#in my au the most effective magical healing is *right* after the injury and before it starts healing on its own
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There was actually a sixth drawing I made with the other five, but then I ended up taking it in a direction that was so tonally different, it didn't feel right to put it with the others.
This would be right after Teldrassil, after the survivors are teleported to Stormwind, where Tarinne was at the time. She and her dad Thywen (who she was visiting) had rushed down as soon as they heard, but in the shock and chaos, it took ages for the two of them to find Cathala. They eventually did of course, but Tarinne still hasn't forgotten the brief moment before they did where she let herself consider that maybe she hadn't made it.
#my art#cathala#tarinne#black rain#night elf#kaldorei#ask to tag#it’s a little hard to see but cathala’s got bandages on her face over where she got burned#compared to other survivors she didn’t get hurt that badly so the healers gave her the minimum care needed and then released her#in my au the most effective magical healing is *right* after the injury and before it starts healing on its own#which is why people in a fantasy setting with crazy healing magic can still have scars#but since there were so many other people who needed attention the healers just cleaned her up the mundane way and that was that
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Cryptid AU: Heart Potion Effectiveness
I’ve decided to start making little informational posts about some aspects of my au! Some general thoughts I’ve had or answering questions! For this one, I was thinking about biology and physiology and how potions would affect each Link given their differing levels of Hylian-ness. And so! In no particular order:
Twilight (shapeshifter) : Heart potions heal him very well, similarly to how it works in canon. Depending on the injury, he’ll need multiple doses, which must not be taken immediately after each other or else they could cause poisoning. It is recommended that he take one every half hour and rest in between. Note that the dosage he is able to consume will change depending on the shape he takes: a small animal like a bird or squirrel would be able to handle far less while a larger animal such as Wolfie would be able to handle more at a time. Wounds that he receives while in a different shape will always transfer over to the next one when he shifts.
Four (I honestly have know idea what to call them yet) : Heart potions also work very well for them! Not much to say here, it’s mostly the same as Twilight. Although I’ll point out that if an individual color gets injured while they’re split, the injury will remain on the body when they reform. Communication between colors is vital. (Good thing they’re good at that. Haha)
Legend (Mer) : Heart potions have a muted effect on Legend unless he’s actively in his Mer form and soaking in salt water. While he’s in his ‘Hylian’ form, he’s not using his true body, so it doesn’t heal in the same way his Mer body would. Being an entirely aquatic species, he functions better in sea water in every circumstance, and that includes healing. Since he’s not always in a position where he can soak, he relies on Hyrule’s magic for the most part. Or deals with sub par healing.
Wind (Aquili) : Wind, being another sea creature, reacts to heart potions very similarly to Legend. Although because Aquili are amphibious rather than fully aquatic, he’s a lot less dependent on water as part of the healing process. If he sustains a particularly bad wound, soaking him before giving him a potion would be beneficial. But in most cases, he responds well to heart potions. And while it’s true that he heals better while in his Aquili form, changing between Aquili and ‘Hylian’ is no issue for him.
Hyrule (Fairy) : THIS KID IS DRINKING HEART POTIONS LIKE HIS LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. Because, in a way, it does. Hyrule, while he’s a very powerful fairy and has a lot of magic at his disposal, cannot use that magic on himself. He can heal everyone else all he wants, but can’t heal himself. And so, he relies solely on heart potions to get through particularly dangerous battles or accidents. I will note that it is rare for him to get hurt badly enough to necessitate this kind of intervention. He has excellent control of his spells and his glamour. Unless he’s magically exhausted (which he never is, right? Right?), he can defend himself better than anyone. Part of his is because of his extreme caution to never EVER bleed, and partly because of his ability to turn two inches tall and be fully capable of using powerful spells.
Wild (Forest Spirit) : Heart potions are entirely ineffective for Wild, as they are made with parts of monsters. Monsters are made of evil and darkness and Wild is made of Light, so they’re treated like poison to his body. Wild is kind of sort of immortal in that he does not age, but he can definitely be killed. (I treat him kind of like a Skykid for anyone who knows Sky: Children of the Light. When he looses all of his Light, he dies. And he looses this Light to things like Malice and Gloom and attacks from monsters, since they are entities of evil and hatred). In order for Wild to heal, he needs to be strengthened by things that come from the earth. This why he cooks often and eats often.
Warriors (Sword Spirit) : Heart potions do absolutely nothing for him. He cannot drink them. He’s a sword. If he runs out of energy, he can retreat into his sword until he’s back to normal: that’s generally how injuries with him are going to look. His spirit form can only take so many hits before he has to rest. Unless his physical sword got damaged, which would be NOT GOOD. However, they do have a very capable smith in their ranks so I’m sure Wars will be fine. Haha.
Sky (Avian) : Heart potions only heal Sky half way, and in many cases, can be detrimental to his mental health. Since his is the combination between Link and Aepon, heart potions alone heal him unevenly and force a separation between his two parts. As Link is more healed than Aepon, the others might notice a change in his behavior. And due to the general inefficiency in healing physical wounds, the others will opt for different healing methods for Sky; sub par healing is not worth the turmoil that it puts him through. For best healing results, mushroom spores from Skyloft (Loftwing medicine) will be mixed into heart potions and given to Sky. But since those mushroom spores can only be found in the sky and are rarely available, Sky relies on Hyrule for the major wounds and tends to himself for the smaller ones.
Time (God) : Heart potions for Time are a MASSIVE energy boost. This can be very, very dangerous as it can cause him to loose himself, and he won’t come down from it for a long while. No one likes a rampaging God. That being said, he is a God, if Time needs a potion, they have bigger issues.
Also Time is actually legitimately immortal. With no danger of death, there’s no need for potions. I will explain the logistics of his immortality in another post I promise haha!
Original Character Sheets!
#the legend of zelda#chain as cryptids au#sapphire rambles way too long#you have no idea how much thought I’ve put into this au#I’m not even scratching the surface#cryptid lore#cryptid time#cryptid four#Cryptid warriors#cryptid legend#cryptid hyrule#cryptid twilight#cryptid wild#cryptid sky#cryptid wind#links meet au
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!!!! i missed ur ww!robin au!! i know robin doesn’t remember anything from her time as a wolf, but do you think nancy tries to do anything to comfort wolf!robin? from a distance ofc!
no need to miss it! i'm always open to any questions or discussion about any of my aus! (i low-key need to make a masterlist for myself soon-)
i like to think nancy has two tones of voice she primarily uses with wolf!robin. authoritative and soft, although it's mostly the former, especially in the early months. there's generally not a lot of need to comfort a creature that doesn't feel sadness or fear. (self-preservation is totally different.) pain, on the other hand... well, that, of course, would depend on the injury.
like i said before, werewolves are built like tanks, and even a flurry of normie bullets will only slow them down as opposed to doing serious damage. silver bullets (or anything made of genuine silver) are the only thing that'll inflict real pain. unless it's a fatal blow (to the brain or heart) though, which usually results in a semi-slow death, werewolves are still quite resilient and will fight through the pain because their main instinct/drive is to kill. (and nothing induces rage like being fucking shot or stabbed lmao.)
all that being said, when the aggressor(s) is dead, werewolves will usually go off to heal -- since silver wounds take longer to heal than normal ones. (and magic wounds fall somewhere in between.) it's definitely a bad idea to approach a werewolf in this condition, since they're at their most vulnerable and unsurprisingly aggressive, but nancy could probably get away with it considering that robin's under the calming effects of the moonwane potion. still wouldn't recommend it, but, well, you know nancy!
touching her would be a big no-no, but this is definitely where that soft voice she uses exclusively for human robin anyway would come in. it's not clear how much of the english language werewolves actually understand (nancy's studying it lmao) or if they're perfectly fluent and just don't care because their only interest is hunting and killing, but i imagine nancy would treat it much the same she does when human robin is hurt. assuring her that she's there, that everything's going to be okay, that she won't let anybody hurt her again, that she's safe where she is etc.
does it actually work? who can say for sure. but after some time, wolf!robin does stop growling, and she does stop trying to pose as a threat by standing on her hind legs, and eventually, she does curl up and 'sleep'. (werewolves don't actually sleep; they have no need. but she closes her eyes and chills the fuck out and lets her speedy healing spit out whatever silver's in her body.) whether it's because she realizes nancy isn't going to go away and gives up or genuinely does feel comforted to some degree is for you to decide. nancy thinks it's the latter, and she's probably right. i can't imagine steve would live through trying to do the same.
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midas | jjk
summary: jeon jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and the power to turn whatever he wants into pure gold. you were born with healing and invisibility powers but without a cent to your name. so when you’re plucked off of the streets for pickpocketing and assigned to be his minder as punishment, you realize you’re going to have to overcome a lot more than class differences if either of you are going to get what you want.
{enemies to lovers!au, ceo!au, magical realism!au}
pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader
genre: fluff, comedy, angst
word count: 32k (my hand slipped)
warnings: alcohol consumption (brief), mentions of bruising and injuries, characters being emotionally constipated and afraid of commitment, your usual guyi e2l lineup
a/n: finally!! oh god this fic took forever to write and just kept getting longer and longer. remember when i overestimated the wc by saying 25k-30k? yikes. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this monster! nothing says gukyi like a jk e2l fic, am i right?
The best time to be on the streets is just past noon on weekdays and eleven o’clock on Sunday mornings. When every working professional is out on their lunch break or weekend brunch, basking in the nice weather by choosing to fill up every outdoor dining area available to them. When they plop their bags, their purses and totes, on the chairs opposite them or onto the pavement beside them, thinking that the plastic fence that guards them will be enough to deter pickpockets and thieves.
Unluckily for them, they usually fail to consider the prospect of someone invisible swooping in to steal the bills from their wallets, a nondescript force reaching into their purse as they stare down at their phones while they eat, forkfuls of to-go salads and pasta dishes stuffed into their mouths.
Pickpocketing is a skill that the most desperate learn and the shameless master. Normally, people work in teams, one person to distract and the other to fish for the wallet, grabbing the cash and credit cards before tossing it onto the sidewalk and disappearing without a trace. If you wanted to be especially good at it, you would have to be able to complete the entire thing in less than thirty seconds, in the time it takes for people to switch trains in the subway stations.
But when you work alone, you don’t get that luxury.
But you suppose that the higher powers above, whatever they may be, are relatively benevolent, because in exchange for your prickly personality, you were blessed with the gift of being invisible.
Unfortunately, that’s something that you don’t need magic to feel.
The truth is that it’s always been easy to ignore a girl who has no family, no friends, and no money. Living isn’t the hard part, living with purpose is. Nobody wants to pay any attention to someone who has nothing, literally nothing, to offer in return. At least, nobody interesting.
The only times when you ever feel truly at peace are when you’re sleeping, and when you’re walking down the streets of the city, letting the rest of the world pass you by without sparing you a second glance. You’ve never been one desperate to stick out, to make an impression. Never been someone that people stop to do a double take at when they walk past you. Strange as it sounds, you love the feeling of being insignificant. It is, in a way, liberating.
So far today you’ve hauled eighty dollars and a subway card from the wallet of some poor tourist standing outside of a bakery looking at a map the size of Jupiter. Some people you feel particularly bad about robbing, but a bald man with dad sunglasses and a fanny pack isn’t one of them. Besides, being pickpocketed is a classic tourist experience. You’re actually doing him a favor. Something to check off of his bucket list.
You stow away the money and the card into your pocket, bills folded neatly into your raggedy jeans, rips and holes lining the fabric not for fashion, but from wear alone. You’ll make a mental note to buy yourself a croissant or something later. A treat to reward yourself for all of the hard work you’re putting in today. You’ll be able to pay off your phone bill for the next month with this money.
When the lunch breaks are over, you’ll probably retire to your bed and wallow in self-pity for a little before returning for the dinner rush. Having no life is a constant job, and you don’t even get any legally-mandated breaks to keep you going. Every moment you aren’t on the streets is another moment you aren’t making any money. It’s sort of like being a salesman, which, if you think about it, is just a legal way to rob people. When have salespeople ever sold something of real value?
With the eighty dollars on your mind, you start to scope out nice bakeries on your route, coffee shop signs and pastries on display in the window, looking for a nice place to settle down and buy yourself something sweet. Seeing as you live off of Campbell’s soups and bread from dollar stores, anything is an upgrade.
You walk a couple more blocks before stumbling upon one of those picture-perfect bakeries, with pristinely decorated cupcakes and cakes lining the window display. You can tell that this place is good because there’s a line out the door and a little seating area that is packed to the brim. However, you are currently invisible, which doesn’t accommodate purchasing goods particularly well, but you make a mental note to return to the bakery a little later when people can actually see you. As if you’d ever turn right here, in front of all of these people.
While you’re here, you decide to snoop around the line and the outdoor seating area to see if anybody strikes your fancy. Everyone standing either has their bag on their shoulder or their wallets gripped tightly between their fingers, so that’s off the table. But, there is one woman wearing a massive wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses as she chows down on a pink strawberry cupcake, her Louis Vuitton tote bag sitting a good two inches away from her, possibly even out of her periphery.
Bullseye.
There’s never a need to be stealthy when you’re already invisible, so you trot over, eyeing the woman to make sure that she can’t see anything in front of her. She doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, so you quickly reach down into her bag, a close watch on her gaze, hand fishing around amongst the receipts and the lipsticks and hand sanitizer until you feel her leather wallet. Nimble fingers fumble with the zipper until the tips come into contact with the crisp dollar bills, which you quickly nick and stuff into your pocket, bounding off without a trace.
Halfway down the block, you surreptitiously glance at your haul—two hundred dollars!
That’ll be enough to last you and your phone bill for the next three months, at least.
You’re so busy mentally applauding yourself for your pickpocketing skills that you don’t notice someone standing right in front of you. At least, you don’t notice until you crash into them, the surprise forcing you to turn.
You sputter out an apology, hoping that whoever it is you’ve nearly run over isn’t observant enough to notice that the currently-visible thing they bumped into was previously invisible, and that’s when you notice exactly who it is that you’ve collided with.
It’s the woman from the bakery, Louis Vuitton bag and everything. And she’s staring you down like there’s no tomorrow, arms crossed over her middle-aged chest as she sends daggers at you. Oh, you’re so fucked.
“Sorry?” You say unhelpfully, already knowing the direction of this conversation. This woman wouldn’t be sending you a death glare if she didn’t already know who you are. They definitely did this just to trap you, set you up like a mouse and a cheese trap.
“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” she orders. “You must already know why I’m here.”
“I was hoping you’d let me off the hook?” You say guiltily, her hand already wrapping tightly around your wrists as she handcuffs you, sharp metal pressing against your wrists. One wriggle and you know that there’s no magicking yourself out of these. They think of everything, they do.
“Tell that to the courts,” she snaps, effectively shutting you up as she drags you away, money digging a hole in your pocket as you begin to envision yourself six feet under. You’re as good as dead, caught red-handed.
Well, life was good while it lasted. At least you might never have to have Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup anymore.
There’s no such thing as an attorney in the Realm. No such thing as a fair trial (even if they say there is), no such thing as defense and prosecution. No grand juries, no crowds, no sketch artist. Just a judge with a stick up his ass and a punishment to be delivered. You’re either guilty or a liar.
And you’re rather good at being both.
“The charge is as follows,” says the burly man at the head of the makeshift courtroom, reading off of a piece of parchment like it’s 1433 and the printing press hasn’t been invented yet. “Burglary, possession of illegally-gained goods, and petty theft.” Because charging you for burglary alone wasn’t enough, apparently. You have a sneaking suspicion that they invented the other two charges just so they could have more to punish you for. “Does the defendant have anything they wish to say?”
“Don’t you guys have anything better to do with your lives?” You ask with a dramatic sigh, having already resigned yourself to your fate. “Like, you could be playing golf round after golf round instead of sitting here, charging an orphan girl with no money.”
“This is my job,” says the burly man. Clearly he has never done anything fun in his entire life.
“Also, stealing is my only crime, right? So do you really need to punish me like I’ve murdered someone?”
“You burglarized a Realm Leader,” he deadpans. As if Realm Leaders really wear wide-brimmed hats, sunglasses, and carry around a three-thousand dollar Louis Vuitton bag on their days off.
“You set me up,” you accuse. Might as well go out swinging. “What if I charge you for lying, huh? How will you be punished?”
“Anything else?”
“Fuck you,” you spit.
The burly man sighs, thinks about the potential verdict for approximately two seconds, and says, “The court finds the defendant guilty of all three charges. Sentencing will now be arranged.”
Big whoop. You could sniff out your ’guilty’ verdict from three miles away, knowing that the Realm takes plenty of pride in charging its constituents for whatever crime that they can invent. You slouch back in your chair as the judge and his heartless buddies discuss your punishment. You suppose that being jailed might not be too bad—you’d always have meals and a place to sleep, even if you would have to give up magic in return. And community service would also be alright. You’d be fine with cleaning up the expressway that runs through the city, though knowing the Realm, they’d probably put you up to some stupidly dangerous magical task. And at this point, death seems rather inviting, and would solve everybody’s problems because they wouldn’t have to deal with you and you wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.
The judge coughs, summoning the bare minimum of your attention. “The court has reached a sentencing decision for the convicted. We are offering you two options, of which you may choose one.”
Right, like you’d willingly volunteer for both punishments.
“You may either be sentenced to serve time in the Realm Penitentiary for six months with the possibility of parole after four, or conduct supervised community service until the task at hand has been completed. Please select which option you would like.”
It’s like asking you to choose between being given one hundred dollars or having to pay one hundred dollars. What does the Realm think people will pick? Do they really think anyone in their right mind would choose to be jailed, forbidden to use their magic, and then let the Realm trick them into thinking parole is really an option, over some measly community service?
“Community service,” you say gruffly.
“Excellent,” the judge says, writing something with a quill and ink because apparently, ballpoint pens are too complicated. “Your community service will be supervised by a Realm Leader with visionary powers, so you will not need to meet with them in order to discuss your progress, nor will they watch you in person.” And they said that crystal balls aren’t real.
“What do I have to do?” You ask. Knowing them, it’ll probably be something like scrubbing all of the toilets in the Penitentiary, or going deep into the Amazonian forest to collect some magical sap or fighting off a magical beast. Something that could serve as a death sentence, or at least be extremely unpleasant, in the hopes that it’ll get you off of their backs.
“The court will be assigning you as a minder to correct the ways of another mage,” the judge states.
A minder?
So, your community service is that you have to be a glorified magickal babysitter?
Well. It could be worse.
“Alright, fine,” you say, though it’s not like you have a choice one way or another. Where was your minder? Why weren’t you assigned one, instead of just being hauled off by an undercover Realm leader to be sentenced for the same crime three times over? “Who will I be assigned to?”
The judge looks down at the parchment in front of him through his tiny old man glasses, and says, “Jeon Jungkook.”
Huh?
Jeon Jungkook lives on the top floor of an apartment complex the size of the Empire State Building and worth more than your entire life. There are ceiling-to-floor windows that span the entire perimeter of the penthouse, a whole security team in the lobby vetting every single person that walks through the automatic glass doors, and an elevator with a touch-screen instead of buttons. It sickens you, the fact that some people can live like this. The fact that some people have known only this world as their entire life, and have not once glanced the other way.
Getting to Jeon Jungkook’s front door isn’t the hard part. The Realm gave you succinct instructions and permission to use your powers whenever necessary throughout the whole thing, two things more than you thought they would. It’s easy to slide by the big buff security guards when they can’t see you. Easy to turn in the comfort and privacy of the elevator, easy to figure out which door is his when he’s the only person who lives on the top floor.
The hard part is getting there without feeling like you’re way in over your head. Getting Jeon Jungkook to stop abusing his powers will be no easy feat. He’s rich, powerful, and spits on people like you, people who are not either of those things. Not to mention the fact that if he really wanted to, he could just turn you to gold and set you up in his penthouse like a statue, frozen in time.
For once, the only thing that makes you feel a little bit better is the Realm. They’ve handed you a strict order that neither you nor he can magic your way out of, lined with stipulations and regulations and requirements that both of you will follow or so help you God. If Jeon Jungkook doesn’t comply, he, his company, and his reputation are done for.
So at least there’s that.
Jeon Jungkook’s front door is made of a deep mahogany brown and about thirteen feet tall, towering over you just to serve as a reminder that he can pretty much afford to buy out the entire city if necessary. You feel like an ant in comparison, an insignificant little thing, no money, no power, no nothing.
A fluorescent doorbell light flashes beside the door frame.
The sound echoes throughout the hallway you’re standing in, a classic ding-dong noise that reverberates across the walls.
“Coming!” A voice from inside calls. Is Jungkook expecting someone?
You quickly make any last minute efforts to look as presentable as possible—well, as presentable as someone who lives in a dilapidated, abandoned house at the edge of the city can be—before the door opens.
For someone who’s got money to burn, Jeon Jungkook sure as hell doesn’t look like it. He’s wearing an oversized button down that hangs loose by his thighs, ripped jeans, and a pair of charcoal grey socks, like he got home from work five hours ago and decided to change into whatever feels most comfortable.
“Oh, good, I called and they said that you would be another twenty minutes,” Jungkook says, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Let me go grab my wallet, you can just set the pizza down on the counter.”
“Uh, I’m not—”
Jungkook rushes off down one of the fifteen different hallways that branch off of the main living room, leaving you stranded as you wander into his massive abode. Windows line the walls, giving you a perfect view of the city below you, twinkling lights of skyscrapers as people slowly leave their offices and return home. His kitchen alone is double the size of where you live. How can one person possibly take up all of this space? Doesn’t it ever get lonely?
You wait awkwardly besides the counter, which is pizza-less, until Jungkook returns, a shiny black wallet between his fingers as he fumbles for some cash. And normally, you have zero qualms stealing from the rich and giving to the poor (aka, yourself), but seeing as he thinks you’re providing a service, you have the compassion to feel at least a little bit bad.
Jungkook stops when he notices the bare countertop. “Uh,” he begins with a frown, “where’s the pizza?”
“I’m not the pizza delivery guy,” you explain hesitantly. You don’t suppose Jungkook would have opened the door otherwise.
“Then where is the pizza delivery guy?” He asks, like you somehow know.
“I don’t know,” you tell him. Was an interrogation supposed to be a part of this?
“Who are you?”
“I’m Y/N,” you say, hesitant to touch anything except the floor for fear that you will either dirty or break something and then spend the rest of your life trying to pay back the damages. “I’m your minder.”
“What?” Jungkook scrunches up his nose in disgust. “I never asked for a minder.”
“Well, you’ve been assigned one anyway,” you say with a frown. To be fair, it’s not like you expected this to be easy.
“That’s ridiculous,” Jungkook dismisses, already making his way to the door to shoo you off into the night, like he probably does with all of his problems. “I don’t need a minder. I’m fine.”
You look over his shoulder, noticing the flecks of golden accents that line his house, the golden teapots on shelves, picture frames hung up on the wall. Even the rods that hold up the massive satin curtains are gold. There isn’t so much gold to be garish and kitschy, like a teenager who can’t control what he touches, but enough to assert that he’s either wealthy or gifted, or in his case: both.
“That really sucks, because I’m still your minder,” you tell him, refusing to budge. Jungkook can’t possibly imagine he’ll somehow be able to get out of this. Not when the law is working against him.
“Says who?” Jungkook spits back.
“The Realm,” you tell him rudely, manifesting the agreement the Realm had given you to force Jungkook into accepting. The parchment is laid out on the countertop, curling up at the edges, black ink written neatly on top of it. He glares at it suspiciously, as if he’s suspected that you forged it. When you make no efforts to explain yourself further, he takes a hesitant step forward, eyes narrowing in on the parchment sitting in front of the both of you. In pitch black ink, loopy calligraphy, it says this:
As recommended and required by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, the recipient, Jeon Jungkook is to be assigned a minder, whose duty is to watch over him, regulate his use of magic, and work towards decreasing his magical activity.
This minder is being assigned as a result of misuse of magic by the recipient, either by abuse or from the intent to inflict harm upon mages or non-magic users. The Realm decrees that all mages who disobey the laws that govern society either be reformed or punished.
This minder must ensure that the recipient makes progress towards decreasing his magical activity by indefinitely accompanying and supervising him for every hour of the day. This minder’s term will expire once they have achieved their goal of decreasing the recipient’s use of magic and ensuring that abuse of it does not reoccur.
Should the recipient disobey this proclamation in any form, including vandalism, ignorance, or rejection, he will be brought to court and sentenced to jail accordingly.
Jungkook seems to read the parchment for about five seconds before crumpling it up in his hands and tossing it into the trash bin by the edge of the counter.
“Absolutely not,” he scoffs. “I do not need a minder. I don’t know what The Realm told you but I have no problem with my powers and your services are not required. There was probably some sort of mistake.”
As if. The paper says his name. Jungkook’s almost as bad at violating the rules of the Realm as you are.
“Uh—” you begin again, but Jungkook is already shooing you out of his penthouse, flicking you away like an animal that’s gotten too close. You find yourself backing up furiously in a desperate attempt to not be trampled by him and his oversized button-down and intimidating death glare, until you’re a foot out of his apartment.
“Maybe you can go bother someone else instead,” he suggests unhelpfully, before slamming the door in your face.
You stand there for a few more seconds, face to face with the dark mahogany wood. The bright side is that, even if Jungkook only read the first paragraph of the decree and then tossed it into his recycling bin, there’s no escaping the Realm. You have half a mind to just bugger off and let him face the consequences of his own actions. You can picture it in your head: Realm officers barging into his place of work and arresting him on the spot for consciously disregarding an order of the Realm. That might satiate you for a while.
Resigning yourself to the fact that if you knock on Jungkook’s door and politely suggest that he pull the parchment out from the trash and read the whole thing will probably not go down particularly well, you turn, letting your body vanish before you, before making your way back to the elevator. The pizza delivery guy arrives just as you reach it, letting you easily slide past him as he goes to make Jungkook’s day a little better by being an expected guest rather than an unwarranted visitor.
Jungkook may not have agreed to this today (not that he has a choice in the matter), but there’s always tomorrow.
Passing by the security, who spare no second glance at the fact that the automatic glass doors have just opened seemingly by themselves, you turn left when you reach the sidewalk and head home.
Home is a janky abandoned house at the very edge of the city, where the buildings meet train tracks and old highways, graffiti decorating every open surface within a five-mile radius. It’s not so much a house as it is a shack, old and rickety and forgotten. You think that the locals and the nons believe the place is haunted, since no one ever comes within one hundred feet of the entrance, the broken glass in the windows and big red spray-painted X on the door deterring most folks.
People who invite you into their houses and say, “it’s not much, but it’s home,” are such liars. For as long as you have lived here, this place has never felt like home. You never come back from a long day and think, ah, home sweet home. You will never dream of wasting away within these walls. That’s a death sentence.
You enter through the back door, ducking your head low to avoid hitting it on the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a wire or two. You’re not electrically-proficient enough to know how to fix it yourself so it’s less of a fire hazard, and you don’t have nearly enough money to call anyone to come repair it, so there it stays. It still works, though, and you use it in a pinch when you can’t see where you’re stepping.
There’s a small pile of folded clothing on the floor by the mattress, the remnants of a past life that feels more like an alternate universe than it does part of your history. The fridge doesn’t work, nor do most of the utilities, but the little stack of Campbell’s soup cans on the countertop is reliable and unchanging. As is the fact that you will probably never get out of this dump, so long as you shall live.
When you were little, you used to dream of living in a big castle, and wanting for nothing. You would have people to cook for you, clean for you, dress you, bathe you, entertain you. All of these stories about being a little princess, doted on and loved by all, innocent and pure and beautiful. All of these stories about finding Prince Charming, meeting the love of your life as waltzes into your life on a gorgeous white horse, getting married, having kids, and growing old together. You dreamed of a perfect life, a perfect love, where you never have to worry about anything, where no one is ever mean or rude, no government to dictate what you do.
It’s no wonder all of those stories were simply fairy tales.
It makes you even angrier when you think about Jeon Jungkook. He’s lived a life as close to perfection as possible, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a silver platter placed in front of him. He’s grown up with people adoring him, telling him he can do no wrong, rewarding him with a brand new toy when he gets in trouble, teaching him that his powers are for himself first and for other people next to you. Not much is fair in the world, but especially not the fact that he was bestowed with the gift of being able to turn whatever he wishes into gold.
He is everybody’s Prince Charming: wealthy, handsome, powerful. Too bad you aren’t a princess anymore.
Strangely enough, even after a long day, you aren’t feeling at all hungry. The scent of the pizza Jungkook had ordered to his door was enough to satisfy you, a warm feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Normally, this late at night, you might even be daring (or sleep-deprived) enough to break into one of your precious ramen packs, but instead you collapse onto the mattress, heavy heart willing you fast asleep, the light flickering above your head.
The next day you are faced with a choice: leave Jungkook alone and let him deal with the repercussions of his actions on his own (much to your delight), or go back and continue pestering him until he agrees to having a minder (much to your chagrin).
A new parchment has manifested itself on the counter, words copied from the one Jungkook threw out before your eyes. It shimmers, almost as if there’s a golden halo that surrounds it, another trick that the Realm has up its sleeve. You have a feeling that this one won’t be as easily ripped, crumpled up to be tossed into the nearest trash bin. It terrifies you—how closely they watch. You suppose that it was only a matter of time before they caught you.
Quite frankly, you’re shocked it took them this long to realize you were a serial pickpocketer in the first place.
As much as you’d love to see Jungkook get arrested and tried for defying the rules of the Realm, see his face plastered all over the newspapers and tabloids with stupid headlines like JEON JUNGKOOK: CRIMINAL? and ARRESTED FOR HAVING TOO MUCH MONEY?, and count it as a personal win, letting that happen would mean that you would have failed to do your court-ordered community service, which is a one-way ticket to prison.
So even if Jeon Jungkook was the grouchiest, greediest, cockiest person in the entire world (which, judging by what you know about him, he probably is), and even though you would happily let his career and reputation plummet, you don’t have a choice. The two of you will either go down together or not at all.
Resigning yourself to the fact that you will have to be within close proximity to Jeon Jungkook for the foreseeable future, you rally yourself out of bed, tugging on what you deem to be your nicest clothes and splashing your face clean. The rags you have on are probably worth a cent of what Jungkook wears on a daily basis, crisp suits and silver watches and golden earrings. He could spit on you and that would increase your net worth. But surprisingly enough, there is something empowering about the fact that Jeon Jungkook will no longer be able to ignore the plight of those in a lower class than him. Not when he, a person who has everything, will be forced to reckon with you, someone who has nothing.
It’s easy to find your way to Jungkook’s place of employment. It’s this enormous skyscraper with his name in a golden serif font above the entryway, marking the entire building as his own. It isn’t garish and ugly, per se, but it definitely makes a statement. This, combined with the cool, chic design of his penthouse apartment, redeems him a little. At least he has taste for someone with money to burn like fireworks.
There are two massive security guards and a whole squad of receptionists standing guard inside the building’s lobby, dressed pristinely and narrowing their eyes at anybody who dares enter. You wait across the street for a few minutes, loitering outside of a coffee shop and trying to avoid having people bump into you, watching. The only people that seem to be worthy of entering are wearing suits and dresses that cost more than what your abandoned house could sell for on the market after being restored, nodding their hellos to the security guards and receptionists as they press the elevator buttons and disappear into the building. You and your thrifted blouse would be laughed out in an instant.
Lucky for you, you happen to have a rather foolproof method of getting yourself through those doors, and it mostly involves the fact that nobody can even see you.
You rush across the road at the next green light and wait until you see someone heading in, the grand glass doors automatically opening when they register someone’s presence. It’s easy to slip in undetected, and you hang around in the lobby, secretly judging every single person that walks in after you. You could, quite honestly, spend all day in here, watching the receptionists tap away at their keyboards with robotic efficiency, answering calls left and right and fielding all sorts of questions from folks entering. It’s a world you have never dared step into, a world filled with wealth and power and class hierarchy, with Jeon Jungkook sitting on a pile of money at the very top of the pyramid.
Some of the people that work in this building will never in their entire lifetime get the chance to speak with him. They will come in, day after day, working for someone who they have no personal relationship to, someone that they will never be afforded the chance to meet.
Those people are, in your opinion, dodging a bullet.
If only your life was as kind to you.
A nervous young man walks in, clearly more out-of-place than anyone else. He seems to have barely bypassed security, flashing some sort of pass that lets him through the doors, but if a breeze came blowing through the lobby, he’d topple right over. He stumbles towards the receptionist desk, all of whom have phones to their ears as they furiously type on their keyboards. One woman holds up a hand, making him freeze in place. If he grinds his teeth any more they’ll all fall out before he even gets a chance to speak.
It’s another two minutes before the lady puts the phone down and says, “How can I help you?”
“I’m—I’m, uh—I’m here for a meeting,” the man fumbles out. You’re embarrassed for him.
“With who?” The woman asks, peering over the glasses resting on her pointy nose. She begins to look over the list of people who have meetings. It must be a rather extensive list.
“Mr—Mr. Jeon, ma’am,” the man sputters.
She looks doubtful. “Your name?”
“K-Kim…” he begins, staring down at his feet, “Kim Taehyung.”
“And your business with Mr. Jeon is?”
“I’m—uh, well, I’m a photographer for… for an article being written about him by F-Forbes,” he explains rather helplessly. He must have superb photography skills to make up for his extreme nervousness. You’ll be surprised if he makes it all the way to Jeon Jungkook’s office without wetting his pants out of fear.
The lady hums to herself, looking suspicious until she finds the man’s name on her list. “Mr. Jeon’s office is on the top floor. Make two lefts and then a right. You will have to wait to be called.”
“Thank you v-very much.” He scurries towards the elevator, and you strike while the iron is hot.
Rushing over, you manage to squeeze into the elevator right before the doors close, waiting patiently in the corner as the man tries to calm himself down, doing some sort of breathing exercise. Well, he’s got plenty of time to put his nerves aside, seeing as this building has seventy floors and Jeon Jungkook is apparently at the very top of them all. You feel bad for him, in a way. Jeon Jungkook was rude and unapologetically uncouth when you spoke to him, even if an aura of professionalism and extremely good social skills surrounds him at all times, and you don’t cower in fear at the sight of him.
There’s no telling what he’ll be like when Taehyung walks into his office.
One tense elevator ride later, the both of you arrive at the seventy-fifth floor, the silver doors opening to reveal a busy office space filled with people near the very top of the building’s pyramid. People like his secretary and accountants and managers, people who come into direct contact with Jeon Jungkook every day from nine to five. In a way, you pity these people for having to deal with him, but it’s not like you’ll be any different.
Taehyung rushes out and you make sure to follow before the elevator doors crush you, following the receptionist’s instructions. Two lefts and a right.
Jungkook’s office, much like his apartment, is not hard to miss. His name is written on a plaque on the door, and a guard stands outside with a clipboard, regulating everybody who passes in and out of the room. The walls that surround him are glass but he keeps the blinds drawn permanently, so that no one has the pleasure of seeing his face while they work tirelessly to impress him. Taehyung gives his name to the man, who checks him off on the paper on his clipboard before entering the room.
“Sir, your 12:30 is here,” the guard says.
Taehyung looks about ready to pass out.
“Let them in,” Jungkook’s voice bellows in response. The man nods to Taehyung, who trembles where he stands, twiddling his thumbs like there’s no tomorrow. He shuffles in awkwardly and the door shuts behind him. Luckily, the walls are sound-proof.
The thirty minutes of waiting is agony. You have nothing to do but rehearse in your head how this next conversation is going to go down, the scroll burning a hole in your back pocket. If Jungkook was displeased at best to see you in his apartment, you can only imagine the horror on his face when he sees you’ve infiltrated his workplace as well. Especially since you don’t have even a fraction of the money and power needed to enter the building on more professional terms.
The good news is that, no matter what Jungkook says, no matter how many times he kicks you out of his penthouse and his skyscraper, he has no choice but to accept the deal, regardless of how long it will take for him to realize this. You never thought you’d ever be relying on the Realm to carry you through a predicament, and nor did you ever think you’d be doing their bidding, and yet, here you are.
The door opens at one o’clock on the dot.
“Th-thank you so much for your time again, Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung says, bowing profusely as he heads out. “I really appreciate it, you—you won’t regret it, I promise, thank you again!” You quickly rush towards the door, even making to hold it slightly open for Taehyung as he heaps his thanks on top of Jungkook. In the split second it takes for Taehyung to let the door go and for it to shut, you slip inside.
“Finally,” Jungkook huffs out to himself, hand rubbing against his forehead. He’s not wearing a suit like you had expected, rather, a silken button-down shirt and tailored slacks. He doesn’t even have a tie.
Well, you suppose that being your own boss has its perks.
Jungkook’s stomach growls. “Fuck, I’m hungry.” He presses a button on the phone in his office. “I’m taking my hour lunch break now,” Jungkook informs the person on the other end. “Put all of my meetings on hold until two o’clock and not a moment earlier.”
He hangs up the phone and runs his hands through his hair, neatly straightened and styled. You hate to admit it, but there’s no wonder the man has captured the hearts of people all over the city. He’s rather good looking, the flecks of gold scattered around his office complementing his swirling brown eyes, making them look like caramel instead of cocoa. You have a hunch that, in the eyes of the general public, unattractive people instantly become good-looking the moment that they acquire wealth, power, fame, or all three, but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any of those things for people to think he’s beautiful. To him, they’re just bonuses.
He turns around for a moment to look for something, probably to fish his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, and you turn. Nothing says hello like magically manifesting yourself in his office.
“Jesus fu—!” Jungkook practically jumps out of his skin when he sees you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m your minder,” you explain again.
“I told you I don’t need a goddamn minder,” Jungkook spits out, turning around again just so he doesn’t have to see your face. “Get out.”
“Sorry, no can do,” you say, rocking back and forth on your feet. “Realm’s orders.”
“Fuck the Realm,” Jungkook says. “I don’t need a minder. Your services are unnecessary. Now get out, before I call security.”
You purse your lips. “You may want to think twice about that.” With a flourish, you whip out the scroll, a golden yellow glow still surrounding the parchment, handing it to Jungkook like a Christmas cracker. He snatches it out of your hand and unfurls it. “You should probably read the whole thing this time. It won’t rip like the last one.”
Jungkook glares at the paper like it’s ruined his life—which, judging by his attitude, it probably has—as he scans over the words, scowl worsening with every second that passes.
“You shouldn’t frown like that, it’s not a good look on you,” you chide. At least Jungkook knows that there’s no bribing his way out of this one.
“I told you I don’t need a minder,” he says again like it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear.
“Well, I didn’t want to be assigned to you, but unfortunately, it looks like neither of us are going to get what we want,” you retort. “It’s this or prison, Jeon. You pick.”
“Why the fuck were you assigned to me, then?” Jungkook asks, rounding on you. “What are your powers?”
“Healing and invisibility,” you spit out. Not nearly as glamorous or lucrative as his own, but they come with their own benefits. For example, the ability to infiltrate high-level, upper class places of employment. “Maybe they thought I’d make a good babysitter since those are two skills often used with children,” you tell him pointedly.
“I don’t need a minder,” Jungkook repeats for the umpteenth time. “I don’t misuse my magic or abuse my powers.”
