It was well-reviewed, but more mixed. Roger Ebert loved us. The New York Times hated us! I felt whipsawed. It was the same critic [Janet Maslin] who praised Beauty and the Beast to the high heavens. She utterly shat on Hunchback.

Don Hahn: We had really good previews, but we also knew it was out of the box creatively. We were also worried about the French and we were worried about the handicapped community and those were the two communities that supported the movie the most.

Will Finn: I knew we were in trouble when the first trailers played and audiences laughed at Quasimodo singing “Out There” on the roof.

Kirk Wise: All of us were proud of the movie on an artistic level. In terms of animation and backgrounds and music and the use of the camera and the performances. It’s the entire studio operating at its peak level of performance, as far as I’m concerned.

Gary Trousdale: I didn’t think people were going to have such a negative reaction to the gargoyles. They’re a little silly. And they do undercut the gravity. But speaking with friends who were kids at the time, they have nothing but fond memories. There were adults, high school age and older when they saw it, they were turned off. We thought it was going to do really great. We thought, “We’re topping ourselves.” It’s a sophisticated story and the music is amazing.

Kirk Wise: The 2D animated movies used to be released before Christmas [or] Thanksgiving. The Lion King changed that. Now everything was a summer release. I always questioned the wisdom of releasing Hunchback in the summertime, in competition with other blockbusters.

Paul Kandel: It made $300 million and it cost $80 million to make. So they were not hurting as far as profits were concerned. But I thought it was groundbreaking in so many ways that I was surprised at the mixed reviews.

Kirk Wise: By most measures, it was a hit. I think The Lion King spoiled everybody, because [it] was such a phenomenon, a bolt from the blue, not-to-be-repeated kind of event.

Gary Trousdale: We were getting mixed reviews. Some of them were really good. “This is a stunning masterpiece.” And other people were saying, “This is a travesty.” And the box office was coming in, not as well as hoped.

Don Hahn: I was in Argentina doing South American press. I got a call from Peter Schneider, who said, “It’s performing OK, but it’s probably going to hit 100 million.” Which, for any other moviemaker, would be a goldmine. But we’d been used to huge successes. I was disappointed.

Peter Schneider: I think it was a hit, right? It just wasn’t the same. As they say in the theater, you don’t set out to make a failure.

Don Hahn: If you’re the New York Yankees, and you’ve had a winning season where you could not lose, and then people hit standup singles instead of home runs…that’s OK. But it has this aura of disappointment. That’s the feeling that’s awful to have, because it’s selfish. Animation is an art, and the arts are meant to be without a price tag hanging off of them all the time.

Paul Brizzi: We are still grateful to Kirk and Gary and Don. We worked on [Hunchback] for maybe a year or a year and a half. Every sequence, we did with passion.

Gaëtan Brizzi: Our work on Hunchback was a triumph of our career.

Kathy Zielinski: There are certainly a whole crowd of people who wish we had not [done] the comedy, because that wasn’t faithful. That’s the main complaint I heard – we should’ve gone for this total dramatic piece and not worried about the kiddies.

Gaetan Brizzi: The only concern we had was the lack of homogeneity. The drama was really strong, and the [comedy] was sometimes a little bit goofy. It was a paradox. When you go from “Hellfire” to a big joke, the transition was not working well. Otherwise, we were very proud.

James Baxter: We were happy with what we did, but we understood it was going to be a slightly harder sell. The Hunchback of Notre Dame usually doesn’t engender connotations like, “Oh, that’s going to be a Disney classic.” I was very happy that it did as well as it did.

Jason Alexander: I thought it was even more mature and emotional on screen. It was an exciting maturation of what a Disney animated feature could be. I was impressed and touched.

“An Undersung Hero”

25 years later, The Hunchback of Notre Dame endures. The animated film inspired an even darker stage show that played both domestically and overseas, and in recent years, there have been rumors that Josh Gad would star as Quasimodo in a live-action remake.

Alan Menken: I think it’s a project that with every passing year will more and more become recognized as a really important part of my career.

Stephen Schwartz: This will be immodest, but I think it’s a really fine adaptation. I think it’s the best musical adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel, and there have been a lot. I think the music is just unbelievably good. I think, as a lyricist, I was working at pretty much the top of my form. I have so many people telling me it’s their favorite Disney film.

Alan Menken: During the pandemic, there was this hundred-piece choir doing “The Bells of Notre Dame.” People are picking up on it. It’s the combination of the storytelling and how well the score is constructed that gets it to longevity. If something is good enough, it gets found.

Paul Kandel: I think people were more sensitive. There was an expectation that a new Disney animated film would not push boundaries at all, which it did. For critics, it pushed a little too hard and I don’t think they would think that now. It’s a work of art.

Gaëtan Brizzi: Hunchback is poetic, because of its dark romanticism. We have tons of animated movies, but I think they all look alike because of the computer technique. This movie is very important in making people understand that hate has no place in our society, between a culture or people or a country. That’s the message of the movie, and of Victor Hugo himself.

Jason Alexander: I think it’s an undersung hero. It’s one of the most beautiful and moving animated films. But it is not the title that lives on everyone’s tongue. I think more people haven’t seen this one than any of the others. I adore it.

Peter Schneider: What Disney did around this period [is] we stopped making musicals. I think that was probably a mistake on some level, but the animators were bored with it.

Don Hahn: You know people reacted to Beauty and the Beast or The Lion King. They were successful movies in their day. You don’t know the reaction to anything else. So when [I] go to Comic-Con or do press on other movies, people started talking about Hunchback. “My favorite Alan Menken score is Hunchback.” It’s always surprising and delightful.

Kirk Wise: I’ve had so many people come up to me and say, “This is my absolute favorite movie. I adored this movie as a kid. I wore out my VHS.” That makes all the difference in the world.

Paul Kandel: Sitting on my desk right now are four long letters and requests for autographs. I get 20 of those a week. People are still seeing that film and being moved by it.

Alan Menken: Now there’s a discussion about a live-action film with Hunchback. And that’s [sighs] exciting and problematic. We have to, once again, wade into the troubled waters of “What is Disney’s movie version of Hunchback?” Especially now.

Jason Alexander: Live action could work because the vast majority of characters are human. The story of an actual human who is in some ways less abled and who is defined by how he looks, rather than his heart and character, is timely and important, to say the least.

Kirk Wise: I imagine if there were a live-action adaptation, it would skew more towards the stage version. That’s just my guess.

Stephen Schwartz: I think it would lend itself extremely well to a live-action movie, particularly if they use the stage show as the basis. I think the stage show is fantastic.

Kirk Wise: It’s gratifying to be involved in movies like Beauty and the Beast and Hunchback that have created so much affection. But animation is as legitimate a form of storytelling as live-action is. It might be different, but I don’t think it’s better. I feel like [saying], “Just put on the old one. It’s still good!”

Gary Trousdale: There were enough versions before. Somebody wants to make another version? Okay. Most people can tell the difference between the animated version and a live-action reboot. Mostly I’m not a fan of those. But if that’s what Disney wants to do, great.

Don Hahn: It’s very visual. It’s got huge potential because of its setting and the drama, and the music. It’s pretty powerful, so it makes sense to remake that movie. I think we will someday.

Brenda Chapman: It’s a history lesson. Now that Notre Dame is in such dire straits, after having burned so badly, hopefully [this] will increase interest in all that history.

James Baxter: It meant two children. I met my wife on that movie. [laughs] In a wider sense, the legacy is another step of broadening the scope of what Disney feature animation could be.

Kirk Wise: Hunchback is the movie where the final product turned out closest to the original vision. There was such terrific passion by the crew that carried throughout the process.

Roy Conli: It’s one of the most beautiful films we’ve made. 25 years later, I’d say “Join the party.” [laughs]

#long post behind read more #the hunchback of notre dame #hunchback of notre dame #notre dame de paris #victor hugo #interviews #disney #alan menken #stephen schwartz #quasimodo #esmeralda #frollo #phoebus #movies #movie history

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talas-starlight · 4 years

Text

Lover - Percy Jackson x Fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve crushed on Percy for years, him on the other hand? It’s more of a recent development. That doesn’t mean he likes you any less.

(Older Percy & reader - they're like 21) ALSO idk perfectly what happens in trials of apollo so let’s just ✨ignore that ✨ & this isn’t sexual despite what the title may suggest

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: hi friends this is for @fromthewatertribe ‘s 1k follower event!! Im sure most of you have but if not definitely check out their work!! Its soooo good I promises and ugh their Leo fic?! *chefs kiss* anyway idk if this is any good oop I tried

PROMPTS USED: 9 & 11. (they’re bolded)

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of ptsd & anxiety, kissing stuff lol ish eh idk, mentions of percabeth breakup?? Does that count?

MASTERLIST: here!

An obnoxiously red and orange light filters into the motel room, even with the old and tattered curtains closed, the motels’ sign conquers its way through the fabric. Sighing you flop yourself on the faded, probably twenty-year-old bed. Nose scrunching as some dust raises into the air, consequently letting out a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

“Did you just bless yourself?”

You winced at the reminder someone else was in the room, exhausted after the two-day travel to a motel room in the middle of whoop. “Yeah…”

“You really are something, aren’t you?” At the calm amusement evident in his tone, your heart rate began to slow down. He didn’t think you were crazy.

You let out a breathy laugh. Wow, I wonder how those stains got on the ceiling? Lava monster perhaps? Are those even a thing? Probably.

“Yeah… well, someone has to Jackson.” You glance towards him, he’s sitting at the small, poor excuse of a dining table. Heart rate picking up again as he gives you a small smile, already having his eyes on you this entire time.

“If I don’t, who will?” you continue.

“Touché. In that case, I’ll do the blessing from now on; you deserve a break.” Shooting you a wink. Instantly feeling flustered at his action, you fight the urge to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, Percy, if only you knew you’ve already been blessing me for the past six years.

“Even say…. If we’re in a battle?” you muse.

He gets up from the table and walks towards you. Once he reaches your side of the queen bed, he kneels, grabbing the hand closest to him, while putting his other on top of his heart. “Oh, y/n l/n, even with my dying breath.”

With that, you burst into a fit of laughter. This boy and his sarcasm.

You play along. “Hmmm what a great tale that will be. The one and only, Perseus Jackson, spending his final breath on sweet old y/n l/n. How dare you burden me with such a legacy to live up to! They’ll think I’m your lover, you know. Demigods all around the world will come searching for me, just to gawk at the beauty that stole your heart.”

At this point, Percy has fallen from his kneeling position, completely lying on the ground, overcome with laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Percy! How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing I don’t live up to their expectations?! I’m hardly a warrior either, oh the disappointment.”

Gasping for breath, he manages to find his words, “Don’t stress it y/n, you’re plenty beautiful. I just know they’ll all be stunned by your beauty. Don’t sell yourself short… trust me, once they see you, they’ll be envious that my lover was so enraptured by me that you’ll never be able to love again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. Would that be so bad?

Gasping for breath, eventually, both of your laughs die down, leaving you both breathing heavily. “C’mon Percy, let’s get some sleep. Its going to be a long week of scouting for demigods if we’re tired.”

As Percy nods, silently getting up to go to the bathroom to change, but he can’t help but think to himself that he wouldn’t mind if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with you. No matter how long.

It had been three days since you and Percy arrived in the town you continuously fail to remember the name of. It wasn’t the only thing you were failing at doing either, because it seemed that for some unknown reason, the school that was supposed to arrive here for their camping trip still hadn’t shown up.

“We should send an Iris message to camp. It doesn’t look like they’re showing up any time soon, and by the looks of things, we’re going to need to have them send someone for more supplies.”

Percy sighed, looking out the window. Was this the opportunity he was looking for? Maybe… he knew he’d be a stupid fool to pass it up. Swept up in his new thoughts, he never replied. “Percy?”

Without even looking at you, he nodded, turning to go to the bathroom, “Yeah sure, I’ll go into the bathroom and make the call.”

Humming in acknowledgement as he left the room, you couldn’t help but stare at the spot he was previously standing in from your position on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look too good.

For such a great hero, you wondered if this quest was doing him any good. After the first day of scouting the campsite, it was obvious he was already antsy to get home. It seemed no matter how light you tried to keep the atmosphere; it was like something was weighing on his mind. Mostly when you were both in the motel room together, you supposed it was because he barely went on quests nowadays. Understandably so, after all, who could blame him for wanting a break and spend time with his family? This made you feel immensely guilty since you could never give him words of truly understanding what he’s gone through. You’d arrived at camp a few days before him, yet over the years you were never sent onto a major quest. It upset you greatly at first, but you grew to appreciate your time at camp.

Before your mind could delve further into its guilt and self-pity, Percy re-entered the room, sitting next to you with a huff. “It’s all good. They’re going to send Leo with some extra supplies, and he’ll help us for the rest of this quest.”

Accidentally getting swept up in how pretty his eyes were, you tensed up, realising he was staring at you expectantly. Quickly nodding and clearing your throat you looked down to your lap, “ahh, okay that sounds good. I guess we’ll have time to sightsee or something…”

Sightsee? Really y/n? There’s nothing in this stupid town!

An awkward silence filled the room. Due to your previous thoughts, you were unsure how to proceed. This was the first time you were alone with him and had nothing else better to do.

Percy on the other hand, found that the obvious swooning look in your eyes was his green light. “Uhhh actually y/n?”

Oh, please don’t ask me why I basically just drooled all over you for NO FUCKING REASON. Snapping your head back up to look at him, you desperately tried to ignore the pounding in your chest that managed to find its way into your ears, “yeah?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

Holy shit he knows, doesn’t he? He knows I’ve liked him this entire time, and he’s going to reject me even though I never even said anything!

“I uhm… look I know we’re kind of on a small quest and all but technically we ARE waiting for Leo and the school to arrive before we continue… and you know we kind of have like at least a day or two until then so I was just wondering…”

“Yeah, Percy? You can just say it, you know; I really don’t mind.” I do mind, but please get this over with before I cry. With your heart rate increasing at an alarming rate and face heating up so much, you wanted Zeus to blast you right then and there.

Percy felt like he was about to puke, he’d never felt this nervous before. Yeah, he had his moments growing up with Annabeth, after all, she was his first girlfriend, but this was different. He wanted this to be different. Sure, he never regretted their relationship, and yes, he knew he’d always remember everything they went through- what he went through but… he wanted a clean slate. He desperately just wanted nothing more than to know that there was at least one person in his life that wasn’t constantly fighting for their lives—someone who didn’t have to live with as much trauma as him.

“W- would you maybe... Gods, do you want to have dinner tomorrow night? Maybe at the diner further into the town?”

HOLY FUCK.

He was interested and honestly, you were over the moon. Breathing out the breath you were holding in, you fail to hide the smile on your face, “yeah, I’d like that.”

His face instantly broke out into a wide smile matching yours. “Wait really?”

Unable to hold back a small giggle, you nodded, “yeah, Percy.”

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admire the blue dress you found in a charity shop this morning while Percy was sleeping. I can’t believe this is happening.

If you had old even more awkward 15-year-old y/n that you were about to go on a date with the boy you admired from your table during meals (when he was there), you would’ve laughed. Mainly because at that point, he didn’t even know you existed, only having your first conversation during the battle of Manhattan when you were helping Will.

