#Eyes that reflect the world around them like the mirror they’re so afraid of

[nadvs]

home before dark (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You’ve been looking at your reflection for five minutes now, eyes rimmed red from crying. Muffled, bass-heavy music is echoing from the front of the house.

You’ll do anything to delay going back out there. Even if it means standing still in the bathroom, trying and failing to stop tears.

Parties at Tannyhill always bring in massive crowds, yet your ex-boyfriend still managed to find you in the sea of people. You slipped away and have been hiding since, the anxiety of seeing him again crushing you.

Thankfully, you know your way around the estate. It was once like your second home.

As an only child, you latched onto the Cameron siblings the second you met them. You had just moved to Kildare, your dad having been an old college friend of Ward’s.

You practically grew up with them. You’re still close with Sarah. And even though Wheezie was only four when they lost their mother, she seems to find comfort in you always being around.

But your once best friend, who you’re merely weeks apart from in age, was transformed by the grief. Rafe is a stranger now. And you can tell that he loathes being around you.

When the door is roughly pushed open, the knob slamming against the wall, your heart lurches, overtaken by the sharp fear that Ty has found you.

But it’s Rafe, his hair hanging over his forehead and his nose dripping with blood, shattering your solitude.

He meets your eyes for just a second and looks away as soon as he sees it’s you. Like always. He never makes eye contact with you for very long.

“You’re bleeding,” you say quietly.

“No shit,” he mutters.

He barges past you to the sink, spitting crimson blood onto the porcelain. He’s hunched over the counter, panting, pissed off that you’re still standing there. Still lingering.

You’re always around. A constant reminder.

“Do you need help?” you ask, but you step back, your actions mismatching your words. You put distance between you for his comfort. Not yours.

“No.” His head is in splitting pain. He hasn’t accepted help in years and he’s not starting now.

This is how your conversations with him always go. You extend an olive branch. He snaps it in half.

You were both ten years old when the sweet boy you knew started hating the world and everyone in it. You had a front row seat to the tragedy that broke Rafe Cameron, a mama’s boy who suddenly lost the person he loved most.

But no matter what he does or says to you, you can’t hate Rafe back. After the accident that took his mother’s life, the compassion you harbor for him won’t let you.

While you definitely don’t like the person he’s become, a man so cold and aggressive, you couldn’t hate him if you tried.

You look at your reflections, side by side. You were once kids playing on the beach together, but in the mirror stands a bloodied cokehead next to a tearful mess, living in another summer of seeing each other everywhere and never speaking.

If it were up to you, it wouldn’t be like this. You’d still be friends. But he has his group of buddies who he drinks and smokes with and to him, they’re enough and you’re not.

Rafe looks up from his contorted position, the water rushing out of the faucet loudly. Frustration rises in him when he sees your silhouette in the mirror. He focuses on the edge of the sink, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You’re still here?” he snaps.

You’re used to the disheartening sight of a high and injured Rafe. He snorts lines and brawls at almost every party. Everyone calls him a psycho behind his back.

You want to ask what happened, but you know he’ll brush you off like he always does. You leave the room, determined to escape the party and go home. It’s past midnight anyway.

You’re nearly out the front door when frigid fingers wrap around your forearm. Your blood runs cold as you twist to see Ty, his eyes fixed on you.

“Did you block me?” he asks, the smile that once charmed you now making you sick. You look around at the crowds of partygoers as if someone can save you.

He’s still refusing to accept that you broke up with him a week ago. It was annoying at first. But now, it’s scary. He won’t leave you alone.

He texted you so many times over the last few days, going back and forth between calling you a waste of time and apologizing and begging to see you, that you had to block him.

After a few months together, you realized he wasn’t as nice of a person as he liked to pretend to be. Slowly, who he really is seeped in, unveiling a cruel and controlling brute.

“Of course I did,” you say. “I told you to stop texting me. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Ty scoffs. “It can’t just be over.”

“Yes, it can,” you say, straining out of his grip. You had told him over and over that if he wasn’t going to stop disrespecting you, you’d leave. He kept apologizing, saying every outburst was a one-time thing, just to put you through the same pain again.

“Are you going home?” he asks.

You wish he didn’t know that your parents are on a business trip and will be gone for the next couple of weeks. Regrettably, he’s aware you’ll be sleeping in an empty house for the next while.

“No,” you lie.

“Then let’s get a drink and talk about this,” he says sternly. “Unless you’re with some other guy now and that’s why you tried to break up with me?”

Could that be the only way he’ll leave you alone? You try not to shrink under his gaze, a heartless, eerie abyss. The fact that he says you tried to break up with him tells you he still isn’t accepting that the relationship is over.

“I broke up with you because you treated me like shit,” you say. Your heartbeat is loud and your breaths are shallow and in a split second, you decide to lie as an act of survival. “But yeah, I am with someone else now.”

Rafe turns off the faucet, heart racing from the coke and the adrenaline of winning a fight. It all started because some guy looked at him wrong. That was enough for Rafe to start swinging.

Admittedly, letting out his aggression is a thrill. It’s his comfort zone. When he surrounds himself with chaos, it distracts him from the voices howling in his mind.

Life is nothing but a sick game of tag, and he’s been running away from reality and towards disorder for years.

Rafe’s nose is still throbbing from the only punch the other guy managed to get in when he heads back into the throws of the party.

He’s filling up a solo cup in the dining room when your eyes meet his. He can’t look away this time. You’re rushing towards him, fear written into your features.

Once you hastily close the distance, leaving mere inches between you, Rafe can see you’ve been crying.

“Hey,” you say over the music, overwhelmingly grateful that you finally found him after frantically rippling through the crowds. “Can you help me? Please?”

Maybe it’s because of the desperation in your glossy eyes. Or because you both once knew how to make the other feel better. Or because you chose him to help, when he’s used to never being chosen by anyone for anything. But he decides to hear you out.

“What?” he mutters, hollow blue eyes searching your face. Rafe’s brooding, all cleaned up now, the blood wiped away.

You look over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling at full tilt, then face him again.

“My ex is following me,” you say. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“What?” Rafe’s mouth is twined in irritation. Of all the guys to use to make your ex jealous, you pick him?

“Rafe, please,” you say hurriedly.

You turn to see Ty, his eyebrows raised in clear surprise. After you talked to him by the front door, you rushed away, feeling his looming presence trailing after you.

You face your ex, standing beside Rafe with your hand curling around his hard bicep, finding unexpected relief in holding him. It’s jarring touching him after years of distance.

Rafe can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. It’s like a reprieve from the rush he’s always in, slowing him down.

Ty shoves his way through groups of people, his face carved with anger.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he shouts over the music, eyes darting between you two. Rafe recognizes him. He’s seen you together at parties and the country club. This guy is just another Kook who gets shit-faced every chance he gets.

“Leave me alone, Ty,” you say.

“You’re with him?” he mutters with a laugh.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, tone shaky, praying Rafe plays along. He catches the brittle waver in your words.

“You can’t be serious,” Ty says. “That was fast.”

He steps forward and you find yourself cowering behind Rafe, who instinctually straightens up.

When Rafe realizes your hand is trembling, something in him twists. You’re not trying to make this guy jealous. You’re afraid of him.

Even after the years of hostility between you, somehow, you uncover a soft spot that Rafe didn’t know he had. He hates that this asshole is scaring you.

“Get out,” Rafe says to your ex, his deep voice sending relief through you.

Ty’s eyes dart to Rafe before his gaze is on you again.

“Really?” he ridicules you. “The guy you always call a psycho?”

Rafe’s arm flexes beneath your hand.

It’s a lie. People talk shit about Rafe, but you have never uttered a bad word about him to anyone.

“I never said that,” you retaliate.

“Just come outside so we can talk,” Ty says, his voice dripping with anger.

“Whose fucking house do you think this is, bitch?” Rafe shouts, roughly shoving Ty’s shoulder. “I told you to get out.”

You see fear on your ex’s face for the first time in your life. Your instincts were right to push you to run to Rafe. Everyone’s afraid of him.

“Chill,” Ty says with a forced smile, palms up in surrender. You’re sure he’s thinking of all the brawls he’s witnessed at these parties. Rafe might get roughed up, but he hardly ever loses a fight.

“Go,” Rafe sneers.

“I - I am,” Ty stammers. He meets your gaze one last time before he flees, his lips thinning in anger. Dread surges through you. You can tell you’re not rid of him.

Awkward tension settles between you and Rafe. He turns to look down at you, eyes flitting to your hand still on his arm. You let go.

Of the entire fervid exchange, what blares in your mind the loudest is Ty’s lie.

“I never said that about you,” you say.

Rafe scoffs. He figures it’s better to be feared, to be seen as a psycho, instead of the loser he knows he is.

“I don’t give a shit,” Rafe mutters, although, for whatever reason, he feels a piece of him caring what you think about him. He shifts to continue filling his cup with beer, pissed off and disoriented.

“He lied,” you tell him, stepping to the side to meet Rafe’s eyes again. You need him to know.

“Got it,” he says carelessly. He dips his head back as he downs his drink.

“Listen, I’m sorry to drag you into this, okay?” you say. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t leave me alone.”

He stills. Talking to you is hard. The fact that you’re still kind to him makes it harder.

But you’re so clearly terrified. Maybe he owes this to you. Everyone else wrote him off, but you, for whatever reason, still treat him with a gentleness he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“If he bothers you again…” Rafe says. He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you don’t need him to. This is his way of telling you he’ll protect you.

You stare at his hardened features. You always felt like you grew up with Rafe from a distance. You know him in snapshots.

The ten-year-old who made small footprints next to yours in the sand. The seventh grader who got into so many fights that rumors of expulsion circulated around school. The high schooler who didn’t care to hide that he was doing lines at every party.

And now, he’s the man towering over you, drugged up, throwing punches every chance he gets, agreeing to pretend to be your boyfriend.

The fact that he’s willing to put on this charade for your safety makes you think that maybe there is a soft part of Rafe left somewhere deep inside. A part of the boy he once was.

“Thank you,” you say. You’re sure he won’t want to carry on the conversation, so you step away before he takes back his offer.

You find Sarah and ask if you can crash in her room tonight, knowing she’ll say yes. The thought of going to your empty house is too daunting.

The next morning, you’re sitting in the large kitchen of the Camerons’ estate, wearing last night’s clothes. You stare out the window, wishing your anxiety didn’t keep you awake last night.

You slept a couple of broken hours next to Sarah, thoughts of your ex and what he might be capable of rushing through your mind.

You’re not sure what to do next. In a normal world, you’d spend your summer partying and having fun with friends and enjoying your lack of a schedule. But things aren’t normal right now.

You’re desperate to shower and get into clean clothes and simply exist in the comfort of your home.

When Rafe sees you sitting in the kitchen, sunlight spilling over the planes of your face, he does something he never saw himself doing again. He approaches you, instead of running away.

Footsteps pull you out of your daze. You meet Rafe’s tired eyes. He doesn’t look away this time and it makes hope bloom in your chest.

He settles on the other side of the table, across from you, tensely raking his hair back. He doesn’t say anything, words trapped in his throat.

“You’re up early,” you say to break the silence.

Last night was one of many sleepovers you’ve had here. Even though you and Rafe don’t speak much, you’ve puttered around the house enough to have noticed his habits, one of them being that he typically wakes up well into the afternoon the day after a party.

But Rafe wants to cut through the bullshit of small talk. He can’t get how scared you looked last night out of his head. And he won’t admit that it’s the reason he wasn’t able to fall back asleep when the brightness of the sun woke him up this morning.

“Did he ever put his hands on you?” he finally asks, voice low. He braces himself for the answer. He doesn’t know how he’ll take it if you were getting hurt while he was always close by, ignoring you.

“No,” you say. The thought sends a chill through you. “He got… mean. And controlling. Or I guess he was always like that, but he hid it at the beginning. Maybe he would’ve eventually started hurting me. I don’t know.”

Rafe clenches his fist beneath the table. It may be hypocritical to be so angry at another man for being cruel to you when all he’s done for years is end every conversation you’ve tried to start with him. But Rafe has never claimed to reasonable.

“And he won’t leave you alone?” he recalls.

You shake your head no. Silence nestles between you, but this time, it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable.

Rafe’s eyes finds yours again, a shade of blue you can’t forget no matter how many times he’s averted his gaze.

“You scared of him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you admit. The way your voice weakens puts Rafe even more on edge.

“You don’t have to be anymore,” he says. You exhale slowly, enveloped by a sense of security that you haven’t felt in a long time.

“He looked afraid last night,” you tell him. “When you pushed him, I mean. I’ve never seen him look like that.”

At least his anger was put to good use, Rafe thinks. It was actually worth something for once.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

You obey and watch him add himself into your contacts, a harsh reminder of the lack of a presence you have in his life. You don’t even have each other’s numbers. He texts himself your name.

“Call me if he bothers you,” he says. His promise to watch out for you is like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, comforting you.

“Okay. Thank you.”

You realize this is the longest conversation you’ve held with him since before his mother passed. The day you heard the news, you came to this very house to offer your condolences.

You had knocked on Rafe’s closed bedroom door, telling him it was you and not his father, who you’d only seen be cruel to his eldest child.

Through the door, you promised him you’d do whatever he wanted. Cry together. Go down by the water. Talk. Or even just sit in silence. But all a ten-year-old Rafe offered you was a tearful go away, followed by years of avoiding you and brushing you off.

He hands back your phone and stands, walking away from you.

“Rafe?”

He turns to face you again, his hand on the kitchen counter.

“Could you follow me home?” you ask. “My parents are away and he knows it and… I just want to be sure he’s not waiting for me there.”

Rafe nods. You give him a grateful smile. He can’t return it.

Minutes later, his motorcycle roars as he tails your car down the street. Your house is only two blocks away from his. He couldn’t forget the way if he tried.

He visited your home with his family a few times as a kid, but most of your friendship was spent on the private beach behind his house, running around in the sand, your childish laughs tangling together in the salty air.

You used to bike to his house almost every summer day. He’d meet you by your gate, smiling so big his cheeks hurt, racing on your bikes to his house together. He would accompany you on the way back home, too, always making sure you got home before dark.

He realizes he always felt like he needed to watch out for you, even when he was just a scrawny ten-year-old.

Over the school year, you spent every recess together. Kids used to tease you about liking each other and he loved that you didn’t care because it made him feel like maybe you had a crush on him, too.

You two were inseparable. Until you weren’t.

Rafe tries not to think about it. This is exactly why he shut you out. You remind him too much of the last time he was happy. Before life became unbearable and before he was left with the parent who doesn’t love him.

Thinking about those days feels like trying to fall back asleep into a good dream, all while knowing he’ll plummet into a nightmare.

You pull into your driveway after getting through the remote-powered gate, parking right in front of the door. Rafe parks behind you, killing the engine and taking his helmet off.

He watches you step out of your car. You shield your eyes with your hand as you look at him, perched on his motorcycle in the bright morning sun, his helmet in his hands.

“I didn’t see his car on the street,” you say. “But I’m gonna make sure that the security system is armed.”

Rafe follows, stopping a few feet away from you as you unlock the door, on edge and ready to strike if he needs to.

You’re relieved to hear the familiar beeping that confirms the system is active and wasn’t triggered since the last time you were home. Rafe watches you disappear into the house to punch the code in.

“All good,” you say when you step back out through the front door. You face him as he stands on your doorstep, your chin tipped up to gaze at him.

“You said your parents aren’t here?” he asks. He’s frustrated that you’re alone.

“Away for work,” you say with a defeated shrug. You wish you’d broken up with Ty sooner so they’d be close by during all this stress. “Some things never change.”

Rafe looks down and nods. He remembers how often your parents travelled, leaving you with his family or babysitters while they were away.

Birds chirp in the warm air surrounding you. You stare at Rafe now that you have the opportunity to, up close. There are some freckles and beauty spots you remember. Some that you don’t.

He’s strikingly handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If anyone has ever told him.

“Alright,” Rafe says, stepping back, his way of saying goodbye. He doesn’t look at you again as he paces away.

His mother used to have to call you both into the house multiple times to eat lunch when you’d play on the beach together. You’d have so much fun that you didn’t want to do anything to interrupt it.

But these days, Rafe can hardly wait to get away from you. And even though it’s comforting having him watching out for you, having a string tying you to him again, you wish his coldness didn’t still hurt as much as it does.

(part two)

author’s note thank you to @rafedaddy01 for this idea @diorjadore for this idea!!! ILYSM!!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[woolysium]

Starlight

﹒♡﹒Pairing: Seonghwa x reader

﹒♡﹒Summary: Even the brightest stars burn themselves one day if they shine too bright.

﹒♡﹒Word count: 781

﹒♡﹒Genre: angst, tiny bit of fluff if you squint

﹒♡﹒Warning: Body image issues, insecurities, hurt as hell

﹒♡﹒Author's note: I really love Hwa, I just want to give him a hug and tell him he's more than enough.

“You know you’re perfect, right?”

Words spill out of your lips before you can stop yourself, your voice barely a whisper in the soft light of the room. Seonghwa’s lying next to you, his eyes tracing the faint outlines of stars outside the window, but he doesn’t say anything at first. You wait, watching his chest rise and fall with each quiet breath.

Then, he chuckles, but it’s not the kind of laugh that fills a room. It’s a small, almost tired sound. “Perfect?” he repeats, shaking his head, still staring up at the ceiling like it holds all the answers. “I’m far from that.”

Your heart aches at how easily he says it, like it’s a fact, as if all the praise and admiration he receives just bounces right off him. You shift a little closer, propping yourself up on one elbow to get a better look at his face. “No, seriously. You’re like a star, Hwa. You shine so brightly, it’s impossible not to notice you.”

For a second, he just lies there, quiet. Then, his lips twitch into a sad smile. “You know what happens to stars, right?” His voice is low, and there’s something heavy in it, like he’s holding back something darker. “They burn out. They look bright from far away, but up close... they’re just dying.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you hate how much they sound like your own thoughts. Like when you look in the mirror and all you see are the flaws, the little things you’d rather hide. You never thought Seonghwa, someone so beautiful and admired, could feel that way about himself.

You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. His fingers are long and delicate, the same hands that have held yours, the same hands that the world loved. "I wish you could see what I see, Hwa,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “You’re not just a star to me. You’re... everything. You make the dark a little less scary.”

He turns his head to look at you then, his eyes searching yours, and for a second, he looks so small. The weight of his own thoughts pulling him down, just like they do with you. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he whispers, voice cracking slightly. “When I look at you, it’s like... how do you not see how special you are?”

You blink, caught off guard. You’ve always been the one watching him, admiring him from afar, even now when he’s right beside you. How could he ever think that you are the one worth admiring? “I’m just... me. I’m no one special,” you say quietly.

His hand tightens around yours. “You’re everything to me,” he says, almost fiercely, like he’s afraid you won’t believe him. “Even when I’m struggling, you’re the one who makes me feel... real.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away for a moment, blinking them back. “I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out in the silence between you. “But... you should love yourself first, sweetheart.”

He closes his eyes, letting your words hang in the air between you. For a second, you think he might not respond, but then he speaks, voice soft and raw. “I’m trying. I really am. But it’s hard, you know? Sometimes I look in the mirror and all I see are the faults, the things I wish I could change.”

You nod, your own struggles reflecting his. “Yeah... I know exactly what you mean.”

The two of you sit in that shared silence, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down, but there’s something comforting in it too. You’re not alone in feeling this way. Neither is he.

Outside, the stars twinkle faintly against the inky sky, distant but constant. You look at them and think of how people see them as perfect, beautiful—never knowing how fragile they really are. Just like Seonghwa. Just like you.

“I think,” Seonghwa says softly, breaking the silence, “we should stop trying to be perfect. Maybe we’re enough as we are... flaws and all.”

You smile through the tears that finally escape. “Yeah... maybe.”

He pulls you closer then, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady against your skin. You close your eyes, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat soothe you. In this moment, it’s not about being perfect or having it all figured out. It’s just about being here, together, and finding a little light in the darkness.

And like the stars outside, even if you feel small and imperfect, you realize that sometimes, just shining—no matter how dim it might feel—is more than enough.

by @woolysium

[atiny-for-life]

Ateez's Full Storyline Explained - Part 25

Masterlist

Not Okay (Halazia-World)

We're still with Halazia Ateez, though this time we're learning their backstory, specifically the trauma they've experienced at the hands of their own central government before they were woken up

This theme is already made clear from the get go by the opening screen which tells us the dictionary definition of the word "Trauma" before it flashes to a distorted shot of Ateez

We cut to San running down a hallway, chased by masked people (which is cinematically reminiscent of San running from the guards in Guerrilla) but time doesn't seem to be working the way it should (we'll come back to that later)

We cut to Hongjoong who's in the process of being brainwashed (a method the Z-World central government has also used) with a phone that has been mechanically attached to his hand

On it, we can see, in order, the words: ALONE, MOTHER, LONELINESS, BEHIND (green to white), MISSING, ALONE (green), FAMILY, ALONE (green to white), BEHIND, FAMILY, ALONE, MISSING (white to green), ALONE, AFRAID, MISSING, BEHIND (white to green), MISSING (white to green), ALONE

Much like with the Jongho basketball situation we saw in Everything, it seems like A-World's Hongjoong and this Hongjoong share the same source of trauma: being alone without a family

We next join Yeosang and Seonghwa who are being used to test each other's strategic abilities (which is reminiscent of how students are being treated in Z-World)

We see both of them seated at opposite sides of a baduk board in a museum-esque building's foyer while they're being filmed by two production cameras that look like the Canon HD Digi Super 25 xs (does this matter? no. but i looked it up for no reason so now you have to know)

Seonghwa is playing as the black stones and Yeosang as white (as stated by Seonghwa and San in the MV Reaction video) which reflects in their wardrobe

The lyrics make it clear they're being forced to play against each other over and over again

We switch to Yunho who's standing at the top of the stairs in a darkened auditorium. A brief flash of light reveals a figure standing at the bottom of the stairs behind him (we'll get to see who it is shortly)

Wooyoung and Mingi are standing on a small platform surrounded by masked people while the screen behind them shows an audio visualizer, I assume they’re forcing them to record propaganda songs or something, given how we later see them have access to microphones

Shortly after, we get a hint of how traumatized San already is when he's alone in the hallway from earlier and already getting flashbacks of being chased by the masked people, trapped in the time loop

The lyrics here state "Fleeting days feel like a mirror image / Are you gonna let it repeat again?", signifying how they're beginning to break free of the victim mindset, ready to take control of their lives and break the cycle

We now return to Yunho in the auditorium where we get some quick shots of multiple versions of him existing within the space while a mysterious hooded person, who we can strongly assume to be his dead brother, is always moving around as well but always just out of Yunho's reach

We then get this quick shot of an oncoming car as we transition from Yunho to San which reinforces the parallel to A-World's Yunho whose brother was killed in a car accident (as you may remember)

We also get the caged bird metaphor again for Yeosang which we saw with A-World's Yeosang and which is once again picked up in IT's You

We then get a very clear visual of what they're doing to Jongho - he's on a bed, surrounded by screens where they're actively re-traumatizing and triggering him much like they're doing with Hongjoong

They're showing him video clips of runners, both human and animal, and cars traveling at high speeds which serves as a harsh reminder of his leg injury

As the screens comes closer to his face, the images begin to flash faster until we get to see his eyes which eventually reflect the words "WAKE UP"

And here is, once again, where my original Halazia theory comes in: this world's Ateez aren't the instigators of the rebellion in their world. Instead, they were awakened by their world's Black Pirates, joined their movement and then took over after the former leaders died.