“Uh,” you point out, an eyebrow raised skeptically, “I think I’d like to beg to differ.” There’s more gold in this room than miners probably found in San Francisco in the nineteenth century. The fact that nons haven’t noticed the abundance of it in his office is outrageous to you. How else do they think he and his family built up this empire?
“Please,” Jungkook says with a frown. “As if we don’t all use our powers for our own benefit. Huh? What did you do that was so terrible that you had to be assigned as my minder?”
“I pickpocket,” you explain economically. No point in sugar-coating it. Jungkook has probably already figured out you don’t come from nearly as much money as he does. “And I got caught.”
“Sucks,” Jungkook comments callously.
“Sucks for you, too,” you fire back. “You got caught as well. Agree to the terms or go to jail, Jeon Jungkook. I don’t care. But don’t say I didn’t try to help.”
You stand there in silence for a few more seconds, letting your words dissipate into the air, sinking into the ground. Jeon Jungkook seems to have this furious battle within himself, brows furrowing as he rubs at his chin, pacing back and forth behind his desk. He knows he doesn’t have a choice. He goes to jail and his reputation is soiled. The Realm repossesses all that he has made of himself and he must start from scratch under their ruthlessly watchful eye. There will be no recovery. Only survival.
Or, he deals with you for a couple of months until the Realm is satisfied with the both of you, and you both go on your merry way, never having to see each other again.
You know what you’d pick if you were in his shoes.
“Fine,” Jungkook spits out, pointing an accusing finger your way. “But you are to be invisible whenever we are in public, and that includes here.”
“Done. But you have to decrease your turning otherwise we’ll be stuck with each other forever,” you negotiate. “I’ll also have to come and live with you. Can you handle that, or are you too ashamed to have someone else inside your home?”
Jungkook scoffs. “I live in a penthouse the size of a museum. Pick whatever bedroom you fucking want. I doubt we’ll even see each other.” At least there’s one upside to having to stay with him in his massive residence.
“Fine,” you spit out, just for good measure.
“Fine,” he counters back. Like anything about this conversation, this agreement, this goddamn life you have to live, is fine.
Yeah, right.
Jungkook’s penthouse is much more magnificent when you are more than two steps in the door. From where you had stood before, barely just past the door frame as he crumpled the parchment in his hand and tossed it into the trash bin, you hadn’t been able to see it in half its glory, let alone in full. When you can stand in the center of it all, eyes darting from the hallways and archways and spiral staircases leading to a rooftop pool or gym or both, it is overwhelming. Suffocating.
His living room alone is larger than anything you have ever lived in, anything you have ever had the pleasure of calling your own. The ceiling is sky high and completely glass, streaks of sun shooting down and casting its rays on his chic furniture, deep hardwood floors. You’re so busy looking up that you nearly trip on a white rug laid out on the floor.
“There are four bedrooms down that hallway and two down that one,” Jungkook says gruffly, flinging his keys into a bowl resting on a shelf and shrugging off his jacket, letting it hang over his forearm. How could one person possibly take up all of this space?
“Where do you sleep?” You ask.
“That’s none of your business,” Jungkook says with a frown.
“There’s no point in not telling me,” you remind him helpfully, “there’s only so many places you can be.”
Jungkook sighs. “It’s upstairs. But you can just sleep in any of the empty ones down here.”
“Thanks,” you deadpan.
“Is that all you brought?” Jungkook asks with a raised eyebrow, looking at the backpack hanging loose off your shoulder. The zipper’s broken, so the outer flap is in a constant state of being folded over, but it works.
“What, did you expect a moving truck?” You retort.
“Ugh, forget I asked,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders as he turns away from you. He begins to point around the room. “There should be some ready meals in the fridge if you’re hungry. TV’s always set to the news, but feel free to change it. Volume shouldn’t ever be over forty. Books are alphabetized by the author’s last name. No parties, though I don’t imagine you frequent those.”
You can’t tell if that’s a jab or just him being observant, but either way, it’s true. You don’t even have any friends.
“Fine, anything else?”
“Every bedroom has an ensuite bathroom,” Jungkook informs you. “So use that one. Don’t come into my bedroom. There’s more than enough space here for the both of us to go without seeing each other, so let’s keep it that way.”
“Aw, you mean I’m not allowed to wake up to your handsome face and infectious attitude every day?” You pout sarcastically, making Jungkook scrunch up his nose and frown. “Don’t forget that the only way you’re gonna get me out of here is if you listen to the Realm and follow my rules.”
“Yeah, which are?”
“You’re not allowed to turn at all when I’m around, whether or not you can physically see me. Every time you do is a strike. Three strikes—because I’m generous and forgiving—and I’ll report you to the Realm. The whole point of me being here is to make you stop using your powers all of the time.”
“It’s not like I’m doing any harm to people,” Jungkook defends. “You steal, what’s your excuse?”
“You use your power to add onto your already-enormous bank account,” you point out crudely. “I use mine to survive. It’s different.” Jungkook isn’t convinced. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because I got caught and so did you and now we both have to deal with the consequences.”
He huffs to himself.
“So do we have a deal?” You ask, glaring up at him, unrelenting. Jungkook’s chocolate brown eyes flicker as the gold around his house reflects off of his irises, like he’s trying desperately to find a way to get himself out of this before it’s too late.
What he doesn’t realize is that the very first moment he ever turned something to gold, the very first time the object began to shimmer and spark, he was already too far gone.
You suppose that in a way, so were you.
“Fine,” Jungkook gruffs out, a veiny hand held out towards you. It’s stiff and cold, much in the same way that his penthouse is, that he is. This is not an agreement birthed from choice. It came from necessity, out of self-preservation. He is doing this to protect his reputation. You are doing it to protect your freedom. If all goes well, after a couple of months the two of you will never have to cross paths again. Oh, doesn’t that sound lovely? “Deal?”
You grab his hand in your own, squeezing tightly. There is no going back from this.
“Deal.”
On the bright side, being a minder has finally given you something to do instead of stalking the streets and wasting away on your mattress on the floor. Granted, office life isn’t that much more entertaining, but at least you don’t have to be out in the summer heat anymore.
As per your side of the deal, you remain invisible whenever Jungkook is out in public, which, quite frankly, is less frequently than you had originally anticipated. His entire life seems to go back and forth from home to work then work to home, an endless cycle, a Newton’s cradle on repeat. Maybe that’s why he’s such a prickly asshole—he doesn’t ever make time for things he enjoys.
You thought he would at least have business dinners or fundraising events or company galas to attend. Isn’t that what most CEOs do? Flaunt their wealth to other wealthy people? Jungkook has so much money that he could easily entertain himself by one-upping all of his fellow CEO friends at every event he goes to, flashing the Rolex watch on his wrist or the fancy Italian shoes he always wears.
But no. He wakes up, gets dressed, eats a meal from the ready-made ones wrapped in foil in his fridge, and goes to work. When he comes home, he takes off his suit jacket and shoes, eats dinner, and lounges around his penthouse. Works out sometimes, maybe watches a movie.
Being rich always seemed to be a lot more fun than what Jungkook makes it out to be. Maybe it’s because everything in modern media is completely fake and wholly unrealistic. Or maybe he’s just purposefully making his life boring because you’re here now.
But even if the only two places Jungkook ever goes are work and home, his personality doesn’t seem to change no matter what location he’s at. All of his employees are simultaneously frightened of him and desperate to please him, lowering their heads when he passes by their cubicle but placing finished report files and completed tasks at the edges of their desks for him to glance over as he does. You follow him like a wearied assistant (of which he actually has three, and you are just the annoying invisible one) and he acts like you aren’t even there. When Jungkook returns home with you carelessly traipsing in after him, turning visible the moment he closes the door, he shrugs off his outerwear and goes back to doing his very favorite thing in the whole world: pretending you don’t exist.
At least that hasn’t changed since you moved in.
The bright side is that Jungkook hasn’t turned at all since you’ve shown up. Not in his penthouse and not at work, though he is usually far too busy dealing with real-world issues to dwell on whether or not he’s got enough gold to his name. The answer is that he does, but he doesn’t give a shit about that. Too much is apparently never enough.
Even if you are invisible, being in an office setting is somewhat unsettling to you. From a people-watching perspective, you love it, because you get an entire building of people to observe and judge, but from a personal perspective, it’s just another reminder of a life that you are not meant to live.
All of these people in their ties and pencil skirts and uncomfortable leather shoes, fighting to beat each other out for the next promotion and desperate to please their absolutely unpleasable boss. A nine-to-five job, day in and day out. A fat check in their bank account every month. These are things that are both undesirable and unattainable to you. A glimpse into their lives doesn’t spur you to pursue a career path like theirs, it tells you that no matter what, you won’t ever be able to do what they do.
“Sir, here are the finished analysis reports on the Lee Corporation joint stockholdings,” a proud young man says, plopping it down on Jungkook’s desk as you watch on in silence. The not-speaking part has been rather difficult, but you do get to whisper annoying things into Jungkook’s ear whenever nobody’s around.
“They are completed?” Jungkook asks without even looking up at the man, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did I not ask for them to be completed by Friday?”
The man goes white in the face.
“Uh—” he begins, immediately losing all confidence he had when he entered Jungkook’s office. “Well, I—”
“I don’t appreciate belated work,” Jungkook spits out. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
The man nods and scurries out of the office before Jungkook can say anything else. He doesn’t even seem to care.
“Wow, couldn’t even say a ’thank you’?” You chide. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”
“Late work is unacceptable,” Jungkook says. You’re lucky that his blinds are always drawn, or everyone would see him talking to apparently nobody. “There are no exceptions.”
“He was a day late,” you point out.
“Three, if you include weekends.”
“That doesn’t make a difference; he wouldn’t have been able to turn them in over the weekend,” you tell him.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Jungkook orders sternly. He looks angry, but also foolish, because even though he can judge where you’re standing from the sound of your voice, he still can’t meet your eyes. He’s staring holes into the succulent plant on the shelf to your right.
“I’m not,” you defend, annoyed. “I’m telling you how to be a nice person.”
“I don’t need lessons on that, either.” Jungkook frowns. “He turned in work late and was reprimanded. It’s not any different than what happens in school.”
“But you didn’t even thank him for his time or for showing up to your office, or for the fact that he did the work!” You cry out.
“What should I be thanking him for? For making the thirty-feet trip from his desk to my office? For turning in work that he was obligated to do late?” Jungkook challenges. “He had to do those. He wasn’t doing me any favors.”
“Except he was, because if he didn’t do that work, then you would’ve had to do it,” you remind him. “Everybody here is doing work because you aren’t able to do all of it yourself. And that’s not your fault—there are only twenty-four hours in a day and you are only one person. But you should be thanking them for their contributions. Even when they turn in something a little late. It’ll do wonders for other people.”
“Are you implying that people don’t like working here?” It’s like he wants to keep this fight going.
You sigh, loud enough for him to hear despite being a good few steps away from him. “I’m saying that everybody out there—” you say, opening the blinds that cover the walls ever so slightly, just enough for him to see out into the sea of people that sit outside, “—everybody wants so desperately for you to like them. Or at least outwardly display that you don’t hate them. And if you just said please and thank you every now and then, people wouldn’t be so afraid of you.”
Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, he shuts it like a trap and sits back down. He probably doesn’t really appreciate the fact that you’re directing him on how he controls his office on top of how he uses his magic. But it’s the truth, and he had to hear it one way or another.
“I didn’t ask for suggestions on how to run this office,” he spits out. “Next time I think advice like this is warranted, I’ll ask.” Which will be never.
“I’m here whether you like it or not,” you stand your ground. Jungkook gets to put up with you no matter what! “So I’ll tell you whatever I feel is necessary.”
Jungkook scowls.
“Don’t frown, it ruins your pretty face,” you tease. You walk a couple of steps and lean over to stretch his lips into a smile. He stiffens up, clearly having lost a sense of humor alongside his patience. “That’s better, don’t you think?”
“I can’t wait to get rid of you,” he bites.
“You’ll have to get rid of that attitude, first,” you counter. “Or neither of us are going anywhere.” Entitlement and greed go hand in hand. There’s no way you’ll be able to get Jungkook to stop turning everything around him into gold without giving his personality a makeover as well. Somewhere in there is a decent human being.
You just aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to find him.
The time spent at home is less eventful. Besides you, Jungkook has no one to shout at and be rude to, and in any case, he, for the most part, avoids you entirely. Which is understandable but totally counterproductive, because if you never interact, neither of you will ever get what you want.
Still, there is plenty to keep yourself busy inside of his penthouse. He’s subscribed to every streaming service under the sun and has a movie theater-esque surround sound system lining the walls. He has more books than some small town libraries. His internet is stupidly fast. Even if this setup is temporary, you sure as hell aren’t going to waste a second of it.
It is sort of weird to eat food with golden forks and knives, though. You always think you’re going to crack your teeth on your utensils.
You and Jungkook aren’t on speaking terms right now because an hour ago you caught him turning a vase in his office gold, the metal slowly wrapping around the base of the pot like pixie dust, sparkling and shimmering as the clay was overlaid with a deep, lustrous yellow. It increased the value of the vase tenfold and sent the both of you flying back to square one.
“Jungkook, what the hell?” You had shouted, storming into the room as Jungkook’s face turned beet red. “Just because I’m not sitting in the room with you doesn’t give you a free pass to do whatever you want.”
“It was just one pot!” Jungkook had defended himself. “I’m not even going to sell it or anything, it just looks nice. The room needed something extra.”
“I’ve upheld my side of the agreement, what’s so difficult about upholding yours?”
“Oh yeah, like telling me how to do my job even though you have no experience in business whatsoever?” He had challenged. “I don’t think I agreed to that part of the deal.”
“Strike one, Jeon Jungkook,” you had spat out at him. “Otherwise there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to get rid of me.”
Granted, the vase did look much better in gold than it did when it was made of clay, a glazed design of ferns and vines wrapping around the base. But even if Jungkook does have a particularly good eye for interior design, it doesn’t give him a free pass to turn things just to match his chic aesthetic. How many other things has he turned when you weren’t around to shout at him? You’ll have to go through his entire house every day, taking stock of every single item inside of it, making sure that nothing has inexplicably turned to gold.
Defeated, you had returned back to the main living room, flopping around like a beached whale on the leather. Jungkook always has the television set to the news, so you put it on in the background as you count the minutes until you’re finally free. Judging from what’s happened so far, you think you’ll be here forever.
There’s a knock on the door. You don’t recall Jungkook answering any buzzes to his home, but maybe he’s just ordered a pizza or something and it’s here. It’s nearly dinnertime, anyway.
You wait a few seconds to see if Jungkook’s going to make any attempts at answering the door himself. When the knock repeats itself and Jungkook still doesn’t appear, you hop off of the couch to get it yourself. You’re hungry, and pizza sounds delicious right now. A massive upgrade from Campbell’s soups.
When you open the door however, there is no pizza delivery guy behind the door. Instead, there is an extremely well-dressed couple who are smiling happily at you, albeit a little surprised to see you on the other side of the door.
“Hello?” You ask, polite but confused.
“Hello!” The man says happily, chortling to himself. “Who might you be?” One good look at the two of them tells you that they’re Jungkook’s parents. His dad has the same nose, and his mom has the same big, bright eyes. They would kick you to the curb if they knew who you were.
“I’m Y/N,” you explain unhelpfully.
“Well, Y/N, do you mind letting us inside? The air conditioning out in this hallway has always been too strong,” his dad asks. You nod awkwardly and step to the side, letting the two of them in. “Ah, looks the same as always. You must give Jungkookie that interior designer’s number, alright? He could do something much nicer with the place,” he tells his wife, who nods in agreement. She passes by the bowl that Jungkook always throws his keys into when he returns home and presses a finger to it, letting gold wrap around the edges until it’s transformed into the metal.
“Jungkook!” You shout down the hallway, desperately hoping that he isn’t going to leave you alone with his parents.
“What?” He shouts back.
“We have visitors!” You call.
Jungkook’s parents are already picking out all of the things about Jungkook’s living room layout that they would change, turning picture frames here and decorative sculptures there gold, careless and without reason. You’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying your best to look as unsurprised and as normal as possible. Luckily, you haven’t been interrogated yet, but there’s no telling what will happen if Jungkook doesn’t show up yet.
Two minutes later, Jungkook comes strolling down the hallway, clearly uninterested, but his eyes practically bulge out of his head when he sees who’s come to say hello.
“M-Mom! Dad!” He sputters out, terrified. “What—what are you doing here?” He asks, looking at you nervously. You shrug unhelpfully. All you did was answer the door.
“Came to pay our wonderful son a visit, of course!” His father says, guffawing loudly. He reaches an arm out and pulls Jungkook into a crushing hug. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, I mean—” Jungkook begins, speechless. “I wasn’t expecting you at all, you know.”
“I know!” His mother cries happily. “But you know that families must always stick together.”
“Yeah…” he trails off. “Listen, it’s really nice to see the both of you, but I’m kind of busy at the moment—”
“We should stay for dinner!” His mother suggests, a lightbulb going off above her head. “We haven’t seen you in so long—we have so much to catch up on! What do you say, honey?”
Jungkook’s father looks peachy keen. “Sounds like a great idea! And you can introduce us to Y/N too, hmm?”
“Okay…” Jungkook says. He turns to you and you’ve never seen him so caught off guard. With his big, wide eyes, he’s a deer in headlights. “Just, uh, give us a second, would you? Thanks.”
That’s the only warning you’re given before Jungkook is pulling you down the hallway and into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind the both of you. The sound of the wood hitting the frame makes you jump as Jungkook furrows his brows and turns to face you directly.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” he says, looking you dead in the eyes as you stare up at him, unimpressed. “My parents can’t know that I’ve been assigned a minder. They just can’t. They’ve trusted me to run this business and to be in control of my life and I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do if they find out why you’re really here.”
“Okay, so?” You say with a frown. “I’ll turn invisible. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“But they’ve already seen you, you opened the goddamn door,” Jungkook says with a sigh, clearly exasperated. He rubs his forehead before his hand makes its way through his hair, brushing through the long, dark strands.
“Well, sorry for not wanting to leave whoever was outside hanging,” you retort.
“No, it’s fine, whatever,” Jungkook says. He paces around the room slightly, eyes glossing over the still life painting hung up on the wall and the door to the walk-in closet. He pauses in front of it for a moment, thinking, before he rounds on you. “Can I trust you to pretend to be my girlfriend for just one night while they’re here?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Please? They seem to already be under the impression that we’re dating anyway, and I don’t want to have to think of a different explanation for you,” Jungkook pleads. He’s desperate.
“Let me get this straight: you want me, your minder, to fake being your girlfriend for your parents?” You ask, punctuating every word. This is worse than actually being his minder.
Jungkook nods. “Just while they’re here. And then we can go back to avoiding each other. Please?”
And for once, when you see Jeon Jungkook’s stupidly beautiful face, you don’t feel angry, or resentful, or envious. You feel… sympathy. It’s easy being rich and powerful, even easier when you don’t even need to work for your money, but parents are parents, no matter how much gold is in your pocket.
Besides, it’s not like you rejecting him will have much of an effect on the grand scheme of things, anyway. You do, and then Jungkook has to spend an awkward night with his parents and you won’t accomplish anything.
“Fine,” you say, begrudgingly so. “But only for tonight.”
“Oh God, thank you,” Jungkook says, and he actually means it. He dashes into the walk-in closet and pulls out a summery day dress, all flowy and floral, coming down to right above your knees. “Here, put this on. You know I don’t give a shit about what you wear but my parents will.”
“Why do you have this?” You ask, holding the hanger in your hand. One touch of the fabric and you can already feel the craftsmanship, the material sturdy and soft.
“An old hookup or something, probably.” Jungkook shrugs, nonchalant.
You decide not to question whether or not you are about to wear something that Jungkook has had sex with someone in and head into the closet to change. From inside, you can hear Jungkook pacing back and forth in the bedroom, no doubt trying to come up with a believable story as to why you’ve suddenly appeared in his life and where you had come from.
When you emerge, Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. This dress is easily the most expensive (and clean) thing you’ve ever put on your body, draping seamlessly along your hips and smoothing over all of the parts of your body you’ve never been too fond of. The sensation is pleasant but uncomfortable, as you have always vastly preferred your own clothes to other people’s, but wearing this at least doesn’t make you feel like you live in an abandoned house on the edge of town.
“Wow,” Jungkook says dumbly, looking at you with his lips parted like a fish, mouth agape. He scratches at the nape of his neck and coughs. “You look kinda good.”
“How thoughtful of you to say,” you chide, basking in the feeling of finally catching Jungkook off guard.
“Hopefully my parents won’t be here too long,” Jungkook says as he opens the door, letting you exit first. “Normally, they stick around just long enough to tell me about all of the things in my life that I’m currently doing wrong or should improve upon, and then they leave.”
“Fun.” It doesn’t sound very fun at all.
“At least this time they won’t be grilling me about a girlfriend,” Jungkook says, offering you a grateful smile as you return to the main living space, where Jungkook’s parents are in the middle of turning some of the decorative trinkets on his shelves gold. “Sorry,” he begins, catching his parents’ attention. “We were just talking. Y/N had to change.”
“She looks lovely in that dress, did you buy it for her?” His mother asks. You send a small smile of thanks.
“Yes, of course,” Jungkook lies. You think not knowing the origins of this dress is best for both you and him. He shuffles the both of you into the kitchen, an awkward hand on the small of your back. If you were a third party watching the two of you, you could sniff out the fake gestures and affection from a mile away. No two people in love are this stiff around each other.
His parents wait in the living space, blissfully ignorant, as the two of you fumble around in the kitchen in a last-minute attempt to scrounge up something resembling an acceptable meal. You, admittedly, do not use a kitchen fairly often, and stick to pouring the four of you some wine as Jungkook fishes through his fridge and cabinets. He eventually decides on heating up a pre-made pasta dish, filled with all sorts of vegetables you couldn’t name even if you tried. It smells good, at least.
For someone who seems to rely entirely on a personal chef to do most of his cooking, Jungkook knows his way around the kitchen fairly well, bouncing from one end to the other as if he’s running on a mental timer. Granted, he isn’t actually cooking anything, but compared to you, he may as well be a top chef at a five-star restaurant. Ten minutes later and he’s got a mouth-watering spaghetti dish, topped with vegetables and what looks to be an herb garnish, a side salad, and four glasses of wine that you so expertly poured.
Unfortunately, with his parents around, you and Jungkook don’t get to go through your usual meal ritual of sitting as far away from each other as physically possible and not talking whatsoever, sitting down next to each other in his fancy suede dining chairs as his parents take the two seats opposite you. Jungkook’s dining table only seats six, despite the sheer size of his actual dining room, and quite frankly, you have never seen him actually use it for what it’s meant for: dining.
“Delicious, did you make this?” His father asks, already reaching over to serve himself some.
“Y/N helped.” No you didn’t.
The serving utensils then move to Jungkook’s mother, who does not turn them into gold, instead opting for a baby tomato, which she places in her drink to serve as some sort of extremely niche ice cube. You can’t imagine how good that will taste. Jungkook’s father laughs at his mother, who is obviously proud of herself. Jungkook forces himself to chuckle ever so slightly, and you crack a very helpless smile. It doesn’t really take a genius to figure out where Jungkook got his turning habits from.
“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s father begins, catching you right as you shove an entire forkful of pasta into your mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk getting ready for the winter, “how long have you known our son?”
“Uh, a couple of—”
“A couple of months,” Jungkook interrupts, speaking louder than usual. “We met at the Park Gala that they hosted, do you remember?”
You kick Jungkook’s shin under the table, making him wince.
“Ah, yes.” His mother nods in recollection. “Unfortunately we were on that cruise through France, so we couldn’t make it. A shame, we would have loved to meet you then. Are you a friend of the Parks?”
“An associate,” Jungkook explains as vaguely as possible. “Y/N works in law.”
“Ah, law,” Jungkook’s father says romantically, twirling his fork around in the air. “The conscience of business.”
“Yeah,” you say, forcing out a small laugh. The less you say, the better. Though it is ironic that you now apparently work in law, considering your favorite activity is breaking it. You suppose that nobody knows the law better than its criminals.
“Where are you from, Y/N? Do we know your parents?” This is starting to sound less like a dinner conversation and more like an interrogation.
“Y/N actually built herself up,” Jungkook covers for you. Lord knows revealing your true background would send both of his parents storming out of the building. “She doesn’t like to talk about her parents very much.”
That’s one way of putting it.
“Ah, what a shame,” his mother tuts, shaking her head. “We’d love to meet them.”
“Yeah…” you agree distantly, making a mental note to give Jungkook a good shove when this is all over. Well, two can play at this game. “Jungkook is teaching me a lot about how you guys run your business.” You add pointedly, earning a leg kick in return. “It’s very interesting to see from a law perspective.” More like from a human perspective.
“Oh, you must be very impressed,” his father says proudly, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “We’ve all worked extremely hard to get where we are.” Because turning things to gold at the press of a finger is truly such a taxing job.
“I’m certainly surprised,” you say back, sending a patient but stiff smile their way. They return the favor easily. Maybe you’re more like these people than you thought. “It’s a big change from what I’m used to.” Jungkook smacks his leg against yours, and you retaliate not a moment afterwards.
“I’m sure,” his mother says, voice sickly sweet. “But you’ll be able to adjust in no time. It’s definitely a level up, is it not?”
Jungkook looks like a lost child in a grocery store aisle, eyes wide as they flit back and forth between you and his parents, hurling thinly-veiled insults at each other like it’s nobody’s business.
“It’s different,” you respond.
“Well, I’m sure that Jungkook is doing all that he can to accommodate you,” his father says. “Sometimes the people he chooses to date are… not ideal for this sort of lifestyle. We hope that you are able to adjust quickly. We understand that this is a lot.”
“I certainly hope that I’m a good match, then,” you finish, because something inside of you can’t bear to let Jungkook’s stuffy, elitist parents get the last word.
The rest of the meal is rather silent, save for a few mindless comments about how poorly Jungkook’s decorated his dining room. You and Jungkook have been warring underneath the dinner table all evening, your shins undoubtedly sporting bruises, because apparently everything the two of you are saying to his parents is wrong. Jungkook’s parents either don’t know or don’t care, because they don’t say anything about the tension that settled over the table like a cloud of fog, thick and potent.
When everyone’s finished eating, Jungkook’s parents head straight to the door, determining that their contributions to his evening and his penthouse are enough—for now. Who knows if or when they’ll return. You and Jungkook have no choice but to see them off, rounding out the night just as you started: fake, empty smiles.
“It was lovely to meet you, Y/N,” his mother tells you, hand clutching her purse. “I hope that we may see each other again sometime soon.”
“Yes, I am looking forward to it,” you say with glee, knowing that the chances of you never having to speak to her again are well in your favor.
“Nice work, son,” his father says, a heavy hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Just let us know if you ever need anything.”
“Will do,” Jungkook promises distantly. You can tell that Jungkook doesn’t ask his father for advice too often.
You bid your goodbyes and Jungkook shuts the door behind them, and it’s almost as the atmosphere immediately begins to clear, the air conditioning cycling out the tension, like a breath of fresh air.
“Ugh, thank God that’s over,” you huff out, already itching to get out of this dress and back into your own clothes. It was gorgeous at first, but now it’s just an ugly reminder.
“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Jungkook says.
“’Wasn’t that bad’?” You repeat. It’s as if the words went in through Jungkook’s one ear and right out the other. “Are you serious? It was unbearable. Your parents were judging me from the moment I opened the door. No wonder you’ve never had a lasting girlfriend. I couldn’t think of anyone who would want to deal with that.”
“Excuse me?” Jungkook says, rounding on you as fire burns in his eyes. “What do you mean, ’that’?”
“I mean that I don’t know how on Earth people just accept the fact that in other people’s eyes, they’ll never be good enough?” You tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. This sort of life has been so ingrained into Jungkook’s head that he doesn’t even recognize it as unwelcoming and stifling. “I couldn’t stand being your girlfriend. Your parents are judgy and rude, and you all act like people who don’t come from as much money and power as you have no business sitting where you sit.”
“So your best approach was to shade and insult my parents in return?” He combats. “I would hate to be your boyfriend. My parents get more aggressive when people fight them, but you shove me under the table when I try to get you to back down? Just so you can have the final word to two people you’ll probably never see again?”
“The fact that anyone has dated you astounds me,” you tell him.
“The fact that nobody’s dated you doesn’t astound me,” Jungkook spits back.
You frown, embers flaring in your boiling blood. What, did Jungkook think you were going to enjoy yourself tonight? By pretending to be some sort of ditzy, desperate-to-please girlfriend? “You’re welcome for doing you a favor and not just straight up telling your parents you’ve been assigned a minder because you can’t handle your own powers. Don’t expect me to do it again.”
“I’m not planning on it,” Jungkook mumbles to himself, just loud enough for you to hear.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
You and Jungkook march down opposite hallways, desperate for this night to be over. You tear off the dress and let it sit at the foot of the bed, taunting you.
There is no way in hell you are ever leaving this place.
The time spent at work is allocated half towards following Jungkook around like an invisible puppy with a personal vendetta against him, making sure that he doesn’t turn, and half towards wishing that something actually interesting will happen. Jungkook runs so tight a ship that nobody ever seems to want to do anything fun or exciting, no doughnuts, no inside jokes, no pranks. Just an endless cycle of trying desperately to please the unpleasable.
Admittedly, nowadays, you don’t really mind being here as much as you used to, when you would mentally criticize every person that walked through the glass doors to Jungkook’s office, hands filled with stacks of paper and manila folders, plopped onto Jungkook’s desk one by one. Jungkook’s started to keep extra food up in his office, the mini-fridge by his bookshelves constantly filled with takeaway salads and fruit. Apples are a definite no-go because they’re too loud, and you can only ever risk eating salads when nobody’s around to hear you pop the plastic top off of the container, but other than that, it’s nice.
Jungkook has pretty good taste in food, too, which is an added bonus. Though anything is a leg up from what you normally eat.
And even though you’ve begun to start roaming around, exploring the nooks and crannies that line the clean-cut layout, your favorite place to be is Jungkook’s office. He’s got these magnificent floor-to-ceiling glass windows, with a view directly over the biggest park in the city, thousands of feet up in the air. From up here, it almost feels as though you’re looking down at a different world, a different universe. It’s difficult to imagine that everyone down there, every ant-sized person walking along the sidewalk or resting on a park bench or ordering from a food stand, has lives of their own.
Especially when they are but specks of dust in yours.
Jungkook looks at this view forty hours a week. You wonder if he ever gets sick of it.
The door to Jungkook’s office creaks open as you’re staring out of the windows, watching as the clouds pass overhead. They look like little white dogs, like cotton candy, like angel wings.
“Mr. Jeon?”
The owner of the voice is the same man you berated Jungkook for shouting at a few weeks ago, the one who had turned in an analysis report a day late. He seems just as frightened of Jungkook now as he did back then, and it makes you wonder if any of Jungkook’s employees aren’t afraid of him.
“Here’s the completed budget report for the Lee Corporation for last fiscal year,” the man says, reaching a trembling hand out to lay a manila folder on Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook only looks up once he sees it out of his periphery, hand pausing mid-write, pen still hovering over the papers on his desk.
He meets the man’s eyes, and when he does, he cracks a small smile, this sort of barely-there grin, lips curling upwards ever so slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
It’s as if the man has won the lottery. He thanks Jungkook quickly before bouncing out of the room, steps much lighter, like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You watch as he leaves the room, a smile etching itself onto your face. It’s rather incredible what a simple ‘thank you’ can do to people.
You don’t say anything to Jungkook, instead just turning back around to gaze out of the window. There’s an entire city below your feet, one that bustles around like bees in a hive, everyone with a place to be and things to do. There is this strange but comforting feeling of insignificance, one where you feel as though you could disappear and nobody would notice a thing. The rest of the world can and will move on without you. But that doesn’t mean that your life means nothing. It means that your life can be whatever you want to make of it, because in the grand scheme of things, nobody else will know what you have done.
History is like that, too. You must be remarkable to be remembered. But that doesn’t mean the unremarkable people were forgotten. They touched lives, too.
Staring out the window as the clouds swim over the sun, a light grey shadow casting itself over the park, you feel at peace.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?”
You jump at the voice, Jungkook’s presence next to you having gone totally unnoticed. You didn’t even hear him get up from his chair.
“How did you know I was here?” You ask.
“I could sense it," Jungkook says with a grin, making you raise an eyebrow. You’re invisible. “I’m kidding, I saw you come over here a bunch last week when you first got into my office and I figured you’d probably still be here.”
“You figured correctly,” you tell him.
“You know, I don’t spend enough time looking out these windows,” Jungkook admits, and you aren’t sure if it’s to you or himself. “I’m always staring at my computer or writing something at my desk with my head down. I’ve got the best view in the whole city and sometimes, I don’t even remember what it looks like.”
“You work hard,” you tell him, because that’s something that is undeniable about who he is and what he does. “But you deserve to give yourself a break, every now and then.”
“For lunch breaks, the first thing I do is get out of my office. I spend all day in there and when it’s finally time for me to put work on pause, I rush out of the room like it’s on fire,” Jungkook comments. “Maybe I should stay up here every once in a while instead.”
“It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” you joke.
“You can, you know,” Jungkook tells you. “You don’t have to stay up here all day.”
“I know,” you say. “But I don’t really mind it. I like being here. It’s calming, in a way.” In a way that you can’t explain. Like you’re stuck in freeze frame while everyone else moves around you. Like you’re watching a movie about everybody’s lives but your own. Like you’re a spectator in your own body. “Plus, the view is gorgeous.”
“It is,” Jungkook agrees.
You stand there in silence for a few more moments, the only sounds filling the room your inhales and exhales, soft and slow, your hearts beating in time. Jungkook is more than a foot away from you but here, in his office, looking out over the world, he has never felt closer.
“Thank you,” you whisper, letting the words hang in the air in front of you.
“For what?” Jungkook asks.
“For listening to me.”
You feel Jungkook turn to you, and when you dare to look up at him, you meet his hazy brown eyes, warm and sparkly. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a magazine cover come to life, crisp shirt collars and fancy Italian shoes, glossy brown hair and perfect skin. He smiles at you, this homey sort of thing that makes you feel like summer is running through your veins, like the rays of the sun are pressing against your skin.
“Of course,” he tells you.
Jungkook is a lot of things. He’s unabashedly gorgeous and outrageously wealthy. He walks around like he owns everything that he touches. His house is clean and chic and minimalist, almost like nobody lives there at all. He’s determined and a workaholic, and hates admitting when he’s wrong.
But maybe, just maybe, in the white afternoon light of his office, the rest of the world underneath his feet, standing next to you as the two of you stare out in a city you call your own, he’s not that bad.
Being alone in Jungkook’s penthouse is, to put it lightly, absolutely terrifying.
It’s hard to believe that Jungkook--and maybe a girlfriend for a brief period--has occupied this entire space on his own, no one else to talk to, no one else to spend time with, no one to occupy his massive couches or fill up the chairs in his dining room.
You’ve always wondered why rich people buy the biggest houses. Sure, it’s because they’re rich, and because they can afford it, but it’s impossible for one person, or even two, to make the entire place feel like their own. You leave countless rooms untouched, meant for guests that you never have and parties that you never host. It’s like you’ve moved into half of a house, a quarter of a mansion. What’s the point of having so much space if you don’t ever have anyone to fill it up?
Normally you wouldn’t leave Jungkook’s side, following him around the city whenever he has errands to run or needs to dash back to work to pick up something he had forgotten. But Jungkook hasn’t been turning anything lately, even when you sleep in four hours later than he does, even when he stays up into the early hours of the morning while you pass out before it’s midnight. It’s like he’s somehow lost the will for his magic entirely, like it’s vanished from his body.
Well, you’re not complaining. That just means you’re one step closer to finishing your sentence.
Jungkook’s penthouse feels bigger when he’s not around. Even though you hardly ever see each other while you’re at home, the mere knowledge of his presence makes you feel like you’re not alone. Makes you feel like there is someone else in this little corner of the world.
Everything in here has always looked untouched. Like it doesn’t belong to anybody, like a house listing come to life. His marble counters are always empty, his cabinets always closed and organized. His books are always alphabetized and the stack of art books on his coffee table has never been touched. All of the bedrooms look like they belong in a hotel. The bathrooms look like they belong in a museum.
Jungkook’s house has never felt like a home but then again, neither has yours.
Still, if you had to choose between living in your abandoned shack at the edge of town or living in an enormous penthouse in the center of the city, you would never look back at that old, dilapidated building. The difference between you and Jungkook is that Jungkook chooses to live in this tragically empty place.
You don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand Jungkook’s life. Not just the technicalities of the company he runs, the economics and business that he has spent his whole life mastering, but also the way he sees the world in terms of money and power, how everything has some sort of value, even people. Even you. His biggest concern has always been himself. How much money he has matters, how many investments his company owns matters, how the public views him matters. He has spent so long crafting this perfect image of himself that he’s willing to spend as much money as necessary to maintain it.
Jungkook doesn’t even look at the total on the card reader when he purchases things. He simply tugs his silver card out of a sleek black wallet and swipes, crumpling the receipt up in his hand before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. He comes back home to a gigantic penthouse with a gym and his pool and more bedrooms than he can count on both hands, to a personal chef in his kitchen making him five-star meals to last him the rest of the week.
Money is never on his mind, but it is always on yours.
When will you get enough to pay off your phone bill, will you ever be able to afford a repairman to fix the broken, exposed lightbulb above the back door, how many Campbell’s soups can you buy and still have enough funds to last you until the next day? What if, God forbid, the city comes knocking on your door and either evicts you or orders you to pay up for the three years you’ve been living in that house, rent-free? What will you do then?
Life is by no means easy for either of you, but Jeon Jungkook has never had to want for anything. If it isn’t handed to him, he works for it himself. If he can’t buy it, he’ll just make more money. If he doesn’t already own it, what’s stopping him?
People dream of having Jungkook’s life. People fear having yours.
Alone in Jungkook’s apartment, the differences between the two of you have never been clearer.
Your greatest fear is the fact that, in the past few weeks you have spent here, you are already becoming used to it. You are dreading going back to where you were before, stealing money from people off of the streets and living in a house in such disrepair that local nons think that it’s haunted. You fear that you will never want to leave.
It’s such a terrifying feeling, isn’t it? Becoming attached to something. Feeling as though your life will be worse without it. Knowing that your life will be worse without it.
There are parts of you that make you wish that life wasn’t so unfair.
The living room is three times the size of the dining room but you hate eating there, sitting at an empty table with no one to talk to but suede chairs, reminding you that you don’t even have any friends to invite anyway. At least in the living room you can sit on the couch and watch television and pretend that you have at least some semblance of a life.
You pick at a pre-made salad that has too much lettuce and not enough everything else—Jungkook needs a new chef, you decide, plucking out all of the croutons and slices of cheddar cheese, when the front door swings open, slamming against the wall adjacent to it as Jungkook storms inside.
“Oh my God, what happened to you?” You exclaim, eyes practically bulging out of your head as you jump off of the couch. Even from here, you can see the dark bruising around Jungkook’s eye, purple and blue, the busted up knuckles clenched around the bag he’s carrying. There’s even a small streak of blood on his upper left cheek, already beginning to scab.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” he says, wiping away the blood on his lip with the back of his hand.