Okay… lets do this.

Walking out of the bathroom, Percy is already sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt, jeans and converse waiting for you.

“Woah… You look uh-” Never finishing his statement, worry bubbled in your chest.

“Oh, uhm… I- I can change if you’d like?

Jumping up from his place on the bed, his head shook quickly. “NO! N-no don’t do that.”

“Ah uhm… okay? Sorry, it’s just I saw it in a store earlier and uhm… it looked nice, and I just thought that maybe it’d be cool to maybe put in a bit more effort? I mean… not that you don’t look good or anything! I love what you wear, you always look nice! but I don’t know… I don’t get to look nice much and… I just wanted it to be kinda special since we don’t get to… well our lives don’t really grant us these opportunities very often. Or at least for me anyway…”

“Hey, no, it’s okay! I totally get it… you look beautiful.” After hearing your small confession and thought to prepare for your date, his heart felt like it was melting. How could someone be so thoughtful when all he was doing was taking you to a rundown diner who probably only served mediocre burgers?

A small wave of guilt washed through him. Feeling like he would never be able to truly sweep you off your feet or give you that sweet, tooth-rotting love and affection, every day, just like you deserved. After everything, he knew he could try his best but even then, he’d never be able to hide the anxiety or PTSD he had acquired over the years.

You looked up to him with a smirk. “Glad to hear it, lover.”

Cheeks heating up at your comment, he laughed trying to play it off as cool as possible. Taking a step closer to you and flattening his shirt as if it would wipe away its wrinkles, he held out his arm. “Shall we, lover?”

Matching his level of fake sophistication, you linked your arm with his, “with pleasure.”

And with that, you both walked out of the motel, with hopeful spirits. To any onlooker, you both looked like normal young adults.

“Where the fuck are you?!” Percy’s voice boomed from his end of the phone, supposedly made without any monster risks.

You winced, slowly and cautiously walking your way out of the forest. The once clean dress was now covered in dirt and had few tears. It went perfectly with your dishevelled, twig and leaf infested hair.

“Space doesn’t really exist, so I’m nowhere. Life is built on social constructs and, since there’s no way to know if we’re really alive or if it’s just an illusion, I can’t be anywhere.”

“Y/n.”

Okay, he was concerned, and you couldn’t blame him. After all, how did you expect him to react after getting separated from you as you were chased into the woods by an Empousai after dinner?

Romance at its finest.

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up, but I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as you replayed the events that just occurred in your head. The date was amazing. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was still sweet. Which led you both to go on one of those cliché night walks. That was nice too, until two Empousai came out of the forest and decided to attack you both.

Percy being…. Well Percy, he swiftly got out riptide and didn’t hesitate to defend the two of you. You, on the other hand, were completely caught off guard only just noticing as one of them turned their focus on you while Percy was distracted.

And what did you do like the perfectly trained demigod you were?

You ran like a headless chicken into the forest.

After a few minutes of running, they tackled you into the ground. Trying and failing failed to shove them off, you suddenly remembered the dagger you strapped to your thigh under your dress and stabbed them.

Clearly not your proudest moments.

Finally making it back to the room, you unlocked the door and let out a huff of relief. “Well… that date didn’t go as expected.”

Percy, took in your current state staring at you with wide eyes… but he didn’t say anything. Is he angry at me? Fuck now he’s going to call off whatever this is, all because I’m an incompetent idiot! I knew I should have tried harder in the sparring activities at camp.

Feeling highly intimidated under his intense stare, you began to play with the hem of your dress, voice going quiet. “Look I uh- I know it probably wasn’t the date you were hoping for but I uhm-“

Before you could even finish your poor excuses, your words are soon lost entirely. Percy stalked towards you with a determined look on his face. Reaching you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your face, smashing his lips onto yours.

You let out a small, muffled squeak of surprise as your eyebrows shot up into Olympus. Yet unlike your fighting skills, this was something you managed to adapt to at a faster pace.

Eyes fluttering closed, you fisted his shirt, pulling him closer.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

Because Gods forbid if this your one chance, you weren’t letting this moment end that easily.

Moving your lips against his, the urgency he came onto you with slowly began to dissipate, feeling his soft, but slightly chapped lips move against yours. Deepening the kiss, you let go of his shirt, gliding your hands up his tense torso and along his strong arms, eventually placing your hands on his wrists that were on either side of your face. Applying a small amount of pressure to the inside of his wrists with your thumbs, his mind began to drift into a calming haze as you softly stroked them. It was almost as if you were able to brush away the worry that bubbled in him when he got back to the room, only to find you weren’t there. Yet here you were… safe.

It was intoxicating and calming having him so close to you, his entire being overcoming your senses to a point where you fought the urge to let out a small whimper when he pulled away.

Resting his forehead against yours, chest rising and falling heavily flushed against you; he continued to hold you in his warm embrace. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He whispers, breath fanning against your face.

Because as much as Percy was afraid he’d let you down, he knew no matter what you were worth every single risk.

“…but I’m going to have to teach you a few things when we get back to camp. We can’t have my lover running away in battle all the time, how will I know if you sneeze?”

Letting out a snort, you playfully hit his chest. “Anything for you, lover.”

A soft smile graces his face as he looks at you adoringly as the word takes on a whole new meaning… because you were right. He’d do anything.

A/N: whelp! i hope you all liked it :)) its not perfect but oh well?

also i dont have a percy jackson taglist but i gotta tag the holy grail of fic writers for this fandon eep @cabinofimagines 🙈 🙈

Divider credit: @biskit-rising

#percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x fem!reader #annabeth #annabeth chase #leo valdez #heros of olympus #hoo #nina's 1k event #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson angst

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juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

Text

Not by the Moon | 07

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A philosophical slant, (heavy) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom being absolute hubby material, Werewolf!Jaebeom being awkward and (a bit of a) pervert, domestic fluff, talk of medication, apparently werewolves don’t like to wear clothes (what is my canon...), talk of life and death, mention of blood, mild swearing

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Jaebeom’s POV.

Well, here it is, earlier and much longer than originally planned. It’s also a lot more tragic and philosophical than I intended it to be, but then again, what else can you expect from a tragedian fascinated by the human condition even as it is translated into the realm of the magical?

I think I just thought of the modern literary movement I might belong to: magic realism.

It’s a crying shame the Decadent Movement isn’t active anymore, though, because that one truly feels like a good fit for me both as an author and an individual. Ah well, c’est la vie.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

There is nothing better for a wolf than being with its mate.

Well, there is one thing.

Having them completely at your mercy as you’re inside them.

I still don’t understand what the plastic wrapping is good for, but Jinyoung was very insistent on using it while we drove to the airport. And Y/N seemed glad I had whatever it is, her scent even betraying a hint of relief. However, one day, I hope she’ll tell me not to use it.

No, that’s not right. There’s a word for the… whatever it is.

A condom.

That’s the word.

I hope she’ll tell me not to use a condom. It doesn’t matter whether I’m in season or not, although the chances she’ll pup are higher if I am. I want pups with her, a little pack of our own. I want it to be our toddler running around the park, chasing its sibling. Then again, will I remain human long enough to see them grow up?

Will I even remember their birth on the day they’re born?

Will I still be here?

Or remain without a family, a proud bloodline?

I slowly open my eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the sunlight bathing the room in a warm golden hue, swallow hard and force myself to calm down. There is no use in contemplating this now, not this early in the day nor in our time together. What counts is that I’m here now with Y/N in my arms and we’re in her apartment somewhere.

A faint whiff of brine seeps in through the air cleaner filter above the window overlooking the city. A gull flies by and lands on the roof of the building opposite ours.

Sea. Rusted metal. Right, the old harbour.

A high-pitched noise, a disquiet hum followed by a sigh, makes my ears perk up. I look down at the lady sleeping on my chest, curled up and fingers balled into small fists similar to a bunny’s paws. More importantly, however, she’s perfectly alright and was only unconsciously trying to get more comfortable.

A breathless chuckle rises in my throat at the display. Y/N’s adorable even when she’s fast asleep, her lips parted yet not enough to allow drooling.

I, on the other hand, am another story. I don’t do it often, but I must have been so tired last night I triggered the habit. The finger I swipe over the corners of my mouth comes away wet both times.

Oh no, I didn’t drool on her, did I? Would she mind, though, if I explained it’s a sign I’m comfortable with her?

It isn’t hard to guess the answer to the question. She would beat me over the head, likely with a shoe, and say I’m not allowed to bite her at all anymore. Not even in the future.

In a hurry to discover whether I made the fatal mistake, I check her messy hair but keeping my movements controlled to not wake her up. Fortunately, there are no locks sticking together nor a trail running down over the side of her face.

With a deep sigh, I slump further down into the bed again and kiss her crown. However, I don’t go back to sleep despite the comfort of the sheets. Instead, I lift the lady’s head and gently put her down on the pillow as I get up, carefully calculating every movement like I do when hunting to make sure she won’t wake up or notice my absence in her unconscious state.

The faint smell of burned iron comes from somewhere when I rearrange the sheets to bundle Y/N up. My mouth dries up, throat blocked by something I can’t swallow as a familiar stench disturbs the morning happiness. Former intentions abandoned, I claw through the sheets to try and discover where the rank odour comes from.

Did I hurt her? Is she bleeding? Why is she bleeding? Where is it? Where’s the blood?

As suspected, the frantic search wakes the pretty lady. Propped up on an elbow, eyes half-closed and brows furrowed, she turns to me. “Jae, what-’’ she yawns, “What’re you doing?”

Barely has she asked the question or I find what I’ve been looking for.

On her side of the bed, between her thighs, is a puddle of dried blood.

Where did it come from? Did I… Did I do this?

I grab her by the shoulders and pull her close to check her condition, turning her this way and that as each thought grows more troubled. “Are you okay?” There’s nothing to see on the bare skin of her upper body. “Are you hurt?”

Maybe the wound is somewhere lower, on her hip or leg. I didn’t bite her last night. Right? I didn’t hurt her. At least, I don’t think I did. No. Surely the wolf- I wouldn’t harm her. I had enough control to prevent that from happening. Yes, that’s the case.

But then, with a fading mind, how much can I trust myself?

“Jaebeom, I’m fine. What are you- ah.” Y/N notices the spot of dark crimson when I pull the sheets completely off the bed and toss them aside. She lets out an incomprehensibly careless chuckle, evidently oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“What are you giggling about? Y/N, you’re bleeding!” I bark, lost.

A small paw cups my cheek, her thumb caressing the skin in an attempt to calm me down. “You took my virginity. It’s natural to bleed a little when that happens.”

“Are you still in pain?” Even though it’s natural, surely it’s not without repercussions. Otherwise, the stain wouldn’t be there.

“No, I’m not, silly. I’m okay.” She kisses the tip of my nose when I let out a whine, unhappy with the response. Withal, a curious tone in her voice overtakes my own displeasure. “Are you?”

Why do you say it like that?

She sounds weird, hinting at something I’m supposed to find as obvious as she. Yet, I have no clue about what it can be. So, I tilt my head and stare blankly at her, waiting for an explanation. “I’m fine.”

My choice of words makes her visibly flinch despite the effort to hide it. The sleepiness which glazed her eyes evaporated, leaving them devoid of the amusement at my failure as a human. The recognizable sour note of anxiety creeps back into her scent, setting off alarm bells in my mind. “I’m alright. No pain. Happy to be here. Happy to wake up next to you.”

I rub her arms in a poor attempt to make her calm down, have her scent return to its spring-like fruitiness. She is supposed to smell like fresh fruit still hanging from the trees, yet to ripen. Not like fallen fruit beginning to decay in the summer sun.

“Okay,” is all she says in response before she pulls away, the absence of the warmth of her palm sending a cold shiver throughout my body.

The world always seems a little colder without her.

“Want breakfast?” A low grumble pierces the silence following the question, giving me enough of a response. And a reason to get my head, no, that’s not the idiom. To get my thoughts ordered. Organized. To get my thoughts in order? To think about… stuff. Last night. This. Everything. “Never mind. I’m making you breakfast. You have to eat.”

I stand up and head for the bathroom to first get rid of the weird plastic wrapping she put on me last night. Having thrown it in the bin there after a bit of an awkward struggle removing it, I move to the kitchen. Nevertheless, I don’t start preparing food right away. Instead, I pick up the grey hoodie I gave her from the bag between the sofa and chair facing the kitchen. I remember how she held it up to her nose, breathed in and basked in the scent.

My scent.

A fragment of last night’s memory.

I remember we had sex and that she told me I’m her first, but afterwards things are blurry.

Smell. I said something about how nicely she smells. Not really an original compliment since I’ve said it a lot already, but I can’t help but focus on it.

And then…

Then…

Then instinct took over because I let it, thinking I’d remain in control even though I let go a little. After all, I’ve learned enough to know how to deal with the wolf inside thanks to the rehabilitation procedure Jinyoung put me through and supervised. Since then, there’s been a healthy balance between human and beast in my mind.

Or, rather, there was one.

I think.

Another boundary to watch out for. I have to keep myself in check. No more experimenting.

Because to do so is to forget.

And I want to remember.

I stop absent-mindedly thumbing the piece of clothing, drape it over the armrest of the sofa and head into the kitchen to make breakfast. Unfortunately, the fridge quickly brings my plan to a halt, empty except for a pack of soy milk and a tray of eggs. The groceries Jinyoung and I got were only enough for dinner last night and there are no leftovers.

To be fair, she did just come back from a trip abroad. But still, is there really nothing to work with?

I sigh in defeat and grab the plant-based milk to pour it over the apple and cinnamon granola I find in the cupboard above the sink. At least it’s food and drink in one meal.

From the drawer next to the oven, I grab two spoons which I put into the bowls, grab the hoodie from the couch and return to the bedroom.

Y/N sits with her back turned to me, but flips around a little too fast for my liking once she hears my paws approaching. “Jaebeom?”

The terrible mixture of barely suppressed horror and genuine concern in her gaze has translated into her voice, which is cold and calculating. The sour note of anxiety hasn’t faded from her scent, creating a stone to sink to the bottom of my stomach because there’s only one thing that can be a distressing factor this early in the day.

Me.

Withal, the reason why she’s scared puzzles me since I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary. I’ve simply been me since I woke up.

Human.

Although, that’s me now.

Last night, I don’t know who or what I was though it isn’t hard to guess.

The pretty lady traces the deep indentation in the headboard of the bed with her fingers bent to resemble a claw. “Did you do this?”

Did- Did I? No. I- I don’t know. I was less strict with myself last night and don’t remember much, but surely I wasn’t gone enough to do this.

I hope.

I think.

I’m not sure.

But the reality provides the necessary evidence to repute any kind of denial I can offer.

I set the bowls down on the nightstand and crawl back on the bed to sit next to her. Gently, I nudge her hand aside to mimic her action, my own fingers perfectly fitting into the large gash. “I don’t know.”

A surge of violence shoots throughout my body, triggering the nagging feeling of a forgotten memory strong enough to knock the air out the lungs and split my skull with flashes of a memory. Nevertheless, the fragments pass by too fast to make sense of them and the mere attempt to do so worsens the headache. I flinch and scramble backwards with a paw- a hand pressed to my head as if I can thus suppress the pain. Yet, I remain unable to look at anything but the damage.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, my voice hardly louder than a scared whisper.