From here, we'll slowly get to see all of Ateez wake up which is also the point where the meaning behind the song's chorus really hits home because this is the first time they're experiencing emotion in at least quite some time and they're confused about their whereabouts, traumatized after all that abuse, and fucking PISSED at the people responsible for all that misery:

This placе, where right and left arе unclear (Make some noise) Feels like a maze (Make some noise) Try again no matter how many times (Make some noise) Nobody can stop us (Make some noise) Raise your voice louder, scream louder Don't be scared and let go, I'm not okay now Roar louder, raise your both your hands and shout You know that I'm not okay

We've now reached the point in the MV where Ateez are beginning to rebel, starting with Jongho screaming, San allowing himself to be captured, and Hongjoong trying to break free of the screen attached to his hand (this also serves as a callout for overexposure to screens, I'm sure)

Here, we also get to see the exact moment Hongjoong was awakened: the word "LOVE" gets reflected off his eye right before we cut to Mingi

Their rap verse makes it very clear they're sick and tired of being pushed around and told what to do

Move away, move away, I'm at my limit I can't stand being at someone else's beck and call

We now move on to the less clear-cut part of the MV: the anomalies

First, we get the giant clock hands on the ceiling in the room Seonghwa and Yeosang were playing baduk in - this references, on one hand, the time loop/cycle they're all trapped in, but on the other hand, could also imply time-travel in the way we've seen before in Ateez lore as the hands are moving much faster than normal - a parallel to the sand flowing upwards in the hourglass when A-World's Ateez first received the Cromer in the Diary Film

We then get the floating smartphones surrounding Hongjoong which are a parallel to the objects floating around Hongjoong in the Diary Film

There's a shot of Jongho who's reaching for a mirror version of himself which looks a bit Inception-esque (the movie) after which we get a close up of his face which cracks like glass, implying he fully broke free from the brainwashing and he's justifiably angry

Given all the parallels with Inception and Diary Film, this leads me to assume that, in this world, it's Jongho who received the Cromer in a dream from his alternate self of yet another dimension

This could mean that the Black Pirates in Halazia were originally led by Ateez from yet another dimension but I'm not gonna speculate on that any further until something else hints at it

We get shots of San fighting the masked people in the hallway, Wooyoung performing on the stage surrounded by the black-clad people in masks who were already there when he was still with Mingi, and a shot of Yeosang crying

We then get San crawling along the deserted hallway, followed by a shot of an arm wearing a wristband with a small screen that flashes between the words "OBEY, MONEY, DO WORK" before a hand comes in to cover it

These are presumably Yeosang (wearing the band) and Seonghwa (the hand wearing the rings) as they're the ones we see a close up of right after

We next get to see Mingi putting in his earpods which is, once again, a parallel to Diary Film wherein A-World's Mingi would always put them in to listen to music when he needed to distance himself from reality

And we then close on Yunho who's on the stage in the auditorium when he finds the discarded clothes of his older brother. When he lifts them off the ground, bugs come scattering out, making it clear his brother has been long dead and become food for the bugs. Quite macabre.

From here, we switch to black and white as this world's Ateez are uniting against the people who've been torturing them which could mean they had to physically fight their way out of the brainwashing facility

Finally, we end on a shot of them together as a united front while the masked people are surrounding them, closing in

[carnalhaus]

american tradition: forge of the cyclops

subscribe to the substack here.

It was rare that Sledge ever knew what he was crying about. He kept a mental checklist when he was sober enough. Enid’s red hair was growing back in. The cat rubbed on his leg. He realized he didn’t know how to braid. Now is one of those rare times where his pupils are the size they’re supposed to be, not too big or too small. Praline made a habit of checking. Speaking of which, there she was. 

The two of them are on the floor of the kitchen. That’s to say, the kitchenette of the single-wide trailer they holed up in after the previous owner died. They shouldn’t have made a habit of it, but they did. Finding obituaries is getting pretty easy nowadays, thanks to the internet. The overhead light flickers, but they’re lucky the lights are still on in this place at all. They’re all very lucky people, because Sledge is lucky his crying isn’t waking up the whole damn house. 

This time, he’s crying about guilt. He makes sure to catalogue that while he cries. That ugly thing that eats at his heart once a month, whenever the lights turn low and the girls count sheep. Truth be told, he’s the only one who thinks about those years anymore. Praline is always too busy asking what’s for dinner, and Enid only cares about sneaking the smokes from his jean pockets. They whine and laugh just like they always did, kicking the back of his seat in the car and flinging food at him while Stat goes to grab another beer. The world has moved on without him, and he’s still there, bowing and scraping in the mud for forgiveness. 

Most people say you should feel guilty for the rest of your life. Some people say it’s more selfish to keep groveling after you’re already forgiven.

Maso-fucking-chistic. 

Sledge is doing some stupid babbling like usual when he cries. Same old wash and rinse of ‘I love you and I’m sorry’ that went on for an hour at a time every full moon. Praline was never very savvy on human connection, so her face is contorted into an angry frown, the closest thing to sadness and concern she can muster. She looks pissed, even through the blur of his tears. The dull acrylics digging into his shoulders aren’t helping much. 

She presses her forehead to his, clumsy and rough like she’s trying to give him a concussion, and through his tears she’s now a cyclops. Two eyes fashioned into one big watery mirror. He can barely see his reflection, the curve of his sunken cheekbones blacked out in ink. The untamed hair on the nape of his neck is tangled in her fist, holding him there like she’s got a handle on some mustang’s mane. And just like one, he’s wild and afraid. Whale-eyed. 

“I am the only thing you care about,” she says it like a mantra, and in a way it’s true. “So quit it. Quit killing yourself because you think I should be doing it for you. You are so self-fucking-righteous.” 

It feels like she’s talking him off a ledge. He knows better than anyone else that a curse from her mouth is a beg and a plead. Gone and did it again, he did. Spooked so bad she’s trying to tug on his lead rope and control his head. That’s all she knows how to do. Control, control, control. Praline’s scared, even if she wont admit it. She’s holding her breath.

His hand can’t reach her neck to feel her pulse and he’s not sure he wants it to. He doesn’t want to risk scraping her collarbone or her shoulder, those were the worst parts. The ones he had the worst memories of having to hold so hard he thought they’d crumble. So he reaches up to feel it on her wrist, wrapping around the bones and feeling over the veins. Touching her feels too similar to pulling apart a warm rotisserie chicken. Really, it does. Bones and all. That’s why he always hated it, ever since he met her. He has to hold back some bile.

“Screw your head back on,” she says. It’s through her teeth, eyes wide, and her head presses harder into his. Sledge is gonna have a headache later, whether it’s from all the crying or Praline trying to give him the iron claw. He can’t blame her. He’s being fucking annoying and being rough is all she knows. He counts the beats from her radial artery, blood rushing in his ears to drown everything else out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, zero, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine.

“I’m screwed,” he finally chokes out. Dumb, but he says it, and he finally gasps in a shaky breath. For a second, she doesn’t believe him. Nobody really would. But that pressure eases off his cranium and her claws snake out of his hair. He’s breathing alright, a little hiccup here and there, but it usually doesn’t get any better than that anyway. Praline sits back on her knees, and Sledge stays hunched over with awkward limbs like some marionette. Feels like he just got punched in the nose, pain radiating from his forehead down to his eye sockets. 

It’s only now that he sees the flakes of mascara under her eyes, the kind that said it was waterproof on the package when she picked it up. No longer a cyclops, just some girl sitting with him on the linoleum. She’s got her Betty Boop pajama pants on, seam busted at the thigh, inseams too short on her ankles, and it makes him wanna cry even harder seeing her look like such a kid. Sledge keeps a loose hand on her wrist and she lets him, holding her arm out like she’s waiting for an IV. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, zero, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine, zero, nine, nine. 

“Don’t do that no more,” and her voice is a little more wobbly this time when she speaks to him. “I hate when you do that, when you go and cry. I don’t know what to do, Sledge.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” is the first thing that tumbles out of his mouth in a while, instinctual and pathetic. Sounded like the little bleat of a lamb, it did. Praline doesn’t like that answer, so her eyes harden up and she cocks her head into his line of vision. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she repeats. The way she throws his words back in his face is probably the nicest slap she’ll ever give him, and it makes him choke out a little sob. “But you’re still here anyway, cause you don’t know when to fuckin’ quit, n’ maybe I don’t either.”

They go quiet after that. Not much else to say, and neither of them were ever very book smart. Lini got held back cause she couldn’t read a damn thing when she was real little. A few sniffles fill the prolonged silence, and he’s not sure how much time passes. Praline’s dull nails run over his forearm. Not gentle, not soothing, just tracing over the sharp curves of his tattoo like a toddler cutting with safety scissors. Bored and unpracticed. The time for being sentimental has passed. She scrunches up her nose and tugs at a few blonde arm hairs, and Sledge thinks it’s the Cain instinct when he wants to hit her in the jaw. Eventually he settles for smacking her hand away, and she does the same damn thing. Couple of idiots they were, always acting like they grew up in a chicken coop together. 

“Ice cream?” Is all Praline says. Sledge has to blink at her like an idiot a few times before it clicks in his brain. That’s what he always asks her about when she gets upset. Ever since her and Enid were younger, he’d always ask about some stupid ice cream when they’d cry, like it would fix everything. Maybe it did, if she’s asking now. 

They only had a half eaten pint, so she put a scoop each into two pebbled plastic cups they stole from a diner, and topped it off with some coke. A little warm still, they only popped the cans in the fridge an hour ago. Sledge took up residency on the couch and he watched her the whole time, cooing about how sweet she was and trying not cry again. He tells her she’s so fancy-schmancy making a coke float for him and she tells him to shut up cuz it’s gonna foam up if she can’t concentrate.

When she joins him on the couch, he puts his legs in her lap and she locks them in with her elbows. It’s times like these where he doesn’t feel like the oldest kid. Praline isn’t sixteen anymore. There’s no baby fat cushioning her sharp cheekbones, and she hasn’t gotten that stubborn pimple on her chin in years. But when he looks at her too long, he still sees a kid breaking her ankles in her mom’s clubbing heels.  Clumsy and unpracticed, like a baby deer learning how to walk. He’d seen her walk miles in those stupid shoes, though. Maybe she was getting older. 

Coke floats damn good. Not quite rootbeer, but this is how they did it in the good ol’ days. That’s what his father always said. Floats came from Philly, in his humble home state of Pennsylvania. He didn’t know what the hell his dad was talking about half the time with that Philly bullshit, cause he was from Pittsburgh. It’s dead quiet, and this is the point where he starts feeling embarrassed. How old is he now? Thirty, almost? But Praline doesn’t look twice at him. Doesn’t curl her lip or shrug him off. She’s too focused on licking the ice cream foam off her top lip. Speaking of which, she drank that thing quick. She burps and he knees her in the ribs, just enough to make her hit him on the shin. Like always, she gives him that laugh, something between a giggle and a snort. 

That bunny smile she gives him is refreshing, and it gives him the courage to crack one too. Endorphins were finally hitting, better than any heroin he tried. Usually that euphoria just ended with vomiting on her shirt. 

“Your face is gon’ get all puffed in the morning from bawling your damn eyes out,” she starts, and she’s already swinging his legs off of her lap to go scramble over to the freezer again. “Gotta ice it.”

Sledge doubts it’ll help, cause nothing she tries ever really does. But he lets her, and he can’t help but scrunch his face up and squeal a little from how cold it is. Like a girl, she says, and he tells her to stop being mean. That only does so much, cause then she drops the rest of the ice cube down the front of his shirt.

[shravspeculates28]

Title: The Ripple of Choices

Tommy pressed his back against the cold, damp rock, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He could hear the distant crunch of boots in the forest, each step sending a wave of panic through him. Lily squirmed in his arms, her small body trembling as she pressed closer to him. He gently stroked her fur, trying to calm her—and himself.

“They’re getting closer,” he muttered under his breath, casting a glance toward the stream. It was his only way out. The water had become his escape ever since the changes started. But could he really leave Lily behind? His heart ached just thinking about it.

“Stay quiet, okay?” he whispered to her, though he wasn’t sure if he was telling that to her or to himself. His own voice sounded as shaky as her tiny meow in response. The truth was, he didn’t know how to keep going. He was tired. Of running, of hiding, of being afraid. Of feeling like a monster.

When did everything go so wrong?

Weeks earlier…

The day it all changed had been like any other. The sun struggled to break through the constant gray clouds that loomed over Walworth, a city forever bathed in the shadows of the chemical plant that towered above it. People went about their daily lives, trying to ignore the slow poison that hung in the air, the whispers of sickness, the unease that spread through the streets like a low hum.

Tommy was sitting at the breakfast table, poking at his cereal, listening to his mom and dad discuss the latest government mandates. The virus had come out of nowhere, they said. A new kind of plague, moving so quickly that no one could stop it. And the vaccine? A rushed solution.

“Everyone’s getting it,” his mom had said, her eyes filled with the same worry that had crept into everyone’s conversations these days. “It’s supposed to protect us.”

His dad nodded, though he hadn’t looked convinced. “Yeah… it’s supposed to.”

Tommy hadn’t cared much at the time. He just wanted things to go back to normal, for the world to stop feeling like it was teetering on the edge. But normal didn’t come.

Within days of getting the vaccine, something began happening to the kids around him. He started feeling it too—the headaches, the strange tingling that crept through his skin. At first, he thought it was just nerves. But then came the scales. Tiny, rough patches that appeared on his cheeks, like a rash. His reflection in the bathroom mirror stared back at him in confusion. What was happening to him? He scratched at his face, but the scales stayed, stubborn and permanent.

He didn’t say anything to his parents at first. They had enough to worry about. But the changes kept coming—scales spreading, his shoulders growing heavier, aching. He woke up one night to find the start of fins on his back. He felt like he was unraveling, losing himself piece by piece. What scared him more than the changes, though, was the way his parents started looking at him. They didn’t say anything, but there was fear in their eyes now. Fear they tried to hide.

Tommy wasn’t the only one. Other kids at school had started showing signs too—mutations, they called it. The news talked about it all the time. No one knew why, but they blamed the vaccine, the chemical plant, maybe even the virus itself. And then came the disappearances. One by one, kids like him were taken. No one said where, but everyone knew it was the government. They were taking them for tests, trying to figure out what was happening, why their genes were changing. Rumors spread that the government was detaining the parents too, locking them away to figure out why their kids were different.

Tommy didn’t want to believe it, but the fear was too real. The night he heard his parents whispering about “what to do next,” he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

So he ran.

The forest had become his new home. It wasn’t perfect, but it was safer than the city. The trees shielded him, the streams provided him refuge when he felt the need to escape. His body was adapting faster than he could comprehend—fins on his shoulders, scales toughening his skin, and a strange connection to the water. When he was submerged, he could feel it calling to him, guiding him. He didn’t understand it, but the water felt more like home than anything else these days.

Then he met Eddie.

Eddie was a boy, not much older than Tommy, who had been living in the forest for longer. Eddie’s changes were more dramatic—gills on his neck, webbed fingers. They had bonded over their shared fear and confusion.

“They’re not gonna stop, you know,” Eddie had said one night as they sat by the water. “The government. They’ll find us eventually. They want to figure out what’s wrong with us. Or… what we’ve become.”

Tommy shivered at the thought. “And our parents? You think they’ll be okay?”

Eddie shrugged, his face hard to read in the dim light. “I dunno, man. My parents… they’re already gone. Took ‘em weeks ago. Yours could still be okay. But if they are, you gotta hurry.”

Tommy had felt the weight of those words pressing down on him ever since. Could he save them? Would they even recognize him now?

Then there was Lily.

He had found her by accident, a small kitten struggling in a pond, terrified and confused. Like him, she had changed—her body adapted to the water, though it seemed unnatural to her. Tommy remembered the way she had cried when he pulled her out, her tiny claws digging into his arms as she clung to him. She didn’t want to be alone. Neither did he.

Lily had followed him everywhere since. Her once soft fur was slick now, her eyes wide and frightened whenever Tommy strayed too far from the water. She didn’t know how to survive on land anymore, and that fear kept her close to him. They needed each other.

But every day, Tommy’s mind was torn. His parents… could they be alive? Were they locked away somewhere, waiting for him to save them? The thought gnawed at him constantly. But then there was Lily—small, vulnerable, clinging to him for safety. How could he leave her? What if he never came back?

The present closed in on him as the officers’ voices grew louder. He couldn’t keep running forever. His time was running out. Tommy felt a tear slip down his cheek as he stroked Lily’s wet fur.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if it was a promise he could keep.

She whimpered, her small body shaking as she nuzzled deeper into his chest. Tommy could feel her heartbeat, fast and panicked, matching his own.

“Stay hidden,” he said again, placing her gently in the shallow water by the stream. She looked up at him with wide, confused eyes, as if asking, Are you really leaving me?

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The weight of his decision crushed him as he turned and dived into the stream, the cold water enveloping him in a familiar embrace. His fins sliced through the currents, the scales on his face shimmering under the moonlight as he swam further away from the approaching danger.

But even as he swam, guilt gnawed at him. Could he really leave his parents behind? Could he really leave Lily alone in this strange, unforgiving world?

The conflict raged inside him, a never-ending battle between the boy he used to be and the creature he was becoming. He didn’t have the answers. All he had were choices. Impossible choices.

And so Tommy swam, hoping that, in the end, the water would carry him to a place where the weight of those choices would finally let him breathe.

[girl4music]

Aw thank you! 🥺

I just love character representation and development. And in order to give the proper and dynamic kind, you have to have your characters do flawed or questionable things every once in awhile because no one is perfect. It doesn’t necessarily make them evil unless they turn evil and they remain that way. Willow gets to be a hero and a villain throughout the whole show and for a female to have that kind and depth of character representation and development in TV art/entertainment. I mean… it’s very rare. It’s so rare that it stands out in and of itself. I can’t really think of anybody else that has this development except Xena and Gabrielle. Even they don’t get to be actual villains in their own show. But you do get to see their darker side. Especially with Xena since her whole schtick is seeking redemption for the evil things she’s done in her past and every once in awhile, reverts back to her darker side. And Gabrielle, she doesn’t turn evil as such, but again, you do get to see that there’s a darker side to her character as she progresses throughout the story. A moral greyness. If you think my meta on Willow is good, you should read my meta on Gabrielle and her evolution because she’s my favourite character of all-time. Then there’s the fact that I can’t really be biased and can remain objective with the art/entertainment I watch or interact with. And that’s genuinely because I’m more interested in learning than I am being entertained or pleasured. I don’t look for the pleasure principle. I look for the educational and moral one because that’s where themes and values come into the storyline and TV art/entertainment today is especially afraid of representing that through their characters which I just think is a sodden shame. I am keeping my eye on that Wednesday show though. It looks like they have a main female character that’s a bit wonky there. I just hope they stick to it and don’t try to make her out to be the hero or the one in the right all the time. There is a tendency for show creators to coddle and protect and defend their characters when the whole point is letting the characters find their way on their own. That’s what makes it more realistic storytelling. That’s what makes a character dynamic and multi-dimensional. When it looks like no one is pulling their strings. Hell, Willow and Gabrielle don’t really have any strings to pull. They seem that genuinely real.

But yeah, thanks for the shout out. I can’t hate on characters. If I do hate a character, you’ll never really see me say it because I don’t waste my time interacting with and writing about what I hate. The misconception is that people on here think that when I talk so negatively about a character that I hate them. Not true. It’s actually likely the other way around. I talk about them so negatively because I love them. And there’s lots of negativity to talk about with them. I don’t have a problem with negative representation and development so long as I think it makes sense. If there’s logic behind it and it looks like it’s been built up properly for their character and not just happening out of nowhere… then I don’t have a problem with it. For me, that just makes the character more engaging to watch and interact with. Thus, better to learn from. To have a character be allowed to be a Big Bad as a main protagonist that eventually becomes the hero and savour of the world… especially a female character… of course I’m going to fall in love with them because what I’m falling in love with is their arc. Not necessarily who they are; that’s doesn’t matter because they’re fictional and I’m the observer. It doesn’t matter to me if they’re a flawed human being. What matters to me is how they’re written to be that. I think what people tend to do is mistake liking a flawed character with identifying with that character. Thus, they can’t see beyond the mirror reflection. I tend to be someone that looks into the mirror and both reflect and introspect on the image that I see. And art/entertainment is a mirror reflection but you should always try to remain as objective as you can because if not, you will not get the whole picture. You will only ever see what you perceive of it. Not what is. It’s not the best way to watch and interact with art/entertainment because you miss much of what is being represented because you cannot be unbiased. True creators or storytellers have to put aside their biasm and their personal feelings to tell a good story. But not entirely. The craft really is a a balancing act. There’s great benefit of doing both but balancing it.

There are times when I talk positively about Willow too. Just not nearly enough because the positive stuff is just not as interesting to me as the negative stuff is.

