The Coldest Night of the Year (Chapter 10)

Scully

Scully drives, mostly because it’s her car but also because she doesn’t quite trust Mulder to get them there safely—she’s seen how he drives in the snow. They slip and slide through the more remote streets, but once they get to the main road, the snow plows have already tackled the brunt of the ice and they cruise out to Arlington.

She doesn’t ask him what he’s going to do if Diana is still in his apartment, and he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, they talk about the road conditions for a few minutes before their conversation peters to a close. The atmosphere in the car turns tense.

As they approach Mulder’s building, Scully already knows what they’re going to find. From the street, she can tell that the lights in his apartment are on, which almost certainly means Diana is inside. She glances at Mulder expectantly and he hangs his head a little. At least he’s feeling bad about it.

Together, they slink out of the car and approach his apartment. Scully feels rage spinning inside her as Mulder unlocks the door.

To no one’s surprise, they find Diana sitting on Mulder’s couch, a glass of wine perched in her right hand. She turns her head expectantly and her face falls slightly as she spies Scully.

“Back so soon, Dana?” she asks, standing up. Goddammit, she’s still in that damn t-shirt that barely covers her ass.

Mulder steps forward to speak but Scully raises a hand.

“Just where do you get off, Diana?” she asks darkly. “Mulder asked you to leave.”

Diana’s eyes flicker to Mulder’s and she feels him sigh heavily.

“Diana, get out,” he insists exasperatedly. “You’re not welcome here.”

Diana strides over to them, her sharp eyes pointed at Mulder. “You two are together now, right?” she asks rhetorically, her gaze all smug confidence. “Then I know what’s going on here. It’s amazing what a little petty jealousy will do to your relationships, Fox. Let me guess: Dana has asked you never to see me again. To cut me out of your life entirely, right?” She tsks. “Have you even bothered to ask yourself what you want?”

Diana steps closer, her fingertip coming to rest on Mulder’s chest. Scully feels heat rising to her cheeks.

“Do you want a few exciting fucks in dirty motel rooms, Fox, or do you want a companion who loves you and cares for you? Do you want a childish romp in the hay to satisfy some mistaken urges, or do you want a partnership with a mature woman?” Scully bites the inside of her cheek as Diana drags her finger over Mulder’s sternum. The woman’s voice lowers threateningly. “Do you want Scully, or do you want the X-Files? That’s what you’re really risking here. Because without me, you don’t really have them, do you?”

Scully’s heart starts to pound and she doesn’t dare glance at Mulder. Asking him to choose between her and Diana is one thing; asking him to choose between her and the X-Files . . . that’s entirely another.

“Diana,” she hears him say gently, “the last thing I have to do is defend myself or my choices to you. But the truth is, I want all of the above. I want everything—love, sex, partnership, companionship. And you—you shouldn’t ask me to choose between Scully and the X-Files.” He hesitates briefly and Scully curls her fingernails into her palms, waiting. Tears sting at her eyelashes and she can almost feel the victorious grin peeping out of Diana’s mouth. “Because I choose Scully.” His warm palm falls against her lower back. “Always. Over everything. Over you, over the files, over any truth I’ve ever ventured to find.”

Scully blinks rapidly, trying to clear her eyes, and feels Mulder’s gaze fall on her. His palm strokes her back gently.

“So I’m going to ask you again,” he says. “Get out, now.”

At that, Scully lifts her eyes and sees the shock crossing Diana’s face, followed quickly by desperation, then fear.

“But I love you, Fox—”

“Stop,” Scully interrupts, surprising herself. She and Diana lock eyes and she sees a red flush rising to the other woman’s cheeks. She remembers this morning, the proud look in Diana’s eyes as she tried to convince Scully of Mulder’s disinterest. She remembers all the lies and deceit and mind games that Diana has spewed from day one. She remembers the pain she has felt for months as a result of this woman.

Scully takes a step closer, her fingernails now carving rivets into her closed fists. Diana’s chin lifts slightly, her eyes turning downcast as if Scully were a bug under her shoe. She feels rage billowing out of her, reddening her cheeks and chest and the tips of her ears. This woman has caused her nothing but pain.

“He’s mine,” she warns her, so quietly that only the two of them can hear. She feels Mulder’s hand walk to the center of her back as he draws closer, planting a kiss to the back of her head.

Diana’s face turns stone cold, and Scully briefly appreciates the woman’s capacity to hide her emotions. She watches as her eyes flicker upward to Mulder’s, then down to her bare feet. Scully wonders if she feels at all embarrassed by her actions, or whether she is incapable of such emotion. Eventually, Scully turns and drops her forehead to Mulder’s chest. She feels his hand cup the back of her skull possessively and as much as she knows she should feel like the victor, she feels exhausted by her own rage and pain.  

It takes a few minutes for Diana to get dressed and gather her things, and they stand awkwardly in the living room while she does. Scully studies the fish in the tank mindlessly, her mind turning towards Mulder’s declaration. I choose Scully. Over everything, he said.  

Diana walks to the door and turns to face them one more time. Her face is haughty and self-assured as she makes her announcement. “When you’re done with her, Fox, I’ll be here waiting.”

She leaves the apartment with a whoosh.

It takes a while for them to shake the specter of Diana Fowley from the rooms. Mulder changes the bedsheets and pillows while Scully dumps out two glasses of wine and starts the dishes. They share the other tasks in silence—folding the Aztec blanket, feeding the fish, throwing his discarded t-shirt into the laundry hamper.

They settle into the bed once it’s clean, but Scully wishes they were back at her place, away from the lingering smell of Diana’s perfume.

“This is awful,” Mulder says finally, and when he turns to her, his eyes dance with amusement. “I can still smell her.”

Scully laughs mirthlessly. “Should we have the place fumigated?” she suggests.

He draws her into his chest. “Or we could just have lots and lots of sex,” he murmurs temptingly into her ear. “I’ve heard that tends to change the feng shui of a place.”

She bats his chest and rubs her nose across his sternum. “Not in the mood,” she says honestly, and he shrugs. “I don’t want to keep talking about her, but I can’t stop thinking about her either.”

Mulder strokes his fingertips through her hair. “We shouldn’t talk about her anymore,” he agrees gently, “but I want to make it clear that nothing she could say to me or do to me or offer me would ever change the fact that I choose you.”

Over Diana. Over the X-Files, she thinks, but doesn’t say aloud, almost out of fear of jeopardizing it all. They lay in stillness for a long time, his hand running through her hair, her body moving up and down with the inhale-exhale of his chest. Her mind starts to wander to the time he traded his sister for her on that bridge, just a year into their partnership.  

She turns her lips up to his jaw and kisses him there in gratitude, letting the feeling of trust settle over her. It’s been a long time, she realizes, since she’s felt the weight of trust between them.  “Thank you,” she tells him, and he hums a response.

After a while, they migrate to the living room and put on a movie that neither of them pays attention to. They huddle together like they did the night before, bodies sprawled horizontally on the couch. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they kiss.

For Scully, the past twenty-four hours play on repeat against a backdrop of all the ways Diana Fowley almost ruined her partnership with Mulder. She feels twinges of anger followed by moments of sadness thinking about the way Mulder discounted her, ditched her, or disbelieved her all along the journey. And then his words come flooding back to her. I choose you. I trust you. I believe you. I love you.

She nuzzles Mulder’s neck and he kisses her in response. Despite everything, she chooses to believe that this is a new start for them. She lets the warmth and strength of his words fill her up, crowding out the less pleasant memories.

And slowly, Diana’s perfume begins to fade, until eventually, she can no longer smell it.

“You don’t believe in anything.”  “I believe in you.”                     Fernando Alonso  &  Esteban Ocon.

Henry Miller, from a letter to Anaïs Nin / photo by  Peter J Fox  / Cassandra Clare, City of Bones / photos from Alpinef1 instagram / Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz,  She Satisfies A Fear with the Rhetoric Tears / photo by Dan Istitene / James Baldwin, If Beale Street Could Talk / photo by James Moy / E.E. Cummings, the first of all my dreams was of / photo by Dan Istitene / Pedro Salinas, The voice I owe to you

—Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, tr. by Judith Thurman, from "She Satisfies A Fear with the Rhetoric Tears,"

you can tell something that sounds like it

Suguru Geto x reader.

warnings: it’s angst :(( maybe some grammar mistakes? 

geto has never lied to you. You tell yourself that he does. 

(based off the song happy news for sadness)

                                      ╬╬═════════════╬╬

He can never tell the truth.

He can never tell the truth.

He can never—

At least, that’s what you told yourself. You'd repeat it over and over, the sick mantra failing to provide any sort of comfort. The dread had slithered from the end of your tongue to the base of your throat and finally cemented itself behind your ribcage: snuggly against your heart.

I.

At first, Geto's presence was warm. His fingertips would dance along your jawline after particularly draining missions, butterfly kisses and the soft flutter of your pulse would follow shortly after. You would look at him with so much endearment. Doe eyes casting a hazy look in his direction while he continued to exchange soft touches for attention.

It was springtime; the nights were supposed to be frosted over. But, as your eyesight shifted from the condensation on the window accentuated by the soft glow of the lamp in Suguru's dorm, you noticed that you'd trade anything to forever feel the way you're feeling now. Geto held himself in a unique way, he was strong, but it differed from Gojo's arrogance. Geto was one of the strongest but he hardly paraded that fact; he instead used that fact to make you feel safe.

You hummed against his throat at the thought, Geto is your protector.

He breathed into your forehead pressing phantom kisses into your skin while sitting on his bed with you. You leaned into his chest while recovering from the latest mission, civilians were injured but none were killed. Still, Geto was ashamed that non-sorcerers had to be involved in such dangerous affairs in the first place.

You can never tell the truth,

but you can tell something that sounds like it

He moved to tug tightly at your hair, urging you to look up at him. His slightly swollen lips parted and shut as if looking for the appropriate thing to say. Geto relented, choosing to ignore the seeds of doubt threatening to be sown.

"You know, I won't let anyone hurt you." His calloused hand moved to squeeze your arm, the condensation dripped down the window.

Suguru is strong. He is your protector.

II.

Geto left. And all that replaced him was the wide-eyed gaze only piteous adults knew. Gentle squeezes on your shoulder and whispering that followed wherever you went.

You were ashamed. His promises that had once left you satisfied had proven to be hollow. His righteousness never wavered.

A voice had tugged at the corner of your mind the day you heard of what had happened in the village. Geto was good, he wanted to see people safe; if you had the chance to confront him you knew he wouldn’t change. 

The drip, drip, drip, of your bathroom faucet, prompted you to focus on your reflection above the sink. Hot tears made their way down your cheeks, laboured breaths reverberated in the small space.

Geto would hug you, he'd tell you everything was okay.

Then he'd say he'd protect you.

You smiled at the thought of his domesticity, imagining his hand holding yours, missing the way his thumb would draw circles on the back of your hand.

The faucet continued to drip as you met your own gaze once again.

Dread filled your lungs

Geto killed 100s of people.

Geto always lies.

III.

There was a sharp pound at your door; hollow and calculated. Confusion invaded your senses, today was your day off, no one came to visit you anymore.

Nostalgia racked your body. Back in high school, your dorm was always unlocked, a sort of safe space for your classmates to come and go. Jujutsu tech was a warzone plagued with hopeless violence and your room seemed to be representative of the humanity of your colleagues. Neutral, kind, loving.

Gojo never knocked.

Shoko knocked three times.

And Geto was always four.

Another knock could be heard at your door.

You laughed at yourself for the little piece of hope you had felt. At the fact that you longed to see a murderer again. Maybe it would be Gojo instead? Willfully eating a candy bar while he waited impatiently outside the door of your home.

But Gojo never knocks.

A pounding could be heard at your door once more.

Your spirits lifted— Shoko had come to visit! You had missed her presence and humour, in a way, her spiral was worse than Geto’s. Everyone was convinced that the dark circles under her eyes were going to become a long-term predicament. But, when confronted about her exhaustiveness, a half-drunk Ieiri would always comment on how she was too busy to rest. Nonetheless, Shoko was the only other sorcerer who knew your address.

But no one ever visits.

One more knock.

Your blood ran cold, leaving an icy residue in your veins, your heart was beating in your throat. The absence of the knock hung in the air, your anxiety, your insecurity, your deep-rooted hope that he'd come back to explain had buzzed in its place.

You got up to walk to your door, as your hand lifted to unlock it, you waited.

Just one more. I need to prove it.

Suguru knocked one final time, you opened it as quickly as he expected you would. You wanted him to see the shame that ran deep in your eyes. Though, you hadn't felt the way that you were required to feel as a jujutsu sorcerer.

He met your gaze. You felt your heartbeat hiccup. Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt some sort of emotion bubble up at the base of your chest. Fear, disgust, hope.

"It's been 4 years, Geto."

Suguru grinned softly, a shiny film had covered his eyes. He took a gentle breath.

"Have I mentioned how I've thought about you every day for four years?"

IV.

In his final days at Jujutsu Tech, Geto was a shell of himself. Though he'd always eat the food you presented him in an attempt to curb your worries, you knew his appetite ran thin when he was left to his own devices.

Now, as he stood in your home's kitchen expertly cooking dinner for the both of you for what seemed the umpteenth time, you noticed how much he looked like himself. His hair was as gorgeous as ever (though admittedly longer), he still closed his eyes when he smiled, he still ran his thumb against the back of your hand when he held it.

Yet, he seemed so much happier.

At first, this had prompted anger. Someone like him didn't deserve to feel the joy he displayed.

Geto was a criminal, after all.

The hands of a criminal would cup your cheek and run up and down your back. His criminal voice would hum soft tunes to you in between philosophical conversations in the later hours of the night. His criminal eyes would cast the softest, most loving gaze in your direction. Geto's criminal, cold-blooded, self would whisper I love you over and over again into the crook of your neck until he fell asleep.

And you allowed him to.

You allowed him to look at the civilians with a horrifying disgust, one that sharply contrasted with his previous drive to protect everyone. You watched as his endearing expression would turn to a scowl whenever he talked about them. He'd use a distasteful nickname for non-sorcerers.

"Dirty Monkeys."

You had made sure your voice had matched the iciness of his own as you responded, "Don't use that phrase near me again."

He made a clear effort to exclude all ideological rhetoric from your conversations soon after.

The same voice that pestered you that there was still hope for Suguru had turned against him. It was ironic more than anything, the both of you could never win this sick and twisted game.

The slam of a knife against a chopping board had woken you up from your daydream. You looked up. Eyes scanning the figure of the criminal you had come to love. It was an illicit romance, one between a Jujutsu sorcerer and a cursed user. A romance between two people with differing beliefs.

You took a deep breath, the knife on the chopping board slowed as Getou turned to look at you. His brows were furrowed.

"Is everything okay?"

Your lips formed a tight-lipped smile, tears brimmed your eyes as you looked up to his face from your spot on the kitchen counter.

"Suguru," you swallowed, "we were never supposed to last this long, you know."

You watched his throat bob.

"I'm well aware."

You smiled up at him, a genuine one, twinged with melancholy, "Then you'll understand why I'm asking you to leave."

He nodded silently inching closer to your sitting figure. His hot breath tickled your face, testing the waters. You didn't know what to expect out of the kiss at this moment Maybe rough? Like the late nights you'd spend together after he practically barrelled through the front door, fuming about the day he had just had. Or passionate? You imagined a kiss with sloppy whispers and late apologies said in between the moments you took to catch your breath.

He grabbed your chin in his pointer finger and thumb, he urged your teary eyes to look into his. His lips met yours and he was not passionate, nor was he rough. You didn't see stars, you only felt him.

Geto was soft.

He pulled away, his eyes avoided your own as he breathed softly while taking in your figure one last time.

A sigh could be heard while he moved to the coat rack near your front door. You continued to sit stupidly on the kitchen counter, watching the abandoned knife and vegetables lay limp against the wood of the chopping board.

You heard the shifting of fabric as Geto maneuvered his coat on, "Call me if you need anything."

Suguru's eyes were downcast as he continued, "I love you."

You felt your throat go dry as it bobbed; Suguru closed the door as softly as he could on his way out.

You can never tell the truth,

but you can tell something that sounds like it

You never called him.

V.

Gojo leaned against the wall of the hallways in Jujutsu tech, as he awaited your response.

He quickly grew impatient.

"I said I killed him." You hummed in response, you'd like to imagine that you looked indifferent. You wouldn't let yourself cry, not in front of Gojo, not because of Suguru.

"He had it coming." You willed yourself to say.

As you turned to continue your journey down the hallway, Gojo beckoned you to turn around with a scoff.

"One more thing," He lifted his blindfold to meet your eyes.

"He told me he loved you."

You let out a dry laugh, your fingernails were digging crescents into your palms, "Of course he did."

You walked down the empty hallway, leaving Gojo to his own thoughts. Heavy breaths could be heard as you attempted to calm yourself down. Why would Geto say that?

Then you remembered.

He can never tell the truth.

He can never tell the truth.

He can never—

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 14

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“It was so good to see you, Will,” Valerie says in a muffled voice against his chest as he has her wrapped up tightly in a bear hug.

“I know, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mulder replies, brushing his hands over her back. He pulls away and kisses her softly on the cheek.

“It makes me really happy to see you so happy,” she says with a smile, her long brunette hair lifting softly in the breeze, brown eyes holding affection that can only be held between two people who have the type of bond that can withstand a breakup and then a transition from lovers to friends.

“Likewise,” he says, nodding towards the small swell of her growing belly.

“I’d love to meet your girlfriend someday, if you think she’d be okay with that,” she says, collecting her purse.

“Yes, I’d really like that. I think you two would get along really well, actually,” he says, and she smirks at him.

“You’re not afraid we’ll bond over having to sit through your shitty movie collection?” she teases, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Hey, Scully likes my shitty movies, that’s why we’re a perfect match,” he retorts.

She squeezes his arm.

“Call me sometime, okay?”

He nods and watches her walk away, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. A great friendship with his ex-girlfriend, a promising new love with the woman of his dreams; he can only imagine what lies in store next. He practically skips on the walk back to his car, wondering if Scully might let him come by tonight, hoping that he won’t have to wait until the weekend to see her again. He decides to call her as soon as he gets home.

The first few times he gets her machine, he assumes she must be at her mother’s. When she still hasn’t answered or called back by 9:00 pm, he’s confused. When he emails her the next morning and still hasn’t gotten a response at 10:00am, he’s officially worried.

Something is wrong.

———

She had eventually turned off the ringer on her phone and put the volume all the way down on her answering machine so she wouldn’t have to hear his increasingly obsessive attempts to get ahold of her, then slept fitfully all night.

She knows that she needs to give him some kind of response or he’ll show up on her doorstep, but she can’t bring herself to face him, even in voice. Every time the image of him with that woman pops back into her head, she feels a lump form in her throat immediately, a sick sadness welling in her belly. She’s pored over every memory in her mind, every interaction they’ve had, searching for signs. Signs that he was seeing someone else, that he wasn’t interested in anything other than getting in her pants, that he was lying to her. Her thorough inventory brings up next to nothing, which almost makes it worse; how adept he must have been at creating a false reality for her to exist in. Perhaps he’s garnered some tips from the sociopaths he studies, or maybe his background in psychology allowed him to manipulate her.

When she arrives at work, she is unsurprised though still dismayed to see an email waiting for her.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5, 1997 7:57 am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Where are you?

Scully, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Please respond.

She deletes it immediately and tries to focus on work. She performs an autopsy and teaches a class, both welcome distractions from her emotional torment. Just before 11:00 am, the phone rings.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy…yep, she’s here, one second.”

Trudy turns and opens her mouth to speak, but sees Dana waving her arms and shaking her head. She makes a confused face and puts the phone back to her ear.

“Oh, actually she just stepped out, sorry. Can I take a message?”

She watches as Trudy scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Uh huh…yes. Okay, I’ll tell her…you have my word.”

She replaces the phone on the receiver and hands Dana the paper with a sympathetic frown.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks rhetorically.

Dana looks down and deciphers Trudy’s messy scrawl.

Call Mulder immediately. Send a sign of life.

She crumples it up and tosses it into the trash can.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trudy asks.