“I felt your skin move beneath my fingers last night,” Y/N starts, catching my attention with the timid response suggestive of requiring more explanation.

Exactly what I don’t have since I can’t even explain it myself.

This shouldn’t be happening.

“I think I did, at least,” she adds doubtfully on a shivery breath. The sourness sweetens to doubt instead of anxiety. Nonetheless, it’s still worrying she’s ill… uncomfortable.

“Did I-“ I swallow hard, forcing out the words describing my worst nightmare. “Did I transform?”

“Transform?’’ She briefly turns her gaze from me to the indentation, lips parted in an attempt to articulate a thought that’s dismissed with a headshake the second thereafter. Her attention returns to me, her expression slackened. ‘’What are you- What… No, you didn’t, but you looked far away. Retreated further into your own world, more so than you normally are.”

“That’s good,” I mumble, nodding as I, too, briefly return my attention to the claw mark. “Was human. Good.”

Still, need to talk to the weird-smelling intruder. Doctor. Friend. Name, his name. Jinyoung. Jesus, man, get yourself together. Your name is Im Jaebeom. You’re a twenty-eight old werewolf that- no, who runs a bookshop called Paper Souls. Jinyoung is your friend, doctor and supervisor appointed to you by... by... some organization.

“Jaebeom,” the pretty lady puts her hand on my shoulder, features softened instead of frozen and marred by fear, “have you taken your medication yet?”

The natural fruity undertone seems forced to be stronger.

You should be scared. I might have- I made that claw mark. Why treat me like a human? I’m a wolf.

“Me- Med-“ The strange word barely registers until a spark of humanity recalls its definition. “Medication. Pills. No, I- I haven’t.”

“Let me grab a glass of water and get them.”

She ruffles my hair, jumps off the bed and rushes out of the room. I listen to her bare feet lightly treading the floor as she moves on the other side of the wall, hurried steps going from the hallway, where she rummages in my coat for the rattling bottle of pills, to the kitchen. There, she opens a cupboard to grab a glass. The loud clinking of glass alongside the sour undertone in her scent indicates she almost accidentally caused several to fall out and break on the tiles. Fortunately, judging by the deep sigh of relief, Y/N could prevent it from happening.

She turns on the tab, fills the glass with water, turns the tab off and walks back into the room.

“There you go,” she says, handing me the small brown bottle and water.

The mattress dips a bit when she sits down next to me with one of the bowls filled with cereal in her hands. After stirring the spoon around like she is trying to evade something, Y/N finally takes a first careful bite. Nevertheless, she starts eating properly after I kiss her temple, which is an apparently effective form of encouragement. I have to remember that.

Quietly seated in the golden sunlight, we have our first breakfast together. I don’t mind her watching me as I’m taking my medication, measuring out the amount Jinyoung told me to take. Or, rather, as much as the label notes I should. Immediately my gag reflex is triggered when I put them in my mouth, the taste of bitter metal extremer than before so it’s like licking one of the rusted over buoys drifting in the harbour.

He’s increased the nightshade and silver. Damn, I think even the worst coffee tastes better than this.

“That bad?”

“Yep.” I open and close my mouth, nauseous due to the sickening taste lingering on my tongue. To prevent the bile rising in my throat from escaping, I gulp down the water. Unfortunately, it only washes down part of the bitterness.

She holds up a spoon with milk-soaked granola to feed to me, but I turn it down and shake my head. I might actually throw up if I eat anything right now.

Disappointment flashes across her face, though it’s gone in an instant as she puts her bowl down and stands up. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“But... food,” I meekly offer and point at the half-empty bowl on the nightstand. She should put herself before me.

Because I’ll be fine.

“We’re missing something important. Coffee,” the bunny-like lady playfully responds before she bounces off again to the kitchen.

The pleasant and slightly sweet scent of instant cappuccino warms the apartment, replacing the sharp scent of frozen water alluding to hail later on in the day. It’s a little early in the year, but soon the first snows will fall.

Hopefully, she’ll move before then so we can spend Christmas in her cottage. Although, it doesn’t even have to be the holidays. I’d light a fire, drape a blanket over our shoulders and keep Y/N close to warm her with mine as we read and look at the snowfall.

Like a snowflake falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling before our eyes, so we pass through life. At this rate, I think the next snowfall might be the last I’ll see.

Consciously.

Meaningfully.

Like a human.

The snowflake will faintly fall on the man I am, descend on the husk I’m becoming, while she will continue living.

Without me.

The living and the dead.

I smile wistfully until the same shot of pain treks through me as when I tried to fill in the gaps of the fragmented memory. Folded in on myself, cold sweat on my skin and short of breath, I press my palms against my snout to push the agony away.

The pained groaning must have alarmed the pretty lady because she rushes to my side and pushes one of the mugs in her little paws… hands in mine. “Here, take a sip. The caffeine will help.”

As told, I nip at the hot beverage. Indeed, the cappuccino lessens the headache and cold shivers that ran down my spine and threatened to spread. Though I dislike instant coffee, it actually tastes good when she prepares it. I sigh in relief, blow on the coffee to cool it down, and slowly drink it while Y/N caresses my jaw and ear just the way I like it. At the same time, she comforts me with her soothing voice, murmuring words of solace and assurance as she sits down next to me again.

I could listen to you all day. Maybe I should ask you to read to me sometime. Although, not maybe. I’ll ask it later. Note to self, write a note on your phone to ask her to read to you. Also, make note of kissing her temple.

My reverie is broken up by a comment which rubs me the wrong way. “I have to go to the office later today-’’

“Already? You just got home.”

“They’re counting on me, Jae. Besides, I’m not that jet-lagged.”

“It’s not healthy. You should stay home. Rest,” I bark. Her eyes widen, taken aback by my bluntness.

She opens and closes her mouth, planning to say something yet deciding against it. Instead, she tugs my ear. “I’ll be fine. And you have your shop to look after, so let’s both work hard today.”

“Still,” I take another sip, “I don’t think you should go.”

“As long as I have caffeine, I should be able to manage. How about this? I’ll come to your shop as soon as I’m done with work and cook for us. We’ll have a cosy night in like we had last night.”

“Last night was ‘cosy’ indeed,” I murmur, hoping she catches on to what I’m alluding to.

“It was. I really liked it.” Her lashes flutter with the memories of last night, cheeks tinged pink. Unfortunately, the heartstopping girlish giggle is short-lived and becomes serious too soon. “But while I did, I think we shouldn’t do it again so soon.”

“Agreed,” I respond, mind occupied by the ripples of transformation and the splashes of pain wanting to remember something significant only communicated in incomprehensible flashes.

Distorted.

Like the memories of the forest.

I need to call Jinyoung. He needs to know.

“What shall we eat tonight?”

The change in subject is welcome, but also a confusing bridge to cross. How can humans go from severe to casual without a care? The aspect of communication has me furrow my brows as I try to work out the mech… work… nuts and bolts behind it. Nevertheless, I answer the question. “I thought you had a plan already.”

The corners of her mouth curl up into a cat-like grin. “I have no idea, so that’s why I’m asking you. You’re a better chef than I am.”

“I’m not that good,” I murmur, my ears lowered like a shy pup. “But I’d like something we can make together.”

“Pancakes?”

“Yes!’’ I bark, leaning in and grabbing the sheets to contain the excitement at cooking together. ‘’Yes, I’d like that!”

A flicker of doubt passes over her face, hesitant in the way she tends to be when it concerns food. However, a second later, she taps me on the nose with a content hum. “Pancakes it is.”

While Y/N showers, I clean the dishes and pull the sheets off of the bed so she can bring them to the laundry. Although, maybe I could do it myself. I’d have to text Jinyoung for instructions since he always does mine, but even then it shouldn’t be too difficult. Humans do laundry all the time. It’s part of their routine and if they can do it, so can I.

I hope.

As I’m making the bed and contemplating the process to get at least the blood stain out of the fabric, my mate walks back into the room. Her wet hair is bundled up in a towel that’s smaller than the one wrapped around her body. The addition of the scents of cherry blossoms and matcha to the blend of summer fruits drives me dizzy as she moves to the wardrobe.

I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help looking as the towel falls to the floor to reveal her naked body. An appreciative growl unconsciously rises from my throat, a surge of heat culminating between my legs.

Just one more time. I’ll keep myself in check. Behave. I’ll behave.

“Jaebeom,” cheeks flushed, Y/N glances over her shoulder, “don’t even think about it.”

“Sorry,” I mumble as I shuffle to her side to help her put on her bra by closing the clasps. When they click in place, I place a kiss between her shoulder blades, feeling her shiver against my lips. “I know what we agreed on.”

I wrap my arms around her waist and let my head rest on her shoulder. Eyes closed, I try to keep a clear mind as she scratches me behind the ear.

“It’s not necessarily... that.” Her voice is light, wanting to move past the concerns of last night with humour. “It’s rather the thought I wouldn’t get to leave for the office at all if we go back to bed.”

“You’re right.” I decide to play along, if only to give us both some peace of mind. So, I bury my nose in the side of her neck, nuzzling her and earning myself a bird-like giggle that spreads a nice fuzzy feeling inside. “I wouldn’t let you go. We’d read the day away with coffee.”

“Tea, in your case. Doctor’s orders. I don’t want you bouncing around the place. You’re my calm, well, sort of calm bookish wolf. Not a supercharged husky.”

It’s a lame joke, but nevertheless makes me laugh.

“What will you wear today?” I ask, glancing at the clothes on the hangers.

Here and there, there’s a colourful item in the collection. Withal, the majority of the items are mono… one-toned... black and white items to be switched up with a dark-shaded checkered blouse.

My attention drifts to the long white dress with lemons. The fabric is on the thin side, which makes it suitable for summer or a warm spring.

I’d love to see you in that dress, if only just once.

She pouts her lips. “I was thinking about grey high-waisted jeans with a black button-up shirt and ankle boots.”

“Wear my hoodie,” I whine, upset my… my girlfriend. That sounds nice. My girlfriend. It makes me upset that my girlfriend doesn’t plan on wearing one of the things I gave her. “You like the grey one, right?”

“I do, but-’’

“Then wear it.”

She sighs, shakes her head and turns around to look up at me. “There’s something like a dress code at the office.”

“Don’t care.” I nudge her nose with mine, bark lowered to a woof to persuade her to go with my choice. “You’ll look better. More pretty.”

“If you put a pair of boxers on, I’ll wear the hoodie. Deal?”

“But they’re uncomfortable. I only wore them because Jinyoung told me to.”

“Then I won’t wear the hoodie.” Little devilish will-o’-the-wisps light up her eyes as the corners of her mouth curl up into a taunting grin. “Shame. Now my colleagues won’t get to see I have a boyfriend.”

The tables have flipped since I’m apparently not the only one who’s good at using their charms.

Nevertheless, reluctant to start a fight over this, I let out a compromising chuff. “Okay, fine.”

Humans and their clothes. I like yours, but you’d look even better in mine. Still, I’m only doing this because I want every male at your office and in the city to know you’re mine.

No matter what size they are, clothing is a thing I absolutely haven’t missed. Notwithstanding, to please my mate, I wriggle myself back into the tight short trousers and the loose pants to wear over them. Y/N gives me a warning look when she sees me fumbling with my shirt, hopefully missing out on the obvious clue I secretly hope she’ll let me off easy.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Yes, Jae, also the shirt,” she chastises me like a mother disciplines a rebellious pup. “And the shoes. You don’t want other people to call the cops after seeing a naked man in the streets.” Unaware of the fact I can hear her perfectly even as she mutters under her breath, she adds. ‘’Or me to pick you up at the police station because of it.’’

Amused by the funny image the fantastical scenario creates in my mind, I relent. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once we’re both dressed, Y/N makes way for the bathroom to do her makeup. Ignoring my protests it’s unnecessary since there’s nothing to hide or improve to make me love her more, she closes the door behind her and locks it.

There goes the plan of dragging her out of there by the collar to have her scratch my jaw and ear again instead. A much better way to pass the time, if you ask me.

In the meanwhile, I return to the bedroom to take a picture of the damage with my phone and send it to Jinyoung.

Jaebeom: We need to talk.

Immediately, I get a response.

Jinyoung: Yes, we absolutely do. Everything OK?

Jaebeom: Yes, Y/N is fine. Alive. A little shaken, but so am I. Well, we’re more than a little shaken. Fuck, Jinyoung, I don’t know what happened.

Jinyoung: I’ll drop by later today. I have to give a lecture in a bit and have to see a new patient afterwards. He’s going through the reintegration program right now and needs a little extra help.

Jaebeom: Help with what? What is he?

Jinyoung: A wolf. Not a standard case.

Jaebeom: Anything I can help with?

Jinyoung: I think you need to focus on yourself right now. I’ll be at the shop around two.

Footsteps disturb the silence, going from the bathroom to the hallway.

That was quick. Are females always this fast with applying their face?

It’s a funny phrase, ‘applying my face’. Also, it’s the argument the pretty lady used as the final word on the matter. But she already has a face so there’s no need to apply a second like some Greek god.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Ears perked, I glance around the corner into the living room and in Y/N’s direction.

“Work?” she answers sheepishly, looking back at me with her head slightly tilted to the side. In her hands is the black trench coat she was about to put on.

Fortunately, she’s kept her makeup natural with a golden brown eyeshadow, a bit of a black line to accentuate her eyes and something to enhance her lashes. It’s a natural look which some of the female customers could learn from with their fake lips or chest that makes them reek of silicone and plastic. Their makeup, often overemphasizing their fake features, doesn’t add to their supposed charm. In fact, it makes me turn my snout away even faster if their attitude already hasn’t.

I’d never offer them coffee or want them around more than once.

But not her.

Not Y/N.

I can’t remember if she wore the same makeup when we met, but I vaguely recall a sense of calm and need for protection alongside a strange recognition. A connection that would make all the puzzle pieces of my life fit together.

The missing last piece.

“Not so fast.” I swiftly move to her side to kiss her forehead. No way I’m letting her go without giving her at least one more.

“There,” I pet her head, griggling and sweeping my tail triumphantly, “now you’re free to go.”

“I wouldn’t have gone without telling you, you know?” She stands on the tip of her toes to peck me on the lips, slightly swaying side to side to keep her balance.

So I lean forward to make it easier for her and chuckle against her lips. “Have a good day at work, Y/N.”

“You too, Jae.”

And with that, she puts on her coat, grabs her bag and opens the front door. She lingers in the doorway, waving half-heartedly as a final word of goodbye.

I wave back, faking a smile to see her off without worry.

Being human again isn’t so bad.

However, the deadline is another story.

The shop is as tranquil as it is on any other day. The quietness of unread words hangs between the shelves, the only noise to disrupt the silence being the rustle of a page being turned. Seated by the window as per usual, listening to the hail in the dim light, I read the time away, but whereas it’s normally a form of amusement and pleasure, it now functions in part to forget this morning’s discovery.

I didn’t mean to pry, but I inspected Y/N’s bookshelves before I left her apartment. There was the usual assortment of classics, but also a lot of Asian fiction, a genre I haven’t delved into too much yet. So, of course with the intention of returning it, I took Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami with me.