“apologist.” “critical.” y’all are doing too much. when my favorite characters do evil reprehensible shit I simply don’t fucking care cause it’s not real

[multiarmy7]

Cherry leaves

And autumn breeze

A romance new now ignited

How fast we fall like shooting stars thinking we’d forever be united

Summer one Summer two now our second spring comes in

Days tonight laughter and love so bright

Never could’ve guessed I was losing you

Bending, breaking body aching

Trying to find myself heal myself and have a room for you

Bleeding, broken wounds once seem to heal, but now stabbed a new

Cherry leaves

Autumn

A new love now dwindling

I don’t know where I go if I’m not with you

You helped me heal so much but I’m still hurting

I love you so much and you love me too. You’ve never made me feel anything that isn’t safe and

But I’m just damaged worthless  unimportant, not worth your time

But still, you persist to keep me close

Even though I know, I’m not good enough

Cherry leaves

Autumn breeze

I love so new that brought me to my

You’re the best thing that I could’ve ever asked for all I ever could’ve wanted

But I know at the end of the day I could never give you everything you deserve in need

A broken mirror, the reflection of a past, so deeply haunted

Cherry leaves

Autumn breeze

I love so new I don’t want it to end but I don’t

I go to therapy I try so hard you make me feel like it’s worth

But this world hurting so broken. It only serves to bring out my worst.

My dear, you don’t deserve it never once have I hurt you in anyway

Never once in your eyes, have I been something that you need to throw away?

But you give me so much and I try so hard but it feels like I’m not enough

Cherry leaves

Autumn breeze

I love so

I’ll never deserve you

(I’ve been through a lot of pain in my life and a lot of hurt. This is all my road about my fiancé. The person seems to want me around forever and I don’t know how to handle it. I feel so worthless, so useless, and so nothing compared to them I would do anything to keep them safe and I’m afraid that I hurt them sometimes because I’m still trying to learn and still trying to heal And I keep asking them to please just throw me away because I don’t deserve them if I could describe them literally the personification of an angel don’t deserve someone so hurt like me deserve so much better I don’t know why they stick around so they’re with me while I just kind of Scream into the void a little bit with this palm )

[bewitchingbooktours]

A Wolf Christmas Wedding with M Guida - Deck the Halls with Books Holiday Extravaganza

        A Wolf Christmas Wedding

I looked at my reflection in the large ornate mirror that the First King carved—a gift to his bride. He was the first one to command the demon wolves. The lore was only his descendent with his matching green eyes could bond with the wolves.

And that was me.

Not my evil uncle who had murdered my parents.

My aunt Remi stood behind me. Her red hair matched my own and her beaming smile warmed my heart. She clasped my arms and rested her head on my shoulder. Tears brimmed in her green eyes. “You look beautiful, Salem. Your parents would be so proud.”

I patted her hand. “Thank you.”

My hair was in a French braid with white roses woven in between the strands. My white dress reminded me of something what Cinderella would wear at the ball with the white roses around my neckline and at the bottom of my gown. It was so unlike me, but I wanted to forget my stormy past and start a new world of shining hope.

Today was the day. The day I would be queen.

And today I would marry the man of my dreams.

My aunt kissed my cheek. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this day.”

I smiled through my tears. “Stop, or I’ll smear my mascara.”

My demon wolves, Luna, Bella, Nico, and Remus, stood behind her like sentinels. They were actually from the Elder Dimension where the Unseelie lived. Strange to know that I had an ancestor who was an Unseelie, and that’s why they responded to me. My beautiful wolves followed me everywhere and if I needed them again, we’d become one again.

Remi clasped my shaking hand. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes.” I lowered my head. “I thought more people would be excited that King Calvin was overthrown.”

She sighed and lifted my chin. “Change is hard for people, even when it’s positive. In time, they’ll grow to love you like I have.”

I looked lovingly down at my wolves. “I think they’re afraid of them.”

“Unfortunately, your uncle distilled a fear of the demon wolves. It was a way for him to bend the people to his will.”

Anger flashed in my eyes. “He deserved to die.”

Remi rubbed my back. “Today is a joyous day, Salem. Let’s forget the past and concentrate on the future.” She winked. “Besides, a gorgeous man is waiting for you.”

My heart leapt, sending anticipation running through my veins. Mateo was my mate and now he would be king regent. I could reign as long as he was at my side.

I brushed my wet cheeks. “You’re right.”

Someone knocked on the door softly. “Salem, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“We’re all waiting for you.” Ebony peeked into the room wearing a strapless red velvet gown. She was my matron of honor, and she looked beautiful with her white hair piled onto her head, topped off with a red rose crown.

I braced my shoulders. “I’m ready.” But my voice shook.

Ebony walked over to me and took my trembling hands. “I know hard this is, Ebony. I’m still trying to win over the hearts of the dark demons. Being queen isn’t easy, but you have a strong man at your side.”

The demon wolves let out a menacing growl.

She laughed. “And of course, you have your demon wolves.”

Hades marched into the waiting room of the little chapel. He was a Catalan dragon with a head of a lion and the body of a dragon and he nudged Ebony.

She scratched behind his ear. “Yes, I know. You’ll be protect her just like you do me.”

My demon wolves came over to Hades and nuzzled him. He was about the same size as them and fierce. They hadn’t always gotten along, but at least today, they seemed to have buried the hatchet.

Ebony scratched behind Hades’ ear. “You’re being a good boy, buddy, getting along with all the wolves.”

Hades narrowed his eyes and curled his lower lip, but he didn’t take a chunk out of any of my wolves. Thank God for small favors.

The piano player played A Time for Us, and the song drifted into the little room. The witch Hayley was singing, and she had such a beautiful voice.

Ebony bowed slightly and winked. “Time to go, your Majesty.”

My wolves and Hades would follow her. I didn’t have any other bridesmaids and wanted it simple. I wanted Gloria to be a bridesmaid, but she refused to leave Ashton’s side. He was still in a coma and hadn’t awakened ever since the demon Velkan shot him with a demon dart. Not even Hayley could break the evil spell.

It broke my heart that Ashton was still in the death sleep. He’d been with me throughout this journey, and I missed him dearly. The Archangels were coming to the coronation, maybe just maybe they could heal him.

Remi linked her arm through mine, disrupting my thoughts. “Are you all right?”

I blinked away my tears again. “I’m just thinking of Ashton.”

“We’ll find a way to break the spell.”

I nodded wordlessly as she escorted me to the back of the church. I wanted to her to give me away.

She looked at me and whispered, “I never asked you why you picked that song.”

“I know it’s Romeo and Juliet’s theme song and a tragedy, but it’s not for me. To me, it means my chains are broken, along with my uncle’s tyranny.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. “I never thought that, but you’re right. It’s a new for all of us.”

I bit my lip. “I just wished more of my people would believe that.”

“They will, sweetheart. I promise you, they will.”

I gave her a big smile, even though I only half believed her words. The organist played Here Come’s the Bride, and I inhaled a deep quivering breath. This was it. I forced my quaking legs to move.

Mateo waited for me down at the aisle dressed in a tuxedo that fitted his magnificent muscles, making him look dashing. Loved and pride glistened in his dark eyes, turning my body flush. I could hardly wait to feel his hands and kisses all over me again.

His curly hair was pulled back into a man bun, highlighting his strong cheekbones and that debonair smile. Gunnar, the king of the Dark Demons, stood at his side. He was handsome with his long white hair and crystal blue eyes. He and Hades had a special bond. Hades was actually a magical tattoo on his chest and would come to life when he called him.

But I wasn’t focused on him. I was focused on the tall, dark wolf shifter next to him. Love and pride reflected in his dark eyes, and soon he would be mine.

My female wolves, Bella and Luna, stood next to Ebony, and Hades, Remus and Nico stood next to Gunnar.

In the middle of the altar was the Archangel Michael. He had insisted on marrying us, and Mateo and I readily agreed. His white wings were spread out wide, and his long black hair spread out over his shoulders. He looked like a menacing godfather in his black and white tuxedo. His sword, Excalibur, was tucked at his side.

Definitely not someone you would want to cross.

The chapel was filled with what I considered royalty. Anton Lange, the Headmaster of Legacy Academy and Costin Tarus, the Headmaster of Red Rose Academy, were both vampires and sat in the front row. My friend Quint Dimir, another vampire, sat with Anton and Costin. He had risked his life to help me regain my crown. Something I would never forget.

Queen Gwendoline of the Starlight Kingdom. She was a Fae and had been one of my closest allies. The Archangel Raphael and the Reaper Stefan Gabor sat on either side of the Queen. The reapers, Rusty and his mate Julie, sat next to Stefan. They had helped us in the battle against my uncle and now my friends.

Besides my friends, the royal guard, and the nobility crowded the last pews. I wanted it to be more representative of all wolves, the nobility and the lower classes, not just the elite, but Remi thought it would be a mistake. She said if I won over the elite, the masses would follow. I wasn’t so sure, since the rich and haughty had never impressed me when I was in foster care and living in the trailer park. But in the end, I conceded to her. What did I know about being a queen?

As we drew closer, Remi’s eyes were drawn to Stefan Gabor.

I leaned closer to her. “Stefan looks quite handsome tonight.”

“Shhh.” Her face turned bright red, but as usual, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Remi and I stood in front of the Archangel Michael and my knees wouldn’t stop knocking.

“Who gives the woman away?” Despite his power, his voice was soft.

Remi puffed up her chest. “I do.”

Michael gestured with hand. “Stand over here, my child.”

Remi kissed me on the cheek and took a seat next to Quint. I’m sure she would have rather been sitting next to Stefan, but there was no room.

Michael smiled, washing away the usual tension in his handsome face. “We’re here to join Mateo Ruiz and Salem Willis in matrimony.” His smile faded and scanned the congregation. “If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now.” But the tone and glint in his eyes for anyone who dared would be foolish.

He squared his shoulders and lifted up a gold book he held in his hands. “Good.” The pages flipped magically and then stopped.

“Mateo Ruiz, do you take Salem Willis to be your lawful wife and mate, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poor, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?”

Mateo clasped my hand and kissed my knuckle. “Always. I pledged my heart to her forever.”

I trembled at his words and I was mesmerized by his words, by his voice, and by the look of possession in his eyes.

“Salem Willis,” Michael said. “Do you take Mateo Ruiz, to be your lawful husband and mate, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health for as long as we both shall live?”

I took Mateo’s hand and placed it over my chest. I wanted him to feel the love swelling inside me. “With all of my heart. I pledged to take him as husband, mate, and my king.” My voice shook with emotion.

Michael smiled. “Then, by the power bestowed on me from above, let this bond never be broken. I pronounce them as husband and wife.”

Mateo and I turned around to clapping of the front rows. My demon wolves howled and Hades let out a mighty roar.

There were halfhearted claps in the back and I pretended not to notice. Ebony was right. Being queen wouldn’t be easy, but with Mateo at my side, I would rule the best as I could.

Michael walked over to a jeweled crown that rested on a velvet podium. It wasn’t as gaudy as my uncle’s. His crown had been at least five inches tall and loaded with jewels. Mine was more of a simple diadem with a red ruby in the center, the same color of the eyes as my demon wolves.

He lifted up the crown and carried it in between his palms. “I’ve waited for this day from a far. Salem will unite the Moon Kingdom and bring divisions together. This is the hour of a new era.” He looked down at me. “Salem, please step forward.”

Mateo squeezed my hand as I pulled away from him.

Michael held the crow high. “Please, kneel.”

I bowed my head. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would burst from my chest.

“Salem, by the authority given on me by the First King…”

The congregation gasped, and a soft murmurer broke out.

Ignoring them, Michael continued, “Salem Ruiz…”

I smiled at now being Mrs. Salem Ruiz.

“Do you swear to protect your people, to lead them justly, and to bring peace to your kingdom?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“This crown holds you to your promise and comes with great responsibility. Do you accept these responsibilities of being a queen?”

“I do.”

He gently placed the diadem on my head. “Then I declare you Queen of the Moon Kingdom.”

People clapped and cheered. The wolves howled again and Hades led out a loud roar that practically shook the chapel. I slowly stood and Mateo drew me into his arms and kissed me hard.

Michael raised his arms. “I now proclaim them as your queen and king regent.”

More cheers and claps warmed my heart.

Mateo slowly released me. “Are you ready for this?”

I cupped his rugged cheek. “As long as you are at my side.”

Mateo took my hand and led me down to the aisle. Remi was the first to congratulate us.

She hugged me. “You’re like a fairytale. I can’t imagine what I could give you as a wedding gift.”

I thought a minute. “There is something you can do?”

She blinked. “There is?”

“It’s my understanding that my uncle desecrated Moon Academy. I want to restore it to its former glory. I give this honor to you.”

She gasped and put her hand on her chest. “Me? Why me?”

I looked into her deep green eyes. “Because you were here when my parents ruled. You know what the academy was like before it was corrupted. This is my greatest desire.”

The reception was a whirlwind, and I couldn’t remember how long I danced and greeted everyone.

Mateo held my hand as we retreated to our bedroom. “May I ask you something?”

I twirled my fingers in his long hair. “Anything.”

He brushed his lips over mine. “Why did you ask your aunt to restore Moon Academy?”

“Because I know I’ll never be able to go to an academy now that I’m queen. I have always wanted to go to one. I always thought it would be Legacy, but I’m queen. We can rebuild Moon Academy and make it something we can be proud of.”

He slowly unzipped my dress and brought it down off my shoulders. “You make me proud and all I want to do is worship your body, my queen.”

I stepped out of my dress and stood half naked in front of him, blushing as he flicked his gaze over me. My nipples budded, eagerly waiting for his touch and his lips on me. He pulled me to him and crushed me against his chest. “You’re mine.”

“And you belong to me, my king.” I stripped off his jacket.

He scooped me into his arms and carried me over to the bed. He ripped my lace panties off. His hands and lips were all over me, his beard scraping my sensitive flesh in the most delicious, hot way.

“Take the rest of your clothes off, my king.”

“How can I deny you?”

He stripped out of his tuxedo, and I heard the material ripping. His magnificent cock was free, and he joined me on the bed. Together, we explored each other’s body once again. Mateo’s tongue traced delicate patterns over every inch of me, caressing my breasts, my navel, and I shivered helplessly beneath its seductive power.

I ran the tips of over his broad shoulders, marveling at his rippling muscles beneath my palms.

“I can’t wait much longer,” he whispered.

I smiled wickedly up at him. “Then don’t.”

He spread my thighs and plunged his cock deep inside me. Waves of pleasures exploded inside me with each thrust. I rocked my hips, digging my nails into his buttocks, wanting to take him deeper and deeper.

Raging torments surged through me as my orgasm crested into a river of pleasure. I screamed out his name.

He continued plunging until he finally arched his back and spilled his seed. He collapsed on top of me, panting, still pulsing his hips. “I love hearing you call out my name.”

I stroked the back of his hair. “Then make me do it again and again.”

He kissed my neck. “I will, my queen.”

Mateo kept his promise, making me cry out his name until I was hoarse. We both fell into an exhausted sleep, tangled in each other’s arms.

Wolf Defender

M Guida

  Genre: Paranormal Romance

Publisher: Buffalo Mountain Press

Date of Publication:  11/10/21

ASIN:  B09DFDMQCY

Number of pages:  132

Word Count: 33000

Cover Artist: Jacqueline Sweet Design

  Book Description: 

  I've been carrying a torch for a wolf defender, but he’s never looked my way. Why would he? I am a dragon and the daughter of an accused traitor.

  When we get news of mystery and intrigue in the corrupt Timber Kingdom of the wolves, he wants to go there to avenge the death of his fated mate. I'm sure this is the key to proving my dad's innocence.

  If I can convince him to band together we both might get what we want, including a chance at love. But neither of us know who to trust when demons and wolves have joined forces to bring the dark Unseelie to our realm.

  Amazon

    About the Author:

  M Guida has always loved fantasy and romance, especially dragons. Growing up, she devoured fantasy books and all kinds of young adult books. And then she found romance and a whole new world opened up to her.

  Now as an adult, she fell in love with academy romance and has blended all of her past loves into one compelling series. Dragons, vampires, elves, demons, and shifters all attend Legacy Academy.

  When she's not writing, she lives in the colorful Rocky Mountains with her fur baby, Raven, and enjoys taking her for walks.

  https://authormguida.com

  https://dl.bookfunnel.com/vtdntf5fxs 

  https://www.tiktok.com/@mguidaauthor

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/MGuidasLegacyAcademy 

  https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100064193882316 

        a Rafflecopter giveaway

[thefloorisbalaclava]

the portrait [part two]

Pairing: Nico (House Comes With a Bird) x F!Reader

Words: ~2.8k

Warnings: okay here goes - SMUT - fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, sex in front of a mirror, a small hint that Nico likes to be choked, nipple play, use of a Bible quote to describe something sexual.

Summary: Your work on Nico’s portrait continues but not without its distractions.

[part one]

Nico spoke in a confident sort of way, but he wasn’t pretentious, at least not to you. He had a way of speaking that captured your attention even when you had no idea what he was talking about.

You didn’t consider yourself sheltered in anyway, but when Nico spoke, it made you feel as though there was an entire world that had been hidden from you and he was finally helping you find it.

He never spoke down to you and always complimented your work whenever you let him have a quick peek. You found yourself, more often than not, staring at that space where he wanted you to imagine the fireplace. You imagined the way he laid across the floor, hand stroking his chest as he spoke. Your memories were full of his scent and his warmth as he stood behind you, so close that you could have become one.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said and you looked at him quickly. “No. Your thoughts are worth so much more, aren’t they?”

Something about the way he spoke always made you tell him how you felt. “Society doesn’t think much of my thoughts. They’re not even worth a penny to them.”

“The outside world does not matter, not when you are here. But your words carry weight and that is weight you carry on your own shoulders especially when you talk down about yourself the way you tend to.” He paced as he spoke and your eyes followed as if you were hypnotized. Here was this man reading you like a book, analyzing you better than any therapist ever had.

“How do you do that?” you asked and he stopped pacing.

“Do what?” He tilted his head, waiting for your answer.

“You…see me,” you said. It probably didn’t make sense, but just as you were about to speak up, he spoke.

“Yes, I see you. I see you for what you are and what you want to be. The question is do you see yourself?” He asked in such a way that made you unsure whether or not it was rhetorical. “Come with me.” He held out his hand and you took it. He led you around his sprawling house before stopping in front of a mirror. You looked so frumpy compared to him, like you didn’t belong in such a lovely place with such a captivating man.

“What do you see?” he asked and you stared ahead at yourself.

“I don’t…I see…me,” you answered.

“Is that all?” He tilted your head back up. You hadn’t even noticed that you looked away. “May I tell you what I see?”

“Yes,” you murmured, nodding once.

“I’ve only known you a few weeks, but I see the world in your eyes, a world that you think is out of reach. I see someone who is afraid to frankly speak her mind in fear of being accosted or rejected. I see how you feel about yourself…about me.” When he said that, your eyes drifted over to his reflection.

“S-Sorry. I know it’s improper,” you started, feeling as though he could read your mind and knew how you had dreamt of him and even touched yourself to the thought of him.

“There is no need to apologize. You make me feel something too. The words escape me right now, but just know you aren’t alone in your feelings.” He turned your head so you were looking over your shoulder then he kissed you. You wanted to turn your body so you could properly kiss him and press yourself against him, but he kept you firmly in place as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips. He tasted of coffee and mint.

When he pulled away it was like he had stolen your breath.

“I want you,” he said. There was no hesitation, no lies. He sincerely wanted you. You were willing to give him every part of you, but he still had to ask. “May I have you?”

“Yes, Nico” you responded and something flashed in his eyes at hearing you say his name.

“Keep looking into the mirror,” he whispered in your ear. His hands slowly made their way up your body to your covered breasts where they rested. You have no idea how but he was able to find your nipples through the layers of your shirt and bra. He stroked over them with his thumbs. Your mouth dropped open as he continued, making your hips move in time with his touches.

He moved his hands to the buttons of your shirt, slowly, torturously, unbuttoning. When he was finally done, he pulled it off your shoulders and you let it fall to the floor around your feet.

“Hm…” He smiled at your reflection before going for the straps of your bra. You had no doubt that a man like him knew how to remove a bra so it seemed that he was having a little fun. He pulled the straps down your arms just enough to get your breasts out of the cups of your bra. You almost looked away but his fingers found your nipples and pinched.

“How is that?” he murmured in your ear. “Do you like it?” He twisted them a bit and you arched into his touch.

“Yes,” you breathed. He pulled on them then let go, bringing his fingers to his lips. He sucked on a few fingers on each hand then brought them back to your breasts, soothing your nipples, adding a slight shine to them with his saliva.

His hands left your breasts and trailed down to your pants where he easily slid one under the waistband. You could only see the outline of his big hand through your pants as he rubbed you through your panties. You wanted him skin to skin so badly but you weren’t about to interrupt him. Besides, it felt like heaven already anyway.

He touched you until you soaked through your panties then pulled his hand out. Slowly, he unbuttoned your pants and helped you step out of them. He was still fully dressed, which you thought was unfair, but you did not want to question his process.

You weren’t wearing the sexiest pair of panties. Honestly, you never really went out of your way to be ‘sexy’ because you didn’t view yourself as such, but as you looked at your reflection, you couldn’t help but think there was some beauty to you. Maybe it wasn’t the conventional type but it was there.

“Place your hands on the mirror for me, please,” Nico requested. When you did, he pulled your body towards him then kicked your feet apart carefully. He knelt then crawled in front of you so all you could see was the back of his head and his lovely brown curls in the mirror.

He slid his hands up your legs, starting at your calves all the way up to your thighs where he moved them between your legs then used his thumbs to spread your lips. The first swipe of his tongue nearly made your knees buckle. When he did it again, you cried out and looked down at him. He was looking up at you as he latched onto your clit. You bit down on your arm to stop any other sounds that might escape. He pulled his head from between your legs to speak.

“Do not hide your sounds from me. The sounds of pleasure are music in their own distinct way.” He put his head between your legs again and continued his work. You should have known he would be good at this—his mouth was a magical thing when he spoke so this really was no surprise.

He encouraged you to move yourself back and forth on his face, letting his nose bump your clit each time. You always thought he had a lovely nose.