“No, you’re not,” you tell him, rushing up to meet him in the middle of the foyer, standing in front of him as you look up at his face with wide eyes. He waits there patiently, avoiding your gaze, steely eyes looking elsewhere, as you reach up to hold his head in your hands, tilting it from side to side. “What happened to you?”
“Some dudes jumped me in the parking lot on the way back,” Jungkook says casually. You’d almost believe he didn’t feel anything if he doesn’t wince when you press a gentle fingertip along the bruise on his jawline. He meets your frightened expression and smirks wickedly, something glinting in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I got ‘em good.”
“Are you alright?” You ask him, even though it’s obvious he’s not. “You aren’t seriously injured or anything, are you?”
“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a sigh, even as he obeys your movements and moves his body pliantly to the feeling of your hands pressing against his skin. Most of the visible damage seems to be to his face and hands, and quite frankly, you’re not exactly sure if you want to see what’s underneath his dress shirt. “I’m strong. I work out and eat healthy and everything. I’ll be better in no time.”
“No, are you kidding?” You say, reaching out to grab his hand without a second thought, pulling him towards the nearest bathroom. “You can’t just leave it like this. Here, let me heal you.”
“I don’t need you to patch me up or anything,” Jungkook resists, frowning as you sit him down on the edge of the bathtub and begin to fish through his bathroom cabinets. “First aid isn’t in that one.”
“No, you idiot,” you chide him. “I’m not gonna patch you up. Aren’t you forgetting that I’m a healer?”
“So what are you gonna do, then?”
You finally find the first aid kit and pull it out, revealing rolls of gauze and bottles of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant. There’s even a couple of rows of Ibuprofen. “Well, you should be patched up anyway,” you decide, turning back to look at Jungkook’s face as he waits obediently on the edge of the tub. “But I can heal you faster than what time and medicine can do on their own.”
“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says softly.
“Please, of course I do,” you reply instantly. You’re not gonna let Jungkook walk around like that. “We can’t have your pretty face all messed up, now can we?”
Jungkook cracks a small smile but it’s obvious that the simple gesture alone pains him, making him wince slightly as his lips turn upwards. You wet a face cloth with cold water and press it against Jungkook’s bruises, looking intently at his features as you move the cloth around, letting the cold water draw out the heat that sizzles beneath his skin. Jungkook watches you the whole time, his eyes never leaving yours, even as your brows furrow in concentration, determined to fix Jungkook back up so he’s brand new. Slowly, the bruises begin to fade, going from an angry violet to a light lavender, and then to a pink that could almost be mistaken for a heavy blush.
It feels weird, knowing that he’s right there. Knowing that he’s watching you, eyes following yours as they scan his face. His clean-cut jawline is a little swollen, perfect skin angry and marked, but his eyes are still the same. Still wide and bright, like a young child, like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time. They look almost caramel in the yellow light of the bathroom, flecks of gold to mirror the accents in the room.
There’s something about them that makes you not want to turn away.
When the bruises have faded, leaving only petal pink remnants along his skin, you move onto the small cut along his cheek. It’s rough and jagged, like the skin had been torn right through, a nick from a fingernail or a knuckle. It’s not long, but it is somewhat deep. You imagine it might scar permanently.
Kneeling down in front of him, you pull out some rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, dabbing a gentle amount onto the round before moving closer, holding his head in your hand as you reach out.
“This might sting,” you say, like he doesn’t already know.
“That’s alright,” Jungkook tells you. “Fix me up, doctor.”
At his cue, you softly press the cotton pad against the scab, rubbing away at it until it comes off cleanly, leaving only fresh, exposed skin behind. For wounds like these, a cloth won’t do. Your mother used to tell you that healing didn’t come from your hands, it came from your heart. That even if your fingertips had the magic, it was your heart that had the power to wield it.
Slowly, you rest your palm against his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the cut. Jungkook blinks, big eyes shimmering, as you do so, and you feel trapped in his gaze. Like you couldn’t turn away even if you tried. Like you almost wouldn’t want to. His skin is baby soft, perfect, a far cry from the calloused pads of your fingertips, worn from so many days and nights out on the streets.
There is magic in your fingertips, surely, but there is something different in your heart. Something that you don’t think you have the words to explain.
The cut seals up instantly, the skin patching over itself until nothing is left but a mark, a little scar that will stay there forever. And yet, you stay there, locked in his magnetic pull, like tearing away will hurt you rather than him. The cut is healed, and his bruises are fading, and there is no reason to stay like this.
And yet.
“There,” you whisper, watching the words appear between the two of you, lingering like ghosts. “All better.”
Jungkook grins. It doesn’t hurt him, but something in you feels a sharp jolt, an ache. Like a spark in the pit of your belly. Like magic in your veins.
Jungkook has been tearing his hair out over this one manila folder in front of him for the past twenty minutes. Every ten seconds he writes something down before scribbling it out, the ink bleeding through the paper to the next one. He flips through the files relentlessly, carelessly, until they’re all out of order and splayed all over his desk. He’s instructed the guard outside not to let anyone in, even if it’s some sort of emergency.
You’ve seen Jungkook at work a lot, but you’ve never seen him like this. Even his anguished sighs are difficult to listen to.
Creeping over to the wall that overlooks the rest of the office, Venetian blinds shielding the both of you from view, you crack open a slat, peeking out at everyone else. None of them pay any attention to Jungkook’s office, too busy worrying about the next report they have to complete and all of the office meetings they have to attend, so you take it as a good opportunity to turn visible. Just for a little bit.
“You alright?” You ask, nearly making Jungkook fall out of his seat at the sound of your voice.
“What?” He asks, surprised. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“What’s the matter?” You ask, because you’ve never seen Jungkook as stressed out as he is now. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to organize this new collective to monitor our investing habits so we can assess where investments need to be divvied up into in order for clients to find us worth of their own investments as opposed to other companies,” Jungkook explains, though he sounds positively exhausted while doing so, like the very mention of what he’s slaving over is enough to send him over the edge. “But no one can agree on how we can use this information to promote this company to our clients and the public. People invest in both of us either way.”
“You want people to invest more money in your company, don’t you?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, yeah.”
“How much money does this company give to small businesses? To nonprofits and charity?”
Jungkook frowns, scrunching up his nose as he thinks. He clicks around on his computer for a few seconds before saying, “About five percent.”
“And your investments are public, correct?”
“Yes.” Jungkook nods.
“You should be giving way more than five percent of this company’s investments to small, local businesses and charity,” you tell Jungkook, already worming your way behind his desk to look at what he’s looking at. You point to the numbers on his screen, single-digit percentages, some even less than one, being sent to local businesses, nonprofits, and charities. “Look at this. Ninety-five of your investments go right into stocks. If you invested more money into nonprofits and local businesses, people would see you taking the time to help boost the local economy and the organizations that serve it for free. Then, those businesses would invest in you in return, and clients would see that you’re investing in noble causes and give you more money as a thanks, which can then be funnelled back to small businesses and nonprofits.”
It’s a rather roundabout sort of proposal and you’re almost positive that it has no real footing anywhere in real economics and finance, but it makes sense to you. If you had money to invest in major companies, you would choose the ones that invest in the things that will benefit you, like local businesses and nonprofits. If you saw that the companies you were giving money to were simply giving it away to the stock market, you’d pull your money out.
You know that the stock market is nothing but the world’s biggest economic gamble, but that doesn’t mean that you have to gamble with it. Companies that stand for what you stand for are much more appealing than companies with a bigger investment bank behind them.
You turn to Jungkook, who is squinting at his computer screen as he fumbles around with the numbers, flicking from Excel sheet to Excel sheet, bouncing back and forth between the information online and the files on top of his desk.
“Is that stupid?” You ask, breaking the silence. It’s not as if people know you for your groundbreaking economic policies.
Jungkook spares one more glance over all of his files, and turns up to look at you. “No,” he tells you with a shake of his head. “It’s not.”
“Really?” You’re actually impressed with yourself.
“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees happily. “You’re right—I’d want to know that my investments were going to a company with good morals that lifts up local businesses. It would encourage me to invest more, too.”
“It’s not a very sound economic theory…” You admit. Jungkook’s probably seasoned in how investments and the stock markets work, charts upon charts of client behavior that shapes the way he organizes his company. And you? You don’t have enough money to even buy food some days.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Jungkook assures you. “Theory is total bullshit anyway, because nobody can predict what will happen with the economy. But human nature has always been reliably good. People like to know that their money is going to a good cause.”
“So, it helps?” You ask with a smile.
Jungkook nods. “It does. It’s actually a great idea, Y/N. You might have a future in business.”
You scoff. “Me? I don’t know the first thing about this stuff.”
Jungkook shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to. You’re a good person who thinks about everyone, Y/N. That’s why you’d be good at business. Because your clients can trust you, and you’ll actually put your money where your mouth is.”
“I guess,” you say unhelpfully. Just because you think about others doesn’t make you especially remarkable. It makes you human. Isn’t that how everyone’s supposed to be? “I just don’t think about clients and money like you do. Money’s always been really valuable to me, since I’ve never had much of it, but you guys see it as expendable. I need to know where my money goes, I don’t want to see it just vanish into the hands of someone else.” Jungkook’s nodding along, eyes looking intently at your own, like he’s committing the words you say to his memory. “I just think that people and companies with tons of money have a duty to give back to those who are less fortunate. That’s all.”
“That’s noble of you,” Jungkook says.
“It’s just common sense,” you explain. “Why wouldn’t you want to do something like that?”
Jungkook heaves a sigh, a long, winded sort of one, like there’s a whole conversation behind it that he wishes he could have with you. But instead, he just shakes his head, a fond smile lacing its way across his features. He chuckles to himself. “Maybe you aren’t cut out for business after all, Y/N,” he tells you softly. “You have too big a heart.”
And maybe that’s true. Maybe you’re too kind, too generous, to ever make it in business. To succeed without losing every penny to your name.
But if that’s the case, then where does Jungkook stand?
When Jungkook stays at work late, the two of you eat dinner together.
There’s just something so demoralizing about coming back to an empty house, letting the hollow sound of the door slamming shut echo throughout the room, and then marching off in different directions to spend the rest of the night alone. When it’s dark, and late, and you’re starving, it’s all you can do not to beg Jungkook to eat with you. Even if in silence.
By the time you get home, your stomach is just about ready to consume the art books sitting in a neat stack at the top right corner of the coffee table. You begin to clear off some space for the both of you to eat as Jungkook heads towards the refrigerator, when not three seconds after, you hear him swear, “Oh, shit.”
“What’s the matter?” You call out.
“We’re out of premade meals!” Jungkook shouts back. What? You could have sworn there were at least two full tupperwares still available. Actually, maybe you had eaten them for lunch…
“Really?” You get up from the coffee table and make your way into the kitchen, where Jungkook is standing in front of a refrigerator with the entire middle section wiped clean, empty shelves mocking the both of you as you glare at them. “Oh, wow. Really.”
“I didn’t know we ate that much,” Jungkook comments, shocked at the sight before him.
“What are we gonna do?” You ask. You’re hungry.
“What do you mean?” Jungkook says with a laugh. He kneels down and begins to pull vegetables from the drawers, plucking different bottles from inside the fridge door and plastic cartons from the top shelves, the ones that you never dare touch. “We’ll cook something, obviously.”
“Can’t we just order takeout?”
“You don’t wanna cook something with me?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide and pouty. You shake your head guiltily. Is ordering a pizza really so much to ask? Jungkook narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, a grin pulling at his lips, before he nods knowingly. “Oh, I get it.”
“Get what?” You challenge.
“You don’t know how to cook.”
“What? I know how to cook!” You cry out, aghast. True, your past meals have mostly involved warming food up in the microwave, but that counts, in your book. Jungkook frowns in disbelief. “I know how to use a microwave.”
Jungkook tosses his head back and laughs, this warm, hearty sound filling up the kitchen, before he starts placing all of the containers and bottles and vegetables he pulled out from the fridge onto the counter. “Okay, we’re going to make something together.”
“Seriously?” You say, borderline whining. “Can’t you just do it?”
“No,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “because you have to help me. Kitchen’s orders.”
“You’re the kitchen!”
“Exactly,” Jungkook says, smiling to himself. He pulls out some more ingredients from the cabinets, hands deftly reaching for the exact ones he wants, until you have a collection of food, seasonings, and sauces on the countertop, and an apparent recipe to be made.
“What are we making?” You ask, looking down at everything on the counter. All of these things can’t go into one dish… can they?
“An old family recipe,” Jungkook says. “Kimchi jjigae. It’s kimchi stew.”
“Is it easy?”
Jungkook grins something wicked, something devilish. “It’s fun.”
He sets out to put a pot on the stove, turning the gas on, bouncing back and forth between the stovetop and the counter as you stand there like a floundering fish, waiting for him to either give you an instruction or do everything himself.
“Can you cut the green onions?” Jungkook asks as he adds water and what looks to be tiny little fish to the pot, reaching behind his back to gesture wildly at the ingredients sitting on the marble.
“Which are those?” You scan the countertop. Your familiarity with food and recipes extends about as far as anything non-perishable that comes in a tin can. Never in your life have you seen so much laid out in front of you, all meant to go into the same meal.
The metal lid clinks as Jungkook covers the pot to boil, turning around to join you at the counter, where you wait awkwardly in front of an unused chopping board, no knife in sight.
“These,” he says, reaching over you to pull up several stalks of something that looks similar to the wild onions that grow in your backyard. He fishes through the drawers before he pulls out a kitchen knife, gently placing it in your hand as he moves around to grab all of the other ingredients he needs for the boiling water on the stovetop.
Hesitantly, you line up the onions and begin to chop, carefully sawing through each one until it comes cleanly off of the stalk. It’s awfully time-consuming, especially since Jungkook seems to have already made the stock base in the time it’s taken you to cut one. Nevertheless, you persist, because Jungkook wants these to go in the pot, and you refuse to be seen as incompetent in the kitchen, especially when Jungkook seems to be rather proficient when it comes to cooking despite the fact that a chef makes the majority of his meals for him.
Old family recipes die hard, you suppose.
Jungkook turns around to check on you and grab a small red container of what looks to be some sort of spicy pepper paste. When he sees you carefully slicing through each onion stalk, he laughs.
“Hey, what are you laughing at?” You say, pouting. You don’t think you’re doing a terrible job, even if you are a bit slow.
“You,” Jungkook says with a grin, not even bothering to think of something else to say instead. “Here, let me show you.”
He comes to stand behind you, his torso pressing against your back, as he reaches his arms around you, hands gently resting atop your own. There is something in the way his breath hits your skin, tickles the part right behind your ear that’s always been sensitive, how he leans down to look over your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest against you. Something strange and foreign and calming, like when you tense up right before you fall asleep.
Frozen, you watch with nervous eyes as he holds your hand in his own, grasping onto the knife. He stacks a few onion stalks next to each other on top of the cutting board and slowly begins to cut—thin, quick slices until he develops a rhythm, an imaginary beat to the drumming of his heart, to the pounding of your own.
The seconds seem to drag on for eternity, as if every cut through the vegetable is done in slow-motion, like time has slowed down just for the two of you. His breath tickles your skin, hot and tingly and filled with fire, lighting sparks everywhere it touches. You think that, if you concentrate hard enough, you can hear the way his heart thumps like a bass drum, ringing in your ears. Or maybe that’s just you.
When four green onion stalks have been cut down to their very tips, suddenly the world speeds up, like the breaths that have slowly been leaving your lips come out all at once, like your heart picks up time to a universal metronome, desperate to realign itself once more.
“There,” Jungkook murmurs from behind you. The words are soft and distant, almost like someone else had uttered them. “All done.”
You blame the tears welling in your eyes on the onions.
Thirty minutes and an overwhelming amount of slicing different ingredients later, there is a boiling pot of kimchi stew on the stove, steaming up the inside of the glass lid that Jungkook has placed on top to keep it warm. He’s big on optimizing the time spent in the kitchen, cleaning up everything before you eat, stuffing all of the used plates and bowls and knives into the sink as they come, wrapping up the vegetables in the thin plastic bags that they came in and putting them back into the fridge. Jungkook says it’s because he doesn’t like having to clean the kitchen up after he’s eaten. You think it’s because he thinks you’ll run off and leave him to do all the work.
You, admittedly, don’t make your own meals very often (or at all), but you can see the appeal. There’s something different about food that you make yourself, food that you turned from ingredients to a meal. Something rewarding.
Or maybe it’s just because Jungkook did most of the cooking, and he’s got this inexplicable magic touch.
“Good, right?” He asks when you’re finished, the both of you heading back to the kitchen to wash up the last of your dishes.
“It was okay,” you tease, even though your empty bowl says otherwise. There’s not a drop of soup, a scrap of food left inside of it, just an orange ring around the inside from the kimchi color.
“Okay, Miss ‘Okay’,” Jungkook says, placing his bowl gently into the sink. “Hand me your thing, I’ll finish washing up.”
“You sure?” You ask. You feel like you’ve contributed absolutely nothing to the making of this dish. Not cooking it, not putting away the ingredients or washing the pot, nothing. The least you could do is clean up a couple of your bowls. Or put them in the dishwasher.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says, hand already latching onto it. “Takes two minutes.”
“Okay,” you tell him, watching the bowls fill with soap as his big hands scrub away the remnants of a very delicious meal.
You linger in the kitchen. Despite not really having anything else to do, you don’t want to go back to your room, or curl away in some corner of the apartment where Jungkook can’t find you. You’re finally spending time together. Isn’t that what you wanted?
“It was pretty good,” you add on belatedly, when Jungkook is just drying his hands on the dish towel. There’s a precarious stack of dishes, utensils, and pots on the drying rack, like adding one more chopstick will send the whole thing tumbling down, but Jungkook isn’t worried about it at all. Even though he likes cleaning stuff up, he doesn’t like putting it away.
“Aha!” Jungkook shouts, pointing at you accusingly. “I knew you would like it.”
“You’re a good chef,” you tell him. Maybe kimchi jjigae is the only thing he’s good at making, but rather be a master of one than a jack of all trades but master of none. Though, you have to admit that Jungkook is a master of several trades, none of which you think you could ever do. “You should cook more.”
“I wish,” Jungkook says with a sigh. The two of you have retired to the leather couch, the conversation drifting away from the kitchen and towards the sofas. When he collapses on the cushions, he relaxes, like the feeling is sucking out all of the tension in his body. “Every time I get back from work, I’m so drained and exhausted. I just want to go to sleep.”
“You weren’t tired tonight,” you point out.
“No,” Jungkook says. The words are distant and faintly register in his mind, almost like the realization has just dawned on him for the first time, “I wasn’t.”
“Is there something else you wanna do?” You ask, not feeling particularly lethargic either. Normally, you’d spend the rest of the night raiding the rest of Jungkook’s amenities, watching old shows on his television or taking a bath until your body looks like a raisin. Something you can do by yourself, something that you’d want to do by yourself to make up for the fact that Jungkook doesn’t ever want to do anything with you. Watching him at work is getting less boring, because you’re actually starting to interact, but at home, you go right back to square one. Or, you did. “Watch a movie, or anything?”
“Nah, I’m alright,” Jungkook shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. You watch him as he chews the inside of his cheek, finger tracing over the scar that’s been left from that night, the night you patched him up. You’re a healer, but some things are meant to leave marks. You almost think that Jungkook is going to up and leave, heave himself off of the floor and spend the rest of the night alone in his bedroom, but then, he turns to you and he asks, “How often do you heal people?”
“I haven’t in a while,” you admit. Not because the opportunity has never presented itself, but you never had anyone to heal. “I used to when I was a kid, a lot. You know, scraped knees and paper cuts.”
“What about you?” Jungkook asks. “Do you have to heal yourself as well?”
“No,” you explain, “healers’ bodies heal by themselves.” It’s why, whenever you get back to your shack after crashing into a tree on the sidewalk that you hadn’t spotted, or stubbed your toe on the leg of a table, or pulled a muscle from stretching too far, you let yourself rest, and your body does the work for you. “But healing isn’t… it isn’t something I do very often. I turn invisible much more.”
“I can tell,” Jungkook muses. “But you’ve been invisible around me so much that it feels like I can still see you.”
“That’s because I’m always in your office when I’m invisible,” you point out. Jungkook knows you’re there because you wouldn’t be anywhere else. Where would you even go, when the whole point is to watch him? “In a place like this, there is no way you would be able to find me.”
“You wanna bet?”
“You know what, yes, I do,” you say, because Jungkook can’t possibly think his human-snuffing skills are as good as yours. Especially when the only person he’s trying to find is invisible. “You think you’re such a hotshot, hmm? Try and find me, then.”
“First floor only,” Jungkook rules. “And, when I do, I get to turn something.”
“Fine,” you agree, only because you know that that’s not going to happen. “One thing. That’s strike two, though.”
“You won’t tell,” Jungkook chides, eyes narrowed.
“Will I?”
“Twenty seconds!” Jungkook says, already beginning to count down. “Nineteen, eighteen—!”
You turn invisible at once, not wasting a second, scurrying off down one of the hallways. There are plenty of places to hide in Jungkook’s house, from the walk-in closets in every bedroom to the one-foot-tall gap underneath every bed. But you won’t go for one of those, because Jungkook expects you to. He’s going to hunt around his entire house, looking in all of the nooks and crannies, the armoires and cabinets and cubbyholes, because he thinks that that’s where you’ll be hiding. But the truth is that there is no way that Jungkook will be able to find you when he can’t see you, because he doesn’t know what he’ll be looking for.
So, you pick the second-to-last bedroom down the hall, and you wait. You’d sit down on the mattress, but Jungkook easily be able to spot a dip in the comforter, so you stand, right next to the door, holding your breath. If Jungkook really does think he can sense your presence, or whatever psychic nonsense he’s on about, then he should have no problem finding you.
You hear Jungkook’s voice echoing down the hallway, a sickly sweet singsong as he walks into every room.
“Y/N…” He calls out, like a ghost in a horror movie. “Where are you?”
From your angle, you can peer down the corridor, watch as he trickles in and out of each room after five minutes, no doubt searching through every one with both of his arms out, desperate to crash into you. Good thing you’re standing, otherwise Jungkook might accidentally elbow you. Slowly, he makes his way out of the room right before yours, casually walking towards you. You suck in a quick breath, holding yourself perfectly still.
“Are you here?” Jungkook flips his head around the doorframe, a foot away from where you’re standing. He isn’t looking right at you, thank God, otherwise you think you might just burst into laughter. “Hmm, I think you are.”
He begins to walk around the room, one hand tracing over the quilted pattern on the comforter, the other reaching out, grabbing fistfuls of air. He looks like someone’s blocked his vision, wandering around aimlessly as he tries to find something to cling onto. You bite your lip, refusing to laugh and give yourself away as he makes his way into the bathroom, singing your name like a chant, a curse to be laid upon you. When he obviously has no luck, he returns to the bedroom, eyes narrowed, as if that will better help his vision.
You don’t think you’ve ever held your breath for this long, lungs about to burst, but you can’t let Jungkook find you. There’s more than just your powers on the line, and his reward. There’s your pride, and his massive ego that you refuse to stroke. The fact that he looks absolutely ridiculous is also doing nothing to aid you, but giving yourself up would be a metaphorical death sentence.
Jungkook has one foot out of the door, already heading towards the last bedroom in the hallway, when you crack. You sputter out a half-breath, this miniscule exhale, and he stops in his tracks, turning around. You freeze up, hoping that maybe Jungkook will just think it was a trick of his own ears.
“Y/N?” He taunts. He looks around the room again, trying to see if the wind is blowing a different way, if there is something different. He almost doesn’t notice you.
Almost.
You turn in shock when Jungkook reaches a hand out, his fingers pinching at your lower torso, shrieking as you practically topple over, Jungkook’s arms the only things that prevent you from diving head first onto the floor. He encases you in his hold as you sink to the floor in defeat, laughing as he follows you, one arm holding your waist as the other wraps around your back. He chuckles to himself while you curl up in shame, desperate not to meet your eyes. Your skin sizzles where his fingers had touched it, like oil in a pan after it’s been taken off of the stove, like the remnants of a flame, embers left to burn into ashes. It feels like your body is on fire.
“Found you,” Jungkook teases, but it’s soft and sweet and fond. “I told you, I just know.”
“You just heard me breathe,” you defend yourself, because the former is impossible to accept.
“Whatever you want to say to make yourself feel better.” He grins, cheeky and prideful, making you shove his head away with the palm of your hand.
“Fine, whatever,” you say, resigning yourself to the fact that you lost this round. “What do you want to turn? The bed frame? The door knob? That really ugly pot in the living room?”
“Hey, that pot isn’t ugly,” Jungkook exclaims. You frown at him. “Okay, it’s only a little bit ugly.”
“For someone with so much money, you sure don’t have the best taste,” you tell him, even though everything else in his house reads expensive like nothing else. That pot is just weirdly out-of-place. “Maybe the gold will make it look better.”
“What’s this?” Jungkook asks, reaching a hand out from behind you to toy at the bracelet on your wrist, this silver chain with a couple of charms dangling from it. It’s rusted beyond belief, from rain, from humidity, from wear, but you refuse to take it off, even when it loses what’s left of its shimmer, even when the silver fades to a scratchy red iron.
“An old bracelet,” you say, fingers instinctively making to play with it, rubbing away at the metal. “From my mom.”
“You wear it every day,” Jungkook notices.
“I never take it off,” you say.
“It’s pretty,” Jungkook tells you, and you know that he isn’t just saying that. That he means it, despite its abysmal condition. The years have not been kind to it, but then again, they haven’t been very kind to you either. “It must be really special.”
“It is.” You shuffle the bracelet around so that all five of the charms are in view. “She would buy a new charm every year for my birthday.”
“I like this one,” Jungkook says, pointing to the milk carton charm. “It’s cute.”
“Yeah…” you trail off. The bracelet isn’t much, but it’s all you have left of a childhood that you had been robbed of. You had to grow up too fast, that you know, but at least this bracelet reminds you that you are never too old for your memories.
“Can I turn it?” Jungkook asks. It’s as if you can see the words leave his lips, resting in front of you, waiting for your response.
You turn around to face him, eyes wide. Your hand goes to rest atop the bracelet protectively, the idea of letting someone else touch it almost unfathomable.
“You can say no,” Jungkook quickly stammers out, face beet red. “It was just—you wear it so much, and it looks like the silver is fading, so I was thinking maybe the gold would… fix it up a bit, or something. Make it look new again. Ignore me, you don’t have to say yes, it was just a suggestion.”
Your fingers drop into your lap as you look at him, expression softening. Here, in this unused guest bedroom, Jungkook looks nervous, lost, stumbling over his own words like he isn’t sure of himself anymore. He looks away from you, eyes already beginning to scan the room for something else to turn instead, doubtful you would even agree to such a wild request. It is your bracelet, after all. Why would he do something like that for you?
“You want to?” You ask him, hopeful and wishing.
Jungkook nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “I do.”
“Then you can,” you say, holding out your wrist to him, the charms dangling over your laps. “Please.”
Jungkook’s shocked that you even said yes, but he scrambles to twist you around, moving your bodies so you aren’t pressed against each other like two peas squished inside of a pod. In this new position, you’re facing each other, staring right at each other as Jungkook reaches out a tentative hand, delicate fingers padding against your wrist. He breathes, and so do you, because you’ve gotten so used to the way this bracelet has looked, so familiar with every rust and crack and dent, knowing that it has remained unchanged for years.
But this isn’t a change. It’s a rebirth. It’s something different, something fresh, something to remind you that not all is lost. That old memories can become new once more.
Slowly, as Jungkook presses soft fingertips against the metal, sparks fly. A golden sheen wraps around the bracelet, inch by inch, leaving behind this unmistakeable shimmer, glinting in the sunlight. You can’t tear your eyes away, watching the magic unfold in real time, the silver vanishing before you. The gold consumes it, erasing all of the rust, the wear and tear, until it looks brand new.
Your mother would have loved it.
“Is that strike two?” Jungkook asks, a cherry red blush decorating his cheeks.
“Thank you,” you breathe out, not caring if it’s strike two or strike two hundred. Your fingers press against the metal, smooth and shiny, the bumpy texture gone. It must be worth thousands, now. But to you, it is priceless. “It’s beautiful.”
Jungkook nods, and you can distantly feel the weight of his gaze on you.
“I know,” he says.
You can’t sleep.
You’ve slept better here than you have for the past three years of your life. At this point, sleeping on cement would be more comfortable than your bed back at your own house, but here, the soft, plush mattress takes away all of the exhaustion that manifests itself in you throughout the day. Not to mention the fact that for the first time in over a decade, you finally have a normal routine, an internal clock to direct your body, rather than the other way around. There is something soothing in knowing exactly what the next day will bring. Something that doesn’t keep you up with worry.
But tonight, you are wide awake.
The golden bracelet on your wrist clinks against itself as you sit up, rubbing at the gunk that’s collected in your eyes. You’ve been keenly aware of its existence on your wrist much more in the past several days, ever since Jungkook turned it from its previous faded silver, fingers instinctively toying with it whenever there’s nothing on your mind—and even when there is.
What you fear most is the fact that you feel as though you are relying on Jungkook to be there more and more, counting on the fact that you know he will be by your side no matter where you are, no matter what you do. You are relying on him to be there, on his house to be there, shaping the way that you run your life based on the belief that at the end of the day, he will be asleep under the same roof as you.
You pull yourself out of bed. Maybe a night spent alone will remind you of the days where you would watch the moon move across the sky, sitting underneath trees and counting the stars that you can see. Remind you that no matter what, the moon will always be there for you, too. Remind you that this, all of it, is temporary.
You know that you aren’t allowed to go up to the second floor of Jungkook’s apartment, and that you’ve never been solely because Jungkook requested that you stay downstairs, a promise you have kept throughout the weeks. But there must be some appeal to the rooftop, you think, because Jungkook never comes downstairs whenever he’s having a restless night. Besides, it’s not as if you have any plans to go into his bedroom.
Softly, you creep upstairs, hand dragging along the golden rail, feet leaving creases in the carpet. The top of the stairs opens up into a general hallway, a dark wooden door undoubtedly leading towards his bedroom, while the walls on the other side turn to glass, leading towards the pool. You tiptoe down the hallway, making sure to avoid making too much noise by Jungkook’s bedroom door, passing by the gym that Jungkook must use all of the time, whenever he’s not around to bother you. The glass door at the end of the hallway must exit out to the pool, so you twist the doorknob and push it open, the cool summer atmosphere hitting you like a breath of fresh air.
All of the lights are on outside, this soft white that reflects off of the metal railing and the pool water, crashing in waves against the tiled edges. You think it’s just for show, like how people leave their Christmas lights on twenty-four hours a day, visible through their windows, but then you round the corner and see him.
Jungkook sits along the edge of the water, legs swishing around in the pool, as he looks up at the sky. The summer breeze blows through his hair, messy and loose, the way it looks right when he gets out of the shower, before he puts any product into it. Whatever he’s playing with in his hand glints in the lights, that distinctive yellow glow. It must be a coin or something, something small, something to keep his fingers occupied.
“Are we considering that strike three?”
He whips around when he hears your voice, hears the way the pool water carries it across to him.
“I thought you promised never to come up here,” he muses back.
“Then I guess maybe both of us can be forgiven,” you suggest.
You amble over to him, crouching down to dip your feet in as well. You seat yourself along the edge of the pool beside him as the water sloshes around, the sensation sending shivers down your spine despite the humidity in the air.
“Can’t sleep?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “My body’s tired but my mind isn’t.”
“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the coin in his hand. It isn’t a form of currency that you recognize, certainly nothing used here.
“A family heirloom,” Jungkook tells you, holding it out for you to see. It’s covered in a thin layer of cold but you think that you can make out some sort of crest, an emblem or insignia above the coat of arms. “Apparently it had been stolen from someone of royalty or high status back in the day. My family turned it into gold and made it ten times more valuable.”
“Oh, but I pickpocket a few people and suddenly I get sentenced by the Realm to be a minder, I see how it is,” you joke, rolling your eyes. Your eyes glaze over the crest, tracing the lines of a lion, a spear, a shield. It must mean something to someone, but to you and Jungkook, it could be anything.
“Hey, but being my minder hasn’t been terrible, has it?” Jungkook asks, mockingly offended. His lips curl down into a pout as he looks at you, a hand on his heart like it’s been punctured by your words.
“It’s…” You begin. You suppose that it hasn’t been terrible. In the beginning, it was positively nightmarish, left you feeling like there was no way you would ever complete your sentence. Now, there’s this weird, hidden part of you that doesn’t want to leave. The part of you that has become attached to this world, this lifestyle. The part of you that relies on there being another person in your life to be with. “It’s not that bad.”
“You know what, I’ll take it.” Jungkook grins. “Even though I know you secretly love me.”
You give Jungkook a shove, pushing him on his side. “You wish.”
He laughs, pulling himself back up off of the cement, knocking his shoulder into yours. “I know that we both kind of didn’t have a choice in any of this,” he tells you, looking up at the stars, watching their faint light, twinkling from millions of light years away. “But I think I really needed you here.”
“Oh, now he admits he needs a minder,” you say sarcastically, flinging your arms out in front of you.
Jungkook chuckles. “I didn’t realize I turned so much until you forced me to stop cold turkey.”
You nod. The truth is, you can’t blame Jungkook for his turning habits. You can’t blame him for living the way that he lives, when it’s the only thing he’s ever known. When the two most important adults in his life turn like wildfire, when they taught him everything he knows. But Jungkook is his own person, now, not a product of his parents, anymore. He has his own choices to make. He can become whoever he wants to be.
He has become someone he wants to be.
Jungkook’s magic habits aren’t any fault of his own as much as yours aren’t, either. They were born out of ignorance, out of necessity. Out of the fact that neither of you have ever known a world where you didn’t have powers, where you didn’t feel as though you needed to use them. You couldn’t imagine not having your magic. You know that Jungkook feels the same.
“Why did you?” It’s as if the words don’t even belong to you. Like someone else has spoken them—the moon, the sky, the stars.
Jungkook purses his lips, and sighs. “It was all I had ever known.”
Jungkook grew up drunk on his powers. You wonder if he’s sobered up now.
(You wonder if you had anything to do with it.)
“When I was little, my parents gave me that whole ‘you’re different, and that makes you special’ talk. They told me that my powers were valuable. A gift. And that people with gifts like mine must never waste them. That if we had been given this magic, we ought to use it, right? So that’s what I did. God, every day I would turn a new toy gold, and then I would get another one to replace it, and I would turn that one gold, too. My parents probably sold that to our banks, another hundred thousand dollars into their pockets,” Jungkook says, forcing out a laugh at the memory. The thought is rather endearing, when you think about it. Little Jungkook turning a stuffed bear gold, crying when it isn’t soft and fuzzy anymore.
“And my parents encouraged me. They told me that I was doing the right thing, that I wasn’t letting my gift go to waste. You saw them that evening that they came over. They were turning things gold left and right. Things that I had wanted to stay their natural material. Like that bowl for my keys. Do you know how easily gold is scratched?” He exclaims, gesturing frantically in front of him. “I purposefully kept that as the clay it was made out of. And now it’s gold.”
“A modern day crisis,” you joke.
“I guess…” Jungkook begins, but the words trail off and he pauses, almost like nothing he says will be correct. “I guess I just never knew the difference between not wanting my magic to be in vain, and not wanting to ever stop using it. Like you. You only heal when you need to. And even then, you don’t treat it like this precious gift. You treat it like something you owe to others.”
“That’s because without other people to heal, my power is useless,” you explain. Being able to heal others has no direct benefit for you. It doesn’t make you stronger, or faster, or better. It is a gift that is meant to be shared. “It’s different.”
“Every time I turn something, I feel like shit afterwards,” Jungkook admits to you. “Like I’ve turned so many things, that I don’t have the right to do it anymore. Like I’ve exhausted my magic.”
“You feel guilty,” you explain to him, resting a hand on top of his own, his fingers losing their grip on the coin he’s been tossing between them. “And that’s okay,” you tell him, meeting his eyes with your own. “Your parents are right—what you have, this power that you possess, it is a gift. It has made your life better in a way that nothing else could. But your fear of letting it go to waste, of not truly appreciating it for what it is, is a two-way street.”
Jungkook blinks at you, petal pink lips parted ever so slightly.
“Wasting a gift by never using it is the same as wasting it by overusing it, because it loses its specialness. When you turn things now, it doesn’t feel amazing or blessed or exciting, because it’s lost the ability to feel like that for you. It’s almost second-nature, at this point,” you say.
“Then what do I do?” He asks, feeling helpless. “How do I make it feel special again?”
You squeeze his hand in your own, making him look up at you, the pool water reflected in his big brown eyes, like a warm chocolate ocean. “You only use it on things that make you feel like a better person.” Things that make Jungkook feel special, as opposed to things that make his magic feel special. “Not just things that will put more money in your bank account, or things that will make your house decor nicer. Things that you really, truly care about.”
Jungkook’s eyes glance downward at something, but he nods. He breathes out this exhale, this heavy sort of breath, like he’s trying to reteach himself the things that make him tick. Things like alphabetized books, and homemade kimchi stew.
“Gifts like that only come once in a lifetime,” you say. “Remarkable things don’t happen to us all the time.” You know this, because it’s true. Because you’ve lived it.
Because in another life, in another universe, there is a you who can’t turn invisible, can’t heal people, and there is a Jungkook, too, one who can’t turn whatever he pleases into gold. And they would live their whole lives not knowing what it would be like to have these powers, to ease their way of life. And they would never meet each other, either. Too busy trapped on opposite sides of the world, too busy to worry about anybody but themselves.
“So we have to learn to treasure them.” It feels as though you’re drowning in him. Like you’re floundering, barely staying afloat. “We have to make sure that they always feel special to us.”
You curl your hand around his own, lacing your fingers together as your palms rest against each other’s. You watch as his gaze drifts down to where your hands are interlocked, a bridge between the two of you, a lifeline that connects the two lives you had lived without each other in them.
“Do you understand?” You ask. You can see the words as they appear, watch as they linger in between the two of you, hot summer breaths on a cool summer night.
He squeezes your hands together, and he smiles, warm and round and real. He looks at you, and he is there, he is sitting by your side. And he is beautiful and extraordinary and remarkable. And he says, “I’m starting to.”
You wake up the next morning to find a shimmering piece of parchment sitting on the dresser in your bedroom.
As declared by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, it reads,
The recipient, Y/N, has successfully completed her sentence of community service as mandated by the courts. She no longer needs to serve as the minder to Jeon Jungkook, and may return to her former residence.
Though the sentence has been carried out, The Realm, its leaders, and its government, reserves the right to re-charge the recipient for the crimes for which she had been originally tried should she commit them again. Should this instance occur, the option for community service will not be available.
We thank you for your service.
Oh.
Already?
It feels like you just started. Like it was only yesterday that you stormed up to the front door of Jungkook’s penthouse, watched as he crumpled up the parchment and tossed it into the bin. Like it was only yesterday you reappeared at his office, this time with a declaration that won’t be so easily destroyed.
You wonder why this one is all sparkly as well.