She must have read it recently because her fruity scent still lingers on the paper. The summer blend distracts me to the point that the movement of the hands of the clock pass unnoticed in the background.

Regardless of the appointed time, it’s half past two instead of two o’clock that Jinyoung comes in. In his one hand he holds a carrier with two paper cups, the sleeves on them decorated with the silhouette of a black wolf and the name of the café printed in vintage letters beneath the design, the letters spelling out Wolf’s. Judging by the scent, it’s tea the doctor has brought with him. Apple cinnamon for me, since that’s the only one I like, and rooibos for himself.

In his other hand, he holds his bag. One of the claps has either not been fastened before he left or came undone along the way. Whatever the reason, it’s clear he came here in a hurry.

“Sorry I’m late. Christian and I had a lot more to discuss than we thought.” Jinyoung stumbles inside, puts the tea and his bag on the counter, and turns around to lock the door and flip the sign so we can talk in private.

A hint of leather mixed with coffee and wood is mixed in with his own.

Male.

Threat.

Teeth gritted and jaw clenched, I make a mental note to myself to keep this scent away from Y/N. To keep this Christian away from her.

“Jaebeom,” the other male sighs. His tone holds a silent warning of being close to breaking some kind of boundary.

“What?” The answer rolls off the tongue as a growl rather than an actual question. Not that it matters since he must have had a lot worse to endure from me. Besides, it’s not him I’m pissed at so he’s safe.

Although, the wild undertone in his already peculiar personal blend alludes to the opposite.

Has he always smelled like this or is this new? He is human, but then why does my instinct tell me to watch out for him, that there’s more than to him? Strange.

“He’s no competition. I think he might have imprinted with my colleague, although neither he nor she might be aware of it.” He rolls his eyes. “The gods know whether Gráinne will do anything with it. I wonder if... no, I don’t think either of them told her anything.”

A grim wistfulness stains his voice, which ignites a curiosity about his colleague’s circumstances. Notwithstanding, that story will have to wait until another day and his willingness to tell me.

Still, I quickly fish my phone out of my pocket, open the notes app, and jot down a short reminder to ask about it at a later date.

“Anyway,” Jinyoung steps away from the door, hands me the cup with apple cinnamon tea, and gestures at the worn couch by the window overlooking the west side of the neighbourhood, “we’re here to talk about you. About the picture you sent.”

We move away from the counter to the sofa. A burst of hail spatters against the glass as we sit down.

I’m glad to have something to hold to conceal the shivers running through my body at the image of the claw mark mixed with the memory of what Y/N told me she felt. Or, rather, thought she felt although I’m certain she actually did feel the first ripples of transformation.

For a moment, we sit in silence as I mentally prepare myself for the conversation. Nipping on the tea with my shoulders curled over my chest, I try to reconstruct last night as best I can.

As much as my memory lets me.

To break the... something. There’s an idiom, no, a phrase? A saying.

I don’t know.

Not anymore.

To make it easier, likely noticing the struggle to say anything, Jinyoung speaks up. “There’s more than the photo. You’re leaving things out, things I need to know to help. What aren’t you telling me, Jaebeom?”

“Y/N-” I begin, my breath unsteady as I restart the sentence, “Y/N said she felt my skin move and if I try to remember last night, I can only recall fragments that give me a headache when I try to string them together. Which I can’t.”

He pales, frozen in place as the weird briny scent sours. “That shouldn’t-’’

“Shouldn’t happen,” I finish the remark.

A horrifying idea arises that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end and has me nervously tapping my thumbs together as I try not to squeeze the cup in my paws. Nonetheless, voice a low woof bordering on a melancholic whine, I tell the doctor what’s on my mind. “I think the pills stopped working. Completely. I- I don’t think-’’

The world stops, shrinks, and strings my chest as tight as a string as I shrink within myself. Each thought evaporates as fast as the flashes in the wolf’s memory, incoherent if meant to be sensible at all.

The snow hasn’t even come.

I can’t leave her alone.

I don’t want to leave this life.

I don’t want to go just when being human again starts to get good.

I don’t want to be the old me again.

“I think so too,” Jinyoung agrees grimly. “If I increase the silver and nightshade or the doses it will kill you.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyes sharp with focus as he poses the question I’ve been wondering about myself. “Does she know what you are?”

I shake my head. I might be her weirdo wolf guy, but she’d never believe me if I told her what I really am. Besides, werewolves are the stuff of fiction these days.

We’re no longer seen as a real threat nor have the power and status we used to have in the days of yore. We are devoid of an identity acknowledged by humans.

But, if I don’t possess an identity, am I really here?

Alive?

Or dead like the wolf inside?

Paradise is calling, the song of the forest playing like a red thread through my broken memory.

Beckoning me home.

The woods are calling.

And I must not go.

Jinyoung’s new question pulls me out of my reverie, just in time before the train of thought would crash and burn. “Are you going to tell her?”

“No.” I take a sip of the sweet tea, to have a second of bliss and enjoy a new human pleasure.

Another happiness I discovered a little too late.

“Will you at least tell her about your meds?” Even though she’s seen me take them, Y/N doesn’t know what they’re for. But, then again, did she look at the label?

Regardless of whether she did or not, she’s perhaps not truly ignorant to the reason I have to take them. After all, she thinks they combat my amnesia, which is partially true. It’s a half-truth.

But the real reason is a secret I intend to keep.

“No,” I repeat, determined in my answer regardless of the world spinning out of control. “I won’t tell her.”

“She deserves that much, doesn’t she? She’s your girlfriend, Jay.’’ Although his features have softened, the doctor’s voice rises to a fierce bark as he reinforces his point. ‘’Your mate.”

“I can’t tell her,’’ I retort, my bark closer to a growl than a civilized answer. Tears brim on the edge of my lashes, obscuring my vision in spite of my attempts to blink them away. The vision of Y/N by herself in the snow, on her knees in the middle of the orchard, blocks my throat and makes breathing harder than it already was.

The vision changes to the image of a spring day close to summer, warm enough for her to wear the dress with the lemons. She’s seated in the same position between the trees which are now white and pink with blossom. However, whereas her belly was flat before, it’s now swollen, pregnant with pups.

My pups?

No, I have to stay here.

I have to survive the winter.

I have to be here if I ever change my mind and want to start a pack with her.

I must be here.

But the question is whether I actually can.

At this rate, I’m not sure.

I don’t know.

But I know enough to explain why I’m reluctant to tell my pretty lady anything. ‘’I can’t tell her, because the news will hurt her and I don’t want that. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Plus, what am I supposed to say? I’m a wolf that turned into a man and is slowly dying, going back to his old form in which it... he. Am human. In which he’ll be stuck until it- He! Am human! Until he dies?

“Y/N has to know about this, Jaebeom.’’ A hand on my shoulder makes me look up from the floor to the man next to me. ‘’How about I talk to her, tell her what you told me and discuss what our options are as well as a plan for the future?”

“You’re right.” I let out a mirthless griggle. “Fuck, I hate it when you are. But… But how will you… explain, uhm, explain… this- me! How will you explain me? What I am? For all she cares, werewolves are my- myth- fic-’’ I throw my head back, frustrated I can’t find the right word or properly speak.

Jinyoung gives me an encouraging squeeze, kindheartedly chuckling at my failure. “I know what you mean. Nobody comes into our world willingly or at least without a good reason. I think your... situation is enough of the latter for her to get involved too. She doesn’t have to join the branch, I’ll leave that up to her. But, if Y/N decides to believe me, or us for that matter, she’ll at least have a community to rely on when you, you know, you’re...”

“When I’m gone.’’ The hesitance to state the facts makes me grimace and my tone sharper than intended. ‘’We both know where this is heading so just say it.”

“Fine,’’ the doctor puts his hands up as if he’s at the risk of being shot ‘’when you’re gone.”

“What’ll happen to the shop?” I gesture around the paper paradise, changing the topic slightly. Books have been another treasure of humanity I will forever be grateful for, especially since I hopefully have created a legacy with them that’s worth keeping.

The doctor glances around, a somber expression on his face. “Either the university will keep it and maintain it as a potential workplace in the reintegration program or sell it off. I don’t know, real estate doesn’t fall within my jurisdiction.”

“Ah, I see.” I lower my head, gaze averted to the half-empty cup in my paws.

Funny how I once thought of making this a family business or to have at least my pup’s name on the spine of one of these books. If I ever had them, would they like to be a writer? Would Y/N tell them their absent father, I... I love... loved to read?

I force myself to forget the thought, swallow despite having a dry mouth, and shake my head. “Thank you. For wanting to tell her. She’ll come over tonight, so-’’

He holds up his hand to stop me. “I’ll text her so we can meet at a later date. She just returned from a business trip and had quite the evening with you. You two deserve a bit of rest.”

“But what if...”

It’s unlikely, but what if it happens again? What if I spin out of control tonight?

“Keep your temper in check and try to suppress your instinct,” Jinyoung answers matter-of-factly.

So, no sex.

Although the unspoken implication doesn’t come as a surprise, I can’t help but feel disappointed even though Y/N and I agreed on not doing it again so soon. Notwithstanding, it would be a lie to say I didn’t want to do it again this morning. But then there was the pool of blood and the amnesia that ruined our morning bliss.

All the same, flashes of what I do remember from last night replay in my mind.

They say once you’ve had a wolf, you never go back. Maybe because I won’t let you.

She looked beautiful, tears glistening in her eyes, equally as beautiful as her meek whimpers. She’s so small and fragile, easy to overpower.

To conquer.

“Your mind’s…. gutter again, isn’t it?” A groan sounds from somewhere on the side, distant like a faint echo

I was inside her.

In spite of the weird plastic, she felt nice.

Warm.

Wet.

I replay the image of her whimpering on the sheets as I looked down at her over and over. My hand on her cheek and Y/N keeping it in place. I should have used that second to dive down and worship her soft breasts more.

I could have bitten her there. Just a small bite on the side.

The snapping of a pair of fingers before my eyes interrupts the pleasant reverie. A bit offended, I snap around to growl at whoever took the pleasure of a cherished memory away.

Only to face Jinyoung, who sighs and looks down at the bulge in my pants before pursing his lips with an exasperated knowing expression as he looks up.

Scrambling to regain my composure and hardly remembering what he said, I answer as best I can. “No!”

“Then why are you drooling?”

#JB #Jaebeom #GOT7 #GOT7 smut #JB smut #GOT7 x Reader #Jaebeom x Reader #Jaebeom fanfiction #Jaebeom smut #GOT7 Werewolf AU #Werewolf AU #Werewolf!Jaebeom #Werewolf!JB

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yoongi-sugaglider · 3 years

Text

Jungkook x reader

fairy/soulmate au

Warnings: fluff, mentions of war, mentions of bodily injury, ummm...fluff? lol

Word count: Exactly 10k on the dot!!!

A/n note: So this was supposed to be my secret santa/ winter project for December 2020 but some life stuff came up aka my dad had some very severe health issues that kinda broke my brain for a while. He’s doing better now though and I finally was able to just sit and give this story the love it deserved. To @birbdae I am so sorry this is late but thank you so much for being patient with me~ Happy belated birthday and I love you bunches~

“Mother, tell me the story again?” The young girl whispered as she clung to the Queen’s multitude of skirts.

“Hush now my love.” The elegant lady gathered her child into her arms, eyes struggling to see her tiny face in the dusky twilight that surrounded them.

“Please Mother, I’m scared…”

The woman sighed, allowing her silvery hair to fall into her eyes as she pressed her forehead to her child’s and allowed the icy chill that surrounded them to comfort her into speaking.

“Once upon a time, there lived a young maiden so fair that kingdoms bowed down at the very mention of her name.”

“Queen Merialiies, the most powerful of the frost fae.” The little princess sighed, settling into her mother’s arms and allowing the familiar words to comfort her.

“Aye, that she was. And the kindest. A great war ravaged her country. So devastating was it that half the world lost their lives and the balance of life and death were in chaos.”

The Queen clutched her child closer, shivering as her eyes trained intensely on the entrance of the isolated cavern. “When the war was over the maiden emerged from hiding, seeking out her people and gathering them from their hiding places. She knew that if they were to revive the world they would have to come together, for their strength lay in their bond with each other.”

“Because our joined power is always greater than if we are alone.”

The Queen chuckled, nuzzling into her daughter’s hair and placing the most gentle of kisses to her forehead. “Am I telling this story or you my love?”

The child smiled up at her, giggling as she patted her mother’s cheek. “I’m sorry Mother, please, would you keep going?”

“Alright, where was I?”

“You were about to come to the best part!”

Smiling the Queen nodded, though her grip on her child tightened. “The maiden persevered, gaining strength from her people as they guided the world towards rebirth. But something was wrong. The poor dear, though surrounded by those that loved and adored her felt alone. Something was missing in her life. A love that she could have all to herself. She began searching, hoping to find one who could see through her strength to the innocent and lonely woman within.”

“And she did Mother! She found her own truest love.”

“Shh, quietly my lovely.” Her panicked gaze wandered the dark, listening intently to the wayward sounds that filtered in through the stone and ice.

“You’re right. She found her love. A twin flame to melt away the loneliness in her heart. The one who carried not only a burning love for her, but also the twin pair to her wings.”

The youngling sighed, burying her face in her mother’s chest as her tiny fingers wrapped in the delicate silk of her bodice. “Twin souls. They were happy right? Finding each other?”

“Of course my love. Finding your twin soul is a cause for celebration. And they did. They celebrated for weeks after. Two kingdoms joined together to celebrate the greatest love story in the history of the fae. There was no war, only peace and prosperity.”

The sounds from outside gained in volume. Explosions and cries for help echoed through the cavern as the two held each other close.

“Mother…”

“I know baby. I’m here. It will be okay…”

***

“My Lady where are you?”

The young woman flinched, tucking herself farther into the frost covered tree as she watched her jailer...lady in waiting, search for her in the gardens down below.

She’d been avoiding the poor harried woman for hours, hoping to not be dragged back to the small cabin they called home and be forced to sit down and study her histories again. The tutor they’d found liked to drone on and on, more busy with facts and numbers than the great stories of heroes and villains that the young woman preferred to daydream about. He’d taken on the job willingly, a poor clumsy scholar that tended more towards the clumsy side despite the brilliance of his mind.

“My lady! Sir Namjoon awaits you! Please stop hiding and come so that he can teach you like we hired him to!”

The woman snorted, knowing she’d be able to hide as long as she needed if it meant she didn’t have to hover protectively over her inkwell while the man droned on. Luck was not on her side this day though. Where normally her fingers would have done their work, gripping tightly to the course bark that wrapped her beloved tree in silvery protection, today they faltered in the cold.

She barely had a moment to react, a silent oh! of surprise slipping from her lips as she took her tumble. The ground rushed up to meet her, its snow covered embrace announcing her hiding spot with a resounding crash.

A gasp echoed through the clearing, swallowed by the sound of rushed footsteps crunching their way through the freshly lain snow. The fallen woman groaned, eyes filled with the sight of the uncaring forest staring down at her as she lay resigned to her fate.

“My Lady you mustn't lay on your back like…” The maid stuttered to a halt, delicate fingers coming up to cover her lips as her eyes filled with misty tears. “Oh...oh your ladyship I...I’m so s…”

“Hush now Solaris. It’s been 14 years.” The woman sat up abruptly, dusting the snow from her dress and rising to brush it off of her back. “I’ve had enough of these woods. Come now, Sir Clumsy britches is waiting for me.”