As you got closer to hitting your peak, you tried moving away but he didn’t want you to. He slid two fingers into you slowly, letting you practically ride his fingers as he sucked on your clit. You came around his fingers and he quickly moved them to get a taste of your juices.

He crawled away from the mirror then stood, letting you see the mess you left on him. “The very nectar of life,” he breathed before kissing you. Your hands found his belt buckle which you worked free so you could get to the button and zipper of his trousers. You were right, he was a boxer brief guy.

The boxer briefs hid nothing from you. Even without seeing him, you could tell he was the perfect size for you. He took his own shirt off, revealing his chest and stomach to you. There was a softness to him that made him all the more desirable to you.

You cupped his face then moved them down to his neck. You weren’t trying to make it seem like you were going to choke him, but when your hands came to his neck he grunted and closed your eyes as if…he liked it. You would remember that.

You down to his chest, giving him the same attention as he gave you. Your thumbs circled his nipples and his hissed. You looked up at him as you moved in and swirled your tongue around one nipple and then the other.

“Face the mirror,” you told him, getting a sudden burst of confidence. He turned to the mirror then you dropped to your knees in front of him, tucking your fingers under the waistband of his underwear and pulling down. His cock sprung free, teasingly bouncing near your mouth. You placed a soft kiss on the tip and he threw his head back.

After licking your hand, you wrapped it around him and began stroking him, kissing on his thighs before moving to his balls. You licked and sucked them as you stroked him, looking up to watch his reactions. His stomach moved in and out quickly along with his breathing.

“I crave the feeling of your lips around me,” he groaned. “I don’t find myself groveling very often but I am begging you to please humor me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. You took him into your mouth and he whimpered. “Ah, thank you. Thank God,” he moaned. “Use that lovely tongue of yours too.”

He watched your head bob on him in the mirror, the wet sounds pleasing him. When his hand moved to the back of your head, you didn’t tense or hesitate. Even as he began controlling your head a little, you let him. This is what it must feel like to be an artist, a sculptor—moving and pressing clay as you please to get your ultimate result.

The sounds became even wetter and you gagged as he hit the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” he encouraged. “Easy. No rush.” He guided you again, slowly pushing your head onto him. This time, you took him into your throat without trouble. So deep that his pubic hair tickled your nose.

“A little longer, sweetheart. You can do that for me, hm?” He looked down at your big eyes. There was no struggling, no alarm. You took his cock down your throat as if you were made to.

He finally pulled you off and you gasped for air. He moaned at the sight of the strands of saliva keeping your lips and his cock connected in a filthy way. He gathered it and stroked his wet cock with it.

“Stand.”

You stood on weak legs and he turned you to face the mirror again. “May I have you?” he asked once again.

“Yes, Nico.”

He only looked down to line himself up with you. Once he was inside of you, he looked into the mirror again. You were biting your lip, trying your best not to move. He placed his hand over yours and laced his fingers with yours as he began moving in and out of you slowly. You moaned in unison as the feeling overwhelmed you both.

You looked into his eyes through the reflection and he gave you a soft smile before thrusting into you a little harder. His grip on your hand tightened.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” You nodded and closed your eyes.

“Look at me,” he said and you locked eyes with his reflection. “That’s it.” He quickened his pace again and the mirror creaked and shook against the wall with each of his thrusts.

He used his free hand to touch you, slipping it between your legs and finding your clit. You were embarrassed by just how wet you were, your inner thighs covered in your mess, but he didn’t seem to mind. His goal was to make you come at least once more before he did and he achieved that goal with no problem.

You came undone around his cock and he fucked you through your orgasm. No, he didn’t fuck you. That didn’t seem like the right term for someone like him. He gave you his all. He made love passionately.

With a cry of your name and a deep groan, he filled you and filled you and filled you. It seemed as if it was never-ending. Even long after he was done, he stayed inside you until he couldn’t anymore.

He guided you to a large bathroom where he carefully and gently cleaned you up, making a little joke about how messy your pussy and thighs were.

“My cup runneth over, hm?” He chuckled then went back to concentrating on cleaning you. Afterwards, he took you back to where your easel was. “Someone should paint you. I’d gladly hang such a masterpiece over my fireplace.

You laughed shyly. “Unfortunately, I am no one’s muse.”

“You are, though.” The way he looked at you could have turned you into a puddle. You put your smock on over your naked body and picked up your paintbrush. Nico came over and stood beside you, his naked form distracting you. You couldn’t concentrate on painting when all you could think of was him being inside you not too long ago.

You put your materials down then turned on the stool to face him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m finding it hard to concentrate,” you admitted. “I can’t stop thinking of…what we just did.”

“Is that so?” His hand slid up your thigh and under the smock finding the curls between your legs. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of it too.” He got on his knees and pushed the bottom half of the smock out of the way and putting your legs over his shoulders.

“Nico,” you murmured nervously. You felt as though you might fall off the stool.

“I’ll never let you fall…” He kissed up your thigh until he reached the apex, swirling his tongue around you just as he had done before. In your whirlwind of pleasure, you instinctively reached up for something to hold on to—that something being the portrait.

You held on for dear life as Nico made you come on his tongue for a second time, overstimulating you slightly by flicking his tongue over your clit repeatedly even after you came. He kissed your thigh then bit the flesh playfully.

“I may not be an artist but I have a muse.” He looked up from between your legs and you ran your fingers through his curls. He rested his head on your thighs as you played with his hair. You finally moved your other hand and turned to look which is when you noticed what you had done. Some of the paint was smudged and in one area you could even make out a partial handprint.

“Oh no,” you mumbled causing Nico to lift his head from your lap. He noticed the paint on your hand and the smudges on the portrait. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…” He took your hands and held them in his, still on his knees as if he were about to propose. “Leave it. That way I…we…will always be reminded. It will always be one of our little inside jokes. Only we will know what caused it in the first place.”

You looked at the smudges again and smiled. “I guess it’s not too bad.”

“Not at all. In a way, I’ll have a one-of-a-kind portrait created by your hands, quite literally.” He kissed your hands then rested his head in your lap again. “It will be my favorite portrait.”

[unwrittenlibrary]

how she loves (like sleep to the freezing)

summary -> “Sometimes Bucky will catch glimpses of who he used to be in the mirror. They’re like silent movies that play as he stares at his reflection. A boy with bright eyes and even brighter smiles that can only see the good in the world. He’s struck with how warm he used to be when these memories play. Then he blinks and they’re gone, all that’s left is a cold man staring back at him whose eyes appear empty and smiles have almost disappeared.”

or; bucky has been cold for a long time and you’re unbelievably warm.

warnings -> not beta’d, nicknames (sunshine/blossom), a lot of allusions to coldness, bucky is lonely & reader is kind. implied that the avengers live in a building together

words -> 2.0k

notes -> tried out a different writing style with this one, a bit of bucky’s thoughts instead of the reader. i hope you enjoy 🥺 title from cherry wine by hozier. can u tell i love him

— ➶ —

Bucky has felt cold for a long time. He feels like the dead of winter.

A kind of cold that just settles. One that doesn’t bite against your skin harshly but instead, it pricks and prods constantly reminding you of an absence of warmth.

He’s felt cold for so long that a semblance of warmth is unknown to him.

The way you radiate warmth is a curiosity and fact in the oddest ways. It’s constant in a way that Bucky can’t comprehend, but always shown through sunshine filled smiles and gentle eyes.

“Hi, Bucky.” You murmur sweetly as you make your way through the gym. It’s empty, you and Bucky the only two occupants, and Bucky feels heat rise to his cheeks.

He nods in response before turning back to the punching bag.

Bucky has know cold for so long he doesn’t know to react to warmth. He sticks to awkward smiles and short nods so you know he’s not ignoring you.

Maybe one day he would feel thawed enough to force the words he so desperately wants to say in return out.

➶

Sometimes Bucky will catch glimpses of who he used to be in the mirror. They’re like silent movies that play as he stares at his reflection. A boy with bright eyes and brighter smiles that can only see the good in the world. He’s struck with how warm he used to be when these memories play. Then he blinks and they’re gone, all that’s left is a cold man staring back at him whose eyes appear empty and smiles have almost disappeared. 

He thinks he would have had a chance with you back then. Imagines your lips painted red and a navy blue skirt while he wears his uniform with pride. Bucky would have taken you dancing and the two of you would have been warmer than the sun together. 

Maybe that’s what hurts the most about the memories. Now that Bucky has them back he can see the missing pieces that Steve tries to pretend he doesn’t miss. Bucky can see parts of who he used to be in the memories, parts that he’s unsure he’ll ever get back. 

He tries though. In the ways he knows how. He cuts his hair and Steve’s excited smile is worth how lost Bucky feels with when he goes to tug nervously at the locks only to find they’re no longer there.

He trains with Sam. It’s obvious Sam feels better when he can help and Bucky doesn’t want to be a burden on Steve’s found family, so he lets Sam show him moves and technology that can help in fights Bucky isn’t sure he wants to be a part of.

Sometimes though, when the memories are too much and he feels frozen, Bucky needs a break.

You seem to appear at these times. Almost like you know Bucky’s grown colder and needs something to ground him to earth.

“You okay, Buck?” You ask gently tone like honey as you move around the kitchen. He nods slowly as his eyes fall to the table in front of him.

You don’t realize it, but the honey drips down Bucky’s fingertips and brings feeling back to his frozen limbs. “I’m okay, sunshine.”

Your returning grin is bright and contagious as you settle in beside Bucky at the kitchen’s island. You’re content to sit in silence and Bucky is content to bask in your glow.

Maybe one day you would know. Maybe you wouldn’t. Bucky was starting to worry less about what ifs.

➶

Steve runs like a furnace and a jealousy as green as ivy consumes Bucky when they’re in each other’s space.

It’s wrong to be jealous of Steve when for so long Steve had been the one who froze and shivered without complaint.

But when Bucky feels the heat of Steve hit him it makes him feel sick. Steve doesn’t have the same sweet as honey tone of voice or the same warmth you do. Steve’s heat doesn’t thaw Bucky out it only reminds him of the past that makes him feel colder.

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Steve’s hand slaps Bucky’s shoulder and burns. Bucky winces, it’s not the burn of a fire but the burn you feel when your hand touches snow for a second too long and his whole body recoils.

The hurt in Steve’s eyes is enough to make guilt claw its way up Bucky’s throat, but the words are frozen on his tongue. How can he explain this? How can Bucky explain that he feels like he’s never really left that ice Hydra forced him into?

“You know,” Bucky coughs awkwardly, “my shoulder. They fucked it up.” Steve’s shoulders sag with relief and his hand rests on Bucky’s right shoulder this time.

It still burns. Bucky has learned to tense his jaw and bear it.

Steve’s so happy to have, really have, Bucky back that there are things he lets slip through the cracks. Expressions he would have noticed in the forties and ticks Bucky still has.

Your hand replaces Steve’s as you step in between the two, like you know Bucky’s shoulder is hypothermic and your touch is all that can save it from turning black and blue.

“You’re okay.” You whisper without looking at him. Steve grins at Bucky, one that says he thinks there’s more to your appearance than you just wanting to help Bucky. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky shrugs.

There are no words to explain that your touch is like his saving grace.

➶

“Bucky,” your fingers card through his hair in an attempt to wake him up, “you awake?” He’s not used to the short hair yet, but you seem to like how easily your fingers glide through it.

Yes. Bucky doesn’t open his eyes. He just makes sure to keep his breathing even as he feels a fingertip trail over his cheek.

Your touch never burns. It’s a relief. When your hand rests on her shoulder or your knuckles brush over his cheekbone, Bucky feels warm. The only way he could ever describe it to somebody who asked was the first day of Spring. The first real day of spring, when all the snow of winter has melted and flowers are peeking through the dirt again.

“I know you’re awake because you’ve got a stupid smile on your face,” you chastise with no real anger in your tone. Bucky cracks an eye open and finds you looking down at him with a grin. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

You. It’s always you. “Dreaming of something beautiful.” Bucky says softly. Your hand rests against his cheek and he feels both his cheeks heat up with a blush. He briefly wonders if you can feel the heat against the palm of your hand.

“Must have been a good dream,” you murmur, “if it’s got you smiling like that.”

You drop your hand and despite to absence of your touch, Bucky still feels warm. There’s no other way to describe it, but Bucky thinks putting it simply is best. “Yeah,” Bucky says softly as his eyes trail over you, “it was.”

“A smile is a good look on you, Barnes.” You say earnestly, a bright smile of your own gracing your face.

As Bucky watches you walk away, he feels lighter too, like something is changing in him.

➶

Bucky’s learning how to feel warm again. Smiles and laughter that makes Steve’s eyes crinkle when he hears and your eyes widen in amusement.

He never wanted to feel cold, but he’ll admit he wallowed in the feeling. He let it settle over him without a fight, lucky to have someone as warm as you in his presence. Someone whose warmth melted his ice without even really trying,

“You’ve been happier lately,” you whisper. There’s a hesitance in your tone, like you’re afraid the words may upset Bucky.

Bucky nods. His head is resting against the back of the couch as he looks at you, your cheek resting against the palm of your hand as you look down at him curiously. “I’ve felt warm.” Bucky admits.

“Warm?” Your brows furrow in confusion. Bucky’s hand is resting on the cushion between you two. He inches in closer to your knee as the two of you watch one another.

Bucky supposes now is as good a time as any to tell you. “I’ve felt cold. For a long, long time. I can’t really explain it, but I know I’m finally starting to feel warm again.”

“Warm again,” you mutter as your hand meets his halfway, “that sounds lovely.” Your fingers follow a path over his palm before Bucky captures them in his.

He can feel himself blush, he seems to do it a lot around you. “You make me feel warm again,” there’s nobody else in the room, but Bucky keeps his voice at a whisper, “like spring.”

“Spring,” you repeat in a low tone, “you make me feel like Spring too, Bucky.” And you smile, one as bright as the sun, and Bucky is happy to soak in it.

➶

He’s learning that in warmth there is comfort. Bucky’s learned a lot, actually, and he’s starting to realize while he may never feel like the bright light he was in the forties, he can grow into something just as warm. Now there are more days than not where his feet no longer feel stuck to the ground and he can feel his eyes light up.

He wants to share it with you and he’s getting comfortable enough to do so. He wants you to see his spring and watch him grow and if your warmth is included in that he wants it to be because it’s what you want, not because you feel obligated to.

Not that you’d ever implied you did. Bucky just worries.

“Sunshine,” Bucky grins as you come to a stop in front of him, “you look beautiful.” You’re wearing a lovely, emerald green gown that flows to your feet.

“Thanks, blossom.” Your eyes shine with mirth as you say it and a Bucky is sure his cheeks have turned a bright shade of red in response. “I have a gift for you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as you hand over a thin box. “What is it?” He asks automatically as he begins to pull the tape holding the lid closed off.

“Open it!” You urge. Bucky pulls the lid off and his eyes widen when he sees the emerald green tie. The one he had on now was a plain black, meant to compliment you and not clash with your dress color.

Your eyes are watching him curiously, waiting for a response, but Bucky can’t get any words out. There are butterflies in his stomach that make it hard to breathe. “Do you… Is it okay?” You ask quietly after a moment.

“Yeah. Yes!” Bucky looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “I love it,” he starts quietly, “will you help me put it on?”

Your eyes widen this time, but you nod and Bucky moves to pull his black tie off quickly. You don’t ask why he needs your help with this tie and not the black one and Bucky appreciates it as you slide the green around his neck.

You take a step closer and Bucky’s breath hitches as you being to slowly knot the tie around his neck. He had grown used to you and your warmth in his space, but this felt different. The air between you two felt charged. Bucky’s eyes trail over your face admiringly as you focused on the task in front of you.

“Sunshine,” Bucky starts in a whisper. Your eyes snap to his, your hands still resting on his chest. “I-“

“I know,” you murmur. Your palms flatten against his chest as you tilt your head up towards him. Bucky doesn’t have the chance to say anything else because you press a soft kiss against his lips.

It’s a blink and you miss it type kiss. By the time Bucky registers that you’re kissing him, you’ve pulled away to look at him with gleeful eyes.

“We promised Steve we wouldn’t be late,” You take an agonizingly slow step away, “and I keep promises.”

Bucky slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers together, and allows you to pull him down the hallway.

It’s the dead of winter, but Bucky feels like summer.

— ➶ —

notes -> not too sure how i feel about this… definitely something different. i feel like my writing has been subpar lately…. idk! have a great night 💗 or day!

if you enjoyed reblogs are greatly appreciated 🥺

[atticsandwitch]

Obey me characters with an MC who does reckless things because they're afraid of being a burden.

Self indulgent, comfort, angst Less headcannons, more drabbles.

First, in a group chat without MC: House of Lamentation (7) Satan: I just found MC in the kitchen, trying to open a can with a chef knife. Mammon: WHAT Mammon: Why would they wanna do something like that?? Asmo: (Wide eyed emoji) Belphie: Yea, that's stupid even for Mammon Mammon: HEY! Satan: They couldn't find the can opener, and they said they didn't want to bother anyone. Levi: That's actually kind of cute. Levi: It's just like the main character of this anime I just started watching who acts really tough and independent, but deep down is afraid to ask for help and just wants to be loved! Satan: That's not all Lucifer: it's not? Satan: Solomon saw MC yesterday climbing the bookshelves in the RAD library. Satan: Apparently they'd reached the sixth shelf before he could levitate them and the book they needed back to the ground. Beel: Are all humans like this? Lucifer: No. It seems we've found a particularly troublesome one. Levi: Actually I saw them do something similar earlier this week. Asmo: Oh no. Asmo: I bet Mammon's having a heart attack rn Mammon: (sweaty nervous emoji) Levi: They were standing on the counter trying to reach something on the top of the cabinets waaaay in the back. Belphie: That's not that bad Levi: They were also standing on an upside down pot because they were still too short. Levi: and they were wearing heels. Lucifer: Everyone, make sure to keep an eye on MC as often as possible

Lucifer

Sighs out loud reading the group chat

"And here I thought I would just have to protect MC from demon attacks"

He decides to have a talk with you once he gets a little time, and not just about safety. He has a whole lecture planned out about climbing the book cases at RAD.

Unfortunately he's swamped with paperwork and bills to go through, so he doesn't have the chance to talk to you right away.

The next day, however, you're all invited to the Demon Lord's Castle for another overnight retreat, or event of some sort.

Everyone is having fun and causing a ruckus, as usual, and at some point during the evening the group loses you.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, but the palace is so huge you get lost even with directions. At a certain point you know you can find your way back and ask for help, but you can't bring yourself to, and decide to press on to try to find it yourself.

Eventually you find yourself standing in front of an ornate mirror with no reflection. You stop and ponder it for a moment, and as you're about to step away you hear a whisper. You can't make out what it says, but it compels you to step closer. In a corner of the reflected room you notice what looks like a puppet made of bone, with blackened eyes.

"~MC~..." An ethereal whisper, "...c...l...oser..." and in a blink of your eye it's closer to you, and you've stepped closer without realizing it.

Your heart is racing, but you can't stop yourself from reaching out to the mirror. Is it really a mirror...? Another blink and the bone puppet is closer. It tilts it's head at you, and outstretches an arm.

You try to pull back, but realize you can't, you're now mirroring the actions of the puppet as it steps closer, and closer.

Suddenly your vision goes black and you're pulled backwards by the waist, away from the mirror.

After a moment, Lucifer removes his gloved hand from over your eyes, and spins you to face him. He looks worried, frightened almost, but soon regains his composure.

"I thought you were going to the bathroom, MC" He says

It takes you a second to form words again, "I... I was.... I got lost" You had to really think hard about it for a moment.

Lucifer sighs, "You know the castle can be dangerous. If you weren't sure where to go, why not ask someone to show you?"

You were feeling particularly vulnerable after what had just happened, and so decided to be deeply honest, "I'm afraid of being a burden..." you mumble.

He's surprised by the admission, but pulls you close.

"Of all the burdens I've had to shoulder in this life, I promise that you are not one of them, MC" He whispers into your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

Mammon

Immediately goes to find you after he finishes reading the group chat.

He finds you doing something dangerous with a knife again, and grabs your wrist to stop you.

"Oi, human!" He only calls you that when he's angry, which is rare, "What do ya think yer doin'?"

"I'm just-" he cuts you off

"I don' wanna hear it!"

"Then why did you ask?" you're stare at him. Mammon's face reddens and he realizes he's still holding your wrist, so he gently takes the knife out of your hand and sets it down.

"I mean- What's goin' on with ya lately? Everyone says yer doin' a buncha dangerous stuff!" He put his hands on his hips and only resumes eye contact as he finishes his sentence.

"What do you-?"

"Like climbin' bookshelves, and whatever this is-!" He gestures to the knife and you look away. You're silent for a while; too long for Mammon to take, "C'mon, MC, talk to me" His voice finally softens, arms dropping to his sides. You finally meet his eyes, and the look of concern on his face is heartbreaking.

"I like doing things myself..." you can tell he's not buying it, "I... I just don't want to be a burden..." You admit quietly, voice wavering somewhat.

His eyes go wide, "...MC..." he says softly. Mammon pulls you in for a tight hug, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, and the other hand resting on the back of your head, and holds you like he'd do anything in the world to protect you, which he would.

"Listen up, 'cuz Mammon's gonna give you some free advice" you hear a sniffle, and realize he's crying.

His human was hurting like this, and he never even noticed. What kinda demon am I? He thought, but he knew this wasn't about him right now, so he held you tighter.

"You will never be a burden to me...Ya got that?"

Leviathan

Thinks its pretty adorable that you actually seem to be a little tsundere.

Because of this, and his social anxiety, he doesn't confront you about it right away. Not until the jellyfish incident anyway.

One night you're hanging out with Levi in his room, when you notice that one of his jelly fish decorations had fallen to the ground. So, you decide to string it back up for him.

You looked around, Levi absorbed in his game, and tried to judge the distance between the edge of the bed-tub and the ceiling. That should do it! you think, and climb the edge of the bed-tub. The edge was difficult to balance on, but you knew you'd be careful, and you could almost reach.

Levi turned around just in time to see you, arms stretched too far over your head and on your tip toes on the edge of the tub, and watched as you lose balance completely. He saw it, you were going to fall backwards toward the other side of the tub and crack your head!