You don’t know exactly what prompted the end of your sentence, what duties you had somehow fulfilled to earn you your freedom. What is the Realm searching for? What data are they using to determine whether or not you have met your goal? It certainly couldn’t have just been the fact that Jungkook hasn’t turned in a while. Not turning is not the same as not wanting to turn.
So what changed?
You stare down at the parchment, each word leaving you more confused than the word before it.
It isn’t over already, is it?
Knowing that you are now free to return back to your own house means that your worst fear has been realized. You don’t want to.
You want to stay here, in Jungkook’s massive penthouse, relishing in the glory and wealth that comes alongside it. You want his chef to make pre-made meals for you and the extra kimchi stew he keeps in the fridge. You want Jungkook’s five thousand different streaming services and enough books to last you several lifetimes. You want the sense of normalcy that staying here has given you, the regular routine that you have so effortlessly fallen into. You want the late-night pool chats and rounds of hide-and-seek.
Why would you want to give up all that you have?
“You want fried or poached eggs?” Jungkook knocks on your closed bedroom door, tapping softly with his knuckles, already awake and ready to make breakfast.
“Either,” you tell him, glaring down at the parchment with furrowed brows. You’re too afraid to touch it, too afraid to even look at it any closer. Because that will make it real.
“Alright,” Jungkook calls. “It’ll be ready in ten! Got freshly-squeezed orange juice too!” You can hear his footsteps as he heads back down the corridor, the thump, thump, thump of his fuzzy slippers against the hardwood floor.
“Coming,” you say weakly, too focused on the glowing paper on the dresser.
Just because you can go back to your house doesn’t mean you have to. Just because you can go back to your old life, doesn’t mean you have to.
You grab the paper and stuff it in an old tote bag, covering it with old clothes, memories of the former world you lived in. Not anymore.
After all, isn’t this the life you’ve always dreamed of?
Kimchi stew is, as it stands, delicious, but it can’t be the only thing that the two of you ever cook together.
Jungkook does all of the grocery shopping, mostly because the both of you know that if you went out to the store with a list of ingredients, you would be lost for days searching for them. So when he returns home with three tote bags filled with ingredients, your mouth already starts to water.
“What are we making today, chef?” You ask, bounding into the kitchen as Jungkook begins to unpack.
“Another Korean recipe,” Jungkook says happily, pulling out a bright yellow pack of thin grey noodles. “Japchae!”
“Sounds delicious,” you say, though at this point he could make you microwave mac-and-cheese and you’d snarf it down like nothing else.
“You bet it is.” Jungkook grins, slowly dumping out the rest of the contents of the bags. They are filled to the brim with vegetables and seasonings, peppers and zucchini and everything in between, the makings of a colorful little homemade dish.
Jungkook seems to be making more time to actually cook things these days, fishing through the cabinets regularly to see what meals he can make with all of the ingredients in his kitchen. The chef only comes once every two weeks now, and usually brings with him any groceries that Jungkook has personally requested. He’ll ask you what you think of a new recipe that he wants to try, showing you the guide on his laptop screen, writing down whatever he needs to buy from the store.
And you thought that the chef’s meals were appetizing.
“Have you ever thought of meal-prepping?” You ask as Jungkook sets the noodles in a pot of boiling water, turning the heat on high.
“Why?” Jungkook says.
“I don’t know,” you tell him, washing the red pepper underneath the faucet, cutting board and knife ready and waiting on the counter. “So you don’t have to go through the process of cutting everything up and sauteing it, or whatever.”
Jungkook turns around, shakes his head. “No. Half the fun of cooking is making it.”
“But you could save yourself a lot of time when you come back from work,” you point out. Jungkook’s always so exhausted by the time he walks through the front door, keys scratching the golden bowl on the table on the way in.
“But then we wouldn’t get to cook together,” he says like it’s obvious, like it’s the thing that he thinks about the most when he comes back home. The two of you, filling up his kitchen, leaving oil stains on the countertops and burnt vegetables at the bottom of the pans. The scent of spices, of onions, of sizzling vegetables wafting through the air.
Another person to fill up this barren house.
You never eat in the dining room, because two people still isn’t enough to make that room feel like it’s full, like there are people that regularly use it. But now, there are grease stains on the leather of Jungkook’s couch, and a little bit of ketchup on the rug that he doesn’t know about, reminders that just because Jungkook’s house is big doesn’t mean it has to be empty as well.
“I’m a horrible chef,” you say, because you’re not quite sure what else to tell him. Up until a few weeks ago, you had never cut up an onion in your life. Things in the kitchen that take Jungkook five minutes to do take you twenty. You certainly aren’t any help, not when Jungkook has to pause whatever he’s doing to teach you something that you should already know. So what’s the appeal?
“You’re not that bad,” Jungkook assures you gently. “You just need to do it more.”
“Oh, so is that your mission? You don’t meal-prep because you want me to learn how to make my own food?” You ask, rounding on him.
“You got me.” He grins guiltily, pinching the part of your waist where he knows you’re the most ticklish, making you laugh as you turn invisible for a moment, a sort of gut reaction whenever you’re sensitive. “And because I like cooking with you.”
“Can’t imagine why,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “It must be my infectious personality, right?”
“That, and teaching you how to cook stuff is fun.” Jungkook smiles, reaching out as he begins to chop vegetables beside you. Standing here, in the middle of his kitchen, you wonder if this is how life is supposed to be. Someone you can cook with, someone you can eat with. Someone who will teach you the things that you don’t know, who will help you master the things that you do. Someone who doesn’t care where you came from, only that you’re here now, that you are right beside him.
Homemade meals make your insides warm and fuzzy, but having someone to spend the night with makes your heart feel comforted. Makes it feel like it’s been wrapped in a blanket, cradled in someone’s hands.
“What happens when I learn everything?” You ask. “What will you do then?”
Eventually, this routine must come to an end. Eventually, there will be nothing left for him to teach you, nothing left for you to learn. You know that your days are numbered, that there is only so much time that the two of you can spend together. What will happen when you reach the last day? When there will be no tomorrow for you to rely on?
Jungkook must know that you can’t stay here forever, even if the two of you try to keep it that way. But he doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Then, I’ll find something new to teach you.”
This arrangement has always been temporary.
But for a moment, just a moment, an echo in time, he makes you believe otherwise.
There’s a golden glint on your chest of drawers when you walk into the room, the glare flashing in your eyes as the sun hits it.
You, admittedly, don’t go into your room very often, usually only to do the thing that bedrooms, at their most basic level, were meant to do: sleep. But Jungkook retired early to his room tonight, citing some ridiculous reason like he hadn’t worked out enough this week, and everything in the house suddenly becomes less inviting whenever he’s not around.
When you step closer, you can see it. See the thin chain that rests on the dresser, the key that hangs from it, a similar size to the charms on your bracelet. The gold is faded, shine erased, leaving behind this gentle matte texture, smooth but worn. It’s much more vintage than the sorts of things you would find in jewelry stores today—bright, sparkly necklaces and shiny, lustrous rings. It was made to look old, to look worn. It probably is.
There’s a little note next to the necklace, a torn piece of paper from a notepad, the edges rough and uneven.
To Y/N,
Found this in my mother’s old jewelry that she always leaves here when she decides it’s not her style anymore. Didn’t really think of anybody else that would make good use of it like you. I think it’ll match your bracelet well! I hope you like it.
Jungkook
You smile as you read the words, take in this meaningful little gesture that Jungkook has done for you. The bracelet from your mother has always been your most prized possession, but with its new golden makeover, it reminds you that you don’t always have to look to your past to be happy. That what you have, right here, right now, is enough. Now, your mother’s charm bracelet has a matching partner.
Standing in front of the mirror, you put the necklace on, fingers craning to attach the clasp to the chain, metal slipping from your grip. After a bit of a battle, you finally manage to connect the two ends, letting the key hang low past your collarbones, the gold resting gently against your skin. It doesn’t match your bracelet perfectly, but the two aren’t so much a matching set as they are a pair, two pieces that are meant to complement each other rather than complete.
You seriously doubt that Jungkook’s already asleep.
Sneaking up the stairs to the second story, you see that the door to Jungkook’s bedroom is wide open, revealing a little glimpse into the room he spends so much time in. It’s dark, empty, a signal that Jungkook is elsewhere on this floor. You don’t spend too much effort peering into Jungkook’s bedroom, not when it feels like you’re invading his space, his privacy. He’s already given up so much of his home for you. He deserves to keep his bedroom his own.
He’s not in the gym, you determine as you pass by, which means that there really is only one other place he could be found.
You push open the door to the rooftop, rounding the corner to the deck to find Jungkook doing laps in the pool, wearing nothing but his swimming trunks. The water sloshes around his body as he swims back and forth, kicking up splashes as he goes. You watch for a few moments as he works out, not wanting to interrupt him he burns away the calories in his body. This is the closest you’ve ever come to seeing Jungkook undressed, but you don’t really mind. At least he’s got shorts on.
When he stops, he stands up in the pool, sopping wet hands running through sopping wet hair, strands that frame the sides of his face, make his hair look longer than it actually is. He wipes away the water on his face, blinking the chlorine from his eyes, when he spots you.
“What are you doing up here?” He asks, not even caring to fight away the grin that has laced itself on his features.
“Came to say thank you,” you tell him, fingers toying with the key around your neck. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I wanted to,” Jungkook says honestly. “Besides, my mother was never going to come back to get it, so I figured that it should go to someone who will actually wear it.”
“It’s beautiful,” you say, slowly sitting down along the edge of the pool, letting your legs dip into the water. Jungkook makes his way over to you, water splashing at his torso as he walks through the pool to stand before you. “Was it always gold?”
“It was, yes,” Jungkook says with a nod. “My mom liked to turn a lot of things, but she preferred her jewelry to be naturally gold. That’s why it’s pretty faded.”
“It looks nicer this way,” you say. “Shiny gold looks cheap.”
“Spend a couple of months in a mansion and suddenly you think gold looks cheap?” Jungkook jokes. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Can’t help that I’ve got an eye for nice things,” you tease, looking Jungkook up and down just to be dramatic. You have to admit that he’s got a rather attractive figure, fit, built, toned. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t eyeing him at least a little bit.
Jungkook pretends that he isn’t paying attention to the fact that you are blatantly ogling his body and laughs. “You swim?”
“I learned when I was little,” you tell him. “But I haven’t done it in a long time.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Jungkook says with a disapproving shake of his head.
“What? I like being dry,” you say, hands on your hips as you defend yourself. Besides, when you were little, swimming always meant showering afterwards, which sucked because then you had to waste water just to clean yourself of other water. Your mother always said that being able to swim would carry you far in life, would be an invaluable skill. You haven’t swum since she died.
“But, you wouldn’t mind if I… oh, never mind,” Jungkook dismisses, being purposefully vague just to capture your attention.
“What?” You demand.
“If I…” Jungkook begins, leaning back down in the pool until all but his head is submerged. He floats towards you, paddling until he’s right beneath your feet. “Did this—?”
Without a second of warning, Jungkook’s wet hands are grabbing onto your ankle, pulling you and your fully-clothed-self into the water with a splash, making you shriek as you feel your skin freeze up at the cold temperature. Luckily, it’s shallow enough here that you can stand rather easily, but now you’re soaked from head to toe, sopping fabric sticking to your figure.
You come up from beneath the water, positively accosted, hands wiping across your face as you clear your eyes so that they can narrow in on your target. “Okay, that was uncalled for,” you say, splashing Jungkook furiously, even as the two of you fight off the laughter that is bubbling up from your throats.
“Oh, but it’s such a nice night for swimming,” Jungkook grins devilishly, that cheeky sort of look reserved for when he knows he’s being a nuisance.
“Maybe for you!” You say, punctuating every word with a splash. Jungkook takes them all in good fun, accepting his punishment for pulling you into the pool. “I’ve been betrayed.”
“Admit it,” Jungkook coaxes, “you love me.”
You refuse.
When the rage has died down and the water begins to feel less like an icy death trap and more like a pleasant dip, you and Jungkook paddle around each other, swimming in circles like two fish in a school. Looking up, it is a nice night, clear skies as a crescent moon hangs above your heads. There are seldom any stars in the middle of the city, but the especially bright ones still shine, flickers of white in an otherwise deep blue ocean. You wonder how many times Jungkook has come out here, spent the night underneath the sky when he cannot sleep away the hours in bed.
You wonder how many times you missed the opportunity to spend the night with him.
“I sort of wish that we could stay like this forever, don’t you?” Jungkook asks, the two of you floating on top of the water like light against the sea.
There’s a lot of things in your life that you wish would never change. This is just another bullet point added to the list.
“Yeah,” you breathe out, because out there somewhere is a timer, counting down the moments until you have to say goodbye. “I do.”
“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” you say, looking at Jungkook.
He sits across from you in the booth, face lit up in a warm yellow from the rustic exposed light bulb above your heads, this soft, homey glow to his features, sharp jawline but rounded cheeks. He’s cleaned up well, in a different way than how he gets ready for work, when he has to make sure his collars are crisp and his hair is sleek and straight. Here, his dark brown hair is bouncy, loose, like he had blown it out after jumping out of the shower and then immediately ran his hand through it a couple of times to mess it up. He wears a plain button down, nothing fancy or chic, no tie, no suit jacket. The beauty of how he looks is that it’s so simple, so timeless, like he doesn’t need to put any effort into how he looks because he is just naturally perfect. Like the cover of a magazine. Like a sculpture come to life.
“I wanted to,” Jungkook says happily, fork twirling around the pasta in the dish in front of him. “We can’t just eat premade meals and leftover Korean food forever.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t complain if we did…” You reason, because you’ve been better fed in the few months you’ve lived with Jungkook than in the years you have spent on your own. Not to mention the fact that everything Jungkook makes tastes eons better than the meals the professional chef whips up, for some odd reason. “But you’re right, a night out is fun.”
“Sometimes food tastes better when you don’t make it yourself,” Jungkook points out, motioning to the dishes before you, these high-class servings of fish and pasta and vegetables that look like they belong on a cooking show rather than on the table in front of you. You and Jungkook may have mastered (or at least… gotten better at) cooking, but presentation is a whole other battlefield. Besides, it’s all going to the same place, so why bother?
“Mmm,” you murmur in agreement, savoring the flavor of the meal in front of you. A year ago you wouldn’t have dared step foot in a restaurant like this one, would have probably gotten kicked out after you walked through the door, so being here feels like a real treat. One that you think you could definitely get used to.
“Thanks, by the way,” Jungkook pipes up, as if suddenly remembering something.
“For what?”
“For your idea about the investment management,” Jungkook says, sending the both of you back to that day in his office, where Jungkook was on the verge of flipping his desk over because he couldn’t figure out a solution.
“Oh, is it working out?” You ask, curious to know if your suggestion is truly paying off or if you just had too much faith in the goodness of humanity.
“It is.” Jungkook nods happily. He seems very proud of himself. “It was slow going at first, because a lot of clients were starting to wonder why we weren’t investing in other stocks that would guarantee us a higher payout, but then they saw where the money was going. We aren’t bigger than our rival companies, but this levelled the playing field.”
“I’m glad,” you say, because it’s one thing for Jungkook to tell you you had a good idea, and it’s another for him to actually implement it. “That makes me happy to hear.”
“You’re not as bad at business or economics as you think you are, Y/N,” Jungkook informs you, waving around a nonchalant hand. “All they are is an in-depth study of human nature. Some economists assume that everyone in the world is selfish and cares only about themselves, but you’re different. You see the good in everyone, you believe that people can be honest, and selfless, and giving.”
Like Jungkook.
Like Jungkook, who has given up his home, his work, his life just to deal with another person hovering around him. Who gifts you gorgeous pieces of jewelry and takes you out to fancy meals, who lets you screw up a recipe in the kitchen and obligingly eats peppers that have been charred beyond recognition. Who is so much more honest, so much more selfless, so much more giving, than you could ever be, sticking around because to not do so would cost you your freedom, because you would rather stay here than be anywhere else.
“I don’t know what I’ll do when you’re gone,” Jungkook says, cracking this weak, terrible smile. He shakes his head as if to banish the thought from his mind, to exist only in this very moment, choosing to ignore both the past and the future. “I think I’m starting to rely on you being there.”
“Yeah,” you say softly, distantly. Something weighs heavy on your chest, pressing your heart down, slowing its temperate rhythm. The truth is that your heart stopped a long time ago, it stopped when you realized that there’s more to Jungkook that you want to know, when you realized that you can’t bear to imagine a life different than the one that the two of you share, no matter how temporary it is. But this weight, this burden on you, it serves as nothing but a reminder that without Jungkook, your heart cannot count in time. “Me too.”
You return home with plastic tupperwares in your hands, leftovers from the enormous meal that the two of you couldn’t have finished even if you tried. Jungkook takes the container from your hands as you excuse yourself to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the thoughts that rest heavy in your heart, cleanse yourself of the lies you can’t seem to stop telling. There’s this naive part of you that thinks, when you wash off the makeup, change back into your raggedy old clothes, all of the secrets you carry with you will vanish as well.
You know you’ll have to come clean eventually. Eventually, Jungkook will get suspicious as to why you’ve hung around so long even though he is no longer turning. He’ll begin to wonder why you haven’t dashed out of the penthouse you once used to disparage, desperate to return to your old life, where you didn’t have to know him the way that you do now. When you didn’t feel like there was something else trapping you here.
When all is said and done, though, it feels like here is where you were always meant to end up.
You head back out into the living room, ready to settle down and wrap up the night by watching a movie or something, when you see Jungkook standing by the couch, your old tote bag sitting on the cushions from a laundry trip earlier today, a shimmering piece of parchment in his hands.
“Jungkook—”
“How long?” He asks, voice cracking. He’s clenching the paper so hard that his knuckles are turning white, like he can’t believe the words that he’s reading. “How long have you been free to go?”
“Listen, I can explain—”
“A week? A month? When were you going to tell me?” He pleads. When you can’t even muster up the dignity to look at him, he shouts. “When?”
“A month,” you tell him weakly, desperately.
“A month? You’ve been staying here for a month when you didn’t even need to?” He asks, and he isn’t angry, or furious, or full of rage. He looks helpless, like there is no longer light behind his eyes, twinkles in his irises. Like he’s in pain, like he’s hurt. Exposed, his walls broken down and nothing left to repair them. “When were you going to tell me? Were you ever going to say anything?”
“Yes, Jungkook, but I—”
“All this time,” he says, more to himself than to you, like he can’t believe how foolish he’s been. “All this time you’ve been using me? Using my money?”
“No, Jungkook, it’s not like that.” You are desperate, desperate to salvage what you can from this broken arrangement, desperate to start anew.
“Then what is it like?” He demands. “If you weren’t using me for my house, or my money, or my personal chef, then what is it? What did you want from me that you couldn’t get on your own?”
You stop. Why did you stay? Normalcy? Opportunity? Company? All things that you never dreamed of having in a million years. And while being with Jungkook did provide you with all three, none of them feel quite right.
“I don’t know, I just—” You begin, scrambling for the right words and feeling like nothing you say will be correct. “I didn’t want to go back just yet.” It’s a pitiful excuse.
“So you just decided to stay? To play along with me, with all of the things that I was doing with you, for you?” Jungkook shakes where he stands in front of you, blindsided. “Let me teach you how to cook and give you expensive jewelry and take you out to fancy dinners? Just for fun?”
“I never asked for you to do those things for me,” you remind him firmly. It’s not like you were scrounging for money from his pockets, selling insignificant gold sculptures on the black market to buff up your empty bank account. “You wanted to.”
“Because I thought we had something special, Y/N,” Jungkook admits helplessly, collapsing back on the couch. “I did those things because I felt it, Y/N. What you were talking about, that night at the pool, where you saw me sitting at the edge of the water. I felt it. With you,” he begs, hopeless and anguished. “I didn’t understand what it meant to make the magic feel special again until I did it for you. I turned your bracelet and it made me feel like I had something to give to others.”
“You know that that’s not what I meant,” you say, shaking your head. “I was talking about your gift, not us.”
“Aren’t they all the same, though? Magic? Powers? Love? Don’t they all make us feel like we have something special beneath our fingertips?” He asks, to you, to himself, to the moon and the stars, searching for an answer that none of you can give him.
“Love? You don’t mean that,” you say, refusing to admit it. You have no explanation as to why Jungkook did the things he did, just as much as you don’t have an explanation as to why you did the things you did. They just happened.
“I thought we had something,” Jungkook admits sadly, unable to even bring his head up to look at you, at the tears that are welling in your eyes, the ones you refuse to let fall. “And I thought the reason that you wanted to do all of those things with me was because you felt it, too.”
“Jungkook, you know that—”
“What?” He erupts. “What do I know? I know that you’ve been using me all of this time, that you did those things with me because you were getting freebies out of it. I know that I was foolish and—and stupid to think that maybe it was because you were falling in love with me just like I was falling in love with you.”
“Jungkook…” You reach out a trembling hand, wanting to feel the warmth of his body once more, the weight of his head in your palm.
“Don’t,” he says, swatting it away and standing up. “I get it, Y/N. I was stupid and I thought that we had something, when we don’t.” He turns back to look at you, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get the image out of your head, the sight of him, broken and beaten and empty, a shell of the beautiful, vibrant man you had become so attached to. “There’s nothing left for you here. Your services are no longer required.”
He disappears down the hallway, leaving you with nothing but a tote bag, a necklace, and a bracelet left for you to remember him.
When you step into your house for the first time in months, it feels even less inviting than it normally does. Which is, as far as you’re concerned, rather impressive, considering you’ve always dreaded coming back regardless of what happened throughout the day.
But now, you can name no place you would rather not be than in this graffiti-laden house, a dangling light bulb above the back entrance and dirt and dust all along the walls. You’ve never had time to fix up this place and make it look even the slightest bit presentable, never had the money to paint over the walls and get rid of the big red X on the front door. Day in and day out, this would just be a place where you could sleep, a mattress on the floor and Campbell’s soups on the cracked kitchen counters. The first thing you’d do every morning is get out. The last thing you’d want to do every night is come back.
No place has felt like home in a long time. Not since your mother died, when you lost how her smile would light up a room, how she would spin you in circles and kiss your forehead when you got scared that you were going too fast. You had almost forgotten what it meant to have a home, to have a place that felt sacred, like coming home to a warm hug and a steaming cup of tea. To have a place that you didn’t dread returning to, a place that you could gladly waste away in.
The bracelet that dangles from your wrist is the closest thing that you have left to the feeling of home, of comfort and warmth and solace, of something that makes you feel truly happy. But now, the bracelet has been tinted with the memories of another, of the only other person you can think of that has brought you that same feeling of joy, of these rose-stained memories that rest deep within your heart’s attic. They have always been there, hidden, buried beneath the bad, but when there is nothing left they surface. To remind you of what good life can bring you.
To remind you of the magic inside you.
You hate living here. And for a time, you hated living with Jungkook, too. Hated how extravagant his house was, hated how he refused to even speak to you. How there were so many unused rooms, so many empty spaces. But what changed, there, and what hasn’t changed, here, is how people, and not things, are what fill up rooms.
Living with Jungkook made you feel like coming back after a long day was worth it. Planted the knowledge inside you that you would always have him there, could always rely on another’s presence within the apartment. He’s only one person, but he fills up the room like nothing else, lights it up like New Year’s Eve. He’s funny, and witty, and gorgeous. He’s caring and honest and cheeky, just cocky enough for it to be charming as opposed to egotistical. He cooks like nothing else and spends his sleepless nights beneath the stars, looking at the same moon and sky as everyone else.
You don’t hate living here because it’s shit. You hate living here because it’s lonely.
There was a space in your heart that you didn’t even realize was empty. It had been overtaken by the part of you determined to make it to the next day, determined to stick it to the Realm, to its leaders, to all of the people that look down on you because you aren’t made of money.
But when you left Jungkook’s house, you realized that that space had slowly been filled up with him. That over time, bit by bit, moment by moment, Jungkook returned what you had lost, revived what you thought had long been dead.
The truth is that you wanted to stay with Jungkook because you couldn’t stomach the thought of being alone again. Of being forced to fend for yourself, forced to come home to an empty house with no one to waste away the night with. Of being forced to live like every day is a threat rather than a gift.
Jungkook has magic in his fingertips and his heart. It was only a matter of time before it spread to you as well.
Being hurt by someone you love feels like an arrow to the chest. Like a puncture wound, deep and piercing, but too painful to even want to pull it out, patch up the hole. You had already experienced it once. You didn’t have any plans on experiencing it again.
But losing the opportunity to love someone feels like an ache throughout your whole body, this crippling sort of pain that spreads through your bloodstream, setting every organ it passes on fire. It feels like there is something tearing you apart from the inside out, like every piece of you is slowly crumbling.
Jungkook’s biggest mistake wasn't falling in love with you. It was thinking that you were still falling in love with him, when the truth is, you had already fallen. It was letting you leave when both of you wanted nothing more than for you to stay.
Loving someone is a gamble. It’s a risk, a toe in the water, a spark from your fingers.
But not loving someone? That is magic, wasted.
Who knew twenty dollars could get you one large pizza and extra garlic rolls? Certainly not you.
The smell wafts through the hallway to Jungkook’s apartment, filling it with the scent of warm, fresh bread, of a hot meal waiting to be devoured. If you don’t knock soon, the pizza will go cold and you’ll probably eat all of it before you can even say hello to him. You have more food in your hands now than you have the past week you’ve been back at your old place.
You ring the doorbell.
“Coming!” Jungkook shouts. Oh, is he expecting someone?
Ten seconds later the door opens to reveal someone you hardly even recognize. Gone are the soft loose strands of hair and oversized button down shirts. Jungkook opens the door still wearing his suit jacket, tie tight around his neck, like he hasn’t bothered to change since he got home from work over two hours ago. His hair is sleek and straight, a little shorter than you last remember it. He looks the way he did when you first met him, this rigid, workaholic guy that doesn’t care about anybody except himself. He looks like he’s done nothing but work for a week. Not even sleep.
“Hi,” you begin, a short, quick intake of breath. “Did you order a pizza?”
“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, already starting to close the door. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”
“Wait, Jungkook, please? I need to talk to you,” you plead, a hand going out to stop him from shutting you out completely. All that you can see through the crack of space between the door and its frame are his piercing brown eyes, absolutely unreadable. He doesn’t budge. “Also, did you just get back from work? You must be starving. And as it so happens, I have an entire large pizza that I won’t be able to finish all by myself.”
Jungkook budges a little bit.
“Please?”
“Fine,” he says reluctantly, opening the door. “I hope you aren’t planning on staying here too long, this time.”
The words are biting cold, send angry shivers down your spine.
“Just enough for you to hear me out,” you say, placing the pizza box on the coffee table as Jungkook rummages through his kitchen for plates. He eventually manifests two paper ones—you didn’t even know he had those!—and returns, taking a seat on the carpet as he inhales the cheesy, greasy scent.
Your stomach grumbles, but you can’t eat just yet. First, you have to explain yourself.
“What did you want to talk about?” Jungkook asks, cold and distant, the same way he spoke to all of his employees before you encouraged him to do otherwise. “If it’s about my company, we can compensate you as necessary for your contribution. It won’t be much, though.”
“No, no, it’s not about that,” you say with a shake of your head. “It’s about us.”
“What ‘us’ is there to talk about?” He asks economically.
“The ‘us’ that I left behind that day,” you say softly, a gentle reminder. “The ‘us’ I should have realized existed before I let the door shut behind me.”
“If you’re just here to tell me that you’re sorry for not loving me back, don’t,” Jungkook says bitterly. “I don’t expect you to love me back or anything. You can’t change how you feel about people.”
“You still love me?” You ask, a spark, a flash, a ray of light.
Jungkook grumbles. “Yes. It doesn’t go away that easily.”
“You aren’t stupid, or foolish, or idiotic for thinking that I was falling in love with you at the same time that you were falling in love with me,” you tell him, the words light and airy, like weights plucked off of your chest, like butterflies released from a jar. “You were stupid for thinking that I wasn’t already in love with you.”
Jungkook’s head jerks up, eyes blinking wildly. You can see the way that they glisten, with hope, with tears, with desperation. With the possibility that not all is lost.
That old memories can become new once more.
“You were right,” you muse, more to yourself than to anyone else. Even Jungkook. “Magic, powers, love, they’re all the same thing. They are meant to be treasured. Cherished. Protected. They are meant to make us feel special.” You breathe, reaching out next to you, an open hand for Jungkook to take. “But most importantly, they are meant to be shared.”
A small smile. A lip half-turned up, this gentle little grin.
“I stayed because I wanted to keep sharing my life with you, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him honestly, because it’s real and it’s true. Because, at this point, you can imagine nothing else. “And I’m here again because I can’t stand living without you anymore. I never want to stop sharing my life with you.”
“You make me feel like my heart is made of magic,” Jungkook admits, finally, finally, finally. “You make me want to use it just for you.”
“You don’t need to,” you say, pressing yourself into him, letting your lips hover above his own. He reaches a hand out, lets it rest on your waist, waiting desperately for you to close the last inch between the two of you. “You’re already made of it.”
With that, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, the soft sweet cherry taste of his lip balm filling up your senses, leaving you gasping for air. It’s just a kiss, just a press of lips, this simple gesture, but it takes your breath away nevertheless. It makes you feel like magic swirls inside of you, like your heart is sparking, catching fire, sending it sizzling through your veins. Jungkook has taught you what it means for a house to become a home. You have taught him that magic is only special if he has someone to share it with.
It’s hard to think about the lessons you would have never learned without the other.
It’s hard to think about how different life would be, had you never even met.
Jungkook kisses you and it feels like you’re finally whole. It feels like what has been missing in your life has returned. What you have kept locked up, in the dusty, cobwebbed corners of your heart, in the spaces between your bones, has finally been remembered.
Jungkook takes your old memories and turns them new. He is the only thing you ever want to remember.
“I love you,” he whispers, watching as the words sink into your skin, leaving embers in their wake. “You are my most precious gift.”
“You are my home, Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”
Pizza is good and all, but nothing beats homemade kimchi stew.
You made it all by yourself for the first time last night to celebrate Jungkook donating over a million dollars to various different animal rescues and human rights organizations, taking the kindness that he has been given and paying it forward. Besides, he can make money at the touch of a finger whenever he wants, so he might as well, right?
You also don’t accompany Jungkook at his work anymore, because you’ve gotten enough of a taste of office life and have declared it not your ideal profession, but the nice thing about that is getting the whole house to yourself while he’s gone. Not that you want to do very much without him, but napping in different bedrooms is always exciting.
You never realized how good love makes you feel. How it lifts you up from the inside out, brightens up every day no matter how dull it is to begin with. You had forgotten. What love can do to a person.
Jungkook always comes home and tells you about how happy his employees make him whenever they’re happy. Good feelings like joy, like laughter, like love, they are contagious. It’s a wonder that neither you nor Jungkook figured that out before you met each other.
Well, you suppose that there’s a first for everything.
Jungkook comes home and you can hear the door slam, even from where you’re hiding. You listen as he stops at the door, picks up the note that you left for him.
Loser washes the dishes! ♡
You hear his keys clink in the bowl, metal on metal. He pauses for a moment, for dramatic effect.
And then he shouts,
“You’re on!”
↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!
#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts scenario#jungkook scenario#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#bts au#jungkook au#w: midas#FINALLYYYY#this fic gave me a hernia!
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Merlin fic rec list
To Be A King by clotpolesonly
Teen And Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen,
Merlin and Arthur, Merlin and Mordred, Gwen/Arthur, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Canonical Character Death, BAMF Merlin, Dragonlord Merlin, Original setting, Magical kingdom, King Merlin, Royal!Merlin
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When Merlin discovers that his father was an estranged prince and he himself is now the only heir to the throne of a magical kingdom, he is forced to leave Camelot for the perils of a royal court. Will Merlin be able to win Arthur's favor again before Morgana launches an attack on a defenseless Camelot? Will he be able to defend his own kingdom at the same time or will all be lost?
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A Matter of Sovereignty by Kizmet
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Deeds by the5leggedCricket
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Honorable Intentions by smilebackwards
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Laundry's Hard Work by supercalvin
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or
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Summary:
"Where did you get that?" Arthur asked, but he already knew the answer.
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"...and the horse?"
"Gwen."
"What about the-"
"Gwen." Merlin interrupted.
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Or
I hate that Gwen and Merlin's friendship kind of withered away in the later seasons so here's a oneshot about her and Merlin abusing her new royal powers because that's what happens when your best friend becomes queen.
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Know It All Knight by Shi_Toyu
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The Nature of Trust by Lynds
Merlin's Magic Revealed, Leon is the Mam Friend, Leon is so done, Protective Gwaine, Lancelot Lives, Canon Era, Arthur Finds Out, Hurt Merlin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, reference to hunting and cooking animals
Summary:
Leon starts to notice that the knights, one by one, are starting to trust Merlin's judgement. That he keeps warning Arthur about danger, and being right. Is there more to Merlin than meets the eye?
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Repercussions by PeaceHeather
Fix-It of Sorts, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lecture, Rants, Episode: s02e06 Beauty and the Beast, Episode: s02e05 Beauty and the Beast, Canon Era, One Shot, Gen
Summary:
Uther married a troll. In canon, that all worked out fine eventually. In this slight canon divergence, there is at least one noble who's not willing to let it slide so easily.
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No Harm Will Come to You Here by fancyh
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 05, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Fluff and Angst, temporary amnesia, teen and up,
Summary:
"That was magic," Arthur accuses.
"Oh." Merlin just nods, looking unperturbed.
Arthur fights to keep his expression calm, mind racing and heart pounding. "Sorcery is outlawed in Camelot. On pain of death."
Merlin splutters, finally fixing Arthur with an affronted glare. "It's not like I meant to do it!"
***
Merlin gets hit with a spell meant for Arthur and loses his memory. Revelations ensue. Set sometime after 5x02.
-
Metamorphose by clotpolesonly
Merlin/Arthur, Teen and Up, Between Seasons/Series, Episode: s03e01 The Tears of Uther Pendragon (Part I), Episode: s03e02 The Tears of Uther Pendragon (Part II), Mpreg, Magic Reveal, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, morgana redemption, some transphobic language from Merlin when he finds out he’s pregnant because of magic but it’s mostly just the shock that does it
Summary:
When Merlin falls into bed with Arthur, he doesn't expect for to wake up alone. He doesn't expect Arthur to give him the cold shoulder either, but there is something else he expects even less which forces him out of the kingdom for over a year. He returns to find a traitor in the court, an army on the way, and a love he'd thought all but lost waiting for him with open arms.
-
Four Days To Fall In Love. by CupCakezys
Teen and Up, No archive warnings apply, Merlin/Arthur, Morgana/Gwen, Soulmate AU, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Protective Arthur, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Secret Relationship
Summary:
In a world where everyone has a soulmate (or two or three), Arthur Pendragon knows he is destined to be alone. For Arthur can see his heartstring, could follow it to where his soulmate lived, and that could only mean one thing.
His soulmate had magic, and should they ever meet, Arthur would have to kill them.
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Sacrificial Lamb by RurouniHime
Angst and Humor, Pining, First Time, First Kiss, Post Season 1, Initial Misunderstanding, But it’s resolved, Happy Ending, Fluff with a touch of angst at first
Summary:
Arthur's been overworking his knights, so they come to Merlin as a last resort.
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Cheers and Spirits by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle
Gen, The knights are kinda fools, but the best king, Humour, Fluff, Fluff and Humour, Knights of the Round Table & Merlin
Summary:
Despite all the supposed trips to the tavern none of the knights have seen Merlin drunk. They decide to rectify that. A poor decision, really.
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Circle 'round the Truth by enviropony
Merlin + Knights friendship, Gen, Magic Reveal, Oneshot, Knights of the Round Table & Merlin
Summary:
They know about the magic.
Or, more accurately, Merlin's magic is the truth the knights circle around, and Merlin's loyalty is the one 'round which they rally. (A character study with some yelling, an action sequence, and a bit of walking.) Post-S4.
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Strict Justice by schweet_heart
mutual pining, BAMF Arthur, magic reveal, canon au, oneshot, teen and up
Summary:
After a particularly grueling battle, Merlin and Arthur share a quiet moment in their tent.
-
before it breaks by schweet_heart
Teen and Up, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, merlin whump, magic reveal, merlin & arthur, merthur
Summary:
“It’s not what it looks like,” he says, hand still outstretched, barely a waver in his voice as he lies, outright, to Arthur’s face. “Sire, I can explain.”
“Can you,” Arthur says. He’s aware that he’s trembling, a seismic reaction to the outrage and denial still fighting it out inside his head, but he knows what he’s seen. What it must be. “Well, then, you’d better be quick about it, because it looks a lot like magic.”
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Until the Day I Die by Cookie
Teen and Up, Oneshot, Angst, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary:
Arthur believed Dragoon had killed his father, and so he plunged his sword deep into the sorcerer. Now Merlin was dying in his arms and Arthur was facing the future alone.
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These Castle Walls Bleed Lies by marguerite_26
Mature, hurt/comfort, Magic Reveal, Angst, Merthur, mentions of arthur/gwen, Gwen/Lancelot
Summary:
With his father unfit to rule and Camelot decimated, Arthur must assume the role of King. But the truths he discovers shake the foundation of all he holds dear.
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before his eyes (he now sees clear) by hwc
Teen And Up Audiences, Uther Pendragon is terrible and complicated, Merlin/Arthur
Summary:
It takes Uther half a second to see Balinor in Merlin, and he's almost sure of what he should do.
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Keep Your Secrets by new_kate, orphan_account
Mature, rape/non-con, torture, captivity, romance, alternate universe - canon, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort
Summary:
Arthur Pendragon is captured by the bandits. While he waits to be ransomed, he slowly gets to know Merlin, the prisoner being held in the next cell.
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Crossing the Line by Ultrageekatlarge
BAMF Merlin, Gen, Crack, Oneshot, Magic Reveal, Hurt! Merlin, Humour
Summary:
In which Merlin gets bludgeoned, strangled, attacked, smothered, shot with glass, and tossed out a window, burned, whipped, stabbed, thrown down stairs, nearly drowned on dry land, and harpooned, and still manages to save Camelot from seven evil sorcerers, before lunch.
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Your Touch Is My Salvation by elirwen
Magic Reveal, Canon Era, Oblivious idiots in love, Curses, Teen and Up, Oneshot, Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
Merlin suffers from an effect of a curse. Arthur can help more than he initially thought.
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A Heavy Heart to Carry by Thursday_Next
Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Reveal, Oneshot, Mature, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon
Summary:
When Merlin is captured and injured, Arthur must face up to his own feelings for his manservant as well as the many secrets he discovers are being kept from him.
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Can you do that? by no_nutcracker
Merlin/Mithian, no archive warnings apply, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e11 The Hunter's Heart, Arthur & Merlin friendship
Summary:
Merlin should be overjoyed. He just found his soulmate.
If only she was not betrothed to Arhur.
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His Remedy for Care by ArgentSleeper
Teen and Up, canon au, Episode: s02e13 The Last Dragonlord, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fix It
Summary:
Injured in the dragon attack in lieu of Arthur and afraid of being stopped from going on the mission, Merlin kept away from Gaius and never learned that Balinor was his father.