“Nope,” Dana replies, turning back to the computer.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:03am

To: [email protected]

Subject: PLEASE RESPOND

Scully, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t reply to this within an hour I’m driving down there.

Please respond

She feels fresh tears well in her eyes. Why is he trying so hard if he’s seeing someone else anyway? Why is he doing this to her? With a surge of anger, she hits reply.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:05am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:PLEASE RESPOND

I’m fine, Mulder. Please just give me some space.

With that she closes her email, begs someone to take her second class of the day, and goes home.

———

He feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe. He’d left her happy and satisfied, and out of nowhere she’s shutting him out. What does she need space for? Space from him? Why? Did he come on too strong and freak her out? He thought they’d moved past that. He picks up the phone again.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy.”

“Trudy, it’s Agent Mulder again. Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but is Dana there?”

She pauses. “No, she went home for the day. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Do you have any idea why?” he implores.

“No, other than the fact that it seems to be directed at you.”

“Yeah, that much I gathered. Thanks, Trudy, sorry to bother you.”

“No worries, good luck.”

He slams the phone down, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and leaves.

———

She is half expecting his knock, but it still makes her jump, nearly causing her to spill her wine. She wants to just ignore him until he goes away, but she knows his proclivity towards persistence won’t let him do that. Better to just get it over with, she thinks as she slumps towards the door.

The second she lays eyes on him in his slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie discarded, she feels her chin pucker and tears threaten her eyes. As angry as she is, she immediately wants to go to him, to curl up within his embrace so he can comfort her. The problem is, what she needs comforting from is him.

“What is going on?” he says with a mix of frustration and fear.

She stands in the open doorway, not making space for him to enter.

“I saw you,” she says, her voice strained with emotion.

“You saw me...what?” he asks, his face a mask of confusion.

She lifts her chin, clenching her jaw and summoning strength.

“I saw you with her. Yesterday, at the Bluebird Cafe. After I had lunch with my family.” her voice holds steady, anger carrying her through.

His face falls and her gut twists. She wishes she didn’t have to watch this.

“THAT is what this is about?” he asks, but there’s no shame or regret in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little mad.

She nods curtly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spits out, and she recoils a little at his vitriol. “Let me in, Scully. Right now,” he demands, and against her better judgement she moves aside.

He pushes past her into the apartment and she closes the door softly, leaving it unlocked in case either of them decides to make a hasty exit.

“Did you consider,” he begins, his back to her, “maybe, I don’t know, asking me about what you saw?” He turns to face her, one hand on his hip and his face contorted with anger. “Or were you just planning to avoid me until I gave up and went away again?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She’s confused about why he’s yelling at her when he’s the one who did something wrong. She just looks at him, expressionless.

He juts his chin out expectantly, waiting for an answer, but gets none. She averts her eyes.

“Is that all this is worth to you, Scully?” he continues, “you’re ready to throw this away over a simple misunderstanding, without even talking to me?”

She lifts her head and looks at him with a pained expression. “Okay then, talk,” she gets out.

He drops his head in frustration. “The woman you saw me with,” he says flatly, lifting his head to meet her eye, “was my ex-girlfriend, Valerie. I ran into her while I was running errands yesterday, and we had lunch. She has a boyfriend and is three months pregnant. We spent the majority of our meal together talking about you.”

She shakes her head gently, her throat closing as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I saw you kiss her,” she whispers, her jaw quivering.

“You saw me kiss her on the cheek? I also kiss my mother on the cheek, Scully, it’s hardly an intimate gesture.”

She feels a new wave of sickness pass over her, but this time it’s entirely different. This time it’s the sick feeling of realizing that she was very, very, wrong, and that she has, yet again, hurt the man who loves her. She opens her mouth to speak but she can’t find the right words.

He steps forward but doesn’t touch her. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more defeated than anything else.

“I’m sorry that you saw something that upset you. But if you actually thought for a single second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I meant what I said the day you left my apartment last year. I felt it then, and I feel it now. I want this to work more than anything, Scully, but for that to be possible you have to trust me. I can’t live with the knowledge that you might just shut me out at a moment’s notice when you get scared.”

She keeps her head down, overwhelmed by a combination of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude that he wouldn’t let her walk away. She does not deserve this man, but she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still unable to meet his eye.

“I know you are,” he replies, moving towards the door. “Take the space you need, and let me know when you’re ready to trust me.”

When she hears the click of the door closing behind him, she collapses to the floor, sobbing for so many reasons she couldn’t possibly name them all. When it’s faded to snivels and hiccups, she stands and goes to the hallway, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Missy,” she chokes out, “Can you come over?”

———

He’s not sure if leaving was the right thing to do. The risk that she might not come back around is one that sends his stomach into knots, but at the same time he finds it hard to accept that she wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity to explain. He’s been actively working to temper expressing his feelings so he doesn’t overwhelm her, but then she gets it in her head that he’s not invested. It feels like he can’t win.

He goes back to work and stops by Kirkbride’s office to apologize for disappearing. Kirkbride just gives him a quizzical look, clearly not having noticed he had left. The rest of the day he buckles down on his caseload, distracting himself from the catastrophic thoughts that dance through his head, and gets more work done than he has in quite a while. When he leaves the office just after 5:00 pm, he feels melancholy and grouchy, and annoyed that he left the ball in her court.

The elevator dings to announce his arrival on the fourth floor and he steps out with a takeout bag in his hand, eyes downcast. Halfway down the hall, he readies his key and looks up, startling when he sees Scully sitting on the floor against his door, knees tucked up against her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. She’s very still, and as he gets closer he realizes that she’s asleep. His heart aches knowing that she’s been waiting that long, that she didn’t want to leave without talking to him.

He crouches down beside her, setting his dinner on the floor, and gently touches her shoulder. She jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes wild for a moment while she tries to orient herself. When she focuses on him, she immediately starts crying, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. He’s surprised by her uncharacteristically emotional response, but says nothing and just holds her until his knees start to ache, at which point he sits down on the floor and pulls her into his lap. They stay this way for several minutes, long enough for one of his neighbors to walk by and politely avert their eyes, entering their apartment as though there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the hallway. When the crying seems to have subsided a bit, he gives her a little squeeze.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks, and she nods against his chest, his shirt damp from her tears.

She stands unsteadily and he follows her, grabbing the takeout bag off the floor. They enter the apartment and Priscilla plods up to them with an excited meow. Scully leans down and picks her up, tucking the cat against her neck as they nuzzle each other. Mulder smiles at them with a bemused expression.

“She was talking to me through the door,” Scully says with a small smile, “she heard me knocking and was meowing from the other side. We had a conversation.”

Affection swells in his chest and he steps forward to kiss her. Her shoulders drop and she lets Priscilla down so she can get closer, threading her arms around his waist and kissing him back in earnest. Desperate, thought I’d lost you again kisses that are as arousing as they are a relief, because he knows that they will be okay.

He pulls back a little and she makes a whimpering sound in protest.

“I’m gonna go change really quick, okay? Then can we talk?” he asks, and she sighs and nods. “You can have half my Chinese,” he adds, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

When he sits on the couch beside her five minutes later, she scoots closer so they are pressed against each other, and he gathers that she needs physical closeness right now. He loops an arm around her shoulder and she crawls right back into his lap, curled against him as though trying to fuse her body to his own. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she holds one of his hands in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, and begins to speak.

“After you left, Missy came over and we talked for a long time. I’ve come to realize how much I’m still affected by...what happened last year. I harbor a lot of guilt for being unfaithful to Ethan, and that’s actually largely why I married him even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.” She pulls in a deep breath, pressing their joined hands tight against her belly, trying to get even closer. “When you and I reconnected, in a way it felt like a chance to validate it. As though things working out with us would mean that what I did wasn’t as bad, because there was something real between us. But at the same time, a big part of me doesn’t believe that I deserve to be happy.” Her voice remains steady, but he feels the wet drop of a tear on the back of his hand.

He tightens his arm around her waist. “I’ve always been a person who values doing the right thing, and integrity was something that was very important to my father. It was his measure of a person’s character, and that’s something he instilled in me as well.” She sits up a bit so she can look at him, and his heart breaks at her red-rimmed eyes, her icy irises so mournful. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mulder. You haven’t given me any reason not to. It’s just that I don’t feel like I deserve this, especially with you, and I’m waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down. So when I saw you with that woman, it was almost like I’d been waiting for it, expecting it. Getting what I deserved.”

He brings his palms to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says softly. “I wish I could change how you feel, but I know that I can’t. I do know how it feels to spend your life harboring guilt over something you could have done differently, and I can tell you that punishing yourself won’t make it any easier. It makes me really sad that you’ll always regret how we met.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head gently. When she opens them, her expression is more tender than it is mournful.

“I don’t regret it, Mulder. I do feel guilt, and shame, for not ending it with Ethan so we could have done things the right way, but I could never regret meeting you.”

He pulls her back into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his ribcage, and plants a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are we okay?” he asks softly.

“I hope so,” she says hoarsely.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Valerie wants to meet you sometime?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I don’t know, did you tell her that I freaked out on you because you had lunch with her?” she replies, and he can already hear her tone shifting back to their typical lighthearted banter.

“No, of course not. That’ll be our little secret. Well, plus Trudy. I think Trudy knows too much honestly.”

She laughs again, and god he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he hopes to do.

“Speaking of meeting people,” she continues, “Missy mentioned you to my mother yesterday and she wants to meet you.”

A grin stretches across his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She pulls back to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, and smiles softly in response.

“You want me to meet your mom?” he asks, the delight on his face carrying over to his voice.

Her mouth screws up shyly. “My little brother will probably be there too, and Missy. Is that too much?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds perfect. But, there are some friends I’d like you to meet too, if we’re meeting people.”

“The Lone Gunmen?” she asks with a skeptical lilt.

“Those are the ones. They’re my only friends, actually. Aside from Val.” Just then, Priscilla hops up onto the couch beside them. “Oh, and you Priscilla, sorry,” he adds.

Scully smiles at the cat, and then at him. “Can I bring Missy as a human buffer?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course. You may set a record for the highest number of female visitors to their lair in a day.”

“Lair?” she asks with wide eyes.

He chuckles. “They’ll grow on you, I promise.”

Try Again?

Hey all, finally have some G/t writing to present for the first time in a long while. ^^ Based on this post from @miniature-knight because it’s been living in my head rent-free for a long while now and I’ve been on a D/anganr/onpa kick lately. Also giant!Hajime content is VERY good. 

Content warnings: Brief descriptions of blood and surgery, mild swearing, major spoilers for DR2, and minor spoilers for DR3 (Despair Arc)

[ Connecting… ]

[ Connecting… ]

[ Connection to server lost. Try again?]

[ Stabilizer_01: Offline ]

[ Stabilizer_02: Offline ]

[ WARNING: Cellular instability detected ]

[ Vitals_Monitor: Offline ]

[ WA7RNiN6: #%^R01 ]

[ … ]

[ …? ]

—

He wakes up very suddenly, an involuntary cry of pain tearing its way from his throat.

It hurts. Everything hurts. His body aches and protests with every tiny movement he makes, and his brain feels as though it’s threatening to crack right out of his skull. It hurts and his mouth and throat are dry— so dry— and there’s dust everywhere, even coughing hurts, there’s screaming—

…

(…Screaming?)

Hajime finally cracks his eyes open, wincing at how crusty they feel— like he’d been asleep for a long, long time, but… he’s sitting upright, isn’t he? When had he sat up? When had he gone to sleep, for that matter…?

As he begins to reorient himself, so too does his vision. It takes a frustratingly long time, but when everything begins to come back together into a single, clear image—

“H… huh?” He croaks, barely noticing the rasp in his voice in favor of trying to make sense of literally anything before his eyes.

There’s rubble everywhere, surrounding him on all sides and tumbling off of him with every little movement. But more importantly— he can see people running in the distance, far below. All of them are wearing white and black uniforms. It’s familiar… but he’s not quite sure why. 

He’s also not sure why he reaches his hand out. Maybe it’s out of shock, maybe it’s instinct.

But what he doesn’t anticipate is actually touching one of the fleeing bodies, feeling his fingers brush against warmth.

He freezes. The student— the tiny student— is screaming. He didn’t mean to knock them over with that careless little touch but now they’re crying and screaming and—

Hajime’s breaths quicken as he recoils, pulling back his hand as though he’d been burned. He frantically looks at the fleeing students, the rubble, the buildings around him— the buildings that all seem to match him in height.

(They’re not… they’re not small. I-I’m…)

He lifts his arms, wincing as more rubble tumbles off his body and smashes to the ground below. He’s gripping his head in his hands, he can’t breathe, he’s breathing too fast and his vision is blurring and everything hurts and he’s terrified and where is he and—?!

[ …Why are you so upset? ]

Hajime tenses up, lifting his head at the sound of a voice. 

“Wh-what—?”

[ Why are you scared? They cannot hurt you like this. ]

His gaze darts to the ground, but most of the students nearby had already run away, including the one he’d accidentally knocked over. This voice was… close, but not. Familiar, but not. He knows he heard it, but… he felt it, too.

“Who… who’s there? Where are you?”

[ They cannot hurt us when we are like this. ]

In the back of his head, he has the inexplicable feeling of… something foreign. A sense of self-satisfaction, but one that isn’t his own. 

“You’re… in my head…?” Hajime whispers, gripping his shoulders in a desperate hug. “G-get… get out of my head! What are you?!”

A sense of miffed confusion is prodding at his consciousness now. He shifts uncomfortably, wincing at the feeling of invisible fingers poring through his brain.

[ You are not… satisfied? You were crying out for help, so I offered my assistance. ]

Hajime opens his mouth to protest, but images and feelings are suddenly flashing through his mind, not of his own control. 

His body, flailing, gloved hands pinning him down. His throat, hoarse from screaming. Fear. Desperation. Pain, as a needle is forcefully poked into his arm. 

A starched white bed. Restraints. Seeing an operating knife plunging into his body. He doesn’t know if he’s begging out loud or if it’s just in his head.

The voice. It’s there, too, and he can feel it pulsing at the back of his head. It doesn’t come in the form of words, but in the form of an invisible hand, reaching out. Feelings of reassurance. A silent offer.

It’s one he takes. He’s grabbing onto the hand with everything he’s got, like a drowning man.

And then… nothing.

He’s snapped out of those memories as quickly as he’d been submerged in them, the… thing in his head pushing them aside. Like putting files back into a cabinet.

[ We are free now. ]

Hajime doesn’t respond. His head is swimming, distress and confusion crashing over his thoughts like tidal waves. His memory feels… hazy. Incomplete. But he remembers trusting the Hope’s Peak research team… he thinks. It was supposed to be a series of ‘small tests’. When had it escalated that far?

Why is there something else in his head? Why and how did he get like this? He’s surrounded by rubble and a collapsed building— the same one he’d been interviewed in. 

The same one he’d been experimented on in the basement.

He can’t help it. His body is starting to shudder with sobs, confused and aching and distraught. The voice doesn’t pipe up this time, but he can feel its presence lingering, uncertain. 

He covers his face with dirty, dust-covered hands. It’s hardly a comfort.

(What… do I do now? I don’t know, I… am I… stuck like this forever—?)

“Hajimeeee!”

He flinches at the sudden shout, close in range yet… distant. He peeks between trembling fingers, his gaze traveling to the ground—

And then he freezes.

Hazy memories are becoming more and more vivid. Even at this distance, that voice is so familiar— that hoodie, that hair— he’s seen them plenty of times before. Thought about them even more so.

“Ch… Chiaki…?” he croaks, his eyes widening.

Unlike the hundreds of students before her, she was running towards him. She halts only once she’s gotten as close as she can get to his leg, the rest of her path blocked off by debris.

She rests her hands on her knees and leans over— even from this height, Hajime can tell that she’s panting.

“H-Hajime… so this… this is where you’ve been!”

His other thoughts are overshadowed by a surge of relief at her familiar (and very much welcome) presence… and a crushing sense of guilt. Had she been waiting for him this whole time…? How long had it even been since he agreed to participate in the Hope Cultivation Project?

He finds himself reaching out for her, the ache in his heart getting stronger— but then he tenses up, his hand stopping only a few feet away from her small frame.

[ Why are you afraid? She cannot hurt you. ]

(Shut up.)

His thoughts drift to earlier. How he had accidentally knocked over that poor student with a simple nudge of his fingertips. How they had screamed in terror and ran—

His hand reflexively twitches, a slight tremble shivering through his arm.

[ …You’re afraid of hurting her? How peculiar. ]

(Shut. Up.)

However, even though he was frozen with indecision, Chiaki had other plans. 

Hajime inhales sharply as he feels a little pressure against the tip of his finger, startled as he glances back down and sees the girl grabbing onto his finger without a shred of hesitation.

“Hey, Hajime. It’s going to be okay. …I think.”

His lower lip trembles, even as he lets out a weak attempt at a laugh. “That… doesn’t sound very reassuring, when you say it like that, you know.”

“Got you smiling though, right?”

He sniffles, letting out a soft chuckle. “Y-yeah, fine. Guilty.”

[ What is… this feeling we’re experiencing? ]

Hajime’s shoulders tense up at the sudden reminder that he’s not exactly alone in his thoughts. He huffs quietly, shooting a scowl at nothing in particular.

(Didn’t I already tell you to be quiet?)

[ Yes. But I am curious. It feels very… warm. You care a lot for this human, correct? ]

(...Yes. Now shh. Go away. Something.)

[ I cannot ‘go away’, much as I would prefer being my own separate entity, Hajime. ]

(Really.)

[ Perhaps you should have taken into consideration the future ramifications of allowing yourself to be subjected to human experimentation. ]

(I wasn’t signing myself up for that to get an obnoxious backseat driver, you know!)

“...jime? Ah… Earth to Hajime…?”

He pauses in his bristling to look back down at Chiaki, who is looking up at him with a rather concerned look on her face.

“...You’re acting strange.”

Hajime clears his throat sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“...S-sorry. It’s just, uh. Been a lot to process, and… uh…”

He trails off as his fingertips trace up the back of his neck. His hair feels… longer than it did, but on a more concerning note… he can feel a raised, bumpy line going from the back of his neck all the way up to the back of his head. Stitches.

Hajime glances down at his hand worriedly as he pulls it away from the back of his neck. Unfortunately, it came back wet with splotches of blood, like he’d suspected. It was no surprise that he’d torn at least a few of them in the… chaos? He’s still not sure what had happened while he’d been unconscious, but judging from the destruction around him… his escape from the facility below the building couldn’t have been very peaceful.

“...It’s been a lot,” he concludes awkwardly.

“I can kinda tell, yeah.” Chiaki pauses, a mournful, distant look entering her gaze. “I was… really worried. That you might not come back.”

He glances away at that. He’d known he’d be leaving Chiaki for a while, but he hadn’t expected… whatever they had tried doing to him.

(And if that process hadn’t been interrupted… would I even have been able to come back to her at all?)

[ Doubtful. As far as I can assess, your memories and consciousness would have been stifled entirely, leaving me a clean slate for a host body. ]

(It was… it was a rhetorical question.)

[ Ah. ]

That being said, Hajime can’t help a heavy gulp and a shiver at the voice’s interruption before he turns to look at Chiaki again.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I never-- I never thought it would turn out like this,” he offers weakly. Feeling somewhat emboldened by Chiaki’s continued safety despite being so close to him, he shifts his hand a bit so that he’s delicately ‘holding’ her hands between his forefinger and thumb. 

Chiaki hums softly, smiling faintly at the warmth encompassing her hands all the way up to her mid-forearms. It’s… disconcerting, to say the least-- she’d be lying if her instincts weren’t a bit freaked out at having her arms held like those of a figurine, or a doll-- but when she looks up at his face, she’s smiling even more warmly than before.

“Just don’t do something like that ever again, ‘kay?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

She takes a moment just to bask in his presence before her smile returns to a more neutral expression. Then, she pops her lip awkwardly.

“...So I’d really like to know what happened. If and when you’re comfortable sharing, yeah? But, uh. Right now, we might… need to get out of here.”

Hajime’s head perks up at the distant sound of approaching sirens, his eyes shooting open wide.