Now, he may not be as fast as Mammon, but he is still a demon after all, and just as you felt the jolt of the fall as your foot slipped, you felt arms around your middle, pulling you forcefully forward.

Leviathan had jumped to your rescue, unconsciously changing into his demon form, discarding his controller unceremoniously to the floor, and in his panic underestimated his own strength.

The two of you ended up both landing on the floor, you on top of a very red Leviathan.

"Wh-wh-what were you doing normie?! You were about to fall and crack your skull on the tub!"

You guiltily hold up the jellyfish, "I was just trying to fix it"

"Well get a ladder next time!" It's taking everything in Levi to ignore the position your both in, because its' just like that time in- nevermind, this is more important.

"All you had to do was say something! I was sitting right there!" He still hasn't let you go. He sees the look on your face change into something he can't quite get a read on, but whatever it is, is also full of sadness. "You could have died just then, MC. Why wouldn't you just ask for some help?" His voice is softer, "I was right there" and softer still, almost desperate.

"I..." He could tell whatever you were about to say was difficult for you, "I'm just so afraid of being a burden"

He's heartbroken, "You're my best friend, my player two, my Henry th-the- the person I love" He goes red again and quickly continues as if to bury the words beneath more words, "You're a lot of things, MC, but you're not a burden"

Asmodeous

Worrying is bad for the skin. Worrying is bad for the skin. Worrying is bad for the skin. But he can't help it.

One night you get home particularly late, and none of the brothers have seen you. They were about to send out a search party when you finally came home.

When he finds out you walked home alone again, and were so late because you got lost, that's when he finally decides to confront you.

"You walked home alone again? And took WHICH street?! MC don't you know how dangerous it is for a human in the Devildom, especially one with no real magical powers? Not to mention in that area!"

How were you supposed to know? You were lost. He knows these things, but doesn't give you a chance to point them out.

"Beel saw you leave right after classes. If you were so lost why didn't you call one of us?" he asks. The worry and exasperation is plain in his voice.

"I..." you start, "I didn't want to bother anyone that's all" but he can tell there's more to it than that.

"Why are you so worried about bothering us? Don't you know we care about you?" He asks, concern slowly turning to sadness.

"I just don't want to be a burden..."

His eyes go wider than before, which you didn't think was possible. "What in the three realms would give you the idea that you're a burden? MC, you're so precious to me, and if anything were to ever happen, I-"

He begins welling up with tears and pulls you into a tight hug.

"MC, I was worried sick. We all were. Please... Come to me when you need help... I love you"

Satan

He walked in and found you trying to use a chef knife to open a can, brought you the can opener, and ultimately left; not entirely sure what to make of the situation yet.

The next time he saw you, you were climbing on top of an unsteady looking stack of books to reach something in the House's library.

Were those one of his stacks? Had you stacked them yourself? It didn't matter. What mattered was that the books all began slipping out from under you.

He rushed over, and caught you with ease as you fell, but your momentum ended up knocking you both to the ground.

He sighs, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Sorry, " you let out an embarrassed laugh, "Are you okay?"

"Yea, and you?" he asks. You nod, and he helps you up. To his confusion you immediately begin stacking the books back up.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks, suspicious. It looks like you're about to try to climb the stack again.

"There's a book I need" He was right.

This must be how Lucifer feels. He sighs again, and grabs your hand to stop you.

"You can't keep doing stuff like this, MC. It's dangerous" He looks serious, but his cheeks are a little pink, "I'm worried about you. Why won't you ask for help?"

"I..." You start, but hesitate, averting your eyes.

"Tell me the truth, MC" Satan almost pleads, a sad look in his eyes.

"I don't want to be a burden... that's all..." You say, so quietly it's almost a sigh.

Suddenly it all made sense; the way you tried to hide when you were upset, how you always carried just a little too much, the way you always offered to help, even if there was little work to do... Why hadn't he put the pieces together before now?

"Then, I need you to do something for me" He says, after thinking a moment. He steps closer, "I need you to start asking for help,"

He pulls you close, and hugs you tightly, "I know it'll be difficult, but that's why I'll always be there for you"

He pulls away slightly, still holding you, to look into your eyes. His face is very red now, "I'll do whatever it takes to show you that you're not a burden," Kindness and determination burn in his eyes as he leans in for a kiss.

Beelzebub

He was walking down the hall when he spots you down at the other end near an open window.

The wind blew something out of your hand, so you leaned out the window to try to grab it. This is when Beel got worried, his instincts kicked in and he picked up his pace.

Your homework got caught by the wind, but stopped by some of the vines clinging to the House of Lamentation, so you leaned out the window but it was just out of reach. You knew you could get it if you could reach just a little further, so you lean out a little more... Just a little more...

Unfortunately that's when you lost balance, and felt yourself tip forward. You'd be out the window in no time flat, and then you'd be flattened on the ground.

Thankfully Beel was able to grab you by the waist and hoist you back inside to safety.

You thank him, and explain the situation but he still looks confused.

"Why wouldn't you just come get one of us? We could've easily gotten it down for you" he asks.

"I thought I'd be able to reach" you try, with an embarrassed and unconvincing smile.

"Tell me the truth, MC. Why are you so afraid to ask for help?"

"I don't want to be a burden..." You say softly, sadness written plainly on your face and in your voice.

"Oh" You look up and the sad, sympathetic look Beel gives you makes you want to cry. "I know the feeling"

"You do?" You ask, tears beginning to spill over

"You think I don't know how many problems my stomach causes for everyone?" He gives you a slightly more serious look, "But that doesn't matter" And now a reassuring, although still slightly sad smile, "Because the people who love and care about you will never think of you as a burden. And trust me, MC, there are plenty of people who love and care about you"

"Like who?" You didn't want to ask, part of your brain knew the answer, but you just had to silence those negative voices.

Beel blushed, "Like me" he says, then silently wipes the tears from your face and pulls you into the softest, safest hug you've ever felt.

Belphegor

He wasn't worried at all initially. Sure humans are fragile compared to demons, but they're not that fragile. Plus you've survived this long on your own and now you've got demons, angels, a prince, and a sorcerer all looking out for you. Not to mention the way brothers' tend to exaggerate.

He was laying outside under a large tree, intending to try out a new nap spot, when he saw you leaning out of the window.

He smiled and was about to wave when he realized something was wrong. You were leaning too far out of the window. You were going to-

He jolted upright like he'd been hit by lightning as he watched you lose your balance

He already knew there was no way he'd be able to make it to you in time, even with demonic speed.

Thankfully Beel was there. Belphie let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when he saw Beel pull you back inside and got up to go make sure you're alright.

He realizes his brothers were right to be worried, and he's angry about it.

You're on your way back to your room by the time he catches up with you, but he can see that your eyes are red from crying, and his anger evaporates. He asks you what's wrong, and you explain everything.

Why you almost fell out the window, your conversation with Beel, and how you're afraid of being a burden.

"Well, Beel's right, you could never be a burden to any of us" He says, so don't even worry about it" he says, giving you an easy smile, despite how sad he felt for his human.

"That's... Easier said than done..." You reply, unconvinced.

"That's why I'll always be by your side, MC. I won't even give you the chance to worry about it!"

He pulls you into a hug and strokes your hair, starting the waterworks all over again. He'll hold you until you've calmed down again, and then pull you up to the attic where you two can make a pillow fort and nap.

He'll probably also start a tickle fight just to hear you laugh again.

Btw, who made you feel this way, MC, he just wants to murder torture talk.

Diavolo

Lucifer has shared his concerns, as he often does, so Diavolo is aware of your reckless nature. He finds it somewhat amusing, but mostly concerning.

It's during one of the events that he finally witnesses it for himself.

He always found it sweet how you tried to help everyone, and you were doing it again. You were running around helping all of the brothers with everything. He doesn't know how those seven managed without you before you came to the Devildom, and the way they rely on you is more than a little amusing.

This time you were helping Asmo with decorations, but he seemed to have disappeared somewhere, no doubt to fix his makeup, or to take a break to avoid sweating too much.

When Diavolo walked in his eyes went wide. You were using progressively taller stacks of chairs to climb the tallest stack in the room in order to hang decorations on the ceiling, and your arms were so full of supplies that there was no way you could balance properly on the already unsteady stacks.

He'd already made it to the base of the stacks when the one you were on started to wobble.

"MC!" he called out in a panic, but this seemed to startle you, and the jolt caused you, the stack of chairs, and all your decorations to come crashing down.

Diavolo caught you effortlessly, and shielded you from any flying chairs in the process.

"Mc, are you okay?" He asks, eyes still wide, "what in the Devildom were you thinking?"

"Sorry, I was just trying to help" you say

He feels anger towards the brothers creeping in the back of his mind. That they would leave you alone, with so much work, and still none of them are to be found after such a loud crash; it's unacceptable. But he pushes those thoughts back for now.

"That was dangerous, even for a demon. You could have been seriously injured just now," The look of concern on his face tugs at your heart.

"Sorry" you mumble again, "You can put me down, now... I should start cleaning up"

"Forgive me for being selfish," He smiles a little, "But I don't think I want to put you down just yet. The clean up can wait"

Your face reddens. You're not sure what to say to that, but you can't deny that it feels good to be held like this in his strong arms.

He looks briefly around at the mess of scattered chairs and decorations that you had intended to hang and clean up by yourself, "Tell me, MC," He looks back to you, "You seem to have a hard time asking for help, why is that?"

You're surprised by the directness of the question, and look away. He notices, and feels a bit guilty, but knows that if things continue the way they are, you will definitely get hurt one day.

"I guess it's because... I'm afraid of being a burden" you answer honestly. You feel that you owe him that much.

"I see..." He hums, then smiles happily, "Then perhaps I should carry you around until you admit that you are not a burden!"

"WHAT?" the look on your face makes him laugh heartily.

"Just kidding!" He chuckles, "...Maybe"

"Diavolo that's- I-"

"You are extraordinary, MC," There's a serious look on his face now, "In fact I could describe you in a million different ways, but the word 'burden' would never be among them"

He begins walking out of the room, still carrying you in his arms.

"What are you doing? What about the decorations?"

"I think I'd like to keep you to myself for the day, if that's alright with you, my dear" Diavolo smiles down at you.

As you two walk down the hall, away from the ballroom you hear the brothers' voices as they enter, "Whoa? What the heck happened in here?" Mammon exclaims.

Barbatos

He had invited you for tea, and you offered to help Barbatos make and serve it.

You try to carry too much, and in your rush drop the entire tray, shattering the beautiful tea set and all of the plates of desserts.

"I'm so sorry!" You immediately bend down and begin tying to pick up the pieces, "I'll replace it-" You stop as you realize that you're not sure you could even afford to replace a royal tea set.

"Allow me to help" Barbatos says, bending down.

"No, no, it's fine! I can get it!" You look up and give him an unconvincing smile, and while you're not paying attention to what you're doing, you slice your hand open on one of the sharp pieces of porcelain.

Barbatos pulls a roll of gauze and bandages out of one of his pockets, "Let's get this taken care of, shall we?" he says, but you're still picking up pieces with your other hand.

"I can do it, I just-..."

"It's only a tea set," As Barbatos stills your frantic hands, he notices your tears.

"I'm sorry," You finally say after a long moment of silence, during which he begins bandaging your injured hand, "I tried to help, but I was still only a burden after all..." Barbatos is surprised by this admission, to say the least.

"You should know that It makes me very happy to be able help and take care of people. I especially enjoy the way your face lights up with a tinge of surprise whenever I do something for you that you are not expecting..." He pauses in thought, and looks as though he's realized something that makes him sad, but whatever it is, he keeps it to himself. He finishes bandaging your hand, and places his on the side of your face.

"MC, It is a pleasure, and genuinely brings me joy to be able to do things for you. Please allow me to help you more often."

He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and dries your tears.

He leads you to sit in a comfortable chair, "Please, rest until you feel better, and allow me to take complete care of you today"

He makes some tea and food for you both to share and makes sure you don't have to lift a finger for the rest of the day, leaving the broken tea set completely forgotten on the floor in the other room for the time being.

He always has kind words for you whenever you see each other, and while he enjoys your help in the kitchen, he always makes sure not to let you do too much, and he never lets you clean up.

He takes extra care of you from now on, and Diavolo finds it absolutely adorable, though he may be a tiny bit jealous.

Solomon

You might've actually given this man a heart attack.

He would've thought it was funny if it hadn't looked like the bookshelf was about to come crashing down on top of you.

"Don't worry! I'm used to climbing things; I'm careful!" You try to convince him, "That does not, in fact, make me feel any better, MC"

He dedicates time to teaching you a levitation spell or two, depending on your magical abilities, so you don't have to climb things any more.

As he's teaching you he decides to ask you about the book shelf incident.

"Something's been on my mind lately" He says, turning to you as you practice. You ask him what it is as you turn your attention to his face and notice that he looks troubled. "The other day, in the library. You knew I was there, sitting nearby... Why didn't you just ask for my help?"

"Oh, I just thought I could get the book myself" That wasn't the answer he was looking for, so he presses on.

"But surely it would've been easier to use a ladder, then. wouldn't it?"

"Well... I- uh- wasn't sure where they were" you sounded a little embarrassed, and turned your attention back to the spell.

Solomon looks a little saddened, "Hmm..." he pauses. You didn't want his help and you didn't even want to ask him a simple question? "MC, is there a reason you didn't want to ask me for help?" Watching you, he saw that the question gave you pause.

"I... have a hard time asking for help sometimes..." You admit, hoping that's the end of it. But of course, it isn't.

"Oh?" he gently prompts you to explain.

He can tell that you're only pretending to pay attention to the spell now, to avoid eye contact, "I've just always been afraid of being a burden"

His face grows sadder for a moment, but you continue to avoid his gaze. He folds his arms, and moves a closed fist to his chin in thought.

"I think that sometimes, not asking for help can be more of a burden" he says, finally catching your attention. You look up questioningly and he continues in a gentle voice, "Think about it, you're placing too much of the burden on yourself, which is making everyone around you worry. And besides that, what if you get hurt? Then you'll need more help from others than you would have in the first place"

It's your turn to look troubled. You hadn't realized that you were worrying everyone, or that you were causing them trouble.

He lets you think for a moment, before placing a comforting hand on your back.

"MC, it's okay to rely on others. People like it when you ask for help. It makes them feel special to you" He says, and when you look up he's giving you one of the kindest smiles you've ever seen on this shady magic boomer's face.

He hopes you catch his little hint, I want to feel special to you, MC

"Thank you, Solomon. I'd never thought of it that way" you smile back, "I'll try to ask for your help more often"

"I'll look forward to it!" He says with an even brighter smile.

Simeon

He noticed just in time; you had decided to walk home alone again and two suspicious looking demons were about to corner you down an alley.

You were scared, you think they had been following you for at least a couple blocks, and now you had nowhere to go. You were at a dead end.

"You two want to leave." A familiar voice, "NOW." Simeon was smiling, but he looked so intimidating in the shadow of the alley, and something ominous was also radiating off of him. Was he angry?

"C'mon it's not worth it" one of the demons said, "Killjoy" said the other. Simeon watches them leave with an intimidating expression before finally approaching you.

"MC, are you alright?" He asks, features now full of concern.

"Yea! Thanks for that, I was starting to get a little worried"

The concern on his face grows, didn't you know how much danger you'd been in just then? "Those two had been following you for a while... Why didn't you call out for help? Or call someone on your D.D.D?"

"Well... I- I just thought maybe they were walking in the same direction, so I wasn't sure..." You sounded nervous.

How could you be unsure? Simeon had never seen a more suspicious looking pair of demons in his life, and if you'd heard what they were saying they wanted to do to you, you'd understand why he was angry. He sighs.

He notices you're shaking, ever so slightly. Maybe you had overheard... You seemed to be more shaken than you were trying to let on.

In the silence he realizes that this part of town wouldn't be part of your normal route back to the House of Lamentation, "Were you lost?" You nod. "Why not ask for directions?" He asks

"Everyone was so busy when I left RAD... I didn't want to bother them. They're always taking care of me as it is... I just thought..."

So that's why you were walking home alone

"I'll walk you back then" he offers you his hand, and you want to take it, but to his surprise you can't bring yourself to.

"That's alright! You've already done so much for me. I'm sure I can find my way home now!" You try to force a smile, but Simeon can see right through you.

"MC... What's really going on?" His face is serious again but his voice is kind as he steps closer and rests a hand on your shaking arm.

You can't hold back tears any more, "I... Just don't... want to be a burden... to anyone" The quiet words break Simeon's heart.

Who could've made you feel this way?

He draws you into a strong, gentle hug, cradling the back of your head to hold you closer and stroke your hair.

"Don't ever think like that, MC" He breathes into your ear, "You are so loved"

Luke

You're going to give this smoll baby angel a heart attack, and there's not much he can even do to about it.

You were carrying too much, like you always do, and Luke noticed almost too late.

You were heading straight for the stairs, and your books and supplies were stacked too high for you to see!

"MC, LOOK OUT!" he shouts.

You stop just as your foot passes the threshold of the first stair and you feel the drop.

You drop everything you're carrying, but thanks to Luke's warning you stopped your own momentum before you could tumble down the stairs with everything else.

Relief floods through Luke as you stare at the mess, shaken and disheartened by the prospect of the clean up.

He runs to you, demanding to know that you're okay.

Of course he helps you clean up and carries as much as he can for you.

He's always offering to carry things for you now, even if all you have is a book or two.

He keeps a nervous eye on you from now on too.

Give this poor baby angel a hug.

[funkymbtifiction]

1. I was reading the stems and… wow; no wonder no one likes being identified with 136 type descriptors. I’m kind of glad I went from core descriptions for my tritype rather than stems, because 13 and 16 are just painted so unappealingly that I can’t imagine having immediately identified with them. I wonder if there aren’t a lot of 1-cores writing enneagram stuff online.

You're not supposed to feel proud of or comforted by your tritype; it's supposed to reveal the uncomfortable truth about you by stripping your ego naked. It's a huge blow to your ego, and the ego's instinctive reaction when they read an accurate but "unfavorable" portrayal of themselves is denial. "That is not me, that must be wrong!" "OMG, this such a HARSH description!" If a descriptor of a type interaction upsets you, it's rubbing up against your ego. It's either an indicator that you are mistyped ("I am this, but a HEALTHY version, so 99% of this isn't true for me") or because it's accurate and you don't want to face that.

This is the time to dig deep and ask yourself hard questions (why did I react so strongly to this? which ego-defenses is it pulling down? why do I care about this? am I worried about what others might think of me, if they know I am this tritype? is this an image reaction because I don't want to 'seem' this way? am I afraid it's true of me? etc. etc.). The truest things dig the needle in the deepest, and after you go through anger, resentment, denial, rejection, and then acceptance, THAT is when your ego is humbled enough for self-growth. I have been through a lot of that, and it's not fun, but you will come out the other side ready to flourish.

I remember the first time someone suggested 2 fix for me, and I had a tantrum; I wanted to be anything other than that! But my angry objections were only because of the true-ness of 2 for me. It held a mirror up to me and I did not like the reflection -- I had to want the truth of myself more than to look good in the eyes of others and after sulking, came around to the fact that I am indeed 2ish in my heart fix. Once you take a blow like that to your ego / pride, you reach a point where you have truly "seen" yourself and there's no more denying of it. Reading those, I am back to thinking I am 1 fixed. The blow of 6-1 makes me uncomfortable enough to know it's truer than 6-9.

The Enneagram isn't about making you comfortable and "look good." It's about self-awareness and that's scary, especially if you are a 3 or have a 3 fix and don't want your bare bones exposed to the world.

Let's see... 1 cores writing Enneagram stuff. Maybe, since the goal is self-enlightenment/self-improvement and that appeals to 1s for sure!

2. It’s surprisingly easy to manipulate the self-images of Fe-users, especially if they have Fe tert or inf. It’s not really intentional most of the time - I can make a comment describing someone or fill in a word when they’re searching for a good self-descriptor, and they’ll usually agree with it. Or they might say “I don’t know how I feel about this” and I can suggest something and they’ll be like “you’re right.” This all sounds very manipulative and scary, but I think it can go both ways - if you help someone provide tools to understand themselves when they’re looking for them, it can be helpful. But there’s definitely a side where I think, “Oh no, this person is pretty malleable to what I say, what if I’m manipulating them?” Generally I don’t notice this happen with Fi users as much because while they’ll consider what you have to say, their self-image is ultimately pretty solid and takes a lot to change. Is this something Fi users worry about? Is it an Enneagram social thing?

They might be 9s and if so, you aren't really 'getting' to them -- they are just agreeing with you on a surface level to make you not angry at them and then will go home and do their own thing / forget all about it anyway. As for helping them figure out their emotions -- TPs often need that, and when you suggest things to them, that's not manipulative -- they genuinely may not know what they are feeling or why, because many of them are out of touch with their emotions, and they need a higher Feeler who is comfortable with emotional states to guide them. Fi's are less amenable to influence to some degree, although if they are a 6, 9, or a 3, they will internalize what you say about them more than if they are a different type. Fi and Te is often more straightforward and blunt.

Can a Fi worry about being bad/wrong/manipulative/etc? Yes. Especially if they have a self-diacritic 1 fix where "I should... should not..." do X.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝐴𝑛 𝐼𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑆/𝑂 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warning: This reaction contains NSFW content that might not be suitable for some. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, supporting, justifying or encouraging mafia activities or lifestyle. This is all fictional and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

❁𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was very well aware of how innocent you were, yet he never teased you about it nor babied you like others would. And he especially never pressured you or even brought up anything remotely sexual. He knew you'd let him know when you were ready to take that step in the relationship.

When the moment did come, he was surprised by your actions. You came into the room and straddled his lap.

"Baby? What are you?-"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence as you began kissing him hungrily, your hips grinding down on him. He was shocked by your sudden boldness, but he wasn't complaining. He kissed you back, his hands roaming down to grip your ass, taking control of your movements. You may have initiated this, but no way was he going to let you be in charge.

When your hand tried to slip into his jeans, he stopped you and smirked.

"Hold on baby. There'll be plenty of time for that later. First.."

Without warning, he got you off him and sat you down on the bed, his hands swiftly pulling your pants and panties off from you. Feeling shy again, you closed your legs, making Hongjoong chuckle.

"Not so brave anymore, are you love?"