Solaris couldn’t help the tittering giggle that slipped from her lips. She bowed her head, giving the young woman a small curtsy as they began making their way back towards the village.

“Might I ask why you’re always climbing that tree my lady?” She couldn’t help her curiosity. It seemed her charge was always running off, attempting to find some adventure or another in any attempt to escape her duties.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I just…” The young woman sighed, fingers brushing at her skirts as she ducked beneath a wayward tree branch and stepped out into the clearing that housed their small cottage. “I’ve always felt like I was searching for something. Even as a child. I suppose I thought if I could see more of the land, see more of the world from up high I’d be able to figure out what that something is.”

“And have you found it my lady?”

The melancholic woman shook her head, pausing at the door to the cottage and glancing once around the clearing. It was a modest little place they called home, situated just inside the wall of trees that surrounded the capital city of their kingdom. They managed to live quietly here, benefiting from the security of the centuries old trees and forest while still being close enough to the large city to fulfill all of their living needs. It was home, though not the one she’d grown up in. That was a fairytale now only to think about in the quiet nights when she tossed and turned with nightmares of the past.

“No...I haven’t found my twin flame. Not...not yet anyway.”

***

“Your Highness! There’s news from the capital!” A hurried Solaris burst through the front door, eyes wide and panicked as she struggled to catch her breath from the obvious nonstop run from the market to their home.

“Goodness Solaris. Take a moment, calm yourself.” The young woman rose from her chair, absolutely grateful for the interruption from Sir Namjoon’s usual rantings as she guided her breathless maid to the chair she’d been occupying.

“Sir Namjoon, would you kindly draw Lady Solaris a cup of water? I’m sure she’d be grateful.”

The usually calm man grew flustered at the request, rushing towards the tiny kitchen area and rifling through the items for the requested object. Surprisingly nothing fell or broke though as the man returned with a tall cup of cold water and handed it to the maid with trembling hands and the tiniest of a dimple filled smile.

“Y...your...your water my Lady.” He muttered, scurrying back to his large stack of books as if terrified to have Solaris’s attention on him for too long.

After allowing the woman to take a few sips to calm herself her mistress took the cup, placing it off to the side and handing over a handkerchief to allow the woman to wipe at her sweat covered brow.

“Now, what’s got you so flustered that you had to burst in here in the most unladylike of manners?” She smiled in amusement as the woman inhaled sharply, almost as if preparing for the most magnanimous of speeches.

“Your highness! The king! He’s come to the capital and he’s calling all the maidens of the kingdom to attend him! It’s required that all, no matter their status, must see him at once!”

“That conquering tyrant.” Where normally she would be calm the woman suddenly burned bright red with a strange fury. “First he takes our country and now he wants all of the maidens to attend to him?” She turned from her hand maid, fury twisting her features as she stomped over to the window to glare out at the surrounding forest.

“No my Lady, you’re mistaken.” Solaris stuttered, sitting up in her chair as she finally allowed her thoughts to settle. “It’s for the First Prince. They’re wanting a marriage of good faith to allow the two kingdoms to integrate peacefully.”

“P..peacefully??” She sputtered as she turned from the window. Throwing her hands in the air she couldn’t help but to rant. “Those hot heads should have thought of that BEFORE they burned our crops and raided our villages! We’d have easily come to a compromise of some sort had they come bearing that same mentality before taking up arms against us!”

“Madame, they…”

“Yes yes I know.” She waved off Namjoon’s words dismissively. “My father didn’t want to send me there. Didn’t want his precious daughter to ‘descend into that den of thieves’” She tossed up air quotes, sarcasm dripping from every word she spoke. “Really, you men and your misplaced pride. It’s ridiculous how foolish you can be when you think with your sword instead of your minds.”

“With our...m..Madam!” The look of shock on the poor scholar’s face would have been priceless any other day. But for some reason the stately lady of the house just wasn’t feeling the need to tease the scholar.

“So how are they doing this?” She made her way to her favorite chair as she spoke, dropping into it with a huff and staring out of the small cottage’s window. The drifting snowflakes outside caught her attention and she watched them dance their way to the ground as she listened to Solaris explain the situation.

“They’ll be sending soldiers to each house bearing invitations for each eligible female.”

“They’ll be tallying each one up too. Make sure they can count each household while they’re at it.” She grumped as she folded her arms on the window ledge and plopped her chin on her forearms.

“More than likely, yes. And adding to that they’ll send the same soldiers out the day of the ball to come and collect the women.” Namjoon chimed in. “They’ll claim it’s a safety precaution but more so it’s to ensure none of them run off.”

“Why would they do that?” Solaris blinked innocently, her dazed expression and glazed eyes giving away how little she understood of the situation. “A ball! Just imagine all of the beautiful dresses we would see. And all of the handsome young men!” Her giggle echoed through the silent cabin. It quickly died off when she realized neither of her companions were sharing in her excitement.

“Honestly, I forget sometimes you weren’t old enough to remember the war and how horrible things were for our kind.” Standing from her window seat she brushed at the gossamer fabric of her dress as if attempting to rid herself of some imagined dust. “When is this ball they have planned?”

“In three days. They’ll begin sending out soldiers in the morning.” Solaris replied, hanging her head sadly.

“I see. Sir Namjoon, we’ll resume my studies once I’ve returned.” She turned away from the teo, making her way to her room and beginning to pack a small selection of her belongings.

“Wh...Miss...what are you doing?” Solaris demanded as she sidestepped the whirlwind of a woman who was now packing small packages of dried meats and medicines from the storage area of the kitchen.

“I can’t be there. If they find me, find out who I am? I just...I have to go.”

She finished packing, mind a cold void as her determination was already set. After informing the two where she was going she set off, hoping to escape whatever fate was trying to force her way.

***

The woods were lovely, dark, and deep.

She found herself sighing at the sounds that greeted her as she stepped from the tree line to survey her surroundings.

Before her and stretching far off into the horizon was a massive frozen lake, it's surface dappled by the hoof and paw prints of the many animals that dwelled in the safety of the forest beyond and refused to sleep the winter months away. A rare smile graced her lips, one almost as secretive as the hidden cave she turned and began to make her way towards.

Her steps became lighter as she crunched through the snow, the weight of the sudden announcement lifting from her shoulders as she stepped beneath the glistening blue stalactites. The interior was dimly lit from the light that gently filtered through from the ice that protected the entrance from prying eyes.

The only sound that echoed in the place were her unhurried footsteps and a gentle dripping that whispered to her from somewhere further back in the darkness. She'd visited here many times before, a quiet reprieve she'd found several summers ago when she'd come to the lake to escape the insufferable heat of the season.

The locals didn't visit it,claiming it to be haunted by a human's soul that'd taken up residency in the place a millennia ago, back before the wingless race had died off. It suited her perfectly well as it gave her the solitude she needed to allow her poor broken wings a chance to be free.

And she did just that as she dumped her pack beside the cold ashes of the firepit she'd made during her last visit. Unsnapping the corset that since her waist she allowed it to drop beside her pack and stretched out what remained of her wings.

The nerves had died off long ago, the burnt ends though still stung with the phantom pain, a dark reminder of the night her entire childhood was ripped away from her. She sighed, glancing over her shoulders and imagining the wings as they used to be, a swirl of silver color patterned with flames and snowflakes that gave her the glorious joy of flying through the freezing winter air.

Fluttering them once and then twice she stretched them, letting the cold cave air cool them after being compressed within her body heat for so long. It was a shame really, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on it for too long, she had a camp to make and some relaxing to do.

***

Jungkook had had just about enough of his aides. They hovered at all hours of the day, incessant in their rambling about court protocol and how important it was to not start any fights with the locals. He was well aware.

He’d never even wanted the war that had ravaged the Winter Kingdom. Had begged his father and the generals to try peace over everything else. But in the end the words of a child had gone unheard by the war blinded adults.

So here he sat, shivering violently from the cold as those blasted tittering fools for his aides dashed around his chamber. He could have called on his flaming core to warm him, but after the first day of doing so only to find himself collapsed in the hall from using far too much energy, he’d just decided it was better to suffer the cold than to appear weak in front of his unfortunate enemies.

“Sire! We must leave now. You mustn’t be late for Lord Hoseok’s dance lessons!” The tiny mouse of a man squeaked, trying so very hard to appear contained and in charge despite the dark circles of worry beneath his eyes.

“Jimin, you know that even if I’m early Lord Hoseok will still grind me into the dust for not learning that infernal winter waltz faster.” The Prince frowned, taking in Jimin’s fear-streaked face.

“That may be Your Highness. But should you dally any longer you’ll be late for sword training with Sir Yoongi as well as etiquette lessons with Lord Seokjin. We have to stick to your schedule or they’ll all be displeased and tell your Father!” Jimin squeaked again, petite hands fluttering up to cover the trembling of his lips.

“My father is too busy planning out his next conquest to even pay half a mind to what’s going on with me or my ’schedule’. Never mind…” He sighed, getting up from the window seat he’d been staring out of and making his way out of his room.

“Have Taehyung meet me at dinner. I’ve got something to discuss with him.”

***

The day continued on, lesson after grueling lesson eating away at what little patience the prince had left.

He collapsed into his chair at dinner, too exhausted mentally and physically to pay any mind to the meal scattered out before him.

“Sire, Lord Taehyung has arrived.”

Jungkook glanced up, a tired smile being all he could come up with for his friend.

“You look like a dog dug you up in the yard and used you as a chew toy then reburied you and shit on the pile of dirt.” The young man commented as he took his place beside the monarch in training.

“You know I could have your head for that.” Jungkook grumped as he tossed a pea from his plate in the young Lord’s direction.

“Ah, you could. But they’d have to catch me first.” His statement was emphasized by the pea he’d caught between two fingers.

He was nothing if not quick. He’d worked long ago as an assassin but now sat as Jungkook’s right hand man as well as his best friend.

Jungkook smiled, probably the first pleasant expression he’d worn in quite some time.

“So my great and glorious super Prince, future king of all that is boiling and frozen, to what do I owe this most prestigious of honors of being called upon and humble myself in your magnanimous presence?”

Jungkook just about choked on his water, laughing and coughing at the ridiculousness that was Taehyung’s words.

“By the flame you’ve been hanging out with Lord Seokjin again haven’t you?” He snorted, dabbing a napkin at his nose to clear out the water that’d streamed out while he was laughing.

“I mean, the man has great taste in puns. As a Master of many things it behooves me to learn the delicate art of insulting royalty at every turn without actually offending them.” Taehyung shrugged, spearing a chunk of glazed carrot and waving it through the air as he spoke.

“Well, I called you here for a favor actually.” The prince leaned forward, eyes taking in the unaffected assassin who’d busied himself munching on the food that Jungkook was decidedly ignoring.

“Is that so? Whelped a brat that needs hiding?”

Jungkook sputtered, cheeks a bright crimson as his eyes darted around the empty dining room.

“Taehyung!!”

“That’s a no. Only virgin cheeks brush that brightly at a subject like that.”

“I’ll have you know!!!”

“Hush now, poppa’s thinking.” Taehyung smirked at the flustered royal. “If it’s not that..hmm…” He tapped his chin, pretending to think long and hard while Jungkook tried to gather his bearings.

“You’ve insulted a young maiden and her father’s come a calling wanting reparations and you need the family off’d?”

“For the love of...Taehyung please!?” Jungkook collapsed forward, head buried in his arms as he screamed silently into the table cloth. “You’re never allowed near Seokjin again I swear.”

Taehyung snorted, eyes dancing with glee at having gotten under his friend’s skin.

“So, you’re tired of the court and want to escape is it? Get away from the ball daddy King face arranged so you don’t have to marry some country bumpkin ice queen?”

“I!! Wait. No you’re right. That’s exactly it.” Jungkook’s head jerked up, his face a picture of surprise and awe at how astute the man before him was. “How did you know?”

“We’ve been friends for going on 12 years now my little dongsaeng. How could I not know that you’ve been pushed to your limit and need to escape?” Taehyung smiled, reaching across the table and patting Jungkook’s elbow.

“Don’t worry. Hyung will get you out of this castle. I’ll meet you on your balcony at midnight. Pack light and wear that disguise you’re hiding in that secret compartment at the back of your closet.” Taehyung rose, grabbing one last chicken leg as he began to make his way out of the room.

“How did you…” Before he could finish his sentence though the assassin was already gone, having disappeared into the shadowy hall with one last flirtatious wink thrown over his shoulder.

***

The escape from the castle was simple thanks to Taehyung. A cloak and some heavy clothing were enough to disguise the wings that marked the young Prince as the royal that he was.

The two friends departed with reassurances from Taehyung that he’d lead the guards on a few wild goose chases just long enough for the ball to have come and gone. Jungkook counted his lucky stars in thanks for the effectiveness he’d come to rely on in his friend for so many years.

He took flight, the snowflake and flame veins that marked his wings becoming a blur as he darted through the snow covered canopy of the woods that marked the southern boundary of the Winter kingdom’s capital city.

It didn’t matter where he ended up, he just flew, darting here and there through the trees with a freedom and joy he hadn’t enjoyed in flame only knows how long. He allowed his mind to wander, thoughts a chaotic jumble of hopes and dreams he only allowed himself to think of when he was alone in his rooms at night.

Something gave him pause as he flew. He’d been going for quite some time, but a strange light had flashed at him out of the corner of his eye. A blue glittering affair that’d appeared between the trees despite the woods being pitch dark and most of his vision having been obscured by the blur of fluttering snowflakes.

He pulled up quick, wings only barely straining to keep him from slamming into the trunk of a massive tree that’d been in his way. He twisted in the air, eyes seeking the glow and spotting it as the reflection of a strange light glittering off of the surface of a massive frozen lake.

He moved towards it, allowing his curiosity to guide him on. Stopping short at the edge of the lake he hovered, shielding him from view of the woman dancing on the glowing ice.

It was the strangest thing he’d seen, the way the light shone on her twirling frame as she danced through the snow. It was almost as if the entirety of existence had paused for this one moment. Icicles on the tree branches around him chimed their tune, a melody gifted to his ears from the whispering wind to lend a soft winter’s melody to the racing of his aching heart. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, the whirling ice Princess giggling in the snow.

His wings fluttered, prisms of warm light glancing off her form and highlighting the broken and burned stubs of her wings. He knew the look of those wounds and it hurt to think that at some point the war that had torn their nations apart could have taken the joy of flight from such a beautiful fairy. Without thinking he allowed himself to be lifted through the air, his body reacting first to the pull of the sight of her and second to the musicality of her voice as she sang to the winter’s breeze.

The effort of drifting against the freezing weather proved to be too much for the flame that flickered in his core though. His wings faltered, frost having formed along their tips and weighing them down. The ice of the frozen lake rushed towards him and he couldn’t help the cry of fear that broke free of his chest as he crashed through the thick ice. The last he saw of the enchanting maiden was her panicked gaze, eyes wide at the intrusion and lips parted in a frantic yell as his head sunk beneath the surface.

***

A warmth brushed against his skin and he shivered, subconsciously shimmying his body closer to it. His eyelids felt weighed down by the cold, unable to open as he groaned in protest of the aching cold that stiffened his joints and limbs.