Instead it's Arthur that puts two and two together as he seeks the dragonlord out, first to save his servant (not friend- they can't be friends), then to save his kingdom.
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A Considerable Head Start by ughbutidontwantto
BAMF Merlin, Gen, when villains have more regard for you than friends, Camelot has a serious class problem, Merlin deserves better
Summary:
Merlin is frighteningly competent and his friends are correctly concerned. Obviously they're going to follow him out to the woods. And obviously they're not going to like what they hea
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The Conscience of the King by ughbutidontwantto
Gen, Post-Magic Reveal, Legal Drama, Oneshot, Friendship feels
Summary:
Merlin's magic was revealed and now everyone has to deal with it in an official capacity since tragically most of these characters work in government. Arthur, predictably, is struggling to cope.
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Out of Sight, Out of Mind by BabyStepsAreStillSteps
Merlin Deserved Better, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Episode: s05e09 With All My Heart, Fix It
Summary:
When Arthur turned his back on the Dolma that he didn’t know was his manservant, Merlin reminded him that he was missing a very important member of their rescue party.
What if he hadn’t?
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What They Owe Us by ironspidereilish
Merlin/Arthur, Alternate Universe, Aredian’s a tax collector instead of a witch hunter but he’s still a bastard, Hurt/Comfort, Poverty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Arthur Pendragon, BAMF Arthur, Canon Era, Romance, sexual coercion mentioned, BAMF Merlin
Summary:
When Arthur finds out that the castle staff are having their wages held for weeks at a time and can no longer afford food or their homes, he will not rest until they are protected and Aredian is stopped.
The fact that Merlin’s stomach is rumbling while he delivers the prince his breakfast, and Arthur hates the thought of him suffering, only serves as extra motivation to fix this.
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royal blood by Rona23
crack!fic, humour, comedy, Balinor Lives, Dragonlord things, Golden Age, Bamf Arthur, Bamf Balinor, Bamf Merlin, Fix It, Magic reveal, Oblivious Arthur, Merthur
Summary:
..... as if Balinor could be killed by Bandits O.o
Alternatively:
An alternative take on Balinor surviving and saving Camelot.
...
And then proceeding to hold the entire kingdom hostage, because he has a frigging Dragon at his disposal :)
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The way by Naelyn
Episode: s04e11 The Hunter's Heart, POV Arthur Pendragon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Arthur, Until He’s Not, Hurt/Comfort, Merlin Deserved Better, Communication or lack thereof, Canon Divergence
Summary:
"One more word out of you, and I swear to God I will send you into exile."
He knows it’s not the pyre, knows there’s much worse, but banishment would mean staying away from Arthur forever – and, as pathetic as that might sound, he thinks he would rather die than let that happen. It is clear that the feeling is not reciprocated, clear that in Arthur’s eyes, he will never come first. There’ll always be people coming before him, and he’s made peace with that long ago – but if even Agravaine can come before him, then anyone could, no? Anyone could replace him. Call Merlin a traitor and have Arthur get rid of him. Anyone could.
Merlin no longer feels safe in Camelot.
or:
Arthur threatens Merlin of banishment.
To Arthur's eyes, it's all forgotten.
To Merlin's, however...
Well, let's just say that his faith in their mutual destiny, once unwavering, finds itself faltering at a dangerously quick rate.
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Better in the Mourning by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle
Gen, Lancelot & Merlin, Knights of the Round Table & Merlin, Grief, Fluff and Angst, Gwen/Lance mentioned, let the characters grieve, 5 Knights of Grief
Summary:
Merlin mourns Lancelot's death. The rest of the knights help out. (AKA Merlin gets to take advantage of not having to keep a dead loved one a secret and gets some goddamn support in this castle)
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I suppose that I look different (without the robes and crown) by WingedWolf121
Canon Era, Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, Uther Pendragon’s A + Parenting, Ygraine/Uther, Arthur/Merlin, Balinor/Hunith, Dragonlord Merlin, BAMF Merlin, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary:
When Arthur blows the horn of Cathbdhah for the second time, the horn doesn’t just send Uther to the other world. It sends Arthur away as well – to a world where Ygraine never died, the Great Purge never happened, and magic lives freely at court. As do those who practice it.
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For Your Information by reni_days
Merlin & Uther, Merlin/Arthur, Modern Era au, Oneshot, Teen and Up
Summary:
Merlin sighs. "After your...announcement," he explains, "your father decided he needed a bit more information. Which is apparently where I come in. I'm sort of like his gay tutor, it's hard to explain."
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Good Fortune by platonic_boner
Canon Era, Fluff, Merlin/Arthur, Oneshot
Summary:
Arthur makes Merlin a lord, and Merlin does an astonishingly good job of running a village.
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Within Reach by foxy_mulder
Explicit, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sex, Merlin/Arthur, Angst with a Happy Ending, Oneshot, Slowburn
Summary:
Nobody touches Arthur.
Merlin realizes it slowly, and when he does, he wants to kick himself for not seeing sooner.
___________
(Or, Arthur and Merlin's relationship with touch over time.)
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Moment of Weakness by TheAsexualofSpades
Gen, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Protective Knights, Protective Arthur Pendragon, Protective Merlin, Whump, Oneshot, Merlin/Arthur
Summary:
After all Merlin's gone through, you'd think it would take some world-ending magic spell or an almost successful attempt on Arthur's life to shake him properly.
It isn't one of those, and Merlin has no idea why.
He just knows he can't be weak.
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The Only Reward Bestowed Upon Me by greatdumbking
Gen, Oneshot, Merlin/Arthur, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, Episode: s04e05 His Father's Son, Fix-It, Agravaine, Canon Era, Love Confessions
Summary:
“You’re wrong Merlin. I don’t need anyone. I can’t afford that luxury. The kingdom's my responsibility now, and mine to bear alone. And you must learn to accept that.”
How could this hurt so much, a third time? Merlin could feel the façade of his casual indifference faltering. His face fell, tears were clawing at his throat, creeping into his eyes. It took all his effort to nod, steel his eyes, and swallow down the rising sob.
(How did Merlin get chosen the be the bait? Why did Arthur start pushing Merlin away? Why couldn't he see how much it was hurting him?)
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Maybe Not the Most Awkward Dinner to Happen in Camelot's Citadel, but it's Definitely Up There by HopePrevails
Gen, Gwen/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Oneshot, Humour, past Gwen/Merlin
Summary:
When an argument about whether Merlin is remotely attractive or not breaks out over dinner, Queen Guinevere accidentally drops into the conversation that she had a crush on him when he first arrived in Camelot. Arthur takes it... like Arthur.
--x--
“Don’t look so surprised, Merlin.” Gwen said kindly. Perhaps she was the psychic. “You’re sweet and gentle, charismatic-”
Arthur snorted.
“- and I’m not going to let you walk out of those doors thinking you don’t look the part, either. Remember, even when you first came to Camelot, I-” She stopped herself, snapping her lips tightly shut.
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#art by mushroomtale-fanart#their stuff is great#Merlin fic recs#merlin fic rec#merlin (tv)#merlin#arthur pendragon#bbc merlin#bbc merlin fic recs#merlin emrys#fic rec list#fic recs#51 fics total
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What I Read in September 2021
It's been a stagnant month, but I did find a couple favorites :) as usual, composed of mainly Harry Potter fics but there's a spare Modern Family fic in there and a couple crossovers. I think I read about 27-28 fics :)
Harry Potter
Family Relations by OxfordOctopus
Plot: In which Harry realizes that not even he's exempt from how interconnected magical families are.
Characters: Harry, Pavarti, Hermione, Ron
Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Desi Potter Family; Desi Harry; Hogwarts third year; red-haired Harry Potter
*complete*
Talking to Thestrals by OxfordOctopus
Plot: In a world where Voldemort well and truly died in ‘81, where there are no Horcruxes, where Harry is sequestered off by a man in a flying motorcycle when he's six, and where the only legacy the most feared Dark Lord left behind was his politics and a heavily scarred child, nobody quite realizes that Harry isn’t okay. Nobody but the leathery creatures at the lake, and the girl who looks at them.
Characters: Harry, Luna
Relationships: Harry & Luna
Warnings: anxiety, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, bullying, implied/referenced child abuse, child neglect
Tags: Sirius Black Criticism; Hogwarts second year; Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban; AU - No Voldemort;
My Notes: Now, I love Sirius just as much as the next girl, but this is such an interesting look at a man raising a kid when he wasn’t ready and the consequences of that (I relate a tad too strongly)
*complete*
Slytherin Politics by OxfordOctopus
Plot: Abused children don't respond well to power plays.
Characters: Harry, Draco, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence
Tags: violence, broken bones, Slytherin Harry, bullying
My Notes: Harry is so truly terrifying in this fic, it’s wonderful
*complete*
rotten on the inside by cassiopeia721
Plot: Harry's boggart isn't Voldemort, or even a dementor. It's something much worse.
Characters: Harry, Snape, Hermione, Ron
Relationships: Hermione & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Hogwarts third year; boggarts; angst; protective Hermione; Hermione is a Good Friend
*complete*
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by IamShadow21
Plot: Questions asked, questions unasked, secrets told and secrets kept, trust, devotion, empathy and love. Ron and Harry's friendship, from that first day on the Hogwarts Express, right through until after the Battle. Can be read as a friendship fic, or a ship fic. It's open to interpretation.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Arthur
Relationships: Harry/Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: canon compliant; canon-typical violence; friendship, hurt/comfort; protective Ron; Protective Fred; Protective George; gen or pre-slash; platonic cuddling; POV Ron
My Notes: now this could be read as pre-slash, as a relationship, or just good friends, but I am so completely head over heels in love with the idea of Harry and Ron! Best friends to lovers!
*complete*
Best Served Cold by enchantedsleeper
Plot: “C’mon, Freddie,” George says suddenly, sotto voce. “Sooner the four of us get out of here, the better.” It hadn’t been the right moment, as they were exploring the Dursleys’ comfortable house in the dead of night, to plant a well-timed trick or a trap and risk blowing the whole operation – and getting Harry into even more trouble with his sadistic relatives. Better just to get Harry out and away from that place. But two years later, Fred and George got their chance for revenge.
Characters: Harry, Fred, George, Ron, Arthur
Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Book 4; Harry is an honorary Weasley
*complete*
east, west, home’s best by taizi
Plot: You can never have too many brothers, Ron decides, for the very first time in his life. And there's always room in the Burrow for another Weasley, even if only an honorary one.
Characters: Harry, George, Ron, Fred
Relationships: Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Chamber of Secrets; families of choice
*complete*
live for today, hope for tomorrow by Vennat
Plot: Professors are Hogwarts are a little more observant and a little less likely to allow their students to be in harms way. OR A canon rewrite starting from book two, featuring friendship, angst, and a severe lack of oblivious characters.
Characters: Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Fred, George, Snape, Draco
Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred; Harry & Ginny; Luna & The Golden Trio; Harry & Snape; Draco & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; PTSD; panic attacks; blood; vomit; injury; food issues; depression
Tags: friendship; Harry has a saving people thing; mentor Snape; BAMF Harry; Smart Harry; canon rewrite; angst; Dumbledore bashing; Book 2; Harry is a Good Friend; Harry is Bad at Feelings
*complete* [part of a series; hasn’t been updated since 2020]
The Closest Distance Between Two People by StartledStarfish
Plot: In Harry's third year, no dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the new defense professor, slept the whole way there. He did not wake to cast a patronus. Harry never passed out. Never heard his mother scream. Never saw the flash of green light. Never felt the unspeakable cold drain all the happiness out of him. So when Harry’s turn came to face the boggart, his greatest fear could not be a dementor. Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Remus, Dumbledore, Vernon, McGonagall
Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & Remus
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma, child neglect
Tags: boggarts, dementors, Dursley Family Bashing; Dumbledore Bashing; healing; angst with a happy ending; Ron makes sure nobody’s sad for long; friendship; laughter
*complete*
Grey Space by noaacat *favorite*
Plot: In 1991, Harry Potter begins his time at Stonewall High, unaware that he is anything more than a boy prone to freakish accidents. When he turns fourteen, he will receive a letter that will change his life. He will learn he is Harry Potter, and be invited into a world where belonging is his birthright. Until then, he stumbles on, two steps forward and one step back, out of the cupboard and into the life he was never meant to have.
Characters: Harry, The Dursleys, Dumbledore, lots of muggle OCs
Relationships: none
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced homophobia; child abuse; child neglect
Tags: AU: Hogwarts Starts Late
My Notes: This one! Is so good! The worldbuilding alone is amazing and the author really did make me immersed in the small sleepy town of Little Whinging. Please, if you read any fic on this list, read this one! It’s so good! Instant favorite!
*complete*
Iron by belleslettres
Plot: Draco also has a penchant for shirts with fiddly collars and cuffs and will not even entertain the notion of going anywhere looking like anything less than perfection. But Harry, who will do almost anything for Draco, refuses to iron them. “My aunt used to make me do all the ironing,” Harry says. “I hated it.”
Characters: Harry, Draco
Relationships: Draco/Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: fluff and angst; post-war; Epilogue what Epilogue; fluff; domestic fluff
*complete*
All That Stands in its Path by thebiwholived
Plot: "An old soul, people might say, and Molly has never quite been sure what such a person would look like, until the day her family meets the Boy Who Lived in a dingy train station on the way to school." Molly Weasley's perspective on the summer Harry Potter comes to stay.
Characters: Harry, Molly, Weasley Family
Relationships: Harry & Molly Weasley
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: canon compliant; book 2
*complete*
To See More Clearly by JellyShark
Plot: Harry didn't make it out of Privet Drive after blowing up Aunt Marge. He is alone, locked away, forgotten. To make things worse, his magic is changing, morphing into something unknown and terrifying. Harry returns to Hogwarts a changed boy, unable to hide the effects of his time with the Dursleys. His Third Year dawns, bringing with it a man who feels like home, a Hufflepuff Prefect, and a dog who reminds Harry of a time when he was loved.
Characters: Harry, Remus, Ron, Snape, Sirius, Hermione, Luna, Cedric, Neville, McGonagall
Relationships: Sirius/Remus; pre Cedric/Harry; Remus & Harry; Hermione & Ron & Harry; Cedric & Harry; Sirius & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: Harry Needs a Hug; Harry is an Empath; Smart Harry; Magically Powerful Harry; Mentor Remus; flawed but well-meaning Dumbledore; book 3; book 4; Snape gets worse before he gets better; angst; hurt/comfort
*incomplete* [last updated August 2021]
Holidays by diogxnes
Plot: While his housemates discuss the upcoming holidays, Harry cannot help but think of how he never experienced a real Christmas with the Dursleys. Ron notices.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan
Relationships: Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: book 1; missing scene; canon compliant; emotional hurt/comfort; hurt/comfort; Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
*complete*
Closing In by silver_fish
Plot: Harry supposes he’ll never know how they learned about the cupboard under the stairs. He also supposes he’ll never know how they managed to make him so afraid of it, all these years later.
Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, claustrophobia, implied/referenced torture, codependency, trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, therapy
Tags: post-war; hurt/comfort; touch-starved; guilt; Harry centric; false memories
My Notes: This one made me emotionally exhausted but it’s written super well
*complete*
Adjustments by Velvet_Riptide
Plot: With the Second Wizarding War over, Sirius is more than excited to put everything behind him and raise Harry as his own. However, he and Remus begin to notice odd and troubling behaviors from Harry. Without answers from the source, Sirius turns to Harry's previous guardians--Molly and Arthur Weasley--and learns Harry is still making adjustments from his time with the Dursley's.
Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, Hermione, Ron
Relationships: Sirius/Remus; Hermione/Ron; Remus & Harry; Sirius & Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma; PTSD
Tags: hurt/comfort; coparenting; Harry lived in the Burrow for several years with the Weasleys before moving to 12 Grimmauld Place;
*complete*
Two Things by TheDivineComedian
Plot: Harry is only four years old and the Dursleys are already mean.
Characters: Harry, Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, imaginary Lily, imaginary James
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
*complete*
How to be happy by TheDivineComedian
Plot: The Patronus charm requires a happy memory. Harry Potter doesn't have many, and the Dementors get Sirius, after all. But the story is far from over.
Characters: Harry, Remus, Sirius, Ron, Hermione
Relationships: Harry & Sirius; Harry & Remus; Remus & Sirius
Warnings: major character death; implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: creepy; heartwarming; dementors; Hogwarts third year
My Notes: this one is a fucking doozy good lord (the tags say heartwarming but w h e r e)
*complete*
Knowledge is a Rose by Magi_Silverwolf
Plot: When Harry discovered that he had a name, he clung to that information and all that it entailed. After learning more information about his past, nothing and everything changed.
Characters: Harry
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; physical abuse; verbal abuse; mental abuse
Tags: emotional hurt; identity issues
*complete*
No Love for the Wicked by VigilanteVampire4311
Plot: Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived. The Golden Boy. The Chosen One. But it turns out when you run head first into an unknown magical artifact and end up in a void, none of that matters. Now he's in a different time with familiar strangers who just can't seem to understand the new transfer student, Harrison Miller. With a Defense teacher he can't let his guard down for a second around, the Marauders hounding the 'mysterious' new Slytherin, and his housemates who cannot fathom a muggleborn being among them, Harry has to wonder whether fate hates him or if he is really a trouble-making freak like the Dursleys always said.
Characters: Harry, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, Snape, Tom Riddle, Pomfrey
Relationships: Harry & James; Harry & Lily; Sirius & Harry; Remus & Harry; Regulus & Harry; Harry & Tom Riddle; Pomfrey & Harry
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; implied/referenced child abuse; possessive behavior; depression; non-consensual touching
Tags: The Veil; Slytherin Harry; Marauders are kinda assholes; Tom Riddle is not Voldemort yet; Severus is so done; alternate universe; angst; hurt/comfort; bullying; time travel; Marauders Era
My Notes: so far with 7 chapters in, we haven’t yet gotten to Harry interacting with anyone from the past but it’s still written really well
*incomplete* [last updated September 2021]
The snake in the daffodils by SpicyReyes *favorite*
Plot: Harry follows Sirius through the Veil of Death, and stumbles out on the other side of the Mirror of Erised, under a strange spell and stranded in an unfamiliar Hogwarts.
Characters: Harry, Remus, Regulus, Harry, Ron, James, Lily, Sirius
Relationships: Regulus/James; Sirius/Remus; Draco/Harry
Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; discussions of suicide; discussions of self-harm; suicidal ideation; implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: universe jumping; Hogwarts fifth year; misunderstandings; miscommunication; basically everyone thinks harry wants to die but he is actually just hella confused
My Notes: so, so good! And if you like this one I recommend The Devil’s White Knight which is really similar in concept
*incomplete* [last updated 2020]
been waiting a lifetime (to be with you) by justprompts
Plot: The next time he woke, Potter was shaking him awake. Just, just not the right one. He had hazel eyes for one, and class. This was not Harry Potter. This was - Well, he had just woken up and who accepts the delightfully altering time-related facts of life right as they wake up?
Characters: Harry, Dumbledore; Peter Pettigrew; Prewett Twins; Marlene McKinnon; Sirius; Remus; Lily; James; Draco; Alice & Frank Longbottom; Regulus; Draco
Relationships: Draco/Harry; James/Lily; Sirius/Remus; Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadows; Alice/Frank Longbottom; Regulus & Sirius; Regulus & Draco
Tags: time travel fix-it; Marauders Era; Horcrux hunting; everyone lives/nobody dies; master of death Harry; light-hearted; POV multiple; Harry doesn’t need to be dark/evil to be master of death; irregular and slow updates; mutual pining
*incomplete* [last updated May 2021]
The Gospel Truth by twentysevensummers
Plot: When Harry arrives at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with a black eye, he has more trouble than expected keeping the truth from Sirius.
Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus
Relationships: Sirius & Harry
Warnings: referenced/implied child abuse; child neglect
Tags: book 5; hurt/comfort; angst; Harry needs a hug; good godparent Sirius Black; number 12 grimmauld place
*complete*
o children, lift up your voice by orphan_account
Plot: "i don't know if they could've put a flap in the door of the cupboard, now that i think about it," harry laughs nervously. "dunno if it would've fit onto it. since it's smaller than the bedroom door." hermione and ron's heads both shoot up. "what?" ron asks. "excuse me?" hermione says.
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione
Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: friendship; slight canon divergence; character study; second war with Voldemort; physical affection; lots of hugs
My Notes: this one is so good and if you can get past the fact that the author doesn’t capitalize anything, you’re good to go (although it was difficult to get past that at first for myself)
*complete*
Muggle Management by LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat
Plot: What happens if Hermione notices signs of abuse in Harry during first year? The Wizarding World may not have laws against it, but the Muggle World certainly does...
Characters: Harry, Hermione, Mrs Granger, Mr. Granger
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: family
*complete*
Harry Potter & Other Fandoms
Masked Men and Where to Find Them by tinyrose65
Fandoms: Harry Potter & Daredevil & MCU
Plot: Harry Potter moved to Hell's Kitchen because she wanted a fresh start: time away from the spotlight, where she could focus on being the best Healer she could be. Trust the unconscious man in her dumpster to go and complicate things.
Characters: Harry, Matt Murdock
Relationships: Harry/Matt; past Harry/Draco
Warnings: past domestic abuse; implied/referenced child abuse
Tags: female!Harry
My Notes: this is the first in a series and the second one is also incomplete but they’re both very good and the second one has Jessica Jones!
*incomplete* [last updated 2016]
Magic and Masks by Akoia
Fandoms: Harry Potter & DC Comics
Plot: Harry Potter is anything but normal, thank you very much, he just didn't hold such nonsense as that. Follow him on his adventures through the Wizarding world and muggle world as he struggles to understand who he is, and fight the destiny that's been chosen for him.
Characters: Harry; Dick Grayson; Jason Todd; Bruce Wayne; Alfred Pennyworth; the Dursleys
Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; canon typical violence
Tags: fluff and angst
My Notes: this is a series with six parts!
*incomplete* [last updated 2020]
Modern Family
Breaking & Entering: (The Start Of) A Love Story by dollsome
Plot: "Oh my God," Mitchell says, "this is insane." It is, for the record. It is actually ... insane.
Characters: Mitchell, Cameron
Relationships: Mitchell Pritchett/Cameron Tucker
Warnings: none
Tags: none
*completed*
#harry potter#hogwarts#harry james potter#fanfic recs#my posts#fanfiction#fanfiction recommendations#fic recs#the marauders#modern family#the golden trio#drarry#wolfstar#dc comics#batman#daredevil#marvel#mcu#my recs
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The Howling of Wolves pt.1/3
Summary: After wintering with the witchers at Kaer Morhen, Geralt and Jaskier are back on the road. Only it appears someone has taken notice of Geralt's strange string of companions. Jaskier finds himself in trouble and it's up to the wolf pack to save him before it's too late.
TW for the whole story: Angst with happy ending, kidnapping, mentioned previous child abuse, mentioned torture (but off page), Major character injury and recovery, canon typical violence
Previous Stories - Shifter!Jask AU
Jaskier was bored. Geralt had gone out to hunt a werewolf and Jaskier hadn’t really felt like joining him. He found hunts for werewolves a little too close to home but he understood why Geralt was asked to hunt them. Werewolves were very rarely in control of themselves when they turned. They became overwhelmed with bloodlust and rage when they got too close to humans.
Still.
Jaskier couldn’t help but feel sorry for those he viewed as a sort of cousin. Geralt tried his best to cure the werewolves of their lycanthropy when they wanted it, and he would avoid killing them at all costs. Jaskier had been thrilled to learn this had been the case even before Geralt had met Jaskier.
Jaskier smiled soppily at the thought of his friend and lover as he adjusted the peg on his lute. One of the strings had snapped the night before whilst he’d been playing and left him with a rather nasty slice to his palm. Luckily he healed faster than your average human so the wound hadn’t bothered him all that much but changing his lute strings was always a fiddly inconvenience.
He sighed as he plucked the string, testing it against the others until he was satisfied that it was all tuned correctly. He strummed the strings one last time to check the intervals between the notes. The chord rang out in the small tavern room that he shared with Geralt. He smiled and then dampened the sound with the palm of his hand and put his lute away.
The good people of this settlement only knew Jaskier as the bard that travelled with Geralt. They hadn’t yet met Mister Fuzzball or Dandelion the dog so Jaskier had played a set before and after his dinner and then retired to his room after the string had snapped. He had hoped that Geralt would have returned at some point during the night but he’d woken up just as alone as he had the night before.
“Stupid witcher.” He grumbled to himself. “Should have left with Lambert or Eskel. Serves him right for taking too long.”
He sighed.
That wasn’t fair. He knew it wasn’t but it was easier to be grumpy at Geralt than to consider the fact that his partner had been injured whilst he wasn’t there to help.
That and he was lonely.
After a whole three months of being hauled up at Kaer Morhen with a whole pack of witchers and not a moment alone, he was finding the silence disturbing, and he missed the others.
At least he still had Geralt. The silver-haired witcher and love of his life didn’t appear to be getting sick of him yet which was, in itself, nothing short of a miracle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d anyone who’d stuck around for so long. Apart from maybe his nurse as a child, but then his parents had been paying Lila so did she really count?
He frowned.
Of course she counted. She’d been his only friend in that godforsaken castle. He was just being sad and dramatic.
“Right. Breakfast.” He muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, Jask. Stop moping about.”
And maybe Geralt would be waiting for him downstairs.
That thought put a smile on his face so he pulled on his shimmering turquoise doublet and made a half-hearted attempted to do it up before heading downstairs. He took the steps two at a time, not caring that he was only setting himself up for disappointment. He had hope and he was clinging onto it like a dog with a bone, and he would know about that.
He’d never quite understood the bone cravings he had when he was a dog but like most things about his animal forms, he didn’t really question it.
He stopped, frozen solid, when he reached the bottom step and his eyes spotted a familiar figure in the corner.
Geralt.
With a coppery coloured ferret sat on the table in front of him.
Jaskier gaped at the sight. That imposter didn’t even look anything like him!! Geralt was seemingly talking to the ferret and was so focussed on the creature that he didn’t notice Jaskier sneaking around the outside of the room until he could hear what his witcher was saying.
“Would you stop biting me?” Geralt rolled his eyes and poked the ferret on his head between the ears.
Jaskier. Was. Offended!
Yes the slithering bastard had blue eyes which was strange in normal ferrets but that didn’t look anything like his ferret form!
He snorted and crossed his arms.
The sound finally drew the attention of Geralt who stared at him with a furrowed brow and then looked back at the ferret on the table.
“You’re not Jaskier.” He said rather bluntly to the ferret.
It chattered and bit Geralt’s hand, enough to draw blood.
“Shit.” Geralt cursed and pulled his hand away sharply before picking the creature up by the scruff of its neck and dumping it on the floor.
Jaskier tilted his head at his partner and smirked. “Hello Geralt.”
Geralt swore again and pressed his palm to his forehead. “Jaskier.”
Jaskier licked his lips and flicked his fringe from his eyes. At least Geralt had the decency to look ashamed of his mistake. “Making friends are we?” He let out a peal of laughter as the absurdity of the situation of the situation hit him.
“Shut up.” Geralt grumbled and stared unrelentingly at his drink.
Jaskier grinned and slid down onto the bench next to Geralt. He leant against the witcher and pulled the drink away from him.
“Get your own.” Geralt tried to pull it back and ale slopped over the edge of the tankard.
“Oi!” Jaskier shook his hands, droplets flying onto the table, then he grinned and smeared the ale down Geralt’s face.
“Jaskier!” Geralt growled.
Jaskier pouted and kissed Geralt’s cheek. “Yes, dearest?”
“Fuck off.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.” He mimicked his partner’s gruff voice and then patted the witcher on the shoulder. “You, sir, are just grumpy because I caught you talking to a ferret, which, I might add, looked nothing like me.”
“He was brown and had blue eyes. It looked exactly like you.” Geralt snapped.
Jaskier smirked and cupped his witcher’s face. “I’m sorry for laughing, love, but you have to admit it is amusing.”
Geralt’s frown softened and his leant into Jaskier’s touch. “Just don’t tell Lambert.” He mumbled.
Jaskier pressed his lips to Geralt’s forehead and grinned. “No promises!” He jumped and ran from the tavern before Geralt could catch him.
“Jaskier!” He heard Geralt’s shout from behind him.
He laughed gaily as he ran from the witcher. He wasn’t in any serious danger from Geralt, that would be ridiculous but Geralt was not above wrestling him to the ground and tickling him.
And he was fucking ticklish.
Of course, if he’d stayed put in then Geralt probably wouldn’t have acted. Around other people he still acted like the stoic witcher that everyone else seemed to think he was. Jaskier scoffed. Perhaps it was because of his animal side but Geralt had always been more than that to Jaskier. He’d been so desperate for the soft affection from the cat he’d met on the fence and allowed Jaskier to travel with him for weeks as a variety of animals. Geralt had been aching for companionship.
How anyone could think he was an unfeeling monster was beyond Jaskier, then again people would think he was a monster too if they knew what he really was.
There was a sharp pain in his neck and Jaskier reached up with his hand. HIs finger tips brushed against a feather. He pulled at the dart and peered at it carefully.
“Fuck.” He grumbled and tried to shift but he couldn’t. His magic was trapped. “Oh no, no no no.” He closed his eyes and tried harder but it was useless. He was useless and his muscles were getting heavier. “Geralt!” He called but his voice was weak already.
He stumbled and fell against a tree. It would be ok. Geralt would chase him, he always did. Even if Jaskier fell unconscious then he wouldn’t be taken. Geralt would make sure of it.
“Geralt…” He mumbled as his vision started to darken around the edges. He hugged the tree as he knees buckled. Whatever was in the dart was acting quickly, the effect it had on his magic was troubling. Whoever was attacking him knew.
“Bollocks.” He slurred as he fell to the ground.
_________
Geralt snarled at the human in front of him. No sooner had Jaskier taken off than Geralt had been cornered by a snivelling scholar who was begging him to take a contract. Geralt had tried to decline politely, or at very least postpone until he could get Jaskier back. He knew the shifter would be wondering where he was, he always followed Jaskier when he ran off like this. It was a sort of game, Jaskier liked to lure Geralt into the light especially when he was being moody and Geralt had a habit of forgetting how to enjoy himself.
He was getting better at that with Jaskier’s help.
“Please, witcher.” The man grabbed onto his hand.
Geralt pulled away with more force than necessary. “I said no. Now excuse me, I have to find my bard.”
To Geralt’s surprise the man laughed. “Oh you won’t find him.”
Geralt spun round and glared at the man who was no longer a snivelling mess. He’d straighten up and was now smiling a sinister grin that made Geralt’s blood run cold.
“What the fuck?” He looked back at the door. “Fuck! Jaskier!” He ignored the man in favour for charging after his partner, but sure enough Jaskier was nowhere to be seen.
Geralt focused his senses to search for Jaskier’s footsteps running away from the tavern. Geralt pulled his sword from its scabbard and followed the light-footed prints in the dirt until something else drew his attention. There was a bright blue and green feather on the floor by the edge of the trees and he caught a whiff of Jaskier’s chamomile scent pressed against the bark. He sniffed again to be sure. He could almost see Jaskier’s form pressed up against the tree, on the floor were scuff marks around the feather. Something, or someone, had been dragged. The feather had almost been buried in the dirt.
Geralt reached down to pick it up, the tip was glistening and had been coated in some kind of poison.
“Fuck.” Geralt said again. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Geralt asked Jaskier as if he were still here. “Unless the poison stopped you from shifting…” He considered, “but no one else knows.”
“That’s where you’re wrong witcher.” The man from before laughed and Geralt saw red.
He had the man pressed against the tree and his sword to his throat before the man could even blink. “What have you done with him?” Geralt growled. “I swear to all the gods, if you’ve hurt him.”
“Not I.”
Geralt pushed the blade harder against the man’s neck until a bead of blood oozed under the edge of his sword. “I would be very careful about your next words.”
“Your bard got careless, witcher.” The man mumbled. He didn’t even smell of fear which was not a good sign.
Geralt stayed silent and narrowed his eyes at the man.
“We’ve been trying to find him for years but there wasn’t a trace. Changing his name was clever, but recently there’s been reports of a witcher that sometimes travels with a cat, sometimes with a dog that can turn into a wolf, mutant witcher dogs?” The man scoffed. “Does anyone actually buy that shit?”
“Don’t change the subject.” Geralt growled.
“And sometimes you travel with a bard.” The man finished with a serene smile. “Young Julian always did love poetry and music.”
Geralt scowled. “Julian?”
The man laughed. “He never told you his true name? Oh and I thought he cared.”
Geralt snapped. His blade slashed and blood splattered and the man crumpled to the ground.
“Fuck!”
_____
Next
#the witcher#geraskier#geraskier fanfiction#geralt of rivia#jaskier pankratz#shapeshifter!jaskier#the howling of wolves#angst alert#proceed with caution#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#shifter!jaskier#wolfie's witcher writing#shifter au
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The Secrets we Share
Part one
This is the second and (for now) final part to this AU.
11527 words. Enjoy
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737908/chapters/56487616#workskin
___________________________________________________________
Marinette pulls back from the kiss first, gazing lovingly at Damian. “I love you, sorry again for overreacting”
“We both have weaknesses, but we have all the time to help each other” Damian kisses her forehead, taking her bag to her room. Marinette only hums in response.
Marinette couldn't believe the changes in her life in just one week. Master Fu had passed, she was the new supreme Guardian; her parents were proud of her, and she hoped her mother understood when she told them about the wedding. She was raised within the temple's traditions after all, but she had also raised her to carve her own path despite Fu’s desire to raise her as the next supreme.
Marinette froze for a moment, watching Damian move around her apartment with ease, grinning wildly at the thought of this becoming her everyday life. Her and Damian together, best friends and partners. Partners. Marinette focusses on that word. She thinks about her days as a vigilante. It had been two years since she had last transformed with Tiki, since she had last doned the monacer of Ladybug and assisted others. She feels something bubble up in her chest that almost matches the excitement of her future with Damian. She could become ladybug once again.
Damina glances behind him to Marinette relaxing to the sight of her smile. She was his retreat from everything crazy and stressful in his life. No matter what happens in the field or on missions, he would always have her to return to. Her smile, her joy, and her kindness will always be there for him.
“Hey Chéri, I should let you know that we have just one more thing in common” Marinette is still grinning wildly, coming forward to join their hand together.
“What is that Habibti?” Damian finds himself caught up in her excitement.
“I used to be a vigilante as well, and I had to quit when I moved here for school, didn’t want to step on any toes, but now I can help again, this is wonderful”
Damian stiffins, varying images of all the terrible things that could happen to Marinette flying though his mind before settling on Barbra in a wheelchair. His grip tightens his breathing labored.
“Marinette I-” She simply cups his face, eyes shining in understanding.
“Because Tikki is effectively immortal, that trait is shared with me when I am transformed with her. There is nothing to worry about.”
“Tikki?” As if responding to the name, the same small red fairy-like creature flies up to his face, almost causing him to go cross eyed.
“There is nothing to worry about Damian. If anything, Marinette would be better protected than you.”
“How does that work?” Marinette had moved them back to the couch, continuing to smile as though Damian was not in the middle of a panic attack thinking about how she could die horribly. He would love to have her beside him at all times, but maybe not all the time.
Tikki only grins at him. Damian looks to Marinette to see the grin reflected on her face. They did not see the issue here. Marinette could not be in the field. She must have done community service or something. There is no way his Habibti fought crime as a teenager, right?
“Because I am immortal, unless something were to happen to my earrings, which would be very challenging to manage mind you, when I share my powers with another that trait is shared with them as well.”
Damian is still struggling to grasp the calming logic of her statements. “Even if she can’t die she could still be seriously hurt '' Damian doesn't want to be overprotective, but he's going to be overprotective.
Tikki only shakes her head, the movement soft. “I absorb any damage she takes, for life threatening injuries however, i can only absorb so much,” Damian stops breathing all together, “so she would be left with anything from a bruise to a laceration.”
“Nothing a first aid kit can’t handle.” Marinette appears at his side, handing him a mug of tea. When had she moved and made tea?
“But you could still be-” He starts to argue, but Marinette's change in tone causes him pause to hear her out.
“Damian, I have been shot on three different occasions, here, here, and here.” She points to her hip, head and finally her heart. Damian followed each movement of her finger with fascinated horror. “I was only left with a bruise for each of them, I will be ok.”
They have a stare off for what feels like hours, Damian can see another creature join the huddle on the couch, but keeps his focus on Marinette. Her eyes aren’t hard, instead they are understanding but she won't back down from this. “I also have healing magic, for the next time you get hurt”
“I don’t get hurt” Damian tries to say with an air of pride, but even to his ears he can hear the weakness of the lie.
“Yes you do, mister I got shot and didn’t say anything” Marinette gives him a pointed look, before giggling at Damian's crestfallen face.
“How did you know?”
“Oh please, I have been training with magic since I could walk, specifically that healing magic” She says with a wave of her hand. He closes his eyes, taking multiple deep breaths.
What are the facts of the situation he has control over? Marinette knows magic. Marinette can bond with an immortal being effectively making her immortal while bonded. Marinette has been shot before. Marinette is here. Marinette had been a vigilante. Marinette had been a good vigilante. Nobody as far as he knew had heard of any such thing from Paris. Marinette is going to be his partner in everything. Everything. Damian opens his eyes to her sky blue ones, relaxing once again into their depths.
“Ok, but we start slow, I need time to adjust.” She just smiles softly at him, rubbing her hand along his shoulder.
“Of course Chéri, it's only fair,” Damian relaxes some more, thankful at her cooperation. “You don't know how amazing I am as a vigilante yet” Damian scowls at her, eyes darkening in that competitive way they always do when Marinette goads him on.
“Is that so” He grins wickedly, carefully placing both of their cups on the coffee table. She eyes him with excited trepidation, waiting for Damian to strike. He glances behind her, tilting his head in confusion, and strikes when she also starts to turn back.
“Are you as good as you say if you fall for such an easy trick?” He teases while he tickles her, proud at the belly laughs he is eliciting from her.
“Stop Dami, stop” She squeals, trying desperately to put distance between them, her breaths short and joy filled.
“I dont think I’m ready to”
“Dami!” She laughs out, soft pawing at his face, tears of joy mixing with the tear tracks from earlier. With that Final plea, he stops kissing her quickly and gently. He doesn’t need her passing out from lack of oxygen after all. She simply pulls him down into a cuddle, humming contently. Pulling each other close, their warmth mixes together, making for a comfortable nap inducing environment, but both know they can’t take a nap, not yet after all.
Damian glances over to see Tikki and the other one, sitting cheerfully on the window sill, observing the city streets below.
“What,” Damian starts to ask Marinette then thinks better of it, after all they were clearly sentient beings capable of holding a conversation.
“What exactly are you?” He sits up, facing each of the small beings. They glance between each other before coming over to sit on the coffee table.
“We are called kwami, but to be exact we are the personification of certain ideals or desires.” The small horse looking one answers, licking away at a sugar cube.
Damian glances to Marinette for clarification. They did answer his question but it left him blind to certain details that Marinette is sure to have. However Tikki is the one to answer his unasked inquiry.