Taking hold of your ankles, he pushed your legs apart to take in the sight of you. He had waited so long for this moment and he couldn't believe it. He got down in front of you, loving the way your cheeks turned pink and looked at him, waiting to see what he had planned.

"Don't worry baby. Just relax and leave everything to me."

He sent you a wink before he buried his face in between your legs, unable to hold back anymore. You gave him the green light and he was going to go for it.

❁𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa loved how pure and innocent you were. It was no secret he got turned on by the thought of one day ruining you and staining your innocence, with your consent of course.

He wanted to hear you beg him to fuck you, to claim you as his and only his. He wanted you to writhe and moan underneath his body. But to get that, he had to make you want it.

That's why he often did little things to make you frustrated: whether it was by working out in front of you shirtless, caressing your sides while you tried cooking, kissing your neck more and more, whispering in your ear, and even licking off crumbs of food that got on your lips.

"What?" He'd often act like he didn't know what he was doing when you looked at him with a surprised expression.

The final straw for you was when he came back from a meeting, dressed in a suit. God how you loved it when he wore a suit, it just made him more irresistible. And you had been frustrated since the morning when he came out of the shower in a towel and his wet hair made you picture dirty scenes in your head. Gathering your courage, you suddenly blurted out:

"Seonghwa please fuck me."

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and your courage vanished, thinking maybe it wasn't the time to say that. But Seonghwa smiled, feeling accomplished of himself. He began unbuttoning his suit jacket, never taking his lust filled eyes from you as he commanded:

"Strip for me baby."

❁𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Even though he was a fearsome mafia boss, Yunho had the utmost respect for you. He loved you, adored you so much. He showed you the side of him he himself had forgotten he owned: the soft, caring and puppy like personality he was capable of showing. But it was only reserved for you and only you.

He knew you were a virgin and for that reason never even thought of overstepping any boundaries that would make you uncomfortable. 5 months later and he was still asking for permission to hold your hand.

He was elated yet scared when you told him one day that you wanted him to be your first.

"A-are you sure love? This is a big decision. I don't want you to regret anything." He voiced his concerns for you.

But after assuring him you wanted this, he gave in. He took utmost care of you, making sure to pleasure you and prep you so it wouldn't be too uncomfortable for you. He wanted you to feel safe and loved during your first time. He also made sure to shower you with praises.

"You're doing so well love. You're so beautiful."

He kept a slow and steady pace, his lips constantly kissing yours or your forehead, his hands holding onto yours as he looked down on you with love and adoration. He felt your nails claw his back and your legs wrap around his waist, your clenching walls signaling to him that you were close.

"It's ok baby, just let it go. Cum for me."

Yunho swears there's no more beautiful scene than watching your face contort with pleasure as you moan and whimper underneath him. He came inside you just seconds after, unable to hold back anymore.

But finally you were his and he was yours forever.

❁𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang lived for teasing you. He found it adorable how your cheeks would turn red every time he did or said anything mildly suggestive. Not one day went by when he didn't make you get flustered by his actions or words.

He especially loved making even the most innocent of situations turn suggestive and when you called him out on it, he'd feign innocence and instead would say you were the dirty minded one, making you get even more flustered and unable to say anything anymore.

You were in the process of baking a cherry pie one day. You wanted to make something special for yours and Yeosang's anniversary. Yeosang walked in and saw the current state of the kitchen.

"Babe. What's this?" He eyed you curiously.

"It's to make a pie." You explained as you began taking the stems off the cherries.

Yeosang chuckled as he caught you more than once popping a cherry into your mouth instead of the bowl.

"If you keep popping the cherries like that, there won't be enough for the actual pie you know."

You pouted a little.

"Can't help it. They're just so good."

Picking one up, you held it out for him to eat.

"Wanna try one?"

Yeosang couldn't pass away the opportunity. He leaned in and ate the cherry from your fingers, making sure to suck on the tip of one of them, making you widen your eyes just a bit. Clearing your throat, you asked:

"I take it you liked it?"

Yeosang hummed before responding:

"Sure.....but that's not the cherry I wanted to pop today."

He winked at you and left the room, leaving you stunned at his words.

❁𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

Every one often wondered how was it that the infamous Choi San was in an actual relationship, a serious one. And it was even more puzzling for his friends when they met you.

You were the complete opposite of San. You were such an innocent little thing, while San was known as the biggest Casanova in the mafia world. They often questioned his loyalty to you, which he proved time and time again that he was faithful to you and that he did love you. His friends were so happy to see him finally settle down, to actually love and be loved by someone.

Was it your innocence that attracted San? Partly yes. But San also knew you weren't all that innocent, at least not after you got involved with him. Everything about him is sinful, and he was bound to corrupt you sooner or later, which he loved doing.

He loved how you were currently trying to hold back your moans as he pounded into you from behind. You let your head hung low, unable to see the reflection in the mirror, blushing hard.

"Nuh uh sweetheart. Don't pretend to be shy now. You were practically begging me to fuck you when you came in dressed like that."

San grabbed a hold of your hair and made you look up at the mirror, watching as he smirked at you through hazy eyes.

"Don't deny it. Beneath that innocent face, we both know you're just my little cockslut."

❁𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Your innocent and pure nature was exactly the reason why Mingi fell for you in the first place. He remembers that moment very clearly.

He was standing all alone in the rain, his heart feeling as dark as the black night. He was in really low spirits. He saw no point in life anymore. It seemed to him as if there was nothing left in this world that was good. He just saw bad everywhere. A long life of crime often makes you think that.

Suddenly he felt the rain above him stop. He looked up and saw an umbrella held over him. Turning around, he saw you. You were on your tip toes, holding the umbrella as high as you possibly could, which wasn't easy since Mingi was a giant.

His heart melted when you smiled at him and said:

"It's too cold and unsafe to be out like this. Do you want me to walk you home?"

He was used to having people fear him, yet here you were, not afraid of him nor looking at him like he was a monster. And even after spending time with him and finding out who he was, you didn't look at him in disgust or repulsion.

He couldn't help but fall for you then. He loved you and made it his mission to keep you safe and protected from the dark, cold world he was a part of.

He especially loves coming home to you. Wrapping his arms behind you, he inhales your scent as you stir the food in front of you.

"Mingi." You call out to him.

"Mmmmm?" He mumbles, already dozing off in your embrace.

"I need to get something." You tell him.

"Hold on. Just let me stay like this a few more seconds."

But you know it wouldn't last just a few seconds. Not when his hands began roaming around your body, not when the chaste kisses he pressed to your shoulders turned more heated and he bit down on the exposed skin.

Pressing a kiss to your ear, he whispered softly:

"Let me make love to you."

❁𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung didn't even want to attend the meeting with the other mafia boss. He knew he was a stubborn old man who never agreed to anything and always looked down at Wooyoung for being so young, though in reality he knew he just resented him for being successful at such a young age in the criminal world.

But he doesn't regret it. Not when you, the old geezer's daughter, came in for a brief moment to give dear old dad a message. Wooyoung's eyes lit up when he saw you. And you yourself were captivated by him. Having been so sheltered by an overprotective father, you rarely ever saw men your age, and especially not as handsome as Wooyoung. You were so innocent, so naive and having met Wooyoung, you wanted him to ruin you. And he was more than happy to seduce such an innocent little thing like you.

That's how your risky romance started. First with tiny notes that evolved into risky text messages, and the once stolen kisses in corners turned to love scenes in Wooyoung's bedroom.

"Look at you being such a dirty girl. What would your father say if he saw you like this?"

You threw your head back at Wooyoung's words, the thought of your father catching you both terrifying and thrilling you.

Wooyoung smirked as he felt you clench around him.

"Oh you like that don't you? Who would have thought the perfect angel was such a little whore?"

His hands gripped your waist as he thrusted his hips up at you, hitting a new angle that would have you coming in seconds.

"Go on baby, I want you to scream my name as you cum. I want everyone to know that only I can make you feel this good. That this little pussy is mine and I own it.....

I want your dad to know that I'm the one who corrupted you, my little angel."

❁𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

When his friends said they wanted to go out and have fun, this wasn't what Jongho had in mind. Even though it was common for mafia bosses to go out once in a while, get wasted, have half naked women grind on their laps, and maybe take 1 or 2 home with them, it wasn't his cup of tea. He never enjoyed these types of things.

His eyes began to scan the area before they landed on you. You were just sitting there in one of the tables, looking completely out of place. You were dressed a lot more conservatively than what the environment asked for and judging by your untouched liquor, he could tell it was your first time in these types of places. The way you awkwardly looked over at your friends was an even bigger clue.

He couldn't help it when he let out a soft smile at you, amazed by your totally innocent and quiet aura. San and Wooyoung tried to snap him out of his trance, then looking over at you, they finally understand what was wrong with Jongho.

"Hey man, if you're into girls like that, you could have just said so. I'm sure it won't be so hard to get her into bed."

Jongho glared at San's suggestion.

"I'm not a fucking pervert that just thinks about getting his dick wet like you idiots." He scoffed.

Wooyoung snorted.

"So what? Are you going to go over there? Ask her for her number and take her on a date?" He teased the younger male.

They never expected him to, but he did. And not only did he get your number and a date, but he actually started a relationship with you...... and he eventually did get you into bed with him, but to him that's just the bonus in all this.

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, heavy sexual references, implied depression, infidelity, this one is very angsty, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, this part is not my favorite but it also is

part: 4/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

When you both go to sleep that night,

What you say to yourselves:

It is just a kiss.

The truth:

Sebastian can’t forget your scent and your taste. And it’s everywhere. And it’s everything. He’s not sure if he can breathe anymore. He tries to put himself together but he loses; he lets a moan escape his quivering lips, as he comes hard, alone in bed, your lips a picture in his head.

You can’t forget his warmth. He’s long gone but his heat is making your body sweat. And it’s becoming annoyingly addictive. You try to fall into a dreamless sleep but you can’t. You grab onto your sheets, trying to shallow down his name when you have two fingers inside you.

It’s a study in remorse and guilt.

/

“Please breath,” you whisper in front of the bathroom mirror. “Breath in. And out.”

It’s been two days and one night since the doomed night. You have not heard of him ever since.

Your heart beats with the power of war tambours. You want to find him and tell him you’re sorry. You want to promise you don’t mean to cause any trouble to him. You want to let him know you don’t belong in his life. He will pass through you like cars pass red lights.

Violently.

“I’ll find him tomorrow.” You lie down and rest. “I’ll tell him everything tomorrow.”

/

Argyris can see the disorder reflecting in Sebastian’s eyes the second they pass in front of your door.

The Romanian drops his eyes on the floor and quickens his pace. Argyris is smart enough to not comment on it; at least not when they have an all night shooting in a while. He doesn’t want to distress him.

He doesn’t have a choice though; because Sebastian stops as soon as they reach the third floor.

“I’ve made such a mess.”  His voice can’t give away how nauseous he feels.

Argyris exhales loudly. This is precisely what he was afraid of. This is precisely what he had warn you both about.

“It’s not the right time” he starts quietly “We have a lot to do.”

Sebastian sighs.

He feels as though there will never be a right time for the two of you.

/

You can’t sleep. The sky is dark behind your closed windows. It’s almost four in the morning and everything around you is quiet; until it’s not anymore.

You can hear people laughing as they enter the building and you can hear the lady from the first floor yelling at them.

Suddenly you’re thankful for the terrible insulation as the whole place grows alive at the sound of noise. You’ve grown tired of silence.

You slowly open your door. You want to hear more.

Argyris is trying to apologize when the old woman starts calling them uncivil. You want to laugh.

But then you hear steps coming closer and, in a breath, he’s standing right in front of you.

“Did we wake you up?”

The others are still arguing in the lobby.

No, I couldn’t sleep, too busy thinking of your lips.

“Yes. All the noise scared me.”

He comes closer. He tries to clear his head of images he creates at night. Images with you.

“I’m sorry.” He says and it sounds like his chest feels lighter afterwards “I’m sorry for the noise.”

You nod, a blank expression across your face.

“We went for a few drinks after the shooting and people got drunk and dragged themselves hear to continue the party. It’s not Argyris’ fault.”

You turn your head away from him. You don’t dare to look at him for a long time.

“I can bet that.” Your words feel heavy inside your mouth. “He has never caused any trouble before you came.” Your words feel bitter inside your mouth.

He laughs. He calls your name. It makes your throat dry.

“You can see that I’m not the one who’s drunk and arguing downstairs.”

The space between you two starts to dwindle.

“You should go.” You whisper. “There is no reason for you to be here.”

He says nothing for a while. He just stays there looking at you with an unreadable expression. His breathing hits your face. It feels cold.

“Right.” He answers, building his guard back up, posture fixed and face blank.

And then with one last glance he leaves you alone.

/

You wake up not much later, the sun meeting the horizon.

You clean the kitchen and you water your flowers. You decide to take a walk. You haven’t done that in a very long time.

Not a lot of people are awake at that time. The streets are almost empty. You find that comforting. You pass the familiar streets and there’s a heady feeling in the air; the mouthwatering smell of fresh bread in the small bakery, the sound of a dog barking and an old man carrying around a barrel organ.

Lately you seem to forget how much beauty there’s around. Lately you seem think true beauty is only a pair of light eyes and the sound of a foreign accent. You feel selfish; your ardor for him has blinded you and everything seems too little.

You feel stupid.

/

And then you blink and it’s Sunday and you remember Argyris telling you they’re leaving on Monday to shoot scenes in some islands. You can’t decide if you want them to leave sooner or never at all.

The latter makes you forget to breath.

You take a shower. But water never washes tears completely away. They stick to your body and your pores like leeches.

The white towel feels rugged against your skin and you think of throwing it in the trash can. You don’t.

Instead, you get dressed and make a sandwich for dinner.

A knock at your door stops you.

You’ve missed that sound.

You close your eyes.

You feel as if you’re being thrown back in time, to the first time he came at your doorstep.

There’s another knock.

Maybe it’s not him. You take a step. Even if it’s him, it’s a dead end. You place your fingers around the handle, without making any motion to unlock.

You stand there for some seconds. There’s no more knocking. You smile at yourself. You were always good at hiding behind closed doors. Maybe not good enough; because now you can hear him talk.

“I’m glad you’re not here” his voice makes it sound like he’s aching “Or that you’re here and don’t want to open up.”

Your hand swifts around the knob.

“I’m glad, because if I was looking at you right now I would-”

He stops when he meets your gaze. You’re close now. And it’s hard not to wrap your arms around him, but you force yourself to just look straight ahead and do nothing.

“You would what?” You voice sounds like a mourning song.

You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair and lets a quite sigh.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

He laughs and it’s dry and sharp. And then he grabs you by the shoulder and you’re both inside your apartment and he closes the door with a shudder.

His eyes are swollen and for a moment you’re scared. Only for a moment.

“Yes I am.” He still has his arm around your shoulder. “What do you want me to say? That I would do everything? That I would kiss even your eyelids?”

You’re shivering. You feel almost sick.

“I can’t say any of those things.” He swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

You look at him starry-eyed. 

“You can.” You’re stepping closer to him. “You can say everything. There’s no one here. Just us.”

“That’s not enough.”  He says, with a look that promises all the sorrow and the suffering in the universe.

Your face splits.

“Then why did you come?”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

I know, you almost say. But he talks again, before you can say anything.

“I want you to come with us.”

You feel like choking on the world’s most expensive rosé. You start coughing.

He caresses your forehead, tucking some hair behind your ears.

“No, Sebastian, this is bad.”

His fingers can feel a tear dripping down your eyes and your cheeks and your lips. Slowly. He’s not certain if it’s yours or his.

“I know.” He blinks. “But we don’t have much time. And I want to be around you. We can try to be friends again.”

There's a feeling in your stomach that makes you want to throw up when he says the word friends. It makes your mouth taste sour. It's pathetic.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” You murmur.

And then his eyes pierce through yours.

And you think of that evening that you saw his eyes for the very first time. And you think how this version of events had never crossed your mind back then. Ever.

This was not supposed to happen.

You were not supposed to grow close to him.

And he was not supposed to show you the stars and dry out your salty tears.

And you were not supposed to kiss him.

And now he was not supposed to go.

“Please, promise me you’ll try to be friends with me.” He breaths into your lungs. “Promise me you’ll come.”

You smile softly. It reminds him of something sweet, like honey and cherries.

“I can try.”

Sebastian can feel his heart almost stop; like a clock that’s reminding him you do not have much time left together. This month will come and go and so will he.

And his heart knows.

So, he presses his forehead against yours and mumbles a sincere thank you.

It sounds poetic. But it’s more of a war declaration.

/

When you agreed to go with him on the trip, Sebastian fell into a world of bliss and anticipation. He had been worried you wouldn’t want to see him again after everything that occurred between you two. He had spent nights sleepless, just lying awake and trying to fathom things.

But not tonight. Tonight, he’s packing his bags and dreaming of the sea and you.

The sea. And you. Those are the things he loves most right now.

Love. It’s funny because sometimes Sebastian thinks he could have fallen in love with you, if only time allowed. But he has less than two months. He has calculated everything.

( 60 days )

( 59 nights )

He’ll probably never see you again afterwards.

He knows you were never meant to be.

He sighs.

The screen of his phone lights up and he’s certain it’s his girlfriend, because it’s 3am in Greece. Who else could it be? And that gives him an ache because he loves his girlfriend. But not right now.

He’s wrong though, it’s a message from you.

I’m sorry. I can’t come with you tomorrow. I’m sorry.

His heart falls.

It’s funny because sometimes Sebastian thinks he could have fallen in love with you, if only you allowed. Sometimes he thinks it’s better this way.

/

You read your message again and again. Your eyes scan each world like your whole life depends on them. You can’t go to the trip. It’d be like you set yourself up only to fall apart some time later. And you’d have no excuse. You don’t even know why you had said yes to him in the first place.

Perhaps because that’s what Sebastian wanted to hear and you love Sebastian. It’s very painful and all kinds of fucked up, but you do.

At first you try to close your eyes to it. You think, whatever it is between you, it’s not love. It must be something else.

But it’s not.

You always knew that.

Your heart splits at the realization.

/

Everyone is drinking and dancing. They finished shooting last night and Argyris decided to throw a small beach party. Once upon a time, Sebastian would have been thrilled about it. He always loved partying.

But those were the old days. All he can think about now, is a girl with braided hair and nails painted dark blue. That’s how you looked the last time he saw you.

It’s been a week since that time. It’s been a week and he’s getting desperate. And his curly haired co-star is moving her body too close for his liking. He’s trying to flee.

The woman smiles at him. He knows she probably asks for more than he can give. She smiles at him and she looks beautiful, so beautiful. He almost thinks it’s unfair and selfish of him to ignore such a beautiful smile.

But the woman’s hair is curly and not in a braid. And her nails are painted red instead of dark blue.

/

You don’t see him for one more week. You want to send him a message. Call him. Do something. You do nothing but check his Instagram profile almost every hour. It’s sort of becomes a habit.

At your room the walls whisper and scream about that night you fell asleep next to each other. You try not to listen.

Some nights you can picture him smiling at you and his smile feels far too heavy. Some nights you try to imagine a version of him that could grow old with you.

You can’t.

/

It’s 8:10 am. The first time you meet again. You call the elevator on your floor and when the door opens, he’s there. You didn’t even know he was back, before now. You almost get out and take the stairs instead. You hide yourself at the corner as far from him as possible. Sebastian notices for the first time how small you look.

“When did you come back?” Your mouth opens before you can stop it.

He turns to look at you. You can see he has a little tan. It looks great on him. Dammit.

“Last night.”

Your hands are shaking. You’ve missed his voice. Dammit.

Two more floors. You can make it.

You wait for him to turn his back at you again, but he doesn’t.

“Not coming with me,” his breathing breaks and his throat dries out instantly and he feels on the verge of collapsing “It didn’t help.”

It takes you a while to get what he’s saying. Why he’s saying it.

The elevator stops.

“Did it help you?” No, of course not.  

“Sebastian, please.”

You try to say something more but his voice stops you.

“Do you know any quiet places?”

You nod.

“Take me.” You shiver. “Please.”

The door opens and he grabs your hand.

You think you’ll never really understand Sebastian. He’s been so many people with you. A pretty face on screen, a stranger and then a friend. And then a lover? Maybe.

Something intimate, anyway.

Intimate, in the way pain is.

/

You’re at a small park just behind your house.

His hair has grown the last few days and he’s playing with a strand. You watch him and he watches back. He puts one hand in the pocket of his jeans and another at your cheek.

You had almost forgotten how it feels. Soft and rugged simultaneously. Almost like a transfusion, it revives you.

“We’ve screwed up, haven’t we?” His voice sounds like an old song.

You think you can hear your bones straining under the weight of his words.

“Yes, I guess we have.” You try to smile at him. Your lips don’t move upwards though. They can’t. You can feel your eyes get wet.

Sebastian can’t bear looking at you like that. He puts his hand behind your neck and brings you closer.

At that moment, by falling into his arms, you lost the battle.

Your body is cold, worn down by all the sleepless nights. You’re not sure he knows exactly what you feel at this moment. Neither do you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the trip.”

“I understand.” He nods.

“Sebastian,” His breath hitches when you call his name. “I don’t know if I want to see you again.”

Lies.

He blinks. You don’t.

His face looks like he’s about to growl. Then his features relax.

A tear falls down your cheek and he’s quick to swipe it away. His eyes soften.

“I know,” he says in a whisper “We just keep hurting each other.”

You laugh bitterly. “When did I hurt you, Sebastian?” You push his hands away from your body. He doesn’t fight it.

He lets out a shaky breath.

“We spent the night together and you left without even saying something.” Your eyes are wide and rabid. “You keep acting like we’re something special and you have a girlfriend back home. And when I kissed you,” you pause for a second, remembering everything. “You kissed me back.”

You’re talking a little too loud. An old man passing by, turns to look your way. Your cheeks flash red.

“I wanted you to kiss me.” Your heart clenches. “I’m so sorry. I needed you to kiss me.”

He takes your hands in his. He looks at you half like he wants to apologize, half like he wants to kiss you again. Maybe, he does.

“Every time I see you, I want you to kiss me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” Surprisingly his voice is steady and his hands grab yours tighter than before.

“It can’t be the truth.” You exhale roughly. “It will ruin everything.”