“Oh no.”

[ Don’t worry. We can take them. ]

“That’s not the--!” Hajime catches himself mid-tirade, instead lifting his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Chiaki, you need to get out of here. I can’t let you get caught up in whatever is going to happen next.”

(That’s not the point. I’m not getting myself into more trouble-- I already have enough of that as is.)

[ ...So you do not wish to be this size, then? Even though it will keep you safe from any number of this city’s local law enforcement, and with my assistance, I believe the national guard as well-- ]

(No, I don’t want to be a giant freak, thank you very much.)

[ Mmm. What a boring answer… but, very well. Focus on settling your breathing-- and try not to panic too much. ]

(Wait, why would I--?)

Hajime sucks in one last breath before he suddenly can’t. He can see himself moving, see himself blinking, but he’s not controlling any of it. He’s formless, drifting endlessly, gasping for air to fill nonexistent lungs.

“A-ah--! Wh-what-- what the fuck did you do to me?!”

He can see his fingers releasing their hold on Chiaki, can see her gasping down below as he-- his body-- moves to stand upright, a shower of rubble clattering to the ground in his wake.

“No! Chiaki--!”

[ Shh. I’ve already calculated the amount of debris and where it’s falling-- none of it will fall anywhere near her. And I am merely borrowing your body for a minute while I resolve this matter. ]

“Borrowing--?! Are you kidding me, this is my body!”

[ You need to settle down. You’re interrupting my focus. ]

“No, I’m not just gonna ‘settle down’! Give me back my body, or I’ll--!”

It’s all too sudden, the shift from drifting formlessly through the void into something… a little more corporeal. He still can’t control his body, but in the surrounding darkness… he looks down. He can look down, at slightly-translucent, softly-glowing arms and legs.

This is… better, at least. It’s not his own body, but it’s better than… the nothingness.

And then he looks up.

He suddenly regrets his previous thought.

Looming over him, for lack of better words, is a giant shadow. It would almost look human, if not for the vast expanse of flowing, pitch-black hair that eventually trails off into the nothingness, or the piercing, glowing-red gaze peering down at him like he’s a mere insect.

[ You’ll… what? Tear your brain back open to get me out? Really now. ]

Hajime flounders desperately in an attempt to scoot backwards, but he doesn’t move an inch. He’s stuck floating in the same spot as impossibly-large hands come at him from both sides-- and proceed to cup around his ‘body’. Whatever form of gravity this place has suddenly comes into effect, his softly-glowing form tumbling into the palms of the shadow’s hands.

He lets out a terrified gasp as he’s lifted higher, to about the same level as those emotionless eyes.

For a moment, they both remain in silence. The shadow cocks its head, ever-so-slightly-- as though it were curious about its catch.

[ As I’ve already said, this is far from an ideal situation for you and me both. However, if there were a way to split our consciousnesses into separate entities, I would already be pursuing that course of action. As it stands, we are stuck together for the time being. ]

He flinches as its fingers move around him, thumbs moving closer and closer until they’re…

...Stroking him. Running over his back and head, impossibly gentle for such a massive creature.

[ Just know that I do not intend to harm you, Hajime Hinata, nor do I seek full control over your body. You will have it back once I am finished-- it would get boring very quickly if I held the reins for too long. For now, I just need you to calm yourself-- it’ll be irritating attempting to focus while also having to quell your struggling. ]

Seemingly involuntarily, Hajime finds himself letting out a long sigh, tenseness beginning to melt away from his ‘body’ and his actual, physical body at the same time. The shadow continues to carefully rub at him, massaging his shoulders and back-- it’s distracting enough that he can almost avoid looking at the unchanging, ominous eyes staring down at him, and enough that he almost doesn’t recognize how his physical body is changing.

The buildings around him are shifting, seemingly getting taller and taller with every breath. The process starts speeding up until, in a matter of seconds, they’re all looming over his body-- and Chiaki comes up to his chin instead of barely reaching his ankle.

And just like that, Hajime is gasping and coughing and swaying on wobbly knees, disoriented by suddenly regaining control of his lungs-- and the rest of his body-- once more. He nearly flinches at the sudden sensation of touch, as Chiaki’s hands quickly grab onto his shoulders to keep him from toppling over.

“I’m… Hajime, you’re really going to have to tell me what they did to you when we get out of here.”

He clears his throat in embarrassment and stands up straighter as he gets used to the feeling of his own body again, though he doesn’t exactly protest against letting Chiaki continue to support him.

“...Yeah, I’ll… I’ll try. It’s kind of a blur…”

(...Why didn’t you do that sooner?)

[ For protection, mostly, on the off chance that the facility staff attempted to incapacitate us. 

...That and it was rather enlightening to watch you and the girl attempting to get around the mental and physical barriers of your stature to display affection towards one another. ]

(Are you fucking kidding me.)

[ No. Also, please bathe at your earliest convenience. I regret that my brief experience with the sense of smell was fouled by your own body odor and the dirt clinging to your skin. ]

(Shut up. For the love of everything holy, shut up.)

[ I do not carry any particular fondness for any objects deemed by many cultures as ‘holy’-- ]

Hajime groans in exasperation, choosing to focus instead on Chiaki and being led away from the remains of the building behind them.

It… feels good just being near her again. Knowing he has a friend close by is comforting in and of itself-- probably his only friend at Hope’s Peak Academy, for that matter. One he’d come close to never seeing again, if he hadn’t been given a second chance.

“...So what’s going on with your eyes?”

He blinks, confused, before glancing over at her. “What do you mean?”

“One of them is red. And when you went back to normal, both of them were red. That’s not normal… I think.”

He freezes up momentarily at that-- and then he lets out another exasperated sigh before continuing to walk.

“It’s… a long story.”

(...But at least I’m still here to tell it.)

RP meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes" Introduction & Ch.1

"I have normal human fears and frailties, despite my faith."

"I’m terrified I won’t be there when they need me, that I won’t be able to give fully of myself to save them when the time comes. And the price of my failure, for them, would be too high."

"It was like nothing else mattered, nothing else could fill my eyes like the sight of him."

"Now, of course, I realize I was in shock at the time clammy skin, disorientation, that sort of thing."

"That night misted over my senses; even now, it seems more like a vivid dream than anything else."

"I had to watch. I couldn’t turn away."

"That night, I saw I had to protect him. He needed me, and it’s just as simple as that."

"Let’s just say what I know has come in handy."

"The best folks give the most of whatever they can."

"Think about it — would you like to go through childbirth every nine months from age 14 to 50?"

"We’re human beings, dammit!"

"I’ll always do anything I can to help, even if I’m royally pissed; I don’t expect thanks or money, either. But it would be nice to get some respect."

"I'm not alone in saying that I hate being patronized."

"Give an inch, they’ll take a mile" is what some of them think about us."

"The rhetoric a lot of them use sounds like the same crap bigots give when trying to “justify” why women and minorities shouldn’t have equal rights."

"Just once, I’d like to feel like an equal, a partner in all this."

"Ever think about how hard things would be without us?"

"I see by your scowl that doesn’t satisfy you."

"Think of it as normal family responsibilities, magnified a thousand times."

"It’s practically medieval!"

"I mean, it looks like such fun to turn into a wolf."

"There are connections like you wouldn’t believe. Completely outside the law, these people can get dirt on the opposition, perform b&e without leaving a trace and provide muscle no other boss can beat. All they ask is some capital, some boltholes and a little legal cover. Sweetest deal in the world!"

"What do I think about it? Imagine what it’d be like for someone to call you and say you’d missed out on a million dollars because you got one wrong number on the lottery ticket."

"Some are too caught up in the things of humans —chasing after money to have what advertisers insist they can’t do without, living their soap-opera lives and not seeing what the world is really all about. I pity them."

"There is sweeter revenge than death."

"I laugh with joy thinking how your heart will burst should you ever have to face him in battle."

"It’s a great honor to be who I am, who we are. But it’s scary, too."

"Families can quarrel, snarl and cut one another to the quick, but in times of trouble, they’ll stick together."

"God, Allah, Gaia, the Great Spirit or whoever gave us this job, so we have to do the best we can with it."

"Blood also fetters our lives in hatred as well as love, I’m afraid to say."

"I’m not saying this is a fact, but if she was abused, it might explain some things."

"I’m sorry, I can’t quite imagine a moment of sensual passion with someone I don’t love, much less hardly know!"

"In other words, it’s the connections that’re vital, not the money or the mileage."

"Many have wealth, but not all; lineage, not money, is most important."

"That’s a heavy price to pay in a harsh world."

"Self-sacrifice is also important."

"Sacrifice comes in terms of emotional costs, too."

"It’d be pretty stupid for me to become a gun-toting mercenary, for example."

"To put a positive spin on all this, I guess I’d say it’s nice to be needed."

"I admit I don’t really understand what it is or when it’ll be, but many’s the Irish tale where a small oversight wreaked terrible disaster."

"So I got online and made a few phone calls and tried to get the “truth” in as many forms as I could."

"The word “family” has come to mean a lot more things than the 1950s concept of mommy, daddy and two perfect children."

"Raising children is no bed of roses, either."

"Kids love to test their parents and see just how far they can push and still get away with it."

"There’s no way this could be easy."

"Some days, I have to bite my tongue, and that does get old."

"I was just too stupid and blind to see it."

"I always felt like I was split, alone, part of something I couldn’t name."

"Listen, you have no idea what it’s like to watch someone you love slowly lose her mind."

"There are some, well, bimbos."

"You know, the ones that like to control CEOs and topple careers."

"Here, try a piece of this chicken gizzard. I get ’em real cheap down at the butcher shop. No one else seems to want these extra parts. I grill ’em with a little barbecue sauce and honey mustard. Delicious! Thanksgiving’s always the best time, though. Then there’s turkey necks for the takin’!"

"Our families are pretty big, and we figure even the most distant cousin or friend of a friend’s part of the group."

"I’m sure you know, working with people all the time, how far thanks and a friendly smile go when you’re dead on your feet. It’s like the sun’s come out on a cloudy day."

"I mean, some of that stuff is long outdated!"

"It’s more a matter of belief and pureness of spirit, if you ask me."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"We’re steadfast and steady, yet vibrant and alive, warriors, artists, writers, musicians beyond compare."

"I don’t know if we can save them, but we won’t give up."

"To be tested and accepted by the greatest warriors in the world — no greater honor can we ask for."

"Think of us as the tiny little parts that hold a machine together. Maybe it could function without us, but not without a lot of wear and tear on the system. You get my drift."

"If leader seems weak, I test him. He shows strength, I stop."

"They’re the ones who are causing all the problems by rebelling against the people in charge. They need to settle down and just be content with what they’ve got, if you want my opinion."

"Why should I worry? It’s a clear day. Traffic’s light, but walking’s fine. You get to see where you’re going. I’ll hit a little town ’fore dark and trade a song or story for some food and a piece of floor."

"Revolutions are intolerable and inexcusable."

"The aristocracy attained their positions for a reason, for only the most worthy were chosen to lead, after all. If the

lower classes overthrow the aristocrats, anarchy is the sure result. One need only look at history; Can the Russians truly say their lot improved after they murdered the Romanovs?"

"History has always been a beloved subject to me."

"I pity those souls, displaced by fortune, who are ignorant of their heritage. How can one know who he is without knowing where he comes from? A man — or woman — is the sum of all who came before."

"Money is not the issue; many great families lost their fortunes, yet retain their nobility."

"It’s a poor teacher who doesn’t learn from her student; in this way, the knowledge of both increases."

"Dreams, of course, are the pathways of our souls; here rest our secret desires, fears and hopes."

"You doubt me. You don’t speak against me, but I can see your heart is dubious."

"There’s no greater glory than to serve the destiny of the universe."

"The lacerations looked exactly like the work of sharp teeth, deep into his flesh."

"I won’t go s’far as to say there’s undying loyalty, but we do have a lot of respect for each other."

"Were I as capable as my ancestors, I’d kill you now and never spare a second thought."

"No atonement can replace those lost children."

"Thus far, we have been lucky, but it’s just a matter of time before someone we don’t want sneaks in. It’s not that I want to close ranks by any means; I just wish we paid a little closer attention to who came in from the cold."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you think we’re a dime a dozen. I’d like to believe we’re a little more special than most."

"We’ve built too much for a rotten apple to spoil it all."

"I don’t believe this guy; it seems almost too perfect to be true!"

Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 7

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

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Rating: M

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Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

AO3

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A/N: Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this.

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Chapter 7

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Everything exists,

everything is true

and the earth is just

a bit of dust beneath our feet.

(W. B. Yeats)

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“Help yourself.” David had accompanied Killian to some sort of warehouse with various spare parts of spaceships piled up here and there on shelves. “Sorry, I don't understand much about mechanics.” He apologized.

Killian looked around him, some pieces appeared to be useful, others looked like half-broken remains from which perhaps a couple of bolts could be extracted but nothing more. “It seems more boneyard than storage.”

“Yeah, well, not everybody who landed here was lucky enough to tell the tale..” David sighed.

A look of understanding passed between them. Killian nodded and started to rummage through the pieces. They had just checked the Jolly Roger to assess the damages, passing through a hidden corridor that led directly to the hangar without having to go out into the open. If I had known this passage existed, I would have probably been spared my hospital stay, Killian had thought.

“What is like to grow up on this planet?” He asked nonchalantly, still trying to decipher the man next to him.

“Nobody is from Vernal-Den.”

Killian looked at him suspiciously “Then, how did you land here?”

“Probably, same as you did. We had entered the gravitational field without even realizing it. Sadly, we were less fortunate than you, our spaceship was destroyed. It’s a miracle we survived. And in no time we were trapped here.”

“And you built an underground city.” There was astonishment in his voice.

“It’s not that big, and the tunnels were already part of this planet, we just repurposed them for our convenience.”

“How many of you live here?”

David appeared lost in a faraway thought. “There were more than twenty of us in the original group. Some had already gone away, joining a fleeing ship. Some… well, let’s just say they had tried an escape route that did not turn out to be the best choice. There’s just a few of us left now.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Killian was curious to know what kept the other man tied to this lost land.

“I contemplated the possibility a couple of times. But at the beginning it was chaos, people needed a leader. Someone who took responsibility for organizing things down here.”

“You?”

“I was their leader on our home planet.” David answered, and Killian studied the man in front of him, his stance, the way he always looked straight into the eyes of his interlocutor. He exuded confidence and Killian had no trouble imagining him as a charismatic manager or even a king. But when he was about to ask, the other man went on. “When things started to run by themselves, I considered going somewhere else, but well, you can imagine, we don’t receive many visitors.”

“So if the opportunity arises to leave now, you will take it on the fly?”

“I don't know,” David shook his head, “but I would certainly think about it.”

Killian spent some time choosing pieces from the shelves. When he felt satisfied with his choices, he said “I think I have everything I need.”

David nodded and they made their way back to the ship. Killian was eager to get started on the repairs, the other man said he had some tasks to do and would be back to pick him up in a few hours, so Killian found himself alone in the hangar. But that was no problem, he loved devoting sweat and tears to his ship, and fixing it was for him like healing the wounds of a close friend.

Time flew by when he was with his lady, and when David returned, Killian was covered in grease and oil stains. “I’ve just talked to Mary Margaret”, the blonde man stated, “dinner should be ready soon, we better go home.”

A few corridors and passages down, David stopped in front of a double door. He seemed to ponder something, but in the end, he said “Let me show you something.”

Behind that door there was one of the most amazing things Killian had ever seen. A greenhouse. The man remembered when Henry mentioned it. Now he understood why the boy was so enthusiastic about it.

The place was enormous. Plants and trees of all kinds and species grew in full bloom under an artificial source of bright light and the temperature in the room was slightly wet but pleasant. Scents of different flowers filled the air and Killian recognized some fruits that he had only seen in pictures. He was staring with awe. “Well, this is…”

“Outstanding? Extraordinary?” David finished his sentence. “Yeah. Exactly my thoughts when I found it.”

“What do you mean, found it? Was it already here when you arrived?”

David nodded.

“But how could it be? You said that nobody was living here when you landed. Who is in charge of this place?”

“The place runs all by itself.” Under the astonished look of the other man, David added “Many things are strange on this planet, and I don’t have all the answers.” He shook his head. “I wish I had.”

~·~·~·~

Back home Killian took a quick shower to get rid of all the grease of the engine and when he was redressing with clean clothes, Emma approached him and started to help him with the ointment and fresh bandages for his bruises. They were alone in the upper part of the loft. She was chewing her bottom lip, maybe because she was concentrating on the task, or so he thought, and that’s why he was surprised when she abruptly said “We need to talk.”

He arched a brow. “I’ve found that when a woman says that, I'm rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I want you to know what Sidney Glass told me about New-Tolemac.”

Emma had just finished fixing the last of the gauze, and Killian put a hand on hers stopping her movements. She lifted her gaze, staring into his eyes perplexedly. He nodded, trying to silently tell her that she could trust him with whatever she wanted to reveal.

But the closeness, her hand on his chest, the way she was looking at him, it was too much to bear for Killian. Intense and maybe inappropriate thoughts were forming in his head, and he needed to pay attention to what she was about to say. He took a step back and started to put on a shirt.

Emma sat down at the end of the bed. She was fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable and worried. “The King and Queen of New-Tolemac have joined forces with the Industry.” She blurted.

“Well, that’s a powerful partnership, indeed.” Killian conceded.

“But why? For years they have built and perfected a plan to defeat the Industry, they have been preparing for war. Now they want to be their ally. I don’t understand.” Emma shook her head.

“People often change sides according to their benefits.”

“Yeah. Mr. Glass said they have a common goal. But he didn’t know what that was. Or he didn’t want to reveal it to me.” Emma had been staring at her feet so far. But she frowned and raised her gaze to find his. “I don’t know what to think.”

Killian sat down next to her and covered her hand with his. “What is exactly troubling you?”

“If New-Tolemac doesn’t fear a possible attack of the Industry, maybe they won’t be needing Henry as their heir anymore. So I should be relieved. But if they still need Henry for their future business, they are more powerful now, and finding my son wouldn’t be much of a problem for them.” She shivered. “I’m terrified.” She admitted.

Killian looked sympathetically at her, then he opened his arms and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “We will protect Henry. Nothing bad will happen to the boy.” He tried to reassure her, and she mentally thanked him for his choice to use the word we.

~·~·~·~

When Emma and Killian went downstairs Henry was immersed in a story. Mary Margaret was putting some things in place on her shelves, which in Killian’s opinion was not at all necessary, as they already seemed in order; he noticed that the boy glanced confused towards the brunette woman but didn't give it too much weight.

David was in the kitchen, browning some vegetables. "You absolutely have to try these," he told his audience, "they don't have all the intense flavor they had on our planet, but, given that they are from a greenhouse, they are not bad at all."

“What was your home planet?” Killian inquired.

“One of the NTH-Confederates.” It was Mary Margaret who answered.

“No way!” Henry had stopped giving attention to his tablet.

“Yes, why? Do you know them?” Was David’s question, while his wife simultaneously asked: "Have you been there?"

“Everybody in the multiverse knows them.” Killian stated. “I traveled a lot, but I never went that far away. Those planets are surrounded by legends and myths.”

“Well, it’s a very tangible and existing myth.” The brunette said with a nostalgic look in her eyes.

“It’s so cool! It has to be a wondrous place.” Henry was as enthusiastic as usual.

“Yeah. Well… I’d like it to be as cool as it used to be.” There was a hint of sadness in David’s voice. Then he shook his head as if he didn't want to indulge in melancholic thoughts. “But, they still have the best fillglow team of the multiverse!”

“What are you talking about?” Killian rhetorically asked.

“Why, The Buttercups, of course!”

“No, no, no.” Killian accentuated it by swinging one finger. “I mean, they are some fine fellows, I won’t argue with that. But The Black Clippers? That’s a team as it ought to be!”

“Oh, come on! The Buttercups have won four major leagues. What did your team win?”

“It’s easy to have the most requested players on the market when you are loaded. My boys, they cut their teeth on the field, they fought to reach where they are. They were not a guaranteed winning team, and look at them now, top end of the MFC table this year. Plus, they play fair.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” David was staring back at the other man, chin raised, one hand on his hip. He might even have looked threatening, were it not for the fact that in his other hand he was brandishing a wooden spoon and wearing an apron that read "the most charming chef in the world".