“Hush now, the fire will warm you. Just rest and let the heat do its job.”

The soft melody of the femanine voice eased his mind and he buried himself deeper beneath the heavy furs that surrounded his body.

The woman meanwhile continued to stoke the fire, having long since dried herself after diving in to save the hulking form of the foolish fire fairy that’d allowed himself to be pulled into the lake.

She turned her head, shyly eyeing his form as he breathed softly beneath the furs. She couldn’t help but allow herself to admire his soft sleeping face. Watched as his long eyelashes brushed his cheeks and admired the chiseled shape of his jaw.

She was sure that if he were awake his smile would be soft but wide, imagining teeth nibbling at his lower lip as he chuckled at some joke while doe like eyes glittered with his mirth.

Shaking her head she slapped her cheeks. What was wrong with her!? No matter how handsome he might seem this man was an enemy to her people! She scoffed at her own foolishness, though the sound was caught short as she began to question herself.

If he was an enemy why had she risked her life to save him? She’d known instantly from the way the frost had clung to his wings from the brief glimpse she’d caught of him before he’d been pulled beneath the surface of the waves exactly what he was. And yet when she’d seen those soft...brown...panicked eyes sink within the icy grip of the lake something had screamed from within her to save him. It had been pure instinct at the time.

And now as she sat by the fire, admiring the flames as they danced across their wooden fuel she allowed herself to turn her attention back to the strange ache that twisted at her shoulder blades. It’d crept up her spine as she’d been dancing earlier. As the moon’s rays had shone upon her and just before she’d spotted the crashing flame fairy.

She stretched her arms above her head, willing the dull pain to go away. And though her muscles relaxed and her mind stilled the ache remained, just at the base of her wings and tingling up nerves that she’d assumed long dead and gone. It had to have been the heat of the fire.

And so, after tossing a few more logs upon the flame and checking that her rescue was well and truly asleep and tucked in she walked back out into the cold. Her hopes were that the freezing snow would numb the nerves that seemed to want to awaken. As much as she missed flying through blizzards and dancing through the air with the winter cardinals she didn’t much mind having lost them. It was preferred honestly, as those things she missed always reminded her of the one who’d taught her those joys and she just couldn’t bear the thought of being reminded of her beloved and dearly departed mother.

After an hour or so of allowing herself to wander the secluded forest she made her way back to her cave, wings sufficiently numbed and mind at ease. Though the peaceful mindset was instantly chased away when she came back to see the young man she’d rescued moaning and tossing beneath the furs.

Dashing over she dropped to her knees, fingers frantic as she chased his forehead and placed her icy palm against his burning cheeks. Hissing she jerked her hand back. It was known the flame lords ran much hotter than those of her kind, but this amount of heat was worrying. Rising quickly she raced to her pack, pulling out herbs and medicines, sorting through them and selecting a few she knew to be safe for him.

Back to the fire she went, grabbing her tea kettle and filling it with snow from the entrance to melt above the flames. As the kettle began to boil she tossed in the herbs, eyes anxiously darting back and forth to the trembling form that groaned feverishly for his father .

“Hush now dear, I’ll help I promise.” She mumbled, more to comfort herself as she waited for the medicine to brew.

Once it was ready she ladled it into a cup, blowing desperately on it to cool it as she knelt once more by his side. Pushing away a portion of the skins she lifted his head into her lap, brushing at the black hairs that clung to his forehead from the sweat as she cooed softly to him.

“Here now dear one, open your eyes, I need you to take this.”

He was much too weak to reply to her, muttering in his feverish sleep about poisons and dungeons.

“It’s not poison. It’s holy basil and chamomile. Now drink. It’ll take the fever away.” Her whispered words seemed to calm him. Bringing the cup to his lips she smiled softly as he drank eagerly from the medicine. Eventually he turned his head away, breathing heavily and moaning to himself. The deep husk of his voice twisted her insides, causing a blush to rush to her cheeks as the silken strands of his hair brushed down over his eyes.

She hadn’t noticed that the sides of his head were shaved, something those in the military and the aristocrats of the fire nation tended to do when important events came up.

He must have been intending on going to that fool prince’s ball. She hummed to herself, finding it hard to allow the bitterness that would normally form at the sight of him to rise up within her. He just seemed far too innocent while he slept in her lap.

Shaking away the butterflies that tried to rise in her stomach she laid him back down on the makeshift pillow she’d made of a rolled up deerskin and tucked the pile of heavier skins back around him. It would take a dose or two more of the medicine to break the fever but she was determined now. He just had to live or the emotions that rose within her would never let her live her own life in peace again.

*** It was unfathomable how two days of caring for someone in such a state could raise such an attachment in her. She’d wiped his brow so many times she’d become familiar with every scar and divot on his face, making up stories for each as to how he could have gotten them.

On the third day he finally awoke, still groggy from the medicated tea but coherent enough to begin eating the gruel she’d made for him.

“Eat slowly now. There’s no point in rushing if you’re just going to throw it all up later.” She whispered to him, knowing that if she spoke any louder the echoes of the cave would only give him a headache.

“Why are you caring for me like this?” he asked, glancing up at her through his eyelashes as he spooned another bite into his mouth.

“I...well.” She paused for a moment, fingers picking at the frayed wood of the stick she’d been using to stoke the fire.

“My mother always taught me that kindness is more important than any grudge we could hold.” Looking up she gave him a soft smile, though a bit of her pain showed through at the mention of the dearly departed Queen.

“She must have been a great lady.” Placing the bowl and spoon at his side he leaned back against the roughened cave walls, finally allowing his gaze to take in the woman that had saved his life.

She was just as beautiful as his glimpsed image of her had led him to believe, though his heart sank one more when he spotted the burnt nubs that were her wings. He thought for a moment to question her on it, but common sense stopped him halfway to opening his mouth. There was no way that wasn’t a touchy subject, so he left well enough alone.

Instead he allowed his gaze to wander the cave, taking in the rough hewn walls and the way she’d seemed to have made the place her own. Herbs hung from the walls on pegs, bundles of various types each used to treat various injuries and ailments. Though by the way they were hung he suspected they’d been put there more as decoration than anything else. The fire lit the area up nicely, allowing him to see much further into the cave than he’d expected.

Looking closely he noticed that a lot of the formations he thought to be ice drippings were actually some type of crystal. Though he didn’t recognize them he realized pretty quickly that they were absorbing the light from the fire and projecting that light almost like a torch.

“So...is this your home or…”

“Oh goodness no. I reside in town, I’m just here to get away.” She shook her head, giving off a soft giggle that had his heart soaring.

“I can understand that sentiment. Things were rapidly becoming stifling out there. One could hardly blame a lovely young fae such as yourself for wanting to get away.” He chuckled, his grin widening as she blushed at his compliment.

“Is...is that why you were out in the storm? To get away?”

He nodded as he tucked his hands beneath the fur skins. “Duty to your people can only push you so far before it starts to take over who you are. I wasn’t about to let my father dictate who I was going to become any longer. He’s made enough rash decisions to ruin an entire kingdom, I won’t have myself become a part of that any longer.”

The young man’s words rolled over in her mind, bouncing off the image before her along with the events that had brought her to this very cave.

It wasn’t too hard to put together that he was the young prince and a moment of anger had her clutching the stick in her hand and very seriously considering killing him right then and there.

His father was the reason her parents were dead and her kingdom had burned after all. There was no one here to witness it if she did. And yet a small voice in the recesses of her mind held her back and stayed her hand.

She thought over his words once more, realizing he’d wanted the war no more than she had. What his father had chosen and done should not have been laid on his shoulder.

Placing the stick beside her she began speaking to him. Asking him questions about his childhood and giving her own answers when he asked in turn. They spent the night like this, conversing on any subject that came to mind while avoiding their own identities as much as possible.

The sun outside began to rise and still they spoke, bonding over shared misfortunes and shared goals and dreams when it came to their respective kingdoms.

Unbeknownst to them their mutual feelings for each other began to grow. When she led him out into the light on unsteady feet and he slipped but a little, only for her to catch him, an exchange of touches, barely brief though it may have been, ignited a flame within them both.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and breathing in the frozen scent of her, a crisp smell like the first cold snap of winter.

“You are...ethereal...did you know that?” He whispered, his lips a hair’s breadth away from her own.

She hummed, mind a haze as her eyelashes fluttered close.”You smell of ash and coal...like roasting over an open fire on a warm summer’s day.”

“Oh?” He chuckled, the sound sending a thrill of excitement through her. “And is that so bad little snowflake?”

“No...I don’t think it is…”

***

The day finally came when the young Prince found himself strong enough to walk on his own. His fever had long since gone and the color was finally beginning to come back to his cheeks.

“You know...we could always just stay here.”

She glanced up at his words, pausing in stirring the stew she’d been cooking over the fire. “What do you mean?”

“Neither of us wants to go back. And well...I rather prefer things out here compared to the hustle and bustle of my normal life.” He picked at a loose bit of string on his clothes, refusing to meet her gaze as he let her mull over his proposal.

“I...hmm.” Sitting back on her heels she stared into the fire. It was tempting, the idea of leaving the stress of her life behind. Having to pretend she wasn’t who her people needed her to be.

“They’ve been too long without a leader.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

Their gazes met, each burning with their own inner fire.

“My people. I may be broken, but they need me. Just as yours need you. One day we’ll have to lead and running away isn’t going to make any of what happened okay.”

Simple words though they may have been they struck a cord in him. More so than anything the multitude of scholars and aids and so called guides could have done. He nodded, determination filling him.

“I may not be able to change much, but one day I will lead, and things will have to change. My father is getting old, as are his war mongering generals…” His words stuttered to a stop, a blush coloring his features as he realized his misstep. “I uh...I mean…”

She couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Don’t worry little Prince. I am well aware of who you are.”

“But..how..”

“Your words may seem subtle or simple but your demeanor can’t be hidden.” She rose, abandoning the spoon she’d been using in the pot.

“And now, I am Y/n the last of the winter fairy monarchs, Princess of Winter and future Queen of my people. It’s an honor to meet you Sire.” With that she bowed, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Wait you’re what?? Who?? But how, we were told you and your family…”

“Burned?” Straightening she turned slightly, her wings on display. “My father died fighting yours. And my mother died protecting me. No I did not come out of that battle unscarred.”

“But...why…”

“Why am I telling you?” She tilted her head at him as she returned to stirring the meal.

“I saved your life and nursed you back to health, your people call this a life debt, no?”

He nodded, suddenly realizing just how much he owed her.

“Well, consider this calling in that life debt. A pact between friends you could say. Keep my identity a secret, and on the day you ascend the crown you will find yourself an ally in me.” She smiled, passing him a bowl of the stew.

“That…that’s putting a lot in a man you’ve barely known a fortnight.” He accepted the bowl graciously, barely suppressing a moan at the flavors that danced across his tongue.

“That may be. But life debts are held over everything in your culture. I can trust that above anything else you could give me.”

He huffed, running his fingers through his hair and scratching the back of his head. She’d noticed it was something he did when he was thinking hard on something and had come to find it endearing.

“I mean, I’d have kept your secret even without the pact but...if you insist on calling that as your favor I supposed I truly have no choice.”

The giggle that spilled forth from her made his heart clench and he couldn’t help but grin at her in return, his cheek dimpling and his nose crinkling like a snow bunny.

“It’s settled then.” She announced, standing and taking his now empty food bowl to be washed out.

“Oh? What’s settled?” He stood as well, pulling the empty stew pot from the fire to cool.

“I’ll be taking you back to town come morning and...oh…” She stumbled, her legs suddenly buckling beneath her.

If it hadn’t been for the flame fairy’s quick reflexes she’d have surely injured herself. But his strong arms wrapped around her,pulling her close and checking her over to make sure she was okay.

“By the flame, you’re going to get yourself hurt doing all that!” He frowned, fingertips running along the ridges of her shoulder blades as he watched her blink blurrily up at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked his frown deepening as she leaned into his touch, lashes brushing her cheeks as her eyes fluttered shut.

“Y/n?” Panic surged through him as he lifted her limp form into his arms.

Where normally her skin was as cold as a winter’s stream it now burned almost as hot as he was and that set him on edge more so than anything ever had in his life. His heart raced as he trudged through the cave and out into the cold morning snow of the forest.

He thanked his flame for the sense of direction Taehyung had instilled in him so many times over the years as his body instinctively turned in the direction of the winter city they’d come from. His wings gave an experimental flutter, barely lifting him off the ground and for the first time since his fall he actually cursed at himself for his midwinter plunge into the icy lake. Walking was his only option.

He continued on through the forest, moving here and there through the trees in as direct a path as he could manage, all the while whispering soft sweet words of comfort to her when she would toss about in her feverish state.

The only time she paused and relaxed was when the sun would shine through the tree, though Jungkook paid no mind to this, only grateful that she allowed him the reprieve to march on with little struggle.

“N...Namjoon.” She whispered, and for a moment his heart sank. Who was this Namjoon she spoke of? Some lover she never mentioned in all the time they’d spent together.

“Scholar...physician…”

A spark of understanding coursed through him and his steps quickened with a renewed vigor as he came to the edge of the city. A few curt words and ignored glances and he’d arrived at the physician’s clinic, panting from the exertion and praying to every deity he could name that the one she’d spoken of was home.

“Sir! Good Physician! I have need of your aid!” Jungkook announced, using his elbow to force the large wooden door open.

The sound of crashing and halfhearted curses came from some dark corner of the clinic and a tall winter fairy emerged, glasses barely hanging off the tip of his nose as he squinted across the room at the Prince.

“What can I do for you today?” He asked, voice gruff from sleep as he moved closer to Jungkook.

“W...y/n?? Wait, how did she?”

“You know her then? We were out by the lake when she suddenly took ill. I don’t know..what or how but she’d burning up!”

“Bring her to the table!” The physician rushed off, motioning to a large wooden table towards the center of the room.

Jungkook complied, ever so delicately placing her down and stepping back to allow the man to work.

As he began examining her he threw a slew of endless questions at the shaken prince who himself was near to collapsing from exhaustion.

“I...I don’t know. She was eating just fine, talking and laughing and it seemed like she was okay. But suddenly...she just collapsed. I just…” His fingers nervously tapped a rhythm on his thighs as his eyes darted around the clinic, searching or hoping for something to look at to ground his mind in the moment.

“Mmm..I’m sure it’s just a cold, or some sort of illness. Though...she’s never been sick a day in her life..” The bespectacled man mumbled to himself as he pressed his fingers against her wrist, checking her pulse and sighing to himself as he stepped away.

“There are a few things I can try just to ease the fever and whatever pain she may be feeling but this is going to take some time…”

“I...I’ll stay with her! I can’t just leave her like this!”

“Your highness...You really should be getting back to the palace.”

“How…” Jungkook’s jaw dropped, eyes bugging out as he stared in fear at the man before him.

“You carry yourself too well to just be some fire nation soldier off the street. And besides, I was there during your coronation. You held yourself well considering the obvious hangover you were sporting.”

A brilliant blush rose on the Prince’s cheeks as he attempted to sputter out a response. The physician chuckled, patting him amiably on the shoulder.