He looks at you for a while and then he does the most human thing possible; he wraps his arms around you. You hide your face at the crook of his neck.

Your breath hits his skin and it’s warm and tender.

“Not us.” He whispers in your hair. “It will save us.”

At that moment, Sebastian lost every battle.

/

Things you felt when Sebastian kissed you later that evening:

Divinity and tragedy. The feeling of going over the speed limit. The despair in his mouth. The booming in his heart. Fear for the distant future. His arms creating a shelter from the rest of the world. Affection. And affection. And affection.

Thing Sebastian felt when he kissed you later that evening:

Your heartache in his hands. The faded cherry lip balm in your lips. Your nails digging into his skin. A raw satisfaction. Madness and power. Your warmth making his heart beat fast. Freedom. And love, so much love.

/

It was never his intention to cheat on his girlfriend. Sebastian is not that kind of man. But then again, everyone is.

You try not to think about that while his mouth devours the skin above your collarbones. It makes your pores sweat and your core beat. Time spins by as you both lay on your bed.

It feels like he’s a sweet lover. Dewy eyes and warm fingertips. He makes love to you at sunset, when dreams start to form and cotton sheets stick to his skin. Yearning gets the best of him, his movements become sharper, his bones turn to steel.

You don’t mind. That’s what you need right now. Burning lips at the curve of your hips. You can almost taste it; the silage of his after shave. Eucalyptus. That’s what he tastes like.

/

He’s drawing archways in your skin. He touches the part between your breasts. Softly and gently at first. And then digging his teeth. He wonders if you want this as much as he does. It’s nearly tearing him apart. His ribs and his lungs are full of eagerness and you.

You, you, you.

To him, there’s nothing to do but kiss every inch of your body.

He knows there’ll be a cacophony soon. You’re both equipped with love that has an expiration date. But he wants to beat time. He wants to feel all of this for as long possible. For a minute, he becomes greedy. He wishes everyone would die, so that he and you could live in this world alone. But together.

It takes great strength to shake this thought out of his head.

“Please,” You say between heavy breaths and he's getting worried he's going to tell you he loves you. “Please I need you Seb.”

You've never called him that before. He can't decide if he likes that or the fact that you need him, more. He complies.

You feel him inside you as he's stroking between your thighs. You close your eyes, his heated sounds soothing everything. Your lips are red, from you biting at them.

He looks at you, with his hungry face and he finds everything about you so delicate and so beautiful.

He can keep going forever.

You're grateful.

/

Lying naked in your bed, you’re watching him struggle to keep his fevered blue eyes open. His hands still tangled in your hair.

The room smells of sweat and eucalyptus and everything in the universe feels softer.

“I think I love you.” He says, and as he falls asleep, he smiles. “I’ll tell you when I’m sure.”

“Please don’t.” That’s the most selfless you’ll ever be in your life.

/

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[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact: Date #2

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 6.4k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, so much fluff (adkshdaslkfj...yeah. fluff.)

a/n: please, if you feel ok with it, let me know how this date was! Remember, you guys are deciding the outcome. Every little bit of feedback, even if it’s just unintelligible screaming, helps. I’d be very interested to hear your thoughts on how this date differed from last week’s!

Date #2

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It’s safe to say that by this point, you’ve replayed last Saturday’s date in your mind about sixty thousand times. Yet, despite your near-constant analysis, you find that you’re no more prepared for today’s date than before.

Perhaps it has something to do with the way it was described last week, giving you a little insight to how different this date would be compared to the relaxed atmosphere before.

Classic. Romantic. Picture perfect.

Your mind races with the possibilities; heaven knows that could be any of the boys. But you can’t help but expect one in particular to appear on your doorstep.

You shuffle back and forth before your mirror, triple checking your reflection. Jungkook texted you earlier this week with some instructions.

Dresscode was set to casual-nice. Whatever that means.

Make sure you’ve got your T-money card, which gives you access to the Subway.

Your green sweater vest is tucked neatly into your black skirt, giving you a posh academia vibe that you’ve honestly been dying to try out for a while. Hair falling in thick ringlets around your shoulders, the look is complete with black suede boots that only extend up to your ankle.

“Oh yeah,” you grin at your reflection. “I look good.”

And just there, resting atop the sleeves of your turtleneck, sits Hobi’s bracelet. The word ‘jagi’ is facing the ceiling, which is enough to soften your smile, remembering Hobi’s sweet date.

You’d gotten Jungkook’s permission to send a little message to Hobi, thanking him profusely for the date. It’d been fun to get to chat with him for a minute, already missing him. If you’re honest with yourself, you miss hanging out with all of them. It’s only been a couple of weeks since you were last all together, but it feels like months.

The upside to this Saturday is the fact that (after you’d sent some choice texts to Jungkook), you were given a time as to when your date would appear. Which is why you’re sitting on the edge of your seat at six o’clock ticks ever closer, waiting for the tell-tale knock on the door.

Every time a car turns onto your street, you’re leaping up to peek out the window, holding your breath until it passes by. However, this time you find yourself nearly passing out as a sleek black car rolls to a stop in front of your house.

You lose all ability to think straight when Kim Taehyung steps out of the car, straightening his beige cable knit sweater and puffing his cheeks out as he exhales. His black hair tumbles into his eyes, just long enough to brush up against his brows and make him brush it away.

Stumbling back from the window before he can see you spying on him, you bring a hand up to your chest.

“Ok, ok,” you rush to compose yourself. “Holy-”

A happy knock on your door cuts you off, and the only thing you can hope for is that you don’t say something stupid within the first sixty seconds of this date. If you can make past the first sixty seconds, you should be good, right?

Right?

You don’t have time to ponder as you force yourself to take a deep breath and open up the door. Sure enough, there stands Taehyung. Looking like he just stepped out of a French renaissance painting, complete with a smile.

A smile that’s meant for you, you realize with no shortage of shock. Grinning at you while he tilts his head to one side, his hair falls across his face from it’d been semi-parted.

“Hi, my name is Kim Taehyung,” he taps his heels together and extends his hand out. As he swoops into a bow, you can’t help the giggle the bubbles up at the silly scene before you. Gently placing your hand in his, you watch with wide eyes as he brings it to his lips. Planting a soft kiss to your knuckles, he looks up at you from behind his hair. “And you are?”

At this point, you’ve realized that there’s no stopping the mad blush crawling up your neck. Attempting to shake it off with a laugh, you shake your head.

“Are you lost or something?”

Taehyung gasps, stepping back and nearly tumbling down the stairs. “C’mon!” He groans, his smile never faltering. “I was trying to be classy!”

Shrugging, you grab your bag equipped with the essentials (keys, chapstick, mints...more mints), and lock the door behind you. Linking your arm through Taehyung’s and delighting in the momentary surprise that graces his features, you smile up at him.

“Where to, Mr. Kim?”

“Ah! That’s better.” The two of you make it to the car, Taehyung opening the passenger side before hustling over to the driver’s side. Once he’s in and buckled up, he answers your question. “Choose a number between one and ten.” Coming to stop at a stop sign, he looks to you expectantly.

“One.”

He raises his brows, making a show of turning the blinker on to signal turning right. “Good choice. We’ll get there in about...twelve minutes.” You nod, smiling softly. “How have you been?”

“Good. It’s been weird, not getting to hang out with everyone,” you admit. Tae hums in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s been weird not seeing you around the house. What have you been up to?”

The two of you get lost in conversation, relating your most recent horror stories from work or your classes. Taehyung listens raptly, snorting when you mention that you considered bringing your homework with you on the date.

“Seriously!” You laugh. “There’s so much of it. I swear, my professors have all ganged up on me.”

Tae turns into a closed off parking lot, swiping a small card in front of the monitor and pulling forward when the gates swing open. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Hopefully I keep you entertained enough to keep you from doing homework,” he teases.

You gape at the huge building before you, the architectural design enough to have your mouth running dry. It looks like it was taken straight out of ancient Greece, the pillars stretching up high and boasting chiseled divots. Leading to the entrance is a path of hanging wisteria, the soft purple petals swaying in the breeze.

In fact, if you hadn’t currently been sitting in a car that was definitely a product of the 21st century, you would have thought that you’d accidentally time-traveled.

Taehyung’s soft chuckle brings you back to reality, and you watch as he throws the car in park and rushes around to open your door before you even have time to twitch a muscle. You find yourself torn between gaping at the building and the man in front of you, as he extends a hand out to you and pulls you out of the car.

“What is this place?” You ask, afraid to even blink for fear of everything disappearing. Tae gently links your arm through his, which in retrospect was probably a good idea. Heaven knows you’re at risk of wandering off and never returning.

The evening sky does wonders for Taehyung, the sleepy golden sunlight settling over him. “It’s a project that’s been in the works for a long time, actually. They’re bringing together different artworks - some are replicas that they’ve been permitted to use - from all over the world. The best of the best, all in one place.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking up as you enter the small tunnel of hanging wisteria. “It’s not open to the public yet, they just finished moving the final pieces last week.”

You blink, looking up at one of your closest friends with awe. Squeezing his arm, you take a moment to pause and look around at all the beautiful wisteria.

“I’m friends with some of the curators here,” Tae explains when he catches your eye. “They said we could have a look around...if you want to…?”

In response, you wiggle out of his grasp and take off toward the entrance, Taehyung laughing and hurrying after you.

The art museum is, in a word, massive. The two of you fall into a companionable silence as you take in the artwork, occasionally wandering away from each other to get a closer look at something. Every so often Taehyung will call your name, motioning for you to look at a piece he especially likes.

There’s a point where Taehyung is trying to explain the difference between the replicas and the real oil paintings. “See, this one doesn’t have the same kind of sheen, so it’s obviously fake.” He reaches out to touch it, but freezes as soon as his fingers touch the painting.

“What?” You ask, craning your neck to see. He turns to face you with a horrified expression.

“It’s real.”

You choke a laugh, seeing the way he slowly removes his hands from the painting as though afraid to set off a bomb. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, looking up and down the hallway before whispering to you. “Run. They’ll kill me if they find out that I touched that thing with my bare hands. It’s like...three hundred years old or something.”

“Wha-”

“Split up!” He hisses, taking off down the opposite end of the corridor. Heart pounding even as you laugh, you run the other way. Taehyung’s laugh bounces off the walls, only making you laugh even more.

It doesn’t take long before the sun has dipped below the horizon and the two of you find yourselves in a spot dedicated to different sculptures. Sitting down on the bench in front of them, you realize just how long you’ve been up and running around.

“Wow,” you breathe out, Taehyung grunting in agreement. “So you weren’t caught?”

“Not yet, at least.” He fidgets a little beside you before speaking again. “Actually, there’s one more thing left to do here.”

You glance over at him, delighted to see that his hair has somehow grown even fluffier over the course of the date. “What is it?”

“Let me show you.” He hops up, leading the way to the end of the corridor. He enters a small room that’s completely empty save for a white backdrop and a camera.

He walks to the camera, making sure it’s on before gesturing for you to walk before the backdrop.

“Think of it like one giant photo booth,” he explains. “Pose, and I’ll choose a backdrop for you.”

You chew on your lip, feeling a little awkward as you stand before the camera. “What should I do? I’m not used to people taking pictures of me.”

Taehyung frowns. “What do you mean? I take pictures of you all the time.”

Against the start white backdrop, there’s no chance he doesn’t see your blush. “No, er...not like that. I’m not used to posing.”

“Oh.” He steps back, crossing his arms. “Just...smile?”

He snaps a few photos before rushing over to a small printer. You wander over as well, laughing when you see what’s become of your photos.

There you are, smiling awkwardly where Mona Lisa usually sits in her painting. “Oh, that’s horrible.”

“Da Vinci would love it,” Taehyung objects.

“Here, I’ll take your picture.” You run over to the camera while Taehyung steps up front, placing both hands on his hips while looking off into the distance. Selecting the ‘Starry Night’ background, you take the picture.

“Oooh, very nice!” Tae croons when he sees the photo. “But I want both of us in this.”

“What do you mean, both? There’s only enough room for one-”

“We’ll make it work,” Taehyung says as he drags you in front of the camera. Fiddling with it for a moment, he turns back to you. “Ok, it’s set to take four photos in a row. Stay still.”

“How are you going to…?” Your words fade out as a light in the camera begins to blink, counting down. Taehyung comes around you, slipping his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Just as the camera flashes for the first photo, Taehyung decides to try his hand at tickling you mercilessly.

You squeal, trying to get away but unable to as Tae keeps his iron-like grip on you. “Stay still!” He scolds in a serious tone, even as a smile is pushing its way onto his lips.

“S-stop!” You can hardly breathe as the attack continues and the camera flashes again. “Tae! You horrible human being-”

Suddenly he drops the attack, standing up straight and smiling at the camera. You take the opportunity just as the final flash goes off to shove him, laughing maniacally. He shouts, stumbling backward dramatically. Taking the temporary distraction to your advantage, you hurry over to where the pictures are being printed. As each photo comes out, you can hardly hold back your laughter.

Picking up the first photo, taken just as Taehyung had decided to attack you, you turn around to face him. “Look at how evil you look here!”

He saunters over, a lazy smile on his face. “Oh-ho, classic.”

Sure enough, the other photos are just as entertaining, although you can’t help but groan at the second photo which shows you with a mixture of laughter and annoyance as Taehyung fights a smile. “Oof, this one isn’t the most flattering…”

“Does that mean I get to keep it?” Taehyung asks quietly, taking the photo from your hands and looking at it closely. “You look cute.”

You blink, but shrug it off. Taehyung has always been a bit more forthcoming with his flirtatious manner, but it’s just now that you realize there was actually some sort of truth behind all of those silly remarks over the past few years.

Huh.

Taehyung checks the time, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Oh, we have to hurry!”

“Why?” You manage to ask before Taehyung takes off in a brisk walk. He grabs your hand, giving you no choice but to try to keep up.

He doesn’t directly answer your question. “You brought your T-money, right?”

“Yeah...but why?”

“Why do I feel like we’re going to get in trouble for this?”

“We won’t. I will.” Taehyung doesn’t look the least bit bothered as he slips a hat on over his hair. “That is, if we get caught.”

“So no pressure.” You say sarcastically, wishing you had some sort of invisibility cloak.

You never knew that the subway could be such a rush. It’s a Saturday night, people are filing in and out of the Subway at a rapid pace as they chat jovially together. Taehyung keeps his head down, attempting to blend in and completely failing.

“Tae, you’re going to be recognized.”

He shrugs. “I do this all the time. Hasn’t happened yet.”

You furrow your brows. “You do? I had no idea.”

“It’s nice to pretend to be normal every once in a while,” he confesses, looking down at his phone. “Just don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret I’ve managed to keep for years.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

Pulling up the timer app on his phone, he grins mischievously at you. “Ok. We have 60 minutes to get to three different places.” He holds up his phone for you to see. “First, we’re going to that night market you hit up all the time to get Tteok-bokki, which you love probably way too much-”

“Hey! It’s a healthy obsession!” You defend yourself, only earning an eyebrow raise in return.

“Whatever you say, weirdo. Then, we’re going to that walnut shop - you know the one at the end of the line?”

“We’re going to a walnut shop?”

“Yeah. Namjoon’s got this new obsession with them, so I promised I’d pick some up for him”

You snort. “Ok, and the last spot?”

Taehyung lowers his phone, toggling the timer to 60 minutes and looking at you and chuckling. “It’s a surprise. You ready?”

“Wait, how on earth are we supposed to get to all of these places within an hour?” You ask, incredulous. “Especially if we’re stopping to eat or buy stuff?”

Finger hovering over the start button, Taehyung looks around the busy subway station. “We hurry.” With that, he links his hand with yours and begins the timer. “Run!”

Taking off like thieves on the run, you swipe your T-money card and hurtle past the barrier, rushing to see which line to take. “It’s the red line, right?” You ask, roles switching as it’s now you dragging Taehyung behind you. “Hurry! It’s already here!”

Rushing over to where the red line train is just pulling in, you leap through the doors as soon as they open. Taehyung is right behind you, and the two of you stand off to the side with your faces down and trying to hide your giggles. He leans down to whisper something in your ear, your head automatically tilting to hear him better.

“Keep an eye out for our stop,” he urges, squeezing your hand. You nod, remaining on high alert even as you’re bursting with excitement. You know that if anybody found out that you and Taehyung were out here, looking very much like a couple, you would be toast.

The rush goes straight to your head, pumping you full of adrenaline as your stop approaches. A thought hits you, and you hurry to voice it before you have to jump out and run.

“How are we going to get you through the night market without being recognized?”

“Oh,” Taehyung angles his body toward the door, preparing. “I talked with the owner of the stall you go to. He promised to have the food ready and waiting for us, we just have to meet him in the back.”

You still have no idea how you’re going to make it through the market without being recognized, but there’s no more time for questions as the train slows to a stop and the doors slide open. In a single heartbeat the two of you leap out and take off toward the stairs that will lead you out into the night air.

It’s embarrassing just how much you’re panting by the time you reach the top of the stairs, but you shrug it off as you see the huge crowd mulling outside of the market. Without giving you a single second to doubt, Taehyung plunges into the crowd.

The two of you weave in and out, a startled laugh coming from you as the two of you pass by a stall filled with BTS merchandise. Taehyung hesitates for a moment, almost looking like he wants to stop in, but thinks better of it.

The people around you are so focused on the different stalls and their night out that they pay you no mind as you pass by, bumping into people with every step you take. If only they knew that it was Kim Taehyung bumping into them.

He never lets go of your hand as you make your way to your favorite food stall, for fear of losing you in the crowd. Glancing back at you, Taehyung shouts above the din.

“It’s been almost eight minutes!”

You nod, once again wondering how on earth you’re going to make it to all the places Taehyung has planned. Your mouth runs a little dry as you see the long line of people waiting at the food stall, all of them wanting a taste of the delicious tteok-bokki. Going in a wide circle around the crowd, the two of you end up behind the stall where it’s surprisingly empty.

Taehyung wraps on the back entrance, loud enough to be heard over the loud night. A moment later an elderly man sticks his head out, eyes crinkling with a smile as he sees the two of you.

“Ah, I was just wondering when you’d be showing up! Let me grab your order.” He winks at you guys before disappearing back into the little stall. You take a moment to breathe, looking up at the starry sky. Taehyung joins you, smiling softly.

“Why 60 minutes?” You ask quietly. Taehyung shrugs.

“I make this run whenever I can,” he responds quietly. “I’ve never been able to do it in less than an hour. Thought that it’d be fun to try to break the record with you.”

You laugh quietly. “How come I didn’t know that about you? Why didn’t you invite me before?”

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, his other hand still hanging loosely in yours. “The pact.” When you look at him with a confused expression, he goes on. “Think about it: have you ever hung out with any of us just one on one? At least, intentionally?”

You frown, running through your memories. “I mean, yeah, but-”

“Intentionally, though.”

Automatically your thoughts run to the memory of Hobi and that night you’d vented in his car for a solid two hours, tears running down your face. Or that time you’d gone shopping with Taehyung, that was intentional wasn’t it?

“We went shopping that one time,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was an emergency of sorts. Remember? You’d spilled on your shirt and had an interview for your internship soon,” he reminds you. “I took you shopping and dropped you off after.”

You remember that, but there were other times that you just spent time with one of the boys on purpose, right? Taehyung sees your thoughts, giving you another example.

“And that time you sat and talked with Hobi in his car for hours? He’d seen you walking and offered to give you a ride. That obviously wasn’t planned.”

You blink. “How did you know about that?”

Taehyung turns a little pink under the starlight, realizing that he wasn’t supposed to know that. “Hey, it’s not my fault. He wouldn’t shut up about it. But that’s not the point!” He quickly tries to backtrack, mussing his hair yet again.

“Right,” you sigh. “So what does that have to do with the pact? And what does the pact have to do with you and this weird route of yours?” You laugh, Taehyung chuckling nervously along with you.

He opens his mouth to respond, but at that moment the door opens and the same old man appears with a bag of your food. “Here you go!” He happily hands it over to Taehyung, who thanks him and hands him the money and thanks him profusely. You also thank him, smiling warmly.

As soon as the door shuts again, Taehyung is leading you back out into the crowd. He keeps a firm grip on the food, and you stare at it longingly. The two of you manage to make it out of the crowd without any complications, except for the fact that you had to drag Tae away from the merchandise booth.

Descending the stairs to the subway, you glance over at the food again. “Are we gonna eat that, or…?”

He squints at the screen that shows the different lines and arrival times. “We have four minutes before the yellow line gets here.” Stopping at the bottom of the stairs and standing off to the side, he hands you your food, chuckling as you tear into it. He shares it with you, devouring the food at an alarming rate.

It’s embarrassing to say that the two of you finish it with thirty seconds to spare.

“Wow,” you groan, rubbing your stomach as Tae throws the container away. “We’re messed up.”

He chuckles at you, checking the timer. “That, we are. But it was good, right?”

“Ugh, so good. I swear, that place is magic.”

This time, instead of running to the platform, you waddle. You get there just before the doors close, sliding in between the door and pole, which you cling to. Taehyung stands across from you, resting against the pole as well and smiling.

“Ready to go buy some walnuts?”

The question has you giggling. “Definitely.”

You fall into a comfortable silence, waiting for your stop to arrive. The walnut shop sits on the other end of the line, one of the final stops. It takes a few minutes to get there, each second ticking down. Once there’s only one stop left before you have to get off, you ask Taehyung to check the timer.

He raises his brows. “We’re making pretty good time. Thirty minutes left.”

“Nice!” You give him a high five, smiling simply because he is. “Let’s get these walnuts!”

Nevermind the fact that people listening in to your conversation think you’re crazy.

Once you make it to your stop, the two of you settle for a brisk walk rather than running. Together, you walk down the street hand in hand while trying to find the walnut shop.

“You never finished explaining that thing about the pact,” you recall. You’d nearly forgotten amongst the rush of eating and the sleepy subway ride after. Taehyung glances down at you, almost looking a little bummed out that you remembered.

“Oh...right.” He stops on the corner and presses the crosswalk sign. “Well, that’s one of the things about the pact. I never invited you to come along with me because I couldn’t. It doesn’t allow for intentional one-on-one activities.”