“Easy guys.” His wife tried to make peace. “Dinner is almost ready, would you like to help set the table?”

They all ate quietly, the boys still talking about sports, but with Mary Margaret's gentle interjection now and then, and some glances at her husband, they didn’t argue much. Emma, instead, was delighted, looking at Killian talking about his favorite team as if he was defending his honor.

When they finished eating, the brunette stood up and said to her husband “David, you should go and do your patrol, while I check at the hospital if they need anything.” Something that Killian had already listened to the previous day, as well just after dinner.

Henry looked at the woman frowning. “Why do you always repeat the same actions, day after day?” He was perplexed.

Killian hummed as if he had the clues to the boy’s puzzle “This is a stuck-track planet, my lad.” he explained to a confused Henry. “I’ve been on some of them when I was young.”

“You say it as if you were an old fellow.” Emma snorted. “What are you, a million years old?”

“It’s more like two hundred.” Was his reply.

And to her surprise, she didn’t detect any hint of a lie. “Are you kidding me?”

Killian was about to reply, but Henry interrupted their banter “What’s a stuck-track planet?”

“It means that time runs differently here.” The man explained. “The days or even weeks we spend on this planet are probably just a couple of minutes back home.”

The boy seemed fascinated by the idea. “Wow! Now I understand why my watch gives almost the same hour, it's not broken, it just moves really slow!”

“Exactly. And it affects people, too.” Killian went on. “They don’t age, or at least not in the way you do on Althea-Seals.” Then he drew near Emma, whispering so that only she could hear him “Stuck-track planets may have given me experience, but as you can see I’ve retained my youthful glow.” He winked at her, who just rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

“This is why the days all look the same here.” Henry deduced, who was giving further thought to the subject.

“This is why we follow routines so strictly.” Mary Margaret chimed in. “It helps count the passing of time.”

“Does that mean that you and David aren’t the age you appear, either?” Emma questioned.

The other woman thought about it. “Add twenty years, give or take. But it’s hard to say exactly.”

The married couple excused themselves while heading out of the loft to carry out their duties. Killian and Emma started to put away the remains of the dinner. Henry was probably still eager to know as much as possible about this strange planet and its slow time, but when he stood up with his dirt plate in his hands he couldn’t suppress a yawn. His mother insisted on him going to bed.

~·~·~·~

“Where do those flying rocks around the planet come from?” Killian asked David after he had come back from his patrol.

Henry was already sleeping upstairs, and the three of them were sitting around the table.

“Ahm, it’s not so easy to explain.” The blond man answered.

“Give it a try.” Killian wanted to understand how Vernal-Den worked.

David shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, more than I don’t actually know about it.” He made a pause trying to find better words to explain his point of view. “I would say it’s remotely directed.”

“From where?” Emma asked curiously.

“We don’t know.” This time was Mary Margaret’s turn to answer, who had just entered the loft, back from the hospital, and joined the other adults at the table.

“But I assure you, there’s none else on this planet, apart from the people we know about. And I trust all of them.” David had the urge to defend his friends.

“A couple of people we knew had tried to go outside to search for other forms of life, enemies, whatever... to understand who or what supervises this planet’s activities.” Mary Margaret sighed. “Let’s just say it didn’t end well.”

“But there should be someone else on this planet, defending it.” Killian didn’t comprehend.

“There’s nobody else living here, apart from the people we already know.”

“How can you be so sure?” Emma asked.

“Nobody else uses the greenhouse and its products.” David explained. “Nobody else wastes the energy generated by the planet. It’s just us.”

“But it’s clear that someone really wants to protect this planet from intruders, therefore the rocks. For what purpose?” Killian’s attempt to solve this puzzle only created more questions and doubts.

“Well, the greenhouse could supply oxygen and food for an entire population. I think that someone is interested in keeping this planet as a possible lifeline.”

“A lifeline.” The dark man wondered about it. “Who’s behind this?”

“My theory is just as good as yours.” The blond man shook his head again.

“But you do have a theory.”

“Who’s playing with planets as pawns for his own benefits?” David grimaced.

“You think the Industry is behind this?” Emma almost whispered, as if she was worried that the Industry itself could hear her. She shivered, and Killian put his hand on hers resting on her knee under the table. He was willing to tell her that everything was going to be ok, but he didn’t want to generate indiscreet questions from his hosts.

David shrugged. “Any other ideas?”

“I don’t know. We haven't lived here for a long time. You tell me.” Killian teased.

David looked straight at his guests. “We did some research, with the limited resources we have here, but I assure you it’s nothing we had seen before. What generates all the power needed to maintain the greenhouse and the system that propels the rocks outside the atmosphere … it’s not material, if you understand what I mean.”

Killian passed his bionic hand over his stubble thoughtfully. “Not material.” He repeated. “Antiparticles? But that’s preposterous! A fantasy! You can’t create energy from nothing.”

“Yeah. You would say so. But there’s no other explanation. It’s a power so strong that can create an entirely new world…” David made a pause, and then: “or destroy one.”

“Antiparticles,” Killian repeated, while all his theories were starting to fit in. “So that’s how that vile crocodile annihilates the planets he doesn't need anymore.”

The blond man nodded. “After looting everything the planet has to offer, the Industry injects some of those antiparticles underground. And they disintegrate every last molecular bond and electric impulse until the planet itself implodes.”

“Is that what happened to your planet?” Emma asked Killian even if she didn’t need an actual answer, and then she turned to the couple “Yours as well?”

“We’re not sure about that,” David answered. “From the sources we have, it appears that the NTH-Confederates planets are still alive and kicking, all of them. I think Mr. Gold has other intentions, some obscure interest in them. But I don’t know what it is.”

“Do you miss it? Your home.” Emma inquired. She didn’t miss hers. Life on New-Tolemac when she was a child had not been that bad, she couldn’t complain. But the lack of freedom and the memories of the last events there had left a sour taste and no desire of going back ever.

“Yes. We do.” There was sadness in David’s voice. “Most of the time. But we know that returning there doesn’t necessarily mean that we could go back to our lives. Many things have changed. And I’m not sure I’d like to see how our planet has become.”

“We had to make some difficult decisions before leaving our home. But it was for the best of all.” Mary Margaret sobbed. “It was a long time ago, but it still hurts like the first day.” David put his hand on hers, smiling faintly, trying to give her courage.

“What happened? If it’s not too much to ask.” Killian softly asked.

“We were under attack,” David explained. “We tried to defend ourselves, but the Industry’s power is difficult to overcome. We realized that the only way for us to survive was to abandon our land…”

Mary Margaret stepped in, “We believed that it was the end, that we wouldn’t be able to escape alive.” She sighed loudly “I had just had a baby, and we knew that taking her with us was too risky, it would have been her death sentence.”

“So we contacted a woman who promised us that our daughter would be taken care of, she knew that the King and Queen of a faraway planet were searching for an heir.” David went on telling the story, but his voice wasn’t as steady as he tried to make it. He was still affected by the sad memory as well as his wife. “We wrapped her in a white blanket with a purple ribbon and we gave her the best chance to be the princess she could have never been with us.”

“So you decided to sell her!” Emma shouted.

“What?” - “No!” David and Mary Margaret reacted simultaneously, shaking their heads in bewilderment.

“We never said anything about money.” David pointed out.

“We could have never done anything like that to our child.” Mary Margaret seemed shocked by her guest’s assumption and even a bit outraged.

Emma looked at them with an open mouth, but no sound came out. Then she abruptly stood up and rushed out of the house.

The married couple exchanged a questioning look. “Did I say something wrong?” Mary Margaret asked worriedly.

Killian shook his head. “I should apologize for her behavior. This is a sensitive matter for her. If you would excuse me.” He said standing up and heading to the door.

~·~·~·~

“Are you alright, love?” Killian found Emma sitting on the corridor floor, with her arms around her legs and her face buried in her knees.

He waited for a reply, but it didn’t come. So he sat down next to her. She was crying, her back shuddering.

“Swan…” he tried, but then... “Emma, talk to me.”

She raised her face to look straight at him. Tears rolling down her cheeks. “I have a white blanket with a purple ribbon from when I was a baby! I always had it!” And there was pain in her eyes, but also anger.

It was his time to keep silent. He didn’t know how to react to this new piece of information.

“It’s them!” She exclaimed between sobs. “Those people inside the house are my parents! How am I supposed to look at their faces?”

An immeasurable feeling of protection spread within Killian, but he had to swallow his urge to hug her as if their lives depended on it, because it wasn’t the right time. She was struggling against enough demons, he could not burden her with further emotional matters. “Well, love, if it were me finally finding my parents, I would be very pleased to spend as much time as possible with them, to get the chance to know them and understand who they really are.”

“They sold me! They didn’t want me!” Emma looked at him as if he were an alien. How he could not understand her point of view was beyond her comprehension.

But Killian did understand her, given that he had been sold as a child as well, he knew the feeling, he just didn’t think this was the same case he had lived through. “That’s not what they said in there. They were trying to protect their baby, to give her her best chance to live a life they couldn’t afford for her. And they didn’t seem happy about that decision. I saw regret and what-ifs in their eyes.”

He knew she too noticed the pain in David and Mary Margaret's strangled voices, but he also knew she wasn't ready to admit it. “They are lying.” She hissed.

“Are you sure about that? Henry once told me you have this superpower, that you can detect a lie when you hear it. I had the impression they were being honest while telling their story.”

“But I saw the contract!” She was grasping at straws.

Killian had to take her to a more practical level, something tangible that she could hold on to if she wanted to. “Aye, you saw it. And who exactly signed it?”

“I…” Emma tried to recall a ten-year-old memory, but it wasn’t easy. After all, she had been in shock when she had discovered she wasn't the real daughter of the King and Queen of New-Tolemac. “I don’t know… I mean, I’m pretty sure there were my adoptive parents’ names in the paper, but…”

And that was when Killian realized that he had bought her some time, at least. “So you are not completely sure that they are your parents.”

He saw how her shoulders hunched as she was looking at him with watering pleading eyes and he understood that part of her was yelling to run away from pain and old scars, but another part was whispering that maybe she could finally find that love that only parents can give and that she had never felt in her life.

“You know what? We’re going to go back, and we’re going to spend a few more days with those people. We could even ask them if they would like to come with us on our journey back.”

“But..” She started.

Killian stopped her with the raise of one finger. “If it turns out that they really are your parents, well, you’ll have more time to understand why they decided to abandon you when you were just a baby. And only after that, we’ll choose if we hate them or not. Sounds fair?”

She didn’t move for a few minutes, dwelling on his words, but then she put a hand on his bionic one, and even if she knew he couldn’t feel it, she squeezed it with gratitude. Thank you for bearing this weight with me. She would have liked to say the words, but they didn’t come. She didn’t have the strength to analyze why he was doing this for her. Too many feelings for one night, to face new and unfamiliar ones. “Okay.” was what she finally said.

Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, tr. by Judith Thurman, from “She Satisfies A Fear with the Rhetoric Tears,”

—Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, tr. by Judith Thurman, from “She Satisfies A Fear with the Rhetoric Tears,”

King! Hoseok

Pairings: Hoseok x Kasia (reader)

Genre: King! Hoseok, fluff, angst, smut 

Words: 10k

Warnings: smut, (mentions of) murder and death, mention of rape, strong language

Summary: King Hoseok was one of the most feared rulers of his time, until a brave young girl turned his life upside down.

"Boring, bring me the next jester.", the young king yawned on his throne. "What shall we do with him, your Highness?"

His knees trembled, his eyes were filled with fear and despair. The jester knew exactly what his king was about to do. Hoseok enjoyed watching him like this. A devilish laugh graced his mouth. "Immediate excommunication."

He had uttered these words innumerable times, every time he spoke with a lightness over his lips. These words meant death. He stared at him trying to capture every detail of his fear.

"Please have mercy on me your Highness, I have a wife and children!" - "Oh well, if that's the case." Relieved he exhaled, but the blood froze in his veins when he noticed the gaze of his king.

"Give the family his corpse with a greeting from their beloved king." Hoseok was widely known as the most brutal and scary ruler of his time. He did not know anything like grace or kindness, much more he enjoyed the suffering of others.

His enemies no longer dared to attack him since he overpowered an army with his strong army and tortured each one personally in the most painful ways.

The jester was led away, his screams echoing through the pompous hall, creating pleasant goose bumps on Hoseok's skin.

His subordinates pity their faces, but that did not bother him. Being the most feared man was a satisfaction to him. He had a great idea. For him at least she was terrific, for the others a death sentence.

"Forget the jester. I'm going to do an unannounced inspection of the castle, and every time I find something that I do not like, someone has to pay with their life."

The eyes of his subjects widened in shock. They felt like he was looking for reasons to punish someone. They were not entirely wrong. Hoseok rose from his custom-made throne and ran off every room in the castle.

Disappointed he had to realize that everything was prepared very precisely according to his wishes and almost wanted to give up, but his last stop was the kitchen. He grinned mischievously when he finally found something he could complain about.

"Are those mushrooms back there?" He asked rhetorically. Of course they were mushrooms. All the cooks and cooks stared rigidly at the ground, dared not look at him let alone answer him.

"You know that I have an allergic reaction to mushrooms, did you want to poison me? I should kill all of you with my bare hands."

At these words all present shuddered. Hoseok let his eyes wander around the room and stayed with a little boy, maybe 13 years old. "Explain why you have mushrooms against my order or I'll have you locked up." He deliberately picked out the youngest, because he would not have an answer to his question.

The uncertainty and fear in his eyes spurred Hoseok even more to torment him. "I-I-your Highness I do not know." Hoseok raised his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest. "Then I'll have to lock you up."

"No! Your Highness, please let him go!", Suddenly a high voice called from one of the back rows while the little boy was about to be taken away. He was already crying bitterly in fear.

Hoseok's eyes fell on the dainty lady who fought her way through the crowd. So the voice was hers. "Your Highness he is still so young, it's not his fault. Please let him go."

The entire staff looked at them in shock, they could not believe that someone dared to make a request to the king. But that did not interest the young woman. Even if her knees were shaking with fear and she wanted to disappear from the ground when she noticed her king's look.

Something about her irritated the young man. How dare she talk to him without being asked? He should have her beheaded for this impudence or serve his dogs for lunch.

He opened his mouth to ask his men to take her too, but no sound left his throat. The girl still looked intimidated, but he noticed that she was trying to be strong and to not show any signs of being afraid. Her dark shoulder-length hair fell into her chestnut brown eyes and a strand had strayed between her lips.

With a light hand movement she stroked it all out of her face and looked at the little boy who gave her a greatful smile. Then her gaze fell back to her handsome master, who still had not given instructions to anyone yet.

"Let him go, I'm not in the mood anymore.", he murmured unexpectedly and left the large cooking room without further ado. He still heard from a distance how everyone sighed in relief as the little boy, his name was apparently Jungkook, was released and ran into the brave woman's arms.

"You saved my son's life!" the boy's mother shouted and hot tears ran down her cheeks. Hoseok had heard enough and hurried to his huge bedroom.

__________

"Why do you think he spared him and did not cut your tongue off for your frivolous behavior or did something even worse?", her friend asked her as she told her what had happened yesterday.

"I don't know, honestly. But I'm glad Jungkook is fine." The two were sitting on small stools made of wood and peeling potatoes for today's dinner. "Please do not do that again Kasia, you know he's a psychopath. You just had damn luck or a fucking guardian angel watching your back since you survived talking to the king like that."

"If I can try to save a life, I will of course not be silent!" protested the young girl and her friend sighed. "I do not want anything to happen to you."

"I know Elly, I'm careful. I promise you.", Kasia replied, smiling encouragingly. The guard behind the door decided he had heard enough and walked down the great corridors to report to the king.

Already since yesterday evening he sat at his big table and brooded over the past events. Who was this girl? Why did she have such courage and why didn't he kill her?

Normally, he would have been happy to get to kill two people, but an unknown feeling kept him from doing so. He ordered one of his guards to shadow her a bit and tell him what he found out.

"Her name is Kasia.", the young man began, barely older than his master. "Kasia..." Hoseok said after him and let the name melt on his tongue. "Kasia." "She's 24, the same age as you are, your highness. She has a little sister and lives with her and her mother in your castle as a maid. Her father died long ago."

Hoseok nodded and took in all the information. He could feel her pain somehow, since he didn't even get to know his father and his mother died a few months ago.

"Did you find out anything more?", he asked out of curiosity. "Yes, my lord. Her best friend seems to be Elly, one of the maids here too. She likes to walk through the blooming garden, especially at night. Her favorite flower is the sunflower. That's it, sir."

"Fine.", Hoseok murmured absently. He thought about her picking up the beautiful sunflowers he also liked very much and couldn't help but smile for a second.

He didn't like what he was feeling. He wasn't used to this warm feeling building up in his stomach. He wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. It was her fault. It's her fault that he was feeling some sort of sick? So he decided she had to suffer for it. "Guard?" - "Yes, your highness?"

"Give her and her family the hardest and dirtiest jobs you can find in this castle. And if they don't want to do it you can threaten them with death. I'm in a bad mood so they shouldn't upset me.", he ordered, watching his inferior nodding.

"I'll do as you wish.", he answered and went to let actions follow his words. Hoseok nodded to himself, somehow proud. He felt better almost immediately.

Why did he even waste one second of his time thinking about this little brat? He should have just killed her. But well, now it'll be much more fun since he can watch her and her family suffer for a long time.

Days went by and Hoseok got into his daily routine again. He almost forgot the (very beautiful he had to admit) girl who irritated him so much. He heard her Family was suffering a lot under his orders and that satisfied him. But then she surprised him again with showing up in his dining room, carrying his meal and planting it in front of him aggressively.

"Why are you doing this to us? What did we do to you that makes you being so cruel?", she asked with tears in her eyes. Hoseok looked at her with a shocked expression. What the hell is she doing again? he thought. She has to be insane. Does she want to die so badly?

"How dare you talking to me like this again?", he asked and she looked at him with wide eyes. This was the first time she heard him talking to her and she thought he sounded very soft and gently. The absolute opposite of what he was.

"Y-you know exactly what i mean.", she stuttered intimidated since Hoseok got up from his chair and looked down on her. "My mother fainted yesterday because you give us more work than we can handle. Please stop. I beg you."

Suddenly, another girl entered the room and grabbed Kasia by her arm. "Are you fucking insane now?", she hissed under her breath staring at her friend in disbelief. "I can't watch my mother suffer like this anymore Elly, let go of me!"

Hoseok watched this scene with a small smirk on his lips. She had so much fire in her gaze, it lowkey reminded him of himself when he wasn't the king yet. Always rebellious against his elders although he knew there was a lot he was risking.

"I highly apologize if she made you any discomfort, your highness.", she said without looking him in the eyes and bowed. Then she tried dragging Kasia out of the room, but unfortunately she was stronger than her.

"How did you even get the guards to let you in?", he asked her, earning a confused expression on Kasias face. "I just told them I'm the one who serves you your meal.", she explained. "Your highness.", she added, slowly getting more terrified of this situation since the adrenaline in her blood was sinking and she came to all her senses.

"Wow, the people who are supposed to protect me are idiots.", he laughed. "I should kill them all." Ellys face went comletely pale as she heard him talking about ending someone's life so untroubled and she grabbed her friend once again. "Let's leave, please. I'm not ready to die yet.", she whispered to her.

Kasia nodded, although she wasn't ready to go yet. She wanted to persuade Hoseok to stop overburden her mother, but she didn't want Elly to get into any trouble because of her. "I beg you, your highness. Please think about my words. I don't want my mother to suffer anymore, she means the absolute world to me. I know you loved your mother like i do love mine.", she tried one last time, hoping she didn't cross a line.

But whom did she try to fool? She already crossed all the lines with stepping into this room minutes ago. Although her words were true, Hoseok loved his mother unconditionally and he still did, her words hit his weak spot and got him to think about her death again. One of the worst days in his life. She was the only one in this world who believed in him as Hoseok, not just as the future king.