“Worry not, I’ll do everything I can to ease her pain. I’ll send word to the palace once I know anything. Be off M’lord, you’ve duties to attend to.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the lingering longing look he gave her, a sigh escaping his lips as he resigned himself to the waiting game.

Namjoon frowned as the prince finally left. It’d taken a considerable amount of bribing and fussing to get him to finally walk away but the fact that the young man lingered so long worried him.

“What did you get yourself into this time…”

***

Panic filled the small room of the physician’s clinic.

He’d spent the last few hours trying every remedy and potion he could find and still her condition deteriorated.

A scream of frustration built in his chest, only barely suppressed by the need to care for her. He sat at his desk, pouring over tomes of old and tossing each aggressively across the room when they proved to be of no use to him.

“Fate’s sake!” He growled, standing from his desk and shoving the chair out behind them.

She’d begun whimpering in her feverish state, every now and again whispering desperate pleas for help and wrenching the knife deeper in his chest. He felt useless, dropping to his knees on the floor beside her and clutching at her hand.

“Tell me, please? How can I help you? What is it that you need?” He whimpered, tears filling his eyes. “How do I save you?”

“M...mommy….tell me a story…”

The words didn’t register at first. Another sentence to him in a long line of whispered desperation.

But a brief flash of recognition hit. “Merialiies…”

He bolted upright, eyes wide and wild with inspiration.

“There’s no way!”

Racing back to his desk he shoved the books and papers out of his way, searching for the small book of tales he’d picked up at the shops a few weeks back.

A shout of triumph burst forth as he held it aloft, eyes glistening with hope as he flipped the pages to one particular story.

“The Heart’s Twin Flames.” He turned to y/n, watching her shift on the table as if trying desperately to escape some pain in her back. “There’s just no way…”

Making his way back he ever so gently turned her to her side, eyes widening at the inflamed skin spreading out across her back from the base of her wings.

“Could it be?” Dropping everything he lifted her into his arms, cringing at the sounds of pain coming from his precious cargo.

“Just hold on, I’ll take you to him. If I’m right...you may just get your wings back.”

He hurried from the clinic, not even paying mind that he’d left the front door open to swing in the wind.

“Move! Please get out of my way. This is an emergency!” He shouted, shoving his way through the crowd of villagers lining the walkways as he raced towards the castle.

The front gates loomed before him, almost imposing if it weren’t for the sheer amount of panic flowing through him.

“Halt! State your business.” A soldier stepped before him, massive sword held at his throat .

Namjoon showed no fear, spine straight and shoulders squared as he stood his ground against the intimidating soldier.

“I’ve come at the request of his Highness Prince Jungkook of the Fire Fae kingdom. It is of the utmost importance that I speak with him immediately.”

The soldier continued to glare as a second stepped forward and the show of force began to deflate him.

“You don’t understand! I need to see him! It’s his twin flame! He found her and now without him she will die!”

“A likely story! Today is the day of his ball and you expect me to believe that suddenly a woman is his twin flame and without him she will die?” The guards chuckled together, heads thrown back with laughter as they continued to mock him.

“Sir, please! I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to! She’s dying. There must be something we can do?!”

The guard shook his head, a steely gaze pinning the poor man in place. It was obvious he wasn’t moved by their story.

“No matter the reason these gates were ordered to remain closed. Should you have proper documents the case would be different but there is nothing I can do for you. Find her a doctor, or some sort of specialist. But find them somewhere else.”

“Have you no heart man!? We’ve seen the doctor, hell I AM the doctor! There’s nothing more to do for her but get the Prince’s help! Please you must understand?? Surely you’ve heard the legends, are they not told to your children? They are fated to be! The proof is right here!” Namjoon was practically purple in the face by this point, spittle flying as he screamed in the face of the guard who’s grip was forever tightening on his spear.

Unbeknownst to the arguing pair and barely conscious woman the fae in question had heard everything.

“Sir?” One of the many aids that had been walking with the future ruler gave him a questioning stare, wondering what their next action would be.

“There’s no harm in finding out Jimin. I’m more than suited to handle things should there be any threat.” Prince Jungkook smiled, a rare sight on the man as he handed over the documents they’d been going over as they walked from the main castle to the stables.

“Alright. I’ll take these back to the stable master in your stead. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

The prince grinned, bumping his aid in the shoulder with his elbow. “Now when have I ever done anything stupid?”

“Need I remind you of the state you were in last night?”

“Can’t hear you! Walking away now!” Prince Jungkook tossed over his shoulder as he made his way to the woven metal grating that served as the castle’s front gate.

For a moment he hung back in the shadows, eyeing the tall bespectacled man who seemed to have an almost vice like death grip on the tiny quivering bundle of rags in his arms.

The snow that had been falling began to ease up, revealing a small crowd that had gathered behind them all. As the guard and nameless man argued the townsfolk began to chime in, screaming curses at him and bickering with every word he spoke.

The Prince’s temper only flared when the first stone was thrown, something seemingly so small that it would have been noticeable if it weren’t for the fact that it’d hit the bundle’s back, causing a small squeak of pain to echo through the gateway. He knew that squeak.

“What’s going on here?” He puffed his chest out, spine straight and eyes fierce as he allowed the flames of rage to flow through him. Striding forward with all of the ego and confidence that his position afforded he stepped between the man and the crowd. The mere sight of him had those gathered scurrying away, hollered apologies tossed over snow covered shoulders as they dashed off to whatever tasks they’d been attending to before allowing their chicken like rubbernecking to get the better of their attention.

“Y..your Highness. I just...” The man stuttered, shifting the tiny bundle of cloth in his arms as he struggled to push through his own confusion and panic at seeing the regal object of his desperation appearing before him.

“Guard, can you explain to me why it is that you’ve allowed a mob of people to gather at the entrance to my future home?”

“He was...he just wanted…”

“Sire please! It’s y/n, she needs your help!”

“Y/n?” This peaked his interest. “Is she alright? Is...what happened? I only just saw her a few hours ago!”

“Sire, she fell terribly ill and what was left of her wings has begun flaking off. If we don’t act quickly there’s...there’s just no hope of saving her.”

Prince Jungkook glanced around, indecision causing him to hesitate for a moment as he watched his guards scanning the surrounding area.

“Alright, bring her inside, we’ll take her to my physi…”

“Sire please, she doesn’t have time for that!” Namjoon couldn’t help the tone of his voice as he shouted at the intimidating man. “You have to help her now, she’s dying the longer we talk about this!”

He dropped to his knees, unwrapping the blanket from the woman’s trembling form and carefully laying her body on the glistening snow.

Jungkook’s feet crunched through the snow, eyes squinted as he shielded them from the glare of the sun reflecting sharply off the glow surrounding the dying woman’s form. A strange itch began in the center of his shoulder blades, that spot he could never reach where his wings joined with the muscles of his back.

Shrugging off his cloak he knelt beside her, heart racing as the strange feeling in his wings slowly spread to the rest of him. The sun burst through the clouds, shining brightly and warming his exposed skin as his fingers brushed her cheek.

“My liege, all you have to do is allow the sun to shine through your wings and onto her. That alone is enough.” Namjoon whispered as he stepped back from them and allowed them their space.

Jungkook couldn’t help but to hesitate. There were so many things that could go wrong should he allow himself to listen to this strange man. If it were a track of some sort his kingdom would suffer if anything happened to him. But as he watched her pained face scrunch once more and as the sound of her pitiful whimper reached his ears his resolve steeled.

Leaning forward he spread his wings, allowing the light of the sun to cast a prism of reflected light over her body. The air filled with a magic the kingdom hadn’t seen in a very long time. Golden dust motes filled the air, sparkling like fireflies out in the mid-day glow. It attracted those that’d hurried away, gathering them in the square and on the streets.

The soldiers shouted, weapons raised in alarm as they watched their fearless leader begin to rise into the air alongside the small wingless form that he cradled so closely to his chest. But just as suddenly as their alarm and rage and fear rose it began to vanish, replaced instead with a calm joy that thrilled through their veins quicker than an adrenaline fueled march into the battlefield.

The people began to cheer as the two bodies were engulfed in light that shone so bright it began to rival the sun. And all along the young man couldn’t take his eyes off her form.

The woman that’d given him shelter in that freezing midnight cave. Her once frail body began to fill with life, color returning to her cheeks and her weak fingers gaining strength as they clung to his royal clothes. Her eyes fluttered open, a gasp escaping her lips as where once there was only burned stumps, now beautiful crystalline wings sprouted forth from her body, fluttering on the breeze before quickly gaining the strength to allow her to hover on her own.

And his own wings lost their brilliant red glow, cooling and shimmering as he beat them gently to keep him aloft.

The glow surrounding them faded and a hush fell over the crowd at the sight. A tiny waif of a girl engulfed in the strong arms of the royal flame.

“My love.”

“My twin flame.”

“I never got to thank you for saving my life.” His words caused her to blush as she looked at him through her eyelashes.

“I think you just did…”

Their hushed voices whispered words of comfort as their bodies slowly returned to earth. They’d only had eyes for each other, but as their feet returned to the earth that’d born them they turned to the people, each smiling with a joy that the once warring people felt throughout the lands. Warriors dropped their weapons, embracing the people they’d fought with for so very long.

Jungkook turned to the winter maiden, long,calloused fingers engulfing her own as he leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers.

“My love, how could I not have recognized you for what you were?”

“My sweet future king. Fate has a strange way of finding lovers and putting them together when the world needs their love the most.” She smiled, warm tears filling her eyes as her heart filled with a warmth only he could provide.

As one they turned to their people, joined hands raising into the air as Jungkook announced.

“I have found my Twin Flame. May peace rain on our kingdoms with the union of our joined blood! May you all find the joy my heart has been seeking. For from this moment on there will be no war, there will be no fighting. WE ARE ONE!!”

The people cheered, warriors embraced farmers, aristocrats feasted among peasants. Fire embraced ice. And as their lips met in a dewy kiss filled with all of the passion of new love, peace did reign. For they were now one.

#castle bangtan #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #soulmate au #bts soulmate au #jungkook soulmate au #bts fairy au #bts far au #jungkook fairy au #jungkook fae au #bts angst #bts imagine #bts reactions #bts fic #my writing

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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You’re gonna go far, kid [Punk! England x reader]

Synopsis: Ever since coming to England to study, you haven’t had the time to do what made you come in the first place--tourism! The only friend you have is an exchange student from Russia, Ivan, so why not kill two birds with one stone? He schedules a little playdate with Arthur, a local, so he can show you around the hottest spots in London. You two immediately hit it off. Ivan is quick to notice his interest in you, so he starts teasing the poor man and making things hard for him. Camden is the last destination, and there’s no saying when he’ll ever see you again. Will he be able to get over himself and ask you out before the night ends? Note: Attractions are italicized and have a link to a picture. Wordcount: 4,641 The reader is referred to as she/her.

This was the day you had been dreading, and yet, looking forward to. The first part was easy to explain. Picking up your hot latte, you set it down after a quick sip. You didn’t even have time to enjoy it. Not when you were typing away at your keyboard like a speed demon. You promised your friend you would finish your assignment before today’s meet-up, but your procrastination habits were a bitch. Nevertheless, you were eager to uphold your side of the deal, even if it meant stressing your hair out to get it done.

So long as he didn’t show up before you were done, right?

After burning your tongue for the second time that morning, you let out a small groan at the sting you felt but gasped at what you saw outside the window. It was a sound made from genuine terror--rather than the quiet streets of London at seven AM, you spotted a man pressing his face right up to the glass. And he was staring at you, menacingly.

Anybody would’ve been creeped out by the sight, but you knew the guy. “Aha--Ivan! Hey! Morning?” You began rather awkwardly.

He waved in response, and his glower melted away in exchange for a childlike smile. “Dobroye utro, (F/N)! I hope that’s not your assignment you’re doing.” He hummed, placing two hands on the glass to peer at your screen from outside. Oh shit. Glancing briefly at said screen, you turned it away before clicking the upload button.

“Of course not.” You grinned, shutting your laptop immediately after. “I was just... Surfing the net. Checking Instagram. You know?”

“Is that so? I’m gonna check.” He made his way inside. And in no time, he was looming over your shoulder to start browsing through your internet history. You, on the other hand, were sweating balls.

“You’re so funny, (F/N). Who checks Instagram on their computer?”

It seemed like only yesterday he was the oblivious exchange student from Russia who had no concept of social media. He had been a country bumpkin through and through, but a few semesters after befriending you, your influence rubbed off on him. Even you had no idea what went through your head when decided to talk to him, the intimidating new kid who spoke broken English, but there was no turning back now. He was attached to you by the hip and picked up on your habits faster than you could deal.

He only became more of a menace when he discovered Twitter.

A displeased expression contorted at his expression when he saw that there was no evidence of you ‘surfing the net’. Google Docs couldn’t possibly count, after all. “... Hm... Apparently, not you. Why didn’t you finish this yesterday, sunflower? Remember our promise?”

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I passed out last night. But hey, I technically finished it before you came, didn’t I?”

He craned his head from side to side in thought. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, you know what that means.” Ivan coiled his arms around your neck and a sickeningly sweet smile curled up at his lips.

“You will come with me to Moscow for Christmas!”

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. Going to Russia was bad enough. But during Winter? You were never good with the cold. If you could barely handle London, Moscow was out of the question. “Oh God, please no.” He nodded giddily. “I’m never going to Russia. Maybe I’d consider it during Summer, but--anyway, that’s not the point here! I didn’t break any promises so I won’t be turning into a popsicle this year. Got that?”

He pouted. “Aw...”

“You damn sadist.”

“Hehe.”

“I wonder how you even became friends with him. Arthur, was it? Poor dude.” You mumbled, but he didn’t look all too offended.

He tapped his chin and hummed. “Now that you mention it.” Then, he let out a short laugh. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it was a happy little accident.”

“Unfortunate.”

“But don’t worry! I don’t plan on bothering you as much as him today.” Ivan clarified, earning a slow nod from you. Phew. The clock was inching closer to eight and you weren’t much of a morning person, so hearing that was like music to your ears. “That’s why I wanted you to finish your work yesterday. I want him to be the only one making mistakes! It’s interesting to see him mess up and get embarrassed.”

You had to wonder if he was using ‘interesting’ as a synonym for fun because he was clapping. “... Ivan, you really are a sadist.”

The two of you stayed in that café for another hour or so, ordering some breakfast during your stay. Once the table was cleared and the bill was paid, you and he caught a bus to the London eye. You could marvel at the iconic ferris wheel for a few minutes as you walked up to the London aquarium next to it, your first stop. The building was huge to start with, and it didn’t look like they’d be storing fish in there considering how fancy it was. But wasn’t everything in England fancy?

“He should be waiting in the front. Look for a short grouchy man with a bad taste in fashion.” You shot him a weird look, beckoning him to elaborate.

“... And blonde hair.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll try my best.” Glancing around the sea of people filled with tourists, couples, and families, you skimmed the crowd for someone who fitted the description--but to no avail. It was only when they walked up to you both did you find the guy. He had short and choppy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face, and under his fringe was a pair of lime green eyes staring on with a neutral expression. And did Ivan say he had bad taste?

You couldn’t agree. Yes, his charcoal pants were ripped and he had a bandana tied around his neck with a Union Jack on it. But he still had a kind of style you liked. Under his black leather jacket was a gray shirt, and combined with the piercings in his right ear, you couldn’t help admiring him for a second.