“We should start at the beginning, as we do with all newcomers to the Order,” Tikki sends a pointed look to Kaalki, who just rolls her eyes before focusing on her meal.
“There was a woman named Tikki who lived in China during the Xia dynasty. She learned of magic through travelers and taught herself the most powerful form of magic at the time, creation magic. She loved to create new things, especially things to help others.”
“While she was traveling her older sister fell ill to what was an incurable disease at the time.” Marinette laughs softly into her hand as Damian leans forward, grasping his hands in front of his face in total concentration on Tikki’s history lesson.
“She quickly switched her focus to healing magic, desperate to save her sister's life. During her quest she experimented with imbedding jewelry with healing effects to stop or even just slow the effects of the sickness.”
Tikki leaves the coffee table to continue her story next to Marinette's earrings, touching them softly. “Because of her love to create, her love for her sister, and her desire to heal I was brought into consciousness, a part of her soul, so to speak, being imbedded into the earrings.”
“I became everything she desired and held dear. I can create as well as heal and was the first miraculous created.”
“Do you share her memories?”
“No, I am simply a personification of her will.”
“Is that why you are immortal, you are neither alive or dead?” Marinette is impressed that Damian was able to grasp that truth so quickly.
“Exactly.”
“What happened after?” He is not so much as eager to learn what happened, but rather gain the knowledge necessary to join this world of Marinettes.
“She returned home just as the sickness was taking its final hold, we worked together to heal her, becoming Hóng fūrén.”
“Did she create the rest of the miraculous?”
“No,” Kaalki answers him this time, having finished her sugar cube she settles in on Marinette's other shoulder. “When other magicians learned of what she created, they traveled to her, eager to learn her secrets.”
“The first was a man by the name of Plagg, who had lost a loved one to the same sickness that almost took Tikki’s sister. He had heard of her miracle and hoped that she could return his loved one to him.”
“I hear a but in there,”
“Bringing people back from the dead will always have consequences, as you know” Tikki says gravely, her stare is filled both with pity and resentment. He doesn’t think that the last one is aimed at him however. Marinette stiffins.
“Damian-”
“We can talk about that later,” She doesn’t look reassured, but nods in acceptance, “Thank you, please continue” Damian reaches up to rub his chest where the sword pierced. There was no scar, but the memory of the pain was enough for Damian.
“Even though they could not help him in his original request, he still desired to learn her new way of magic as well. He then created the ring of destruction, his desire to rid the world of the illness being his main driving force.”
“Each of the Miraculous were created by different magicians and added to the collection. Tikki and Plagg went on to be the founders of the order, seeking to use their magic to help everyone around them.”
“What caused them to hide from the world?”
“A traitor by the name of Jin Yong. He had been unsuccessful in creating anything, much less a Miraculous. He attempted to steal all of them for himself, and killed Plagg in the process.” Marinette always hated this part of the story.
“By this time Tikki and Plagg had married, and started a family. In her rage, she wielded both the creation and destruction Miraculous. Jin yong was quickly dealt with but her rage still needed an outlet.”
“She unleashed such raw magical power, that she carved up the nearby mountain range. The other magicians feared her, quick to submit themselves to her, and follow any order she had to give. She then declared that from thereforth, all Miraculous would be kept in a box, and named herself as Supreme Guardian, who is the only person capable of opening the box.”
"She then traveled as far west as she could before stopping in what is now Tibet. There she built the temple and erased all traces of the miraculous from the world.”
Marinette plays with her fingers, small tears gathering. Damian rubs small circles in her back, quietly processing what he just heard. That much raw power in the wrong hands could be disastrous.
“Marinette, is announcing the Order to the world the wisest idea?” He was trying to be gentle, but the idea of being incapable of fighting against such a threat scared him.
“Yes, Supreme Guardian Tikki also placed a spell over all the miraculous. As long as I know who holds the Miraculous I can order it back to the box. Stealing one is difficult but not impossible. It has happened before.”
“Damian,” Kaalki draws his attention away, “ Not every Miraculous can manage that kind of power. Not every person can handle that kind of power. Tikki only could because she had created the Miraculous, her bonding with it being much more intimate than can be managed today.”
Damian frowns in confusion, “So how does this whole bonding thing work anyway?”
Marinette seems to brighten a little, quick to answer him, “The longer you wear a miraculous the stronger the shared magic between Kwami and human become. You also have to physically fit, spiritually sound and mentally strong to even transform with a Kwami. Anyone can wear a miraculous, but not everyone can wield one.”
“That makes me feel a little better.”
She giggles softly, sipping her tea softly. Tikki and Kaalki had moved from her shoulders now sitting softly in her lap. Marinette seems to be working herself up to say something, so he waits patiently for her to collect herself.
“We have had this power that could be shared with the world for centuries, just sitting there in cowardice for what may or may not happen. When Plagg first convinced me to transform with him and take a run on the roof tops, and I stopped a mugging, I knew what I would do with the Order should I end up leading it. I would build a team to help the world.”
She gives Damian a hard stare, “I will help those who need it.” He can’t help but smile at her and berate himself even further. Her heart is too good, kind, and compassionate.
“You will accomplish all those things Marinette. I will help you any way I can.”
“I know. Thank you Damian” Marinette feels a peace within her soul. The Order could look down on a Supreme being in a relationship all they want. She would not be as strong without Damian at her side.
“So why have I never heard of vigilantes in Paris?” Marinette at least has the gall to look embarrassed.
“As a part of my training, I would bond with a different miraculous every two weeks. When Plagg talked me into transforming and testing my powers in Paris, instead of at the temple, I loved the rush from pouncing on people and surprising them. Because I had a new look every few weeks, no one ever made the connection.”
“And then she had to start getting her friends in on it too,” Tikki chimes in in exasperation. “It was hard enough keeping her nightly adventures a secret, but adding more people to the mix every few months was getting challenging.”
“And yet I built myself a good team” Marinette huffs. They went on to bicker about Marinette's youth. Damian can’t help but dread that this would also now be a part of his new life. Kwami everywhere all the time. It would definitely take some adjusting. Damian frowns at his now vibrating phone, the caller ID confusing him even more. Standing he distances himself from the others, not wanting to disturb them with his call.
“What is it Brown?” She only ever called him when there was a daytime emergency.
“Damian you need to talk to Tim, this isn't ok.”
“I don't need to do anything you say” Damian feels his good mood souring quickly.
“No, Tim is a wreck. You haven't talked to anyone for days.”
“Who I choose to speak to is none of your concern.” Stephanie tries to interrupt him but Damian speaks over her, “I am not responsible for how Drake is feeling”
“You men and hating to talk things out” She snaps, Damian only rolls his eyes, after all just what had he and Marinette been doing for the last hour?
“There is nothing for us to talk about. He has apologized but the fact of the matter is he doesn't trust me, therefore there is no reason to speak until that is repaired first” Damian clenches his fist at admitting such a thing to Stephanie of all people.
“Of course he trusts you Damian,”
“If he truly trusted me, then this would not have happened” The silence on the other end is unsettling, Damian can only stand there, waiting for her to say something, but he knows she can’t find a way to refute his claim. “I believe you have no right to speak to me about such matters as well Brown, last I heard you weren’t even on speaking terms with Drake yourself”
“That was a low blow Damian” She growls out before cursing him out and hanging up. Damian trembles, Stephanie reigniting his original anger from the last week. He jumps a little, meeting Marinette's worried gaze.
“Damian?”
“It’s nothing, just Drakes, whatever she is right now, meddling with something she has no right to.” Marinette retakes her seat on the couch. They had talked about themselves, but not how he felt with his family. Clearly it was still unresolved and had led to a lot of stress for all parties.
“Does Tim do things like this often?” She asks so quietly, that Damian almost missed her question, the roaring in his ears grew louder.
“Do what?”
“Investigate people?”
“It is his prefered job. He investigates to find all the information so that we don’t have any blank spots.”
“Then why was his investigation of me bothering you so much? He does it to other people so why can’t he do it to me?” He can tell she is playing devil's advocate, but the question still bothers him. He can feel his anger growing stronger.
“I asked him, and Todd, not to. To meet you like normal people.” She hums, nodding her head slightly in agreement.
“That request does change everything. And why does that feel like a breach of trust to you?” Damian tightens his fists, a headache coming on from his tightened jaw. Marinette runs her thumb over the back of his hand, that's when he notices her breathing steadily. In, out. In, out. Damian starts to match her pace, his body loosening with each exhale.
“They question every choice I make. Always acting like I’m in danger. However only when I make ‘life changing decisions’” Damian states dryly, “any other time they behave as though they do not care for me.” Marinette only nods, he can tell by the look in her eye that she is processing the information, tucking it away.
“I know I can be uncommunicative and impersonal at times,” Marinette offers a small smile, “but I thought that I had made headway in building better relationships with my brothers. Don’t tell them this but I do care for them and have come to enjoy their company”
“This sounds like normal sibling drama then.” Marinette smiles, “No need to be angry. Tim and Jason care too, in their own way. They need to find a different way to show it though, you too mister” She runs her finger down his nose before pecking it quickly.
“I don’t know how to approach them at the moment, but I don’t want to lose them either” Damian confides in her, knowing his vulnerability is safe with her.
“It doesn’t need to be today Damian, a lot has happened already.” She stands pulling him with her. “But it needs to be soon. It becomes harder the longer you wait.”
“I will Habibti, don’t worry. Thank you.”
“You can talk about anything at any time Damian.” She smiles softly one last time before leading them towards the door. “I am hungry, and i think food would help both of us right now”
They enjoyed a peaceful meal, phones set on silent, just the two of them ignoring the outside world of responsibilities until a later time. Damian asked more questions, Marinette asked her own in return. The couple shared everything they hadn't before, finding solace in the fact that they truly understood the others' struggles like no one else could.
The late afternoon sun offered a cozy setting as they returned to Marinette's place, the Kwami glad to be home for free reign once again. And the two of them did what they did best. Separate activities in the same room.
Marinette returned to her dress, as it was still due for completion that week. Family emergency or not, fashion projects are to be completed. Damian returned to his book, quickly reimmersed in it, but even that couldn't hold off the exhaustion that builds when emotional stress is in play. Damian is stirred from sleep, Marinette giggling at him.
“Hey sleepy head, I think you need to go home to get some proper rest” She places a marker in his book, before walking away. Damian lays there for a few moments adjusting to consciousness. He sits up a little too quickly when he notices the time. He is late for patrol.
He jumped off the couch, pulling his jacket on in a panic, cursing softly as he gathered the rest of his things. Maeinette wonders over, concerned.
“Is everything ok? Did something happen?”
“No, nothing like that. I am just late for patrol” Damian pecks her cheek but the touch of her hand stops him at the door.
“Is that a good idea? You seem really tired.” He kisses her once more, less rushed this time.
“I will be ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, promise” Marinette hugs him tightly before finally letting him leave. She stands at the door for a moment, before turning back to her dress. Damian would be ok, she could feel it. Her gut was almost never wrong anymore, Marinette frowns at her embroidery, almost.
Tonight was not a good night. Damian scowls into the streets below. The coms were unusually silent. When he had signed onto the comms everyone gave him short crisp answers. His father, he could understand, but Todd and Drake refused to talk to him, and after the fuss Stephanie made, he expected Drake to be grovelling once again.
“Boys, we got trouble down by the docks, looks like Penguin is making a move.” Oracle informs. Each gave a confirmation before launching to the docks. Damian moved quickly, the thought of Marinette waiting for him at the forefront of his mind more than ever.
“Robin and Red Hood, come in from the north. Red Robin and I will come in from the west.” Batman orders before going silent once again. Damian is almost to the docks when Red Hood comes up on his right, their paths converging into one.
“Robin, she got back today right? Did everything go alright?” Damian is caught off guard by his question and almost missteps off the roof. He opens his mouth to respond like he always had when they try to pry, but Marinette's words from that afternoon cause him pause. He needs to find a different way to show that he does care for his brothers. What better way to start then being more open about his life.
“It went well.”
Now it was Jason's turn to be surprised. Damian was not one to willingly give information on his personal life. It took poking and prodding with the figurative crowbar to even get him to open his mouth, and even that didn’t always guarantee you'll get what you wanted out of him.
“That's good to hear.” He could practically feel the tension drain from the coms, Babs mutters a small praise and he winces. He knew they could feel the tension, he felt bad that Babs could as well. “Sorry Oracle”
“Refocus, now that that is out of the way, and then you can talk more.”
“Yes Ma’am”
Damian scowls as the distant sound of sirens grows louder. Just what they didn’t need. “Red Robin and I have converged on the smugglers. Some are trying to escape your way, be ready.”
The boys move faster to intercept before the police arrive. Damian swings down, landing harder than intended on the pavement, bringing five men to an abrupt stop. They are all dressed in beanies and black clothes. A few have traditional guns while the others have spearguns guns.
“Evening boys, would you mind dropping the weapons and surrendering peacefully?” Red Hood saunters in from the rear, catching all the cornered men off guard. With a grunt, they all start to pull their guns.
Without further words, the boys attack first, subduing the ones with the spearguns first, fearing the nasty wound that could leave more than that of a regular gun. After all, they have dealt with those before. One of the men, after losing his gun, tried to fare in hand to hand combat, Damian simply tripped him, knocking him out cold with an elbow to the throat. Damian turns around to find himself at the end of a gun, and no time to move.
Red Hood bashes the man in the back of the head with his gun, simply nodding at Damian, who could only sigh in relief. It wasn’t the first time he had been in that sort of situation since meeting Marinette, where all he could think about was how upset and angry she would be to learn how he died. Now that she knew, he wondered if she would be angrier or just heartbroken.
Red Hood walks over, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. “Not yet Robin, you have plenty of time ahead of you.” Damian glances at him with narrowed eyes, he can feel his mask constrict with the movement. How had he managed to glare 24/7 when he was younger?
They boys turn at the sound of their family landing behind them. Red Robin fidgets next to the bat, their difference in height would have made it comical if not for the seriousness of the situation. Damian simply nods to him, sending a small smile his way. That was more than enough to show the young man that the blood between them had been cleared. He relaxed immediately, offering his own smirk in return.
Bruce watched the interaction, glad that the boys had made up in their own way, but couldn’t help the roll of his eyes at the dramatics of it all. But it's your fault that they are terrible at these things his subconscious whispers to him. Bruce scowled at the intrusive thought, his pride making it difficult to admit fault.
“The police have already started inventory on the unit of drugs they were trying to move into the city. Pick up will be here shortly, Robin come with me to oversee processing of evidence.” Both men set off, Father and Son into the night.
Batman turns off his comm unit, motioning for Robin to do the same. While Damian’s relationship with Bruce hasn't always been the smoothest, they have both tried. Damian tried to be everything he valued in his Father, and Bruce tried to emulate the things Damian thought of as important. Unfortunately for both of them, that did not include expressing emotions or confrontation into personal issues as priority.
“I look forward to meeting her.” Damian rolls his eyes at the attempt for normal father son bonding conversations. They had never been Bruce's forte, but he refused to cease the attempts. “She must be a wonderful woman.”
“Wonderful because she caught my attention?”
“Wonderful because she brings out the best in you.” Bruce smiles, knowing Damian was testing his responses. He may not be the best at conventional relationships, but he picked up a thing or two from Alfred over the years.
Damian is caught off guard at the response. “The best in me?”
“She must have said something today or performed an action in the past to influence your earlier behavior with your brothers” Damian thinks over his words, realizing the truth within the statement. He grins before voicing his next thought.
“If she has held such an influence over me for so long, you must be slacking in your abilities, old man” Bruce simply raises his brow, a trade mark look if anyone who knows Batman were to give him one.
“Maybe” And with that the conversation comes to an end for now, as he turns the comms back on, meeting the commissioner behind the taped off scene. Robin shadows Batman, a working system for the last few years now. Damian however is processing the day while observing the hustle and bustle of the crime scene. Once everything is settled and they are retiring for the night at the cave, suits locked up and equipment put away, Damian sends a small wave to his family before heading back to the city.
His brain battles with itself before he finally crashes onto his bed, sleep over taking him. The night was a normal one, with the regular adrenaline. No matter how hard he tried to rethink about his afternoon, his body needed to rejuvenate itself. Thinking could wait, recharge could not.
It is well past twelve when he finally awakens, a small headache at the front of his head. He checks his phone to find a text from Bruce, asking if they would be coming to dinner at the Manor. It was Dicks last night in town before returning to Jump City.
Damian ended up staring at his phone for over five minutes. Finally he placed a call, hoping she was available. He chuckles as she picks up the phone, her frantic yelps coming over the line.
“Damian finally! Are you ok?”
“Yes Marinette, I am fine.” He laughs.
“Thank goodness, what's up?”
“Would you be available for dinner at the manor tonight?”
“Of course! What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at three-thirty. We usually eat around four.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you soon! Love you!” Before she hangs up he hears her call for Tikki, claiming a need for her opinion on outfits. Laughing one last time, he responds to his father's text before rising to get ready.
Now that things were mostly patched with Tim and Jason, dinner wasn’t looking to be an uncomfortable affair. He was however still apprehensive to introduce her to his family. But, if she could handle his past confessions, then she could probably handle his family just fine. If she could handle leading a whole organization at twenty-two, she could handle his family.
After a quick walk for Titus, and running a quick errand, it was finally time to pick up Marinette. As he approaches her building once more, she waits on the sidewalk, eyes peeled for his car. Her face lights up as she spots him, her hair cascading gently around her face, framing her freckles and eyes perfectly.
“Hey there handsome, did you have a good night?” With the click of her seat belt, Damian returns to the line of cars eager to leave the city.
“We managed to intercept a shipment of new drugs Penguin was trying to introduce to the city. Not a standard night but not a new scenario” Damian shrugs, not finding it as weird to talk casually about his nightly activities as he thought it would be.
Marinette nods, giving him a weak smile, “That is relieving to hear, I was worried for you”
“I assume that is going to be a standard for us now” Damian scowls, thinking once again about all the horrible what-ifs and undesirable futures.
“Yes but i feel like it's not that different from other couples” Marinette reaches over to take his hand, Damian notices she's trembling slightly, but decides not to bring attention to it.
“What do you mean? I believe we are in a unique situation.”
“ Well what about Military, Officers, or any other profession that has a life threatening aspect to it? Any couple apart of those lives worry for safety and health just as much as we are now”
“That is a very true point, however I maintain our uniqueness with that not every couple fights crime as vigilantes together” Damain gives her a quick pointed look before returning his focus to the road.
“And the average couple can be affected by unexpected injuries or death as well,” Marinette continues as though Damian hadn’t spoken, staring out the window as the grey and muted red buildings turn to a forest of green with the ocean peaking through, “No we are not the different after all”
Damian doesn't respond for a moment, his mind focussing between her trembling hand, to her hyperfocus on safety and wellbeing standards in other couples, and finally on the scrunching of her face as though she is trying not to cry.
“Are you trying to reassure me or yourself?” His tone was gentle, and quiet; his brothers would never believe it. Damian no longer had any qualms about having Marinette by his side no matter what. He needed her, just a week of thinking he had lost her, had him in a wreck,. He doesn't know what would happen if he were to actually lose her.
“Myself,” She continues to stare out the window, but she seemed almost calmer now, “The vigilantism aside, we would have a decreased risk of losing each other, but not a nonexistent risk.”
Damian knows that she is processing her thoughts, and smiles to himself, waiting patiently. “I love you Damian, it's painful to think about life without you,”
“Then don’t, don’t focus on the what-ifs, the negative possibilities, or the inevitable future.” Marinette finally looks at him then, eyes narrowed but a smile beginning to form, “Focus on today, that we are together”
“Are you trying to reassure me or yourself?” She parrots, giggling at his unimpressed look. “Empathy is so very interesting, we can so clearly see how to reassure someone else of our own fear but struggle with our own advice”
“Never have more true words been spoken” Damian chuckles, taking her hand in his own, the car settling into silence once more. The calm atmosphere is cracked when Marinette's hands begin to tremble once again.
“Relax, Mari. They will love you”
“Yes but there has been so much drama surrounding myself that I can’t help but be a little more than nervous.” She thinks back to the phone call Damian received yesterday, unsure of how this ‘Brown’ person would receive her.
“No reason to be unless you are truly uncomfortable with everything that happened? You never did tell me how you felt about all that?”
“Oh yea,” Damian scowls. Of course she forgot this had affected her too. Her own privacy to be exact. “Well is everything cleared up between you guys?”
Now it was Damians turn to be uncomfortable. “We haven't talked, but I let them know I was no longer upset.” Damian mumbles, thankful that he is driving so he had a reason not to meet Marinette's eyes.
“Hmm, perhaps I should talk to the boys,”
“Why?”
“Well they did listen to my phone call, that is definitely something we need to discuss” Her tone was off. It was like she was trying to sound serious but sarcasm laced ever syllable as well. If he hadn’t glanced at her just then, he would have missed the smirk, now leaving her lips as she tried to school her expression.
“What are you up too?”
“I am up to nothing Damian. This is a serious conversation.” Yea no, not even Dick would fall for that.
“I trust you will tell me what you really want to talk about with them later.” He wouldn’t pry anymore, but he wasn’t going to drop it either. Marinette only smiles softly at him, reaching her hand to trace his jaw line. The action leaving him distracted and hyper aware at the same time.
“All in good time Love, just trust me on this one.”
“You play dirty” He growls out, grip tightening around the wheel. Again she laughs, repeating her earlier action.
“I know you love me” She teases cheekily, before bringing their conversation away from the topic of family and onto miscellaneous, trivial ones. Damian responds idly, enjoying having her back in his presence. Soon they reach the broad gates of Wayne manor, hidden behind the thick foliage making Marinette feel even more like an outsider.
Damian climbs out of the car, waiting for Marinette to join him at his side. He glances behind him confused when she does not appear. A quick glance shows that she is still in the car, fists clenched as she takes a few deep breaths. Damian waits patiently for her to finish.
When she finally climbs out of the car, her face shows confidence, while the trembling of her hands betray her nerves. Damian’s larger hand swallows her, Damian likes to think he is absorbing her nerves, and the smile she sends his way almost makes him believe that.
“Oh I almost forgot” Damian reaches into his pocket, pulling a small box out. Marinette smiles softly at him before giving her hand to him to accept the ring. It is a simple silver band with one small pink stone embedded in the ring. It was perfect for the seamstress, nothing to snag on the fabric.
“You didn't have to do that Damian”
“You are my fiance and tradition dictates I present you with a ring as a symbol of our status” Marinatte tries not to laugh but fails, breaking down into small giggles.
“Also,” Damian leads her towards the ‘house’ once more, “I want to see how perceptive my family truly is”
They walked inside, the liveliness of the manor there, but muted to the back of the house. The couple start to move to the back only to be halted when Damian is tackled to the ground. Marinette can’t help but gasp as he slides back to the front door.
“Uncle Dami!
Damian carefully sits up, hugging the small girl to his chest. She may only be nine now, but she grew into her tamaranian strength everyday. “Hey there power-pop, stronger than the last time I see.”
The girl giggles, she lifts Damian off the ground, hugging him tightly. “Mom has been training me everyday. I can lift a small car now!” Her eyes are a bright green, alight with an energy that only a child knows.
“Can you now power-pop? Do you mind putting me down, I would like to introduce you to someone.” Damian gasps for breath, rubbing his side. He was bound to have a few bruises by tonight, as he always did after seeing Mar’i. “This is Marinette.”
Marinette watches in temptation as the girl turns her attention to her. Her posture is relaxed, open and friendly. She was well muscled for her age, and probably the tallest as well, standing close to Marinette's shoulders, who was only 5’3’’. Marinette couldn’t help but love the contrast of her vivid green eyes to her midnight hair and sunset skin tone. She would grow to be a beautiful woman.
“Hi I’m Mar’i.” She chirps, bouncing a little as she approaches Marinette for a hug.
“Be gently power-pop, she's not used to your strength.”
“Ok Uncle Dami.” Marinette gasps a little, if this was gentle, she felt bad for whatever kind of hug Damian received.
“It’s nice to meet you too Mar’i you want to hear a secret.” The girl's eyes light up at the question. She nods eagerly, leaning in close.
“My friends call me Mari, just like your name.” Marinette whispers, side eyeing Damian with a smirk. He frowns at her, clearly put off by being out of the loop.
“Really!?”
“Yup, do you think you could help think of another nickname for me?” Marinette continues to whisper.
“I will think really hard! Do you have any superpowers or are you super cool like my dad?” Before Marinette can answer, a man enters behind her standing behind Mar’i with his hands on her shoulders.
“Mar’i what have we said about asking those kinds of questions. Not everyone is Meta or comfortable admitting they are Meta. You are free to talk about yourself, but don’t ask those questions.”
“Sorry Dad, sorry Marinette.”
“To answer your question Mar’i, no I don't have superpowers, but I can perform magic and have magic friends. Would you like to meet them?” Marinette smiles at the girl, relaxing when the excitement returns to her eyes.
“Can I? Where are they?”
Tikki and Kaalki fly out of their hiding places, smiling at the girl as well. She giggles when Mar’i only grows more excited, firing off questions a mile a minute. With a defeated shake of his head, the man holds out his hand to Marinette.
“Dick Grayson, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.” He moves them off to a sitting area beside the entryway.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, likewise. Your daughter is precious, I can’t imagine how much of a handful she must be though.”
“You have no idea,” he chuckles with a glance back at his daughter, “Mar’i Grayson if you want to fly, go outside.”
“Com’on Tikki and Kaalki I want to see how high you can fly!” The adults all show variations of amusement and exasperation at Mar’i’s excitement as she darts out the front door, the kwami close behind.
The adults left in the room jump, the sound of breaking glass and swearing echoing from down the hall. Dick only pinches the bridge of his nose muttering to himself. “I am so thankful I don’t live here anymore”
Damian only shares a look with Marinette, who is already moving down the hall to investigate. He watches as she takes quick glances at the pictures lining the walls, Alfred putting careful attention into each and everyone. Damian wasn’t fond of pictures, but had realized at a young age that they helped recreate the good memories.
The sounds of an argument grow as they come closer to the kitchen. Damian knew what kind of scene awaited him behind the swinging door, Marinette however would be horrified. She was as meticulous in the kitchen as she was with her sewing. She cleaned as she went, and put everything away after it was used. Her kitchen was never left with a blemish, and she almost took his head off the first time he tried to help her cook dinner.
He watched as she pushed open the door, taking in the scene in front of her. Tim stood with his back to her, a handheld broom clenched in his fist as he waved it around to emphasize his words.
Jason stood glaring on the other side of the kitchen island yelling back. Alfred stood off to the side, exasperated at their antics, choosing to continue cooking, leaving the young men to their own devices.
“What has Alfred been teaching you?” Jason shouts, gesturing wildly at the broken glass and pasta sauce splatter from floor to counter to ceiling.
“To cook unlike you, at least I can be in the kitchen by myself without it bursting into flames.”
“Yeah because all you know is how to use the microwave.”
“Says the king of microwavable dinners for one”
“Why you-” Jason stops from leaping over the counter at Tim, his eyes widening at the sight of Marinette standing in the doorway. Tim turns in confusion before also freezing in what could be fear or shock, Damian couldn’t tell.
“Hello Miss Marinette, it is wonderful to meet you after all this time.” Alfred comes over, taking her hand in his own. Marinette smiles at him, his hands are soft, but not as soft as his eyes. If this man was a part of Damian’s family, then she truly had nothing to worry about.
“I feel the same,” Marinette can feel the love he has for his family. Though he continues to age more each year, he continues to serve them with all the care he can give. “I look forward to getting to know you.” Alfread plays with Marinette’s ring, giving her a mischievous smile before turning back to the stove.
The boys still hadn’t moved, they stood defensively, waiting for Marinette to strike. From their viewpoint they feel like cornered prey, Marinellte the Lioness, waiting for the proper moment to strike. Both men begin to sweat, the mess quickly forgotten. She gently takes the broom and dustpan from Tim, leaning down to sweep up what she can, thankful that she had not removed her shoes at the door. They watch with trepidation as she cleans their mess, until all sauce she could reach is wiped up and the kitchen just one step back into order as it was before.
“Alfred, what are you cooking? It smells delicious.” The boys flinch as Marinette finally speaks after the long silence.
“A simple dish for the boys to learn and Miss Mar’i’s favorite. Spaghetti with corn bread.”
“Wonderful, I have not had many dishes related to American-Italian food, I can’t wait to try it”
“You can thank the boys here, they did most of the work” Marinette finally turned her full attention towards them, giving them a soft smile.
“Thank you for cooking dinner for us.” Damian is trying his best to contain his laughter, they could only give her a shaking nod of their heads, eyes still wide. She only continues to smile at them, gently taking the spoon from Alfred.
“Why don’t I help the boys finish dinner, that way you can relax for the night. Spend some time with Mar’i?” Alfred pats her cheek gently.
“Thank you Miss Marinette, the cornbread is on a timer and the noodles only need to be drained soon, vegetables are also on a timer.” Damian walks with Alfred back down the hall, smiling proudly alongside his grandfather.
"Those boys are in for a surprise Damian" Alfred chuckles, leaning on Damians arm.
"She's up to something, that's for sure" with one last backwards glance at the swinging door, Damian leads Alfred to the sitting Area, joining Dick and Bruce in the relaxing environment.
Back in the kitchen Marinette hums softly, continuing dinner preparations while the boys have tried to distance themselves as far as they possibly can from the young woman.
Jason sits stiffly on his stool, hands gripping his knees until his knuckles are white. He sends constant glances at the door, wondering if he should run or face her lecture like a man. Her humming was starting to put him on edge. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has not behaved like one would expect in this situation. Jason was flying blind.
Tim, on the other hand, is trying to control his shaking by sitting with perfect posture for once, hands folded neatly in front of his on the marble top. With a glance you would picture him to be perfectly calm, if it were not for the beads of sweat on his brow or the constant fidgeting with his hands. He too was confused and on edge. He knew few women on a very personal level, and each and every one of them scared him, but at least he knew what to expect. Marinette being completely calm and unreactive left his head spinning.
Both boys were used to yelling and even fist being thrown. Not gentleness and kindness. Just when the silence was getting too much to bear, she spoke again.
"I must thank you both, you would have made a paranoid old man feel very justified" she sends another one of those smiles over her shoulder before turning back to the pasta mixture.
“What?” They echo off each other.
“My master saw a movie one day where they were listening in on phone calls. After that, he insisted we talked in code with each other when it related to temple business.” Content that the food was good to leave alone for a moment she turns to face the boys, almost laughing at their equally confused and tense facial expressions.
“Glad we could help?” Tim is at a loss for how to proceed. Damian yelled at them, shouldn’t Marinette too? How would Damian even find someone this polar opposite from him? This must be a mind game, no other explanation. Tim would not lose.
“Can you please just get this over with, we can take anything you have to say” Jason finally snaps, instantly regretting his tone but he couldn't take the drawn out punishment any longer. Hugging Bruce for twenty-four hours would be preferable to this.
“And what, Jason, am I getting done and over with?” Damian had mentioned his brothers every so often, only in passing stories or complaints. It was quite easy to see who was who. Jason was known for being a hot head, quick to speak. Tim on the other hand, Damian had bragged about being taller than him, and well, he was clearly the shorter of the two.
“Yelling at us for everything we did to you.”
She smirks at them, leaning on her elbows staring at them in such a way they couldn’t help but feel as though she was searching their souls. Maybe she was; they didn’t know what kind of magic she knew afterall.
“Oh that, I don’t care about that.” She shuts off the timer, removing the bread carefully while the boys processed her words.
“You-you don’t care that we listened to your phone call?” Tim is the first to speak.
“Or the background check we did on you?” Jason finishes. The boys relax a little, but again Tim is waiting for the rug to be pulled from under his feet (like that hadn’t been happening since she stepped foot in the kitchen). Jason had stopped looking at the door, hyperfocusing on Marinette body language. She was relaxed, moving about the kitchen like she had cooked within its walls her whole life.
“Nope.” She says it with such sweet innocence, they obviously had different perceived notions on the seriousness of the topic.
“Why?”
“Because it's your job. How many times have you had to do something like this and it helped you save countless lives?” She easily finds the strainer in the first cabinet she checks.
“Uh,”
“I can say I do not like or prefer my privacy being overstepped, but how can I hold that against you? How can I be upset by something that you do to protect people, especially those you love.”
“What?” Each boy's response continues to be more intelligent than the last.
Marinette giggles, “So no I am not mad at you guys for those actions.”
Tim narrows her eyes at her words, “That insinuates that you are upset with us about something.”
“Yes I am saddened by one thing and that is, that you don’t trust Damian.” She has stopped smiling, giving each boy a heartbroken look. She gives them time to think, finishing dinner preparations.
“Of course we trust him,” Jason starts, offended that she would declare such a thing. Look at them with such disdain and judgment. Who was she to judge him and behave like she knows everything.
“Yeah, he always has our backs, we would have died more times than we can count if he wasn’t there” Tim is now also on the offensive. Why did he fear her words again? She clearly knew nothing and was only on Damians side, her view of the situation had been tainted.
Marinette watched each boy express their anger and pain. She sighs a little at their pride, but hopefully this conversation wouldn’t be too painful.
“You trust him with those things, yes, but do you trust him with his own decisions?” Seeing that they didn’t have an immediate response, she continued on.
“Have you ever let Damian make any decisions on his own? Even if you knew they could or would result in mistakes?”
“Of course we have, we aren’t Bruce or Alfred after all.” Jason grumbles, still put off by where the conversation was heading. He would rather she had just yelled at them by this point.
“Then why didn’t you listen to him?” The sound of her stool scraping against the floor sends a feeling of unease through the room.
“Because we-” Tim falters. “Because we thought we knew best” He finishes weakly.
“We just want to protect him,” Jason adds in defense, “We have been through things like this before. Better safe than sorry.”
“And is it better?” She takes a hold of their left and right hand respectively. “Is it better to lose a relationship with your brother or be there for him when he needs it?”
She lets them process her words, their eyes are looking anywhere but at her, brows creased with thought and worry.
“But he could have-” Jason starts angrily before glancing at Tim, the door, then Marinette. Jason couldn’t finish, she might not know, and the last thing he needed was to say something to break them up and get on Damians bad side again.
“You were afraid he could die again?” The boys wanted to be shocked he told her, but clearly Marinette was a special woman. She squeezes their hands, the boys feeling calm and comfort now instead of anger.
“We are all human. We all make mistakes,” Tim flinches, “But if we don’t, then how are we supposed to gain knowledge and growth?”
“But some mistakes are irreversible.” Jason mumbles.
“That is true, and those are the most painful.”
“We have made some of those mistakes, and we know how it ends, we can help stop him from living with our regrets” Tim argues, desperate to show Marinette how much good he meant, that he just wanted Damian to stay safe.
She only smiles, “And that is a desire I never want you guys to push away, but you can’t protect him from everything. You can’t control everything, and you most certainly can’t control another person.”
Jason felt like he was slapped across the face just then. When had he started to behave like Bruce? When had he become so overbearing?
Tim felt the knots retie in his stomach, and the constriction of his lungs retightened. He didn’t want to be controlling, but he needed to be in control. Now he was frustrated by this clear paradox.
“Instead,” they focus in on her words, as the tone is a hopeful one, “Share with him your knowledge, give advice when he asks, and most importantly,” They are breathless now, completely captivated by her voice and eyes. Her eyes are intense, clearly this point needs to be taken to heart, while also having a soft edge to them, she isn’t angry, she is patient.
“Be there for him when he needs you. It is better to have a relationship then a partnership isn’t it?” She waits a beat for her words to sink in before hopping off the stool to finish dinner, leaving the boys to process.
“Thank you Marinette,” Jason is the first to speak, coming to stand beside her, helping her plate everything. “He picked a good one” She flushes at his words, flattered and embarrassed. The three adults are now content, a relationship of understanding growing between them.
To bring a sense of normalcy, Jason launches into as many embarrassing stories of Damian he can recount while they finish dinner and set the table next door. Tim chimes in every now and then to correct him, or add detail, but otherwise stays out of the conversation. Marinette laughs heartily at each story, glad that there was still something to learn about Damian. She is glad to finally meet his family, after all she missed her own overseas.
“And then he comes home with a cow right, don’t know how or where and he refused to tell us.” Marinette giggles at the idea of preteen Damian dragging a cow through the front doors of the Manor. They are walking the halls to retrieve the family for dinner when raised voices from the sitting area give the three adults a sense of urgency.
Rounding the corner Marinette watches as a blond woman bares down on Damian, her finger in his face. He only looks annoyed, staring her down with narrowed eyes. Rather she would be bearing down if not for the height difference. She was almost standing on her tiptoes to get into Damian’s face.
“You haven’t changed at all in the last decade!” The woman yells. “Stubborn and wrong to a fault again!” Her face flushed red, muscles tightened and her entire posture tense.
Damian flinches, his body shifting only the slightest. The only outward sign that what was said hurt him. His arms wrap tighter around his body, spine straight. Marinette narrows her eyes before marching over and pushing herself into the woman's personal space.
She takes a step back, blinking in surprise at the smaller asian woman invading her space. Her eyes widen when she finally processes who exactly is in front of her. “You-” she snaps her mouth shut however, her sentence unfinished.
Stephanie is unsure what kind of person she is dealing with. While she stands defensively in front of Damian, her petite stature leaves her confused on whether or not she was truly a threat. However when Stephanie looks her in the eyes, she knows the answer to that question. There is more to her than there seems. Her eyes are hard in the iris, no other sign showed her clear anger at Stephanie. Or was Stephanie imagining the anger? She looked like she was going to cry more than anything.
"Steph that is enough" Tim grabs her hand, pulling her from the room. "Even I know that was uncalled for." She flinches at his quiet anger, bowing her head.Alfred continues to observe his new granddaughter. While she did well to hold herself with dignity, it was clear that she was just as upset as Damian about the words spoken. Marinette sighs deeply before turning to face the occupants of the room. Jason had taken a seat next to Dick at some point, whispering fiercely into his ear, a smug grin on his face. Marinette turns to Bruce, extending her hand.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you”
“Likewise,” Bruce is surprised at the sight of the ring as she pulls her hand back. He was unaware that things between the two were so serious. One glance to Damian solidifies the fact in Bruce's mind. He looked so relaxed and in love, despite the tense situation just moments prior.
Even as Damian grew up, his tough personality made it difficult for him to let people get close to him, and for people to desire to get close. Bruce thinks Damian never truly realized how lonely that was until he had graduated highschool. He was overjoyed for his son to finally let someone into his heart and to freely give his away. That was a truly proud moment for Bruce.
“Please continue to stay by Damians side.” He does not quite know why he would request such a thing from her, just that he did not regret asking once he saw the resolve on her face.
“I can’t imagine leaving him” Bruce nods, glad to hear her words, "and I apologize for the chaos i have brought to your home"
"My dear, you have done no such thing. Their nightly activities have left them high strung and on edge" Alfred gently reminds her, "They get a little stuck in their heads on occasion"
Marinette looks like she's about to argue with him, but a gentle touch to her shoulder from Damian has her smiling politely at Alfred instead.
"Learn to accept you're not responsible for everything" Damian scowls at her, that only has her scowling right back.