He tried to shake this thoughts off quickly, staring at both girls with a furious look now. "Leave.", he commanded, turning his back on them. They immediately turned around and almost runned out of there, afraid what would happen if they didn't.

__________

"I'm pretty sure you lost your mind. WHAT THE HELL HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU LATELY? YOU'RE RISKING YOUR LIFE YOU KNOW THAT?!", Elly almost shoutet at her friend as they arrived in her bedroom. "I'm sorry i didn't mean to drag you into this. You shouldn't have come to get me."

"Of Course i did! I can't just watch you run into your death like this." Kasia smiled. "Then you understand why I couldn't stop me from talking to him." Elly sighed deeply, watching her friend getting comfortable on her bed. "Why am I even friends with you?" "Because you love me.", she answered, grinning to her.

_________

Hoseok's thoughts were full of that brave girl. He struggled to banish her from his head. Again she had managed to surprise him and face him in some way no one ever dared to since he was the king of this country. In a way unknown to him, that made him a little happy.

He decided that her courage had to be rewarded and ordered her mother and her to have enough breaks and less work. For the first time in years he did something for someone other than himself.

He would never have thought that it would feel so good. Even without seeing her he could imagine how wide her beautiful smile would be and how her eyes would sparkle when she found out that he had fulfilled her wish.

Although he tried his really hardest to get her out of his mind, he just couldn't. So one night, he decided to use the knowledge he earned through his guard and went to the blooming garden just a few minutes away.

He could see her standing in front of the sunflowers just how he imagined when he got out of bed and got ready to see her. The moon was shining bright as he walked the small path approaching her. She didn't notice him yet, she was too distracted by the beautiful nature in front of her.

When he finally reached her, he didn't really know what to say or do. He kind of just wanted to watch her in silence but he knew that would scare her. "Kasia."

His lips suddenly formed her name so easily but as she turned around with bride eyes to face him, he felt unable to cope the situation again. How come he was so insecure about this?

"Your highness.", she whispered and bowed. After straightening up again, she just stared at him with a confused expression. What was he doing here? She has never seen him in this garden before.

"I just came to see the flowers, don't worry. You did nothing wrong.", he explained. Half of that was a lie, but he wouldn't just admit to her that he wanted to see her so badly. "They are very beautiful aren't they?", Kasia asked rhetorical, looking down on them and smiling again.

"I don't know why, but they comfort me in some type of way. Whenever I'm feeling sad I just walk through this beautiful garden and immediately feel a lot better.", she told him unexpectedly.

"It's good to have something you can hold on to when you seem lost in this world.", Hoseok said, watching her nodd to his words. He felt comfortable with her to just speak out loud what came to his mind. At the end she was just a maid, so who cares? "Do you have something, my lord?"

"Hm?"

"Something you can hold on to I mean." He thought about it and had to admit that the only thing he had was his mother who kept him sane. He felt like he buried his humanity with her.

"I can just imagine how hard being the king has to be. My life and my problems are nothing compared to yours so I really hope that you have something that makes you happy in dark times.", she said so genuine that he felt a warm feeling in his stomach. "It's really nice of you to worry about me."

"Of course I do, you are our king.", she answered slightly irritated. "Oh yeah, of course." This night had some magical haze he thought. He almost forgot that he was the king and she was just one of his hundreds of maids in the castle. "I will go to bed now, have a good night Kasia."

As he turned his back on her, he suddenly felt a light grip on his arm. "I-I'm so sorry, your highness. I just wanted to thank you. You were so gracious and actually listened to my worries, although I was incredibly bumptious to even dare to ask. Thank you so much.", she said honestly and gifted him with a warm smile.

"It's okay. You better learn to watch your mouth though. You can be thankful I was in a good mood these days otherwise you'd be dead by now.", he answered and gave her a smirk. Her smile though slowly faded and she nodded. "Of Course. I highly apologize for my behaviour."

First he didn't know why her mood changed so rapid, but then he could figure it out by looking into her eyes. They were filled with fear. "That was a j-", he wanted to tell her that he didn't mean it, he didn't want her to be afraid, but as he thought about it it was true. Every other person would've been dead by now.

He didn't know why she was still alive, but he couldn't tell her that this was a joke when he coped almost every situation with ending someones life. "Anyway, good night kasia." - "Good night, my Lord." He gave her one last gaze and left with a little smile. ________

"It was kind of strange but it wasn't at the same time? I don't know. It was interesting talking to him though. I think under this mask of power he really is just a human like us.", Kasia told her friend while cooking again.

The night they met surrounded by beautiful flowers and illuminated by the moon was now a whole week ago but she still thought about it a lot. "Under his mask he really is just a brutal sadist who likes to kill people. Open your eyes, please Kasia.", Elly sighed at her innocent mentality. "When he really is just a psychopath, why am I still alive then?"

"I don't have a fucking clue but you shouldn't test him sweetheart." Kasia understood her friend's worries and had to agree that he was indeed a dangerous man and she knew that. Just before she could think more about her king, one of his guards came into the kitchen. "You. Are you Kasia?", he asked in a cold tone.

"Uhm, yes I am.", she answered, her knees feeling weak because of the fear building up in her. "From this day on, you will serve the king his meals. It better be prepared in a few minutes, he's already hungry."

Kasia and Elly looked at each other in surprise. Why would he want that? "He may have a strange obsession with you now. Creepy.", Elly whispered so the guard won't hear her. "Why should he? Don't be so full of prejudices.", she answered, slightly angry now. She didn't know why but it pissed her off when Elly talked about him like that.

"Just be careful okay?" Kasia nodded, sinking into her thoughts again. She was somehow excited to see him. When the food was finished and ready to get served the nervousness in Kasias stomach increased. She tried breathing in and out to calm her but it didn't work.

One of the guards in front of his dining room held the door open for her so she could enter easily. His eyes immediately locked with hers as she walked through the room to reach his table.

"I hope it's all to your satisfaction, my lord.", she finally spoke and smiled slightly. He replied with a smile too and licked his lips finally seeing his meal. After she placed it in front of Hoseok, she bowed and left the room quiet and fast.

This became a daily ritual. She entered, greeted him, smiled, placed his meal in front of him and bowed, then she left. Sometimes, at night when he felt like missing her, he would look outside of his window to find her with the flowers again, but he thought she bloomed even more beautiful than them.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but his affection towards her grew every time he layed his eyes on her or she gave him a genuine smile. ________

"Did you hear it too?" - "Yes, it's so typical for him. I'm so afraid." Kasia could hear two maids talking from across the room. She tried to listen to their conversation in curiosity. "But I mean he was not wrong. Guards who can't protect the king are useless.", one of them pointed out.

"But he could just fire them, not kill them! I heard he did it with his bare hands...", the other answered, shaking her body while thinking about it. So he really killed the guards? Kasia asked herself. Her eyes filled with tears. She thought it's her fault. If she didn't fool them they would most likely still be alive.

She tried to get rid of these thoughts, swiping away the upcoming tears. Kasia had to focus on her job now. As on any other day she entered the room and placed the plate in front of her king. This time she didn't smile though, and he noticed. Before she could leave he grabbed her wrist and turned her around. "Kasia."

She looked at him in confusion as he pointed to the chair next to him. "I'd like to have your company while eating today." She knew she couldn't refuse, so she sat down in silence. He didn't know what to do, he barely talked to anyone besides he has to. He was clueless of how he could make her smile again.

"Kasia, is something wrong?", he asked directly, earning a shocked expression of her. "N-no, I'm alright. Thank you for asking, your highness." Hoseok just nodded. If she didn't want to speak about it he'd accept that. At least for now. Maybe she just had a stressful day.

"What about you? If I can dare to ask.", she added. Her kings eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled. He liked that she always cared about his well-being, even if it was just because he was her king.

"I'm fine, now that I have your company even better.", Hoseok answered with a charming smirk. Kasias cheeks immediately turned into a light red as she shyly avoided his gaze.

Her eyes scanned the room but stopped as she detected a new and very beautiful painting on the wall. "Am I allowed to stand up, my lord? I'm not going to leave." Hoseok frowned in confusion but nodded in approval. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." She stood up from the fancy chair and walked around her king to reach the painting. She had to see it from nearer to appreciate the precise work.

"What do you think?", a dark voice suddenly asked behind her. He could feel his breath on her smooth skin which gave her goosebumps. "I like it.", she admitted, her eyes still on the piece of art in front of her. "You do?"

"Yes, it's beautiful and so full of detail. I'm sure this artist is very experienced.", she gushed about it. "I'm glad to hear that. It's my work actually.", Hoseok explained with a little bit of pride in his voice.

He couldn't understand why, but it made him very happy to know that she genuinely liked his work. Painting was his passion he never admitted nor talked about to anyone. She turned around to face him. "It's really yours?"

Both were surprised by how close they stood to each other and Kasia let out a little gasp. She wanted to sidestep by taking a step backwards, but she already felt the wall behind her. "I- I'm so sorry."

Hoseok smiled because of her shy behavior, he found it really cute. "Don't worry Kasia." He didn't take a step back, somehow he wanted to feel her closeness.

"And yes this is my work. Painting is my favorite Hobby. I usually don't share it with anyone, but sometimes I just want people to see it even if they don't know it's from me. I'm really happy that you like it.", he explained, bodies still nearly touching. He could smell her scent, it was a very discreet but so pleasant one that reminded him of the flowers in his garden.

"You are the first one to know this besides my mother. She taught me everything about it since it was her passion too. Maybe I love it so much because it reminds me of all the time I spent with her as a kid."

His heart began to arch in pain, he really missed her. Hoseok didn't receive much love from others in his life but his mother gave him more than enough. To her he was Hobi, her son and never Hoseok the future king. But now she was gone and he felt alone like never before.

He began to drown in his thoughts, staring on the ground as he suddenly felt a hand on his right arm, stroking it gently. "I'm so sorry for your loss." Kasia didn't know why she did this, but she just felt like this was right. He clearly needed comfort and she was willing to give it to him. "I- uh. Thank you Kasia. I don't want to bore you with my pitiful rant any further."

"You don't bore me! Don't say that. I'd be happy to help you, even if all I can do is to listen.", she said in a soft tone. "Well that's because I'm your king and you think you have to do anything to please me or-"

"No it's because you are a human being like any other who lost his mother and needs someone to share his pain and thoughts with. Just because you are our king doesn't mean that people can't care for you as a person. I do care okay?", she interrupted him with her babble.

His Eyes widened as her words echoed through the dining room. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, I didn't want to be disrespectful but I don't want you to think that the only thing that defines you is your status. You sure are so much more than that and you shouldn't forget that."

And there it was again, the fire in her eyes he admired the most. They began to shine so brightly when she was talking about something that was important to her. "You think so?" "Yes I do.", she answered confidently, adding a smile on her lips. He didn't know what to say, so he just smiled back and cleared his throat. "So... thank you. You can go for today."

She nodded and walked towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow.", he added, already having a warm feeling in his stomach thinking about it. She turned around one last time to smile brightly before heading towards the room she shared with her family.

_________

A few days later Hoseok decided to go for a walk and hopefully meet Kasia again. He slowly realized how attached he became to her but he didn't mind anymore. Why shouldn't he just do what made him happy?

Somehow she managed to make his days happier and brighter just with her presence. By now it became normal that she sat with him while he took his meal so they could talk a bit.

They got to know each other a little better each day and he liked how he felt around her. Hoseok felt like his personal qualities mattered to her. It was like balm for a soul marked by loneliness for many years.

He was surprised to not see her around the sunflowers but sitting under a tree a few meters away. She had a book in her Hands and seemed to be drown in it.

"Good afternoon madame.", he greeted and sat down next to her. She was surprised by the form of adress he used towards her, but couldn't deny that she liked it. "Good afternoon, your highness."

"Please call me Hoseok from now on.", he asked while she put her book to the side, surprised by this himself. Kasia looked at him with insecurity. "Are you sure about this?", she asked. She felt like this was a big step. Being allowed to call the king by his name? An honor not even all noblemans have. "Yes I am sure."

"Thank you, I don't even know what to say. But... why?" She looked at him with curiousity. "There is no reason to thank me, you earned it. You are the only one I know who sees me as a person first and then as the king. I really appreciate that. It's good to have a safe space where I can be myself for a couple of minutes.", he explained, expressing his feelings. Hoseok had to think about their first real conversation, right here in the beautiful nature, lighted by the moon.

They talked about having something to hold on to when it feels like being lost in this world, and he realized that in this short amound of time she became this thing for him. "I'm happy that you feel like this.", she smiled softly.

"Oh what's this?", he asked noticing a bunch of papers next to her book after a couple minutes of comfortable silence. "Actually I came here to draw after reading a little bit, having the beautiful garden and your painting as my inspiration.", she admitted. "You are an artist too? How come I don't know?"

"To be honest I wanted to tell you the day I saw your painting but we changed the topic so fast that I forgot.", she laughed. "I love to draw and paint, it's my hobby too." - "Would you mind showing me something?"

She grabbed the papers she took with her and handed them to him. "These are just little doodles though." Although she said that, he found her art very beautiful. "I love your technique.", he stated, totally focussed at every line she drew.

"Thank you, but it's nothing compared to you." - "That's not true! You are very talented and I hope you can show me more in the future." She nodded happily. "I hope to see more of your paintings too."

Suddenly, he stood up and reached out his hand. Confused she let him help her get up and collecting her things. "Where are we going?", she asked while walking beside him towards the castle again. "I'm gonna take you to my atelier.", he grinned, looking in her beautiful eyes. "Oh really? Now I'm excited to see!" Silently they walked through the great corridors and halls until they reached an area Kasia has never been to.

"I didn't want someone to find it so I used a room far away from everything.", he explained as she looked around. The atelier was not as big as the rest of the rooms in the castle but he didn't need that much space for his stuff. It was filled with several paintings and of course everything hoseok would need to paint.

"Wow this looks like paradise.", Kasia said, still overwhelmed. "Yeah it is for me.", he laughed. "You can come here to work on your art from time to time if you want." Sharing this room with her was the most intimate thing he has ever done. She watched how his lips curve to a bright smile.

He looks like the sun itself she thought, her cheeks turning red. While looking around and admiring more of his work she noticed the painting he was currently working on, still placed on the easel. She widened her eyes in surprise recognizing her own face. "I-Is this me?", she asked him, pointing her finger to it. At this point there was no way he could deny that he tried to capture her in his art.

Every excuse would make it just much more awkward he thought. "Uh, yes it is.", he answered, trying to sound confident. "Uh, yes it's you. You inspired me, I guess. It's not finished yet." She took a few steps closer to examine it. "Wow this is very good. I'm not as beautiful as you let me look like here though.", she said shyliy, trying to hide her red face.

"Don't say that, you are much more beautiful than I could ever paint you Kasia.", he spoke his thoughts out loud. Seeing her being shy somehow gave him back his confidence.Maybe because he found it so cute he wanted to see more of it? As expected Kasia just turned red even more, hiding her face behind her hands. "Hoseok, stop! You make me blush."

It was the first time he heard her saying his name out loud and it immediately set free hundreds of butterflies in his stomach. How come she could turn him so soft with such little things? "Kasia, look at me.", he demanded, grabbing her wrists to remove her hands from her face. She looked up, waiting for him to say something but he didn't. He just returned her gaze, silently admiring her eyes and watching how her cheeks still had this adorable shade of pink.

Kasia noticed him breathing heavier and faster than usual, but she felt the same way. Her heart was beating twice as fast as she could feel his breath on her skin. She wanted to say something and slightly parted her mouth, but nothing came out.

Now this had caught his attention, his gaze wandering from her eyes to her soft-looking lips. His left hand found its way to her cheek, gently stroking her smooth skin. He decided to just do what felt right, and with Kasia that was everything.

Neither his nor her status was important to him, he admired her as a person as much as she did admire him. Slowly he leaned towards her, looking in her eyes again for a sign that she wanted it too. She had already half closed them and waited for his touch. Hoseok gently put his lips onto hers, his hand wandering to her hair to pull her closer.

She hummed in approval, causing him to smile into the kiss. Kasias hands clung to his silk shirt, not yet ready to break away from him. The way their lips moved complementary, as harmoniously as if they were made for each other. As if their only purpose was to show their innocent affection.

Hoseok was the first who broke the kiss, needing air and wanting to look at her again. She slowly opened her eyes too, meeting his gaze. Neither of them wanted to say something, they just wanted to enjoy the moment as it was, no unnecessary words. Words couldn't express their feelings anyway.

___________

"And then he kissed me. It was... I can't even describe it.", Kasia told her friend, although she was pretty sure it would just concern her. She did it anyway because Elly was her best friend and of course she needed to talk about it with her. "He did what?!"

Kasia just giggled at the shocked expression of her. "Oh my god you and the king are a thing." - "That even rhymed.", Kasia laughed. "But I don't know what this is between us. I mean at the end of the day I am just a maid and he is the king. Maybe he just wants to have some fun."

"I still don't trust him completely but that doesn't sound like he just uses you to kill his boredom. I think he likes you." Suddenly, they heard a knocking on her door. She stood up and opened it just to find a guard holding a bunch of sunflowers in front of her face. Surprised she took them, admiring how beautiful they were. She could notice that even the guard had to smile about this sweet gesture.

"I have never seen him like that and I know him his whole life. I don't know what you are doing but you are doing it good.", he whispered so no one else would hear. ___________

"There will be a big party tonight. Many rich and powerful people will come but honestly, I would rather sit here with you. They just want to kiss ass so they can use me when they need me anyway. I can't stand this whole fake laugh and being friendly anymore. But it's what I have to do.", Hoseok complained and sight heavily.

Kasia put her hand on his and gave him an encouraging smile. "I can imagine how exhausting that is, but you can do it. I'll be there too and serve the guests. Use me as a moral support." she said. They sat together under the tree and enjoyed the warm sunshine on their skin.

"Then I'll look over to you when I feel like giving up, that will give me back my strengh." he replied with a cheeky grin and she looked away embarrassed. Their first kiss was a few days ago, since then Hoseok has been giving her little gifts like the bouquet of sunflowers to make her smile. The last gift were very high quality and expensive brushes and pens so she could paint even better.

The next time she saw him, she had stormed towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, saying thank you at least a hundred times. It was the first time that she dared to act so gaily and he enjoyed it very much. Kasia closed her eyes for a moment and leaned her head against his shoulder. A cool breeze ran through her hair as he gave her a gentle kiss on her scalp.

____________

The hall was noble and festive decorated as the first guests entered and looked around. A group of musicians played pleasant sounds in the background as Kasia ran through the crowd with a tray and handed everyone a welcoming champagne. She paused when Hoseok entered the room and straightened his suit.

The guests clapped and bowed as he greeted the first people with a smile. Kasia couldn't help but stare for a while before continuing with her job. Now and then she glanced over to check if he was okay, but he seemed to be doing pretty good.

Hours went by and she slowly got tired of running around all the time. She decided to take a small break and went to the kitchen to drink some water and sit down for a while. Her mother worked with her today, that made Kasia feel a little better because she could keep an eye on her so she wouldn't overwork.

Just as kasia re-entered the room, she could feel two eyes sticking to her. She turned and expecting to see hoseok, but it was a stranger a few feet away from her talking to another man. Even when she caught him, he did not turn away but started to smile slightly. Something about his smile made kasia uncomfortable. He looked like he was up to nothing good she thought. She chose to ignore him and support her colleagues.

Meanwhile, Hoseok was sitting on his throne, one noble after the other, desperate to talk to him. He was bored but he had no choice but to bear it and to be glad that it was over soon. He thought of Kasia and how they could go for a walk later, and refrained from smiling.

He scanned the room with his eyes, but she could not be found. He frowned, he was sure she had just taken a break, because he had happened to see her with her mother. She was a diligent person and would never hide from work. Where could she be?

He just grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the room. No one came to help her even as she asked for it, because he was a noble and no one dared to oppose him. He dragged her into one of the countless rooms and closed the door.

Then he pressed her against the wall with his body, his hands on her hips. "I just saw you coming in and I think you're really pretty. I have a wife, but how about you becoming my mistress?" he chuckled, looking deep into her eyes. He smelled of alcohol but did not seem very drunk yet.