“You know how weird that is, right?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I know. But that’s how it is, I guess. All of those other times you were with any of us, alone, it wasn’t on purpose. It just worked out like that. You know, something about keeping everything even. And, spending too much time alone with you would probably lead to breaking the pact.”

Nodding, you tuck this information away for further examination. “Sounds like you guys thought of everything.”

“Almost.”

“Ok,” you begin to cross the quiet street, this side of Seoul starkly different in comparison with the busy night market. “So what does this route have to do with any of that? Why did you even start doing this in the first place? It’s...all over the place.”

Taehyung chews on the inside of his cheek. “Well...oh! We’re here!”

You roll your eyes as Taehyung bounds up the stairs of the walnut shop, which appears to be nearly closed. Why they’re still open at this time of night is beyond you. Do they really have people coming out to buy walnuts at all hours of the night?

The little shop is warm, and the young girl behind the counter looks anything but shocked as Taehyung enters. She immediately leans down to grab a small bag, placing it in front of her.

“Just the one bag?”

You pause to wonder just how many times Taehyung has frequented this shop for the employees to be so familiar with him. The thought makes you smile, picturing Taehyung sneaking in here late at night just to feed Namjoon’s odd walnut addiction.

“Just the one should be fine,” Tae responds, looking at you over his shoulder with a warm look. You don’t notice it, lost in your own thoughts as you wander over to a display.

Once he’s finished with the transaction, he wanders over to you. “Looks like we might just make it.”

You turn around, looking at him expectantly. “How much time is left?”

“Sixteen minutes. Let’s go,” he holds out his arm for you, which you rest your hand on the inner crook of his elbow. Bidding the girl goodnight, the two of you wander back out into the night.

“Soooo...where to next?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “I told you, it’s a surprise.”

The subway on this end of the city is much less crowded, it’s easy to find the blue line and hop on. You realize that you’re heading back to a stop fairly close to the night market, which makes you wonder.

“Why’d we go to the end of the line before this?” You ask. “It would’ve been much quicker to go here second.”

“Because,” Taehyung sits beside you, stretching his legs out. “It’s a spot that you can’t rush in. It’s meant to be the final destination.”

Giggling a little, you nudge him. “That sounds a little morbid.”

The Han River glistens from your viewpoint atop the bridge. Sitting next to Taehyung, your feet dangling off the edge, you take a deep breath.

“I see why this had to be the final stop,” you say as you breathe out. The entire Han River lays at your feet, the city lights bouncing off the surface and creating a dazzling atmosphere to rival that of the stars above you. People walk along the edge or ride bikes, their small figures making you realize just how high up you are.

“Mmm,” Taehyung hums beside you. He leans back, glancing over at you as you take in the view. “This is always the last stop.”

You take a moment to allow the sounds of the night wrap around you, tilting your head up to the stars and watching them wink down at you. A profound contentment settles over you, a smile playing on your lips.

“And my last question?” You mumble out. “What’s so special about this route?”

The quiet moment seems to be enough to urge Taehyung to finally answer you. He sits up, admiring the way you look, sitting here on top of the world.

“About a year ago, we all talked about the normal, everyday things you like to do. What we would like to do.”

“I remember,” you muse. “You guys were talking about what you’d do if you weren’t famous. Romanticizing the mediocre.”

“Right.” He slings his arms over the railing, looking out over the people enjoying their Saturday night. “You talked about how you always go to that night market to get tteok-bokki. You basically swore by that one stall, it was hilarious. But you looked so...I don’t know, I just remember thinking, I’ve never seen someone so happy about some cheap night market food. But it made me happy. And then you said that you like to grab your food and head out to the Han River. Enjoy the evening with some good food and a view.”

A slight breeze picks up, ruffling Taehyung’s hair. He hardly notices, wearing an adorable look of concentration as he continues. “And that just seemed...I don’t know, it became this thing for me. Those late nights at work or when we were away, I’d always stop and wonder if you’d gotten to do what made you so happy. But then, I realized that it wasn’t enough for me to just sit and wonder. I wanted to- I wanted...to be there with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you catch sight of the faraway look in his eyes. How many times had he stopped and wondered if you had gotten to do something that made you happy? Sitting beside this man who is such a force for good, you find that you are entirely out of your element.

“So, whenever I had a chance in the evenings, I’d make up an excuse about picking up some more walnuts for Namjoon’s stash, and I’d head out. They told me to be back in an hour, hence the sixty minutes. But I’d take the train to the night market, go straight to that stall and pick up some tteok-bokki. I knew that I couldn’t just call you up and ask to go with you, and I was kind of selfish and didn’t want the other guys to come along. It was...I don’t know, I wanted it to be our thing. So I’d go there and hope I’d run into you. Make it look like an accident, so we could hang out. Just the two of us.” He laughs quietly to himself. “I sound like a stalker, don’t I?”

You only manage to shake your head, at a complete loss for words. Taehyung continues on, feeling the need to get it all out.

“In my mind, I thought that it would at least take you about fifteen or so minutes to get from the night market to the Han, so I’d run down to grab the walnuts and then head up here,” he gestures to the bridge. “And I’d look out and see if I could spot you. Maybe run down to meet you, pretending to bump into you. Give me...an excuse to see you.”

Taehyung glances over at you for a minute, looking a little embarrassed. You stare back, the shock evident on your face.

“Really?” It’s the only word you manage to get out. He smiles gingerly, huffing out a breath.

“Really. Does it creep you out?”

You snort, scooting over a little closer. Taehyung instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“No.”

“No?”

Taking a deep breath, you take a leap. “Am I allowed to tell you that I sometimes wished I’d run into you?”

Taehyung tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with an indescribable emotion. “I don’t think you should.”

You frown. “Why not?”

The moon and the stars as your only witness, Taehyung gives you a long look before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. He lingers for a few seconds, his warm lips reminding you of spring after a bitter winter.

When he pulls away, he gazes down at you and you just know that he’s memorizing this moment. Tucking it away for a rainy day, similar to the rain clouds behind his eyes. “I’m scared of hoping.”

In the span of five syllables, he’s completely shattered your heart. It’s now that you recognize that look in his eyes.

How many nights has he sat up here, waiting for you to come along? Hoping that you’d bump into him at the night market, delighted to see him?

Hope can be just as devastating as it is uplifting.

Taehyung sees how you’re dying to reassure him, dying to just give your heart over to him at that moment. He knows it, sees how it could play out. But before you can open your mouth, he’s stopping you.

“For now, let’s just enjoy the view and try to stay warm,” he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. You rest your head against his shoulder, heart still aching from his small confession. “Don’t worry, jagiya. Just remember to have fun, ok? You’ve still got five dates, don’t forget that.”

How could you?

Time ticks by all too quickly as the two of you remain snuggled up together atop the bridge. Eventually you fall into a quiet conversation, Taehyung chatting happily about how he had a mini crisis on night when he came on this route and Namjoon complained about having not finished the walnuts from last night. He’d had to find some other sort of enticing treat that would act as a cover for him.

“When it comes down to it,” he says as the two of you enter the subway and find a seat. “I didn’t want the boys to find out, because I didn’t want them to think I was going behind their backs. They all deserve a chance, and me trying to find a way to bend the rules wouldn’t have gone over well.”

You marvel at how perfectly his hand fits in yours, sighing contentedly as the subway rumbles on. “You always have been a rule-breaker.”

You’re exhausted from having run all over Seoul, nearly falling asleep as you get back to Taehyung’s car. He grins at you, turning on the heater and beginning the drive back to your apartment. Your eyes struggle to remain open, slipping closed every few seconds.

“Sleep, jagiya,” Taehyung urges. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“N-no,” you say between yawns. “I’m fine.”

Taehyung chuckles to himself when you fall asleep about thirty seconds later. The sound drifts into your dreams, where you dream of art museums and the Han river.

Needless to say, you’re a bit disappointed to be woken up from your beautiful dream when Taehyung opens up the passenger side door and crouches before you. He can’t help but laugh at how adorable you look, completely disoriented and staring at him like you can’t quite place where you’ve seen him before.

“Hey,” he whispers. “We’re home.”

Gently unbuckling your seatbelt, Taehyung helps you out of the car and only continues to laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your head in his chest.

“I’m so tired,” you groan. “I wanna go to bed.”

“Well, you can. You just have to unlock your door first, jagi.”

Somehow, in your half-asleep state you manage to fish your keys out of your bag. Taehyung helps you unlock the door, swooping in to help you when you nearly trip over your doorway.

“Woah, watch where you’re going,” he teases. Suddenly the world turns sideways as Tae places his hands under your knees and around your waist, literally sweeping you off your feet. “How about we get you to bed in one piece?”

Some small, semi-conscious part of your brain is currently screaming about how embarrassing yet attractive this entire situation is, but for the life of you, you can’t tell why. Instead, you opt to nuzzle in a little closer to Tae’s sweater as he uses his foot to kick the door shut.

“I love this sweater,” you mumble, eyes falling shut again. “You look so good in this sweater, did you know that?”

“Oh...thanks. And yes, that’s why I wore it.”

You hiss, swatting at his chest. “That was very narcissistic of you.”

“You’re too tired to walk, but you’re using words like narcissistic?” He shoots back. Making his way through the dark house, he enters your room and sets you down on the edge of the bed. You sit up straight, watching as his silhouette turns on your bedside lamp. Squinting at him, he crouches down before you, resting a light hand on your knee.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back. “You need anything before I go?”

Always finding a way to push the limits, you smirk down at him. “Are kisses really off-limits- ow!” You rub your knee where he just flicked it, appalled at him as he straightens up.

“Don’t get greedy,” he teases with a raised brow. Heading out of the room, he turns back to look at you from the doorway. “Goodnight.”

It’s this moment that you memorize. The way the light from the lamp barely reaches him, his dark hair a little messy and a tired smile on his face. The way he leans up against your door, looking for all the world like he belongs here.

“Goodnight, Tae.”

Your ears strain to hear his footsteps, a fissure forming in your heart as you hear him closing the door and driving off into the night. Eventually, sleep takes over.

Even as you dream, the feeling of being wrapped up in Taehyung’s arms while sitting above the Han River lingers.

main masterlist

again, your opinion matters! especially in this series! if you’re comfortable with it, please please please comment or send me an ask with your thoughts! (i.e. chemistry, how this date differed from Hobi’s date, ect.) thank you for reading, and I’ll see you next Saturday with date #3!!

taglist is open, click on the link at the top of the post or let me know if you’d like to join!

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @delacyrose224 @luvtaeha @fanfictionreader05 @mininimmy @dreadity  @starlight-night0 @luzaroon @seaoffangirling @prachi05 @fangirl125reader @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall​

[goddammitstacey]

Here have a queer retelling of Little Red Riding Hood

The forest is magnificent. Giant yew trees reach for the sky, their leaves sending dappled sunlight down toward the moss-covered floor like a parting gift. Even Shiloh can’t deny the majesty of the place, as much as she might have preferred the wood around her a little more dead, with four legs, and holding up a tankard of beer.

But alas, good things apparently come to those who wait. And wait. Shiloh sighs, pulling her pelt more securely around her as she shifts into a warmer patch of sunlight.

“Are you almost finished?” she asks. “It’s nearing dusk, my love.”

The nearest tree is a monster. As thick around as three broad men standing in a circle, arms outstretched, fingertip to fingertip. It hides Shiloh’s wife from view. Just.

When Kae rounds the trunk of the tree, she makes it look a fraction of its years just by virtue of the contrast.

“Almost,” Kae says, broad hands smoothing over the bark like she’s soothing a spooked horse. “The bairn is sick with heart rot, the poor thing. I need to shore her up before it gets worse.”

Shiloh can’t find it in herself to be annoyed. Kae’s described heart rot enough for her to have some sympathy for the poor tree. And it doesn’t hurt that seeing her wife full of care makes a puddle out of her.

“It’s a good thing I enjoy watching you work,” Shiloh says, unable to help her soft smile. “Because it’s all you do.”

Kae looks to her, sharing the smile for a moment before her eyes snap suddenly back to her charge.

Shiloh tenses on instinct. “What?”

Kae’s alert, but not reaching for her axe. Shiloh relaxes her hold on her pelt but keeps it in hand for swift action anyway.

“There’s a girl in the forest,” Kae says. “Small. Alone. The… the trees are agitated.”

“Over a girl?” Shiloh says, confusion reflected in the look Kae sends her. “That’s a new one.”

Kae turns her attention back to her patient. “I’m almost finished here, then we can-”

“I’ll go on ahead,” Shiloh says, stretching her back out as she stands. “I’ve been sitting too long anyway, I’m going to grow moss.”

Kae doesn’t pick up the thread of the joke, looking as agitated as the trees around her must be. “I don’t…”

“I’ll be okay,” Shiloh says, stepping forward to clasp her wife’s hand between hers. “I have my pelt. I’ll even take my wrap-”

“No,” Kae says quickly, stopping Shiloh with a hand on her wrist as she reaches for their pack. “Don’t wear red.”

Shiloh raises an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said the other night, my love.”

And oh yes, now who’s wearing red? Shiloh grins as she uses her grip to pull Kae within reach, pecking her on one rosey cheek.

“It’s the trees,” Kae says, brushing a strand of Shiloh’s dark hair from her face. “They’re saying, don’t wear red.”

“How judgemental of them,” Shiloh says, but leaves her red wrap safely in their pack anyway.

Tracking the girl isn’t difficult. She smells of hay and woodsmoke, a combination that is as much out of place as her humanity this far into the woods. Shiloh hangs back, employing more caution than she would have otherwise, her wife’s worried frown at the fore of her mind.

The girl is indeed alone. Shiloh closes the distance between them until she can spy the girl’s back through the trees. Her hooded cloak is flapping around her ankles as she walks.

Her hooded red cloak.

Shiloh frowns and ups her pace, circling around the girl on soft feet until she finds a clearing up ahead with a downed tree to serve as a casual perch. The girl comes upon her bare minutes later, startling to a stop despite Shiloh’s deliberate, friendly smile and unassuming posture. Unfortunately there’s little she can do about her state of dress.

The girl can’t be older than seven summers, blonde hair tufting out of her hood as curious eyes look Shiloh over. Shiloh doesn’t blame her. She’s an unusual sight at the best of times.

Finally the girl breaks the silence. “Why are you naked?”

The bluntness of the question stirs a real smile to Shiloh’s features. “I’m not naked,” she says. “I’ve this pelt.”

The girl frowns at Shiloh’s wolf pelt, twisted about her in an approximation of a tunic. “It’s not very big.”

She’s not wrong. But then… Shiloh rises to her feet – carefully,  so as not to spook the girl further. “It doesn’t have to be.”

The little girl watches her like one might watch a particularly interesting snake on one’s path. Cautious. Cautious but curious. Shiloh knows the sort. She sees it in the mirror those mornings Kae lets them hire a real room.

“What are you doing in the woods alone, child?” Shiloh says.

The girl rises to her full height, like she’s being inspected by someone with a badge. “I’m visiting The Grandmother,” she says, practically pronouncing the capital ‘T’.

Strange. Usually the trees warn Kae of any human settlements in the woods they travel. Kae’s parentage and Shiloh’s proclivity for travelling skyclad make chance meetings with humans something to be avoided.

“And where does she live?” Shiloh asks.

The little girl points along the direction she’s been travelling, deeper into the woods. “I’m to follow the sun to her cottage,” she says.

Right. Shiloh hums as she thinks. Kae isn’t far off and almost finished her tree-doctoring by her own admittance. She will catch up when she can. “May I walk with you, child?” Shiloh asks. “I’d feel much better knowing you got there safe, is all.”

After a lengthy pause, the girl nods, which is for the best really. It’s much easier to walk by her side than track her from behind.

The girl’s name is Scarlett.

“That’s an interesting name,” Shiloh says, the red of Scarlett’s cloak growing more vivid in Shiloh’s peripheral vision.

Scarlett shrugs. “Not really. There are lots of girls named Scarlett in the village.”

“Is that right?” Shiloh says, feeling more and more like she has a handful of puzzle pieces but no interlocking edges to fit them together.

They come upon the cottage as the sun kisses the distant mountains, sending the woods into an early dusk. Shiloh’s mildly put out when she notices how perfectly normal the place looks. The gardens are well-tended and the stoop swept. There’s even a cheerful glow warming the windows.

“This looks like the place,” Shiloh says, sweeping the clearing for something to explain the slow drip of dread down her spine.

Scarlett huffs a sigh next to her. She’d taken Shiloh’s hand not long into their walk and her little palm is warm and soft in Shiloh’s own.

“I guess so,” Scarlett says.

“You guess so?” Shiloh says, eye catching on a large shadow moving within the cottage. “You’ve never visited your grandmother before?”

“The Grandmother,” Scarlett corrects her. “And no.”

She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world, but as Shiloh looks down at her, the red of her cloak seeming to glow in the darkness, she can’t help but think the situation is the very furthest from normal they can get.

“Is that visitors I hear?” Comes a voice from within the cottage. Shiloh looks up as the shadow in the cottage window moves toward the door. It gets smaller as it goes which is a funny thing, because Shiloh could swear it’s moving toward the light source…

The shadow is bare steps from the door when Shiloh gives an exaggerated shiver.

“Are you cold?” Scarlett asks.

“Yes,” Shiloh says quickly. “I’m afraid I didn’t think ahead. Might I borrow your cloak, child?”

Scarlett looks torn. “I was told not to-”

“Only for a minute or two,” Shiloh says, over the creak of the door. “I promise.”

“Okay…”

Shiloh whips the cloak from Scarlett’s shoulders and about her own just in time to face the figure in the doorway who-

Is a little, old woman.

Shiloh balks at the sight, eyes warring with every other instinct telling her to run, fight, hide. Shift.

The Grandmother smiles. Her face is like a weathered peach and her hands look frail as spider’s silk. They clasp and unclasp in front of her, the only tell that she too feels the tension that’s fallen on the clearing like a woollen blanket.

“Where are you, my child?” The Grandmother asks, peering across the clearing. “Come closer, I’m afraid my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

Scarlett is stepping forward before Shiloh can move to stop her, small hand leaving only a warm imprint on Shiloh’s palm as she lets go.

“Ah, there you are,” The Grandmother says, with a smile warm like home. “I see you now.”

Only she doesn’t. As Scarlett walks toward The Grandmother, the old woman’s eyes, suddenly sharp and shrewd, remain fixed on Shiloh. No, she thinks as she steps forward and the cloak flares out. Her eyes are on the cloak.

Don’t wear red.

“Scarlett,” Shiloh calls, pulling the cloak from her shoulders. The Grandmother’s eyes follow it’s rustle like a hawk as the fabric hits the grass.

Scarlett stops and turns back. And The Grandmother’s shadow starts to grow.

“Scarlett, run!”

Shiloh doesn’t wait for the girl to obey, simply grabs for her pelt, reaches down deep and pulls. Scarlett screams and tumbles backward as Shiloh flies at her which makes leaping the girl an easy feat. She’s only half shifted when she hits The Grandmother’s charge but it’ll do. She’s got her teeth at least.

The Grandmother is easily the breadth of Kae’s yew patient and growing, but her skin, turning green and sickly by the minute, is easy enough to tear through. She bleeds. That’s the important thing.

Anything that bleeds can die, in Shiloh’s experience.

She’s fully shifted by the time The Grandmother hauls her back by her scruff and rakes jagged claws across her furred ribs. Lucky, Shiloh thinks as she hits the ground. She doesn’t think she’d have survived it in her human form.

Shiloh rolls to her feet and snarls. Her mouth tastes of copper and she can feel something sticky on her flank but the fight is a singing, beautiful thing in her blood. She might go down but she’ll give Scarlett enough time to put distance between herself and this… whatever this is.

The Grandmother’s skin seems to boil, lending her silhouette against the rising moon an air of gut-churning horror. Which is nothing to the sight of Scarlett behind the monster, branch raised like a club. Like she’s going to fell the beast with a stick.

Scarlett lets out a warrior’s roar as she brings the branch down and-

Nothing. It breaks on The Grandmother’s writhing back like so much driftwood. Scarlett goes from heroic to trembling in a bare moment and then The Grandmother is turning. Shiloh’s paws dig large grooves in the earth as she launches herself forward – she’s never moved so fast.

The axe moves faster.

Likely because it was hurled by a half-giantess.

The Grandmother’s skull cleaves like a ripe melon and Shiloh uses her forward momentum to barrel Scarlett out of the path of the monster’s falling carcass.

And then, silence.

Shiloh uncurls with a wince to find Scarlett unhurt if a bit squished under her bulk. She wasn’t kidding when she said her pelt needn’t be big. She’s a hulking wolf no matter the size of her talisman.

“Damn you, wife! You’d best not be dead!”

Scarlett’s eyes are round as the moon rising over them, flicking panicked from Shiloh’s less-than-reassuring countenance to the giantess bearing down on them. Shiloh can’t help but snort a laugh as she shifts back to her human form, pulling herself off the child as she goes.

“It’s okay, Scarlett,” she says. “This is my wife, Kae.”

“This is your widow more like!” Kae says, picking Shiloh up with one big hand to set about inspecting her wounds. “Because I’m going to kill you for that fright you just gave me!”

Shiloh endures the inspection, mostly because she’s had a lot of practice. “My love, you’re frightening the child.”

Scarlett seems to take that as a challenge, climbing rapidly to her feet. “I ain’t frightened!”

Shiloh kisses Kae’s palm on its way to pawing at her scalp to check for head wounds and sighs. “Yes, I could see that. What part of ‘run’ didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you were in trouble,” Scarlett says, chin jutting out stubbornly.

“Oh I like her,” Kae says, seemingly having satisfied herself that Shiloh isn’t going to keel over dead any time soon.

Shiloh rolls her eyes. “Of course you do.”

Silence falls on the three of them once more as their attention turns to the hulking corpse of The Grandmother.

Scarlett breaks it. “They sent me here to get et, didn’t they?”

Shiloh, who was behind the door when the Gods handed out artifice, says, “Yes, my girl, I think they did.”

Scarlett takes this news with the sort of stoicism that’s likely going to require a lot of crying at some point later. “I’d like to not go back,” she says, finally.

Shiloh doesn’t say anything, simply exchanges a long look with her wife. And then she holds out her hand.

One year later, the village drapes another little girl named Scarlett in red and sends her into the woods. Four hours later, she comes back.

FIN

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