“Arthur! I was wondering if you were trampled because we couldn’t find you.” Ivan began, causing the said man to furrow his brows. And boy, were they thick.

“You just arrived, so don’t start now you twat.” He grumbled. Ivan never teased you for your height, even when you were a little shorter than the Brit. He always found it cute, but you figured it was only because you didn’t care. The Russian always found amusement in poking fun at others, after all. “Anywho, I’m glad I won’t be spending the whole day alone with you.”

Turning to you with a soft smile this time, he held out a hand for you to shake. “Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.”

You shook it, but not without a laugh. It hadn’t even been a minute since meeting him, and his personality seemed to clash violently with his appearance. He sounded so prim and proper, but his outfit screamed punk rock.

“(L/N). (F/N) (L/N).”

He released you from his grip. Placing his hands on his hips with an accusing stare, he felt a grin upturn his lips. “Are you copying me, (F/N)?”

“I don’t know. Do all British people introduce themselves like James Bond?”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “... Not all of them. Just a force of habit.”

“Mhm. Right, right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m a student here too and I could only imagine how busy it gets for you--so thanks for coming out today!” He didn’t respond to those comments and simply nodded.

Ivan stayed quiet in the back, but he was probably reading the atmosphere like he always did when he didn’t speak.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde turned on his heel and closed his eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay out here and chat, we can do that in the aquarium. Wouldn’t wanna waste our tickets, do we?”

While the group of three wandered slowly through the establishment, Ivan lingered in the background while you walked in the front with the Brit. For the first ten minutes, you’d look at him expectantly, gesturing for him to join in the conversation. As the mutual, wasn’t he supposed to be the icebreaker? He’d shake his head every time, offering you a smile as if to say, go and make some friends. But soon, this brief spell of irritation morphed into gratitude.

“I’ve been here probably a hundred times, so don’t take it personally when I don’t seem as excited as you.” Turning to him to watch his face as he spoke--which was filtered through a bluish tinge from the Antarctic setting-- you only caught a brief glimpse of it before he turned away. Huh. Maybe it was just you not paying enough attention.

Either way, what came out of your mouth next would surely grab his.

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, this is the first time you’ve been here with me, so look alive, won’t you?” It happened to be a slip of the tongue, something bold and improvised, but luckily, he reacted fairly quickly before the regret set in.

“Oi, you better not be flirting with me already,” Arthur grumbled, feeling another smile come as he heard you chuckle. Since when was he this expressive? He pinned it on the fact that he was starting to have a little fun himself.

“Couldn’t imagine it.” Before he could add anything else, you hopped in front of the penguins and started waving your friend over with great gusto. “Ivan, c’mere. Arthur, mind taking a photo of us?” Once he joined your side, the two of you held up peace signs for the Brit to snap a photo.

“Ivan, change your pose. We can’t have both of you doing the same thing.”

The said man moved his peace sign to the back of your head so he could stick two fingers over it. “Is that better?”

“... Better.” Trailing his emerald eyes to you, he felt his cheeks heat up a touch at the sight of you grinning ear to ear. What the fuck, Arthur. Just take the damn photo. And that was exactly what he did, showing you both right after. Whatever just happened, he boiled it down to him idealizing a stranger. That was right. He had yet to get to know you, so his perception of you couldn’t be any better at this stage.

But there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

“Damn, I look really ugly in this. You two better not post this anywhere.” You settled a hand over the screen to lower it with a nervous laugh. Then, you looked away, and what was that? You looked a little flustered.

You were cute.

Hanging his head to look at the photo, he knitted his brows together. You? Ugly? He couldn’t imagine it.

“... I bet I could take an even uglier one of you.”

Spinning back to him, you folded your arms. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head slowly, and the amusement in his voice made it blatantly obvious he was lying.

“That’s what I thought.”

Walking off at that, Ivan followed. Because he was behind him, he could brush his shoulders against his. Arthur looked up at that, but almost wished he didn’t. Ivan was smiling down at him so shrewdly, it was threatening. Then, he raised a hand to his mouth so he could laugh softly. “Huhu. You like (F/N)~”

His eyes flew open and blood rushed up to his face. “What the hell gave you that impression? I literally just met them!” As adamant as he sounded, he knew deep inside he liked you, but only platonically. Your personality was refreshing, and talking to you was as easy as breathing. Even if it wasn’t platonic attraction, he was endlessly frustrated the other figured it out earlier than he could.

Whatever it was, he was certainly more sociable than usual, even to the point of being a tease. And not to mention the rosy cheeks. Maybe he should’ve just kept his trap shut--otherwise, his huge outburst let Ivan milk the obvious. Fuck. He even started to giggle like a schoolchild.

Giving him a rough shove, he muttered a string of curses under his breath. “I bloody hate your arse, you know that?” He hissed, his face now redder than a tomato. God, why he did have to be born so pale? Every slight change to his complexion was jarring, and it was embarrassing.

“Don’t hate me because I’m right,” Ivan hummed, joining his side as your back came into view. “Once you realize, it’ll be too late. I’m not letting you have (F/N). I will always be (F/N)’s number one.” Lighting up at that, he skipped off to you in the front. “Wait for me, sunflower! Don’t leave me alone with Arthur!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. How annoying. If he was going to continue being a little tyke, then he figured he’d up his game as well. He didn’t know what that exactly entailed yet, but he’d do it. Ivan didn’t even sound like he wanted anything more than friendship, so what was with that? Pointing a finger at him as he walked off with you, his face scrunched up.

“What did you even call me out for then, you idiot? I’m supposed to be guiding you both!” Picking up his pace at that, he slotted himself between you and him. Flashing you a brief smile, he gave Ivan another push without breaking eye contact. “It’s a tight fit for three, so he’ll stay in the back.”

“Hey, no fair!”

By the time the whole aquarium was toured, you and Arthur were laughing to yourselves while leaving through the exit.

But the joyful atmosphere was short-lived.

The Ferris wheel just outside was the next stop, and the Brit offered to splurge a little to have a carriage without strangers. That way, you could run around as much as you wanted, even if that meant leaving the two men to sit in their lonesome. While Ivan was sitting on the bench in the centre out of his own volition, the same couldn’t be said for him.

Sitting back to back to the other, he pressed his legs firmly together and leaned over in a hunch. Then, he dug his hands through his hair, all while keeping his round eyes fixated on the ground. His heart couldn’t stop pounding, and his head was spinning like a carousel. What was he thinking, taking you here? That was right. This was an iconic destination you couldn’t miss, that was why. He was initially planning on staying back there on the ground, but you were so excited, he couldn’t help but hop on with you.

Fuck. Maybe Ivan was right about him. But he wouldn’t let him know it. Speaking of the guy, he didn’t know if he was sitting there by choice, or just rubbing it in. While he was incapacitated by fear so he couldn’t even stand, he was sitting there because he wanted to.

“You should’ve stayed on the ground if this was going to happen.”

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his stomach. “... Shut up.”

“I was just saying.” Ivan murmured, looking at him over his shoulder. Poor guy. He really was down bad, wasn’t he? Down bad for you, that was. Too bad Arthur was hoping he wasn’t convinced--but it was too obvious. So all Ivan wanted was to prove his point, and later on, keep you away from him. But maybe he’d save it until after the ride was over. “... This ride is thirty minutes long. You’ll live.”

He heard the other groan. “Thirty minutes? How long has it been?”

“Mm... Ten.”

“Fuck me.”

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you would pull away from the railing and return to the company of the two. Arthur had been praying that somehow, you’d leave him alone sitting there, pathetically, but he couldn’t expect something so cold from you. So while he hung his head, he wasn’t surprised to feel your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” He heard you ask, but he never looked up.

“... Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

“I have. Ten, actually.” Taking a seat beside him, you leaned down to peer at his face, which was a few shades paler than normal. He didn’t even have the energy to respond, and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Concern immediately contorted at your features, especially when he looked so shaken. “Arthur, you look a little sick. What’s wrong? Can you talk?”

He shook his head slowly before managing a weak smile at you. “Sorry, love.” It didn’t even faze him he just called you that. He was far too uncomfortable to feel the embarrassment from a nickname he should’ve saved until a little later.

“I’m not... Too good with heights. Never have been... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His voice was slow and faint, and you were beginning to suspect he was having a panic attack. “... Sorry if I seem a little lame.”

“No, of course not.” You frowned. “Things like this happen. Just breathe with me, okay? You can do it. Just count to ten.”

Arthur took a deep inhale. “... Okay.”

Around ten minutes later of these exchanges, he calmed down some, especially when you kept on reminding him that the carriage was finally descending. Once the ride was over, you had to help him up and walk him out. Now that he had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, it didn’t take long for him to recover. Even then, you remained rather cautious and stuck with him on your journey to Soho. By the time everyone took their seats in Circolo Popolare, a beautiful Italian restaurant Arthur so kindly booked, you were still looking out for him.

Leaning over to rest your head on the table, you glanced up at his face with a soft smile. “... You okay now?”

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he nodded. You didn’t need to be this observant with him considering he was well now, but he loved your attentiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thank you. Now quit worrying about me, alright?” Rubbing the nape of his neck at that, you couldn’t help lingering on his body language for a moment.

It didn’t matter what he dressed like, or what his personality was. He could be endearing when it came to it, and a total softie too. And the thought made you smile even wider. If he thought you were cute, then you thought he was adorable. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” You slowly turned to Ivan, the action making Arthur tense up a little.

Reaching out to your hand, he took it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

The feeling of his warm fingers around yours made your heart skip a beat. Did he just? Your thoughts manifested into your look of shock, and you darted your eyes over his neutral expression to try and decipher it. Before you could come up with anything, there was a phone in your face, followed by a flash.

“Wha--?”

He turned the screen to you to reveal a photo of you, and in your opinion, it was the least flattering picture anybody had ever taken of you. “I said I’d take an uglier photo of you, didn’t I?” Arthur grinned, the words acting like a cold splash of water to bring you back to reality.

“... You sneaky little shit.” You growled. “Delete that right now!”

“How about no?”

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Arthur.”

“I think you already have, love. You’re smiling right now.”

You stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out to snatch his phone right out of his hands. Tapping furiously on the screen to get rid of it, you heard his chair scrape back violently as he tried to retrieve it. “Why, you--”

But it was too late. Gone forever. Lost in the abyss of cyberspace. And so, he immediately channelled his frustration by jabbing his fingers into your sides. “If I can’t have that photo of you, at least let me do this!” You burst into a fit of laughter so loud, nearby patrons turned their heads. Only then did he pull away, leaving you to recover through breathless wheezing.

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You whispered, but it was on an affectionate note more than anything. As you glowered at him from your seat, you never noticed Ivan doing the same thing, but he was glaring at the Brit for an entirely different reason. Arthur had to be the most self-aware person out there, and to make a scene in a restaurant like this? He really fell for you, didn’t he?

When he realized Ivan’s scorching gaze burning into him, he froze.

Not just out of how intimidated he was, but the epiphany that he was right all along. Why else was he acting so out of character? The only explanation was this--in the short time of being with you, he may or may not have developed a little crush. But that was no problem, right?

All he needed to do was to ask you out.

But that would prove a task easier said than done, especially when Ivan decided to attach himself to you by the hip after that stunt. That cunning bastard knew what he was doing. After a little window shopping around Bond street and Mayfair, he stuck to you like a tattoo, and kept it up until night fell. While the group walked around Camden, Ivan kept you by his side with a firm grip on your hand.

When you asked why he was suddenly so clingy, he simply justified it with, “It’s dangerous for small people like you to wander around at night!”

But Arthur called bullshit. Especially when the other went ahead and smirked at him right after saying it. Maybe he liked you too, but was refusing to admit it. How hypocritical. If not, then he probably didn’t want you making friends when you were the only friend he had. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to back down so easily. Camden may be the last destination for the night, and perhaps, the last time he’d see you again for God knows how long, but it was his trump card.

If this didn’t sweep you off your feet enough to get you to pull away from Ivan, nothing would.

As a town famous for its thriving nightlife and punk culture, it encompassed everything he was passionate about, and he’d give anything to show it to you. So he included a visit to the bar here on the agenda today, one that hosted live music. While you and Ivan got comfortable in your seats, Arthur never made a move to sit down.

It was already dim inside, so you never noticed him leave. The next time you saw him, it was a few minutes later when he was on stage with a few other musicians. Leaning forward with surprise, you watched him strap on a bright red electric guitar. Walking up to the microphone, he adjusted that. No way.

You were still trying to process him being a professional performer, but a lead singer as well?

The second he strummed the strings to start a guitar riff, he opened his mouth to start singing.

Play this while you read

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Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach

His fingers never stopped moving as he belted out note after note. His voice was so different to how he talked, you had to do a double take. He sounded a little more rasp, a little more punk. To say you were impressed was an understatement.

Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance

And no one even knew it was really only you

While he jammed out on stage, he was electric. The energy in the bar exploded, and he had everyone singing along. You could almost see the confidence in him shoot up from the excitable crowd, because he was smirking.

Nice work, you did.

You’re gonna go far, kid!

Turning his head to you as he sung that line, you raised a hand to your mouth. Whether he did that on purpose or not was a mystery. But no words could describe how attractive it was. Hell, it even made you mind blank for a few moments. This was Arthur? He was like an entirely different person! Needless to say, you were completely star struck.

You couldn’t even make out what Ivan was telling you when the music was blaring in your ears. But you didn’t care. Arthur had you caught in a trance with his voice and guitar all until the end. When the song finally ended, the band bowed graciously and threw up hand signs as the audience erupted in applause and cheers.

When he stepped off the stage, you didn’t hesitate to run up to him. There, you practically pounced on him for a tight embrace. “Oh my god, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play so well! And sing, too! Why didn’t you tell me!?” You exasperated, pulling away to be met with his dazzling smile. It was the first time you’ve seen him so energetic, as if performing sparked a fire inside him that burned with youthful intensity.

“I was dying to show you all day. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I had to save the best til’ last, didn’t I?” He grinned, feeling his heart swell up with warmth as he watched you light up.

“Well, good on you! I loved it!” Squeezing him again, you felt his chest shake under his laughs. When you pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. But it felt so natural in the spur of the moment, even he didn’t seem to care.

“Thanks again for today, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking us out today. You completely blew me away.”

The way how you phrased it reminded him of why he was here in the first place. That was right. He still had to ask you out. And with Ivan watching on from afar, this was his chance. The thought reddened his cheeks, but while you had his face in your hands, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. “Is that so? If that’s the case, how about I take you out again?” His expression grew serious. “A proper date, I mean.”

It was your turn to blush, but you managed a quick answer.

“No need to look so serious, love. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.”

He chuckled and leaned in to peck your lips. “Stealing my vocabulary now, are we?”

“Stealing kisses now, are we?”

“Touché.”

Now a third wheel of the group, he breathed out a soft sigh and rested his cheek on his hand. “I guess my job here is done.” It didn’t really look like it, but he had been trying to play the wingman all along. Arthur was always one to go a little crazy when he wanted something, and only more so when he was desperate. So all he gave him was a little push in the right direction.

Maybe he would thank him later, but for now, he’d leave you two be.

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

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