Kasia was afraid to fight back, he was much more powerful and stronger than her. He grabbed rudely into her hair and pulled her head to the side. "I asked you something, you fucking slut." he suddenly shoutet aggressively. "I know that you want me anyway. Cheap girls like you would do anything to suck a noble cock, am I right? You're all the same, spreading your legs without hesitation for a little bit money."

She swallowed hard and did not know what to do to calm him down. She just wanted to get out of here, out in the garden under the tree and doodle on her papers with hoseok. He punched the wall with his fist next to her head what made her flinch. "You still don't want to talk? You know what? It's okay, I'll make you scream with my cock."

He let his hand disappear under her skirt, which made her gasp in surprise. He grinned dirty when he heard it. "Finally, a reaction." he said, rubbing between her legs. Kasia got sick, she tried to wriggle out of his grip but she had no chance.

Just when she wanted to give up, her eyes pressed together, praying that it would soon be over, she heard a strange noise and a surprised sharp intake of air. She felt something warm running down her cheek as she felt the grip loosen around her and she dared to open her eyes.

Kasia saw the man's lifeless body right in front of her, his eyes and mouth still opened wide in surprise. She noticed that she was standing in a puddle of blood and she stopped breathing for a moment.

Suddenly she heard a slight chuckle and looked up at Hoseok, whose face and hands were full of blood as well. He held a knife in his hand and laughed at the corpse in front of him. "What an idiot."

"What have you done?", she asked in shock, looking back and forth between him and the dead body. Hoseok's smile slowly disappeared, he did not understand her question. "What do you mean? I protected you."

Kasia's eyes filled with tears and mingled with the blood on her cheeks as they fell down. "By killing someone?!" - "He almost raped you, he didn't deserve it any other way.", he said without hesistation.

"You just ended someone's life! He sure had a family...", she sobbed. "I don't understand you. I just wanted to help you, to protect you.", he said honestly, confusion on his face.

"Hoseok you can't just solve every goddamn problem with killing! I really thought you changed, I saw you being so nice and gentle with me, I thought you are more than what people think of you, but I was wrong. You are a monster."

Hoseok let the knife fall down on the floor with a clink as he saw how scared Kasia truly was. "Kasia...", he tried to take a step closer to her, but she flinched and shut her eyes. "Don't come near me. Don't come near me ever again.", she said in a shaky voice and left the room, leaving Hoseok alone with what he has done.

She ran out of the castle, ran as fast as possible until her legs wouldn't hold her anymore and she broke down on her knees. She still cried and threw up thinking about what happened just minutes ago.

_________

Hoseok didn't see Kasia for a long time. She refused to bring him the Food as she used to and he accepted it. He thought she needed time and space and he would give it to her, even though it almost killed him not having her around anymore.

She also did not go to the garden any more, neither by day nor by night, and she did not visit his atelier anymore either.

Time went by and Hoseok didn't even know how long he didn't see her beautiful face, smelled her bloomy scent or touched her soft skin. Every inch of his body missed her and his longing for her to come back to him grew with every second.

He didn't know what to do anymore, he gave her time but it didn't seem to help at all. Didn't she miss him too? Hoseok wanted to know. He wanted to know if she was alright and how she felt these days.

He decided that he couldn't wait any longer and had to take action. He sent one of his guards to get her and if she would refuse to come with him by choice he was allowed to force her but without any violence.

Hoseok wouldn't ever allow any harm to his precious woman. He stood in his bedroom, he thought it was the most private place they could talk, and waited for his guard to come with her.

He opened the door when hearing knocking noises and his eyes immediately laid on Kasia, which tried to avoid his gaze. The guard softly prodded her into the room and closed the door with his king's command.

Now they stood in the same room, neither of them speaking a word. It hurt Hoseok, it hurt him so much that he almost felt sick.

He hated this feeling of sickness. He didnt want this anymore. Suddenly he knew how to stop those strange feelings. He wanted her. If he was able to have her, all this pain would have an end.

"Oh fuck it.", he shouted and crossed the room in a few steps. Aggressively Hoseok grabbed Kasia by the hair and pushed his lips onto hers. Kasia was shocked and didnt dare to move.

Fear was growing in her stomach together with something she couldnt figure out yet. What was he doing? The young man roughly touched her and deepened the kiss.

Now Kasias body came back to life, trying to push him away but she wasnt strong enough. Stop, she tried to say, but his lips still covered her mouth.

"Kasia, stop fighting against it.", he whispered but she still pressed her hands against his chest. A sigh left his mouth. "Kasia, you cant deny you also want this. I know, you want to know how it would be." She shook her head but inside she knew he had a point.

His hands in her hair, his scent everywhere and his soft lips on her skin - she couldnt deny she felt excitement beside the fear. He took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.

"Let me go on. Let me show you." Kasia bit her lips, unsure what to do. On the one hand he was such a cruel man, but on the other hand she couldnt resist him. She didnt know how to handle those feelings.

"Kasia." His deep voice was filled with impatience as he said her name. She wasnt able to answer him properly, so she just took her hands off his chest and put them on his shoulders.

Immediately Hoseok lifted her up. He grabbed her thighs and pushed her back against the wall. Kasia drew a sharp breath as he began to leave kisses on her neck. She had never felt that way before.

"Hold on tight." he commanded, carrying her over to the king size bed. Without another word he put her down and leaned over her. Under him, Kasia's breathing was hard. Led by an inner fire Hoseok pressed against Kasia, slowly opened the buttons on her dress and caressed her skin.

After all the fabric was gone, he ran his fingers over her waist. Kasia entirely concentrated on the feeling of being touched by him. A deep growl escaped his throat as she began pulling at his shirt. "Soon."

"Hoseok.", Kasia whimpered, suddenly seized by a lust that frightened her. The man above her could not hide a grin. He was pleased to be able to release such feelings in Kasia and he would enjoy it for a while before he gave her what she wanted. "Spread your legs apart." he urged instead. She did as she was told.

Hoseok's fingers wandered up her legs, caressing her thighs, then stopped right before touching her most vulnerable point to tease her a little bit. Kasia bit her lower lip. She wanted him so badly.

She readily obeyed when Hoseok told her to sit up so he could take off her dress. This annoying piece of cloth only stopped him from looking at her in full beauty. When she lay there, beautiful, completely naked and ready, a strange feeling of power came over him.

But not as he usually felt when he condemned or punished people. It was different. He had power over her, but he did not want to use it to hurt her. Instead, he wanted to satisfy her. And he would.

"Tell me what you want, Kasia." he whispered before kissing her ear, then her cheek and down her neck. She swallowed before answering. Her voice was low and her breathing slowed.

"I want you." It did not need more. Hoseok unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it carelessly to the ground. His pants followed. Shortly thereafter, he found himself in a wild kiss with her again.

There was nothing left of fear or timidity in her kiss. Pure passion had taken possession of them both. Hoseok controlled the situation. He set the pace and took what Kasia readily gave him.

Satisfied, he groaned in the kiss before gently nibbling on her lower lip. Kasia's hands, which until then had clawed at the bed sheet, now moved his body up and down. She caressed his chest and admired his pronounced muscles.

He was trained and strong and Kasia loved it. She touched every spot she could reach while Hoseok gasped with relish. After giving her enough time to explore his body, he grabbed her hands and squeezed them on the bed next to her head.

For a brief moment they looked into each other's eyes and the tension between them was palpable. Hoseok broke eye contact. Instead, he began to caress her breasts, which elicited her first soft moan.

He wanted to hear so much more of her groaning. Yes, he even wanted to make her scream. Without warning, he let his hand down and continued where he had left off earlier.

He stroked her middle and Kasia groaned in surprise. She felt hot and cold at the same time as the tension in her abdomen increased. Hoseok smiled at the sight that presented itself to him.

He stroked and teased her clit with his fingers and she moaned even louder. "Give me more, Kasia." He observed every of her moves. How she licked her lips and lifted her hips towards him. She arched her back and groaned as he shoved a finger into her core.

"You're so wet and ready for me." The edge of his lips puckered to a smirk. He speeded up the movements on her clit and thrusted into her roughly. His actions caused her to moan loudly and she tried to find hold by grabbing his shoulders.

"Hoseok. Please.", He felt her climax building up, so he stopped abruptly. "You're not gonna cum until I tell you." , he said dominantly, then he positioned himself between her legs. Before she could respond he thrusted into her.

He waited a moment, so she could get used to his length. She was so tight. Kasia hold her breath. Feeling his full erection was so much better than his fingers. Gently Hoseok started to thrust into her core while breathing strongly. This was so good, he had never felt better before.

"Hoseok.", she moaned passionately. She grabbed him by the waist and tried to show him that she wanted more. She needed more. Hoseok gave her what she wanted.

He increased the rhythm until he relentlessly pushed into her. "Who is it that makes you feel good?" "You." she groaned. "Say it louder. Say my name.", Hoseok demanded as he thrusted hard and deep into her. Kasia barely lasted it. She was overrun by her feelings and the desire increased immeasurably.

"Hoseok!" she yelled. She moaned his name continuously. Both are near their climax. "Look at me Kasia." She opened her eyes, which she had closed until then, and looked at him.

A deep feeling took possession of Hoseok as he saw her lying down and looking up to him. With their eyes crossed, he thrusted hard into her a few more times until they both reached their climax. "Yes, come for me princess.", Hoseok screamed.

Kasia threw her head back and rode out her orgasm. Both were completely out of breath as Hoseok let his body fall on hers. He chuckled and kissed her cheek softly.

Kasia crawled into his arm and listened to his heartbeat for a while while the fireplace crackled softly. The two of them enjoyed the beautiful feeling of skin on skin before hoseok decided to sit up. Kasia followed his act and kept her body covered with his silk blanket.

"Princess we should talk about ... what happened." he said cautiously, waiting for a reaction. The thought made her feel sick again, but she pulled herself together.

She nodded and waited for what he had to say. "I want to explain to you why I am like that, why I became a monster." Kasia immediately shook her head and felt bad that she had ever said those Words out loud.

"You're not a monster, I never should have said that, but I was scared. This situation was just too much for me, I'm sorry." she said, leaning over to lay her lips apologetically on his.

"No, you were right, what I've done all these years, what I'm still doing ... I'm starting to see that it's wrong, but I never knew it otherwise.", he began to talk about his past.

"When I was very young, my father was the king of this land, but my uncle was obsessed with climbing the throne and having all the power my father owned. He killed his own brother and became the new king. He quickly got his wife pregnant who gave birth to a son at first try. He wanted to have a legitimate heir so I wouldn't be his successor.", he explained and kasia saw that this weighed heavily on him.

"I was too young to understand what was going on and nobody told me, but my grandfather did not like the idea that my cousin would become the future king. When I was old enough, he told me what my uncle had done. He urged me to take revenge and I began to befriend the idea.

I was incredibly angry and hurt, he had taken my father from me, killed his own brother. These feelings accumulated until I finally reached for the knife and murdered my uncle and my cousin the same night.

Soaked in blood, I stood in front of my grandfather who gave me a sure smile. It was the first time he was really proud of me and showed it to me as well. He explained that I had to kill to own power and in order to live a happy life."

Kasia looked at him compassionately, it was like she was feeling his pain and confusion in this situation. She grabbed his hand to show her support as he paused.

"Something happened in my head that night, I learned that killing makes me happy, that I need it to be happy and to be powerful. Since then I've always enjoyed seeing people suffer because no one showed me to feel true joy in other ways besides my mother. Until I've met you."

He smiled at her with so much love that her cheeks turned into a bright red again. "The night I killed this man was to protect you. I wanted you to be safe and to let him suffer for what he did and wanted to do to you. I thought you would be proud of me because my grandfather was. It was a gesture of my affection towards you. I would never purposely hurt you."

She nodded, still trying to process what he told her. But she already made a decision. "I will show you how to feel good without killing. From now on I'm by your side Hoseok, you are not alone anymore. I will stay with you as long as you want me to."

"How about forever?"

__________

"This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy.", Kasia repeated over and over again, watching herself in the mirror. Elly stood beside her, admiring how beautiful she looked today. "Wow, Kasia you look stunning. He will love it.", she said smiling softly and wiping away a single tear of joy for her friend.

"I can't believe that this is happening.", Kasia whispered. "What do you mean? That you look goddamn beautiful in this wedding dress or that you are just minutes away from being our future queen?", Elly teased her.

"Oh my god Elly, I'm gonna marry him in a few minutes." Kasia honestly didn't care much about becoming the queen but her heart stopped for a second every time she realized that she will become the wife of the love of her life. "I'm so happy for you, you can't imagine."

Elly and some other woman helped Kasia walking to the great hall where all the guests and her beloved Hoseok were already waiting impatiently. When he put his eyes on her beautiful sight, he forgot to breathe. She walked towards him with a big smile as the guests rose, now all eyes were on her.

He smiled back and could barely believe his luck. When she arrived, he took her hands in his and they listened to the pastor's speech. After that, it was time for the marriage vow.

"Kasia, I promise to honor and love you forever, you are my queen and the love of my life, I will do everything I can to make you happy forever." he said and moved her to tears.

"Hoseok, I promise to honor and love you forever for the great man you are. I will always stay by your side. I will go through the darkest of times with you and will always cherish the beautiful moments you gift me with. I can not wait to spend my eternity with you."

They handed each other the rings they would wear for the rest of their lifes and were officially declared husband and wife. Hoseok kissed her deeply while everyone cheerfully applauded.

She kissed his cheek as he grabbed her hip and pulled her into his arm. It was followed by a beautiful celebration and everyone danced happily.

Kasia and Hoseok knew they had found their perfect match and would be together forever. Their spirits harmonized perfectly with each other and made them the greatest rulers this land had ever seen.

“You!” with Tommy Shelby x Shelby sister angst please? If not then that’s fine ahaha🖤

Anon: Request where Tommy Shelby finds out his daughters been sleeping and sneaking out with a rival gangsta please

Romeo and Juliet      

-Part 1

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Sister! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, just Peaky Blinders themes.

A/N: I thought these two requests blended well, so here’s what I came up with! Also, when this request popped up, i thought i was in trouble 😂

“WHERE IS SHE?” THE VOICE OF Arthur Shelby boomed as he entered the den. Groups of men scrambled towards the 4 walls, trying to avoid the wrath of the man with the brutal reputation. “John! Have you seen Y/N?” He asked as he approached the boy by the black board. 

“Upstairs.” John replied, shaking his head at whatever rivalry had got into: again.

Bolting up the stairs, his heavy footfall could be heard against the rotting wood as he called, “Y/N!”

A faint voice mumbled, “Shit.” then an “Out, out.” before the slamming of a window. “What do you want, Artie?” The same voice called back, almost mocking him with the nickname she came up with when she was 3. 

“Open the fuckin’ door.” Arthur demanded as he tried to jiggle the door open but it was locked.

“I’m changing.” She snapped back, which was true but wasn’t the only reason. The heavy foot falls was once again heard trailing back downstairs as he sulked away, allowing Y/N to crack the window open revealing the dashing boy she’d been sneaking around with for the last year. “Sorry.” She whispered, a smirk played on the boys lips.

“Was worth it.” His deep voice replied before he winked, causing the girl to blush lightly and giggle. No one else but Mattia Sabini -Eldest son of Darby Sabini- had ever made her feel this way, it was corny, she thought. Yet it was true; her hard exterior completely dissolved when around him and it was the same with him…

“See you at the cut, later?” he asked and when the sudden movement from the hallways began to make them both panic, she pecked his lips.

“See you there.” she smiled as he jumped down and she closed and locked the window. Combing through her hair, she took the crazy strands behind her ear and zipped up the back of her dress, making sure she looked presentable…

Gracefully, she walked down the stairs, earning tilts of caps and bows of head from the men in the shop. Unlike the brothers who were feared, Y/N was respected, she was selfless and polite towards everyone -much to her brothers dismay- but she was the beam of light Small Heath needed to keep going!

“There you are.” Polly stated, her nose flared: oh she was mad. Y/N was quick to spin around to see her Aunt and Brother, cross armed staring at her. 

“What now?” The 18 year old rolled her eyes aggressively looking severely unimpressed by her family. Polly went to speak when Ada came marching in, followed by a red faced Finn and an out of breathe Isiah. “Yeyyy!” She spoke in a monotone voice. “One big happy family: reunited.” She added in a sarcastic tone, before her face dropped blank. A cold sneer on her face as she looked between them all, never mind the boys, her coldness sent a chill down Polly’s spine…

“Family meeting.” Arthur grumbled, all of them draped into the kitchen whilst Y/N held back, wanting to get away. You see, Y/N used to be close with her family, she really did but war changed them; all of them. Over time, she watched her Aunt deteriorate with fear, Ada got rid of the blanket - seeing how truly vile the world is. The boys came back almost unrecognisable, it hurt her more then anything else. Y/N hadn’t changed, still kind and caring as ever. It was only since there changed ways started to have an influence, she turned colder then the bleak midwinter. That’s the only way to survive this family, you see they tried to protect her, even more so then Finn! It drove her crazy, they acted as if they were the victim but with recent events her own family were becoming the enemy. So along with her cold exterior came her rebelliousness, her and Mattia were supposed to be temporary, they both wanted to break from their families hold but when the two were together it was a great enough escape as it was. However, the Shelby’s had one thing they all still had in common was their hatred to a certain Inspector Campbell.

Tiptoeing away from her family, she saw the one pig that made her blood turn cold and the colour to wash from her face. His sickening smirk was upon his lips, directed towards the young girl. Shivering as her chest began to rise rapidly, she knew he had a certain reputation with women and he hadn’t tried to hide his feeble attempts towards the young girl. Just as his eyes lingered on her, she felt completely dirty. Before she could say something, he flashed a chain she knew all too well.

Y/N’s eyes widened in slight horror, the silver cross gleamed in the dull sunlight as the family gem stone of the Sabini’s flashed in front of her eyes. Oh shit. He’s been watching, probably for months, watching me. She thought. Her heart was pumping so fast the girl presumed she would explode. Y/N knew if her dirty secret got out, it’d collapse the whole family and any progress they’d made -even if she didn’t agree with what they did. To be honest, she was the core to this family. Y/N kept them all sane and in order, Polly knew this, that’s why she pushed her niece away, that’s what she thought would be best for Y/N and the family. Yet Y/N just wanted to feel loved, like before…

Without realising, the Inspector had approached her. Gulping at the closeness, she tumbled back.

“Now, Miss Shelby, seems you have been busy.” His thick Irish accent filled her ears, causing her to shiver. 

“Leave me alone.” She expressed weakly, internally scolding herself for it.

“But I think you could be great for the cause. Smart and clearly” he paused, holding up the chain. “Sly.” 

Snatching the chain, she glared at the man who continued to smirk. “I don’t know where you fucking got this but you dare utter a single word of this, I’ll cut off your hands and bury you face down in a ditch.” She snarled, she done it once before, Campbell could be next for all she cared.

“Ah, maybe not the brightest. Threatening an Inspector.” he tutted, edging even closer.

A burst of anger fuelled her confidence as she leaned in, whispering “I don’t think the court would care, you didn’t even fight for your country. Your as good as dead to them already.” She whispered maliciously, the devilish smirk and twinkle in her eye reminded all that she was a fucking Shelby.

Walking backwards she watched his face fall flat, almost embarrassed. About to laugh, her body collided with another causing her to turn rapidly. Fuck. Thomas Shelby stood there slightly amused at the Inspectors reaction but his face faltered. Before she could slip away, he spoke “You!” he spoke harshly, “Family meeting.” Simply, she groaned.

“Don’t make me go, Tom.” She huffed, but it was too late she was already dragged by the arm. “Look! I found him.” Y/N announced as if she hadn’t tried to escape, slumping in the seat by John who she still got along with - slightly. “Alright Jo-Jo” she teased him with the old nickname.

“Yeeah, Yeah, shurrup.” he muttered back in a jokingly tone. The two sat and watched as the rest argued back and forth until Tommy turned to stare in their direction when Ada stormed out, scanning over his two younger siblings. Y/N never looked more interested in her life. 