"I was just-"
"Being ridiculous like always" Damian quickly finishes for her, giving her shoulder another squeeze.
“What is it, my little bumgorf?" The room turns at the sound of the newcomer, Marinette gasping softly. Her skin was a glowing amber that contrasted like a sunset with her vibrant red hair. Her otherworldly green eyes were bright with joy. Marinette had never seen a more beautiful woman who would honestly make a great model for her line. That skin tone.
Dick rises, giving the woman a chaste kiss before settling his arm around her waist. “Marinette I would like you to meet my wife, Kori”
“Nice to meet you” Marineete once again extends her hand but Kori pulls her into a hug, Marinette laughs.
“Oh I’m so excited to have you join the family”
“I can’t wait to get to know everybody”
"Mom, I'm hungry can we please eat now? Mar’i is pouting, both kwami sitting contently on her shoulders.
"Of course my little bumgorf." The women decide to move to the dining room, the men following behind. Jason claps Damian on the back, pulling him into a hug.
“Sorry for not trusting you. Marinette is quite the woman and you are very lucky.” Before Damian can respond, he moves ahead, cheeks flushed the slightest.
“Wow, she can get Jason to apologize willingly” Dick laughs, before following after Jason, “Jay! Come back here” Father and son are left alone in the hall, both slowing their pace the slightest.
“I was unaware things were this serious”
“She accepted everything about me”
“Everything?”
“She forgave me for my past actions,” Damian hesitates for a moment, but decides to push forward, “She said she loves me no matter what”
“That is a very special trait to have” with that Bruce leaves, but not before gripping his youngest son's shoulder, the fatherly pride at his growth, both emotionally and physically. He is a fine young man. He can feel the emotions welling up, and quickly makes his leave, not comfortable with the vulnerability he associates with 'mushy' love.
Damian smiles at his father's retreating figure and chuckles. Some things never change and he is thankful for that. Dinner goes smoothly for the rest of the night, Stephanie making up with the members of the room, the Kwamii introduced and questions answered. Dinner finished and goodbyes exchanged, Marinette promising to visit Kor’i and Mar’i soon. Damian and Marionette find themselves sitting in the car, each processing the night. Marionette seemed content with the outcome of the night humming softly to herself. The moon was still yellow and low in the sky, signifying the night had only begun.
“So you gonna tell me what you talked to my brothers about?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“How sometimes the relationship is more important than the choices the other person makes.” Damian does respond right away after that, eyes narrowed in thought.
“How did they take that?”
“Very well I think, but change doesn’t happen overnight so I’m sure their first reaction will be an overprotective one for awhile, so please be patient”
“As long as I have you here to help me, I know I can change too” Marinette sighs happily at that, returning to watching the passing scenery out the window. Marinette watches in fascination as they approach the Wayne Tower in the middle of the city, entering the underground parking garage. Damian pulls into the secret entrance, parking the car in the large makeshift HQ.
“Wow this is so cool. How does no one know that this is here?”
“We are very careful,” Bruce enters from a side room, already dressed for the night ahead. “Damian why did you bring Marinette here?” Bruce was already fond of his daughter-in-law to be and didn’t want her too close to the vigilante life.
“I’m going out with you guys” She casually answers while exploring the area, looking at anything and everything.
“What?” Jason and Tim say at the same time. One sounds incredulous while the other doesn’t seem too surprised.
“I haven’t been out in so long, I can’t wait” She ignores the mens bewildered stares, looking towards the elevator. “Does that go all the way to the top?”
“Yes, I’ll take you as soon as I’m ready.”
“Ok” She patiently waits for her love, continuing to examine the central computer station. “Look at this girls, isn’t this amazing. Imagine if we upgraded the temple with this stuff.”
“It would increase our appearance of wealth I guess,” Kalkki sighs, trying to not appear pleased at the obvious wealth her supreme has found herself in.
“Come Habibti, we won't have all night,” Damian enters again in uniform this time. He wore a simple red and black ensemble, the trim of his cape and belt a muted yellow. His uniform differed from the other Robins with it being a tunic instead of a jumpsuit. His cape also had a hood and easy access to the sword on his lower back.
Marinete giggled all the way up to the top, Damian sending her questioning looks, which only made her laugh harder. Jason and Tim had decided to ride with them, curious as to why Marinette wanted to go to the roof. Exiting outside, Marinette takes a deep breath, enjoying the cityscape against the rising moon. With a quick flick of her fingers, she is engulfed in a deep red light.
Damian admires her new look unabashedly. She wore what looked like a sleeveless tunic that went to her knees over a fully black bodysuit. Her tunic was red with black spots, trimmed in yellow with matching yellow tinted goggles. Her hair was hidden by the hood of her tunic and she had beautiful translucent wings at her back.
“We match” She giggles again, dancing over to him on the tip of her toes.
“At least I’ll know you’re mine” He caresses her face, hand trembling the slightest. Marinette can’t help but find the feel of his glove uncomfortable, clearly it was meant for grip, but she stayed still, letting Damian calm himself before they went out for the night.
“Now please don’t be mad at me love, but I haven’t done this in so long” She starts after Damian had had his moment, slowly backing away before taking a full run off the side of the tower. The boys gasp in fear, while Damian takes a deep breath through his nose. She can’t die, she can’t die. She can’t die. The mantra plays heavily in his head when he marches over the side, ready to chase after her. He watches as she free falls, her laugh ringing out through the city, possibly unnerving for the native. But to hear the joy she has behind it, he hopes everyone else is infected by it too.
Marinette enjoys the feel of the wind around her, the hold gravity has over her stomach. She laughs at the feeling of adrenaline once again in a long time. Man she missed this. Finally she releases her wings, taking off through the Gotham air, dancing between buildings and gargoyles.
She can feel him coming up behind her and slows herself enough for him to grab her, enjoying the sensation of being in her love's arms while swinging through the air. They touch down on a darkened rooftop, Each catching their breath.
“You didn’t tell me you were a thrill seeker” He doesn’t sound mad, just reserved to the fact this this would be his life now. The worry and fear for her safety would never go away. But all in all, if it meant her joy and laughter, he would endure.
“I haven’t free fell in so long, that was amazing!” She is still catching her breath, and still in his arms. As they both level out their breathing, they get lost in the other's gaze.
“I love you Habibti,” Damian leans down to her, resting his forehead against her own, chuckling at the small antenna in the edge of her hair line. “I love you my little bug”
“And I love you my gorgeous Robin” She rises up to meet his lips, finding her home with him, and content with her choices. Ready to take on the world with him by her side. Partners in everything for the rest of their lives. Till death do they part.
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the Viking!au about the day namjoon & tae fell in love with reader was so cute and showed how tae had got to see the reader when she saved him and just an overall softer side of her but it got me thinking how did the others know that they loved her? I’m especially interested in how hobi knew just bc their relationship was so tense in the beginning
i think that their love story is a little bit enemies to lovers at the beginning like obviously, Hoseok trusts her about as far as he can throw her. he becomes sort of like her guard, “i just want to make sure you don’t do anything stupid” “scared of me little alpha boy?” “oh i assure you, nothing about me is little” and meanwhile she’s like venting to jimin later, “I don’t understand how you live with the lot of them- especially Hoseok- he’s an alpha pig if ever I’ve seen one” and jimin trying to assure her- “he’s not all that bad i promise, he has a soft side i promise” and you grumble, thinking the only alpha in his pack who’s sweet at all is jungkook.
it��s not until a hunting trip- or a scouting trip- when Jungkook and Hoseok come back banged up Jungkook bleeding from a wide rent in his side that you really see the panicked loving side, despite Hoseok’s injuries, he stays up by Jungkook’s bedside all through the night- even though yoongi does too. you coming by the next day to give yoongi a chance to sleep. you trying to Tugg Hoseoks sleeping form into a bed, though he wakes with a growl. you catch him trying to tug Jungkook’s hand into his own even a bed away, needing the other alphas hands in his to fall asleep.
you’ve never known alphas to be so tender with each other- but the way Hoseok looks at Jungkook- it’s something different, something special and soft that you feel like you shouldn’t be intruding on. maybe jimin is right, maybe Hoseok does have a soft side that you just haven’t seen.
one thing that makes you indisposable to the pack is the amount you care, it dosent matter who walks through the door of the infirmary you help. even that little bitch of an alpha Hoseok gets his cuts sown up by you. you have more than a few people to take care of, who need you here, yoongi and the dozen or so other healers in the pack take care of more than 500 pack members.
you bring many things to the pack, including your knowledge. in the first few months, yoongi learns a lot from you, several tinctures and salves that make some of the regularly occurring injuries here non-existent when they’d been threatening, a herb that brings down fever, another that cures the infection, as well as a burn cream made from the leaf of this flower that cuts healing time in half and reduces scarring.
it’s an accident really when a clumsy beta spills a pot of oil in the kitchens and it hits a young omega girl, spareing her face but not her shoulder and chest. you and yoongi do what you can, but you’re out of the cream that could save her from scarring and likely- the life of a pariah. yoongi and you do the best you can cooling down the burns with snow and setting over the usual salve that helps you heal, “do you have any more of this?” yoongi holds the empty container out for you and you shake your head, “shit then- what are we going to do?”
yoongi is one of your biggest supporters to make the trip back to your home, even though it’s deep in the forbidden woods, there are other things there that you need, to gather. other antidotes to poisons and indisposable herbs that you could use here. You’re the only one who knows how to identify them and use them, but the thing is- namjoon is loathed to give you his blessing before you go- it’s dangerous in the north woods, where animals far larger than normal sizes grow and the very ground trembles with an older, wild sort of magic. many people that have gone into it haven’t survived.
“I lived there for years namjoon don’t talk to me like I don’t know the dangers, and I can help her” namjoon can’t help but look at you, so soft and small, but firey and determined, and feel like it’s too dangerous for even you. the heads of families also listening in, grumbling in agreement, the parents of the child looking at you like you’re their only hope. Hoseok steps forward from where you’re gathered, “I’ll be her guide, and make sure she comes home safe.” you want to scrunch up your nose at him, to hiss almost- because everyone knows you don’t like Hoseok at all.
needless to say, you see a different side of him during your trip, every time you slip his hand is there on your back, “stop doing that- I’m not some delicate omega i can handle myself, if I fall let gravity do its job and punish me I don’t need to touch you” him holding up his hands, looking stung, “yeah alright, that’s the last time I try to do anything nice for you.”
in the forest, winter has fallen early, and you’d be loathed to admit you need any sort of warmth but the fire isn’t cutting it, and you know it will only be worse the further north you get, you’ve lived through these winters you know how dangerous they can be. you’re only half surprised when Hoseok scoots over spooning you from behind halfway through the night, “what are you doing?”
“Trying not to freeze to death” and you have to admit, waking up in the morning with his warmth pressed up against your back isn’t the worst thing, even if you do pretend it is. but it’s almost like Hoseok can tell that you didn’t really help it, your snuggly omega scent the same kind of sweet as Seokjin lets out when he’s nesting.
“admit it- you’re comfortable around me- you like me more than you want me to think you do” you’re just about to reply when your footing falls out from underneath you. almost sending you plummeting down a steep ravine. Hoseok catches you at the last minute, hand on your forearm, he pulls you up and to safety. “what was it you said yesterday? let gravity punish you?” “yeah fuck everything I’ve ever said to you” Hoseok can’t help but laugh at that, chest heaving as he lays back against the rocks.
It only takes you a few days to get to where your old camp was, it’s desolate and unkempt in the months its been since you’ve been there, most of your things where trash anyway compared to the quality of things available at namjoon’s compound. you don’t stop to take anything with you, but Hoseok does give it an appreciative glance. “you used to live here? all year round?” “yeah the winters sucked.” i like my cabin back home better you catch yourself thinking, but it’s true, your cabin back at the compound is home to you. you shake off what that means and hed onwards, gesturing for Hoseok to follow you, “come on its not far.”
The oasis and hot springs are warm and hazy, the red lily growing in great swathes around it, you drop your pack, it’s only halfway through the day, “we’ll camp here for the night,” Hoseok is basically in awe, but you’re ready to get to work, picking each flower and some of their roots- you’re going to try to grow these closer to the compound but you’ll need to find a hot spring as you’re pretty sure they can’t grow anywhere but there. you pick as many as you can fit in the bag you brought, but you quickly fill it.
“I can’t believe this place.” you eye Hoseok freezing when he starts to disrobe. “what are you doing?!” “are you kidding me? I’ve always wanted to see a hot spring, and I’m not risking getting my clothes wet in this weather.” you’re barely able to cover your eyes before he’s completely nude, turning away hoping he dosent see the flush on your face.
you collect flowers until every single inch of the bag is stuffed full. but even then you still have more time, it’s not worth trying to find another spot to make camp you’re just setting out your bedroll on one of the few flat rocks when Hoseok calls from the water, “come on! you can’t honestly tell me you’re not freezing your ass off out there, come warm up” he badgers you, and eventually you agree, because honestly- you really really want to be warm right now. you make Hoseok turn around so you can disrobe in peace.
you’re a few feet from each other when you finally let him turn around to see you, all of your sensitive parts below the edge of the water, so so warm. and yet, when you turn around Hoseok can still see the scars on your back. “you said that the cream you make from the flowers helped heal burns and scar tissue, so why didn’t you use it on yourself?”
you turn back, careful to tie up your hair and keep it out of the water. “others needed it more than me- my scars are just that- scars- nothing compared to open wounds” he sees your fingers reaching low, hovering over one he can’t see by your side, his heart-tugging painfully as he sees you “and besides, most of them are too old, this salve is the most effective on new wounds, which is why we need to get home as quickly as possible”
you don’t do anything more, even if what you can see of hoseok’s body has a flush coming to your cheeks. he steps closer to you, close enough for you to see down into the water if you looked, instinctively you cross your arms in front of your chest, but the way hoseok looks at you isn’t predatory, it’s sweet, the same soft look that he gave jungkook weeks ago when he was hurt.
“but still- I know yoongi and you could put something together- something to help you” he leans in close, and your breath is so heavy as he presses a slight kiss against the edge of your hairline, where you know a tiny scar lingers at your temple, “you deserve to heal too” with any other alpha you’d be scared of them, with any other alpha you would have already buried a knife in his ribs. but Hoseok has saved your life twice now, and you can’t help but trust him. especially when he pulls away after that- giving you your space and relaxing in the water, asking you about other magical things in the forest.
you end up pressed close to each other on the bedrolls that night regardless, and you pretend it dosent feel good to have his cheek pressed to the nape of your neck. you make the trip back carefully but quickly, getting back in time to heal the girls scars to the point where her skin is barely discolored.
the rest of Packtan seem to notice something changed between you and Hoseok, easily the two of you where the ones who got along the least- save for you and namjoon who have the tensest relationship. they bug Hoseok but no matter what they say he said nothing happened even though it’s clear to them something has.
though a few weeks later he does talk to yoongi about some healing supplies- what things are best for healing scars and the such, and the elder beta thinks he might know what hoseok’s asking after. you treat each other with the same banter but it’s kinder now. you’ll shout at him and hit him on the arm good-naturedly when he comes to the infirmary with a new scape, “how do you even walk? or are you so clumsy even the pups are more careful than you- i swear- how namjoon lets you near knives I have no idea-” and hoseok’s happy grin, “if i didn’t get hurt then you’d never get to see my beautiful face and we all know how you-” Hoseok gets a dirty cloth thrown in his face for that, making yoongi and the other healers laugh, “you totally deserved that”
the others leave you be, let you have your banter. they can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re never anything more than Endeered by Hoseok, even when he throws your words back in your face, watching you slip and fall of the stone pathway when he walks you home after dinner, “There gravity goes, punishing you again” they just shake their heads when they watch.
love is only a matter of time and gravity.
#besitogguk#bts omegaverse au#bts abo#bts a/b/o#bts fanfiction#bts au#bts fanfic#bts#bts omegaverse#bts fluff#this is 2.0k!#so much!#please let me know if you like it!
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If you were to give Stands to other HPHM characters who would you see and he best candidates and why?
Starting with why: It's simply because I wanted to explore their characteristics more. It's in part why I initially cut it down to 4 others outside of Reina and Ricardo (Talbott, Rowan, Barnaby and Ben). Torvus was definitely a top contender but in the end I left him out since I've never drawn a centaur before and on top of that I wanted to keep the profiles to a minimum so I wouldn't be overwhelmed. I'm still not sure why I burn out easily. Just the 5 I worked on (Reina was already completed this time last year) took months of work, on and off.
For the time being I'm leaving the following 8 characters as ideas that I might get to at some point. I at least already figured out their powerset and even have placeholder names for each of their Stands (the only official one is Torvus'). Placeholder names will be highlighted in blue. Anyway, onto the chosen characters!
As usual, I tried to make it as short as possible but it still ended up being lengthy. Sorry about that XD
Torvus
I'd like to think his Stand manifested sometime after the arrowhead was stolen from him, and it helped contribute to his exile. Torvus wanted nothing to do with his Stand at the time, thinking it was some kind of bad omen. It wasn't until after befriending Reina that he understood that wasn't the case.
Stand: Sagittarius
Powers/Abilities: Can summon numerous arrows he can control the trajectory of. Can also create elemental arrows, allowing each type to produce different effects.
Jae
He'd totally have a Stand that would help him in seeking out and selling his contraband. It manifested for him some time before he started Hogwarts. As he's not confrontational, his Stand would also help him to avoid getting caught, and make a quick exit if necessary. He'd have a Colony type Stand, meaning it's composed of small units with the power and strength divided between them. Jae's count would be a unit of about 1000 maximum, which can go around undetected, gathering items and intel. His range would be massive, at it extends to places he's already been to no matter the distance.
Stand: Work Smarter Not Harder
Powers/Abilities: Can multiply itself to 1000 units maximum. The units are smart enough to take orders from Jae and seek out what he asked them to get. They can move around undetected, gather around Jae to help him hide, and can combine to form portals for instant travel from one place to another. They can also be sent out to spy and replay conversations back when asked.
Diego
His Stand manifested some time after he started school. His abilities would help expand his skills as a duelist, so they'd consist of short range teleportation and creating blinding lights to stun his opponents. He can also absorb sunlight to boost his Stand's own power, and can create some pretty sturdy shields when enough power is stored. However, being the honorable guy he is, Diego will rely on his own skills when dueling classmates. In the case of more serious threats, he'll summon his Stand.
Stand: El Dorado
Powers/Abilities: Blinding lights, short range teleportation, blinding lights to stun opponents, solar light absorption and shield generation.
Badeea
Being very imaginative and highly creative in her own right, her Stand would reflect that by expanding on her skills as well. Being so focused on her art, I can totally see her not even realizing she had such a "spirit" at first. She strikes me as the one that hasn't stopped painting from the moment she picked up her first brush as a little kid, and she saw her Stand as a byproduct of her spell creation.
Stand: Avant Garde
Powers/Abilities: She can bring art to life outside of the canvas, so even items she draws are made real as long as it's nothing too complicated. She can also create different paints to create different effects, like mirror paint, glitter paint and so on. I'm thinking of maybe also letting her create paint copies of herself to increase productivity.
Andre
His Stand would manifest around the time he realized his potential as the Fashion Wizard extraordinaire. While I already have an OC with the following abilities (from my story Earth 14), I felt they'd suit Andre just as well. He'd have Cloth Creation and Manipulation. While it gives him balanced offense and defense, outside of duels, Andre sticks to his fashion designing.
Stand: Haute Couture
Powers/Abilities: He can create outfits that come to mind out of any cloth he knows of, and can also manipulate the properties of existing clothing. Simple fabrics can be made as durable as shields from various spells, and in the cases of opponents, distract them by using their own clothes against them.
Liz
I went the Rowan route in my au and gave her a few personality tweaks of her own. This Liz began coming out of her shell with the help of Rowan and the others, improved her people skills and learned to not be so reckless when it came to valuing creatures over the safety of people (like with the Chimera incident). I wanted Liz to be more than just the "animal lover that prefers them over people" person. She learns to value both sides and gained enough skills to be willing to duel for their safety if necessary. Her Stand would manifest sometime during their 6th year, once it nearly hit home that R was not above murder to get what they wanted.
Stand: Sanctuary
Power/Abilities: The primary power is Summoning. Liz's Stand takes the form of a deck of cards, with each card containing a magical creature she's familiar with. The deck grows with each new creature she learns about. Said creatures can be summoned from these cards to serve various purposes (fighting, defense, transportation, etc). If the summons are defeated, they'll simply return to their card for future use. All summons are loyal to her.
Ismelda
In this setting Ismelda gradually matured out of her whole edgy phase and became a more rounded out person thanks to her friendship with Reina and the others. She stayed friends with Barnaby while distancing herself away from Merula throughout their 5th year. While she still likes messing with people, it's easier to tell there's no malice behind her words. I don't know why I like this idea so much, but her Stand would take the form of a large doll that can split into 40 smaller ones that can move freely on their own. When it's time to fight, their form changes into half-human, half-spider.
Stand: Arachnophobia
Powers/Abilities: The Stand can split into smaller variations of itself and move around freely. They gain half-spider forms when they switch into battle mode, and in addition to enhanced speed, they can also produce different webs to provide different results (elemental webs). The webs are very powerful and can be used to trap and imprison opponents as well.
Chiara
Of course best girl is gonna be the healer of the group. Honestly with her desire to be a Healer and helping around in the Hospital Wing, it suits her perfectly. Her Stand manifested some time after she was bitten by a Werewolf as a child. She saw her Stand as a wonderful gift after seeing it was capable of healing. As her knowledge and experience in healing grows, so does her Stand's capabilities.
Stand: Medela
Powers/Abilities: Healing. Early on she was already able to reduce the healing time required for most injuries. Her Stand evolved to heal broken bones, internal/external injuries and lacerations in a matter of seconds, and with high surgical precision. It can also heal most injuries inflicted from Dark Magic, and later on can even restore missing body parts depending on the severity of the damage. The healing also extends to other creatures, animals and even plants. While it can't cure lycanthropy, as a passive effect it grants those afflicted with mental clarity so that they won't lose control when transforming, bypassing the need for Wolfsbane Potions. This extends to Chiara herself. By her 6th year her Stand could split into 5 copies of itself to heal more people in a short amount of time.
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Prince’s Whumptober 2020 masterpost
Gonna have links, titles, summaries, and all that jazz under a readmore because i decided to really push myself and do all 31 prompts separately. Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged my work; your support means the world to me and makes me want to keep writing!
multiparters here have been listed in chronological order rather than posting order for ease of reading.
FAHC
No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME
Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging
Title: another duck joins the flock
Fandom: FAHC
Character(s): Geoff, Michael
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, handcuffs
Wordcount: 728
Summary: Or how the Fakes gained their most famous muscle. [tidied up/expanded this never-to-be-posted fahc wip for whumptober]
Naruto
No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
“Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped
Title: and the worst part of waiting is the anticipation
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Team 7
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, vomit
Wordcount: 951
Summary: Team Seven gets captured. [part of the whumptober au]
No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY
Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint
Title: A Teaching Moment
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sakura, Kabuto
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 498
Summary: Kabuto makes her an offer she can’t refuse. [part of the whumptober au]
No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR
Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest
Title: Graduation
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sakura, Kabuto,
Rating: T+?
Warning(s): blood
Wordcount: 835
Summary: Kabuto has one more test before Sakura can be considered a true medic-nin. [part of the whumptober au]
No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN
Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong
Title: Arboreal
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sakura
Rating: T
Warning(s): needles
Wordcount: 803
Summary: It was only a matter of time before Sakura found something that could help her escape. [part of the whumptober au]
No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD
“Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice
Title: no good deed goes unpunished
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Naruto, Teuchi, Kyuubi
Rating: T
Warning(s): violence against children
Wordcount: 972
Summary: Something goes wrong on his seventh birthday. Naruto might never be the same again.
No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD…
Migraine | Concussion | Blindness
Title: Degradation
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Kakashi, Sakura, Naruto
Rating: T
Warning(s): dismemberment ment
Wordcount: 187
Summary: Kakashi knows that power comes with a price.
Dragon Age
No 6. PLEASE….
“Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”
Title: Like Dogs
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Tabris, Shianni, Soris, Nelaros
Rating: M
Warning(s): implied/offscreen rape, violence against women, blood
Wordcount: 1640
Summary: It was supposed to be a good thing, getting married. It wasn’t. [this is really just a love letter to the origin that fucking shooketh me]
No 19. BROKEN HEARTS
Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt
Title: all’s fair but war is not without casualties
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Female Cousland, Alistair; ex-Alistair/Warden
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 695
Summary: Ten years after the Blight ends, Elissa Cousland runs into someone she never thought she’d see again. It, uh, doesn’t go quite as planned. [mostly canon compliant; Loghain is spared and becomes a warden]
No 11. PSYCH 101
Defiance | Struggling | Crying
Title: Duty
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Cousland, Eleanor, Bryce
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, betrayal, last stand
Wordcount: 633
Summary: Even without interference, history marches on. A what-if scenario if Duncan wasn’t there to recruit the Cousland. [part of iron & ash]
No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE?
Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation
Title: To Ostagar
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Cousland
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 545
Summary: Jasmine is determined to get vengeance for her family. [part of iron & ash]
No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING?
Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire
Title: Consequences
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Surana
Rating: T
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 368
Summary: Surana helps her best friend escape the Circle, and the consequences are more than she bargained for.
No 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL
Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection
Title: Corrupted
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Mahariel, Duncan
Rating: Gen
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 192
Summary: It’s a long journey from the Brecilian Forest to Ostagar for someone with blight sickness.
No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE
Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead
Title: Big Sister Instinct
Fandom: Dragon Age
Character(s): Female Hawke, Unnamed Templars
Rating: T
Warning(s): torture, violence against women
Wordcount: 325
Summary: Marian Hawke would rather die than betray her family. She might even just get the chance to do it.
Mass Effect
No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME
Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building
Title: never forget to bury your regret (before it buries you)
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Male Shepard, Human OC
Rating: T
Warning(s): cave-in, blood, character death
Wordcount: 450
Summary: Survival training goes south in the ICT.
No 7. I’VE GOT YOU
Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker
Title: First Contact
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Turian OC, Human OC
Rating: T
Warning(s): injuries, broken bones, vomit, vehicular crash
Wordcount: 1150
Summary: Decimus isn’t ready to die, but he’s especially not ready to die on a stupid scouting mission to a stupid alien colony. [set during the First Contact War; probably not canon-compliant but idgaf]
No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO
Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia
Title: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger (and what does makes you scarred forever)
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Edi, Tali’Zorah, Garrus Vakarian
Rating: T
Warning(s): panic attack, open space
Wordcount: 662
Summary: Shepard isn’t afraid of getting spaced. No, really. [a closer look at the geth dreadnought mission]
No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS.
Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged
Title: Torfan
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Major Kyle
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, guns, drugging
Wordcount: 589
Summary: How the Butcher came to be.
No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS
Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears
Title: Rest
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Female Shepard, Anderson; referenced Shepard/Vega
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood, character death
Wordcount: 1018
Summary: A father-daughter moment after they open the arms of the Citadel. [part of Alder]
No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?
On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue
Title: they found you on the floor
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard
Rating: T
Warning(s): alcohol, vomit, underage drinking
Wordcount: 348
Summary: Like mother like daughter; Shepard deals with her trauma after Mindoir. [part of Gloria Shepard]
No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU?
Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal
Title: there’s easier ways to die
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Ashley Williams
Rating: T
Warning(s): DTs, vomit mention
Wordcount: 368
Summary: Shepard takes a stand against her own demons. [part of Gloria Shepard]
No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING
Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused
Title: you crawled up on your cross
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Jacob Taylor
Rating: T
Warning(s): alcohol
Wordcount: 645
Summary: Shepard gets a morale boost from a crewmate. [part of Gloria Shepard]
No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY
Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage
Title: Cornered
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Garrus, Female Shepard
Rating: T
Warning(s): broken bones
Wordcount: 1281
Summary: Garrus gets into some trouble. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE
Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval
Title: Ancient History
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Female Shepard, Garrus
Rating: T
Warning(s): injuries, death, self-destructive/suicidal actions
Wordcount: 1223
Summary: Jane is an enigma and Garrus just wants to figure her out. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?
“Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation
Title: After
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s): Garrus, Female Shepard
Rating: T
Warning(s): injuries, death
Wordcount: 440
Summary: Jane comes for Garrus after the gangs’ assault. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?
Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury
Title: Debt
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Garrus, Female Shepard, Mordin; mutual pining Shakarian
Rating: T
Warning(s): painkillers
Wordcount: 590
Summary: After the gangs’ assault, Garrus overhears something. [part of the omega non-reaper au]
Undertale
No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT
Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask
Title: Drowning
Fandom: Undertale
Character(s): Toriel, Asgore
Rating: T
Warning(s): character death, child death
Wordcount: 156
Summary: Asriel brought Chara home one last time.
[replacing no. 27] Alt 7. Found Family
Title: The Door
Fandom: Undertale
Character(s): Frisk, Papyrus, Sans
Rating: Gen
Warning(s): none
Wordcount: 357
Summary: Just a little look at what could be a meeting with Gaster
Red vs Blue
No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING
Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust
Title: Being a twin is a Hard Thing
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Character(s): South Dakota
Rating: T
Warning(s): psychological trauma
Wordcount: 281
Summary: In the days before Wash finds them, South gets… introspective. [canon compliant? taken from a wip I was never going to finish so I fleshed it out for whumptober instead]
Original Fiction
No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED
Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood
Title: please leave a message
Rating: T
Warning(s): blood
Wordcount: 537
Summary: A detective’s work is never done. Antonia deals with the news that her most famous case’s subject is on the run again. [original fiction]
No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE
Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation
Title: Secondary Location
Rating: Gen?
Warning(s): kidnapping
Wordcount: 143
Summary: Antonia wakes up on the wrong side of the city. [original fiction]
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The Saved
(A starter for @frosthawkfantasy with an AU to Infinity War’s ending because Clint deserves to be happy dammit)
He had to quit the battlefield, the injury would be devastating to the warrior if he didn’t heal it... But it was apparent, he alone and even their combined might wouldn’t stop Thanos. There was so little time, half of the universe would be gone in a few minutes and he couldn’t stop it. Clint and Laura... Lila, Cooper, Nathaniel. Asaka, Shoichi and Jin... Wanda and Pietro. They meant the most to him. Both of his families, his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s sister...
Saving everyone was impossible and those 10 alongside himself was a stretch too far to remain conscious. He’d have to leave it in her hands, that she would look after them whilst he entered crystal stasis. With a shaking breath, Saburo got to his feet and casted the spell with the help of Etro. Those he thought of and himself were transported just before the snap into the alternate dimension, Valhalla.
A realm beyond spacetime, it would be protected from the snap as it was a pocket universe to the main one. The Infinity Gauntlet wouldn’t reach it. That was his gambit, the one thing the Champion of Etro could do to protect the 10 he had most dear to him. The world went to white before appearing in a large, grand hallway with golden pillars and sunlight filtering in through the windows.
“I realize this must be disconcerting for all of you. Please allow me to explain.” A women with long, golden blonde hair and silvery eyes entered wearing a white, billowy dress. “I am the human form of the being known as Etro. You were transported to this place, Valhalla at the request of Lightning, better known to some of you as Saburo Kusanagi. This was done to protect you from a cataclysmic event in your native universe that will wipe out half of all life forms present. He was badly injured attempting to fight the being responsible for the event and used the remainder of his magic to transport you here with my help.” Her voice was calm, regal and clear.
“M-My son is hurt?!” Asaka stated, clearly quite worried as Shoichi and Jin also went pale. “How badly?” Laura added since she was concerned too. “He is not in any pain and has entered into crystal stasis, similar to what you would term as a medically-induced coma for similar reasons. It is a state to focus all his energy on regenerating his injuries whilst replenish his reserves of magic. In the realm of Valhalla, he will recover more quickly than on Earth due to the abundance of magic here.” Etro elaborated, bringing up an image of Saburo asleep in a bed, his body had indeed turned into a substance that looked similar to diamond but was pulsating with white light.
“Like those humans in comas, he can hear you but he cannot respond. If you wish to see him, he is through that doorway behind you but if you would rather wait until he is fully healed, there is much to do and see in the Capital. You are our honoured guests and we have rooms available for you to stay in.” The Faltine explained, hoping to ease anxiety. “I’m afraid returning you to your universe right now would be dangerous, it is safer for you to stay in Valhalla, protected from the effects of the Infinity Gauntlet for the time being. I will of course, update you on further developments.” With that, Etro disappeared as quickly as she came.
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Felix July - Magic AU
A new AU unrelated to my others with Grumpy Wizard Felix.
@felixmonth
Once upon a time, there was a kingdom of wealth and great prosperity. But of course it was, for one of the leaders of this land was a noble of the Agreste household, Gabriel.
He was a stern lord, but not cruel. And while not necessarily loved, he was certainly well respected and admired by the people. So it was with great joy when he was married to Emilie in a tale the likes of which Cinderella would later be based on. Their home was a happy one, especially after she gave birth and Gabriel had an heir.
But all was not right with the boy. Whatever flaws Gabriel had were magnified in the child. Cold. Aloof. Withdrawn. Gloomy. He gave off a most unsettling aura that would often drive most sensible folk away.
Even worse, it soon became evident that the boy was…unnatural and capable of the worst sorts of sorcery. Things would break in his presence without being touched. Many would suddenly trip or be subjected to sudden injuries. Great works of art and manufacture would age and decay quickly. On one such occasion when his father required him to learn swordplay, the boy took offense and the metal rusted and turned to dust in his hands.
Everyone was fearful of him. All except the boy’s mother, who loved him dearly and was intent to see the best of him. Many begged the lord to send the possessed child away or otherwise end him to restore peace, but for the sake of his wife, he relented and showed the boy mercy.
A mercy he came to regret, as the time came that even the beloved mother was struck down by the boy’s power. For all of Gabriel’s efforts, she continued to waste away. He scoured the land, seeking witches and wizards, archaic tomes, ancient rituals, and any manner of healing power to attempt to revive her.
All to no effect.
But he was desperate. And no matter how many failures and how many doctors and healers told him there was nothing to be done, he refused to give up on her. So caught up in his attempts to restore his wife, the man had foolishly neglected to manage his own son.
At least, until the day the heir summoned a demon.
It was a ravenous creature. Insatiable and deranged. Under the boy’s command, it attacked his father and ruined a good half of the manor in which they lived. Servants fled in terror. The creature stalked the halls, delighting in the fear it caused to anyone unfortunate enough to cross it. None dared to approach the house. People sought for an answer, but nothing could be done. After all, Felix was the heir. What could they do?
Luckily, there was a second son who was less disastrously inclined and with a much sweeter and more manageable temperament. And who did not have a pet demon to sic on people he didn’t like.
So the Lord Agreste promptly named young Adrien his heir and cast Felix out of the family.
Ousted from his noble position and banished from his home, the older son swore revenge and fled to another land with his demon, where he only grew in power and evil. Despite attempts to search for him and arrest him for his crimes and sorcery, he was nowhere to be found. Many knights were sent after him only to return in failure—if they returned at all. Much misfortune befell those whom encountered him.
Some say he opened a gateway to the Underworld where he is amassing an army of the undead. Some say he set up a lair within a volcano, guarded by dragons. Others will claim that he took over an innocent village and transformed them all into monstrosities. Then there was one person who said he started up a school somewhere.
Nobody could quite agree on just what happened to him, actually.
But everyone knew, yes, everyone knew! There was only destruction where he tread. Only danger in his home. Each day that passed, he only grew in skill and evil. All feared him. None with any sense dared to confront him and those that did would not get a chance to regret doing so.
Everyone knew that one day he would return and bring calamity upon them all.
Everyone knew that he would seek revenge against those who had cast him out.
And everyone knew that to this end, he had kidnapped the fair Marinette, a lady of great purity and healing magic.
Everyone that is, except for Felix himself.
“How did you get in my house?”
When Felix had woken up that morning, he knew immediately that something wasn’t right.
Mostly because he actually woke up of his own volition instead of due to being scratched by an annoyed and hungry demon or the sound of something being knocked off a shelf by said demon to get his attention. Plagg was rather petulant that way. It came with being a creature of destruction and ill fortune. As well as a demon. And one Felix had yet to figure out how to banish—though heaven knows he was trying.
Since the unfortunate circumstances of their initial meeting, the menace had been a thorn in his side, seeking any means to vex him. One of said means was waking him in the early hours of the morn to whine for food. And become rather destructive and impossible to ignore if food was not granted immediately thereafter.
The only time he didn’t bother Felix was if something else had his attention. Which was never a good thing.
So he sighed, put on his robes, and prepared himself for whatever headache was waiting for him.
Which happened to be a young lady in his kitchen. Clearly making something that smelled lovely and belonging in a bakery rather than his tower. Plagg, the little traitor, was cozying up to her quite easily.
The lady smiled, polite but clearly nervous.
“Hello! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I came to request your teaching into the use of magic and sorcery—”
“One, I’m not a teacher. And two, that doesn’t explain how you got into my kitchen.”
“Oh, I let her in.” Plagg spoke up, appearing all too pleased from his spot next to her.
Felix’s eye twitched. “Why?”
“She smelled nice and had free food.”
Ah. There’s that headache.
“She’s a keeper, kid. Don’t send her away.”
“Quiet, demon.”
Because of course the demon would betray him and open him up to a potential threat for food. Plagg would deny it with silly claims that ‘she’s not really a threat’, but how would he even know when he’s stuffing his face and leaving Felix to deal with the aftermath.
It was Paris all over again.
“I’m sorry,” the lady—Marinette spoke up, noticing his mood. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You shouldn’t have been able to intrude at all.” He told her—not just a bit put out by the whole thing.
She blinked, surprised. “Really?”
“I made this place impossible to reach with that goal in mind, yes.”
That only seemed to confuse her more. “But…it wasn’t that hard to get here.”
Felix would be insulted, except that up until this point no one else had managed to reach the land around his Tower, much less enter. From her expression, the girl wasn’t bragging or trying to show off. She was truly surprised by his answer. So that meant she must have some skill and at least and no ego for him to have to deal with.
There was that at least.
Regardless, he still needed to know how a stranger made it into his home. Mostly so he could further improve his protections to prevent it from happening again.
“How did you get here?”
“Oh, well I asked for directions.”
That had to be a lie.
“Except that nobody has directions to get through the Lost Forest.”
“Really?”
“That’s why it’s called the ‘Lost Forest’. Who would you even get directions from?”
“Well, I asked the nice fairies—”
Felix blanched at that. “From forest fae?”
“They were quite kind.”
“They eat people.”
She coughed. “I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”
“The trees are literally made out of people they’ve led astray and fed to them.” He politely—in his personal opinion—avoided questioning how she DIDN’T notice the twisted horror of the trees in question. “Why would they help you?”
She shrugged. “I offered them gingerbread men and asked for directions to get here.”
He stared, surprised at that.
…Huh. So they had a weakness for sugar. Or perhaps treats in the shape of people. He would need to keep that in mind.
“And what about the Gorge?” He asked.
“I crossed the bridge.”
He blinked.
“The Gorge doesn’t have a bridge.”
She beamed at that, appearing quite proud. “It does now.”