“Right, everyone out.” he called. “Not you.” he directed at Y/N who sat back down with a huff. She even noticed Pol linger by the door, not sure if she wanted to leave the two alone: she did. 

“What do you want Tom?” she asked cautiously.

“What was Campbell speaking to you about?” he asked calmly, sitting down opposite her whilst lighting a cigarette and she did the same. Inhaling quickly.

“Oh you know, just casual chitter chatter.” She remarked sarcastically, not wanting this conversation to continue. Simply laughing at his intense glare as she did the same. Piercing blue eyes clashing with each other. 

“Am I Laughing?” He asked rhetorically.

“No but you should, might melt your cold heart.” She snapped back, had enough of his games. Although he didn’t show it, her comments did nip. everyone who was on the receiving end felt the nip, she was brutal and more importantly very personal. “Now, excuse me.” She spoke.

“I know what your fuckin’ doing.” He seethed, not one to let out his anger but she could easily pull everyone’s trigger, it was a gift. “Your gonna end up dead with him, probably thrown to the bottom of the cut.” 

Stopping dead in her tracks, her heart pricked repeatedly. Her wrists curled into balls. “What i’m doing?” She exclaimed. “I’ve done nothing.” 

“The Sabini’s are dangerous, I thought you of all people would understand.” He returned to his calm state after a few puffs of tobacco.

Y/N just scoffed. “Sounds familiar doesn’t it, Tom? Falling for the enemy. I thought you of all people would understand.” She reiterated, causing a moment of silence. 

Tommy huffed, “I’m worried for ya. You’re my sister.”

Y/N exhaled in a chuckle. “You care?” she shook her head. “No, all you fucking care about is business.”

“Y/N/N.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I tried. I fucking tried with you all. You pretend to care about family. All you want is power and money. If i turned up dead in the cut, you wouldn’t even shed a single fucking tear.” Y/N boomed, her temper rising and with the look on Tommy’s face, she was satisfied. Picking up her coat, she ran out to the den frantically. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Pol was quick to see Tommy who was sat there with his head in his hands. 

“Y/N?” Arthur asked, placing his arm on his sisters’ shoulder only to be shoved away.

“Fuck off!” She screamed, causing the whole place to fall silent never seeing the girl so angry; an angel soon turned the devil. In a split second she was gone. 

 Bang. 

Everyone stared at the door then turned to Arthur who was now on his way to Tommy with a murderous look plastered across his face…

They Should Learn To Say Your Name

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,701 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence

Author’s Note: Honestly, I have nothing to make a note about lol. Well, I take it back, I do. This is the first meeting of Connor and the reader I’ve been writing about who is the seamstress. Enjoy! -Thorne

With the war in full swing, the streets of Boston and New York were full of angry people. It certainly wasn’t uncommon for Connor to involve himself in disputes, especially if they involved the redcoats or tax-collectors enforcing rule over the townspeople. Boston seemed to be the target city for today, and he weaved in between the townsfolk, listening for any signs of trouble. Of course, he found it without having to listen; the enemy became bolder, starting fights in the middle of the street, and he frowned as he watched a couple of redcoats shove an older gentleman to the ground, laughing as he cried out in pain. Something akin to rage bubbled deep inside him and he started over when a woman ran to the man, shielding him from them.

Her eyes were aflame with anger as she hissed, “How dare you!” Their laughter faded at her shout and she fumed, “Have you no shame! Assaulting innocent people! These are not rebel soldiers or militiamen!” She took a step towards them, pointing a finger in their faces. “You redcoats are nothing but abusers and thieves! You and your good for nothing king!” Connor silently moved closer, but a flash of metal caught his eye and he paused, instantly realizing what she was doing; she was making herself the target to save the man. “Well you know what I think?” Her hand shot forward, and all the sudden, a howl of pain echoed through the street. The redcoat dropped his musket, screaming as he reached up to grab at the iron knitting needle she’d embedded in his arm. She took a step sideways and hissed, “Down with the bloody red king!” The second redcoat barely had a moment to gape at her before she picked up her skirt and took off as fast as she could, knowing they’d give chase.

           Sure enough they did, and Connor sprinted after them. Evidently, this was something she’d done before because she knew which streets to take, weaving in and out of alleys to lose them. However, he knew they weren’t going to give up the chase until they’d caught her, and when a packed street forced her into a dead end, he realized she wasn’t going to make it out unless he helped her.

           The redcoats stalked towards her and she brandished her second knitting needle as one would a knife. One raised his musket to keep her from running and the one she’d stabbed stepped forward, an evil grin crossing his lips as he quipped, “Assaulting a member of His Majesty’s army is a serious offense.” Though her eyes bore fear, a bolt of hatred flashed within them and she spat,

           “Then I guess I should’ve aimed for your heart. Might’ve gotten a reward from the patriots.” He scoffed and took a step towards her, noting how she flipped the needle in her grip.

           “So you’re a member of the rebel army as well?” He shot a glance over his shoulder at the second soldier. “I don’t think the captain would mind if we administered justice right here.” He looked back at her, snickering, “No need to waste good money on an execution.” He stopped in front of her and for a split second, neither of them moved, then she jerked, raising the needle into the air. He caught her arm with an effortless ease and curled his other hand into a fist, sending it into her stomach. A pained gasp tore through her and she went to her knees, gagging as the air seemed to fade from her lungs. She felt him kneel down beside her and when she looked over, the back of his hand came across her cheek with enough force to send her back against the wall. Their laughter echoed in her ears, but the pain spreading up her spine and head from the impact held dominion over it. Tears welled in her vision from the pain and a hand clutched her jaw, yanking her head up to look at him. His breath sent a revolting feeling through her stomach as he hissed, “I’m going to enjoy this.” Before he could reach for her bodice, someone’s hand curled around his jaw and yanked it to the side. With a sickening snap, his neck was broken, and she was freed from his grasp. She went to the ground again, reaching up to hold her jaw when a hand appeared in her vision, the same one that had saved her. She recoiled slightly when their voice calmed,

           “It is okay…I am not going to hurt you.” She looked up at her savior and he wore a solemn expression as he lowered the white hood. He wore a small smile that reached his honeyed eyes and he introduced himself. “My name is Connor.” He gestured to the dead soldiers, and she glanced over to see the second redcoat face down in the dirt, a pool of blood growing around him; she hadn’t even heard him go down. “I saw what you did in the market. It was very brave.” She scoffed, reaching up to wipe her lip, pulling her hand away to see the blood on her fingertips.

           “Foolish is more like it.” Something soft touched her face and she registered that he was wiping the blood away with a handkerchief.

           “Perhaps…but it takes a courageous heart to stand up to injustice.” Her lips pulled into a grin and she said,

           “You tell this to all the woman you save?” His dark brows furrowed, and he asked,

           “What do you mean?” She blinked, suddenly embarrassed at her words and she shook her head, offering,

           “Nothing.” Clearing her throat, she said, “Thank you for saving my life. I’m (Y/N).” He smiled at her and stood, holding out his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet, watching as she glared at the dead soldiers. “Bastards…all of ‘em. They do this to people every day, forcing them from their homes, mocking them in the streets, abusing them.” (Y/N) frowned. “They forced me from my home a few weeks ago…I’ve been bouncing from the homes of friends ever since. I try to stop them when I can.” Her head lowered and she muttered, “But it seems I made a bigger mess than I did help.” Connor clasped his hands in front of him, affirming,

           “That is not true.” Her head shot up at the firmness in his statement and he added, “You have protected an innocent elder and shown the people that even townspeople can stand up to the British.” She felt the corner of her lips rise and she murmured,

           “Thank you, Connor.” She fell silent then he questioned,

           “You said they forced you from your home?” She nodded, sighing,

           “Took all my tailoring supplies too.”

           “Then you have nowhere to go?” Again, she nodded, and he suggested, “Why not come live with my village?” (Y/N) stared at him in shock and Connor smiled, “It is called the Davenport Homestead.” She simply gaped at him and blurted,

           “You’re offering me a home in yours?” He nodded. “Why?” He gestured for them to walk and he explained,

           “Our village is growing, and we have need of men and women who can bring trade and growth. I would be willing to accompany you in case you were afraid of another run in with the redcoats?” (Y/N) stopped and before she could help it, she had one of his hand in both of hers, cheerfully accepting,

           “Yes, I would be more than happy to go!” He smiled and she pulled her hand away, following as he led her.

           The journey to the homestead would’ve gone into the night had Connor not suggested they set up a small camp and rest. She watched him poke at the fire with a stick before sitting back against a log, at least an arm’s length away from her. There hadn’t been much conversation between them as they traveled, and she soon understood that he wasn’t much for talking, but something had been eating at her since he’d rescued her, and against her better judgement of prying, she asked, “Connor? May I ask you something?” He nodded and she inquired, “What’s your name?” His brows furrowed and he turned his head, looking at her.

           “Excuse me?” (Y/N) giggled, propping her elbow on the log as she repeated,

           “Your name? What is it?” Connor seemed puzzled because he shook his head, stating,

           “My name is Connor.” She let out a huff and quipped,

           “I might’ve been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.” Her words only confused him more and she clarified, “It means I’m not a fool. I don’t think it’s wrong for me to assume your name isn’t Connor.” She observed him a moment, then she surmised, “You took a colonial name to blend in with the people, didn’t you?” He didn’t respond at first, dropping her gaze, obviously thinking about how he was going answer her question, but he knew it was rhetorical, and he knew that she knew ‘Connor’ wasn’t his name. He raised his eyes, meeting hers and said,

           “My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton.” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow and requested,

           “Say that again.” Connor looked away as he sighed,

           “Just use Connor. It is easier.”

           “Easier, yes. But not right.” He whipped his head back around to see her gazing at him firmly. “I wouldn’t like someone to call me another name if they couldn’t bother to learn my real one.” She pointed at him. “It is your name and people should learn to say it properly and respectfully. So, will you repeat it please? A little slower?” He pursed his lips, then murmured,

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton.” (Y/N) mouthed the name and he enunciated, “Rah-doon-ha-gay-doon.” She nodded, repeating cautiously,

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton?” Shaking his head a bit, he corrected rather firmly,

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She swallowed and tried,

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton.” He nodded and she smiled, satisfied with herself. Sticking out her hand, she greeted, “It’s nice to meet you Ratonhnhaké:ton.” Connor looked at her hand, then her face and a small smile crossed his lips as he reached over and shook her hand.

           “It is nice to meet you as well.”

Long Time, No See ( Dhawan!Master X Reader )

Prompt: “rough kisses with dhawan master? or any sort of kiss, he's literally so beautiful” Requested by @queerconfusionthings​

Summary: The reader is a timelord who hasn’t seen the master since long before the time war. The reunion brings forth a much-welcomed surprise. 

A/N: This is only my third or fourth time writing kissing scenes, but I tried my best! I fell in love with Dhawan!master from the moment I first saw him so I was happy to receive this request. Also important to note: Koschei is the masters name from his time in the academy. Hope you enjoy! 

Words: 1k

Warnings: Its _saucy_

   The Master had always prided himself on being consistent. A few minutes ago, he’d ordered some of his recent hires to kidnap the Doctors companions, a favorite trick of his. The Doctor would always come running for her beloved human friends. A knock on the door let him know they’d arrived. He shifted his new tie, picking his brain for what to do with them while he waited for his longest friend to make her appearance. 

   He pushed open the door, taking in the four figures he saw on the floor. They were different, every time. Cons of choosing vulnerable humans. Each of the companions were blatantly afraid, though they were fighting hard to hide it. He analyzed every one of them, satisfied at the way their fear spiked even more. He was almost giddy- until his eyes landed on you. He froze in the doorway, all evil intent slipping back into the shadows of his being. 

    You were surprised as well. You hadn’t seen the Master since far before the time war. Hundreds and hundreds of years. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, silently trying to understand that it was him, standing in front of you, after all this time. Yaz, Graham, and Ryan turned to look at you, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

“Her!” He barked to his helpers, making everyone in the room jump. He shakily pointed a finger towards you, and you could feel the unease and shock radiate from him. “Put her in another room,”

   With that, he left as fast as he’d arrived. You tried to struggle against the helpers who tugged you away from the others. They struggled as well, protesting as loud as they could. You tried to explain to them that it would be alright; he wouldn’t hurt you. But a gloved hand stopped you from telling them. After they all but threw you into the new room, you scrambled to your feet and looked around. It was relatively empty, save for a few couches and a roaring fireplace at the end of the room. 

   You felt a spark of hope when your eyes landed on a broad glass door among  the elaborate windows. It was shut tight, but you could see a balcony on the other side. You quickly pushed the door open, wincing at the freezing cold air. Your hands landed roughly on the stone rail, the surface scraping your skin. The drop was at least 30 feet. Doable, but not without a considerable amount of pain. You could, though… You cursed. No, you couldn’t. Not with the three companions in the other room. Further damning yourself, you remembered the surprised longing in the Masters eyes; He was just as pleased to see you as you were him. It made you more hopeful. 

“Sit down” You heard him command from behind you. You did a 180, heart racing. He was sitting on one of the couches, eyes drilling deep into yours. You slowly walked forward, closing the glass door and shutting out the cold. The warmth of the fire and his gaze steadily crept along your skin. It was welcoming and frightfully exciting. You lowered yourself onto the couch opposite him, earning an irritated “Not that one” 

   You blushed at the much-to-eager command, taking your time in joining him. As the couch sunk under your weight you focused on relaxing more. His eyes never left you, shifting constantly from a stunned relief to an intrigued ardor like he was itching to pounce. 

“You survived” He stated bluntly. You nodded, avoiding his gaze. “The Doctor never mentioned you to me” His already deep and gravelly voice was laced with a new anger, one that burned slowly with the risk of an explosion. 

“Koschei, I-” 

“Don’t use that name” He warned. 

“Master… “ You whispered, correcting yourself. You calmly reached for his hand, easing yours into it. It was warm, closing around yours tightly. “Why are you doing this? Again? You could come with me, and the Doctor. You know she’d welcome you back” 

“So she can throw me back in a cell for decades? You know I don’t want that” 

You sympathetically squeezed his hand. Was he really so hateful about being asked to change? Was he really that against traveling with the Doctor as he’d once promised to do back at the academy? A tear threatened to break free from your eye and your lip trembled. 

“Then what do you want?” 

   It was almost rhetorical. He was silent, his eyes flickering from your glistening eyes to your lips. You leaned in instinctively, trying to encourage him to close the distance. He didn’t need any encouragement, though. He was the Master for god's sake. His lips crashed into yours,  nearly knocking you back into the side of the couch. Your free hand flailed for a moment before landing on his shoulder, trying to stabilize yourself as the wave of shared emotion crashed over you. There was no other way to do it- what words could sum up a hundred years of separation? What words could properly paint the picture of immense relief and need that were coursing through your veins?  You broke from the kiss for only a mockery of a breath, eagerly meeting his lips once more. 

   He removed his hand from yours to cup your face, his hands rough and calloused. Your brain suddenly shot up in alarm, reminding you of the questions you had to ask and the companions you had to save. Your mind wanted to end the kiss and jump up so you could run off to save the day. We’ll have time for that later, his voice growled. 

    It echoed in the corners of your mind, the sensation of telepathy sending any thoughts into a far away place. You sighed into his lips, letting him guide you down onto the couch. Your back hit the soft surface as his hands skimmed your form, unable to settle. You gasped for breath as he turned his attention to your  neck, hungrily leaving bites and marks in a constellation across your skin. Every single one whispered Mine, mine mine. 

   He was right; later, there would be time for slipping back into the roles you were destined to play. You’d find a way out and save the day with the Doctor and your human friends. He’d scurry off into the background until he could capture your attention with his next devious plan. For now, however, You were happily his.