He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What do yo—”
“And then I saw the Tower and headed here! There were a number of holes and vines blocking the way. You really need to clean up your lawn, it was difficult to get past the pitfalls and thorns. Someone could get caught and injured that way!”
He stared.
“That would be because they are traps. That is what they are meant to do.”
She blushed at that realization. “Oh.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “And how did you get past the door?”
“I knocked?” She answered, questioningly as if it should have been obvious.
“And I answered!” Plagg cheerfully added.
…This was it then. All his work, completely undone by an overly nice and cheerful lady who would no doubt be the death of him. And no thanks to his sole ally—if the thing could even be called that.
Felix glowered down at the creature. “And you didn’t think to perhaps warn me? Or at least not let in a potential threat?”
Of course, the glower had no effect. The little demon was more than used to it by now, and had no doubt encountered worse before he had ever been summoned. And Felix knew this after all this time, but he tried—oh yes, he would still try.
Plagg just grinned cheekily up at him. “What would be the fun of that?”
“Fun isn’t supposed to be the priority here.”
“It should be. Hell knows you were a stick in the mud before you summoned me.”
Marinette gasped at the little creature in surprise.
“You’re the demon? But you’re so tiny!”
“That’s because he hasn’t fed me!” Plagg exclaimed, looking up at her pitifully so as to garner sympathy.
“You eat three times your weight in cheese on a daily basis.”
Plagg didn’t deny it. And of course, the damned thing was completely unashamed. “Yeah, but I could eat four.”
Felix simply rolled his eyes.
Another day then.
#ml au#magic au#felix agreste#ml felix#marinette dupain cheng#plagg#grumpy wizard felix#felix month#felix july
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How Shall We Stop Dreams - Part 7
Chapter 6 of the serialised Dreams AU. Follow the Tags below for the previous parts if you missed them, or check it all out on AO3 if that’s your preferred poison.
Hope you enjoy :)
Wei Wuxian made his way back to their house, hoping he might be able to calm Jiang Cheng down and maybe pull back, or clarify, some of the things he’d said in the heat of his temper. He was so protective of Jiang Cheng, who to all intents had purposes, was his little brother even though they weren’t related by blood, that he hadn’t really thought what he’d said through. And he had hurt Jiang Cheng.
He’d hurt Lan Xichen too, but that he didn’t care about, his brother was his only concern.
Jiang Cheng was already in bed and had his back turned so he faced the wall when Wei Wuxian arrived.
He moved across the room knelt down next to the bed.
“Jiang Cheng”
The other ignored him, but Wei Wuxian could tell he wasn’t asleep as he was too tense.
“Jiang Cheng” he said again; “I know you aren’t sleeping, don’t ignore me”
“Leave me alone, Wei Wuxian” he could hear the upset in Jiang Cheng’s voice and he felt even worse.
“Come Jiang Cheng, lets talk, please. I said some silly things that probably stand further explanation. I was protecting you a little too zealously and I interfered in something that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry”
“Sometimes it feels like you want to keep me in your shadow forever. That you don’t want me to grow up, that you don’t want me to ever have something before you”
The tearful litany made Wei Wuxian pause, that had never been his intention, but had it seemed to the other like that? Maybe, because of Jiang Cheng’s own insecurities.
“I would never do that to you, A-Cheng” he reached out to stroke a hand over Jiang Cheng’s hair soothingly.
The other sat up, slapping his hand away, “Leave me alone”
“Don’t be like that, didi” Wei Wuxian moved to sit on the edge of his bed and put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, “I know I was very wrong to have interfered. You’re right, you are an adult, and able to make your own decisions, whether they worry me or not is my problem to deal with and not yours. You should have that talk with Lan Xichen, I don’t understand the whole Spiritmatch thing and I jumped in with very little information. You should let him tell you himself. I am sorry I attacked you both like that, and that you feel like I’m trying to keep you in my shadow, it’s the last thing I want” he realised the other was crying and he couldn’t bear it, “A-Cheng, don’t do that, its not so bad, honestly it will work out, you’ll see” he folded the other into a soothing hug; Jiang Cheng had unusually met him half way which was probably an indication of how hurt the other was, normally he’d rather punch Wei Wuxian in the shoulder than accept it to cry on.
“Just once it would be nice if someone chose me because it was me, not because I was anyone’s brother or son or fated one, just because I was the choice they wanted to make” Wei Wuxian stroked his back and continued to make soothing noises.
***
The next morning Wei Wuxian was up and away before Jiang Cheng woke up; something Jiang Cheng was thankful for, too embarrassed to face him this morning after his emotional meltdown. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Wei Wuxian had arranged it for that very reason, to save Jiang Cheng some face.
He decided to take a quick breakfast in the house and spend the day out in the woods, walking, perhaps practising his sword forms, and generally clearing his head.
Along with the tray of food that was delivered by one of the Wen’s servants was a note from Wen Qing, asking him to make himself available tomorrow for an examination.
He sent a positive response back, finished his meal in peace and disappeared for the day after leaving a brief note for Wei Wuxian explaining he’d be back later in case the other returned before him.
***
Wei Wuxian was on his way back to the house to check on Jiang Cheng when he ran into Mo Xuanyu and Wen Ning. Wei Wuxian was of course now accompanied by his permanent shadow, Lan er-gongzi.
“Hello you two, what are you up to?” Wei Wuxian greeted them.
He’d given some careful consideration overnight, given that they suspected Wen Ning was a half demon, to how he would react on meeting the other. He had decided to treat him as he would anyway, or at least as closely as he could; Wen Ning had risked himself to save Mo Xuanyu yesterday, and that was all he needed to know about the other until something happened to change his mind. Even if he was half demon that wasn’t enough to hold against him because he genuinely seemed like a shy, kind young man.
“Wen Ning is a crack shot archer, he was going to show me some tips at the training range”
“Ah, sounds good, perhaps you could give me some tips too one day soon, Wen Ning” Wei Wuxian offered, which made Wen Ning blush.
“I’m sure Wei-gongzi is too skilled to need my guidance” he looked up as Wei Wuxian patted his shoulder.
“Nonsense, I’m always eager to learn something new. How are you feeling after your injuries yesterday?”
“I’m fine, Jiejie tended to them in the evening and they’re almost healed now”
“You’re very lucky, Wen Qing is a very accomplished healer I understand” Wen Ning nodded, obviously proud of his elder sister.
“She is greatly favoured by Wen-zongzhu, is she not? A great honour” it was the first time Lan Wangji had spoken to the pair and Wen Ning looked a little uncomfortable. Which seemed to be the effect Lan Wangji had on most people as they didn’t know how to deal with his dispassionate nature. Neither did Wei Wuxian really, but he was the type of person who would learn as they went along, it wasn’t something that worried him.
Wen Ning nodded again at Lan Wangji’s statement.
Mo Xuanyu piped up then, as if coming to rescue Wen Ning from his discomfort, “Will you come with us to the range?”
“I may join you later, I want to see what Jiang Cheng is up to first, he hasn’t shown himself yet this morning. Don’t wait for me!” he waved as they moved on towards the accommodations.
They were almost there when Lan Wangji murmured his name softly.
“Wei Ying...”
“No” he turned, to the other and gave him a determined look. “I won’t treat him any differently until it’s proved he doesn’t deserve my trust”
“Ironically better than you treated my brother” he could see the moment Lan Wangji’s soul left his body as he realised he’d put his foot in his mouth again. And although Wei Wuxian accepted the comment was accurate and he didn’t take offence he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease the other.
“It’s like you’re trying to remain a virgin for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan” Wei Wuxian told him.
“Wei Ying” Lan Wangji exclaimed, scandalised at his comment. Wei Wuxian noted the fact that although the other’s perfect, jade-like face didn’t flush with his embarrassment, his neck and his earlobes did. It was actually quite adorable and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to scratch at Lan Wangji’s chin. Lan Wangji seemed react to the caress like a cat, and Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have been entirely surprised to hear a purr come from the other’s throat.
***
He found the note from Jiang Cheng on his return so they decided to return to the Lan’s house instead and see how Lan Xichen fared with his research.
“Xiongzhang” Lan Wangji greeted his brother as they entered, Lan Xichen didn’t look up.
“Wangji, Wei-gongzi” he acknowledged shortly.
It seemed Wei Wuxian still hadn’t been forgiven for his transgression last night.
Not that he had expected to be yet.
“Have you discovered anything?”
“I’m still looking, something that would go much more smoothly if I was left undisturbed” an annoyed Lan Xichen was almost alien to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian could tell he didn’t know how to handle his elder brother at the moment.
Wei Wuxian had been the cause, and although he couldn’t magically fix it he could certainly try and help give them the opportunity to fix it themselves.
He moved towards the table and sank to his knees next to it, edging into Lan Xichen’s eyeline. He saw the other redouble his efforts to ignore Wei Wuxian and focus on the text in front of him; but he edged closer and waved the paper, “Zewu-jun, a peace offering”
Lan Xichen finally looked up from the book and fixed him with a look, “There is no need, please do not interfere more than you already have, Wei-gongzi. I can certainly do without your version of assistance”
“Xiongzhang...” Wei Wuxian held his hand up to halt Lan Wangji from coming to his defence; he unfolded the paper and placed it in front of Lan Xichen.
The other looked at it, had almost risen to his feet before he even realised it, then sank back down, pushing the paper away.
“I should finish here” he said finally, and waved a dismissing hand at them both.
“Xiongzhang, you have been here all morning, taking a break for a while will not hurt” Lan Wangji argued.
And Wei Wuxian was able to watch the war in his eyes, eventually his need to talk to Jiang Cheng won out and he closed the book, rose, picked up Shuoyue, and left.
Wei Wuxian was about to open one of the books when there was a knock at the door. He picked them up and shoved them under the bedclothes on one of the beds while Lan Wangji moved to the door; he opened it when he was sure Wei Wuxian had hidden them from sight well enough.
“Luo-guniang” he greeted and stood back to allow her entry.
“Lan er-gongzi, Wei-gongzi” she cupped her hands and bowed, and they returned the salute.
“I have important news. Have you heard yet? One of the disciples from Wu Sect was sent home this morning, she took ill yesterday evening. After a consultation with Wen Qing”
“Took ill?”
“Jin-gongzi saw her leave, he said she looked confused, and drained, like she was completely exhausted. How could it be possible to become so sick in just a few hours and not have the best healer in the land notice anything wrong with you before you did?”
While he had concerns over what she said, Wei Wuxian was also curious to know why she had come to report it to them.
“Why are you telling us?” he asked, his arms folded.
“Wei-gongzi, I didn’t come in off the farm yesterday. It’s obvious more than meets the eye is going on here, we all suspected it from the very night of the feast, and your suddenly becoming bosom friends with Lan er-gongzi and keeping quiet about what you saw yesterday makes it very obvious you’re getting involved in something right up to your knees”
He marvelled at her deductive reasoning; she was a formidable woman, keeping quiet, taking everything in around her, absorbing the available information like a sponge, then acting when she saw it as time.
“I’m neither confirming nor denying any such involvement”
“If you’re not involved you won’t want the rest of the information I have then...” she shrugged and made to walk away, but Wei Wuxian dashed forward and took hold of her arms gently.
“Now, Luo-guniang, don’t be like that. Perhaps you could tell us for completeness” Wei Wuxian suggested, raising his eyebrows in question.
“I will tell you, but when you investigate this, I want to be involved”
“Absolutely not” Lan Wangji said as Wei Wuxian agreed.
Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, “Lan Zhan, Luo-guniang is a very strong cultivator, and obviously a very clever one, she won’t hold us up”
“There will be no us, if there is danger the only people involved will be Xiongzhang or I, this is our task, not yours, nor Luo-guniang's”
“Am I having these nightmares? Is Luo Qingyang? It’s very much our business too. You don’t get to decide whether we sit and watch or not Lan Zhan, you may say we can’t go with you, but that certainly doesn’t mean I’ll sit and wait for you to come back, I’ll go myself if I have to”
“You won’t, I’ll be with you too” Luo Qingyang confirmed and again the look of frustration crossed Lan Wangji’s face but he must surely know enough about Wei Wuxian’s personality to know the other wouldn’t sit gamely by in a situation like this.
Lan Wangji gave the briefest of nods eventually, his mouth tight.
“A member of the Jin clan has been invited to an examination tonight, I think we should follow them and try to find out what we can about what happens when Wen Qing runs an examination, and see if there’s any link to the state the Wu sect disciple was in when she left for home this morning” Luo Qingyang informed them.
***
Wen Ruohan listened to Wen Qing’s report and the failure of the second test subject. They had a third planned for that evening, but she had doubts about viability of this one too.
“This is all very disappointing” he drummed the fingers of his right hand on the arm of his throne-like chair, and Wen Qing bowed her head.
“I’m sorry, Wen-zongzhu. The failure is mine”
Although he was very disappointed with their lack of progress he was fully aware this was likely to take time, eventually the cultivators here would start to suspect something but he didn’t think that it should be yet, and really what they were looking for was trial and error, like any experiment. If they knew the perfect solution they wouldn’t even need to undertake this part of the plan.
“Nonsense, these things take time, we understood that, I’m merely frustrated and wish to be making progress. It will come though. Perhaps we start testing the cultivators who had the strongest reactions to the dreams”
“I have already arranged for one to be tested tomorrow, Wen-zongzhu, I hope you won’t be disappointed for too much longer” she bowed again; there was a lot of tension in her shoulders, he hoped she wasn’t having second thoughts about her involvement with their work here, it would have some rather dire consequences for everyone involved if she did.
Wen Ruohan resolved to keep a close watch on his star healer.
#How Shall We Stop Dreams AU#Xicheng#Wangxian#serialised#lan xichen#lan wangji#jiang cheng#wei wuxian#luo qingyang#Shay's stuff#mdzs#mdzs fanfic#mdzs fic
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I agree with your view on marys character, she wouldve been a fantastic villain, theres definitely buildup. Do you have some fic recs for villain!Mary?
Hi Lovely!!
YES I love a good evil / Villain Mary plot, if only because she had so much potential as one in S3 and just never fell through with it. I know a fic I DIDN’T put on this list because Mary was such a background character that she shows up in the penultimate chapter and her REVEAL as a villain was the “big spoiler reveal” in the fic’s climax, so rather than spoil that fic for y’all, I’ve omitted it all together; feel free to message me if you want to know which fic it was, LOL.
Anyway, hope you like what I’ve got for ya here!
EVIL / NOT-NICE / VILLAIN MARY
See also: Evil Mary (Alexx’s List)
Quite Contrary by Hollyesque (T, 1,805 w. || HLV Fic, Sherlock Whump / After Mary Shot Sherlock, Hallucinations / Flashbacks / PTSD, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Lestrade POV, ) – A short one-shot, alternate scene to Greg’s hospital visit in HLV. Instead of Sherlock disappearing, Greg is faced with an unexpected reaction to a hospitalized Sherlock and winds up figuring out something that he really would have rather not known.
BBCSH ‘Poor Mary’ by tigersilver (M, 1,839 w.|| HLV Fic, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Missing Scene, Sherlock POV) – As the tin says above, this is a missing scene, set directly after Sherlock awakens in hospital after having been shot by his best mate’s wife. Minor angst, some pining, nothing nasty; please don’t be alarmed unduly.
Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he’s been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.
It’s a Dummy by Johnnlocked (T, 2,574 w. || Confessions, HLV-AU, Major Character Injury) – What if Mary had taken the shot?
Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five
The Trial of Sherlock Holmes by jenna221b (G, 3,015 across 3 works || TAB!lock, Metafic / TJLC, Victorian AU / 1895, Christmas, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Oscar Wilde) – Scripts based on speculation that Sherlock will be put on trial in The Abominable Bride to parallel the Oscar Wilde Trials of 1895.
In the cherry blossom’s shade by Eliane (M, 3,934 w. || Post S3, First Time / Kiss, Sleeping Together, Pining / Obsessive Sherlock, Minor Char. Death) – This isn’t new. Sherlock has already done this – has gone through cities, and dingy hotels, and sleepless nights but it was different before. John wasn’t there before. They’re in this together.
Recovery by thesignsofserbia (T, 5,948 w. || HLV-Fix It / Rewrite, Villain Mary, Pining Sherlock, Major Character Injury, Scars, Self-Hatred, POV Sherlock, Doctor John, Friends to Lovers) – Set after the confrontation with Mary, and Sherlock’s cardiac arrest, John stays at 221B to aid Sherlock’s recovery, forcing them to confront wounds both old and new as they try to heal their damaged relationship.
Never Been This Swept Away by estalita11 (T, 8,531 w. || Post-TAB, Mary is Not Nice, Drug Use, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Set immediately after TAB, Sherlock visits his brother to definitely not apologize about earlier and ends up finally learning a few things that would have been nice knowing about months ago. Mycroft never wants to deal with lovestruck idiots ever again.
Out of the Darkness by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (M, 12,165 w+ (WIP) || Death, Overdose, Heavy Angst, Whump, Mary is Not Nice, Post S3/TAB Compliant) – John Watson has long assumed Sherlock Holmes is immune to sentiment, “doesn’t feel things that way.” Sherlock, however, would do anything for the person he loves most in the world, including putting himself in danger while keeping John in the dark in hopes of keeping him safe. Tired of being left behind, John is running a strategy of his own. Unfortunately things do not go as planned for either of them. And as John lays bleeding, Sherlock finally allows himself to say the things he’s always meant to… This is the story of love, forgiveness and finally making right all the wrongs in these two men’s lives.
Barricade by stitchy (M, 14,127 w. || Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending, UST, Mary’s Not Nice, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock has been struggling to keep his feelings at bay for everyone’s sake. Part 1 of Barricade
Dropping the Act by jadztone (T, 27,258 w. || Parentlock, Fake Relationship, Mary’s Family, Post-S4, Cuddling & Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Pining, Christmas) – Sherlock and John are quite happy living together with Rosie in Baker St. They might be even happier if they didn’t act towards each other like their love is only platonic. Mycroft brings troubling news in the form of Mary’s parents wanting to know just what their grandchild’s home life is like. The boys decide to spend Christmas pretending like they are in love in order to seem more like a “normal” family. It’s easy enough to pretend when all you’re doing is dropping the act. {{Background discussion of Mary who’s neither evil nor nice}}
Vena Cava by SilentAuror (E, 27,452 || H/C, Infidelity, Angst, HLV Fix-It, Romance) – Sherlock has been shot in the chest; John has been shot in the heart. Though everything is broken, they do their best to heal the wounds that Mary left on them both.
A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,690 w. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX
Pater Noster by SilentAuror (E, 34,256 w. || Case Fic, HLV+, Family Trauma, Sherlock POV, Villain Mary) – During the autumn that John is staying at Baker Street again after Sherlock was shot, he ruminates over the similarity between Sherlock’s shot and the one that killed his father when he was fifteen. Cold case meets series 3 fix-it. Part I takes place entirely within His Last Vow, Part II takes place starting at the end of HLV and continues after.
The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.
Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.
Malediction by MapleleafCameo (M, 36,680 w. || Ladyhawke AU || Magical Realism, Romance, Curses, Eventual Happy Ending) – Cursed to a half-life, John and Sherlock must fight the forces of evil to be reunited once again.
Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Indifelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.
Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,493 w. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.
The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (E, 62,006 w || First Person Sherlock POV, Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Sherlock Learns About Himself, Happy Ending) – Sherlock struggles with his feelings for John, makes a mistake, and learns just how important he and John are to each other. Non-BBC Mary / John, but it’s a *complicated* relationship.
The Bells of King’s College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays) – It’s only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths… (Mary is only mentioned but she had a profound effect on John which is why I kept this one in)
The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.
Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w. || Pining, Love Confessions, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock POV, Eventual Happy Ending) – “For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face.” Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.
Sacré Coeur by Mamaorion (M, 95,236 w. || S4 Fix It Rewrite, First Kiss, UST / RST, Eventual Happy Ending, Coming Out, Holmes Family, Marriage Proposal, Husbands, Healing, Evil Mary, Beekeeping, Caretaker Sherlock, Mind Palace, Alzheimer’s Disease, Protective / Big Brother Mycroft, TD-12) – In this s4 fixit, John must piece together the gaps in his altered memory if he and Sherlock are to face the terror that has plagued Sherlock since childhood. As they untangle the web, seven years of hidden love ignite. (TO READ)
The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.
MARKED FOR LATER
(these are fics I have in my MFL list for future reading and have not read them yet. Read at your own discretion).
Stay for Me by Itsallfine (M, 17,310 w. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss/Time, Bed Sharing, Mental Health Issues, Not-Nice Mary, Divorce, Angst with Happy Ending, Parentlock) – 221B was packed into boxes and bins, and that was when John knew, really knew—Sherlock had planned to be gone forever.
Collateral Damage by SilentAuror (E, 24,952 w. || Post-HLV, POV Third Person Sherlock, Snipers, Drama, Villain Mary, Moriarty is Alive) – Upon learning that Moriarty is alive, Mary disappears, leaving Sherlock and John to work on the mystery of Moriarty’s survival on their own. Until Mycroft’s people find and bring her back…
An Everlasting Inferno by thatawkwardfriend (M, 35,011+ w. || WiP || Criminal AU || Different First Meeting, Minor Character Death, Gun Violence, Sherlock Whump, Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers, UST, Mutual Pining) – Sherlock and John are both men who operate outside the law. John works for Mary and her hitmen in order to keep a roof over his head. Sherlock does anything his drug dealer asks of him in exchange for free drugs and housing. They meet one night in a darkened garage to negotiate a deal. But they soon find out that neither of their bosses are being entirely honest with them about their goals or motives. With a little poking around, they stumble upon something much bigger than themselves and discover that perhaps, it might be in their best interests to work together. (Loosely inspired by StartUp and Little Favour)
The Craving in Between by love_in_mind_palace (E, 69,349 w. || Wedding Planner AU || Infidelity, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Sexting & Texting, Alternating POV, Mary is Not Nice) – Sherlock Holmes, The wedding Consultant. Picky about his projects and a nightmare to work with. Rejects ninety percent of the couples after just having a look at them and can predict how long a marriage will last. But when unassuming, plain, John Watson reluctantly limps his way in his office, with his more than enthusiastic fiancée, Mary Morstan, instead of dismissing the ill-assorted couple on the spot, he promptly decides that the project, and the groom.. are definitely worth working on.
The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 93,848+ w. || WiP || S4 Fix It Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – WORK IN PROGRESS – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.
Sacré Coeur by Mamaorion (M, 95,236 w. || S4 Fix It Rewrite, First Kiss, UST / RST, Eventual Happy Ending, Coming Out, Holmes Family, Marriage Proposal, Husbands, Healing, Evil Mary, Beekeeping, Caretaker Sherlock, Mind Palace, Alzheimer’s Disease, Protective / Big Brother Mycroft, TD-12) – In this s4 fixit, John must piece together the gaps in his altered memory if he and Sherlock are to face the terror that has plagued Sherlock since childhood. As they untangle the web, seven years of hidden love ignite.
A Ritual to Read to Each Other by weeesi (E, 101,463 w. || Post S3 / Post HLV, Pining, Alternating POV, Masturbation, John’s Nightmares, Mary is Not Nice, Love Confessions, Flashbacks, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, BJ’s / HJ’s, Shower Sex, Anal, John Deals With Feelings, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Injury, On Holidays, Implied Mystrade) – After Mycroft terminated his exile but before Sherlock could escape from the infuriating plane, John and Mary were whisked away by car to an unknown location.Sherlock hasn’t seen them for an entire year. He doesn’t know when he’ll see John again – until one day, he does.But, of course, nothing is simple.
“Merry Christmas” I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying “I love you” by starrysummernights (E, 136,580+ w. || WIP, chapter missing? || Post S4, Slow Burn, Mary is Not Nice, Christmas, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Parentlock, Past Torture / Rape) – John has moved back into 221B with his daughter Rosie after Mary was killed, but things are not exactly comfortable between him and Sherlock. After everything that has happened, they are trying to become friends again…and maybe something more. What better time than the Christmas season?! Takes place after TLD.
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Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU
Table of Contents
beta’d by @ageofzero, @magic713m, @ccboomer, @somebodyswatson, and Aubs
Chapter Thirteen
The Secret Riddle
Harry did not make a habit of reading textbooks in bed first thing in the morning nor late into the evening, but he’d made an exception for his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. It wasn’t the potions notes that had him so intrigued, it was the notes around the potions notes that Harry found fascinating. The Prince wasn’t just interested in brewing a perfect Draught of Living Death. He seemed to have a fascination with all sorts of curses.
In the margins of a diagram of Fluxweed, Harry had discovered a hex that made toenails grow suddenly and uncontrollably, which he’d used on Crabbe. Scribbled underneath a note about Veritaserum, Harry found a jinx that caused the tongue to stick tightly to the roof of the mouth, leaving the victim effectively tongue-tied. He’d run into Filch shouting at some first years for tracking mud into the hall, something Harry had experienced all too often after many dirty Quidditch practices, and thought some revenge was owed. It had worked flawlessly.
The spell Harry found to be the most useful was Muffliato, which left an impossible to identify buzzing in the ears of would-be eavesdroppers. It was excellent for holding conversations during class, though Hermione had found everything about the Prince intolerable, and refused to participate in a conversation if she knew Harry had cast the charm. Harry thought she was being perfectly unreasonable. It did not help that Neville supported her argument that hand-written charms were not Ministry-approved, and could be very dangerous for caster and target, but Harry didn’t think much of Ministry-approved anything these days, and ignored their arguments.
Most recently, Harry had discovered Levicorpus, a purely nonverbal spell. He’d tried it out Saturday morning before their Hogsmeade trip and had accidentally given Ron a rather rude awakening, by hoisting him into the air by his ankle. Hermione had given Harry a harsh upbraiding for this spell, but Harry wasn’t sure it was as bad as she said. After all, he’d seen his father use it in the Pensieve in Snape’s memories, and he remembered it being used on himself, by Remus, Sirius, and James. He’d been an excitable toddler who wandered often, and he’d just as often been retrieved by his ankle. Granted, there had been a lot more giggling on Harry’s part than he’d seen in Ron or Snape, but Ron had seen the humour after he’d been safely let down by the counterspell.
Despite Harry’s thorough investigation of the book, he’d come no closer to discovering the author’s identity. He had, unfortunately, ruled out his favourite guesses. His father and Sirius were not half-bloods, and though Sirius might joke about being a disinherited prince, it was unlikely he would have given himself such a pseudonym. Remus was a half-blood, but again, prince seemed like a title Remus would avoid. And Remus had never been decent at Potions, so he was an unlikely author as well.
The one Harry wished it was, more than any of the others, was his mother. He had gotten out his birthday gift and flipped to his mother’s potions recipes to compare her notes to the Prince’s. Though the handwriting was different, so much of the wording was similar, or in some places, even identical. Though his mother was not a half-blood and not a prince in any fashion, he could not help but feel his mother had known the prince. He wondered if she’d learned potions from this book, too.
Harry had considered, several times during their weekly-ish conversations, asking her about the book, but he always hesitated when the moment came. He was unsure how she would feel about his use of someone else’s notes in his Potions. So far, he’d told her his success was because of her help and her notes, which was partially true, considering how similar her notes and the Prince’s were. He thought that he might show her the book at Christmas, but if he did that, he risked her taking it away. The safest course of action would be to wait until after the holidays, when he could ask her about it without fear that she could get her hands on it.
On this particular Monday morning, however, Harry was not poring over Advanced Potion-Making. He was instead investigating the Marauder’s Map. His conversation with Tonks after Katie’s accident had been embarrassing and illuminating. Harry had spent his summer doubling-down on his studies of healing magic and defensive spells. He was preparing for an insurmountable task, the task of defeating Voldemort, and Tonks’ quick lesson had shown him just how little he was actually prepared for Aurorship.
Moody had known of the Marauder’s Map, but had not confiscated it as a professor ought to, as Remus had during his time as a professor. Instead, Moody had handed it right back to Harry, and told Harry it was an invaluable tool. Harry wished he’d thought to use it sooner. So far it had told him three very important things.
Firstly, he was unable to find Draco Malfoy in the Slytherin dormitories, nor the Great Hall, nor anywhere on the map for that matter. That told Harry either Malfoy was sneaking off to Hogsmeade or elsewhere, or that Malfoy had found a way to conceal his movements within the castle, though he had no knowledge of the map. It was suspicious either way.
Secondly, Katie Bell was no longer in the hospital wing. She was not on the map at all, but had instead been transferred to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Harry knew she was lucky to be alive, and he wished he knew more than that, but it seemed no one had answers.
Finally, though Harry scoured every inch of the map, he could not find Dumbledore. He did find Fabian Prewett on the fourth floor, and he remembered what McGonagall had said about the school being in good hands. Tonks was not the only Auror who was patrolling Hogwarts castle in Dumbledore’s absence.
The only part that truly concerned Harry was that Ginny had delivered him a parchment with the date of Dumbledore’s next lesson, scheduled for that very evening. Harry wondered if Dumbledore would return in time. He certainly hoped so, because if Dumbledore did not return for the lesson, Hermione was certainly going to drag him to Slughorn’s supper, and Harry knew which of those two meetings he preferred to attend.
As Harry did not hear anything about Dumbledore canceling nor postponing, he headed past the gargoyles and knocked on Dumbledore’s office door promptly at eight o’clock.
“Enter,” the Headmaster’s familiar voice said, and Harry pushed the door open.
Dumbledore was seated at his desk, just as he had been the last time Harry was here. His blackened, disfigured hand rested on the desk, and Harry thought he looked exceptionally exhausted. The Pensieve was on the desk as well, but the locket and the ring were no longer laid out on the desk.
With his usable hand, Dumbledore smiled and gestured for Harry to take a seat.
“I understand you’ve had a busy time while I’ve been away,” he said. “I believe you witnessed Katie’s accident.”
“Yes, sir. It was lucky Tonks was there.”
“I don’t know if it was luck as much as it was foresight on my part. Though I heard you handled yourself appropriately as well. Rushing for Hagrid’s help was quick thinking on your part.”
“Er — I don’t know about that, sir. I mean, it was, but I should’ve been more helpful. Tonks reminded me to be more careful of my surroundings, to pay attention to who’s near me, even somewhere like Hogsmeade, or even Hogwarts.”
Dumbledore nodded. “A wise lesson.”
He considered telling Dumbledore that he’d decided to carry the Marauder’s Map with him as surely as he carried his wand and cloak, but decided the Marauders would not approve of the Headmaster of Hogwarts knowing about such a mischievous item, so instead, Harry turned to the other point of conversation he was far more interested in discussing. “She also seemed confident that it was a woman who cursed Katie but — er —”
“You believe differently?”
“I think it was Draco Malfoy — sir.”
Dumbledore’s face remained unchanged. He seemed neither surprised by nor critical of this accusation. His lack of response urged Harry to keep talking, to explain himself and fill the space.
“He knew about the necklace. He saw it in Borgin and Burke’s. And — Professor, I think he’s a Death Eater.” Harry, though he did not give Dumbledore the details of skulking down Knockturn Alley with the Invisibility Cloak, told Dumbledore he’d overheard Draco show Borgin something on his arm.
This information, too, did not disconcert Dumbledore.
“It may interest you to know, Harry,” Dumbledore finally said, “that Malfoy spent his Saturday in detention with Professor McGonagall.”
Harry did not care for this crushing bit of information. “Someone could have done it for him, though.”
This comment seemed to amuse Dumbledore; at least, Harry thought there was the tiniest twitch in the corner of Dumbledore’s mouth.
“I shall see to it the matter is fully investigated. For now,” Dumbledore reached into his cloak and pulled out a vial full of viscous silver memories, “I am most concerned with our lesson. Shall we?”
Harry was not quite ready to set aside his suspicions of Draco Malfoy, and thought Katie’s accident far more pressing than old memories of Tom Riddle’s family. “Sir — I just want to know — will Katie be alright?”
“I am afraid that question does not have an answer any more sure than the question of who cursed her. I can say she was relatively lucky. Tonks’, Hagrid’s and of course your own quick thinking got her help as quickly as possible, and her only contact with the necklace was through a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put the necklace on or even held it in an ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent the rapid spread of the curse, and the staff at St. Mungo’s are now doing everything they can for her. They are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery, in time.”
As if that closed the conversation, Dumbledore used his wand to uncork the vial and poured the contents into the Pensieve. Harry, though, had one more question.
“Where were you this weekend, sir?”
“I would rather not say just now. However, I shall tell you in due course.”
“You will?”
“Yes, I expect so. Now, you will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort’s beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort.”
“How do you know she was in London, sir?”
“It is an interesting coincidence that you mentioned Mr Borgin, for our evidence in fact comes from Caractacus Burke.”
This time, instead of taking Harry into the memory, Dumbledore waved his wand over the Pensieve and the small figure of a silvery old man rose out of the shallow bowl.
“Yes,” the figure said, “we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along… Going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin’s. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time. ‘Oh, this was Merlin’s, this was, his favorite teapot,’ but when I looked at it, it had his mark alright, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn’t seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!”
Harry blinked. “Ten Galleons? For a locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin?”
“Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity,” Dumbledore said. He was neither critical, like Harry was, nor sympathetic. “So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo’s treasured family heirlooms.”
Harry shook his head, confused. “But she could do magic, couldn’t she? She could have got food and everything for herself that way. Didn’t you say she did all the cooking at home?”
“Ah,” Dumbledore nodded, “perhaps she could have cared for herself. But it is my belief — I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right — that when Riddle abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers. I believe you have witnessed that first hand.”
Harry thought about Tonks, and how she had been unable to change her appearance when she had visited that summer. He wondered what it must be like to love someone so desperately that nothing else, not even magic, mattered. It sounded dangerous to throw oneself into a single person.
But Harry also remembered the strain it had put on his parents to be apart while his mother was a professor. He remembered what he had been told about the night Voldemort had attacked his parents while they were in hiding, how James had stood between his mother and Voldemort, wandless and defenseless, and wondered how different things might have been had his father died there, and it had only been Harry’s mother who had survived.
“It seems like a dangerous thing then, to put so much love into someone who you could lose in an instant,” Harry said quietly.
“It is tragic,” Dumbledore agreed, “to love someone and lose them unexpectedly. Merope, in her distress, chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but before you judge her too harshly, Harry, remember she was greatly weakened by long suffering. She did not have the love and support that you have enjoyed, and while you are right to be wary of throwing your whole self into one person, remember that the reward for that risk is even greater. You perhaps know this better than most wizards.”
Harry ran his hand over the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Love had saved him and his parents from Voldemort. His parents did not discuss Peter Pettigrew, but he could only imagine the kind of love and courage it would take to choose to face Voldemort to save someone else’s life.
“I don’t know if I could do that — I mean, I’ve faced Voldemort, but never —”
“Do not sell yourself short, Harry. Did you not stand between Tom Riddle and Ginny Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets? Did you not risk yourself last summer in an effort to save Snape, someone whom you do not share much love for at all, as I understand. You are brave, Harry, and you do not like to watch others suffer. Now, if you will stand….”
Harry was startled, but stood as Dumbledore stood. “Where are we going, sir?”
“This time we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry….”
As he had done a handful of times before, Harry leaned over the Pensieve, pressing his face into the cool silver, and fell into a memory.
—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————
Cedric —
I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. There hasn’t been much to tell you. Everything was quiet until this weekend. You probably heard that Katie Bell got cursed. Tonks was there, and she helped save Katie — at least, I hope Katie’s safe. I’d never seen something like that before. I remember when the Death Eaters lifted the Muggle family into the air at the Quidditch cup but this was so much worse. Katie was screaming, and in so much pain. I felt so helpless. It was sort of like being back in the Department of Mysteries, watching people get hurt and being unable to do anything about it.
Dumbledore thinks she’ll be alright — well, he said he hopes she’ll be alright. It’s even scarier to think there are things happening that even Dumbledore doesn’t know about. He doesn’t seem to believe that Draco Malfoy is the one who Imperiused Katie to take the necklace into Hogwarts, but it’s got to be him. I saw him in Knockturn Alley in the shop where the necklace was. I know he showed Borgin a Dark Mark. I didn’t see his Dark Mark, but why else would he roll up his sleeve to Borgin to convince him to help? And he wouldn’t let Madam Malkin roll up his sleeve when we were purchasing school robes. I don’t know how exactly Malfoy’s involved in it all, but I know he is. I just wish I knew what his plan was.
He’s even leaving the school somehow. I’m sure of it, but I haven’t figured out how.
I told Dumbledore that I think Malfoy’s responsible, and he said he’d investigate it, but he wasn’t very convincing. I don’t think he believes me any more than Ron, Hermione, and Neville do.
I had my second lesson with Dumbledore last night. He showed me what Tom Riddle was like as a boy. It was strange to see him as a child. He was just a kid in an orphanage, but still — he was odd. And violent to the other kids in the orphanage. He was suspicious of Dumbledore, and he knew the lady who ran the orphanage didn’t trust him much. He had even taught himself a good deal of magic and had control over it, especially for someone who’d never been to school. He was polite with Dumbledore as soon as he knew Dumbledore was a wizard, though. It was strange to watch him change from angry to polite so quickly…. It was hard not to remember the graveyard.
Dumbledore found a bunch of toys that Tom Riddle had stolen from other kids in the orphanage, and he scolded him for it, and told him that there were magical laws. I don’t know that Tom Riddle really cared, but he seemed to pretend to. And when Dumbledore told him about Diagon Alley and needing all his school things, he insisted on going alone.
Dumbledore said that he knew he ought to keep an eye on Riddle while he was at Hogwarts. Obviously he didn’t know that Riddle was going to become Voldemort, but he didn’t like how he was using magic to punish and control the other children in the orphanage. He also wasn’t sure about how secretive Riddle could be.
When we were done with the memory, Dumbledore pointed out a bunch of things about Tom Riddle I hadn’t even noticed, or I didn’t think were all that important, but when Dumbledore laid it all out it made sense. It made me realise, again, just how much I have to learn if I want to be an Auror like you and Tonks.
Dumbledore said it was important to remember how Riddle didn’t like his name Tom, and that he hated anything that made him ordinary. I guess that’s why he felt the need to change his name to “Lord Voldemort.” He also was secretive and isolated himself from others. I thought this sounded contrary to someone who has a group of followers, but Dumbledore says that the Death Eaters don’t truly know him, that Voldemort does not confide in them. Dumbledore said Voldemort has never had a friend, and he doesn’t think Voldemort has ever even wanted a friend.
He said it was important to know that Tom Riddle took things from the kids he bullied, but I don’t know what that has to do with anything. Dumbledore just said it would be important later. I can’t imagine why.
That was all Dumbledore told me. It felt so useless, honestly. But I didn’t really understand why the first memory was important, and you were able to dig up all sorts of information on that. I don’t know how much you could do with a Muggle orphanage, but I expect Dumbledore will explain it all eventually. I don’t know why he waits so long between lessons if they’re so important! I don’t know where he keeps going, either, but he’s definitely leaving Hogwarts for some reason. I suppose the Ministry wouldn’t know, either, would they?
I hope your Auror training is going well. The Prophet makes everything look bad. Is it really all that terrible?
— Harry
#harry potter#hbp#harry potter everyone lives#hp everyone lives au#harry potter and the half-blood prince
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