The Colour of Our Voices [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

The notes come deep from your stomach, drawing out between your lips. Tonight, tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you sing.    “Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Masquerade, hide your face, so the world will never find you….”   You don’t know why you feel so emotional. Why the Phantom’s heartbreak and misery feels like your own. But you put your heart and soul into each lyric, and the director isn’t furious at the different take of the song, of how your voice even warbles past the thick lump forming in your throat. After all, the performance tonight is one of the most important ones that’s happening in a long time.   “Did the critic say anything yet?!”   “I don’t know, but she’s talking with the director right now.”   “Oh my god. This could change everything,” she squeals, the two of them equally excited and peeking out of the curtains. Everyone is gathered together, supporting roles and backstage members watching the audience slowly trickling out. “Do you know what this means?!”   “Of course, I know what it means,” she snaps.    “Well, I’m just saying.” The other girl pouts. “If the critic gives a good review, we could be back in business. More people coming, more money, better production, more pay! This place will become less like a dump. I won’t have to be embarrassed when I say I’m part of the female ensemble for Phantom anymore.”   “Let’s just hope the director won’t screw it up.”   “He won’t….right?”   “Shut up, they’re coming!” Everyone quickly resumes their previous activities to appear nonchalant.    “—And this is just our backstage crew. It’s a very modest set, but we do our best and everyone is very hardworking. Every person here does their part—” Director Kang is with a black bob-haircut lady who’s four foot eleven with kitten heels. She reminds you of your fourth grade science teacher who would make the rowdy kids cry.   Her cat-like eyes are narrowed in, and she grips her bag strap slung over one shoulder as she views the place with an impassive expression. The director drones on and on and the critic sighs before someone catches her attention.   She approaches the godly man. “You must be Kim Seokjin.”   “Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you…”   “Min Yoonji.” She shakes his hand, and you muse that she must be one of the rare people in the world that doesn’t seem affected by Jin’s handsomeness. Almost everyone is starstruck by him. “I must say, your performance is very spectacular. Especially your singing. The tone quality of your vocals is very outstanding for Broadway theater.”   All at once, your breath hitches. Your heart stutters. Tears form in your eyes again.   You’re standing in the shadow of the curtains, in the corner where others are walking past, but to hear praise from someone who makes a living scrutinizing...it’s a beacon of hope.   “Of course! You shouldn’t expect any less of me.” Seokjin laughs and almost brushes off the compliment in spite of how touched and grateful you feel.   Yoonji isn’t amused and deadpans, “Frankly, I didn’t expect anything.”   “Seokjin’s the star of our show!” The director puts his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, trying to uplift the mood. The critic was awfully difficult to read. “Without him, we wouldn’t be able to go on! Speaking of which, you should meet our other star. Where’s Taeyeo—”   “Can I look around for a second? You’re really invading my personal space here,” the woman states bluntly and the men are alarmed at once, stepping back.   “O-Of course. My apologies. How about I get you some water?”   “Sure.”   The director struts off with Seokjin — the both of them furiously murmuring to each other in panic and before he can bark at you to go get the best glass of chilled water, the girl gossiping from earlier shuffles to them. She’s more than enthusiastic about running this sort of errand — perhaps hoping that she’ll be noticed by the critic or something of the sort.   You commemorate her for taking every opportunity.    “Hey, you.”   Your thoughts are shattered at once and you tear your eyes away from them to the short female in front of you. Your pupils widen. “Can you scratch my back for me?”   “Pardon?”   “Here.” She turns slightly, never repeating herself twice. Your hand automatically lifts out to scratch and her neck lolls. “Higher. Lower. Right there. God. Feels good.” Once satisfied, the posh woman steps away. “It’s been driving me crazy for the past hour and I haven’t been able to reach it.”   “Uh...you’re welcome…”   “Min Yoonji,” she says lifelessly. “But you probably already know that. Seems like everyone’s excited to meet me here. Don’t even get this treatment when I go home.”   Yoonji sighs and steps away, but you stop her. “I’m Y/N.” The female turns around. “L/N Y/N.”   She nods and stares at you blankly as if wondering why she should care what your name is. But since you scratched her back, she entertains you. “What do you do here, Y/N?”   “Sweeping, mainly.”   “Sweeping?” The corner of her red-stained mouth curls and she scans the premise. “What’s there to sweep?”   “Beats me,” you laugh.   A small, modest smile comes across her features. It’s the most genuine conversation she’s had here so far. “So all you do is sweep?”   “Well, I’m actually the voice of Pha—”   “Y/N!”   You’re interrupted by an abrupt yell from the director, the sound bellowing deep from his stomach. He approaches with a stiff grin that nearly breaks his face, Taeyeon in tow. “What are you doing here? Slacking, are we?” He comes next to you and practically bumps you aside. “This is our shy intern. She’s part of the backstage crew. Get on now!”   He shoos you away like you’re a stray dog, and you open your mouth. But the director moves on to introduce the female star of the show and Yoonji shifts her attention away from you without qualms. “This is Taeyeon. She plays Christine.”   “Yes.” The lights behind her eyes dim like earlier. “I saw. I was in the audience.”   They shake hands, continuing to speak. You’re forgotten in the dark as they move away from you, walking towards the dressing room.   One of the girls walking past shoots you a dirty look and scoffs, “Did you really think you could tell her that you’re a ghost singer? You really want to sabotage us?”   That wasn’t your intention.    But it wouldn’t be a lie if you told her that you stand in place of Seokjin, that you deserved that praise she handed to him.   It’s not a lie.   Once the meeting is over and everyone escorts the critic out, the director passes by and discreetly mutters into your ear, “In my office.”   You drag your feet there, feeling the crew members stares, the looks from those with supporting roles. This time, no one smirks, murmurs, or makes snide comments. It’s serious enough that they don’t dare to do anything unnecessary for fear of being reprimanded by the director too.   Getting called into his office is never a good thing.   You walk in and two minutes later, he enters, sees you and sighs. The man rounds to his messy desk and sits himself down.   “I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N,” he starts off.    “I’m sorry.”   He hums, hands clasping together. “When you went behind my back to audition, I didn’t say anything. I get it. You want to try out, I won’t stop you. But to think you have the audacity to betray me right in front of my face is a kind of disrespect I won’t allow.”   “That—! That wasn’t what I was trying to do,” you weakly defend, hands crumpling into a tight fist. He obviously doesn’t believe you.    “Then what was your intention?” He shakes his head. It’s a question you can’t answer. It was reckless for you to let it slip, especially to someone who’s a critic. It’s supposed to be a secret, one you’ll have to die with. “I understand you’re not a loyal employee, but it hurts me. What have I ever done for you to go behind my back and be this sneaky?”   Another rhetorical question.   With a downcast head, you stare at the way your worn shoes are pulling apart at the seams. You swallow hard, past the thick lump in your throat. Your eyes begin to sting. You’re humiliated.    “I gave you this job because you were pitiful. You think we need an intern around here?” His mocking laugh rings. “No! But I, out of the goodness of my own heart, decided to help you! I even let you sing when you begged for it! Have I not bent over backwards for you?!”   You shut your eyes for a second. “Y-You did, sir.”   “How many years have you been stuck in New York?” It’s a sudden question, one where he expects an answer for.   Your teeth grit and you murmur, “One year, sir.”   “How many casting calls have you been to, Y/N?” At your silence, he asks you again. “Be honest with me. How many since you got here?”   “T-Ten.”   “How many roles have you gotten?”   “None,” you whisper quietly and your jaw clenches.   He asks again just so you can hear yourself, for you to repeat it. “None?”   “None.”   “None!” he exclaims loudly, enough for you to wince, and he sighs. “See?”   The man feigns sympathy. “There’s a point where it becomes more than just singing. It’s about if you have something special. You just don’t have it, Y/N. Yes, you can hold a steady note, but you can’t be on stage. No one would ever want to watch you!”   It’s grating to your ears. A muscle in your cheek twitches. You can’t hold it in — you start sniffling.   And the director sighs once more, spinning around slowly in his swivel chair while you’re still standing there, hugging your own frame. “Don’t make me into the bad guy, Y/N. I don’t want to be so blunt, but you give me no choice. Facts are facts. Why do you have to be tricky with me and ruin this production? Are you that upset with me? Angry with me?”   “N-No.”   “Then why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Is this job not more than enough for you? Why must you keep trying?”   You rub your eyes. He continues tantalizing you for another minute and then looks at your patheticness and dismisses you out of guilt. He tells you to think about what he said.   You leave sobbing. Not out of anguish from him belittling you but out of rage.    Not even your own mother talks down to you like that.   This job a privilege?! You can’t believe you hypnotized yourself into believing that. This job is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s sabotaged you. People like him are the reasons you’re afraid of going on stage.   Once you exit the studio in tears, you find the black bob-haircut woman texting on her phone across the street, standing on the sidewalk. You look both ways and cross the road with stern determination.   Spite — contempt — resentment makes you into an ugly monster without remorse or consideration of future consequences. You inhale a staggering breath. And the truth is spat out.   “I’m the ghost singer for Phantom.”    Your voice breaks. You exhale. “I’m the one who you heard.”   Min Yoonji is alert. Her eyes are wide, looking back into yours.   You brush past her after a second, walking away and down the street.   //   You don’t know where you’re going. Your feet merely stumble forward, down busy Times Square till it becomes quieter and the streets are only known by locals. Your strides slow at a cozy coffee shop in search of a place that’s warmer, but as you look through the front windows, you find a blonde standing in line.   Your brows furrow and you sniffle one last time before opening the door.    “Taehyung?”   The tall, lean man turns around and a boxy smile spreads into his face. “Y/N?”   He must notice your glossy eyes and how you’re sniveling not just from the cold weather because he buys you a hot chocolate and asks if you’re alright. You nod, not wanting to talk about your issues, and he understands enough to switch the conversation to himself.   Taehyung’s presence makes you warmer.    “I just didn’t understand. He said yes and agreed he would go to the animal shelter and walk the dogs every week, but then changed his mind and then threw the job to me.” He sighs with a smile, tugging on the sleeve of his blue dress shirt. “I don’t mind, I actually love dogs, but that’s not the point. I swear my director’s so nice he can’t say no to anything. And then I’m the one who suffers when he decides he doesn’t want to do it.”   “Is that how you wound up doing improv?”   “Yes.” He grins and sips his drink.   You hum, fingertips warm against the paper cup. “So you have to walk dogs every week at the animal shelter?”   “Yes, and I’m also volunteering at the homeless shelter every other day during lunch. I don’t mind, but again, it was because the director couldn’t say no to other people. God,” Taehyung laughs, “He’s such a pushover. But I’m the real pushover for saying yes to him too.”   “Your director sounds like a really nice person.” You smile to yourself, wishing you had met someone like that.   “Nice or stupidly kind, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “But he’s an alright guy. Though half the time I feel like I’m just a servant to his whims.”   A deep exhale draws out of your lungs. “I know how that feels.”   Taehyung’s gaze is perceptive and he puts down his drink. “It’s tough to make it in this industry. But it’s like that for everything, I think. There’s nothing really easy out there. Even sleeping gets hard. So….don’t be so tough on yourself.”   “Thanks, Taehyung…”   He might not know what your job entails, but he has a good enough idea — and his intuition isn’t wrong.   The pair of you chat a while more. Taehyung unknowingly comforts you the entire time. And an hour later, he bids farewell and you reluctantly part with him.   He was the only good part of your day.   //   You’re sure your situation has happened before. There’s almost seven and a half billion people in this world now. The chances aren’t unlikely that someone out there knows how you feel — maybe it’s someone who wants to desperately go to medical school and they helped tutor another student after they begged, and that person ended up becoming the doctor instead.   Jealousy and anger isn’t seldom in life. But you’ve thrown so many pity parties for yourself.   You’re tired of it when you’re the host and the only guest.    There’s bad music at these pity parties, and it’s not like you know how to dance either.    But you don’t know how to help your shitty situation. You thought you’ve long lost all your pride after being stepped on so many times. It’s only now that you’ve been shoved again that you realize you still have dignity left — that maybe it’s time to pack your bags and go home….   The doorbell rings not even five minutes after you get back to your apartment. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically, but you drag your feet to open the door.   The person you want to see the least in the world shows up in front of you once again.   “Jimin…”   “Hey!” He gives a bright smile, so happy and radiant that it’s blinding. He’s excited and you’re not sure why. “Can I come in?”   “Um…” You hesitate, only parting the door enough for him to see both your eyes. “I...It’s kind of messy here.”   “Promise, it’ll be quick,” he insists while running a hand through his brunette hair, moving the strands back. He’s dressed in his black hoodie, pants ripped at the knees, dark bag slung over his shoulder. It’s new. Expensive. “It’s important.”   You reluctantly widen the door and Jimin enters with a grin, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. Completely disregarding your expression of distaste. Ignorant to your unwilling body language.   It’s always about him.   “It’s pretty late.” But one thing Jimin does notice is that you’re not in your usual pajamas. “Did you end up working overtime?”   “No. I met with Taehyung.”   Jimin stops and turns around, his eyes rounded. “You...met with Taehyung?”   You frown in annoyance. Who does he think he is coming into your home and asking so many questions?    “I ran into him.”   “Oh. Did you end up going anywhere?”   “A coffee shop.”   Jimin nods. “What did you guys talk about?”   Your eyes narrow into slits. “Why does it matter?”   He shrugs with a small pout, trying to play off his concerns casually. “He just doesn’t seem like...that great of a guy.”   “He’s really nice to me.”   “I’m nice to you,” Jimin mutters out of the corner of his mouth.    And you immediately scoff. Openly. Loudly.   You don’t even hold back from rolling your eyes.    “Why are you asking so many questions? It makes you sound like you’re jealous, Jimin,” you tell him, distraught, unable to comprehend why you were being interrogated. You hold your ground, strengthening yourself not to back down.    You won’t let yourself be strung along and stepped on. Not anymore.   “Well….” The boy in front of you inhales a deep breath and looks right at you. “Maybe I am jealous.”   “What? Why?”    You don’t understand — you’re the jealous one.    But his response and following silence only continues your bafflement and puzzlement.    The two of you are standing at the entrance way of your apartment, uncomfortable like strangers. That’s right...you are strangers.   You inhale a staggering breath, breaking the suffocating tension before he can answer your confused question. “Can’t you—…..” Your voice is timid and hesitant, but then you pause and speak louder to make sure he can hear you. “Can’t you stop bothering me, Jimin?”   “W-What?”   “Please, just leave me alone.” Your head drops. You can’t bear looking at him anymore. You don’t know why you have to beg to be left alone, why he’s invaded even the comfort of your own home. Why wasn’t there an escape from Park Jimin? “We’re not in a relationship. We’re not dating. I don’t even consider you a friend. You’re…..overbearing and every time I see you, it….pisses me off.”   He steps forward, undoubtedly bewildered at where this was coming from.   Jimin reaches out in distraught, but you move away from his possible grasps. As if his touch would sear your skin. He immediately curls his fingers into his palm, retracing his arm.   “I’m sorry. I never wanted to upset you. Just...W-what did I do, Y/N?”   “You never. once. had any consideration for me. You don’t think about me for a second, Jimin.”    It’s an out-of-body experience. You can see yourself having a meltdown but you can’t stop it. You can’t stop the truth from over boiling where you’ve kept it confined. You’re tired of trying so hard not to hurt people when you’ve been so hurt yourself.    “Do you want to know why I sing backstage? Do you want to know why I’m someone’s ghost singer? It’s because I have massive stage fright. It’s really, really bad.”   “Y/N….”   Jimin’s shocked.    He opens his mouth before closing it, rendered speechless. His brows are furrowed deep enough to look like it hurts, a permanent wrinkle creasing where the knot on his features are.    “I always feel like I’m getting a heart attack half the time and I can’t breathe and it started when I was in high school when my voice broke during a performance and everyone laughed at me. It’s horrible and I still think about it a lot — and I didn’t want to go to that improv class.”   You’re hyperventilating, chest constricting painfully. It aches. “I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to perform in front of other people, but you made me do it. You pushed me.”   “I’m s-sorry…” Jimin murmurs, swallowing hard, not knowing what to do. “I didn’t know…”   “I didn’t want to help you either. And I shouldn’t have,” you mutter past the thick lump in your throat, pained, ignoring how your voice cracks under the pressure, “I shouldn’t have taught you how to sing in the first place, even when you begged me. I….didn’t want to.”   You sharply inhale, but it’s never enough to stop feeling that you’re drowning.    “And now that you succeeded, it pisses me off. I’m the one who’s been here longer. But I’m the one who’s left behind. Who’s still working that shit ass job! Every time you open your mouth to talk about how great it’s going, it’s really hard for me. But you keep doing it. And it’s not like I want to feel this. I don’t want to be jealous. I don’t want this feeling. I don’t want you here!”   There’s an extended silence.   You gasp for air while Jimin searches your expression, equally hurt. You tear your eyes away from him — diverting your vision — unable to bear looking at him. “Just leave, please.”   You walk forward and he stumbles back as you yank the door open.    “W-Wait!” Jimin holds the edge of the door before you can shut it. “Y/N, wait!”   “What?” You half-hiss, half-sob at him, at wits end. You want him gone. Gone so you can crawl underneath your covers. Gone so you won’t be able to compare yourself to anyone. Gone so you can forget how pathetic you feel. “What could you possibly want to say to me, Jimin?”   “I...I just came here because I wanted to tell you that I managed to buy you this ticket.” Jimin pulls the slip of paper from out of his pocket. It’s crinkled at the edges as if he’s been holding onto it tightly. He hands you the slip and you take it without thinking. “I-It was hard to get. I-I...I’m sorry.”   You look at it. It’s his show, Les Mis, a middle row seat.   This is why he wanted to talk to you today. This was what was so important.    It’s a gift.   You swallow hard and Jimin lowers his head in shame, murmuring, “You don’t have to go. I-I’m sorry.” He apologizes again. “I didn’t know that’s how you felt about me. I’ll go now. I won’t bother you anymore.”   He leaves before you can say anything, before he can say anything more.   Jimin’s door shuts and then yours follows suit.   Guilt eats you alive as you stand in the middle of your deafeningly silent apartment with the Broadway ticket in your hand.

the signs as the poetry and sonnets of sor juana inés de la cruz

aries: "in which she argues as invalid the pleasure and blame of those men who accuse women of what they cause"

“Stupid men imputing shame on a woman unreasonably, although you never see you cause the things you blame. Whose guilt is greater in this raw erotic play? The girl who sins for pay or man who pays for sin? So why be shocked or taunt her for the steps you take? Care for her as you make her, shape her as you want, but do not come with pleas and later throw them in her face, screaming of sin when you were at her knees. You fight us from our birth with weapons of arrogance. Between promise and pleading stance, you are devil, flesh, and earth.”

taurus: “suspend, singer swan”

“Suspend, singer swan, the sweet strain: see how the lord that Delphi sees exchanges for you the gentle lyre for pipe and to Admetus makes a pastoral sound. As gentle song, though strong, moved stones and tamed the wrath of hell, so it retreats, abashed, when you are heard: your instrument blames the church itself. For though the works of ancient builders cannot match its columns, nothing's greater than your song when your clear voice strikes its stones, and your sweet tones surpass it, dwarf it, while making it grow the more.”

gemini: “she complains about her fate: she asserts her aversion to vices and justifies her pleasure in the muses”

“Why persecute me, world? To what effect? Tell me how I offend. My sole intent is to fix beauty to my intellect, not hang my intellect in beauty's tent. I do not care for emeralds or for gold, and so I feel a happier effect by fixing emeralds to my intellect than to affix my intellect to gold. I do not care for beauty that the knife of age cuts into booty for the public hall, nor can perfidious wealth please me at all. The best I find of all my verities is to consume my vanities in life and not consume my life in vanities.”

cancer: “in which her fantasy is contented with decent love”

“Don't leave me, shadow of my love, elusive and obsessed image which I care for most, handsome deceit for whom I'd be a ghost, sweet fiction for which pain is not abusive. If my own body of obedient steel serves as a magnet fated to your grace, why flatter me with lover's commonplace, only to drop me, run, while I congeal? And yet you cannot brag of anything, of any triumph through your tyranny. If you elude the narrow noose I've set to capture your fantastic form, and spring out of my arms, who cares? You flee, and yet I've got you locked up in my fantasy.”

leo: “in which she satisfies a fear with the rhetoric of tears”

“This afternoon, my love, speaking to you since I could see that in your face and walk I failed in coming close to you with talk, I wanted you to see my heart. Love, who supported me in what I longed to do, conquered what is impossible to gain. Amid my tears that were poured out in pain, my heart became distilled and broken through. Enough, my love. Don't be so stiff. Don't let these maddening jealousies and arrogance haunt you or let your quiet be upset by foolish shadows: false signs of a man's presence; and as you see my heart which met your touch -- and so is shattered in your hands.”

virgo: “she continues with the same matter and ends with reason prevailing over pleasure”

“The ingrate dumping me I seek a lover, seek me as lover, I'll throw him away. I always worship one who runs for cover, who worships me I bump out of my way. Whom I beseech with love is hard as steel, I'm hard as steel to you beseeching me. Triumphant I want you who murder me, I murder you who want my triumph real. If someone wants me, my desire is gone. If I want you, I crush my dignity; and either way I end up feeling bashed. I choose then as the better course to be a violent curse on you who make me yawn, than be for you who dump me vilely trashed.”

libra: "a good face one should choose before dying rather than to expose oneself to the outrages of old age”

“Celia looked at a rose proud in the field, happily showing off its futile grace, and, while adorned in rouge fully revealed, it cheerfully was bathing its white face; Courageously enjoy your destiny, the brief migration of your fertile age; then death that comes tomorrow will not be in place to rob you of a joy, your wage today. And though persistent death comes now and your delicious life moves far from you, and youth and beauty mix with death and fears, see what experience informs, and how it's best to die with youth and beauty too than to observe the outrage of the years.”

scorpio: “inés” 

“When they revile you as sly and obscene, you have no problem getting off the hook, you launch into your gobbledygook, knowing just how to wipe your asshole clean, and when you grab the world, no magpie can dish our such bad-year garbage from its throat: you thunder and the clatter fills a moat, stunning the world like pounding on a can. That rumble jumbles all, one tumbling turd, A con game making you a sweet Rebecca. Though you, Inés, a wanton cuckoo bird, must know my love and how to spot a sin; your bumbling passion stumbles, fails to win, though you're a holy saint and I'm from Mecca.” 

sagittarius: “to hope”

“A green beguilement in our natural life, mad hope and frenzy wrapped about with gold, a dream by those awake, yet thinly cold like dreams and treasures rife, with illusions. Soul of the world, exuberant old age, decrepit greenness of pure fantasy, the now for which the happy ones rampage, the future where the miserable would be. Clutching your name, seeking your day as real, they stick green lenses in their glasses, and the world they see is painted by command. But I, much saner in my state of mind, keep both eyes focused on my hands. Not blind, I only see what I can touch and feel.”

capricorn: "concerning a sage reflection that mitigates a passion”

“With the affliction of a mortal wound I brooded on a sore offense of love; to see if death would drag me underground I tried to make it grow and loom above. The separated soul in clouds of pain, counted its anguish one hurt at a time, and with each second it was darkly plain a thousand deaths dug one life into grime. And after blows of battering a skull, the ruptured heart discerned a maddening sign that it had come to its last hopeless sigh and yet by some prodigious destiny I woke, sensing: Am I not wonderful, and who in love has happiness like mine?”

aquarius: “in which she morally censures a rose, and through the rose her peers”

“Holy rose, who in genteel cultivation you show in all your redolent finesse a magisterial beauty in your station, a snowy discourse in your loveliness, a fearful sign to human architecture, emblem of the vanity in grace's bloom, whose being unites through trickery of nature the joyous cradle and the sorrowing tomb. How haughty in your pomp, how arrogant, sovereign, while you disdain the risk of death; and then, collapsing, shrinking, you are plucked in feebleness of being, a withered plant! And so through stupid life and dying breath, in life you fool, in dying you instruct.”

pisces: “to her self-portrait”

“What you see here is colorful illusion, an art boasting of beauty and its skill, which in false reasoning of color will pervert the mind in delicate delusion. Here where the flatteries of paint engage to vitiate the horrors of the years, where softening the rust of time appears to triumph over oblivion and age, all is a vain, careful disguise of clothing, it is a slender blossom in the gale, it is a futile port for doom reserved, it is a foolish labor that can only fail: it is a wasting zeal and, well observed, is corpse, is dust, is shadow, and is nothing.”